Sofia Petrovna

I found this Russian novella on the free rack. It is based on the author's experiences during the Stalinist purges in the 1930s.

An everywoman, a naive loyal widow slowly goes insane while dealing with the results of her son being arrested. He basically disappears, her only communication with him coming something like two years later when he sends a handwritten letter asking for her help. She had by that point started to pretend he was let out, in part since the fantasy of justice winning out (since he was not guilty, obviously) provided her some sanity.

The epilogue is an excerpt from the author's autobiography, explaining how the Soviets refused to publish it (though she received financial compensation) in the 1960s. We learn that years later, it was published in Russia, the author's long life meaning she lived to see her dream come true. 

The book is a realistic account of a crazy time. She starts off enjoying her new career as a typist, her hard work and diligence leading her to be a respectful manager of the typing pool.  Her son (with his pal) seems to be doing well (moving away for further education).  We get a feel of the times, including her old residence split among multiple families, party operations, and so on.

And, then suddenly all goes wrong.  She has to deal with the bureaucracy.  Suspicion of loyalty of people at her job, including herself.  And, she keeps on trying to convince herself that all will be well. The state is honest as a whole, justice will prevail.  The author notes her insanity is a symbol of an insane situation.   

In the end, she decides to say her son was let out, was getting married, and was given a good position.  This is her fantasy of what should happen.  Others go along (no suggestion is made, though maybe it is the case, they were patronizing a woman who now was much older and decrepit than her years, a hermit who hoarded food to give to her son once she could).  This might too be a metaphor to how the people in such a society form a fantasy view of things, at least pretending to accept things.    

The book is well written with many short chapters.  The epilogue in the author's own voice (then around 60, I gather) suggests a somewhat ironic sort with a passionate side.  It too is well written, down to earth (the excerpt is about ten pages long).  As a whole, for someone like me who these days (probably with all the stuff I read online a significant reason) especially has trouble reading longer fictional fare, it was a good choice.  

Also, a good find, since the only books by her in the NYPL seems to be in Russian.  There was another good fiction book about the effort of publishing a Russian novel in the West, with the author's mistress also one of the subplots.  She was based on a true person, including her years imprisoned.  Russian literature is an important part of its culture, surely.