In fact, they relaxed to the point where one of the girls didn’t even bother to hide the book she was reading during a period where there was a lull in activity. It was Pasternak’s “Doctor Zhivago.”
He frowned remembering vaguely the controversy over the book a couple of decades earlier. Ilya Simonov said, “Pasternak. Do they print his works here in Czechoslovakia?”
The girl shrugged and looked at the back of the cover. “German publisher,” she said idly. “Printed in Frankfurt.”
He kept his voice from registering either surprise or disapproval. “You mean such books are imported? By whom?”
“Oh, not imported by an official agency, but we Czechs are doing a good deal more travel than we used to. Business trips, tourist trips, vacations. And, of course, we bring back books you can’t get her
