Glukhovsky’s Metro is ultimately pretty poor science fiction

I really want there to be a good, gritty Russian science fiction and/or post-apocalyptic writer. But two and a half tomes into the Metro trilogy, I must say that Dmitry Glukhovsky just ain’t it.

Really.

Dmitry Glukhovsky just ain’t it.

On the plus side, and this is why my little investigation is even underway, Glukhovsky is not an American writer and so is unafraid to get in with the dirt and at the same time remain innocent of facile post-apo stylization of the Mad Max sort. You just come to see Metro as a bit more real than the balls-out bonanza that so many others serve up. Literally toothless, with a terrible rash, and yet still clinging to life. And then there’s the bad parts,  like Glukhovsky’s use of tired humanist tropes, his lack of daring, and his cheap narrative tricks that somehow still fail to move you, maybe because they’re meant to sell and not move. That’s all there is to what I have read of Glukhovsky.

Have you read better Russian stuff? Is there a a genius to SF literature like Tarkovsky is to cinema among those writers?

Let me know.

Wait. Come to think of it, I don’t know why I am dismissing American stuff. McCarthy’s The Road is the absolute best post-apocalyptic novel that I know of. Guess it’s more of an exception than anything else, though. And guess I am looking for a slightly different flavor with the Russian thing.

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