This is an absolutely miserable book about the lack of autonomy women and children in 19th century Russia have and the issues they have to come up against and survive through. Grim in all the best ways with an uncommon (for Russian literature) female narrator. This is an excellent read for anyone interested in Russian literature and I wish it was more well known!

This was a short and interesting book, filled with raw emotions and wit. I enjoyed reading about the relationships between the siblings and how they all reacted to the cruelties of their family. The protagonist is filled with rage but also wit and her journey towards adulthood is characterised with violence but also growth and resistance.

What a discovery this one is! As a life-long reader and student of Russian literature, I have often wondered why there are so few women writers from the great age of the Russian novel. Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Turgenev – they are all household names. But where are the women writers? Women were no more oppressed in Russia than they were anywhere else. In fact, they were quite liberated by the standards of the era. They were active in politics and social issues. They were often well educated. But no novels? Well, it appears there were some women novelists. Avdotya Panaeva was one of them, and her novel has now been expertly translated into English for the first time. I don’t claim that The Tanikov Family is a literary masterpiece, far from it. But it is a fascinating read and well worth it, not least for its place in literary history. Written in 1848 it was suppressed by the censors due to its controversial subject matter – a dysfunctional family to beat all dysfunctional families – and wasn't published until 1927 when the Soviets decided it usefully showed up the iniquities of the past. It tells the story of a middle-class family in St Petersburg and is narrated by young Natasha, who chronicles a life of neglect, astonishing cruelty and violence. Set in the 1820s, the parents care little for their offspring and the opening scene is harrowing indeed. Natasha’s 6-month old sister has died, an event which causes no grief, or even interest. What follows is a description of daily life, a life of beatings, deprivation of food, few clothes, little education and no love, expect between the siblings. Semi-autobiographical, it makes for grim reading. The family is privileged but financially unstable, but keeps having babies which they then resent for increasing the family expenses. Overlooked in her time, and in ours, Panaeva was in fact a member of the intelligentsia and with Nekrasov edited the leading literary journal The Contemporary. Overly dramatic at times, and somewhat repetitive, it nevertheless rattles along at a good pace with a blunt and direct style that captures the reader’s attention from the first page. A literary curiosity maybe, but an engaging one.

4.5 ⭐️

My only regret in reading Panaeva's The Talnikov Family is that it is too brief, and, its author having long passed away, there being no possibility of reading any more. The Talnikov Family recounts the girlhood of the fictional Natalya, who shares many qualities with the boisterous, irreverent, clever, and untameable Panaeva, herself, and struggles to find peace in a dysfunctional household. As a novel, The Talnikov Family is gripping, emotional, and sobering. I'm left with deep sadness for its characters. Panaeva is an artful writer with a gift for clever imagery; Fiona Bell, in her translation, renders her well. Likewise, Bell's introduction and notes are helpful to the reader and sufficient in providing historical context. I would recommend the book to others on these merits alone. However, it is also a valuable piece of social criticism of its times, offered by a perspective seldom heard from in 19th century Russian writers.

In short, the book problematizes the structure of the 19th century Russian household — the way in which all members are ensnared, for better or for worse, within its trappings. For better or for worse, its adult men dictate the circumstances under which everyone lives. Children, the elderly, and unmarried adult women are subject to their total authority. Married adult women have only as much latitude as their husbands and adult sons allow. The novel underscores for readers the breadth of unhappiness and abuses a cruel man could inflict upon his family, along with the desperation other household members might feel in trying to escape him. We also see the way that household members weaponize power as currency in whatever ways they can.

Ultimately, I agree with the author's sentiment that this book is a worthwhile endeavour, if only for the introspection it will inspire in its readers — have they been so cruel? In their own lives, what have they done? I would recommend the Talnikov Family to readers interested in historical Russia, invested in narratives of girlhood, and those who enjoy untangling complicated family dynamics, as well as lovers of unbreakable heroines.

This is the English translation of a Russian novel first published in 1848. It centers around Natasha, a young girl growing up in St. Petersburg in the 1820s. Natasha's childhood is not a happy one; her mother is a narcissist, and her father mercilessly whips his children. I appreciated how direct the writing style was, though the story eventually became repetitive and hard to finish.

If you like Russian literature I'd say you're not only amongst friends, but I'd also highly recommend this book to you! This just published English translation of "The Talnikov Family" by Avdotya Panaeva is Russian realism at its finest, if you ask me.

Avdotya Panaeva's novel was published in 1848, under a pseudonym, but quickly banned by the censor for undermining parental power and cynicism. So no, this is not a happy book, but then again, no Russian realism novel is, is it?

