What do you think?
Rate this book
Making Russian Dolls
Russian intelligence. Russian Athletes. One Domination.
As a girl, Maya Orlova dreamed of working for Cheka—Russia’s secret police and intelligence service. Physically, she was considered unsuitable for government service. However, she possessed a special gift that earned her a place in the Russian government… and immersed in espionage.
Dmitry Kurchin’s love of sports and duty to country were the perfect combination. Traveling throughout Europe, with an entourage of Russian athletes and agents, he carefully developed intricate intelligence networks.
Finding themselves in Miami, Florida, when WWII broke out, Maya and Dmitry laid plans to embed agents deep inside the United States.
One day, the United States would belong to the Soviet Union.
As a girl, Maya Orlova dreamed of working for Cheka—Russia’s secret police and intelligence service. Physically, she was considered unsuitable for government service. However, she possessed a special gift that earned her a place in the Russian government… and immersed in espionage.
Dmitry Kurchin’s love of sports and duty to country were the perfect combination. Traveling throughout Europe, with an entourage of Russian athletes and agents, he carefully developed intricate intelligence networks.
Finding themselves in Miami, Florida, when WWII broke out, Maya and Dmitry laid plans to embed agents deep inside the United States.
One day, the United States would belong to the Soviet Union.
282 pages, Kindle Edition
Published May 4, 2026
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
May 21, 2026
ARC received by the author.
Making Russian Dolls by Kimberly Anne Conway is the kind of novel that quietly unfolds before revealing its emotional weight with startling precision. At first glance, the title itself suggests delicacy, tradition, and layered identity—and that symbolism becomes the emotional architecture of the entire book. Like a set of Russian nesting dolls, Conway constructs a narrative where every character, memory, and relationship conceals another truth beneath the surface. What emerges is an intimate and deeply reflective exploration of womanhood, generational inheritance, emotional survival, and the complicated process of understanding oneself through the lives of others.
One of the novel’s greatest strengths is its emotional intelligence. Conway writes with a restrained elegance that never feels performative. Rather than relying on dramatic twists or exaggerated sentimentality, she allows emotion to accumulate gradually through subtle observations, fractured family dynamics, and moments of painful honesty. The result is a story that feels profoundly human. The characters are imperfect in believable ways—they withhold, misunderstand, resent, forgive, and carry emotional histories that shape nearly every interaction. Conway understands that people are rarely defined by singular moments; instead, they are collections of experiences layered over time, much like the metaphor at the center of the novel.
The prose itself is sophisticated without becoming inaccessible. Conway’s writing style carries a quiet literary confidence. There is a lyrical quality to her descriptions, particularly in scenes centered on memory and introspection, but she avoids the trap of overwriting. Every sentence feels purposeful. Her language often mirrors the emotional atmosphere of the story: soft when reflecting vulnerability, sharp when exposing emotional wounds, and contemplative when examining identity and legacy. This tonal control gives the novel remarkable cohesion.
What makes Making Russian Dolls especially compelling is its treatment of generational trauma and inherited expectations. Conway examines how family histories shape personal identity—not only through overt experiences but also through silence, omission, and emotional patterns passed down almost unconsciously. The novel asks difficult questions: How much of who we are belongs to us, and how much has been inherited? Can we truly separate ourselves from the emotional lives of our parents and grandparents? And perhaps most importantly, what happens when we begin to unpack the “nested” versions of ourselves that were created to survive different stages of life?
The female relationships in the novel are written with exceptional nuance. Conway resists simplistic portrayals of motherhood, daughterhood, and friendship. Instead, she embraces contradiction. Love and resentment coexist naturally within her characters. Affection is often tangled with disappointment. This complexity gives the relationships an authenticity that many contemporary novels struggle to achieve. There are no perfect maternal figures or wholly innocent daughters; there are only women attempting, often imperfectly, to navigate emotional inheritance while trying to preserve their individuality.
Another noteworthy aspect of the novel is its pacing. Conway exercises patience as a storyteller. Readers looking for constant action may initially find the narrative measured, but that deliberate pacing ultimately serves the novel’s emotional depth. The story unfolds like memory itself—nonlinear in feeling, reflective, and layered with emotional echoes. Rather than rushing toward resolution, Conway allows readers to sit with discomfort, ambiguity, and introspection. This creates a reading experience that feels immersive rather than merely consumable.
The symbolism of the Russian dolls is particularly effective because it operates on multiple levels throughout the narrative. On one level, the dolls represent generations of women connected through shared experience and inherited identity. On another, they symbolize the fragmented selves individuals create over time—the outer versions presented to the world protecting smaller, more vulnerable truths beneath. Conway’s use of this motif never feels heavy-handed; instead, it quietly threads through the novel, deepening its emotional resonance.
If there is any criticism to be made, it is that the introspective nature of the novel occasionally slows the momentum, particularly in sections where emotional reflection outweighs narrative progression. However, for many readers, this will feel less like a flaw and more like a stylistic choice aligned with the novel’s contemplative nature. Conway is clearly more interested in emotional excavation than plot-driven spectacle, and the book succeeds precisely because it commits fully to that vision.
Ultimately, Making Russian Dolls is a thoughtful and emotionally layered literary novel that lingers long after its final pages. It is a meditation on identity, family, memory, and the hidden emotional structures that shape human lives. Kimberly Anne Conway demonstrates a remarkable sensitivity to emotional complexity, crafting a story that feels both intimate and universal. The novel rewards careful reading, not because it demands intellectual decoding, but because it invites emotional recognition. Readers who appreciate character-driven literary fiction, nuanced explorations of family dynamics, and psychologically rich storytelling will likely find this book deeply affecting.
