Maxim Matusevich, *Six Trains of No Return: Short Stories and Novellas*. Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2026.

This book features twelve short stories and novellas that delve into immigrant narratives and dislocations that are both deeply personal and universally significant. These tales recount past lives and loves, memories that are both delicate and sometimes unreliable, and our connections to larger historical narratives. They also reflect the Soviet Jewish experience during what was perceived as 'The End of History' in the declining days of the USSR. A French-Cambodian woman embarks on a series of enigmatic journeys to the 'killing fields' of her youth, while a confrontation in a Nigerian jail forces the narrator to confront an insurmountable moral challenge. A heartfelt friendship blossoms among three young soldiers drafted into the Soviet army, and a young man's unexpected romantic encounter with a childhood friend rekindles memories of long-forgotten schoolyard hardships. Furthermore, a pair of soldiers in the twilight of the Soviet Union experience the film Jaws for the first time at a semi-underground video salon. These stories, emotionally impactful yet tinged with gentle humour, delve into themes of displacement, belonging, and memory—resonating across diverse cultures and backgrounds.

Transcript

SPEAKER_03 0:02

Hello, welcome to the Dialogue and Refugee Studies podcast. I'm your host, Ari Barbalat. Today I'm grateful to engage in dialogue with Makim Matustevich, who will discuss his newly published book, The Constraints of No Return, Short Stories and Novellas, published in Boston by Academic Studies Press 2026. Makim Matustevich, who teaches history at the Teton Hall University, and is a native of Leningrad, currently to St. Petersburg, Russia, performing the Soviet Union, threw on his professional background and his journey as an immigrant to the United States in 1991, right before the collapse of the Soviet Union to create these stories and novellas. The characters in Matusevich's work come from a wide range of backgrounds, but they are all distinctly human, flawed, eccentric, and deeply relatable to those who have lived through historical changes, immigration, or the slow decline of stability. This book compiles 12 stories of novellas that explore immigrant narratives and dislocations that are both intimately personal and universally significant. These tales recount past lives and loved memories that are both delicate and unreliable and are connected to larger historical stories. They also reflect the Soviet Jewish experience during what was believed to be the end of history in the declining days of the USSR. A French Cambodian woman embarked on a series of enigmatic journeys to the killing field of her youth, while a confrontation in a Nigerian jail forces the narrator to grapple with an insurmountable moral challenge. A heartfelt friendship blossoms among three young soldiers drafted into the Soviet army, and a young man's unexpected romantic encounter with a childhood friend rekindled memories of long-forgotten schoolyard hardships. Furthermore, a pair of soldiers in the twilight of the Soviet Union experiences the film Jaws for the first time at a semi-underground video salon. These stories, emotionally impactfully at tinge with gentle humor, delve into themes of displacement, belonging, and memory resonating across diverse cultures and backgrounds. Maxine, it's an honor to be in dialogue with you today.

SPEAKER_01 2:57

Thank you so much. Thank you for having me.

SPEAKER_03 3:02

To begin, can you kindly tell us about yourself? Can you comment on your educational formation and your personal relationship to this book?

SPEAKER_01 3:13

Of course. Thank you so much, Ari. Well, I was born, as you mentioned in your introduction, in uh what's now St. Petersburg. Uh it used to be Leningrad in the former Soviet Union. And I think my childhood was um no different from the childhood of uh many representatives of um my um milieu, I think is the academic term, you know, the urban Jewish intelligentsia uh during the waning years of the Soviet Union. I grew up with my parents, uh, you know, wonderful family in a comedian apartment where I shared one room with both my father and my mother. Uh uh in some ways it was a hard life for them, especially. You know, I had wonderful childhood, but at the same time, it was uh family life that was uh built on love. And uh, you know, it was also a very important experience of uh getting to know people who come from different walks of life and who, by the power, the fiat of the state, were forced to live together and share quarters. You know, that's what communal living was like. And then I uh after school, I uh you know, I always wanted to be historian or an archaeologist, but I couldn't really, I didn't have a chance to of getting into St. Peter's Leningrad University, as it was called at the time, because I was Jewish. And uh uh essentially there was no anti-Semitism in the Soviet Union, but uh we all knew what we could and could not do. And one of those things that we could not do in most cases was to get accepted into university. So I had to go to a different college, which turned out to be a teacher's college, um, teachers university in Leningrad to study history. Uh and then I was drafted, you know. That was another kind of facet of that experience, um, because uh to get deferment, you had to enter the university, you know, since you know it was kind of uh a catch-22 kind of situation, you know, because you're Jewish, you're not gonna be able to get into the university, so you're gonna go into a college that doesn't grant deferment, you're gonna go into the army. And that's what I did. And uh again, this is something that that is the experience that's reflected in uh uh in some of my stories in this collection. And again, for me, this was a very formative experience uh being in the army because uh obviously a lot of Jews were horrified of ending up in the Soviet army, you know, signing minority and a lot of prejudice in the society. And I shared those apprehensions, uh, but having found myself there, I discovered kind of um different ways of uh connecting to other human beings, you know, including people that I had never encountered before because they came from very different walks of life. Uh, I think communal leading in the past was helpful in that regard. And so the army was a formative experience in many ways. And uh, but while I was in the army, it was towards the end of the 1980s, there is Troika had started, right? And uh that was something I missed because you're when you're stationed on a remote uh military base, uh, you know, you really don't know what's happening in the country. So when I was discharged, came back home to Leningrad, you know, the world had changed from me. And a couple of years later, ended up going to the United States because a lot of Jews were leaving the country at the time, going to Israel or to the United States. And again, like uh two or three years after my discharge, I was delivering pizzas in the state of Oklahoma. So it's that transition from life in uh uh, you know, in this beautiful but kind of dilapidated city that was Leningrad at the time, you know, and in a loving family and ending up in an army in a very sort of like sufficiently brutal context, and then coming back and experiencing this sort of end of history as Kukiyama referred to it, and finding myself later on in the States, you know, all those transitions, you know, became formative for me. And in the States, I went to school, uh not quite knowing what to do. Uh, I always wanted to be historian, so I kind of automatically on an autopilot, you know, uh, there was no one to advise me on how long this would take and how uncertain the professional prospects would be. So uh thankfully no one advised me on that. And it all worked out. You know, I became I got my PhD eventually at the University of Illinois in the field of African and Cold War history, and uh was um lucky enough to get my first job, uh, which was a 10-year track, and then move on to Sydney Hall, where I am at right now. So it all worked out eventually, but uh along the way, you know, we're talking about 35 years of uh my life and the history, the end of the 20th century, a lot of things happened, and some of them found uh their way into this book.

SPEAKER_03 8:10

Can you describe the various characters in this book? Can you comment on their personalities? Can you say something about their moral qualities?

