The ‘Russian North’, that is the north of European Russia, north of 60°N and east of 60°W (though for the purposes of this book, mostly east of 50°W) – St Petersburg is just short of 50°N – is the land of the dense, impenetrable forest, known as taiga. It is not, however, uninhabited (though it is growing so); indeed many areas within the region are famous for their monasteries – the famous Solovki monastery in the White Sea (infamous as the beginning of the Gulag archipelago), the monasteries further south in Lake Ladoga (the well-known Valamo monastery) and around the White Lake – so much so that it is often spoken of as the ‘Northern Thebaid’. There are also a few towns, such as Arkhangelsk and Murmansk, and many small villages. The local building material is wood, from the taiga, and one of the glories of the region is the wooden churches, both in village and monastery. These astonishing buildings are built with the main structure constructed from tree trunks, the upper parts of planed, and frequently elaborately carved, wood, sometimes mimicking the domes and barrel vaults familiar from the churches of further south, with their golden or blue onion domes. Many of these churches have a dark interior, dimly lit by candles, bearing out John Donne's view (contemporary with some of the earliest of these churches) that ‘Churches are best for Prayer, that have least light: / To see God only, I goe out of sight.’

William Craft Brumfield is Professor of Slavic Studies at Tulane University. ‘Slavic Studies’ is a protean subject, covering literature, history and philology, but Brumfield must be a little unusual in specialising in architecture, and in particular the ecclesiastical architecture of Russia. He has already written acclaimed books, including A history of Russian architecture (1993) and Lost Russia: photographing the ruins of Russian architecture (1995), the latter bearing a poignant title bearing witness to the gradual loss of this remarkable ecclesiastical architecture of northern Russia. This loss is largely due to the anti-religious policies of Soviet Russia that led to the closing down of the monasteries and the decommissioning (if not outright destruction) of these amazing buildings. Since the fall of Soviet Russia, the abandonment and neglect of these buildings has however continued, despite a few exceptions where churches have been restored to their original purpose: the decline this time owing to the increasing depopulation of the Russian countryside, not least in the Russian North where life has always been an unremitting struggle.

This book is remarkable in many ways. Apart from being a threnody for the vanishing of the remarkable churches of North Russia, it is both an engaging record of the exciting and difficult journeys made by Brumfield in his efforts to record the last remnants of this culture, and an indispensable record of what still survives. His introduction, ‘Exploring the Russian North’, gives a lively account of the journeys that he undertook, in the uazik, ‘Russia's closest equivalent to the classic Jeep. Four-wheeled drive, two gear sticks, two gas tanks (left and right), taut suspension, high clearance. Seat belts? Don't ask’ (p. 1). Long familiarity with the region, friendships made in the villages and monasteries, connections in the universities, not to mention remarkable stamina: all this enabled Brumfield to visit and record what still survives. There is a drawing of the author, made to accompany an article entitled ‘William Brumfield, enchanted wanderer’, which captures something of his presence in these remote parts. Another introductory chapter gives a detailed account of how these wooden churches were constructed: the tools used, the way in which the walls of the churches were constructed from pine logs (axes not saws, no nails), and the ‘tent’ towers, either planked or covered with carved shingles, made of moist aspen, which ages from a golden hue to silver, vividly contrasting with the dark walls of aged pine logs. The remaining chapters take us on a tour of the Russian North, beginning on the west shore of the White Sea, including the Monastery of the Transfiguration on the Great Solovetsky Island, and then leading down to Lake Onega, and the stunning church of the Transfiguration at Kizhi. The next chapter covers the Vytegra region, between Lake Onega and the White Lake (Beloye Ozero), with the amazing church of the Annunciation at Ustiuzhna and, further down, the famous monasteries: St Kirill-Belozersky and Ferapontov. The journey continues to Kargopol and its surrounding villages. The next chapter takes us from Vologda up the Sukhona river to Veliky Ustiug, and the final chapter along the Northern Dvina river up into the Arctic Circle ending up in Kimzha, with its gauntly elegant church of the Hodegetria Icon of the Mother of God. These chapters taking us on Brumfield's journey are most obviously remarkable for their stunning photography; they are introduced by brief texts that place these extraordinary buildings in the complex history of Russia. A final chapter looks to the future, bleak, though not devoid of signs of hope.

The book is a monument to a human striving for beauty in the harshest of conditions: a beauty intended to draw the human spirit towards God. Brumfield's achievement is never likely to be superseded: his is a record of achievements that will, inexorably, be swallowed up by the march of human history. Without Brumfield's hard-won record and account of these churches, they would pass from human memory altogether.