Mud and Stars: Travels in Russia with Pushkin and Other Geniuses of the Golden Age

by Sara Wheeler

There is a literal Russian landscape, and there is its emotional, literary counterpart. In Mud and Stars, award-winning writer Sara Wheeler sets out to explore both.

With the writers of the Golden Age as her guides – Pushkin, Tolstoy, Gogol and Turgenev, among others – Wheeler travels across eight time zones, from rinsed north-western beetroot fields and far-eastern Arctic tundra to the cauldron of ethnic soup that is the Caucasus. She follows nineteenth-century footsteps to make connections between then and now: between the places where flashing-epauletted Lermontov died in the aromatic air of Pyatigorsk, and sheaves of corn still stand like soldiers on a blazing afternoon, just like in Gogol’s stories. On the Trans-Siberian railway in winter she crunches across snowy platforms to buy dried fish from babushki, and in summer she sails the Black Sea where dolphins leapt in front of violet Abkhazian peaks. She also spends months in fourth-floor 1950s apartments, watching television with her hosts, her new friends bent over devices and moaning about Ukraine.

At a time of deteriorating relations between Russia and the West, Wheeler searches for a Russia not in the news – a Russia of humanity and daily struggles. She gives voice to the ‘ordinary’ people of Russia, and discovers how the writers of the Golden Age continue to represent their country today.

Genres: Travel, Nonfiction, Russia, History, Literature, Literary Criticism, Russian Literature

291 pages, Kindle Edition

First published July 4, 2019

About the author

Sara Wheeler was brought up in Bristol and studied Classics and Modern Languages at Brasenose College, University of Oxford. After writing about her travels on the Greek island of Euboea and in Chile, she was accepted by the US National Science Foundation as their first female writer-in-residence at the South Pole, and spent seven months in Antarctica.

In her resultant book Terra Incognita: Travels in Antarctica, she mentioned sleeping in the captain’s bunk in Scott's Hut. Whilst in Antarctica she read The Worst Journey in the World, an account of the Terra Nova Expedition, and she later wrote a biography of its author Apsley Cherry-Garrard.

In 1999 she was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. From 2005 to 2009 she served as Trustee of the London Library.

She was frequently abroad for two years, travelled to Russia, Alaska, Greenland, Canada and North Norway to write her book The Magnetic North: Travels in the Arctic. A journalist at the Daily Telegraph in the UK called it a "snowstorm of historical, geographical and anthropological facts".

In a 2012 BBC Radio 4 series: To Strive and Seek, she told the personal stories of five various members of the Terra Nova Expedition.

O My America!: Second Acts in a New World records the lives of women who travelled to America in the first half of the 19th Century: Fanny Trollope, Fanny Kemble, Harriet Martineau, Rebecca Burlend, Isabella Bird, and Catherine Hubback, and the author's travels in pursuit of them.

Reviews

[Nataliya · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’m not quite sure what to make out of this book. It’s a book equivalent of a turducken — random anecdotes and trivia about Russian Golden Age writers stuffed into a travelogue which in turn is stuffed into a sort of a diary confessional.

Or to throw in some quasi-Russian flavor, maybe it’s a matryoshka doll of a book.

The selling point for me was the idea of seeing Russia through the places tied to Russian Golden Age writers. I’m pretty well-versed in Russian literature and these writers biographies, so I figured it will be a fun experience to see the places they came from.

But what I got an odd mixture of trivia and anecdotes that seemed strangely and off-puttingly fixated on negative sensationalism. I understand that scandals sell — but the focus was primarily on the unpleasant and sordid, minus Turgenev and Chekhov who are clearly her favorites (and mine as well) and generally nice people. For everyone else it was a snarky litany of the juicy unpleasantness — physical unattractiveness, affairs and STDs, monetary troubles, rivalries, marital issues and odd and unpleasant beliefs and appalling convictions, with little to offset the feel of the office water-cooler gossip.

And it’s written in a very “journalistic” style, reading like a collection of essays that would be well-suited for a glossy magazine column.

—————
Let me summarize the points breezily touched upon when it comes to the writers:

-Pushkin probably had every STD there is, wrote only when recovering from an STD, and was ugly.
- Lermontov was also ugly and died stupidly.
- Dostoyevsky was an appalling human being, an anti-Semite, a gambler and was obsessed with Russophilia and Russian spiritual superiority.
- Gogol went batshit crazy by the end of his life.
- Turgenev and Chekhov were lovely people and their chapter are the only ones without such negative filter. They both seemed too good for this world.
- Leskov and Fet and Herzen and Goncharov were also mentioned but I’m not sure why as nothing very interesting was said — it’s like they mentioned for the sake of completeness.
- Tolstoy was a messed-up miserable hypocrite hung-up on sex, sleeping with serfs and probably competing for the number of STDs with Pushkin.

—————

With the idea of visiting places where these writers lived or spent time in, Wheeler took a tour of provincial Russia, ostensibly to see modern Russia through the prism of 19th century literature and ideas — and that’s where I was starting to get a bit annoyed. Wheeler’s impressions of modern Russia are witty and pithy and mostly merciless — but the ties to the 19th century writers were often beyond tenuous, so I struggled to see much connection between what was on the page other than geographic one. Really, there’s not much that the writers of a century or two ago can tell us about modern Russia, besides propping this book’s premise. For instance, the root to perceived passive inertia of the people in Chukotka is not Oblomov-style ennui but the sociopolitical conditions and conditions. Seriously. Not to mention that she also generalizes very easily. Although early on she dismisses the ridiculous stereotypic notions of Russian soul and homogenous Russian culture, she happily proceeds to generalize whenever it suits her point — like that baffling point about Russians needing suffering to actually be happy.

