
Enjoy fast, free delivery, exclusive deals, and award-winning movies & TV shows with Prime
Try Prime
and start saving today with fast, free delivery
Amazon Prime includes:
Fast, FREE Delivery is available to Prime members. To join, select "Try Amazon Prime and start saving today with Fast, FREE Delivery" below the Add to Cart button.
Amazon Prime members enjoy:- Cardmembers earn 5% Back at Amazon.com with a Prime Credit Card.
- Unlimited Free Two-Day Delivery
- Streaming of thousands of movies and TV shows with limited ads on Prime Video.
- A Kindle book to borrow for free each month - with no due dates
- Listen to over 2 million songs and hundreds of playlists
- Unlimited photo storage with anywhere access
Important: Your credit card will NOT be charged when you start your free trial or if you cancel during the trial period. If you're happy with Amazon Prime, do nothing. At the end of the free trial, your membership will automatically upgrade to a monthly membership.

Download the free Kindle app and start reading Kindle books instantly on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
Read instantly on your browser with Kindle for Web.
Using your mobile phone camera - scan the code below and download the Kindle app.
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich: (50th Anniversary Edition) (Signet Classics) Mass Market Paperback – August 6, 2008
Purchase options and add-ons
In the madness of World War II, a dutiful Russian soldier is wrongfully convicted of treason and sentenced to ten years in a Siberian labor camp. So begins this masterpiece of modern Russian fiction, a harrowing account of a man who has conceded to all things evil with dignity and strength.
First published in 1962, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich is considered one of the most significant works ever to emerge from Soviet Russia. Illuminating a dark chapter in Russian history, it is at once a graphic picture of work camp life and a moving tribute to man’s will to prevail over relentless dehumanization.
Includes an Introduction by Yevgeny Yevtushenko
and an Afterword by Eric Bogosian
- Print length176 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherSignet
- Publication dateAugust 6, 2008
- Dimensions4.13 x 0.46 x 6.75 inches
- ISBN-109780451531049
- ISBN-13978-0451531049
- Lexile measure900L
The chilling story of the abduction of two teenagers, their escape, and the dark secrets that, years later, bring them back to the scene of the crime. | Learn more
Frequently bought together

More items to explore
Editorial Reviews
Review
“An extraordinary human document.”—Moscow’s Daily Mail
“Cannot fail to arouse bitterness and pain in the heart of the reader. A literary and political event of the first magnitude.”—New Statesman
“Stark...the story of how one falsely accused convict and his fellow prisoners survived or perished in an arctic slave labor camp after the war.”—Time
“Both as a political tract and as a literary work, it is in the Doctor Zhivago category.”—Washington Post
“Dramatic...outspoken...graphically detailed...a moving human record.”—Library Journal
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The sound stopped and it was pitch black on the other side of the window, just like in the middle of the night when Shukhov had to get up to go to the latrine, only now three yellow beams fell on the window--from two lights on the perimeter and one inside the camp.
He didn't know why but nobody'd come to open up the barracks. And you couldn't hear the orderlies hoisting the latrine tank on the poles to carry it out.
Shukhov never slept through reveille but always got up at once. That gave him about an hour and a half to himself before the morning roll call, a time when anyone who knew what was what in the camps could always scrounge a little something on the side. He could sew someone a cover for his mittens out of a piece of old lining. He could bring one of the big gang bosses his dry felt boots while he was still in his bunk, to save him the trouble of hanging around the pile of boots in his bare feet and trying to find his own. Or he could run around to one of the supply rooms where there might be a little job, sweeping or carrying something. Or he could go to the mess hall to pick up bowls from the tables and take piles of them to the dishwashers. That was another way of getting food, but there were always too many other people with the same idea. And the worst thing was that if there was something left in a bowl you started to lick it. You couldn't help it. And Shukhov could still hear the words of his first gang boss, Kuzyomin--an old camp hand who'd already been inside for twelve years in 1943. Once, by a fire in a forest clearing, he'd said to a new batch of men just brought in from the front:
"It's the law of the jungle here, fellows. But even here you can live. The first to go is the guy who licks out bowls, puts his faith in the infirmary, or squeals to the screws."
He was dead right about this--though it didn't always work out that way with the fellows who squealed to the screws. They knew how to look after themselves. They got away with it and it was the other guys who suffered.
