A Russian novel can be a frightening thing: 600-plus pages filled with morbid melodrama, populated with 50 characters, each with five nicknames. The Yellow Arrow, however, is a sharp, aerodynamic projectile of a novel.
Without wallowing in Dostoevskian soul-composting, Pelevin combines elements of Eastern European dread and South American fantasy into an absorbing allegory that recalls the stories of Franz Kafka and Jorge Luis Borges.
The eponymous arrow is a train on which the necessarily limited action takes place. Not only can no one get off the train, but most people are oblivious to their status as passengers. Andrei, the novel's protagonist, is one of a secret group that questions the status quo - even daring to consider the world beyond the train. Think of it as a travelogue of the absurd: Ionesco on wheels.
Though slim - 92 pages - this slip of a novella contains more fictive invention and food for thought than many books several times its size. Like Kafka, Borges, and Italo Calvino, Pelevin has created a fable without a moral, an ambivalent allegory with uncertain referents, a dry comedy laced with angst, and a realistic fantasy in miniature. What does it all mean? Everything and nothing. Where does it all lead? Don't worry about the destination - just relax, settle in for the trip, and pay attention to the passing scenery. All aboard!
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