Jaan Kross: The Czar's Madman

titania7

Reader
The Czar's Madman by Jaan Kross
translated by Anselm Hollo
My rating: *****++

"Is it not--when all is said and done--the case, with regard to all the events of the world, that every visible occurrence is also, or perhaps merely, a hint of invisible connections, of some invisible worlds?"

So writes Jakob Mittak, the author of the journal that is the centerpiece of Jaan Kross's tour de force, The Czar's Madman. With heartwrenching prose, Kross sweeps the reader through 355 pages of historical mayhem and family drama (much of which is loosely based on actual events). Though the writing is dense and intricate, it is never dull. The "madman" of the book's title is Timotheus von Bock, an Estonian nobleman who was once a good friend and confidante of Czar Alexander I. After he marries a peasant woman, Eeva, bringing scandal to his family and to fellow aristocrats, he proceeds to denounce the Czar, whose tyrannical behavior he can no longer condone. In a gesture that seems purely impulsive, he sends a letter to the Czar, explaining to him what is wrong with his rule. For this capricious deed, Timotheus pays dearly. He is arrested and taken away to a high-security prison, where he spends the next nine years of his life.

The images of Timotheus, or Timo, as he is most frequently called, locked away for nearly a decade remain with the reader long after the book ends. At the start of the book Timo has just been released from prison. Older than his years, with greying hair and no teeth, he is a tragic representation of what those in power will do to someone who dares to defy their authority. His wife, Eeeva, has never forgotten him. Their love is more powerful than anything that can separate them. At one point, a friend of both Eeeva and Timo observes:

"Nothing is stronger than love. I know it is love that gives you strength, Eeeva; I have seen that. And you, too, Timo--love is the ground you stand on...."

Eeeva and Timo's son, Juri, is another link that binds them. Born while Timo was in prison, the young boy is a source of hope for both parents.

As the narrator skillfully weaves this unforgettable story, using threads of many colors, he draws the reader into an embroidered masterpiece of intrigue, mystery, and deceit. His journal entries are often dry and concise, giving the reader the opportunity to draw his or her own conclusions from the subtle details he hints at.

Although Jakob Mattik remains somewhat detached from all that goes on around him, his objectivity is what makes this novel work. We never doubt that he will make an honest assessment of Timo's conduct, nor are we ever left feeling that he will allow his emotions to get the best of him. He remains the stoical observer, reporting on events rather than sharing his biased views about what occurs.

Interspersed with the tale of Timo's life, Jakob offers us glimpses at his own existence--his affair with the beguiling Itte, for example, whom he seduces and deserts. Although he decides, later on, that he really did love Itte, at the time he ends his relationship with her, he confesses, "To put it bluntly, my love for her (Itte) had been found wanting."

When he meets the woman who becomes his wife, Anna Klaasen, he is attracted to her because she isn't like the other women he's accustomed to.

"..she...appeared to regard, with a kind of amused indifference those affairs of particular interest to the women (and even the ladies) of the community."

Although he had no plans to marry prior to meeting Anna, her artlessness beguiles him. He announces proudly, "Anna...is completely without affectation, insofar as I know anything about the female nature." At the same time, he is disturbed by Anna's ardor, feeling that it "shows that she has had previous experiences."

Although this romance may seem irrelevant in light of Timo's tortured life, the theme of love and loss is a strong thread that runs throughout the novel. For Timo, nine years have been lost--nine years that changed the course of his life. And all of these years were spent away from Eeva, the woman whom he loves more than anything in the world. For Jakob, his marriage to Anna forces him to confront the feelings he never admitted he had for Iette. As the novel progresses, unfolding like a panorama of copious pictures, Jakob admits his mistake, saying:

"I loved Iette. I won't conceal that anymore, at least not on these pages. I love her still. Four years ago, I sent her away because of her father...Now, if I told someone this, he might say to me, 'Well, that meant you didn't love her enough...To which I would answer, 'Surely great love does not mean complete blindness?'"

