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The Shaman's Coat: A Native History of Siberia
The fascinating history of an unknown people A vivid mixture of history and reporting, The Shaman's Coat tells the story of some of the world's least-known peoples―the indigenous tribes of Siberia. Russia's equivalent to the Native Americans or Australian Aborigines, they divide into two dozen different and ancient nationalities―among them Buryat, Tuvans, Sakha, and Chukchi. Though they number more than one million and have begun to demand land rights and political autonomy since the fall of communism, most Westerners are not even aware that they exist. Journalist and historian Anna Reid traveled the length and breadth of Siberia―one-twelfth of the world's land surface, larger than the United States and Western Europe combined―to tell the story of its people. Drawing on sources ranging from folktales to KGB reports, and on interviews with shamans and Buddhist monks, reindeer herders and whale hunters, camp survivors and Party apparatchiks, The Shaman's Coat travels through four hundred years of history, from the Cossacks' campaigns against the last of the Tatar khans to native rights activists against oil development. The result is a moving group portrait of extraordinary and threatened peoples, and a unique and intrepid travel chronicle.
226 pages, Hardcover
First published October 1, 2002
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October 13, 2025
More than I’ve read before about Siberia, this book focuses each chapter on a different geographical region of Siberia and its Indigenous peoples, a mixture of history and the author’s own travels, observations, and conversations with people. I don’t have a particularly firm grasp on the area’s history or geography, and did best if I didn’t try to hard to sort out the thickets of historical figures. It made for interesting reading about a vast and varied area that showed me how much I don’t know, from the experiences of the Buddhist Buryat to the Chukchi near Alaska. Some information resonated with the Indigenous experience in Canada - conquest coming via trapper-explorers who depleted fur-bearing animals to extinction, residential schools, loss of language and culture, alcoholism, smallpox. But gulags, convicts, Cossacks, collectivization, Stalinism, and the fall of the Soviet Union provide quite the overlay.
It’s a 2002 book, and rather dated, though it briefly touches on Putin. Would love to learn more about developments since then.
From a Khant ballad about a campaign against them in the 18th century that involved large-scale conversion and tribute obligations, enforced by violence and destruction of ‘idols’:
On me, whose father never wore iron,
They have put fetters.
Me, man that I am, they have thrown,
Into a horrible hole fit only for dogs.
…
Around my neck,
They have hung a four-cornered golden cross,
The dish over-flowing with horse-fat that my father used to offer the gods,
Will no more be offered, not even in a thousand days.
It’s a 2002 book, and rather dated, though it briefly touches on Putin. Would love to learn more about developments since then.
From a Khant ballad about a campaign against them in the 18th century that involved large-scale conversion and tribute obligations, enforced by violence and destruction of ‘idols’:
On me, whose father never wore iron,
They have put fetters.
Me, man that I am, they have thrown,
Into a horrible hole fit only for dogs.
…
Around my neck,
They have hung a four-cornered golden cross,
The dish over-flowing with horse-fat that my father used to offer the gods,
Will no more be offered, not even in a thousand days.
December 9, 2011
Given the topic, it may be appropriate that this book is sad and thin.
Like indigenous peoples all over the world, the natives of Siberia were steamrollered by the cruelties of the modern age. Unlike indigenous peoples elsewhere, however, there seem to be few people, in the country where the various indigenous Siberians now find themselves, who feel at all regretful or wish to record the recollections of the final witnesses to their ancient way of life.
Whenever I see a person of European descent (anywhere in the world) dressed up as a native American, or a white Australian in the center of some large world city blowing on a didgeridoo, I stop myself in mid-eye-roll and remember something that is worthwhile is being preserved here, and the implied enthusiasm and reverence of amateur and professional preservers is worthy of respect. But it seems like the native Siberians are a bridge too far – too wild, too remote, too various in their sparse settlements, too victimized by the accidents of murderous modern history. Even though a few hardy new-agers seem interested, you just aren't going to find summer festivals where people dress up like the Buryat, sing Buryat songs, sleep in Buryat yurts.
So instead you have this book. The author writes clearly about her long and inconclusive travels, but there are no hidden pockets of optimism. There are no communities or apparently few individuals working to preserve or even record the old ways. Reviving them seems beyond hoping for. Again: a sad book.
Perhaps this is why Anna Reid chose to exclude all mention of physicist Richard Feynman from the chapter on the Tuvans (i.e., chapter 4). Feynman, also a best-selling author and general eccentric character, took an interest in the Tuvans for unapologetically unserious reasons. The reason: because, for a boy from Brooklyn, they seemed exotic. The result was a haphazard collections of books, articles, and documentaries, starting in the 1980s and continuing into the early 2000s, which brought Tuva to the attention of many people who would have never otherwise heard of them. Feynman was a naturally ebullient and his enthusiasm for things Tuvan may have struck Reid as shallow and insufficiently reverent, given the cruelty and sadness of their recent history. (For more on Feynman and Tuva, see the book Tuva or Bust! Richard Feynman's Last Journey by Ralph Leighton, or one of the following videos on Youtube: ”The Quest for Tanna Tuva”, ”Last Journey of a Genius” or ”Genghis Blues”. The last one is my personal favorite.)
As of this writing, this book is available for a very reasonable $7.37 on Kindle. I urge you to support ebooks that are priced under $10, which is certainly enough to pay for a bunch of 0's and 1's.
Like indigenous peoples all over the world, the natives of Siberia were steamrollered by the cruelties of the modern age. Unlike indigenous peoples elsewhere, however, there seem to be few people, in the country where the various indigenous Siberians now find themselves, who feel at all regretful or wish to record the recollections of the final witnesses to their ancient way of life.
Whenever I see a person of European descent (anywhere in the world) dressed up as a native American, or a white Australian in the center of some large world city blowing on a didgeridoo, I stop myself in mid-eye-roll and remember something that is worthwhile is being preserved here, and the implied enthusiasm and reverence of amateur and professional preservers is worthy of respect. But it seems like the native Siberians are a bridge too far – too wild, too remote, too various in their sparse settlements, too victimized by the accidents of murderous modern history. Even though a few hardy new-agers seem interested, you just aren't going to find summer festivals where people dress up like the Buryat, sing Buryat songs, sleep in Buryat yurts.
So instead you have this book. The author writes clearly about her long and inconclusive travels, but there are no hidden pockets of optimism. There are no communities or apparently few individuals working to preserve or even record the old ways. Reviving them seems beyond hoping for. Again: a sad book.
Perhaps this is why Anna Reid chose to exclude all mention of physicist Richard Feynman from the chapter on the Tuvans (i.e., chapter 4). Feynman, also a best-selling author and general eccentric character, took an interest in the Tuvans for unapologetically unserious reasons. The reason: because, for a boy from Brooklyn, they seemed exotic. The result was a haphazard collections of books, articles, and documentaries, starting in the 1980s and continuing into the early 2000s, which brought Tuva to the attention of many people who would have never otherwise heard of them. Feynman was a naturally ebullient and his enthusiasm for things Tuvan may have struck Reid as shallow and insufficiently reverent, given the cruelty and sadness of their recent history. (For more on Feynman and Tuva, see the book Tuva or Bust! Richard Feynman's Last Journey by Ralph Leighton, or one of the following videos on Youtube: ”The Quest for Tanna Tuva”, ”Last Journey of a Genius” or ”Genghis Blues”. The last one is my personal favorite.)
