I’m not convinced I’ve ever had a book floor me like this. From the beginning the Aviator was not at all what I expected. It ebbs and flows, pulling me to read faster, then slower. The last third I read in one evening and it kept propelling me forward. When Vodolazkin changes formats it means something, and, as narratives blur and change and speed up and characters come i to themselves more fully, it all becomes one piece of art, both fractured snapshots of memory and a glimpse of eternity. Vodolazkin, or maybe Innokenty?, make me want to think about the world more deeply, more personally, more narrowly.

I’ll have to definitely keep thinking about this novel. Absolutely stunning!