Taras Bulba is the epitome of a Cossack: brave, reckless, and passionate about upholding the dignity of the Russian Orthodox faith. His two sons have just returned from a seminary in Kiev, where a rudimentary education was beaten into them, and he is eager to initiate them into the violent comradeship that is the life of the Dnieper Cossacks. Leaving behind their weeping mother, they head for the Zaporozhian stronghold, where they join in a revolt against the Catholic Poles, who are trying to subjugate the Ukraine.

Written by Nikolai Gogol in the 1830s, Taras Bulba is the quintessential romance about the mythologized Ukrainian Cossacks. In it, Gogol attributes their violent emotions and selfless comradeship as the wellspring for the Russian soul. It is a classic war epic eulogizing the wildness of unfettered hatred for the Other.

As a piece of literature, it is exceptional writing, unlike anything else that Gogol wrote. Hemingway claimed it was one of the "ten greatest books of all time." I read it now, during the Russian invasion of Ukraine, thinking to understand more about the region. Instead of a historical novel, however, I encountered an epic in prose glorifying the proto-Russian. I was startled by the vehement hatred of Muslims, Catholics, and, especially, Jews. Prior to this I had only read Gogol's short stories, full of magical realism and surreal absurdism.

The Modern Library Classics edition that I have includes an interesting introduction by Robert D. Kaplan. In it he writes that Americans have been too trusting in rationalism to move people toward individual rights and democracy. The reality is that humans have irrational romantic and heroic tendencies, but these are subverted by the "crude belief systems and symbolism that sustain what the national security analyst Ralph Peters has called 'euphorias of hatred.'" He quotes Elias Canetti as writing, "The crowd needs a direction... It's constant fear of disintegration means that it will accept any goal." Gogol's Cossacks capture both the violent hatred inherent in the crowd-pack and the heroism and romanticism of the individual. I found it an important, if disturbing, read.

Edited to correct "epic in verse" to "epic in prose." ( )

The book clearly depicts the uncanny violence of old ages and inconceivable enmity of nations in a very lively way. ( )

Russian imperialism-nationalism in the shape of Cossacks that rampaged the Steppes in a seemingly ceaseless struggle with perceived and made up enemies, the natural world and their brutal-romantic nature.
At least that's Gogol's 1835 and 1842 (he rewrote after much criticism by Russian authorities of its 'Ukraine' bias) version of an era when Tsarist 'expansionist' policies were again stirring with resultant oppression of other nationalities including Poles, Ukrainians, Tatars, Turks etc. as well as infamous, exploitative Pogroms on Jewish populations of the Pale of Settlement.
So, what of the book itself: A very well crafted and thoroughly readable story of mayhem and reflection within a family torn apart by forbidden love, unbounded fealty and reckless patriotism.
Gogol offers a vigorously engaging written version of, but no answers to the age old question of whether and at what cost to individuals and society 'love conquers all'?
Thoroughly enjoyable read - the context of its origins have to be born in mind. ( )

Nikolai Gogol wrote of the absurd in stories like Dead Souls and The Overcoat, and here he ostensibly finds that in the historical, for the utter disregard for peace and order that the 16th century Cossacks (living in what is now Ukraine), and their appetite for war and carousing, certainly appears absurd. Upon the return of his two sons from a seminary in Kiev, Taras Bulba spurs the Cossacks to start a war for no other reason than to gain battle experience for them. Amidst the requisite blood-drenched hacking that ensues, the younger son falls in love with one of the Polish women and changes sides, which is a betrayal. The battle rages and corpses pile up.

What’s sad is Gogol isn’t saying ‘he who lives by the sword, dies by the sword’, or commenting on the idiocy of war. He’s glorying in Russian nationalism, putting these wars with the Catholic Poles to the north and the Muslim Turks and Tatars to the South in the light of a grand tradition of bravery stretching back to the Iliad (emphasized by references to that book, such as enemies outside of a sieged town being dragged across the battlefield by horses), and justifying some pretty brutal anti-Semitism. His romanticized view of the Cossacks is that their “endless skirmishes and restless life saved Europe from the unstoppable infidel attacks that threatened to overthrow her.”

It’s a bleak picture of humanity. Violence and all manner of brutality abounds. The ‘uncivilized’ Cossacks are hell-bent on war. The ‘civilized’ Poles, aristocrats included, turn out for a public torture and execution in Warsaw. The author makes Taras Bulba and the Cossacks martyred heroes. It’s hard not to translate this view into present day hot spots around the world, Ukraine included, and feel sad that this is who we are. And yet it is a snapshot not only of the Cossacks from four hundred years ago, but the Russian impression of them two hundred years later, both of which were interesting to me, and I do like Gogol’s writing.

Just a couple of quotes:
“I want my vodka so clear and frothing that it hisses and whirls like it’s possessed!”

And this battlefield advice:
“If you are grazed by a bullet, or if a saber grazes your head or any other part of your body, then you must not pay too much attention to it. Just mix a measure of gunpowder with a cup of vodka, drink it down, and there’ll be no fever and all will be well. As for your wound, if it’s not too big just spit in your palm, rub some earth in it, and smear the dirt on the wound – that’ll dry it out.” ( )

If Hemingway loved this book I can see why. ( )