Customer Reviews

Open Lands: Travels Through Russia's Once Forbidden Places

5 star:		(7)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

A good effort, and most of it is interesting and entertaining. His description of the mood and conditions are quite accurate and illuminating.

Which is the rub - his bias gives the book a feel of one written at the height of the Reagan era, and not by a typical American travelling Russia in the 90s. An 'Information Officer' in the U.S. embassy, son of a spook... 'nuff ced. His description of Russian trains clearly show he's NEVER ridden on Amtrak, and his condemnation of 'soulless monumental Stalinist architecture' makes me wonder WHERE in Washington D.C. he was living.

The main annoyance with the book is his constant references to some mysterious pre-revolutionary golden age in Russia. Basically, he seems to feel that everything SINCE the Revolution was bad, and everything BEFORE automatically good (perhaps coming up with spin for the State Dept. has made it easy for him to ignore the pre-revolutionary 90% illiteracy, NO health care, serfdom, etc. - he doesn't seem to recall that the schoolkids he talks to wouldn't have BEEN schoolkids under old Nicky II).

As I said, a good read, but it has a definite Reagan-era feel to it. A good companion to Jeffrey Tayler's OUTSTANDING 'Siberian Dawn', or Colin Thubron's "Lost Heart of Asia', and 'In Siberia'.

This is basically a time-warp report which punishes Russia about past tragedies, human suffering, and sly politics; written with a sort of morose satisfaction. It's not about the Russian spirit successfully striving to leapfrog from the 19th century Russian culture into the 21st century global culture. Readers will either rub their hands with glee at the sullen, false representation of Russia's lost century as still extant, or they will admire the spirit, creativity and willpower of a people strong enough to bounce from a 3rd world country to a fledgling 1st world country...in just ten years!

For the savvy reader, the book does provide a remarkable opportunity to read between the lines and compare new news with old history. The trap for the unwary reader is to take the author's second-hand descriptions of old Russian tragedies and past injustices as a blanket picture of present day. He lovingly describes the infrastructure conditions left over from an oppressive era; cracked buildings, ex gulag-prisoners' memories, hidden mass graves, cold trains, sheep's-head dinners, 1940-truck repairs, out-dated clothing, smuggling, mud, vodka, no bitumen, and so on.
All seems hopeless and the read can be a bit of a downer unless one slaps himself awake to realize that Russia is not starting from the bottom. It's not an apathetic, fly-blown, poverty stricken bog that can't feed itself. In reality, there is no-one starving, the trains are clean and do run on time. They have industry, science, medicine, atomic energy, universities, space travel, literature, art, agriculture, creative spirit, smiles and hope.
Otto von Bismark, the Prussian chancellor, once commented, "The Russians may take a long time to saddle their horses, but when they ride, they ride!"

I give the book three stars for reporting, with seeming relish, only the unsavory.There's an opportunity for the author to redeem his objectivity and do the trip again in present time for Volume Two. It would make a very interesting read. Except next time, interview the people who are remaking the country; shave, bathe and leave the back-pack at home.

In 1992, The United States and Russia signed an accord allowing the citizens of each country the right to travel freely throughout the territory of the other, thus reversing years of Cold War policy that had closed off access to cities and immense tracts of land to the respective peregrinations of both "commie comrades" and "imperialist warmongers". In this book, Mark Taplin, an employee of unexplained duties who represents Washington's Foggy Bottom in Mother Russia, records his observations as he visits newly "Open Lands" at the far margins of his host country.

Taplin is one of those intelligent, observant individuals who can write a travel monologue that is appealing to intelligent, curious readers that want more out of life than driving to Disney World in the family SUV. His honest, yet sympathetic, portrayal of post-Soviet Russia and the condition of its people in such places as Vorkuta (the former center of Uncle Joe's Gulag), Tannu Tuva (on the edge of Mongolia), and Vladivostok ("Lord of the East"), reveals much of what is wrong, and right, in today's Russian Federation. What is more, he provides histories of the regions in which he wanders, salt to the literary meal devoured by those of us who, though we may travel extensively, will likely never visit these corners of the earth. Finally, Taplin writes with a sense of humor, an indispensable character trait that served him especially well as he semi-surreptitiously makes his way to the interior of the Kamchatka Peninsula and an almost comic encounter with the Russian secret police.

My only complaint, but one that prevents me from awarding 5 stars to this entertaining and informative volume, is the failure of the author to include the photos he says he took along the way. Instead, at the head of each chapter, we are offered a fuzzy, unenlightening, boring image created by some freelance photographer hack that adds virtually nothing to the text that follows. A significant, disappointing oversight!