As of this writing, this book is available for a very reasonable $7.37 on Kindle. I urge you to support ebooks that are priced under $10, which is certainly enough to pay for a bunch of 0's and 1's.
February 19, 2012
Not what I expected. I expected more of an oral history. The author travelling throughout Siberia and recording the stories of the Shaman. There was some of this. The author did travel Siberia and talk to a few people about Shamanism, but it was few and far between. The pages were filled with history, eg Stalin, Gulag, philosophers quotes, quotes from Russian literature and about Russian authors etc.. and at times it felt like the author had lost her way. Lost her vision of what this book was supposed to be about.
In essence, the book has two titles that seem to mean different things to the reader. The Shaman's Coat title made me think this was going to be an up close and personal travelogue chronicling oral Shamanic history.
The sub title A Native history of Siberia is what this book really is. Just a history, like many histories that have been written about Russia and Siberia often enough already. I was not looking for another one of those books. Another book hung up on talking about Stalin's treatment of the native peoples, hung up on Dostoyevsky (oh why can't there be one book set in Russia that doesn't feel it needs to quote or mention Dostoyevsky).
I wanted to sit in the yurts of the Shaman and listen to their stories through the eyes and ears of this author, Anna Reid, but it happened too infrequently.
I would recommend it to anyone looking for a history of Siberia with some Shamanism thrown in to titillate you.
In essence, the book has two titles that seem to mean different things to the reader. The Shaman's Coat title made me think this was going to be an up close and personal travelogue chronicling oral Shamanic history.
The sub title A Native history of Siberia is what this book really is. Just a history, like many histories that have been written about Russia and Siberia often enough already. I was not looking for another one of those books. Another book hung up on talking about Stalin's treatment of the native peoples, hung up on Dostoyevsky (oh why can't there be one book set in Russia that doesn't feel it needs to quote or mention Dostoyevsky).
I wanted to sit in the yurts of the Shaman and listen to their stories through the eyes and ears of this author, Anna Reid, but it happened too infrequently.
I would recommend it to anyone looking for a history of Siberia with some Shamanism thrown in to titillate you.
December 21, 2021
Russia invaded Siberia in the 16th century, extracted wealth, planted forts and settlements and, mostly, ran roughshod over the indigenous people living there over the next two centuries. It's not a pretty picture of conquest and empire-building that forced tribute quotas on native people while infecting them with deadly Western diseases they had no immunity against. And the major role fur-trapping played in the enormous wealth the Russian Empire gained at the Siberian people's expense is clearly set forth.
"The Shaman's Coat" is an exploration of that sorry Russian/Soviet history, focusing on eight distinct indigenous tribal cultures and their environments- large and small- and each's adaptation to or rejection of the colonialization and repression brought to bear on the native cultures.
Anna Reid asks: "Where did the real Siberians, the native people, fit into all this (history)? The answer, usually, was nowhere very much. Russians' perceptions of them progressed through familiar stages. For the Cossacks, they were an economic resource; for Enlightenment scientists, natural curiosities; for Romantics, noble savages; for empire-builders, an excuse-- so as to rescue them from cruel Chinese or Japanese rule-- to conquer new territory, and a canvas on which to display civilizing prowess. Pre-revolutionary travel writers usually only featured them as a side-show... There were exceptions. Condemned to remote settlements for years on end, nineteenth-century exiles often staved off despair by turning themselves into ethnographers. Outcasts themselves, they empathized with their subjects."
One significant literary (1900) and film (1975) representation was Vladimir Arsenyev's "Dersu Uzala", a very sympathetic portrait of a seasoned native hunter/tracker whose skills and survival wisdom saves a Russian military contingent in the Siberian wilderness. I highly recommend both the book and Kurosawa's film adaptation.
Reid draws upon varied sources, letters and records to capture these perspectives on the Khant, Buryat, Tuvans, Sakha, Ainu, Nivkh, Uilta and the Chukchi, moving from the Urals eastward to the Pacific. The book has very useful maps to orient the reader. Reid, herself travels to locations throughout Siberia to try to interview remnants of the cultures she investigates as well as observe their Post-Soviet status, economic prospects, and -if possible- cultural vitality.
The concept of Shamanism as an authentic unifying thread among various tribal cultures is posited as a link that, she finds, has been rooted out, degraded or commercialized by waves of assaults on native faith practices over the generations. "The state of Siberian shamanism, I thought when embarking on this book, would be an indicator of the extent to which the indigenous peoples had preserved their identities under Russian rule. The tsars tried to replace shamans with priests. THE communists ostracised and imprisoned them, and under Stalin shot them or threw them out of helicopters, saying that if they could fly, now was their chance. If shamanism had survived all this, other aspects of native Siberian culture probably had too."
In closing, she concludes that shamanism "like broader native identity, it had been stripped down to the essentials by Russian rule and especially by Communism, reduced from a detailed, consistent way of apprehending the world to a rag-bag of vague, disconnected beliefs and rituals. It was now in the process of reconstruction, with spare parts from the West."
"The Shaman's Coat" is an exploration of that sorry Russian/Soviet history, focusing on eight distinct indigenous tribal cultures and their environments- large and small- and each's adaptation to or rejection of the colonialization and repression brought to bear on the native cultures.
Anna Reid asks: "Where did the real Siberians, the native people, fit into all this (history)? The answer, usually, was nowhere very much. Russians' perceptions of them progressed through familiar stages. For the Cossacks, they were an economic resource; for Enlightenment scientists, natural curiosities; for Romantics, noble savages; for empire-builders, an excuse-- so as to rescue them from cruel Chinese or Japanese rule-- to conquer new territory, and a canvas on which to display civilizing prowess. Pre-revolutionary travel writers usually only featured them as a side-show... There were exceptions. Condemned to remote settlements for years on end, nineteenth-century exiles often staved off despair by turning themselves into ethnographers. Outcasts themselves, they empathized with their subjects."
One significant literary (1900) and film (1975) representation was Vladimir Arsenyev's "Dersu Uzala", a very sympathetic portrait of a seasoned native hunter/tracker whose skills and survival wisdom saves a Russian military contingent in the Siberian wilderness. I highly recommend both the book and Kurosawa's film adaptation.
Reid draws upon varied sources, letters and records to capture these perspectives on the Khant, Buryat, Tuvans, Sakha, Ainu, Nivkh, Uilta and the Chukchi, moving from the Urals eastward to the Pacific. The book has very useful maps to orient the reader. Reid, herself travels to locations throughout Siberia to try to interview remnants of the cultures she investigates as well as observe their Post-Soviet status, economic prospects, and -if possible- cultural vitality.
