Сергей Довлатов

Sergej Dovlatov

Tells the stories behind eight seemingly unimportant possessions brought to the U.S. by a Russian emigrant

The Suitcase

Sergei Khudovekov

Sasha Lukavchenko

Greta G.

Philip Seifi

Ivan Zarea

Giovanni Garcia-Fenech 

Angelo Zinna

A Russian immigrant narrates the humorous events behind the acquisiton of eight seemingly unimportant possessions which he has brought with him to the United States.

A Novel

Ian MacDonald

Sergei Dovlatov's subtle, dark-edged humor and wry observations are in full force in "The Suitcase" as he examines eight objects--the items he brought with him in his luggage upon his emigration from the U.S.S.R. These seemingly undistinguished possessions, stuffed into a worn-out suitcase, take on a riotously funny life of their own as Dovlatov inventories the circumstances under which he acquired them, occasioning a brilliant series of interconnected tales: A poplin shirt evokes the bittersweet story of a courtship and marriage, while a pair of boots (of the kind only the Nomenklatura can afford) calls up the hilarious conclusion to an official banquet. Some driving gloves--remnants of Dovlatov's short-lived acting career--share space with neon-green crepe socks, reminders of a failed black-market scam. And in curious juxtaposition, the belt from a prison guard's uniform lies next to a stained jacket that once belonged to Fernand Leger. Imbued with a comic nostalgia overlaid with Dovlatov's characteristically dry wit, "The Suitcase" is an intensely human, delightfully ironic novel from "the finest Soviet satirist to appear in English since Vladimir Voinovich."

Moray Lyle McIntosh

Vladimir Udalov

Sergei Dovlatov's subtle, dark–edged humor and wry observations are in full force in The Suitcase as he examines eight objects—the items he brought with him in his luggage upon his emigration from the U.S.S.R. These seemingly undistinguished possessions, stuffed into a worn–out suitcase, take on a riotously funny life of their own as Dovlatov inventories the circumstances under which he acquired them, occasioning a brilliant series of interconnected tales: A poplin shirt evokes the bittersweet story of a courtship and marriage, while a pair of boots (of the kind only the Nomenklatura can afford) calls up the hilarious conclusion to an official banquet. Some driving gloves—remnants of Dovlatov's short–lived acting career—share space with neon–green crepe socks, reminders of a failed black–market scam. And in curious juxtaposition, the belt from a prison guard's uniform lies next to a stained jacket that once belonged to Fernand Léger. Imbued with a comic nostalgia overlaid with Dovlatov's characteristically dry wit, The Suitcase is an intensely human, delightfully ironic novel from "the finest Soviet satirist to appear in English since Vladimir Voinovich."