Colleagues in medicine dubbed him “DOCTOR MYSHKIN” for his resemblance to Dostoevsky’s character—whether he’s a saint, or a fool, or a holy fool. You’d think he were pointed at with a finger: look at this silly idealist who doesn’t squeeze money out of patients, doesn’t take bribes, and even refuses gifts! What is it like for a provincial doctor-bereft of greed in an ordinary Moscow hospital—“a doctor by God” among “grabbers in white coats”? And can you “live without lies,” work conscientiously, and follow the Hippocratic oath in a medicine that is now thoroughly corrupt and for sale? And what happens if such a righteous man falls in love with his straightforward boss—who, before meeting him, was considered an untrustworthy, careerist schemer?