ILYA KHLEBNOV
Here’s what I do:
write books that remember the cold.
I’m a Russian-born author living just outside Riga, Latvia. My work follows ordinary people in Eastern Europe as they move through train stations, forests, tower blocks, and border towns where the past is never quite finished.
I write in English, but the rhythms come from Russian and Latvian conversations, from concrete stairwells and quiet kitchens, from winters that last a little too long.
Inspiration & recognition
Where the stories come from, and where they’ve started to land.
I grew up between languages and countries, with Russian at home, Latvian all around, and later English as the place where the stories settled. My first love was music and lyrics, and for a long time I thought in lines, not chapters. The turn to prose came slowly—on trains to Riga, in notebooks filled on cold evenings, and in conversations that stayed in my head long after they were over.
My fiction looks at families who have lived through more than one flag, people who move but never really leave, and the way small, private choices can feel like quiet acts of resistance. I’m interested in ordinary lives made strange by history and by the weather—what it means to keep going when the map keeps changing.
What’s new
Current projects from a desk somewhere between the forest and the city.
Winter Estate (working title)
I’m revising a novel about three siblings who return to a crumbling holiday house outside Riga after their father’s death. Over one winter weekend they have to decide what to keep, what to sell, and what truths are finally too heavy to drag through the snow.
Border Weather — stories
I’m also working on a collection of short stories about buses, border posts, and night-shift workers along the route between Russia and Latvia. Expect cheap coffee, bad lighting, and characters trying to decide which side of the line they belong on.
Latest release
More books and publication details will be added here as they’re announced.
Winter Estate
A family gathers at an old dacha near Riga for what is supposed to be a simple weekend of sorting boxes and signing papers. As the temperature drops and power cuts come and go, decades of silence start to crack. The house remembers more than anyone wants to admit.
Contact
For readers, editors, and anyone who wants to say hello.
For rights, publication questions, or invitations to festivals and events, please use the email below. For general notes about the work or to share where you’re reading from, the direct address is the best place.
Literary inquiries
agent@ilyakhlebnov.com
Direct
hello@ilyakhlebnov.com