Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar is a colossal, powerful, and disturbing book by Simon Sebag Montefiore, who spent the nineties documenting much of the Soviet Union and the lingering effects of Stalinism. Montefiore has created a masterpiece by providing a detailed narrative of Stalin’s personal life that is not bogged down by facts by including photographs of Stalin and his “court,” and by providing excellent historical context.
The first impression I received when I picked up this book was one of astonishment and awe: I erroneously believed a book this thick must be verbose, boring, and dry. I was proven to be mistaken by Montefiore’s style - even though he includes many facts, by including dialogue and multiple points of view, he has steered his book away from desiccation. This is seen clearly in the Prologue, which details the suicide of Stalin’s wife (aged 31), Nadya. Montefiore’s work reads like a novel, as in Nadya’s last moments, Stalin insulted her, “‘Hey you! Have a drink!’ … ‘My name isn’t ‘hey’!’ she retorted. Furiously rising from the table, she stormed out” (17). While many historians would present the bare facts of the death of Nadya, Montefiore uses dialogue to show the general mood at the time: anger, frustration, and sadness. This pairs nicely with the people involved, as Nadya was a manic-depressive who suffered from ill health and outbursts (99). Another instance of Montefiore’s technique is when he describes the ascension of Yezhov, “The Bloody/Poison Dwarf,” who, according to a caption in the picture section, was a “depraved monster” who “was promoted to NKVD boss in 1936 and became Stalin’s frenzied killer.” The author delved deeper into Yezhov’s depravity, as in one particularly chilling instant, Khruschev “asked Yezhov what the spots were. Yezhov replied, with a flash of his blue eyes, that one should take pride in such specks because they were the blood of the Enemies of the Revolution” (245). Montefiore successfully portrays these historical characters as being more than bare facts through his novel-like style.
Even the best verbal description of a person would be lacking if there is no visual representation. Montefiore’s effective use of images helps us visualize Stalin’s court, which helps us recognize them as human and not embodiments of malevolence. For instance, Montefiore describes how Stalin’s son, Vasily, was damaged by his mother’s suicide and spoiled by his father’s lucrative position, becoming “a truculent, name-dropping, violent lout who swore in front of women, expected to be treated as a princeling and yet was tragically inept and unhappy” (118). When I first read this description, I had no idea of his physical characteristics, which consequently made it hard to personify him. However, once I saw Vasily’s photographs on the page before 477, it became easier to imagine him as an individual, not as an idea. One of the best instances of using a picture to show a person was that of Yezhov. Yezhov is remembered as a complete monster, which was well deserved: he was the chief of the NKVD, the Soviet secret police, who kept the Terror going. The Terror is believed to have killed up to a million, with many more being sent to the Gulag to work as slaves. Yezhov, despite being responsible for such an atrocity, was shown to have a caring side by the second section of pictures: he is depicted hugging his adopted daughter Natasha. Stephen King wrote in his short horror story collection Full Dark: No Stars that “sometimes even murderers help old ladies cross the street” (366). This is definitely the case here, as no individual can be completely characterized as “abhorrent” or “monstrous.” Even Stalin, responsible for the degradations of a totalitarian government, was capable of showing affection to his family, children, and his friends (while in his good graces).
A third reason why Stalin by Montefiore is effective is because of the strong historical context/exigence that was present throughout the book. For instance, when Montefiore discusses the infamous Siege of Leningrad, he describes that Stalin was “in a stream of dictated anxiety,” castigating his court as by “21 August 1941, a German north-easterly thrust almost cut off Leningrad’s link with the rest of Russia” (34). Montefiore provides further context as to why it was so important to hold Leningrad: it was named after Lenin. Context is useful in that it makes the reactions of people to be more understandable: if you were a supreme dictator, would you want to lose a city named after your predecessor? An instance of context that had a strong effect on me was when the author discussed how Stalin’s anti-Semitism was extreme, as he remained unmoved as even the most heartless Soviet authorities were affected by the “ghastly revelations of the Nazi Holocaust, the Mikhoels tour and the attractions of Zionism” (545). Assuming there was no context, Stalin might have been viewed as just another paranoid leader who happened to be an anti-Semitist, but to know of his continuing bigotry even after a catastrophic genocide is to glimpse the true depths of his hatred and cruelty. When Stalin lay dying of a stroke that had incapacitated him, Montefiore writes that a doctor was not called to clear the blood clot because in “the fifities, there was a remote chance of such an operation being successful: it was more likely to kill the patient” (641). I recognized that Stalin’s subordinates were right to be paralyzed with indecision: no one wants to be directly implicated for the death of a dictator who still possesses extraordinary power by controlling the heart-strings of the people.