Wheeler is pretty merciless, although, to give credit where credit is due, she is also quite funny and engaging. But her humor borders on mean-spirited in her constant pointing out of strange peculiarities of her hosts, tutors and travel companions in a way that often comes off as mocking and condescension. I felt uncomfortable reading this and imagining some of the people described reading their descriptions and feeling mortified.

Wheeler doesn't hold back on the criticism of Putin Russia politics either, and those are the parts that are done actually well and pithy snark is engaging indeed. But the connections between the parts, the jumping around between styles and centuries and themes on one page, relying on geography to connect it all — all that seemed a bit disjointed, maybe because in the end, the main character of this book is not Russia and not the writers but Sara Wheeler herself as the writers promised in the title really are little but set dressing to her travelogue. And I don’t think I was prepared for her to take center stage over the subjects that attracted me to this book, and I found that I just don’t care all that much for her personal accounts and gripes about bad train food or spotty wi-fi or comments on her host’s bosomless appearance.
—————

A few little gripes that I just need to get off my chest:

— a part where Wheeler bluntly states about Lermontov’s poem: “Rereading it now, I don’t think it’s much good. He was a prose writer. That said, Russians know him best for his lyrical and narrative verse.” But we spend what feels like a third of the book reading about her struggles to learn Russian, and we know she’s not fluent in it based on her own admissions — so can she really determine the relative qualities of Lermontov’s prose and poetry in the original Russian, or was she judging translators’ work?

— “The semi-forgotten poet Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet” — she apparently means a poet whose poems every Soviet (and now I presume Russian) schoolchild was required to memorize. Little-known to Wheeler (who, again, seems to rely on translated works) doesn’t mean forgotten in his country.

—————

In the end, Sara Wheeler is a funny and engaging writer, but to me this book lacked cohesiveness and depth, and was superficially interesting but without much of an impact. Had it been just a travelogue, I would probably been able to cut it more slack, but her choice of inclusion of literary “greats” in a breezy and superficially sensational manner made it feel slight and disjointed. Maybe if I knew less of the topics described I would have been charmed by the breezy snark — but as it stands, I wasn’t too impressed. It’s not bad - but not that good either.

2.5 - 3 stars.

——————
Recommended by: Left Coast Justin

[Left Coast Justin · Rating 4 out of 5]

My ignorance of classic Russian literature is appalling. (I could expand this statement and say that my ignorance of all classic literature, including English, is appalling. On the other hand, I've read all of John McPhee's work, so I think it evens out.) Of course, I am aware of Tolstoy, and Chekhov, and Pushkin and others, but I have not read a single word from any of them.

Sara Wheeler, an engaging and conversational writer, has made these people real to me, as well as the times and places in which they lived. Some people will be troubled by the inability to categorize this -- is it history? a travel book? literary criticism? -- but I am not particularly troubled by the mishmash in these pages, which encompasses everything from descriptions of the meals found on the Trans-Siberian Railway to different philosophies of translation. Mostly, it describes the lives of the most celebrated Russian authors from about 1790 through 1910, along with her visits to the places in which they lived.

I was careful to say "most celebrated" authors and not "greatest". This is deliberate. My relationship to Turgenev began when I read Bruce Chatwin's In Patagonia. Here is Bruce, visiting a remote ranch in Southern Argentina:

He had all the best books. On the bedside table lay a copy of Turgenev's A Sportsman's Sketches.

.

All the best books? Really? Why not "all my favorite books," you pretentious clown? Who are you to decide what the best books are? Rant finished. Wheeler is wise enough not to declare who the greatest of Russian authors is, but explores the histories of those authors who are likely to be known to a Western audience. Chronologically, she begins with Pushkin and ends with Chekhov, and all but a couple are very well-known.

One thing I didn't know is that most of these authors were actually members of royalty, or at least landed gentry. All of them had serfs to do the mundane work that stifles the muse of so many authors today. Several of them were doctors, though medical practice was pretty questionable at that time. And with the notable exception of Turgenev (who, on the basis of this book, would probably be my favorite) had a belief in an essential Russian spirit that was at odds with Europeans and their humanistic, materially-focused cultures. But I feel rather silly discussing the merits of writers that I have never read; let's focus on Sara Wheeler instead.

Many years ago, I enjoyed her book Terra Incognita, about a winter spent in Antarctica as part of a scientific mission. This was followed by a forgettable book about Chile, and so I kind of stopped reading her. She began this book with an annoying reference to personal tragedy that I assumed (correctly) would never be explained, so why bring it up? But I gradually thawed out, as her personal warmth for the authors she profiled shone through. Her vivid descriptive powers are also much in evidence here -- I particularly liked her description of a guide's eyes "as blue as gas flames". Travel in Russia is not always wine and roses, but she does a lovely job of describing what a beautiful place it is with the arrival of spring, using a few judicious quotes from the authors profiled to bolster her case.

I think people who are familiar with these authors' works would get even more from this book than I did, but I am proof that even the most ignorant among us will find plenty to value in this book.

[Caroline]

Ok for a first go at Russian literature. Nothing especially insightful if you’ve read the works and/or other commentary.

If you do read it and want more on Pushkin, ie a wry modern take on Pushkin-worship in the Soviet era, look for Pushkin Hills by Dovlatov.

[Ron S · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wheeler follows in the footsteps of Dostoyevsky, Gogol, Chekov and other 19th century authors, connecting them to Putin's Russia of today. You needn't have read, or well remember, the writers detailed to enjoy this wryly told traveler's tale. Wheeler reminds me a lot of Susan Orlean, another writer who never seems to put her foot wrong.

