It is not customary to write stories, novels, and especially novels about the recent past. It is believed that impressions have not yet settled, passions have not subsided, and not everyone has fully assessed historical events. The exception, perhaps, is literary works that were published immediately after great wars and upheavals. Alexander Makhnev’s book “Life Stories” is not about such times. This is one of the attempts to capture the spirit, meaning and, if you like, the content of that period, which was unfairly called “stagnation”, with a smooth transition to the stories of the early nineties, for which no definition other than “dashing” was ever invented. Perhaps one day a collection of words and expressions will be published in which we will find the following: a bright future, social justice, public opinion, work for the benefit of society, personal business, party committee and party commission. And next to it: nomenclature, shortages, cronyism, speculation, coupons and coupons, distribution, queues and much of what seems to have disappeared from our existence forever. The author does not try to prove and show that it is better or, on the contrary, worse, he, through his fate and the fates of people from his immediate environment, shows the phenomena of life, displays it from his position as a person who has experienced and appreciated a lot. It will not be difficult for the reader to get acquainted with the simple heroes of the stories: retired a military man and an accountant, a young officer and an aspiring entrepreneur, the soul of the hospital community and the old lady at the entrance. They are all from our lives, the lives of the majority of ordinary people. Alexander Makhnev claims that he writes “for himself” and his loved ones. But it is not so. His stories are like photographs from a family album. Remember, in those times about which the author mainly writes, it was customary for arriving guests to be seated on the sofa and, while the table was being set, to be entertained by showing thick albums with plush covers. At the same time, comments and comparisons, and sometimes short memories, were always added. And when the guest sat down at the table, he already understood what kind of people and what kind of destiny were gathered nearby. This brought him closer together. Surely, when the reader gets acquainted with the stories printed in this book, he will remember that something similar happened in his family, and similar stories happened to him, but he just doesn’t have the time to put them on paper and leave them for future generations. Alexander was able to do this and told us what was bursting from his soul. All that remains is to wish the author creative success and expansion of the circle of readers who are not indifferent to our very recent history.