_Place_: there is no place of action. Russia, Europe, the world,
fraternity.

Dramatis persona: there are none. Russia, Europe, the world, belief,
disbelief,--civilisation, blizzards, thunderstorms, the image of the
Holy Virgin. People,--men in overcoats with collars turned up, go-
alones, of course;--women;--but women are my sadness,--to me who am a
romanticist--

--the only thing, the most
beautiful, the greatest
joy.

All this does after all make itself into some sort of sense, but the
process by which this is at length attained is lengthy, tedious, and
full of pitfalls to the reader who is unfamiliar with some dozen
modern Russian writers and is innocent of "Soviet life."

In the impossibility of giving an intelligible English version of the
_Bare Year_ and its companions, the stories contained in this volume
have been selected from the early and less sensational part of
Pilniak's writings and will be considerably less staggering to the
average English intelligence.

* * * * * * *

There are two things an English reader is in the habit of expecting
when approaching a new Russian writer: first he expects much--and
complains when he does not get it; to be appreciated by an English