Shukhov always got up at reveille, but today he didn't. He'd been feeling lousy since the night before--with aches and pains and the shivers, and he just couldn't manage to keep warm that night. In his sleep he'd felt very sick and then again a little better. All the time he dreaded the morning.
But the morning came, as it always did.
Anyway, how could anyone get warm here, what with the ice piled up on the window and a white cobweb of frost running along the whole barracks where the walls joined the ceiling? And a hell of a barracks it was.
Shukhov stayed in bed. He was lying on the top bunk, with his blanket and overcoat over his head and both his feet tucked in the sleeve of his jacket. He couldn't see anything, but he could tell by the sounds what was going on in the barracks and in his own part of it. He could hear the orderlies tramping down the corridor with one of the twenty-gallon latrine tanks. This was supposed to be light work for people on the sick list--but it was no joke carrying the thing out without spilling it!
Then someone from Gang 75 dumped a pile of felt boots from the drying room on the floor. And now someone from his gang did the same (it was also their turn to use the drying room today). The gang boss and his assistant quickly put on their boots, and their bunk creaked. The assistant gang boss would now go and get the bread rations. And then the boss would take off for the Production Planning Section (PPS) at HQ.
But, Shukhov remembered, this wasn't just the same old daily visit to the PPS clerks. Today was the big day for them. They'd heard a lot of talk of switching their gang--104--from putting up workshops to a new job, building a new "Socialist Community Development." But so far it was nothing more than bare fields covered with snowdrifts, and before anything could be done there, holes had to be dug, posts put in, and barbed wire put up--by the prisoners for the prisoners, so they couldn't get out. And then they could start building.
You could bet your life that for a month there'd be no place where you could get warm--not even a hole in the ground. And you couldn't make a fire--what could you use for fuel? So your only hope was to work like hell.
The gang boss was worried and was going to try to fix things, try to palm the job off on some other gang, one that was a little slower on the uptake. Of course you couldn't go empty-handed. It would take a pound of fatback for the chief clerk. Or even two.
Maybe Shukhov would try to get himself on the sick list so he could have a day off. There was no harm in trying. His whole body was one big ache.
Then he wondered--which warder was on duty today?
He remembered that it was Big Ivan, a tall, scrawny sergeant with black eyes. The first time you saw him he scared the pants off you, but when you got to know him he was the easiest of all the duty warders--wouldn't put you in the can or drag you off to the disciplinary officer. So Shukhov could stay put till it was time for Barracks 9 to go to the mess hall.
The bunk rocked and shook as two men got up together--on the top Shukhov's neighbor, the Baptist Alyoshka, and down below Buynovsky, who'd been a captain in the navy.
When they'd carried out the two latrine tanks, the orderlies started quarreling about who'd go to get the hot water. They went on and on like two old women. The electric welder from Gang 20 barked at them:
"Hey, you old bastards!" And he threw a boot at them. "I'll make you shut up."
The boot thudded against a post. The orderlies shut up.
The assistant boss of the gang next to them grumbled in a low voice:
"Vasili Fyodorovich! The bastards pulled a fast one on me in the supply room. We always get four two-pound loaves, but today we only got three. Someone'll have to get the short end."
He spoke quietly, but of course the whole gang heard him and they all held their breath. Who was going to be shortchanged on rations this evening?
Shukhov stayed where he was, on the hard-packed sawdust of his mattress. If only it was one thing or another--either a high fever or an end to the pain. But this way he didn't know where he was.
While the Baptist was whispering his prayers, the Captain came back from the latrine and said to no one in particular, but sort of gloating:
"Brace yourselves, men! It's at least twenty below."
Shukhov made up his mind to go to the infirmary.
And then some strong hand stripped his jacket and blanket off him. Shukhov jerked his quilted overcoat off his face and raised himself up a bit. Below him, his head level with the top of the bunk, stood the Thin Tartar.
So this bastard had come on duty and sneaked up on them.
"S-854!" the Tartar read from the white patch on the back of the black coat. "Three days in the can with work as usual."
The minute they heard his funny muffled voice everyone in the entire barracks--which was pretty dark (not all the lights were on) and where two hundred men slept in fifty bug-ridden bunks--came to life all of a sudden. Those who hadn't yet gotten up began to dress in a hurry.
