You’re right, you said, swallowing that familiar mix of guilt and shame for which you had long ago developed a taste. They went so well together, like gin and tonic, like civilization and colonization, like resistance and collaboration, like Hitler and Goebbels, like Nixon and Kissinger, like Vietnam and Algeria, like France and the United States, that there should be a cocktail, or at least a minor Russian novel, or maybe just a teenage dance craze, called the Guilt and the Shame.
