This is solid masculine prose. But masculine doesn’t necessarily mean harsh and rational. Viktor Remizov’s prose is pure, gentle, and lyrical—sometimes unsettling, sometimes so touching it brings tears. His stories take place in the polar tundra, in the taiga of Okhotsk, in Moscow, in a kitchen—twenty years ago, ten, yesterday, now… They contain the skill and precision of an artist—and, no less importantly, attention and love for what is being depicted. Viktor Remizov’s stories can be read deep into the night, and in the morning you wake up with bright feelings.