SPEAKER_01 8:18

Absolutely. Uh this uh this is something that always interested me how we sort of embark on this life's journey. And it takes us to all the different places, and we encounter people that under different set of circumstances we would have never encountered. And I've always been very tuned to eccentricity that I found in other people, you know, maybe because I always believed that I personally was like a hyper normal person, you know, that's my uh view of myself, which may not be true. And when I met people who obviously exhibited uh signs of uh, you know, like wild genius or eccentricity, you know, I was always drawn to those people as my friends and eventually as characters in the in the stories that I write. Uh so some of the people, uh some of the characters in the book, and some of them are based on real life characters, individuals, some uh more fictionalized. Uh I think many of them they have those qualities that make them really kind of unusual in some ways. Uh, for example, uh the uh one of the stories that I particularly like, it's a novella, really, because it's kind of lengthy, six trains of no return, which gave the name to the title of the collection. Um, it's built around uh this friendship between three young soldiers. You know, I'm one of those soldiers, and particularly there is this uh friend of mine uh who is uh very unusual for me at least in those circumstances. I come from this, from Leningrad, I come from very uh family that is highly educated, uh Jewish, uh urban, and he is this uh thug. You know, he comes from a small village in uh Wladimir province, and uh um he's uh he had a very rough life, you know. He did time in prison and he was a truck driver and uh ended up in the army, you know. I think sort of he needed to go to the army to escape, uh, you know, probably another prison sentence. So a very kind of different character, very different from the kinds of people I had known in the past. And we developed this intense uh friendship, which becomes very, very sort of like meaningful for both of us. And uh for the two years, uh, this uh character, his name is Yurik, and uh there is another member of this trio, uh Servicek Sergey, who is uh who also comes there, also comes from a kind of uh small village uh far away from the from central Russia. You know, we developed this uh, you know, we become this band of brothers, right? And uh again, I look at people like that, and I look at Yurik, who becomes like who still lose kind of large in my life in a sense uh that uh, you know, that very intense friendship over the two year period introduced me to very different country, you know, the Russia I didn't know, uh the Russia of very rough living, uh, the Russia of uh young men drinking themselves to death at the age of 25, and uh, you know, dilapidated, abandoned villages and uh towns, and the kind of like the decrepit state of the country, you know, became very obvious based on my interactions with uh with these people who were sort of part and parcel of that landscape. Uh but and uh you know the way the uh Yurik lives his life is very different from the way I do. You know, he he you know, he's a rough guy, you know, he he fights, you know, he uh uh he has you know he's a trunk driver, so he has multiple girlfriends all across the small provincial towns, uh little whistle stars. Um, you know, he never shies away from doing a battle, right? But at the same time, there is this kind of profound tenderness to him, uh, and he really knows how to be a friend. Uh so the story is built around like our uh two situations, you know, one is when we become friends in the army and our various adventures in the army, and then he comes to Leningrad uh just a few weeks before, it's based on a real life story before I left for the United States. Say goodbye, right? And again, it's this interception between the two life stories that really don't have much in common except of this like two-year period when they intersect and develop this very intense personal friendship. Uh, and that the day that was spent together in the city, you know, of course, there is a lot of drinking and uh, you know, all kind of rowdy behavior involved because he couldn't do it otherwise. You know, for me it was very instructive. And, you know, so it's a story of very tender friendship between people who could probably be friends only under a certain set of historical circumstances, and that's what the story is about. So that's one story. So I'll and I'll give a couple more examples of uh uh like the characters uh uh in the collection. Uh another one is this uh French Cambodian woman uh who is uh a central character in a novella, uh which um which is based loosely on my on the time I spent in Cambodia, where I came across a story of um a young, beautiful woman whose whole family was destroyed in the genocide, right? You know, the uh Maire Rouge Polkot uh horrors of the 1970s. And uh when I was reading about, and I saw a standabout here in the museum in the Plan Pen, um I was thinking about this whole idea of trauma, right? Because uh we live in a society in the West where trauma sometimes is celebrated. And frankly, sometimes uh people sort of uh try to mind their past for signs of trauma because I think it connects to you know the Freudian legacy, but also because trauma makes you special, like all those things. And I always had some questions about it, uh, because um uh I'm not denying the reality of trauma, you know, uh simply because I grew up surrounded by people who had survived unimaginable horrors of the Second World War, you know, my grandfather died at the siege of Leningrad, you know, my father, uh who was disabled since his childhood, uh, uh survived the war and sort of heat hiked across from Siberia back to Moscow, you know, even though he could barely use his legs. So, you know, I was surrounded by people uh or people like my uncle who fought their way all the way to Berlin. You know, I was I was surrounded by people who actually really experienced very traumatic events in their life. And they seem to be very normal. They seem to be uh to me very sort of well put together and happy. Maybe that was the face they put on, I don't know. But and then I come to the West, to the United States, and I see uh a lot of people sort of nurturing their trauma and you know, sort of thinking about it, invallowing in it. And uh, you know, I'm I'm not denying it, you know, I'm just like trying to understand how people are shaped by traumatic experiences. And here is this woman uh who then goes on to become a fairly successful. I changed a few things with the story, fairly successful person in France, right? You know, after the genocide, having lost the whole family. So the story is kind of imagines, uh loosely based on historical record, uh, your uh personal joining, you know, losing family, um witnessing unimaginable horrors, you know, then finding her way to France and then building a very successful life in France, but yet having this yearning for Cambodia, you know, like once a year in the story, she travels back, and then it becomes clear that uh she has a lava there. And then as the story goes on, uh, that lava, it turns out, has played a very important role in the story of her survival back in the 70s. So uh a lot of things kind of against the script are unpredictable, I think. And the way people respond to traumatic events and uh you know, is also unpredictable because sometimes we're given those very predictable scripts by Hollywood or by uh popular culture. How are you supposed to respond to trauma? How are you supposed to deal with suffering? And I'm sort of trying to imagine alternative ways of doing this. And another story, you know, along the same vein, I think in the same vein, is uh based on the time I spent. I spent some time uh working and teaching in Nigeria because you know my PhD was in African history, and I went there to do my research, my first on my PhD dissertation, which became my first book. Um and uh again, sort of like reminds me of six trains of no return. I became very close friends with uh uh with one particular person who was from uh he was from Ghana, you know, and uh he was the real survivor, you know. I mean, the kind of stuff he had to deal with in his life, you know, just uh, you know, very rough life. And again, you know, similar to uh that character of Urich, very different stories, we're very different, we come from completely different backgrounds. You know, you would think there is actually nothing in common between us, but we become really close friends. And we spent hours and hours talking and discussing, and we're very different. He's he's a devout Christian, but he's also someone who lived a very rough life. And uh obviously I come from very different background, but nevertheless, we overlapped under those kind of historical circumstances and develop this very intimate connection. Uh, so again, another story of uh uh things kind of going against the script. Uh, and there are other things in the story, but moral dilemmas uh presented both by the French but also by the fact of me being in Nigeria as uh, to my great surprise, as a privileged Westerner, which because which was new to me because I, you know, I'm an immigrant myself, I came to America's political refugee. I never sort of thought of myself as privileged, right? But that was the first time that I experienced that. So there is another example, and then I do tend to write a lot of uh, I think, um, female characters uh who are very strong and uh kind of exercise this power of a man. And again, this is something that I've I've always been very interested in, you know, and I think it's connected to the immigrant experience, but we can probably talk about this later.

SPEAKER_03 18:38

Can you evaluate the interpersonal relationships of the characters in this work?

SPEAKER_01 18:45

Um that's a great question because that's something I think about a lot. And as I mentioned before, one thing that I always found kind of mildly, sometimes not so mildly, annoying in uh in film, you know, uh in uh mainstream films and uh literature, some literature in popular culture, is this um the fact that we're given very predicted, predictable scripts of how people should interact, how they should respond to certain life situations. So when you look at the interpersonal stuff in um among the characters here in the book, you know, I think, and again, I didn't make things up, I was just sort of trying to go back in time and and sort of back to my experience of knowing uh some people, some of them quite eccentric, or going deep into myself and seeing, you know, how did those relationships work out? And what I discovered was that it didn't work according to the screen. So, for example, um uh there is this uh there is a novella which is set in Israel, um, and there are two characters there, uh loosely based actually on my uncle, my late uncle, who was a very talented, exceptionally talented poet. And uh this friendship between these two elderly men uh who both arrived under different circumstances to Israel from uh the former Soviet Union, and they develop this intense friendship. So a lot of this is about friendship, and quite often about it's not their own love affairs with the lore, but also it's about male friendship and male bonding, which sometimes uh I think is unpredictable. So they're two very different one guy is very sort of artistic and uh uh and he can't do anything right because you know he's absent-minded, he's this artistic genius, right? And the other guy is very well put together and he's very practical, and he knows how to fix things, and he knows how to take care of other people, and uh and the poet, of course, cannot even take care of himself, you know, and also and they develop this very intense relationship, friendship. Uh and its sources are not clear because um I think uh sort of gender roles and um sexuality in the Soviet Union were just so uh the country was very conservative, you know. The Soviet Union was supposed to be this progressive uh socialist state, but actually when you look at it closely, especially the late Soviet Union, it was in many ways a very conservative society. So I don't know, you know, you can you can guess with why uh about why one of the characters is drawn to another. Is it like um uh is it friendship, is it love, is it something that they don't even understand themselves? Uh but um again, those kind of ambiguous situations, uh, but usually rooted in love and intimacy and friendship, uh, I find them very interesting. So that's one thing. Another kind of relation that you find in several of the stories is this whole idea of um post love, right? You know, that people who uh I keep coming back to this issue of people finding common language or mutual attraction under particular set of Historical, uh, linguistic, geographical circumstances, and then they move on, right? You know, there are other things happening in the world, there are other things happening in their lives, they move to different countries, uh, they switch from expressing themselves in one language to another. What happens to people when they reconnect under those kinds of change circumstances? Can they actually go back in their past? Can they rekindle something that existed at some point? And there are several stories about that, you know, how you reconnect with another person, even though now you're meeting under very different circumstances. So that's another example.

SPEAKER_03 22:41

How does this book portray the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia?

SPEAKER_01 22:49

Well, this is um uh one of the stories, uh short novel, it's called Uh The Road to Batambang. You know, that's the story of that French Cambodian woman. Um so I one of the courses I teach, uh I've always been very interested, interested, I'm not sure if that's uh the right word here, but drawn in a very maybe semi-perverse way to this idea of totalitarianism, right? In part because I grew up in the Soviet Union, which was supposedly totalitarian. I don't think it was particularly totalitarian at the time when I grew up and lived there, but nevertheless, right, you know what uh what is this uh what what happens to people when they're faced with this overwhelming pressure to conform, right? Or to follow uh a particular ideology or to follow a particular set of rules. And I think uh we all have to deal with those uh dilemmas, uh, even living in the West, right? You know, in a sort of so-called free society, you know, there is a lot of social pressure, you know, there is conformity, there is uh there are political pressures. Um and and uh then of course you come to places like Cambodia in the late 1970s, and this is far more extreme. So, how again you uh deal with those kinds of regimes, you know, how you position themselves vis-a-vis those regimes and the violence that they inflict on you and others. And again, um I looked at that, you know, and uh you know, I uh obviously, like many of us, I've read a lot about the Holocaust, and uh I've always tried to understand, uh, like many of us do what I would have done in those kinds of situations. Uh so here is a story in Cambodia with this uh Khmer Rouge regime, which was uh like absolute genocidal, was a regime that uh killed off 30% of the population. Um why are they doing what they're doing, you know, and how you position yourself when you don't really have much of a choice? And you can see that the character and the main character of uh the female character of the novella, your way of dealing with this, and I think that's probably true of a lot of people under those kinds of circumstances, is kind of withdraw deep into herself and to kind of exercise this kind of indifference to what's happening, right? You know, when you find, I think we think that when violence is directed against people and when this extreme oppression is directed against people, you know, they would respond emotionally, but quite often I think they probably just internalize stuff, right? You know, and they just put up this facade, uh, or they stop feeling their own agency, right? You know, they just like play things of history. And uh, you know, I think that's what's happening in that uh in that novella. So I think Khmer Rouge, like other totalitarian regimes, you know, they obviously deprive people of agency. Uh and um uh they kind of turn them into fatalists because uh what happens to them is not of their doing and it's not chosen by them. And I think that's the nature of pretty much any totalitarian regime, definitely Khmeruf.

SPEAKER_03 26:18

Can you comment on the death of Joseph Stalin as portrayed in this book?