The concept of Shamanism as an authentic unifying thread among various tribal cultures is posited as a link that, she finds, has been rooted out, degraded or commercialized by waves of assaults on native faith practices over the generations. "The state of Siberian shamanism, I thought when embarking on this book, would be an indicator of the extent to which the indigenous peoples had preserved their identities under Russian rule. The tsars tried to replace shamans with priests. THE communists ostracised and imprisoned them, and under Stalin shot them or threw them out of helicopters, saying that if they could fly, now was their chance. If shamanism had survived all this, other aspects of native Siberian culture probably had too."
In closing, she concludes that shamanism "like broader native identity, it had been stripped down to the essentials by Russian rule and especially by Communism, reduced from a detailed, consistent way of apprehending the world to a rag-bag of vague, disconnected beliefs and rituals. It was now in the process of reconstruction, with spare parts from the West."
September 8, 2013
3.5 stars
A curious, sometimes jumbled mix of anthropology, travel diary, & history of indigenous groups in Siberia. I found much of the information interesting (if mostly depressing); it helps to have more than passing knowledge of Russian/Soviet history when reading this book.
Even though I am much more familiar with North America's indigenous groups & their history in relation to European/North American colonization, I had never given much thought to similar groups throughout Siberia. In some ways, there is much similarity ("taming" the "Wild West" in North America vs. "taming" the "Wild East" in Siberia) but also differences somewhat tied to Russia's political history too (as well as those of China, Mongolia, & Japan).
Not the most riveting of reads, but plenty of fascinating information nonetheless, especially since I think there is little information about these places & peoples available in English. I wish the maps had been better & that photos would have been included.
A curious, sometimes jumbled mix of anthropology, travel diary, & history of indigenous groups in Siberia. I found much of the information interesting (if mostly depressing); it helps to have more than passing knowledge of Russian/Soviet history when reading this book.
Even though I am much more familiar with North America's indigenous groups & their history in relation to European/North American colonization, I had never given much thought to similar groups throughout Siberia. In some ways, there is much similarity ("taming" the "Wild West" in North America vs. "taming" the "Wild East" in Siberia) but also differences somewhat tied to Russia's political history too (as well as those of China, Mongolia, & Japan).
Not the most riveting of reads, but plenty of fascinating information nonetheless, especially since I think there is little information about these places & peoples available in English. I wish the maps had been better & that photos would have been included.
March 3, 2013
Dated and more of a quick travelogue than I had hoped, this still is an eye-opener for anyone curious about Siberia, Russian conquest, and how things have been going since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Sad to say, none too well for the indigenous peoples from the Urals to the Pacific. Anyone familiar with the Wild West history of the U.S. will recognize many similarities with the eastward conquests, some differences, and current affairs that can be strikingly similar. Moscow still seems amazingly distant and inefective, for better or worse. Very little on shamans, despite the title. Mainly because there aren't that many and the few who are in practice are re-inventing many lost cultural traits wiped out deliberately by Sovietization and earlier Russification and accidentally by modernization's ebb and flow.
March 28, 2009
Inspired to learn something about Siberia after rewatching a favorite movie, Dersu Usala, I somewhat randomly chose this book. It turned out to be well written, with a knowing but not cynical, poetic but not effusive tone, and it contains useful maps of the various regions that comprise the chapters of the book. The title and impressive cover art are a bit misleading, however. The book really focuses on the diverse ways that the native tribes were decimated or deracinated. There is relatively little information about shamans before, during, or after the centuries of colonization. I wasn't terribly disappointed, however, as Reid obviously had to select from innumerable historical and contemporary narratives to cover her huge topic (huge in space and time), and the narratives she did choose, though often not about shamans, were well worth reading. It's interesting to compare the ways Russians and/or Soviets went about conquering natives to the ways Americans did so, and again to compare the resulting differences in outcomes for Siberian and American natives. The images of contemporary Siberian (Soviet ghost) towns are strikingly depressing. And the few paragraphs that do describe pre-conquest tribal life really give the sense of an almost unimaginably different way of viewing the world. I like The Golden Bough, too, for this reason -- both books gracefully but persistently stymie our wish to project upon ancient tribal cultures.
December 2, 2007
This book was entertaining, included a lot of cool anecdotes, described interesting encounters with Siberians, and provided a good overview of the history of Siberia. But based on the other reading about Siberia I'd been doing, some of which dealt with the same modern issues and phenomena, I thought it was weaker and less insightful. I would probably not trust any conclusions that it drew about Siberian identity or Soviet influence without verifying them elsewhere. Also, a lot of things were really vague and thus not very useful---for example, there were no dates on most of the photographs!
November 1, 2016
The title is a bit misleading. It is a book about the various native tribes who live in Siberia. There is a touch of discussion on Shamans. But the real interest was finding out how many different tribes and cultures lived and are still trying to live in Siberia. These people made the book worthwhile to read but not a great book to read.
April 11, 2016
Going to shamelessly use my review that I wrote for class because, honestly, it's a good one.
The Shaman’s Coat: A Native History of Siberia, by Anna Reid, 2002. Great Britain: Orion Publishing Group Ltd. ISBN: 0-297-64377-0 (hardcover). xiii + 225, 9 maps, 29 pictures, acknowledgments, introduction, afterward, notes, selected bibliography, index.
Reviewed by C. Andrews
The Shaman’s Coat is an extensively written ethnography detailing the Siberian indigenes and their world. Despite what the title may suggest, this book has very little to do with shamanism, and more to do with the fact that many Westerners are not even aware that the Siberian indigenes exist. Anna Reid does an excellent job of bringing that fact to light by using all manner of sources in order to get all of the information possible. Reid also makes a point of making many subtle comparisons to other indigenous people, such as Australian aboriginals or the Native Americans, to emphasize the resilience of culture. It is through these examples that Reid attempts to provide a spectrum of how the Siberian indigenes have dealt with the modern age and their evolution through history to their embrace of their Russian citizenship. Overall, The Shaman’s Coat is an excellent example of ethnography, pulling various sources together to create a detailed exploration of the Siberian indigenes and where their future lies.
The Shaman’s Coat details the lives of the Siberian indigenes to such an extent that it emphasizes just how various and numerous they were, emphasizing the fact that “few generalizations held true of all of them” (Reid 199; 2002). Reid emphasizes the fact that there are over thirty different Siberian nationalities, and that to gain a single interpretation of them as a whole would be folly, because it simply isn’t fair to classify the people as a whole. They are all so different that it would be presumptuous to reach any broad conclusions. Reid made detailed studies of nine of these indigenous communities, came to the conclusion that it would be impossible to classify them all under the same category other than that they all live in Siberia.
Reid studied many of the Sibiryaki, Siberian subcultures such as the Khant, the Buryat, the Tuvans, the Sakha, the Chukchi, Ainu, Nivkh, and Uilta. This is only a small portion of the Siberian indigenes; not even half of the local Siberian people. Reid dedicated chapters to each of these subcultures, detailing their lifestyles, folklore and history, and the ways in which the Soviet Union attempted to crush their individualism and culture. Over the course of several months, Reid garnered enough information to write a very thorough ethnography of the Siberian indigenes. Reid sought out to enlighten readers of the true Siberia, not just the “vast white snowfield” (Reid 1; 2002). Despite what the title of the ethnography may suggest, there are very few discussions relating to shamanism throughout the novel. Through this, Reid subtly suggests that Shamanism did not fare so well under the Soviet regime. Overall, the crux of her studies revolved around how the Sibiryaki in general, not just the Siberian shamans, had fared during the Soviet control of Siberia.
