Me, Margarita is a short story collection about men and women, love and hate, cynicism and hope and what is most interesting none of the stories reveal the time or place where and when they occur: either it could happen anywhere either the world is too small for it to matter. The stories are mostly narrated by an enlightened and disillusioned woman, without mincing words about the imperfection of her life, her relationships, her prospects and yet what might seem discouraging is presented with such enjoyable humor that the reader cannot help but resolve to take life more lightly. Me, Margarita was Published in English language on January 13th of 2015 by Dalkey Archive Press and in German by Schiler Hans Verlag in 2013.

EXTRACT
Translated into English by Victoria Field and Natalie Bukia-Peters 

ME, MARGARITA

There’s a gorge, a very beautiful one, that probably everyone in Georgia has visited at one time or another. During the last century, it changed hands many times. First, a Sultan got hold of it, then some Persians, and, after that, the Turks again. Later, Paskevitch invaded Akhaltsikhe, which was under the governance of the Ottomans, and claimed the gorge as the property of Russia.
The Georgian princes sold it on the spot.
It was during the period of Russian rule that some lucky person discovered the natural mineral waters there. A few years later, the Georgian Grenadiers cleared a path through the thick forest to the springs. They put up some pretty buildings and, very soon, the gorge became full of life, attracting many visitors.
In 1871, the area came under the rule of the Supreme Governor, Mikhail Nikolaevitch, and, however ridiculous it sounds, I must thank whoever handed it over for providing my ancestors with an identity. Everyone around me seems to know what their grandfathers’ fathers were called, but I don’t. I only know that Supreme Governor Mikhail Nikolaevich was ultimately—if involuntarily— responsible for my birth. Without him, Mikhail-Gavriil would never have got a job pouring mineral water into bottles, and nor would plump Tantsia have gone to the springs to sell her pies. And nor would the two of them have been able to communicate with each other, as they would not have had Russian as heir common language.

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Although nearly forty years had passed since the Supreme Governor first appeared in the area, his story hadn’t been forgotten in the gorge. The palace certainly remained; the narrow gorge was called Prince’s Water; two men were known as the Great Princes, and a little girl was given the nickname ‘Tantsia.’ The
name means ‘dance’ in Russian, but she wasn’t called that because of the dances and entertainment that occurred at that time. She was in fact named in honour of the Great Prince’s arrival at the railway station, where there was a sign saying ‘station,’ the Russian for which sounds a bit like ‘Tantsia.’ Tantsia was raised by local aristocrats in their own household. No one knows why. She may have been an orphan, or perhaps her mother was a housemaid. The main thing is that she was brought up properly and that’s why she was able to read and write. She could speak a little Russian, which in that village was a big deal. In addition, these aristocrats gave Tantsia their surname, and when she got married, provided a dowry...(See PDF)


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