Review: "City of Night Birds" by Juhea Kim

City of Night Birds by Juhea Kim
Published November 2024 via Ecco
★★★

Natalia dreams of a return to dance—maybe. Sidelined by an injury that forced her early retirement, she didn't expect another chance. But here she has it, back in St. Petersburg, where she trained and where she did not plan to return. And she isn't sure she wants it.

City of Night Birds takes us through Natalia's training and career, and gradually we learn more about what led to her injury and her broader choices and why she is back in St. Petersburg. Let's talk about the book, and let's talk about the book in the context of Russia in 2024.

The book:
I'm intrigued by the contemporary setting here. More on that later, but most of the fiction I've read about Russia, ballet or no ballet, is historical fiction about the USSR. For Natalia, though the state still plays a...significant role...in her life, it does not quite have the overt fingers in every pie that Soviet Russia did. That interests me in part, I think, because theoretically Natalia has options; she basically goes into ballet as a strong dancer and never falters, but if she had quit ballet at some earlier point, she wouldn't be punish-assigned to a life of drudgery; she'd be able to at least attempt a new career path.

I'm less interested, it must be said, in her success after success after success. Having read dozens of contemporary ballet memoirs, and a fair amount of fiction besides, I'm finding that what interests me more are the books about dancers who are good but not great, or even who are great but not celebrated. Natalia never has to choose between two second-rate job offers, or to come to the realization that she just can't reach the heights she hopes for (even returning from injury, her capabilities are limited more by depression and grief than by anything else.

This is a fairly slow-moving book. I'd say that it's character-driven, but I really wished we had character development from more characters than Natalia. Her romances fell flat to me, partly because her paramours are never really developed beyond a sketch and a prayer—we get an impression of who they are, and then I think we're supposed to trust that that's enough. (The man with whom Natalia spends a huge chunk of the book: What is their relationship based on? Is Natalia supposed to be flattered that he dicks around until he meets her and decides to make her an exception, seemingly because she is more talented than his short-term flings?) A later romance strikes me as quite sad in the way neither character is interested in (or interested in hearing about) their partner's interests; there's a point to be made about not being in the same claustrophobic world, but it's not fleshed out, so it feels more pointed than...than natural extension of the story, I guess.

The other thing I'm intrigued by: I remember this day. Every moment of one's life is the beginning of the end in some way; every decision you make is a death of other possibilities. But this is the point that divides my life into before and after, a cleave line that easily breaks a diamond in half. When all the dominos of my life were lined up, ready to fall. (loc. 2247*) It's a nice quote, but I'm interested mostly because while the language is very different, the sentiment is almost exactly the same as one expressed in Maya and Natasha, another Russian (USSR, in this case) ballet book coming out soon. No weird implications here—no reason to think it's anything other than coincidence—but fascinating how similar the sentiments yet how different the circumstances in the two books.

The book in the context of Russia in 2024:
Kim's first book was published in December of 2021, shortly before Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine. I can't say when she started writing City of Night Birds, but if I had to guess I'd think it was either before that invasion and the ensuing war, or it was early enough in the war that Kim thought it would all be long over by the time the book was published. That...is not the case.

On the one hand it's interesting to see something about ballet in contemporary Russia. On the other hand, it is really, really hard to write fiction in the shadow of an ongoing conflict—ongoing in real life and ongoing in the book—in a way that feels intentional and respectful. And this does not hit the mark.

Again: I'm guessing that Kim did not set out to write a book dealing directly with war. And people are not state, and the characters in this book are not generally aggressors, and I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with writing something that is...let's say set in a politically problematic place. But it's hard to see a major character stubbornly express public support for Russia in (I think) 2014 in the book, and to see Natalia's reaction be, basically, "This is not great but can't art be apolitical?" The way that character's arc plays out, and the casual mention at the end of the book of "the end of the war" (which, in the book, has apparently come to pass), leave me with the impression that the war was shoehorned into the book late in the day because, well, it hasn't ended yet.

Can you write a book set in an aggressor country in and about a time period when that country is doing terrible things? Sure. Writers in the US do it all the time. Some of them even do it well. But...I am left wishing Kim had gone for a different timeline here, or set the book somewhere else altogether.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.