Two years ago the then Kirov ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev leapt like a blue bird from the arms of Red musclemen; now at 24 in a sort of ""fan mag"" autobiography he tells the reasons behind that headline-making ""flight to the West"", thereby recalling his Tartar parents, his beloved teacher Pushkin who turned a washout into a footlight ""cosmonaut"", his hatred of the Kollectiv (eight to a room, and mostly truck drivers, at that) and of the Komsomol where they all think, look and speak alike; finally the Paris tour, the bolt, the meeting with Margot Fonteyn and employment by the De Cuevas company. Says Nureyev: The Tartar is a complex animal ""and that's what I am"". Or so he thinks. Filled with technicolored ideals, a passion for la danse, a Hamletesque aura and photos from famed Richard Avedon, who usually does Audrey Hepburn, the book should certainly bowl over the young balletomane and the artsy-craftsy set. Anyone else had better just twist.