Lyudmila Petrushevskaya does not give interviews and seems to have compiled an autobiographical book not as memoir revelations, but according to all the laws of fiction. No monotony, instead — an elegant collection of texts, where one genre easily replaces another: a story, a short story, a short story, an essay, a letter, a literary study, art history notes.
Lyudmila Petrushevskaya does not give interviews and seems to have compiled an autobiographical book not as memoir revelations, but according to all the laws of fiction. No monotony, instead — an elegant collection of texts, where one genre easily replaces another: a story, a short story, a short story, an essay, a letter, a literary study, art history notes. And yet, they can be used to restore the chronology and sequence of events, and the figure and fate of the author clearly show through the bizarre and masterful fabric of prose. War childhood, evacuation, famine, virgin lands, work on the radio, meetings with Arbuzov, Efremov and Tvardovsky, work with Yuri Norstein, the first productions of plays and their ban. An infinitely funny and sad book about life, which gave the author a reason to remark that “particularly acute happiness is earned by deprivation, whatever one may say. And only separation makes it possible for an unthinkable meeting.
Amphora, 544 p.
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