"But what for, Comrade Warder?" Shukhov asked, and he made his voice sound more pitiful than he really felt.
The can was only half as bad if you were given normal work. You got hot food and there was no time to brood. Not being let out to work--that was real punishment.
"Why weren't you up yet? Let's go to the Commandant's office," the Tartar drawled--he and
Shukhov and everyone else knew what he was getting the can for.
There was a blank look on the Tartar's hairless, crumpled face. He turned around and looked for somebody else to pick on, but everyone--whether in the dark or under a light, whether on a bottom bunk or a top one--was shoving his legs into the black, padded trousers with numbers on the left knee. Or they were already dressed and were wrapping themselves up and hurrying for the door to wait outside till the Tartar left.
If Shukhov had been sent to the can for something he deserved he wouldn't have been so upset. What made him mad was that he was always one of the first to get up. But there wasn't a chance of getting out of it with the Tartar. So he went on asking to be let off just for the hell of it, but meantime pulled on his padded trousers (they too had a worn, dirty piece of cloth sewed above the left knee, with the number S-854 painted on it in black and already faded), put on his jacket (this had two numbers, one on the chest and one on the back), took his boots from the pile on the floor, put on his cap (with the same number in front), and went out after the Tartar.
The whole Gang 104 saw Shukhov being taken off, but no one said a word. It wouldn't help, and what could you say? The gang boss might have stood up for him, but he'd left already. And Shukhov himself said nothing to anyone. He didn't want to aggravate the Tartar. They'd keep his breakfast for him and didn't have to be told.
The two of them went out.
It was freezing cold, with a fog that caught your breath. Two large searchlights were crisscrossing over the compound from the watchtowers at the far corners. The lights on the perimeter and the lights inside the camp were on full force. There were so many of them that they blotted out the stars.
With their felt boots crunching on the snow, prisoners were rushing past on their business--to the latrines, to the supply rooms, to the package room, or to the kitchen to get their groats cooked. Their shoulders were hunched and their coats buttoned up, and they all felt cold, not so much because of the freezing weather as because they knew they'd have to be out in it all day. But the Tartar in his old overcoat with shabby blue tabs walked steadily on and the cold didn't seem to bother him at all.
They went past the high wooden fence around the punishment block (the stone prison inside the camp), past the barbed-wire fence that guarded the bakery from the prisoners, past the corner of the HQ where a length of frost-covered rail was fastened to a post with heavy wire, and past another post where--in a sheltered spot to keep the readings from being too low--the thermometer hung, caked over with ice. Shukhov gave a hopeful sidelong glance at the milk-white tube. If it went down to forty-two below zero they weren't supposed to be marched out to work. But today the thermometer wasn't pushing forty or anything like it.
They went into HQ--straight into the warders' room. There it turned out--as Shukhov had already had a hunch on the way--that they never meant to put him in the can but simply that the floor in the warders' room needed scrubbing. Sure enough, the Tartar now told Shukhov that he was letting him off and ordered him to mop the floor.
Mopping the floor in the warders' room was the job of a special prisoner--the HQ orderly, who never worked outside the camp. But a long time ago he'd set himself up in HQ and now had a free run of the rooms where the Major, the disciplinary officer, and the security chief worked. He waited on them all the time and sometimes got to hear things even the warders didn't know. And for some time he'd figured that to scrub floors for ordinary warders was a little beneath him. They called for him once or twice, then got wise and began pulling in ordinary prisoners to do the job.
The stove in the warders' room was blazing away. A couple of warders who'd undressed down to their dirty shirts were playing checkers, and a third who'd left on his belted sheepskin coat and felt boots was sleeping on a narrow bench. There was a bucket and rag in the corner.
Shukhov was real pleased and thanked the Tartar for letting him off:
"Thank you, Comrade Warder. I'll never get up late again."
The rule here was simple--finish your job and get out. Now that Shukhov had been given some work, his pains seemed to have stopped. He took the bucket and went to the well without his mittens, which he'd forgotten and left under his pillow in the rush.
The gang bosses reporting at the PPS had formed a small group near the post, and one of the younger ones, who was once a Hero of the Soviet Union, climbed up and wiped the thermometer.
The others were shouting up to him: "Don't breathe on it or it'll go up."
"Go up . . . the hell it will . . . it won't make a fucking bit of difference anyway."