[Alan Shaw · Rating 3 out of 5]

I hate to say it but I found this to be a strange and disappointing book. Ms. Wheeler mentions in her introduction that during the book's gestation her life went awry, badly I think, and she put it away for a while before returning to it. The book for me only had life in the chapters about Chekhov and Goncharov - most of the rest was a slog. Whilst there is some good writing and some interesting vignettes of her own travels through Russia the book for me was neither fish nor fowl. I gleaned plenty about Ms. Wheeler's political viewpoints but not so much about the ostensible reason for her first writing the book - the "greats" of Russian literature.

[Rita · Rating 1 out of 5]

SOLO FANGO

"Queste pagine danno forma ad anni [...] in cui io ero nel fango e i miei scrittori erano le stelle."

Un nobile intento, per carità, e una lettura molto allettante. Peccato che l'impianto narrativo non la renda affatto godibile. L'autrice, infatti, tenta di gettare un ponte tra le biografie degli scrittori russi e le sue esperienze nei luoghi da essi visitati - fallendo miseramente, però. Nelle vicende capitate alla Wheeler, ho perso immediatamente interesse; quindi questa sensazione si è estesa alle notizie biografiche (senza contare le pillole di politica, che non avrei sopportato a prescindere).
Insomma: noia, confusione, superficialità. Ditemi dove sono le stelle perché io visto solo fango.

[Amarilli 73 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Queste pagine danno forma ad anni ormai svaniti, in cui io ero nel fango e i miei scrittori erano le stelle. I libri, con me, sono stati più gentili della vita, e qui ho tentato di mostrare come i volumi citati siano diventati parte integrante della mia esistenza.

Non so se siate appassionati della letteratura russa dell'ottocento. Io ne ho fatto esperienza soprattutto come lettura forzosa durante il liceo e continuo a percepire le mie vaste lacune in merito. Poi ho sentito parlare di questo saggio/reportage/diario in cui l'autrice descrive i suoi tour in terra russa per imparare la lingua e al contempo andare alla scoperta dei luoghi in cui hanno vissuto e scritto gli intellettuali dell'età dell'oro.

Ed è stato un viaggio dentro al libro, un meraviglioso viaggio.

Un consiglio per affrontarlo: procuratevi un atlante con una bella mappa, perchè il territorio russo è letteralmente sconfinato, dall'Europa all'America, toccando l'intero bordo dell'Asia. Durante i capitoli vengono citati luoghi storici, eventi, ma soprattutto paesaggi, itinerari, e se non avete idea di dove si trovavano i nostri nel frattempo non potrete capire la genesi di certe opere, i motivi di certi fatti nelle biografie, da dove venne l'ispirazione per una determinato verso.
Invece così vi troverete a seguire tutto con la mente, spostandovi dal traffico di Pietroburgo alle spaziose steppe del Caucaso, dall'assolata riva del mar Nero ai villaggi isolati nella taiga artica, alle città sovietiche moderne con le loro centrali al carbone, e poi in un vagone della Transiberiana, curiosando tra le centinaia di isole sui laghi Ladoga e Onega, ciascuna con il suo piccolo monastero ortodosso (sapevate che questi due laghi, al confine con la Finlandia e ghiacciati per quasi tutto l'anno, sono i più grandi d'Europa?).

E veniamo ai geni russi. Se una cosa risulta chiara dalla loro biografia è che in quel paese non diventi un intellettuale celebre senza venire perseguitato dal regime, che fosse l'esilio comminato dallo zar o l'internamento nei gulag imposto dai bolscevichi e poi dalla struttura sovietica. Non è facile scrivere in modo libero, non è facile esporsi senza subire condizionamenti.

Tutti hanno lottato con una penna in mano e si sono impressi nella storia a modo loro: dal focoso e fascinoso Puskin, al pio Turgenev, al santone Tolstoj, dal tormentato Dostoevskij al puntiglioso Gogol’ con il suo nasone, sino a Lermontov, Leskov e Goncarov (inaspettate scoperte per la mia ignoranza) e ancora a Cechov che poco prima di morire scrisse: "Il mondo di Dio è buono. C'è solo una cosa meschina: noi stessi".

Vi consiglio questo volume che mi ha riempito di entusiasmo, anche perchè è molto curato graficamente, con foto d'epoca e immagini dei viaggi della stessa Wheeler, e un ricco repertorio bibliografico.

Puškin non pensava quasi ad altro che al sesso, e trovava il tempo per scrivere solo quando soffriva di una qualche malattia venerea. Una volta un amico disse a un comune conoscente: «Puškin sta portando a termine il quarto canto del suo poema. Ancora due o tre attacchi di gonorrea e avrà finito»

[Tamara Agha-Jaffar · Rating 3 out of 5]

In Mud and Stars: Travels in Russia with Pushkin, Tolstoy, and Other Geniuses of the Golden Age, Sara Wheeler records her travels across Russia to the homes and haunts of famous nineteenth century Russian authors. She crosses eight time zones; travels in cars, trains, boats, and planes; experiences extremes of weather; and observes a variety of landscapes.

Each chapter explores a different author. Among those discussed are Pushkin, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Gogol, Chekhov, Goncharov, and Tolstoy. Wheeler briefly examines their major works, but her main interest lies in determining how time and place influenced each writer. Accordingly, she treks to each author’s estate/home, visits his place of birth, where he lived, where he wrote, where he died, and where he is buried. She weaves intricate details about the author’s personal life. Her narrative is rich with fascinating anecdotes about each writer, including his likes and dislikes, his strengths and weaknesses, his politics, and his idiosyncrasies.