It is less a novel about discovering answers than about learning to live honestly with the layers inside ourselves—and that is precisely what makes it memorable.
Making Russian Dolls by Kimberly Anne Conway is the kind of novel that quietly unfolds before revealing its emotional weight with startling precision. At first glance, the title itself suggests delicacy, tradition, and layered identity—and that symbolism becomes the emotional architecture of the entire book. Like a set of Russian nesting dolls, Conway constructs a narrative where every character, memory, and relationship conceals another truth beneath the surface. What emerges is an intimate and deeply reflective exploration of womanhood, generational inheritance, emotional survival, and the complicated process of understanding oneself through the lives of others.
One of the novel’s greatest strengths is its emotional intelligence. Conway writes with a restrained elegance that never feels performative. Rather than relying on dramatic twists or exaggerated sentimentality, she allows emotion to accumulate gradually through subtle observations, fractured family dynamics, and moments of painful honesty. The result is a story that feels profoundly human. The characters are imperfect in believable ways—they withhold, misunderstand, resent, forgive, and carry emotional histories that shape nearly every interaction. Conway understands that people are rarely defined by singular moments; instead, they are collections of experiences layered over time, much like the metaphor at the center of the novel.
The prose itself is sophisticated without becoming inaccessible. Conway’s writing style carries a quiet literary confidence. There is a lyrical quality to her descriptions, particularly in scenes centered on memory and introspection, but she avoids the trap of overwriting. Every sentence feels purposeful. Her language often mirrors the emotional atmosphere of the story: soft when reflecting vulnerability, sharp when exposing emotional wounds, and contemplative when examining identity and legacy. This tonal control gives the novel remarkable cohesion.
What makes Making Russian Dolls especially compelling is its treatment of generational trauma and inherited expectations. Conway examines how family histories shape personal identity—not only through overt experiences but also through silence, omission, and emotional patterns passed down almost unconsciously. The novel asks difficult questions: How much of who we are belongs to us, and how much has been inherited? Can we truly separate ourselves from the emotional lives of our parents and grandparents? And perhaps most importantly, what happens when we begin to unpack the “nested” versions of ourselves that were created to survive different stages of life?
The female relationships in the novel are written with exceptional nuance. Conway resists simplistic portrayals of motherhood, daughterhood, and friendship. Instead, she embraces contradiction. Love and resentment coexist naturally within her characters. Affection is often tangled with disappointment. This complexity gives the relationships an authenticity that many contemporary novels struggle to achieve. There are no perfect maternal figures or wholly innocent daughters; there are only women attempting, often imperfectly, to navigate emotional inheritance while trying to preserve their individuality.
Another noteworthy aspect of the novel is its pacing. Conway exercises patience as a storyteller. Readers looking for constant action may initially find the narrative measured, but that deliberate pacing ultimately serves the novel’s emotional depth. The story unfolds like memory itself—nonlinear in feeling, reflective, and layered with emotional echoes. Rather than rushing toward resolution, Conway allows readers to sit with discomfort, ambiguity, and introspection. This creates a reading experience that feels immersive rather than merely consumable.
The symbolism of the Russian dolls is particularly effective because it operates on multiple levels throughout the narrative. On one level, the dolls represent generations of women connected through shared experience and inherited identity. On another, they symbolize the fragmented selves individuals create over time—the outer versions presented to the world protecting smaller, more vulnerable truths beneath. Conway’s use of this motif never feels heavy-handed; instead, it quietly threads through the novel, deepening its emotional resonance.
If there is any criticism to be made, it is that the introspective nature of the novel occasionally slows the momentum, particularly in sections where emotional reflection outweighs narrative progression. However, for many readers, this will feel less like a flaw and more like a stylistic choice aligned with the novel’s contemplative nature. Conway is clearly more interested in emotional excavation than plot-driven spectacle, and the book succeeds precisely because it commits fully to that vision.
Ultimately, Making Russian Dolls is a thoughtful and emotionally layered literary novel that lingers long after its final pages. It is a meditation on identity, family, memory, and the hidden emotional structures that shape human lives. Kimberly Anne Conway demonstrates a remarkable sensitivity to emotional complexity, crafting a story that feels both intimate and universal. The novel rewards careful reading, not because it demands intellectual decoding, but because it invites emotional recognition. Readers who appreciate character-driven literary fiction, nuanced explorations of family dynamics, and psychologically rich storytelling will likely find this book deeply affecting.
It is less a novel about discovering answers than about learning to live honestly with the layers inside ourselves—and that is precisely what makes it memorable.
May 19, 2026
Making Russian Dolls was such an interesting and layered read. I loved how the story slowly unfolded, revealing secrets and deeper emotions along the way just like opening Russian dolls one piece at a time. Kimberly Anne Conway created an atmosphere that felt rich and immersive, with history, mystery, and emotion woven together beautifully. The pacing was slower in parts, but for me that added to the suspense and made the story feel more meaningful. If you enjoy historical fiction with intrigue, hidden truths, and characters carrying complicated pasts, this one is worth picking up. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
May 16, 2026
From the moment I started, I found it impossible to put down. It was truly an impressive read.
May 21, 2026
It is the kind of novel that quietly unfolds….
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews