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The Oak and the Larch: A Forest History of Russia and Its Empires
A majestic cultural and environmental history that reveals how forests have made—and resisted—Russia’s many empires.
From the Baltic to the Pacific, from the Arctic to the steppes of Central Asia, Russia’s forests account for nearly one-fifth of the world’s wooded lands. The Oak and the Larch is the first-ever English-language exploration of this vast expanse—a dazzling environmental history of Russia that offers an urgent new understanding of the nature of Russian power, and of Russia’s ideas of itself.
Inspired by the majestic oak, which towers over the country’s western heartland, and the hardy Siberian larch, an emblem of survival in the east, award-winning scholar Sophie Pinkham’s magisterial account spans centuries, revealing how forests have nourished ancient Siberian indigenous societies, defended medieval Slavic settlements from Mongol invasion, and served as both an essential natural resource and a potent cultural symbol for Russia in all its incarnations, from the days of the tsars to the Soviets to Putin’s Federation.
By examining the country from the forest’s perspective, Pinkham pushes far beyond the contemporary political environment in Russia. She draws on literature, history, and art to connect the expanse of the Russian wilderness and the nature of Russian culture, with indelible portraits of the diverse figures who have inhabited and celebrated these forests: the legendary indigenous guide Dersu Uzala, giants of literature like Tolstoy and Chekhov, political thinkers like Kropotkin and even Stalin. She confronts the forest’s role in Russia’s long history of imperial conquest, and in resistance to this conquest.
Gorgeously written and surprising at every turn, The Oak and the Larch offers a vision of Russia rarely seen in the west, as a land defined by its wilderness, shaped by its encounters with the frontier, and—much like our own—ultimately beholden to nature’s whim.
From the Baltic to the Pacific, from the Arctic to the steppes of Central Asia, Russia’s forests account for nearly one-fifth of the world’s wooded lands. The Oak and the Larch is the first-ever English-language exploration of this vast expanse—a dazzling environmental history of Russia that offers an urgent new understanding of the nature of Russian power, and of Russia’s ideas of itself.
Inspired by the majestic oak, which towers over the country’s western heartland, and the hardy Siberian larch, an emblem of survival in the east, award-winning scholar Sophie Pinkham’s magisterial account spans centuries, revealing how forests have nourished ancient Siberian indigenous societies, defended medieval Slavic settlements from Mongol invasion, and served as both an essential natural resource and a potent cultural symbol for Russia in all its incarnations, from the days of the tsars to the Soviets to Putin’s Federation.
By examining the country from the forest’s perspective, Pinkham pushes far beyond the contemporary political environment in Russia. She draws on literature, history, and art to connect the expanse of the Russian wilderness and the nature of Russian culture, with indelible portraits of the diverse figures who have inhabited and celebrated these forests: the legendary indigenous guide Dersu Uzala, giants of literature like Tolstoy and Chekhov, political thinkers like Kropotkin and even Stalin. She confronts the forest’s role in Russia’s long history of imperial conquest, and in resistance to this conquest.
Gorgeously written and surprising at every turn, The Oak and the Larch offers a vision of Russia rarely seen in the west, as a land defined by its wilderness, shaped by its encounters with the frontier, and—much like our own—ultimately beholden to nature’s whim.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published January 20, 2026
About the author
Sophie Pinkham
4 books40 followersSophie Pinkham is a professor at Cornell University and a former NEH Public Scholar. Her writing on Russia and Ukraine has appeared in the New York Review of Books, New York Times, Guardian, New Yorker, and Harper’s. She lives in Ithaca, New York.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 52 reviews
December 20, 2025
This was an informative, fascinating, and engaging read! Sophie Pinkham covers centuries worth of history, covering topics ranging from forestry, politics, culture, indigenous histories, and literature. This book is packed with names, dates, and places that I am not very familiar with, but Pinkham’s writing kept me engaged and curious to learn more, turning what could have been a very tedious topic into a fascinating read! I would need to read it again and maybe read some other sources of Russian history to claim that I know the facts well, but I have certainly gained some initial understanding and definite interest in the ecological, cultural, and literary history of this part of the world. That’s not to say the facts aren’t here in this book, only that it would take me time to learn and remember them in detail. I greatly enjoyed the journey through the centuries and meeting interesting and notable historical figures along the way.
Thank you to NetGalley and W.W. Norton & Company for an early copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
Thank you to NetGalley and W.W. Norton & Company for an early copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
April 18, 2026
An environmental history of the Russian lands from the Kyiven Rus, the Mongols of the east, medievals, tsars, Soviets to oligarchs, traveling through time through fairytale forests of many peoples across one fifth of the world’s forests.
As a tree loving forest seeker my imagination enjoyed the exotic landscape so far from my home in the each day more bulldozed Florida, where deforestation has reached epic levels and we now find ourselves in a severe to extreme drought, the folly of fast dollars for the few who quickly depart.
