For depressing Russian fiction, this was surprisingly optimistic and gentle; the traumatic moments have some of that blurry feel that makes you remember that the author is basing this on her grandmother's experiences (and presumably her grandmother's stories of those experiences), and while there's plenty of death and violence, there's no sexual violence at any point, which is a nice change from a lot of fiction that focuses on women in peril. The occasional notes of magical realism were almost, but not quite, too on-the-nose, and some of the stylistic choices (ending some chapters with an explanation of the fate of their protagonists) petered out with no real explanation partway through.