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In 1943, a meeting took place between Dmitri Shostakovich and Iosif Stalin to choose the new Soviet anthem, at which another composer called Aleksandrov was also present. Aleksandrov's anthem, not [Shostakovich]'s, had been chosen by the "Great Leader and Teacher", but apparently when Stalin criticised Aleksandrov's arrangement, Aleksandrov's cringing response was that time was short and so his deputy, Knushevitsky, had done the arranging, and it was Knushevitsky's fault. Fearing Knushevitsky's imminent sacking and imprisonment, the quick-thinking Shostakovich jumped in to castigate Aleksandrov in front of Stalin, an extraordinary thing to do, saying that Aleksandrov was accusing his subordinate unjustly and behind his back. After a pipe-puffing pause Stalin's response was to say to Aleksandrov: "Really, professor, this isn't very nice . . ." After the musicians had left, Stalin reputedly declared to Molotov: "That Shostakovich seems to be a decent man."
[Solomon Volkov] is no psychologist, and many of his musings do little to clarify anything (for example, that which suggests Shostakovich suffered from a Christ complex), although they do raise interesting issues of the manner and nature of the dictator's control over how outsiders perceived Shostakovich (as in the author's belief that the 'Soviet Artist's Response to a Just Criticism' article was actually written by Stalin), and by extension how Stalin controlled the intelligentsia in general. Unhappily the book doesn't reproduce the 'Just Criticism' article as an appendix, nor does it reproduce the 1936 'Muddle instead of Music' review, also attributed to the "Great Teacher and Leader", a comparison with which is used as the basis for the assertion that Stalin wrote both.
Shostakovich and Stalin: The Extraordinary Relationship between the Great Composer and the Brutal Dictator By Solomon Volkov, Translated by Antonina W. Bouis, Little, Brown, 370pp. (pounds) 14.99
In 1943, a meeting took place between Dmitri Shostakovich and Iosif Stalin to choose the new Soviet anthem, at which another composer called Aleksandrov was also present. Aleksandrov's anthem, not Shostakovich's, had been chosen by the "Great Leader and Teacher", but apparently when Stalin criticised Aleksandrov's arrangement, Aleksandrov's cringing response was that time was short and so his deputy, Knushevitsky, had done the arranging, and it was Knushevitsky's fault. Fearing Knushevitsky's imminent sacking and imprisonment, the quick-thinking Shostakovich jumped in to castigate Aleksandrov in front of Stalin, an extraordinary thing to do, saying that Aleksandrov was accusing his subordinate unjustly and behind his back. After a pipe-puffing pause Stalin's response was to say to Aleksandrov: "Really, professor, this isn't very nice . . ." After the musicians had left, Stalin reputedly declared to Molotov: "That Shostakovich seems to be a decent man."
It is impossible to read this book without such incidents making shivers run down the spine. It is equally impossible to read it without bearing in mind the controversy over the author's previous contribution to the literature on the composer, Testimony: The Memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovich, as Narrated to and Edited by Solomon Volkov.
Volkov draws an analogy between the meeting between Shostakovich and Stalin on the one hand, and a meeting which occurred in 1826, when Russian Tsar Nicholas II called Aleksander Pushkin in from exile to account for his misdemeanours in publishing anti- government verses. Pushkin's responses during the meeting were intuitive guarded challenges to the Tsar which amazingly resulted in him keeping his head for a further 10 years, the Tsar declaring Pushkin "the wisest man in Russia".
Exactly how Shostakovich survived Stalin's whims is a mystery, but it is one which is only partially answered by this volume, with its assertion that Shostakovich played the part of the "Holy Fool" in a tragic play which lasted all his life.
Literature on Shostakovich generally falls between two extreme camps: those who cite him as the loyal defender of the Soviet system who learned from his mistakes, even joining the Communist Party in 1960, and those who portray him as the miserably unhappy victim of a dreadful epoch who somehow managed to survive, in spite of numerous brushes with the authorities. The father of the latter camp is Solomon Volkov.
In Testimony: The Memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovich, the haunted composer closed with the thought that perhaps his experiences might help younger people so that "they wouldn't have the horrible disillusionment that I had to face . . . and perhaps their lives would be free of the bitterness that has coloured my life grey". This present volume tries to explain much of the source of that depressing remark, and in doing so it tries at the same time to enter the minds of two of the most extraordinary characters in 20th- century Russian history.
However, Volkov is no psychologist, and many of his musings do little to clarify anything (for example, that which suggests Shostakovich suffered from a Christ complex), although they do raise interesting issues of the manner and nature of the dictator's control over how outsiders perceived Shostakovich (as in the author's belief that the 'Soviet Artist's Response to a Just Criticism' article was actually written by Stalin), and by extension how Stalin controlled the intelligentsia in general. Unhappily the book doesn't reproduce the 'Just Criticism' article as an appendix, nor does it reproduce the 1936 'Muddle instead of Music' review, also attributed to the "Great Teacher and Leader", a comparison with which is used as the basis for the assertion that Stalin wrote both.
On the subject of the dictator's generalised control over the thoughts of the intelligentsia, Volkov chillingly writes: "Dialogue with the ruler was an exhausting duel - without advisers or prompters, often with nothing but intuition as a guide, demanding enormous courage and inner conviction." And later Volkov gives us the doom-laden observation by author Lydia Ginzburg on the 1948 disappearances: "It used to be a lottery, now it's a queue."
However, the translation often uses unnecessary punctuation, (like that and the previous comma) which makes it read with lots of pauses, (and that) and which interrupt the flow of the ideas, (and that) so that sentences sometimes need to be reread to make sense.
Another understandable difficulty for Western readers is the fact that many of the sources in the notes at the back are to Russian- language texts, making them difficult to check.
A final question: what is one to make of the author's statement in relation to Zakharov's (admittedly asinine) criticism of Shostakovich's Eighth Symphony: "But Zakharov was a songwriter, known for his Neanderthal views . . ." Well, perhaps asinine criticisms do deserve asinine responses . . .
Fergus Johnston is a composer. His orchestral work, Samsara, and his Flute Concerto were performed at the NCH during the recent RT Horizons series, and his work Mead, for violin, piano and electronics, will be performed today in Moyland, Germany
Copyright Irish Times Ltd. Apr 24, 2004