Writing a book is like hunting for treasure. I meet amazing people, make incredible discoveries, and dive into worlds that take my breath away.
My treasures are excitement, laughter, and falling in love with my characters. But the most valuable of all is the sudden, shocking realization, “Now, I see how the world works!”
“It’s an Argentine tango,” said Klim. “You should stand closer to me.”
“Like this?” Nina looked into his eyes for a moment, moved closer, and Klim felt her light breath on his neck.
“Yes, that’s right.” He placed her hand on his shoulder and took her gently by the waist.
“So, what do I have to do?” she asked.
“Just follow me.”
They danced, and he felt the hard touch of the rings on her slender hand, the warmth of her thigh through the silk of her skirts, the tense muscles of her back, and something else: the intimate seam of a shift beneath her dress under his shameless, tingling fingers.
The singer sang about impossible happiness. Klim looked at the woman in his arms, and his heart froze with the inspiration and foreboding of something huge and inevitable.
Nina had reminded him of the magical foxes of Chinese and Japanese folklore who could transform themselves into beguiling women. In China, they were known as húli jīng and in Japan kitsune.
With their magical abilities, these vixens could fool men into falling in love with them. And woe to the man who failed to recognize the bushy tail concealed beneath her silk robe. Even if she were to reciprocate the love of a mere mortal, nothing good could ever come of it. Sooner or later the fox would reveal her true nature.
Nina followed Oscar through a succession of rooms, and she was barely able to believe her eyes. Here, in the heart of communist Moscow, was a veritable oasis of capitalism. Every chair and every vase was a work of art.
What is Oscar Reich’s line of work? she wondered. Was he a foreign diplomat? How could the Soviet government allow him to live in such dazzling splendor?
She could not resist asking a question. “Tell me, who are you? What do you do?”
“I’m a Red capitalist,” answered Oscar, smiling.
Klim was superior to her in every way. He had numerous friends—from stage workers to riverboat pilots. He had read Anna Karenina and Vanity Fair, books that Lubochka was not even allowed to hold in her hands for fear that their dubious subject matter would contaminate her morals.
Klim could explore ancient ruins, talk to gypsy fortune tellers, or ride the top of a double-decker while Lubochka was not allowed to do anything. Her parents loved her so much that they did not let her go anywhere without her governess. And how would it even be possible to bring Mademoiselle Emma to any ancient ruins with her shortness of breath?
I am currently writing a novel for the Supercontinent Series.
Once upon a time there was a giant continent called Pangaea. What if it hadn't broken apart?
Then the climate and history of our planet would be completely different. Most likely, we would have more than one species of humans, and people resembling Neanderthals, Denisovans, or other extinct types of humanity would still be alive.
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While I'm working on the book, you will receive short, funny, quirky, and heartwarming stories about my life in the Soviet Union, the land where a dystopian fantasy became a reality.
Fans of historical fiction, particularly that set amid the Russian Revolution, will be rewarded with highly dramatic prose and excellent period details. Baryakina provides surprising twists and turns and a cliffhanger that will leave readers eager for the next book.
In Russian Treasures, Baryakina provides the perfect blend of romance, history, drama, and suspense. Her narrative is descriptive, flowing, and chock-full of twists, turns, and surprises along the way. She builds a complex cast of characters against a politically complex background when the ruthless and lawless struggle for power and resources resulted in terrible suffering for the Russian people. A compelling read. Highly recommended.
A triumph of human spirit and literary arts.
My life is like a Disney cartoon. Like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, I was born in a provincial town, read tons of books, and dreamt of distant lands and adventures.
Like The Little Mermaid, I followed my prince into an unknown world—to America. But I had to pay a dear price for it. I lost the most valuable thing I had: my voice—I did not speak English.
Like Mulan, I gave myself a task that initially seemed impossible: I decided that I would write novels that would not be inferior to my favorite books.
It took twenty years, but now I know that everything is possible if you’re persistent enough.