A ‘Kobzar’ was a Ukrainian bard, often blind, who sang religious songs and national epics. It’s an appropriate title for Shevchenko’s work, which he first published in 1840, because his primary concern is with the freedom of his country. This is a beautiful edition, with a striking portrait of Shevchenko by Ivan Kramskoy on the cover, and with many sketches and works of art from Shevchenko’s own hand interspersed throughout, which is great because he was also quite an artist. There is also excellent introductory material and footnotes throughout, which really help to explain the historical and cultural references.

I have to say that as poetry goes, the collection is just ‘so-so’ because Shevchenko’s style is not very lyrical, and his themes are too repetitive. These include young maidens taking advantage of by rich lords, usually Russians, mothers being left alone by sons drafted into the Russian army, orphans who suffer tough lives, and acts of violence and revenge, such as burning houses down with people inside. Shevchenko also expresses his own personal bitterness for being a captive in a foreign land, and his longing to once again be in Ukraine. It also reflects his bitterness for the history of Ukraine, which was taken advantage of repeatedly by Russia and Poland. Sometimes in its history there are heroes and courageous men who fight to the death for independence, and at other times there are cowards or incompetents who caused irreparable harm. It gets to be too much of the same thing, and this is made worse by having the Complete Kobzar represented, that is, all of his writings from 1837 to 1861 (the last one just a month before he died, at age 47), including a few re-writes of previous poems. An abridged selection would have been better.

On the other hand, it was quite a history lesson, both for Ukraine and also for Shevchenko himself. This is what pulls it up for me. Some recurring themes in the history lesson: Ukraine losing its independence in 1654 when Hetman Bohdan Khmelnytsky signed the Pereyaslav Treaty with Russia. Ivan Mazepa allying with Sweden and fighting Peter the Great at Poltava in 1709, with the defeat leading to Russia’s rise to power. The Haidamaks rebellions in the mid-18th century against Polish nobility, Catholics, and Jews (which unfortunately leads to some anti-semitic comments from Shevchenko that, while not uncommon at all for 19th century literature, are hard to excuse). The brutal torture and execution of Ivan Gonta, one of the leaders of the 1768 uprising, following his being captured by Russian forces and being turned over to the Poles.

The list of grievances before and after Shevchenko’s life go on and on: Peter the Great forcing Ukrainian Kozaks to work on the construction of St. Petersburg under abysmal conditions, resulting in hundreds of thousands of deaths. Being drafted into the Russian Army, which meant a lifetime in the 18th century, and which was “reduced” to 25 years in 1793, and then to 12 years in 1855. Russians considering Ukrainian a dead language and trying to abolish it. Catherine the Great instituting sefdom by decree in 1783. Imprisonment of political prisoners (and Shevchenko) in the Petropavlovsky Fortress in St. Petersburg. And years later, the last of the Kobzars being summoned to a congress under Stalin and being shot, thus destroying Ukraine’s oral tradition.

Shevchenko’s own story is also striking. He was born in 1814 into a family of serfs, witnessing firsthand and experiencing misery as another person’s property. He left Ukraine with his owner in 1829 at age 15 (ponder the first part of that sentence), and was only freed when a group of intellectuals who recognized his talent befriended him and paid for him in 1838. He was not able to return to Ukraine until 1843, visiting his relatives, all of whom remained serfs. He had the audacity to participate in the Cyril and Methodius Brotherhood, which believed in public education, the abolition of serfdom, and the right of every Slavic nation to develop its own language and culture, which of course was deemed subversive by the czarist regime. His anti-Russian sentiment boiled over in his searing poem “Dream (A Comedy)” in 1844, which is one of my favorites. His personal criticism of Czar Nicolas I (the same repressive dude who cracked down on the Decembrists, censored Pushkin and Lermontov, and sent Dostoevsky to Siberia) and the Czarina Alexandra Feodorovna led to a decade-long exile from 1847 to 1857, a period in which he was also forbidden to write or draw. Clearly he was able to sneak by this at times, since the collection here includes poems in this interval, but the result was to significantly reduce his artistic output, which is a real shame. He was pardoned in 1857 and allowed to return to Ukraine in 1859, but was arrested shortly thereafter and forced back to St. Petersburg, where he would die a mere seven days before the emancipation of the serfs was announced. It’s such a sad life, one that moves you before you even crack open the book to read his words.

Bottom line, Shevchenko is considered Ukraine’s national poet for good reason, and what comes through here is his raw love for Ukraine, and his passion for freedom. It’s no wonder he’s on countless statues in Ukraine, as well as being on the 100 hryvnia banknote, which I just loved to see during my short travels there. Given the events of Ukraine, you can’t help but feel empathy for those trying to keep their country out of Putin’s hands while reading these poems from the 19th century. It’s timely for that reason, and timeless. The struggle goes on. Ще не вмерла Україна, И слава, и воля! ( )