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The novel is largely introspective and contemplative, concentrating on Sonechka’s inner life. But as an emotionally twisted human being, Sonechka shortsightedly bites the hand that feed her (reminds me of Balzac’s Cousin Bette): “Another’s fame, another’s beauty, another’s happiness were all around me.” She could be motivated by resentment, jealousy, class, the desire for attention from Maria, or a combination of all these impulses. However, the book doesn’t explore Sonechka’s motivation in detail and ultimately it’s possible to ascribe her motives to several psychological impulses. Since I enjoy Russian fiction in translation (added to the fact that the book was made into the 1992 French film, The Accompanist), The Accompanist was an interesting read. This resentment festers until Sonechka contemplates destroying her employer. While most of us would heave a sigh of relief for our good fortune, Sonechka harbours a resentment that is directed towards Maria.
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Suddenly she has food and clothes, and before long she moves in with Maria and her wealthy merchant husband, Pavel. A stroke of luck occurs when a friend of the family sends Sonechka to audition to play music for a beautiful, gifted singer, Maria Nikolaevna Travina.Įmployed by Maria, Sonechka’s life rapidly alters. There’s little food, hardly any hope of employment, and virtually no prospects of anything changing.
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It’s St Petersburg in 1919, and 18-year-old Sonechka lives with her music teacher mother. The book–a novella at only 94 pages (and my used copy is in large print) begins with the memories of a young Russian woman named Sonechka. “But when I thought about the Hyacinths, about the maid, about the warmth and cleanliness, something inside me rebelled and I asked myself: does all this really in fact exist, and won’t someone exact retribution for it? After all, if it were to happen to mama and me, to my baritone, to the thousands of others whose fingers were freezing off, whose teeth were crumbling, whose hair was falling out from malnutrition, cold fear, filth, wouldn’t retribution be exacted, comrade Chekists, for that apartment, that woman, that smoky cat? Wouldn’t someone ensconce in that living room some metalworker’s lice-ridden family, who would use the grand piano for a toilet and force her to clean it out every morning – with her pink hands? Isn’t that what you call civic ‘duty’? Was all that really going to be left intact? And were all of us–stripped, robbed hungry, broken–going to stand for it?”Īs a fan of Russian literature, I was drawn to reading The Accompanist by author Nina Berberova after reading a plot synopsis.