Although it starts off somewhat traditionally, the beginning of Maria Reva's ENDLING does lay the groundwork for the experimental structure that follows by throwing a variety of seemingly unrelated strands at readers. The novel opens with a snapshot of the overall mundanity of life in wartime: “In the cities, buildings still stood whole…. Beyond the cities, fields. Yellow and brown, pockmarked by farmhouses, sliced by trenches for irrigation. Beyond the fields, sky…. Not much fell from it yet, the occasional bird.”

The scene then shifts to an interaction between two young women in the last remaining days before the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Yeva is a scientist studying snails, embarking on the somewhat discouraging project of preserving “endlings,” the last remaining specimens of their species, and (perhaps inevitably) chronicling their demise. With research funding dwindling, Yeva has turned to a stint on the so-called romance tours that bring Western bachelors to Ukraine in search of young brides.

"It's rare to find a novel that addresses writing about wartime with both playfulness and pathos, but Reva manages exactly that. She surprises readers at nearly every turn, often injecting humor that is equally off-kilter and unexpected."

Eighteen-year-old Nastia is the daughter of Iolanta Cherno, a notorious Ukrainian activist and leader of the group Komod, who is best known for taking off her clothes to reveal anti-Putin slogans. Iolanta, a critic of the romance tour industry, has disappeared. Nastia, accompanied by her sister Sol, who serves as her interpreter, also has signed on as a “bride” but has an ulterior motive on this particular tour. It will call attention to the exploitative nature of the industry and maybe attract Iolanta's attention to boot.

One wouldn't think that snail science, marriage tourism and troops amassing on the border would hang together, but somehow it does, even after --- midway through the first section --- Maria Reva herself shows up as a character. Like the author, she's living in Vancouver as the war breaks out, and she's terrified for the safety of her grandfather, who is holed up in his apartment in war-ravaged Kherson. Best known as a short story writer, she's also struggling to finish her first novel (which may or may not be the book we're reading). Might one goal serve the other, or vice versa?

As Reva breaks up the narrative and puts it back together again (including, at one point, offering several versions of the same chapter with slightly different outcomes), she shakes readers awake and urges them to pay attention.

It's rare to find a novel that addresses writing about wartime with both playfulness and pathos, but Reva manages exactly that. She surprises readers at nearly every turn, often injecting humor that is equally off-kilter and unexpected. But although ENDLING is often a very funny novel, it also (fittingly) is studded with moments of violence, devastation and loss. Despite Reva's narrative doubts about her own abilities as a novelist, she does manage to pull together these different strands in a way that is both shocking and satisfying, offering a singular vision of the ongoing war in Ukraine.