"Daughter from the Dark" by Marina & Sergey Dyachenko (published 2020)

There is a possibility that Daughter from the Dark by Marina & Sergey Dyachenko (2020) lost some of its stylistic panach because of its translation into English from Russian. If so, it's a big loss for the novel because its structure is so well conceived as a warpy fairy-tale and contemporary fantasy about a young girl-child from another world and the male stranger who, upon once saving her life, acts in loco parentis. The child herself, Alyona, cannot fully explain who she is, where she is from, and why she has no where else to go. Grimalsky, a.k.a. DJ Aspirin, her caretaker (though he treats her with less care than he probably should), teeters between awe, respect, and selfless love on one hand, and on the other, hatred, absolute annoyance, and obligation: not a good sign when the person who is supposed to be your father has no idea how to act except passive-aggressively. This mix of the two brings up a very strange Beauty and the Beast tale, where two characters are stuck with one another in a single house, trying to assist the other in understanding their habits, psychology, and social backgrounds with all its emotional awkwardness - including disgust - as well as a deep platonic understanding.

What's fascinating and intriguing about this book, tinged throughout with a kind of nonchalant mystery, is its conception of music. Besides all the characters and besides even the basic plot, music itself is a kind of character that brings the fantasy world and the real world together. Some of the best and most profound pieces of writing, and indeed the most symbolic as well as lyrical, are found in passages reflecting on the power and art of music.

Alyona tells Grimalsky she came into the "real" world with the intention of finding her brother. The only way she can find him is by learning one, long, complicated piece and playing it on the violin with the special strings she receives from an ethereal man from the same odd, magical world where she is from. Then there's Grimalsky, pretty much a deadbeat radio DJ and a club DJ who doesn't have any meaningful relationships, is a depressed, self-medicating 34 year old male who enjoys casual sex. Where Alyona learns and plays music to communicate and feel (if not for her brother, then mostly for herself), Grimalsky, aka DJ Aspirin, listens and mixes music to escape, to run away from from his humdrum life, to run away from anything that might require any responsibility, and on the upside, he appreciates music because he finds pleasure in it.

"'You said there is no death where you come from,' Asprin prompted her softly. 'Is that true?'

'Everything is different there,' the girl said, stirring her tea. 'There is no fear.'

'How can there be no fear?'

She thought about it for a second. Then, 'Take your music - you like it because it carries a little spark, right? You all can feel it - even if you don't understand it. That's why you like music in which there is a spark, a reflection. Well, that spark is a reflection of the world I came from - and only just barely at that.'" (p. 60)

As Alyona continues to try to explain and describe to Grimalsky the world she is from, the more Grimalsky descends into a paranoid mess trying to wrap his head around things that just don't logically make sense to him, that just don't fit into the world he's conceived for himself, the world that, perhaps, was conceived for him:

"I am being chased by aliens, the CIA is torturing me with electromagnetic radiation, they are modifying my subconscious mind, they have planted hallucinations on my subcortex..." (p. 84)

"The modern world was insane, that much was obvious; in this world truth could turn into delirious nonsense, and delirious nonsense into truth, and everyone sensed it on some level." (p. 97)

Blaming Grimalsky for his detached paranoia and lack of parenting skills is impossible: he is a mad man living in a mad world and happened, perhaps coincidentally or because of destiny, to become a part of a situation in which he had to look at himself in a different form - a mad little girl forced to live in a mad world. Perhaps one factor that connects the two of them, and why they are capable of sharing the same space for so long, is that this mad world of reality they inhabit is completely indifferent to them and their wants and their needs. In turn, Grimalsky and Alyona respond likewise. No one believes Alyona's stories, and no one cares enough to help Grimalsky grow up so he can take care of himself as well as the child. The two of them end up not caring for much outside of their direct experiences either.

It's no wonder that Alyona is understood as a freak - Alyona's only motivating factor, her raison d'être, is far from the typical reason one gives for living:

"'I will find an intersection. I will play a song. My brother will hear it and he will respond. I will go and find him... even if he's dead. The gates will open for us. I can see how they open, and beyond the gates I can see the sun. And there is no death. We will live for many days, and life will be everywhere. Their eyes shine like the stars, they laugh, and they float. And there is no fear, even though they know of fear. And there is no pain, even though they know of pain...'" (p. 104)

"'Then what are we worried about?' Aspirin wondered. 'You told me so many times that you are not afraid of death!'

'I am not,' Alyona whispered. 'I am afraid of something different. I am afraid of people who appear to be alive... and then it turns out that they are not just dead - they are all rotten inside.'" (p. 106)

Grimalsky and Alyona go on like this, arguing about the believability of truly metaphysical ideas and concepts. Grimalsky is partly blinded by the fact of Alyona's physicality. One of the only times Grimalsky can step away from his image of her as a young fae-like girl child is when she plays music; it makes him pause and wonder about her true character beyond just what he sees.

"The same musical phrase was played again and again, in a fast tempo. The combination and sequence of sounds was definitely music and definitely harmonious. Aspirin had no idea how this could be played on such an old piano, especially within two octaves. The phrase repeated, and Aspirin suddenly realized it was a request. It was a request for something unknown..." (p. 120)

"Alyona played the way people talked about beautiful memories. She spoke with the audience, without a trace of smugness or a hint of arrogance, restraint, or inhibition..." (p. 202)

"This music, the world can't handle it, so something had to break, either the world, or the string. This music is perfect. You see, playing it is the same as stopping the clock." (p. 232)

"This world... it's so fragile. I made a window, a window in its shell. A wound, really, if I'm being honest. And it fought back. It resisted, it broke my strings. Your world. It must have hurt. I knew I wasn't going to last very long." (p. 286)

At the center of it, Daughter from the Dark may be posing one of the most profound and cliché questions we can ask: what is the meaning of life? Grimalsky begins to see how dull, lackluster, and superficial his life is. Alyona starts to realize that the majority of real world will never accept her understanding of the universe. Does this sense of depression and nihilism ever lift? Is there anything to be done about it? As I write this, I'm considering... how can pleasure tie into life in a way that escapes Dionysian gluttony? Maybe that's Alyona's greatest wish, one she isn't able to articulate... just yet.