Dmitry Bykov's new novel, "The Evacuator" (Evakuator), published by Vagrius earlier this year, is set in present-day Moscow. Or is it? The setting seems realistic at first. It is the familiar world of glossy magazines, supermarkets and young people working in offices. The occasional act of terrorism seems realistic too. But gradually the setting changes. Terrorist attacks

become more frequent. First, a shopping center in Sokolniki is blown up; next, a huge explosion pulverizes Komsomolskaya Ploshchad with its three railway stations. The government responds vigorously, forbidding citizens from walking their dogs after 8 p.m. Within days, the city is in flames, and people are flocking to their dachas and the homes of distant provincial relatives.

An anti-utopian fantasy? Not quite. The eponymous evacuator is Igor, a computer programmer. Igor is in love with Katya, a young woman who is happily – or at least tolerably – married, with a young child. In the course of their affair, Igor reveals to Katya that he is an extraterrestrial spy, "the evacuator," on a mission to take several worthy humans to his blissful planet after things get nasty on Earth. He gives Katya the choice of whom to save. Besides her daughter, she can select five people.

So the heroine is faced with a "Sophie's Choice" dilemma. The power of Bykov's writing makes you wonder: What lucky people would you save from imminent death? More to the point, which people among your nearest and dearest would you cross off your list? The web of human relationships has been seldom described with such immediacy.

Alternating between playfulness and hard-core realism, with hints of science fiction and political satire to boot, Bykov creates a complex and compelling narrative. Having woven an almost impossible plot, he somehow manages to squeeze his way out of the inevitably anticlimactic denouement. This circus feat has its disadvantages. The last third of the novel is palpably weaker than the first two. "The Evacuator" is supplemented with "Poems Around the Novel," in much the same way that Boris Pasternak attached a selection of poems to "Doctor Zhivago." Bykov's poems are good; in fact, from a technical point of view -- this is meant as a compliment -- he is one of the best Russian poets writing today. Still, the link between his verse and the novel seems artificial.

Bykov's novel is not about terrorism; it is not even about the burden of personal responsibility. The book's underlying current lies deeper and goes beyond the here-and-now of Russian life. But to get his message, one has to read the whole book.