sometimes you pick up a book that, unbeknownst to you, becomes one that you think about a lot. for whatever reason, pam godwin's tangled lies series is like that; something stuck to me, and i can't stop myself from trying to find books that can measure up to it. the books weren't even five star reads at the time, but even after all the books i've read since i cannot stop thinking about that series.

it's always a treat to find that you not only enjoyed a book, but that it's one you'll always have in your back pocket. i've enjoyed many books, but i forget a lot of them. the best of the best are the ones that glue themselves to your brain, and i already know the bronze horsemen is one of those books.

there's just something there, a little bit of magic that makes tatiana and alexander feel like such real people, who really suffered and who really, really, loved each other.
in a lot of ways, this story felt like something diana gabaldon could have written. it's so offhandedly smart, emotionally and intellectually. i could never put into words exactly what makes this story shine the way that it does, but it does!!!

i don't think i have enough time or space to allow me to put as many highlights as i want but i'll try to narrow it down to the best of the best. (under the spoiler tag).


~ Tatiana stared back at him for just a moment, and in the moment of looking into his face, something moved inside her; moved she would have liked to say imperceptibly, but that wasn't quite the case. It was as if her heart started pumping blood through all four chambers at once, pouring it into her lungs and flooding it through her body.

~"Tania... where did you get all those freckles?" He asked softly.
"I know, they're so annoying. It's the sun," she replied, blushing and touching her face as if wanting to scrub off the freckles that covered the bridge of her nose and spread in sprinkles under eyes. Please stop looking at me, she thought, afraid of his eyes and terrified of her own heart.
"What about your blonde hair?" he continued, just as softly. "Is that the sun, too?"
Tatiana became acutely aware of his arm behind her on the bench. If he wanted to, he could move his hand a few centimeters and touch the hair that fell down her back. He didn't.

~Mesmerized by him, Tatiana muttered, "Right now I just want to crawl into bed-"
"Yes," he exclaimed fervently, "crawl into bed with me!"

~"Oh, Alexander," she said, "what do you want from me..."
"Everything!" he whispered fiercely.

~Alexander was older. He could hide better. Most of the time he treated her as if he had never met her before last night or tonight, before an hour ago, maybe a witching hour, maybe a drunken hour, certainly a smoking hour, but he managed somehow to behave toward her as if she were nothing to him. As if he were nothing to her. But how?
How did he hide all their Kirov walks and their arms against each other, how did he hide his life that he poured into her, how did he hide his unstoppable hands on her breasts, and his lips on her, and all the things he had said to her? How did he hide Luga from them all? Luga, when he washed her bloodied body? When she lay naked against him as he kissed her hair and held her with his tender arms, while his heart beat wildly in his chest. How did he hide his eyes? When they were alone, Alexander looked at Tatiana as if there were no one else in the world but her. Was that the lie? Was this the lie?

~She came up to him, her teeth gritted, and she couldn't believe herself: she wanted to hit him. She clenched her fists. She wanted to hit Alexander. He stared at her fists and at her and said with upset incredulity, "You promised me you would forgive me-"
"Forgive you," Tatiana hissed through her teeth, tears streaming down her face, "for your brave and indifferent face, Alexander!" She groaned in pain. "Not your brave and indifferent heart."

~Because when September turned into October, and the rawness of her sorrow dulled yet the emptiness remained, Tatiana realized that the emptiness was not sorrow but hunger.

~"Everything," he said. "They say, go, you say, all right. They say, give me, you say, how much? They say go away, you say, fine. They hit you, you defend them. They say, I want your bread, I want your milk, I want your tea, I want your-"
Suddenly seeing where he was going, Tatiana tried to stop him. "No, no," she said, shaking her head. "No, don't."
Through clamped teeth, trying to keep his voice quiet, Alexander continued. "They say he's mine, and you say, all right, he's yours, of course, take him. Nothing matters to me at all. Not me, not my food, not my bread, not my life, and not him either, nothing matters to me. I, Tatiana, fight for nothing."

~"Shura, how can we have such a closeness? How can we have such a connection? Right from the start."
"We don't have a closeness."
"No?"
"No. We don't have a connection."
"No?"
"No. We have communion."

~"Is it too much? You're clutching me as if..."
"Yes, it's too much..."
"Tania..." Alexander's mouth was on her shoulders, on her neck, on her lips. "It's our wedding night. Watch out for me... there will be nothing left of you. Only the dress will remain."
"Promise, Shura?" she whispered.

~"Tatia, don't turn your face away from me again. Because now you're mine, and every time I look you, I need to see you're mine in your eyes."
Tatiana gazed at him, adoring him.
"There I am," he whispered, kissing her, their hands entwined in the warm, soapy water.

~Get married? I? And yet why not?
Of course it won't be easy sailing.
But what of that? I'm young and strong,
Content to labor hard and long,
I'll build us soon, if not tomorrow,
A simple nest for sweet repose
And keep Tatiana free of sorrow,
And in a year or two, who knows,
I may obtain a snug position,
And it shall be Tatiana's mission
To tend and rear our children... yes,
So we will live, and so forever
Will be as one, till death us sever
And grandsons lay us both to rest...
Thus ran his reverie. Yet sadly
He wished that night the wind would still
Its mournful wail, the rain less madly
Be rattling at the windowsill...

~They were enveloped in a fierce embrace, their naked bodies not just pressed hard against each other but in a trance, attempting a Bessemer smelt, in which they would be alloyed and conjoined by heat and perhaps in their cooling, grieving bliss eventually be tempered. Alexander didn't feel tempered. He felt as if he were being daily blown out of sand into a still-warm glass.

~"I want you to know that should something happen to me, don't worry about my body. My soul isn't going to return to it, nor to God. It's flying straight to you, where it knows it can find you, in Lazarevo. I want to be neither with kings nor heroes, but with the queen of Lake Ilmen."

~Goodbye, my moonsong and my breath, my white nights and golden days, my fresh water and my fire. Goodbye, and may you find a better life, find comfort again and your breathless smile, and when your beloved face lights up once more at the Western sunrise, be sure what I felt for you was not in vain. Goodbye, and have faith, my Tatiana.

( )

One of the best works of historical fiction I have ever read. These novels encompass history from the Russian Revolution and WWI all the way through the Vietnam war and into the 21st century. A powerful tale of romance, war, struggle, and triumph by one couple bound by war and tragedy. ( )