Indeed, Jakob is not blind. Even when he demonstrates affection towards his wife, he's well aware of the fact that his heart belongs somewhere else.

"....I realized that the reason for my spells of tenderness was not that anything was wrong with me, but that I felt there was something wrong with her--and my loving behavior was an attempt to correct the flaw in her, and in our lives."

After one traumatic stillbirth, Anna gives birth to a daughter whom she and Jakob name Eeva. They never have any more children, and their marriage remains happy enough, in spite of Jakob's awareness that he doesn't love and never has loved Anna.

There are many themes in this monumental achievement, and one wonders what message Kross intended the reader to come away with. There are elements of a detective story, and an afterword that explains to the reader how much of the book was inspired by real people and true events. But, to me, love and truth are at the heart of The Czar's Madman. "No principles in this world are more enduring than these," Timo writes in the closing paragraphs of his memorandum. We must ask: how strong is the connection between love and truth? Can there be one without the other? Or are they bound together just as surely as the threads of this mesmerizing book? Like all truly great authors, Kross gives the reader much to ponder over, and, even when the book ends, we can't help but wonder whether or not some mysteries aren't meant to be solved.

The Czar's Madman was published in 1978. The Estonian author, Jaan Kross, has written and published several other important works of fiction, among them the highly acclaimed Professor Marten's Departure. Kross was born in Estonia in 1920 and was arrested and kept in exile from 1946 until 1955.

I extend my heartfelt thanks to Eric Dickens, who brought this novel to my attention. Without you, Eric, I would never have discovered Estonian literature, which is one of my new passions. The high regard I have for your expertise when it comes to Estonian literature is only equal to the admiration I feel for you as a person. I appreciate your broadening my horizons and introducing me to authors whom I would never have found if left to my own devices. Many, many thanks.

~Titania

"...the world is really so much smaller than we think, and the
probability of unlikely coincidences infinitely greater than it appears."
~Jaan Kross, The Czar's Madman
 
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Liam

Administrator
Titania:

What a marvelous, concise, and beautifully-written review! Thank you--you are, as always, an inspiration.

I have had two of Jaan Kross's novels sitting on my shelves for a long time now; I think with your recommendation (and Eric's blessing) I will start reading The Czar's Madman in early January, as soon as I'm done with my current booklist.
 

Eric

Former Member
Eric hasn't read this book for a long time (the 1980s), so I daren't say very much about the detail of it. But Titania does a good job jogging my memory and reviewing the book.

The aspect of a German baron marrying a peasant girl is crucial to the book, as such liaisons cemented a bond between otherwise quite antagonistic parts of Estonian society, i.e. between the German-speaking monied classes, and the peasantry. Apart from being a love story, this novel is very much about class and colonialism.

The Russian overlords (they owned the country that the Germans ran, so to speak) could probably have shrugged off this odd liaison. But then Timotheus von Bock (who is a real-life figure, by the way) started opening his big gob in the wrong places. And the final straw was, of course, a letter to the Czar, suggesting he scrap serfdom, which was more or less the Russian brand of slavery. So they shut him up, in the literal sense of the word, in a casemate.

Truth is sometimes as strange as fiction. As Titania says, the novel "The Czar's Madman" appeared in 1978. Two years later, perhaps spurred on by the spirit of Bock's protest to the Czar, some 40 Estonian intellectuals signed a petition about cultural rights in Soviet Estonia, a letter which they wanted to publish in the newspaper "Pravda", which appeared throughout the Soviet Union. They too met with short shrift from the Russian authorities. They didn't end up in a casemate, but were all "interviewed' by the KGB. Signatories, as I have mentioned elsewhere, included a future Prime-Minister, a future Professor of Media, a linguist, a German translator, an absurdist author, poets, theatre people, etc. The punishments were relatively mild. Some lost their jobs, but no one was sent to Siberia.

