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Shostakovich and Stalin: The Extraordinary Relationship Between the Great Composer and the Brutal Dictator

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This book is as much a penetrating portrait of Stalin's Russia as it is a fierce look at surviving as an artist in Stalin's hands. Apart from the rich legacy of his music, Shostakovich is a fine example precisely because he survived. Those of us who find Volkov's 'Testimony' a harrowing, revealing book will dive into these pages with gusto and fly through to the end. Those who suspect 'Testimony' to be a fraud might not bother with this book, and that's too bad because it provides a genuine fleshing out of Stalin and his closest henchmen (Zhdanov, especially, is afforded thorough treatment), some beautiful pages on Shostakovich's inner life, and not a few engaging views of a number of other important artists who lived and worked in a crucible of terror day after day. Volkov courteously dispenses with the ridiculous "holy fool" controversy in his prologue. The author is strongest when he composes life from inside the experience of survival in Soviet Russia. It's one thing to admire Shostakovich's genius, quite another to reach the underpinnings of a man who was more a gentleman fixed on physical (and therefore emotional and artistic) survival than he was a musical prophet. At that point, we're experiencing something well beyond biography. That is Volkov's unique gift. The focus is indeed Shostakovich, but the lessons reach farther. There are some fine photographs included - pen and inks of Akhmatova and Pasternak by Annenkov, the spiky, not often seen 1933 portrait of Shostakovich by Akimov, and an unforgettable photograph of a very young Shostakovich looking directly and defiantly at the camera, in which he seems to foretell all the pain and glory to come. If you're looking for a searing rehearsal of the meaning of freedom, I suggest this book.

When Dmitri Shostakovich's memoirs appeared in print under the title "Testimony" its compiler, Solomon Volkov, was widely excoriated and the authenticity of the text challenged. As a composer, being intimately familiar with how composers think and express themselves, the book rang true to me through and through. Some of the attempts to debunk it seemed to me then calculated to challenge every statement. Some things, however, can not be faked - and, as Shostakovich himself often said, "music illuminates a man through and through," a composer's way of expressing himself is instantly recognizable to another composer. There are simply far too many clues buried in the text - too many buzz words and conceptual descriptions of the type typical of the composer's perception of things.

Having said that, then, Volkov's new text provides much of the historical filler that the earlier text could not purely by virtue of its purpose and content. By illustrating, even if somewhat broadly, the cultural and political issues during Stalin's reign, much of what Volkov reported as having been said by Shostakovich is further substantiated. It is fascinating reading - but not, as others have pointed out, for those without at least a fundamental understanding of Russian history.

Those who choose, even at this late date, to challenge Volkov's original text will have more to carp about here. The truth about Shostakovich's music has long since escaped the myth makers and political hacks and into the open arena of ideas. The man's music speaks louder than any words, however, even his own. But for me, the two together can only have come from one person - Dmitri Shostakovich. Relying on old Soviet mythology and documentation to disprove a work that challenges that mythology is hardly reliable. And Volkov's most recent work is an easy, fascinating and ultimately confirming discourse on the background issues which, in the end, resulted in the music long since validated on its own terms.

The scope of the book goes far beyond the relation between Shostakovich and Stalin; it's a dramatic view into artistic life while living in an authoritarian regime. There is an immense list of great artists who where deported, killed or psychologically terrorized in Stalins regime. Shostakovich is only one of them, and seemingly one of the lucky ones, since he outlived the dictator. But his sufferance under Stalins terror was as trying for him as it was for any other artist. I don't entirely agree with the comment that Stalin is depicted as an idiot, but he is portraited as having a very one-sided, utilitarian view on arts.The given inside in one of the most horrible regimes that ever existed, must be mind blowing for every one in the democratic world.

The book tells Shostakovich life only fragmentarilly, including discussing his major pieces. It gives real insight into his music, makes it more accessible. Even if only to enable you to understand this music better, this book is worthwile.

Utterly fascinating tale of an extraordinary moment in history. I can't think of another place in modern times when a political leader took such an interest in the arts, albeit, for political reasons. How fascinating it is that a dictator - it isn't conceivable in a democracy - would become obsessed with the things said and done by cultural figures such as Shostakovich, Mayakovsky, and Pasternak. Stalin was a brute, but the picture drawn here of him and his relationship with the great Russian composer makes for the sort of suspense one associates with murder-mysteries. The entire Soviet aesthetic is on display here, an odd and finally ruthlessly destructive dance between art and politics. Stalin comes over as a ghoulish monster, while Shostokovich is depicted as wholly sympathetic. Artistically it is as rich a milieu as Elizabethan England or Periclean Athens. The Kremlin comes over as a house of horrors on the order of Idi Amin's slaughter house. The book is beautifully written, well-researched, and told from an artist's point of view, not an academic political scientist's. No other regime in the 20th century is as horrifying; no artists were ever as creative and brave.

