32 Books Like At The Edge Of Empire

This is the go-to book to understand how the Chechens, Dagestanis, and their neighbors held off the mighty Russian armies for several decades in the 1800s.

Gammer’s military history isn’t always a page-turner, but it is chock-full of clear explanations for the long success of Shamil, the warlord who defied successive Romanovs and united the fragmented peoples of the North Caucasus into a resilient resistance movement that tarnished far and wide the image of tsarist Russia as an imperial juggernaut.

The Golden Age of Russian literature—think Pushkin, Lermontov, and other famous novelists and poets—was at the vanguard of the Russian elite’s meeting with the Caucasus. In what has become a “classic,” Susan Layton brilliantly shows how Russian writers imagined the Caucasus as an ambiguous place—both dangerous and welcoming—populated by “noble savages,” sympathetic freedom fighters, and brutal marauders.

To many Russian aristocrats ensconced in St. Petersburg and Moscow, this was a canvas on which to implement Russia’s own “civilizing mission” to prove to a skeptical Europe that the tsarist realm belonged in the pantheon of European civilization.

This compelling book applies Edward Said’s well-known framework of Orientalism to explain the contradictions of Russia’s imperial project among diverse North Caucasians as well as Georgians. Jersild gives one of the clearest examples of the elasticity of the concept of Orientalism when applied to a Russia that wasn’t confident in its own European identity.

Just as fascinating is his explanation of how and why Georgian intellectuals, in their turn, used Orientalist discourse to contrast themselves against Muslims in Russian eyes and thus secure their own position within the empire.

This short and beautifully written book follows the fascinating life of a junior officer in the tsarist army in the Caucasus, Semën Atarshchikov, son of a Chechen father and Kumyk mother.

The reader is taken on a winding journey as the protagonist switches sides between the mountaineers and Russians several times. The crux of the argument is that a person with real connections to both Russian and Muslim communities could align with one side against the other temporarily, but overcoming the divisions permanently was difficult. In this case, it proved impossible: Atarshchikov became not a privileged intermediary but a victim of colonial violence.

My first job in journalism was as an assistant to the great New York newspaperman Pete Hamill. He told me to always read people who were better than you and to back up his point he had a shelf of Russian literature in his bathroom. For years, I was too intimidated to read Tolstoy. When I finally did, I was shocked to discover that much of his writing is as accessible as the New York Post. War and Peace is his most famous work, but for me he’s most alive and urgent in his shorter fiction. The title story is among the most harrowing descriptions of death ever, “Kreutzer Sonata” reveals an understanding of the psychopath’s mind that would have Hitchcock and Kubrick whimpering the covers, and “Haji Murad” is a tale of terrorism and betrayal that could come straight from the current Russian war. Some of Tolstoy’s work… show more.

In 1895, Mummery was about 50 years ahead of his time by becoming the first mountaineer to die on an 8000m peak – caught in an avalanche while attempting the Rakhiot Face of Nanga Parbat. Herman Buhl, who made Nanga Parbat's first ascent nearly 60 years later, described Mummery as one of the greatest mountaineers of all time.

Mummery's book – plus Mary's contribution – is the defining account of what's called the Silver Age of Alpine Mountaineering. It is lively, entertaining, and full of the love of high, rocky, and rather dangerous places.

This is a compilation of essays about Batuman’s experience of studying Russian literature at Stanford. Wondering about “possible methods for bringing one’s life closer to one’s favorite books,” Batuman traces the literal and figurative path of writers such as Pushkin, Tolstoy, and Babel, finding answers in their life and work while at the same time exploring their influence upon a motley group of Slavic scholars and readers.

Grigory Levenfish was arguably the strongest Soviet player of the late 1930s, winning the Soviet Championship in 1934 and 1937.

However, establishment favourite and future World Champion Mikhail Botvinnik - with whom he drew a long, tense match in 1937 – secured the official support and scarce international opportunities, leading a disillusioned Levenfish to gradually withdraw from competitive chess.

Levenfish’s memoirs are a reminder that the difference between fame and obscurity lies often not only in ability, and that the winner’s narrative is not the only valid one. His personal account of the appalling suffering he faced during terrible winter of 1941 in the war-ravaged Soviet Union is particularly moving.

Every myth has an origin, a root. Perhaps the root of all human mythos originated deep in the mountains that lay east of the Black Sea. Nart Sagas from the Caucuses, by John Colarusso, brims with exciting stories of an ancient mythological race of heroic demigods called Narts. These stories were almost lost to history when the Caucus mountain tribes suffered genocide at Russia’s hands. Through “linguistic archeology,” Colarusso rediscovered and breathed new life into this nearly extinct folklore. The author postulates the Nart Sagas not only heavily influenced more familiar European and Asian myths, but may pre-date them and may be the direct link to humanity’s Indo-European roots.

Birdie and Cole are sisters with biracial parents on the brink of danger during the turbulent 1960s.

Despite their attempts to cling to each other, their parent’s involvement with a violent anti-establishment group will eventually separate them: Cole with her dark-skinned father and Birdie with her white mother.

The girls' desperate attempt to remain together and later find each other is heartbreaking and encouraging. This book made me cry.