The sly, covert comparison hinted at by Jaan Kross in "The Czar's Madman" thus represented the Zeitgeist. Unlike someone such as Heino Kiik, who was much blunter, Kross, who had after all spent 8 years in Siberia, played a masterly game with the Soviet authorities. He always knew precisely how far he could go. Turning the 20th century conflict between the colonised and colonisers into an "innocent" story about a German nobleman, was a stroke of genius. Kross was cautious and shrewd enough not to sign the "Letter of 40" as it became known. He played a much more wily game. He knew that the KGB would make an example of him, and 8 years in Siberia was enough. One famous author that did sign the petition, but was forced to make a retraction, was the poet Jaan Kaplinski. Some people have held this against him, but in the climate of the Soviet Union in 1980, and given latent Soviet anti-Semitism, Kaplinski (the son of a Polish Jewish university professor) did what the KGB suggested, once they had "interviewed", and no doubt threatened, him.

This is the true face of the Soviet Union that some people still na?vely idolise: a climate of repression, with resistance by stealth, rather than confrontation.

So suffice it to say that "The Czar's Madman", not least because of its covert description of the Soviet mentality, has remained one of the most popular novels in [post-Soviet] Estonia. It has become symbolic of resistance against a more powerful enemy.
 

titania7

Reader
Liam,
Thanks for the compliments, luv (sorry, Stewart. Just grin and bear it :D).
I appreciate them more than you could imagine! I'm delighted to hear that you have plans to read The Czar's Madman soon. I know you won't be disappointed.
I hope you'll write a review, too, as I would love to hear what you have to say about it. I know you've been following Eric's threads on Estonian writers with great interest, and you've already read one Estonian author, Mati Unt. I have a copy of Things in the Night around here, too. But I think I'll be reading Inger (by Mats Traat) next. What I adore about Estonian literature is that it reminds me so much of classic Russian fiction. And, as I've told Eric, Russian literature has been close to my heart since I was a young girl.

As for Kross, I suspect you'll find him to be positively mesmerizing! He is a writer of great power and intellectual depth. I am really most appreciative of all the added remarks about The Czar's Madman that Eric made below. There are many aspects of the book that I only addressed in a perfunctory manner in my review. Had I spoken at length about everything, my review would certainly not have been concise! ;)


Many, many thanks again, Liam. You're a darling. And a luv (he he).


Holiday cheers,
Titania
 
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Eric

Former Member
Just out of interest, the other Kross novel translated into English by Anselm Hollo is "Professor Martens' Departure" (1984; English 1995). I didn't get on with this novel as well as with "The Czar's Madman", but it is a truly Krossian piece of work. Kross managed to find two [real-life] Estonians called Martens, both of whom had rather similar careers. The main one, the professor and protagonist here, has been asked by the Czar to compile a list or compendium of all the various treaties that Russia made with different countries.

The novel is set in 1909. The whole novel is about compromise, hypocrisy and identity. While the protagonist of "The Czar's Madman" is clearly a Baltic-German baron, Martens is of Estonian stock, but ends up working for the Russians, and is listed in many older encyclop?dias as a "Russian legal expert" and similar. Estonia was, in those days, part of the Russian Empire. Kross also makes fun of the fact that the royal families of Russia, Britain and Germany were all cousins or similar.

A sadly ironic note in the novel is that, in a way, Kross forespelt his own failure to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. There is a scene in "Professor Martens' Departure" where Martens is all buoyed up, thinking he's going to win the Nobel Peace Prize. But if you consult the [real] lists of Nobel Peace Prize winners, you will fail to find the name Martens for the year 1902.

Wikipedia, the novel:

Professor Martens' Departure - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

And the real thing:

Friedrich Martens - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
 

titania7

Reader
Eric said:
Eric hasn't read this book for a long time (the 1980s), so I daren't say very much about the detail of it. But Titania does a good job jogging my memory and reviewing the book.

Many thanks for the gracious words, Eric.

