I Visit the Soviets: The Provincial Lady Looks at Russia

The Provincial Lady #5

by E.M. Delafield

This early work is E. M. Delafield’s 1937 semi-autobiographical novel, “I Visit the Soviets - The Provincial Lady in Russia”. Written in the style of a diary, it tells the story of woman living in 1930s Russia who finds herself toiling on a collective farm, battling with public transport, and generally struggling with life in Soviet Russia. An entertaining read that offers a glimpse into Russia in the early twentieth century, “I Visit the Soviets - The Provincial Lady in Russia” is worthy of a place on any bookshelf. Edmée Elizabeth Monica Dashwood (1890–1943), better known by as E. M. Delafield, was a famous English author. Read & Co. Classics is proudly republishing these classic novels now in a new edition complete with a specially-commissioned new biography of the author.

Genres: Fiction, Humor, Classics, Russia, British Literature, Historical Fiction, Audiobook

49 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1937

About the author

Edmée Elizabeth Monica Dashwood, née de la Pasture (9 June 1890 – 2 December 1943), commonly known as E. M. Delafield, was a prolific English author who is best-known for her largely autobiographical Diary of a Provincial Lady, which took the form of a journal of the life of an upper-middle class Englishwoman living mostly in a Devon village of the 1930s, and its sequels in which the Provincial Lady buys a flat in London and travels to America. Other sequels of note are her experiences looking for war-work during the Phoney War in 1939, and her experiences as a tourist in the Soviet Union.

Daughter of the novelist Mrs. Henry De La Pasture.

Reviews

[Jess · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wish I had spoken my mind, just once, in the U.S.S.R Even though I know that nobody would have paid any attention to it, and even though it occurs to me to wonder whether I am absolutely certain of what my mind really is, concerning the new Russia.

I wouldn't say this novel is particularly funny. There are indeed humorous scenes and conversations. However, there is an underlying bleakness and concern to it. It's not at all like the other Provincial Lady books. Which is fitting since it was never meant to be The Provincial Lady in Russia. This is E.M. Delafield in Russia. Her American publisher changed the title as readers recognized "The Provincial Lady" and that sells copies.

Delafield balked a bit about going. She tried to explain there isn't anything funny about Russia to the deaf ears of her publisher. He insists it must be done as no one has written anything funny about Russia yet . He plans on sending her there for six months. They compromise on four. So Delafield sets off traveling "hard class" and visits various cities in Russia and spends time on a Collective Farm. (think commune type farm)

I am rather uneducated in the workings of the U.S.S.R. I didn't know they abolished the naming of days. I didn't realize the focus was on work and productivity with little time for recreation/creativity. I commiserated with Delafield and her fellow travelers as they had to wait 40 minutes for food to arrive. One fellow traveler covertly tips the waiter and experiences the luxury of hot toast at breakfast. The train delays, impassable roads, lack of luxury goods like lipstick/soap/nylons, and even basic goods like rubber and food that doesn't give one bouts of incapacitating gastrointestinal distress. Humorously, a small paragraph is written with travelers' varying advice for cures for said G.I. distress. It was a fascinating read for me. But I also felt Delafield's concern. Her concern for lack of education on broader topics and even religion as literature to the children. Her sorrow over the the tragic manner the Tsar and his family were killed, the inability to speak her mind to anyone. The quiet frustration over the dogmatic ideology the Intourists speak even in the face of logic.

At the end of the book, Delafield really wants to wrap up her journey by speaking her mind to someone of her experiences. She makes several attempts to initiate that conversation and is met with lectures and dogma in return. So she remains quiet but in the end wonders at what would she say if she did have the opportunity? I feel like, us the faceless readers to her, are the ones she got to speak her mind to. We saw her curiosity, humor, and ability to make life seem more interesting that it is sometimes. I highly recommend this one if you are a fan of Delafield the author. If you are seeking a book in the similar vein to The Provincial Lady series- this isn't it.

[Ivonne Rovira · Rating 4 out of 5]

Although this nonfiction account by E.M. Delafield (pen name of Elizabeth Dashwood) of her six-month sojourn in the Soviet Union is not really part of the Provincial Lady series, it’s packaged with the four true Provincial Lady novels in The Provincial Lady Complete Series (a steal at 99 cents!). The original title was I Visit the Soviets, and you’ll know to not expect any adventures including Vicky, Robin, husband Robert, her household of demanding servants or Delafield’s offbeat friends and neighbors.

