Andreas Kübar’s novel weaves grief through psychedelic fantasy

Andreas Kübar’s novel “This beautiful love story that I will never finish reading” combines an intimate story of grief with surreal, psychedelic imagery. Rasmus Politanov’s review was published by ERR and first appeared in Värske Rõhk.

The book touches on subjects often found in young writers’ work, including climate, war, social anxiety, mental health, minority groups, emotions and nature, but it resists a simple summary. Kübar has said readers will get to “trip” through the novel. Its scenes include a rehabilitation centre in Moominvalley and angels named after rappers, furious that paintings depict them as too fat.

At the centre of the story is Lea’s death and the grief that unsettles the lives and identities of those around her. Her boyfriend, Suraj, is admitted to a psychiatric hospital because he refuses to let her go. For much of the plot, he hides in a wardrobe in Lea’s flat, where his father, Dr Suraj, looks after him and slowly coaxes him out.

Politanov considers the novel’s treatment of grief its strongest element. Everyone misses Lea, and the characters offer glimpses of different stages of mourning. Suraj struggles to accept that she died in an accident: “Lea had an accident, although that was impossible, because everything was fine yesterday … and today cannot be so different from yesterday.” Lea’s best friend, Camille, searches for meaning in their last Messenger conversation and concludes that “everything becomes perfect only in retrospect.”

Lea’s personality and past relationships are not fully described, the review notes. Instead, the reader encounters her through the memories of those grieving her. This gives the omniscient narrator a distinctive voice, making what is said about Lea melancholic, beautiful and at times fairy-tale-like. It also leaves room to doubt the truth of the characters’ recollections, even when believing them would be easier.

The novel does not, however, arrive at a larger philosophy of fate or answer the question of life’s meaning. Politanov says this is preferable to a tired cliché, though less compelling than a fresh, bold and confident conclusion. One character, Nayan, says that “we are all victims of fate, and no idea is big enough to free you from its clutches.”