From the author of The Heart’s Invisible Furies and  The Absolutist , a propulsive novel of the Russian Revolution and the fate of the Romanov family.    Part love story, part historical epic, part tragedy,  The House of Special Purpose  illuminates an empire at the end of its reign. Eighty-year-old Georgy Jachmenev is haunted by his past—a past of death, suffering, and scandal that will stay with him until the end of his days.     Living in England with his beloved wife, Zoya, Georgy prepares to make one final journey back to the Russia he once knew and loved, the Russia that both destroyed and defined him.    As Georgy remembers days gone by, we are transported to St. Petersburg, to the Winter Palace of the czar, in the early twentieth century—a time of change, threat, and bloody revolution. As Georgy overturns the most painful stone of all, we uncover the story of the house of special purpose. “[Boyne] guides us through the realm of history and makes the journey substantial, poignant, and real. He is one of the great craftsmen in contemporary literature.” —Colum McCann, National Book Award–winning author of Let the Great World Spin   “A tour de force, at once epic and intimate, and above all a marvelous read.” —John Banville, Booker Prize–winning author of The Sea     “[ The House of Special Purpose ] translates big issues of political change into more intimate, human terms…an exciting, fast-paced story that compels the reader through its seventy-year span…absorbing and richly satisfying.” — The Times (UK)    “John Boyne’s haunting novel travels to the heart of the Russian empire.” —BBC “A thrilling historical novel rooted in the Russian revolution and the end of Romanov czars…a gripping story.” — Minneapolis Star Tribune   “Boyne re-creates both Georgy’s personal life and the life of pre-Revolutionary Russia with astonishing density and power.” — Kirkus Reviews  (starred review)    “[A] suspenseful and touching novel…ingeniously constructed and gripping…[Boyne] skillfully evokes the wrenching pain of loss and exile while presenting a tribute to enduring love.” — Booklist   “A wonderful, many-layered novel, written with thought and tenderness…mesmerizing.” ― Irish Examiner “Boyne writes with consummate ease and is particularly good at drawing the indecently rich world of the pre-revolutionary Romanovs.” — The Independent  (UK)    “John Boyne has a talent for bringing big historical events to life…Here once again he draws on past events to create a gripping drama.” ― Daily Express “Boyne exercises total control over pace and revelation. A work that chimes perfectly with our times.” — Irish Times   “A riveting, bittersweet tale of love, loss, and intrigue…a spell-binding journey and a compelling read.” — Winnipeg Free Press   “In this richly textured, audaciously imagined alternate history, John Boyne chronicles a long and complex marriage forged out of the turmoil of the Russian Revolution. Georgy and Zoya are a memorable pair of lovers, and as this ingeniously structured narrative takes us deeper and deeper into their shared past, our understanding of their unremarkable present is increasingly colored by the extraordinary secrets, regrets, and guilt they carry within them.” —Paul Russell, author of  The Unreal Life of Sergey Nabokov John Boyne  was born in Ireland in 1971 and is the author of twelve novels for adults, most recently the  New York Times  bestseller  The Heart’s Invisible Furies ,  A Ladder to the Sky , and  A Traveler at the Gates of Wisdom  as well as six novels for teens and young adults including the #1  New York Times  bestselling  The Boy in the Striped Pajamas . 1981      My mother and father did not have a happy marriage. Years have passed since I last endured their company, decades, but they pass through my thoughts almost every day for a few moments, no longer than that. A whisper of memory, as light as Zoya’s breath upon my neck as she sleeps by my side at night. As gentle as her lips against my cheek when she kisses me in the first light of morning. I cannot say when they died exactly. I know nothing of their passing other than the natural certainty that they are no longer of this world. But I think of them. I think of them still. I have always imagined my father, Daniil Vladyavich, dying first. He was already in his early thirties by the time I was born and from what I can recall of him, he was never blessed with good health. I have memories of waking as an infant in our small timber-framed izba in Kashin, in the Grand Duchy of Muscovy, pressing my hands to my tiny ears to repel the sound of his mortality as he choked and coughed and spat his phlegm into the fire burning in our small stove. I think now that he may have had a problem with his lungs. Emphysema, perhaps. It’s difficult to know. There were no doctors to administer to him. No medicines. Nor did he bear his many illnesses with fortitude or grace. When he suffered, we suf