The Eve of November Seventh is the tragic story of a lonely, artistic, sensitive man who lives in a grey and depressing totalitarian society. He is a lone swimmer against the currents that have swept millions of people. Several critics have compared Ze’ev Fridman’s writings to those of Franz Kafka.

Fridman writes about himself:
“… In my youth I was an idealist, I lived in two different worlds: in an ideal world that consisted of serious music, high literature, beautiful painting and high ideas of kindness, love and brotherhood – and in the real world that seemed to me for the most part frightening, hostile, gray, overwhelming, the world of red banners, square faces on posters, long lines, imposed unanimity and desperate despair.

I studied at the conservatory, which for me, in addition to teaching a specialty, a saving island in the gray swamp of Soviet reality, the island where music was played, spirituality prevailed … ”