Overall, it can be said that I enjoyed Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar by Montefiore. It was a monumental and scholarly book that was effective through its factual yet literary style, its use of photographs of Stalin’s entourage, and the revealing context that was provided to the readers. Despite liking the book, I wish the book included photographs of the victims of Soviet atrocities. The only photographs in the book are those of Stalin and his cronies, which I find to be too limited in scope. The popular phrase “a picture is worth a thousand words” rings true here. While Montefiore does mention the body count of Stalin’s despotism - 20 million slaughtered, 28 million deported, and 18 million as slaves in the Gulags - his lack of visuals regarding these victims does them a disservice and misses an opportunity to denounce Stalin (643). Stalin himself said that, “one death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic” because when the tragedy and pain of one person becomes known through the media, it is usually received with sympathy, but when a bland statistic of suffering is given, most people do not respond as strongly, as it is just a number.
Despite the truly colossal list of books about Stalin, it is still not a surprise to me that I chose to read Montefiore’s masterpiece. I have read and heard extensively about the Soviet Union prior to my reading the book, as I have read Gulag, Red Famine, and Iron Curtain by Anne Applebaum, The Unquiet Ghost by Adam Hochschild, The Rise and Fall of Communism by Archie Brown, and The Gulag Archipelago by Solzhenitsyn. I knew of the infamous Gulags, the Holodomor, the Great Terror, the NKVD, as well as the struggle of ordinary people who tried (but often failed) to survive in terrible conditions, but little of Stalin himself. The books I have read have understandably and justifiably portrayed Stalin as a force of unstoppable and complete evil without any redeemable or even remotely relatable qualities. One of the reviews for The Unquiet Ghost described Stalin as a “monstrous dictator,” which is true, but it lends him no trace of humanity. The key reason why I read Stalin was to know more of Stalin’s personal life and to recognize him as who he was - husband, father, lover, politician, cordial friend, traitor, respected leader, and heartless dictator who laid waste to his people.
Reading the book was a long and often difficult journey, but it was definitely worth it, as I learned much, which changed some of my previous views. Before I read the book I placed most of the blame for what happened on Stalin, as he was the “Supreme Leader,” but now I know that his court often aided, supported, and even encouraged his despicable acts. The book also illustrates how humans could deny reality, as Stalin continuously denied Hitler’s Operation Barbossa and the raging famine in Ukraine. Even after his death, there are still ardent Stalinists who excuse bestial atrocities on the account that, “‘We had to destroy spies before the war’” (657). People like these have been described by the author as living under Stalin’s shadow - they have deluded themselves to such an extent to placate him in his life that they continue to do so after his death. Many of those who continue to delude themselves are actually unaware of the true effects of Stalinism, including the paranoia, mistrust, and furious denouncing that is present in 1984 by George Orwell. On a personal level, the book reinforced a lesson I already am well-acquainted with: humans have potential, and that potential could be used in a variety of ways. Too many times, unfortunately, this potential is misused by those who have the power to further their own ends, illustrating a very important lesson: those who are in power are commonly the wrong kind of people. It might be more effective to randomly select leaders, as those who do not seek power, like the Greek king Solon, are the ones least likely to misuse it.
Link to where I got the image:
Get the book:
Comments