While less charming that the proper Provincial Lady novels, this book is eye-opening in his details of Stalinist Soviet Union (although, of course, no one knew the worst until the rise of Nikita Khrushchev). Even so, Delafield laments the shortages, drabness, incompetence, deprivations, extensive lines, undrinkable water, terrible restaurants and food, and worse transit.

An enjoyable read; just don’t go into it expecting humor, sweetness and light.

[Eleanor · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting to read as an impression of Russia in the 1930s. As we now know, life was far more terrible for many Russians than Delafield could have guessed, but she was probably typical of the western travellers of the time, and as a Russian pointed out to her, she could not possibly know and understand Russia without living there - preferably for at least one lifetime.

Worth reading as a curiosity.

[Celia · Rating 2 out of 5]

Every year, book lovers turn out en masse for the “Friends of the Library Book Sale” in Waltham, Massachusetts. I await this super-sale of literature with the greedy anticipation of a spoiled child on Christmas Eve. Instead of visions of sugar plumbs, I see tables upon tables laden with books from every genre. There are biographies, memoirs, novels, self-help books, poetry, etc. $5 is all it takes to fill (or overfill) a large box with as many books as it will hold. Every time I attend this literary free-for-all, I perceive my loftiest, most erudite values meeting my base desire for material acquisition. Usually, I buy 3 different types of books. First, I make selections that relate to my belly dance career. Second, I go for classic and/or contemporary novels that have nothing to do with dancing. Lastly –my box filler –I take books whose unlikely, whimsical, or otherwise unexpected subjects make me say “What?!?”. Last year, "I Visit the Soviets, The Provincial Lady in Russia" made its way into my possession via the third category.

This book was written in 1937 by E.M. Delafield, an upper middle class British writer who became popular through her “Provincial Lady” series. Most of her novels (including "The Diary of a Provincial Lady" and "The Provincial Lady in London") deal with things that are quintessentially British: tea parties, social decorum, tennis matches, etc. My “What?!?!” reaction was immediately triggered by the humorous contrast between the titles of these works and "I Visit the Soviets". Why in the world would the Provincial Lady go to a place so lacking in the frills of her usual existence? A Google search yielded another interesting contrast: while almost all of the books in the “Provincial Lady” series are novels, this one is a travel memoir. Apparently, Delafield’s publisher sent her to Russia so that she could write witty insights based on her observations. Learning this, I paused to consider that she did not appear to have had any prior interest in Russian society, and that her privileged upbringing might make her ill-disposed to Soviet realities. Did her publisher make a good decision in sending her? I believe he deliberately placed her in an environment where he knew she would be unhappy. Perhaps he wanted a laughable book to come out of her discomfort.

"I Visit the Soviets" reads like a long, tired account of inconvenience and difficulty. Delafield opens with several chapters that recount her visit to a Collective Farm. On it, she finds poor sanitation, bland food, and endless hard labor. Traveling onward to Leningrad and Moscow, she suffers crowded streets, unclean hotel accommodations, and a scarcity of consumer goods. Travel regulations increase her aggravation by forcing her to schedule outings through the bureaucratic “Intourist” organization. Additionally, she complains that she cannot find people who are willing to answer questions about communism frankly. The persons who she does encounter – stoic, unfriendly guides, brainwashed Soviet students, and communist tourists – are predisposed against her Western outlook. Candid conversations with them prove impossible, and Delafield does not have the motivation to research Russian history, initiate a broader range of contacts, or otherwise probe Soviet society in ways which might yield interesting material.

My strongest impression of this book is that Delafield wrote it with extreme reluctance. She frequently bemoans her publisher for sending her to Russia (and herself for consenting to go). Furthermore, the lack of coherence between chapters indicates her wish to write quickly, fulfill her contract, throw the book together, and be done. Ultimately, the work seems to have been a poorly conceived project which required a lot of time and trouble on Delafield’s part. I am sure freelancers of all kinds can relate. Sometimes, we all make regrettable commitments that waste our energy. I recently spent 10 months learning mediocre choreographies in preparation for a show which canceled its entire run due to disorganization on the director’s part. More than educating me on Soviet Russia, this sarcastic, self-pitying book provided me with a therapeutic means of processing the time I spent working on that show.

I now present myself to the world, holding this book in hand and gesturing dramatically with a body that still retains never-to-be-seen choreography from a failed production. Standing and gesticulating thus, I declare that we must all assess our “opportunities” with great caution. Respect your potential! Do not devote yourself to engagements that are unworthy of you! At the same time, nurture your urge to explore. Sometimes a random read from the library’s annual book sale can kindle great self-reflection.

