Svitlana Taratorina: "At critical moments, the boundary between worlds can become thinner"

This post is a sort of follow-up to the review Maria Galina wrote of Svitlana Taratorina’s novel *Lazarus. The Serpent*. The interviewees discussed the reasons behind the release of the second part of the series, explored the world of the novels, and examined how the fantasy genre intersects with history and the present day. 

Your first book—which is also the first part of *Lazarus*—was a huge success, in my opinion, precisely because it fit so well into the tradition of Kyiv literature. Do you think that’s true?

The first *Lazarus* was published in 2018, and at that time there was, in principle, a critical shortage of Ukrainian-language fantasy on the market. And in general, contemporary Ukrainian literature wasn’t exactly widely represented. Until 2014, Ukrainian publishers were quite skeptical about Ukrainian-language works, specifically. But yes, there were very few works from Kyiv—again, in Ukrainian—worth mentioning, aside from the classics. So yes, two factors actually coincided here.

The story of the first book came to an end. We all remember how it ended. It was truly wonderful and beautiful. And what was the factor that compelled or inspired you to write a sequel? Was it because the first book was a success, and you wanted to continue working in this field? Or did the story itself call for a sequel or further explanation?

It’s not that it demanded it, but it was possible. I mean, I laid the groundwork for a sequel right from the start. It’s just that, since it was my debut work, I didn’t really believe anyone would read it. And the fact that this novel has stood the test of time—this is already the second reprint, eight years later—is truly remarkable. I actually didn’t think it would turn out this way… I mean, I anticipated the possibility of a sequel, but not with 100 percent certainty. But then it happened that it won a number of awards, there were reviews, and eventually, translations. And all that time, readers—since there was a cliffhanger at the end—kept asking if there would be a sequel. Foolishly, I said there would be. And then I was held hostage by my own words. I had ideas for a sequel—even before the full-scale invasion. In 2019, I started writing *The House of Salt*, which was also published in 2023, so there was a hiatus for that novel. But at the same time, I was constantly thinking about a possible sequel to *Lazarus*. And since the historical background and historical allusions were very important to me, the first *Lazarus* is set against the backdrop of 1913—the eve of the Great War—with allusions to it. Logically, the sequel should have focused, first and foremost, on the war, and secondly, it should have been set, say, in 1914. I was thinking along those lines—at least in terms of that kind of historical setting. So that was my initial version of this sequel. But then 2022 happened, and that’s a third reality—one that has also overlapped with this story. In other words, the sequel encompasses all three of these conceptual layers. There’s the fantasy reality of the fictional world of “Lazarus,” there are allusions to 1917—yes, it will be 1917–18, because the sequel is supposed to be in two parts. And, accordingly, since the story itself takes place in 1917–18, it resonates deeply with our present. On top of that, the reality of, let’s say, 2022 is superimposed here as well.

Your hero turned into the Serpent, and that’s exactly how the first part ended, but the Serpent is, in fact, a god—a minor god. So he has to influence the historical situation in some way. It will be completely different from the first part, even within the fictional reality you created, because your fictional reality didn’t anticipate the appearance of a god.

It’s a complicated question—whether it did or didn’t. In my opinion, in the first *Lazarus*, the gods began to intervene in some way because we think about them so much. Their intervention will intensify later on—again, no spoilers. But the entire first part was about the anticipation of this liberator-king, the leader of all the evil forces, and so on—and who do we end up getting? We’re waiting for a hypothetical god, but do we get what we’re expecting? That’s exactly what the sequel is about. In other words, the world has changed.

It seems there’s more of what critics or viewers call “degrees of will” or “degrees of freedom.” In other words, the more magic there is in the text, the more—how shall I put it—flexibility there is. In other words, the text can go this way or that, because it isn’t limited by the constraints of cause-and-effect relationships.

Yes and no. There is a certain internal logic, and it’s dictated by allusions to real historical events. If we’re talking about direct historical references, then this is, of course, the First Ukrainian Bolshevik War. In historical reality, we’ll probably most often recall Muravyov’s offensive on Kyiv in this context. Those were very terrifying times for Kyiv. And that’s exactly where everything started to come together for me. It marks the beginning of a full-scale invasion, and by that point I had already read many recollections and memoirs, because that’s very important to me. The recollections of Kyiv residents from that period are also a source of inspiration and entertainment.

And these feelings are both similar and different at the same time. That’s why real historical events dictate certain plot developments. But yes, certain additional forces that appear in the sequel will undoubtedly influence the overall plot and world. For now, I’ll say that every type of demon has its own gods, believes in something, and has its own cultural preferences. And it seems that all these gods, just like in our religion, exist somewhere beyond the boundaries of our world. They don’t really interfere, no matter who you are—whether you’re a type of demon in the world of *Lazarus* or a real person in our world. We don’t see these manifestations. But surely, at some point—especially during critical moments—the boundary between the worlds might actually grow thinner. I won’t say I believe in this one hundred percent, but I do believe in the power of collective faith. I believe that the great aspirations of a large number of people are capable of somehow materializing or manifesting themselves—whatever we choose to call it.

You know, I have this theory that in times of great catastrophes, war, and the like, blood acts as a kind of mystical force that breaks through the boundary between worlds. And where there’s a lot of bloodshed, where chaos and randomness rage, there’s room for a miracle. So, what do you think—is that true or not?

Well, as they say, there are no atheists in foxholes. I completely agree with that. No matter how I personally feel about it, I think there’s no denying it.

A little about *The House of Salt*. I’m sorry, I haven’t read it yet. It’s generally very hard for me to read long works right now—it’s hard to concentrate. But I’ve heard and read reviews, and I’ve gotten the impression that, first of all, it’s a Crimean story, and second, that you were inspired by *Dune*. That spice, the salt—well, of course…

Not exactly. Yes, a lot of people have asked about that, mostly because of the cover and that “vibe”—as they say these days. And because it’s described not exactly as a desert, but as a scorched steppe. But the magical substances in *The House of Salt* are different, and the concept of existence in this territory is different. It’s more of an absolute threat. And you can’t exactly use it the way it was in Herbert’s work. So, sure, you can find some parallels, but at the level of the text—at least according to readers’ feedback—you don’t really get that sense.

Are there any parallels between other literary works and *Lazarus*? In other words, were you inspired by anything besides documentary sources?

Here, it seems to me that in *Lazarus*—to a lesser extent than in *The House of Salt*—one can somehow identify literary influences. Because for me, this is truly a very Kyiv-centric text. It’s based—especially the first part—on Kyiv locations, urban myths, and so on. It’s truly Kyiv-centric. The next part, I think, is closer to a kind of epic fantasy. Kyiv also takes center stage there, but the setting expands a bit. And in that regard, I wouldn’t name any specific text as an influence, other than real history.

I’m convinced that literature, to a certain extent, grows out of literature itself, especially genre fiction. That’s why it’s so interesting when a successful story has a purely documentary foundation. You’ve probably already been asked who your style icons are—that is, your favorite authors?

In genre fiction—the unsurpassed contemporary master of short fiction, Ted Chiang; for a while, Jacek Dukaj was a huge inspiration; and I’m captivated by Margaret Atwood’s style. As for non-genre writers, I’m really into A. S. Byatt right now. 

 

Марія Галіна