Reading Recommendations

By Alysia Jackson Sunday 25th July

Issue 2 of the Murmurations magazine is upon us and with that comes more reviews galore! For this week’s post I have decided to share with you some of my recent reads as, after reading non-stop for the past month or so, I have built up my recommendations list for you to enjoy!

Grishaverse’ by Leigh Bardugo (Fantasy)
If you’re in the mood for a fantasy, then look no further than Leigh Bardugo’s Grishaverse! Comprised of three different book series and supplementary books, the Grishaverse expertly merges interesting characters with gripping plots for a true high fantasy feel. It has everything you need in fantasy – the fantastical element, magic (the small science), war, politics, the unknown, an expansive world, strong characters, and humour.

I was introduced to this series by a friend of mine who recommended Bardugo’s work to me, whilst also becoming hooked after watching the new Netflix adaptation Shadow and Bone. I subsequently spent the majority of May/June reading the collection (bar the additional stand-alones) and fell in love with the fantasy world of summoners, thieves, and fighters.

I started with the ‘Six of Crows’ duology which has 6 equally strong main characters and a high-stake heist premise that made me captivated from the beginning. The characters in this series were by far my favourite, being all so different and diverse in abilities, personality, and goals, but working perfectly as part of the Crow Club. I read the ‘Shadow and Bone’ trilogy next, which follows the chosen one trope and explores the enticement of a villain. The ‘King of Scars’ duology is a culmination of everything that transpired in the previous books, dealing with the aftermath of war, and trying to rebuild a land. It includes some of my favourite characters from the Grishaverse (with the addition of some new ones) and Bardugo perfectly gives the reader everything they want – well as much as a fantasy writer can!

If you want fantasy, I recommend the Grishaverse – you won’t be disappointed!

Bridgerton’ by Julia Quinn (Romance)
Romance might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but if it is yours then I highly recommend any of Julia Quinn’s regency romances – especially the Bridgerton series. You may have heard about the Netflix adaptation that took the world by storm back on Christmas Day, and well if you loved Bridgerton then be sure to check out the books which brought it to life.

Julia Quinn is a queen of regency romances; her stories have the society rules, scandals, reputations, wit/humour, and so much more. With 43 stories to choose from, there is something there for any romance lover to enjoy and to keep them going for a long while yet.

There is the Bridgerton series itself (8 books long), the Rokesby series (4 books long), the Smythe-Smith Quartet (4 books long), and about 6 more series’ – not to mention the novellas! Each book is comfortably familiar and yet so perfectly different that (at least for me) you’re never bored.

There is the overarching romance storyline – which makes you into a hopeless romantic I’m sure – combined with the problems/issues prevalent in each respective characters’ lives. From the more mundane issues like money or social class to the extreme problems of pirates and spies, Quinn has explored so much within her novels that they do not feel like any other romance with a heroine swooning her way to love. Instead, the two protagonists will likely ‘save’ each other (and you can be sure that the lady will not sit there calmly tied up waiting for a man to save her).

If you want a good historical romance, then take a glance at Julia Quinn’s collection – I’m sure you’ll enjoy it!

When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit by Judith Kerr (Children’s)
I have always been of the strong opinion that children’s books are not just for children, they are for anyone who enjoys reading. In fact, a lot of the time I will choose a middle grade or a YA book when in search of a new read and constantly find myself rereading my childhood favourites. However, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit by Judith Kerr is a new read for me, one which I wish I had read as a child because it gripped me so much that I will now be recommending it to everyone.

Written by Judith Kerr (The Tiger Who Came to Tea), When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit is a biographical account of the author’s own refugee experience travelling from Germany to Switzerland and then to Paris, France. With the backdrop of Hitler gaining power in 1936, the story focuses on our protagonist Anna and her Jewish family who, due to the rising conflicts in Germany, must flee their home in search of safety elsewhere.

As a children’s book, it concentrates on Anna’s perspective as a nine-year-old and how she views the world around, forever changing as she must adjust to the new ways of living. As such, it’s an important book (for children and adults alike) and one which looks at the refugee experience and sense of identity that the family experience on their journey.