The Oak and the Larch explores the sweep of time and theories of forest management, greedy mismanagement and yet how tree life returns after a Soviet dam is blown up in eastern Ukraine by modern Russia in a war that involves trees, as wars always have and always will do.
As a tree loving forest seeker my imagination enjoyed the exotic landscape so far from my home in the each day more bulldozed Florida, where deforestation has reached epic levels and we now find ourselves in a severe to extreme drought, the folly of fast dollars for the few who quickly depart.
The Oak and the Larch explores the sweep of time and theories of forest management, greedy mismanagement and yet how tree life returns after a Soviet dam is blown up in eastern Ukraine by modern Russia in a war that involves trees, as wars always have and always will do.
February 18, 2026
This is a niche but fascinating read about the environmental history of forests in Russia and their significance on the world’s largest country.
In The Oak and the Larch readers explore use of large ancient forests for military and industrial use from Peter the Great and Stalin, how forests are portrayed in Russian literature, and how eco-nationalists, eco-anarchists and conservationists became targets of government crackdowns in the 21st century.
The author also shows how the forests are portrayed in this century by Pro-Kremlin authors and their return to village life messages during the Russian Federation of the 21st century and their push for an aggressive Russian empire during their 2022 invasion of Ukraine.
But the large forests are also an obstacle for the Russian military. During the invasion, Russia destroyed large swaths of young forests and devastated wildlife.
Today as the invasion continues, Ukraine uses the forest to hide military equipment and troops; while Russian people use the Northern forests to hide from conscription from the Russian military and escape into Finland.
I love micro histories and the extreme focus of details on specific subjects because I think authors show their passion and effort to dig up such information. The Oak and the Larch is no different and is an interesting read for anyone interested in Russian history, especially post-revolution.
In The Oak and the Larch readers explore use of large ancient forests for military and industrial use from Peter the Great and Stalin, how forests are portrayed in Russian literature, and how eco-nationalists, eco-anarchists and conservationists became targets of government crackdowns in the 21st century.
The author also shows how the forests are portrayed in this century by Pro-Kremlin authors and their return to village life messages during the Russian Federation of the 21st century and their push for an aggressive Russian empire during their 2022 invasion of Ukraine.
But the large forests are also an obstacle for the Russian military. During the invasion, Russia destroyed large swaths of young forests and devastated wildlife.
Today as the invasion continues, Ukraine uses the forest to hide military equipment and troops; while Russian people use the Northern forests to hide from conscription from the Russian military and escape into Finland.
I love micro histories and the extreme focus of details on specific subjects because I think authors show their passion and effort to dig up such information. The Oak and the Larch is no different and is an interesting read for anyone interested in Russian history, especially post-revolution.
March 6, 2026
had high hopes for this one but perhaps i misunderstood the mission. also have redacted thoughts about the author’s politics
June 18, 2026
A very exhaustive book almost all of which I will have forgotten by next year
February 2, 2026
Not the first Russian history book I'd pick up, but it provides an interesting perspective on Russian history -- through the landscape (a Great Trees theory?) rather than social or political forces. While the book more or less follows a chronological flow, the geographic jumps (from what is now the Polish/Belorussian/Ukrainian border to Siberia, to the Caucasus, back Siberia, up to the Finnish border) assumed a knowledge of Russian geography that had me searching for maps.
For me, the most interesting chapters filled blank spaces in other Russian history books I've read (e.g., indigenous Siberian peoples colonized by Russian settlers) or covered events too recent to have been included (e.g., Russian ultranationalists in the 2020's as the new forest conservationists).
Pinkham is a professor of comparative literature at Cornell University so it makes sense that she covers a number of Russian authors and their books about the forest. I enjoyed the pages on Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Chekhov; not so much the less well-known Stalinist-era authors like Platonov, Shalamov, and especially all the pages devoted to Leonid Leonov.
For me, the most interesting chapters filled blank spaces in other Russian history books I've read (e.g., indigenous Siberian peoples colonized by Russian settlers) or covered events too recent to have been included (e.g., Russian ultranationalists in the 2020's as the new forest conservationists).
Pinkham is a professor of comparative literature at Cornell University so it makes sense that she covers a number of Russian authors and their books about the forest. I enjoyed the pages on Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Chekhov; not so much the less well-known Stalinist-era authors like Platonov, Shalamov, and especially all the pages devoted to Leonid Leonov.
May 5, 2026
This book succeeded in warping my brain to forest-brain mode. I am 100% sold on Pinkham's suggestion that the history, future, and character of Russia is entwined with its forests'. I did not expect the thoughtful literary review that pulsed in every chapter; I've been left with a plentiful to-watch and to-read list. Pinkham cleverly weaved a narrative between chapters, pulling out comparative threads as we moved through the timeline. I am not super familiar with Russia's history, but Pinkham provided enough information for this scope of work to keep up with her references.
