Alexei Navalny’s memoirs are a Gospel in which he foresees his own death

“Death is truly painless.” These are the opening words of Patriotic, female posthumously publishes Alexei Navalny’s autobiography. We know that he is died. And this book tells the story of his death—how he approached it, how he prepared for it, and how he conquered it. Navalny’s memoir is about a man consciously walking towards death. It’s a gospel – but an autobiography.

Although Navalny’s memoir is about a man consciously walking towards death, Patriotic Starts light and humorous. Navalny tells jokes, recalls old anecdotes and shares detailed stories from his childhood. He meticulously recreated the atmosphere of the Soviet Union and broken Russia in the early 1990s. At times, it was like a beautifully written novel. This is the author as a boy, traveling to a village near Chernobyl. Here he was, dressed in his warmest clothes, climbing on a cold bus to return home from kindergarten. Here he was, robbed by an older classmate—Navalny, a nerd who didn’t like fighting but liked reading and didn’t know how to react.

The book begins like that because the author still has time. In August 2020, Navalny was poisoned with Novichok but failed. He recovered in Berlin and then Schwarzwald, Germany. He relearned how to walk, how to hold a pen, and prepared to return to Russia.

It was during this time that Navalny began writing this book, Patriotic. He still has enough time to joke, to draw historical parallels, to make for an entertaining read.

I was probably one of the first people to read her in the original, pure Russian version. Alexei’s widow, Yulia Navalnaya, was very worried that the file might be stolen—so about a month ago, she asked me to fly from New York to Vilnius, Lithuania, to read the typeset manuscript there. When I started the book, Alexei’s style was immediately recognizable – I felt like I could really hear his voice. But that’s just the beginning.

In January 2021, Navalny flew back to Russia and was arrested right at Moscow airport. In the book, he explains why he returned, the same way he did in previous articles and interviews: It was his choice, his Golgotha there; this is his sacrifice for his beautiful future Russia.

He continues to write his autobiography in a similar tone until he describes what may be the most important and cherished moment of his life: meeting his wife, Yulia. This is the funniest and most uplifting part of the book. Navalny was in prison when he wrote it – separated from his wife. The reader now knows that this separation will be forever. But it seems that Navalny still does not know this. Or him?

The next chapters show Navalny in a hurry—he’s chasing time, rushing to get it done. He omitted details, cramming years into a single page.

I first met Navalny in 2010. I still remember that bold young man, fresh back from Yale, walking into my office with the exclamation: “I finally made it to TV Rain darling my precious!” At that time, I was running the only opposition TV station in Russia. Navalny is trying to say like Barack Obama—although it seems a bit exaggerated. But soon he learned how to become a real politician. The following decade, from 2010 to 2020, was the most active, most notable period of his political life. During those years, he became PutinRussia’s main rival, Russia’s most famous politician and a hero to Russian youth. He has angered thousands of officials and fallen out with hundreds of journalists.