Prose writer and playwright Sergei Nosov is not interested in the ringing brass of war, the migration of peoples, and the cracks blazing with the heat of the underworld that split the tectonic plates of history. Nosov is a quiet writer. The subject of his interest was and remains “small forms of life” - the private person with all his absurdities: empty grievances, funny phobias and nonsense prejudices. Such is the novel “Curly Brackets,” which tells about the founding congress of illusionists who call themselves micromagicians. A cascade of brilliant absurdity, piercing existential sadness, a clash of empty ambitions and the sudden muteness of death - mixed in ideal proportions, these ingredients provide the most accurate cast of reality. Magic pharmacopoeia: not a photograph - a living, breathing canvas. Truly Nosov knows how to make you laugh so much that you begin to be afraid of your laughter.