I did need more maps, a timeline, and a person directory. I had to google a lot of information and refer back to prior chapters frequently.
I did need more maps, a timeline, and a person directory. I had to google a lot of information and refer back to prior chapters frequently.
April 18, 2026
If you're not interested in Russia, and forests, you might not like it, but I loved it. It's a wonderful history of Russia and its forests, but also a history of Russian culture. I'm very impressed by how Pinkham tells this story by looking at the actual history (of course) but also by looking at how the forest has been represented in culture over time. And she manages to weave this in such a way that it is a pleasure to read, whereas otherwise, it could easily have had too much of a textbook feel. At times, she overuses adjectives (especially when describing people), but that's just my personal preference, and it is something I was able to easily overlook 🤪 All in all, a great read!
June 22, 2026
Only the first two chapters I found interesting, and some parts on Peter The Great and the Lykov family for example. But it's not really a book on Russian forests and trees, but more on the relationship between Russian artists and politicians -with- these forests. Expect a lot of descriptions of Tarkovsky's movies and summaries of works of Tolstoy or Pushkin. I don't care for Russian literature, so I found it to be dull. I had hoped for more ethnocultural/natural history stuff.
May 20, 2026
The Oak and the Larch: A Forest History of Russia and Its Empires by Sophie Pinkham is one of the most original works of environmental history to appear in recent years. Rather than retelling Russian history through tsars, wars, revolutions, or ideology alone, Pinkham reframes the entire story through forests: the oak forests of western Russia and the larch forests of Siberia. The result is not merely a history of trees, but a study of how landscape shapes empire, mythology, violence, memory, and national identity. The book argues persuasively that forests are not passive scenery but active participants in Russian history.
Pinkham structures the narrative across broad historical timelines. The earliest sections move through ancient Siberian indigenous societies and the medieval Slavic world, showing how forests protected settlements from invasion and created isolated cultural identities. The medieval period, especially during the Mongol era, portrays forests as defensive geography: dense woods shielded villages, rebels, monks, and refugees from conquest.
The book then shifts into the imperial era between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, when Russia expanded eastward across Siberia. Here, forests become both resource and victim. Pinkham explains how the Russian Empire treated woodland as fuel for conquest, shipbuilding, mining, and settlement. Peter the Great’s modernization campaigns relied heavily on timber extraction, and later imperial expansion devastated indigenous communities living within the taiga. One of the strongest aspects of the book is how it links ecological destruction with imperial ambition. Forest clearing was never simply economic policy; it was part of state-building itself.
The nineteenth century chapters are particularly rich because Pinkham intertwines literary history with ecology. Writers such as Leo Tolstoy, Anton Chekhov, and Ivan Turgenev appear not merely as literary figures but as witnesses to deforestation and social collapse. Pinkham’s discussion of Tolstoy is especially compelling: after contributing to forest destruction as a young officer and landowner, he later attempted reforestation projects on his estate, symbolically trying to repair both environmental and moral damage.
You mentioned that you could not agree more that deforestation is killing not only the planet but culture as well, and this is exactly where the book becomes most powerful. Pinkham repeatedly demonstrates that when forests disappear, mythologies disappear with them. Entire systems of memory, folklore, spirituality, and local identity vanish alongside the trees. In Russia’s case, the forest was historically a refuge from political authority: Old Believers fled there after church reforms, dissidents hid there during wars, and indigenous cultures preserved traditions within the wilderness. The destruction of forests therefore becomes a form of cultural erasure as much as environmental devastation.
Russian mythology runs throughout the text and gives the history an almost haunted atmosphere. Pinkham references figures like the Leshy, the forest spirit of Slavic folklore who protects woodland spaces and punishes those who disrespect nature. The Leshy embodies the old belief that forests possess consciousness and moral power. The witch figure Baba Yaga, often depicted living deep within the woods in a hut standing on chicken legs, also represents the forest as a place of transformation, danger, and ancient wisdom. These myths are not treated as childish superstition but as reflections of how deeply Russians historically identified with wilderness.
The Soviet sections of the book are among its bleakest. Pinkham details how Bolshevik industrialization transformed forests into raw material for five-year plans, gulags, railroads, and militarization. Massive logging campaigns ignored sustainability entirely. Soviet ideology often viewed untouched wilderness as an obstacle to progress. Forests became sites of forced labor camps, ecological devastation, and state violence. Yet paradoxically, forests also remained places of resistance and survival, sheltering anti-Bolshevik fighters and preserving fragments of older traditions.
