Karl Ove Knausgaard’s piece on Russia in the Times’ magazine on Sunday was an interesting read – he’s an interesting writer and Russia is an interesting country (to say the least) – but it was more journalistic feature article than literary travel story. Which was both surprising (he’s a novelist) and predictable (he wrote it for a newspaper magazine). His itinerary was too well-planned (you could almost see him checking things – historic town, ancient woman – off a list), and even his chance encounters ended up as interviews (his word) and not the more fruitful conversations. I suspect he was hindered by his photographer and interpreter; you don’t get the spontaneity or one-on-one intimacy with a team that you do when you travel alone. Knausgaard tried to distinguish the piece through personal information (I don’t know if he’s addicted to nicotine, but he’s addicted to writing about his need for cigarettes) and sometimes overreaching profundities. Anyone interested in Russia – even contemporary Russia – would be better served by reading Colin Thubron’s Where the Nights Are Longest, published in 1987. You’ll learn very little about the author but his hyper-observant eye, his analytical mind, and his nuanced prose will illuminate the country.
