Despite my reservations about Russian literature, I tracked down an English-language copy of the fairly lengthy book (which, at the time, was difficult in the U.S.) and eagerly tore through it over the course of one week. Originally published online in 2005, where it is still available for free (as long as you can read Russian), the book became a launching point for a juggernaut franchise of which the video game is but one arm.

I loved the game enough to look into its origins and was surprised to discover that the novel it is based on is a pop culture phenomenon throughout Russia and Europe. An interesting take on survival horror, Metro 2033, the game, is a corridor shooter that takes place in a post-apocalyptic version of Moscow's underground metro system, where civilization has broken down into strange pockets of humanity and everyone is threatened by the omnipresent horrors of violence, mutant infestation, madness, and the supernatural.

Like most Americans who know anything about it, my first exposure to Dmitry Glukhovsky's Metro 2033 was through the video game of the same name from a few years ago. (This apology extends to my father-in-law as well, who is, coincidentally enough, also a fan.) I'm sorry, Dad, but I've just never understood the appeal. Personally speaking-and I stress this is just my opinion and not presented here as any kind of objective fact-I find Russian literature to be dull, boring, obtuse, and exhausting, more concerned with mood than with character, plot, and poetry. I can appreciate their novels for what they are and recognize their importance, but truth be told, I don't enjoy them at all. As one of those sons who is constantly trying to impress his old man, I've tried dozens of times to find something to love about the great Russian novelists: Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Pushkin, Pasternak, Turgenev, etc. My father was a huge fan of Russian literature.

Metro glukhovsky