1969. Moscow is gradually coming to its senses after the harsh post-war years. Lenin Avenue is not yet an exorbitantly expensive district, but a brand-new outskirts area with unfamiliar—and still horribly new—orange brick high-rises. Here lives Nika Ratmanova, a schoolgirl living with her parents. Her life seems like one continuous summer: her father drives her to school in a “Volga,” a slightly bitter perfume “Mitsuko” can be stolen from her mother’s dressing table, she can stroll along the embankment with a nice and talented classmate while skipping classes—and somewhere in the distance is a trip to Crimea by car, where, of course, Nika is expected to enjoy beaches, the sea, шашлики, and milkshakes.
But two, seemingly minor, incidents—a briefcase accidentally dropped into the river and a car breaking down near Feodosiya—set off a fatal chain of events in Nika’s life. She will have to face the ugly echo of the war that forced her parents to hide from their daughter a shameful secret. And instead of a beach, vacation Crimea, Nika will find herself at an archaeological dig in ancient Kimmeria, where she may—perhaps—meet her fate…
Yuri Slepukhin is a very talented and undeservedly forgotten Soviet writer; in his books there’s nothing dusty or outdated. They’re quality, engaging popular fiction that reads even now like a timely, gold-, sun-, and love-soaked text.