THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON

Shreiber’s historical novel traces a young woman’s journey from Soviet Leningrad to a film studio in Los Angeles.

Nadia Argo is coming of age in the late-1970s Soviet Union. Pampered by her parents, Boris and Lena, she is a rising star at the prestigious Leningrad University, a natural beauty, and a budding poet. But it’s the Brezhnev years, and Nadia is surrounded by deprivation, food shortages, and fellow citizens acting as spies. The daughter of a Jewish film director, Nadia could lose all of her privileges in a heartbeat. This is exactly what happens when Nadia’s fascination with her new neighbor (Victor Nabatov, a charismatic but secretive diplomat’s son) draws the unwelcome attention of the authorities. When Nadia and her mother request permission to emigrate following Boris’ death, the situation spirals out of control. They are forced out of the country and must rebuild their life in the U.S., surviving the dehumanizing early months in New York and Palo Alto, California, until Nadia finds her calling in Los Angeles, returning to her first love and her father’s legacy: the world of filmmaking. While the story is compelling, it takes a long time for the novel to find its rhythm. The early chapters are told from various, often peripheral characters’ points of view, making it difficult to grasp the main thread. The funniest and most compelling voice belongs to Yasha Lansky, a cinematographer and Nadia’s benefactor in Los Angeles, who rants, “Ten years in this country and still ‘Where you’re from’? Every damn waiter wants to know my life story. And if I complain, people say, Oh, but Americans are curious…” The hardships of immigrant life are a worthy subject, though readers will hardly find anything new in these pages beyond the revelation that highly educated people often have to take menial jobs upon moving to the U.S.

Ambitious in its themes, this novel of the immigrant’s journey lacks focus and authority in the telling.