Mamleev was born in 1931 in Moscow. How the formation of this unique personality, to present yourself authentically impossible. At the height of the Soviet totalitarian system Mamleev is formed as a bearer of radical idealism. He discovers traditional metaphysics, religious philosophy of the Slavophiles, and the silver age, the books of Guenon and his followers. How this Mamleev had come, it was impossible to imagine. He talked mysteriously about the strange personalities of Moscow, something considered deeply unhealthy in the atheistic and materialistic Soviet society. These unknown superiors, and devoted Mamleeva that, despite the dull Soviet nihilism. So, there is peace, soul, spirit, death and post-mortem worlds, there is God, angels and demons. And it’s all enchanted, total, penetrating all, is not somewhere, but here and now. If to be able to see it all magical worlds of life and death – will begin to appear through the Soviet communal apartment, through the cunning faces of policemen and plumbers, through energetic, confident in a space stupid idea, cheerful woman with a shopping bag and a blood-aircraft near chubby armpits…

This enchanted world is just peeping from under the Soviet shells, and grabbed her creative intuition Yuri Mamleev, brought clean water, fixing realistic in his stories and novels, not what people thought, but what is. It turned out spectacularly, suddenly, wildly, unbearably, and recognizable. A parallel world has changed since our seats, and they are hopelessly mixed up. The power of prose Melnychenko and his poems that he does not invent reality, he reveals to us. And if we carefully look closely, we will find her next to him, around him, in us.

Landscapes of Mamleev are infernal, you might say. I would write better about something bright, about how all of us to be. Mamleev did not choose the world in which he was born. What he saw, and that was singing. He saw mostly horror. And not because Heidegger believed that only in a state of horror one realizes the fact of his being in the world, grasp of the structure of Dasein. Mamleev was not from philosophy to reality, but from reality to philosophy.Seeing the infernal around him, clearly and vividly aware of himself in hell, he just cried, squeezing a scream, hoarse, and it became in his mouth, art, philosophy, literature. Plato and Aristotle unanimously said that philosophy begins with wonder. Needless to say, Yuri Mamleev was really surprised, one might even say, unpleasantly surprised by the fact that he found around himself in the incarnation in the body. And kept it fresh feeling horrendous surprise until his death. He never got used to the world, despite the fact that he lived in it for a long time.To death it was something naive and childish.

In the 70-ies Mamleev left the Soviet Union in fear. But he had come to a new horror with the degenerates from the Bronx, with underground people living in the sewers, and the quiet decay of miserable American lives. It was too awful, but small, disgusting and shallow. Mamleev tried to describe him and for all the credibility his character Charlie from the American cycle maleevska this version of homo americanus, compared to the real horror, juicy and tart in which he lived Mamleev at Home, this is no comparison did not go. So in the West, in the United States and France, Mamleev realized that he had escaped not and not there, and when the first opportunity came back.

West Mamleev managed to hate fiercely. And now, whatever he met in Russia, even something absolutely disgusting, he just nodded approvingly and purred like a cat. He truly loved Russia and all, was her deep, organically committed. Russian horror is not just the worst in the world, but the dearest, gentle and tender, considered Mamleev.