Galina Shcherbakova wrote a story about those who passionately—just like only Russians can—rushed to Moscow, and then received from it, depending on the case, either beatings, gifts, recognition, or even exile. In some way, it is the fate of the author herself and of her generation, whose search for happiness was at times so naive and uncalculated.
As always in G. Shcherbakova’s novels, there is a lot of love here, because—according to the author—without it we are worth nothing at all.