October 9, 1988 |
Andrei Bitov offers his guests shot glasses of brandy for breakfast. It seems this is a literary meal. "There is a proverb all Russians repeat," Bitov says, "One drink in the morning and you are free for the whole day." Bitov, an extraordinary novelist and a world-class talker, lets his brandy sit. His guests, however, drink to the health of "Pushkin House," Bitov's psychological novel that has been published officially here 17 years after its completion.
February 13, 1990 |
Exiled from the Soviet Union more than a decade ago as an "ideological degenerate" and a "renegade to the motherland," the renowned cellist Mstislav Rostropovich returned to Moscow this week unrepentant--and victorious. "When we left, the Soviet Union was an island of lies, big lies," Rostropovich said, recalling how he had gone abroad to work in 1974 and then been stripped of his Soviet citizenship four years later. "Now the Soviet Union is cleansing itself. . . .
October 17, 1989 |
We hate to tell you this, Comrade Mukhortov, but those aliens you claim to have interviewed near Moscow probably weren't really from another planet. For Times readers who do not subscribe to Komsomolskaya Pravda, the Communist Party youth newspaper, Pavel Mukhortov was identified in Thursday's edition of the official Soviet publication as a reporter who had chatted with a few exotic aliens.
April 13, 1991 |
After many a smirk and a giggle, Soviet lawmakers on Friday approved a liberal measure that, instead of cracking down on sexual glasnost , would set up a new government panel to draw the fine line between harmless erotica and nasty pornography.
January 6, 1990 |
Western cinematic images of the Soviet Union, mostly the product of decades of spy movies and other films about the Cold War, are about to be challenged by a new film that its director says will show "a different Russia," one that is gentler and more human, a country that today is deeply troubled but undergoing profound changes.
February 28, 1990 |
She stands like a steel reed on the stage of the Bolshoi Conservatory, her tiny figure encased in gold lame, her mouth marked by a single streak of scarlet. Only her hands move, now flaying a violent chord, now lulling the violin almost to sleep. At intermission, the audience is ecstatic; fans rush the stage, shower her with flowers, even kneel at her feet and kiss her hand. At performance's end, after three encores, she is flooded with roses, tulips and carnations--more than 50 bouquets in all.