On the surface, it might sound like a dark book set in a dark time, but Kerr perfectly captures the optimism of children and Anna’s sense of adventure during their experience. You fall in love with the characters, especially Anna and Max (brother) who are children learning about the important parts of life – which to them is family. They play games, have fun, make friends, go to school, and so much more, which keeps the tone of the book up in contrast to the serious moments of fear. You root for them, and feel for them, and start to understand on a more personal level the true levities of the time.

If you want a children’s book (for yourself or a child) then I recommend When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, because it merges the serious with the adventure for a truly great read!

Heartstopper’ by Alice Oseman (Graphic Novel)
If you’re not quite in the mood for a novel, then maybe a graphic novel is the way ahead, and I cannot recommend ‘Heartstopper’ by Alice Oseman enough! Starting out as a serialised and ongoing webcomic it has now morphed into a physical graphic novel, currently spanning 1-4 Volumes. The overarching story focuses on the blossoming relationship between Charlie Spring and Nick Nelson, from the moment they are sat next to each other in form room to the love they begin to share with each other.

I have only just read (and finished) the graphic novels, but as soon as I opened Heartstopper Volume 1 I was captivated by it so much that I could not put it down; to the point where I have now read them all and fallen in love with the storyline. It is a good comfort read – being cute, fun, and interesting with a sweet story – with a strong LGBTQ+ representation within its pages. The main protagonists, Charlie and Nick, are not the only ones who you come to love, with Oseman developing strong characterisations of minor characters (their friends) and including little comics of additional romantic relationships which add to the overall loveliness of the series.

What Oseman also does in ‘Heartstopper’ – especially in the later Volumes – is explore mental health and the impact that it has on the people around us. In particular, Oseman focuses on Charlie and how his mental health suffered as a result of the backlash he received at school after everyone found out he was gay. This storyline progresses from the first Volume right up until the latest, and not only addresses eating disorders, anxiety, and depression in Charlie, but also how Nick has reacted and the necessity for a support system. Oseman uses the Volume to share with readers the support and knowledge which is out there, trying to bring about and normalise these conversations, and enjoyed the story because of how truthful it felt.

Oseman creates a highly addictive and loveable story in the ‘heartstopper’ graphic novels, which I recommend to anyone out there looking for something a bit different but still utterly charming!

And there we have just a few recommendations from what I have been reading (and loving) recently. Be sure to comment any interesting reads you’ve found and as always check us out on Instagram , Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube channel for more of our upcoming content.

A Star

By Hayden Thomas Eldridge



A Star

Is that a star?
It flickers like it isn’t
It’s the one I wished upon

Maybe I shouldn’t have
It might move past

Maybe it’s the star I need
Ephemeral
Like me

Oh, false star
Carry my hopes

Of deeper love
Of scribbled notes

I’m as small to you
As you’re to me

The irony
Orange light in the cold
A sort of summer night
It’s hard to tell

The world’s warmer
But I’m cold

Oh, glistering star
Take me with you



Hayden Thomas Eldridge is currently studying Environmental Earth Science. In his down time he likes to sit in nature and drink wine and wax poetically about what he sees. Having written and performed from a young age some of his works will be ones in his heart for years others will be off the cuff.

The Healing Power of Nature

Art by Claire Hennessy












Claire Hennessy is a young artist from Dagenham, currently studying fine art in Aberystwyth. Mental health struggles turned Claire to look at the natural world as a release, and as such her work often depicts animals and other natural forms. She has always had a passion for art, with hopes to pursue natural history illustration or tattoo artistry as a career.

Touch me

By Kyerra Grasedyck

Touch me

Here, near my navy, and further
down. Kiss, caress, love me
between my legalization. Worship

my body language, the temptress.
Light a firebreak deep in my cork,
bring me to my knells. Pray

for my blindness to shower your
lip-readers. Let my hip flask educate
your sounder, show you gallantries,
thousands of stardoms to explore.

Come, I will lead you across the millibar.



[N+5; italicised words from the Oxford English Dictionary]




Kyerra Grasedyck is an English student trying desperately to find the right words for her poetry. She lives in Berlin and loves all things book and food related.

What’s Inside

By Damon Money



What’s Inside

There’s a Tapeworm in my stomach
From my guts he’s weaved a hammock.

Crawling, sprawling deep inside
I can’t remove him ‘cause he hides.

I’ve tasted nibbles round the town
but He’s the one who gobbles down.

His segments are doubling, thick as ship’s chains
While my cheeks go gaunt and my blood’s all drained.

The doctors all say I’m robust as a rook
And politely decline to cut me open and look.

They tell me the cause of my fading complexion’s
Most likely some small airborne infection.

They prescribed a green diet, an open-window policy
But can food and fresh air scare a monster out of me?

Though I’m sure he has neither face nor ear
I address him thoughtful and sincere:

“Oh Tapeworm! Can we not work in conjunction?
I’ll serve you rich food, just serve me one function

Please, try to stay still. When you twist, how I ache!
Just think what we’ll get from some give and some take!”

But it is not easy to appeal to my Worm
If I question his methods, how he makes me squirm.

So I quit all the doctors, quit all my pleas
Quit all of life’s pleasures, all of its ease.

And alone in my room, blind with hunger I shout:
“Damn you Tapeworm! I’ll starve you out.”



Damon Money is a hairdresser, artist, and writer living and studying in Aberystwyth. His dream is to travel around in a camper van, surf some big waves, and draw everybody he meets. Follow him on instagram @damonmoney to see what he’s up to.

Financial tips and tricks.

By Kate Wilson

The world of finance is a very scary place for some. For me, finance is something I have been highly conscious about since I was very young due to growing up less advantaged than those around me. Recently my finances have become a focus point in my life due to shortly not having a home. It’s not as bad as it sounds, but it has meant that I have had to learn all the tips and tricks on how to budget and save. The good news is that I have done all the research so you don’t have to. Read this and you’re set for life.

Budgeting:

My first piece of advice when it comes to budgeting is to make a list or spreadsheet of all your income and expenses such as:

  • Rent
  • Utilities (bills)
  • Transportation (whether that be your own car or public)
  • Groceries
  • Eating out
  • Entertainment
  • Miscellaneous (paying off debt, loans, retirement funds etc)

and stick to it. Try your best to stick to the budget to ensure you are safe and secure.

The 50, 30, 20 rule:

This rule operates on the basis that 50% of your income should be spent on essential items such as rent, utilities, Groceries, phone bill etc. 30% of your income should be spent on non essential pathways that bring you joy. Things such as travelling, self care, eating out and entertainment. Finally the 20% should be put into savings as well as paying off your debts and adding to your retirement fund.

Random tips and tricks:

  • Start an emergency fund. You never know when you might need it. Keep about a £1000 set aside.
  • Start a retirement fund as soon as possible. The sooner you start, the more you’ll have.
  • Find out if your work offers a 401k. Free money!
  • Get a credit card but DO NOT spend what you don’t have.
  • Be careful who your friends are, don’t be pressured into spending more money than you should.
  • Get an IRA. If you put in £100 a month with 12% annual interest for 40 years then you will have close to £1,000,000 for when you retire.
  • Do not spend more than 30% of your credit card allowance.
  • Try not to spend to much on rent (your twenties are the time to have roommates and to live in a crappy apartment.)
  • Don’t buy a new car.
  • Don’t go overboard on apartment decorations/ stuff because the likelihood is that you’ll be moving again a year later. Keep it light.
  • Invest in things that matter.
  • Live below your means. Continue living as though you are a student even if you have a lot more money now.

And that is all I have for you today. I hope this helps and I hope that you make a financial breakthrough soon!

By Kate Wilson

Technology – Do You Have Square Eyes Yet?

By Sasha Bagwell-Cox

Within the last year or more, there have been significant changes to the way people approach their relationship with technology. It’s stretched into working hours – whether that be in the case of children or adults – as well as being used in other areas of life.

I can still remember being told by my parents and grandparents how dangerous it is to spend too much time on screens when I was a child; and yet here we are in June 2021 with screens being used by so many people all day every day.

Nowadays, people communicate through their screens with friends and family and for school and work. As society slowly but surely returns to some kind of normalcy after the pandemic – though it’s debatable what normalcy means now – is it possible to reverse the hold that technology currently holds over our lives?

As a student who’s just finished her second year at university, I know as well as so many others how difficult it is to ignore the call of the screen. I have spent countless hours on my laptop writing essays, doing research, going to lectures, meetings and seminars online, especially during the winter months, that it was hard not to crawl under the covers afterward and watch a good film on Netflix (though I often failed to ignore that compulsion). Now that the weather’s improved and the academic year has come to an end it has been easier to put the laptop away and go outside. 

Arguably, our habits surrounding the use of technology have shaped us in these difficult times; were the ways of communication not so advanced things might have been very different. For the older generations, there would have been less for them to look forward to and so there have been some positives to the usage of technology during Covid-19; keeping grandparents and their grandchildren connected is one of the main ones. 

However, it’s not all gone well. The way both children and young people have been forced to learn in these troubled times has made education a learning experience all by itself; and whilst some students may have adapted well to the changes in their day-to-day lives, others will have found it altogether more challenging. 

For me to have to spend all day every day on a screen, trying to learn content that was never supposed to be taught online, has sometimes made the process less engaging and altogether less positive for my student self. For example, trying to learn a language through Microsft Teams or having conversations over video chat has made me realise just how essential face-to-face interactions are to understanding a language. It isn’t just about words or grammar, it’s about facial expressions, body language, and the general atmosphere of the conversation. It’s about communication. 

Therefore, going forward I don’t believe that work or education should be taught predominantly online, in any capacity. Neither path is a solitary experience, nor should it have to be.

My Zelda

By Gracie Eland


As the Lyric soared through clouds, Zelda Berg was high off her ass.

She felt the buzz coming, just the right balance between the Seconals and the Dexies, the alcohol and…whatever else she’d put in her system. Maybe it was coke. Someone had brought some in.

It seemed they let anyone into the band’s massive party blimp these days. Her blimp, really. Sure, the band had souped it up with everything they needed for a rager, but Zelda had created the band. She was the band. No matter what Will the drummer said, or Sean the guitarist, or…no, she wouldn’t think about him. 

Anyway, Iron Desire, the rock band of the century, was hers. And so was the Lyric. 

“Zelda, babe,” said Roe, the newest guy Zelda had let stick around, mostly because he had the best weed. “There’s some guy here that says he’s got something good.” 

“Really?” she responded, keeping her voice tart. When it came to managing a group of men, most dumbed down by the booze, it was best to have an edge. She’d perfected it over the years. Had to, after…

“Oh yeah, some designer shit. He says it’s just what you’re looking for.” 

Zelda doubted it. A lot of highball dealers came to the Lyric boasting some new pill or drink that could make the highs last forever, but they were always bullshit. The highest highs always meant the lowest lows. 

And Zelda couldn’t afford the lowest lows. 

She preferred her usual cocktail of drugs, just enough to keep her soaring.

Still…

“Take me to him.”

***

“I give you: Lucid! A pill that knocks you right out and—” 

Zelda raised her eyebrows at the dealer, his dirty leather jacket. He had a derelict-but-fabulously-wealthy look about him, the usual kind of rich-boy chasing after a wild and dangerous life of high-stakes crime. He stood just in front of one of the long couches in the centre of the Lyric, a ring of curious guests encircling him.

“I’m not interested in a sleeping pill,” Zelda said, her arms crossed.

“It won’t take you to sleep,” the dealer said, holding the pill up to the light for all the guests to see. One side was a dusty grey, the other a shiny green. “It’ll take you elsewhere.” 

‘“I’m not interested in a sleeping pill,” Zelda said, her arms crossed.

“It won’t take you to sleep,” the dealer said, holding the pill up to the light for all the guests to see.’

“So, a hallucination then.” 

He winked at her. “If that’s what you’re into.” 

It wasn’t what she, or any of these people, insomniacs frightened of their own shadows, were into. He’d chosen the wrong venue. 

As if sensing her hesitation, the dealer thrust the pill toward her. “It only lasts for five minutes. And the hallucinations are completely under your control.” 

Zelda plucked the pill from the dealer’s hands. This was certainly new, though probably as bullshit as the rest of the drugs she’d tried. Hallucinations controlled you, not the other way around. She would know all about that. But…just the thought of having control, even in a hallucination, was worth something, right?

She swallowed it with a swig of Red Bull and sat on one of the overcrowded couches lining the blimp’s interior. It took a few seconds for the pill to take affect, and even then, it was as gentle as closing a curtain, as gradual as falling asleep. Dimly, Zelda wondered how the pill would react to the other drugs in her system, but by then it was too late. She was gone. 

***

One minute. 

Realizing that she was still in the Lyric instead of some magical world was disappointing. At first. But Zelda appreciated the ghostly glow of the blimp’s pimped out interior, the shadowed wraiths of party guests as they danced, and the haze in the air. She could just see a pair of partiers taking slurred shots on the couch she’d fallen asleep on, hardly disturbing the milky green cobwebs covering it in ethereal sheets. People surrounded her, but they were separate, belonging to a different world, existing on a plain beyond her own. They were there, but at the same time . . . not. She wanted to join them, but they were out of her reach.

Her feet disturbed the mist that had settled on the floors. The whole place felt inconsistent, erratic. It was like wading through the muffled sound that sometimes scratched from her guitar. She was seeing a blurry world through sunglass shades, no longer taking part in it, only forced to watchit move on.

Two minutes. 

A voice echoed through the Lyric, abrupt, haunting, and sharp. It split the mist, and Zelda’s heart, in a singular definitive drumbeat, one that could break a melody in half. She stumbled and fell to the sticky floor. Mist scattered around her, retreating and reforming like an ocean tide. She knew that voice as well as she knew herself. It had defined what it meant to be herself.

Screw this hallucination, she wanted out. She had no control.

The voice called out again, closer this time. Zelda pushed herself up and backed away.

NO. She would not think about him now. She would not go to him.

She heard the snap of fingers in the distance. 

“Zelda…” 

Three minutes. 

Zelda’s heart was beating so fast it felt like it wasn’t beating at all. Her breath dived back into her lungs. The voice’s owner slid through the mist. She backed away again, bumping the wooden table in the centre of the Lyric, usually overburdened by alcohol, lines of coke, abandoned glasses, and writhing bodies. Now, it was vacant and dead. Just like the voice.

‘Zelda’s heart was beating so fast it felt like it wasn’t beating at all. Her breath dived back into her lungs. The voice’s owner slid through the mist.’

“Zelda, it’s been a while.” The voice was the same as it had always been. Seductive. Lyrical. Nico’s voice. His fingers snapped together, a tic that never went away. His gait was casual, untroubled. Patient. Even when he was at his angriest, when his abuse struck like lightning through her, there was something endlessly patient about him. As if he knew every move she’d ever make, and that regardless of what she wanted, her path would always lead back to him.

“Stay away,” she spat, hugging her shoulders. Every instinct made her crawl back in on herself. “You’re dead.” 

“The dead don’t die as long as they’re remembered,” Nico said, stepping closer. His collar was bloodstained. “And I’m so touched you’ve remembered me.” 

“I’ve tried to forget,” Zelda snapped, ducking her head, expecting one of Nico’s sharp blows. But none came. 

His fingers only snapped. 

And he only kept coming closer. 

Four minutes. 

Nico’s face was smooth, his skin stiff. Only his snapping fingers moved with the approximation of human action. A drop of blood leaked from his nose and fell onto his shirt collar. Zelda remembered when she’d found him after one of their parties, blood staining his nose. Sleeping pills. She hadn’t even bothered trying to resuscitate him, so stiff and lifeless his body had been.

“I own you, pretty thing,” he whispered. “I made you.” 

Zelda remembered the first record deal she’d signed at Nico’s encouragement, the way he’d slid pills in her pocket and drinks in her hand. He’d always been there. A guiding hand—so swiftly turning to a fist when he didn’t get what he wanted.

His fingers snapped. 

‘Nico’s face was smooth, his skin stiff. Only his snapping fingers moved with the approximation of human action. A drop of blood leaked from his nose and fell onto his shirt collar.’

Five minutes. 

Zelda closed her eyes and felt tears drop down her cheeks. “I will forget you.” 

“No,” Nico said, his voice pitying. “You will honour me with your life. With your talent.” 

She felt cold, dead hands stroke her cheek. A ghostly whisper caressed her ear. “Sing for me, baby. You have such a lovely voice, so husky and broken.” 

“Never again.”  

A snap of his fingers. A voice rusted by decay and unwanted memories. “I will haunt you forever, my Zelda.” 

My Zelda. 

***

When Zelda resurfaced, she felt more frightened and more desperate than she had in a long time. The cacophony of the Lyric steadied her soul. A group of partiers were taking turns shot-gunning beer. Roe was sticking smoking joints into a random girl’s hair. Music pounded through the blimp’s many speakers, one of Iron Desire’s first hit songs. This was the land of the living. She was safe, right? 

