Inside Renko, and a darker Russia
Arkady Renko , Moscow investigator, first appeared in Martin Cruz Smith's best-known novel, "Gorky Park," and in subsequent Arkady novels Smith has brilliantly depicted a changing, yet immutable, Russia. His latest, "Stalin's Ghost" (Simon & Schuster, $26.95), finds Arkady -- again out of favo r and out of sorts -- tracking down reports of Stalin appearing in the Metro, detectives moonlighting as contract killers, and the rise of an ultra-nationalist party. Enduring brain surgery and emotional turmoil, Arkady is at his laconic best. Smith spoke from his home in California.
Q. "Stalin's Ghost" revisits the Chechen war. Are historical events starting points for you?
A. Well, I had to begin somewhere, and the Chechen war is practically a colo ring book of disasters. I was interested to read about Chechens in Solzhenitsyn's "Gulag Archipelago." Then I read a little Lermontov, a little Tolstoy where there is a theme of this wild, hono r-bound, somewhat privileged society. That's one of the great things about what I do; I'm allowed to follow any trail.
Q. Is Arkady's environment increasingly bleak?
A. With "Gorky Park" I thought I had done my Russian book. Then Russia changed. I couldn't get back in, so I got on the factory ship, the Polar Star. I could sense that things were changing. Then at the end of "Red Square" there was great hope that things were coming together, a triumphant feeling. That has disappeared. Arkady is more and more thrown back on his own resources, which makes what he does all the more singular and dangerous.
Q. You literally couldn't get back into the Soviet Union?
A. Literally. I was barred from the country. Years later, the captain of the factory ship showed me a book for Soviet citizens travel ing abroad that included a list of provocateurs. And there I was! Considering he knew that the KGB actually caught up with me in Dutch Harbo r [Alaska] and barred me from the Soviet ship, it shows some nerve on his part. Also he understood that things were changing.
Q. You return often now?
A. About two times for each book.
Q. Is crime in your novels becoming almost peripheral?
A. I've always found it peripheral. What appeals to me about this genre is the excuse it gives a character to ask really hard questions that would otherwise land him in jail. Investigators -- at least the ones I know -- are slightly dubious characters socially. But they can open the book on society and read it.
Q. Did you injure Arkady to change him?
A. The brain injury opens up a passage into him, literally and figuratively. It's a sign that things will be revealed. Arkady is smarter and funnier than me, and his reaction to having his brain exposed is embarrassment. Because the whole universe is contained in our brain, we see it as something magical. Then someone drills a hole in the skull, starts draining blood, and you see this is not the universe, this is a bucket of slops.
Q. Has Arkady become tougher?
A. He is more cynical. He thinks he's not violent, that he's not at all like his father, but in some significant ways he is. That not totally hidden volatility makes him interesting. What I find amusing about him is the difference between what he says and what he does.
Q. Are there two ghosts here: Stalin and Arkady's father?
A. This is a book about fathers and sons. Everything else is built to lead you to that, to everybody's ghosts. I don't like flashbacks -- when I see one I usually say "Oh, God, here comes some information" -- but I think for this theme they work.
Q. How did you make Moscow feel so intimate?
A. Snow makes for intimacy. Everything takes on a slightly nocturnal texture. There's more huddling for warmth. And Russia is a much more intimate society in many ways than ours. There's much more physical ease. I remember getting into a Russian lifeboat one time and these fishermen were just sprawled all over each other, smoking cigarettes. You would have thought it was some male bordello.
Anna Mundow can be reached via e-mail at ama1668@hotmail.com. 
