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Notes from the Blockade
From her experience as a survivor of the 900-day siege of Leningrad, Lidiya Ginzburg has created a remarkable hero in whom she distills the experience of life under siege. Though she depicts the harrowing conditions, the reader takes away an impression of the dignity, vitality, and intellectual resilience of the thinking mind as it makes sense of extreme experience. This classic work of documentary fiction, reminiscent of Primo Levi and Albert Camus, will be the first introduction of a major 20th-century Russian writer to many English-language readers.
218 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1989
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About the author
Lidiya Ginzburg
17 books4 followersLidiya Yakovlevna Ginzburg (Russian: Лидия Яковлевна Гинзбург) was a major Soviet literary critic and historian and a survivor of the siege of Leningrad.
She was born in Odessa in 1902 and moved to Leningrad in 1922. She enrolled there in the State Institute of the History of the Arts, studying with Yury Tynyanov and Boris Eikhenbaum, two major figures of Russian Formalism. Ginzburg survived the purges, the 900-day Leningrad blockade, and the anti-Jewish campaign of the late 1940s and early 1950s and became a friend and inspiration to a new generation of poets, including Alexander Kushner. She published a number of seminal critical studies, including "Lermontov's Creative Path" ("Tvorcheskii put' Lermontova," 1940), "Herzen's 'My Past and Thoughts'" ("'Byloe i dumy' Gertsena," 1957), On Lyric Poetry ("O lirike," 1964; 2nd exp. ed. 1974), On Psychological Prose ("O psikhologicheskoi proze," 1971; 2nd rev. ed., 1977), and "On the Literary Hero" ("O literaturnom geroe," 1979). "On Psychological Prose" was published by Princeton University Press in 1991 in an English translation and edition by Judson Rosengrant, and "Blockade Diary" ("Zapiski blokadnogo cvheloveka," 1984), her memoir of the siege of Leningrad (8 September 1941 - 27 January 1944), was published by Harvill in 1995 in translation by Alan Myers.
She was born in Odessa in 1902 and moved to Leningrad in 1922. She enrolled there in the State Institute of the History of the Arts, studying with Yury Tynyanov and Boris Eikhenbaum, two major figures of Russian Formalism. Ginzburg survived the purges, the 900-day Leningrad blockade, and the anti-Jewish campaign of the late 1940s and early 1950s and became a friend and inspiration to a new generation of poets, including Alexander Kushner. She published a number of seminal critical studies, including "Lermontov's Creative Path" ("Tvorcheskii put' Lermontova," 1940), "Herzen's 'My Past and Thoughts'" ("'Byloe i dumy' Gertsena," 1957), On Lyric Poetry ("O lirike," 1964; 2nd exp. ed. 1974), On Psychological Prose ("O psikhologicheskoi proze," 1971; 2nd rev. ed., 1977), and "On the Literary Hero" ("O literaturnom geroe," 1979). "On Psychological Prose" was published by Princeton University Press in 1991 in an English translation and edition by Judson Rosengrant, and "Blockade Diary" ("Zapiski blokadnogo cvheloveka," 1984), her memoir of the siege of Leningrad (8 September 1941 - 27 January 1944), was published by Harvill in 1995 in translation by Alan Myers.
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January 11, 2017
Note on the Translation
--Notes from the Blockade
Around 'Notes from the Blockade':
--Notes during the Siege
--Paralysis
--Excerpts from a Siege Day
Introductory Note
--Draft 'Theoretical Section' of the Manuscript 'Otter's Day' (Excerpts)
Preface to 'A Story of Pity and Cruelty', by Emily Van Buskirk
--A Story of Pity and Cruelty
Speaking Directly About Life: Introduction to the 1995 Harvill Edition, by Alexander Kushner
--Notes from the Blockade
Around 'Notes from the Blockade':
--Notes during the Siege
--Paralysis
--Excerpts from a Siege Day
Introductory Note
--Draft 'Theoretical Section' of the Manuscript 'Otter's Day' (Excerpts)
Preface to 'A Story of Pity and Cruelty', by Emily Van Buskirk
--A Story of Pity and Cruelty
Speaking Directly About Life: Introduction to the 1995 Harvill Edition, by Alexander Kushner
August 25, 2025
It’s been said that in Russia you need to live long. If you’re hoping to see any change for the better in a country that has gone through some serious shit for the last 150 years then longevity is your trump. If you’re a Russian writer this becomes even more critical if you hope to see your works see the light of day.
Lidya Ginzburg was born in the wrong generation in Russia – a time of seemingly increasingly horrific events that didn’t know when to put on the brakes. She was a child during the first Russian revolution of 1905, then WWI; her youth was spent during the 1917 revolution and the ensuing civil war – her middle adult years spent under the perpetual night of Stalin: the constant threat of arrest, camps or death was very real for an artist. Whether it was the purges of 1937 or the Beria torture chambers of 1952, Ginzburg and her Russian compatriots suffered under a seemingly never ending world of woe. Oh, and then there’s this Leningrad siege to withstand.
This time last year I read the incomparable story of the siege of Leningrad, The 900 Days. I purchased this Ginzburg book at the same time as the 900 days intending to read after finishing that piece. But I couldn’t do it – I was so sickened and depressed by yet another story of humanity’s shit-show that I needed space. I told myself I needed a year to decompress, so now it’s 12 months later and I’m returning to the subject matter via this short but important work.
Blockade Diary isn’t a diary. It’s a composite of daily life of the Leningrad siege man, the Everyman, of life during the brutal winter of 1941 and the endless months following when Hell was on earth and hunger was the devil. The literary quality of Ginzburg writing is outstanding. This piece reads like Nabokov would have written it had he been there. I found myself highlighting so frequently I just stopped; every page has a quotable, beautiful passage. The introduction by Aleksandr Kushner is not to be missed – normally I would say to leave the intro until after you’ve finished the book, but in this case he offers a beautifully written homage that helps to prepare the reader for how special this work is.
Ginzburg lived long enough to witness the downfall of communism and receive the enthusiastic accolades from a new generation of Russians able to read her published works. She outlived the civil wars, the enemies at the gates, Stalin and a political system intent on crushing free artistic expression. She lived long enough to fulfill the Russian adage about long life – as a reader it is an honor to pay tribute to her life by reading this book.