Wheeler seamlessly travels back and forth in time. Her travelogue is peppered with observations about the current political situation in Russia. She dips into the history and political movements of the nineteenth century and then effortlessly switches to an observation or comment about Putin’s Russia.

She is like a sponge, absorbing and recording what she sees and hears in intricate detail. Curious about the lives of ordinary people—her guides, the shopkeepers, the drivers who shuffle her from one location to the next, and those who share her train compartments—she strikes up conversations with complete strangers. She stays in private homes and connects with her hosts by practicing her Russian, dining together, getting to know them, and listening to their perspectives on life in Russia. Some of the most enjoyable passages are descriptions of her train journeys and the food she shares with her traveling companions.

Wheeler’s style throughout is lively, engaging, and peppered with a delightful sense of humor. She is not averse to laughing at herself. She interrupts the narrative with amusing anecdotes about her personal life, her struggle to learn Russian, and her forays into cooking the Russian meals she has read about in novels.

By peeking into their homes, their lives, and their personalities, Wheeler humanizes Russia’s nineteenth century literary giants. Her travels also give voice to ordinary people—their stories and daily struggles, their emotions and spirit, and their hopes and aspirations.

An engaging mix of history, literary criticism, travelogue, and memoir.

Recommended.

My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com

[Julie Herringa · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is more of an unstructured musing than any type of memoir/travelogue/literary criticism. I'm baffled that reviews for this describe her as funny; this piece was dry and as poorly imagined as it was executed. Unless you want to know which Golden Age writers literally had hemorrhoids, I'd skip this book.

[Mimi · Rating 3 out of 5]

I love so many of the authors that Wheeler followed - and I enjoyed seeing where they lived, hearing their lives, and the way she connected them. That was beautiful. Some of the travelogue parts were less interesting - thought it was fascinating to see the run-up to the Sochi Olympics through her eyes.

[Hana]

Mud and Stars: Travels in Russia with Pushkin and Other Geniuses of the Golden Age https://spectator.us/searching-soul-m...

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating snapshots of Russian writers in Russia's "Golden Age of Literature", broadly the 19th century--Pushkin until the death of Tolstoy in 1910. Biographies with their personality traits--I never knew Tolstoy was such a horrible person, for one--interspersed with many photographs. The author travelled to places important in the writers' lives; it was interesting to compare then through the writers' lives and now through the author's travels. I enjoyed reading about lesser-known figures such as Fet [a poet, think of an Emily Dickinson comparison], Goncharov, known for Oblomov, which variations on the extremely slothful character's name have entered the Russian language, and Leskov, an uneven writer, known principally for his masterwork, the novella, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk turned into an opera by Shostakovich. Some of her musings on the current political situation in Russia got boring pretty quickly.

Recommended.

[GONZA · Rating 4 out of 5]

This journey into the lives of the most famous Russian writers who lived between the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 20th century (and who all knew each other, more or less), is accompanied by the travel notes of the author who goes to discover Russia following the footsteps of her literary favorite authors.
The comparison between the Russia that was and the Russia that is, left me sad, but mainly because not many things have changed, especially with regard to the level of poverty and development.
On the positive note, I have added more titles to my already endless list of books to read in my future as an immortal reader.

Questo viaggio nelle vite dei piú famosi scrittori russi vissuti tra la fine del 700 e l'inizio del '900 (e che poi si conoscevano tutti, piú o meno), é accompagnato dalle note di viaggio dell'autrice che va alla scoperta della Russia sulle orme dei suoi beniamini letterari.
Il paragone tra la Russia che era e quella che é, lascia parecchio a desiderare, ma soprattutto perché non tante cose sono cambiate, specialmente per quanto riguarda il livello di povertá e sviluppo.
Il lato positivo é che ho aggiunto altri titoli alla mia giá infinita lista di libri da leggere in un futuro da lettrice immortale.

[Tatiana Udalova · Rating 3 out of 5]

I feel bad for giving 3 because I don’t feel like I’m the right audience for the book.

I’ve assumed the book would cover more about travel, contemporary snapshots of people and places. The book covers this, but it's mainly focused on historic images of the authors. The travel stories were my favourite parts of the book alongside cooking attempts and stories about Russian language.

So who should read the book?
Firstly, someone who knows about these writers and read their literature. Also someone who knows Russian geography (there are no maps in the book). Or perhaps someone who is fascinated with Russian writers, but knows little about them.

Who should not read the book?
Russian-speakers who studied these writers as part of their literature education. This book transferred me back to school days, but covered everything must faster (I studied War and Peace for longer than I read this book). For me it felt like reading the long-forgotten facts that I didn’t need to remember. It could have been a nice cheat-sheet at school though (if this book was in Russian).

The book is covering a shortened biography of 9 different Russian writers as well as providing brief historic facts of that time. It would be interesting to hear what the Russian literature teachers say about this book, however, if you have no interest in the described, you should skip the book.

[Tom Taylor · Rating 3 out of 5]

Audiobook version
Sara Wheeler set out to explore the locations of the writers of the Russian Golden Age--Pushkin, Tolstoy, Golgo, Dostoevsky and others. She mostly bypassed the major cities and visited off the beaten path places of Russia, like the Arctic, Siberia and the Caucasus. This is both a literary exploration and a travelogue.

I am a big fan of the Russian Golden age and of travelogues set in Eastern Europe, so this book really appealed to me. I haven’t read all of the classic works, far from it, but I am familiar with many of them. I learned many new things about both the writers and the places in Russia she featured. If you are interested in either, then this book is worth your time.

