Stalin’s death. She, like him, has functionednas a “custodian of Russian Uteraturenin the West, until such time as itncould be restored to Russia.” Both Haywardnand Blake accepted an importantnresponsibility to both Western and Russiannculture. And each found in the otherna loyal friend.nAliss Blake prefeces this volume with anlengthy memoir of Hayward, an essaynwholly sympathetic to him and his viewsnbut one which at the same time maintainsna fine and objective balance in itsnpresentation. The bulk of the book consistsnof Hayward’s writings, most ofnwhich were previously published, andnmany of which illustrate his magnificentngift for encapsulating vast sweeps of Russianncultural history in graceful Englishnfor the intelligent nonspecialist and specialistnalike. To be sure, the first essay violatesnthe book’s declared chronologicalnlimits, for it surveys the entire history ofnthe Russian Empire in 45 pages in awaynwhich could scarcely be improved upon.nTwo long essays treat Soviet Russian literaturenas a whole; one article deals withnthe dissidents in Soviet literature as of thenvery early 1960’s; and a thought-provokingnpiece analyzes the theory and dismalnpractice of “socialist realism,” the “basicnmethod” of Soviet literature. The volume’snsecond section includes generally shorternessays on individual contemporary writers:nPasternak, Akhmatova, SoMienitsyn,nand Suiyavsky, for all of whom Haywardnfelt a special afiinity. The volume endsnwith a very usefiil selected bibliographynof Hayward’s works.nIn addition to his remarkable ability tonsynthesize large amounts of material fornthe nonspecialist, Hayward displayed anninvaluable faculty for seeing the importantnthings clearly, sensibly, and in anproper philosophical perspective. Henvalued truth and those who told it; henprized artistic and intellectual freedom;nhe unhesitatingly supported those whonrisked much to defend truth and freedomnunder the totalitarian conditions ofnSoviet society. In his essays on the historynof the Russian Empire down to 1917 henargues that the October Revolution,nthough perhaps unavoidable, was antragedy for the development of Russiannsociety and culture, and that prerevolutionarynRussia compared favorablyneven with mid-Victorian England.n”In retrospect,” he writes, “there seemsnlittle doubt that, but for the war and thenRevolution, Russia would have developedninto a liberal bourgeois democracy innwhich Moscow and Petersburg mightneasily have come to outshine the capitalsnof Western Europe.”nBut war and revolution did supervene,nwhich led to the eventual imposition ofnsevere political and cultural controls bynthe state, controls aimed at buttressingnthe objectives of the government thatnhave endured down to the present day.nAnd it was the contemporary situationnwhich aroused Hayward’s concern.nIn his trenchant discussion of thendoctrine of socialist realism in literaturen—which requires that writers make unmistakablynclear thefr faith in socialism’snultimate triumph—^Hayward maintainsnthat the approach is intrinsically hostilento lyric poetry, but that Stalin “had a kindnof superstitious appreciation of the supremenworth of those very few who innevery generation stand outside andnabove their age.” Andheattributes to thatn”superstitious appreciation” the abilitynof such literary giants as Boris Pasternakn(in my view the greatest Russian 20thcenturynpoet, and quite possibly thengreatest poet of this century in any language)nand Anna Akhmatova to surviventhe purges that swept away so many ofntheir contemporaries.nAfter 1917 the newly establishednSoviet regime did not move immediatelyninto cultural politics with fiill force. Writers,nartists, and intellectuals enjoyed anmodicum of freedom during the 1920’s,nalthough there were many who saw thenhandwriting on the wall and emigratednto the West. By 1934, however, thenSoviet dictatorship had extended its writnto all areas of culture, and for the nextntwo decades enforced it with extremenruthlessness and with all the repressivenapparatus of the state. Despite all this,nnnCONFLUENCESnDostoevsky’s DaringnMany of the truest lines in Shakespearenare in the mouths of unreliablencharacters: Edmund on the fatuity ofnastrological fatalism, for instance.nDostoevsky at times adopted a similarnploy, allowing the drunken sot Marmeladovnto speak for Christianity andnpermitting the foolish dilettante StepannVerkhovensky to champion the value ofnart. The reasons for Dostoevsky’s strategynare explored by John Jones innDostoevsky (Clarendon/Oxford UniversitynPress; Oxford), a laudable work ofncriticism. “Dostoevsky caimot foster anynof his dearest values,” Professor Jonesnobserves, “except obliquely, by stealth,nby catching them napping.” Hence, thenchoice of inebriates and fops as spokesmen.nHence, too, the strategy Jones callsn”the true Dostoevsky posture of surrendernto the enemy” wherein the novelistnallows such characters as Kirilov andnIvan Karamazov to articulate theirnnihilistic views in the absence of anyneffective ideological rejoinder othernthan the narrative itself. Howevernawkward this technique may appear, itnsucceeds with Jones, who finds Dostoevsky’snconservative views “boring outsidenhis art, and sometimes repellant,” butnwho admits that this same conservatismn”tarns to gold” in the novels.nUnfortunately, Dostoevsky’s homelandnis now governed by an ideologynwhich manages to tarn most valuablesninto lead. As Jones demonstrates, thenofficial dogma of socialist realism distortsnSoviet criticism and editing ofnDostoevsky. Nonetheless, from the perspectivenof a writer who trusted that hisnreaders would value true insights evennwhen conveyed by dolts and wouldndetect lies even when truth-tellers arennot part of the story, the sitaation is notnentirely without hope, however fragile,nof eventaal transformations in harmonynwith a favorite Dostoevsky theme:nvoskresenie, “regeneration.” DnJuly 1984n