The Hall of Singing Caryatids

This is the second Pelevin work I have read, and as with The Sacred Book of the Werewolf, I was aware that much of the satire of contemporary Russia was slipping by me. But as with the previous read, I enjoyed it page by page. Pelevin is a very good and very funny writer. In this novella, Lena, a young woman in Moscow who needs a job, signs on to be a naked, singing caryatid in an exclusive private men's club, a newly formed establishment that combines the stately elegance of a high-class geisha house with the more down-to-earth services of a brothel. Lena will be among the performers in the Malachite Room. There she will hold her position on a pedestal for several hours, smeared with a cream that makes her skin match the polished stone surroundings. Along with her co-workers, she will provide a musical background ranging from Tchaikovksy to the Russian national anthem. The Malachite Room is seldom visited by club members, but its offerings are somewhat on the dull side. In the billiard room, oligarchs play on a table that comes equipped with legs modified to perform oral sex.

Lena and her co-workers can hold their poses thanks to daily injections of a serum derived from praying mantises. The serum has an unexpected side effect. While posed on her pedestal, Lena receives visits from a giant praying mantis and finds that she can fuse with its consciousness. After fifty pages that mix satire and philosophical discussion in the Pelevin manner, Lena discovers that she has a mission. The conclusion, which is not hard to see coming, is funny, bloody, and satisfying.