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he whispered. 'Ivan Vasilievich! Do you mean to tell me you don't know him?
Haven't you heard that he runs the Independent?' And he added: 'Well, well, well!'
My head was already spinning; the world I had entered was an exciting place.
I could vaguely see the heads of my literary friends through the frosted glass and
heard the sound of Likospastov's voice: 'It makes you feel like a fish beating your
head against the ice . . . It's sickening!' The poster was still revolving in front of ...
Your head was unnatural, you don't trust it. ' Patrikeyev rode off again, head down
and staring at the girl from under his eyebrows. 'Empty - you were riding emptily,
instead of being filled with your beloved.' So Patrikeyev set off once more.
Wat mensen zeggen - Een review schrijven
LibraryThing ReviewGebruikersrecensie - nosajeel - LibraryThing
It is not only a reflection on me that I managed to read 30 or 40 pages of this book before realizing that I had read it before, more than fifteen years ago, translated under the title Black Snow. It is inconceivable that something similar could happen with even the first two paragraphs Volledige review lezen
LibraryThing ReviewGebruikersrecensie - HadriantheBlind - LibraryThing
Bulgakov knows how to write a fine novel - this one all about the hilariously bizarre and frustrating world of stage plays. It ends very abruptly, but the author was about to die. A shame, but it can be more than excused. A wonderfully funny book. Volledige review lezen