Lidya Ginzburg was born in the wrong generation in Russia – a time of seemingly increasingly horrific events that didn’t know when to put on the brakes. She was a child during the first Russian revolution of 1905, then WWI; her youth was spent during the 1917 revolution and the ensuing civil war – her middle adult years spent under the perpetual night of Stalin: the constant threat of arrest, camps or death was very real for an artist. Whether it was the purges of 1937 or the Beria torture chambers of 1952, Ginzburg and her Russian compatriots suffered under a seemingly never ending world of woe. Oh, and then there’s this Leningrad siege to withstand.
This time last year I read the incomparable story of the siege of Leningrad, The 900 Days. I purchased this Ginzburg book at the same time as the 900 days intending to read after finishing that piece. But I couldn’t do it – I was so sickened and depressed by yet another story of humanity’s shit-show that I needed space. I told myself I needed a year to decompress, so now it’s 12 months later and I’m returning to the subject matter via this short but important work.
Blockade Diary isn’t a diary. It’s a composite of daily life of the Leningrad siege man, the Everyman, of life during the brutal winter of 1941 and the endless months following when Hell was on earth and hunger was the devil. The literary quality of Ginzburg writing is outstanding. This piece reads like Nabokov would have written it had he been there. I found myself highlighting so frequently I just stopped; every page has a quotable, beautiful passage. The introduction by Aleksandr Kushner is not to be missed – normally I would say to leave the intro until after you’ve finished the book, but in this case he offers a beautifully written homage that helps to prepare the reader for how special this work is.
Ginzburg lived long enough to witness the downfall of communism and receive the enthusiastic accolades from a new generation of Russians able to read her published works. She outlived the civil wars, the enemies at the gates, Stalin and a political system intent on crushing free artistic expression. She lived long enough to fulfill the Russian adage about long life – as a reader it is an honor to pay tribute to her life by reading this book.
February 14, 2022
“Не е толкова лесно да загинеш, колкото изглежда”.
Тези записки не са като други ленинградски дневници – с преживявания от първо лице, с буквалната драма на гладуването, дистрофията и смъртта – преките вълнуващи репортажи от Дантевия ад, които сме свикнали да четем за Ленинградската блокада.
Вместо това Гинзбург ни предлага академичен и ерудитски подход към блокадното битие, в който преобладава едно доста по-сложно и нюансирано виждане спрямо устойчиви (и удобни) понятия – наличието на близки не предполага пълна саможертва (“проклинайки, хората деляха хляба си”); характера на социалните взаимовръзки, които не са се избавили от своята извечна проблематичност въпреки оголеното до оцеляване същестуване (“щом е оцелял, значи недостатъчно се е жертвал”), враждебността на собственото тяло (“съзнанието мъкне тялото върху себе си”), проблемът за “свободното” от обичайните задачи, но запълнено със страдание време и може би най-интересното – заместването на едно страдание (артилерийския обстрел) с друго (гладуване).
Разкриват се страховити, макар и дълбоко подозирани, истини за човека, поставен в гранична ситуация – дори в нея се настанява една усреднена форма на поведение, адаптацията към която е почти автоматична.
За читателя, който търси чистата емоция, “Записките” ще са разочарование. Не че книгата е лишена от трагичен субстрат, но емоционалната дистанция я предпазва от очевидната страна на страданието – тази, за която всички сме чели или чували. Изводите на Гинзбург звучат много естествено – дори липсата на конкретен опит за блокадното битие не пречи на читателя да си каже: да, нещата стоят точно така.
Ето пример с една груба асоциация от днешния живот – живееш в град с ненормално висок трафик, в който често стават инциденти с пешеходци. Това те смущава като фон, защото рискът е системен и ежедневен и може да отключи тревожност, въпреки че статистическата му реализация на индивидуално ниво е ниска. Ти продължаваш да се движиш пеш, само смътно опасявайки се от инцидент, защото средното ниво на приемане изключва откритата паника пред всяка пешеходна пътека.
Това обяснява защо обстрелваните със снаряди ленинградчани продължават да крачат към обществената кухня, за да си получат дажбата от сто грама каша – снарядите са се превърнали във фон, на който изпъкват по-приоритетни задачи - снабдяването с нещо, което да сложат в изранените си стомаси.
Забележителни са и разсъжденията защо висенето на опашка е изтощително, за природата на разговора в чистото социалната му функция на запълващ вакууми (самите диалози обаче са страшно досадни), за мъдро устроената ни психика, която знае кога да превключи на режим реакция или режим постъпка, за физиологичното връщане към нормалността, което изпреварва психологичното.
Всъщност читателят лесно може да забрави конкретния повод за книгата (в която, забележете, няма смърт) и да се потопи в това сложно и концентрирано изследване на човешката природа, в което оптимизмът не е само далечен полъх. Един такъв успокоителен проблясък е, че не можем да изгубим лесно социалното си предназначение и желанието за себеутвърждаване дори в екстремални обстоятелства. Човекът винаги намира форми, в които да оцелее.
“Забравата пази живота, като вечно обновява силите, желанията и заблудите.”
“Онова, което се разкрива пред човека в гранични ситуации, отново се затваря. Инак например хората от нашето поколение отдавна щяха да са негодни за по-нататъшен живот.”
“Между несъмнената и почти несъмнената гибел разстоянието е необятно.”
“Колкото по-мъжествен е един мъж, толкова по-естествено и с лекота той върши немъжки работи, те не навреждат на никакви негови комплекси”.
“Повтаряемостта, възобновяването на ситуациите постепенно атрофира импулсите на страха.”
Тези записки не са като други ленинградски дневници – с преживявания от първо лице, с буквалната драма на гладуването, дистрофията и смъртта – преките вълнуващи репортажи от Дантевия ад, които сме свикнали да четем за Ленинградската блокада.
Вместо това Гинзбург ни предлага академичен и ерудитски подход към блокадното битие, в който преобладава едно доста по-сложно и нюансирано виждане спрямо устойчиви (и удобни) понятия – наличието на близки не предполага пълна саможертва (“проклинайки, хората деляха хляба си”); характера на социалните взаимовръзки, които не са се избавили от своята извечна проблематичност въпреки оголеното до оцеляване същестуване (“щом е оцелял, значи недостатъчно се е жертвал”), враждебността на собственото тяло (“съзнанието мъкне тялото върху себе си”), проблемът за “свободното” от обичайните задачи, но запълнено със страдание време и може би най-интересното – заместването на едно страдание (артилерийския обстрел) с друго (гладуване).
