The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin: Inside Soviet Volleyball’s Golden Era

There’s a particular kind of sports book that rarely gets written, let alone translated for an English-speaking audience: the unguarded memoir of an athlete who came from behind the Iron Curtain and reached the very top of his sport. The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin fits that rare description. It isn’t a quick highlight reel dressed up as a book. It’s the recollections of a man who spent more than a decade inside one of the most disciplined and successful sporting systems the twentieth century ever produced, told in his own voice, decades after the final whistle blew.

If you’ve stumbled across this title while browsing Kindle Unlimited, scrolling through sports biography recommendations, or searching for stories about the golden age of Soviet volleyball, you’re probably wondering whether it’s worth your time, what it actually covers, and why a volleyball memoir from the USSR era matters today. Those are fair questions, and this article works through all of them in detail — the man behind the nickname, the years that shaped him, the contents of the book itself, and the reasons it’s resonating with readers who’ve never picked up a volleyball in their lives.

Who Is Alexander Savin, and Why Does His Story Matter

Alexander Savin was born on July 1, 1957, in Taganrog, a city in Russia’s Rostov region, and he grew up in Obninsk, in the Kaluga region, where his unusual height and quick reflexes caught the attention of local coaches early on. That early discovery is a familiar beat in sports memoirs — the talent scout who spots something in a kid that the kid himself hasn’t fully recognized yet — but in Savin’s case it led somewhere extraordinary. He was moved into the orbit of CSKA Moscow, the Soviet Union’s flagship sports club and one of the most competitive training environments in the entire Eastern Bloc, and from there his career accelerated in a way that few athletes, anywhere, ever experience.

Savin played as a middle blocker, a position that demands a rare combination of size, vertical explosiveness, and split-second decision-making at the net. He represented the Soviet Union on the international stage from roughly 1975 through the mid-1980s, a stretch during which the USSR men’s national volleyball team was, by almost any measure, the dominant force in the sport. Over that period, Savin and his teammates won gold at the 1977 FIVB World Cup, the 1978 FIVB World Championship, the 1980 Olympic Games, the 1981 FIVB World Cup, and the 1982 FIVB World Championship — a run of sustained excellence that’s difficult to overstate. Add to that six consecutive European titles and you start to understand why volleyball historians still refer to this period as the golden age of Soviet volleyball.

His nickname, “The Flying Elephant,” is the kind of detail that sounds almost too good to be true, and yet it perfectly captures what made him such a compelling player to watch. He was a big man — tall, heavily built, the sort of physical presence that should have made him lumbering and predictable at the net. Instead, he moved with a lightness and explosive grace that contradicted his frame entirely. According to the Italian sports publication La Gazzetta dello Sport, the nickname stuck with him from early in his playing days, and it became shorthand for a style of play that combined raw power with surprising elegance. The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin takes that nickname and turns it into the book’s central metaphor — strength alone never gets you off the ground, but strength paired with vision and discipline does.

The Road to Moscow 1980: Silver, Heartbreak, and the Long Road Back

No Olympic champion’s story is complete without the setback that came before the triumph, and Savin’s is no exception. He made his Olympic debut at the 1976 Montreal Games as a nineteen-year-old, playing under the legendary coach Yuri Tchesnokov, who would later be inducted into the Volleyball Hall of Fame himself. The Soviet team arrived in Montreal as heavy favorites after winning the 1975 European Championship, and they backed up that reputation by sweeping through pool play with wins over Italy, Bulgaria, and Japan without dropping a single game, then edging past Cuba in a tight three-set semifinal.

But the gold-medal match told a different story. Poland, playing with nothing to lose, upset the heavily favored Soviets in a tense five-set final, and Savin came home with silver instead of gold. For a teenager who had just tasted the absolute pinnacle of international competition and come up one match short, that loss carried weight far beyond the scoreboard. It’s exactly the kind of moment that The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin leans into — not glossing over the disappointment, but using it as the emotional and narrative hinge for everything that followed.