SPEAKER_01 26:25

Um so uh I think it comes up in the very first story because it's a very it was a very formative experience, very important experience in the life of my father. And uh my father kind of hovers over the pages of at least some of the pages of this book. He was a remarkable man, obviously I loved him very much. Uh he's a person who lived very hard in life, like many people of his generation. He was born. I was a very late child, so he was for him. Uh so he was born back in the 1920s, so he actually lived through the urges of the 1930s. You know, he was still an adolescent, but you know, he probably saw things and uh, you know, of course, then the war and the loss of one of his parents, and then another one, so it was tough to collect. And he absolutely hated Stalin. My father was my father, was probably very typical of this kind of urban Jewish intelligence uh in the late Soviet period. Uh he was kind of a dissident, but a very scared dissident. Um, you know, he obviously didn't hold back, you know, when he was, you know, at home and with his family, but uh but outwardly he he was afraid to speak out, to say actually what he thought. But I grew up with this cult of hatred of Stalin, you know, I mean from an early age, it was communicated to me uh by my by my father, but also by my grandmother, who otherwise was kind of not particularly anti-regime, but she really felt that Stalin was evil, right? And the death of Stalin in 1953, you know, for my dad, this was like really a watershed event. It was an event that gave the country uh as he saw it, a chance to move forward, right? You know, to leave that what he saw as unimaginable evil behind. And um, I actually always was wondering how did he get it? Because a lot of people didn't. You know, when Stalin died in 1953, uh there was this mourning, and uh, you know, a lot of people, hundreds of thousands of people flocked to Moscow, and a lot of people died in Stampede during his funeral uh just to pay their respects. So the people who had been brutalized by Stalin, again, uh unimaginable horrors inflicted on them, they nevertheless they nevertheless loved him or you know, felt loyal to him. It's a very bizarre thing that happens, I think, uh, under totalitarian rule. You know, the millions of Chinese uh idolized Mao who had inflicted uh horrible hardship and death on millions and millions of their uh compatriots. So uh so the death of Stalin for my father was kind of this watershed event that ushered in a period that still was not great, but contained some kind of hope for him. And when the restroker arrived, he really saw this as an outcome that you know, the ghoul, the demon died, right? Back in 1953. And it took them a while to figure it out, it took them another 35 years, you know. But finally, people, you know, the country was able to come out of this legacy of uh horror and oppression and kind of uh uh approach what we would call the end of history. So he believed in that very strongly, you know. I think he he died in 2006. He didn't live to see what would happen to Russia, and Putin uh eventually, uh, you know, I think you I can imagine he would have been devastated. Uh, but there was this period of hope, and for him that hope was uh connected to the kind of the death of the demon, as he saw Stalin.

SPEAKER_00 30:19

How is Nigeria alluded to in this book?

SPEAKER_01 30:24

Nigeria is um uh, you know, I spent some time in Nigeria, and uh when I was in graduate school, I uh my PhD was in African history, history of the Cold War, and I went to Nigeria to work in the archives, work on my PhD dissertation, you know, collect uh archival materials, but also I got to teach a little bit uh at the University of Lagos um and um got to travel not too much, but I went to Ibadan, you know, I got to see the country. And again, just like my time in the uh Soviet army, this was this became a formative experience for me uh for a few reasons. Uh one of them was that um I came to uh Africa, I came to what we would call developing country as a Westerner, even though I never felt I was one, right? You know, I I was born and grew up in the Soviet Union, I came to the West as a refugee, and uh I was an immigrant, I was delivering pieces for a living for forever. Uh, you know, I didn't feel I was privileged in any way, but you know, having found myself in Africa, I realized that for these people, you know, there was no difference, right? You know, they didn't quite understand my background. For them, I was an American graduate student, which means a privileged person, coming to uh to a country that was very poor and uh very dangerous in many ways, right? You know, uh the everyday life in Nigeria was, but still probably is now, uh not safe. And sort of how people treated me, right? You know, and um and they treated me as um as a Westerner, which means I got a lot of attention. I also got all kinds of attention, you know, some of this unwanted. But once I began to develop friendships uh with people, individual friendships, like like my friend Um Isaac in the story, you know, I changed the name, it's the real person that I became very close with. To my great surprise, and their surprise, we began to discover a lot of things in common. So it turns out that Russia, in some ways, was not very much different from Nigeria in terms of how we viewed individual relationships and friendships, and uh in terms of how we position ourselves vis-a-vis the state, the state was danger and something that was far removed from us and uh uh something that we needed to find a way around, right? You know, so we began to find a lot of things in common. And uh, you know, for me, the big discovery was that uh, you know, there are so many similarities between you know the way my new friends in Nigeria live and the way I grew up in the Soviet Union, and uh you know it was kind of um a revelation for me. Uh so that's another reason, and um yet another one probably has to do with the fact that uh you know I'm a graduate student, I come from uh an American university, you know, I have American funding, which means you know I have some resources, I mean very little really, you know, by Western standards, by Nigerian standards, you know, I'm privileged, right? Uh so um and I observe life that uh is very hard. It's very harsh. And the question is, what do I make of it? You know, what do I make? You know, we in the last few years we've been sort of um we've entered into paroxysms of moral panic over, you know, privilege, you know, uh Western privilege, white privilege, you know, you know, what do you do with it? Uh do you have to feel guilty about it? Uh can you do anything about it? Or can you be agnostic, you know, like things like that. And I think you know, I had to confront those questions. Uh and for me, they were complicated by the fact that, you know, I uh my background is uh was probably just as rough in some ways, you know, as that of the people I encountered. You know, I didn't grow up in Switzerland, right? And didn't go to a boarding school there. Uh so you know, a lot of moral dilemmas. And you know, those moral dilemmas they kind of form the, I think, the narrative core of this particular story. Um uh Bar Beach Police Station in the novella, where I end up being forced by circumstances to confront, you know, uh my own privilege, I guess. And what do I do about it, right? You know, because someone gets arrested because of me. And uh, by the way, for all the good reasons, you know, but do I feel guilty about it? And I do, and I do. So, you know, Nigeria in that way is in that way became kind of a litmus test on my personal morality.

SPEAKER_03 35:03

How does this book represent forgetting, forgetfulness, and forgottenness?

SPEAKER_01 35:11

That's a big thing. I'm a historian, so I always often engage with questions of memory. Uh, you know, I think about it a lot, and uh, there is that great Kurasala film Roshamon, right? You know, where the same story is being interpreted and reinterpreted uh from different points of view and becomes something different each time uh it happens. So, you know, that's how I view the past. I noticed, and I think many of us have noticed, that we sometimes have a very fixed idea of what we remember, right? Or how we remember things. And then you encounter people who were there with you, right? And they have completely different memories, you know, their perspective was very different. So you're absolutely certain uh that uh certain things happen, right? Or how they happen. Uh, and then you meet someone who was there with you, for example, and uh their memory is completely different. Uh, so what you remember, what you forget, what you choose to remember, what you choose to forget, uh, you know, I engage with those uh themes as a historian, you know. I think this book is also kind of informed by my profession in many ways. You know, this is a personal story, this is a work of fiction in many ways, but also you know, I bring the sensibilities of a historian uh to those stories. Um, and one in particular, well, there are several stories like that there, but one is uh it's called forgetting, you know, we talk about forgetting Marion, right? Uh it's uh it's a story of a romantic encounter uh between uh a young man, you know, probably in his mid-30s, uh, who returns to Russia after many years in Israel, in the United States, and uh he bumps into a young woman uh and comes to realize that they have a shared past, like that in their childhood. There was I'm not gonna give away the plot, but you know, there was a lot of turmoil that he inflicted on her, you know, when they were young kids, when they were teenagers, right? And you're in the story, and for me that's a big thing. Uh, and you never quite know whether or not the way he remembers the story is actually true, whether or not the sense of guilt that he feels is real and is it rooted in a real situation? And it's not clear what she's up to. You know, they have this encounter, you know, they they they have an affair. And uh why is she doing this? Why is she going to bed with him? You know, is it because she wants to avenge your past humiliations? Because now she's like this uh stunning beauty and like very accomplished, successful young woman after the humiliations of your you know adolescence, uh, you know, sort of the ugly duckling who becomes a beautiful swan. So, or maybe that what she remembers didn't happen, right? Or maybe she doesn't care, right? You know, all those things about memory, you know. I sort of I really, really uh think about those things quite a bit, and I think they find their way into the stories.

SPEAKER_00 38:23

How would you describe this book's genre?

SPEAKER_01 38:28

That's such a great question. You know, I'm I'm not really a literary scholar, I'm historian, so I think this is um I mean this is this are works of fiction, um interspersed with probably uh a little bit of autobiography, uh, but not too heavy, not too heavy. Uh fictionalized autobiography, uh fiction, maybe in part historical fiction, a little bit. So things like that. Memoir in part.

SPEAKER_00 39:14

What role does humor play in this book?

SPEAKER_01 39:18

I think it's very important. I I you know the literature, even strict literature that I really enjoy is the one that is uh uh that really has um sense of the absurdity of our everyday existence, you know, which makes it uh funny. You know, one of the funniest writers I know is actually surprisingly Dostoevsky. You know, people forget about that because you know, when we think about Dostoevsky, we we think about things that are very heavy, you know, and heavy duty and and harsh and uh and these moral dilemmas and heavy duty Christianity, but he was also very funny, you know. If you read the like Demons, you know, one of my favorite books, is I mean, it's it's a horrifying book, but it's also hilarious in part. So I think humor is very important. Uh, I don't know if it's the Jewish thing or probably not, probably it's just like a universal thing. Uh, so when I write even about serious things, you know, I like this kind of light touch of humor because a lot of the situations, uh, they're kind of, you know, the characters are eccentric quite often, and uh the situations they find themselves in are unusual. And I think you know, they warrant, you know, a chuckle here and there. So I think humor is very important. Uh humor, it's like in some ways, it's almost like uh what's the word? Um looking for um humor is um is is a it's something that makes things run smooth, right? Um you know, it's like an edge of oil for a story, you know, you know, it makes the story run forward, you know, and also uh again, as I mentioned before, I think human beings are funny, you know, uh, even those who are not funny, who are very serious, you know. I think when we look at them closer, they're kind of like funny, or there is something weird about them or eccentric or or unusual. Or when they even when this hypernormal, like super ordinary, you know, that in in and of itself is kind of funny. So um I think humor is always there, you know. I kind of resort to it. Uh you know, there are a lot of uh, you know, I'm I'm an academic, right? You know, I work at the university, and you've probably noticed uh there's been proliferation of books and TV series uh about university life, you know, campus novels. And and I think one of the reasons uh why people write those because academic life is very funny, you know, in many ways. You know, I find like faculty meetings are kind of uh hilarious in parts, you know, even when everyone is super serious about what they do, you know, but even that seriousness is kind of funny to me. So uh, and also a lot of um there is a lot of absurdity in academic life. You know, again, I think that's uh well documented. Um, like uh there is this wonderful novel by Richard Rousseau, uh Straight Man, you know, which I love. And uh, you know, it's it's sort of I think it really reveals the kind of the absurdities of campus life sometimes, uh in a very uh adorable way, you know, but you know, kind of funny. So yeah, humor I think is kind of uh central. You know, I can't imagine writing something without humor. You know, if you write something without humor, it becomes kind of a newspaper article, right? So humor is very important.

SPEAKER_03 42:51

How is bilingualism portrayed in this book?

SPEAKER_01 42:57

That's another great question. I'm not sure I actually know how to answer it because I've been asked it a lot, you know, since the book came out, and uh, you know, when I do readings and uh people always ask, you know, so how you transition from one language to another, you know, what language uh what language do you think when you write in English, for example, is different from when you write in Russian. You know, I mostly write in English. I frequently publish a few things, quite a few things in Russian, but uh but most of my uh writing life is in English. I could never quite figure it out for myself. Like what language do I I think when I write in English, I think in English. But the circumstance, especially when something is said, like for example, when something is said in the States or something is said in Nigeria, it's easy because everything is just in English. Um but there are a few stories set in uh uh in Russia uh and also in Russian speaking Israel, because you know, in Israel there is this large Russian speaking community and You know, I have a lot of friends in Israel and family. Uh, the family are all Russian speakers, right? So the a lot of Israelis I know closely are Russian speakers. Uh, but I write about them in English. Uh, so I think my English is probably informed. You know, I can maybe translate in my head those conversations into English, but but maybe it's kind of a subconscious thing. I don't know, you know. I mean, it would be, I'm not a linguist, you know, it's it's hard for me to answer this question. But I think that probably when I write in English, I think in English, even though uh I have a very good friend of mine, wonderful historian, uh, and uh he um uh he likes my my work and um said that when I and he's also fluent Russian speaker, he's American, but he's a fluent Russian speaker, a brilliant guy. And uh he said that when I read your prose, you published in stories, novellas, uh in English, you know, I still hear Russian, but in a very strange, indistinct way. He says, I I know it's there, but the only reason I know it's there is because I speak Russian and I'm fluent in it. But he does he doesn't think that people who do not speak Russian or do not understand it would get it, but he gets it. He said, like when I read it, I hear it said dramatically it's perfect in English, you know, everything is you know, it's uh it's written like native speaker writes it or native writer, but I still hear kind of slight accent basically in your writing.

SPEAKER_00 45:29

And I think that's probably what happens.

SPEAKER_03 45:37

How do the stories here represent gratitude and ingratitude?

SPEAKER_01 45:45

So that's another kind of moral issue we struggle with. Um you know, for I always believe, you know, it's it's kind of one of the things I value in other human beings. Uh that we should be grateful. That and I think I even have a female character for female characters because I heard characters, some of her characters are female characters. Uh, and she actually says short story, it's called Phone Call, again about memory, by the way. And she says that you know, I need to be grateful for things that happened to me in the past, even when they're when they were harsh. Um I think I really value, I appreciate people who know how to be grateful, and not just for things uh like you know, not grateful for you know $20 given to them, right? You know, but grateful for the gift of life, right? For uh the gift of creativity, for the gift of uh um having friends and family and uh things like that. Uh, because quite often uh we see that the people sort of uh take things for granted, right? You know, and uh it always runs me in a very wrong way to see people who accept good things that happen to them as a given, right? You know, that they deserve it for and that it couldn't be other uh any other way. You know, so gratitude I think is very important. It's very important to recognize um the good things that happen to you in life and uh sort of be aware of it. You know, people who always complain, people who always whine, people who are not satisfied with what they have uh without really doing much about it. I always found that grating. And again, you know, I don't mean to come across as this kind of like hardcore conservative politician. I think that's kind of a talking point, a Republican talking point, right? You know, like uh pull yourself up, you know, and be grateful, grateful for what you have. You know, no, not in that crude way, of course. Um, but um, I think it's important for people to be appreciative of uh what they have and uh uh for the good things that are present in their lives. So, yes, gratitude is important to me. And it's important so the characters, as you can see, um like if you take Isaac, you know, in uh this road to Butambang, you know, this guy who had a very rough life, right? Uh, but he's devout Christian, you know, and he's uh and he's grateful for the modest gifts of everyday life that he gets. And then you know things work out for him. Actually, the real person behind this, you know, is um has succeeded quite spectacularly in life, eventually. Uh so again, you know, I really want people to, I want people to be kind. I want people to uh you know, I I'm not virtually signaling here, it's just what I like. You know, I want people to be kind, I want people to be grateful, uh, I want people to uh recognize and appreciate uh the good things that are present in their lives.

SPEAKER_00 49:02

Can you say something about the books read by characters and the stories here?

SPEAKER_01 49:10

Uh the books read by characters, like the books, the literature present in the book. Yeah, uh that's really interesting. Uh, because uh obviously I I grew up uh in Leningrad, uh which is uh sort of one of the literary capitals of the world, right? You know, my my childhood, my adolescents, my young adulthood were kind of seethed in reading and writing and uh sort of literary pursuits. You know, we all wrote poetry, for example. If you come from uh Leningrad and you never wrote poetry, you know, there is something wrong with you. You know, not all that poetry was necessarily good, but you really have to write it. So um literature was very important to me. You know, there are certain books that kind of formed me and continue to form me, you know, I continue to read a lot. And uh now, thanks to Audible, I also listen to a lot of books uh when I drive or when I go on long walks. Uh so reading and is is very important, and it's very important for some of the characters, not for all, because there are characters in the book who never read uh in this in my stories who never read a book in their lives, and in some cases they're still wonderful, wonderful people. Uh, but there are a lot of I think literary references there because when I think about my past, for example, um they're all connected to books. Uh and even the episodes in my life, like for example, when I uh when I was in Nigeria, you know, I was working on my book, I was writing many years ago, uh, but I was reading preciously because also because you know it was dangerous to go out in the evening, you know, most of the days. So, you know, I have not, you know, I would come back from the archive of the library and just read for hours. And there are several books that kind of like uh formed that experience for me, right? You know, uh uh when I was in the army, uh I I read all a lot whenever I got a chance, you know, not the first year because they don't give you much free time, but eventually I, for example, read Gorky, uh, which is a strange choice, you would think, you know, The Life of Um Clean Sam Gin, you know, was a novel that really shook me to my core. You know, and actually, I think, you know, when I don't know how many people read it now uh nowadays, it's one of his late works, it's unfinished. Um, you know, and of course, um Gorky is kind of like um I'm not sure how many people read uh read him nowadays, but uh but I thought the book really captured for me something very fundamental about my experience being in the army at the time and sort of my my personal core. Uh so yeah, uh different and um uh so when you look at the stories in the book, you know, there are uh constant literary references there, you know. Like, I mean Dostoevsky, of course, is there because like how can you not uh have it in your book when you you know you grow up in the center of uh Leningrad or St. Petersburg? Uh and uh it's not so much about his ideas as about his uh idea, uh his Christian ideas, for example, or his ideas of morality, but it's about his idea of it of the city, you know, because for so many of us, uh his vision of uh St. Petersburg, uh his sensibilities, including literary sensibilities of the city, really form uh our own kind of connection to that place, which was very powerful for me, at least you know, for a lot of other people. Um there is uh there is a story where uh the main character uh you know is obsessed with Rambault, right? You know, the French uh uh Symbolist poet and uh sort of finds strange personal connection to his story between, even though you you think they have nothing in common. Uh and again, I think this is very St. Petersburg you know, sort of finding this uh intense uh intimacy and intense intimate connection with the samutri character or some writer from the distant past. Um, so yeah, I think um uh a lot of stories, a lot of novellas here are kind of infused with literature. And then, of course, there is this uh Boris and David on the beach, that novella that's set in uh in the city of Ashkelon, you know, this coastal town in southern Israel, and this friendship between these two older men, and one of them is a poet and writer, and uh you know, literature is sort of central to the way he sees the world and the way he positions himself is a the people who surround him, right? So, yes, uh there are a lot of references to book, and uh and and generally, like I think this has to do with the fact that uh having grown up where I grew up and coming from the kind of background that I do, um, you know, I was formed by literature. And again, I continue to be formed by literature, you know, the last uh few years, you know, the time of turmoil and um wars, you know, I I found the books uh that uh really started sort of made it more bearable for me, but also like put things into focus, right? You know, like uh strange reads might have been obsessed with uh Arkhan Tamuk's uh Museum of Innocence, right?

SPEAKER_00 54:37

You know, because uh you know for me it became kind of a perfect book at the time, you know. So yeah, literature is very important.

SPEAKER_03 54:53

Can you say something about the food consumed by characters in the book, or can you allude to the references to food in the stories presented here?