The novel follows a family from Sint-Petersburg, filled with cruelty and violence. The children of the Talnikov live a terribly hard life with a malicious father, an egocentric mother, two jealous and angry aunts, and a governess who is basically a mix of all earlier mentioned. The book mostly follows the young girl Natasha, who battles her way through the daily abuse and torments in the hope of one day escaping this life.

The story seems to be inspired by Panaeva's own childhood, before she married a Russian nobleman and became a very important figure in Russian literature with her work and her contributions for the liberal and radical literay journal called "The Contemporary".

The story is grim, it is tragic, and has humour in it too, but it is most of all a glimpse into the life of an 19th century abusive and chaotic family, a reality for far more people back then in Russia than we will ever now.

As I don't speak Russian, I always find it hard to say whether a translation is done well or not. I can say, however, that Fiona Bell did a great job when it comes to the style and flow of the book. It feels very natural, and the introduction to both the book and the author was very interesting.

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 19th century in Russia.

Thank you Netgalley & Columbia University Press for an eARC♥️

Born and raised in the Soviet Union, I've always been drawn to literature that captures the essence of our complex history. Panaeva's novel is a raw, unflinching portrayal of life in 1820s St. Petersburg. Her words transported me to a world where:
Women fought for every scrap of independence
Servants and workers toiled in obscurity
Revolution simmered beneath the surface
What struck me most was Panaeva's courage. She dared to speak truth to power, shedding light on the darkest corners of Russian society. Her novel was suppressed in 1848, but its impact on literature was undeniable.
As I turned the pages, I felt a connection to Panaeva's world. My grandparents' stories came alive in her characters – their struggles, hopes, and quiet rebellions.
Fiona Bell's masterful translation brought this lost classic to life. Reading 'The Talnikov Family' felt like uncovering a piece of my own heritage.
If you're fascinated by Russian literature, feminist themes, or simply great storytelling, this book is a must-read.
Panaeva's legacy reminds us that even in the darkest times, there's always hope – and the courage to speak truth.♥️

An odd little Russian novel published for the first time in English, tackling domestic abuse against children and portraying a dysfunctional family to end all dysfunctional families. My full review can be found on Open Letters Review.

Avdotya Panaeva's The Talnikov Family is an interesting and worthwhile addition to the Russian literary canon, and it's really pleasing to see something like this translated into English for the first time. The introduction describes how the book was banned in Russia for its unflinching and, at the time, deeply controversial depiction of family life. The narrator describes a family in chaos, falling apart at the seams, with parents both physically and emotionally abusive to their children, and an environment in which the family home is not a sanctuary, rather something to escape from. These days, we'd describe this family as 'toxic'.

I appreciated the hyper-realism of the novel, coupled with the emotiveness of the narrator and the rest of her family. Some of the descriptions are really striking and I was interested to learn more about the society in which Natasha lived, both through the text itself and the footnotes scattered throughout providing much-needed context. The translation really brings out these details too, making it feel contemporary enough for the modern reader without seeming out of place.

However, the novel does have its flaws. The author's style is unpolished, and the narrator is frequently repetitive and there are sections that are suddenly quite unclear. I found it very difficult to keep track of all the characters, and while in some chapters the narrator is very clearly drawn, in others she's more representing the collective 'we' of the family's numerous children. In addition, until the concluding chapters, there's little real narrative propelling the book forward, and it's more of a collection of vignettes, which I found didn't really compel me to pick up the novel at any point.

Certainly a literary curio, and one worth reading, especially for those with an interest in Russian or 19th Century literature.

Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for an advance copy, in exchange for an honest review.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an advance copy of this book.

I don't really know what to say about this book. It is like a fragment rather than a novel and I do not feel any the better for reading it. I did not learn anything new, I did not enjoy the story. The blurb says the book is witty but I did not notice any wit or humour.

It is an unrelenting tale of shocking cruelty and indifference. The children and dogs are subjected to dreadful physical violence from adults. A governess is encouraged in her cruelty. Sick children are left to die and when they die no one mourns. There seems to be not one moment of peace or joy in the household, everyone screams and schemes. The blurb also says that the children find stray moments of childhood joy but there is no joy in the home, the only get some joy when they are left every day in the public gardens.

The mother in the book is addicted to cards, I don't know if this is a euphemism for drugs but her actions are not those of a reasonable person - was there perhaps lead in the water? There is an ogre of an uncle who whips his nephew until the boy gets a stutter and no one intervenes.