Pinkham finally connects this environmental history to the present-day Russian-Ukrainian conflict. The book suggests that modern Russian nationalism still romanticizes forests as symbols of imperial destiny and sacred homeland. Some ultranationalists frame Russian forests as the “Russian ark,” a mythic reservoir of purity and historical continuity. This mythology has become entangled with contemporary militarism and nostalgia for empire. Ukraine’s forests meanwhile have become literal battlegrounds and defensive spaces during the invasion, echoing centuries-old patterns in which woodland geography shapes warfare and resistance.
What makes Pinkham’s work especially important is that she refuses simplistic binaries. She neither romanticizes Russia nor reduces it solely to authoritarianism. Instead, she shows how environmental destruction, imperial expansion, literature, folklore, and political violence are intertwined across centuries. The forests become witnesses to both beauty and atrocity.
Ultimately, The Oak and the Larch: A Forest History of Russia and Its Empires succeeds because it transforms environmental history into something deeply human. It argues that forests are archives of civilization itself. When they are destroyed, species vanish, climates shift, and economies collapse — but so do stories, myths, languages, and ways of seeing the world. Pinkham leaves the reader with the unsettling realization that deforestation is not only ecological suicide but cultural amnesia.
Pinkham structures the narrative across broad historical timelines. The earliest sections move through ancient Siberian indigenous societies and the medieval Slavic world, showing how forests protected settlements from invasion and created isolated cultural identities. The medieval period, especially during the Mongol era, portrays forests as defensive geography: dense woods shielded villages, rebels, monks, and refugees from conquest.
The book then shifts into the imperial era between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, when Russia expanded eastward across Siberia. Here, forests become both resource and victim. Pinkham explains how the Russian Empire treated woodland as fuel for conquest, shipbuilding, mining, and settlement. Peter the Great’s modernization campaigns relied heavily on timber extraction, and later imperial expansion devastated indigenous communities living within the taiga. One of the strongest aspects of the book is how it links ecological destruction with imperial ambition. Forest clearing was never simply economic policy; it was part of state-building itself.
The nineteenth century chapters are particularly rich because Pinkham intertwines literary history with ecology. Writers such as Leo Tolstoy, Anton Chekhov, and Ivan Turgenev appear not merely as literary figures but as witnesses to deforestation and social collapse. Pinkham’s discussion of Tolstoy is especially compelling: after contributing to forest destruction as a young officer and landowner, he later attempted reforestation projects on his estate, symbolically trying to repair both environmental and moral damage.
You mentioned that you could not agree more that deforestation is killing not only the planet but culture as well, and this is exactly where the book becomes most powerful. Pinkham repeatedly demonstrates that when forests disappear, mythologies disappear with them. Entire systems of memory, folklore, spirituality, and local identity vanish alongside the trees. In Russia’s case, the forest was historically a refuge from political authority: Old Believers fled there after church reforms, dissidents hid there during wars, and indigenous cultures preserved traditions within the wilderness. The destruction of forests therefore becomes a form of cultural erasure as much as environmental devastation.
Russian mythology runs throughout the text and gives the history an almost haunted atmosphere. Pinkham references figures like the Leshy, the forest spirit of Slavic folklore who protects woodland spaces and punishes those who disrespect nature. The Leshy embodies the old belief that forests possess consciousness and moral power. The witch figure Baba Yaga, often depicted living deep within the woods in a hut standing on chicken legs, also represents the forest as a place of transformation, danger, and ancient wisdom. These myths are not treated as childish superstition but as reflections of how deeply Russians historically identified with wilderness.
The Soviet sections of the book are among its bleakest. Pinkham details how Bolshevik industrialization transformed forests into raw material for five-year plans, gulags, railroads, and militarization. Massive logging campaigns ignored sustainability entirely. Soviet ideology often viewed untouched wilderness as an obstacle to progress. Forests became sites of forced labor camps, ecological devastation, and state violence. Yet paradoxically, forests also remained places of resistance and survival, sheltering anti-Bolshevik fighters and preserving fragments of older traditions.
Pinkham finally connects this environmental history to the present-day Russian-Ukrainian conflict. The book suggests that modern Russian nationalism still romanticizes forests as symbols of imperial destiny and sacred homeland. Some ultranationalists frame Russian forests as the “Russian ark,” a mythic reservoir of purity and historical continuity. This mythology has become entangled with contemporary militarism and nostalgia for empire. Ukraine’s forests meanwhile have become literal battlegrounds and defensive spaces during the invasion, echoing centuries-old patterns in which woodland geography shapes warfare and resistance.
What makes Pinkham’s work especially important is that she refuses simplistic binaries. She neither romanticizes Russia nor reduces it solely to authoritarianism. Instead, she shows how environmental destruction, imperial expansion, literature, folklore, and political violence are intertwined across centuries. The forests become witnesses to both beauty and atrocity.
Ultimately, The Oak and the Larch: A Forest History of Russia and Its Empires succeeds because it transforms environmental history into something deeply human. It argues that forests are archives of civilization itself. When they are destroyed, species vanish, climates shift, and economies collapse — but so do stories, myths, languages, and ways of seeing the world. Pinkham leaves the reader with the unsettling realization that deforestation is not only ecological suicide but cultural amnesia.
May 29, 2026
I lost it in chapter 15 when the author claimed that wolves are largely vegetarian. Defend their right to live in the forest all you want, that's great! But don't do it with blatant lies.
January 5, 2026
This book was a fascinating and often gripping exploration of the forests of Russia and the impact they had on the cultural zeitgeist of the country as well as its imperialist ambitions.
It did this in quite an interesting way, by analyzing art, film, literature and folklore in which the forest played a significant role to show the shape it had on culture. It was fascinating to see how artists and writers found a way to have some artistic freedom even in the margins of successive oppressive regimes. The Soviet ideal came to be whatever the writer was trying to persuade it to be through the lens of the forest.
Then it examined the ecology and evolution of forestry practices as the regimes of Russia started to realize the dangers of deforestation. They went from exploiting this vast resource and treating nature like a factory, to seeing how that meant the disappearance of nature. Russia was seeing firsthand the effects of climate change on a microcosmic scale.
I also found it interesting to learn how diverse Russia is. I have an image of it as being a homogenous ethnic block of white Slavs, but it was thriving with hundreds of indigenous populations and diversity of religion before brutal dictatorships stamped out individual expression. It was interesting to learn about all the languages, the Old Believers, and how people survived the harsh taiga, the place that was impossible to subjugate to man's will.
It is very sad to think what Russia could have become if it had embraced its unique folklore and traditions instead of aggressively trying to modernize to Western ideals. It should be a source of great cultural shame. This book didn't shy away from criticizing Russia's imperialist ambitions. But it was interesting to see how people argued for sustainable forestry in a system keen on seeing nature as only a means to extract as much value as possible from it.
The author also had a keen eye for description and I felt as if I were traveling through these forests with her, though this was broken up by sometimes dry literary analysis.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for the advance review copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.
It did this in quite an interesting way, by analyzing art, film, literature and folklore in which the forest played a significant role to show the shape it had on culture. It was fascinating to see how artists and writers found a way to have some artistic freedom even in the margins of successive oppressive regimes. The Soviet ideal came to be whatever the writer was trying to persuade it to be through the lens of the forest.
Then it examined the ecology and evolution of forestry practices as the regimes of Russia started to realize the dangers of deforestation. They went from exploiting this vast resource and treating nature like a factory, to seeing how that meant the disappearance of nature. Russia was seeing firsthand the effects of climate change on a microcosmic scale.
I also found it interesting to learn how diverse Russia is. I have an image of it as being a homogenous ethnic block of white Slavs, but it was thriving with hundreds of indigenous populations and diversity of religion before brutal dictatorships stamped out individual expression. It was interesting to learn about all the languages, the Old Believers, and how people survived the harsh taiga, the place that was impossible to subjugate to man's will.
It is very sad to think what Russia could have become if it had embraced its unique folklore and traditions instead of aggressively trying to modernize to Western ideals. It should be a source of great cultural shame. This book didn't shy away from criticizing Russia's imperialist ambitions. But it was interesting to see how people argued for sustainable forestry in a system keen on seeing nature as only a means to extract as much value as possible from it.
The author also had a keen eye for description and I felt as if I were traveling through these forests with her, though this was broken up by sometimes dry literary analysis.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for the advance review copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.
July 12, 2026
No forests were visited in the writing of this book. Kind of a desk review of Russian literature. Interesting but biased. She lost me when she said entrepreneurs were no different than criminals. She needs to step out into the real world once in a while.
February 1, 2026
Fantastic survey of forests in Russia and its Empires, with particularly interesting analyses of significant books, films and art. Loved it!
July 7, 2026
This was a great read about Russia from the view of the forests and people and less about politics except how different leaders over the centuries affected change and how much of the land was impacted. Would definitely recommend.
March 16, 2026
Great book but I wish they focused a little more on contemporary Russia and the current regimes policy towards the forests. A perfect blend of my interests. 3 stars only because it was a little dense in some parts.
March 31, 2026
The Oak and Larch was more of history of Russia than of forests. I learned a lot. As a plant person I was disappointed because I wanted more botany.
The history of land use was unexpected. I had no idea the vast area of the Soviet Union.
The history of land use was unexpected. I had no idea the vast area of the Soviet Union.