[Tania · Rating 4 out of 5]

This one doesn't really belong to the Procynical Lady series, it was re-named to fit in, but isn't written in the same style. It is E.M. Delafield's account of her visit to Soviet Russia in the 1930's. As she herself points out, it is very hard to be funny about Russia. It is very interesting and she still writes with her wry humour, but overall it feels much more subdued and depressing than the other books in the PL series.

[Kirsty · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very enjoyable, and short enough to read within an hour. It is nowhere near as extensive as the three previous Provincial Lady books, but it is just as enjoyable. It is packed full of fascinating social commentary, some of which I myself recognised when in St. Petersburg in 2008. As with The Provincial Lady in America, The Provincial Lady in Russia isn't rendered into diary entries, but its short chapters make it the perfect escapism.

[Louise Culmer · Rating 3 out of 5]

The title of this book is somewhat misleading. It is not a ‘Provincial Lady’ book, it is a straightforward non fiction account of a visit to Russia by the author. It is quite interesting in its way, but it has nothing to do with the Provincial Lady series.

[Mary Teresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

(SPOILERS!)
First published in 1937, I was at first quite disappointed that this is different from the other Provincial Lady books. It doesn’t have the Diary form, has every personal pronoun in place, and isn't strictly chronological. It's not really that funny. So why do I give it 5 stars? Read on.
After a very few pages in which Elizabeth describes her publisher’s plans for her to write a humorous book about Russia, a plan she resists – we are transported as if by magic carpet to a commune near Rostov-on-Don, where she lives for a time. When I have resigned myself to the fact that we are never going to learn her first impressions of the country, we are taken back to the voyage from London Docks, and of her introduction to Leningrad, which is negative. I understand now why she has kept this until we are well-immersed in her story, and have met sympathetic Russians with whom she at last is able to interact in a somewhat normal way. In Leningrad she was part of a Tour and the Guides made sure the tourists saw only what they were meant to see. Her fellow travelers were not a very sympathetic lot either. The commune, on the other hand, was where she got to know Russians.
There’s not much to poke fun at in this hardscrabble yet supposedly socialist paradise. But her observations are very sharp, whether about people or her environment or social occasions. She does find a little ironic humor in the patter of the tour-guides and their claims: ‘We have no nervous children.’ ‘There are no prostitutes.’ Even the weather when the tour group is shivering and complaining of freezing temperatures: ‘No, it is not cold’, implying that the Soviet State has taken care of that too.
The tour group was taken to the Alexander Palace. Whereas the guides are enthused at showing off the Romanov family’s goods, even toys, in an exhibitionist, triumphant manner, Elizabeth is moved by the memory of the fate of the family brutally murdered not even twenty years before. Her mood goes unnoticed except for an elderly, silent cleaner who by a glance conveys what she feels but dares not express.
And that is what comes from this book – thoughts and moods one dares not express. The churches are shut – a matter that troubles her. Religion is for old people, the younger ones say. You must agree with the State in all. And everybody is happy.
I wondered – as Elizabeth must have wondered a few years later – what became of the people she met as the Germans stormed through Russia and Leningrad came under attack. If she found Leningrad stark, derelict and gray pre-War, what can it have been like in Wartime? She probably never heard that Stalin ordered the churches open. She would have found that very interesting.

[Felicity · Rating 4 out of 5]

This volume is a collection of articles commissioned by an American publisher seeking 'a funny book' about a proposed six-month sentence to life on a Soviet collective farm, subsequently reduced on her appeal, and it thus lacks some of the spontaneity and self-direction of her earlier writing. The provincial lady of course protests too much, fearing that although she might be 'funny enough in Russia', she did not think she could be 'very funny about it'. She seems to have doubted her ability both to assuage the pride of the host community and to appeal to the presumed anti-Soviet prejudice of her paymaster. Thus her witty accounts of communal life focus on the bureaucratic inefficiency and absurdity not the inequity -- or even the iniquity -- of the system. Once she has escaped from the collective, her good humour is reestablished albeit mostly at the expense of her witless fellow travellers from the West. Her chief grievance is the evidence of indoctrination, from the state-appointed guides who insist, in perfect English, that theirs is the best of all possible world, despite never having travelled outside the State, a wilful ignorance or national arrogance that is equally endemic in capitalist countries. Inspired by Fanny Trollope's account of her travels in America, Delafield delivers her criticism retrospectively in print rather than in person. On leaving Russia, she regrets not having expressed her misgivings that the admirable material progress for the masses has been achieved largely at the expense of the individual, and signally to the creative artist. In this respect, she might have been mindful of De Tocqueville's prescient observations on American individualism's dangerous potential to destroy democracy. Less contentiously, at least for her American editor, she concludes that 'it is very far from prejudicing one in favour of the Soviet system, to find so many of its exponents without humour, without manners and without imagination' (328). Without her own irrepressible humour and irritation, the collection of colour pieces might have been relegated to the slush pile of jaded travellers' tales from beyond the comfort zone.