SPEAKER_01 55:07

Uh well the food is uh Yenna, I mean, um uh food, uh I wanted to say food is like literature. Well, food is definitely not like literature uh per se, but uh you know, food uh connects us to our uh immediate environment sometimes. And uh uh, you know, the story uh said in Cambodia, for example, you know, it has uh um multiple references to food, you know, and uh because food also creates the context, right? You know, you consume particular kind of food and it has particular kind of flavor, like for me uh, for example, uh Cambodia is uh really associated to a large extent with Cambodian cuisine, which by the way is absolutely fantastic. Uh probably my favorite. Uh staying in Nigeria, actually, I'm trying to remember, I don't think this is this actually found way into the story, but the real person behind the character of Isaac uh was a cook, and uh he cooked uh for me, not for me because you know he works for me, but uh he was a cook in this uh uh cafeteria where you know I took my meals, and he introduced me to like various Nigerian and Guinean dishes, and uh and they really kind of to a very large extent frame because that's what I ate there when I lived there, you know, I actually ate their their food. You know, it's it's sort of uh forms that experience uh for me, of course. Um but also for someone who comes from my background, uh, I mean, food was kind of sacred in my family. Uh, we didn't eat much, by the way. You know, the whole family are kind of slim and athletic. Uh, but um, you know, my my parents and uh grandparents, those who survived the war, they will survive, right? And uh, you know, I lost the grandfather in the siege of Leningrad, you know, he died of starvation. Uh and uh because uh this precarity, right? You know, lack of access to food uh was such so central to so many family stories. You know, we grew up with this kind of uh respect. For example, you know, in my family, like in other families in Russia at the time or in the Soviet Union, uh, you were not supposed to throw away food. Like bread was sacred. You know, you never throw white uh away bread. You know, if it gets like uh uh stale, you know, you do something with it, you just don't throw it away, right? So food, food was very central. And you know, I remember this one story, I don't I don't think I write about it, but uh it came from my father. Uh and it sort of made such an impression on me, still with me so many years later. Uh, he talked about his war experience, you know, which was because he was uh stabled, he uh he didn't go to fight the war, you know, which probably saved his life because the survival rate was not great. Um but he was evacuated, you know. He moved to Western Siberia and became a teacher in a local village school. And he said that from like 1941 until probably 1946, for like five years, he had this obsessive dream. He imagined that one day he would be able to drink a cup of hot tea with sugar, uh, with a piece of white bread uh with butter spread in it, right? So it was that combination of white bread, brother, uh butter, tea, and sugar in it. And he said that for five years he just couldn't get all these ingredients together. You know, there were days when he had access to tea, but there was no sugar. You know, he would have some butter, but there was no white bread. And he said eventually there came a day, and so it was in 1946, right? Uh he was back in Leningrad, and all of a sudden he was having breakfast and realized that he actually had all those ingredients together. He said that was like one of the most memorable days of his life when he actually had tea with sugar and a piece of white bread with butter spread in it. So, yeah, food again, like literature, like humor, very important.

SPEAKER_03 59:26

Can you elaborate on the female characters in your book?

SPEAKER_01 59:30

You have lots of that again, uh very important. Um I'm drawn to female characters. Uh, I find them irresistible to write about. And uh I sometimes find it irresistible to see the world through their eyes. I know in the last few years there have been a lot of agonizing military world and artistic world about appropriation. You know, I'm I actually think there is nothing wrong with appropriations when they're done well, right? You know, I think people, empathy is very important, you know, to see the world through the eyes of another person, but you have to do hard work for that, right? You know, you have to really understand the circumstances of this person, you have to understand uh uh them well and their you know their personal stories well. But there is nothing wrong with it, in my opinion. And uh so I'm drawn to those female characters. I uh those who read the collection will see that I'm quite often drawn to strong female characters, you know. Actually, with a few exceptions, the men in this in my stories quite often a kind of foil to strong female characters. Uh they're the ones making decisions, they're the ones who really hold the men to account, uh, they're the ones who are setting the terms for the relationships. And again, I think it's based on a little bit of personal experience, of course. You know, I mean, I've um I think the women in my life tended to be strong-willed and um strong women, you know, I mean that's the kind of uh women I found myself next to quite often in life. Well, quite often, uh and then my mother is a very strong person, you know, so so it's uh in a very good way, in a very good way. Uh so yes, I I respect that, but also it has something to do with the particularity of the Russian-Soviet cultural experience. You know, the country was very, as I mentioned before, in many ways conservative and very gendered. You know, the gender roles were kind of prescribed to people. Uh and I think it's still the case. You know, we see that uh Russia, even now, quite often, you know, it hasn't been back in years, but you know, it positions itself as the protector of like traditional values and uh you know gender roles and things like that, right? So that was in some ways very present uh in my life. But at the same time, you know, I had to deal with the fact that the women who um sort of absorbed the gender roles, right? You know, or they were imposed in them, uh quite often they were very strong and accomplished and uh talented and uh uh in many ways much more interested than the manifold. And I think you know, it was that realization uh that um came to me later, I have to say. But from that point of view, the immigrant experience is very interesting and traumatic for men, for the Soviet man, because uh what happened after the Soviet Union began to fall apart, or even before, when those um uh families or you know immigrants came to the United States, right? For example, or Israel or in Germany, you know, like into the West, they brought those ideas, those gender roles, those ideas of uh uh what's prescribed with them. But they found themselves in very different circumstances, right, where those things didn't quite work. So what we see quite often, quite often um uh among immigrants, you know, and that's certainly yeah, I'm sure there are exceptions, there are exceptions to every rule, but I think it became very common that um women uh adapted much better to immigration than the men. And the result of this is that a lot of couples, a lot of families that came together actually fell apart. That's kind of an untold, maybe told story of uh that particular wave of immigration. We have all these young Russian Jews, usually, or Soviet Jews coming to the United States, for example, or Canada. Uh, and quite often, um, a few years later, those families would fall apart because uh the man felt this intense pressure on them. You know, they really had to live up to the idea of manhood, of what it meant to be a man. And uh, you know, when you come to a new country, you know, there is an immediate loss of status. Uh, and a lot of Soviet men found it very difficult to deal with it, right? While women proved to be quite more adaptable and uh kind of more active, and uh many of them exercised the agency in a much more kind of effective way than the men. So a lot of those families actually, a lot of those couples uh fell apart. Uh, and uh like you know, my case is not an exception, my personal case. And I think it took me years to figure out why this was happening. And I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that we came from this kind of in many ways very traditional environment. And we found ourselves um in a kind in a society uh which didn't subscribe to those ideas of gender, for example, gender roles, right, as we did in the past. And this loss of social status, this idea that uh, you know, to be a man, you have to do certain things with life, you have to be successful, you have to make money, and then weak, right? You know, socioeconomic status, you know, it's a huge, it's a huge hit to your ego, right? If you come with that idea of manhood uh to a new society. Uh so I think the fact that so many, in my opinion, kind of most um prominent characters in those stories and novellas are female, I think it's not um accident. You know, I think it's uh that's how I intended it to be. And they actually interested me.

SPEAKER_00 1:05:18

You know, those women I find very uh I find them irresistible characters, and sometimes it's human beings. How is it Georgia in the Caucasus alluded to in this work?

SPEAKER_01 1:05:44

Geor Georgia was um there are a few references there, but because uh, you know, I mean, when you live in the Soviet Union, uh obviously it was uh this um multi ethnic. Empire, right? You know, and there were all these republics, and uh these republics had different kind of status in the imagination of um uh the Soviets. And Georgia, I have to say, and again, I'm going off on a limp here, you know, I'm maybe generalizing, but I think um a lot of people would agree that in this whole community of um nationalities, right, that constituted the Soviet Union, uh, Georgians had somewhat special place role, because I think they were just so different uh in terms of their aesthetics, in terms of their uh food, in terms of their uh, you know, the weather, you know, like from let's say like Leningrad, right? Or Moscow. Um and they're further away from the center of power. You know, this by the way flies not just to Georgia, but to other so-called southern republics, right? You know, further away from the center, more free, more kind of uh irreverent. Uh so Georgian Georgians really, I think they had um uh this kind of elan, as they say, you know, they had this uh mystique about them that yes, we were all Soviets, but they were more free, uh, they were more irreverent, uh, their life was more colorful uh and uh sort of uh uh their food more interesting, you know, they were very you know musical. You know, Georgians are famous for their songs and for for their music. Uh so it was it it was very charming, right? You know, it was there is all it's it's a very charismatic culture, and it still is. I was in Georgia just a few years ago and was kind of reminded instantly of uh how uh of this charisma, right, you know, that uh surrounds that country and and the people. Um and for the Jews, there was an additional uh attraction attraction of Georgia. Georgians had a reputation uh for just not being anti-Semitic at all. And again, I'm not a sociologist, you know. I'm never studied like closely the history of Georgia, so I don't really know how true that is, but that's what you hear a lot. That uh uh the Jews, for example, when you interviews, once you interview Georgian Jews, those who moved to Israel, right, or those who live here in New York City, uh quite often you hear those stories of like very close friendship with uh uh with Georgians, between Jews and Georgians, that uh you know the synagogues were functioning, you know, in uh in in Georgia. And uh sort of uh I heard this so many times that there was no anti-Semitism in Georgia. And again, I don't know how true that is, but that's a very, very common thing to hear uh that somehow uh you know, and and frankly, you know, again another very anecdotal experience, you know, my recent trip to Georgia, you know, whenever I talked uh to Georgians and it came out that I had family in Israel or square Jewish, I saw nothing but like people are literally hugging, right? You know, so again, this is all very unscientific. You know, I don't know what the data is on those kind of relations, but that was an added bonus, right? So for a lot of Soviet Jews, Georgia was also a place free of racism, right? And that was very attractive.

SPEAKER_03 1:09:30

Can you say something about the clothing worn by characters in this work?

SPEAKER_01 1:09:39

Uh it's again interesting, you know. We talked about food and literature and humor, you know, things define uh the characters, and uh clothing is uh one of them. Well, um, I think of one particular story, you know, it's Arthur on Night on Earth, um, you know, because clothing is very important there. Why? Uh so again, I don't want to give away the plot, but the main character in the story is this like black marketeer, uh Arthur, right? And uh there was this phenomenon in late in the late Soviet Union, you know, uh in Russian it's called Tsartsovka. It's the slang word. Tsartsovka, it means black market. You know, there were this young, usually guys, but not necessarily, uh, who traded things with foreigners, right? They exchanged, you know, for example, exchange Bible vodka, or you know, uh some military personnel for a pair of blue jeans or for a pair of sneakers, right? And uh those labels became very important. Uh and uh they really indicated your status, right? You know, at least certainly in the cities, you know, in Moscow, in Leningrad, and elsewhere. So in that regard, like Western access to Western clothing became very important. You know, blue jeans became really a status symbol, um, or having you know those Western sweaters, you know. I mean, you could see, and there were certain labels that were huge, you know, Wrangler was one of them. Or there was this one that I came to the West uh and was looking for those jeans. Uh the label was Montana. No one ever heard about it. I suspect probably they were produced locally somewhere in uh southern Russia, you know. But at the time this was very desirable. Uh so this particular character, you know, he builds his whole life philosophy on access to good clothing, uh also on access to cars and labels. And this was, I think, a protest against the drapness of the Soviet everyday, because uh the Soviet everyday, you know, the Soviet clothes were sort of uh uh infamously shabby, gray, dark colors. So anything with bright colors in them, you know. I remember my cousin uh during the time of Pierstroika, uh, he bought a pair of uh um uh what's the term? Uh like bright green shoelaces and put them on. And this was just such a statement of claimant freedom, right? You know, that I'm not gonna wear this draft stuff, you know, I'm gonna wear something like really fluorescent, you know, and bright and uh in your face. Uh so in that regard, you know, um uh clothes uh become very important, you know, also because you know, when you're in school, you have to wear school uniform, you know, then you get drafted into the army, you have to wear military uniform. Uh so there is this yearning for something different that I think a lot of people really experience there. Uh so in that regard, uh so that particular story, Arthur Knight and Earth, I think, and it's not just clothes, it's also uh well produced quality goods in general that become very central to this particular character's life philosophy. You know, I think that's that life philosophy eventually kind of destroys him because uh uh he's very talented and he's he's potentially like has a rich intellectual life, but he reduces that rich intellectual life to this hunt for labels, you know, because for him that's a way to achieve freedom, right? So in that regard, um uh clothes are important.

