Customer Reviews

Faithful Ruslan (Rn: GeorgiĀ Nikolaevich Volosevich 1.Ti)

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4 star:		(1)
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Beware-- this book may haunt you. A simple dog story it is not.

On the surface, this is an accessible easy read; we're in the point of view of Ruslan, formerly a guard dog in a labor camp. When the camp bewilderingly closes, Ruslan is left to his own devices-- trying to find his commander, trying to get food. One terrible scene I have never been able to get out of my mind is when a peasant cruelly offers him a piece of bread-- covered with hot mustard, knowing it will cause the dog pain. No animal lover can read this scene without compassion or tears.

And yet.

Ruslan is faithful, but the reader knows the system he served was an evil one. Like the best allegories, this book works fully on all its levels-- as a sheer survival story from a decent, though misguided, dog's point of view the book is sad. But with the knowledge that certainly any Russian reader would have (and that any reader should have, really) about the changes in Russian society-- this book comes out of the Thaw period, when artists began to be able to critique more openly the repressive Stalinist regime-- the book's real tragedy is almost too much to take.

For Ruslan, you see, like so many Russians, had been deceived in his attempt to be a Good Dog. What Ruslan remembers fondly, the reader with horror can understand as atrocity (attacking prisoners, for example). (Another book which does this is Martin Amis' brilliant TIME'S ARROW, in which the Holocaust is remembered backwards, so that the narrator recalls resurrecting millions out of ashes).

Ruslan comes to a terrible, inevitable end-- the details of which are left to the reader's shivering imagination. Ruslan sees some people he once knew-- and goes to do his job. But the world had mysteriously and completely changed.

Poor Ruslan, he was only doing his job-- truly. The real criminals are the ones who corrupted and perverted his loyalty and decency into serving their evil ends.

An unforgettable book. I wept at its end, and emailed my Russian teacher to complain! (I got no sympathy; tragedy and sorrow are so Russian, she said).

The end of Stalin's system of forced labor labor camp is seen through the eyes of forced labor guard dog. This powerful premise provides a unique perspective on the lasting impact of the Stalinist nightmare on the survivors, and shows the reader that the destruction of one system of evil does not inevitably mean the end of all misery.
The survivors, whether they worked for the system -- as in the case of a guard dog, or those who who were crushed by the system, as in the case of millions of former prisoners, were all forced to continue to endure in Soviet Russia, without any real justice for the victims.
The confusion that resulted, with former victims being "rehabilitated" and yet never enjoying any real restitution, and the former tormentors never being required to face the enormity of their deeds is palpably felt.
In addition, by using a morally neutral character, a dog, the author shows that in the case of many who supported the system, it is impossible to definitively assign to them guilt for the system which they supported. The book shows that while totalitarianism has a few monsters, it has many more people who accede unquestioningly to the environment with which they are surrounded. And it does all of this quietly, without melodrama or histrionics.
This powerful book is a must read for anyone who is interested in the human condition. Let us hope that more such books are written in Russia, and that this book is reprinted.
Michael Glenny provides a well-crafted translation of this important book.

I was staggered by the sheer beauty of this novel. I always wanted to read something by a Russian Author, but I was worried if it might be bleak. This is a highly engrossing story with colourful characters and a real page turner. Well worth reading if you get the chance!

This is one of the most mind-wrenching books of the 20th century, and if you read it, you will understand this is not hyperbole. A simple Jack London-esque story of a man and his dog, and the vast love and respect they share through their many adventures. You know the stuff: patrolling the perimeters of political prisons. Chasing down concentration-camp escapees. Tracking the innocent through frozen wastelands as they desperately flee their persecutors.

I mean, how can you not love a dog?

The prison camp is empty; only Ruslan and his master remain. Ruslan is confused. Has there been a mass escape? Where are the other guards? Why aren't the other dogs on patrol? Why are the gates wide open? When his master lets him off his leash, Ruslan senses that he no longer has a purpose, that his days are at an end. Indeed, Ruslan is prepared to accept his fate when his master unslings his machine gun, but instead his master tells him to leave the camp, a future Ruslan regards as worse than death before it dawns on him that he's being sent on a mission: to wait at the train station for the return of the captured prisoners. Eventually Ruslan is joined there by other guard dogs. When passing trains fail to stop, the confused dogs begin to live in the town, some living better than others, while Ruslan, steadfast in his duty to the Service, patiently awaits his absent master's orders. Only after a long period of hunger and hopelessness does Ruslan find himself with an unexpected companion: a former prisoner known only as "the Shabby Man" who, to Ruslan's way of thinking, needs to be escorted in his travels so that he can be returned to the prison camp when Ruslan is finally called back to the Service.

From this premise -- a story (first published in 1975) told from a dog's eyes -- we see the Soviet Union in transition. Stalin is gone, Khrushchev has freed the political prisoners, former guards and former inmates are sharing bottles of vodka and lamenting their lack of purpose. Even Ruslan has no purpose, although he does his best to keep the past alive by guarding the Shabby Man.

Ruslan has lived his life by a set of rules; to deviate was to be punished and he expected no less. In contrast to Ruslan is the dog Ingus: every bit as smart and capable as Ruslan, but a dreamy, free spirited dog who doesn't share Ruslan's love of duty, who doesn't understand the point of rules that interfere with life's simple pleasures, like rolling in the grass. Georgi Vladimov seems to be saying that dogs, like people, do not adapt equally well to the roles they are assigned in life -- and that a failure to play the role required by the Soviet state can lead to harsh and unjust consequences for man and dog alike. Dogs, like people, are abused without explanation; they don't need to understand why, they just need to endure the pain. Neither Ingus nor the prisoners can escape their fate, as much as they long for freedom.

But what is freedom? Imprisonment takes many forms; freedom from confinement does not assure the ability to live free. To Ruslan's way of thinking, the Shabby Man had a better life behind the prison camp's fence: he had work, he ate regularly, he didn't drink himself into a stupor every night. Perhaps freedom means nothing left to lose, but how free can a man be when he has lost everything? The Shabby Man must face that question toward the novel's end as he confronts his future.

Although in some respects Faithful Ruslan might be difficult for dog lovers to read, it is written with a deep understanding of and intense affection for dogs -- as opposed to humans, who "stank of cruelty and treachery." Ruslan and the other dogs in the novel are superior in many ways to the humans they serve. They are motivated by love rather than malice, by loyalty rather than selfishness, by sharp-eyed reality rather than delusion or deception. Unfortunately, they are also true to their training. Ruslan's sense of duty never waivers; the world has changed but Ruslan hasn't, setting him up for a tragic destiny. In the end, unswerving devotion to mindless duty leads to Ruslan's downfall, as it has for so many. The Soviet political regime may change, Vladimov seems to be saying, but behavior does not.

As difficult as it is to read this story, it's worth the pain. I would give Faithful Ruslan 4 1/2 stars if that option were available.

Who is more loyal than a dog? This book talks about how loyalty can be manipulated, and how the best and truest can become the most misused. A haunting parable.