A book that was not published – neither separately, nor as part of collected works – in the USSR even after Bunin's rehabilitation. The writer's most brutal, bitter, ruthless, and personal book. A book in which he, with merciless and caustic irony and unconcealed hatred, passes judgment on Bolshevism and Soviet power, which he had the misfortune to observe first in Moscow, and then in Odesa, right up until his emigration. The great Russian writer finds not a single kind word for the revolution – the bloody, terrible, abominable, suicidal chaos that engulfed Russia in 1917.
