Fredrik Backman was my discovery of 2018. As I mentioned earlier, his novel A Man Called Ove was the best fiction book I read that year. That’s why I decided that I definitely needed to read his other books—or at least give them a try, since sometimes an author writes one exceptional work, but the rest don’t live up to it.
Backman’s second novel is intriguing from the title alone—My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry. It immediately makes you curious about who this grandmother is and what she’s apologizing for.
The main character of the book is a girl named Elsa, and her grandmother is quite a character. If Ove—the hero of A Man Called Ove—believed that life should be orderly and by the rules, Elsa’s grandmother is the complete opposite. She doesn’t accept any rules or laws, and Elsa adores her for it. Partly because every night in their dreams, they fly off to the magical land of Miamas together. And her grandmother is always on the lookout for adventures. Even her final quest for her granddaughter promises many mysteries and discoveries.
The most interesting thing is that, despite my super positive attitude going in, the first part of the book didn’t flow as smoothly for me as A Man Called Ove did. With Ove, I couldn’t put it down. Here, the rhythm was different, and while the grandmother is a colorful character, there’s just so much fantasy and make-believe that she feeds to her granddaughter.
It just so happens that I had never read any works by Vladimir Korotkevich (Uladzimir Karatkevich, if translated from Belarusian), even though my wife really enjoys his writing. I had been planning to for a long time, but I finally decided to start my acquaintance with the relatively short novella King Stakh’s Wild Hunt.
The novella tells the story of the main character, a collector of Belarusian folklore, who travels to distant marshy areas to find local folklore among the people. He’s kind of like Shurik from a famous Soviet film, but from an earlier time and in Belarus, not the Caucasus.
Luck smiles upon him, and he quickly learns about the legend of the Wild Hunt of King Stakh—phantom hunters who torment all the descendants of an ancient noble family. Since the last descendant is a lovely young woman, the main character decides to investigate the situation and protect the innocent victim. It’s a detective story with a blend of Belarusian motifs and constant reflections on the place of ordinary people in history. Initially, the narrative progresses slowly and measuredly, but after about a third, the pace changes, and events start to unfold more and more rapidly.
The book “The Design of Everyday Things” by Don Norman absolutely did not meet my expectations. The reason for this was a misunderstanding of the synopsis on my part. I expected a book filled with numerous examples of good and bad design, a sort of entertaining read, and perhaps even colorfully illustrated. But the book turned out to be something entirely different.
This book is about proper design. And it’s not limited to just objects: it covers anything from the things around us to technological devices, rules, and procedures. The key idea is that the solution should best fulfill its purpose.
A brand-new novel by Oleg Divov, fresh off the press, “was still running this morning.” The book Tech Support is presented as if it were a report about events that the general public is not supposed to know. Complete with all the necessary “confidential” and “approved for use” labels from the Schrodinger Institute.
The story takes place in the not-too-distant future (just a few decades ahead) when the Russians sold good-quality, but no longer cutting-edge, weaponry to an African country. Well, more accurately, they went there to sell it. And there, events took their own course, following a distinctly Russian-African trajectory.
The novel is written in a very light style, with a sense of irony and humor, generously seasoned with recklessness, nonchalance, and the typical Russian “let’s hope for the best” attitude. But it also carries a certain degree of political incorrectness that we’re familiar with: black people are called “negroes,” (which doesn’t care any negative attitude in Russian, by the way), cultural stereotypes are mocked, and so on. I can’t even imagine letting a Western audience read this novel—they’d tear it apart.
The book “18 Minutes: Find Your Focus, Master Distraction, and Get the Right Things Done” by Peter Bregman had been recommended to me several times, although I no longer remember by whom. It’s about improving focus, avoiding distractions, and accomplishing what you set out to do.
Even though it’s written in a fairly easy-to-read style, I didn’t like the first half at all. It felt like a typical business book, full of fluff, self-praise, and similar things. Something along the lines of “I was a loser, but then I saw the light, and now everyone should follow my lead.” I’m exaggerating, of course, but that’s the feeling I got from the tone between the lines.
However, later on, the author switches to practical examples and more actionable advice.
One of the best articles on employee training and feedback. It challenges much of what we are taught by various “gurus” and what many companies implement in their corporate processes. It offers a fresh perspective on what happens within teams and with individuals. Interestingly, I have personally discovered and applied some of these principles intuitively, even when they contradicted official doctrine.
