By Michael Alenyikov
Twin brothers travails resonate in poignant novel told in stories
Ivan and Misha is a tightly-knit story collection by Michael Alenyikov that tracks the lives of two fraternal twin brothers, their family, friends and lovers over several decades. The result is not exactly a novel, but one that feels distinctly novelistic. Though each story has its own arc, they are at the service of the overall narrative. The organization challenges the reader to be a participant in the book’s construction, as each tale is told by a different narrator out of chronological order.
In the prologue we meet the brothers, young boys living in Kiev with their father, Lyov. Their mother, who, they are told, died in childbirth, strongly imprints on the two boys, especially the voluble, manic-depressive Ivan, whose dreams are filled with her motherly embrace.
We then fast forward in the titular story, one told from the point of view of Misha. The brothers are now both adults, gay men living in New York City. Rich in humor, it is a beautifully composed, poignant tale of family, both chosen and biological. And loss. At a Thanksgiving gathering, improbably organized by the sometimes delusional Ivan, the father unexpectedly dies. Complicating the love the characters have for each other are, of course, their individual limitations. Over the course of the book, these fuel the characters’ deepening bonds.
“It Takes All Kinds” takes place after the death of Louie from the point of view of Smith, Misha’s boyfriend. Smith is eighteen, thinking of leaving Misha to sow his wild oats. His mother, with whom he has a prickly relationship, and sister have come to NYC to visit. Complications ensue: the mother has just been diagnosed with cancer, the sister is marrying a man Smith considers a banal choice. His ambivalence over his relationship with Misha comes to a head in a scene rich in nuance and ambiguity.
Perhaps my favorite story in the collection is the beautiful, sad and wise “Whirling Dervish.” Told by the irrepressible Ivan, its style apes his pressured, manic way of thinking. Ivan does what he has been counseled, because of his condition, not to do. He falls in love. Eighteen, having recently quit college and now driving a cab for a living, he meets a fellow driver, the enigmatic Taz. The scenes alternate between the cab office, lovemaking and poetry in Taz’s apartment, conversations with the mysterious Gabriella, a woman pretending to be blind, among other things. Abandoned by Taz, Ivan fears a psychotic break, another stint in the psych ward, but thwarts this through the interactions with Gabriella and, finally, Misha, in a beautiful last scene of brotherly love.
The epilogue gives us a kind of summation. Most of the principal characters gather for a ferry ride to scatter Louie’s ashes. It is a simple tale that, though little happens, feels deeply satisfying. Their ritual of farewell facilitates our own parting with these characters we’ve come, through Alenyikov’s skill, to know so well and think of so fondly.
{ Cross-posted at goodreads. }