Rage, abuse, and suffering characterize three generations of a Russian family.
Born in 1819, herself the child of neglectful parents, Panaeva was 27 when she wrote this novel, which was suppressed by the censor for its cynicism and “undermining of parental power.” It was published under a pseudonym in a limited edition in 1848, and Panaeva went on to write numerous works of fiction and a memoir. She died in 1893. The novel was finally published under her own name in 1927 and joined what the book’s introduction calls the “canon of domestic violence fiction.” Short, breathless, tinged with humor, the bookis a horror show, a litany of cruelty, anger, and violence inflicted primarily, but not exclusively, on the eight children of a large, turbulent Saint Petersburg family. The father keeps “the same malicious calm whether he was plunging a fork into the dog’s back or throwing a plate at his wife.” The wife seems devoid of any shred of sympathy or love for her offspring, especially her daughters, as they endure beatings and starvations. Yet the narrator, Natasha, regards herself as happy and free until the age of 10. Then things go from bad to even worse, after a sadistic governess is hired and given complete control over her victims. When she finally leaves, the children are scattered among different households and teachers, one to a brute whose physical torment is pure torture. Even changes of scene—with their kindly grandmother, or on a summer trip to a seaside dacha—rarely offer much respite from conflict and shame. As the children grow up, two marry and escape, but tragedy befalls another. The bizarre, comfortless mood of Panaeva’s parable hangs in the air as a farewell is bid to “the house where I had shed so many tears.”
An eye-popping historical curiosity plumbing the depths of domestic dysfunction.