Разкриват се страховити, макар и дълбоко подозирани, истини за човека, поставен в гранична ситуация – дори в нея се настанява една усреднена форма на поведение, адаптацията към която е почти автоматична.
За читателя, който търси чистата емоция, “Записките” ще са разочарование. Не че книгата е лишена от трагичен субстрат, но емоционалната дистанция я предпазва от очевидната страна на страданието – тази, за която всички сме чели или чували. Изводите на Гинзбург звучат много естествено – дори липсата на конкретен опит за блокадното битие не пречи на читателя да си каже: да, нещата стоят точно така.
Ето пример с една груба асоциация от днешния живот – живееш в град с ненормално висок трафик, в който често стават инциденти с пешеходци. Това те смущава като фон, защото рискът е системен и ежедневен и може да отключи тревожност, въпреки че статистическата му реализация на индивидуално ниво е ниска. Ти продължаваш да се движиш пеш, само смътно опасявайки се от инцидент, защото средното ниво на приемане изключва откритата паника пред всяка пешеходна пътека.
Това обяснява защо обстрелваните със снаряди ленинградчани продължават да крачат към обществената кухня, за да си получат дажбата от сто грама каша – снарядите са се превърнали във фон, на който изпъкват по-приоритетни задачи - снабдяването с нещо, което да сложат в изранените си стомаси.
Забележителни са и разсъжденията защо висенето на опашка е изтощително, за природата на разговора в чистото социалната му функция на запълващ вакууми (самите диалози обаче са страшно досадни), за мъдро устроената ни психика, която знае кога да превключи на режим реакция или режим постъпка, за физиологичното връщане към нормалността, което изпреварва психологичното.
Всъщност читателят лесно може да забрави конкретния повод за книгата (в която, забележете, няма смърт) и да се потопи в това сложно и концентрирано изследване на човешката природа, в което оптимизмът не е само далечен полъх. Един такъв успокоителен проблясък е, че не можем да изгубим лесно социалното си предназначение и желанието за себеутвърждаване дори в екстремални обстоятелства. Човекът винаги намира форми, в които да оцелее.
“Забравата пази живота, като вечно обновява силите, желанията и заблудите.”
“Онова, което се разкрива пред човека в гранични ситуации, отново се затваря. Инак например хората от нашето поколение отдавна щяха да са негодни за по-нататъшен живот.”
“Между несъмнената и почти несъмнената гибел разстоянието е необятно.”
“Колкото по-мъжествен е един мъж, толкова по-естествено и с лекота той върши немъжки работи, те не навреждат на никакви негови комплекси”.
“Повтаряемостта, възобновяването на ситуациите постепенно атрофира импулсите на страха.”
August 30, 2018
one of the best ww2 memoirs ever read
January 21, 2017
I haven't read anything quite like this book before.
'In Leningrad there were few who were afraid of the bombing - just those with some special psychological predisposition to fear. It soon became impossible to run anywhere. Therefore nobody fled and nobody thought: Why am I staying when everybody's leaving? Composure marked the universal and average behavior, noncompliance with which was harder and more terrible than the actual dangers.'
'Death can be successfully suppressed for the very reason that it is not accessible to experience. It's an abstraction of non-existence or the emotion of fear. In the first case it belongs to the category of unimaginable imaginings (like eternity, endlessness). In order to conceive of an instant transition from a room and a person to a chaos of brick, metal and flesh, and above all, nonexistence - this is a work of imagination beyond the capacity of many.'
'To the extent that fear of death is an emotion, it is subject to all the whims and inconsistencies of emotion. It crops up and subsides quite without reference to the laws of reason which register an objective danger, but rather according to the play of impulses and reflexes.'
'In Leningrad there were few who were afraid of the bombing - just those with some special psychological predisposition to fear. It soon became impossible to run anywhere. Therefore nobody fled and nobody thought: Why am I staying when everybody's leaving? Composure marked the universal and average behavior, noncompliance with which was harder and more terrible than the actual dangers.'
'Death can be successfully suppressed for the very reason that it is not accessible to experience. It's an abstraction of non-existence or the emotion of fear. In the first case it belongs to the category of unimaginable imaginings (like eternity, endlessness). In order to conceive of an instant transition from a room and a person to a chaos of brick, metal and flesh, and above all, nonexistence - this is a work of imagination beyond the capacity of many.'
'To the extent that fear of death is an emotion, it is subject to all the whims and inconsistencies of emotion. It crops up and subsides quite without reference to the laws of reason which register an objective danger, but rather according to the play of impulses and reflexes.'
January 30, 2022
Записки на блокадния човек, на оцеляващия човек, на умиращия човек: http://knigolandia.info/book-review/z...
Без съжаление и без тъга Гинзбург проследява живота на един блокадник. От събуждането, бита му, детайлите на оцеляването му сам, през излизането му на улицата, тази улица, в която гладовете се срещата и разминават, отиването му на работа, уж работата му, докато гладът все така блокира мислите му, до яденето, което служи да залъже блокадния глад (“Блокадният глад беше добре организиран глад. Хората знаеха, че от някой невидим ще получат минимума, от който едни живееха, други умираха – това решаваше организмът”), разговорите на хората около него, посещението на дома, диренето на нещо за храна, и в крайна сметка връщането към дома, където въртележката трябва да започне отначало.
ИК Жанет 45
http://knigolandia.info/book-review/z...
Без съжаление и без тъга Гинзбург проследява живота на един блокадник. От събуждането, бита му, детайлите на оцеляването му сам, през излизането му на улицата, тази улица, в която гладовете се срещата и разминават, отиването му на работа, уж работата му, докато гладът все така блокира мислите му, до яденето, което служи да залъже блокадния глад (“Блокадният глад беше добре организиран глад. Хората знаеха, че от някой невидим ще получат минимума, от който едни живееха, други умираха – това решаваше организмът”), разговорите на хората около него, посещението на дома, диренето на нещо за храна, и в крайна сметка връщането към дома, където въртележката трябва да започне отначало.
