Review of THE TALNIKOV FAMILY by Avdotya Panaeva (New Release)

 3 Stars

This is a translation (by Fiona Bell) of a Russian novel first published in 1848.

Natasha, the narrator, grows up in the 1820s in St. Petersburg in a chaotic and abusive family surrounded by siblings, various other relatives, and cockroaches. Her mother is neglectful, her father mercilessly whips his children, and the aunts and governess administer daily punishments for all misdemeanors, however small. Going to bed hungry is routine: “I was so often left without tea, without dinner, and without supper for a whole month that I was quite accustomed to this sort of punishment.”

This is not an easy read. To call it dark and depressing is almost an understatement. At least semi-autobiographical, it is full of relentless misery from which Natasha and her siblings find only fleeting moments of joyful escape. There is some humour in the way the unwed aunts fight for the attention of possible suitors, but even in these episodes there is sadness because the desperation of their situations is obvious.

The novel actually emphasizes the lack of women’s autonomy. The spinster aunts are totally dependent on relatives so they compete to curry favour. Natasha outlines their situation: “They, too, were deprived of life and freedom, and we often bore the consequences; disgruntled with our mother, our aunts took their anger out on us.” They all yearn for the escape that marriage would grant them, but of course there is no guarantee that their situations would much improve once they are wed. Certainly the marriages portrayed in the novel are less than ideal.

Of course children have even less autonomy. They receive little affection, education, food, and proper clothing. They are virtual prisoners; even their outdoor time is limited. What they are given is physical beatings and psychological abuse. Natasha is repeatedly told she is stupid, useless, and ugly. They long to escape the home, but when they are sent out into the world into the care of others, they often receive more mistreatment. That’s actually a problem: there is little to differentiate among the adults who are almost equally deplorable.

For me, the mother is the most despicable of the characters. A total narcissist, she is totally indifferent to the welfare of her children. Even the death of a child is met with indifference; she sheds no tears. When Mama witnesses another woman crying over the death of her child, Mama says, “’What a fool! What is she crying about? . . . Must be her first! I’ve got plenty to spare.’” She wants to be the centre of attention and becomes angry and envious when anyone else steals her limelight.

I did not find the style inviting. There are long paragraphs of exposition with limited dialogue. The lack of a plot and the presence of repetition makes reading somewhat tiresome. In a lengthy introduction, the translator admits, “Readers today may be put off by Panaeva’s frequent repetition and non-sequiturs. The novel often reads like its author’s breathless attempt to recount every impression and every wrongdoing, sometimes at the expense of literary style.”

I believe this is the first Russian novel I’ve read that was written by a woman. Written from the perspective of a young woman, it describes a totally dysfunctional family. I can understand why the book was suppressed in Russia, “the censor blocking publication by calling the novel ‘cynical’ and ‘undermining parental power.’” For modern readers, it certainly sheds light on family dynamics in the early 19^th century in Russia.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.