From the first publisher granted access to Stalin's personal archive, a provocative and insightful portrait of modern Russia—the most compelling since David Remnick's Lenin's Tomb . To most Americans, Russia remains as enigmatic today as it was during the Iron Curtain era. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, the country had an opportunity to face its tortured past. In Inside the Stalin Archives , Jonathan Brent asks, why didn't this happen? Why are the anti-Semitic Protocols of Zion sold openly in the lobby of the State Duma? Why are archivists under surveillance and phones still tapped? Why does Stalin, a man responsible for the deaths of millions of his own people, remain popular enough to appear on boxes of chocolate sold in Moscow's airport?
Brent draws on fifteen years of unprecedented access to high-level Soviet Archives to answer these questions. He shows us a Russia where, in 1992, used toothbrushes were sold on the sidewalks, while now shops are filled with luxury goods and the streets are jammed with Mercedes. Stalin's specter hovers throughout, and in the book's crescendo Brent takes us deep into the dictator's personal papers to glimpse the dark heart of the new Russia. Both cultural history and personal memoir, Inside the Stalin Archives is a deeply felt and vivid portrait of Russia in the twenty-first century.
You can tell that many of the reviews on here are fake, because every low-star review begins by noting the basic fraud that this book perpetuates in its name. Every high star review talks obliquely about how great this book is for talking about Russia. Such sockpuppetry reminds one of the challenges in determining the historical validity of archives for a regime that lied not just in its public statements, but also in its documents. This book has only an ancillary relationship to the Stalin Archives, and is more about Moscow and Russia after the fall of Communism and more about Brent's personal relationships in Moscow than anything.
If it had been marketed correctly, it would have been interesting in its own right. It's a shame they felt compelled to misguide the reader through the title, as starting with such a basic untruth clouds the rest of the book where you expect to find the secrets of the archive.
But the problematic title is perhaps the least issue in a book replete with problems. Brent leverages his status as a researcher connected with Yale, and being the first American to approach the archives after the fall of the Soviet Union, but he's far from a disinterested actor.
1) Since 2004, Brent has been the Alger Hiss Chair at Bard College.
2) He remarks about having no authority to make a deal when he goes over there.
3) He mentions that his only source of project funds initially is having a vague commitment for funds from George Soros.
4) He talks about having a vicious personal opinion about the Romanovs and about how justified the Communists were in killing the Czar's children, and their lack of innocence
5) He relates winning over some of the reluctant Russians by explaining his anti-McCarthy credentials and how during the Cold War his parents educated him in right-thinking by pointing to the TV while McCarthy was on and repeating that he was a "bad man."
These are facts. They do not speak well of Mr. Brent or his supposed impartiality. That Mr. Brent was one of the first Americans to review Soviet archives only makes me question what Mr. Brent left out, destroyed or otherwise omitted. Do I think the Alger Hiss chair would report and settle the Hiss controversy fairly? Can someone funded and with a pre-existing relationship with Soros be trusted to resolve partisan and ideological debates from the Cold War with impartiality? Can someone who rejoices, in private and public, in the summary execution of royal toddlers be given respect as an academic?
Despite these fatal deficiencies, towards the end of the book there are some good observations.
Brent offers a few thoughts on how violence legitimizes the state and connects Lenin's terror to Stalin's terror as a contiguous historical policy.
He also doesn't try to skirt some of the horrors of the Soviet regime. But one wonders about his priorities. The only other book published by Brent on the Soviet Union, the Doctor's Plot, while a noteworthy episode in Soviet history, essentially represents a potential threat against doctors that was forestalled by Stalin's death. It's an anecdote that deserves a footnote and not the obsessive attention Brent seems to focus upon it.
Because Brent can't and shouldn't be trusted, this book suffers from subsequent major problems as does his scholarship into the Soviet regime.
Agreeing with the other reviews that this book didn't quite seem to know what it wanted to be: history, travelogue, a book about the manuscript publishing process, a work of literary detection and criticism, or something else. The good parts are very good; the middling parts are forgettable. But I'd recommend it to someone who wanted to see a slightly different take on late Soviet/modern Russian history and politics.
