SEER, 93, 3, JULY 2015 548 Of less interest to most Slavists will be Bagshaw’s assessment of Bakhtin’s potential to solve a methodological conundrum afflicting contemporary religious studies known as the ‘insider/outsider debate’. The problem concerns the possibility, desirability and legitimacy of adopting the faith perspective of practitioners of a religion which is the object of study (the ‘insider’ approach) as opposed to maintaining an external, observer, perspective only. Bagshaw ably delineates the historical and theoretical contours of the debate before proposing Bakhtin’s aesthetic concept of outsideness (vnenakhodimost´) as a tool to theorize the intermediate, or even synthesizing, position held by many in the field. According to what Alina Wyman has called Bakhtin’s theory of ‘active empathy’, both intuitive penetration of another’s inner condition and withdrawal to an external position from which the observer’s ‘surplus of vision’ can be exploited are necessary to form a complete image of that other, and indeed an image that is richer than the other is capable of forming about herself. Since this move involves a challenge to a more ambitious claim for Bakhtinian dialogism’s applicability to the field (by Gavin Flood in Beyond Phenomenology, London, 1999), it represents the most original and independent position adopted by the author in this book. Department of Russian Studies Ruth Coates University of Bristol Senelick, Laurence (ed., trans.). Stanislavsky: A Life in Letters. Routledge, London and New York, 2014. xvi + 653 pp. Illustrations. Notes. Bibliography. Index. £24.99 (paperback). This expertly translated and annotated selection from Stanislavskii’s correspondence covers a wide range of topics, persons and historical moments between his birth, in 1874, and his death in 1938. These include the emergence of the Moscow Art Theatre; the discovery and promotion of plays by Chekhov and Gor´kii; experimental work before the First World War; response to Revolution and Civil War; the impact of an American tour during the early 1920s; adjustment to Soviet conditions after 1917; the tortuous publication history of Stanislavskii’s theatrical writings and, lastly, official acclaim during the 1930s, which was also a period of prolonged ill-health. The epistolary style remains fairly consistent throughout — a combination of quasi-Victorianhigh-mindedgravity,religioussentimentand,whenaddressing those closest to him, a grandiloquent intimacy. There are moments of selfdeprecating humour but an especially severe and didactic tone is reserved for his strictures on the social significance of theatre, which he conceives as an enclave endowed with religious significance, a ‘pulpit’ and a ‘temple of the REVIEWS 549 human spirit’ (p. 272) to which, in a 1908 diary entry, he consecrates fifteen ‘Commandments’ (p. 248). The image of the man that emerges is twofold: the first is of a prophet crying in the wilderness, a self-styled ‘madman and a dreamer’ (p. 272) as, one by one, his disciples fail to live up to his ideals, or to understand his message, desert him, or are snatched away by untimely death; the second image is of Doctor Stockmann in Ibsen’s Public Enemy, a role he performed in 1900. Rather like the play’s protagonist, who attempts to alert society to the pollution in its midst represented by the contaminated public baths, Stanislavskii sought to cleanse the Augean stables of traditional theatre by administering a purified essence of theatrical performance centred on the ‘soul’ and ‘spirit’ of the actor. Described as ‘a preacher of beauty and truth’ (p. 139) this ideal performer was to be devoid of artifice and stylized falsehood, expressing authentic emotion that stemmed fromthe‘organiclawsofnature,truthandartisticbeauty’(p.526)—aconflation of the natural and the human conceived in distinctly unproblematic terms. Stanislavskii also shares with Stockmann his (some would argue misplaced) sense of conviction, his feeling of isolation, his naivete, his eccentricity, his disregard for the unexceptional (‘the crowd […] are sheep’, p. 282), a belief in an aristocracy of the spirit, a messianic fervour which can frighten on occasion (the theatrical entrepreneur, Nezlobin, is branded the ‘antichrist’, p. 292), and a dependence on family support plus willing disciples. Like the contaminated baths, theatrical stereotypes are seen as a ‘disease’ a ‘contagion’ (p. 289), the ‘diseased places’ needing ‘to be brought to light’ (p. 605). His kind of theatre is...