Nancy Ries. Russian Talk: Culture and Conversation during Perestroika. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1997. xii, 220 pp. Photographs. References. Index. $39.95, cloth. $16.95, paper. Russians talk. This is not anything new. What is new is subjecting of that talk to ethnographic scrutiny, which is what Nancy Ries does in this, her first book-length foray. This work is based on interviews conducted in Moscow over nine-month period between 1989 and 1990, as well as numerous examples taken from both popular and high Russian culture. Ries sets out to portray underlying cultural dynamics of perestroika through its audible manifestations. Her basic argument, that the discursive world does not merely reflect world of more obvious social action, but also helps to construct (p. 3), places her project squarely in realm of Geertzian cultural anthropology. Its personable, personal approach is akin to that of Svetlana Boym's Common Places. Such coordinates may not endear it to more traditional Slavists but they do promise innovative, invigorating scholarship. Introduction lays out ethnographic basis on which her work rests. In keeping with material which follows, it is nice story. Ries found herself in Moscow in September, 1989 conducting research on constructions of Russianness, US-Soviet relations and cold war (p. 7), just in time for fall of Berlin Wall. With cold war effectively rendered non-issue, she pricked up her ears and heard people talking about perestroika. These people-her among Moscow's intelligentsia, and their friends, and others they thought she should talk to-became her pool of informants, lending book air of talk-show pseudo-anonymity. Many of informants are named as though they were being introduced on Oprah: meet an American colleague, Julie de Sherbinin, who spent fall of 1991 in Russia (p. 52); Olga, professional woman in her early forties (p. 74); and Andrei, divorced who chose life of voluntary poverty (p. 144). Some remain even more anonymous: there is an acquaintance in corridor of office (p. 49); a prominent feminist writer (p. 61); a female friend who spent her time among musicians... [and] one of her musician friends (p. 131); my fellow passenger [in cab] (p. 138); and many others. It is indeed random sampling, if not strictly random sample. spontaneity of project is further belied by fact that fully two-thirds of material presented was collected in informal circumstances as opposed to organized interviews (p. 7). In following four developmental chapters, this material is then presented and its organization accounted for at every turn with solid, meticulously documented references to social theory. Chapter One, The World of Russian Talk in Time of Perestroika, has as its focus Russian discourses as means of social reproduction (p. 19). It raises questions of Russianness, of narod, and of richness of Russian language, before delving into Russian speech genres and offering schematic representation (p. 37) of genres discernible during perestroika. Vertically this chart is divided into official power (high social status genres), such as Communist rhetoric, scolding and slogans, and unofficial power (low social status genres) such as Russian tale, poignant (as opposed to didactic, official) proverbs and saints' lives, while basis of horizontal division is gender. Blaming, for example, is on female half of unofficial side, with cursing its male counterpart. Laments vs. bragging, shopping vs. mischief tales, and husband tales vs. sexual or drinking epics give idea of other gender-differentiated pairs. next three chapters: Our Fairy-Tale Life: Narrative Construction of Russia, Women, and Men; Litanies and Laments: Discursive Art of Suffering; and Mystical Poverty and Rewards of Loss each deal with one of these genres. …