Ukraine
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The West’s West and the rest’s West
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« To see the West as a process means that France was at one time westernized. Rome was westernized. Greece was westernized »
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Babushka Z CosplayThis article is available for Members only. Check out our subscription plans to become a member.
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A Ukrainian great-grandmother inadvertently becomes a pro-Russian icon.
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Glory to the railsThis article is available for Members only. Check out our subscription plans to become a member.
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Millions of Ukrainians left the country during the first weeks of the invasion; four million were evacuated by train, including a million children. Thousands of dogs, cats and other pets, too.
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After midnight
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The modern world races forward with all its technological might, yet remains trapped in a reactive cycle of disasters. Necessary responses follow catastrophes rather than prevent them.
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The body in the crushed rosesThis article is available for Members only. Check out our subscription plans to become a member.
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Excerpt from Sergei Lebedev’s new novel The Lady of the Mine (2025), set near a Ukrainian coal mine that buries atrocities from the past.
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Moscow on the MedThis article is available for Members only. Check out our subscription plans to become a member.
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Two winters in Istanbul. If you are a holder of a Russian passport, there are few places in the Western hemisphere that you can go without a visa.
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Five uneasy piecesThis article is available for Members only. Check out our subscription plans to become a member.
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How I stopped being an older brother (& other stories)
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« My ghost, we do no batshit »This article is available for Members only. Check out our subscription plans to become a member.
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On the untranslatability of Ukrainian jokes
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Flags & bonesThis article is available for Members only. Check out our subscription plans to become a member.
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On Curzio Malaparte’s Europe — and ours. The midcentury novelist read anew, on war’s aftermath and transatlantic romance. What was, or is, « postwar Europe », anyway?
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Of human children & language children
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The first word I ever wrote was stsikukha: « pisser ». This is how my nanny Frosya called me to my face. On poetry and pathos in a bastard tongue.
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An Odessa conga lineThis article is available for Members only. Check out our subscription plans to become a member.
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〖 A killed darling 〗 Back to work? Back to play? Hard to say.