The four years between Montreal and Moscow weren’t quiet ones. Savin and the Soviet team responded to that 1976 defeat by winning the 1977 European Championship in Finland, the 1977 FIVB World Cup in Japan, the 1978 FIVB World Championship in Italy, and the 1979 European crown in France. By the time the 1980 Moscow Olympics arrived, the pressure had multiplied many times over. This wasn’t just another major tournament — it was the Olympics, on home soil, in front of a nation that had waited four years to settle the score from Montreal. Add the complicating backdrop of the era’s geopolitical boycotts, and you have a tournament that carried far more emotional and historical weight than a typical Olympic competition.

In the gold-medal match against Bulgaria, the Soviet Union won 3-1, with Savin playing in all six of the team’s matches across the tournament. He finally stood on the top step of the Olympic podium. As one volleyball historian and admirer later put it in a brief tribute to Savin’s career, “A myth absolute. With Kiraly, he marked the last century” — a comparison to Karch Kiraly, often considered the greatest volleyball player in history, that gives some sense of how seriously Savin’s contemporaries took his abilities. That 1980 gold medal is the emotional centerpiece of the memoir, and it’s treated not as a tidy happy ending but as the payoff for years of repetitive, often unglamorous work that nobody outside the training hall ever saw.

What’s Actually Inside the Book

The English-language edition of The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin runs 514 pages and includes more than 240 rare photographs pulled from private family collections and public archives, spanning roughly five decades of volleyball history. That’s a substantial amount of visual material for a memoir, and it does real work — readers get to see training camps, championship matches, locker rooms, and informal moments with teammates who, in many cases, never received the recognition their talent deserved.

The structure of the book is worth understanding before you dive in, because it isn’t strictly chronological in the way many sports autobiographies are. Key chapters cover Savin’s first call-up to the national team, the sting of the 1976 silver medal, the triumph of 1980, the day-to-day reality of life in Soviet training camps, the friendships that formed inside that pressure cooker, and his life after retirement, including his transition into coaching. Rather than marching through events in strict order, Savin tends to circle back to particular memories and explain the context and emotional weight behind them, which gives the book a more reflective, conversational feel than a standard “and then this happened” autobiography.

That reflective quality is probably the single most distinctive thing about The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin compared to other athlete memoirs on the market. Many sports autobiographies are built almost entirely around achievement — the trophies, the records, the rivalries won. Savin’s book certainly includes all of that, but it spends just as much energy, if not more, on the internal experience of being an elite athlete inside an extraordinarily demanding system. He writes about self-doubt after the 1976 loss, about the isolation of training camps, about the strange split between public image and private feeling that comes with representing your country on the world’s biggest stage. That emphasis on psychology and identity, rather than pure statistics, is what separates this memoir from a simple record of accomplishments.

The Family Project Behind the English Translation

One detail that adds an unusual layer of warmth to this whole project is how the English edition actually came to exist. The translation was driven by a family effort led by Andrei Savine, Alexander Savin’s brother, who took on the role of editor and translator to bring the story to English-speaking readers. Julia Savine contributed as an editor, Peter Murphy wrote the introduction, and Alfredo Cabero worked alongside Andrei Savine on translation duties. This wasn’t a publishing house identifying a commercially promising sports figure and commissioning a ghostwriter — it was a brother reconnecting with his half-brother’s story and deciding it deserved to be preserved and shared beyond Russian-language audiences.

That family-driven approach shows up in the texture of the writing. There’s an intimacy to The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin that’s difficult to manufacture artificially, the sense that the people putting this book together actually cared about getting Savin’s voice right rather than smoothing it into a generic motivational template. The book also carries endorsements from genuine volleyball authorities — figures like Doug Beal, Marv Dunphy, Sergey Tetyukhin, and Vladimir Alekno have all spoken positively about it, which matters because these aren’t casual sports commentators; they’re people who understand exactly what it took to compete and win at that level during that era.

