Reading Between Black Lines

Russia has entered a new era of book censorship.

Publishers are pulling titles from shelves and adding disclaimers about banned content. New works of fiction and nonfiction are appearing with entire pages removed or blacked out. And law enforcement is routinely inspecting independent bookstores.

According to the independent outlet Veter, such measures have fueled a grassroots “partisan” book movement. Some organize clubs and informal libraries to read banned authors. Others painstakingly restore censored passages. Still others are building private collections of prohibited books.

In 2022, after Russia launched its full invasion of Ukraine, entrepreneur Dmitry Silin, from Ivanovo, bought about 100 copies of George Orwell’s dystopian novel 1984. "He wanted people to educate themselves, draw parallels, and understand what is happening in our country," said a future collaborator.

Silin set up a folding table in crowded areas and distributed books for free. Soon, other activists joined him. By August 2022, a 70-year-old woman named Olga (name changed) was helping distribute not only Orwell but also other dystopian and war-related works. By autumn, the initiative had evolved into a civic library founded by Silin as a space for discussion. That same year, he left Russia under pressure from law enforcement. The project continued without him.

Since then, access to independent-minded literature in Russia has become increasingly difficult. Publishers, bookstores, and state libraries face growing restrictions. Some books are removed entirely for allegedly promoting same-sex relationships or depicting drug use. Others are partially censored. A broad ban on "educational activities" involving individuals labeled as "foreign agents" has effectively sidelined books by more than 1,000 authors given that designation. Many are prominent writers, and few retailers now risk selling their works.

Today, the Ivanovo library named after Orwell holds more than 1,000 books. Some were acquired by Silin; others were gathered by activists and readers.

"We have many books written by people our state has labeled foreign agents," one activist said. "But since we are just a group of citizens, authorities cannot impose the same rules on us as on state libraries."

The small space also includes a screen and a computer. Lectures and film screenings are occasionally held for dozens of attendees.

In February 2026, Elizaveta (name changed), a 35-year-old psychotherapist in St. Petersburg, went to pick up an order from an online retailer. This time, she was asked to show her passport.

"I didn’t understand why," she said. "I asked what required age verification. They said: 'The book. We can’t give it to you without a passport."

The book was Andres Neuman’s Once Upon a Time in Argentina, a family saga about generations of immigrants in Latin America. Around the same time, Elizaveta saw reports of books being removed from libraries and realized many matched titles in her personal collection.

"I couldn’t believe this was really happening," she said.

She now keeps a large number of banned books at home, acquired from secondhand sellers or friends in academia who travel abroad.

Russians seeking uncensored literature are finding creative ways to access it. "Sometimes people arrange with authors or publishers to share original manuscripts with a limited audience," said Alina, a book club moderator. "Some authors agree to send PDFs."

Book clubs are emerging across the country, including groups focused on queer themes and other topics. Alina, who started her club during the pandemic, said participation has surged.

"We agreed to read civic and science fiction literature, and books not only in Russian or English," she said. "We also read banned works. That is important to us."

Other forms of resistance are appearing online. Since early 2026, Russian Instagram bloggers have posted videos showing how they carefully paste missing fragments back into censored books.

Journalism student Varvara tried doing the same. "We had the idea to 'heal' censored books and pass them on," she said. "But it’s very time-consuming. I barely managed to restore one and ran out of steam."