July 21, 2026
Ultimately, this is more a literary history of how Russian (male) canonic authors, dissidents, and more recent nationalists have written about the forest. Still, it is an interesting angle to see how Tolstoy, Platonov, Shalamov, or Chechov (and avant garde directors like Tarkovsky) are intertwined - or foundational - to many Russian perceptions of the forest and national and indeed often imperial identity. What makes the book stand out is its approach to attempting to disentangle Russia, Slavic Russians, and other peoples inhabiting the Russian empire and their relationship to the forest. Very much in line with recent literature on decentering Moscow/Muscovy (although, paradoxically, reifying a longue duree hisyory of Slavic identity to a certain extent) Still, I must say it is often a little manicheistic in its framing of Russians/Soviets vs indigineity (or indeed other modern imperial states). In addition, to my liking, the book lacks a deeper insight into forest ecosystems and how people live - despite some scarce references to mushrooms and dachas. Nevertheless, for a brief book, this is a commendable effort at reimagining Russian history through the lens of the forest and different political systems attempt to subjugate or instrumentalize it. Especially the chapters on the Soviet Union and pre-1900 expansionism stand out. However, it begs the question what new understanding of Russian history this book ultimately brings rather than merely a new angle or a further showcase of the destructiveness of modernity and imperialism (although this is not unjustified, certainly); does it reify Russian authors’ essentialism, or does nature have an agency there in shaping identity on a more fundamental level? What about other voices beyond elite producers of culture or famed dissidents?
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April 26, 2026I came to this solely for the author - I had heard her on podcasts and loved Black Square: Adventures in Post-Soviet Ukraine. I'm also interested enough in Russian and Soviet history, and sure, in the forests therein (I loved Owls of the Eastern Ice: A Quest to Find and Save the World's Largest Owl). So I guess the best I can say for this book is that it was too academic for me and I was not the intended audience. That is, I found it quite a slog to get through - the scope is about as massive as the subjects themselves. (from the nyt review: "Pinkham has taken on a Siberian sprawl of a subject, and at times the avalanche of names, places and events grows dizzying. Her contention that all of Russian history can be viewed through the prism of its forests occasionally feels strained. Not every political or cultural development reduces to botany, and the organizing metaphor can verge on the simplistic.") Overall, given how I came to this book, I was disappointed.
March 28, 2026
I was so excited to read this, but it was a huge disappointment. The author clearly was biased against Christianity, specifically Orthodox Christianity . A lot of her examples against Christianity in her introduction and in subsequent chapters, were from poor translations that were incorrect. I even tried to find the source/translation she used, but nothing was found in her notes.
Consistently throughout the book, her personal bias was evident. The book was sort of a history book about forests that ranged from modern day Poland to Siberia. She throws in snippets of history (usually negative) discussing both historical figures as well as famous Russian and indigenous authors. Mixing history information with how those figures viewed the landscape (forests) for their personal gain or inspiration. Reading this seemed a little disjoined as I felt like historically it jumped around a lot.
This could have been a better book if it focused either on history (specifically focusing on the Siberian peoples and their relationship with the forest) or just a literary aspect. The author is a Comparative Literature Professor so maybe she should have just focused on the literary aspect as there was way too much personal bias in this to feel like an authentic history book.
Consistently throughout the book, her personal bias was evident. The book was sort of a history book about forests that ranged from modern day Poland to Siberia. She throws in snippets of history (usually negative) discussing both historical figures as well as famous Russian and indigenous authors. Mixing history information with how those figures viewed the landscape (forests) for their personal gain or inspiration. Reading this seemed a little disjoined as I felt like historically it jumped around a lot.
This could have been a better book if it focused either on history (specifically focusing on the Siberian peoples and their relationship with the forest) or just a literary aspect. The author is a Comparative Literature Professor so maybe she should have just focused on the literary aspect as there was way too much personal bias in this to feel like an authentic history book.
April 17, 2026
In The Oak and the Larch, Sophie Pinkham attempts to trace the place of Russia's forest in the Russian national imaginary. Situating Russia as a place, rather than the current state, allows her to begin her analysis with Chinggis Khan and the Mongol horde and trace a through line of forest-related thoughts and attitudes all the way to Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Pinkham is a professor at Cornell, specializing in Soviet and post-Soviet literature and history, so her book is well-researched and reasoned. I found many intriguing resonances between the role of forests and eco-nationalism in present-day Russia's slide to autocracy and their role in the same slide in the present-day United States. The first half of the book, which detailed Russian Imperialists' first encounters with Indigenous Peoples in Siberia and contained fascinating close readings of Russian literary giants like Tolstoy, was incredibly strong, but I found that the narrative and arguments frayed a little as Pinkham began to interrogate the connection between forests and the Ukraine invasion. Overall, it was a well-written and deeply insightful environmental history.