Tyurin--the boss of Shukhov's work gang--was not there. Shukhov put down the bucket and dug his hands into his sleeves. He wanted to see what was going on.
The fellow up the post said in a hoarse voice: "Seventeen and a half below--shit!"
And after another look just to make sure, he jumped down.
"Anyway, it's always wrong--it's a damned liar," someone said. "They'd never put in one that works here."
The gang bosses scattered. Shukhov ran to the well. Under the flaps of his cap, which he'd lowered but hadn't tied, his ears ached with the cold.
The top of the well was covered by a thick of ice so that the bucket would hardly go through the hole. And the rope was stiff as a board.
Shukhov's hands were frozen, so when he got back to the warders' room with the steaming bucket he shoved them in the water. He felt warmer.
Product details
- ASIN : 0451531043
- Publisher : Signet; 1st edition (August 6, 2008)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 176 pages
- ISBN-10 : 9780451531049
- ISBN-13 : 978-0451531049
- Lexile measure : 900L
- Item Weight : 2.31 pounds
- Dimensions : 4.13 x 0.46 x 6.75 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #41,834 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #242 in Biographical Fiction (Books)
- #1,560 in Classic Literature & Fiction
- #3,820 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the authors
Aleksandr Isayevich[a] Solzhenitsyn (/ˌsoʊlʒəˈniːtsɪn, ˌsɔːl-/; Russian: Алекса́ндр Иса́евич Солжени́цын, pronounced [ɐlʲɪˈksandr ɪˈsaɪvʲɪtɕ səlʐɨˈnʲitsɨn]; 11 December 1918 – 3 August 2008) (often Romanized to Alexandr or Alexander) was a Russian novelist, historian, and short story writer. He was an outspoken critic of the Soviet Union and its totalitarianism and helped to raise global awareness of its Gulag forced labor camp system. He was allowed to publish only one work in the Soviet Union, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (1962), in the periodical Novy Mir. After this he had to publish in the West, most notably Cancer Ward (1968), August 1914 (1971), and The Gulag Archipelago (1973). Solzhenitsyn was awarded the 1970 Nobel Prize in Literature "for the ethical force with which he has pursued the indispensable traditions of Russian literature". Solzhenitsyn was afraid to go to Stockholm to receive his award for fear that he wouldn't be allowed to reenter. He was eventually expelled from the Soviet Union in 1974, but returned to Russia in 1994 after the dissolution of the Soviet Union.
Bio from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Photo by Verhoeff, Bert / Anefo [CC BY-SA 3.0 nl (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/nl/deed.en)], via Wikimedia Commons.
Discover more of the author’s books, see similar authors, read book recommendations and more.
Discover more of the author’s books, see similar authors, read book recommendations and more.
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers find the book easy to read and gripping. They appreciate the insightful narrative style and clear language. The story is described as compelling and powerful, with vivid illustrations and realism that put into perspective the events of history. Readers also mention that the pacing is interesting and eye-opening, putting into perspective a very real ordeal.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers find the book easy to read. They describe it as an interesting and great novella, a great entry in the canon of literature, and a short read. Many consider it an important book in Russian history and say it's a must-read.
"...abuses, does not sensationalize the terror of the Gulag, does not dwell on despair, fear, hope, or pain...." Read more
"...ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF IVAN DENISOVICH is one of the handful of classics of literature that are well suited for high school students...." Read more
"...that I read, after his Cancer Ward, which I found to be more interesting to read than this dreary, yet, important first novel he wrote to bring to..." Read more
"great book" Read more
Customers appreciate the book's insights into life in a Soviet work camp. They find the narrative style straightforward and informative, with details about real experiences. The story is described as gripping and well-written, offering an easy read that provides good context for the events.
"...The fact that this book was published at all is a historical anomaly, induced by a strange confluence of events that resulted, incredibly, in one of..." Read more
"...--it is also a historical document, one of the most important books of the twentieth century and essential for understanding the corruption of the..." Read more
"...Especially notable is Solzhenitsyn's low-key, matter-of-fact narrative style, which conveys the banality of the evil of the Soviet Gulag more..." Read more
"...the foreword and afterword are lagniappes that were helpful to cotton on to the actual novel...." Read more
Customers find the book well-written and easy to read. They appreciate the clear translation with appropriate footnotes. The novel is not overly demanding for inexperienced readers and would constitute a good introduction to the Soviet Union. It is richly detailed and humanely simple, making it a true literary classic.
