“Follow your own path.” #WITmonth @OWC_Oxford


Selected Letters of Catherine the Great
Translated by Andrew Kahn and Kelsey Rubin-Detlev

History as a concept can be problematic linguistically from the start, Just look at the word – an amalgam of his and story – and you can see where the focus is going to be. There is still perhaps a belief that great deeds are done by great men, and women are often marginalised to the sidelines. However, thinking of, for example, the great monarchs of the past just shows how that isn’t necessarily the case. Elizabeth I in this country is unforgettable; and the Russian monarch Catherine the Great is just as legendary.

Oxford World Classics have just brought out a brilliant book of her Selected Letters and I thought it would be fascinating to take a look at this during WIT Month; particularly after having spent some time with another great Russian, Marina Tsvetaeva. The two women couldn’t be further apart, really, but both had equally fascinating lives, and I’m enjoying very much dipping into Catherine’s correspondence.

The introduction is excellent, providing background to Catherine’s reign, her vast achievements and just what an educated woman she was. This was the real Golden Age of letter writing which was an art in itself, and she excelled in using the form for personal and diplomatic purposes. The book is divided into sections that follow her career chronologically, focusing on the main aspects which informed her writings at those points. So we see the young queen finding her way when new in the role; fostering cultural connections with European countries and philosophers such as Voltaire and Diderot; dealing with war and conflict; expanding the Russian empire; and also more personal contacts with her various lovers. Catherine’s reign was a long one and she was in many ways a self-made woman. Born a German princess, she embraced Russianness wholeheartedly, becoming synonymous with her country and determined to drag it forward culturally and in terms of conquest. And this was no mean feat, for a country the size of Russia contained so many different elements, people and cultures that to set out a set of laws and regulations that applied to all was nigh on impossible.

In the end, the laws that people are talking so much about have not been made yet, and who can say whether they will be good or not? Truly, it is posterity, and not we, who will be in a position to settle this question. Just think, I beg you: the laws must work for Asia and for Europe. What differences of climate, peoples, habits, even ideas!

The “Selected Letters” is an exemplary book, and demonstrates exactly how you should produce a scholarly yet readable volume. The introduction is detailed enough to give you perfect context, there’s a chronology, notes are indicated in the text by an asterisk, and crucially, each letter has its own short paragraph to introduce it and explain context. So it’s perfect for dipping into, which I think is how I shall carry on with it, because each letter is so beautifully written that it deserves to be savoured and not rushed. I confess the print size of the intro paragraphs is quite small for my ageing eyes, so dipping will help with this too, but I’m intrigued by this woman and shall enjoy making my way through her letters.

Andrew Shiva [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or Attribution], from Wikimedia Commons

I’m finding so much to be fascinated by in this book: for example, the fact that she was responsible for the iconic Bronze Horseman statue of Peter the Great in St. Petersburg. Catherine was determined to create and emphasise a connection between herself and Peter, most crucially because she was of course not actually Russian. The correspondence with the sculptor is so interesting, and her skill at a combination of flattery and insisting on her own way is so clever. I’ve also been struck again by the general interconnectedness (well, inbreeding….) of the European monarchs which continued until 20th century and perhaps reached its zenith with the strangeness around the time of World War 1 and the Russian Revolution; the family tree of Victoria caused a fair amount of havoc at that time…

Catherine the Great c. 1845 by Georg Cristoph Grooth [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

“Selected Letters” is proving to be the perfect book for #WITmonth, and is shaping up to encapsulate brilliantly the breadth of Catherine’s achievements and her reign. As the introduction reminds us, the male bias of history often tries to diminish what she did with gossip about horses and lovers in a judgemental way which would never be applied to a king or Tsar. I’m not a fan of monarchy in general; however, accepting that this was the mode of rule at the time, what Catherine aimed to do with her country was laudable. I hope this volume will help to ensure that we remember Catherine the Great for her intelligence, wit and triumphs rather that trying to relegate her rule to one of novelty.

