It’s alright and there are a few interesting tidbits here and there, but many of the entries are just nitpicky little details that are only of interest to fussy scholars with pocket protectors and a jeweler’s loupe (yes, just one - they’re all fighting over it, to making things interesting).
And this trifling pedantry would be fine enough to sate history’s own CinemaSins cult, but just like CinemaSins, at some point it fails to glut itself on even petty analytics and then has to take the piss from matters where there isn’t even a decisive conclusion, or where the answer is vague, or even to confirm, “Yes, this happened.” Stick to your premise, man - 1) most of these things weren’t even taught in school, 2) many of them aren’t lies but details such as “there were actually 110 casualties…not 102” and 3) some of them are matters of opinion, like, “there’s no such thing as prognostication”. What? Materialist chip on your shoulder much, Mr. Reich? No schoolteacher ever told me Nostradamus was a psychic, so it’s kind of a bizarre tangent for him to launch into.
So overall, not very polished or professional in its editing. Fails to stay on track & gets a bit petty & otherwise dull many times. The prose are about as engaging as grade school sums typed in MS Notepad. There was a chance for poetry in these recounting of history, but for the most part it is dry, lacking in both humor and beauty, with the cold clinical eye of a communist party boss attempting to correct your glassy-eyed regurgitation of school lessons, often with meticulous attention to arguably trivial minutiae, and other times simply to be more in line with his own world view or understanding.
However, along those lines, my favorite bit was the part about the Red Square, where this evocative paragraph resides:
“The Red Square, known for the grand military displays paraded there during the Soviet era, is the legendary cobbled plaza that sits at the heart of the Russian capital. On one side is the Kremlin, with Lenin’s tomb situated prominently below its redbrick wall; on the other is the enormous GUM department store. At the south end is the whimsical St. Basil’s Cathedral, its world-famous onion domes dating from the sixteenth century. The north end houses the State Historical Museum with its twin pointed spires.
On the site of the old city’s marketplace, Red Square has been described as Moscow’s version of the Roman Forum—a vast meeting place for public functions and government pronouncements, for celebrations, for executions under several tsars, and for rock concerts by Paul McCartney, Pink Floyd, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.”
Given the juxtaposed content this little gem is sandwiched betwixt, I’m inclined to think this brilliance was accidental. But to imagine the eons cascading off the shoulders of this heroic stage for mankind’s pageant, cycling between the bloody courts of czars, Bolsheviks and capitalist pop productions, was quite haunting.