ИК Жанет 45
http://knigolandia.info/book-review/z...
May 8, 2022
Ще го напиша и във финалното ревю: такзи книга е истински връх на способността да мислиш живота, особено когато става дума за екстремална ситуация като блокада по време на война.
За съжаление, втората част („Втора част“), която обхваща около 100 страници, ме отблъсна от отегчение. Някак не разбрах смисловата ѝ връзка с темата на цялата книга. След великолепната „Първа част“ и преди „Към „Записките“ и „Отрязъците“, тази втора част беше истинско пропадане. Ако разсъждаваме за нея като за фрагментарна визуализация на диалози/случки от живота - тогава ми се вижда направо ужасна и тотално излишна, едва я дочетох. Спрямо останалото не видях в нея никаква художествена стойност, да не говорим за изследователска/интелектуална, освен съвсем, съвсем слаби отгласи. Затова на книгата давам 4 звезди - компилацията за мен е накърнена, при все че има умисъл за логичност.
За съжаление, втората част („Втора част“), която обхваща около 100 страници, ме отблъсна от отегчение. Някак не разбрах смисловата ѝ връзка с темата на цялата книга. След великолепната „Първа част“ и преди „Към „Записките“ и „Отрязъците“, тази втора част беше истинско пропадане. Ако разсъждаваме за нея като за фрагментарна визуализация на диалози/случки от живота - тогава ми се вижда направо ужасна и тотално излишна, едва я дочетох. Спрямо останалото не видях в нея никаква художествена стойност, да не говорим за изследователска/интелектуална, освен съвсем, съвсем слаби отгласи. Затова на книгата давам 4 звезди - компилацията за мен е накърнена, при все че има умисъл за логичност.
August 17, 2019
Een bijzondere novelle van de gerenommeerde literatuurwetenschapper en auteur Lidia Ginzburg (1902 - 1990) over de gruwelijke Blokkade van Leningrad tijdens WOII, waarin ze minutieus over mensen in extreme dagelijkse omstandigheden schrijft, over honger, over rij-psychologie. Een indringend werk dat met Camus’ La Peste is vergeleken. Beklijvende lectuur.
March 1, 2022
Не подкрепям която и да е война, от когото и да е започната, от когото и да е провокирана. Не подкрепям война, която е на гърба на обикновения човек. А всяка една е такава. Човекът, в своята природа, е колкото силен, толкова и слаб. В една война виждаме множество варианти на двете му проявления: едното - на вид силно, властолюбиво, но слабоморално, водещо се единствено от его и нескрит стремеж към земното, порочното, материята - за него светът е нищо повече от материя; и другото – на вид слабо, обикновено човешко проявление, чиято власт стига само до рамките на собствения му дом, но по-силно духовно, вярващо в моралните устои на света. Докато го има човека на този свят, всичко ще се повтаря, защото такава е човешката природа - както казва един голям немски философ: The only thing that we learn from history is that we learn nothing from history.
Съвсем скоро, преди да настъпи началото на текущите събития, започнах „Записки на блокадния човек“ от Лидия Гинзбург. Завърших я преди броени дни и реших да споделя няколко думи, по някаква случайност – много актуални към момента.
„Записки на блокадния човек“ е апотеоз на човешката сила, на човешкия дух. Дух, който се проявява само във времена на смут и всеобща трагедия. Казвам всеобща, защото една война е трагедия на човека като вид, разпад на всичко, градено в еволюционния напредък, не - разпад е много неточно сравнение, защото понякога разпадът е следствие на независещи от фигурата на човека обстоятелства, дори в дадени примери би било възможно разпадът да се тълкува като позитив. Тук може би по-подхолящото сравнение би било „поругаване“, поругаване и съзнателно потъпкване, оскверняване на всичко, градено досега.
Та, „Записки на блокадния човек“ на пръв поглед е кротък разказ за кротката борба на обикновения човек да запази, да съхрани себе си, но тя е много повече от това – границите ѝ излизат далеч извън личностното и преливат в борба за съхранение на човешкото у човека – борба за опазването на ценността като структура, борба против разпад. Борбата на човека като единица за всеобщия човешки морал. Борба да не се отвратиш от себе си в множествено число.
Благодаря на ИК Жанет 45 за възможността да се докосна до тази разтърсваща книга!
Даниела
01.03.22, гр. София
#запискинаблокадниячовек #лидиягинзбург #bookreview #жанет45 #thebookclubsofia
Съвсем скоро, преди да настъпи началото на текущите събития, започнах „Записки на блокадния човек“ от Лидия Гинзбург. Завърших я преди броени дни и реших да споделя няколко думи, по някаква случайност – много актуални към момента.
„Записки на блокадния човек“ е апотеоз на човешката сила, на човешкия дух. Дух, който се проявява само във времена на смут и всеобща трагедия. Казвам всеобща, защото една война е трагедия на човека като вид, разпад на всичко, градено в еволюционния напредък, не - разпад е много неточно сравнение, защото понякога разпадът е следствие на независещи от фигурата на човека обстоятелства, дори в дадени примери би било възможно разпадът да се тълкува като позитив. Тук може би по-подхолящото сравнение би било „поругаване“, поругаване и съзнателно потъпкване, оскверняване на всичко, градено досега.
Та, „Записки на блокадния човек“ на пръв поглед е кротък разказ за кротката борба на обикновения човек да запази, да съхрани себе си, но тя е много повече от това – границите ѝ излизат далеч извън личностното и преливат в борба за съхранение на човешкото у човека – борба за опазването на ценността като структура, борба против разпад. Борбата на човека като единица за всеобщия човешки морал. Борба да не се отвратиш от себе си в множествено число.
Благодаря на ИК Жанет 45 за възможността да се докосна до тази разтърсваща книга!
Даниела
01.03.22, гр. София
#запискинаблокадниячовек #лидиягинзбург #bookreview #жанет45 #thebookclubsofia
July 8, 2022
"Страданието непрестанно се стреми с помощта на друго, заместващо страдание да се отърве от самото себе си."
Лидия Гинзбург, "Записки на блокадния човек"
Потресаваща книга, която едновременно дълбоко (ме) отвращава с угнетителната си безпристрастност, на пръв поглед напълно лишена от хуманност, и в същото време неудържимо (ме) привлича - като труп, отворен за дисекция, от който ужасеното око хем с погнуса отвръща поглед, хем с нездраво любопитство отново наднича, за да улови всеки диаболичен детайл.
