Russia Appreciation, Literarily

I enjoy suspense novels.

I have collections of my favorites that I reread until I'm saturated. Archer Mayor, Dick Francis, Arthur Conan Doyle, Tony Hillerman, Agatha Christie, Mary Stuart, Dean Koontz, Steven King. All these writers are skilled craftsmen who give us just enough description and character development to build a cosy nest for the story. They even teach you about horse racing or the Southwest or policing in Vermont and even proper moral behavior.

In searching for something new, I've tried a few cast offs from the library sales and the book room at the town transfer station. Ken Follet's White Out blew me away for suspense. Nevada Barr haunts National Parks, a plus for me. John Grisham, Joseph Wambaugh and Robert Ludlum were entertaining.

My prize is The Russia House, John le Carre. He does it all. Clear and fascinating characters that run the plot, culture filled descriptions of Moskow, Leningrad, London, Langley. And he does it with such verbal poise that you barely notice his apt choice of words. I think I'm in love.

Not only that but now I understand Dostoevsky and the Russian psyche a little better. Yes, I waded through Crime and Punishment and Brothers Karamazov not long ago, and Tolstoy is waiting for my next burst of energy. What draws our curiosity to Russia, I wonder? It is neither Western nor Oriental, though geographically it spans both. I've always thought the harsh climate was a big factor in their isolation, until I moved to Vermont and saw that it is possible to live in Siberia. But how is it possible to live in each other's laps and wait in line forever and still carve nested dolls and go to the ballet?

I found a Russian/English dictionary. Maybe one day I'll trip over Dr. Zhivago in Cyrillic and learn how to write "troikas gliding over the snow".