The Penguin Guide To Stay Sane - November 4th 2025

November 4th 2025

In this moving episode of Fighting For Ukraine, Ukrainian journalist-turned-soldier Yuriy reflects on life in the midst of the Ukraine war — and on the small dreams that help him and his comrades endure.

As the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine stretches far beyond the first six months, Yuriy shares how Ukrainian soldiers hold on to hope by imagining the peace that will someday come. Some plan to ride motorcycles or rebuild farms; Yuriy dreams of returning home to read two heavy volumes — The Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings and The Penguin Guide to Blues Recordings.

Yuriy reveals the inner world of a Ukrainian soldier: the longing for normal life, the optimism that survives even on the front lines, and the reminder that every unread book or unplayed record can become a symbol of survival.

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TRANSCRIPT: (Apple Podcasts & Podbean app users can enjoy accurate closed captions) 

 It is November four.

In the early days of a full-scale war, we in the Army held on thanks to the confidence that it would all end soon: in six months or in a year, everyone would go home, return to the usual routines. All the conversations back then were about what awaited each of us at home or at work. But as six months passed, then a year and even more time, it became harder and harder to cling to the expectation of a quick return to normal life. Even the most stubborn born started to realize that this was going to drag on for a long time. Those with more flexible minds were the lucky ones. These people adapted pretty quickly to military life, eagerly started earning ranks and had no problem tying even their distant future to the army. There are actually a lot of them- people who were completely civilian before, who became real warriors and feel perfectly fine in their new role.

But there are others who still need to envision some kind of conditionally peaceful future. Since in our reality, it is still nowhere in sight, people start inventing it for themselves. I have a friend who bought a motorcycle for after the war, even for he does not know how to ride it. Another one, with no agricultural experience whatsoever, bought an abandoned farm that he plans to restore and start growing some plants. I'm still a civilian inside too. I need some picture of future outside the army. So, a year ago I bought myself two slightly used books The Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings and The Penguin Guide to Blues Recordings. These are very detailed description of jazz and blues recordings starting from the dawn of sound recordings and covering almost up to the present day. And the title does not mean that the books were written by penguins, or that the Penguins are the primary audience. It refers to the publishing house, Penguin, which printed the books.

You might say, that is nonsense compared to a motorcycle and especially a farm- but I'll tell you that this purchase is a proof that I'm no ordinary optimist. Behind buying the books was the imagination of how after the war, I'd spend evenings, slowly reading them, listening to the albums, mentioned in them, and then buying on vinyl those what I liked the most. There are already too many assumptions in that. I have to live until peace comes. I have to keep my hearing and my love for music. I need to have time and the opportunity to read those books -and the money for the records. Like I said, I'm an optimist.

The books are waiting for me at home. They are big and heavy to lug around, they have delicate paper covers. And anyway, I bought them specifically to read after the war, not now. So, I haven't even opened them yet. And once for a moment, I even regretted that. Completely unexpectedly, a few months ago, not far from the front line, I was with a few comrades in open terrain when a Russian drone came flying straight at us. And for some reason at that moment, I didn't think about my family, my daughter, or anything else only, that I had never started reading those books. A strange moment: these could be your last seconds, and you regretting that you never opened The Penguin Guide To Jazz Recordings. The drone flew past us, giving me a chance to eventually get to my books. I hope I'll still make use of that chance.