Enthralled, he weaves her stories into his own secret universe of memory and dream. She creates for him a vivid portrait of the France of her childhood, a distant Atlantis far more elegant, carefree, and stimulating than Russia in the 1970s and ‘80s. Her warm, artful memories of her homeland and of books captivate Andrei. Absorbed in this vision, he becomes an outsider in his own country, and eventually a restless traveler around Europe. Dreams of My Russian Summers is an epic full of passion and tenderness, pain and heartbreak, mesmerizing in every way.
Opening: While still a child, I guessed that this very singular smile represented a strange little victory for each of the women.
Although this book made me petite pomme, ultimately, it never took me higher than that smile. A soviet lad name-dropping his way back to a classical past refused to soar higher than the baseline three star which means: I enjoyed it well enough!