Нямам сили да отвърна поглед - не мога да спра да чета.
Лидия Гинзбург, "Записки на блокадния човек"
Потресаваща книга, която едновременно дълбоко (ме) отвращава с угнетителната си безпристрастност, на пръв поглед напълно лишена от хуманност, и в същото време неудържимо (ме) привлича - като труп, отворен за дисекция, от който ужасеното око хем с погнуса отвръща поглед, хем с нездраво любопитство отново наднича, за да улови всеки диаболичен детайл.
Нямам сили да отвърна поглед - не мога да спра да чета.
July 8, 2021
Elke zin is raak. Elke zin is compact, zo geschreven dat precies zegt wat het lijkt te moeten zeggen. Geen opsmuk, niet kil of leeg. Elke zin vraagt om aandachtig gelezen te worden. Maar 75 bladzijdes dun, maar een leeservaring dat verder gaat dan die 75 bladzijdes.
In het nawoord van Kees Verheul (editie 1988) schrijft hij:
‘… een eersterangs kunstwerk over ‘het leven’ als een onheroïsch overleven. Een overleven dat volgens de schrijver alleen mogelijk is als een gezamenlijk overleven, een overleven binnen een gemeenschap, en waarvan de zin een historische is: het voortzetten, tegen alle ellende en ogenschijnlijke zinloosheid in, van de menselijke geschiedenis.’
Dat is mooi omschreven.
In het nawoord van Kees Verheul (editie 1988) schrijft hij:
‘… een eersterangs kunstwerk over ‘het leven’ als een onheroïsch overleven. Een overleven dat volgens de schrijver alleen mogelijk is als een gezamenlijk overleven, een overleven binnen een gemeenschap, en waarvan de zin een historische is: het voortzetten, tegen alle ellende en ogenschijnlijke zinloosheid in, van de menselijke geschiedenis.’
Dat is mooi omschreven.
May 5, 2022
wrang om te lezen over belegd Leningrad tijdens een prachtige vakantie in Rome, liet me wel steeds terugtrekken naar de werkelijkheid van die gelukkig voorbije geschiedenis.
August 18, 2010
Though based on first-hand experience during the siege of Leningrad, Blockade Diary is not actually a diary, or even a documentary novel. It has no characters as such — just a generic N and K — and only scattered fragments of dialogue, description, and narration of events. What it offers is an analytical probing of the psychology of life under siege.
Ginzburg explores the effects of cold, hunger, shelling, and the death from starvation of family members. She explains the psychology of queueing and rationing and the behaviour of intellectuals finding new roles. Above all was the constant obsession with food.
"The siege cooking mania took hold of the most unlikely people. Once I happened to observe a boy of 16 (the age of greatest contempt for womens' affairs) frowning and biting his lip as he baked some oatcakes. At once his mother came fussing around: 'Let me... you don't know how...' But without a word he pushed her roughly away from the stove.
The more meagre the raw material involved, the closer it approached mania. All the maniacal activity stemmed from a single premise: just eating was too simple, left too little trace. Siege cookery resembled art — it conferred tangibility on things. Above all, every product had to cease being itself. People made porridge out of bread and bread out of porridge; they made cakes out of greens, and cutlets out of herrings. Elementary materials were transformed into dishes. These efforts at cookery were motivated by the thought that it was tastier or more filling that way. But it wasn't that, it was the pleasure of fiddling about, the enriching of the lingering, protracted process..."
"Blockade Diary" itself is only eighty pages long, and is followed in this volume by some additional short pieces. "Notes Under Siege" turns to political and existential philosophy, using the siege to explore the relationship between the individual and the community or state, and the anxieties of existence. "Paralysis" is a first person account of the effects of malnutrition and starvation. And "Excerpts From a Siege Day" goes through a day in the life of N.
"N did not immediately understand why every day at work, after about one o'clock, he was possessed by a strange sense of malaise. Then he realised what it was — urgency. This urgency was one of the guises of starvation or starvation trauma.
Urgency as a mask for hunger — the ceaseless rush from one stage of eating to the next, accompanied by the fear of missing something. This urgency was particularly associated with lunch. This was given out by an indifferent government agency. That is, it had objective criteria for everything — this was certainly true and the criteria were certainly objective. But what if it wasn't enough? Several times during the winter there hadn't been enough porridge."
It's only a brief volume, but Blockade Diary is a powerful study of human life under adversity, facing starvation in a regulated community. It is evocative of Leningrad and its historical experience, but it is universal in its reach.
Ginzburg explores the effects of cold, hunger, shelling, and the death from starvation of family members. She explains the psychology of queueing and rationing and the behaviour of intellectuals finding new roles. Above all was the constant obsession with food.
"The siege cooking mania took hold of the most unlikely people. Once I happened to observe a boy of 16 (the age of greatest contempt for womens' affairs) frowning and biting his lip as he baked some oatcakes. At once his mother came fussing around: 'Let me... you don't know how...' But without a word he pushed her roughly away from the stove.
The more meagre the raw material involved, the closer it approached mania. All the maniacal activity stemmed from a single premise: just eating was too simple, left too little trace. Siege cookery resembled art — it conferred tangibility on things. Above all, every product had to cease being itself. People made porridge out of bread and bread out of porridge; they made cakes out of greens, and cutlets out of herrings. Elementary materials were transformed into dishes. These efforts at cookery were motivated by the thought that it was tastier or more filling that way. But it wasn't that, it was the pleasure of fiddling about, the enriching of the lingering, protracted process..."
"Blockade Diary" itself is only eighty pages long, and is followed in this volume by some additional short pieces. "Notes Under Siege" turns to political and existential philosophy, using the siege to explore the relationship between the individual and the community or state, and the anxieties of existence. "Paralysis" is a first person account of the effects of malnutrition and starvation. And "Excerpts From a Siege Day" goes through a day in the life of N.
"N did not immediately understand why every day at work, after about one o'clock, he was possessed by a strange sense of malaise. Then he realised what it was — urgency. This urgency was one of the guises of starvation or starvation trauma.
