The author states that her story's claim to the reader's attention lies in its documentary value as a work written with the impression of the events of the great purges still fresh in her mind. Written in 1939 at great personal risk and kept hidden until 1961 when Chukovskaia submitted it to Novyi mir for publication, this is a penetrating and skillfully written literary account of the Yezhov terror. Viewed through the eyes of a naive heroine who is loyal to the Stalin régime in every way, it explodes the myth of the necessity of class vigilance, a political slogan of the times, and exposes the means by which the majority of people were duped and made to participate in the lie. Through the prism of one person's experience is revealed the fate of whole nations. This is a powerful account by a very good writer who did not, and perhaps could not, succeed in getting this story published in the official Soviet press.

But more than being of documentary value, Chukovskaia's story is a literary achievement as well. Profoundly realistic in its presentation, it is symmetrically structured, and is striking for its narrative simplicity, the author's precision and economy of words, as well as the selective use of detail which in itself has the function of reflecting the atmosphere of the times. For example, the heroine, Olga Petrovna Lipatova organizes a Christmas party for the children of the employees of the publishing company at which she works. Each child receives a package of candy containing a card that reads: "Thank you, comrade Stalin, for a happy childhood" (p. 48).

Chukovskaia is concerned primarily about reaching an understanding of the period she is writing about. Her heroine is a person like many others who justifies the purges taking place around her until her own son, a loyal party member, falls victim to them. Lipatova sincerely believes that his arrest is a misunderstanding, and it is only through her long suffering and fruitless struggle to have him released that she finally perceives the truth. It is this attainment of maturity and understanding by Olga Petrovna which is a key aspect of the novel's structure. The Deserted House is a very sensitive yet forceful artistic statement on the purges, particularly on the methods employed by official propaganda to manipulate people's thinking and behaviour.

This is the second English-language edition of Chukovskaia's book and it was well worth reprinting. This paperback edition is enhanced by a very extensive introduction by Alexis Klimoff in which he has brought together a great deal of information about Chukovskaia. The first part of the introduction consists of an essay on the role of literature in Russia in the nineteenth century and on the characteristics of what Mr. Klimoff has defined as the Russian literary tradition. Chukovskaia, it is argued, exemplifies some of the best qualities of this tradition in her works. The latter part traces Chukovskaia's career as professional editor, literary critic and writer, highlighting certain activities such as her clandestine literary cooperation with Anna Akhmatova during the purges, and her eventual involvement in the Soviet human rights movement. Chukovskaia's most outstanding samizdat essays are dealt with at length in a manner illustrating her total commitment to honesty and truth, for which she was ultimately expelled from the Soviet Writers' Union in January, 1974. The introduction to this book is supplemented with copious footnotes which are a useful guide to further reading.

On the basis of a confirmation by Lidiia Chukovskaia, Mr. Klimoff has pointed out that the correct title of the story and the name of the heroine should be Sofia Petrovna, as in the first Russian version to appear in the New York based journal Novyi zhurnal in 1966. It is regrettable therefore that the version of the Paris edition by Cinq Continents has been followed again in this otherwise excellent edition.

Marika Boshyk, St. Antony's College, Oxford