While I would not argue with the Kirkus Review of "Open Lands," what I think it fails to underscore is the author's ability to see the poignant and the humorous, the tragic and the bizarre, and that he knows when to view aspects of Russian society with sympathy. He travelled to such different regions of Russia, and with so little of the trappings of A Famous Writer, that he was able to crack open a bit more of this very enigmatic society. It would have been extremely easy to write a thoroughly depressing books about contemporary Russia -- "The New Russians" comes to mind -- but Mr. Taplin looks into the Russian soul in a way that makes Russia seem more accessible without being too depressing. My favorite comment in this regard was how he observed upon entering a Russian's apartment that it was not in public spaces that one learns how Russians think, but behind closed doors of their homes. This very well researched book combines historical perspective of the Tsarist and Soviet eras, the author's own very whimsical view of his experiences, and some serious insight into contemporary Russians. This would be a great gift book for lovers of travel books, as well as students of Russia.

A keen reader of travelogues, I borrowed a copy of Taplin's book some years ago from the library and after reading it, I JUST HAD TO GET MY OWN!! I am often wary when picking up books written by Westerners on a country which is their traditional "nemesis", but Taplin does a great job in describing his journey through lesser-known parts of Russia. His writing is sensitive, but not over-sentimental. In addition to the many memorable people he meets on his journey, his book is filled with lovely black & white pictures at the beginning of each chapter, which allows us a tiny view into the areas he is describing before we finally get a chance to go there (can hardly wait!). A book about the new Russia, the hopes and strengths of her resilient people, "Open Lands" is engaging, moving and unforgettable. See you in Vladivostok!

(*Still am surprised Singapore came up twice in the book!)

As an American who has lived in Russia at various times over 4 decades, over 40 years, both under Communism and in the decade since the fall of the Communist regime, I can say "Open Lands" really resonates. The author has done an excellent job of conveying the feel of the place - the look, climate, atmosphere. Beyond that, he's done a very good job indeed weaving the larger political and historical context into the work, so that places are set in time and space. Beautifully written, sensitive, accurate, telling account with great eye for detail. Fascinating, and worth buying.

I agree that this is very well-written, and would definitely recommend it others. Also, for a similar look, but a different time period, look at George Kennan's Tent Life in Siberia: An Incredible Account of Siberian Adventure, Travel, and Survival - it's terrific.

... and Mark Taplin indeed seizes the day, taking an opportunity that had not existed for the better part of a century. He first went to the Soviet Union in 1984, a fitting date, and experienced the closure of this vast country that spans 12 time zones. Only a sliver of the country was accessible to foreigners then, and only if "all your papers were in order." Suddenly the door is thrown open, in 1992, and Taplin returns, and virtually the entire country is suddenly available, if one can deal with the logistics and infrastructure. His destinations range throughout the country, a version of "going to extremes": the Far East, deep in the Caucasus, in Siberia along the border with Mongolia, and the Far North.

He visits Vorkuta, literally straight from the pages of Solzhenitsyn's Gulag. It is in near the Arctic Ocean, there is no access by road. Many people continue to live in this extremely harsh climate, working in the mines, because they have no alternative, and the wages are relatively good, and accommodation is in the "company town." Taplin chronicles the story of one of the Gulag's victims, Veniamin Vasilev, who thought he was a good communist, but became the victim of an anonymous denunciation, and was swept away into the system without appeal. More outraging is the story of Vladimir Timonin who personified many most unfortunate citizens-soldiers of the time: he was captured by the Germans in the early days of World War II, spent the entire war in their slave labor camps, and when he was "liberated" by the advancing Soviet forces in 1945 he was again interned, as a traitor for having been captured, and sent to Vorkuta.

In the Far North he also visits Archangelsk, and the Solovetskiy Monastery. The later is immense, and one of the most sacred places in all Russian Orthodoxy. It has been a witness to the remarkable twists of history, much little know in the West, from the revolt of the "Old Believers" against the new reforms introduced by Czar Alexis, to the intervention of Allied Forces, including Americans, in the Russian Civil War, between the Whites and the Reds, following the First World War. Talpin ends this section with a moving tribute to Russia written by a young American lieutenant.

Talpin goes to the southern extreme, visiting Kabardino-Balkaria, in Russia's equivalent of the "damnable" Balkans, the always troublesome (for outsiders) Caucasus. Talpin displays his knowledge of the Koran with numerous quotes. He also quotes General Beppayev, in the "Balkar republic,": "But here we do not have real democracy. Here the elections are always won by the people who have the power. So elections are a sham..." Certainly a sentiment that transcends the borders of Balkar.

