If someone says to you “dangerous Soviet things,” what would you think of first? For me, right away it’s the “coffin on wheels.” It may sound like nonsense, something that never existed. But many of my peers knew dozens of such scary stories. Eduard Uspensky even wrote his novella about the Red Hand based on them.
However, the book Dangerous Soviet Things is more serious, though at times it deals with equally “nonsensical” theories that, nonetheless, people believed.
The book by Alexandra Arkhipova and Anna Kirzyuk is a large study of the phenomenon of the urban legend, with a focus specifically on the Soviet era. Abroad, the study of urban legends began quite a while ago; in our region, somewhat later. Though in certain periods the KGB quite actively and professionally collected such information, since behind rumors and legends there always hides some secret fear. And one must understand where the fear comes from, and also know how to counter it — or use it to one’s advantage.
From the description of the book, you expect popular science — interesting and entertaining reading. But from the very first pages, it feels like a bucket of cold water has been poured over you. Because the first seventy pages are an immersion into highly specialized terminology and the history of studying urban legends. For non-specialists (like me), this becomes rather disheartening. And only after that do the authors begin to examine the legends themselves, dividing them into thematic groups.
The first part is devoted to dangerous signs. One example of such a sign is even placed on the cover of the book. At first glance, it seems like an ordinary matchbox with a burning match drawn on it. But if you look at the image from a certain angle, in the flame you can clearly make out the profile of Trotsky, an enemy of the people and of the Soviet Union. And when every radio broadcast tells you that enemies are everywhere, that they are doing everything possible to harm Soviet citizens, these vigilant citizens begin a witch hunt and discover things no one would ever have imagined.
Interestingly, this tendency never really died out, it only sometimes took on a smaller scale. Even today we see how people once again start finding such “dangerous signs.” In Minsk a man was arrested because he had an LG television box on his balcony in the “wrong colors.” Candy wrappers are redesigned just in case. In Russia, Ukrainian flag colors are discovered everywhere (including on sneakers). When there is a will, people’s imagination is rich enough.
The next section deals with how dangerous legends can be used as ideology. If a rumor is launched at the right time and in the right way, it shapes the necessary mood. The authors themselves call the first chapter of this part “Of Crucified Boys and Folklore Imitations.” No examples even need to be given — it is clear enough. This section includes an interesting example: the appearance of jokes about Chapaev was itself a kind of “folklore imitation” in response to the image of the Red commander, which was already fading into the background of history and needed to be countered with a new, pure image.
Moreover, a properly crafted legend is also a weapon against unwanted desires in society. When there is shortage all around, clothing is ugly, and foreign chewing gum is the most precious gift, somehow this has to be countered. And here fears of everything foreign proved quite effective: candies with razor blades inside, jeans that cause dermatitis, chewing gum laced with poison, and so on.
Strange as it may seem, legends of this kind also include the various scare stories about vaccination, which in the Soviet years quite successfully spread throughout the country (and, let us be honest, have not let go to this day).
And when fears live in the minds of adults, they inevitably make their way into the minds of children — but with nuances. And then come the tales of the magic red film that would capture you naked (by the way, we had such a “hero” in my class too, who bragged that he had this film, photographed ballerinas at the theater, and promised us boys he would show us everything in full detail. He never did, the scoundrel).
The authors trace the evolution of fears through the events of those years: how legends appeared, what they grew out of, in which regions they spread, and how they differed from one another. Knowing such a vast number of these “urban legends,” you sometimes never even think about how they first came to be.
Alexandra Arkhipova and Anna Kirzyuk really did carry out commendable scholarly work. Overall, it was interesting to read, but for me, an ordinary reader, I would have preferred more entertainment and less academic detail. The heavy focus on theory distracted me and constantly broke the reading flow.
Therefore, although I did like the book overall and even recommend it for familiarization, it is still closer to a scholarly study than to true popular science. And that is why my final rating is lower.
My rating: 3.5/5
