Starred review from November 11, 2024
In this intrepid memoir, Russian political dissident Navalny, who died under suspicious circumstances last February, recaps his career fighting against what he depicts as a kleptocratic bureaucracy. After Putin’s rise to power in 1999, Navalny and his Anti-Corruption Foundation exposed massive theft committed by government officials, state-owned companies, and Putin himself. Navalny ran for office several times, including for the presidency in 2018; his campaigns were thwarted by bureaucratic interference and trumped-up corruption charges. In 2020, Navalny suffered a near-fatal poisoning, allegedly by Russian intelligence services. The book’s second half comprises Navalny’s prison diary after his incarceration in 2021; in it he denounces Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, gets convicted of more corruption charges, and weathers subtler torments (“The fluorescent light is now flashing brightly at random intervals.... It’s impossible to read”). His narrative is full of mordant humor—“in Volgograd, thirty Cossacks... tried to drag me out of the headquarters by my legs, while my supporters were pulling me back inside by my arms”—and Kafkaesque absurdism. (His application to see a prison dentist was “withdrawn by the censors as containing evidence of a crime.”) Navalny faces demoralizing injustice with good grace, enduring it with simple appeals to decency and poetic evocations of his homeland (“I love the melancholic landscapes, when you look out of the window and want to cry; it’s just wonderful”). It’s a stirring final testament.
