What was the genesis of this novel?
Before Russia’s full-scale invasion, there were indeed “romance tours” to Ukraine (as there are to other parts of the world) which brought in Western men sold on the promise that they would find a perfect docile bride untainted by feminism /modernity. I wanted to write a novel about both the men (the “bachelors”) and the women (the “brides”) who took part in this industry — and not for reasons one might expect.
Did you decide to write about the war after the invasion? How did the Russian invasion impact you?
I live in Canada but have family in Ukraine. The family has experienced a lot of loss. All my relatives, except for my grandfather, have had to flee their homes. My grandfather lives under constant aerial attack in Kherson. I decided to write about the war several months after the full-scale invasion began. It was all I could think about, so I had to fold it into the narrative of my manuscript.
The novel reflects your deep research into eclipsazoology and malacology. How did you come up with the idea that the stories of snails’ extinction could fit in the context of the war in Ukraine?
I had already written a draft (two drafts?) of the novel when I came across an article in The Atlantic, The Last of Its Kind by Pulizer-prize winning journalist Ed Yong. He wrote about snail endlings (the last surviving members of species) and the devastating emotional toll of this work on the biologist who cared for them. The article stuck with me. Sometimes, I combine ideas into one manuscript simply because I want to write about multiple interests simultaneously. And, in the case of combining romance tours with snail conservation, it just worked out. It made sense to me that one of the “brides” who takes part in the tours would actually be a snail biologist funding her research by dating well-off men. She’s not interested in romance herself, but getting snails to breed is her life’s work.
{{/usCountry}}I had already written a draft (two drafts?) of the novel when I came across an article in The Atlantic, The Last of Its Kind by Pulizer-prize winning journalist Ed Yong. He wrote about snail endlings (the last surviving members of species) and the devastating emotional toll of this work on the biologist who cared for them. The article stuck with me. Sometimes, I combine ideas into one manuscript simply because I want to write about multiple interests simultaneously. And, in the case of combining romance tours with snail conservation, it just worked out. It made sense to me that one of the “brides” who takes part in the tours would actually be a snail biologist funding her research by dating well-off men. She’s not interested in romance herself, but getting snails to breed is her life’s work.
{{/usCountry}}Your female characters, especially Yeva, Nastia and Sol, are invincible. Do they serve as a statement of Ukrainian female resilience even in times of war?
I’m not sure if I was trying to make a statement via any of the characters. To do so consciously risks veering into pedantic territory. Yeva and Nastia’s psyche is simply the kind that interested me as a writer at that time: those who are both deeply passionate and deeply flawed. I’m not sure that Yeva and Nastia are invincible. They falter in certain circumstances but thrive in others — like humans in real life. (As for Sol, she’s better balanced. Which is probably why she eventually got demoted to the status of secondary character.)
Which is your own favourite character in the novel?
Yeva. She’s braver and crazier than I could ever be.
There may be some moments in the book that may have been driven directly from your own personal life, like the grandfather who doesn’t leave Ukraine despite the precarity. Are there other such instances?
Yes, indeed, the grandfather is based on my own grandfather. As Russian forces occupied his city of Kherson, I kept fantasizing about his rescue. And there really is an entire novel manuscript I wrote alongside Endling that ended up getting thrown out.
Why did you not work on it and turn it into another novel?
I’d say I did turn it into another novel, but I made that metamorphosis (or derailment) explicit. I wanted the reader to be brought into that process with me. So, the book begins as a satire of the romance tour industry, and ends as something completely different.
Did you visit your grandfather in Ukraine or discuss the novel or the Ukrainian situation with him?
My sister and I went on a research trip to Ukraine in 2023. (My sister, Anna Pidgorna, is a composer.) We travelled further and further east within the country, but didn’t make it to Kherson. The situation was bad there, and continues to be. The Russians were also targeting (and continue to target) trains and train stations. It felt too dangerous. At the time, I didn’t know I’d be writing about my grandfather, so I didn’t tell him about any book plans. I still haven’t told him – I know that sounds crazy, given the attention the book is receiving now. I just didn’t see the point. A huge part of the book is a fantasy of rescuing him from Kherson. Multiple relatives have tried to convince him to leave. I’ve had to accept that it’s his decision to stay in his apartment and that he’s prioritizing independence over safety. If I were his age, maybe I’d do the same.
There are some compelling interjections that blur the boundaries between fiction and truth in the novel – as when the narrator addresses the reader on page 130. Another time the narrator says, “I need to keep fact and fiction straight, but they keep blurring together”. How important is this to fiction writing?
I definitely bent fact in Endling. The snail species are mostly fictional, though the state of snail endangerment in Ukraine (and around the world) is very real. When writing about my relatives I had to be more careful. That’s the question the book is grappling with: which facts can you bend in service of a broader truth?
Your earlier collection of stories, Good Citizens Need Not Fear, explores the sociopolitical struggles of the Ukrainians during the Soviet era. Endling is also focused on the displacement and suffering of Ukrainians during the ongoing war. Do you see yourself as a ‘writer of commitment’ dedicated to unveiling the suffering of your own people?
To be honest, I am not sure how I see myself, or if that is my agenda. I didn’t set out to write about the war — I was already four years into my manuscript when Russia launched its full-scale invasion. But, after that, I could not keep writing the book without the war because it was all I could think about.
Which authors or books have influenced you?
Edward Carey’s style has helped me see human flaws (whether in appearance or personality) as something beautiful and worthy of examination rather than judgment. Margaret Laurence opened the linked story canon for me. Deb Olin Unferth not only introduced me to other marvellous writers’ works but her book Barn 8 was a huge inspiration for my own. Tove Ditlevsen’s memoirs have helped me with voice. Salvador Plascencia’s structural play has helped unlock my own.
Mohd. Farhan teaches English at Jamia Millia Islamia, a Central University in New Delhi.