It’s not only its 600 pages that give this autobiography of Russian writer Nina Berberova its weight – it’s the span of history that it covers. Born in 1901 and raised in St. Petersburg, Berberova experienced some of the worst events that the 20th century had to offer: the Russian Revolution and her subsequent expulsion from Russia with her husband, Russian poet Khodasevich, living a life of poverty in Paris, then enduring the German invasion and occupation of France in World War II. While this book is packed with tales of Russian Literary giants of that era, Berberova is careful to steer clear of gossip and trash-talk, to the point that this autobiography sometimes reads as dry as a chronology of who worked when and where on what. This book is at its best in the first half when Berberova graces us with her innermost thoughts and fears. After her decision to leave Khodasevich, she becomes so guarded about protecting the details of her subsequent relationships and marriages, and even what truly lead her to abandon France for America in the 1950’s, that this reader was left wondering why Berberova chose to write the second half of this autobiography at all. The Italics are Mine supplies a wealth of information about Berberova’s generation of exiled Russian writers, but if you are looking for dirt about the supposed affair between Berberova and Nabokov or other such juicy details, you will be sorely disappointed. ( )

Ce n'est pas une femme que j'aime particulièrement à la lecture de cette autobiographie, mais ces romans sont très bons. Splendeurs et misères de la vie d'exilée russe à Paris dans les années 20.

Bitchy, gossipy, eagle-eyed; brings prerevolutionary Petersburg and emigre Berlin and Paris to life.

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