Dovlatov was a journalist in the then Soviet Union, and this book comprises a series of compromises he was obliged to make, in order to keep his job. What’s interesting to me is that the censorship he describes goes on on a very subtle level.

For example, when Dovlatov provides a list of countries, he lists them in alphabetical order. This is logical, and what most of us would do. However, his boss remonstrates with him that any list of countries should be ordered according to their degree of commitment to socialism.

Subjects for interview have to be “OK”: the right ethnicity, for instance.

The compromises are related in a very deadpan way, which serves to make the grim humour even funnier. There is a real sense that you have to go along with things because there is no choice, even though everyone knows it’s all nonsense.

A good example of this is where Dovlatov travels to interview a labourer whose milk production has increased significantly. Once he has finished talking to her he prepares to go back home in order to write his report. Before he has a chance to do so, the telephone rings. He answers it.

“We’ve received an answer”, Livac said.

“From whom?” I didn’t understand.

“From Comrade Brezhnev.”

“Uh, how is that? Your letter hasn’t been sent yet.”

“Well what of it? It just means that Brezhnev’s staff is a little more efficient than you — than us”, he corrected himself tactfully.

“So what does Comrade Brezhnev write?”

“He sends his congratulations, his thanks for the successes attained, his wishes for personal happiness…”

“What now?”, I asked. “Do I write the report or not?”

“You have to. That’s the document after all.”

In another chapter, Dovlatov is called upon to deliver a televised eulogy at the funeral of someone he has never met. He or one of his colleagues discover that the body in the open coffin is not that of the right person. The manager at the mortuary got the two mixed up. There is nothing for it but to go ahead with the funeral as planned — and then swap the coffins later that night.

Both journalist and, especially, his cameraman colleague like their alcohol. The colleague declares that one has to drink, in order to prevent oneself from thinking.

The book provides interesting insights to some aspects of life in the Soviet Union, and the way that politics is never far from the surface as far as news reporting is concerned. It must have felt very uncomfortable to be a journalist who wished to eschew the kind of compromises described in these pages.

Unfortunately, the book seems to be out of print, so a second-hand version or a library copy are the only options should you wish to read it.