"...The novel is not overly demanding of the inexperienced reader and it would constitute a good introduction to the realm of "literature."..." Read more
"...DAY IN THE LIVE OF IVAN DENISOVICH if only to get exposure to good written expression...." Read more
"...huge critical success in the Soviet Union due to its nuanced integration of peasant vernacular and prison slang into its narrative structures...." Read more
"...The translation is an extreme disappointment - bad choice of words, which does not just limit understanding, but actually change the tone of the book..." Read more
Customers find the story compelling and engaging. They describe it as a powerful survival story with interesting details. The book is described as an interesting and revealing short novella.
"...started ...have read it before but wanted to read it again....book is in good shape and arrived promptly" Read more
"...I found to be more interesting to read than this dreary, yet, important first novel he wrote to bring to light the lingering evils of "the Terror"..." Read more
"...The book is solid and "food for thought."..." Read more
"...character's humanity, sense of morality, generosity, kindness, and integrity - his ability to find joy in the little treasures of his day - are..." Read more
Customers find the book's visual style engaging. It provides a vivid illustration of the consequences of collectivist systems and its realism. They describe the depiction of prison camps in the Stalin years as clear and realistic. The book paints an upbeat and humorous view of political life with rich detail.
"...The utter horror of this book is contained in the rich detail with which the author conveys life inside these camps..." Read more
"Wow. Just - WOW. What a beautiful book!..." Read more
"...a few hours to really realize the significance of it, but it is truly a work of art...." Read more
"Book arrived in very good shape. Short read. A very real picture of those days." Read more
Customers find the book engaging and eye-opening. It puts into perspective a very real ordeal that most of us never understand. The simple pleasures and hardships are described in an uplifting manner. The format is pleasant and pleasing to them. Overall, readers describe the book as moving, inspiring, touching, and captivating.
"...Soviet gulag by someone who actually survived the experience to be quite inviting...." Read more
"...This book really puts into perspective a very real ordeal most of us could never understand. Hopefully never have to & only learn from it in books." Read more
"This is a short, engaging and beautifully written book about the horrors of life in a Siberian Gulag...." Read more
"...The typescript is a large-font. Neat and easy to read, though this leaves the ratio of content:page a little small for my taste...." Read more
Customers appreciate the book's value for money. They find it a nice buy at a good price, with a compelling story and page-turning narrative. It's described as a great product for a literary classic.
"Great price for a literary classic. Compelling story and a page turner. My favorite novella in the world." Read more
"A very politically important and clever book...." Read more
"I read this book in a couple days. Definitely worth it!" Read more
"Great product, excellent service." Read more
Customers appreciate the book's fast pace and detailed time frame.
"...It's a quick and easy read. The other reviews provide the basics of the book, so I'll spare you the extra verbiage." Read more
"This should be required for our youth to get in to college. It is a fairly quick, easy read that is informative and entertaining as well...." Read more
"...Personally, I thought the book moved really slow and I felt like I had to force myself to read it. Finally gave up half was through...." Read more
"...the optimistic perspective of the protangonist and short, detailed time frame. Great symbolism for the Soviet Union and humanity as a whole...." Read more
Reviews with images

Great book by great author
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
- Reviewed in the United States on May 18, 2013Groundbreaking at the time of its publication, "One Day in the Life" was the first work on the Gulag to be published in the USSR. The fact that this book was published at all is a historical anomaly, induced by a strange confluence of events that resulted, incredibly, in one of the most repressive regimes not censuring a work which exposed one of its deepest secrets. Some contributing factors were Solzhenitsyn's own background (he had been a captain in the USSR army during WWII, and was not a member of the intelligentsia), the "Great Thaw" (a period from the mid 1950s through the early 1960s, during "de-Stalinization," during which censorship was drastically reduced), and Khrushchev's role in allowing the publication of "A Day in the Life" (he wanted to expose Stalin's crimes and the predicted fallout).
