Books like A Ford Crosses Soviet Russia — picked by fans

The poet Langston Hughes’s autobiography engagingly recounts his travels to Cuba, Haiti, Japan, and Spain during the Civil War. The book's centerpiece is his 1931-1932 trip to the Soviet Union. He visited as part of a contingent of twenty-two African Americans hired to make a film on race relations in the United States.

The film project never panned out, but Hughes took advantage of the situation to visit Soviet Central Asia. He understood that his hosts tried too hard to convince American visitors of the progress made under the Soviet regime. But his autobiography also conveys the wonderful strangeness of being in a country officially committed to antiracism, where people of color had opportunities for education and advancement.  

The humorists Ilya Ilf and Evgeny Petrov’s American travelogue remains a delight to read. Unlike other Soviet visitors, the coauthors, famous for their satirical novel The Twelve Chairs, leavened their criticism of American vulgarity, inequality, racism, and greed with a large helping of self-deprecating wit.

Their account of eating enchiladas, which they described as cut with gunpowder and topped with nitroglycerin, made me laugh out loud. This book offers a surprising view of Depression-era American and Soviet attitudes toward it.  

This book allows readers to see the United States through the eyes of six visitors from the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union. A big part of the collection's appeal is that the authors were not neutral observers but committed socialists. Armed with preconceptions about capitalism, they offer provocative perspectives on nineteenth- and early twentieth-century America.

The book includes work by three authors little-known in English translation (Grigory Machet, Vladimir Korolenko, and Vladimir Bogoraz) and travelogues by three famous writers, the novelist Maxim Gorky, who visited in 1906, and the Soviet poets Vladimir Mayakovsky and Sergei Esenin, who visited in the 1920s. 

In 1980, the novelist Vassily Aksyonov, whose hipster characters loved rock’n’roll and all things American, fell afoul of the Soviet state; stripped of his Soviet citizenship while in the United States, he decided to stay.

His memoir chronicles his efforts to make sense of a country that often failed to match his idealized preconceptions. Like Ilf and Petrov, whose travelogue was one of his points of reference, Aksyonov undertook a road trip from New York to California and back.

He was sometimes overawed by American technology, critical of American cultural vacuity, and able to laugh at his own disorientation. His first thought when he saw rats in Washington, DC, was that they must be pets, maybe gerbils.    

I don’t enjoy reading theory and I love reading a good story. Somehow, Golubev managed to write a book in which he makes theory accessible and tells a series of unexpected, fascinating tales about how Soviet people from the 1950s on interacted with everything from model planes and boats to stairwells and televisions.

It is difficult to describe what a weird and fun book this is – most attempts to do so would make it sound esoteric and focused on theory, but this is no ordinary book. It features a cast of characters as diverse as bodybuilders, wayward youth, and Soviet psychics whose stories are told through stuff. 

At first, I expected the monster to come from the eggs.

By the end, I realized that the real monster was already outside the shell: political pressure, media hysteria, and a blind bureaucracy convinced that policymaking can govern nature.

I found the novella imaginative, rich, and gripping, but its grotesque science-fiction catastrophe also felt connected to the politics I encounter every day. I often wonder how our foolish decisions (wars, pollution, disastrous policies) have not made us extinct already. Have we simply been lucky?

Bulgakov’s book is a wonderfully satirical adventure through 1920s Soviet Russia, yet much of it feels suspiciously like an ordinary visit to my local government office.

The Brexit debate in Britain became bogged down in sentiment and myths.

All sorts of people brought up features of imagined history and former glories. Much of it was baloney, but it was not always possible to detect. This scholarly, evidence-based book guided me to a new understanding and appreciation of how my homeland developed over the 20th Century; it overturned some long-held assumptions.

I don’t believe anyone who wishes to understand those times can ignore this book.

Alexei Yurchak was part of the last Soviet generation—the last citizens born in the USSR who also lived through its collapse as adults. As the title suggests, Everything Was Forever Until It Was No More is a profound and poetic work about truth and what we come to accept as real. Yurchak wants to explain the paradox that, while Soviet people knew by the 1970s that their government was telling them almost nothing but untruths, they were still shocked to their core by their country’s demise. What I loved most about the book was Yurchak’s descriptions of ordinary life among his generation (their intriguing taste for the operatic qualities of metal, the elaborate public pranks they staged, the way they treated life like performance art). With pathos and humor in equal measure, Everything Was Forever Until It Was No More paints a brilliant portrait of a world that millions of… show more.

A Full-Value Ruble is economic history at its best. Using Soviet archival materials for both the Stalin and Khrushchev periods, Kristy Ironside shows how indispensable money was to an economy that, for ideological reasons, aimed at abolishing it. But a strong ruble (and not just any currency) did not mean that the underlying economy was strong. Using money as a lens, the author provides the reader with a multi-faceted view of Soviet urban and rural daily life in peace, war, and reconstruction.

If there is one war book that gives me chills, this is it. What do people think on the eve of their execution? How do they confront their own deaths, and what final words do they want to leave behind? I feel overcome every time I read this collection of letters, mostly from civilians who knew they were about to die at the hands of the Nazis.

Some letters are from young girls who had been enslaved, drew pictures, and recalled their birthday parties in their final letters to their parents. Others are from fathers and prisoners of war giving advice to the children they would never meet. Some of the “letters” are long and detailed, while others were simply slogans etched in the walls of prisons by those staring down the abyss of death.

All of them are saturated with pain and grief, yet the messages of love they… show more.