My terminology re: my thoughts about the book is a bit different than the terminology others have been using. I don't love the book, for it tells me things which are uncomfortable to know and frequently extremely disturbing to contemplate. And although the approach does not idealize, extol or worship the family--as some authors might be accused of doing--I'm not sure I find the less-than-perfect family dynamics and the very probable betrayal of a trusted family retainer refreshing! I do, however, respect the book, realizing that it is the result of a tremendous amount of research, writing, and editing. Do I question some of the material? Of course. But not to the point that I discount it.
Today being the anniversary of the assassination of President Kennedy, I'll draw an analogy between the families. Discard whatever you may think of both the Romanovs and the Kennedys, but consider this: During the time JFK was in office, most of the press respected the Kennedys and their private lives, and what the press wrote about the family was almost without exception either worshipful or poked gentle fun. Only a few authors were critical--some in a hateful manner, a few using a measured tone. Then came the assassination. Suddenly, and for years after, the market was flooded with heartfelt but definitely sentimental reminiscences. In time, however, the mood changed, and the books began to either viciously attack or offer well-considered, legitimate criticism.
Although the censorship during the Kennedy regime was largely self-imposed by the members of the press themselves, I think there is a parallel to the Romanovs. Yes, scurrilous books did come out during the reign of the Romanovs--and books that contained valid criticism as well. But after their overthrow, reminiscences began to proliferate, by those who knew them not as political icons but as people. Then, a long period of time went by . . . and Robert Massie came along, collating those various reminiscences, as well as the more critical thought. And from that point on an entirely new group of books were published about Nicholas and Alexandra, generally focused on the cohesiveness of their family.
FOTR is unusual in that it focuses on the family, but at a time in their lives when—revolution or no—the family’s dynamics would have been radically (no pun intended) changing. And yes, I realize that it has been stocked in many, many bookstores—but only a few copies for special interest folks like ourselves, rather than huge displays at the entrance, with stacks and stacks of copies nearby.
Another point: I think we should also consider that we bring our own history to each one of these books. If we have been reading an entire collection books that take a particular tone, then read something which challenges that tone, we are going to be brought up short. Also, it’s tough to read what we don’t necessarily want to read. That these people were three dimensional and—like us all—possessed frailties that were occasionally unendearing . . . well, again, there’s another jolt to our sensibilities!
I come from a family of four. If each of us had written a book about our family life, and then each of our friends also had written books about us—and, moreover, if each of these books by friends covered slightly different periods in our lives—you can bet there would be a dichotomy of tone and reportage.
