How does one go about writing a review of one’s favourite book of all? One runs the risk of making one of two errors: one might either ignore flaws, and praise too much, to the point of gushing; or, one might try and be too critical in an attempt to be even-handed, and thus sell the work short.
Mikhail Sholokhov’s Quiet Flows the Don (that’s the complete and unabridged English edition of Tikhii Don, “The Quiet Don” in the original Russian) is not an easy book to read. It’s not something for those who have limited attention spans and/or no knowledge of history. And, though it’s a novel of war, it’s emphatically not for those who are looking for action.
The Russian Civil War was one of the most defining events of history. This is not the place for discussing its effects, but two things should be remembered: first, if it had not happened, the twentieth century would have been almost in every way completely different; and, secondly, the victory of the Bolsheviks in the war was far from assured. As the war progressed, the Red Army had not only to fight against the Whites, but against anarchists, assorted bandit formations, and rebellious Cossacks, who switched sides several times as the tide of events washed over them.
The book is the story of one such Cossack, and of the women whom he loves, and the struggles he has to go through.
Grigorii Melekhov is a young Cossack in the Don valley just prior to the start of the First World War. He loves Aksinia, the wife of another Cossack, and this results in so much fighting and turmoil that his father forcibly marries him off to another woman, Natalya, who is as sweet and gentle as Aksinia is fiery and determined. Finally, Aksinia and Grigorii run off together, and find employment in the mansion of a wealthy landowner, where they might find a modicum of happiness.
But the war comes, the First World War, and the Tsar orders the Cossacks to the front. Grigorii is sent to the Austro-Hungarian front, and for the first time kills men in combat. Meanwhile, as the war drags on, the Tsarist autocracy begins to collapse under the weight of its own corruption, and the masses begin to rise up in protest.
The Don Cossacks were not directly involved in the overthrow of the monarchy, and the news only filtered through to them later, causing anxiety more than anything. After all, though they had been routinely used as cannon fodder by the Tsars, they were historically and almost organically part of the Tsarist apparatus, and could not imagine life under any other system. However, they weren’t exactly given a choice in the matter, and soon enough the tides of the Civil War washed over them.
Quite apart from not being a book for the attention-span-challenged, this book is not for the squeamish; the Russian Civil War was one of the most brutal in history, with both sides (or, to be exact, all sides) routinely massacring prisoners and carrying out what today would be considered war crimes. In this war, there were two kinds of combatant; one who was ideologically driven, and fought on one or the other side, through victory or defeat; and, on the other, the kind of soldier who fought not for ideology but in defence of his own ethnic group and its perceived interests. Grigorii Melekhov was emphatically of the latter, and switched back and forth from the Red to the White sides as the fortunes of war dictated.
Meanwhile, the two women in his life, Natalya and Aksinia, live through their own private torment – Natalya, scarred in a suicide attempt, her attempt to make a life again with Grigorii sabotaged by the war; and Aksinia, torn between her husband, whom she does not love and who does not love her, and Grigorii, whose child she has borne and who she knows is torn between her and Natalya. It’s a love story as well as a war story, and in these circumstances the outcome can’t be anything but tragic.
The writing, even in translation, is superb, the minor characters brilliantly etched. It’s not a book which one can read and say to oneself, “Now so-and-so is quite superfluous; one could just delete him and nothing would be lost”. Even the insignificant valet of the landowner has his own place in the narrative, serving to fill out the canvas. And there’s the odd moment where one sees the hope of the future, like the German whom Grigorii takes prisoner early in the novel and then lets go, who shakes his hand and tells him: “In the coming class wars we’ll be on the same side of the barricades, won’t we, comrade?”
One of the most important things about the novel is its sympathetic treatment of the Whites; though written in Stalin’s USSR by a very much establishment author, it’s as far from a Communist polemic as it’s possible to get. That it won the Stalin Prize in 1941 is another proof of something I’ve said before and will say again: the alleged persecution of dissent by Stalin is at least partly exaggerated, not least by his successors like Khrushchev for their own political purposes.
What are the flaws of the book? Apart from the fact that one needs at least some background knowledge of the First World War and the Russian Civil War, including an idea of Russian civil society of the time, at two thick volumes it’s certainly not something to be gone through in one session. Spanning almost a decade, the ebb and flow of characters can sometimes be confusing, especially if one is a newcomer to Russian literature and can’t remember Russian names.
Also, the only conclusion one can draw from this book is, when brothers fight, nobody wins. Even the victor has lost whatever it was that was worth fighting for.
Completely and absolutely recommended, for those who care.