But as the party continued to rage, Zelda felt wrong. She looked at her shaking hands, whether from fear or the drugs, she wasn’t sure. 

She was out of control. She’d never had any control in the first place, she realized. An animal born in a cage doesn’t know any different. But what becomes of an animal who creates its own cage?

You will honour me. 

No more. She wouldn’t, couldn’t go on like this. Not even with the pill’s delicious aftertaste burning in her throat, coaxing her for more.

And just behind Zelda, with a smile on his face, the dealer snapped his fingers.




Gracie Eland is an American born writer studying Creative Writing and French at Aberystwyth University. When she’s not writing short stories, she’s stressing over her French degree, taking long walks on the seafront, and daydreaming about wild fantasy worlds during lectures. For more of her poems and stories, check out the Turning the Tide anthology, The Composite Review online magazine, and her Instagram writing account: ‘the_writer_flaneuse’

Anna Akhmatova: the poet who defied Stalin and spat in his face

By Alexandru Tilici 

Portrait of Anna Akhmatova by Nathan Altman (1914)

For Russian intelligentsia, the solidifying of Stalin’s reign meant sudden and cruel finality. Many of the literary and cultural personalities of 20th century Russia have either met their end at the hands of the regime and its agents or fled abroad to escape the fate of their peers. Amidst the disaster stood one poet who towered above everyone else, upholding the values of the Silver Age of Russian poetry: the resolute Anna Akhmatova.

Urged by her father to not become a “decadent poet who will disgrace the family”, Anna Akhmatova’s debut in the world of poetry stunned even her husband, Nikolai Gumilyov. Gumilyov, a poet himself, was surprised that Akhmatova received praise from Aleksander Blok, considered to be the man at the forefront of the Silver Age, as he never took Akhmatova’s career seriously and refused to acknowledge her talent. This, combined with many other fights and bitter torments, led to Akhmatova and Gumilyov’s separation. Despite the tumult within their relationship, Akhmatova greatly mourned the death of her husband, who was yet another victim of the Stalinist terror.

“I drink to our ruined house
To the evil of my life
To our loneliness together
And I drink to you—
To the lying lips that have betrayed us,
To the dead-cold eyes,
To the fact that the world is brutal and coarse
To the fact that God did not save us.”

(Anna Akhmatova, The Last Toast, translated from Russian by Katie Farris and Ilya Kaminsky)

Also, victims of the Stalinist terror were many of her friends, including fellow female poet Marina Tsvetaeva, who was found “hanged” in her apartment after receiving a visit from two agents of the Soviet security and information service two days prior.

This is how Anna Akhmatova was set to become one of the greatest voices in Russian literature: by being faced with adversity, and a torrent of misery that never seemed to end. Receiving counsel and warnings in 1916, when the situation in Russia was seemingly getting worse and worse for every artist, Akhmatova could have fled. Yet she chose to stay behind, writing the poem Lot’s wife as a testament of her unwavering faith and strong spirit:  

‘And the just man trailed God’s shining agent,
over a black mountain, in his giant track,
while a restless voice kept harrying his woman:
“It’s not too late, you can still look back

at the red towers of your native Sodom,
the square where once you sang, the spinning-shed,
at the empty windows set in the tall house
where sons and daughters blessed your marriage-bed.”’

(Anna Akhmatova, Lot’s wife, translated by Stanley Kunitz and Max Hayward)

Part whore, part nun”, said the soviet critic who slammed her for the sake of eliminating her from literary canon. Yet Akhmatova kept writing, and volumes of poetry, from her very first collection called Evening, to the last memoirs and verses written few weeks before her death, all decorate the world of universal literature. Today, she is remembered as a voice for the silent, a voice filled with love for life and stern critique of politics. Her verses are perfect for times when you might feel frustrated, yearning and bitter.

Recommendations: If you want to enjoy the cutting yet romantic poetry of Anna Akhmatova, there is no better place to start than Andrey Kneller’s translations and collections of her works. Final Meeting: Selected Poetry Of Anna Akhmatova can be found on Amazon, along with Evening, Akhmatova’s blasting debut into poetry. If you fancy the Everyman’s Library collection, then their version of Akhmatova’s poems can also be found on Amazon here: Akhmatova-Poems-Everymans-Library-Pocket

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