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Featured titles
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A Gloom Descends Upon the Ancient Steps, a novel by Alexander Chudakov (2000)
Rights sold: France - Christian Bourgois (2003), Macedonia - ANTOLOG, Poland - von Borowiecky, Spain - AUTOMATICA, Russia – Olma Press (2001), Vremya (2011), World English rights - Northwestern University Press
2001 RUSSIAN BOOKER Award nominee
2011 RUSSIAN BOOKER OF THE DECADE Awared winner
Set in Chebachinsk, a fictitious town in Northern Kazakhstan inhabited by political exiles, its panoramic narrative focuses on the relationship between Anton, a Moscow historian of the vital “1960s generation,” and his grandfather, a titan of physical and intellectual rigor from a hardy line of Vilnius clerics. The lucid and forthright prose style was described by critics as “clear, rich, glowing with good-natured humor, and free”. The novel’s overall effect is uplifting despite its unflinching presentation of the human toll of Stalinism. Chudakov told Radio Russia that his concern was to show that despite “all that,” Russia in this period actually continued to live a variegated and even positive national life.
In Chudakov’s novel, a series of discrete sketches, scattered reminiscences and barely interconnected episodes create a stunningly vivid image of the past. The novel’s structure is more “modular” than linear. Each chapter contains any number of chronological leaps from the Chebachinsk of about 1968 backward to Anton’s childhood and youth and forward to the present. Portraits of Anton’s family and other figures from various periods of his past are created along the way; many are given chronologically free-ranging chapters all to themselves.
In the novel’s opening, Anton returns to Chebachinsk in about 1968 as an established Moscow historian to visit his maternal grandfather, who is dying at age 93. As he contemplates Grandfather’s great physical vigor, evident even now in his sinewy arms, Anton’s thoughts plunge deep into the past. Grandfather is Leonid, a graduate of a Vilnius seminary, agronomist and director of a weather station. In scattered dialogues, we learn of Grandfather’s conservative, anti-Soviet and anti-statist views on political economy, religion and the arts, views which often bring him into conflict with his son-in-law Pyotr, Anton’s father. Although in many respects a naively loyal Soviet citizen, Pyotr nevertheless quite consciously saved his entire extended family from the repressions in Moscow by volunteering in the late 1930s for engineering work constructing a plant in Northern Kazakhstan. As Anton tours the Chebachinsk of the late 1960s, place after place triggers voluminous reflections on the previous decades. In the main, these reflections recreate the idyllic natural environment of Chebachinsk (“a Kazakh Switzerland”), the material hardships that his family of vigorous intellectuals must overcome there, Grandfather’s demanding program of home schooling for the precocious Anton, Anton’s overall development, and the social consequences of the family’s hard-won relative prosperity.
Chudakov’s novel is an example of both “prose of scholars” and the larger genre of the post-Soviet “memoiristic novel,” though, in contrast with much of the Soviet-period memoiristic literature already available in English, it is not predominantly the story of decent, flawed personalities perishing by the Communist system, but rather the story of decent, flawed personalities negotiating and surviving that system in its many “negative spaces,” its interstices and peripheries, its places of “silence, exile and cunning.”
What survives is not merely — and not always — individuals, but their cultural pattern and values. The novel is thus an extraordinarily concrete, first-hand witnessing of the limits and failure of the Soviet totalitarian project. Chudakov’s novel is a Bildungsroman of a boyhood and youth under totalitarian regime. It should appeal strongly not only to Russia specialists, for whom it will provide an artistic counterpoint to recent historiography of Soviet Russia, but to all readers interested in twentieth-century European history as lived experience.
The major discovery of 2000 for me was the novel by Aleksandr Chudakov, the preeminent literary scholar…. As a rule, the prose outings of famous scholars are indigestible: they are either lifeless philological exercises or flat, leaden chronicles. Chudakov’s book is a different story altogether: This is an authentic memoiristic novel, free of both impenetrably “meta-cerebral” passages and a dreary fixation on the everyday. The book has the sort of natural, human intonation that contemporary prose seemed to have lost long ago.
—Aleksandr Arkhangelsky, Izvestia, Dec. 28, 2000
The best book to come out in Olma-Press’s “Original” series to date. Imagine a small Kazakh town where members of the country’s various ethnic groups and socio-economic strata are forced to co-exist—all during the 1930s to 1950s, with additional elements of late 1950s Moscow university life, plus reflections on this experience from today’s perspective, all of it written in classic, intelligible Russian for a change. In short, plop down on the couch with it, and you’ll find it impossible to put down.
