
Dreary rain fell all day as I worked on a piece about St Petersburg, Russia today, fitting as I remember cold rain on my walk home from the Grand Hotel to the wonderful
Corinthia in St Petersburg a few months ago. I loved that city and my room there. As things often do in travel writing things gel. I also happened upon a book that I love in my hands, all about growing up in Leningrad, now St Petersburg. I admit that any book that has a blurb by the now deceased Frank McCourt is an automatic must for me. Any fan of
Angela’s Ashes will also really love,
A Mountain of Crumbs, by Elena Gorokhova. It has the same feel for place and situation; it opened a St Petersburg that Frank did for Limerick and Ireland during a time that has past.
Labels: A Moutain of Crumbs, Angela's Ashes, Elena Gorokova, Frank McCourt
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