December 5, 2005

The Arbat

I just finished the novel Children of the Arbat, given to me by my friend John - I am so grateful!! He knew I HAD to read it (even though I had never heard of it before) because of my whole Stalin interest (here's one of the many posts I wrote about him) - and he told me that the book, although fiction, contains one of the best psychological portraits of Josef Stalin he had ever read. Shivers! Stalin makes my blood run cold. I've read all the biographies out there (okay, not all - but most of the main ones) - and he's a tough study. He really is. I DEVOURED Children of the Arbat and will be doing a large post about it at some point in my life - just not now, because I don't have the time. It's such a big subject.

The book takes place in the Arbat - a neighborhood in Moscow with a long long history. (I suppose most everything in Russia has a long long history!) I also found some pictures of it online - it looks absolutely adorable. You do get a sense, from the novel, of the quaintness of this community, the artistic life of the Arbat, the jazz clubs, the theatres - The novel follows a group of kids who grew up together in the Arbat, and we see what happens to them as the Revolution begins to eat its young.

The novel ends with the murder of Kirov.

You just SHIVER with dread - knowing the terror that is ahead for all of these people. Man. Great feckin' book - and I do want to do it justice - a big long post about it, with excerpts - the Stalin sections (he is a character in the book - as is Kirov and many other names that anyone who has studied Russian history will recognize - Yagoda, Bukharin ... )

Here are a couple of the pictures I found. The first one is especially evocative, I think. At least for me. It looks like a place I would love to visit.

arbat.jpg


arbat2.bmp

Posted by sheila
Comments

When I was visiting the Arbat on a regular basis in 1991, it was a place for artists and mafiosi to sell stuff on little tables in the street. I bought some exquisite matryoski and Palekh boxes there, as well as a painting of Behemoth (the Cat from Master and Margarita) swinging from the chandelier and shooting it out with the NKVD.

Occassionally you'd run into a drunk old veteran of the Great Patriotic War selling his and his buddies' medals and pins. I never had the heart to buy one, although I dearly would like to own one - I think that stuff ought to stay in the country of origin, and I saw it as vicitmizing the old geezers once again.

It had the same flavor in the 90s as in Rybakov's novel - jazz clubs, seedy Georgian restaurants, political operatives, mafiosi, gypsies, and foreign tourists, all mixing with the average natives.

Posted by: John at December 5, 2005 4:25 PM

Very slightly OT, but Robert Conquest has some commentary about "Stalinophilia" in yesterday's WSJ... unfortunately you have to have a subscription to read it.

Posted by: JFH at December 6, 2005 9:06 AM

John, send me a photo of that Behemoth painting! I love that book!

Posted by: Mr. Bingley at December 6, 2005 10:11 AM

Please please please!!!!

Posted by: Mr. Bingley at December 6, 2005 10:12 AM

John - so fascinating. I would love to go there someday.

Posted by: red at December 6, 2005 10:14 AM