—Unsigned notice in Ex Libris, the literary supplement of
Nezavisimaya gazeta, Dec. 6, 2001
Now this “novelistic idyll” is one of the favorite contenders for the 2001 Booker Prize, with reviewers writing of a striking, authentic and unique type of positive hero.
—B. Kuzminsky, Vecherny klub, Aug. 31, 2001
“GRANDFATHER WAS VERY STRONG….” From the very first line, the novel sets its tone of indirect but uncompromising polemics with our clichéd image of traditional culture as a hothouse of exotic specimens always about to wilt or freeze, and with the image of men and women of traditional values as invariably weak, incapable of making their way in the world, doomed to be victims…. Chudakov’s novel is the story of a man of prodigious physical and moral strength who without lying or compromising manages to maintain his beliefs, his habits, his faith, his encyclopedic knowledge, his aesthetic tastes—to survive and help others survive as well, to his very last breath…. Grandfather’s house is an oasis of creation, common sense and the affirmation of life.
—Andrei Dmitriev, “Snatching Russia Back: A Prose Work That Was One of This Year’s Major Events,”Izvestia, Jan. 10, 2001
The resolving power of Chudakov’s memory is so great, the details of his past so astonishingly well preserved, that what we see here is not just one of his qualities as a writer, but a gift: the gift of long memory.
—Alla Marchenko, Novy mir (2001), № 5, p. 195
Aleksandr Chudakov’s A Gloom Descends… was in my view the major literary event of 2000. In it, a series of discrete sketches, scattered recollections and barely interconnected episodes create a stunningly vivid image of the past. And without editorializing digressions, global generalizations or great scientific discoveries by the main character. It turns out that all it really takes is good taste, an observant mind, attention to detail, a sense of comedy and tragedy, and the understanding that in literature, indirect characterization is far more powerful than direct authorial commentary—and black will emerge of itself as black, white as white, sanity as sanity, and madness as madness.
—Mikhail Edelshtein, Russkaya mysl
(La Pensée Russe) № 4389, Dec. 20, 2001
Chudakov … has defined his book in terms of genre as a novelistic idyll…. It could also be called a poem in the spirit of Hesiod’s Works and Days. Or, recalling Belinsky’s remark that Eugene Onegin was “an encyclopedia of Russian life,” it could be called an encyclopedia of Soviet life: how exiles survived during the Stalin period…. It is a book about the indestructibility of life itself.
—Boris Paramonov, “Russia in Life and in Art”
Broadcast on Radio Liberty, Jan. 1, 2003
Chudakov’s novel—indisputably one of the freest, most noble and most vitally necessary Russian books created since Russia’s liberation from communism—affirms the abiding significance of such simple and elusive values as family and ancestral tradition, labor and culture, mercy and responsibility, freedom and faith, and hope in our future—in our children and grandchildren.
—Andrei Nemzer, “In Memoriam. Aleksandr Chudakov”
Vremya novostei, Oct. 5, 2005
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Why Italians Love to Talk about Food, by Elena Kostioukovitch (2006, NF)
2010 IACP Cookbook Award Finalist
Chiavari Literary Prize 2007 Italy
Bancarella (cucina) Award 2007 Italy
Hospitality Prize of the Restaurateurs & Hoteliers Federation 2006 RussiaRights sold: Australia - PAN MACMILLAN, Bulgaria - POCKET MEDIA, Estonia - TANAPAEV, China - WEALTH PRESS (traditional chinese), BEIJING QIZHENGUAN MEDIA (simplified chinese), Germany - FISCHER VERLAG, Italy - SPERLING & KUPFER, ODOYA, Korea - RANDOM HOUSE KOREA, Latvia - JANIS ROZE, Macedonia - ANTOLOG, Poland - ALBATROS, Russia - EKSMO, SLOVO, OGI, Serbia - PAIDEIA, Spain - TUSQUETS, UK - DUCKWORTH, Ukraine - FOLIO, USA - FARRAR, STRAUS and GIROUX
Why Italians Love to Talk about Food with a preface by Umberto Eco is a fascinating mix of history, culture, language and cuisine. To illustrate the synergy of these elements, the book presents chapters on each of Italy’s 20 very diverse regions, alternating with chapters on general themes such as olive oil, Slow Food, the Mediterranean diet, the sagra, etc. This is not a recipe book, but a kind of gastronomic-cultural guide: moving from north to south down the peninsula, Kostioukovitch shows how each region’s traditional cuisine and local specialties have been informed by its culture and history, its exposure to foreign influences, its geography and landscape, its topography and climate, its social customs and attitudes, its religious canons, its politics and economy, and more. As the author puts it, food is a common language which crosses the most diverse social and economic strata. In the end it is Kostioukovitch’s love for Italy itself, even more so than its food, that is her muse and inspiration. Lively and entertaining in its approach, the book’s extensive bibliography shows the range of research – culinary, historical, literary, and so on – on which it soundly rests.