[Dr.J.G. · Rating 3 out of 5]

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The Provincial Lady in Russia: I Visit the Soviets
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It can only be the honesty of the author that makes this one a tad drab, because she only writes what she sees and thinks.
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"I have traveled all night, and walked about looking for Peter half the day, and I have not yet got used to having my luncheon between three and five o'clock in the afternoon, and the hotel to which I have been sent is on one side of the Red Square—which no trams traverse—and everything else in Moscow is on the other side.

"All the same, the Red Square is very beautiful, and they are quite right to allow no trams there. In the evening I walk across it once more, and admire the huge walls and towers of the Kremlin and the long row of fir-trees against the gray stone and the pure, beautiful lines of the Lenin Mausoleum, perfectly placed before the great fort, and the strange, Byzantine domes and whorls and minarets of the ancient Basil Cathedral."

"One walks across the Red Square more safely than anywhere else in Moscow. Not as regards one's feminine virtue (that, I think, would be safe anywhere in Russia, were I a quarter of my present age and as alluring as Venus), but simply as regards life and limb.

"Everywhere else the traffic is shattering, and the comrades, running for their lives in every direction—as well they may—are a menace. So are the trams, which bucket along on uneven rails and draw up with a slow jerk which gives a misleading impression altogether. One feels that here are deliberate, rather uncertain trams, that may very likely require a good strong push from somebody before starting at all.

"And on the contrary, hardly have they stopped and hardly have hundreds of Comrades fought their way out of them than a bell clangs and they start off again, leaving hundreds more biting and kicking and pushing their way inside, hanging on the step and very often being violently shoved off it again."

"In Leningrad there were hardly any cars. In Moscow there are a great many, and they all go hell-for-leather and make a point of sounding their horns only at the very last minute when the lives of the walking comrades positively hang by a thread."
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"Peter is under the auspices of an organization which takes an interest in literary tourists and the organization is very kind to him, and gives him theater tickets and special facilities and a guide all to himself. These benefits he shares with me.

"I am secretly terrified of the guide, who is youngish and very tough and has a swivel eye. She has lived in the United States and says that she once hiked from Denver, Colorado, to California. It can't have been half as exhausting as hiking from one end of Moscow to the other, which is our daily achievement.

"We visit museums and picture galleries and crèches and factories and schools and clinics. We see, at a rough estimate, a hundred thousand busts of Lenin and ninety thousand pictures of Stalin."
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"I quite see that wonders have been achieved in a very short time. I haven't any doubt that the condition of the workers before the Revolution was abominable beyond description. I haven't really any serious doubts that they are working toward a better state of things than they have ever known.

"But I have a bourgeois longing to see gaily dressed shop windows, and perhaps gaily dressed people in the streets as well, and to see more individualism and less collectivism—and, in a word, there seems to me to be a total absence of fun in Moscow.

"Beauty, there is. In some of the buildings that have survived, in the Ballet, in the Gallery of Western Art, in many of the theater productions. "Romeo and Juliet" was a beautiful production. So was "Eugene Onegin" at the Opera."
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"The Soviet institutions—clinics, welfare centers, schools, crèches, hospitals—are all working under difficulties and are all hampered by lack of experience and lack of appliances. (They handicap themselves still further by a cast-iron determination to accept no outside criticism whatever and by assuming that perfection has already been achieved, which is far from being the case.)

"A recollection—inaccurate, as usual—comes to my mind of some uncivil aphorism of Dr. Johnson's about women writing books or pursuing any other intellectual avocation.

""It is like a dog that walks upon its hind legs, sir. We do not ask whether the thing be well or ill done. The wonder is that it should be done at all." I am sure that I had better remember about Dr. Johnson and the dog when I try to collect my impressions of Soviet Russia."
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"The Russian lady keeps her word. She much more than keeps it. She not only comes and buys everything that I want to sell, but swoops down on a large number of things that I don't want to sell, and says she'll take them as well. She opens my wardrobe and takes down my frocks, she lifts up the pillow on my bed by a sort of unerring instinct—like a water-diviner—and discloses my pajamas, and she looks inside my sponge-bag. (What can she possibly suppose that I am hiding inside my sponge-bag?)