The chapter on Tuva, near the border with Mongolia, in deepest Siberia, was equally impressive. He travels harsh distances with his guide Misha. His section on the "village writers," those who had: "their measure of earthly paradise was, instead, the Russian peasant and his lost world of folk allegiances and pagan ritual." was particularly insightful.

Talpin final two chapters are set in the Far East, one on the Kamchatka peninsula, where he retraces the route of a George Kennan who toured there in 1865. (Yes, obviously another George Kennan) Kamchatka is famous for its volcanoes, and many who have become experts there have used this to gain admission to the West, leaving their harsh climate behind. The final chapter is set in Vladivostok, still a naval city, but trying to reinvent itself as, would it be possible, San Francisco?

Talpin ends with an afterword in Nizhny Novgorod, which Stalin had renamed Gorky, in honor of Soviet literature's most exalted writer. Talpin reflects on the ramifications of the new opening, and transformation of the economy on the Russian people, ending with a fitting paean from Gogol to "the open road."

As with some other reviewers, I did detect a bit of an ideological edge, a touch of that Reagan "evil empire" attitude. Still, the problems that Talpin describes were (are!) all too real.

Overall, a fascinating, essential book for anyone interested in this vast swath of the planet, and the transformations occurring after the collapse of communism. `Tis a shame it is not more widely read.

A former member of the US embassy staff in the old Soviet Union, Taplin is able to walk you through the booze fueled transistion from communism to democracy.

It's not a blow by blow historical read but a time stamp of someone who was there when these events happened and chronicles the reactions of the average Yuri on the street to the countries tectonics.

The title is a reference to the agreement (the Open Lands agreement) signed between the US and Russia that allowed each others citizens unimpeded access to the areas of the respective countries. When Nikita Kruschev came to America he was irate at not being allowed to visit LA. It was closed. With the new open lands agreement Taplin journeys to the previously unvisited (by Americans) towns of Russia.

A great job.

Mark Taplin is or at least was a U.S. Information Agency official stationed in the Soviet Union during the 1980s and later in non-Communist Russia during the 1990s. During his later tour of duty he visited several parts of Russia that had been previously off-limits to foreigners. In some cases the reasons for the prior exclusion are obvious from his telling-near sensitive military sites or gulags-but mostly they are not. The book's title comes from the "Open Lands" agreement signed by the United States and Russia in the early 1990s, which Taplin describes as allowing the citizens of either country to travel wherever they want in the other country.

With the exceptions of Vladivostok and Arkhangelsk (Archangel), the locations Taplin chooses to visit and describe are not places familiar to many non-Russians. Yet each of the eight adventures has a unique and interesting story. Velikiy Ustyug highlights the suppression of religion during the Soviet era, and the loss of expertise in a specialized silver making craft. Vorkuta describes the remnants of gulag community that furnished the labor for a Siberian coal mining operation. Kabardino-Balkaria and Tuva cover ethnic clashes of non-Russian, non-Orthodox populations within the remaining Russian Federation.

In addition to describing unusual places and populations, Taplin includes portraits of some very interesting people he met along the way, some of them shady, some of them defeated by life under the Soviet dictatorship, some of them outrageously exuberant and in tune with their changing surroundings.

The book is well-written. I submit two thought-filled examples:

"So it turned out that the noble primitivism we had imagined still flourished in the far reaches of the steppe was more our Rousseauist fantasy than Tuva's hinterland reality. Our hosts did not sit down around a campfire to offer up throat songs to the heavens, nor to wonder awestruck at the glow of the night sky, which in Tuva harbors more stars at midnight than many city dwellers see in a lifetime. No, a black and white television set was plugged into the car's cigarette lighter, and the natives gathered under the yurt's canvas to marvel at the world beyond the mountains. It twinkled with a peculiarly absorbing ingenuity, filling the screen with fin-de-siecle portent and pathos." (pp. 214-15).

"There are many Russian proverbs, and this is another: 'Truth does not burn in fire, nor drown in water.' In every place I visited in Russia, memory had not given way to amnesia; rather, bald-faced lies had ceded their authority to a sometimes sad and somber reality. Falsehoods had proved no match, in the end, for the mighty labors of an architect in the tundra; an ethnographer in the Caucasus; a shaman in middle Asia; a tipsy museum guide in the taiga-and hundreds of thousands of unordinary people like them. The dislocations of Lenin's Soviet Union, Hitler's Germany, Pol Pot's Kampuchea are far from gone, but the miraculous truth about truth can give us hope, can spare us from despair. From the Nizhny embankment, that much is clear." (p. 341).

There is a slight ideological edge to Mark Taplin's storytelling, similar to that of Robert Kaplan though not as pronounced. Overall, the story is beautifully written and very nicely done.