Digging a tunnel under Voltaire's wall: A Review of Andriy Lyubka's Carbide (2020, Jantar)
In Andriy Lyubka’s debut novel Carbide, the mythical Transcarpathian town of Vedmediv becomes a microcosm of Ukraine in the thirty years since its independence. The novel, first introduced to Ukrainian readers in 2015, was first met with great acclaim by readers and critics alike. It made the short list for the prestigious BBC Ukraine Book of the Year award. The following year, it was translated to Slovenian and Polish and went on to be nominated for Poland’s Angelus Central European Literature Award. Years later, readers are still soaking up its pages. Lyubka made his official English-language debut in 2020 when Reilly Costigan Humes’ and Isaac Wheeler’s translation of Carbide was published by Jantar, and Serbian and Lithuanian readers will also be able to enjoy it this year.
What is so special about Carbide and how did it become an international literary sensation in such a short period of time?
The protagonist is a washed-up history teacher by the name of Mykhailo Chvak, or--as he prefers to call himself in the spirit of the ancient Romans—Tys. Everyone in the town knows him by another name--Carbide. He earned this peculiar nickname due to the fact that he "was prone to breaking wind in the Classroom, leaving students dizzy with his noxious fumes, which smelled just like calcium carbide." Scatalogical humor is present throughout the novel, especially as it relates to the protagonist. In this way, the author pokes fun at his protagonist, and is not ashamed of excessive naturalism from which some readers can turn up their nose in disgust.
One of the most striking things about Tys is his hyperbolic love for Ukraine: “Tys was a member of all the patriotic organizations operating in the city: Prosvita, the People’s Movement of Ukraine (he secretly joined Sobor, the Ukrainian Republican Party, too), Plast, and the Romzha Greek Catholic Youth Group. He even signed up to join the Ukrainian Women’s Union (although he didn’t pay membership dues.” He even fell in love with his future wife, Marichka, because she was holding Taras Shevchenko's Kobzar in her hands (for Ukrainians this work is like the Bible, and its author is extremely revered in Ukraine). What a surprise it will be for the reader to discover what Marichka was actually doing with this book...
Tys and Marichka met during their student days and lived together for more than 20 years before the start of the novel’s events. The author describes their relationship in a humorous and lyrical tone, especially when it comes to how Tys courted her and performed chivalrous feats as if he were an actual knight. Tys managed to take care of his wife during the difficult 90s, when a newly-independent Ukraine struggled to find its way following the Soviet Union’s collapse. His love for her manifested itself in numerous ways both big and small: "If he somehow managed to pull some strings and get a free movie ticket, then he’d take Marichka to the theater and wait for her outside, just sitting on a bench for two hours until the movie was over”.
Humor was once the key to longevity in their relationship. Relying on humor, especially during difficult times, Tys and Marichka were able to solve all of their problems. However their love was put to the test when their only daughter Tremora suffered a serious accident. Like many couples in this situation, the characters “shut themselves up in their own shells, in their phobias, eccentricities, and abnormalities. They didn’t get along anymore”. Tys began to seek solace in the bottle and Marichka became a shell of her former radiant self.
During one of his benders, Tys comes up with a "brilliant" idea, opening the door to a world of adventure. The patriot, idealist, and Don Quixote of Vedmediv plans to make history by connecting Ukraine with Europe (at the time of the novel’s publication, Ukrainians needed a visa to enter the EU). How will "all forty million Ukrainians go into Europe"? Easily! By digging a tunnel. At the same time, Tys has neither the means nor the knowledge of how to do it. He goes to his former classmate, a local “businessman” by the name of Icarus, who, in turn, introduces Tys to an increasingly bizarre and at times sinister cast of characters.
This leads us to one of the main themes of the novel: smuggling. Lyubka masterfully acquaints the reader with all the peculiarities of contraband in the border regions of Ukraine. The town of Vedmediv, invented by the author, is located near four countries: Hungary, Romania, Poland and Slovakia. This location provides many benefits--especially for those cunning enough to make a living off of it. Icarus and Tys bring together a team of smugglers led by the town’s Mayor Zoltan Bartok. To provide cover for their criminal activities, Bartok proposes building the tunnel under The Fountain of Unity, a symbol of unification with Europe. The mayor, for what it’s worth, got his start in politics by stealing paper from public restrooms and selling it back to people for money. “I’m strongly against lifting border controls and implementing visa-free travel,” he declares to his compatriots. “Because as long as there are borders there will be different prices on each side, which means you can make money smuggling”.
His view is shared by his circle of criminal associates: Mirca, “The Genius of the Carpathians”, who transported drugs and other illegal items across the border; Icarus, known for his creative and unusual way of transporting cigarettes by river and air; and Ulyana Dmytrivna Kruk, better known as “Kruchka” or the “Succubus”, the coroner at Vedmediv Hospital. The Succubus becomes an increasingly imposing figure as the novel progresses: "rumor had it that she kept company with Satan himself”. She distinguishes herself in the criminal underworld by transporting an "extremely lucrative" and special product across the border.
Interestingly enough, all of these characters are respected individuals in Vedmediv who hold positions in the local government. It is difficult not to remark Lyubka's satirical take on the modern Ukrainian reality: “Ukraine’s caught in a spider web of governance woven from mob money and backed by police sadists. All the cogs in the machine wrap cocoons of security around themselves, often employing the methods of the medieval aristocracy – marrying the daughters of influential people, becoming each other’s godparents, and joining the same hunting clubs”. As the author admitted in one interview, the novel was inspired by an actual story reported by Reuters, where a 700-meter-long underground tunnel leading to Slovakia had been found in Uzhhorod.
In the town of Vedmediv, readers encounter a microcosm of contemporary Ukrainian society, with its bouts of feigned patriotism and detachment from the realities of everyday life, as well as deeply-rooted corruption and desire for power. The main characters are a collective image of typical Ukrainians. Like Tys, we Ukrainians like to wear a vyshyvanka (our traditional embroidered shirt) and wax poetic on the glorious past of Ukraine, quoting from Shevchenko's Kobzar. But when there is an opportunity to make a quick buck through less-than-honest means, few will refuse. After all, everyone knows where good intentions lead a person—to hell, or, in the case of Tys and Marichka, the tunnel under the Fountain of Unity. Although the patriotic teacher set himself a noble goal—”I put the interests of society and the state above my own”— the result turns out to be something quite different.
Andriy Lyubka's novel is a distant cousin of the French philosopher Voltaire’s magnum opus Candide, or Optimism. In many ways, it is a response to the text, one that we can playfully refer to as Carbide, or Pessimism. No less significant is the influence of the eighteenth-century Ukrainian author Ivan Kotlyarevsky’s Eneida, considered to be the first work published in the modern Ukrainian language. The multi-layered literary foundation of Lyubka’s novel only multiplies its intellectual and artistic value. In July, the Wild Theater staged a production of Carbide in Kyiv. Now the only question remains: how soon until we are treated to the film adaptation?
Reviewed by Liliia Shutiak
Translated from the Ukrainian by Kate Tsurkan