Her father has been sent to Moscow on business but doesn’t know how long the business will take, so he hasn’t enrolled Nina in school. Nina is similarly captive within the walls of the hotel. He’s frequently pleased with himself, and Nina frequently pops his bubble of self-satisfaction with her confidently held opinions. Rostov indulges her and, it has to be said, himself with tales from his days at the Russian court. On one visit to the restaurant, Rostov is befriended by Nina, a 9-year old girl with an interest in what it takes to be a princess. He finds ways to have delivered to his garret the luxury items he can’t live without. He continues to dine in the hotel restaurant. So he keeps his weekly appointment with the barber. Despite his currently reduced circumstances, Rostov is determined not to let things slip. He has a strong belief in maintaining a certain standard in life. Gustave in The Grand Budapest Hotel, but also a little of Hercule Poirot. I am a bit of a sucker for a flawed romantic hero from a good family if he proves himself to be a decent human being at heart. I love Mr Knightley, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley. I love the Rostovs and Bolkonskies in War & Peace. I detest the idea that the loss of privilege is somehow a tragedy when that privilege is what keeps others trapped in the far more tragic position of never having had enough, and somehow being blamed for it. The romanticisation of privilege irritates me. He has memories of a life well lived that enable him to leave his attic and walk the streets of Moscow in his memory. And so, even though he has lost his physical freedom, he still enjoys the company of visitors to his tiny home.

Where his poet’s life had no need of a garret, now he finds himself banished to a tiny attic room at the top of the luxury hotel where once he held a suite of rooms. He has been able to indulge himself in living the sainted life of a poet. Sasha Rostov, who may or may not have been on the side of the revolutionaries before they brought down the bourgeoisie, finds himself firmly viewed as an opponent of The People, if not quite their enemy. The beginning of A Gentleman in Moscow made me think of Zweig. Now that I’ve read some Zweig, every time I think a novel reminds me of a Wes Anderson film, I’m going to remind myself that it’s Zweig I’m thinking of. It only arrived on Thursday, though, so I didn’t have much time to read it in. I was even more pleased when my local library accepted my request for it to be added to their stock. I’ve been itching for an excuse to read A Gentleman in Moscow for a while, so I was pleased when it came up as one of the reads for the March Madness Challenge over at The Reader’s Room. Read for the Reader’s Room March Madness Challenge Tags 6degrees 20 Books of Summer 1001 Books Africa America Art Australia Autobiography Biography Black culture Black history Blogging about blogging Book review Britain Canada Comedy Crime Dystopia Economics England Fantasy Feminism Film France Germany Graphic novel Historical fiction History Horror Humour Independent Publisher India Influx Press Italy Japan Journalism LGBTQ London Mental health Meta Music Mystery New York Paris Philosophy Picture Prompt Book Bingo Poetry Politics Psychology Racism Randomness Religion Russia Science Science Fiction SciFi Scotland Short stories Six Degrees of Separation Sociology Spain Speculative fiction Sweden Thriller Tokyo Translation Travel United Kingdom USA Wales War Women's Prize for Fiction Women in translation Women in translation month Women read women

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