The starting point of all my works is a heartsick feeling, a realization about life that rises inside suddenly like an ocean storm. Then I know very quickly what the entire story will be, and then it’s a race to get it out on paper. It’s an enchantment that’s impossible to control or refuse, like the gift of the Muses that inspired ancient poets.
City of Night Birds also happened this way. In spring 2021, when my then-editor asked me what my next novel would be, I knew immediately that I wanted to write about ballet. I shared with her my outline; but she—an editor who acquired and championed my first novel, whose taste and intelligence I deeply respect—expressed hesitation that ballet novels traditionally “don’t sell well.” I told her that I was going to write it exactly as I envisioned it, and if my full manuscript couldn’t convince her, I would be okay with that decision. (This all transpired a few months before my debut novel, Beasts of a Little Land, even came out to solidify my standing in any way.)
So, I kept writing this ballet novel while promoting my first book. In January 2022, I received a grant to travel to Russia to conduct research for City of Night Birds. This seemed like a sign that I was right to follow my instincts. I started making plans for Moscow and St. Petersburg. Then, a month later, Russia invaded mainland Ukraine, and I had to abandon those plans. Not only research travel, but the idea of publishing a novel largely set in Russia became tenuous.
But I still believed in my vision—a love story between an artist and her art. If anything, political conflict made me even more determined to show art’s power to transcend borders and restore our common humanity. I donate a portion of author proceeds of each of my books to a long-term nonprofit partner; for City of Night Birds, I wanted to raise awareness of Africa’s food insecurity, which has reached another nadir since the Ukraine invasion. I am working with Caritas Somalia, an incredible organization providing emergency aid, development, education, and even climate adaptation in one of the world’s most neglected regions. Long-term advocacy is extremely important to me, and I am looking forward to doing everything I can to raise both material and non-material aid for Caritas Somalia for many years to come.
Of course, when I was writing the draft, I didn’t know if I would be able to publish this novel and take on that advocacy. I was only following my heartsick feeling. But in summer 2023—despite all macro shifts I couldn’t control—my editor read my full manuscript and loved it. Being selected by Reese was another transformative blessing.
Last month, I was finally able to visit Moscow and St. Petersburg. I was there to receive the Yasnaya Polyana Award, also called the Tolstoy Award, for my first novel. The award ceremony took place at Bolshoi Theatre, and I was given a private backstage tour where my heroine, Natasha Leonova, dances to meteoric heights. The jury members, the Tolstoy family, my colleagues, writers, and critics welcomed me warmly. The fact is that the majority of the Russian art world do not support the war. Artists—true artists anyway—can’t want anything other than peace.
And that’s what City of Night Birds is about. It is about many things—my lifelong passion for ballet, music, love and desire manifested in light and shadow—but ultimately, it is about the true meaning of art. I am deeply grateful that you’re reading this book from my heart.