Urgency as a mask for hunger — the ceaseless rush from one stage of eating to the next, accompanied by the fear of missing something. This urgency was particularly associated with lunch. This was given out by an indifferent government agency. That is, it had objective criteria for everything — this was certainly true and the criteria were certainly objective. But what if it wasn't enough? Several times during the winter there hadn't been enough porridge."
It's only a brief volume, but Blockade Diary is a powerful study of human life under adversity, facing starvation in a regulated community. It is evocative of Leningrad and its historical experience, but it is universal in its reach.
Read
September 24, 2019*D.N.F.* I have previously studied the Siege of Leningrad and lived in St Petersburg. It remains my favourite city in the world. I felt like this book would be especially interesting for me but I could not get anything from it. It is written in a particular style that seems unique to Russian intellectuals whose formative years took place in the years preceding and immediately following the Russian revolution. The language (jargon) of political philosophy and theory they use is far removed from that used by ordinary people and I find it completely impenetrable (or it's actually nonsense?). I felt bad for feeling nothing for the plight of the city's residents (including the author) when reading Ginzburg's cold prose. I guess the intellectualisation of her own experiences could be some kind of defence mechanism against the horrors of the Siege but I am not intelligent enough to unpick it.
If you are looking for something to introduce you to the history of the blockade - something accessible - then this is not the book for you.
If you are looking for something to introduce you to the history of the blockade - something accessible - then this is not the book for you.
July 1, 2022
"Omsingeld" gaat - net als het tweede deel van "De Wolga..." van Curzio Malaparte (het vorige boek dat ik las) - over de belegering van Leningrad door de Duitsers. Het grote verschil is hier dat we dat beleg in Ginzburgs versie van dichtbij meemaken, in de geïsoleerde stad, en niet van aan het front zoals bij C.M.
Ginzburg focust niet op gruwel (explosies, sterfgevallen, ...) maar gaat in op de alledaagse routines: in een rij staan voor eten, koken, het luchtalarm, vluchten naar de schuilkelders, conversaties tussen burgers, ...
"Een mens kan geen vacuüm velen. Het terstond vullen van het vacuüm is een van de eerste taken van het woord. Zinloze gesprekken zijn in ons leven van niet minder belang dan zinvolle."
"Waarop hij antwoordde: 'Je hebt geen fantasie, daarom heb je geen angst. Om te weten hoe bang je wel moet zijn, moet je heel knap zijn, snap je.'"
Ginzburg focust niet op gruwel (explosies, sterfgevallen, ...) maar gaat in op de alledaagse routines: in een rij staan voor eten, koken, het luchtalarm, vluchten naar de schuilkelders, conversaties tussen burgers, ...
"Een mens kan geen vacuüm velen. Het terstond vullen van het vacuüm is een van de eerste taken van het woord. Zinloze gesprekken zijn in ons leven van niet minder belang dan zinvolle."
"Waarop hij antwoordde: 'Je hebt geen fantasie, daarom heb je geen angst. Om te weten hoe bang je wel moet zijn, moet je heel knap zijn, snap je.'"
October 21, 2018
J'ai trouvé ce récit très désincarné parce qu'il raconte de façon impersonnelle (en ayant recours au pronom "on") et atemporelle le siège d'une ville par les forces hitlériennes. Il pourrait d'ailleurs être question de n'importe quelle ville européenne tant l'autrice en reste à des généralités. Le récit du siège de Leningrad est surtout celui de la faim et ces 175 pages visent essentiellement à établir une typologie des manifestations de la famine sur une ville et de la malnutrition sur un corps.
Read
November 6, 2018The entirety of A Story of Pity and Cruelty is a masterwork. And, yes, as the lady says, maybe the well-fed do not understand the hungry (and, again, yes, as she says, themselves included) but this goes a long way towards trying to convey that understanding, even if it is all in vain.
Actually, you know, what, I can probably fit all the bit'sn'pieces of this which mattered most to me when reading it into this particular space. I mean, due to the constant concern of the unsolvable modern problem : sometimes our computers just break, so we put the stuff we want to keep onto other computers, but sometimes those computers might break too, so we gotta put that stuff onto even more computers. My point is, I don't trust the cloud, I don't trust any ol' laptop, I don't trust GoodReads Dot Com, each and every one of them might go poof in an instant, but I guess what needs to be done is to put everything everywhere so one can at least get at it in case of all possible eventualities. And, sure, yes, it's nothing much really when compared to starving in siege-laden Leningrad, but, yeah, it is a problem of problem(s). So, here we are :
Actually, you know, what, I can probably fit all the bit'sn'pieces of this which mattered most to me when reading it into this particular space. I mean, due to the constant concern of the unsolvable modern problem : sometimes our computers just break, so we put the stuff we want to keep onto other computers, but sometimes those computers might break too, so we gotta put that stuff onto even more computers. My point is, I don't trust the cloud, I don't trust any ol' laptop, I don't trust GoodReads Dot Com, each and every one of them might go poof in an instant, but I guess what needs to be done is to put everything everywhere so one can at least get at it in case of all possible eventualities. And, sure, yes, it's nothing much really when compared to starving in siege-laden Leningrad, but, yeah, it is a problem of problem(s). So, here we are :
During the period of greatest exhaustion everything became clear: the mind was hauling the body along with it. The automatism of movement, its reflex nature, its age-old correlation with the mental impulse - all that was gone. It turned out, for example, that the vertical posture was by no means inherent in the body; the conscious will had to hold the body under control, otherwise it would slither away as if it were falling down a cliff. The will had to lift it up and sit it down and lead it from object to object. On the worst days it was not only difficult climbing stairs, it was very hard to walk on level ground. And now the will was becoming involved in things it had not been concerned with since it was born. "See, I'm walking along," it says, "that is, I really mean my body is walking and I have to keep a sharp eye on it. Let's say I move my right leg forward, the left one moves back, pivots on its toes and bends at the knee (how poorly it manages that!), then it pulls itself off the ground and moves forward through the air, then lowers itself, as the right leg contrives to move back. Hell knows! You have to watch the way it goes back, otherwise you could fall over." It was the most ghastly dancing lesson. (p.8-9)
Thus we observe the law of forgetfulness, one of the cornerstones of social existence; along with the law of remembrance - the law of history and art, guilt, and remorse. Herzen said of it: "He who could live through it must have the strength to remember." (p.22)
In besieged Leningrad we saw everything - but fear least of all. People heard the whistle of shells over their heads with indifference. Waiting for a shell you know is coming is considerably harder; but everyone knew that if you heard it, it wasn't going to land on you this time. (p.31)