It is through Reid’s critique of the Soviet control over the Siberian Indigene that becomes apparent that she used a painstakingly amount of research in order to create an unbiased and informed approach, especially considering her lack of information regarding the subject in interviews. Reid had to use sources such as folklore, KGB reports, the work of other ethnographers, and a wide array of interviews in order to get the information she needed over the span of months. The goal of her ethnography was to prove that “native Siberians did still exist,” (Reid 199; 2002) in that the culture still lived on despite Soviet control. Reid’s research is valuable to the anthropological community because it emphasizes the perseverance of culture. While the fabric of the Siberian indigenes cultures has changes, it still retains the same basic shape.
Reid also indulged in great detail the lack of information regarding how well the Siberian indigenes got along with the Russians following Soviet control. This was a topic of particular sensitivity as the soviet regime had undergone great efforts to suffocate the various Siberian indigene cultures. The “extent [to which] northern native Siberians resisted collectivization is unclear” (Reid 164; 2002) but the aftereffects were felt nonetheless. Most of Reid’s sources would “clam up or change the subject” (Reid 200; 2002) whenever the topic of Soviet colonization was brought up, making it hard to pull together sources for valid and valuable information. But, despite this, Reid persevered and managed to extract enough information from her tight lipped sources to provide a compelling and thorough depiction of the lives of the Siberian indigenes under Soviet control. “It was all … about how to give away your things” (Reid 163; 2002) for the Siberian’s under Soviet control and so they were “engulfed by Stalin’s terror” (Reid 165; 2002). Reid also details the destructive policies under Khrushchev, emphasizing that it was the Soviet regime in its entirety, not just Joseph Stalin, which had such a negative impact on the Siberian culture. Soviet control attempted to leave the Siberian indigenes “bereft of their cultural identity” (Reid 167; 2002), resulting in lower life expectancy and literacy throughout the many villages. This was through the Soviet Union’s desire to wipe out the Siberian cultural identity. Despite her lack of first hand sources, Reid does an excellent job of illustrating Siberian indigene collectivization and the effects it had in the years to come.
The Shaman’s Coat is made all the more compelling by Reid’s audacity and perseverance for honest sources. The most interesting part of the novel is the perseverance of the Sibiryaki despite the Soviet Union’s efforts to squash out individualism and faith. Through reports and scattered interviews, Reid determined that the Soviet control of the Sibiryaki had “turned from tough, self-sufficient herders, hunters, and fishermen into bored, browbeaten manual laborers” (Reid 167; 2002). Reid explains this as because the Soviet Union left them “bereft of their cultural identity, self-respect and often of their children” (Reid 167; 2002). Reid compares this to the “passive, alcohol-soaked despair [of the] Australian [aborigines] and sadder parts of Alaska” (Reid 167; 2002), comparing the suffering of the Siberian indigenes to the culture crushing done to other indigene people around the world. Reid also utilizes various photographs, which are seen throughout the text, to emphasize this point. One haunting image in particular is of Stalin holding a little village girl, and in the photo caption, it reveals that he had her family killed within a year of taking that photo (Stalin with Gelya Markizova). This is but a small example of the devastation wrecked upon the Siberian indigenes. Although, Shamanism and the Sibiryaki had been “strengthened since Communism’s collapse” (Reid 199; 2002); the Siberian indigene culture had been “stripped down to its essentials by Russian rule and especially by Communism” (Reid 201; 2002), yet they still persevered. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, there was a strong surge of re-found faith and sense of community. Overall, Reid emphasizes the importance of culture and community through her narrations by describing the devastation inflicted upon the Siberian indigene and the results it had upon the culture in both the long and short term.
The crux of the Shaman’s Coat was to illuminate the hardships undergone by the Sibiryaki and the methods they used to move on from such devastation. Anna Reid also proved just how important culture is to the community as a whole, and how culture survives hardship. Reid also managed to prove that there is more to Siberia than a vast white wonderland. She managed to prove that Siberia is a land full of culture and vast misinterpretations and a still thriving culture. While Reid makes a point of the decay of the culture under Soviet control, she also emphasizes the growth of the Sibiryaki afterward. Utilizing interviews, transcripts, diary entries, photographs, paintings and various other sources, Reid brings together an excellent ethnography.
The Shaman’s Coat: A Native History of Siberia, by Anna Reid, 2002. Great Britain: Orion Publishing Group Ltd. ISBN: 0-297-64377-0 (hardcover). xiii + 225, 9 maps, 29 pictures, acknowledgments, introduction, afterward, notes, selected bibliography, index.
Reviewed by C. Andrews
The Shaman’s Coat is an extensively written ethnography detailing the Siberian indigenes and their world. Despite what the title may suggest, this book has very little to do with shamanism, and more to do with the fact that many Westerners are not even aware that the Siberian indigenes exist. Anna Reid does an excellent job of bringing that fact to light by using all manner of sources in order to get all of the information possible. Reid also makes a point of making many subtle comparisons to other indigenous people, such as Australian aboriginals or the Native Americans, to emphasize the resilience of culture. It is through these examples that Reid attempts to provide a spectrum of how the Siberian indigenes have dealt with the modern age and their evolution through history to their embrace of their Russian citizenship. Overall, The Shaman’s Coat is an excellent example of ethnography, pulling various sources together to create a detailed exploration of the Siberian indigenes and where their future lies.
The Shaman’s Coat details the lives of the Siberian indigenes to such an extent that it emphasizes just how various and numerous they were, emphasizing the fact that “few generalizations held true of all of them” (Reid 199; 2002). Reid emphasizes the fact that there are over thirty different Siberian nationalities, and that to gain a single interpretation of them as a whole would be folly, because it simply isn’t fair to classify the people as a whole. They are all so different that it would be presumptuous to reach any broad conclusions. Reid made detailed studies of nine of these indigenous communities, came to the conclusion that it would be impossible to classify them all under the same category other than that they all live in Siberia.
Reid studied many of the Sibiryaki, Siberian subcultures such as the Khant, the Buryat, the Tuvans, the Sakha, the Chukchi, Ainu, Nivkh, and Uilta. This is only a small portion of the Siberian indigenes; not even half of the local Siberian people. Reid dedicated chapters to each of these subcultures, detailing their lifestyles, folklore and history, and the ways in which the Soviet Union attempted to crush their individualism and culture. Over the course of several months, Reid garnered enough information to write a very thorough ethnography of the Siberian indigenes. Reid sought out to enlighten readers of the true Siberia, not just the “vast white snowfield” (Reid 1; 2002). Despite what the title of the ethnography may suggest, there are very few discussions relating to shamanism throughout the novel. Through this, Reid subtly suggests that Shamanism did not fare so well under the Soviet regime. Overall, the crux of her studies revolved around how the Sibiryaki in general, not just the Siberian shamans, had fared during the Soviet control of Siberia.
