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351 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2012
She (a young female border officer) was barely out of earshot when the fellow Russian traveller in my compartment burst into laughter. 'Did you hear that?' He chuckled with delight.
'What?'
'That language! Chuckling, he raised his voice two octaves and imitated the customs officer; 'Dokumenty, bud lasko!' For a moment he let the soft twitter of the Ukranian sounds reverberate, before he changed back to his native Russian language. 'They speak like children! Ah, these sweet Ukranians!' His fat cheeks quivered with laughter.
Ukraine was never independent - never! The eastern part was always Russian, the west Polish, Lithuanian, Austrian. Now they have their own country and come up with nothing but sheer nonsense: a Ukranian language, a Ukranian history, their own government. Their language is a peasant dialect, their history a fairy tale, their state a circus.' Amused he shook his head, 'It is not really a country at all'.
But they are Ukranian! Ukranian! The European style is just precisely what accounts for our icons!
Natalya's voice grew louder, until her rage filled the entire nave. 'Do you know what the Russians call us Ukranians? Little Russians! And yet we are the true Russians! We are the descendants of Kiev Rus! The Muscovites didn't start calling themselves Russians until the 18th century! They are not even rightfully Slavs; the scientists have found their genes are 70 per cent Tatar, Finnish, Estonian..'