‘Anastasia’ explores history, and identity
Ariel Lawhon breathes new life into one of the 20th century’s most intriguing mysteries — what became of Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia — in the novel I Was Anastasia (Doubleday, 333 pp., ★★★★).
The author’s effortless, eloquent prose transports the reader via a dramatic, suspenseful and satisfying work of historical fiction.
A century ago, in 1918, the immediate members of the Russian royal family were shot by Communist revolutionaries in the cellar of a cottage in Ekaterinburg in Siberia. Reportedly, none of the Romanovs survived. Among the victims was Anastasia, the youngest daughter of Czar Nicholas II and his wife, the Empress Alexandra. But that was not where Anastasia’s story would end.
In the years that followed, various women would come forward claiming to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia; the most well-known of these was Anna Anderson. It is her story that Lawhon turns her talents to, and does so beautifully.
Lawhon brilliantly employs an inventive and non-linear dual narrative to tell the tale of how Anastasia would become Anna Anderson, or, perhaps, how Anna became Anastasia.
Anastasia’s story begins a mere 18 months before the execution. Anna’s narrative is written in reverse, beginning in Charlottesville, Va., in 1970, and traces her experiences back in time from America, to Paris and Berlin, where she is first recognized as Anastasia.
The story lines eventually converge on that fateful day in 1918 when the Russian royal family faced its end and the legend of the young grand duchess’ survival would begin.
It is not just the well-developed characters of Anastasia and Anna and their intriguing paths that compel the reader forward, but the novel’s rich supporting characters who span both timelines.
Two of the most notable are Anna’s champion, Gleb Botkin, a childhood acquaintance of Anastasia and son of the Romanovs’ physician, Eugene Botkin, and Pierre Gilliard, tutor to the Romanov children and one of Anna’s biggest detractors. Both have compelling arguments on whether Anna and Anastasia are one in the same.
Lawhon takes the reader to a time before DNA testing and historical hindsight. And while it might be tempting to Google what we now know before reading I Was Anastasia, it would do the book a disservice. Lawhon persuasively forces the reader to come his or her own conclusion.
In the end, what Lawhon does so convincingly is shake up our notion of identity. And not just that of Anastasia and Anna. Are we who we say we are, or who others believe us to be? It’s a question that lingers long after the final page.