Tatyana Gerden populates her novel with vivid, captivating characters. She generously endows them with rare talents, strange hobbies, and distinctive personalities; she freely combines different styles and genres, easily breaks stereotypes, and doesn’t recognize rigid canons. No wonder she recalls the rule of Japanese ikebana masters: more important than any instruction is that the artist’s mind and heart must not be bound by them.
Late 1950s. The provincial town of Peschansk looks like any other place, where a seemingly ordinary guy, Sava Chernikhin, lives.
But his ordinariness is just a mask. By day, Sava stands at a factory assembly line; in the evenings he plays an old trophy double bass named Amadeus and writes music. He passionately loves преферанс, draws, and throws himself into short romantic stories—like he’s trying to drown out and push away the nightmares that won’t let him go after his mother’s tragic death.
Also in Peschansk lives Ludvika. Her drawing teacher nicknamed her Dragonfly—for her delicacy, fragility, and her large blue eyes. Yet behind her outward tenderness lies a firm character: Ludvika knows the weapons from her father’s collection well, shoots accurately at the shooting range, and dreams of becoming a doctor.
It seems like there can be nothing in common between them. But fate loves strange patterns—especially when it brings together people who, at first glance, are completely unsuited to each other.