It is through Reid’s critique of the Soviet control over the Siberian Indigene that becomes apparent that she used a painstakingly amount of research in order to create an unbiased and informed approach, especially considering her lack of information regarding the subject in interviews. Reid had to use sources such as folklore, KGB reports, the work of other ethnographers, and a wide array of interviews in order to get the information she needed over the span of months. The goal of her ethnography was to prove that “native Siberians did still exist,” (Reid 199; 2002) in that the culture still lived on despite Soviet control. Reid’s research is valuable to the anthropological community because it emphasizes the perseverance of culture. While the fabric of the Siberian indigenes cultures has changes, it still retains the same basic shape.
Reid also indulged in great detail the lack of information regarding how well the Siberian indigenes got along with the Russians following Soviet control. This was a topic of particular sensitivity as the soviet regime had undergone great efforts to suffocate the various Siberian indigene cultures. The “extent [to which] northern native Siberians resisted collectivization is unclear” (Reid 164; 2002) but the aftereffects were felt nonetheless. Most of Reid’s sources would “clam up or change the subject” (Reid 200; 2002) whenever the topic of Soviet colonization was brought up, making it hard to pull together sources for valid and valuable information. But, despite this, Reid persevered and managed to extract enough information from her tight lipped sources to provide a compelling and thorough depiction of the lives of the Siberian indigenes under Soviet control. “It was all … about how to give away your things” (Reid 163; 2002) for the Siberian’s under Soviet control and so they were “engulfed by Stalin’s terror” (Reid 165; 2002). Reid also details the destructive policies under Khrushchev, emphasizing that it was the Soviet regime in its entirety, not just Joseph Stalin, which had such a negative impact on the Siberian culture. Soviet control attempted to leave the Siberian indigenes “bereft of their cultural identity” (Reid 167; 2002), resulting in lower life expectancy and literacy throughout the many villages. This was through the Soviet Union’s desire to wipe out the Siberian cultural identity. Despite her lack of first hand sources, Reid does an excellent job of illustrating Siberian indigene collectivization and the effects it had in the years to come.
The Shaman’s Coat is made all the more compelling by Reid’s audacity and perseverance for honest sources. The most interesting part of the novel is the perseverance of the Sibiryaki despite the Soviet Union’s efforts to squash out individualism and faith. Through reports and scattered interviews, Reid determined that the Soviet control of the Sibiryaki had “turned from tough, self-sufficient herders, hunters, and fishermen into bored, browbeaten manual laborers” (Reid 167; 2002). Reid explains this as because the Soviet Union left them “bereft of their cultural identity, self-respect and often of their children” (Reid 167; 2002). Reid compares this to the “passive, alcohol-soaked despair [of the] Australian [aborigines] and sadder parts of Alaska” (Reid 167; 2002), comparing the suffering of the Siberian indigenes to the culture crushing done to other indigene people around the world. Reid also utilizes various photographs, which are seen throughout the text, to emphasize this point. One haunting image in particular is of Stalin holding a little village girl, and in the photo caption, it reveals that he had her family killed within a year of taking that photo (Stalin with Gelya Markizova). This is but a small example of the devastation wrecked upon the Siberian indigenes. Although, Shamanism and the Sibiryaki had been “strengthened since Communism’s collapse” (Reid 199; 2002); the Siberian indigene culture had been “stripped down to its essentials by Russian rule and especially by Communism” (Reid 201; 2002), yet they still persevered. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, there was a strong surge of re-found faith and sense of community. Overall, Reid emphasizes the importance of culture and community through her narrations by describing the devastation inflicted upon the Siberian indigene and the results it had upon the culture in both the long and short term.
The crux of the Shaman’s Coat was to illuminate the hardships undergone by the Sibiryaki and the methods they used to move on from such devastation. Anna Reid also proved just how important culture is to the community as a whole, and how culture survives hardship. Reid also managed to prove that there is more to Siberia than a vast white wonderland. She managed to prove that Siberia is a land full of culture and vast misinterpretations and a still thriving culture. While Reid makes a point of the decay of the culture under Soviet control, she also emphasizes the growth of the Sibiryaki afterward. Utilizing interviews, transcripts, diary entries, photographs, paintings and various other sources, Reid brings together an excellent ethnography.
February 6, 2020
Interesting book and well worth reading as an introduction to the peoples of Siberia.
That said I found it a little bit neither-one-thing-nor-the-other. First, as so often, the title is quite misleading: very little of the content is concerned with the life and/or working of Siberian shamans. It’s none the worse for that of course, but all the same it is a bit like buying a box of washing powder and finding it contains mostly dishwasher tablets instead. Almost the same – but not quite.
My other, more central criticism of a neither-one-thing-nor-the-other nature concerns the content itself. The book is a slightly disarming mixture of the history of Siberia, from the Russian imperial genocides to the present day on the one hand; and on the other, some interesting anecdotal travelogue items picked up on her personal travels across the region.
I mean it in fact as simultaneously a criticism and a compliment: I would have hugely welcomed a lot more of both, the history; and Anna Reid’s experiences. She writes eloquently and clearly, and it’s a shame that she tried to cram both accounts into only 200 pages of text. It would have been gripping at twice that length, in my view. As it is, she is inevitably a trifle sparse on both fronts and that’s a pity.
All the same, she offers an intriguing insight into a whole range of peoples who have been decimated by ‘modernity’. It is hugely tempting to compare their fate with the native Indians of America – and inevitably Anna Reid does so at one or two points too.
In that context I mention one key difference that emerges for me. In both cases, a mixture of ignorance and sheer brutality destroyed these ancient cultures. America’s experience was perhaps a little more individualistic and Russia’s maybe a little more imperial (i.e. Cossacks were sent out with the express objective of destroying entire tribes. I’m not sure the US cavalry did so that often). Both were equally awful in hindsight, but somehow the Russian experience seems to me more callous: when those US frontiersmen and women pushed the Indians aside, at least they then turned the west into the American dream. That’s not to justify it, but at least it offers a kind of consolation.
On the other hand, Russia did precious little with Siberia: having given it vodka and smallpox to ensure the damage was permanent, they have done nothing of note with this colossal near-continent, beyond the gulags – now thankfully gone – and also pillaging the oil in recent years. It breaks your heart.
Anna Reid ends on a note of murmured hope and optimism, vaguely hinting that the number of Russians out there has been dropping ever since perestroika set in, and quoting a couple of instances where native numbers have at least stabilised.. But it’s very hard to imagine how these peoples can ever really re-establish themselves fully, given that Russia has also taken away their traditional way of life. Still, forever is a long time. They did it once….
That said I found it a little bit neither-one-thing-nor-the-other. First, as so often, the title is quite misleading: very little of the content is concerned with the life and/or working of Siberian shamans. It’s none the worse for that of course, but all the same it is a bit like buying a box of washing powder and finding it contains mostly dishwasher tablets instead. Almost the same – but not quite.
My other, more central criticism of a neither-one-thing-nor-the-other nature concerns the content itself. The book is a slightly disarming mixture of the history of Siberia, from the Russian imperial genocides to the present day on the one hand; and on the other, some interesting anecdotal travelogue items picked up on her personal travels across the region.