Solomon Volkov's "Shostakovich and Stalin" is a complex and thrilling work that takes the reader inside the intricacies of Dmitri Shostakovich's psyche as well as Joseph Stalin's rigid regime. The reader is given a perspective of Russian music within the overarching theme of politics and history. It is an elaborate work - a slalom course of topics - reflecting a complex political environment as well as the involved role of music. It does not make for light reading, but it is incredibly illuminating. It puts music - as it always should be - in its proper social, political and historical context. It reminds the reader - in a blunt and forceful manner analogous to the brutal nature of Stalin's regime - that music exists as more than notes on a page or sounds from an instrument. In Shostakovich and Stalin, Volkov reminds us that the true meaning of music is only revealed when we understand the environment where it was created.

Throughout the book, Volkov's admiration for Shostakovich is evident. He writes glowingly of Shostakovich's music and seemingly admires him for absorbing Stalin's constant abuse. Volkov's disdain for Stalin and his regime is clear. He mentions Stalin's cruel treatment of many of Shostakovich's contemporaries as well as his manipulation of Shostakovich. Volkov highlights Stalin's "dabbling" in the arts as megalomaniacal and treats it as a condemnation of his entire regime. Through it all, Shostakovich is clearly affected - yet he survives. Because of his own experience as a musician in Communist Russia, Volkov is, at once, in awe of Shostakovich and deeply moved. He uses Shostakovich's life as the "agricultural base" to delve more deeply into the persona of the great composer. Thus, the labyrinth-like portrayal of his life is enriched and fuliflled by this technique. Despite this being a historical and musical work, the author's emotions often bubble to the surface. As a result, the book's effect on the reader is enhanced. This personal nature of the work makes it especially unique.

Much of "Shostakovich and Stalin" focuses on the clash of artistic philosophy between the two men. Unsurprisingly (as is the case with many authoritarian rulers), Stalin was a proponent of using music as propaganda to bolster his political strength. As a corollary to this, he was suspicious of artistic works lest they make a political statement questioning his authority. Shostakovich, as any great artist would, resented this and refused to fully submit to this existence. This formed the basis of tension and conflict between the two men. Of course, Shostakovich had to balance his fundamental artistic beliefs with self-preservation. That is, to completely fly in the face of Stalin's orders would result in personal tragedy - as was the case for far too many Russian artists under Stalin's rule. So it is within this context that the basis of their tortured relationship. Stalin, the megalomaniac that he was, was in control and sought to manipulate the composer. Shostakovich, with all his considerable courage and integrity (that Volkov describes so elegantly), did all he could to resist this manipulation. Yet it was impossible. This primary relationship in the book is simply gripping. It plays out better than any fiction - the reality of it both compelling and tragic for the reader. Thus, the very basis of this book - as stated in the title - fascinates and spellbounds the reader throughout.

This book is a very interesting way of looking at the history of the relationship between authority and artistic freedom in Russia, both in the pre- and post-revolutionary period. The book emphasizes a sense of continuity of how the artist survived the pressures of the state. Shostakovich was arguably one of the two leading composes of the Soviet era, the other being Prokofiev. Shostakovich's talent was on a collision course with Stalin's intellectual pretense to understand what was best for Russian culture. There almost seems to be a sense of frustration on the part of the dictator who by playing the role of chief taste-maker reduced Russian culture in the Soviet period to one long banality. Volkov believes that Shostakovich managed to survive by playing the role of the holy fool. While this is an interesting thesis, there are inconsistencies. What one can infer from this book is that Shostakovich was very much a creature given to bursts of irrationality. This fits with some of his behavior where he tended to test the limits of what he could get away with in his relations with the regime. In a way he resembles Mozart as portrayed in the play and movie Amadaeus, somewhat infantile in his approach to life. Volkov does not appear that comfortable with exploring this idea and I think that this undermines the overall effectiveness of the work, making it merely good, and not necessarily excellent. This is not to say that the book does not have very strong merit. Volkov is very strong with putting the conflict between Shostakovich and Stalin into the larger historical conflict. He also provides a good sense of the era in which Shostakovich functioned as well as really good insight into Shostakovich's compositions. This is a worthwhile book for anyone interested in learning more about cultural life in the Soviet period.

The book seems somewhat padded with "backstory" and questionable Darwinianism, e.g., Shostakovich v. Stalin as ineluctable successor to Pushkin v. Tsar Nicholas I. Or it may be that the publishers simply opted for too narrow a title, creating an expectation of a closely focused account restricted as near as possible to the marqueed characters. Volkov does not so limit himself; Stalin's grip on all the arts is explicated, music being but one of his concentrations.

The simplistic view of Stalin as ignorant thug is certainly easier to live with than the lately emerging portrait of a man of no mean intelligence, taste, and aesthetics who was nonentheless a swine of an almost inconceivable murderousness.
This picture of authoritarian absolutism over all media is well worth the read, especially when we ourselves are never short of bombastic blusterers ready to impose their situational moralities on everyone else for the sake of a few votes back home.

Volkov, happily, is no discount Freudian, and leaves it to the reader to ponder what delights--outside of the strict demands of "socialist realism"--Stalin derived from the squirming and survival techniques of those he didn't summarily dispatch.