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born into middle class america in the midst of the cold war, who has read very little russian literature, learned only a little of the great nation's history, who has heard only a little of its music, who has only once been slightly drunk on vodka, can know it. in short, this is a depressing book, but not
deeply depressing. resignedly depressing, i guess, describes it best. that's the point of the book, i think -- not the magic, not the epic struggles between dark and light which it borrows from classic high fantasy and dumps into the streets of s moscow, not the twilight that doesn't mean teen angst...
https://formyselfandstrangers.blogspot.com/2010/09/