The Bratinsky Affair is Jim Loughran’s debut novel. Set in 1976, the thrilling story unfolds through a dual perspective: one is Tom O’Brien, a closeted Irish journalist from Wicklow, seeking the story to prove his ability to his higher-ups, and Irina Bratinsky, a former Russian aristocrat, now a Fabergé dealer, whose mysterious death kicks off the novel.
Tom is soon, somewhat unexpectedly, swept into a murder investigation that spans countries and decades, following Irina’s footsteps from Civil War Russia to the heart of post-war Europe, after being asked to accompany Irina’s granddaughter, Olga Radcliffe, the child of her own relatively estranged daughter, Masha. With the KGB on their heels and a missing heirloom on their radar, The Bratinsky Affair transforms from a dramatic small-town investigation into a Cold War espionage thriller, layered with political tension and generational trauma.
As someone with a deep and long-standing interest in the Russian Revolution, one of history’s most harrowing and ideologically charged turning points, I had high expectations for The Bratinsky Affair. It’s a period often narrated from the perspective of the Bolshevik victors, especially in my experience of the topic, so to follow the story of someone on the losing side, a Russian aristocrat turned exile, and on the run from the Revolution, was certainly intriguing.
The star of the novel is, without a shadow of a doubt, Irina Bratinsky. Her story is one that literally haunts the narrative. A survivor of multiple wars, a mother and daughter carrying the weight of her past, and a woman who is constantly remaking herself in exile to keep herself afloat. Irina is the novel’s emotional anchor. Her narrative voice is the most compelling, her experiences the most textured. Her monologue to her dead mother’s photograph towards the end of the novel was a particularly rich and moving moment.
Tom O’Brien reflects some of the author’s own experiences as a gay man in Paris during the 1970s. It’s certainly powerful, giving a voice to an identity at a time when silence was often the safer choice. His quiet defiance in existing authentically within a conservative Irish environment adds a layer of cultural and political context. However, while this element of his character is important, his motivations to leave Ireland behind and become a successful journalist are clear, but they remain somewhat one-note. Despite his central role, Tom unfortunately doesn’t escape the shadow of Irina’s large and exciting character and narrative.
Ultimately, Loughran has crafted an incredibly clever novel, particularly for readers drawn to the human cost of political upheaval. The ending, while somewhat predictable, is written with gusto and finality. It brings the threads together of Irina’s history satisfactorily. The Bratinsky Affair succeeds in bringing an overlooked perspective of the Russian Revolution into focus, offering a gripping blend of espionage, history, and personal legacy.
Jim Loughran is the author of The Bratinsky Affair, published by Sharpe Books. Mya Jheeta is an editorial intern at Aspects of History.
