I-84 eastbound baby.. where are you going?

BNSF 5973, GE ES44AC east and westbound coal trains passing on the Butte Sub at Hemingford NE 6-15-06 © Paul Rome by Paul Rome

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speed is distance through time

photography + © Christof Keßemeier

When this brief lyrical novel was first published in France, in 2012, Russia’s war against Ukraine was no more than a psychotic gleam in Vladimir Putin’s eye. Today, “Eastbound” is a story of our time. In a book whose only battlefield is a cross-continental train, Maylis de Kerangal vividly evokes the Russian military’s disorder and brutality and the desperation of the men who have been forced to serve in it.As the novel opens, more than a hundred new conscripts are packed, many of them standing, virtually all of them smoking, into the third-class cars of a trans-Siberian train going east. They haven’t been told their destination, a relatively small indignity. They’ve already been marked as losers for not having evaded Russia’s annual spring draft, as the more affluent and better-connected have. They expect to be hazed in their barracks by second-year conscripts who may rape them, burn their genitals with cigarettes or make them lick the toilets. You can imagine the esprit de corps.

One of the new recruits is 20-year-old Aliocha, not a fighter, not a drinker, woefully still a virgin, terrified of his increasingly drunken and belligerent fellow travelers. When two other conscripts attack him, beating him badly in his cramped compartment, Aliocha resolves to get off the train, perhaps the first meaningful decision he’s made in his life.

The young man shortly discovers that he’s too naïve to plan a successful desertion. He’s unfamiliar with the stations where the train will stop and the country that lies beyond. His first try draws the attention of his vicious sergeant — but then Aliocha encounters a Westerner who is traveling in first class. Hélène is a 35-year-old Frenchwoman who has impulsively gone AWOL herself. She’s fleeing her lover, a Russian émigré whom she had met in Paris and later joined in Krasnoyarsk, where he had returned to manage a hydroelectric plant. She speaks no Russian. She and Aliocha communicate with gestures and intuition. She fully comprehends the young man’s fear, but she has no plan, for either of them.

As Aliocha and Hélène evade detection, “Eastbound” becomes a novel of suspense that hurtles along with considerably more velocity than the train itself, which, de Kerangal notes, moves at 60 kilometers per hour. The would-be deserter and the privileged foreigner develop a languageless friendship unsettled by their unequal circumstances. Aliocha observes, “She’s helping me, yes, but she doesn’t trust me.” Their efforts to build trust suffer setbacks.

Siberia rolls by outside, “a woolly mauve wilderness,” the idea of Siberia even larger than the landscape: “a world turned inside out like a glove, raw, wild, empty.” The train lurches through “the night that never closes completely here, but stays ambiguous, charged with an electric luminosity that always makes you think day is about to break.” Then the day does break, “the dawn raising up the forest at full tilt, lifting each trunk to vertical, the bluish underbrush perforated by rays charged with a carnal light, the taiga like a magnetic cloth, modulated to infinity by the new thickness of the air.” The train runs along the shore of Lake Baikal, “the inland sea and the sky inversed, the chasm and the sanctuary.”

In Maylis de Kerangal’s luminous vision, conveyed by the inspired translator Jessica Moore, Siberia’s immensity dwarfs human perspective. The insecurity of existence across this vastness and on board the train emphasizes the significance of human connection. In a time of war, this connection may bring liberation and salvation.

Driving

I-70 eastbound, October 2023

Only existing to get away: Eastbound by Maylis de Kerangal

Only existing to get away: Eastbound by Maylis de Kerangal, translated by Jessica Moore @archipelagobks

He’s posted at the far end of the train, at the back of the last wagon in a compartment slathered in thick paint, a cell, pierced by three openings, that the smokers have seized immediately. This is where he’s found himself a spot, a volume of space still unoccupied, notched between other bodies. He has pressed his forehead to the back window of the train, the one that looks out over the tracks,…

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A mile of road will take you a mile, a mile of runway will take you anywhere… • • #lookup #bluesky #clearsky #deepblue #deepbluesky #sky #skyporn #skylovers #skylove #travel #contrail #chemtrails #atc #airtraffic #airtrafficcontrol #eastbound #westbound #traffictraffic #flightlevel #altitude #flight #flying #avgeek #headsup #february #2023 #february1st #winter #wintersky (at Highclere Castle) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoKIgijo4Cc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

It was hard to leave Colorado when it was the best time of the year there. I think September is the best month in the Rockies. But we are trading golden aspens for a patchwork of color in the Smoky Mountains. #eastbound #mbvansambassador #vanlife @winnebagorvs @mercedesbenzvansusa (at Leadville, Colorado) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjBFuhOrS4W/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[johnny after a month of visiting and staying with kenshi’s family]

Johnny, to kenshi’s mom: you know, I don’t think we ever really got over that, language barrier

Kenshi’s mom: no, It’s not your fault! You are learning quickly!

Johnny: what the- you speak english?!

Kenshi’s mom: of course I do!

Johnny: …you spoke english the whole time I’ve been here?!

Kenshi’s mom: I speak english since I was five years old!

Last night I watched some clips from Smokey and the Bandit. As a kid I watched that movie in a theater. In those days I was genuinely sad when movies ended, and we had to leave the theater. Smokey and the Bandit was no different.

No matter how much I begged, my parents would not install a CB radio in our station wagon. They probably never even watched how much fun Bandit had.

This morning I decided I would cross state lines to buy beer that is not available in Minnesota. I donned my motorcycle gear and headed east to Wisconsin: land of cheese, beef sticks, more cheese, deer carcasses on highway shoulders, and--of course--lots of beer.

My destination was Nelson, WI. It's a pleasant 90 minute ride from home. The outside temperature rose as I rode down US 35, along the Mississippi River and Lake Pepin. Since I was hot my first top was the Nelson Creamery for ice cream. This time I didn't drip any on my hands or clothing. The creamery also sells cheese, beef sticks, and more cheese. I selected some items to bring home in my little cooler.

Whenever meat or cheese is priced per pound I examine every package and select the one with the lowest price. They all look the same, so to me I'm just wisely saving money. Here I saved $0.16 with the one in the top of the picture, but there's no way anyone can tell the two packages of string cheese are any different.

The creamery also sells local beer and wine. The Spotted Cow I wanted they didn't have in cans. A small liquor store a block away had those cans.

With cheese, beer, beef sticks and some more cheese on board, I crossed the river and headed for home, going up along the river on the Minnesota side.

what if I become a single-issue voter but my single issue is high-speed train service (& the associated infrastructure needed for it) between cities in the US