Perhaps I have missed something in this book but I can only review as I find. I believe it is an important book in the canon of Russian literature so I will go from 1 star to 2.

There’s something so magical about novels that feels like you’re watching period-piece movie. These particular novels offer the best of both words: the depth and insight of a book with the excitement and visual thrill of a film. The Talnikov Family by Avodyta Panaeva has this exact quality.

Set in 19th-century Russia, the book vividly captures the social dynamics, family tensions and class struggles of the era. Panaeva’s ability to depict the intricacies of daily life and the emotional landscapes of her characters is truly remarkable and is what makes the novel feel alive.

Moreover, what makes The Talnikov Family particularly compelling is how Panaeva’s narrative focus mirrors the zoom shot that is often used in films: zooming in on Natasha’s intimate family moments and pulling back to reveal the broader societal forces at play. This balance of personal and historical detail is one of the novel’s main strengths.

I have read quite a lot of male Russian writers, but (almost?) no female writers. It is time to change that. This novella by Avdotya Panaev, set in the 1820's is something you wouldn't expect at all. She portrays a struggling father and mother and the very abusive upbringing of their children. Basically everybody is mistreating Natasha and her siblings: not only their parents, but also their aunts and uncles, their governess. And they relish in it.

One of the things that struck me the most was the grandmother lamenting the fact that she created such monsters. Respect for the elders seems to be on the way back. The children however show resilience while trying to find joy. They still pull pranks and try to escape their life at home. They don't abandon hope.

Panaeva's writing style is brutal and direct and it doesn't feel outdated. The novel was based on her own upbringing and paints a portrait and criticism of family 'values' you don't find that often in literature. It's not your ordinary chewy Russian literature. She definitely shows and doesn't tell. It's straightforward and not as angry as one would expect.

It's bleak, yet not depressing. She captures the interhuman relationships in the most wonderful way. In between all the rage and negativity, there is space for humour: the jealousy of the aunts and all the woman yearning the attention of the men, the cuckolded music teacher, the pranks.... Her view on women is actually rather dark. Maybe because they reproach the main character for not being feminine enough? Not that the men are any better of course (apart from the grandparents).

Thank you NetGalley for this ARC.

I've been reading a lot of romance novels lately - something about the predictability of the happy ending is very soothing - and this is, in many respects, the polar opposite of the romance novel while being aimed at (and effectively hitting) many of the same emotional buttons. This isn't a happy narrative - this is an unhappy narrative. It's an old-fashioned melodrama: there's essentially no happiness or optimism in Natasha's life, the horrific events just keep coming. Even the loving grandmother is an alcoholic, and the only aunt with any kindness has very little time for the children; even the children turn on each other at times. At the same time, the narrative is so matter-of-fact that it feels, quite simply, normal. To Natasha, as a child, all of this is normal - being starved, being beaten, being ignored or berated - and Panaeva presents it as straightforwardly as that. The reader (and Panaeva) knows that this is all horrifically awful, but Panaeva isn't wallowing in it. She's writing it as sincerely and openly as her narrator lives it. It feels like a nonfiction memoir, and when I closed the book (well, file) I found myself wanting to rush to Wikipedia to discover what happens next to her characters - only to remember that it's (at least nominally) fiction.

The translation is excellent - the prose is extremely readable and smooth with none of the artificiality that I often associate with translated works. The foreword made me long for a biography of Panaeva herself, and I very much hope that more of her work will be translated as well. I'll be keeping a look out for Bell's other translations.

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆.

This is nineteenth century Russian literature, and it is brutal by today’s standards. It is so hard not to judge the ways of people and society of times gone by because the way we live today is entirely different. At least, we hope it isn’t this bleak. The hardest part to digest is the child abuse which runs rampant here. This is dark, depressing literature my friends. In the introduction, we come to understand that Avdotya Panaeva was living in the time of revolutionary upheaval, but she turned her fierce focus on the institution of family. This novel was suppressed, of course, as it dealt a blow to parental authority. It was too raw an exposure, even more unwelcome written by a woman. The differences in sex is evident throughout, and it is said to be based on the author’s own upbringing. Read the introduction, it is incredibly informative. The lightness and causality with which a child’s death is handled at the beginning is shocking. No different in eliciting shock and sympathy is everything that follows, bullying of children, pitting them against each other, the maliciousness of the parents, extended family, the governess herself is monstrous. In fact, grandparents are not spared abuse here. Love serves as an escape hatch, but even if our little heroine, Natasha, succeeds in the end with marriage, looking at her parent’s union it likely is no blessing. Marrying for love was rare, and so it seems just as rare- love of one’s children.

