Rating: 2/5
I really tried to like this book as I loved Carrere’s biography of Limonov. And I really liked the early pages the author justifies his vagran lifestyle in america. But I gave up halfway as most of the subsequent chapters seemed to be a bunch of incoherent lunatic ramblings by a russian leftist living 70s new york, wallowing in self-pity. There is flow, humour and romance in his prose at times and even a dash of brilliance in his ideas. But this suffers from poor editing or lack there-of which I’m guessing is the reason it’s not widely published anymore. Not gonna read his other books (which you can find online).