Without an Epilogue

“...For some reason, people think that… at the age when an actor is already old, he is obliged to publish his memoirs. He’s obliged—and that’s that! I came across that statement a long time ago, back when I was still young… And ever since then I’ve had a steady hatred for this supposed act—writing a book.

...But then I got sick and found myself cut off from the theater for a long time… I simply missed it and kept myself entertained with memories of my acting life. And that’s when I realized: it really is time to write. I began without knowing how the book would turn out—whether it would even turn out at all—and what I would call it… I knew only one thing for sure: I will not write memoirs; from what I lived through, I will share only what most moved me, what struck the deepest into memory. …Don’t judge too harshly—be kind.”

Rostislav Yankovich Plyatt is a name dear to every theater person. Unfortunately, it now belongs to history. As do the people and events about which he managed to tell so vividly and interestingly.