Wheeler reads the book herself, and I believe it adds to its value. She brings it to life. Not all authors can pull this off.

3.5/5

[Clare Boucher · Rating 3 out of 5]

A curious book. Basic outlines of the life and works of great 19th-century writers, along with travelogues, reports of progress in learning the Russian language, and cookery. It fails to come together, although there are interesting snippets along the way and I’ve added some more Russian novels to my TBR. I’d recommend Natasha's Dance: A Cultural History of Russia and The Possessed: Adventures with Russian Books and the People Who Read Them instead.

[Kinga · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really liked the idea of this book in which the author follows in the footsteps of great Russian authors and while this did happen, Sara Wheeler’s own battles with the Russian language and attempts at cooking the food distract from this. She does go into great descriptions of the authors, their lives and impact they had and she visits places where they lived or travelled. I really enjoyed this aspect of the book. The other experiences were amusing and interesting but didn’t add to the book for me.

[Lee · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was spotty. It is sort of a literary travelogue, sort of a discussion of Wheeler's time of trying to learn Russian. Like her book on Antarctica, this book did not have much of an arc, it was all descriptions. For me, this made it difficult to keep up. Some of the stories about Russian writers are fascinating, and some of the people she meets are mildly interesting. Still, it just never really ties together in a cohesive form.

[Mathilde Minà · Rating 5 out of 5]

Vabbè, bellezza pura e basta. Nient’altro da dichiarare.

