Splithead
by Julya Rabinowich
Translated by Tess Lewis
Portobello Books
The spring issue of New Books in German – to be launched at the London Book Fair on 11th April – includes a special feature on children's books. There, in contributions by former children’s laureate Michael Rosen and eminent translator Anthea Bell, the importance of folklore in German-language writing – not only that for children – is highlighted. Splithead, the stunning debut by Julya Rabinowich, both honours and subverts that tradition, by lending a voice to an invented Russian folk character, 'Splithead', and by weaving Russian fairy tales into her story of exile. 'Splithead' is the name given by the protagonist's mother to the mythical figure who will – she warns her daughter Mischka – 'suck her soul dry' unless she does what she is told; but it is also a symbol of Mischka's position as exile, torn between the life she knew in Russia and her new existence as a political exile in Vienna.
Mischka leaves the Soviet Union with her family when she is only seven years old, and much of the story is told through her perspective, which is shot through with a wry humour and the occasional burst of hilarity. The child's perspective, particularly when narrating her experiences of growing up in a communal apartment in St Petersburg, makes that world – viewed from knee-height – seem all the more bizarre. As Mischka gets older, the troubles become more pronounced and lead to long rebellious phases. These episodes reminded me in particular of the wonderful graphic novel Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, and the content and intention of Rabinowich's novel do seem to stand this comparison: the heroine of Persepolis is a 'splithead', too, cast loose in a society that is not her own, struggling to function within it but unable to leave behind the memories and scars of enforced exile.
Mischka's perspective is joined by that of the mythical Splithead himself, an observer who is able to step back from Mischka's personal viewpoint and examine the bigger picture, which includes the experiences of her parents and grandparents. Splithead's voice is chilling and his diction stark, marking a contrast to the colour and life in Mischka's tales. The translator Tess Lewis has succeeded brilliantly in rendering these shifts in tone, creating a smooth text that still jolts and jars in all the right places.
Mischka’s story is full of ‘splits’. The careful balance between flippancy and the harsh reality of her dual existence is evident in the confusion when her father prepares her for a new life in the West: ‘My father and I head towards a nervous breakdown as he attempts to erase three years of Communist indoctrination in the course of a single evening. I simply cannot comprehend that Lenin, the friend of all children, is now allegedly an arsehole.’ And her status as a Jew without any Jewish cultural or religious understanding gives rise to one of the novel’s most moving episodes, when her childhood best friend tells her that he is no longer allowed to play with her because he is not allowed to spend time with Jews. Mischka’s innocent and heart-breaking response is simply: ‘What’s a Jew?’. That ambivalent identity comes to the fore again in the novel’s unexpected dénouement, when Mischka makes a discovery – not to be revealed here! – that once again overturns her already complex identity. For more reviews and previews of contemporary German-language literature in German and in English translation, see www.new-books-in-german.com.
Author
Julya Rabinowich was born in St Petersburg in 1970. She moved to Vienna with her parents in 1977 and has lived there ever since. She is a critically acclaimed playwright and Splithead is her first novel. She also works as an interpreter for refugees and asylum seekers in Vienna. Keep an eye on New Books in German's Facebook page for details of Rabinowich’s appearances in the UK this summer.