SPEAKER_00 1:13:30

Um I'm trying to think about other stories there, that's the fact that like a dozen of them. I yeah, I think that's probably what I have to say in this.

SPEAKER_03 1:13:44

How is Israel referred to in this work?

SPEAKER_01 1:13:49

Well, Israel appears there in um uh I mean there is like uh one in central novellas is set in Israel, and there is a story that it's called Norris Caravan about an older Russian-Jewish woman who leaves Boston for Israel and moves there for personal reasons, and you know, it's it's her personal act of protest and sort of like uh dealing with the family feud. Um, so Israel is there. Uh Israel is very important. Israel is very important for all of us, and not necessarily for the for political reasons. You know, I would say I can speak for everyone, but I think Israel becomes for the people of my generation, the Jews of my generation, late Soviet Jews, um, it really becomes a central chapter in our lives. Uh, because when the country opened up, uh, people began to leave. You know, a lot of people like myself, well, some people like myself were able to come to Canada or the United States. The vast majority went to Israel. As a result, we all have family there. Uh, we all have friends there. Uh for I would say the vast majority of Soviet Jews or former Soviet Jews, uh, Israel is not a foreign country. Uh, it's not just a place on the map, it's actually uh a place of our biography. Uh, it's a place where our loved ones we uh live. And again, I'm not even talking about politics uh or Zionism, I'm just talking about human stories, I'm talking about families. Uh so whenever something happens in Israel or something happens to Israel, uh, or something happens with Israel, uh, you know, it uh reverberates and we all feel it. And uh, you know, this is something that of course uh came into focus after October 7th uh for many of us because what I realized that um of course this sort of timidity of this connection and the the strength of this connection right to to the place but to people, human beings, it quite often was completely lost on a lot of um people that I know, like here in the in the United States, for example, people who are not Jews, or some even American Jews who have no connection to Israel, right? You know, because uh for them this was just a place on the map, right? It was just a country which has a lot of troubles, and something terrible happened there, and then there is this war. So there was no, and um and I felt it again and again, and you know, frankly, sometimes I resented it and continue to resent it, but also understand why this happened, right? You know, I mean, it's really for them, this has no the meaning it has for so many of us. But for people who came from the Soviet Union, uh Israel is really, I mean, for some people it's central, uh, for others, it's just very present in their lives for biographical, historical reasons. And uh, you know, this is something that sometimes, as I mentioned before, is uh completely lost on people who do not have that kind of connection.

SPEAKER_03 1:17:08

Why is this book important and relevant in the year 2026?

SPEAKER_01 1:17:14

Well, I think uh that's uh that's a wonderful question to ask um a writer because, like, I'm sure we all think that our books are very important. Uh, this book I lived with it for some time. You know, I started publishing uh stories in English uh a few years ago, about six, seven, eight years ago now. And I really felt I had this kind of uh, I wouldn't call it sense of mission, it's too too big of a word, but I really I really wanted to share those stories with people, and not just with the like other Soviet immigrants or with other Jews. You know, I really wanted to think about the stories as kind of universal because I thought I had an experience that was not unique to me, it was an experience of my generation. Uh, but since I'm the one writing, because most people who have those experiences, they'll never publish anything, they'll never write about it, maybe like chat in a bar, you know, or at a dinner party, you know, share the experiences. And that's the experience of the what um there is a wonderful anthropologist at Berkeley, uh Alexei Yorchak, uh, a few years ago who published a book that has become very influential. It's called Everything Was Forever Until It Was No More. And it's a book about the last Soviet generation, uh, to which I belong. And I really thought that my generation had a story to tell. Uh, people of my background had a story to tell. And it's not just our story, it's a story of uh what Fukiyama called the end of history that actually, we know, never happened. It's a story of people who sort of lose their country, right? You know, or whose circumstances change so unrecognizably within a very short period of time, right? You know, as I mentioned before, like within two years, I moved from the army barracks, you know, in central Russia to delivering peace in Oklahoma, like, you know, driving across the prairies. Um, you know, I think it's an interesting experience. Again, I'm not saying that there are no other people uh who have those kinds of experiences. There are like millions of immigrants around the world. There are people crossing this horror desert, there are people sort of venturing across the Mediterranean in those uh rickety boats and dying in the process. Um but I think it's an important experience for our age, right? You know, when you move from point A to point B and uh uh the world as it existed before sort of disappears. Uh, there is a wonderful little book by um uh Stefan Zweig. Uh I think it's called The World of Yesterday or Yesteryear. Uh it's uh it's a book that he wrote uh when he was, I think, I may be getting the story wrong, but I think he was already in Brazil in exile, you know, after the Nazis came to power. But it was the end, it was the world, the book about the end of the world during the first world war, basically, like the end of history. Not the end of history, the end of the world as people knew it. You know, he writes about Vienna and about like this uh um kind of particular civilization that just disappears, right? So I think we experience it's the Soviet world is very different from the world of uh Austro-Hungarian Empire, but nevertheless, it's uh it's the dissolution of an empire, it's the end of a particular civilization. And I was always interested in this kind of transition, in uh this movement from one historical reality to another, from one set of you know, personal and geographical circumstances to another, and what actually happened to us, right? You know, when this happens to us, how do we respond? How do we connect to other people, especially those who had similar experiences? You know, it's always uh uh there is a wonderful uh there was wonderful Russian writer, Sergei Davlatov. Uh he's very well known in the Russian-speaking community. Uh he's probably barely known among uh the English-speaking uh reading public, even though he published in New York in few pieces. Um he died back in 1990. But I think he also captured those sensibilities, his stories in the novellas. Uh, you know, he writes about this immigrant transplanted from Leningrad, Moscow, Edessa, Kiev to Brooklyn, you know, or to Los Angeles or to San Francisco, and you run into, you know, you you know you have some girlfriends or you know, former schoolmates. You know, uh, and and I always thought this is so interesting, you know, how you connect, how you relate to those people, excuse me, from your past, under those kind of new, sometimes extreme circumstances. Uh there is a story that is not actually in this book I published a few years ago. It's called On Being Unimportant. And uh there is an episode there where in the 1990s I come to Jerusalem. Um, you know, I mean that was a kind of tumultuous period in my life when you know I moved around the globe quite a bit and I ended up in Israel, and I come to Jerusalem and at the market at the shook in the center of Jerusalem, I bump into this guy that I used to go to kindergarten with back in Leningrad. And the just the absurdity, and he's exactly, I barely I remembered him like since he was five or six the last time I saw him, and now we're in our like 20s, and he kind of sounds the same, right? You know, and he says things that I would expect him to say, even though I have not seen him in 20 years. Um, and the absurdity of this encounter, right? You know, that uh you know, from this uh 1970s Leningrad to this 1990s uh uh Shuk in the center of Jerusalem, uh and how different it is, but it's the same guy, you know. So it's things like that that kind of I always find drawn to to the absurdity, but also to how they connect us to large historical narratives, right? And that's what I do in uh many of my stories.

SPEAKER_03 1:23:18

How does that your novella contribute to our understanding of Soviet social history? How do the short stories in this book shed new light on Soviet social history?

SPEAKER_01 1:23:35

Well, uh remember I'm a historian. So uh being uh being historian means that I've read a lot of wonderful history books by great historians, um, uh including on the social history and cultural history of the Soviet Union. So I wouldn't dare uh to say that um uh there is anything groundbreaking here, but I think what I have to contribute here is maybe kind of kind of primary source accounts, you know, because a lot of this uh things based on personal experiences, on uh uh memoirs, uh, on uh uh family stories and family histories. Uh so I think I have to add that. And maybe one thing that sets this book and these stories apart from some other stories about, or some history books, right, about the time period, and I'm saying particularly about the late Soviet Union, is that um they are written by historians, right? And I think I do bring those sensibilities to those stories. So when I describe, for example, the everyday life in the communal department, or when I talk about uh uh how people went about uh of organizing the immigration, uh, or when I describe uh the uh sort of um the everyday college life in late Soviet Union, right? You know, things I do in those stories. I think this provides hopefully an opening for people, especially probably not for people trained as historians, people who spend their careers, because I know a lot of those people and they're just absolutely wonderful and great experts. Uh, but for a reader who uh never had the benefit of reading series social cultural history, you know, I think that would will give them an opening into this world that is the world of, as uh Stefan Zweig would say, the world of yesteryear, right? You know, the world of that's not there anymore. Uh so I think that's probably contribution. And um and another I'm also uh very interested in um the early immigrant experience, because now we're in 2026 and the 1990s, the early 1990s, late 1980s, when a lot of people of my generation who would find themselves abroad eventually, that's when they left the country and moved to Israel, moved to Germany, moved to Canada, moved to the United States. So um uh it's this transition and uh the everyday life of uh the immigrants um, you know, is also very interesting. It's part to me uh of the social history and cultural history of the late Soviet Union, just transplanted into new circumstances. And again, I'm not saying I'm not the only one who is writing about it. Uh there is a new generation of uh writers of my gener of my age and maybe a little bit younger. Uh many of them were actually children when they came here, so they're native speakers, and they're publishing and writing about those 1990s, you know, the immigrant experience of the early, of the early post-Soviet period. Um, several of us, and for a long time, um, there were very few. There is Gerh Steinberg, of course, um uh there is Anyo Linich, uh, there is uh Samat Krasikov. Uh they're all younger than me, uh meaning they came here as children. So their perspective is very important, but their perspective quite often is the perspective of uh they're like American teenagers or children uh experiencing immigration. It's very important, it's very interesting. Uh but I think I'm trying to think of people of my generation. I'm not saying this is the only book like that, uh, but uh uh there are not too many. There are not too many, right? And I'm sure there will be more eventually. Uh also it's interesting that a lot of uh not too many immigrants opted to write in English eventually, right? You know, those who came to the West as children, of course, they do write in English. Uh but um a lot of people in my generation, even those who are writers, I think they still write in Russian something. I do sometimes, but very rarely, right? So in that regard, I think this book also may be I don't know. I can use the word unique is my book, so I don't want to oversell it, uh over advertise it, but you know, I don't want to advertise it.