""Look, I take this ink-bottle off of you as well, and if you have a fountain-pen I take that, and I take for my husband the blue frame (he will not want the photograph; besides it is your children, you will like to keep it) and for myself I take those things what I have already bought, and the red jumper, the pajamas, the two frocks. Have you any boiled sweets?"

"No, I haven't any boiled sweets. And nothing will induce me to part with the safety ink-bottle or the blue frame or my only two frocks.

"It takes a long while to convince the Russian lady that I really mean this, and I have eventually to concede the red jumper and the pajamas. She still looks so fixedly at the ink-bottle that I become unnerved, and distract her by an offer of meat-juice tablets—for her husband—and handkerchiefs and safety-pins for herself.

"She buys them all and pays me in roubles on the spot. When I put the money away in my bag she says she will buy the bag, and when I hastily thrust the bag into my suitcase she says she will buy the suitcase.

"I get her out of the room at last by giving her a lip-stick as a sort of bonus, like a pound of tea for a cash sale."
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"Sometimes Peter and I talk like the thoughtful and intelligent people we really are, and discuss Socialism, and Communism, and tell each other that we really ought to have seen Russia before the Revolution in order to judge of the vast improvement effected. (When Peter says this to me it is very reasonable. When I say it to him it is simply idiotic, as before the Revolution he was an infant in the nursery.)"
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"There is no unemployment in the Soviet Union: everybody can, and indeed must, work; and so far as I know, everybody does. As a kind of offset to this universal activity, everybody—when not working—sits about and waits."
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""If you visited some of these places in other countries you could compare them with your own. It would be very interesting."

""No," says the Comrade, employing the simple form of flat contradiction favored by so many of the Comrades. "No, it would not be interesting. We do not wish to see how things are done in capitalist countries. When the foundation is wrong the building cannot be right. We know that our way is better."

"I should like to tell her the story of the two Army chaplains, of whom the Church of England padre said to his Roman Catholic colleague:

""After all, you and I are both serving the same God," and met with the reply:

""Yes, indeed. You in your way, and I in His."

"But if I did tell her she wouldn't think it funny, nor would she see its application to the official attitude of the U.S.S.R."
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"I wish I had spoken my mind, just once, in the U.S.S.R. Even though I know that nobody would have paid any attention to it, and even though it occurs to me to wonder whether I am absolutely certain of what my mind really is, concerning the new Russia."
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December 24, 2020 - December 24, 2020.
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[Arianna · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very telling, mostly autobiographical memoir, of what the early Soviet Union looked like. It was retitled “The Provincial Lady in Russia” though it’s not technically a part of the official series. What is notable is how much it “reveals without revealing”, as one reads it nearly 100 years after its initial publication. Delafield frequently expresses doubts as to whether or not the Soviet guides are truthfully answering her questions, and frequently references and recounts their evasive replies. Overall, definitely the most depressing of the “Provincial Lady” group of stories, but worthwhile reading to begin to understand what some outsiders’ impressions were of the USSR in its beginning.

Additional Note: I understand now why this volume is considered #5 of the Provincial Lady series, though it was published a few years before “PL in Wartime.” This book was originally published under the title “I Visit the Soviets”, and later republished with the PL title.

[Donnell · Rating 3 out of 5]

Actually, this book is pretty amazing. Consider: It was possibly the only description, at the time (Delafield's trip to Russia takes place in the summer of 1936) of life in a major country and future super power. And the world gets this story because it is SMUGGLED out of the country. While the world and even the lady herself may have seen her as a "harmless" , humorous, housewife--in this book she strikes a major blow for freedom and transparency. And she does so despite months of physical discomfort living under tough circumstances, and by taking serious risks, like smuggling her manuscript past customs officials.

Some observations:

1. After hiding behind a fictional (thin as it was) identity in the first three Provincial Lady books, Delafield uses her own married name in this one. Have discovered the reason for this--technically this is not one of the Provincial Lady's diaries. It was only given this name later to catch readers of the Diaries.

2. As evidence of how personality destroying communism could be, one need only compare the humorous banter of the first Lady books to the plodding stream of words in this one.

3. The text still carries you along, though.

4. Reading between the lines, Abortion was legal in the Soviet Union at the time and this was a big deal that people seemed to talk about constantly. It was probably allowed because there were few birth control options given that the pill had not been invented and plastic/rubber was scarce.