"A Day in the Life" is just that: the minutely detailed description of one day during political prisoner Shukhov's (Ivan) internment in the Gulag. Solzhenitsyn takes us through the coveted morning hour which a prisoner has to himself if he wakes up earlier than the bell, endless "prisoner counts" starting right after, horrifically deficient meals, an arduously demanding construction job, and finally, to the day's end, when all one can do is thank his lucky stars for still being alive, for still not being ill, and for thinking that perhaps, this experience might just be survivable.
This work does not describe horrific abuses, does not sensationalize the terror of the Gulag, does not dwell on despair, fear, hope, or pain. In fact Solzhenitsyn's account is most disturbing because of the protagonists' quiet acceptance and concrete, practical orientation. Unlike others in the camp, Ivan is neither an intellectual nor a spiritual man; he does not find peace in salvation through Christianity (as Alyosha), he does not seek slivers of hope and meaning in discussions with other political prisoners about literature and film. Instead, Ivan focuses on survival: on procuring an extra portion of oats for breakfast, on smuggling in a bit of a rusted blade into his barracks to build a knife, on staying warm in the Siberian winter. He "does not have time" to contemplate the beauty of stars and of its promise, to engage in conversation with other members of his squad, to think about his past and present, to philosophize about his condition.
This seems perhaps as the scariest condition of all, essentially indicating a loss of humanity, a return to the most animalistic, basic survivalist mode of being. For after all, what separates us from animals other than the power of human hope, thought, passion? Indeed, the aims of the Gulag, and of communism itself, were to reduce human beings into mere unthinking animals, instinctually scavenging for food and other necessities while loosing sight of the powers of human intellect, artistic impulse, and initiative.
Even more disturbing is Ivan's complacent acceptance. In fact, "A Day in the Life" is a good day for Ivan, he is "almost happy" by the end of the short story: that night, he "went to sleep fully content. He'd had many strokes of luck that day: they hadn't sent his squad to the settlement; he'd swipe a bowl of kasha at inner; the quad leader had fixed the rates well; he' built a wall an enjoyed doing it; he'd smuggled that bid of hacksaw blade through; he'd earned a favor from Tsezar that evening; he'd bought that tobacco. And he hadn't fallen ill." (last page).
In an ironic twist, Ivan is thus born into a new humanity, one that has learned to live in, and almost find happiness, under the most brutal, demoralizing, repressive, tortuous conditions imaginable. The proof is his Survival.
Born and raised in Communist Romania, Solzhenistyn's world is a familiar, disturbingly dark, and utterly tragic one for me; the existential structures of eastern block consciousness, even outside of the Gulag, are eerily similar to those of the imprisoned in "One Day in the Life": the appreciation for every small detail of subsistence related pursuits, such as scrounging for a bit of extra sugar or butter, the ways in which people are turned against their neighbors through carefully articulated and craftily schemed policies and rules, the extensive bribery system/underground economy without which no one would survive, learning how to live in silence, barricading the soul/heart in an attempt at survival.
A "Day in the Life" is not only as a fictionalized memoir of Solzhenitsyn's own Gulag experience and a detailed account of the impossible life of prisoners in these camps, but may also be read as a broader metaphor for the ways in which eastern-block consciousness was shaped by state mechanisms during the communist era.
A personal note: If I was rating this book based on how much I enjoyed it, the rating would stand somewhere around a 2. It's filled with details on construction work, much of it was inscrutable to me (there were many terms that as a laywoman, I had to look up, and it was difficult to visualize such details as the configuration of the space, the usage of tools, the process of building, etc, without extensive knowledge of the field).
But more importantly, I don't understand, and am quite disturbed, at Ivan's path to survival. I clearly have never suffered a Gulag (though my family underwent its own tribulations under Ceausescu/the Securiatate), but I'd like to imagine I'd find my hope in dreams/philosophy/art if I was in Ivan's place, like the Captain, and, if one were to go by popular lore, as most political prisoners did. There were very few ways to escape communism's deep reaches into daily life back in this era, and the main route was through art and soulful expression in the absurd, satires, poetry, and a dark humor which is impossible to understand without having lived in such a repressive society. People read books voraciously, there was an entire culture built around going to art galleries, the opera & theater, around discussing important books (non political on the surface, usually, but of course, always subversively all political).
