Kilometer 101

Kilometer 101 is the second full-length collection by Russian writer, Maxim Osipov. The book was published by New York Review of Books (NYRB) Classics on October 11, 2022-- after the beginning of the War in Ukraine and after Osipov, in protest of the war, emigrated to Germany. The book’s nonfiction depicts life in provincial Russia, centering on Osipov’s experience as a cardiologist in Tarusa (the town from which the book derives its name as it is located 101 kilometers outside of Moscow). The fiction is wide-ranging, exploring such themes as life as an outsider in provincial Russia, life abroad in America for foreigners, the challenge of maintaining Russian identity/history, and the politics of emigration. The collection was edited by Boris Dralyuk; it was translated from Russian by Boris Dralyuk, Alex Fleming, and Nicolas Pasternak Slater.

Part 1: Luxemburg: Stories

Story	Date Written
"Little Lord Fauntleroy"	August 2009
"Pieces on a Plane"	2011, 2016
"Cape Cod"	March 2013
"Luxemburg"	December 2019
"Big Opportunities"	September 2021
"The Whilst"	March 2022

Part 2: Kilometer 101: Essays

Essay	Date Written
"My Native Land"	March 2007
"A Sin to Complain"	September 2007
"A Non-Easter Joy"	March 2008
"The Children of Dzhankoy"	October 2017

Synopsis

The book opens with “Sventa,” an essay that stands “in lieu of a forward.” Here Osipov sets the tone for the book: Osipov visits a town in Lithuania that he and his family visited when he was a child. It’s a type of homegoing. Osipov is struck by the familiarity of the place and by its beauty; yet, in an ironic turn, the place Osipov is in and the one he visited as a child turn out to be different. What emerges from the essay is a tension between recognition and difference, a sense of home yet the reality of dislodgement and loss.

Part 1, “Luxemburg,” showcases Osipov’s short fiction. The stories range from tracing the struggles of a Russian doctor, to narrating the travel of an amateur Russian chess player, to following the lives of Russians raising a kid in the northeast US. The thing that unites Osipov’s short stories is his play with tragedy. The writing dives into sadness, but always finds its way out through the sentiments of his characters or turns to the poetic. Eric in “Little Lord Fauntleroy” finds solace in the routines of everyday life and in his family, even after a struggle to save a patient. Matvey in “Pieces on a Plane” is on a quest to escape his life in Russia, his family history, the binaries into which life is often sorted, and his own limitations; yet, despite his father’s death, Matvey finds beauty in his layover in Rome by seeing a new city and experiencing another’s life. The story then ends with a homecoming, a reconciliation and recognition between mother and son in wake of the loss of her husband and his father. In “Cape Cod” the parents of the story come to a realization and mutual acknowledgement of their son’s personality, one that marks a clear disconnection from their Russian roots. The stories continue in this vein: obstacles that define the narrative are resolved with a very human acceptance of the world as it is; by focusing on interiority, Osipov’s narratives resolve within the characters themselves.

In part 2, “Kilometer 101,” Osipov paints his life in provincial Russia as a dour one. In the opening essay, “My Native Land,” Osipov lists the ailments facing the Russia people of “N.” (presumably Tarusa)—general discontent and a sense of hopelessness, isolation from the community, alcoholism, familiarity with death, and a general “feeble spiritedness.” Osipov does, however, offer a certain hopefulness and optimism. He finds meaning in his job, in the “freedom to helps lots of people” and the responsibility and sense of purpose that comes with being a medical professional. Even, he writes, a sense of ownership and belonging in the community, “the feeling that this is [his] town.” It’s in this familiarity that small moments of beauty are seen in Tarusa.

What emerges ultimately is a view of Russians and Russian life that is torn between tragedy and happiness, death and a hopefulness for the future (at the very least an acceptance of the past). Part of Osipov’s experience, as well, is dealing with the bureaucratic machinery of the Russian state. Many of the essays either subtly or explicitly note the obstacles to safety, healthcare, and medical resources that the government poses. Despite all of this, Osipov reaches a tenuous depiction of Russian culture and identity, one that is rife with struggle and suffering, but also teeming with small moments of humanity and, at times, victory.

Reception

In a review for Foreign Affairs, Maria Lipman reads the collection as existing at the crossroads of several “dilemmas”: of “a liberal facing an oppressive state,” of an individual making “moral compromises” by staying in Russia and then emigrating, and of a doctor fighting a losing battle in a provincial Russian town that doesn’t prioritize health. In a review for the Times Literary Supplement, Polly Jones writes that the book "demonstrates Osipov’s preoccupation with the complex trajectories and emotions of migration and emigration," adding that such stories "are rarely presented in such straightforward, binary terms: many of [them] instead underscore the folly of imagining that life could be better anywhere else."