Death can be successfully suppressed for the very reason that it is not accessible to experience. It's an abstraction of non-existence or the emotion of fear. In the first case it belongs to the category of unimaginable imaginings (like eternity, endlessness). In order to conceive of an instant transition from a room and a person to a chaos of brick, metal and flesh, and above all, nonexistence - this is a work of imagination beyond the capacity of many. (p.32)
The possibility of being killed is present in this man's mind, but his immediate sensation is hunger, more precisely the fear of hunger, and his hunger urgency, blindly intent on its goal. One can be conscious of a number of things at the same time, but one can't desire them all at the same time with equal intensity. (p.36)
A person will go into genuine hysterics over one queue-jumper who edges in front of him - and then after getting his ration, the same person will stand for half and hour chatting to a friend, talking freely now, like someone here of his own free will. While he was in the queue, he was caught up, like all the rest, in the physical craving for movement, however illusory. Those at the back shout to those in front: "Come on, get a move on, what's the hold up?" And there'd be some philosopher, ignorant o the mechanics of mental states, who will be sure to respond: "Why push up? It'll be no quicker for that." (p.41)
She slices off, or adds solid square pieces from those lying on a board nearby; you can't take one and eat it. It's taboo. The entire vast social mechanism guards these morsels from the outstretched human hand. Nothing more lies between them - no lock, no police, no queue. Just the immense abstraction of social prohibition. (p.48)
The more meagre the raw material involved, the closer it approached mania. All the maniacal activity stemmed from a single premise: just eating was too simple, left too little trace. Siege cookery resembled art - it conferred tangibility on things. Above all, every product had to cease being itself. People made porridge out of bread and bread out of porridge; they made cakes out of greens, and cutlets out of herrings. Elementary materials were transformed into dishes. These efforts at cookery were motivated by the thought that it was tastier or more filling that way. But it wasn't that, it was the pleasure of fiddling about, the enriching of the lingering, protracted process . . . (p.73)
Thinking about "how it would be" (which is what everybody was thinking about . . .) we continually miscalculated, ascribing too much significance to the mortal danger factor. It turned out to be simpler just to go to the front line than to halt the mechanisms. It was an unequal choice between danger close at hand, certain and familiar (the management's displeasure) and the outcome of something as yet distant, unresolved, and above all, incomprehensible. (p.81)
Suffering and death on a large scale was never the exclusive mark of war; epidemics and natural disasters engulf entire cities. What particularizes war is the combination of these possibilities with an extreme lack of freedom, open, loudly declared, dispensing with the need for camouflage. (p.87)
I can't recall who said in answer to various medical warnings: "Living is dangerous - people die of it." (p.94)
"What do you do?" they asked Professor R, who had got stranded in Leningrad during the siege winter. He responded: "I eat." (p.97)
Irritations and humiliations pervaded existence. At some canteens and offices there were lavatories, terrible, without water. There would be a queue to use them. People didn't hide the fact that they couldn't wait (one of the symptoms of dystrophy). In the editorial office where I used to go, there was only one lavatory.
The girls, ordinary girls usually without any indecent intentions, used to shout out to any man who had been sat there for any length of time for him to hurry up. The man (young) would reply coolly from behind the door - also without intentional indecency: "You want me to come out without any pants on, do you?" (p.102)
March 8, 2025
I initially planned to read only Notes from the Blockade and discard the rest of the book.
Honestly, this book was a disappointment. I had expected to gain insight into the immense historical event that was the Siege of Leningrad. Instead, there were no references to the fighting, no broader perspective on the blockade—nothing that framed the event within its historical context.
Instead, the writing dwelled on scattered, disconnected human emotions during the blockade. I managed to extract a few interesting reflections on hunger, which seemed to be the central theme.
A person’s struggle, as the book suggests, is merely the suppression of one form of suffering by another. As a result, we do not hold grudges against our present hardships. Hunger, in particular, is relentless—it cannot be switched off. It is a constant, gnawing presence. Perhaps famine has always been one of the oldest weapons of war, used to break a people’s resistance. After all, it is the most effective means of eroding strength and willpower. The most tormenting aspect of eating, as described in the book, is the way food disappears with terrifying speed, never bringing true satiety.
One passage that stood out to me described the nature of queues during the blockade:
"A queue is a compulsory agglomeration of people, irritated with one another, yet at the same time concentrating on a single common circle of interests and aims. Hence the mixture of rivalry, hostility, and collective feeling—the instant readiness to close ranks against the common enemy, the law-breaker."
This observation extends beyond queues—it speaks to everyday life, the workplace, and the dangers of being perceived as an outsider by a group bound together by a singular purpose.
"After the blockade, people forgot their sensations, but they remembered facts."
Ultimately, I found the book poorly written. The sentences are difficult to follow, and the author struggles to maintain a clear train of thought. Combined with what I believe to be a weak translation, the text becomes nearly unreadable.
Honestly, this book was a disappointment. I had expected to gain insight into the immense historical event that was the Siege of Leningrad. Instead, there were no references to the fighting, no broader perspective on the blockade—nothing that framed the event within its historical context.
Instead, the writing dwelled on scattered, disconnected human emotions during the blockade. I managed to extract a few interesting reflections on hunger, which seemed to be the central theme.
A person’s struggle, as the book suggests, is merely the suppression of one form of suffering by another. As a result, we do not hold grudges against our present hardships. Hunger, in particular, is relentless—it cannot be switched off. It is a constant, gnawing presence. Perhaps famine has always been one of the oldest weapons of war, used to break a people’s resistance. After all, it is the most effective means of eroding strength and willpower. The most tormenting aspect of eating, as described in the book, is the way food disappears with terrifying speed, never bringing true satiety.
One passage that stood out to me described the nature of queues during the blockade:
"A queue is a compulsory agglomeration of people, irritated with one another, yet at the same time concentrating on a single common circle of interests and aims. Hence the mixture of rivalry, hostility, and collective feeling—the instant readiness to close ranks against the common enemy, the law-breaker."