The book has also received recognition within Russia itself. It was presented at VDNKh in Moscow, one of the country’s most significant cultural and exhibition venues, and a copy was personally delivered to Vladislav Shapsha, the Governor of the Kaluga region — the area where Savin grew up. These details point to something worth keeping in mind: this memoir isn’t just a niche release for English-language Kindle readers. It carries genuine cultural significance in Russia as a document of a celebrated era in Soviet sport, and the English translation is essentially an attempt to extend that significance to a global audience that, for the most part, has never had access to this side of volleyball history.

Why Soviet Volleyball’s Golden Era Still Fascinates Readers

To understand why The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin resonates the way it does, it helps to understand just how dominant Soviet volleyball was during Savin’s playing years, and how little of that dominance has been documented in English. Western readers have plenty of access to American, Brazilian, and Italian volleyball history, but the Soviet system — the training methods, the team culture, the psychological demands placed on athletes inside a state-sponsored sports machine — remains comparatively obscure outside Russia and the former Eastern Bloc.

That’s part of what makes this memoir valuable as a historical document, not just as personal storytelling. CSKA Moscow operated as a sports institution that fused intense physical training with what amounted to early sports science, producing a pipeline of athletes capable of competing with anyone in the world. Readers interested in sports history, Cold War-era competition, or the structural differences between Soviet and Western athletic development will find genuine substance here, not just nostalgia. The memoir captures details about training schedules, team dynamics, international travel under Soviet restrictions, and the particular pressure of representing a global superpower on the court — pressure that had political dimensions most Western athletes of the same era never had to carry.

There’s also something to be said for how thoroughly the book documents people who never became household names outside their sport. Savin writes warmly about mentors, teammates, and rivals who were instrumental to that golden era but who history has mostly forgotten. For readers who care about preserving accurate, first-hand accounts of sports history before the people who lived it are no longer around to tell it, that alone gives The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin real lasting value. It’s a primary source, written by someone who was actually there, rather than a secondhand retelling assembled decades later from incomplete records.

The Title Itself: More Than a Nickname

It’s worth spending a little more time on the title, because “The Flying Elephant” does more work than a typical athlete nickname usually does. An elephant, as a symbol, represents strength, stability, endurance — qualities that map directly onto Savin’s physical presence and his reputation for reliability at the net during the biggest matches of his career. Flight, on the other hand, represents lightness, aspiration, the sense of breaking past what should be physically possible. Putting those two ideas together creates a kind of productive contradiction, and that contradiction becomes the emotional through-line of the entire memoir.

This matters for understanding the book’s tone. The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin isn’t framed as a story about a naturally gifted athlete who simply showed up and dominated. It’s framed as a story about someone whose physical gifts only became useful through years of grinding, repetitive, often discouraging work — sandbag jumps for explosive power, endless film study using hand-drawn notes long before digital video analysis existed, isolation training camps that built team cohesion through shared hardship. The “flight” part of the nickname wasn’t given to him at birth. It was earned, slowly, the same way most meaningful athletic achievement is earned. Readers looking for a story about overcoming long odds through sustained effort, rather than a story about innate talent simply asserting itself, will find that the title sets up exactly the right expectations.

A Quick Reference: Alexander Savin’s Career at a Glance

For readers who want the key facts in one place before diving into the full memoir, here’s a concise breakdown of Savin’s career and the book’s essential details.

Category	Detail
Full name	Aleksandr Borisovich Savin
Born	July 1, 1957, Taganrog, Rostov region, Russia
Raised in	Obninsk, Kaluga region
Position	Middle blocker
Primary club	CSKA Moscow (1974/75–1987/88)
National team years	1975–1986
1976 Olympics	Silver medal, Montreal
1980 Olympics	Gold medal, Moscow
Other major titles	1977 & 1981 FIVB World Cup; 1978 & 1982 FIVB World Championship; six European titles
Hall of Fame induction	International Volleyball Hall of Fame, 2010
Honors	Honored Master of Sports of the USSR (1976); Order of the Badge of Honour (1980); Order of Friendship of Peoples (1985)
Book length (English edition)	514 pages
Photographs included	Over 240 rare images
Translator/Editor	Andrei Savine (brother), with Julia Savine, Peter Murphy, and Alfredo Cabero
Format	Kindle eBook, available via Kindle Unlimited in select regions

This table is useful as a quick orientation, but it can’t replace the texture of the actual memoir — the table tells you what happened, while the book tells you what it felt like, and that distinction is exactly why people read memoirs instead of stat sheets.

