When Renko was introduced to the reading public in ''Gorky Park'', his anti-establishment attitude carried a palpable sense of danger, set as the novel was in the pre-glasnost Soviet Union. Cruz Smith then charted a compelling course for his Russian sleuth, setting subsequent novels in a country emerging from the yoke of communism, facing new challenges as Russian society (and the state apparatus that Renko worked for) struggled with its new place in the world. What makes ''Tatiana'' so disappointing is that it feels like just another detective novel, with the social context, so effective in works like ''Polar Star'', a minor influence. Smith ensures that social dynamics are not ignored completely – Renko first appears at the funeral of a post-Soviet mobster – but he also relies too much on predictable elements such as the obligatory sexual relationship with an initially hostile colleague and the inclusion of an alcoholic detective partner, whose drinking problem appears to be his only discernible character trait.
In fairness, ''Tatiana'' has enjoyable elements – Renko’s relationship with Zhenya (a young man he has taken de facto parental responsibility for) remains brittle, antagonistic but above all, believable. Also, there is an interesting plot diversion featuring Italian racing bicycles, which if nothing else helps demonstrate the new Russia’s improved connection with the outside world. Also, fans of the Renko novels will be glad to find that Arkady has lost none of his pessimism and world-weariness.
Sadly though, much of the novel fails to match the depth of plot and characterisation evident in earlier works such as ''Gorky Park''. I also yearned for a line as vibrant and evocative as that in ''Red Square'', when a colleague tells Renko that ''observing you smoke is like watching someone commit suicide''. In contrast, the opening line of ''Tatiana'' – ''It was the sort of day that didn’t give a damn'' – is cod Bukowski and unworthy of a writer as accomplished as Cruz Smith. In previous novels, Renko’s readiness to court death in order to protect innocents was anchored in a pessimism about the worth of his own existence. In ''Tatiana'', he has a reason to live – his love for and duty towards Zhenya – yet his willingness to face a murderer at the novel’s denouement feels strangely without any tension.