"Ah, that’s where the dog is buried!" the cat Mona exclaimed—and wouldn’t give me the manuscript until she had read it all the way through and sat with it thoroughly. Then, giving it back, she sighed: "Well why does this Borovsky write only for dogs and people—and never for cats…"
Mikhail Trophimenko, 'Ъ'
In this book, Borovsky appears not only as a critic, but also as a writer—subtle and witty. As if in contrast to the gloomy criticism that has caused contemporary art to lose its audience. Oleg Kulik has a work called "The Family of the Future." In such a family, this book would be a desk item.
Marat Gelman
Don Quixote-ism—to write against all the normal rules and "discourses" of fashionable criticism of contemporary art.
Anna Tolstova, "Arthronicle"
A new book by Alexander Borovsky, a well-known art historian and curator who heads the Department of Newest Trends at the State Russian Museum in St. Petersburg, presents—no more, no less— a history of art from the earliest times to the present day, told by two dogs: the court dachshund Tabaker Twenty-Seventh and a mongrel named Ryzhiy, who lives in a large museum. This unexpected move makes the book interesting both for adults and children.