Hardly anything about the archive's contents. Instead, we are getting personal perceptions of Russia post Communism. At times a bit patronising (offering cigarettes and scotch or making comments about appliances years behind etc.), makes one wonder how the person with hardly any knowledge of language or culture ends up negotiating for a major publishing house. Wouldn't buy this book and shouldn't have read some goodreads reviews before doing son.
Sometimes he tries to get a little fancy and you have to cringe. But the rest of the time there's the perfect balance between totalitarian mass murder and getting lost on trolleys.
As someone who has lived in Moscow for the past two decades, I particularly enjoyed reading Brent's sharp observations on what everyday life in this city was like just after the end of the Soviet Union - everything from broken-down furniture and improvised lighting fixtures to desultory restaurant staff (as the old joke goes, `the prices are capitalist but the service is still socialist'). Particularly memorable is the description of his own growing nervousness as he rides a city bus that does not - at first - take him where he thought it would. Anyone who has been alone and slightly lost in a foreign city should be able to identify with that.
I can imagine that some Russian readers of this book may take offense at the pointed remarks he makes about frayed carpets or bad dentistry, or feel that he is mocking them. And no one likes to be laughed at by an emissary from a conquering foe. But while understandable, this reaction would be unfair. Underlying his occasional acidity there is a deep layer of sympathy for ordinary Russians living in the 1990's, a time of severe economic hardship. And he acknowledges the improvements in the standard of living that have been made since 2000.
Brent makes palpable the excitement he felt at being one of the first westerners allowed access to these archives; likewise he conveys the skepticism and outright suspicion many of his hosts greeted him with. In some cases he was able to overcome this mistrust. Others thought they had him pegged once they identified him as a Jew. Brent is highly alert to manifestations of anti-Semitism, and finds distressingly numerous examples of it, from reprints of the "Protocols of the Elders of Zion" to the circus chimp wearing a yarmulke. He notes that a book by David Duke is offered for sale in the lobby of the State Duma. What he doesn't mention is that Duke himself spent months in Moscow in late 2001, promoting his book (and avoiding certain problems back home). I know because I ran into him a few times at an English language club not far from the Kremlin.
I do wish Brent had stuck to his brief and just told the story of his pioneering work in a mostly alien and sometimes Kafkaesque society. When he muses on the meaning of Stalin, as he does with increasing frequency towards the end of the book, he tends to get a little metaphysical. Not in any positive sense of course, but he does indulge in what could be called the mythologizing of Stalin. A little of this goes a long way. As any reader of, for example, A.S. Byatt's "Possession" knows, it's the chase for hidden documents that's the thing. His chapter, "The Secret Death of Isaac Babel" is a perfect example of this. Too bad his efforts did not lead to similar results for Wallenberg.
The book could have used an index and bibliography. Perhaps they are lacking because the author wanted to keep the tone informal and somewhat impressionistic. Fine. But the reader is reduced to pecking through the notes to find sources.
One minor detail should be corrected: The Nazis never "encircled Moscow" (p. 268). While they came within sight of the Kremlin, they never closed the ring around the city.
This book wasn't quite what I thought it was going to be.
I made the mistake of reading some other readers' reviews just before I began reading it myself. Most of these reviews complained that it wasn't "what it said on the tin". And, yes, that's true. You can't judge a book by its cover, and it's not always obvious what the book is about based on its title. Surely, people can't be expecting a small book like this to tell us everything about what's in the Stalin archives. And yet, that seems to be the major complaint.
This book is the story of the Yale University Press getting access to various parts of the secret archives of the USSR. In a way, it's a bit of an introduction to the several books that the Press published since gaining access. The author went to Russia to work out the details of projects related to the archives. This book is the result, and Brent cleverly compares what was going on in Putin's Russia of the 1990's and 2000's to the contents of Stalin's archives.
