And, certainly, with the title of the book, I wanted to refer to, in the first chapter, the story of a tsunami that hit the region and sweeps away so much. The history of colonization, that history of white supremacy, of the patriarchy that exists, the ethnocentrism and the nationalism that are so present in contemporary Russia are also, of course, so present in contemporary America and very much affect the ways that we, as Americans, form relationships with others and think about each other and build our communities.Īnd so, in writing about life there I found I was also trying to write about where I was from and process that experience. When I went to the Kamchatka Peninsula, I found so many similarities between this place, which was totally itself and which had a unique history in the world, and the place that I had come from and the place I knew best, our own country. I went there as a Russophile, someone who’d been studying Russian for a long time, and someone who was eager to spend more time in Russia in general and learn so much more about it. It’s a very, very interesting place, and very itself, not like other places in the world. And it is so geothermally active and geographically stunning. It was so isolated during the 20th century and it’s a relatively recently colonized area of Russia. It really is a fascinating and beautiful place, one that looms large in the imaginations of Russians, and others around the world who find out about it. “I want to take you to my place first,” the man said. “You missed the turn.” “You missed the turn,” Sophia said from the back. They passed ragged billboards on their left and concrete-paneled apartment buildings on their right. Straight through this intersection?” “Yes, please.” The trees along the sidewalks were fat and green from this rainy summer. People were sunburned after this one day of good weather. She could look down on roof racks and along the pink lines of drivers’ arms. His car was taller than their mother’s sedan. “And you’re also not married, am I right?” Sophia giggled.Īlyona turned to watch the road.
“How old are you?” “Eight.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. Sophia said, “I saw already.” “Clever thing,” he said.
“No, I don’t.” “And you’re not married.” “Nope.” He lifted his hand, fingers spread, to show. He laughed and shifted gears, accelerating up a hill. “Do you have a girlfriend?” asked Sophia. That must be why he had stepped clumsily on the shore. His body looked carved out of fresh butter. A wide nose, and a mouth underneath that matched. (Reads) From the passenger seat, Alyona took the man’s features apart.
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