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

Il sottotitolo di questo saggio “Viaggio in Russia in compagnia di Puškin, Tolstoj e altri geni dell’Età d’Oro” ci dà subito un’idea del suo contenuto.
Il titolo invece deriva da una citazione di Turgenev messa in epigrafe:
“Noi ce ne stiamo nel fango, amico mio, e cerchiamo di raggiungere le stelle”.
Ma non aspettatevi un saggio accademico sulla letteratura russa ottocentesca. È piuttosto un reportage di viaggio che tocca i luoghi legati agli autori citati o ai loro scritti, e che unisce quindi dettagli concreti sulla vita nell’epoca post-sovietica a notizie biografiche e letterarie sui suoi autori classici più conosciuti.
L’autrice ha viaggiato molto in Russia negli scorsi vent’anni e ne ha studiato la lingua. Dal suo racconto traspare l’entusiasmo per la scoperta e la fascinazione per un paese vicino ma al tempo stesso estraneo; moderno ma, specie nelle regioni più sperdute, rimasto fermo da secoli. Un paese tanto ricco di contraddizioni quanto esteso.
“Non esiste nulla che corrisponda all’anima russa, e forse nemmeno alla cultura russa: è un paese troppo grande (un sesto della massa terrestre) ed è troppo diverso e diviso dal punto di vista sociale. […] I libri di cui si parla in queste pagine non riguardano quella chimera, bensì la complessità dell’esperienza umana; c’è un paesaggio letterario russo e una sua controparte emotiva.”
Il confronto tra passato e presente, che percorre tutto il libro, è forse ciò che permette di comprendere meglio l’anima del popolo russo, il suo modo di vivere e di pensare. Se anche ad alcuni potrebbe sembrare un modo di raccontare un po’ dispersivo, che passa dall’analisi di Tolstoj alle uova di pesce mangiate sui gradini di un ufficio postale in Siberia, io l’ho trovato molto utile e immersivo. È tra i palazzoni popolari dell’epoca di Nikita Chruščëv— chiamati Chruščëvka — e i venditori ambulanti di funghi e pesce secco, tra le banchine ferroviarie ghiacciate e scricchiolanti del gelido Nord e l’ombra azzurra delle montagne del Caucaso; tra gli appartamenti un tempo condivisi da più famiglie e le antiche tenute di campagna nobiliari, che possiamo intravedere un frammento della vera anima russa.
La stessa che i suoi autori ottocenteschi più celebri hanno tentato di creare pressoché dal nulla e unificare, fino a farne una sorta di mito. Prima di Puškin, la Russia era un territorio immenso e variegato, dove ogni regione aveva pochi o nessun legame con quella accanto. Solo la mano dell’uomo — degli zar prima e degli oligarchi sovietici poi — è riuscita a creare una sorta di ordine nel caos delle mille culture del territorio (spesso a prezzo di sangue versato e di persecuzione delle minoranze). Un potere centrale tanto ignorato sulla carta, almeno nelle periferie, quanto entrato con prepotenza nella mentalità comune. Mi ha colpita, in questo senso, una frase riportata all’inizio, riguardo alle apparizioni di Putin in tv mentre compie cose bizzarre come piegare sbarre di ferro: “Sarà anche un mostro, ma è il nostro mostro”.
Mette un po’ i brividi, ma illustra almeno un concetto: secoli di oppressione, censura e isolamento non hanno creato rabbia verso il potere, come sarebbe stato normale aspettarsi, ma verso gli stranieri, i nemici, la decadenza occidentale. Se c’è una cosa che è riuscita bene alla propaganda russa zarista e poi sovietica, è stato inculcare nelle menti dei suoi cittadini la diffidenza verso tutto ciò che viene dall’estero.
Come spesso succede nei regimi autoritari, per creare e cementare un sentimento di unità nazionale è bastato indicare con chiarezza un nemico esterno, la cui corruzione potenziale nelle idee sembrava più pericolosa della corruzione reale ai vertici del governo (pare che ogni infrastruttura costruita in Russia costi dieci volte più che altrove, perché buona parte dei fondi finisce in tasca a qualcuno).
È interessante che le abitazioni dei pilastri della cultura russa siano conservate e custodite religiosamente, nonostante i loro antichi proprietari o le loro opere siano stati spesso perseguitati sia dalla monarchia che dai soviet (troppo rivoluzionari per la prima e troppo reazionari per gli altri).
Emblematico il caso di Puškin, che dopo essere stato censurato dallo zar per le sue idee politiche progressiste venne bandito anche dai comunisti. Ma nel centenario della morte (1937) questi ultimi decisero che in fondo poteva servire a rilanciare la causa, e diventò così poeta nazionale. Il Comitato centrale arrivò a definirlo “il padre del comunismo”… Ad ogni modo, nonostante quell’anno dieci milioni di persone avessero ordinato la nuova edizione delle sue opere, le ricevettero con dodici anni di ritardo, perché gli addetti alla stampa venivano ripetutamente a mancare per le purghe staliniane.
Sono note curiose che fanno sorridere, nonostante la tragicità della situazione, e che rendono bene le contraddizioni, per noi stranieri incomprensibili, che compongono la storia russa.
Ma ci sono anche dettagli attuali e stonati che dicono più di mille parole: il fatto che ogni guida turistica abbia un suo “territorio” e non possa entrare in quelli altrui, la difficoltà per uno straniero di visitare alcuni luoghi, il fatto che quasi la metà delle case e dei villaggi di campagna non abbia ancora l’elettricità, mentre a pochi chilometri svetta una centrale nucleare, l’immenso investimento statale per le Olimpiadi invernali di Soči del 1914, che ha stravolto la geografia di una piccola città affacciata sul Mar Nero senza migliorare minimamente le condizioni di vita dei suoi abitanti. Dettagli che illuminano di una luce impietosa un mondo fatto di esibizione pacchiana del potere di pochi e di povertà rassegnata dei molti. Un mondo dove per lo più ci si arrangia, si sopravvive e si tira avanti con uno stoicismo antico quanto le montagne, le paludi o i grandi laghi ghiacciati.
Iconica la frase riportata a pagina 40: “Quando si vive vicino a un confine” disse Anna, la guida che si era unita a noi per la sua parte di territorio “si impara a dipendere da Dio e da se stessi”.
Ed è forse il concetto che riassume meglio il carattere nazionale: molti popoli sparpagliati in uno spazio enorme, dove il governo centrale è rappresentato solo da uno strano tizio in tv che piega le sbarre o accarezza leopardi: si può contare solo su se stessi, e al limite, forse, su Dio (per chi è credente). Per questo, secondo l’autrice, le chiese russe di provincia sono spesso piccole, raccolte, a misura d’uomo: sono luoghi in cui c’è assoluto bisogno di un Dio vicino, altrimenti non sanno che farsene.
Gli autori di cui l’autrice sceglie di parlare sono un po’ i fondatori della letteratura russa (prima la lingua letteraria era soprattutto il francese, il russo era considerato popolare): Puškin, Turgenev, Tolstoj, Dostoevskij, Gogol, Čechov. E molti altri che conoscevo poco o per nulla, quindi è stata una lettura davvero interessante da cui ho appreso molte cose nuove e preso diversi spunti per le prossime letture. Perché al di là della politica intricata e della geografia troppo estesa e scoraggiante, al di là del freddo e della rarità dei sorrisi, c’è qualcosa che attira nel modo di essere e nella mentalità russa. Nonostante i molti governi oppressivi, la gente normale si è adattata, è andata avanti, sviluppando idee e valori tutti suoi, che i suoi autori più osannati hanno cercato di racchiudere nell’unico mezzo che conoscevano: le pagine (spesso esorbitanti per numero) dei loro romanzi. Quello che ne esce è un mondo lontano ma per molti versi ancora attuale. Leggendo Anna Karenina o L’idiota si può ancora cogliere qualcosa dell’anima russa, qualcosa che è particolare e al tempo stesso universale.
“Fango e stelle” è più di un semplice saggio: è un’immersione nelle idee, nella storia, nella geografia, nella mente della Russia. Magari, come specifica l’autrice, non è un compendio scientifico o accademico, ma racconta molte storie a chi è ansioso di ascoltarne. È un saggio che suscita pensieri, visioni e domande, sorrisi e stupore. Da leggere, se come me avete degli autori russi che hanno accompagnato la vostra crescita e vi sono rimasti nel cuore, se volete conoscere meglio un paese difficile e contraddittorio ma ricco di fascino.

[Michael · Rating 3 out of 5]

I haven't had much luck with travel narratives published recently about Russia or the former USSR.

The author's idea was to celebrate Russia's "golden age" authors from Pushkin to Tolstoy, including Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Chekhov and a few lesser authors, by describing her observations of places she traveled to in Russia today. (Well, more or less today; the trips seem to go back to perhaps 2010.) Varying amounts of description if provided of these author's lives and writing careers and best known works.

As the author describes her travels and make connections with the places where she visits and a particular author, she also spends much time describing these places as they are without reference to the authors and her experiences, usually staying in Russian home-stay situations. More than once she falls into what are almost rants against Putin's Russia. It seemed a little odd sometimes.

The author explains that for personal reasons the travel for this book (and I guess the book as a whole) was delayed for several years. It isn't clear when she talks about different trips she made when they happened other than that they were after 2010 or so. OK so I checked and one of the trips was made to Anadyr in Chukotka and took place in 2008. (This was easily checked because then-president Medvedev visited the city while she was there.) I personally wish travel narrative books, particularly one like this that isn't in chronological order for when the travel was made, said when the author was making the visits.

