Three things give diaries universal interest: the eminence of the diarist; his or her psychological, philosophical, or political acumen; and a distinctive style of writing. The historical significance and the writer’s sense of humor are not to be overlooked either. On all these counts, Sergey Prokofiev’s diaries score very high indeed.
The second volume, Behind the Mask: Diaries 1915–1923, has recently appeared.[1] The first volume, Diaries 1901–1914: Prodigious Youth, is of somewhat lesser interest, as prior to age twenty-four Prokofiev (1891– 1953) had not yet reached creative maturity. The third volume remains to be published in English, but even that will take us only to 1933, after which, though there are some autobiographical writings, systematic diary-keeping ends.
This, possibly because Prokofiev was then beginning to make return trips to Russia from his self-imposed exile of eighteen years before conclusively resettling in the Soviet Union in 1936. There, such outspoken comments as the diaries contain could have led to prison if not execution. Even the existing diaries were left in American safekeeping by the homebound composer.
This immediately raises the question of why Prokofiev, who did reasonably well in the United States and even better in France and elsewhere in Western Europe—and who, while claiming to be neither for nor against the Revolution, had some pretty severe things to say about the Bolsheviks—would have wanted to move permanently to totalitarian Russia. The answer is found in a 1933 interview with Serge Moreux: “Foreign air