"Elena, who certainly turns out to be an exceptional connoisseur of Italian cooking in all its varieties and mysteries, takes us by the hand (and let's say by the palate and by the nose too) on her culinary journey, not only for the sake of showing us the food, but also for showing us Italy, which she herself has spent a lifetime discovering. What you are about to read is a book of cuisine, but also a book about a country, a culture, indeed, many cultures." - UMBERTO ECO, from the preface to “Why Italians Love to Talk about Food”
There are no recipes for quail or anything else in "Why Italians Love to Talk About Food", but anyone with a strong passion for Italian food will find it indispensable. It's like an encyclopedia compiled and penned by a seriously gifted writer, in this case Elena Kostioukovitch. Infused throughout is Kostioukovitch's passion for Italy and its wide-ranging cuisine; you could even call it amore. - Minneapolis Star Tribune
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Elena Kostioukovitch has deciphered a large chunk of the culinary code that is second nature to Italians: knowledge about agriculture, festivals and cooking. - The New York Times
Every decade or so I discover a book that makes me feel I've been waiting for it all my life. Elena Kostioukovitch's Why Italians Love to Talk About Food is one of these books. Her rich book is an omnium gatherum of historically significant food, the extraordinary diversity of Italian cuisine. This fine book is a painting in words of the deepest bonds between local foods, ceremony and people. - Annie Proulx, The Guardian
This is a travelogue journey through Italy's regional cuisines, from the Alps to Sicily. The author noticed the differences of taste, language, and attitude in the ways that Italians talked about food. Local pride comes to mind. This memoir is loaded with illustrations, maps, menus, and explanations. - Gothic Epicures VinCuisine blog
Chefs, foodies, and Italophiles will treasure Elena Kostioukovitch’s Why Italians Love To Talk About Food. This masterful tome is a culinary encyclopedia and travelogue—a chronicle of Italy’s regional cuisines. Cuisine is a "code that pervades all of Italy," Kostioukovitch writes, and discussing it "means celebrating a rite, uttering a magic formula." Gorgeous photos and mouthwatering sample menus round out this literary feast. - Elizabeth Sher, Politics and Prose Bookstore & Coffeeshop website, Washington D.C.
Encyclopedic, this book is. It awakens that longing to head to the kitchen, mince some garlic, pour the olive oil in a pan and start cooking. - An ode to Italy's food, and its place in Italian culture, The Montreal Gazette
This book is something quite different. There are no glossy photos and no recipes. Elena Kostioukovitch has lived in Italy for the past 20 years, and studied its various foods and culinary traditions passionately. The result is a lively discussion of the way what we eat is not just cooked but culturally transformed. This book is not encyclopedic. One shouldn't turn to it for a comprehensive guide of a particular region's food. Its modus operandi is that of the anecdote, like a series of rambling conversations around a dinner table. The Australian
An off-beat take on the Italian cookbook and Italian culture - Michael A. Duvernois, WIKIO
Umberto Eco's translator shares cultural, historical and sociopolitical wisdom in this charming gastronomic survey of the food of her adopted country. - The New York Times
My immediate reaction to Why Italians Love to Talk About Food was, this is a perfect companion to the Lonely Planet guidebook edition covering Italy. Like travelling through Italy, where each corner you turn has the potential to present an unforgettable visual experience, turning each page of this book has the potential to tickle, tease and tantalise your tastebuds. - Web Wombat
"Why Italians Love to Talk About Food", a wandering encyclopedia, travel guide and history, at times ploddingly told, but unlike much else. Elena Kostioukovitch, who was Umberto Eco's Russian translator, walks us from north to south, each stop densely researched. There are no recipes. Photos are gorgeous, if sparse. And the tone is reminiscent of a long, discursive meal. - Chicago Tribune
This is a book for the serious foodie, covering Italy and its flavorful cooking step-by-step, with a sense of the natural resources and cultural backdrop that brought particular ingredients and dishes to the fore. The glossary of terms means you'll never again have to be ignorant of the meaning of such terms as alla cacciatora or in carpione. - The Book Babes, Margo Hammond and Ellen Heltzel’s website
Kostiukovich manages to illuminate the many mysteries of Italian cuisine in a text that inspires one to want to learn more about and cook more Italian food. If you read her book, you may not be able to stop talking about Italian food. - Sacramento Book Review