I observed some statements in the book that are in error, mostly minor things, not quite right. For example, a color photograph of Tolstoy (sadly reproduced in the book in black & white) made by the Russian chemist and photographer Prokudin-Gorskii was well known to be the first color photograph of the writer (not colorized, but actually a color photograph produced by an innovative technical approach). The book says the photograph is thought to have been the first color print in Russia - which it wasn't, Prokudin-Gorskii was taking photographs in color for several years before he produced one of Tolstoy.

I think I learned something about some of the authors and the book was mostly readable enough. I read all of it. But I wouldn't recommend it particularly.

[Mary Warnement · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wheeler apologizes (with false modesty I suspect) for being a generalist, but I'd travel with her. I hadn't heard of all the authors she mentioned and learned a few unsavory facts about well-known authors. (No need to feel guilty that War & Peace is languishing on my shelf.) My admiration for Turgenev emerges intact; her calling him a man and writer of restraint appealed to me. "Couldn't stop himself from seeing both sides of an argument" (176) made me equate him with Erasmus. Maybe I'll try more Pushkin, but probably not. Too many other books I know I want to read.

She quotes Fathers and Sons translated by Avril.

On 147, as she starts her section on Chekhov, she juxtaposes his impressionistic view with Dostoyevsky's need for a message. But on page 42, she had written that "part of the greatness of Crime & Punishment" lies in its depiction of the unknowability of motives....his narratives are open-ended...there are rare neat conclusions in life." I guess you can be open-ended and still have a message.

151 Checkhov imagery in travel writing crossed into fiction when he described a cook kneading sunshine into dough.

The sun never sets on Siberia, 8 million square miles. Of course her travel reminded me of Ian Frazier's book, which I enjoyed very much. He took one grand trip; she undertook many.

Wheeler has an impressive vocabulary. Small wonder given her language studies and travel. Her descriptive phrases often merited underlining.

159 She experiments translating Catullus on Google to see how it fares. The failure satisfies her.

xiv Her stated goal of exploring Russian authors (juxtaposed with her own travel) isn't about Russia but about novels treatment of human experience.

43 Samuel Johnson "the significance of the trivial."

73 One of T's characters considered a woman "yesterday's loaf," a phrase Wheeler considered making her book's title. She only shares the source of what she chose on the tp verso: "We sit in the mud, my friend, and reach for the stars." Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

165 Lake Baikul is "limnological nirvana, in the shape of a banana." High-falutin language followed by low brow.

I wish I'd kept track of how many things she stated "exposed the my of communism/Soviet state." Probably only 3 or 4.

[David Dunlap · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is part history, part literary criticism, part travelogue, part sociological investigation, part memoir. The author focuses on a number of the major authors of the Golden Age of Russian Literature -- both the 'usual suspects' (Pushkin, Turgenev, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Chekhov) and the lesser-known (Leskov, Goncharov, Lermontov), with mentions of the even-more obscure (such as Afanasy Fet and Alexander Herzen). (It was also nice to learn more about Constance Garnett, the first translator of many Russian works; author Wheeler has high praise for her work, even if it is oldest.) She details her travels in Russia, visiting places associated with these writers, underlining some of the conditions and tensions in Putin's Russia. -- I enjoyed making and renewing acquaintances in these pages, but I believe the book could have benefited from a tighter, more coherent structure -- it hops around a bit too much for my taste (a biographical snippet here, an experience in Russian cooking there, etc.). Such a pointillistic approach makes it difficult to leave the book with a coherent view of any of the writers mentioned, but, on the other hand, the reader is sometimes surprised by a new and startling revelation just a page-turn away. It is also clever of the author to introduce the subject of the next chapter of her book in the previous one. Recommended for those interested in the subject... (I would advice a pinch of patience while reading.)

[Luis Cuesta · Rating 4 out of 5]

I received this book as a Goodreads giveaway.In it author Sara Wheeler travels around Russia on the trail of its literary giants. Generally speaking this is a well-researched, droll journey around the lives of Russia’s “big beast” 19th-century writers —among them Pushkin, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, , Gogol, Chekhov and Tolstoy — in the context of today’s Russia and ordinary residents of the country.

The image many westerners have of Russia is an unflattering one, heavy on totalitarianism and repression and Sara Wheeler states that conditions in Russia’s provinces, especially in the villages and among native peoples, are dire. But she also offers an important corrective. Part literary criticism, part travelogue, her fascinating book ventures across country in the footsteps of the writers enables her to discuss the importance of place in their writing, and – thanks to the veneration with which their former homes are treated – the reverse.She concludes that the lives of the millions of Russians outside the big cities she wanted to represent ‘were and are consumed with the generally dreadful business of being Russian’.

[Olivia · Rating 2 out of 5]

I thought my love and curiosity of Russia and literature would make this a magical book for me, but I really struggled to finish it. Honestly, yes it would have probably helped if I had read Tolstoy's, Lermentov's or Pushkin's novels, but even so the book felt a puzzling blur and confusing mix of quotes, biographies, cooking lessons, contemporary politics, language courses and snippets of family holidays, that I only just made it through. It's all too much of a muddle in my mind to give you any concise review.

[PeterO · Rating 2 out of 5]

Very disappointing.
It is both a travelogue and a bibliography of the Golden Age of Russian literature.
These are two things I love and I am sure it was the same love that inspired her to write this book.
But, they never really meet. Her ability to summarize literature is poor and the linkage of this with her travels is weak.

[Marren · Rating 1 out of 5]

Disappointing. I was expecting some travelogue, that's fine, but I went to this book to learn about Russian authors and it read more like a political diatribe.

