A noir mystery by the acclaimed modernist Russian master, set in the Paris underworld. “An excellent novel by any standard, …especially remarkable for joining the philosophical underpinnings of the Russians with the intrigue of a French thriller.” — Publishers Weekly , Starred Review A millionaire is killed. A golden statuette of a Buddha goes missing. A penniless student, who is afflicted by dream-like fits, is arrested and accused of murder. Slipping between the menacing dream world of the student's fevered imagination, and the dark back alleys of the Paris underworld, The Buddha's Return is part detective novel, part philosophical thriller, and part love story. Beset by constant hallucinations, a student and member of the Russian émigré community which filled Paris in the 1920s and 30s wanders the nighttime city. His offer of kindness to a vagrant in the Luxemburg Gardens spirals into unintended consequences, converging with the influence of a Russian millionaire and his mistress and hangers-on. As the student drifts between dreams and reality, we find ourselves wondering about his guilt and about the influence of fate on all this—as well as where his true love Catherine has got to. But when the Buddha is returned, all becomes clear in this modernist meditation on fate, authority and connection. In typically crisp, unfussy prose, Gazdanov's delicately balanced novel is a vivid evocation of the unforgettable atmosphere of interwar Paris—and an irresistibly hypnotic masterpiece from one of Russia's most talented émigré writers. "[A] deliciously dark and complex tale concerning mistaken identities, moral ambiguities and deep-set yearnings. . . fresh and exciting . . . the protagonist’s metaphysical pondering and recurring mental fogs are curiously gripping, and his wistful reminiscences of old flame Catherine turn the novel into a sensual as well as a cerebral affair." — The Minneapolis Star Tribune "This is an excellent novel by any standard, and especially remarkable for joining the philosophical underpinnings of the Russians with the intrigue of a French thriller." — Publishers Weekly (Starred Review) "Eccentric... exciting... an offbeat appeal and flashes of black humour." —  Eileen Battersby,  Irish Times "The Gazdanov revival… is nothing short of a literary event… comparisons to Lermontov, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Proust, Celine and Camus… are entirely apt: few authors are able so seamlessly to wed the styles and thematic concerns of the great Russian psychological novelists with those of the French modernists and existentialists… Gazdanov’s thrillers offer a truly original vision, distinguished by profound existential and metaphysical concerns, a peculiar sense of humour, and enchanting prose, which Bryan Karetnyk has once again reproduced with impeccable grace." — Boris Dralyuk, The Times Literary Supplement (UK) "While Gazdanov seems in thrall to these vastly different novelists, he has his own utterly distinctive voice... vivid sensory detail... transcends the mid-20th-century émigré tradition, and poses prescient questions about the fracturing of identity... deftly translated... Pushkin Press is to be congratulated on reviving an author who is as relevant now as ever. Both these fine novels [The Spectre of Alexander Wolf and The Buddha's Return] offer gripping detective drama, while also engaging with questions of consciousness and self that cannot be resolved by simply foiling a killer." — The Spectator (UK) Gaito Gazdanov (1903-1971) joined the White Army aged just sixteen and fought in the Russian Civil War. Exiled in Paris from the 1920s onwards, he earned a living driving taxis at night. He quickly gained prominence on the literary scene as a novelist, essayist, critic and short-story writer, and was greatly admired by Maxim Gorky, among others. The Flight and The Spectre of Alexander Wolf are also published by Pushkin Press. Bryan Karetnyk is a British writer and translator. His translations for Pushkin Press include works by Irina Odoevtseva, Jun’ichiro Tanizaki and Ryunosuke Akutagawa. He is also the editor of the Penguin Classics anthology Russian Émigré Short Stories from Bunin to Yanovsky . I died. I have searched long and hard for the right words to describe what happened, and, convinced that none of the usual, familiar terms will do, have finally settled on one associated with what seems the least imprecise of realms: death. I died in the month of June, at night, during one of my first years abroad. This, however, was far less remarkable than my being the only person to know of this death, the only one to have witnessed it. I saw myself in the mountains; with that absurd invariable sense of urgency characteristic of events in which personal considerations for some reason cease to play any part, I found myself having to scale a high cliff with a sheer drop. Here and there little thorn-bushes somehow managed to cut through the brownish-grey rock surface;