Advertisements

Report this ad
This is a house where children’s laughter goes to die amid the bugs. The aunts in the family ‘guard the governess like watch dogs,’ for even the help cannot escape unscathed. It is tyranny at its finest here. Somehow there is humor, the foolishness of spinsters trying to win love, or curry favor, securing their place in the house and with the family. Rascally brothers plotting revenge against the aunts, not every child is easily tamed. A coming of age in 1820’s St. Petersburg, in a house that is chaos and often punishing, going to bed hungry night after night, being dismissed for her affinity to her brothers and her lack of girlishness it’s amazing she makes it out alive. A mother who rarely shows affection and a father who beats his children mercilessly, this is not a read for the faint of heart.

Despite her deep despair at the novel’s beginning, grieving deeply over the death of a sister for whom no one else had cried, Natasha is a clever little thing who the reader will root for. A person who finds joy in a house of horrors. Yes, read it, it is surprisingly engaging!

Publication Date: October 8, 2024

Columbia University Press

I read a lot of classic Russian literature and recently realised I was missing out on the work of Russian women. This is an engaging and haunting work about a dysfunctional family in 1800s Russia. This is one for the vibes not plot girls.

Set in St Petersburg we follow a family where the children go through abuse, neglect, childhood trauma whilst observing the bond between the siblings & the trajectory of their lives. Whilst not much “plot” happened it was an incredibly interesting look into the mindset of a 19th century Russian child in an environment I am unfamiliar with as a 21st century English adult. It was also kind of crazy to me to hear the author describe what happened to her as abusive & hurtful in a time where punishment and treatment of children seen here was somewhat normalised.

It did drag a little at times but who am I really to complain about the real life childhood of the author? I enjoyed it very much.

Thank you to the publisher & netgalley!!!

This is a wonderful addition to the body of Russian literature. It's vivid and emotionally catching way of describing the characters, both the complicated adults and the struggling children, is wonderful. I didn't want the book to end, especially so quickly.

This is a great example of classic Russian literature: depressing, sad family. Sometimes it was actually hard to read because of all the depictions of child abuse.

I wouldn't say there's anything extraordinary or unique about it but it was a good read and went by really quickly. The aunt were delightful side characters. I would definitely recommend if you're interested in Russia in translation.

While I certainly wouldn't want to inhabit the Talnikov family’s world anytime soon, I do find myself ‘missing’ reading about these characters quite a few hours after finishing it. But the relentless misery wrought upon the Talnikov children wasn't exactly conducive to a binge read, even at -200 pages. Still, it snuck up on me how impactful I found the ending and the farewell to the characters. I was impressed at how well developed the surrounding cast in particular were in such a short tim. The narrator to me was an unreliable one on the family drama level and I initially had been disappointed this wasn't explored to a greater extent. Reading the excellent introduction by the translator, however, it's pretty clear why they're left as a relatively blank canvas.

The translation is excellent and helps bridge the divide of both language and years - very readable but also recognisable as of its era.

Recommended in particular for fans of Slavic literature.

I started reading the book at a time when we were all under a fascist(we still are) regime locking us inside of our home, cutting every access to internet(they ‘allowed’ us access to internet yesterday) and outside world. In a way, reading this book at that time is some kind of poetic and contributed to my ever growing restlessness.

Reading this book reminded me of my first time reading Anne Frank’s Diary. They are different in all the way possible but the similarities are they both felt like written by a young child, at best teenager. While Anne still manages to give us a peek inside of her inner world, psyche, this book somehow misses that point altogether.

This is a memoir or at least this is based on the writers personal life. Growing up in 1820s St Pittsburg, Advotya (the writer) faced abuse, neglect, hunger all her childhood. Narcissistic Parents busy in their dilly dallies, being whipped by care takers and often self centred aunts, she grew up among a chaotic environment, crowded by her endless number of siblings. She based Natasha, the storyteller and main protagonist, after herself and told a fictional story that is very close to the things she experienced as a child.

In the beginning, it truly captured my attention with the description of daily activities, ever careless guardians and dramatic events unfolding everyday. But soon it got repetitive. After a point the endless list of household activities was not enough and soon it was clear there was not much underneath it. You start noticing, even after spending all these pages with all these characters you know close to nothing about them.

So when it ends it doesn’t make you feel anything. Confusion? That could be but other than that, it felt like a missed opportunity having all the components of a decent book and missing the target anyway.

Thanks to NetGalley and Columbia University Press for sending me a eARC of this book in exchange for my honest opinion.