Articles by Natasha Fairweather

The Tale Behind Lenin's Mausoleum

A Wartime Night of Magic and Muses

Reporter Writes Novel on Expat Life

Faulty Analysis of Russia's Conscience

Removing the Mask of Down Syndrome

Bringing Doctored Past Into Focus

Heavy Symbols Bog Down 'Skunk'

Examination of Russia's Turn to the East

A Romantic Pole in a Modern Age

Sakha's Gift To the Earth

Palin's Travels Take Him in a 'Full Circle' of Wit

Remembrance of a Russian Romance

Vive la Revolution? Vive la France!

As a child, Andre? Makine used to joke that French was his ""grandmother tongue."" For although he was raised deep in the heart of Russia, he was always faithless to his own language, preferring his maternal grandmother's exotic native French. This special affinity for the French language sustained Makine through the mild deprivations of his typical, postwar Soviet childhood. It made a dreamer of him and singled him out from the fold. And in 1989 he emigrated to France in order to become a writer. And a French writer at that. Living impecuniously in a proverbial Parisian garret, Makine wrote three novels in quick succession during the early 1990s. But he was unable to find a publisher for them, until he hit upon the ingenious idea of pretending that they were translations of his novels in Russian. The ploy worked and might have continued working indefinitely, had not Makine written a more intimate, semi-autobiographical novel.

Russian 'Tragedy' Takes NCR Award

Tales, Cocktails on Russia's Railway

The Task of Taming the Russian Soul

Where has all the sex gone

Speaking of Questions About That

In Celebration of Germany's Kohl

Behind the Scenes at Camp Clinton

The Women Behind the Man

Fragments of a Former Life

Salinger's Letter From Camp Arrives

Pigeon Droppings 'Seriously Funny'

Drowning in an Ocean of Melville

Schliemann's Treasure Trove of Lies

Epic Tales By Russian Women

A Walking Tour of Literary Odessa

Fasten Your Seatbelts for 'Airframe'

Eliot's New Life, Trevor's Latest