“Keep the circus going inside you.” (David Niven)

/ madamebibilophile

I really enjoyed Elisa Shua Dusapin’s debut novel Winter in Sokcho so I was looking forward to picking up Vladivostok Circus (2022, transl. Aneesa Abbas Higgins 2024) for Women in Translation Month this year. The two novels share the setting of tourist attractions out of season, and of carefully evoked relationships defined as much by distances as by intimacies.

Nathalie is twenty-two and has graduated in costume design in Belgium. She arrives in Vladisvostok – a place she knows from childhood – to spend time with an acrobat trio who are working on their Russian bar performance. They will be performing at Ulan-Ude, seeking to perform a triple jump four times in a row.

“They communicate in Russian, constantly interrupting each other. Anton gives directions, demonstrates a move to Nino, who listens, hands on hips, visibly impatient. Anna climbs back onto the bar. Their movements synchronise. Anna sets the beat, a rhythmic pulse, rising and falling, like a breath being pushed out and sucked back into the lungs, a beating heart at the centre of the ring.”

Ukrainian trampoline champion Anna is their new ‘flyer’ after the previous acrobat, Igor, was injured in an accident five years previously. Nino is from a German circus family and has worked with Anton since he was eight years old. They are both haunted by what happened with Igor.

The four of them are left in the empty winter circus with manager Leon, and Dusapin expertly portrays the barren environment absent of tourists and glitter, smelling of the departed animals.

Nathalie feels awkward from the start, when she arrives before she is expected. She is unsure of her designs and she talks too much, straining the polite interest of the men. Anna is openly hostile and there is a shaved cat called Buck wandering around, adored by Leon. The atmosphere is unsettling and uneasy.

“By the end of the evening, they all have their headphones on. They each go back to their own room listening to music. I put my headphones on too, but without any music. I sit there, focusing on the sounds inside my own head. It makes me feel closer to the others somehow.”

Gradually however, the relationships deepen. This occurs in a believable way, by increments and without sentimentality.

“‘Aren’t you ever scared?’ I ask after a while.

‘All the time,’ he says. ‘I’m terrified with every new jump. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of hurting Anna. I’m scared of the audience too; I get stage fright.’”

Physical forms are flawed in this novel: Anna worries she is too heavy, Anton is nearing retirement, both men nurse injuries and Nathalie has psoriasis. This emphasises human frailty, building tension throughout this short novel as the group strive for their bodies to achieve this dangerous spectacle.

I think Winter in Sokcho is the stronger novel and if you’ve not read this author before then I would recommend that as the place to start. But there is still plenty to enjoy in Vladivostok Circus; Dusapin is so good at creating an unnerving quality to her settings and characterisation which somehow still manages to be entirely believable and warm.

“It occurs to me that my materials can have an impact on their act too. Smoothing out the skin, tapering the body, enabling it to rise more quickly and to a greater height. And at the same time, accelerating the fall.”

22 thoughts on ““Keep the circus going inside you.” (David Niven)”

    • There’s definitely plenty to enjoy so I don’t want to put you off at all! But somehow for me it lacked that extra spark of Winter in Sokcho. After I wrote this I read a Guardian review that thought this was stronger, so you never know!

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  3. Your title quote gave me an immediate sense of anxiety!

    Slightly related – many, many years ago I worked as a pool guard in Melbourne’s historic pool, The City Baths. The main pool is a huge space, with a double storey vaulted ceiling, and around the top level looking down on the pool is a walkway. Because it was built in the Victorian era, it would be fair to say that the walkway and the barrier wouldn’t meet current safety guidelines and therefore no one went up there.

    Anyway, the Moscow Circus was in town, and the performers came to the pool in their time off, for a swim and spa. The youngest acrobat, perhaps he was eight or nine years old, asked if he could go up to the walkway/balcony and I said no, it was not open to the public. Minutes later, I heard a shout and looked up to see this child STANDING on the balcony rail and then swan-dived into the pool below. THANK GOD he chose the deep end.

    This literally happened decades ago but it’s incredible how often I remember it (basically every time someone mentions a circus!).

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  9. That clip is so interesting… it takes the audience quite a while to clap, which reminded me of Katharine Susannah Prichard’s Haxby’s Circus in which there is constant pressure to perform ever more dangerous tricks because the audience gets jaded and just wants more and more sensational entertainment.

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  10. I completely agree with your point about Winter in Sokcho being stronger than this one. To be honest, I felt a bit underwhelmed by this one, as if it was retreading familiar ground more effectively explored elsewhere (i.e. in Winter and The Pachinko Parlour). She’s a very good writer, and her novels are always atmospheric, but I’d love to see her branching out into new territory in the future.

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    • I’ve not read Pachinko Parlour but if that’s similar too, it would be great to see her branching out as you say.

      I know we all read differently but I was surprised the Guardian review thought this was stronger than WiS, to me that had an extra spark.

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