Jivan Hrantovich Lusinyan, a native of Nagorno-Karabakh, who at one time failed to complete his studies at a medical institute, lives and lives in the town of Podvolotsk. The nedovrach ended up in Russia and has been working as a nurse in a psychiatric hospital for more than a decade.
While Jivan is going through another existential crisis and a crisis in family life, an emergency happens at work: someone tried to set fire to the door to the office of the head of the department, and this is not the first fire in the walls of the hospital. The hero undertakes an amateur investigation, the purpose of which is to calculate the pyromaniac.
In fact, the storyline associated with a depressed Armenian in the novel is not the only one, and sometimes it seems that it is not even central, because in addition to it there is the story of several sailors who in 1904 sailed on the ship "Tsarevich" towards sultry Sicily, and there is also the story of a boy who was so muzzled that he decided to simulate autism, and got used to his condition, having gone into himself far and for a long time.
All these three lines gradually come closer and intertwine, so that who is fantasizing or dreaming about what is no longer very clear, and the reader can only ask questions from the category of "was there a prince", "is the boy healthy" and "who is here, after all, a pyromaniac". Some of the questions will even be answered, but, as is often the case in "serious literature", the questions themselves may be much more important than the answers to them.
Unfortunately, all the lines described by Ponizovsky turned out to be not at all equivalent in the reader's perception: the author managed to work in a mental hospital, but it was not possible to swim on a ship during the Russian Empire.
I am, of course, being ironic, but still, if the line associated with the psychiatric department was absolutely realistic, well-written, filled with details, and did not cause any questions, then the line with Minka and the Prince (or "Prince") resembled one of the plots of the film "Fountain" by Aronofsky: remember, there Hugh "Wolverine" Jackman had the honor to play three roles at once, one of which was the Spanish conquistador, who, at the request of the queen, goes to distant almost for The Holy Grail - all this is beautiful, but incoherent and necessary, it seems, solely for the delight of the eyes.
Whether it's nonsense, or fiction, or the truth about the heir to the Spanish throne going for the crown in the hold of the "Tsarevich" - from the same opera: why the ship, why Spain (no, there is a roll call with one more detail, but in both it was quite possible to replace the country) - all this is unclear and questions swarm around like flies.
The main disappointment of the novel for me personally was its chopped-off ending. It was as if someone was standing behind Ponizovsky's shoulder and whispering in his ear, "Yes, finish it already, stop dirtying the pages." No, everything was logical, and even brought together, but if at first the pace of the narrative was quite measured (even for a minor case in a pub it took several pages), then in the end everything somehow bang! and it ended as if the door was slammed in your face, yelling "kooooooeeee!".
By the way, the book is only 288 pages, another 150 could have been added, then, quite possibly, there would not have been such a feeling. Having turned from a pretty little hand into a stump, the book has lost a lot, what in the end should have bloomed in full color, remained only rudiments.
No, the global idea that a person's whole life is really only in his head, and no matter what blackness is around, it's only important that what's in your mind is clear and understandable, but initially taking on the "Prince Incognito" I was counting on something more.
The dictionary at the end of the book and the inserts in a foreign language "in the course of the play" became ridiculous for me. Okay, the inserts can still be explained by the nationality of the hero, who in moments of nervous excitability begins to broadcast in his native language, but a dictionary explaining what a tranquilizer and phenozepam are for what else?
It already seems to me that we all know from childhood how adaptol differs from atarax, and phenazepam from diphenhydramine, it's all gone into urban folklore. Well, if we don't know, then reading a book and seeing that some hero is given some medicine in the hospital, it is unlikely that he will lie awake later, thinking what is being treated for him. In general, it was better to use the energy spent on the dictionary to work directly on the text of the novel.
Unlike the novel "Petrovs in and around the flu", which I mentioned at the beginning of the review, there is nothing funny or ironic in "Prince Incognito", the mental hospital of a county town is something that it is really a sin to laugh at, even if it is a defensive reaction. The world of the hospital town of a psychiatric hospital in reality is unpleasant and distinctly hostile, literally pressing from all sides.
And he is like this not because of the sick as such, but because of the attitude towards such people from the healthy (and I want to change to the under-examined), and the medical staff. In general, "Prince Incognito" transmits this atmosphere of a typical neuropsychiatric dispensary 100%, as if it can even broadcast smells.
Maybe for someone this is a dubious achievement, but considering where most of the action of the book takes place, in my opinion Ponizovsky can at least be praised for this.
335.508 SRY