Red Princess - book

Red Princess A Revolutionary Life, Sofka Zinovieff (Pegasus Books, 2007)

My residual male chauvinist piggishness would ordinarily have kept me from even a cursory glance at a book about a Princess, red, blue, or even polka-dotted. And I would also not normally be interested in a book by a granddaughter about her grandmother, assuming it would be some kind of tribute about a kindly old lady who knitted socks for the soldiers, drank tea and ate crumpets, while imparting the wisdom of the ages to her adoring grandchildren and great grandchildren. So let me explain this strange deviation from my usual prejudices. You must first understand the conditions of my life here on the fringes of the world. Although we have a truly excellent book store, it deals mostly in used books and does not get much in the way of new releases. And, as a result of the Nightmare Years, I can no longer afford to buy books as I formerly did (not that I could possibly afford all the books I might like to read in any case). I do not understand how it is that the number of books being published seems to be increasing all the time while the number of people who read seems to be decreasing, but I digress. I am dependent now on libraries, especially for new releases. We have a very fine award-winning library here, but being a small-town library it has a limited budget for new books. Furthermore, the Librarian, who is truly outstanding, knows the reading tastes of her patrons, and unfortunately they are not very similar to mine. Every few weeks I travel to North Idaho College with my wife who teaches there. NIC has a very fine library for a Junior College, and also apparently a generous budget for new acquisitions. But I don’t go there often enough to keep up with my avaricious reading needs. Thus it was that when I last visited our little library, Red Princess was the only recent arrival even remotely related to my interests (I don’t read much about raising goats, chickens, or other livestock, embroidery, quilt-making, knitting or woodworking, nor am I enamored of reading about Her Silliness, Sarah, or how the world is being taken over by socialism, fascism, communism, and atheism, why we should return to the gold standard, how the Democrats are ruining the country, or why global warming is a myth and the United States is a Christian nation).

Thank god my lingering and insidious bigotry and prejudices were forced aside by circumstances and I found and read this absolutely fascinating book. Sofka Zinovieff, the author, was named after her grandmother, Princess Sofka Dolgorouky, who was the daughter of Countess Olga Shuvaloff, all of them high-level, respectable members of the Russian aristocracy. Sofka Dolgorouky’s first husband was Leo Zinovieff, the father of Peter Zinovieff, the father of the author.

The book is primarily about the life of Sofka Dolgorouky, who I asssure you was far from being a kindly little old grandmother. As a child, Sofka was raised in the super affluent tradition of the Russian aristocracy, with virtually everything she could desire. Born in 1907 she was about twelve years of age when her family fled Russia after the Revolution. Her life was pretty much downhill from then on, as like most White Russians they lost their fortune and were forced to live in extremely reduced conditions in Paris, London, and elsewhere. After some unpleasant experiences, Sofka became acquainted with a wealthy English family and spent much time with them on their estate. She eventually met and married her first real love, Leo, with whom she had two sons. Leo, on business in Russia was imprisoned by the communist government, Sofka, at great danger, expense, and difficulty, managed to smuggle herself back into Russia and spent months trying to get him freed, which she eventually did, and they managed to escape once again to London. Shortly thereafter Sofka met and fell in love with an upper-class Englishman, Grey Skipwith, four years her junior, and left Leo and her children for a new life with Grey. His family was upset with this, never accepted her or her children, and her reputation began to suffer. She and Grey had some fine moments but eventually fell upon hard times, eking out a living as translators, editors, or whatever they could find. When WWII broke out they were living in Paris. Grey joined the British air force, and Sofka, who had a British passport, was rounded up with other women in similar circumstances and forced into a camp for such potential “enemy aliens.” It was not a terrible concentration camp like Auschwitz or others, but it was most unpleasant, they had very little to eat, no clothing to speak of, and so on. Sofka and a new friend of hers, nicknamed Rabbit, managed through letters and outside influence to save the lives of forty or more Jews who passed through their camp ostensibly on their way to the gas chambers. Somehow Sofka’s influence managed to get them sent to Israel instead, for which she was subsequently honored by Israel. Just before the war ended she received word that Grey, who had been a gunner on British warplanes, had been killed. She was devastated for a time and even suicidal but eventually recovered. Back in Britain she worked for a time for Laurence Olivier and his wife, regained some contact with her sons, including Patrick whom she had with Grey. You might say she was a terrible mother, and in some ways she was, spending little time in physical, intimate contact with her sons. But no matter what her circumstances she always made sure they were safe and provided for and they all grew up successfully and helped provide for her in her old age, at which time she was living in a small house in the country with an unlikely working-class Englishman, the last love of her life. Although she had but three serious loves, she was extremely promiscuous at all times, and even boasted of at least a hundred brief liaisons. Some of her critics claimed it was the legacy of Catherine the Great who was also known to have been unusually promiscuous.

Sofka, after having begun her life in almost unbelievable luxury, suffered grievously after the family fled Russia. Having to work to support herself, and being an astute observer of human life, she quickly came to realize just how unjust it all was and eventually joined the communist party and dedicated herself to the communist cause. She worked for the party in various capacities, passed out leaflets, edited articles, and did what she could, thus the title “Red” Princess. Even after the terrible abuses of Stalin were made public she still believed in the socialist dream. This above all else, alienated her from the community of White Russians, most of whom continued to hate communists, and could not understand her conversion. Sofka lived her life as she wished, she loved passionately, traveled far, accomplished much, suffered dreadfully, survived until her mid eighties, delighting finally in her final companion, garden, children and grandchildren.

To truly understand Sofka it is necessary to understand her mother, Countess Sophy Bobrinsky, who was herself an outrageous example of an early, independent woman. She almost steals the book, as she, like Sofka, turned her back on the aristocracy, the gowns, parties, high life, and became a doctor and even a pilot with her own airplane (remember, this was in the 1920’s and 30’s!). She served on the front lines, amputating, and doctoring under terrible conditions. When she arrived in London they would not accept her credentials so she drove a taxi. She was also considered promiscuous and, like Sofka, had quite a reputation. Her mother, Countess Olga Shuvaloff, who lived quite a long time and was an important force in their lives, was the only one who clung to her aristocratic roots and, although living increasingly in poverty, refused to accept anything less than what she felt was proper.

No whitewash this, the author has done a credible job of presenting her grandmother as she was (I cannot bring myself to use that loathsome phrase, “warts and all”). Sorry to have run on so long. I still didn’t even come close to doing justice to this fine book. I suggest you read it for yourselves.