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Audio Fiction Review: The Little Dog Ohori by Anatoly Belilovsky (Podcastle)
I'm nowhere near as faithful about posting reviews of short fiction as I am of novels, and particularly not of audio fiction that I consume through podcasts. (I pause for a moment of self-flagellation.) But I don't have anything else to post for my Friday review, and consistency of posting is more important to me than consistency in how I treat fiction.
I spent a lot of time in my car today because I was invited to participate in a student writing conference at San Jose City College, and then I'd pledged to put in some time at work afterward (even though I had an approved day off for the conference as "volunteer time"), and that was back up from San Jose to Berkeley in peak afternoon rush hour. So about 4 hours total on the roads today. It gave me a chance to get caught up with stories on Podcastle.org, and I liked one enough to give it a special shout-out: The Little Dog Ohori by Anatoly Belilovsky.
It's a story about a strong woman in war time, about family bonds, about heroism and death, about the convoluted ethnic politics of Soviet Russia…and in the end, I'm not at all certain that I'd consider it a fantasy story. But I loved it. I loved it despite not really being a fan of military stories. I loved it despite it not being the fantasy story I expected. And I loved it for the twist at the end that is utterly lovely, especially in the way it forces you to figure out what the twist is and then work back through the consequences. And I can't say anything more about that without spoiling it.
The story starts out with a woman who is an expert sharpshooter in the Russian army in WWII, lying wounded on a frozen river bank, summoning in her mind the "little dog Ohori", a figure from legend who brings loved ones together. (I suppose this counts as a fantasy element if you consider Ohori to be real.) The story then cuts to her dying on a hospital bed, watched over by a man who loves her and by an army doctor, who discuss her life. And…well, just listen until the end.
I know this isn't much of a review other than, "I liked it". I have a hard time reviewing short fiction, since short stories tend to rely so much on a concentrated twist that it would be a shame to spoil.
I spent a lot of time in my car today because I was invited to participate in a student writing conference at San Jose City College, and then I'd pledged to put in some time at work afterward (even though I had an approved day off for the conference as "volunteer time"), and that was back up from San Jose to Berkeley in peak afternoon rush hour. So about 4 hours total on the roads today. It gave me a chance to get caught up with stories on Podcastle.org, and I liked one enough to give it a special shout-out: The Little Dog Ohori by Anatoly Belilovsky.
It's a story about a strong woman in war time, about family bonds, about heroism and death, about the convoluted ethnic politics of Soviet Russia…and in the end, I'm not at all certain that I'd consider it a fantasy story. But I loved it. I loved it despite not really being a fan of military stories. I loved it despite it not being the fantasy story I expected. And I loved it for the twist at the end that is utterly lovely, especially in the way it forces you to figure out what the twist is and then work back through the consequences. And I can't say anything more about that without spoiling it.
The story starts out with a woman who is an expert sharpshooter in the Russian army in WWII, lying wounded on a frozen river bank, summoning in her mind the "little dog Ohori", a figure from legend who brings loved ones together. (I suppose this counts as a fantasy element if you consider Ohori to be real.) The story then cuts to her dying on a hospital bed, watched over by a man who loves her and by an army doctor, who discuss her life. And…well, just listen until the end.
I know this isn't much of a review other than, "I liked it". I have a hard time reviewing short fiction, since short stories tend to rely so much on a concentrated twist that it would be a shame to spoil.