The gentle, plush world of the Stalin Prize novel has become bitter, harsh and violent. There are yawning differences in status, power and privilege between the different characters; and the main plot now hangs on intrigues and denunciations. The only feature that the two novels have in common is the meticulous and detailed description of everyday life, of byt, as the Russians call it. Even here, there is a great difference: in the first novel, byt is the red carpet that leads into the future, its smoothness and attractiveness a proof that it is indeed the highway to ‘magnificent prospects’; whereas in the second, byt is a viscous fluid, a sticky, invincibly present here-and-now that over-whelms and drowns nearly all the characters.'