I mean it in fact as simultaneously a criticism and a compliment: I would have hugely welcomed a lot more of both, the history; and Anna Reid’s experiences. She writes eloquently and clearly, and it’s a shame that she tried to cram both accounts into only 200 pages of text. It would have been gripping at twice that length, in my view. As it is, she is inevitably a trifle sparse on both fronts and that’s a pity.
All the same, she offers an intriguing insight into a whole range of peoples who have been decimated by ‘modernity’. It is hugely tempting to compare their fate with the native Indians of America – and inevitably Anna Reid does so at one or two points too.
In that context I mention one key difference that emerges for me. In both cases, a mixture of ignorance and sheer brutality destroyed these ancient cultures. America’s experience was perhaps a little more individualistic and Russia’s maybe a little more imperial (i.e. Cossacks were sent out with the express objective of destroying entire tribes. I’m not sure the US cavalry did so that often). Both were equally awful in hindsight, but somehow the Russian experience seems to me more callous: when those US frontiersmen and women pushed the Indians aside, at least they then turned the west into the American dream. That’s not to justify it, but at least it offers a kind of consolation.
On the other hand, Russia did precious little with Siberia: having given it vodka and smallpox to ensure the damage was permanent, they have done nothing of note with this colossal near-continent, beyond the gulags – now thankfully gone – and also pillaging the oil in recent years. It breaks your heart.
Anna Reid ends on a note of murmured hope and optimism, vaguely hinting that the number of Russians out there has been dropping ever since perestroika set in, and quoting a couple of instances where native numbers have at least stabilised.. But it’s very hard to imagine how these peoples can ever really re-establish themselves fully, given that Russia has also taken away their traditional way of life. Still, forever is a long time. They did it once….
December 25, 2020
The book's name might be misleading. The vocal history and shamans traditions are covered very scarcely in the book. The historical overview is informative and not overwhelming. We learn that Siberia was first "discovered" by Russian explorer/pirate Yermak in the 16th century. Becoming the land of opportunity, "Russian Wild West", Siberia remained largely unexplored and forgotten region due to cold and vast territory. Colonialism was there too but had the Russian taste. The economy of Siberia travel made some local clans very powerful: Buryaty, for example, demanded "a dwarf to look at" and "a monk who has been to Jerusalem" from the Russian tzar, he considered and had to explain himself for missing dwarf. So most of the tribes remained largely independent in some way or the other throughout 19th century. Still, they followed the sad path of an indigenous culture close to a colonial empire: sadly dying off from smallpox and trading vodka, people were dying out. Some of them were hunting prisoners escaped from Russian camps. They all were a kaleidoscope of traditions, some were quite bizarre. Some did not have a "family" notion (Engels sponsored an expedition to prove his theories), some used "penis" as we use "dear" today, etc. There even was some questionable progress in soviet times, the ministry of the north, Bogoras, etc. But these all vanishes in Stalin Gulag time.
Anna Reid is a meticulous scientist who loves the subject. She did a tremendous amount of fieldwork for this book, she travelled all across Siberia to find the remnant of the civilizations. And from here reality creeps into the book, changing the subject. She finds and depicts in a beautiful language ruins of the Soviet Union, poverty, alcoholism. The only shaman that she finds honestly admits that it's not the best times and all shamans are dead, but he hopes that shamanism will come back again. This and other sad and cordial scenes from Siberia, honest people on ruins of the Empire whose culture is dead and vanished and they are forgotten creates the foundation of the book.
I think this is very important work, eye-witness report of culture that is brilliant, bizarre and unlike any else and quickly vanishing.
Anna Reid is a meticulous scientist who loves the subject. She did a tremendous amount of fieldwork for this book, she travelled all across Siberia to find the remnant of the civilizations. And from here reality creeps into the book, changing the subject. She finds and depicts in a beautiful language ruins of the Soviet Union, poverty, alcoholism. The only shaman that she finds honestly admits that it's not the best times and all shamans are dead, but he hopes that shamanism will come back again. This and other sad and cordial scenes from Siberia, honest people on ruins of the Empire whose culture is dead and vanished and they are forgotten creates the foundation of the book.
I think this is very important work, eye-witness report of culture that is brilliant, bizarre and unlike any else and quickly vanishing.
July 11, 2014
The Times had some new world maps in a feature by Frank Jacobs the other day. In one he re-imagined Siberia, pulling away from Russia and merging into China. It makes sense in a lot of ways, but Russia has also penetrated and mangled Siberia to the point that no single representation seems possible for most of its inhabitants.
Wait--isn't that Russia's MO everywhere?
Anna Reid traveled through Siberia in the 1990's looking for native shamans and their cultural remains. What she found was a sad sad place without an identity where ignorance, destruction, and random cruelty have run amok.
Certainly nearly all conquerors try to impose their culture on the peoples and the lands they seize. But Russia in the last century was also constantly trying to impose new, harsh, and inflexible cultures on its own citizens, and many of those who were not deemed "acceptable" for whatever reason ended up exiled in Siberia as well. The oppressed oppressing the oppressed. Well of course there was instability and conflict from all directions.
And we also know well the effect of, and irreplaceable loss of, a culture, both on its own people and as a subtraction from the riches of the larger human culture. But it's still and always a depressing and disheartening tale.
Some of the many indigenous peoples have resisted and held on to old ways; some have given up and assimilated or intermarried to their death. Most fall, as usual, on a spectrum in-between.
Siberia is vast and you can't really generalize too much. Beyond the influence of Russia, it's been shaped in various places, times, and ways by the northern European countries, the Asian countries (including Japan), the Alaskan Inuit, Eastern Europe, and the Mid East. But always, before Russian communism, most of the peoples managed to hold on to the core of their traditional ways and views. And in general they seem to have fared better without Russian "progress".
As I said, not a book to affirm your belief in the innate goodness of man. But Reid takes the reader on an engaging journey, with or without shamans.
Wait--isn't that Russia's MO everywhere?
Anna Reid traveled through Siberia in the 1990's looking for native shamans and their cultural remains. What she found was a sad sad place without an identity where ignorance, destruction, and random cruelty have run amok.
Certainly nearly all conquerors try to impose their culture on the peoples and the lands they seize. But Russia in the last century was also constantly trying to impose new, harsh, and inflexible cultures on its own citizens, and many of those who were not deemed "acceptable" for whatever reason ended up exiled in Siberia as well. The oppressed oppressing the oppressed. Well of course there was instability and conflict from all directions.
And we also know well the effect of, and irreplaceable loss of, a culture, both on its own people and as a subtraction from the riches of the larger human culture. But it's still and always a depressing and disheartening tale.
Some of the many indigenous peoples have resisted and held on to old ways; some have given up and assimilated or intermarried to their death. Most fall, as usual, on a spectrum in-between.
Siberia is vast and you can't really generalize too much. Beyond the influence of Russia, it's been shaped in various places, times, and ways by the northern European countries, the Asian countries (including Japan), the Alaskan Inuit, Eastern Europe, and the Mid East. But always, before Russian communism, most of the peoples managed to hold on to the core of their traditional ways and views. And in general they seem to have fared better without Russian "progress".
