I received a free publisher's review copy, via Netgalley.
Helen Rappaport has made a writing cottage industry of the last of the Russian Romanov dynasty, with previous books The Last Days of the Romanovs, The Romanov Sisters, The Race to Save the Romanovs, and now After the Romanovs. To me, this one has a bit of the flavor of purposing the unused bits of research from other books, as one might use the scraps of leftover dough from a piecrust.
The book begins during the Belle Epoque, well before the titular After the Romanovs, but the book’s beginning establishes Paris as a longtime second home for the Russian aristocracy during the late Tsarist period. These aristos all spoke French and descended on the City of Light regularly to spend astonishing amounts of money on hotels, second (or third or fourth) homes, dining, couture, jewelry, and gambling.
A few aristos had moved to Paris with a good deal of their wealth intact before the Revolution. They’d been advised to diversity assets outside Russia or, in one case, had been banished for marital misconduct by the straitlaced Tsar and had managed to take a large amount of assets with him.
Russian writers, dancers, musicians, composers, choreographers and artists also often found their ways to Paris, though not arriving in the style of the aristos. They were usually living on a shoestring, often were Jewish, and had no connection to the Tsar or his court. Some became sensations in Paris, like Diaghilev, Nijinsky, Chagall. Others lived in grinding poverty.
Tens of thousands of Russians became Parisians in the wake of the Russian Revolution. They smuggled as much with them as they could, but in most cases it wasn’t much. They found themselves working as cleaners, dishwashers, bathroom attendants, and many other unskilled jobs. Becoming a taxi driver was a reachable ambition for many of the former White army officers, since they were among the few who knew how to drive. Aristocratic women were generally skilled at needlework, and many of them got jobs sewing with high-fashion couturiers.
This book is told mostly anecdotally, and it’s astonishing just how many Princes, Princesses, Dukes, Duchesses, Grand Dukes, Grand Duchesses, and Generals there are. It gives an idea of just how bloated—but exclusive—the Russian aristocracy was. For some years, they maintained faith that the Tsar and his family were still alive, that the Bolsheviks would be ousted and the monarchy restored. But that faith and hope slipped away, and they had children who had never seen the motherland. Paris’s Russophilia of the 1920s faded and sometimes turned to resentment.
Whenever I began to feel sorry for the formerly high-class exiles, Rappaport would toss in a good bucket of cold water in the form of hard facts about this class, like their virulent antisemitism and support for fascist dictators like Mussolini, Franco and, yes, even Hitler.
An entertaining book, though it feels a little thin and cobbled together.