If you want to try it, don't start with Irodov or Arnold. Start with by Gelfand (И. М. Гельфанд). It is only 70 pages long. It is written for high schoolers. And by the end, you will never look at a graph the same way again.
In the pantheon of mathematical literature, there exists a distinct aesthetic: the matte, deep-red cover, the thin, almost translucent paper, and the dense, unforgiving pages of problems. To the uninitiated, a classic Russian math book—like Problems in General Physics by Irodov or Differential Equations by Petrovsky—looks like a relic of the Cold War. To the initiated, it is a scalpel. russian math books
This is intentional. Lev Pontryagin, a great Soviet mathematician who was blind, argued that visual crutches weaken mathematical ability. By stripping away the art, the Russian book forces you to build the image in your mind. It turns the reader from a spectator into an architect. If you want to try it, don't start with Irodov or Arnold
While American and Western European textbooks often prioritize glossy diagrams, real-world applications, and the "story" of math, the Russian school produced something far more brutal and beautiful: books that don't teach you math, but rather harden you with it. Гельфанд)
It sounds simple. It is a trap. The solution requires you to shift reference frames so elegantly that you realize the 1 hour and the 6 km are almost irrelevant. Irodov doesn't test your algebra; he tests your point of view .
Take the legendary (А. П. Киселёв). Written in 1892, it was the standard textbook for over 80 years. A modern student opening Kiselev is often horrified. There are no cartoons, no margin notes, no chapter reviews. There is a theorem, a proof, and then a problem set that will make you question your spatial reasoning. The prose is dry, logical, and ruthless.