Book review: LUBLIN by Manya Wilkinson

Manya Wilkinson's Lublin (2024) is yet another addition to my list of perfect little novels. Others include Seize The Day by Saul Bellow, Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov and The Sense Of An Ending by Julian Barnes (the list goes on, obviously). Its perfection lies in the fact that there isn't a breath wasted or a word misplaced. The prose is beautiful and concise, and the emotional range goes from hysterical laughter to tears of despair. Some works of art you savour, not merely read, and Lublin is one of those books. 

The plot is fairly simple, and gives off the vibes of an old Jewish fable: three friends embark on a journey to a city none of them have ever been to. This is the very beginning of the 20th century, and the city in question is Lublin (f0r the record, my second favourite Polish city, after Poznan). They don't know much about the place, and have a vague understanding of its location. There is a sense, though, that this city, this mythological metropolis, is the greatest place on Earth. It has the most beautiful girls. The best wine and the best food. It's a place of opportunities where you can make money and fall in love. 

Elya is the one with the map. He loves to tell jokes (the jokes are decidedly hit and miss) and has this magical ability to conjure them on the spot and under the most vexing circumstances. Most importantly, he wants to be a businessman and carries a set of brushes that the three friends are planning to sell at the Lublin market. He is the one with the big idea, and he is the one who pushes the whole company forward. The two other friends are Kiva (comes from a rich family, knows all about Adoshem and prays incessantly) and Ziv (Kiva's cousin; hates Russians but likes Dostoevsky, wears bad shoes and will beat you up for fun), and they need to be persuaded all the time that this whole journey is not a complete waste of time.

As you would expect from a good old fable, there are hardships and adventures along the way. Temptations, selflessness, acts of real friendship, betrayal. The backdrop is very vivid, and you never get to forget the time period. 1906. There are despicable crooks along the way, and drunk Russian soldiers. In the meantime, Lublin remains desirable but elusive. Kiva wants to go back home. Ziv wants to get to the Village of Girls (does it even exist?) And even Elya has crises of faith that almost force him to abandon the whole thing and go back home to his girlfriend and sorry family business. 

There are two types of book titles, as Martin Amis wrote in the introduction to London Fields. Those that denote things which are already there. And those that are 'present all along', that 'live and breath, or try to, on every page'. Manya Wilkinson's Lublin is a curious case in that it exists between two of those types. Lublin is a little like Beckett's Godot. It is already there, and yet it barely even exists. 

The grim realism of Lublin is absolutely harrowing, and yet it is a very elegant, poetic book. I loved these three characters to bits, and was with Elya all the way. I believed him, too, every time he uttered those magical words:  

"Wait till we get to Lublin".