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.
Sophie 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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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 very uneven, as are most English-language books about Russia. Some chapters were great and really captured the essence of the topic. Other chapters were just weird filler with dubious conclusions. Pinkham also left out some fundamental forest/tree connections while making much of other more tangential topics. It was disappointing when you have high expectations, but all in all not a bad book.
An interesting way of looking at the social history of Russia, through its forests. How they have been cleared, grown, used by partisans, hidden in etc.