Once, an old Parisian janitor saved up dust year after year, the dust he swept from jewelers’ workshops. One day, the collected precious grains of gold were enough for a wonderful rose—a gift for a woman he’d known since childhood.
This piercing story struck Paustovsky, astonishingly, with its similarity to the writer’s craft: writing too creates something beautiful out of dust-like encounters and partings, wanderings and journeys, other people’s faces and stories.
That’s how “The Golden Rose” begins—a unique and stylistically unparalleled work in Russian literature, deeply original. In it, autobiographical motives blend easily and naturally with fiction-alized biography, and essayistic elements blend with philosophical ones.