Of the many towering and terrifying figures of that remarkable era of the Soviet Revolution, the bent, gaunt and soft-spoken form of Felix Dzershinsky may be overlooked amongst the stern and charismatic Lenins, or the vicious Stalins. This would be a mistake. Armed with a will that earned him the nickname 'Iron Felix', and an unshakeable commitment to the cause that impressed, and often unnerved, all who met him, Felix was the revolutions shining Knight, the ideal to which all others should climb. He was also put in charge of the nascent Soviet Secret Police (the CHEKA, later the KGB), and under his command would instigate a reign of terror and intimidation, the aftershocks of which have yet to subside.
These diaries no doubt suffered under the hands of Soviet censor, but even a fascinating picture of the man emerges. The brutal prisons of the Czar in which he toiled for nearly eleven years were clearly instrumental in transforming the idealistic if rabidly dogmatic young man into something purer, harder and ultimately more terrible. His long, flowering letters to his wife, his sister and his friends eventually become terse, bitter correspondences repeating again and again that he can add nothing, nothing has happened, nothing has changed. His psychology was a mix of youthful idealism tempered and focused by adult traumas into a merciless sword for the cause, quite typical of that generation of revolutionaries.
He was a powerful ally, but Heaven help you if you fell into his hands.
A fascinating glimpse into this important and, in the West, critical overlooked figure of Eastern European history.'