This observation extends beyond queues—it speaks to everyday life, the workplace, and the dangers of being perceived as an outsider by a group bound together by a singular purpose.
"After the blockade, people forgot their sensations, but they remembered facts."
Ultimately, I found the book poorly written. The sentences are difficult to follow, and the author struggles to maintain a clear train of thought. Combined with what I believe to be a weak translation, the text becomes nearly unreadable.
August 2, 2025
A heartbreaking, deeply concerning and thoughtful read. The vintage edition can be divided in two parts, first being the Blockade Diary, which while still being a narrative is a more distant, analytical, yet still deeply troubling and horrifying text. The second is the Story of Pity and Cruelty, which covers much the same ground, but is much more personal (despite the depersonalized character choices, it is fundamentally a recounting of her Ginzburg's mother died of starvation). Both works are unique in that they are a powerful analysis of the ideas and conditions of Siege psychology and being, and are written by one of the greatest literary critics of perhaps any time at the height of her powers. It is a deeply moving indictment of forced starvation and hunger, and its very debasement of the human soul and existence, and its malformation of all that remains good. A deeply topical and terrifying text, it is a massive shame that the Vintage Classics editions is oddly out of print and very hard to find less then a decade after its publication.
September 9, 2022
Fiction, memoir, intensely interesting. The elegant prose brings a human element that most memoirs don't (possibly helped by being part fiction) to let you know not just the actions but a true emotional and psychological description of those inside the siege. To often we discuss facts and not the human element of battles or events and this is a must read for those interested in the period of WW2. The only real discount (and reason it's 3 instead of 2 stars) is that I had trouble getting grasped by the work. I wanted to, at times felt like I was begging the writing to drag me in and engulf me in each sentence but I only achieved that on and off despite my best efforts. Possibly there is a future where, under a different time/place/attitude I'd be able to accomplish it. Very intriguing, if the subject matter interests you I consider it a must read.
April 30, 2020
Only read "Notes from the Blockade" - interesting glimpse into difficult times
October 19, 2020
A lean but detailed, objective, brutally honest and therefore powerful description of war and starvation in the Hero City of Leningrad, now St. Petersburg.
August 25, 2025
Horrifying and very intimate. I couldn’t stop drawing comparisons to the siege Lydia lived and explores in this book and the current starvation campaign and siege in Gaza.
June 22, 2008
"It's only from the religious point of view that the dead can need anything. But the living do have their needs. The living are nourished by blood." p. 7
"People say: the ties of love and blood make sacrifice easier. No, it's much more complicated than that. So painful, so fearful was it to touch one another, that in propinquity, at close quarters, it was hard to distinguish love from hatred--towards those one couldn't leave. One couldn't leave--that might offend or wound. And so the nexus was maintained. Every possible relationship--comradeship, discipleship, friendship, love--fell away like leaves; that one remained in force. Wrung with pity or cursing, people shared their bread. Cursing they shared it, and sharing, they died. Those who departed from the city abandoned these domestic sacrifices too (I survived--that means I didn't sacrifice enough), and along with the inadequacy, remorse." pp. 8-9
"People say: the ties of love and blood make sacrifice easier. No, it's much more complicated than that. So painful, so fearful was it to touch one another, that in propinquity, at close quarters, it was hard to distinguish love from hatred--towards those one couldn't leave. One couldn't leave--that might offend or wound. And so the nexus was maintained. Every possible relationship--comradeship, discipleship, friendship, love--fell away like leaves; that one remained in force. Wrung with pity or cursing, people shared their bread. Cursing they shared it, and sharing, they died. Those who departed from the city abandoned these domestic sacrifices too (I survived--that means I didn't sacrifice enough), and along with the inadequacy, remorse." pp. 8-9
July 29, 2017
A part novel-part memoir book which includes previously published "Notes from the Blockade" as well as some unpublished (in her lifetime) drafts including "A Story of Pity and Cruelty". They all take place in Leningrad during the blockade in the Second World War. I thought "A Story of Pity and Cruelty" was the best one in this compilation. It is ostensibly about Otter and his Aunt (who is dependent on him) living during the blockade but the editor makes the note that it is more likely semi-autobiographical about Ginzburg and her mother. It is definitely not light reading, but Ginzburg approaches the topics from a literary and almost philosophical standpoint in order to justify life in the blockade and decisions that are made or not made and it is an interesting approach. Highly recommend but be prepared for some tough topics, particularly the emotional and verbal abuse present in "A Story of Pity and Cruelty".
October 20, 2009
When I started reading this, I thought to myself, "very clever! If I were to want someone to describe the blockade to me, this is exactly how I would want it done!" By the end I still felt that way, but was a bit tired of Ginzburg's monotony. Yes, her notion - when life is worth living, death is the mystery the intellectuals ponder, but when death becomes the norm, life becomes the new mystery - is well discussed. And so is the theme of the everlasting cycle of getting on with life in which we all get caught up due to the system (or war) and are too afraid to break out of since, according to the book, social norms are such an overwhelming force. Nonetheless, I think the book would be better if Ginzburg had either stuck with N.'s story or presented it entirely as a philosophical musing. As it is, the ideas are wonderful, but it gets a bit tired by the end. Good, though, most certainly.
January 18, 2022
Leningrado. Memorie di un assedio è uno dei volumi del progetto “Memorial Italia”, pubblicato da Guerini e associati. Il diario-romanzo di Ginzburg ripercorre l’assedio dal punto di vista soggettivo del cittadino, mostrandoci la surreale quotidianità di una tragedia.
Leggi la recensione completa qui:
http://russiaintranslation.com/2021/0...
Leggi la recensione completa qui:
http://russiaintranslation.com/2021/0...
April 9, 2017
Accounts of the Leningrad siege, and fictions composed at the same time set in the besieged city, and also post-war meditations on the experience and the thoughts of western writers such as the existentialists. In amongst the grim cycle of food rations and bombardment, it's the emotional claustrophobia of the "Story Of Pity And Cruelty" that is the hardest work.
August 27, 2016
Mostly dialog and description of emotional state of people under the siege.
September 1, 2018
At times felt too personal, more of a diary that I wasn't meant to read. The translation also didn't flow, writing was stuttered. An interesting read but nothing great/new.
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