I am sometimes asked which books I would recommend reading. For the blog, this is generally not difficult — it’s enough to open all posts with the tag “I-recommend.” But since it’s been almost five years now since I revived my blog and began writing about the books I’ve read, I decided to put together a selection of non-fiction books I’ve read during this time that fall into the category of “you must read them.”
I have already written detailed reviews of all these books, so this time I’ve selected only the very best, grouped them by topic. For each book I give only brief recommendations on why they are worth reading, but you can always open the link to the full review. I hope this will be useful to someone. So, let’s begin.
Since my youth I have liked the work of Bulat Okudzhava, though back then I knew him only as a performer of songs. At home we had several of his records, and I enjoyed listening to the entire collection of my parents’ music. A little later I discovered Okudzhava also as the author of music and lyrics for many film songs, which I still enjoy listening to today.
Among other things, Bulat Okudzhava wrote quite a few songs for war films. I am sure almost everyone knows at least “We Face Deadly Fire” from Belorussky Station, or “Drops of the Danish King” from Zhenya, Zhenechka i ‘Katyusha‘. Okudzhava’s songs were able to convey the full range of feelings, and between the lines you could sense that the author knew what he was writing about.
And then I came across a book by Okudzhava from the series “My War,” in which veterans’ memoirs are published.
From School to the Front is not a single work but a collection of recollections that can formally be divided into “novellas” and “stories.” Formally — because this is not fiction, but rather the memoirs of Bulat Shalvovich, conveyed in his own manner.
The book begins with excerpts from interviews with the author, and only then come his writings. Okudzhava’s childhood was not easy. His father was repressed, and his mother also endured prison as the wife of a repressed man. And then came the war, at the start of which Bulat Okudzhava was only 17 years old.
If someone says to you “dangerous Soviet things,” what would you think of first? For me, right away it’s the “coffin on wheels.” It may sound like nonsense, something that never existed. But many of my peers knew dozens of such scary stories. Eduard Uspensky even wrote his novella about the Red Hand based on them.
However, the book Dangerous Soviet Things is more serious, though at times it deals with equally “nonsensical” theories that, nonetheless, people believed.
The book by Alexandra Arkhipova and Anna Kirzyuk is a large study of the phenomenon of the urban legend, with a focus specifically on the Soviet era. Abroad, the study of urban legends began quite a while ago; in our region, somewhat later. Though in certain periods the KGB quite actively and professionally collected such information, since behind rumors and legends there always hides some secret fear. And one must understand where the fear comes from, and also know how to counter it — or use it to one’s advantage.
From the description of the book, you expect popular science — interesting and entertaining reading. But from the very first pages, it feels like a bucket of cold water has been poured over you. Because the first seventy pages are an immersion into highly specialized terminology and the history of studying urban legends. For non-specialists (like me), this becomes rather disheartening. And only after that do the authors begin to examine the legends themselves, dividing them into thematic groups.
The word “producer” entered our everyday vocabulary in the former USSR around the 1990s. For many, it was associated both with a person who could turn any idea into a product and any person into a star, and at the same time with something shady. Apparently this was because many people back then had a lingering sense that any business was tied up with some kind of crime or vulgarity.
Later, however, the word no longer felt foreign in the language. In film it replaced the position of “film director” (in the sense of production management), and in many other industries the role finally came to mean what it should — someone who helps organize production as a whole, and who enables the team to create the product.
In the game industry, to which I have already devoted many years, this role exists as well. Yet to this day, few could really explain to you what exactly a producer does on a team. People still do not understand the meaning of a producer’s work, and some consider producers to be arrogant, overpaid idlers and budget-burners.
Dan Irish is an experienced game producer (the legendary Myst series was created with his participation, starting from the third installment). In 2005 he wrote the book The Game Producer’s Handbook, which is still often recommended to novice (and not only novice) producers.
I thought I would write about the second book of The Battles for Lukomorye a bit later, but then the media started saying that we need to talk more about the heroes of Russian fairy tales — about the likes of Dobrynya and Muromets. Well then, let’s write. Though in reality, the heroes were not nearly as noble as they appear in the tales.
I read the first part of this cycle a year ago and at that time also wrote down my thoughts about the book.
The Battle for Lukomorye is a fictional cycle set in the world of Tales of Old Rus’, which originally began as more of an art project by Roman Papsuev. The last time I thought it was a novel in two parts (since there was already word about plans for a second book). In fact, it turned out that the story does not end with the second volume.
I have already written about this world before, so I will not repeat myself in detail. In short, it is a world built on the motifs of Slavic fairy tales and folklore. The book The Battle for Lukomorye tells of events when the dark forces once again attempt to break into Rus’, while brave Rusichi (and other inhabitants of Belosvetie) strive to resist the followers of Chernobog, remembering how hard the struggle had been the last time, when only at great cost were they able to drive back the hordes of Koschei the Deathless.
It’s been a long time since I last wrote about good songs. Now it’s time to talk about one that my younger children have come to love — and which we’ve already listened to dozens of times.
The song was made very popular by the TV series Vikings, although in fact it is more than a thousand years old. In English it is known by its opening words, “My mother told me”, while in Old Norse (Common Scandinavian) it sounded as “Þat mælti mín móðir.”
In the series, the song is performed by two brothers who, upon hearing each other’s voices, realize that both are still alive after the battle. But, as I said, after the series the song began to be heard in many places; it was even added to various videos on Viking themes (for example, over the trailer for Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla video game). In many versions, performers limit themselves to just about a single verse, which is repeated several times:
My mother told me
Someday I would buy
Galleys with good oars
Sail to distant shores
The song is dated to around the 9th century AD. And in this text, historians say, is reflected the time when the Vikings no longer had enough land of their own and resolved not only to go on distant raids but even began to contemplate settling in other lands — in particular, England and Ireland. On the subject of the full text of the song, there is an interesting article by archaeologist Martine Kaspersen: http://www.scandinavianarchaeology.com/my_mother_told_me/.
