From the preface written by Edith Wharton: Then I fell upon Futility. Some one said: “It's another new novel about Russia” –and every one of my eager feelers curled up in a tight knot of refusal. But . . . I read on, amused, moved, absorbed, till the tale and the journey ended together. This, it seems to me, is the most striking quality of Mr. Gerhardi's book: that he has (even in this, his first venture) enough of the true novelist's “objectivity” to focus the two so utterly alien races to whom he belongs almost equally, by birth and bringing-up – the English and the Russian – to sympathize with both, and to depict them for us as they see each other, with the play of their mutual reactions illuminating and animating them all. - Summary from the preface by Edith Wharton

From the preface written by Edith Wharton: Then I fell upon Futility. Some one said: “It's another new novel about Russia” –and every one of my eager feelers curled up in a tight knot of refusal. But . . . I read on, amused, moved, absorbed, till the tale and the journey ended together. This, it seems to me, is the most striking quality of Mr. Gerhardi's book: that he has (even in this, his first venture) enough of the true novelist's “objectivity” to focus the two so utterly alien races to whom he belongs almost equally, by birth and bringing-up – the English and the Russian – to sympathize with both, and to depict them for us as they see each other, with the play of their mutual reactions illuminating and animating them all. - Summary from the preface by Edith Wharton

From the preface written by Edith Wharton: Then I fell upon Futility. Some one said: “It's another new novel about Russia” –and every one of my eager feelers curled up in a tight knot of refusal. But . . . I read on, amused, moved, absorbed, till the tale and the journey ended together. This, it seems to me, is the most striking quality of Mr. Gerhardi's book: that he has (even in this, his first venture) enough of the true novelist's “objectivity” to focus the two so utterly alien races to whom he belongs almost equally, by birth and bringing-up – the English and the Russian – to sympathize with both, and to depict them for us as they see each other, with the play of their mutual reactions illuminating and animating them all. - Summary from the preface by Edith Wharton

From the preface written by Edith Wharton: Then I fell upon Futility. Some one said: “It's another new novel about Russia” –and every one of my eager feelers curled up in a tight knot of refusal. But . . . I read on, amused, moved, absorbed, till the tale and the journey ended together. This, it seems to me, is the most striking quality of Mr. Gerhardi's book: that he has (even in this, his first venture) enough of the true novelist's “objectivity” to focus the two so utterly alien races to whom he belongs almost equally, by birth and bringing-up – the English and the Russian – to sympathize with both, and to depict them for us as they see each other, with the play of their mutual reactions illuminating and animating them all. - Summary from the preface by Edith Wharton

From the preface written by Edith Wharton: Then I fell upon Futility. Some one said: “It's another new novel about Russia” –and every one of my eager feelers curled up in a tight knot of refusal. But . . . I read on, amused, moved, absorbed, till the tale and the journey ended together. This, it seems to me, is the most striking quality of Mr. Gerhardi's book: that he has (even in this, his first venture) enough of the true novelist's “objectivity” to focus the two so utterly alien races to whom he belongs almost equally, by birth and bringing-up – the English and the Russian – to sympathize with both, and to depict them for us as they see each other, with the play of their mutual reactions illuminating and animating them all. - Summary from the preface by Edith Wharton

From the preface written by Edith Wharton: Then I fell upon Futility. Some one said: “It's another new novel about Russia” –and every one of my eager feelers curled up in a tight knot of refusal. But . . . I read on, amused, moved, absorbed, till the tale and the journey ended together. This, it seems to me, is the most striking quality of Mr. Gerhardi's book: that he has (even in this, his first venture) enough of the true novelist's “objectivity” to focus the two so utterly alien races to whom he belongs almost equally, by birth and bringing-up – the English and the Russian – to sympathize with both, and to depict them for us as they see each other, with the play of their mutual reactions illuminating and animating them all. - Summary from the preface by Edith Wharton

"Town is Drowning" by C. M. Kornbluth and Frederik Pohl explores the complexities of human existence in the face of overwhelming environmental challenges. As the town grapples with the encroaching floodwaters, the narrative delves into themes of survival, community, and the often futile struggle against nature's indifference. This thought-provoking tale resonates today as we confront pressing issues of climate change and ecological disaster, reminding us of the fragility of our lives and the importance of collective action. With its sharp social commentary and enduring relevance, this audiobook invites listeners to reflect on the human condition and our place within a rapidly changing world.

From the preface written by Edith Wharton: Then I fell upon Futility. Some one said: “It's another new novel about Russia” –and every one of my eager feelers curled up in a tight knot of refusal. But . . . I read on, amused, moved, absorbed, till the tale and the journey ended together. This, it seems to me, is the most striking quality of Mr. Gerhardi's book: that he has (even in this, his first venture) enough of the true novelist's “objectivity” to focus the two so utterly alien races to whom he belongs almost equally, by birth and bringing-up – the English and the Russian – to sympathize with both, and to depict them for us as they see each other, with the play of their mutual reactions illuminating and animating them all. - Summary from the preface by Edith Wharton