There Is much To Say

Or is it ponder? I have to admit to being absorbed, if only for brief stretches by the enveloping sheets of Domnrovsky's brilliance. There are early scenes which depict melons in a market: the grace of which is moving beyond expectation. One thinks of Naipaul's ants or Tolstoy's mowing the hay in Anna Karenina. One thinks, is moved, and is grateful.

There aspects that provoke as well, Stalin haunts Zybin's deams, yet Koba is a sympathetic sort, as are the interrogators, who are attempting a telluric justice for what they imagine as the only true Cause.