April 2, 2026
I have read many histories of Russia from many points of view, but never before have I read one from the perspective of the trees. Russia is such a nation of trees. Why didn't anybody else think of this before? It's a great concept and Ms. Pinkham executes it well. All of the standard history is woven into it, but there is much more here - how Russian attitudes toward their massive forests have yoyoed between respect and plunder, the relationship between the forests and the indigenous people who the Russians found there, the peasant farmers, the trappers, the exiles, the Gulag prisoners, the engineers, the Old Believers, the ecologists and the eco-nationalists. It's a crazy mixture of crazy people. And then there is the ongoing discussion of how the forests play in Russian literature from Pushkin to Turgenev and Tolstoy, to Mandelstam, to Valentin Rasputin and more. This book is a treasure trove of things I love about Russia, a strange and curious place with a soul as big as Siberia.
May 29, 2026
3.5 ||
Sigh. I really did think I was going to like this book. The first half really got me, the middle was a slog, and then the end, I saw a glimpse of what I originally loved about the book.
I think part of it is that I apparently really need to read summaries much more carefully. When it mentioned literature, I didn't expect chapters on chapters of a literature review covering all of the Russian greats and their writings about forests. Which was then explained in detail. This left maybe 4-5 pages in the entire chapter, actually explaining the state of the forest in that time period. As my library loan began to run out, I ended up just skipping pages that were all plot explanation. The first few writers were interesting. It eventually became annoying.
If you are incredibly interested in Russian literature and the society that shaped its writers, then this book is for you. Otherwise, it might not be that enjoyable (unless you read only the first half).
Sigh. I really did think I was going to like this book. The first half really got me, the middle was a slog, and then the end, I saw a glimpse of what I originally loved about the book.
I think part of it is that I apparently really need to read summaries much more carefully. When it mentioned literature, I didn't expect chapters on chapters of a literature review covering all of the Russian greats and their writings about forests. Which was then explained in detail. This left maybe 4-5 pages in the entire chapter, actually explaining the state of the forest in that time period. As my library loan began to run out, I ended up just skipping pages that were all plot explanation. The first few writers were interesting. It eventually became annoying.
If you are incredibly interested in Russian literature and the society that shaped its writers, then this book is for you. Otherwise, it might not be that enjoyable (unless you read only the first half).
March 29, 2026
I thought this would be interesting. I didn't expect to be a page turner as well. Pinkham hooked me from the first page where she describes the vast forests and the forest people of prehistoric Russia. This is a history of Russia through an environmental lens and I love the fresh perspective. Traditional histories focus so much on politics and culture as if people stand apart and create their world. I'm fascinated by the forest-context and Pinkham's use of the natural world to frame wars, migrations, and empires. In Pinkham's account, people and trees shape each other. This book is thought provoking and beautifully written. Every scene comes alive because this is great narrative history. As I was reading, I began to ponder all that our forests might say about North America and the United States.
July 3, 2026
3.5 stars
this book is a history of Russia from before it was Russia, though the times of the Soviet Union, and to the current day under Putin's leadership. It includes how people's views of the forests changed through time, including the leaders, dissidents and serfs. Politics, war, logging, forest spirits, rivers you name it. The book also talks a lot about how the view of the forest was captured by Art (particularly literature and painting) and often used as propaganda. It's a scholarly book but not hard to read. There are maps in the book so a paper copy might make for the best experience.
this book is a history of Russia from before it was Russia, though the times of the Soviet Union, and to the current day under Putin's leadership. It includes how people's views of the forests changed through time, including the leaders, dissidents and serfs. Politics, war, logging, forest spirits, rivers you name it. The book also talks a lot about how the view of the forest was captured by Art (particularly literature and painting) and often used as propaganda. It's a scholarly book but not hard to read. There are maps in the book so a paper copy might make for the best experience.
March 1, 2026
Fantastic!
This was my introduction to Russian history. This is a highly interesting cultural and environmental history told through Russia’s relationship with its forests. I learned so much. This book is an adventure in time travel from the long ago past to the present. My only advice if you are not familiar with Russia’s geography to get a large map. The maps in the book are helpful but I should have had a large map by my side while reading to get a better sense of place and location.
This was my introduction to Russian history. This is a highly interesting cultural and environmental history told through Russia’s relationship with its forests. I learned so much. This book is an adventure in time travel from the long ago past to the present. My only advice if you are not familiar with Russia’s geography to get a large map. The maps in the book are helpful but I should have had a large map by my side while reading to get a better sense of place and location.
April 17, 2026
This book serves as an excellent companion to Forest Journey: The Role of Trees in the Fate of Civilization by John Perlin, expanding the story by exploring the history of forests in Russia and Eastern Europe.
I’m particularly fascinated by the Białowieża Forest (pronounced Bee-uh-wo-VYAY-zha), a rare remnant of primeval woodland with a rich and compelling history. Preserved in part by its marshy, inaccessible terrain, it has long been contested and has served as a refuge in times of conflict. Straddling the boundary between East and West, it is home to an extraordinary diversity of flora and fauna, offering a glimpse of what much of Europe’s forests may once have looked like before widespread deforestation. Even today, it stands as a vast, living ecosystem of remarkable ecological and historical significance.
