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sean_kennelly 's review for:
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
I'm very pleased that I read this book. Although I knew it would be fascinating, I supposed that an intimate look at the inside of a 40s gulag could be unbearably brutal to read about. Don't get me wrong, the brutality is there, but it's on the macro scale. The fact of millions of men being imprisoned in filthy freezing conditions itself is baffling, terrifying, disheartening and frankly inhuman. Among the prisoners themselves though, there is humanity. The men are organised into teams and divisions, and there is a certain amount of comradery among them. Although food is scarce and treasured, it is sometimes shared with the needy.
As per the title, one day is examined in granular detail. You can broadly dissect it into Ivan Denisovich's (or 'Shukhov' as the narrator calls him) morning, his working day, and his evening. A defining characteristic of each part of the day is the sheer cunning needed to survive. Everything is a system within a system, with rules to be followed or bent as the situation allows. Every process is executed by someone who can be bribed, every responsibility brings benefits, and every sacrifice can be exchanged for food or tobacco. In this way Ivan's mind is constantly engaged, as he mentally darts around trying to "play the game" as it were, to get the best outcomes the day can offer. In the day we bear witness to he does very well. He ends up with extra morning bread (even though his morning porridge is cold by the time he gets it), an extra portion of lunch, and extra dinner too, plus a little bit of sausage. This is what he focuses on at the end of his day, sleepy and happy in his freezing bunkhouse. It's a testament to the human will.
His work is interesting. Him and his team are building a power station, and are building a room. They make their own cement, haul the blocks up two floors, and lay the bricks one by one. The work keeps Shukhov and his crew engaged, but more than that. They are occupied in a way that sets them free from the harsh realities of the wintry Kazakstan cold. They work harder and longer than they have to, and take pride in what they accomplish. I couldn't help but think of the horrifying slogan that adorned the gates of Auschwitz: "Arbeit macht frei" - "work sets you free".
It's getting colder here now, but I feel that after reading Solzhenitsyn's account of frosty marches in broken boots, and disrobing in the freezing cold for searches by guards, I have probably never really experienced cold. Certainly it gave me many pauses for thought and a regular reminder of how lucky I am to be reading in a comfy bed at all.
I got this in the Oxfam in Sidmouth during the folk festival.
As per the title, one day is examined in granular detail. You can broadly dissect it into Ivan Denisovich's (or 'Shukhov' as the narrator calls him) morning, his working day, and his evening. A defining characteristic of each part of the day is the sheer cunning needed to survive. Everything is a system within a system, with rules to be followed or bent as the situation allows. Every process is executed by someone who can be bribed, every responsibility brings benefits, and every sacrifice can be exchanged for food or tobacco. In this way Ivan's mind is constantly engaged, as he mentally darts around trying to "play the game" as it were, to get the best outcomes the day can offer. In the day we bear witness to he does very well. He ends up with extra morning bread (even though his morning porridge is cold by the time he gets it), an extra portion of lunch, and extra dinner too, plus a little bit of sausage. This is what he focuses on at the end of his day, sleepy and happy in his freezing bunkhouse. It's a testament to the human will.
His work is interesting. Him and his team are building a power station, and are building a room. They make their own cement, haul the blocks up two floors, and lay the bricks one by one. The work keeps Shukhov and his crew engaged, but more than that. They are occupied in a way that sets them free from the harsh realities of the wintry Kazakstan cold. They work harder and longer than they have to, and take pride in what they accomplish. I couldn't help but think of the horrifying slogan that adorned the gates of Auschwitz: "Arbeit macht frei" - "work sets you free".
It's getting colder here now, but I feel that after reading Solzhenitsyn's account of frosty marches in broken boots, and disrobing in the freezing cold for searches by guards, I have probably never really experienced cold. Certainly it gave me many pauses for thought and a regular reminder of how lucky I am to be reading in a comfy bed at all.
I got this in the Oxfam in Sidmouth during the folk festival.