The Gulags were filled with members of the intelligensia: in Romania, there were even jokes (again, the dark humor) about how the masters of Romanian political philosophy, art, and history enjoyed the prison camps because they got to meet each other and philosophize all day: what could be so bad about that, after all? Personally, that (obviously romanticized) version of survival sounds much more appealing & humanizing than Ivan's, with which I do not personally identify. Then again, what would I know? I've never laid bricks in the cold for 14 hour days in the Siberian winter.
- Reviewed in the United States on August 23, 2019One assumes that those who have stumbled across this review are probably already somewhat familiar with the work Solzhenitsyn so this review can be brief. It would be difficult to overstate the importance of this novel because, though it is a novel--a work of fiction--it is also a historical document, one of the most important books of the twentieth century and essential for understanding the corruption of the Soviet system.
The novel literally does bring the reader along for the ride during one day in the life of the titular character, a soldier falsely accused of treason and sentenced to a term of hard labor in the Gulag system of Siberian prison camps. The utter horror of this book is contained in the rich detail with which the author conveys life inside these camps (a life the author lived for himself), not only in the extremes of their abuses but in the minutiae of everyday life. The day described is not one of the most horrifying days--to fully grasp the horror of the Gulag, one needs to read other books including Solzhenitsyn's Gulag Archipelago. Indeed, the "one day" described is portrayed as a relatively good day, a perspective which forces the reader to confront the inhumanity of a system whose good days make for a bleak and depressing read.
But the book is not merely a fictionalized documentary concerning what life was like in the prison camps, it is a historical document in its own right. It was this novel that (finally) brought the evils of the Gulag system into open discussion. Imagine the experience it must have been to read such a book upon its publication in 1962 and to realize that the events it described not only *did* happen but were *still* happening to the millions of prisoners who inhabited the prison camps that dotted the bleak Siberian landscape (which existed in modified form as late as the 1980s). While it would be folly to credit Solzhenitsyn with the fall of the Soviet Union (as some writers given to hyperbole have done), it would be equally unwise to discount the impact this book's revelations had on Russian history. In that way, reading this book is necessary not only to understand the nature of life inside the forced labor camps but to understand the course of Russian history in the 20th century.
From a literary perspective, this is an odd work. With few events described in excruciating detail, the novel doesn't leave much room for the expected conflict/resolution or character arc. Instead, the novel presents a snapshot of an unchanging life. Combined with the dispiriting description of the lives of political prisoners, this makes for a less-than-enjoyable yet incredibly thought provoking and intellectually stimulating read. Upon finishing, the reader is left feeling quite glad to have read the book but perhaps equally glad that it's mercifully short. A longer book with the same subject matter could easily send the reader into a deep depression.
In sum, you owe it to yourself to read this book, but you would be well-advised to save it for a day when you're more in the mood for intellectual stimulation than mere entertainment.
- Reviewed in the United States on January 13, 2024just started ...have read it before but wanted to read it again....book is in good shape and arrived promptly
Top reviews from other countries
- Stew...Reviewed in Canada on January 19, 2025
5.0 out of 5 stars good read
they way it was in the prisons
-
Aditya kumarReviewed in India on November 10, 2024
5.0 out of 5 stars आजादी से ज्यादा जरूरी क्या
यह किताब आपको बताती हैं, की आजादी से भी ज्यादा क्या जरूरी होता हैं।
Must read
-
Diego MartellReviewed in Mexico on September 24, 2020
5.0 out of 5 stars Lectura obligada
La edición es sencilla, papel rugoso, oscuro, letra pequeña, pero cómoda para la lectura, nada se transparenta. Cuenta con una introducción, prólogo y epílogo que enriquecen la obra. En definitiva una historia que todos debemos leer, al describir solamente un día en la vida del personaje, la obra es sumamente descriptiva, te sientes parte del campo de concentración y empatizas con los personajes. Además sirve para practicar tu inglés.
Diego MartellLectura obligada
Reviewed in Mexico on September 24, 2020
Images in this review
-
Sebastià NovellaReviewed in Spain on October 2, 2017
4.0 out of 5 stars Valoració dels productes adquirits a Amazon.
Tots els productes que he adquirit a Amazon (excepte un el preu del qual em va ser retornat just al mateix moment en què en van rebre la notificació de devolució) han complert amb les meves expectatives. N'estic molt content i hi continuaré comprant encantadíssim.
- Jason AnnandReviewed in Australia on March 22, 2021
5.0 out of 5 stars A great book
Complex and brilliant.