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816 pages, Hardcover
First published November 7, 2017
Twenty, twenty-five naked women crowded together in a large wet wooden washroom. A hideously fat woman scrubbed her neighbor’s bony back. A toothless granny held up the flab of her stomach to get at her hairless ʐhenshichinost’. Wrinkled, contorted feminine forms of every variety…I wanted to run for the door, but I’d already paid my hard-earned ruble…The sight of them blistered my eyes. I’d seen a hundred paintings entitled In the Bath, where rosy beauties waded knee-deep in picturesque rivers and washed their long hair. Brown soap never appeared in Rubens. This was the thing itself, the squalor of human life. Age and decay. It was one thing to see bent backs under brown shawls, sagging stomachs faintly suggested by full dresses, breasts swinging low under bodices and aprons, genitals quite invisible, and another to see them revealed in their horrific variety. Bodies covered with wounds, with sores, rashes, bruises, welts, and worse. Bandages kicked into a corner…This one – expanded like overyeasted bread. That one – contracted like a fallen soufflé. Emptied out, gouged like clay, clawed, bruised, imprinted with the devastation of gravity and years…
[The child had] been convulsing, become too weak to drink. The water seeped out from between his lips. Then it was over…Have you ever heard a man sob for love of a child? Have you seen his tears? [I] stood aside and let him crouch between them. He’d studied the stars, but everything he loved was lying right here on this earth…
