Nightwatch (Sergei Lukyanenko)

This contemporary vampire story, by a Russian author, is interesting but not fully engaging, perhaps because of the cultural differences. Walking among us are Others, humans who have magical powers that make them more than human. These Others take sides in an eternal battle between Light and Dark, in which the agents of the Night Watch represent Light and agents of the Day Watch represent Dark. An ancient treaty constrains their battle, but still they struggle for the souls of the humans who surround them, oblivious to their powers. In this book, which is the first of a series, a powerful new Other arises and the opposing forces struggle for his soul. I enjoyed it to a mild degree, but won't be following more books in the series.

The Tiger (John Vaillant)

This carefully researched true story about the hunt for a man-eating tiger in far-eastern Russia is engrossing and moving. Woven in with the story of what made this tiger stand out and how it was hunted is the history of Russia and particularly its far East rim, the natural history of tigers, and the complex and changing relationship between humans and tigers in the ancient forests. What was most amazing, aside from the sheer nail-biting adventure of it, was that the author managed to portray all sides in the story with even-handed empathy. Highly recommended.

Eugene Onegin (Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin)

This English translation of a famous long novel by the Russian writer is quite remarkable. I don't know any Russian so I don't know how it compares, but the poem I read seemed quite natural in English, following an intricate rhyme scheme but still unforced, colloquial but not trendy. Nonetheless, I'm just not big on poetry. I was drawn into the story of the ne'er-do-well rake, bored with society and countryside alike, playing games with the affections and friendship of others, driven by a callous joke to killing his young friend in a duel and then spiraling downhill. But I kept getting distracted by the rhyme and stanza structure; I would have been more immersed in the story if it had been prose. Also, I couldn't identify with anyone in the story; everyone was cruel, or foolish, or histrionic, or otherwise just made me want to shake them. So I guess I'd have to say this was not for me. I'm glad I read it, though. That's what book clubs are best at; inspiring me to read things I otherwise wouldn't.