(Review copy kindly provided by the publishers, for which many thanks!)

Historical detecting – Russian style!


Harlequin’s Costume by Leonid Yuzefovich

When it comes to ticking the boxes for a perfect read for me, this book really should have it all – set in St. Petersburg, written by a Russian and featuring a crime story with a real-life historical detective as the protagonist. I popped it on my wish list and Youngest Child decided it would be a good thing to send my way for Mothering Sunday – which was remarkably sensible. But did it live up to my expectations? Well, yes and no…


The author is Leonid Yuzefovich who, the publisher’s website tell us, grew up in Perm, in the Ural Mountains. He is a historian with twin interests in Old Russian diplomacy and Mongolia, the country where he spent three years in the Soviet army. Autocrat of the Desert is Yuzefovich’s biography of Baron Ungern-Shternberg, a Russian adventurer and anti-Bolshevik who set himself up as a warlord in Mongolia during the Russian Civil War. Yuzefovich has published many stories, essays, novels, and historical monographs, and won several prizes, including 2001 National Bestseller prize for Prince of the Wind, another installment in the Putilin trilogy, and Russia’s 2009 Big Book Award for his contemporary novel Cranes and Pygmies. Since 2000s Yuzefovich works on television, writing screenplays for historical serials and works on film adaptation of his novels.

So that’s quite an impressive resume, and this volume is the first of the so-called Putilin trilogy, named after the famous detective. “Russia Behind the Headlines” tells us of the real-life man that Ivan Dmetrievich Putilin was a legend in his own lifetime. From 1866 until 1893 he chased St. Petersburg’s most notorious criminals as chief inspector of police. Later contemporaries called him “the Russian Sherlock Holmes,” according to Louise McReynolds’ new book “Murder Most Russian.”

The story opens with Putilin planning to write his memoirs. He’s employed Safonov as a biographer-cum-ghost writer and at points in the story the narrative digresses into a conversation between the two. Putilin starts to recall one of his most notorious cases, that of the murder of Prince von Ahrensburg, an Austrian military attaché. The man has been found smothered in his bed, and the case is not as straightforward as it might seem. There is a mistress and her husband; some dubious servants; various rival political allies and enemies; plus a surprising amount of people who seem keen to confess to the murder. Add to this rumours of a werewolf in St. Petersburg and a notorious criminal on the loose, and it seems that the author is weaving quite a tangled web!

The politics of the time (late 1800s) were complicated and St. Petersburg was policed by the regular force and also the gendarmes (the security forces). The two bodies come into constant conflict, with Putilin trying to avoid just about everybody and investigate the case himself. Eventually, of course, he will find the solution and all will be resolved, but I challenge anyone to guess the outcome!


The book was a very good read, but I did have a couple of issues with it. The structure was a little unusual, with sudden transitions from the story itself back to the conversations between Putilin and Safanov, which did tend to distract a little from the main story. I wondered whether this was perhaps to remind the reader that we were perhaps dealing with an unreliable narrator, though I wasn’t convinced this worked entirely as he seemed to be a rather omniscient one! There was also a slightly jerky quality to some of the description which sat a little uncomfortably.

The other slight problem I had was a lack of characterisation in some of the subsidiary characters. There are a lot of them, with a number of different roles within the storyline, and to be honest they were never really introduced or defined enough for my liking; to the extent that I struggled a little to differentiate between them at times.

However, these quibbles aside, I did love the atmosphere of old St. Petersburg conjured up by the book; the writing and descriptions were excellent in places; and Putilin himself is a wonderful character, well portrayed and very funny in places. I shall definitely explore more of the series if further books are translated and may well see if I can track down the TV series to see what Russian TV has made of the “Russian Sherlock Holmes”!

(For further reading, there is the little piece here on Russia Beyond the Headlines which is worth checking out).

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