Evening star., 1935-11-10

Kournakoff. Boston: Hale, CuSh-
man g. Flint.
THREE books about Russia have
come to reviewers desk in re-
cent weeks and the wide varia-
u ton of viewpoints represented
makes the temptation to write of the
group together irresistible. One Is by
a former officer in the CosSack Guards.
1t purports to tell of his adventures
fighting with that famous troop in
the World War Ito defend faith, tsar
and country" as he puts it. A second
is biography of Joseph ViSsariono-
witch Djugashvili, now known to the
world as the man of Steel-Stalin.
And the third is Walter Duranty's rec
ora of what he saw in Russia in the
10 years when he represented the New
York Times there.
OF the three, Of course, Durantys S
book is destined to have by far the
widest public-which is right. Kour-
nakoff is jingo and Barbusse
(although he did write good books
in Stain" done just before his death,
Duranty is newspaper man. The
showing made by the books is all
to the honor of the craft.
Indeed, one would not be mention
ing Savage Squadrons' and Stain"
at all if it were not that they SO aptly
illustrate point which Mr. Duranty's
book brings up-the extreme difficulty,
usually the impoSsibility, which all
writers seem to encounter of writing
about Russia without going haywire
from the emotional point of view. The
Barbusse book is a particularly ter
rible example. 1t is written, not as
a personal narrative, but as bona fide
biography. Any reader picking it up
has a right to expect something in
the way of history of StalinS life.
Instead, he discovers a tract. 1t is
eulogistic concerning everything re-
lated to Communism, with the eulOgy
consisting in interminably repeated
assertion. 1t is bad reading, worse
writing and delirious thinking.
Moreover, from the narrative point
OF view, it is disappointing. Stories,
circulated no doubt by bloated capi-
talists, have described Joseph Wis
sarionovitch Djugashvili, in his young
days at least, as being merry sort
OF fellow. given to blowing up banks
and other types of riotous living But,
according to M. Barbusse, he is a
sweet, gentle character, who probably
kisses babies. 1t has a slightly capi-
talistic sound and, as said, is disap-
pointing to the reader who. lacking
the blessing of Communistic educa-
tion, would like to be amused.
This is remarkable because, as has
been said, Henri Barbusse in his day
wrote well. But it is impossible to
be a blind devotee of anything and
a good artist simultaneously. To ac-
cept any nostrum is to drug the
critical faculty. Barbusse was not
the first writer to succumb to this
strange Muscovite malady so fatal
to clear thinking and so productive
of evangelical writing but his fall is
the more reprehensible because his
book does not call itself personal
narrative. thereby allowing for per-
sonal opinion, but comes out as
factual biography.
One does not mean to question the
truth of his claims. Stain may be
sanity. But it is certain that few
people will accept M. Barbusse's esti-
mate of him, as set forth in this book
He does protest too much.
AS for the ex-officer of the Cossacks,
he is mentioned here because he
seems to represent an amazing sur
vival. He is the patriot of the old
regime-pure, passionate and utterly
bound by tradition. He relates that
700 years ago his invading Tatar
ancestors, having conquered a Rus
sian Army, made huge hill of the
dead and wounded, built a wooden
platform atop the hill and banqueted
there to celebrate their victory. After
ward his ancestor so loved the country
that he remained And, with this
tender heritage of affection, he says
he too loved the Tsarist Russia
His book tells how ne longed to
fight from his earliest boyhood, and
how he joined the Cossack regiment
guished themselves. His adventures
would make good reading, but his Kip
lingesque emotions about Faith, Tsar
and Country" are annoying.
In closing chapter he tells of the
coming of the revolution, but records
only two kinds of episodes on the part
of the rebels-those which were ridic-
ulous and those which we're horrible
in their brutality. He tells with what
rage he and brother officer turned
q machine gun on group of revolu-
tionaries who were massacring civil
ians, and for moment he shines with
the light Of chivalry. But one remem-
berS other civilian massacres in which
Cossacks were not exactly knightly.
And one comes to the conclusion that
to have a broad, dispassionate view
of the Russian matter is the hardest
thing in the world.
And that brings one to the real
book of the three-the excellent, read
able Il Write as Please"
1t is, in substance, history Of the
revolution in Russia. It is not written
in terms of party congresses held, party
orders issued, or apocalyptic visions
seen by this or that comrade. It is
written in terms of what happened,
as Mr.. Duranty saw it. Nothing so
sane or comprehensive has been done
yet. Compared to it, Trotzky's own
book is like vast unhappy sea of
molasses moving vaguely and tidelessly
under an Arctic sky.
The book. however, Is also more than
a history. Mr.. Duranty writes as he
pleases. He believes-oh, thank heaven
in a good story. He never misses a
chance to tell one. and when he thinks
of one suddenly he manufactures the
chance rather than miss, The result
Is a book that will be understandable
to ordinary (capitalistic) mentalities
because it proceeds much as an ordi-
nary brain works. It is analytical,
it is reflective, it is humorous. But
at all times IL is m the r,ove r. hoe