Let’s set aside the serious topics for now and talk about something even more serious—have you mastered driving in Cyprus or not?
You’ve probably become a full-fledged Cypriot driver if the following statements apply to you.
You never use your indicator—unless you accidentally hit the lever.
The “Stop” sign is just a variation of a “Yield” sign to you.
You’re convinced the stop line at intersections is supposed to be behind your car.
You’re convinced that you’ve done ‘everything possible’ to give way to the car on the main road if you pull out directly in front of it, blocking at least half of the lane, but most importantly — you STOPPED to let it pass (even though it’s now impossible for anyone to get through because of you).
You never slow down or check for other vehicles when entering a main road.
When turning right from a side road, you calmly pull out into the center, blocking the way for everyone coming from the right (remember — it’s LEFT-HAND driving, like in the UK). And those who had to stop because of you DON’T GET ANNOYED!
You know for sure that a red traffic light means “you can go if you really need to.” Even if the police are nearby.
You calmly drive through a red pedestrian light (not at an intersection, but specifically for pedestrian crossings) if the pedestrian has already crossed or there’s no one at all. Just like the previous situation — even if the police are nearby.
You park your car in any available space, whether it’s a street corner, a sidewalk, the opposite lane, or two spaces at once — after all, your car just looks better taking up both spots.
You feel entirely entitled to stop right in the middle of the road if you spot a friend driving toward you. Of course, you’ll chat through the open windows for a good 5-10 minutes. The cars behind you? Well, meeting a friend is far more important!
Double solid line? What’s that? You can’t cross it? Oh, come on! See, even the police officer stopped to let me through!
You’re sure that moving at 5 cm per second at an intersection doesn’t count as actual movement, and therefore allows you to turn even on a red light.
You can comfortably block someone else’s car without leaving your phone number. And if someone blocks your car, you would never bother calling the large number displayed under their windshield.
You never pay at a paid parking spot using a parking meter.
You consider it normal to leave your car parked all day during summer with the windows open for ventilation. Sometimes, you even leave the keys in the ignition, just in case your car might block someone from exiting.
If you need to get out of your car, you abruptly swing open the door without checking the mirrors to see if someone is coming from behind.
In heavy rain on the highway, you turn on your hazard lights, drastically reduce your speed, or even stop completely by the side of the road.
You don’t care about scratches and dents on your car. And if you happened to bump or scratch someone else’s car? Well, even less so!
You have a perfect sense of timing and confidently maintain the necessary 0.1-second interval before honking at the car in front of you, signaling that the light turned green 0.1 seconds ago.
You know that if you honk long enough at cars stuck in traffic or behind an obstacle, either the obstacle will magically vanish, or the cars in front will disappear into thin air.
You always talk on the phone while driving. Always! Without it, the car just doesn’t run as smoothly.
If you ever get the feeling that you might be doing something wrong (whether while driving or parking), simply turning on your hazard lights instantly absolves you of all responsibility.
I’m sure there’s more to add… I’ll keep working on it myself, or maybe I’ll update it with suggestions from the comments.
I’ve loved reading since childhood and have almost always held books in reverence. My parents had a fairly large library, and I enjoyed browsing through the books, cataloging them, and even keeping track of everything I’d read. Later, I started buying books myself and often felt pleasure simply from owning them, even if I hadn’t yet had time to read them. Just having a book on the shelf was wonderful in itself. At one point, I even seriously considered getting into the book business but eventually limited myself to making good acquaintances in that world.
Then, out of the blue, someone recommended The Diary of a Bookseller by Shaun Bythell to me, saying, “If you love books so much, you absolutely must read it.”
Working in an international company, I’ve experienced cultural differences firsthand between various nationalities. A year ago, I wrote a review of The Culture Map, a book I constantly recommend to colleagues. However, this topic is so broad and fascinating that it keeps resurfacing, especially as the understanding of these differences allows me to notice them in the behavior of those around me almost daily.
Today, I’d like to delve deeper into differences in trust and loyalty. Instead of comparing everyone, let’s focus on the typical American and the typical Russian. By “Russians,” I mean people from the former USSR, as this is how we are often viewed abroad. Of course, this is a diverse mix, and we’re not all the same (for example, I can clearly see differences between Russians and Belarusians, and within Russia itself, there are plenty of distinctions due to the sheer size of the country).