5. For those wondering how it can be that certain people can continue to hold positive beliefs about something, in the face of irrefutable evidence to the contrary:

The Lady tells a pro-communist American about how the Russian Royal Family were all "massacred together in the cellar" by the Communists:

"'Was that so?' ejaculates Mrs. Pansy Baker thoughtfully. She is silent for a moment and then, with an agreeable smile, sums up the whole thing: 'I guess,' she remarks tolerantly, 'that it was done as kindly as possible'" (p. 108.)

6. But a few years later, England--and later America--would want to silence a book like this under their own pro-Soviet propaganda to encourage their citizens to be allies with the Soviets in WWII.

7. No religion, worshipful adoration of Lenin and Stalin, mysterious disappearances of people who say things--in the privacy of their homes!--that are not politically correct--pretty much everyone living as if in prison--millions killed in death camps, and it is hard to see how Hitler was worse than Stalin.
Amazing that we were ALLIES with the Russians in WWII when the government tended to treat all its citizens as if they lived in a prison with every word monitored.

[Barbara Mader · Rating 3 out of 5]

Maybe three and a half stars. Maybe more. The thing is, I didn't so much "like" this book as find it very interesting. This is not like the other "Provincial Lady" books. This is about Delafield, who at the bequest of her publisher, goes to Russia for some months during the Stalin years of the 1930s, prior to World War II. She goes far, far out of her comfort zone, even to the point of staying some weeks at a collective (farm), which was utterly lacking in such human comforts as hot water, good food, stimulating conversation, or privacy, but did have an abundance of mud.

Delafield also traveled a good deal throughout Russia, and her writing contains observations not only of Russia and Russians, but also of other travelers she comes across, from England, the United States, and elsewhere. Many are fervent supporters of Communism, others loathe it. She spends some time detailing the quirks in these travelers' personalities.

Delafield has heavy work here trying to write in a sprightly tone. She is clearly depressed and often lonely. Intourist curtails exploration and controls what she sees, and when, and where.

The book is uneven. It is really a compilation of articles so there is some repetition and also some sudden shifting of gears between subject matter and also chronologically. Also my own copy had either some lines or a page missing, even though the page numbers ran correctly. So all that was a bit jarring.

In the end, though, I find the experiences and observations she wrote about stick with me (I read this a few months ago). And I found fascinating some of her choices as to what she wrote about: one time, she just wrote about waiting around in a hall all day--she was waiting to see if Intourist would allow her to go wherever it was she was supposed to be allowed to go that day. But she just wrote about the hall, and the people who wandered in and out, and the time passing on and on, and people waiting and waiting, until I felt that I too had been in that building waiting and waiting and waiting so long that I sort of forgot why I was there and that there could be anything else in the world to do but just wait.

[Rosemary · Rating 2 out of 5]

I had read the first four books in E. M. Delafield's "Provincial Lady" series (_The Provincial Lady_, _The Provincial Lady Goes Further_, _The Provincial Lady in America_, and _The Provincial Lady in Wartime_), but had never been able to track down the fifth book in the series, _The Provincial Lady Goes to Russia_. So I was delighted to see that all five books are now available on Kindle for the low, low price of ninety-nine cents for the lot! I downloaded it just to read the final installment.

These books are written in the form of a diary or travel journey, and the narrator's voice is wonderfully dry and witty but also insightful and remarkably revealing of their historical context. The first four take place just before and during WW II in England, but this final book describes the Provincial Lady's travels to the Soviet Union--and according to other Goodreads reviewers, is a more straightforward account of Delafield's own stay in the USSR in the 1930s.

That accounts for the ways in which this book differs from the other "Provincial Lady" books. The narrator's signature humor is here, as she pokes fun at Intourist guides and an itinerary that includes innumerable "visits to museums and picture galleries and creches and factories and schools and clinics. We see, at rough estimate, a hundred thousand busts of Lenin and ninety thousand pictures of Stalin." Warned by a fellow writer that her diary may be confiscated when she leaves the country, she smuggles it out in her coat in a very funny scene.

However, this fifth book is radically shorter than the others, and far less cohesive and charming. If you're interested in reading the series, download the Kindle collection and read the first four--and then skip this one.

[DonaAna · Rating 3 out of 5]

This travelogue from Soviet Union in the Thirties seems like a very uneven collection of magazine articles. The book opens with a 79-page account of a visit of a kolkhos (no doubt a model community). Gripping and riveting reading, austere and acutely observed, this is really the heart of the book. The rest of the 344-page book is not really worthwhile - there is no sense of the places visited, just trite and uninteresting observations of fellow travelers chaperoned by Inturist guides. Worse, somehow the timelines are crossed, persons who make their final departure reappear in the next chapter. Once we laboriously have arrived in the final destination of the itinerary, the narrative skips back to the previous (very dreary) location.