[Jean Roberts · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mud and Stars: Travels in Russia with Pushkin, Tolstoy and other Geniuses of the Golden Age by
Sara Wheeler.
Published: 2019
Publisher: Pantheon Books
Genre: Nonfiction, Travel, Russian Literature, Russian History
Pages: 287

Reviewers Note: I checked this book out from the library!

The review of this book comes with several confessions; the first of which is, I put this book back on the library shelf after a cursory glance. It sounded boring. I have absolutely no interest in Russian Literature. I think I took a stab at Dr. Zhivago when I was in college, but that was it. It was my husband who picked up Mud and Stars, checked it out and read it. 'It's great', he said. Yawn. No thanks.

Then came the Covid 19 shutdown, our lives placed on indefinite hold. The library remains shuttered as I type this. Bored, I picked up the book and leafed through it. Lots of pictures of old bearded Russian men juxtaposed with pastelly houses that look like they belong in Bermuda not frigid Russia. Hum, still unsure, but what the heck. So, I gave it a go.

Yep, its good. I liked it. A lot. The book sucks you in as you delve through its multilayered chapters. On the surface the author takes the reader on a historical home tour of the giants of Russian literature. Each writer gets a brief overview of his plays, novels and or poetry and his private life including mistresses, madness, fatal duels and chronic illnesses. Wheeler, over the course of what seems like several years, visits Russia and pays homage to its literary heroes. When not in country, she treats us to her attempts at cooking Russian cuisine and learning to speak the language, more entertaining that it sounds.

After a few chapters the Russian names began to run together in my head but I didn't really care. It was the journey, not the destination that I enjoyed. Confession number two: My favorite character was Oblomov, namesake of a novel called Oblomov by Goncharov, not that I intend to read it or anything. He reminds me of my current state of ennui. Envisioning myself in the train, staring out at the passing Russian landscape, helped pass a few listless hours during the 'new normal' that is my daily life during self-isolation.

From the outskirts of Moscow to ugly Sochi to furtherest Siberia, we are taken on a progress through today's Russia, mostly by train. We learn about lush farms, forested mountains, the largest lake in the entire world and the utter vastness of Siberia. Staying in homes with the average Russian, Wheeler brings us face to face with them, often teasing out their personal view of their homeland and their leaders past and present.

Wheeler is clearly no fan of Putin and the oligarchs who bleed the country of its riches, but then who is? That said, it's even more interesting to read how the Russian people view their own collective history and their take on the current social and economic state of their country.

Read this book for the travelogue and for the history, if you fall in love with the literature, even better. Confession number three: I did not fall in love.

I rate this book 4 1/2 stars: ⭐⭐⭐⭐✯

[Laurel Bradshaw · Rating 4 out of 5]

"We sit in the mud, my friend, and reach for the stars." ~ Turgenev

4 red stars. If Natasha's Dance: A Cultural History of Russia is reaching for the stars, this is the book that pulls us back to earth. It's a bit of a rambling journey, and doesn't follow a timeline. The author has apparently made quite a few trips to Russia and her musings on her experiences are not presented in any kind of chronological order. And while she follows in the footsteps of the golden age writers, this is pretty firmly rooted in Russia today. Not being all that familiar with any of these writers, I most enjoyed her descriptions of her travels - learning the language, shopping and cooking in Russia, getting to know her hosts. I was especially fascinated by the "behind the scenes" look at Sochi when the Olympics was held there. Just a lovely balance to the erudition of the other book.

Description: With the writers of the golden age as her guides—Pushkin, Tolstoy, Gogol, and Turgenev, among others—Sara Wheeler searches for a Russia not in the news, traveling from rinsed northwestern beet fields and the Far Eastern Arctic tundra to the cauldron of nationalities, religions, and languages in the Caucasus. Bypassing major cities as much as possible, she goes instead to the places associated with the country’s literary masters. Wheeler weaves these writers’ lives and works around their historical homes, giving us rich portraits of the many diverse Russias from which these writers spoke. Illustrated with both historical images and contemporary snapshots of the people and places that shaped her journey, Mud and Stars gives us timely, witty, and deeply personal insights into Russia, then and now.

[Joel · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sara Wheeler’s book about Russian writers could have been great. She is a good writer, when she can get out of her own way, and clearly knows the subject matter well. In this book, Wheeler takes the reader on a journey through Russia, and brings Russia’s greatest writers along for the ride. Turgenev and Lermontov and Dostoevsky and Herzen and of course Tolstoy. She visits their estates and landholdings, the places they were imprisoned or exiled, and the amazing Russian expanses that inspired so much talent and vision.

Russia is special, and Russia’s writers are also special. Russia, which sees itself as the natural counter-balance to western decadence. A place where legacy and nobility are achieved through suffering – not stuff. Lev Gumilev called this ‘Passionarity’.

But you have to approach Russia, and her writers, with a sense of wonder. Liberals, however, replace wonder with cynicism. Scoffing, and mocking are their answers to anybody who does not think like they do. And Wheeler is clear on her position, on social issues which a deeply conservative and religious place (rightly) considers anathema; or political ones (Trump and Reagan and Thatcher join Putin as the book’s villains – how ‘openminded’ is that?).

I feel sorry for Wheeler – there is something epic and marvelous in Eurasia, if only you can find a way to defy your own petty prejudices and embrace something grand and old. An ancient land, poorly governed forever but still serving as a balance against the mono-culture Wheeler and her ilk would like to impose on the world. Places marinated in Christianity and timeless continuity can save your life – I recently spent two years in Armenia, and I certainly am better for it.

But we must be humble.