SPEAKER_00 1:28:07

Uh so I think it does provide its own perspective in that regard. What does your book's title mean? Can you explain it?

SPEAKER_01 1:28:24

Absolutely. It's um it's another question that um has been asked at um some of the readings in the past. The book came out a couple of months ago, so there have been a number of readings and there will be more. And people usually ask this question. Um first of all, it comes from the title of one of the novellas, uh, you know, probably one of the longest ones uh in the collection. It's called Six Trains and No Return. And uh, you know, it's a symbolic uh, I think, representation. You know, if you look at the cover of the book, it shows, you know, I really like it actually. It shows this kind of um the conditioned, rusty old train uh, you know, stuck in the desert. Uh so there is this nostalgic uh feeling, you know, this idea of memory associated with it. Um uh so there is a story, and the story is built around trains. Uh, I mean, the trains are not very prominent, you wouldn't first notice them, but when you read closely, you'll realize that uh so many episodes that constitute the novella actually are connected to train trick, right? You know, at first the the main character uh is uh taken to uh you know to this army base um you know on a train, you know, and it's a very critical train commission specifically to transport troops uh to their base, you know. Then his girlfriend comes to visit him, and that's uh another sort of like vignette in the in the novella, very important, you know, sort of emotionally charged. She takes a train and he meets her at the railway station, and then he says goodbye to the railway station when he leaves. And then his friend comes to visit him in uh uh uh Lenin Grass just before his departure for America, and he takes a train, and then you know, he loads him up on a train. Um uh when he goes back, because he loads him up because the guy is drunk, he can't really move, and that's the last time they see each other, probably will never see each other again. And then there is an imagined train journey towards the end when uh uh once in Moscow, because uh that Yurik, the character, lives in a small provincial town or in a village, he needs to get there, so he takes another train. So when you count all those trains, there are six of them. But frankly, I never counted. And uh, you know, when someone asked me about, like, are you sure there are six trains? I said, I'm pretty sure there are six trains, but there could be five. Uh, and I remember that wonderful novel by Alexander Dumas, Three Musketeers, that we all grew up reading and obsessing about when I was a teenager. And uh, you know, very famous French uh kind of adventure novel set in 17th century France. And when you read it, uh, you know, very quickly you realize there are actually four musketeers. You know, uh it's not three, but three musketeers in the title. And when Dumas, I think, was asked why, just said, No, it just sounds bad, right? So, uh, and forever they became three musketeers, even though there are four of them. So uh, you know, uh, but I think there are six trains, and each train uh of no return, you know, it goes in one direction, and there is no return, you know, his journey is one way, right? So uh it's about memory, it's about nostalgia, but it's also about our life journey that moves only in one direction.

SPEAKER_00 1:31:43

What role does guilt play in this work?

SPEAKER_01 1:31:50

Wow, uh it's it's it's a very good question. Um quite a bit, quite a bit. Uh and I don't know if it's the Jewish thing or whatever it is, but um but I think you know I cannot speak on behalf of a lot of people, uh, but I think um guilt it's a very powerful sentiment, uh, because uh we always have to make choices in our life, or often have to make choices in our life that we need to make for our own benefit. Uh, and those choices may hurt other people or may they may leave other people behind. When you immigrate, you know, you always leave people behind, right? So you leave members of your family behind, your friends, you know, you leave the city that you love behind, uh, you leave your past behind. Uh so uh I think a lot of immigrants, I can't speak on everyone's behalf, you know, I'm imagining, but I think a lot of immigrants carry that with them. You know, it's kind of a baggage, right? That you feel guilty about certain things uh in your past. Uh so that's one interpretation of guilt in the novel. But also, there are other things. Um you feel guilty in terms of the stories in this collection, you know, the character sometimes, main character, usually feels guilty about a memory uh that is meaningful for another person, but is forgotten, right? Or is not there. And you feel guilty about the fact that something that is so important or was central in life of this person, the nice person, for example, is uh is not meaningful to you, right? So that's yet another example of uh things you can feel guilty uh about. And and there are more kind of straightforward things, you know. There is this um novella forgetting Miriam, uh, which I love. Uh, it's about that encounter that I mentioned before between um you know young man and a woman that uh um apparently had suffered from his harassment and they were still teenagers, and how they reconnect and they have an affair and how they deal with it. You know, that whole thing is about guilt, you know, it's about memory of uh you know, memory of the past when you hurt someone and uh sort of carrying that with you and sort of thinking what had that done to the person and whether or not the person was hurt as much as you think she was, and uh and the whole story is built around this ambiguity, you know. So um, yeah, quite a quite a bit of that, quite a bit of that. Uh, you know, but but but you feel guilty. Uh there is uh towards the end of uh uh of this novelistic strain from no return, you know, when uh the main character that loaded up his friend with kamatos with drink, you know, on the train to Moscow and comes back home, and sits his little son in the cradle and just immediately feels guilty, right? Feels guilty about uh not paying sufficient attention to this little child, you know, or maybe coming close to cheating on his wife. I mean, there are so many things there, right? You know, uh so we uh you know, I think feeling guilty is uh, and again, you know, there is always temptation to say it's Jewish guilt. I don't know what what it is, you know. I'm maybe it's not Jewish, maybe you know, I tend to think those things can be quite universal. Um, but uh we do, I do feel guilty a lot about a lot of things in my life. And uh and uh nowadays when uh uh you know the existence of the world around us, you know, the wars, the the horrors, they're happening all the time, especially intensified wars, at least affected many of us directly the last few years uh with the invasion of Ukraine and uh seventh and the wars uh that followed. Um you always feel guilty. I do feel guilty about uh my comfortable life. We just um last night we my wife and I went to uh uh to see uh went to a reading by a young woman who is a uh Russian journalist because of the country, and obviously, and uh you know she worked in the war zones and she is she's completely committed to fighting for you know for the freedom of the country and she's prepared to go far. And she's prepared to face you know blood and horror. And uh and we came away like very, very uncomfortable from that encounter, you know, because she's very impressive, obviously, but we also have our nice, comfortable life, you know. You know, we got back in our nice car and drove back home, you know, to our comfortable apartment.

SPEAKER_00 1:36:52

So those things haunt me, you know, and I think some of them do find their way into the stories. How is Bulgaria alluded to in this? All right, so Bulgaria.

SPEAKER_01 1:37:13

It's interesting, you know. I mean, those details I forget about them, you know, now that you know the book came out, it's been sometimes since I uh preferred those galleys. Um Bulgaria, I think, is is mentioned uh a couple of times uh because for us, Bulgaria was uh again, you know, I can speak on behalf of everyone, but you know, for my generation, it was the foreign country that was kind of closest to us and most accessible. Uh, it was part of this socialist community of nations, it was socialist uh pro-Soviet satellite, uh, but it was also a foreign lab, right? So there is uh this one particular episode where I remember I evoke it in that sense. Uh, when um in uh Six Trains of No Return, the novella Um Yuri and I, you know, the character, main character, and uh my protagonist, uh, we are in this restaurant and we meet these two young women and so strike up conversation. And uh it comes up that I'm about to leave for the United States, right? You know, going to America, you know, which seems like wow. And um uh one of the women says, Wow, I I'm paraphrasing, but something how interesting. This is certain, it's not like going to Bulgaria, right? You know, so Bulgaria is quite often used uh in that sense, and there was even a saying in Russian, and again, I don't mean to use it in the in a very um way demeaning for Bulgarians, you know, I think it's more reflective of the politics of the time, but the expression went uh Kuritsa Nipts in Russian, Kuritsa Nipzica Bulgaria is a granice, meaning uh chicken is not a bird, Bulgaria is not a foreign country. And again, it's a very imperialist thing to say, of course, but you know, we were, you know, the Soviet Union was an imperialist uh country, you know, it was an empire, and it controlled those East European satellites. So uh Bulgaria had this kind of strange status. It was uh again, like any foreign country, it was very appealing because we couldn't travel, right? You know, it was very attractive in that regard, but also it was kind of not exactly exactly foreign, uh, you know, maybe because also because of the Slavic connection, because the language was I mean it was different, but you could sort of understand it, you know.

SPEAKER_00 1:39:42

So in that regard, Bulgaria occupied this kind of um limit of space, you know, this place between abroad and the Soviet, right? In between. How does this book represent love?

