“One Autumn evening I was sitting at home, writing a story about love. Simply about love. About love and nothing but. A young man meets a girl. Through the narrow alleys of some little seaside town, they reach the sea and plod along the beach…
Deserted. Dusky. Empty of people. Because it’s already November. Winter. And summer’s not coming anytime soon.
In other words, crap.”
This is the beginning of “The Autumn Carnival Of Death” by Valery Ronshin, translated by José Alaniz. A meeting with death, a haunted carnival – what is in many ways an age old literary subject – is put through the very particular sensibility of this fantastic and shamefully underappreciated Russian writer.
This is the second Ronshin story in Saturday European Fiction after his “My Flight to Malaysia” was published in May.
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