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332 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2009
Our city’s historic waterfront spent the Soviet years slowly dying. The buildings – an old hotel and nearby merchant villas – looked like the moth-beaten eighteenth century kaftans on rickety mannequins in the local museum. The once-proud street was unsightly, as though it had been recently bombed by the Germans and was good for nothing except maybe making movies about partisans.
All kinds of wondrous things happen in Stargorod. The actress Katya Kholodtsova, for instance, because of unrequited love drowned herself in one of Stargorod’s channels and turned into a mermaid. Afterwards, many people saw her bathing there in the moonlight, and I am inclined to believe them.
The sight of him was terrifying: he stood short, disheveled, with his tie askew and his eyes burning like hot embers, arms spread wide. Nozdrevatykh tried to crawl, but his legs would not obey him. One way or another, groaning and creaking, he circled the table three times.
“You didn’t get it? Well, this’ll be the end of me, but you won’t live either!” and with these words, the Ukrainian exorcist whipped out a small firefighter’s axe from behind his back and charged at his jinxed comrade. The battle-tested general howled like a Chinook at lift-off, jumped to his feet and leapt out the window.