Book recommendation from the Kyiv Independent. ‘Fieldwork in Ukrainian Sex’ (Patreon)

Dear Kyiv Independent supporters,

I am Alexandra Keeler — social strategy consultant and (occasionally) writer at the Kyiv Independent. I am based in Canada (diaspora; mother’s side), but have been spending more and more time in Ukraine, and hope to increase that expenditure. I wanted to share a recent read with those of you who can stomach it.

Oksana Zabuzhko’s debut novel “Fieldwork in Ukrainian Sex” was first published in Kyiv in 1996. It was translated by Halyna Hryn in 2011, and published by AmazonCrossing.

The experience of this novel is like having a really bad date, but staying the course for the sake of the story you will be able to tell your friends, as well as to be witness to something you find beautiful. You know, for the poetry of it. (It is perhaps akin to the stubbornness with which Zabuzhko refused to write in any language but Ukrainian.)

On the surface, the plot follows the protagonist's journey through navigating the complexities of relationships, desires, societal expectations and surviving on the crumbs. Under the current, it is an intensely introspective and poetic exploration of sexuality and identity in Ukraine, delving into how these are shaped by cultural context, and offering profound insights into the human experience.

One could never read this book aloud, as they would hyperventilate. The story is narrated in what feels like one very long, stream-of-consciousness, run-on sentence (also making it exceptionally hard to put down.) It is also rife with long bracketed tangents that drag the reader out of the main storyline and into a bumpy cab ride through the back alleys of the narrator’s stormy mind. We are at the mercy of our manic guide to show us the way back to the main road (if we can call it that), but we do get there. And although we aren’t quite so sure what we’ve experienced after we are spit out at the end of it, we feel oddly enriched after having made the journey.

This book is also tragically funny, in that self-deprecating albeit prideful Ukrainian way. Due to Zabuzhko's background in poetry, the story is absolutely drenched in it. The emotional ride is a sketchy rollercoaster that jerks you dizzyingly between fits of laughter and tears, and the prose is almost as verbose as this review.

This book holds cultural significance as it not only “fills a gap” in female sexuality representation but also embodies the resolute, defiant, courageous spirit of being Ukrainian in Ukraine, against all odds.

“It’s a shame, really,” writes Zabuzhko towards the end, “that your country has never known a proper war – war allows you to understand many things about life and death.” This quote echoed long after closing the cover because I suspect this is perhaps the reason so many are called to Ukraine despite the war: to gain a better perspective on death from which to live the rest of one’s life.

Happy page-turning, and thanks for your support,

-Alexandra