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A biting satire of a particular despot and a deeply humane allegory of the fragility of goodness and the contagion of unchecked power.
Set twenty-odd years from now, it opens on Patient Number One - Vladimir Putin, largely forgotten in his presidential dacha, serviced by a small coterie of house staff, drifting in and out of his memories of the past. His nurse, charged with the twenty-four-hour care of his patient, is blissfully unaware that his colleagues are using their various positions to skim money, in extraordinarily creative ways, from the top of their employer's seemingly inexhaustible riches.
But when a family tragedy means that the nurse suddenly needs to find a fantastical sum of money fast, the dacha's chef lets him in on the secret world of backhanders and bribes going on around him, and opens his eyes to a brewing war between the staff and the new housekeeper, the ruthless new sheriff in town.
A brilliantly cast modern-day Animal Farm, The Senility of Vladimir P. is a coruscating political fable that shows, through an honest man slipping his ethical moorings, how Putin has not only bankrupted his nation economically, but has also diminished it culturally and spiritually. It is angry, funny, page-turning, and surprisingly moving.
Excerpt
The Senility of Vladimir P.
He didn't know how long he had been sitting there. Could have been two hours. Could have been two years.
Suddenly, a connection in his brain sparked to life and set of a chain of ignitions, like a momentary flickering of stars lighting up across a darkening, dying galaxy.
"Why am I here?" he yelled angry. "What am I doing?"
"Waiting," said Sheremetev, plumping up one of the pillows on his bed.
"What for?"
"For the meeting."
Vladimir's eyes narrowed. "Have I been briefed?"
"Of course," replied Sheremetev calmly.
"Good." Vladimir nodded. His expression changed, losing its anger. Already he was forgetting what he had been upset about. The connection, wherever it was in his brain, had been snuffed out, perhaps never to spark again, and the self-awareness that had erupted momentarily into his consciousness was gone. He sat quietly and watched Sheremetev work. Vladimir couldn't have said exactly who the other man was, but nonetheless he was at ...
Honig’s work is an intriguing personal story, with Sheremetev, a Mr. Everyman protagonist, kind, empathetic, and yet often wearily disaffected. It is political satire too, not overly subtle, inflicting razor-sharp cuts on the corrupt and corrupting aspects of unfettered crony capitalism that raped Russia post-Yeltsin...continued
Full Review
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(Reviewed by Gary Presley).
According to Michael Honig's imagined life of Vladimir Putin in his novel The Senility of Vladimir P., the dictator-president could be impressed by the gift of a fine wristwatch – "fine" meaning anything beyond the standard Rolex.
In this era, a good majority of the younger generation keeps track of time by using a smart phone, completely accurate, automatically updated, no wristwatch required. But many of us still wear, enjoy, and sometimes even covet a luxury – luxury, defined on a variable scale – time piece. There's more than one man with a $30 Casio on his wrist who would drool over a Tag Heuer Monaco Calibre Chronograph. The $5,900 price tag would be mere walking around money after that big Powerball lottery win. ...
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