I would never have read this book were it not for Roseanne, who is in a Novels about Art bookclub and highly recommended this to me. It features lyrical writing and relates the complex interrelations of aging, family, the siege of Leningrad, and the art of the Hermitage and Alzheimers. It tacks back and forth between the main character Marina's memories of 1941 Leningrad, scenes of contemporary Seattle and short literary portraits of great paintings that were housed at the Hermitage. I wouldn't have picked this book up because I rarely read what might be called "women's fiction" that typically gets read almost exclusively in women's book clubs. Oh, I loved me some Anne Tyler and Bobbie Ann Mason, and so on, from time to time. But in considering this I only skimmed a couple recent reviews, but one reviewer calls this a "mom" book, disparagingly. Ouch. But I decided to give it a try. I once visited Leningrad, I miss my mom, and I am aging myself, at 62, worried as most of us do at this age about the threat of dementia and memory loss. And I like art. It wasn't such a stretch for me to read it!
Though men do make their way into the story, of course, this novel showcases Marina, who was a docent at Leningrad's amazing Hermitage (art museum) in 1941, who survived the siege and now, 80, and mentally "in decline," has the beginnings of Alzheimer's, living in Seattle with husband Dmitri. One of the principal characteristics of Alzheimer's, as we know, is the increasing loss of memory. But when she was a docent, as the Germans advanced, she was part of the team that quickly removed the priceless artwork from their frames and put them carefully on trains to Moscow, thousands upon thousands of art works. And in the process of her job, over all the years and especially as the art left the museum, Marina memorized as much as she could of the artwork from the Hermitage in its every detail, kept in what she calls her "memory palaces." And in her old age, when details of yesterday escape her and she can't think of the language she knew yesterday, she has these very specific memories of paintings still in her head, in her memory, that have sustained her always, then, as people hundreds of thousands of people died from mostly starvation or literally froze to death, and now, as she loses her mind, her self.
In this lovely and affecting novel art is memory and art is solace. It helps to make passionate meaning in life, even in the deepest despair. Despair happens on a grand political scale in Leningrad, of course, and also for her on a very small scale as she loses family and friends, and again on another small, intimate scale with her Alzheimer's, but in both sites of devastation, art shapes her vision, and helps her make meaning.
In the fall of 1941 the Germans approached Leningrad and lay siege on it for 900 days, mostly destroying a stunningly beautiful city. I was there with a student group of writers on Easter Sunday, 1992, attending an Easter service in a massive and gorgeous Greek Orthodox Cathedral there with believers--many of them as I recall old women--who had not been able to openly worship for decades. It was almost overwhelming to be there, in my growing agnosticism. Such faith! We took a tour of the amazingly beautiful city, we visited the Piskariovskoye Cemetery where something like 420,000 bodies are buried in 186 mass graves. I read the poetry of Anna Akhmatova, who memorialized her city forever in her anguished, stunning verse. I wrote some of my own poetry of the experience. I might not have read this book had I not been there to have this siege come alive for me by being there. The book makes starvation and cold and sacrifice real for readers. Some of Marina's friends and families starve around her. I brought these brief memories to the book and they enriched my reading and appreciation of the book, of course.
I like the way memory weaves it's way in this book, and the sustaining memory of art, and beauty, in particular. I like the lyrical pages describing the paintings as Marina remembers them. I like how the artistic vision of the great art works shape her own appreciation of beauty, even in her decline.
I loved Marina, who is the passionate center of this book, and her husband Dmitri, whom we get to know less well. I feel like I know much less her daughter Helen, our close secondary character. Yes, it's a mother-daughter book! We tack back and forth from present day Seattle to 1940s Leningrad, and in the way of memory--the past is never dead; it's never even past, Faulkner made clear--the art and misery of Leningrad are always with Marina. But one thing I like about Helen is the way she begins sketching her mother near the end. It's another kind of sense-making, art-making, of course. I had been thinking of this book as a solid 3 rating in the middle of the book in large part because I don't care about Helen and her American kids and their lives nearly as much, but the book sings throughout in many places, and especially as we move to the end. The last third of the book is often pretty magical.
One pretty incredible scene is Marina returning to give a tour of the Hermitage before the paintings are yet returned, asking her young patrons to see with her what she describes in each empty frame. Sometimes they even imagine details they literally can't see themselves. Moving? You bet. There are scenes of such power and grace it is hard to realize that this is a first novel, written by former actor Dean. Lovely book.