“An important if disturbing work, one of the few translations available focusing on

the domestic life of Soviet Russia and one of the most challenging examples

of ‘women’s fiction’ available in English.”

—Library Journal

“Infernal, haunting monologues…[A] gimlet-eyed appraisal of humanity…Bewitching.”

—Kirkus Reviews

MORE PRAISE FOR LUDMILLA PETRUSHEVSKAYA

“We are likely to hear a lot more of this woman. Some October, perhaps, from the Nobel Prize committee.”

—The Nation

“This celebrated Russian author is so disquieting that long after Solzhenitsyn had been published in

the Soviet Union, her fiction was banned—even though nothing about it screams ‘political’ or

‘dissident’ or anything else. It just screams.”

—Elle

“Petrushevskaya writes instant classics.”

—The Daily Beast

“One of Russia’s best living writers . . . Her tales inhabit a borderline between this world and the next.”

—The New York Times Book Review

“In her best work Petrushevskaya steers a sure course between neutrally recording the degraded life of the Soviet-era urban underclass and ratcheting up the squalor of that life for the mere pleasure of it. She does so by the steadiness of her moral compass and the gaiety of her prose.”

—J. M. Coetzee, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature

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