by Nikolai Gogol
A masterpiece, apparently.
I had great hopes for this book: everyone says Gogol was a genius; the book had a cool cover; it was nice and short.
It did nothing for me. I just didn't get it. It reminded me of Kafka, but I didn't get Kafka either.
But if short stories about people who think they're the King of Spain, or who become ghosts having been killed for the overcoat they scrimped and saved for, or whose noses go missing and become characters in their own right are your cup of tea, don't be put off by anything I say.
(Gogol was very big on noses.)
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