Katrin Ruus and P. I. Filimonov

Katrin Ruus (1982) is an Estonian screenwriter, film director and short story writer. Before arriving at literature, Ruus received plaudits with several feature films, such as Cherry Tobacco (2014) or The Man Who Looks Like Me (2017). Ruus also picked up prizes and praise in the drama competitions of the Estonian Theatre Agency. Literary enthusiasts took note of Ruus (at the time under the name Katrin Tegova) thanks to the short story competition organised by Puänt Publishers, with the jury highlighting Ruus’ short story Armastus pärast, which also gave its name to the collection Armastus pärast ja teisi lugusid (2021), which brings together the best submissions of the competition. Last year, Ruus published her fiction debut, a collection of short stories called Prügimaja Dionysos. The stories are both mundane and grotesque and offer a wide range of characters who are struggling with relationships and thus with themselves, and whose journey to themselves has to go through some spiritual and physical obstacles. Several stories are set is Southern Estonia, including Tartu. Broadly speaking, Ruus describes the blur of of life, people’s dreams and stumbles with great empathy, with an occasional sprinkling of the grotesque and dark humour. Or, as one Goodreads review says: ‘A dance of the high-brow and low-brow’. The story Teraslind about a woman travelling alone and reflecting on her sexual history, was awarded the Friedebert Tuglas Short Story Award in 2023.

P.I. Filimonov (1975) is a poet and prose writer living in Estonia and writing in Russian. Already his debut Mitteeukleidilise geomeetria tsoon, a novel set in three flats in Tallinn and underpinned by many funny and philosophical dialogues, gained a lot of attention. In his latest work, his sixth novel Alicante, the author skillfully puts his sense of irony to the service of the plot, as the narrator of the work is a stand-up comedian named Klim. In this way, Filimonov creates his own Umwelt, in which the ordinary and the extraordinary are exist happily side by side: on the one hand, a clearly recognisable 21st century Estonia, which is viewed through the sharp lens of a member of a minority, and on the other hand, a magical and absurd parallel reality, accentuated by numerous twists and colourful characters. In his review Kaupo Meiel notes, ‘Is life funny? Does life have to be funny? Alicante’s Klim is searching for answers to these questions and makes the reader do the same.’