I’m currently reading the book The Design of Everyday Things, where the author touches on the topic of cultural differences that influence our perception of objects and our experience interacting with them. In my work, I’ve had the opportunity to travel extensively in recent years, and I’ve personally experienced many of these differences. The subject is broad, so today I’ll focus on a few specific aspects.
To start, many of us know that different countries have right-hand and left-hand driving. I’ve already mentioned my experience driving in Cyprus, which was interesting for someone used to driving on the other side of the road. Even now, I still occasionally look in the wrong direction when crossing the street, and the bus doors being on the opposite side still catch me off guard.
But today, I want to talk about electricity and household switches. You’d think there wouldn’t be much variation here—after all, there’s “on” and there’s “off.” How much could this change? Well, it turns out that how “on” and “off” is done can differ quite a bit.
First, let’s take a step back and talk about electricity in general. Those of us born in the USSR are used to two-pin sockets with 220V (Yes, there were industrial sockets too, but here I’m talking about household use.) Even modern European plugs, with their thicker prongs, appeared later in common use and caused some difficulty at first, as they wouldn’t fit in the smaller holes of older sockets.
However, the diversity worldwide is much broader, and travelers who don’t think about it might find themselves surprised—ranging from “couldn’t charge my phone” to “completely fried it.” There are numerous types of electrical sockets used around the world, as highlighted in a post by Sergey Dolya:
The world doesn’t just have a variety of plugs and sockets, but also different voltages in outlets across countries. If you plug a European device that expects 220V into a 110V American socket, most of the time, the worst that happens is it won’t work. However, going the other way—connecting a 110V device to a 220V socket—can easily destroy the equipment if it’s not designed to handle multiple voltages. For instance, some of my American colleagues once burned out five (!) Xbox power adapters before realizing that the loud pop and smoke each time they plugged it in was not normal!
If you’re interested in the historical reasons behind this variety and how global standardization efforts have evolved, you can read more about it on Wikipedia.
That’s why it’s always a good idea to check if you’ll need a power adapter when traveling to a new country. In most large hotels, you can usually ask for one at the front desk.
Now, back to the topic of switches. I can immediately think of three types: European, British, and American. They all essentially do the same thing—they switch between two states: on and off. There are also more exotic dimmer switches, which allow you to control the light’s intensity, but let’s leave those out for now.
So, what are the differences?
British and American switches are fairly typical. Whether you’re in a hotel or an apartment, the switches tend to be consistent within the country. British switches tend to be small and angular, while American switches are often small levers. However, the functionality remains the same.
A typical American switchA typical British switch, here it’s a double one
Alright, to be fair, there are other options out there, but the ones I’ve described are the most common, which is why I refer to them as traditional.
At the same time, within the European group, there’s a huge variety of switch designs. It’s still possible to find switches similar to British ones. In fact, many of them were quite common in the USSR, just a little bigger in size. However, in the last few decades, the standard switch in Europe is typically a large button set in a square frame. Often, you’ll see two rectangular buttons in the same form factor. Manufacturers frequently play around with the colors and framing of these switches. On the other hand, I’ve noticed far less variety in American and British designs. Personally, I prefer European switches: they look more aesthetically pleasing and are more practical in everyday use. If your hands are full and you need to hit the switch with your shoulder or hip, European switches are larger, easier to hit, and have a softer action, requiring less effort to press.
Here’s an example of European switches from Legrand
But beyond light switches, there’s also a significant difference when it comes to power outlets. In European and American outlets, they are always live—plug in your device, and it starts working immediately. In British outlets, however, there’s always a switch that allows you to turn the outlet on or off. You can tell if it’s on by the red stripe at the top of the switch: if you see it, the outlet is on; if not, it’s off.
This difference fundamentally changes user behavior: if you need to disconnect a device from power, you don’t need to pull the plug out of the socket; you just flick the switch. This is probably a better approach overall since it reduces wear and tear on the plug, the socket, and the cord, minimizing the chances of damage. However, this feature never really caught on in the U.S. or most of Europe.
Two British power sockets with switches, showing the red markers at the top to indicate that the sockets are live (receiving current)
As you can see, even in something as simple and familiar as turning on lights or powering devices, different countries have gone down entirely different paths. Some countries have inherited their standards from others (for example, Cyprus uses British-style outlets, likely a remnant of British rule over the island).
There are actually quite a few such differences if you start paying attention to them. Feel free to share if you know of any more!
