Luna M. Leon's Blog: Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw

Some books begin with tragedy.
Some with love.
Mine? With a malfunctioning satellite dish and a man watching Sex and the City on a snowy screen in Irkutsk.

Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw is what happens when post-Soviet melancholy meets pop culture absurdity. It’s a novel about longing—for connection, for redemption, for a life that could’ve gone differently. And it’s about fish. Specifically, illegal sturgeon poaching, which is more emotional than you might think.

Recently, the book was chosen as a ⚡️BookLife Editor’s Pick—a generous review called it “darkly comic… a unique gem… pointed, poignant, absurd.” I’m humbled, delighted, and slightly alarmed that people are enjoying this weird hybrid of existential dread and absurd romance.

The image I’m sharing today (yes, that’s a gold-studded red stiletto next to a sturgeon) captures the novel’s spirit better than words can. It’s about contrast. Disorientation. Humor in unlikely places. And maybe—just maybe—the hope of something beautiful emerging from emotional collapse.

Thanks for being here. If you’ve read the book, I’d love to hear what stuck with you. And if you haven’t: there’s a seat waiting next to Dmitry on the banks of Lake Baikal. Just mind your heels.

Luna M. Leon

Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw

Kirkus Reviews has selected Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw to be featured in their July 15 issue. Apparently, fewer than 25% of indie books make the cut — so either they really liked it… or someone there has a soft spot for existential sturgeon-poaching dramas with a side of Carrie Bradshaw-induced collapse.

Either way, I’ll take it.

Thanks to everyone who’s been reading, reviewing, and reminding me that absurdity still has its place in literature.

So, Kirkus Reviews finally weighed in on my sturgeon-fueled existential comedy, Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw. Their verdict?

“GET IT.”
That’s it. Two words. No elaborate rating, no gold stars. Just a gently authoritative nudge that says, “Go on, you might actually like this weird little thing.”

They also called it:

“A broad novelistic commentary on Russian life with an absurdist edge.”
And said the Carrie Bradshaw thread was “amusingly appropriate.” Which, frankly, is all I ever hoped for in life or literature.

So if you've ever wondered what happens when an unemployed journalist, an illegal fishing scheme, and a glitching TV channeling HBO collide on the shores of Lake Baikal… well, apparently Kirkus thinks you should find out.

Now available wherever rogue novels with identity issues are sold....

Apparently, Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw is now officially “a broad novelistic commentary on Russian life with an absurdist edge.”
That’s not me talking. That’s Kirkus Reviews—yes, that Kirkus, the literary gatekeepers known for slicing through indie books like a hot knife through existential despair.

They also called it “striking,” “amusingly appropriate,” and yes—“occasionally puzzling.”
But come on—what part of life in Irkutsk, with illegal caviar, satellite TV meltdowns, and unsolicited life advice from Carrie Bradshaw, isn’t a little puzzling?

If you’ve been on the fence, now’s the time to dive in. Just watch your boots—there may be a sturgeon or two flopping around the pages.

📖 Read the full review:
👉 https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-re...
🎁 Grab the book:
👉 https://www.amazon.com/Sturgeon-Carri...

No worries. Dmitry’s used to being ignored.
He’s unemployed, emotionally unraveling, and semi-romantically attached to his satellite TV—which recently replaced fishing shows with Sex and the City. Naturally, this led to a black-market sturgeon scheme and a few minor existential crises.

✨ No murder.
✨ No magic.
✨ Just one man, one questionable life choice at a time.

If you like your fiction with sharp wit, quiet heartbreak, and at least one illegal fish, this might be your thing.

👉 https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
🖋️ By Luna M. Leon, who promises no AI was harmed in the making of this breakdown.

If you downloaded Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw and enjoyed it, a short Amazon or Goodreads review would mean the world. Just a sentence or two helps more than you think.

Free today on Amazon
What happens when a disillusioned ex-journalist in Siberia falls into an existential crisis—sparked by a TV glitch that replaces fishing shows with Sex and the City reruns?

Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw is a darkly comic novel about longing, failure, and the absurd ways we search for meaning. Featuring endangered fish, buried memories, and a curious obsession with Carrie Bradshaw, it’s a story for readers who appreciate wit, melancholy, and a touch of the surreal.

📖 Free on Kindle today → https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2TB13NZ

#LiteraryFiction #FreeBook #IndieAuthors #ExistentialFiction #SlowFiction

There was a time—not so long ago—when a novel could explore failure, longing, or memory without needing a murder, a dragon, or a twist on page 30. Stories unfolded slowly. They whispered rather than shouted. And readers leaned in to listen.

But somewhere along the way, the quiet novel became unfashionable.

Today, literary fiction is often expected to be “genre-adjacent.” If it’s not a thriller, a romance, or a dystopia in disguise, it better have a killer plot—or it’s dismissed as “uneventful.” Publishers ask what shelf it belongs on. Algorithms want category metadata. And the reader, bombarded by noise, often wants what’s easily summarized in one gripping line.

This isn’t a complaint—it’s an observation. The world has changed. Attention spans have shortened. Art has merged with entertainment, and the market prefers certainty. But I still believe there’s value in ambiguity. In books where the plot is life itself—awkward, unresolved, absurd.

That’s why I wrote Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw.
It doesn’t fit easily into a genre. It meanders. It contradicts itself. It’s about obsession and collapse and TV glitches. And guilt. And fish.

I know it's not for everyone. But I hope it finds the ones it is for—the readers who still believe that introspection can be narrative. That tone, voice, and contradiction are structure. That fiction can fail to resolve and still be complete.

Are we still allowed to tell stories that whisper, not roar? Or did the world forget how to listen?

Thank you to the ones still listening.

What do a Siberian sturgeon, a glitchy TV, and Sex and the City have in common?
Absolutely nothing. Unless you’re Dmitry, the protagonist of my debut novel—Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw.

It’s a story about loneliness, obsession, absurdity… and yes, illegal fishing.
Darkly funny, occasionally tragic, and unapologetically weird—just like life.

🛒 Now available on Amazon!
👉 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2TB13NZ

If you've ever found meaning in a bad TV signal or considered poaching fish for emotional clarity, this one’s for you.

Hi everyone reading Of Sturgeon and Carrie Bradshaw! 👋
Just wanted to say thank you for picking up the book—it means a lot to me.

If you're somewhere in the middle of Dmitry's journey right now, I hope you're enjoying the strange mix of sturgeon, existential crisis, and Sex and the City. 🐟🗽💭

This novel took shape during a time of reflection and chaos, and I wrote it for anyone who’s ever felt stuck, forgotten, or oddly comforted by fictional characters. (Carrie Bradshaw and kombucha-infused vodka, anyone?)

If something in the story resonates—or frustrates you!—I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to leave a comment, a status update, or even a wild guess about where you think the story is heading.

And if you have a moment to leave a review when you finish, it would mean the world to me. 💬💫 Reviews help more than most people realize—especially for indie authors like me.

Happy reading,
Luna M. Leon ✍️
(a.k.a. just someone trying to turn emotional collapse into something vaguely literary)