About Author Irina Lezhava
About “So Said Zarathustra” by Russian Writer Irina Lezhava  

The title of the book by Irina Lezhava “So Said Zarathustra” refers us to the famous work of Nietzsche “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” to read which means to comply with kind of a benchmark of intellectual toughness nowadays. If you’ve read it – then you are an intellectual, no matter if you have the right understanding of what you’ve read. As a matter of fact some perceive this deep philosophical treatise as a justification of primitive egoism.


The times we live in are marked by global ideological civilization crisis. Individualistic, competitive development model adopted as base model by modern society, did not justify itself. But Soviet collectivism failed too. To look for the ways to move forward one has to change the system of thinking. The book “So Said Zarathustra” is about this too, but only in subtext. In fact it’s not a social essay but a work of fiction.



The first part of the collected book is written in the genre of mystical realism, the second – in the genre of social science fiction. At first sight the heroes of the stories seem ordinary people, but they see this world in such unique way that it may shock at times. As well the events taking place in their lives by no means can be called ordinary.


What is fascinating about the text – humour, remarkable storyline, philosophical reflections on the meaning of life? It’s hard to separate one from the other. Each character is a multifaceted personality bearing no resemblance to comics super heroes. And still this throughout vulnerable man is looking for the way out of irresolvable situations and, while experiencing complex feelings, never gives up – fighting for happiness, for ability to realize his/her potential, for existence of the concept of “the future”.


The book can be ordered online from «Book-Markt»:


Velimir stormed into Pumpkin’s consciousness like a paratrooper arriving from the sky to capture the hostile territory. The girl was sitting on a bench in the middle of a public garden which she adored at all seasons. Around her there were tall – head up in the sky – maples, light green in spring, flaming in autumn.   And there were crab-apple trees, one pink and some white when in blossom. In a quiet corner there was a lilac bush of extraordinary luxuriance, a feast for the eyes when it bursts into flower!.. Even dull winter twilight turned into fascinating mystic scenery here. It seemed that Greyness the witch had erased summer colours not out of mean intentions, but to uncover the underside of diversity: there it is, the artistic foundation – black-and-white trunks-spindles, on which eternity winds thread of instantaneity…


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