I might have been disappointed; expecting to read about the archives and instead getting a sort of advertisement for other works. But I've found that any good scholarly historical work will lead me (generally through the book's bibliography) to other interesting books. This book has no bibliography but leads me to other interesting works in its own way.
By reading those other reviews, I was prepared to be disappointed. But I wasn't.
This looks at the efforts of Western scholars, particularly Yale University Press, to gain access to the Soviet archives in the wake of the dissolution of the USSR. Brent worked with YUP and was one of the first Westerners to head to Moscow and negotiate access to the archives, first arriving in January 1992. He would return several times in the next several years, and chronicles his efforts here, along with his impressions of post-Soviet Moscow. His interactions with the various people associated with the project, from Russian historians, archivists, to KGB personnel, are also included, as well as a brief look at the concept of Stalin in terms of a leader. Overall an interesting look at a complicated period or Russian history, and an exciting time for Soviet and Russian historians.
At the beginning it was a bit tedious, and the author seems a bit precious in his perception of the importance of his own impressions of Russia in the post-Soviet '90s. There was not a lot about what was actually in the Stalin Archives, or any other archives. I did like the ending conclusions that posit that the Soviet Union was part of the zeitgeist (and that Stalin was in some part a creator of that) of deconstructionist currents of the Twentieth Century.
Fascinating on many levels: insight into Russian culture; insight into American culture through the author’s interactions with Russian people and culture; insight into Stalin’s dictatorship.
I didn't make it very far into this book. Whereas the title led me to believe that it covered the material in the Stalin archives, what I got through mostly seems to be tedious travelogue about the author going to Russian IN ORDER TO INSPECT the Stalin archives. Whether he ever gets around to relating the new material is unclear to me, because I gave up after reading perhaps a fifth of the book. There are far more amusing travelogues of Russia than this one, and I'm not that interested in contemporary travelogues. As far as I can tell, there's not much history here. It seems of little academic use.
However, like I said, I didn't read the whole thing, so I could be wrong. If it's really important to you, I would advise skipping to a later portion of the book unless you love travelogues relating repetitive material already covered elsewhere.
An interesting book that doesn't quite seem to know what it wants to be. At times, it's the story of how Yale University Press got its hands on valuable Soviet-era archives. At other times, it's a not-so-compelling travel piece about Moscow. All that is interspersed with new narratives from, presumably, those valuable Soviet archives, such as the ordeal of Russian writer Isaac Babel. At the end, the author wraps it all up with a discourse on Stalin himself. There is a lot of good information in here and some fine writing, just not a consistent theme to tie it all together.
Well this isn't the story I thought it would be based on the title. I never read the blurb, which might have stopped me, and I'm glad I didn't. This was more about the journey to the Stalin (and other) archives than about what was in the archives themselves, which is only hinted at. Still, the author's travels to Russia and his descriptions of Moscow's inhabitants and its rapidly changing 'landscape' were revealing.
A crucial book for anyone interested in the fall of communism and the cult of Stalin (and simply the cult of personality). Brent takes the reader along on his trips to the archives in Moscow and one becomes aware of the sheer depth of such an archival undertaking. His analysis was particularly fascinating to me.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book from start to finish. Not only was it historically relevant and factually interesting; but the author successfully intertwined personal narrative and story throughout. I would definitely read this book again.
A good portion of this book is the story of how Yale University Press - through the author - managed to make a deal with the Russian achival units to research and print information about the Stalin years from the Stalin Archives in Moscow and other cities in Russia.
The legacy of Stalin, not man, but Soviet power - the secret, conspiratorial, violent nature of all Russian governments continuing today reaching back to Czarist times, but especially the legacy of the government of the Soviet Union.
What starts out as a book about the author's experience in starting Yale's "Annals of Communism" series turns into a unique look at a historic period of time when Russia finally had an opportunity to go down a path toward democratization but instead chose a different route.
More of a story about traveling in Russia than about archives or Stalin, but there were some juicy tidbits about both. Quite interesting at the beginning and end.