Christopher OwensExperimental novels. 


Two words that can induce both fascination and repulsion within a reader for obvious reasons. While there’s an awful lot out there which is genuinely engaging and forward thinking, it is also a minefield of hashed out ideas, unreadable prose and rather prosaic subject matter.

And while Tears of a Komsomol Girl threatens to veer off into said territory, it is saved by a narrator that is utterly engaging, even at her most unlikeable.

The book has been described as an experimental novel taking place in the USSR in the 1980’s, inspired by “…the real-life crimes of Soviet serial killer Andrei Chikatilo, who was finally executed in 1994 having been convicted of murdering 52 people between 1978 and 1990.” A fascinating tale in its own right, taking in wrongful executions and perestroika, Chikatilo and his crimes act more as a backdrop to the narration of Arina.

​Described in the press release as a:

…young girl — insolent, obnoxious, but most importantly musically gifted, poses as the ideal student — upstanding, hardworking, and a member of Komsomol — the Soviet Union’s Communist Youth League. Fantasising unrealistically about becoming an internationally famous classical violinist, and yet simultaneously behaving as cynically and hypocritically as she can, Arina uses her Komsomol duties as a pretext for strutting unsupervised around town of an evening, fraternising with soldiers and Party bureaucrats alike, compulsively lying to cover her tracks. And yet her sleep is punctuated by obsessive and oppressive dreams concerning a certain killer who’s been on the loose for years — a ruthless, sadistic and thoroughly vicious opportunist referred to in rumours as Citizen X, the Rostov Ripper, or simply Satan — a monster who brutally slays children and adolescents having assaulted them at knifepoint.

That sums up the entire tale of the book, which is more to do with Arina’s narration and her perspective on the world. The press release makes her sound like an unpleasant character and yes, that is the case in certain segments. Brattish, manipulative and sociopathic, she is not someone you would consider to be sympathetic nor reliable. And yet, her stream of consciousness narration is also brutally honest. About herself, her hatred for the Soviet system, for the oppressive men whom she encounters and for her family who abandoned her.

Because of this approach, reading this tome can be hard going owing to the single-minded focus on show here (some would argue one dimensional, but that would be an unsympathetic reading). Illustrated with grisly crime scene photos and stark imagery of Soviet architecture, all taken and montaged by Karolina Urbaniak. Tears of a Komsomol Girl is not light reading. You must be prepared to venture with an honest, but unlikeable narrator as she attempts to navigate a way out of the society that oppresses her while an existential threat always hovers in the background. Her depictions of the various creeps she encounters matches elements of Chikatilo’s known story (him being a teacher, randomly approaching strangers etc) and is possibly a metaphor at how the veneer of officialdom is often used by those in power to conceal serial rapists.

Venture carefully and, if you do, be prepared for some harsh truths.

Audrey Szasz, 2020, Tears of a Komsomol Girl. Infinity Land Press ISBN-13: 978-1916009196

⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist. 

Tears Of A Komsomol Girl

Christopher OwensExperimental novels. 


Two words that can induce both fascination and repulsion within a reader for obvious reasons. While there’s an awful lot out there which is genuinely engaging and forward thinking, it is also a minefield of hashed out ideas, unreadable prose and rather prosaic subject matter.

And while Tears of a Komsomol Girl threatens to veer off into said territory, it is saved by a narrator that is utterly engaging, even at her most unlikeable.

The book has been described as an experimental novel taking place in the USSR in the 1980’s, inspired by “…the real-life crimes of Soviet serial killer Andrei Chikatilo, who was finally executed in 1994 having been convicted of murdering 52 people between 1978 and 1990.” A fascinating tale in its own right, taking in wrongful executions and perestroika, Chikatilo and his crimes act more as a backdrop to the narration of Arina.

​Described in the press release as a:

…young girl — insolent, obnoxious, but most importantly musically gifted, poses as the ideal student — upstanding, hardworking, and a member of Komsomol — the Soviet Union’s Communist Youth League. Fantasising unrealistically about becoming an internationally famous classical violinist, and yet simultaneously behaving as cynically and hypocritically as she can, Arina uses her Komsomol duties as a pretext for strutting unsupervised around town of an evening, fraternising with soldiers and Party bureaucrats alike, compulsively lying to cover her tracks. And yet her sleep is punctuated by obsessive and oppressive dreams concerning a certain killer who’s been on the loose for years — a ruthless, sadistic and thoroughly vicious opportunist referred to in rumours as Citizen X, the Rostov Ripper, or simply Satan — a monster who brutally slays children and adolescents having assaulted them at knifepoint.

That sums up the entire tale of the book, which is more to do with Arina’s narration and her perspective on the world. The press release makes her sound like an unpleasant character and yes, that is the case in certain segments. Brattish, manipulative and sociopathic, she is not someone you would consider to be sympathetic nor reliable. And yet, her stream of consciousness narration is also brutally honest. About herself, her hatred for the Soviet system, for the oppressive men whom she encounters and for her family who abandoned her.

Because of this approach, reading this tome can be hard going owing to the single-minded focus on show here (some would argue one dimensional, but that would be an unsympathetic reading). Illustrated with grisly crime scene photos and stark imagery of Soviet architecture, all taken and montaged by Karolina Urbaniak. Tears of a Komsomol Girl is not light reading. You must be prepared to venture with an honest, but unlikeable narrator as she attempts to navigate a way out of the society that oppresses her while an existential threat always hovers in the background. Her depictions of the various creeps she encounters matches elements of Chikatilo’s known story (him being a teacher, randomly approaching strangers etc) and is possibly a metaphor at how the veneer of officialdom is often used by those in power to conceal serial rapists.

Venture carefully and, if you do, be prepared for some harsh truths.

Audrey Szasz, 2020, Tears of a Komsomol Girl. Infinity Land Press ISBN-13: 978-1916009196

⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist. 

3 comments:

  1. Another great review Christopher. I had some trouble finding the image. Too more searching than usual.
    Why was it not light reading? The subject matter or the character? Maybe even something else.

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    1. The character, as mentioned, is self-centered and openly contemptuous of everything around her. As there is no real plot (in the sense that A happens, leading onto B and concluding with C), we have to stay with her the whole time and, if you're not in the right mood, her musings can seem monotonous. If you are, however, she is highly engaging.

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