— Alexey, many readers would agree that now is a favorable moment for releasing a novel where mystical beings once a year replace a painful memory with a better one and confront debris. People could surely use superpowers like that. Could you share how the book came to be and how the idea to unite ordinary people with beings from another world originated?
The narrative unfolded on its own, demanding little formal packaging. Every hero arrived with their companions, making clear who was serious and who was not, who focused on daily life, and who did not. The central idea was that, even though the protagonist leads an unconventional life, the problems he faces are familiar to many. The theme of oblivion, of exile, of not recognizing oneself in the mirror, of losing memory, felt intimately close to the author as well.
— And generally, how do you craft stories: do you see a character taking shape as the writing progresses, or is it a topic first and then filled with characters?
– It happens in different ways. A mood of music might start the process, followed by other impulses. Thoughts linger for months. Then writing begins, and it becomes a careful drawing of what should occur. Some elements are discarded as they slow the pace. It is a complex, demanding, sometimes tedious yet highly engaging process.
– Do you keep a show bible, like screenwriters do for a series, with biographies and a detailed show outline, or do you work differently as a novelist?
– Usually everything lives in the mind. There are not many heroes to map out in that way. They often appear already carrying finished lives and habits. Their image is tied to their earnings, where they work, and their relationships. Everything tends to come from nowhere, and the writer does not produce a formal “Character Bible.”
The idea formed that Nadia would tease with light jokes while Praskovya would be firm, sharp, and determined to resolve problems, yet success in that venture often eludes her. She embodies a traditional woman, seemingly youthful but anchored in a past era, a woman of the penultimate generation. Her age brings a strict heterosexual stance and a resistance to change.
– “Occult Treger” is an urban fantasy with its own mythology. In light of recent works like Ivan Filippov’s The Shadow and earlier novels by Pelevin, the genre seems to be experiencing a renewal. Do you share that view?
– The genre evolved from fairy tales. The city itself becomes a dense forest where the hero meets adventures. The evolution of a fairy tale is the story itself, moving toward new forms of telling and experience.
– Your line about people who descend into depression and, if it deepens, find a strange pleasure in it, and the darker the moment, the brighter the light. It feels almost Buddhist, accepting what cannot be changed. Do your characters rebel against imperfect reality, or do they underestimate it?
Some things cannot be accepted. There are always limits to what each person can endure, things that remain within us and define who we are.
– Do you favor stories about rebels or about “little people” who refuse to recreate the current reality?
Characters of various temperaments hold interest. The writer perceives politics as a separate layer from life, a force that sets the rules and asks individuals to survive within them.
– “Afisha” called “Occult Traeger” your most read novel in its review. Do you agree with that judgment, and how much of the story did readers truly grasp?
– When first reading the novel to his wife, the author realized the richness and humor of the work. There is a lot happening, more variety than in his other books. The novel is playful, funny, and invites sympathy, which seems to reflect the readers’ engagement. It is a book that invites revisiting and comfort during the editing process, never feeling dull as events recur and offer new warmth and amusement.
— The writer has been called a modern classic. Is it important for him to chase immediacy in truth, or to reflect on events after some time?
– Real literature captures reality in the moment, from science fiction to detective stories. Even when improbable events occur, they reflect a vision of how life could be. Literature is inseparable from its era; without that link, it loses relevance.
– After the reception of another major work, debate arose about whether the worlds in his stories are hellish or heavenly. Galina Yuzefovich described the world as paradise in her Occult Traeger review. What is your take?
– The worlds vary, but the aim is to show life as something touched by magic and miracles. Routine can dull existence, yet moments of wonder restore it.
– Would you like Occult Traeger to be adapted into a film about the Petrovs who achieved such success on screen?
– Yes, it could work. The story proved to be quite captivating.
– Do Western authors typically write first with a backlog so rights can be sold later for film? Do you think about this when crafting your books?
– At first, that was not the plan. When a story feels ready, it seems natural to imagine how it would look on screen.
– The collaboration with Kirill Serebrennikov took time, but how did the process unfold, and how easy was it for the writer to place his ideas in someone else’s hands?
– The collaboration was a joy. The director’s task was to translate the story into a film concept, and the resulting visual language carried a lyrical resonance that complemented the novel. Watching the film remains a pleasure, and the music still resonates.
Which authors does the writer reread and admire today? What has influenced him most recently?
– Zoshchenko is a recurring touchstone, and Fazil Iskender has brought fresh inspiration, especially his childhood memories. The novel “Sandro from Chegem” stands out as a remarkable work where history and style fuse.
– In discussing reader reactions to the earlier novel, the author suggested that readers reached a state of quiet peace through the storytelling. Is that lasting, or does it fade with each new project?
– The spark endures, but when despair threatens during a new writing sprint, there is a pivot toward calm: a recognition of achievement, followed by renewed effort. It helps to avoid overdoing it.
– The author has won several major literary awards. Critics often view such prizes with skepticism. Do awards still matter for introducing new voices, or do they simply reflect a trend surrounding a particular author?
– Awards inject vitality into literature, offering a surge of passion that shakes up daily life. Debates about fairness are welcome, particularly when finalists are announced. If a prize comes, it becomes part of the writer’s story.
– Finally, when asked about the truth, the author suggested that truth remains funny. If one probes too deeply, it becomes nonsense. For society, truth is a shared idea; for each person, it is personal. The deepest justice occurs when those who are flawed still contribute to a larger aim, offering hope to others.