The Genius Under the Table

Starred review from June 1, 2021
Grades 5-8 *Starred Review* This warm and wonderfully illustrated autobiography comes from the author of Newbery Honor Book Breaking Stalin's Nose (2011). Yelchin describes his 1960s Leningrad childhood in the former Soviet Union, where his entire family crowds into a one-room apartment right next to the resident KGB informer. Mom is hopelessly in love with Misha Baryshnikov. Dad weeps over his favorite Russian poets. Big brother Victor is a champion figure skater. And little Yevgeny? His talents seem . . . elusive. Yevgeny is frustrated not only because of his cloudy future but also because of the questions he isn't allowed to ask, let alone get answered: ""How heavy is the Iron Curtain?"" ""What does it mean when people 'defecate' and seek asylum?"" ""Why is Grandpa cut out of all our family photos?"" Yevgeny finds solace in drawing on his secret canvas--the underside of Grandma's table. Luckily, when his pictures are discovered, he is declared a genius and starts art lessons. The self-effacing narrative seamlessly blends in Cold War history, Soviet politics, and loving family interchanges, and Yelchin's sly illustrations appear on almost every page. There's not a lot of material about this time period, and this humorous, informative, and engaging memoir will keep readers entertained.

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Starred review from August 30, 2021
In this frank, engaging memoir, Yelchin (Spy Runner) recounts his childhood in the U.S.S.R. as his boyhood self, Yevgeny, perceives and ponders it. Living in one room of a communal apartment with his grandmother, parents, and figure-skating champion older brother—and a government spy eavesdropping on them next door—Yevgeny searches for the talent that will make him “free” like the famous ballet dancers and ice skaters who have private apartments and travel abroad. At night, sleeping on a cot under the dining table, he tries to make sense of life by drawing on the underside of the table with a pencil stolen from his father. Yelchin humorously and sympathetically depicts his Jewish family—his outspoken mother who worships Mikhail Baryshnikov, his “tight-lipped communist” father with a passion for Russian poetry—as well as his tender sibling relationship. The penetrating pencil-textured drawings that accompany Yelchin’s perceptive text (“No chewing gum was sold in our country... We barely had stuff to eat, let alone stuff to chew”) are, he writes, rooted in memories of those early table sketches, and complement young
Yevgeny’s earnest, often baffled, voice. At once comical and disquieting, the book is an illuminating introduction to a young life in the former Soviet Union. Ages 9–12. (Oct.)■

Starred review from October 1, 2021

Gr 5 Up-Yelchin has created an unforgettable portrayal of one family's experiences living in the Soviet Union during the Cold War in his ingenious memoir. Using expressive drawings, Yelchin enhances his story of growing up in Leningrad. Yevgeny, his brother Victor, father, mother, and grandmother all share one room in a communal apartment. Each figure is shown to be beautifully human, flaws and all. Victor is a wonderful ice skater who began by skating behind trucks in traffic; the father is a stern Communist who loves Russian poets, such as Osip Mandelstam; the mother works for the Vaganova Ballet School and adores Mikhail Baryshnikov; and the grandmother is keeping a secret about their grandfather. Every evening, all the furniture in their one room living space has to be moved to convert it into their bedroom. Yevgeny sleeps under the dining room table, where he draws on the underside of the table each night with a pencil he has taken from his father. When his drawings are discovered, Yevgeny earns the nickname of "The Genius Under the Table" from his family and begins to study drawing. With an engaging and likable subject, Newbery Honor author Yelchin offers a poignant look at growing up during Cold War-era Soviet Union that will fascinate readers. VERDICT Recommended for those who love captivating memoirs mixed with humor.-Susan Catlett, Green Run H.S., Virginia Beach

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Starred review from September 1, 2021
When it becomes clear that unathletic Yevgeny is not going to follow in the footsteps of his figure-skating-whiz older brother Victor, their mother hopes -- against all evidence -- that he might make it in the world of the Soviet Union's other big artistic export, ballet, where she herself works and even has the acquaintance of the rising star Mikhail Baryshnikov. But Yevgeny's genius lies elsewhere, literally under the family's noses, if they only thought to look beneath the dining table where Yevgeny sleeps (and draws) each night. (It's a one-room apartment in 1960s Leningrad, housing Yevgeny, his brother and parents, and his grandmother, who gets some of the best lines in this book.) We now know Yevgeny as Newbery Honor-winning author and illustrator Eugene Yelchin (Breaking Stalin's Nose, rev. 9/11), and this memoir of his adolescence is a forthright, darkly humorous, and indelible portrait of an artist emerging. Family crowding and dynamics aside, the obstacles in Yevgeny's life are large (Soviet authoritarianism and antisemitism chief among them), but always grounded in the particulars of this kid's story: "Don't cry, boy," says a neighbor to an upset Yevgeny. "Have a cookie. You yids like sweets." As you can see from the excerpt on pages 21-28 of this issue, Yelchin, wonderfully, allows his text and pictures to interrupt each other with glee, reminding us how life begets art. It certainly does here. Roger Sutton

(Copyright 2021 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)

Starred review from September 15, 2021
Yelchin delivers a darkly humorous slice-of-life account of growing up in the Soviet Union. Living with his mother, father, brother, and grandmother in a tiny room inside a communal apartment in Leningrad, young Yevgeny does not have much privacy. He sleeps underneath the family table, where he spends his nights drawing in secret on the underside of the table. He draws to try to make sense of the confusing world around him, where neighbors spy on one another, everyone seems to be keeping secrets, and only the most remarkable, talented citizens are allowed luxuries like private apartments, cars, and the opportunity to travel outside the country. Yevgeny's older brother is a talented figure skater, and his parents are desperate to uncover a latent talent in him so that he can make a good life for himself, yet he unwittingly foils their well-meaning attempts in several comical incidents. Furthermore, the family's Jewish identity puts them at a disadvantage in a country where antisemitism regularly rears its ugly head. Yelchin's line drawings, re-created from his childhood sketches under the table, punctuate his story with visual humor and pathos. The vivid dialogue exchanged among his elders provides comic relief to many of the stark situations depicted as Yevgeny tries to hang onto hope amid the chaos and uses what considerable artistic talent he certainly possesses to try to envision a better future for himself and his family. Humorous, heartbreaking, and ultimately hopeful. (Memoir. 10-adult)

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July 1, 2021
When it becomes clear that unathletic Yevgeny is not going to follow in the footsteps of his figure-skating-whiz older brother Victor, their mother hopes -- against all evidence -- that he might make it in the world of the Soviet Union's other big artistic export, ballet, where she herself works and even has the acquaintance of the rising star Mikhail Baryshnikov. But Yevgeny's genius lies elsewhere, literally under the family's noses, if they only thought to look beneath the dining table where Yevgeny sleeps (and draws) each night. (It's a one-room apartment in 1960s Leningrad, housing Yevgeny, his brother and parents, and his grandmother, who gets some of the best lines in this book.) We now know Yevgeny as Newbery Honor-winning author and illustrator Eugene Yelchin (Breaking Stalin's Nose, rev. 9/11), and this memoir of his adolescence is a forthright, darkly humorous, and indelible portrait of an artist emerging. Family crowding and dynamics aside, the obstacles in Yevgeny's life are large (Soviet authoritarianism and antisemitism chief among them), but always grounded in the particulars of this kid's story: "Don't cry, boy," says a neighbor to an upset Yevgeny. "Have a cookie. You yids like sweets." As you can see from the excerpt on pages 21-28 of this issue, Yelchin, wonderfully, allows his text and pictures to interrupt each other with glee, reminding us how life begets art. It certainly does here.

(Copyright 2021 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)