Eric said:
The aspect of a German baron marrying a peasant girl is crucial to the book, as such liaisons cemented a bond between otherwise quite antagonistic parts of Estonian society, i.e. between the German-speaking monied classes, and the peasantry. Apart from being a love story, this novel is very much about class and colonialism.

Yes, it is about class, as well as colonialism. I'm not sure why the love story element struck me as being the essence of the book. There really is so much to this novel, Eric--and I don't think it's possible to even absorb all of it in one reading. If I didn't have so many other books I wanted to read right now, I'd start The Czar's Madman over again from page 1.

You're quite correct about the marriage between the German baron and the peasant girl being an integral part of the plot. There' so much more I could have said about that in my review. I'm pleased you've brought it up
again.

Eric said:
The Russian overlords (they owned the country that the Germans ran, so to speak) could probably have shrugged off this odd liaison. But then Timotheus von Bock (who is a real-life figure, by the way) started opening his big gob in the wrong places. And the final straw was, of course, a letter to the Czar, suggesting he scrap serfdom, which was more or less the Russian brand of slavery. So they shut him up, in the literal sense of the word, in a casemate.

You've summed up a large part of the story. I definitely think that the partnership between Timotheus and his peasant wife would have been overlooked had it not been for his subsequent behavior.

Eric said:
Truth is sometimes as strange as fiction. As Titania says, the novel "The Czar's Madman" appeared in 1978. Two years later, perhaps spurred on by the spirit of Bock's protest to the Czar, some 40 Estonian intellectuals signed a petition about cultural rights in Soviet Estonia, a letter which they wanted to publish in the newspaper "Pravda", which appeared throughout the Soviet Union. They too met with short shrift from the Russian authorities. They didn't end up in a casemate, but were all "interviewed' by the KGB. Signatories, as I have mentioned elsewhere, included a future Prime-Minister, a future Professor of Media, a linguist, a German translator, an absurdist author, poets, theatre people, etc. The punishments were relatively mild. Some lost their jobs, but no one was sent to Siberia.

It sounds like this was a case of life imitating art. Thanks for sharing these details, Eric. I daresay that The Czar's Madman probably inspired the revolt you speak of. Thank goodness that the 40 Estonian intellectuals who signed the petition weren't punished more severely.

Eric said:
The sly, covert comparison hinted at by Jaan Kross in "The Czar's Madman" thus represented the Zeitgeist. Unlike someone such as Heino Kiik, who was much blunter, Kross, who had after all spent 8 years in Siberia, played a masterly game with the Soviet authorities. He always knew precisely how far he could go. Turning the 20th century conflict between the colonised and colonisers into an "innocent" story about a German nobleman, was a stroke of genius. Kross was cautious and shrewd enough not to sign the "Letter of 40" as it became known. He played a much more wily game. He knew that the KGB would make an example of him, and 8 years in Siberia was enough. One famous author that did sign the petition, but was forced to make a retraction, was the poet Jaan Kaplinski. Some people have held this against him, but in the climate of the Soviet Union in 1980, and given latent Soviet anti-Semitism, Kaplinski (the son of a Polish Jewish university professor) did what the KGB suggested, once they had "interviewed", and no doubt threatened, him.

It's easy for people to make judgements (such as in the case of Kaplinski), when they aren't in another person's shoes. I'm glad Kross was sagacious enough not to sign the "Letter of 40." And I'm sorry that Kaplinski was denounced because of his retraction.

Eric said:
This is the true face of the Soviet Union that some people still na?vely idolise: a climate of repression, with resistance by stealth, rather than confrontation.

When people remain ignorant of the way things truly are, it can be downright dangerous. Naivete can be dangerous.

Eric said:
So suffice it to say that "The Czar's Madman", not least because of its covert description of the Soviet mentality, has remained one of the most popular novels in [post-Soviet] Estonia. It has become symbolic of resistance against a more powerful enemy.

Eric, I can see why The Czar's Madman has been so widely read. There's no doubt that its potent message makes it an important literary accomplishment.