Pinkham approaches the much of the subject from a literary perspective, which is no bad thing: writers such as Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Chekhov we often central for issues of land, serfdom, and political awareness of the day, while remaining deeply connected, in their own ways, to forests and woodlands.
We get an idea of the forces that formed the continent over the and how that trees and forests we at the core with marauding mongals superior horse power only being held in check by the physical restraint on dense woodland marsh and water.
I was aware that the idea that the notion of synthesis found interpretation and was distorted for reasons political:
According to Lysenko’s anthropomorphizing theories—which could be seen as a Stalinist distortion of Kropotkin’s theory of mutual aid, or as a bizarre precursor to Suzanne Simard’s theory of the “wood wide web” - plants could work as a collective, helping each other to grow and acting in the interest of the greater good. Oak acorns, for example, could be planted in nests in a formation that would allow them to defend each other against malevolent outsiders such as weeds. This would allow the forest to win its struggle against the steppe at last. The victory of the new forest would standfor socialism’s triumph against capitalism, and the Soviet Union’s triumph over its foreign foes. In Lysenkoism, political metaphor always trumped scientific method.
I’m particularly fascinated by the Białowieża Forest (pronounced Bee-uh-wo-VYAY-zha), a rare remnant of primeval woodland with a rich and compelling history. Preserved in part by its marshy, inaccessible terrain, it has long been contested and has served as a refuge in times of conflict. Straddling the boundary between East and West, it is home to an extraordinary diversity of flora and fauna, offering a glimpse of what much of Europe’s forests may once have looked like before widespread deforestation. Even today, it stands as a vast, living ecosystem of remarkable ecological and historical significance.
Pinkham approaches the much of the subject from a literary perspective, which is no bad thing: writers such as Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Chekhov we often central for issues of land, serfdom, and political awareness of the day, while remaining deeply connected, in their own ways, to forests and woodlands.
We get an idea of the forces that formed the continent over the and how that trees and forests we at the core with marauding mongals superior horse power only being held in check by the physical restraint on dense woodland marsh and water.
I was aware that the idea that the notion of synthesis found interpretation and was distorted for reasons political:
According to Lysenko’s anthropomorphizing theories—which could be seen as a Stalinist distortion of Kropotkin’s theory of mutual aid, or as a bizarre precursor to Suzanne Simard’s theory of the “wood wide web” - plants could work as a collective, helping each other to grow and acting in the interest of the greater good. Oak acorns, for example, could be planted in nests in a formation that would allow them to defend each other against malevolent outsiders such as weeds. This would allow the forest to win its struggle against the steppe at last. The victory of the new forest would standfor socialism’s triumph against capitalism, and the Soviet Union’s triumph over its foreign foes. In Lysenkoism, political metaphor always trumped scientific method.
June 11, 2026
This was less a history of Russia or its forests, and more an exploration of the Russian (or Soviet) people's ongoing relationship with its forests. Generally speaking, this relationship was investigated through close looks at the works of Russia's writers, artists, and other intellectuals. It wasn't what I expected, but it was a thoughtful and pleasant read. (I mean, you have to love it when people say good things about trees! Also, I want to visit Siberia.) Just don't go into it expecting heavy and linear history -- this is more of an anecdotal ramble.
June 13, 2026
Een prachtig geschreven geschiedenis van Ruslands bossen en natuur door de eeuwen heen. Veel aandacht voor de Russische cultuur, politiek en alles wat het land zo interessant maakt. De schrijfster refereert vaak aan schrijvers, hun boeken, aan filmmakers etc. Je hoeft niet per se de Russische geschiedenis te kennen om dit boek te waarderen. Pinkham geeft genoeg russische geschiedenis zodat alles duidelijk is. Aan het eind uiteraard ook veel over de oorlog met Oekraine en de impact daarvan op de natuur. Een heel interessant boek.
August 12, 2026
I really enjoyed reading this book. It’s not a systematic survey but I wouldn’t want to read such a survey. Mix of literature excerpts, famous Russians and factual ethnobotany — but then I got to the last chapter and she said wolves are vegetarian!!!!
And I was like maybe I am wrong — nope as per 2014
The British journal of nutrition 113(S1):S40-S54 DOI: 10.1017/S0007114514002311 they are heavy carnivores. And if she’s wrong about the wolves, what else is wrong in the book. What else slipped past fact checkers?
And I was like maybe I am wrong — nope as per 2014
The British journal of nutrition 113(S1):S40-S54 DOI: 10.1017/S0007114514002311 they are heavy carnivores. And if she’s wrong about the wolves, what else is wrong in the book. What else slipped past fact checkers?
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