These chronicles of a Jewish musician in the postwar Soviet Union--sometimes awkwardly written, often amusing and affecting--are by the first violinist of therenowned Borodin Quartet. Concerned solely with the author's experiences as a Soviet artist from 1949 to 1975, the year he emigrated to the United States, the works make little mention of Dubinsky's childhood and family. Much is made of anti-Semitism in the Soviet Union, the realities of working for a Soviet cultural agency, and the omnipresence of vodka in the lives of the people. Lyrical when he writes of people he loves and biting when the subjects are less than lovable, Dubinsky offers funny stories that balance the acrimony. Memorable is the one about how the quartet got to the head of a restaurant line by posing as foreigners and speaking in Italian musical terminology.

Though written remarkably well and full of brave, defiant flashes of wit and humor, this is a sad and haunting book. Dubinsky was the founder and for 30 years the first violinist of the Borodin String Quartet, one of the supreme ensembles of its kind. Here he describes a musician's life under a totalitarian regime: the soul-destroying restrictions and constant dangers, exacerbated by a pervasive anti-Semitism--officially illegal but actively encouraged and ruthlessly practiced by the authorities. The quartet's original players were all Jews, though the cellist was a half-Jew who passed as Russian; the second violinist and violist were eventually replaced by Russians. Dubinsky was the "artistic director" in charge of rehearsals and musical decisions, but the quartet's activities, including the members' personal interrelationships, were completely dominated by politics. And indeed so is the narrative: Dubinsky only rarely talks about music, though always movingly and with insight, and never explains how the group attained its greatness.

Certain scenes stand out: Stalin's and Prokofiev's deaths on the same day; vignettes of Russia's greatest musicians, such as Shostakovich (whose quartets they played), Oistrakh, Richter, and Rostropovich; the group's tours abroad, affording the first, overwhelmingly tempting glimpse of freedom; an anti-Russian demonstration in Cincinnati, defused when Dubinsky confronted the crowd; and the cellist's near-fatal automobile accident in California. Ever present is the paralyzing fear of the mercenary, soulless Russian bureaucracy. Dubinsky emigrated to America in 1975, formed the Borodin Trio with his wife, pianist Luba Edina, and was chairman of the Chamber Music Department at Indiana University until his death not long ago. --Edith Eisler --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.