Thanks again for introducing me to Jaan Kross. You are incomparable.

All the best for you in 2009.

Titania
 

Eric

Former Member
Of the people who signed that "Letter of 40", I have met about twelve. Strangely enough, I never asked any of them about it. Several are now dead, but from those that are still alive, I think it would be interesting to get to know whether indeed the novel "The Czar's Madman" played any part in their thought processes at the time or whether, conversely, Kross derived his ideas from contemporary conversations, which he then gave a 19th century gloss. It's a chicken and egg question.

I think the KGB didn't punish them more severely as it knew that this would turn them into martyrs. I'm sure it's all there in that 200-page book I have covering the episode, but I haven't read it for years.

As for Kaplinski and his retraction, some people unkindly called him "Kapitulinski" (i.e. capitulating Kaplinski) after that. But only the day before yesterday, Kaplinski was in the news again making a controversial statement. This time he had decided that NATO hasn't really got the forces to defend Estonia, as it is so over-stretched elsewhere. It could only defend Estonia against Russia by means of nuclear weapons, and no one wants nuclear war.

Kaplinski means well, but he doesn't half know how to wind up Estonians.
 
Titania,

What a tremendous review! I agree absolutely with Liam and shall add this immediately to my ever-growing TBR pile.

I was also fascinated to read Eric's follow-up comments, on the parallels with then contemporary Estonia.

This is why I come here, discoveries like this novel. I'm very pleased to have found out about it.
 

Eric

Former Member
Yes, Max, background things are always so much more obvious in your own country and literature than when a book comes from abroad, especially from a relatively unknown country. That is why I often mention the idea of context, plus introductions and notes for novels coming from unfamiliar cultures.
 
Yes, Max, background things are always so much more obvious in your own country and literature than when a book comes from abroad, especially from a relatively unknown country. That is why I often mention the idea of context, plus introductions and notes for novels coming from unfamiliar cultures.

It's very valuable. It's easy to miss depth when out of one's own culture after all. Subtleties are easily lost.
 

titania7

Reader
Titania,

What a tremendous review! I agree absolutely with Liam and shall add this immediately to my ever-growing TBR pile.

I was also fascinated to read Eric's follow-up comments, on the parallels with then contemporary Estonia.

This is why I come here, discoveries like this novel. I'm very pleased to have found out about it.

Max,
What beautiful compliments! Many, many thanks for this. I saw your remarks initially, then, as other threads superseded this one, I forget all about The Czar's Madman, which means that I never expressed my appreciation for your thoughtful words.

Yes, Eric's comments are extremely enlightening. I am always amazed by his extensive knowledge of Estonia. He is a bona fide expert when it comes to that enigmatic country.

I'm delighted that you've discovered The Czar's Madman, Max. It pleases me to think that, in some small way, I might have made the difference in a literature lover finding out about a specific book or author. Of course, in this particular case, you have Eric to thank, for the most part!

Best wishes always,
Titania
 
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Eric

Former Member
I'm not the only Brit or Yank to be involved with Estonian literature, but I try my best to do a bit of agit-prop for those authors I feel worthwhile promoting. Kross is one of them. Only a fraction of Kross' novels have appeared in English. Maybe four out of 15 or so. If I could get financing and an enthusiastic publisher, I could translate at least another three. But the Recession looms, and although this means more people will be reading second-hand books instead of buying bling and lattes, a new translated title of an Estonian novel may be too much to expect for a couple of years hence.

What was good about Kross was that he always did his homework and embedded his main characters in an epoch he had researched thoroughly. He would usually pick a side figure, not one standing in the Klieg lights (I thank George "Dubya" Bush, in his final speech, for this expression - everybody concentrated on his fabulous "misunderestimated" and missed the correctly uttered "Klieg lights"). Kross' heroes or anti-heroes are to an extent peripheral figures, actors or observers. A classic example is Timotheus von Bock, who really existed, really did send that letter to the Putin, sorry, Czar.
 
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