Illustration ‘AkUlka’ for Fyodor DostoEvsky’s Memoirs from the House of the Dead was created by artist LeonId Lamm in 1981.
Leonid Lamm was born in Moscow in 1928. He was a painter, graphic artist, member of the Artists' Union of the USSR. He attempted to immigrate from the country on ideological grounds. However, he failed and was arrested three weeks after the application. Lamm was imprisoned between 1973 and 1976. In 1982, he managed to flee to the USA. His illustrations for the House of the Dead were inspired by his own imprisonment.
The “Akulka” illustration portrays the conversation between two convicts. One of them is telling another how he killed his wife and how he was punished. Here is a passage from the novel itself. “I didn”t close an eye the whole night. I went into the little room leading to ours and drank kvass. At daybreak I went into the house again. 'Akulka, get ready and come into the fields.' I had arranged to go there before; my wife knew it. 'You are right, ' said she. 'It”s quite time to begin reaping. I”ve heard that our laborer is ill and doesn”t work a bit.' I put to the cart without saying a word. As you go out of the town there”s a forest fifteen versts in length. At the end of it is our field. When we had gone about three versts through the wood, I stopped the horse. 'Come, get up, Akulka; your end is come.' She looked at me all in a fright, and got up without a word. 'You’ve tormented me enough. Say your prayers.' I seized her by the hair—she had long, thick tresses—I rolled them round my arm. I held her between my knees; took out my knife; threw her head back, and cut her throat. She screamed; the blood spurted out. Then I threw away my knife. I pressed her with all my might in my arms. I put her on the ground and embraced her, yelling with all my might. She screamed; I yelled; she struggled and struggled. The blood—her blood—splashed my face, my hands. It was stronger than I was—stronger. Then I took fright. I left her—left my horse and began to run; ran back to the house. I went in the back way, and hid myself in the old ramshackle bath-house, which we never used now. I lay myself down under the seat, and remained hid till the dead of the night.’
