Chekhov’s Horses

By Oronte. It’s hot in the Hotel Dostoevsky, but it’s hot everywhere in St. Petersburg, Russia. The Dostoevsky, named for its mere proximity to an apartment the writer rented for three years, is advertised as a four-star hotel with air-conditioning. But air, natural or conditioned, hardly registers in the rooms, let alone in the Raskolnikov Bar, where I’m writing this in the heat of giant windows looking over the rooftops, and Frenchy naps behind half a liter of warming beer. Read more...