Themes That Run Through the Memoir

A handful of themes recur often enough throughout The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin that they’re worth calling out individually, because they’re likely to be the parts readers connect with most directly, regardless of whether they have any background in volleyball.

Perseverance is probably the most obvious thread, given the arc from a painful 1976 silver medal to redemptive gold in 1980. But Savin doesn’t treat perseverance as a simple inspirational slogan. He writes about the specific mechanics of how he and his teammates rebuilt their confidence and their training approach after a heartbreaking loss, which gives the theme actual substance rather than leaving it as an abstract virtue. Readers who’ve experienced their own version of a near-miss — a job they didn’t get, a goal they fell just short of — will likely recognize the emotional logic of his account even if the stakes were obviously different.

Teamwork and camaraderie form a second major thread, and this makes sense given that volleyball is fundamentally a team sport built on trust and split-second coordination. Savin spends real attention on his relationships with coaches like Yuri Tchesnokov and with teammates who shared the burden of those grueling training camps. He frames Olympic-level success not as an individual accomplishment but as something built collectively, often through shared discomfort — the isolation camps that forced players to rely on one another, the long seasons of travel and competition that turned teammates into something closer to family. That theme of success-through-collective-effort gives the memoir relevance well beyond sports; it speaks to anyone who’s worked inside a high-pressure team environment, whether in business, the military, or any other field where individual performance depends heavily on group trust.

A third theme, somewhat quieter but consistently present, is the tension between public image and private experience. Savin writes candidly about what it felt like to be a celebrated national hero on the outside while dealing with doubt, fatigue, and uncertainty on the inside. That kind of honesty isn’t always present in athlete memoirs, particularly those from athletes who competed for state-sponsored programs where outward composure was practically a job requirement. The willingness to admit to fear and frustration, rather than presenting a flawless, mythologized version of himself, is part of why reviewers consistently describe the book as feeling authentic rather than polished for effect.

Who Should Read The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion

This memoir has a fairly wide potential readership, and it’s worth being specific about who’s likely to get the most out of it. Volleyball fans, obviously, sit at the center of the target audience — particularly anyone curious about the sport’s history before the modern era of year-round professional leagues and global media coverage. For these readers, the book functions almost like an oral history, preserving details about training methods, team dynamics, and competitive rivalries that simply aren’t documented anywhere else in English.

Beyond dedicated volleyball followers, the book has clear appeal for anyone interested in Cold War-era sports history more broadly. The Soviet sports system was a genuinely distinct phenomenon — built on state investment, talent identification at a young age, and a competitive culture that treated athletic success as a matter of national prestige. Readers fascinated by that period of history, even if they’ve never watched a volleyball match, will find plenty to chew on here, particularly around how Savin’s personal ambitions intersected with the broader political stakes of representing the USSR on the world stage.

There’s also a meaningful audience among readers who simply enjoy memoirs centered on discipline, sacrifice, and personal transformation, independent of the specific sport involved. Aspiring athletes, coaches, and anyone navigating the gap between ambition and achievement in their own field may find Savin’s reflections on mental toughness and long-term commitment genuinely useful, not just inspirational in a vague sense. As one reader who plays volleyball herself put it after finishing the book, the memoir feels deeply relatable specifically because it focuses on the human side of competitive sports rather than treating athletes as flawless performers. That combination of specificity and universality is a difficult balance to strike, and it’s a big part of why The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin has found an audience well outside the volleyball world.

The Kindle Format: Practical Considerations Worth Knowing

If you’re specifically interested in the Kindle edition rather than a physical copy, there are a few practical details worth knowing before you download it. The file is on the larger side — reported at around 68.8 MB — largely because of the more than 240 photographs embedded throughout the book, so downloading over WiFi rather than a cellular connection is the more sensible approach if your device or data plan makes that relevant. Given how visually rich this memoir is, that file size is the trade-off for getting genuine archival photography rather than a handful of token images dropped in for decoration.

