“To understand Russia, its soul, you need to know what Pushkin breathed”

This is a collection of poems about Crimea by our contemporary, and a living classical poet, I am sure. It's like a painting or photography or dancing – but expressed in poetry. A rare, antiquarian talent. They don't make such poets anymore.

An amazing example of how you can title a book to stick it in your memory, to flash it through the years, nevertheless it is not at all about that. The book is about a snow-covered airport, about the record rasping, by which the friends recognize their own, about old jazz, an incurable case of first love and how to be when a dream comes true... I have been under an inexplicable magnetism after it since my childhood, and continue to reread it every year, looking for new layers of deep meaning.

A collection of interviews with Soviet cultural and art figures. R. Gamzatov, V. Kaverin, V. Astafyev, B. Okudzhava, B. Akhmadulina come off the pages, sit next to you in an armchair, with a thoughtful sip of the coffee. And they start talking through time. Brilliant language, deep questions, and an effect of personal acquaintance with the writers achieved.

This is 250 pages of pure delight and immersion in the life of «Our everything». To understand Russia and its soul, you should know what Pushkin breathed with – and not to betray this air later.

To be your own veterinarian. I must have this book as a cat person and the mother of 4 white cat guts. It is possible then to catch the cat's disease on approach and learn much better to understand a little fluffy (well, or bald, if it is a sphinxie) member of your family.