I read this novel on a beach, and it's a credit to the author's descriptive powers that it did completely transport me from the sunny Suffolk coast to wintery Moscow. Miller spent three years as Moscow correspondent for The Economist (I subscribed for a while, and became fantastically well-informed about world affairs, but I had to give it up – just too much to read, it was exhausting. Now I've reverted back to being like Bridget Jones and not quite sure where Germany is) and he brings to the page a vivid insider's view. He captures well a certain tone of world-weariness and cynicism that seems to characterise the citizens of the new Russia, and this is in sharp contrast to the openness and enthusiasm of his main character, Nick, an English lawyer.
I liked that the characters weren't always easy to gauge: Nick wasn't in fact completely naive. He spoke Russian well, had a good job and had lived in the city long enough to know his way about. Yet despite his secure footing in Moscow society, he was still someone with money, and therefore, we learn, someone vulnerable to a scam. At the same time the events that take place are partly facilitated by Nick's greed and willingness to turn a blind eye. I suppose the theme of this novel is morals and moral corruption. Set against the backdrop of a sleazy city where everyone is out for themselves it made for absorbing reading. On the other hand too many things didn't quite work for me. Some of the characters seemed crudely drawn, such as the character called The Cossack who seemed like a cartoon villain. The novel takes the form of a letter, a confession, from Nick to a girlfriend or fiancée, and this also didn't work for me. It felt too much like a device.
Ultimately I didn't know how much to believe the portrait this novel paints of Russian society today. But where I did find it convincing it left me terribly sad. There's no other way to feel when one suspects the events of this novel have their basis in truth.