SPEAKER_01 1:40:07

How does this book represent love? Um I think there are different kinds of love in this book. Uh first of all, and again, I I don't want to grandstand and I don't want to virtuous signal, but I think I personally like literature that is kind and that is built on love, right? So love in this book, it's not only love between men and women, there is quite a bit of that. Uh, but it's also love between, I mean, people regardless, you know, friendship. You know, the friendships described in this book are stories of love and intimacy and uh, you know, this very strong, powerful interpersonal connection. Uh, whether it's uh, you know, the story of the friendship between the the two older guys in Ashkelon and Israel, or you know, my friendship with Yurik, uh, or my friendship with Isaac, you know, these are the stories of love. You know, it's not just friendship, it's it's really you appreciate this person, you connect with this person. I think it's very important. You know, I just like a couple of days ago, I watched this uh, in my opinion, absolutely fantastic new TV series. Um DTF St. Louis. Uh, I don't know if you've heard about it, came out recently and uh very strange, unusual, beautifully done, in my opinion, uh, TV series. And it's about that. It's about how people are searching for a connection with each other, how they are, you know. I was really watching it and thinking, wow, you know, this is so similar to my sensibilities that inform this book in so many ways, or some of the stories there. So there are different kinds of love. You know, love, I think, uh, in this book, it's um not just sexual love, it's um it's embracing humanity, you know, it's it's having a human connection to another person, and uh, you know, appreciating that connection and valuing that person and feeling sorry for another person, like feeling uh what's uh what's the word? Uh feelings. Sorry, sorry, I'm not sure sorry captures that, uh, but having sympathy, right? You know, having sympathy. And um, so for me, I think love is uh not just like being attracted to another person, and that's obviously very can be very powerful and important, uh, but it's also having empathy, right? You know, having sympathy for another person, you know, when uh you know I come back home in six trains of no return and see this little kid uh in his little cart, you know, my little son, you know, I just feel this overwhelming empathy, you know. I just is he comfortable? How's he doing? You know, what's happening to him? Uh so I think love is that. Love is um really keeping another person in mind, and in your heart, of course, but also in mind, being aware of another person is love. And then there are those love stories and love affairs that um kind of survive and sometimes do not survive, the test of time and crumble, and then they're given to us in memory. You know, there is this story, it's called Red Dress, uh, which you know I love quite a bit. Uh it's about um again, there's some other stories in this collection. It's about uh it's it it it's it's first set in Prague in the 1990s, and this young man and uh you know his girlfriend comes from Moscow, they spend a few days together, and it's quite clear the relationship, which is very intense for him at least, and for her, it seems like it's falling apart. You know, he just cannot keep up his end of the parking, he cannot make a decision, he comes across as indecisive, and she's she despises him uh for that. You know, I mean it's it's intense, they have sex, but then you know, it's not enough, you know, like all this stuff, like unresolved tensions, right? And then like many years later, they meet again uh in London, you know, very different circumstances, both uh like successful and uh you know, prosperous and uh comfortable with their lives, uh in their life stories. And uh the question is like, can you recapture that intensity after so many years? And uh and the answer is not clear, you know. I really like ambiguity. So that love that was so intense and so overwhelming and so torturous at some point, can I can it actually come back in some other fashion later on in life?

SPEAKER_00 1:44:45

You know, so I think um those are the kinds of interpretations of love that uh readers will find here in the stories.

SPEAKER_03 1:45:00

In what ways can this work inspire the reader toward ethical action? In what ways can your novella and your stories encourage moral deliberation on the part of readers, scholars, and specialists, as well as among laypersons and ordinary individuals with curiosity? What do you hope to change in your reader? What do you hope that those who engage with your work would introspect it about?

SPEAKER_01 1:45:38

Uh thank you for this question. Um well um so this uh first of all, I uh disclaimer. Um in my writing and uh when I do readings and like meet with readers and Q ⁇ A's, you know, I'm sometimes asked about like this kind of kind of question about because uh there are a lot of ethical and moral dilemmas in those stories, you know. And I always want to uh say that uh there are certain kinds of morality I aspire towards, you know, not hurt other human beings, you know, like uh be kind, you know, be understanding, be empathetic. You know, it doesn't mean that I kind of practice what I preach. You know, I think in my real life I'm much more judgmental and harsh in the way I see the world and uh uh issue judgments on other human beings than I am in my writing. You know, I'm much more forgiving, much more open-minded when I write. And I don't think I'm being hypocritical and just um less constrained by like the immediacy of the circumstances when you have to make, you know, when you have to judge another person, when you just write, you know, you have more space for maneuver, right? You know, you can afford the luxury of uh being more open-minded. Uh, but I really like that idea, you know. I really would like this the world that we live in, which is very harsh, very unforgiving, can be very unforgiving and uh cruel. You know, I mean it sounds too grand, maybe, but I do want it to be better. So I think all the stories here in this collection, I'd like to think, they're really ultimately about kindness, it's about forgiving people, you know. Um, and again, I don't want to be too fishy about it. It's just the kind of stories uh I wrote and published, right? Uh so when people read this, you know, if there is, you know, I don't know if people learn from reading, you know, looking around, sometimes you doubt it. But if they can take away any lessons that I wouldn't be happy with them taking away from the uh reading of my work, you know, I would like my fiction, I would like them to uh not to be cruel, you know, to accept people as they are, you know, with all their flaws and warts and all, and uh, people are not perfect, you know, no one is perfect. And uh there is uh sometimes there is tendency, and we we see a lot of this in our public life, you know, in our cultural life in the last few years, you know, this harshness and this this demand for people to be in a particular way, and you know, and your transgressions are not forgiven. You know, I mean, like we mentioned before, uh, my engagement with the question of totalitarianism. I mean, this sounds very totalitarian to me. Totalitarianism is very unforgiving, you know, it's very harsh, it's very sort of it constrains you. So I want people to be more flexible, I want people to be open to other human beings and sort of deal with what they get, right? You know, without you know, you know, being harsh and cruel to them. And again, easier said than done. You know, I I don't necessarily think I practice what I preach. And I do this in my writing. I also do this in the uh in the kinds of um uh in the kinds of classes I teach, right? I teach uh classes where this is one of the messages. Again, I don't like it when professors get preachy, so I try not to get to do that in my classes, uh, but I do think that's a very important message, right? You know, so the message of uh kindness and acceptance and empathy. And again, I'm saying that again, I would like to qualify that while I'm saying this and while I think it's important, I don't necessarily always practice what I preach.

SPEAKER_03 1:49:28

As we bring our dialogue today to a close, can you kindly tell us about where your time and attention have gone since completing this work?

SPEAKER_01 1:49:40

Um well, I I um I submitted the manuscript more than a year ago. I guess it takes a while for books to get published. Uh so a lot of things happened since. Uh right, I've been busy at work. Uh I'm actually department chair uh at my institution, which uh takes up a lot of my time. And sometimes I kind of welcome that, I have to say. You know, when I first became department chair, I was mildly horrified because I really I'm not into administrative stuff. But I discovered what I'm discovering now that you actually, you know, it's not a bad thing to do in life for a while, right? You know, because you, you know, I'm you run a department, you know, you make sure things work, you make sure students get the help they need, that you know, your faculty are getting the support uh they require to do their work well. Uh so I've been spending a lot of time, probably too much, uh, on administrative stuff. Uh I also, you know, I'm a scholar, right? You know, so I still have obligations. I have a few looming deadlines that I need to meet, you know, writing articles and uh book reviews and like a lot of things that I need to do. Um and uh I haven't written I've written a few fiction pieces in the last year, haven't finished a single one of them. I think I have like four that I started, and all of them, I think, in my opinion, are potentially interesting. Um I also have an idea for a novel that um may or may not come true, you know, but uh I so I have a few ideas about it. But I think uh this is a very busy time in the semester. You know, it's our final week, you know, we need to wrap up the semester and uh hopefully over the summer when I get a breather, you know, I can kind of become pressed and focus on other things. Um so so maybe go back to fiction a little because you know I do there are still a few things I would like to say, right, as a as a writer. Um so yeah, it's it's it's an easy life, but it's it's it's a very good life. And I feel guilty about it, as we talked uh just a few minutes ago, because the world is in turmoil, and uh, you know, it seems like there is this like this connect, the contradiction between you know the comfort and uh of my everyday life and um and my professional life, how fulfilling it is and how nice and uh all those things, but then you read the news and you think uh can you actually be satisfied? Can you actually be happy about it?

SPEAKER_00 1:52:24

And again, we're back to this question of ambivalence and ambiguity.

SPEAKER_03 1:52:34

As we end our dialogue today, I'd like to emphasize how appreciative I feel for your time and attention. Thank you for everything you shared so generously during this conversation.

SPEAKER_01 1:52:48

Thank you so much, Ari. It's been a true pleasure.

SPEAKER_03 1:52:51

As we end today, I'm signing off as Ari Barbalat, your host on the Dialogues in Refugee Studies podcast. Today it's been my privilege to interview Maxime Matusevich. We have discussed his newly published book, Six Trains of No Return, Short Stories and Novellas, published in Boston by Academic Studies Press 2026. Maxime Matusevich, who teaches history at Seton Hall University and is a native of Leningrad, formerly St. Petersburg in Russia in the former Soviet Union, true on his professional background and his journey as an emigré to the United States in 1991, right before the collapse of the Soviet Union, to create these stories and novellas. The characters in Matusevich's works come from a wide range of backgrounds, but they are all distinctly human, flawed, eccentric, and deeply relatable to those who have lived through historical changes, immigration, or the slow decline of stability. This book compiles twelve sword stories and novellas that explore immigrant narratives and dislocations that are both intimately personal and universally significant. These tales recount past lives and loves, memories that are both delicate and unreliable, and our connections to larger historical stories. They also reflect the Soviet Jewish experience during what was believed to be the end of history in the declining days of the USSR. A French Cambodian woman embarks on a series of enigmatic journeys to the killing fields of her youth. While a confrontation in a Nigerian jail forces the narrator to grapple with an insurmountable moral challenge. A heartfelt friendship blossoms among three young soldiers drafted into the Soviet army, and a young man's unexpected romantic encounter with a childhood friend rekindles memories of long-forgotten schoolyard hardships. Furthermore, a pair of soldiers in the twilight of the Soviet Union experience the American film Jaws for the first time at a semi-underground video salon. These stories, emotionally impactful yet tinged with gentle humor, delve into themes of displacement, belonging, and memory resonating across diverse cultures and backgrounds. Thank you wholeheartedly.

SPEAKER_00 1:56:11

Thank you.