In some way, though, this book is notable. It's an account of a trip to a closed society where you are allowed to see very little and question nothing. The outset of the book, "nobody yet has been funny about Russia", as expressed by the American publisher who commissioned this book, seems unintentionally cruel. One also rather feels for the random Soviet citizens mentioned in this book - did they end up in labor camps after the publication of this book?

[Katharine Holden · Rating 5 out of 5]

British socialists and fellow travelers of the 1930s held up the Soviet Union to be the glorious people's republic. But then they visited and found out it wasn't. It was a country of primitive toilets and gray-faced inhabitants with bad teeth. Calling this book The Provincial Lady in Russia is a publisher's device to link it to the author's successful series of books. But it's really the nonfiction account of Delafield traveling on her own to the USSR to see what she can see. Along the way she tours facilities that don't quite live up to the party hype, battles a lot of fleas, works in primitive conditions on a collective farm, and faces a lot of facts. There is dry humor here and there, and self-deprecating wit, but it's not a continuation of The Provincial Lady series. It's a slice of life, a travelogue, and a chance to see the USSR of that era through the eyes of a British woman who doesn't let disillusionment prevent her from capturing her experiences as they happen.

[Susan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Since I enjoy Delafield's writing, I was enchanted by this historical artifact. Delafield (known in the Soviet Union as Dashwood, her husband's name and easier for the Russians to pronounce) set out to spend some time on a State farm and observe the good and bad of the then fairly new Russian state, from the perspective of a politically liberal but socially more conservative middle-aged Englishwoman of good family. She found the Russians--except for the Intourist guides--personally courteous and pleasant, but some of her fellow tourists not so much. Although she realized that social problems were being hidden from the tours, we now know that much more was hidden than she could have conceived. From the touring American who thought everything in the Soviet Union was perfect to the intelligent State farm nurse, Delafield describes the people she met in her usual entertaining fashion.

[Gareth Evans · Rating 3 out of 5]

Three short articles on Delafield's unhappy stay in the USSR. It's an interesting period piece and has Delafield's usual humorous style, but it's really very different to her other Provincial Lady books. These are novels, whereas this is interesting (period piece) but limited reportage.

Delafield talks of the discomfort faced by the soviet people. However, I wonder if this this solidly middle class lady had very much experience of life in the more deprived areas of England in the inter war years. I may be doing her a disservice, but it does read a little as if a person used to the finer things in life has to struggle on rather less.

Is it really worth three stars? Yes, it is sufficiently well written and nicely grouchy to be worth it.

[Barbara · Rating 3 out of 5]

I wasn't going to read this right away, as I've gotten a bit tired of the Provincial Lady, but it seemed silly to leave these few pages unread. It was ok. More actual reportage than her other Provincial Lady books. Very little humor, though she couldn't resist a few funny comments. I think Delafield would find something to laugh at if she were writing about a public execution. She was reporting on the Soviet Russia of the late 40s and she did so without any political agenda of her own. People, not politics, were her interest.

[Wealhtheow · Rating 2 out of 5]

Like the other Provincial Lady books, this follows the carefully observed life and inner workings of a genteel British mother in the 1930s. Unlike the other books, this isn't actually funny. Her tales of early Soviet Russia are interesting at first, but tend to repeat themselves. This frank and detailed look at the intersection of British and Soviet cultures, and the equally frank debate about communism and equality, makes this an interesting document. It's not a great read, though.

[Kevin Darbyshire · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read this as I purchased a compendium of all five novels in the series. Loved the other books so far but found this book depressing and without the charm of the previous novels. I almost felt that it had been written by a different author as there were so few references to the family back in England which was such a feature of the book about America. Just about to start the last in the series and hoping the author is back on track as I have so loved the others.

[Kathy · Rating 2 out of 5]

Disappointing, not nearly as enjoyable as the other "Provincial Lady" books. It is a non fiction account of the authors trip, not of the usual character.

[Laurie Graham · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dated, but still charming, and about as funny as you could be about Soviet Russia and its Western enthusiasts.

[Vroom · Rating 3 out of 5]

A fascinating set of eye-witness reports from 1930's Soviet Russia. Not to be confused with earlier similarly-titled fiction pieces.

[Carolyn Hammond · Rating 4 out of 5]

Light entertainment.

[Aimee · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not quite as delightful as the rest of the Provincial Lady books, but amusing in a Cold War sort of way.

[Whistler's Mom · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thrown in the wrong bin.

