Snowdrops by A.D. Miller, Atlantic, $19.99.
In Moscow, a snowdrop is not a flower but a slang term for a corpse which “blooms” during spring when the snow melts and exposes the body beneath.
A useful way to conceal a murder … This literary thriller starts as thirtysomething expatriate lawyer Nick Platt discovers his own snowdrop — then spools backward to examine how and why he knew this man.
It’s a confession of sorts, of how four years doing deals with conmen in tailored suits, enjoying the debauched best Moscow has to offer — the seedy bars and grasping, beautiful girls — has thrown Nick’s moral compass way off course.
The evil was there, he just chose not to see it.
Now, like the snowdrop in spring, it’s about to reveal itself, causing Nick first to trip and inevitably to fall.
Shortlisted for this year’s Man Booker Prize, it’s a classy, suspenseful read and vividly revealing of both the hedonism and corruption of the so-called ‘New Russia’.
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