This set is a major step forward to the presentation and understanding of Solzhenitsyn to English speaking readers. It is a process that will still take years, but I suspect this volume will be pivotal.
In the early days, the writer's books were rushed into print with so-so or even poor translations because of their timelineness and importance. His exile to USA happened at the crest of his frame, but the political establishment was post-Watergate mediocority and the literary establishment not up to speed to help; we were not ready for him. Any great writer and/or polemicist is going to be controversial to somebody. And Solzhenitsyn's voice is a shrewd construct made of turning Soviet literary realism against itself, juiced up with a vocabulary simultaneously streetwise, grand, goading. Understand Russian or not, you really need hear him speak sometime. There is really no equivalent figure in English, modern or ancient, here or in Britain. You would have to conceive of Upton Sinclair as an experimental literary giant plus a man of subtle moral dimensions, then put him in the body of the old prize fighter John L. Sullivan, and finally put him on a soapbox with all the scary zeal of an early century 20 labor rabble rouser. The closest personal affinity Solzhenitsyn found in his own fiction (minus core belief, of course) was Lenin. Solzhenitsyn is the anti-Lenin. And even more. To our soundbite culture, he just looks crazy. We prefer our Rooskies to be chummy vodka drinkers with a wink in their eye, or comradely cosmonauts. In our own history we only produced such figures just before and during the civil war era. The experience scorched our national soul with fire for good and doubtless killed some brain cells; we want the benefit of being on the good side of such turbulence, but don't want to look into that well too deeply for those old issues anymore, whatever they may be. We cover the hallowed ground with platitude, and allow a black gospel singer to replicate the pitch for us on public occasion, then back to business. We in this nation are now so far into such denial as to risk a repeat along new fault lines. This sad and tragic process is known as history.
Professors Ericson and Mahoney have emerged in recent years as the key interpreters of the Solzhenitsyn cyclone for us, and let nobody convince you it is not a cyclone. Truth doesn't come easy; come here if you dare. If the headlines are old, the second fiery wind of artistic sophistication, fully schooled by the giants of literary modernism, is still to be experienced. For Solzhenitsyn resembles Tolstoy only in scope; in the great Russian tradition of literary engagement (unlike our consensus seeking) the game is to take such giants on, and Solzhenitsyn does on every level. Ericson and Mahoney here not only do an able job, but a superlative job of explication, choice, and presentation of the writer, fresh as if for the first time (in some sense it is). Each vital and core statement is here, many in new translations, plus new things from the entire career we haven't yet seen in English. Excerpts are made very well; the greater artistic treasures beyond this set are previewed. The volume works for both those coming new to the writer and those of us who have been following him for decades. I was especially gratified to find major doses of Cancer Ward, a great and dense modern novel wrestling with the nuclear core of what went haywire worldwide in century 20. Then Matryona's House -- is this the best story in any language for 200 years, or what? Yeah, Ivan Denisovich seems missing in action -- but that sui generis masterpiece has remained readily available everywhere at all times. Everybody now knows Ivan worldwide, as they also know the term GULAG. So Ivan does not require this volume, though oddly his creator still does.
The editors expand our understanding, but also set out verdicts in concise statement: "Solzhenitsyn is, in truth, a liberal conservative who wants to temper the one-sided modern preoccupation with individual freedom with a salutary reminder of the moral ends that ought to inform responsible human choice." The editors thus make the case that the writer is within, not without, the arena of modern political dialogue (ie., a liberal in the classic sense, not a traditionalist or nationalist). And within that dialogue, one bringing in the lessons of the past, not a mantra for endless "change" running clear off the tracks (like the "Red Wheel" of Soviet communism -- introduced metaphorically in filmic scenario as a burning wagon wheel broke loose early in August 1914). After a lot of misunderstandings still at large, then, it is both safe and sound to let Professors Ericson and Mahoney teach. Here is a writer worth inhabiting for your own lifetime, and may the wind be at your back -- you'll need it to stay ahead of the fire.