«My personal family was fierce and diverse. Damned diverse when it comes to quirks, phobias, moral violations, and outrageous claims against each other. Not quite a bunch of scorpions in a jar, but certainly not a bunch of little tears...
of the Lord, oh no. With each of my relatives, my grandmother used to say, "you can only talk to them after eating peas!"».
«Don't cross me off the list...» — a collection of family stories that includes familiar works as well as new tales and stories. Dina Rubina writes about her relatives and loved ones with humor, self-irony, optimism, imagery, and emotion. She recalls her numerous relatives and shares stories about her husband Boris Karafёlov, her sister Vera, her grandmother Rakhil, and even her beloved pet Kondrat. The central part of the book is dedicated to her parents — Dina Ilyinichna's mom and dad.
«"Don't cross me off the list!" — I suddenly remember, standing stunned, not wiping away tears, under blooming trees, under the lightest clouds, — in the midst of life, spring, sunny spots on the sidewalk, with swirling-whistling birds in the almond trees...»
«My personal family was fierce and diverse. Damned diverse when it comes to quirks, phobias, moral violations, and outrageous claims against each other. Not quite a bunch of scorpions in a jar, but certainly not a bunch of little tears of the Lord, oh no. With each of my relatives, my grandmother used to say, "you can only talk to them after eating peas!"».
«Don't cross me off the list...» — a collection of family stories that includes familiar works as well as new tales and stories. Dina Rubina writes about her relatives and loved ones with humor, self-irony, optimism, imagery, and emotion. She recalls her numerous relatives and shares stories about her husband Boris Karafёlov, her sister Vera, her grandmother Rakhil, and even her beloved pet Kondrat. The central part of the book is dedicated to her parents — Dina Ilyinichna's mom and dad.
«"Don't cross me off the list!" — I suddenly remember, standing stunned, not wiping away tears, under blooming trees, under the lightest clouds, — in the midst of life, spring, sunny spots on the sidewalk, with swirling-whistling birds in the almond trees...»
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