The book is also available through Kindle Unlimited in certain regions, which makes it an easy, low-commitment way to sample the memoir before deciding whether you want a permanent copy. For readers who like to use Kindle’s built-in research tools, turning on the X-Ray feature can help track names, places, and recurring figures throughout the text — useful given how many teammates, coaches, and rival athletes appear across the book’s five decades of coverage. As for the eternal physical-versus-digital debate, this particular memoir leans naturally toward digital reading. Because the book is structured around reflection and revisited memories rather than strict chronology, readers often find it works well in shorter sessions — during a commute, before bed, or scattered across a workout recovery period — rather than requiring one long, uninterrupted sitting the way a tightly plotted narrative might.

How This Memoir Compares to Other Olympic Athlete Memoirs

It’s useful to place The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin alongside other well-known athlete memoirs, because the comparison clarifies exactly what makes this one distinctive. Many Western sports memoirs, particularly from American or British athletes, tend to follow a fairly predictable arc: humble beginnings, breakthrough moment, peak achievement, retrospective wisdom delivered in a tidy, marketable package designed for broad commercial appeal. There’s nothing wrong with that formula, and plenty of excellent books follow it. But Savin’s memoir, shaped by a different cultural and political context, doesn’t quite fit that mold.

Because Savin competed within the Soviet sports system, his story carries structural elements that Western readers simply won’t find in most domestic sports memoirs — the specific texture of state-sponsored athletic development, the particular weight of representing a global superpower during the Cold War, the isolation camps and travel restrictions that shaped daily life as an elite Soviet athlete. That context gives the book a documentary value that goes beyond personal storytelling. Readers who’ve worked through memoirs by Western Olympians and found them compelling but somewhat familiar in structure may find Savin’s account refreshing precisely because the surrounding system was so different.

At the same time, the emotional core of the book — doubt, sacrifice, the gap between public triumph and private struggle — translates across cultural and political lines without much friction. That’s probably the strongest argument for why this memoir deserves a place alongside more widely known Olympic autobiographies: the specific circumstances were unique to Soviet sport, but the underlying human experience of chasing excellence at enormous personal cost is something readers recognize regardless of where or when an athlete competed.

The Legacy Alexander Savin Left Behind

It’s worth stepping back to appreciate just how significant Savin’s playing career actually was, independent of the memoir itself. His induction into the International Volleyball Hall of Fame in 2010 reflects sustained, peer-recognized excellence rather than a single standout tournament. The honors he received from the Soviet state during his playing days — Honored Master of Sports of the USSR, the Order of the Badge of Honour, the Order of Friendship of Peoples — indicate just how seriously his country regarded his contributions, both athletically and as a kind of cultural ambassador during a politically charged era of international competition.

Beyond the medals and titles, Savin’s influence extended into coaching after his playing career ended, where he worked to pass along the technical knowledge and tactical understanding he’d developed over more than a decade at the sport’s highest level. That post-retirement chapter, covered in the later sections of the memoir, rounds out the portrait of Savin as someone whose relationship with volleyball didn’t end the moment he stopped competing. The memoir treats this transition with the same honesty applied to his playing days — acknowledging the adjustment of stepping away from the spotlight while finding new purpose in developing the next generation of players.

What makes all of this matter for readers today is the timing. The athletes and coaches who lived through the golden age of Soviet volleyball are reaching the later stages of their lives, and the window for capturing first-hand accounts of that era is closing. The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin arrives as both a personal memoir and something closer to a historical rescue mission — an effort to make sure that a remarkable period of sports history doesn’t simply disappear because it was never properly documented in English. That dual purpose, personal storytelling layered onto historical preservation, is ultimately what elevates this book above a standard celebrity autobiography.

Conclusion

Taken as a whole, The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin succeeds because it refuses to settle for the easy version of an athlete’s story. Savin had every reason to write a straightforward victory lap — an Olympic gold medal, multiple world championships, six European titles, and a Hall of Fame induction give him more than enough material for a celebratory account. Instead, the memoir spends just as much time in the uncomfortable spaces: the silver-medal heartbreak in Montreal, the self-doubt that followed it, the grinding repetition of training that rarely makes it into highlight reels, and the strange psychological weight of representing a global superpower on the world’s biggest athletic stage.