The Englishwoman who wrote under the name E.M. Delafield published her first novel in 1915. She was a prolific novelist and writer of magazine stories, but it wasn't until she wrote "Diary of a Provincial Lady" that she became a household word.

That one appeared in 1930 and caught fire. It's never been out of print since then and is considered a classic. I certainly think so.

The problem with writing a best seller (a problem most writers would love to have) is that the writer is forever-after typecast as "the author of bestselling [whatever]." Publishers want more of the same. Not a great creative book, but one JUST LIKE the best seller. Publishers are many things, but risk-takers they ain't.

This author (delighted with the unexpected windfall) obliged with "The Provincial Lady Goes Further", which tells the story of her life (mainly in London) after success. That one appeared in 1932, followed by "The Provincial Lady in America" (1934) and you can figure out the plot of that one by yourself. Finally, in 1940 (and reputedly by the request of a famous politician) she published "The Provincial Lady at War."

All are witty (even the one about the "Phony War" period in England) and written in her trademark diary style. This one was published in 1937 and has no more to do with the Provincial Lady books than any of Delafield's other novels. But her publisher saw a chance to capitalize on the popularity of that series and renamed it. It's even included in at least one edition with the four REAL "Provincial Lady" books, although there's little similarity.

In 1937, the author went to Russia. Although the product of French and English titled families, she was a broad-minded woman who was frequently irritated when her relatives and neighbors assumed that she shared their love affair with the English class system and the unequal economic system it propped up. She knew it was good for the people on top, but lousy for those on the bottom.

Russia was the Great Enigma, a puzzle that few Westerners could figure out. Starting with the bloody Russian Revolution in 1917, the new regime dragged a huge backward country into the 20th century. The change was not accomplished without horrific damage, but it benefitted more people than it harmed.

So this nice, intelligent, well-meaning English gentlewoman goes to Russia to see for herself the miracles that the comrades have wrought. There are wonderful child care centers and beautiful public buildings being built (usually VERY slowly) and art is respected and promised to all, not just the elite.

Her main gripe with modern Russia is that it's pompous and solemn and lacking in fun and eccentricity. She tries to tell the Russians a few home truths about themselves, but they tell her she can't judge modern Russia without having seen Old Russia. Or they tell her she's crazy.

They're not only humorless, but magnificently, maddeningly uninterested in the opinions of outsiders. Indoctrinated with the firm belief that everything Russian is best simply because it IS Russian, they're immune to her attempts to suggest that improvements could be made. Although some of the Russian ladies do want make-up and colorful clothes. Now they have them.

It's a witty and sometimes thought-provoking read, but it's NOT one of the "Provincial Lady" books. And calling it one won't change a thing. I enjoyed it, but it's just not in the same class as the Provincial Lady books. Really, few things are.

The main thing is to discover Delafield's books, which have been one of the best-kept secrets of England for too many years. Read them and laugh.

[Claudia · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've been struggling with four books I am reading with several levels of difficulty and never going anywhere near finishing. None really appealing to me as much. I picked this one up and could not put down. Done reading in a couple of days. Fabulous and wonderful as ever, the Provincial Lady in Russia made me laugh and become flabbergasted in just a few, all too short pages.
A few interesting changes here: E.M. Delafield writes in her own name. Mostly because this was not originally, part of The Diary of a Provincial Lady series. However, the difference has not made it difficult to read. It's a light, interesting and historically relevant and important account much because it reflects the state of affairs in USSR from the point of view of the common men, which is the treat the author always gives us.
I found it hilarious! The high point was her mention of Scilla and Charibdys! Only the Provincial Lady to remind us of such lovely remarks of the early series.

[K · Rating 5 out of 5]

A rather enjoyable tale of the author's trip to the Soviet Union in the 1930s--a time when few Westerners traveled there, and there was great mystery as to what life there was really like. The author is tells of her travels in a humorous way, and is able to convey to innumerable frustrations that existed on a daily basis in Soviet times, and which continue today. For readers who lived or traveled in the Soviet Union, this book will bring back memories--both good and bad--though I think most of the humor and experiences will be unappreciated by those who did not.

[cloudyskye · Rating 4 out of 5]

The provincial lady visits Stalin's Soviet Union. Her sense of humour is intact - but not much appreciated by all those Comrades (as in all dictatorships at all times ...).
Towards the end she is determined to voice some criticism to somebody - anybody! - and totally fails. It all simply bounces off her audiences and their mantra-like: Capitalism - bad, Communism - paradise.
A short one, but very interesting. Was weirdly reminded of Doctor Zhivago and also of North Korea.