The Puppet Master is a novella that was meant to begin the Daradda cycle, but as of today it has remained the only one in it, which is why it is available online under the title Daradda. The Puppet Master. The author, Danil Nesterenko, is not a professional writer; he works in game development, with particular attention to narrative.
And the love of narrative can be felt in the text. Daniil clearly thought through his world and wanted to make it alive and rich. However, the novella contains far too much that the narrator immediately pours onto the reader. You don’t have time to immerse yourself in the world and understand its rules, because right from the start you are almost buried under a huge mass of unfamiliar names, titles, geographic locations, and races. Moreover, as the story unfolds, you realize that the described world is not the only one in this universe — and this realization doesn’t make things any easier. Because you simply cannot grasp the entire layer of information that you are asked to hold in your head. Because of this, it is also not so easy to empathize with the hero’s actions, since the rules of the game in this world, filled also with magic, remain unknown and unclear to you.
At the same time, the novella is written in very beautiful and vivid language. That cannot be taken away from the author. And the book cover is simply excellent (though judging a book by its cover illustration is not the best idea).
However, the story did not turn out coherent. It is a kind of investigative tale, where the main character must figure out what happened to his liege lord’s son. And then it suddenly turns out that this hero is not even human. To the abundance of terminology and races is added a large number of secondary characters. It is clear that the author wants to introduce us to the world, but all these “guns” never fire and only distract. And much about the main character is unclear. Other than the fact that he is a demon and can do all sorts of things… where did he come from? Why? Why does he serve humans? What exactly are his abilities? Why was the assassination attempt plotted? Why did his friend and patron so easily dismiss him after the case was solved? Who are all these people and groups weaving intrigues? There are more questions than answers.
It is clear that this was meant as groundwork for a larger cycle or a novel, but it came out far too concentrated. And on top of that, there is an inexplicable reference to the Witchers, as if there weren’t already enough questions.
You can feel that a vast world with its own rules lives in the author’s mind, but introducing an unprepared reader into it should have been done in smaller portions. And although I cannot say that I really liked the novella, after reading it I realized that I would like to learn more about the hero. Perhaps Danil Nesterenko will eventually finish and rework the cycle so that it becomes easier for the reader to follow the twists and turns. Time will tell.
With the release of the novel As He Was Leaving, He Asked, Boris Akunin has fully completed his historical cycle, in which he simultaneously told the history of the Russian state and accompanied it with works of fiction set in the corresponding historical period.
Boris Akunin concluded the history of the Russian Empire with the reign of the last tsar of the Romanov dynasty — Nicholas II. Beyond that point, in the author’s view, it was no longer the history of an empire (though recent events show that imperial history seems unwilling to let Russia go).
The fictional cycle, as I have written many times before, is essentially the story of a completely different dynasty, one that managed to traverse the entire path from the Varangian era to the Revolution of 1917. And if in the earlier works of the cycle representatives of this dynasty played a rather prominent role — sometimes even stepping directly into the spotlight (as in the novel The Fortunate Adventures and Reflections of Lucius Catin) — then in the penultimate The Road to Kitezh it was the events of the era that came to the fore, rather than one of the heirs with the telltale birthmark on the forehead. The final novel, titled As He Was Leaving, He Asked, is likewise far less focused on the last heiress of the family in the cycle.
A few days ago marked two years since the death of Raman Bandarenka — a man who became one of the symbols of the 2020 protests in Belarus and, sadly, one of its victims. Raman was one of the residents of a Minsk courtyard at the intersection of Chervyakova Street, Kakhovskaya Street, and Smarhonski Tract, which during the protests became known as “Square of Changes.” Another resident of this “square,” Stsiapan Latypau, who handed out flowers to protesting women and actively took part in the life of his courtyard-“square,” was detained, attempted suicide several times during his trial, and ultimately received 8.5 years in a high-security prison.
In today’s world, we often know very little about our neighbors, especially when living in the huge “ant hills” of residential districts. But this courtyard became known to all concerned Belarusians. It appeared in many news reports, tea gatherings and even concerts were held there. Residents hung white-red-white ribbons on the fences, painted a mural on a transformer booth, and fought to preserve it. And it was for this reason that it received its own name — “Square of Changes.”
This courtyard, this phenomenon, has already been forever inscribed in the history of modern Belarus. And in 2022, Yauheni Otsietski decided to publish a photo album about this “square.”
I remember that in my childhood in the USSR, there was a craze for aerobics that came from the ‘decaying’ West. Various courses were released, special programs aired on TV, even records were issued with music and exercises. But even back then, as a teenager, I had my doubts that everyone was getting into this sport purely for the sake of sport—especially the men.
Time passed, the craze faded, but it was replaced by yoga, CrossFit, and other things like Pilates, which shall not be named.
What’s interesting is that even today many still perceive aerobics as an excuse to watch attractive women—not exactly with sporting intentions. But if in the 1980s this was seen as a manifestation of self-expression and liberation, now such views and videos could very well get you charged with harassment. O tempora! O mores!
And back then they even made movies—with young John Travolta and Jamie Lee Curtis. And no one went to jail, surprisingly. Even though it reeks of objectification of women, disregard for African Americans, and a bunch of other things.
So maybe the USSR was right about the decaying West after all.
