METRO

Sasha K., a young Russian, begins his adult Soviet life with relatively cushy prospects: he has the opportunity to train--for a good job--at the Ammunition Institute in Tula. Sasha, however, would much rather be a performer than a weapons engineer. So he gets himself accepted by the Theatre Institute in Moscow--where he soon meets the three most important people in his life: Lena, his wife-to-be; jokester Stas; and, above all, saboteur Andrewelka, a holy fool and patron saint of the underground who speaks of himself in the third person. . . and can arrange anything anytime. True, Sasha himself makes political gaffes again and again in his show-biz career--like singing a song about Mandelstam at a concert. Nevertheless he rises quickly, appearing in movies and TV; he gets a permanent job with a theater troupe that provides him with propiska (a residence permit for Lena and himself) and an apartment; he even travels, as part of a theatrical tour, to India, Canada, and the US--in the novel's liveliest, funniest section. (Sasha half-heartedly tries to defect on the Bowery--but no one understands him; the Moscow actors attempt to cook dehydrated blocks of pea soup on the toilet bowls of a Montreal hotel.) Upon his return to Russia, however, Sasha can't get the taste of freedom out of his mouth. So, with help from all-purpose rebel Andrewelka, the actor declares himself a Jew, receives a letter of invitation from a relative (maybe real, maybe not) in Israel, and finally--at the fadeout--is allowed to leave with Lena. Very lightweight ‚migr‚/underground fiction, especially in contrast to the work of Vassily Aksyonov--but Kaletski (USSR-born, now living in N.Y.) fills out a sporadically entertaining memoir/novel with some interesting sociological reflections on the generation gap, Soviet-style.