For some reason I’ve been thinking a great deal lately about the connection between Tchaikovsky and his loyal servant, Aleksei Sofronov.  I’m not sure why this is but it has had the effect of reminding me how one of my first thoughts about writing a biographical-fiction of the composer had been to do it completely from Sofronov’s point of view; you know, the ubiquitous Servants’ POV.  As you may know, I decided to go in a different direction. But with the two men so much on my mind I thought it right to share some additional information about them here.  I will try not to spoil anything, in case you’re still reading or intend to read.

It was in Moscow, 1871 that twelve-year old Aleksei Sofronov first had to step in and perform duties as Tchaikovsky’s manservant, replacing his own older brother Mikhail.  Sofronov took over the position permanently in the winter of 1877, setting off what became a relationship of particular closeness, familiarity, and trust between him and the composer. The initial employment was good for the boy, and eventually offered him a steady, paying job that included room and board as well as travel outside of Russia.

The relationship benefited Tchaikovsky as well. He needed and depended on Sofronov’s service, not only for daily errands, grooming, valet duties, and household maintenance, but also as confident. Living together as they did for decades, there were times when Tchaikovsky had no one closer to him (or close-by) as Aleksei Sofronov.  As sensitive and introverted as Tchaikovsky was, he naturally grew much attached to him emotionally and seemed to have felt extraordinary warmth towards him, much of which can be noted in the letters they exchanged whenever they were separated. (Hundreds of these letters have survived, many of which are currently archived at Tchaikovsky’s last house in Klin, Russia, which is a museum trust and welcomes many visitors each year.) In these letters, the composer consistently addresses Sofronov by several different affectionate Russian-style nicknames such as Alyosha -as opposed to Aleksei.

When I had to deal with these two (real people) as characters in my book, their close yet professional friendship was not easy to show in words. I was faced with terrible decisions throughout their changing relationship, decisions that would impact both the emotional force of my story-line as well as the basic narrative. It was important to me from the start that my book present a truthful telling as I saw it, and not just relay the repeated hearsay or innuendo of the past one-hundred fifty years; things unfortunately get twisted a bit over that long a time-span. I grappled with these decisions daily while working to bring their relationship to life, carefully avoiding the extremes in description and dialog that would only serve to create an unrealistic (or even cartoonish) pretense about their obvious bond. To keep their connection to one another realistic, and true to how it probably was, I had to walk a daily tightrope of words and phases. My hope of course is that I somehow succeeded, but I must let others be the judge of that.

-Adin Dalton

Blog note: Today’s posting will seem less cryptic to those who have read the novel Fate.  If you’re interested in the composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and his amazing life, grab a copy today. (Exclusively at Amazon.com)