As I said, not a book to affirm your belief in the innate goodness of man. But Reid takes the reader on an engaging journey, with or without shamans.
December 7, 2020
As with the Australian Aborigines, the Native Americans, the Mayans and Incas, so with the small nations of Siberia. After the first contact with the European Russians at the beginning of the 16th century, their story has been one of conflict, defeat, disease and alcoholism. A few of the nations have fared better than others; the Buryat, Sakha and Tuva have adapted to European dominance quite well, but if not actually extinct the rest are now numbered in mere 10s, or at best 100s. Despite telling this gloomy tale, Anna Reid has managed to write a fast moving and entertaining book aimed at the general reader. She's a financial journalist specialising in Russia, not an anthropologist, but spent some time in Siberia, occasionally in some decidedly insalubrious accommodation and uncomfortable transport, using academic contacts for introductions to representative members of some of the surviving nations, one of whom did actually perform a few Shamanic rituals from time to time! Generally though, Shaman are mentioned only in the past tense!
February 16, 2013
This book was in dire need of an editor. Firstly, it has almost nothing to do with native shamanism. The author writes about subjects and uses words (often foreign) and phrases that routinely would require footnotes or explanations, yet none are given. Even with my above average interest in anthropology and the ethnicities and languages of East Russia, I found it a bit difficult to get through, especially the overdrawn histories of each region. An index of pictures or better maps would help a lot too.
March 13, 2021
I know very little on Siberia and picked up this book with no expectation. It gives feeling of the region through a mosaic of interesting snapshots.The stories are a sad and brutal reflection of ‘ human progress’ or power.It makes British colonialism seem benign.
It would be interesting to learn if the last decade of Putins Russian has improved the lives of Siberians.
Absorbing and enjoyable read
It would be interesting to learn if the last decade of Putins Russian has improved the lives of Siberians.
Absorbing and enjoyable read
August 11, 2014
I very much enjoyed this itinerant history of Siberia by Russian Studies scholar and journalist Anna Reid. It is far from a complete history of Siberia; Reid talks to representatives of 9 of Siberia's 30-plus ethnic groups, so there's a lot of ground left uncovered. But as a combination of general introduction, cultural history and travelogue, it's beautifully written and incredibly enjoyable.
June 3, 2010
More like the history of the effect European encroachment had on the native peoples of Siberia. Very similar in theme to the effect European encroachment had on the native peoples of the Americas. Interesting but depressing.
February 24, 2018
A difficult read. I lacked the prior knowledge that would have made this satisfying and meaningful.
January 27, 2021
I finished the book more ambivalent than I thought I would be when I began it. It is essentially a travelogue on Siberia with rich and lengthy digressions into the histories of various native Siberian ethnic groups along the way. As a compilation of a lot of early ethnographic sources, and what later research was available when the book was written, it's very easy-to-read although perhaps a little too comprehensive; as a history ditto; as a travelogue it's very readable. But at various points I felt like it had a little too much of an agenda, by which I mean: this was the author's first trip to and through Siberia, and I wasn't really certain how good her Russian was (she's criticized at one point for not speaking it well; she mentions looking some words up in dictionaries; she's occasionally accompanied by translators and I couldn't quite tell whether their role was to interpret non-Russian languages or heavily-accented Russian speech) or, for that matter, how long she spent in each location she was visiting. She was very clearly looking for some sort of specific manifestation of Siberian native culture and she didn't really find it - but I'm not sure I believe that means it's not there, so much as she might not have been looking for the right thing or might not have been able to recognize what was in front of her.
At various points reading her descriptions of Siberian towns and cities I was reminded of a visit to Moscow with my mother a few years after this book was published; at one point we were approached by a screaming, wildly gesticulating old man who stank of vodka. My mother assumed we were about to get mugged or something; I had to explain that his actual words had been, "Young ladies, the sidewalk ends ahead and Moscow traffic is very dangerous; you need to turn around and cross the street back there." It's all about context, basically, and in a flying visit to a Siberian town (at what time of year?) in 2001 or so sure everything looks depressing and miserable and no one will talk to you about native Siberian culture (in the former USSR when you are a total stranger and native culture was explicitly repressed as was any sort of dissent and you could trust no one). I'm not sure that says everything you need to know, though.
The book on the whole is readable and engaging and I do recommend it, because it's well written and books about Siberia with this kind of approach remain rare. It just made me wish that there were something by someone with a deeper engagement with the topic, basically.
At various points reading her descriptions of Siberian towns and cities I was reminded of a visit to Moscow with my mother a few years after this book was published; at one point we were approached by a screaming, wildly gesticulating old man who stank of vodka. My mother assumed we were about to get mugged or something; I had to explain that his actual words had been, "Young ladies, the sidewalk ends ahead and Moscow traffic is very dangerous; you need to turn around and cross the street back there." It's all about context, basically, and in a flying visit to a Siberian town (at what time of year?) in 2001 or so sure everything looks depressing and miserable and no one will talk to you about native Siberian culture (in the former USSR when you are a total stranger and native culture was explicitly repressed as was any sort of dissent and you could trust no one). I'm not sure that says everything you need to know, though.
The book on the whole is readable and engaging and I do recommend it, because it's well written and books about Siberia with this kind of approach remain rare. It just made me wish that there were something by someone with a deeper engagement with the topic, basically.
October 17, 2020
The Shaman's Coat is a history of native Siberians. It's not exactly what I expected it to be (or, honestly, wanted it to be), but it's good at what it is. I was expecting something a lot more in-depth about Siberian shamanism, and a lot more interview based -- I think I was picturing something a lot more like War's Unwomanly Face and this was a lot more of a straight history. Anna Reid's concept was that she could gauge how much indigenous Siberian cultures had survived Russian and Soviet interference through the presence or absence of shamanism in the modern day.
Given that concept, shamanism features pretty lightly! I don't know -- I don't feel like I can complain about the topic being a bait and switch, because I still learned a lot about Siberia that I hadn't known before, but I did read the whole thing waiting for shamanism to take up enough space to justify the title, and never felt like it quite made it.
I did learn quite a lot -- going in I had no knowledge of native Siberians, other than that they existed, probably, and now I know that there's 32 ethnic groups and a whole host of different ways that Russian imperialism hit those groups like a brick. It's a well-written book, aside from the bait and switch. Each chapter is structured around a different ethnic group that Reid sought out and interviewed at least one member of. The history of Siberia and it's conquest is spread pretty evenly through the chapters, with both imperial Russia and the Soviet Union featuring heavily. It could have used another pass by the copy editor, though I don't know if that's unique to the ebook version -- there were lots of simple grammatical and spacing errors, especially random apostrophes.
Given that concept, shamanism features pretty lightly! I don't know -- I don't feel like I can complain about the topic being a bait and switch, because I still learned a lot about Siberia that I hadn't known before, but I did read the whole thing waiting for shamanism to take up enough space to justify the title, and never felt like it quite made it.
