I’m trying to remember when I first became interested in Russian history. Most likely, when I was 10, and one of my Christmas presents (my mother knew me) was a Horizon Caravel book entitled Russia Under the Czars. I must have read it a dozen times. And I still have it.
My senior year in high school, I discovered Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and his One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, Cancer Ward, and The First Circle. In college, I took two semesters of Russian history, and I was glad I knew more about Russia’s past than most people. The professor was a great lecturer; he was also an unapologetic defender of the Soviet regime.
In my first job as a newspaper copy, I still remember editing the front page to include the announcement about the publication of Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago, Part 1. It was first published in French in Paris, and that publication led to the Soviet Union expelling Solzhenitsyn from the country. As soon as the English version was announced, I placed my pre-order at the Cokesbury Bookstore in downtown Houston, Texas. I read it almost immediately, and the next two volumes that followed.
Fast forward 40 years. I had read two novels by Daniel Taylor, Death Comes for the Deconstructionist and Do We Not Bleed?. I liked them both. I was surprised when I saw the title of his upcoming new novel, The Prodigal of Leningrad. It was a decided shift from his previous works to a story about a docent at The Hermitage museum in Leningrad during the German siege of World War II.
I knew the basic historical facts – how German and Finnish troops essentially encircled the city for nearly 900 days, with German planes bombing at will and all supplies cut off. Some 650,000 Leningraders died, many from starvation. The siege began in 1941 and lasted until 1943.
I wondered what would Daniel Taylor do with that setting. Far more than I expected, as it turns out. It may be one of the most Russian novels written by a non-Russian that I’ve read. It is a story of war and deprivation. But it is also a story about the Soviet Gulag, art, fith, and one of the most extraordinary paintings in the Hermitage – “The Return of the Prodigal” by Rembrandt.
Leningrader Daniil Aslanov works as a docent at The Hermitage. He’s an outstanding tour guide, and his favorite painting is “The Return of the Prodigal.” But all of the valuable art orks, including his beloved Rembrandt, have been removed and stored in safety, in case the Germans break through. What is left are empty frames, but Daniil can still talk about the missing paintings. He talks with his friends as well, which can be a dangerous thing in Stalin’s Russia. For at least two of them, he is in danger simply for not reporting what they talk about – criticism of the beloved ruler, the Soviet system, and anything that might be considered disloyal. Which would be anything at all.
Daniil’s story is paralleled by the story of his grandfather, whom Daniil believes is dead but is still very much alive in the Gulag. The grandfather was an Orthodox priest, and that was his crime; the Soviet regime has murdered thousands of them. But in the camps, even atheists come to appreciate this aging man who doesn’t judge, who sits with the dying, and who gives final blessings to the dwindling few who still believe.
The siege, the mass starvation, the bombing, and the corruption of the Soviet system will lead Daniil to a particular end. Like depicted in the Rembrandt painting, the prodigal will return.
Taylor is the author of The Skeptical Believer, Tell Me a Story, Creating a Spiritual Legacy, The Myth of Certainty and several other books. He’s contributed to Bible translations and is co-founder of The Legacy Center, created to help families and individuals find their stories, values and meaning. He’s also a contributing editor for Christianity Today’s Books and Culture Magazine. Taylor blogs at Neither/Nor: Ruminations of a Spiritual Traveler. Death Comes for the Deconstructionist won Christianity Today’s best novel award in its annual book awards and the Illumination Award for best fiction by an independent publisher.
The Prodigal of Leningrad connects art, faith, and a terrible time in Russian and human history to tell a story of how one man finds his soul. It’s a remarkable story.
Related:
My review of Death Comes for the Deconstructionist.
Do We Not Bleed? by Daniel Taylor.
Painting: The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt van Rijn, The Hermitage, St. Petersburg, Russia.