What you get from that approach is a book that works on multiple levels at once. It’s a genuine historical document, preserving details about Soviet volleyball’s golden era that exist almost nowhere else in English. It’s a personal memoir, told with an honesty that doesn’t try to flatten Savin into an uncomplicated hero. And it’s a more universal meditation on what it actually costs to reach the top of any demanding field, written by someone who paid that cost in full and is willing, decades later, to talk about it honestly. Whether you come to it as a volleyball fan curious about a sport’s history, a reader fascinated by Cold War-era athletics, or simply someone who enjoys memoirs built on substance rather than spectacle, this is a book that rewards genuine attention — and the Kindle edition makes that experience easy to access no matter where you happen to be reading it.

FAQs

What is The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin actually about?

At its core, it’s the personal memoir of Alexander Savin, a Soviet middle blocker who won Olympic gold in 1980 and competed at the highest level of international volleyball throughout the late 1970s and early 1980s. The book traces his path from a talented kid in the Kaluga region to one of the most respected players of his generation, covering his Olympic experiences, his years training at CSKA Moscow, his relationships with teammates and coaches, and his later transition into coaching. Rather than focusing narrowly on statistics and trophies, it spends considerable attention on the emotional and psychological side of elite competition, which is part of why readers outside the volleyball world have found it engaging as well.

Why is the book called The Flying Elephant?

“The Flying Elephant” was Savin’s actual nickname during his playing career, earned because of the striking contrast between his large physical frame and his surprisingly graceful, explosive movement at the net. The title plays on that contradiction symbolically throughout the memoir — an elephant representing strength and stability, flight representing aspiration and the seemingly impossible — to frame the larger story of how disciplined, unglamorous work transformed raw physical potential into Olympic-level achievement.

How long is the Kindle edition, and what does it include?

The English-language Kindle edition runs 514 pages and includes more than 240 rare photographs sourced from private family collections and public archives, covering roughly five decades of volleyball history. Because of the extensive photo content, the file size is relatively large at around 68.8 MB, so downloading over WiFi rather than mobile data is generally the more practical choice. The book also includes an introduction from Peter Murphy and contributions from translators and editors who worked closely with Savin’s family to bring the story into English.

Is this memoir only for volleyball fans, or does it appeal to a broader audience?

While volleyball fans will obviously find the most direct appeal, the memoir’s emphasis on themes like resilience after defeat, the psychological cost of elite competition, and the importance of teamwork gives it relevance well beyond the sport itself. Readers interested in Cold War-era sports history, Soviet athletic development systems, or simply well-told memoirs about discipline and personal transformation tend to find plenty of value here, even without prior knowledge of volleyball. The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition Alexander Savin has been described by readers and reviewers alike as feeling more like an honest conversation than a typical celebratory sports biography, which broadens its appeal considerably.

Who translated and edited the English version of the book?

The English translation was a family-led project spearheaded by Andrei Savine, Alexander Savin’s brother, who served as editor and translator. Julia Savine contributed as an editor, Peter Murphy wrote the book’s introduction, and Alfredo Cabero worked alongside Andrei Savine on the translation itself. This collaborative, family-driven approach is part of why the memoir reads with such personal warmth — it wasn’t assembled by an outside ghostwriter, but shaped by people with a direct personal connection to Savin’s story.

Where can readers access The Flying Elephant Memoirs of an Olympic Champion Kindle Edition?

The book is available as a Kindle eBook through Amazon, and in select regions it can also be read through Kindle Unlimited, which allows readers to sample it without an upfront purchase. Given its size and heavy use of archival photography, most readers find it works best on a tablet or larger e-reader screen where the images render clearly, though it remains fully accessible on smartphones as well. For readers tracking the many names and places mentioned across five decades of volleyball history, enabling Kindle’s X-Ray feature can make it easier to keep details straight while reading.

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