I did learn quite a lot -- going in I had no knowledge of native Siberians, other than that they existed, probably, and now I know that there's 32 ethnic groups and a whole host of different ways that Russian imperialism hit those groups like a brick. It's a well-written book, aside from the bait and switch. Each chapter is structured around a different ethnic group that Reid sought out and interviewed at least one member of. The history of Siberia and it's conquest is spread pretty evenly through the chapters, with both imperial Russia and the Soviet Union featuring heavily. It could have used another pass by the copy editor, though I don't know if that's unique to the ebook version -- there were lots of simple grammatical and spacing errors, especially random apostrophes.
September 1, 2021
This book was rather disappointing in a way, though I'm probably somewhat biased. Though the author gives an overview of various native cultures in each chapter, I feel like she could've given more information.
I was especially disappointed in the chapter on the Sakha which essentially amounted to "Yakutsk is ugly and there are diamonds." I spent a year as an exchange student in Yakutsk and yes, it's ugly. But no one sticks around long enough to talk about how the streetlights make the snow sparkle in a thousand diamonds in Winter's morning darkness; the fog hangs eerily on the whole city turning people to fur-clad monstrosities; or the heat and the river at midnight in the summer when the sun never really sets. Not only that but I felt the author didn't bother to really go into detail about the Sakha culture and it makes me wonder what she glossed over in the other cultures as well.
Despite stating at the beginning that the author was looking for Shamanism, there wasn't a lot about that in this book. It usually comprised a few lines. This book was mostly about how the Russians treated the various native Siberia tribes. Which is fine, but I felt like the title and introduction were misleading. I would've preferred more interviews with people, more about life in the various places. Often, the chapters came off like a textbook, facts spewed across the page.
If you know absolutely nothing about Siberia people, this could be a good place to start, but it is mostly dry.
I was especially disappointed in the chapter on the Sakha which essentially amounted to "Yakutsk is ugly and there are diamonds." I spent a year as an exchange student in Yakutsk and yes, it's ugly. But no one sticks around long enough to talk about how the streetlights make the snow sparkle in a thousand diamonds in Winter's morning darkness; the fog hangs eerily on the whole city turning people to fur-clad monstrosities; or the heat and the river at midnight in the summer when the sun never really sets. Not only that but I felt the author didn't bother to really go into detail about the Sakha culture and it makes me wonder what she glossed over in the other cultures as well.
Despite stating at the beginning that the author was looking for Shamanism, there wasn't a lot about that in this book. It usually comprised a few lines. This book was mostly about how the Russians treated the various native Siberia tribes. Which is fine, but I felt like the title and introduction were misleading. I would've preferred more interviews with people, more about life in the various places. Often, the chapters came off like a textbook, facts spewed across the page.
If you know absolutely nothing about Siberia people, this could be a good place to start, but it is mostly dry.
November 25, 2019
A fascinating book, part history, part travelogue, and part search for remnants of Siberia's many shamanic traditions.
For a landmass that makes up nearly 60% of Russia, Siberia isn't much talked about (one book I read recently—Lost Kingdom: The Quest for Empire and the Making of the Russian Nation—didn't contain a single mention of the parts of Russia outside Europe). Yet it is made up of many different peoples with diverse traditions, languages and ethnic origins. Anna Reid visits several of them - from the Sibiryaki in the West to the Chukchi in the East, telling the story of Russia's colonisation of Asia in the 17th and 18th centuries—a story which has many parallels of the colonisation of America and the destruction of Native American cultures. Along the way she finds few strong outposts of native culture, but mostly a sad tale of forced Russification and forced resettlement. There are signs that in some far-flung areas the breakup of the USSR has reversed this trend (the book was published in 2002 - it would be interesting to know how far this trend has continued), but mostly this is a book about cultures which, if not already dead, are in terminal decline.
For a landmass that makes up nearly 60% of Russia, Siberia isn't much talked about (one book I read recently—Lost Kingdom: The Quest for Empire and the Making of the Russian Nation—didn't contain a single mention of the parts of Russia outside Europe). Yet it is made up of many different peoples with diverse traditions, languages and ethnic origins. Anna Reid visits several of them - from the Sibiryaki in the West to the Chukchi in the East, telling the story of Russia's colonisation of Asia in the 17th and 18th centuries—a story which has many parallels of the colonisation of America and the destruction of Native American cultures. Along the way she finds few strong outposts of native culture, but mostly a sad tale of forced Russification and forced resettlement. There are signs that in some far-flung areas the breakup of the USSR has reversed this trend (the book was published in 2002 - it would be interesting to know how far this trend has continued), but mostly this is a book about cultures which, if not already dead, are in terminal decline.
May 18, 2019
I’ve struggled through this book, stymied by the confusing prose— muddled with awkward clauses, a jumble of research, random quotes and ideas with a sobering thread of Russian genocide of native people running throughout. A good knowledge of some Russian words, places and general history is necessary as there are no footnotes. The sobering statistics become a repetitive hammer, numbing the reader. The author seems to have little love for her subject, and doesn’t hide her disdain for Westerners seeking experience with Siberian Shamanism. The title of this book is obviously meant to attract that audience. I had hoped for some idea of how this sacred practice was being kept alive by those who survived, but the author’s cynicism at any native attempts at reconstruction, though these are barely mentioned in the book, put me off. There is an “optimistic” afterward tacked on- truly disingenuous.
July 18, 2021
When the author mused that the American woman disliked her for her snotty voice and the fact she wasn't stuck in Siberia she wasn't far wrong I don't imagine, but not exactly for the reasons given. The author in this book comes over more of a snob. The language is very problematic in regards to Inuit peoples and to the Indigenous peoples of Siberia. She too has only used information about these peoples from Russian sources only. Therefore, her material was very biased and one sided and not that well researched. The writing , despite this, was very good, but so much more could have been done with this book.
March 29, 2018
This is a bit misnamed because the writer doesn't really encounter many (if any) shamans on her travels. It does give insight as to the current plight of the native people of Siberia and the impact that their Russian/Soviet overlords have had on them and their lands.
However, if you are looking for information on local shamanic practices and traditions, you shall be sorely disappointed as there is virtually nothing about these in the book.
Still worth a read.
However, if you are looking for information on local shamanic practices and traditions, you shall be sorely disappointed as there is virtually nothing about these in the book.
Still worth a read.
June 1, 2019
Part history of Siberia, part travelogue. Never in depth enough to be scholarly, but very enjoyable to read as Reid's prose is (pleasantly) unusual and evocative.
Reid is unabashed in her Western view point and ethics, taking ample opportunities to grill Russian officials and dig in where she can.
Exceptionally useful for Reid's use of primary sources including an selected, annotated bibliography.
Reid is unabashed in her Western view point and ethics, taking ample opportunities to grill Russian officials and dig in where she can.
Exceptionally useful for Reid's use of primary sources including an selected, annotated bibliography.
June 19, 2023
Would've liked a bit more detail into who the native Siberians were as opposed to the things that happened to them between earlier Russian intrusion into the region up through the rise and fall of Communism.
January 8, 2019
A good start for learning of the peoples of Siberia.
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