The October Revolution in 1917 profoundly shocked the cultural ecosystem. The new authorities recast notions of freedom, of the arts, and of the public. Links between and among audiences at different levels that had thrived in the prerevolutionary cultural market were dismantled. Over time the government imposed strictures on culture requiring alignment with political directives. By 1934, the official policy of Socialist Realism was mandatory and compliance enforced by rewards and terror. The early years of revolutionary ferment yielded aesthetic innovation of the highest order, yet the mounting pressures took their toll on creativity. Writers, artists, and performers responded variously. Some took cover in works employing irony and in the (somewhat) safer terrain of children’s literature. By seeding children’s literature with values counter to those practiced by Soviet officialdom, selected writers and artists spread counter-values to a new generation. They worked with the guile of the fox, the flight of the firebird, and, perhaps, the recklessness of the Fool. By keeping alive Russian stories of wise Fools, sentient animals, and magical powers, their creators carried forward folkloric traditions barred from the reigning Socialist Realism. In doing so, they protected limited public space for artistic innovation.

The fox or vixen, a trickster of fable and folklore, is a sly survivor of life’s vicissitudes and the natural alter-ego of the Fool. Within the Russian fox ménage, it is usually the female, or vixen, who stars. After a period of relative quietude during the last decades of the old regime, the fox came into her own in the Soviet era. The animals from Russia’s rich tradition of fables resurfaced as prominent voices in early Soviet literature. Works intended for children offered stories and pictures of foxes. Authors and illustrators exhibited wiles in their lives as well as their works. Alexei Tolstoy featured foxes in his work, but more to the point, managed to stay in Stalin’s good graces when many of his peers fell. Both Tolstoy and A. M. Volkov, the author of the strange 1939 Wizard of the Emerald City, cleverly adapted already well-established foreign works. And the fox was not just for children. Ilya Ilf and Yevgeny Petrov let loose a fox in the person of their Ostap Bender. Readers could celebrate his wit and guile, as Russian émigré Andrei Sinyavsky noted in 1989 when he added Bender the Anti-Hero to his roster of Soviet foxes.