First published in Russian in 1975; published in translation by Melville House on September 27, 2011
The prison camp is empty; only Ruslan and his master remain. Ruslan is confused. Has there been a mass escape? Where are the other guards? Why aren't the other dogs on patrol? Why are the gates wide open? When his master lets him off his leash, Ruslan senses that he no longer has a purpose, that his days are at an end. Indeed, Ruslan is prepared to accept his fate when his master unslings his machine gun, but instead his master tells him to leave the camp, a future Ruslan regards as worse than death before it dawns on him that he's being sent on a mission: to wait at the train station for the return of the captured prisoners. Eventually Ruslan is joined there by other guard dogs. When passing trains fail to stop, the confused dogs begin to live in the town, some living better than others, while Ruslan, steadfast in his duty to the Service, patiently awaits his absent master's orders. Only after a long period of hunger and hopelessness does Ruslan find himself with an unexpected companion: a former prisoner known only as "the Shabby Man" who, to Ruslan's way of thinking, needs to be escorted in his travels so that he can be returned to the prison camp when Ruslan is finally called back to the Service.
From this premise -- a story (first published in 1975) told from a dog's eyes -- we see the Soviet Union in transition. Stalin is gone, Khrushchev has freed the political prisoners, former guards and former inmates are sharing bottles of vodka and lamenting their lack of purpose. Even Ruslan has no purpose, although he does his best to keep the past alive by guarding the Shabby Man.
Ruslan has lived his life by a set of rules; to deviate was to be punished and he expected no less. In contrast to Ruslan is the dog Ingus: every bit as smart and capable as Ruslan, but a dreamy, free spirited dog who doesn't share Ruslan's love of duty, who doesn't understand the point of rules that interfere with life's simple pleasures, like rolling in the grass. Georgi Vladimov seems to be saying that dogs, like people, do not adapt equally well to the roles they are assigned in life -- and that a failure to play the role required by the Soviet state can lead to harsh and unjust consequences for man and dog alike. Dogs, like people, are abused without explanation; they don't need to understand why, they just need to endure the pain. Neither Ingus nor the prisoners can escape their fate, as much as they long for freedom.
But what is freedom? Imprisonment takes many forms; freedom from confinement does not assure the ability to live free. To Ruslan's way of thinking, the Shabby Man had a better life behind the prison camp's fence: he had work, he ate regularly, he didn't drink himself into a stupor every night. Perhaps freedom means nothing left to lose, but how free can a man be when he has lost everything? The Shabby Man must face that question toward the novel's end as he confronts his future.
Although in some respects Faithful Ruslan might be difficult for dog lovers to read, it is written with a deep understanding of and intense affection for dogs -- as opposed to humans, who "stank of cruelty and treachery." Ruslan and the other dogs in the novel are superior in many ways to the humans they serve. They are motivated by love rather than malice, by loyalty rather than selfishness, by sharp-eyed reality rather than delusion or deception. Unfortunately, they are also true to their training. Ruslan's sense of duty never waivers; the world has changed but Ruslan hasn't, setting him up for a tragic destiny. In the end, unswerving devotion to mindless duty leads to Ruslan's downfall, as it has for so many. The Soviet political regime may change, Vladimov seems to be saying, but behavior does not.
As difficult as it is to read this story, it's worth the pain.
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