“ABRACADABRA, OPEN SESAME!”

APRIL 14, 2025 – One can’t predict how data points will line up to spell, “Abracadabra, open sesame!” straight out of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. And just as occurs in fiction, the door to the cave of knowledge and understanding opens to reveal a vast stash of loot for the taking.

I love when this happens. It inspires me always to be on the hunt, the search, the lookout. In the grand scheme of the cosmos, I can’t begin to understand how this “Abracadabra” experience fits in or matters, but since I exist within that grand cosmos—and as long as my existence endures—to me, anyway, the thrill of discovery matters much to me, just as I know it matters to you, since we’re both members of the same unusual species on this extraordinary planet.

Okay, now for 10 data points that spelled “Abracadabra, open sesame!”—and the treasure revealed.

Data point no. 1: My visit last summer with spouse and granddaughter to the Yale Art Gallery in New Haven, followed by lunch al fresca at a “noodle place” down the street from the gallery.

Data point no. 2: On our stroll from gallery to eatery, I saw the sign for “Grey Matter Books,” and snapped a photo. I then sent it to my good friend back in Minnesota, Matt S., a Yale alum. The text read, “Was this here in your undergrad days?” His reply was A link to a competitor, “Atticus,” with the text, “Much loved bookstore.”

Data point no. 3: Following our lunch, my wife, granddaughter and I continued our stroll down the street. In a short while, as we happened to walk past “Atticus,” I mentioned that it was the bookstore recommended by Matt and suggested we go inside to browse for a minute.

Data point no. 4: About 20 minutes later I sent Matt the following text: “Here at Atticus. I just bought The Story of Russia by Orlando Figes (highly recommended by Russian history scholar Anne Applebaum). Can’t wait to sink my teeth into the book.”

Data point no. 5: I promptly devoured The Story of Russia.

Data point no. 6: In December, Matt sent me an email about a second semester undergraduate survey course he planned to take at the U of MN. It was named, The History of Russia from Peter the Great to the Present taught by Theofanis Stavrou. Matt added, “It would be great to do this together if you’re interested. Registration free for over age 62. Here’s info on registration: [link].”

Data point no. 7: In January, my good friend Linda H. invited me to stop by her house to “help myself” to any books I might want from the extensive library of her late husband and my good friend, Jack H. The library, with floor to ceiling shelves and a rolling ladder attached to a rail running along the wooden frame above the top shelf, contained a large world history section. I accepted Linda’s invitation and loaded up several boxes worth of books, including several on Russian history. Among these was a hefty volume called, The Crimean War by . . . the same author of The Story of Russia, Orlando Figes.

At the time I didn’t know a thing about the Crimean War except that (a) it involved the Crimea, (b) because it involved Crimea, Russia was probably among the belligerents, (c) it occurred in the middle of the 19^th century, (d) it was the setting for Tennyson’s famous poem, The Charge of the Light Brigade, which was British, which meant Great Britain was a belligerent, and (e) the conflict was where Florence Nightingale made a name for herself. With the 480-page hardcover book in hand, but The Crimean War being easily five times as big and long as The Story of Russia, I now knew one more thing about the Crimean War: (f) there was a whole lot more for me to know about it.

Data point no. 8: Also in January I finally got around to registering for the course on Russian history. By now the regular reader is well acquainted with the inimitable Professor Stavrou, who leads the course; the 91-year old is a veritable tour de force of scholarship.

Data point no. 9: In one of his lectures, Professor Stavrou provided background to the Crimean War and framed it as a major “stage-setter” for the political future of Europe and the Ottoman Empire. From the details of his riveting lecture, I realized that to understand 19^th century European history, a person must understand the casus belli, the conduct, and the outcome of the Crimean War. He urged us to “read a book called . . . The Crimean War by Orlando Figes,” and remarked that on that subject it’s one of the best books available.

The Treasure! Since I’d learned to trust implicitly Professor Stavrou’s book recommendations, and because The Crimean War was now in my custody, I decided to move it to the top of my growing “on deck” circle of books on Russian history. Over this past weekend, I took a deep dive into the work and by this morning, had reached the 90-page mark. The book is nothing short of fascinating; one of those works that is so packed with information and analysis, I find myself studying ever page closely and often re-reading a sentence, whole paragraphs, and on occasion entire pages. I can’t put the thing down!

One exciting facet to the book is that it opens the reader’s eyes and mind to evidence in the historical record that leads to questioning of one’s assumptions.

I have 390 pages to go (not counting notes), but thus far, I’m learning much about the rampant Russophobia that dominated British and later, French, during the reign of Tsar Nicholas I (r. 1825 to 1855). Some of that fear was “justified,” depending on one’s national interests and personal sensibilities, but much of the worry of world domination by Russia was exaggerated. Yet nearly the whole of society was on a common bandwagon, even if all riders didn’t share the same interests. One can’t read about this without being mindful of the “bandwagon” effect in many other historical contexts. Moreover, in the case of early to mid-19^th century Russophobia, certain individuals with a platform, a printing press, an audience, and exceptional persistence (“obsession”?) were able to steer policy directly or indirectly by influencing public opinion. Finally, the role of religion and the manipulation of religion played a central role.

After less than 20% of the book under my belt, I’ve undergone a revelatory experience and not only with respect to history. I’ve learned to embrace the paradox that the richer one becomes in knowledge and understanding, the more one taps the screen of one’s phone, the cover of a book, the shoulder of a scholar, the door to a classroom, and says again and again without rest, “Abracadabra, open sesame!”

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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson