It is with profound sadness that we in the Slavonic Studies Section announce the death of our beloved Natasha Franklin on Thursday 25th February 2021. It is very hard to put into words the loss that we all feel, and which we know is shared by our colleagues and friends, and by the many generations of students who have been nourished and challenged by Natasha. As Language Teaching Officer in Russian for thirty years, Natasha was the true heart of Slavonic Studies in Cambridge for as long as any of us can remember. She was an extraordinary force, whose fierce love for her students transformed so many lives.

Although recently retired from her official position, Natasha continued to supervise students with her distinctive energy and dedication, right up to her last days. She was always determined not only that each student learn to pronounce Russian perfectly, and to speak and write with impeccable grammar, but also that they feel the extraordinary power of the language and culture: she would tell them repeatedly – and memorably – that they had to discover their dormant Russian ‘soul’. Her care for her students, indeed, reached beyond the academic, into a commitment to helping them build their readiness for the world.

Natasha’s retirement in 2018 was marked by an extraordinary gathering of over a hundred alumni. Generations of Russianists reaching back to 1989 came together to celebrate Natasha, relishing the opportunity to share their memories – and enjoyed the unforgettable experience of Natasha teaching a session of Russian mat (vulgar language). The sheer vitality of that reunion is indicative of the passion and energy that Natasha conveyed to us all. It will live on in her students, wherever they are, and however they continue their relationship with Russia.

Since the news of her passing, we have had so many people write to us with love for, and stories of, Natasha. We post below a first selection of these remarkable words. We are sure that they will find echoes for many, and we encourage anyone who would like to send their own memories of Natasha to write to us at slavonic@mmll.cam.ac.uk. We will collect these as testament to her legacy.

Memories of Natasha

‘I had the impression that she was something close to eternal, and it’s hard to imagine Russian at Cambridge without her.’

‘It’s painful to know that I will never be in a room with Natasha again; that I won't be able to send her postcards from St Petersburg next year (and probably have the grammar of them corrected); that we will never hear her recite the opening of Mednyi vsadnik off by heart unprovoked again, or be stared down until we remember the right word ending. I am so grateful for the short time I was lucky enough to be her student. Natasha once vowed that by the end of our time studying Russian at Cambridge we would truly have Russian souls. All we can do now is try to honour that, and persevere with this seemingly impossible language as she would have driven us to do.’

‘She was really a light in the life of the Faculty, funny and kind, tough and resilient.’

‘Her 'mysterious Russian soul' talk - no doubt enjoyed by many terrified first-years over the years - has given me great reassurance in recent months.’

‘She was the kindest and most charismatic of colleagues.’

‘She was a wonderful and inspiring teacher. I'm sure no one ever taught by her could forget her or her lessons.’

‘Natasha’s constant positivity and energy, interspersed with her humour, can pretty much take all the credit for my enduring love of all things Russia. I’ll never forget her dedication to teaching me the difference between several types of л, repeating them over and over again for about 30 minutes while leant in about 10 centimetres away from my face. I will miss her sorely.’

‘Her classes were often daunting, but I always wanted to try my best for her, and I found her patience and enthusiasm for teaching inspiring.’

‘Whenever I smell rose water, I think of Natasha.’

'More than a professor, Natasha was a teacher in the truest sense, standing as inspiration to her students not just with her breadth of knowledge, but also with her devotion to her calling, and, most of all, her faith in us, students. Behind her every meticulous correction, her every request that you repeat a word until you got a pesky consonant just right, her insistence on the perfect use of prepositions, was her core belief that you were capable of doing better, and that with conscientious practice and dedication, you too could take part in the singular experience that is having a Russian soul. I truly believe the most important lessons she taught us had little to do with verb tenses, and everything to do with life itself: what we learnt, in true Russian fashion, was no less than the beauty of hard work, and the value that lies in relentlessness.

But Natasha did so much more than challenge us. Tough as the journey may have been, there was not a single step we had to take alone: her guidance and spirit were with us the whole way through. Thinking back now of the many hours I spent with her in first year, grappling as I did with the difficulties of ab initio grammar, I remain awed by the time and care she gave to me and to so many others. Her love - tough as it certainly was - always felt familiar and warm, its light shining brightly on our nascent Russian souls, nurturing and strengthening them, so that they may stand on their own. Natasha will live on in all of those souls, which now stand united in grief, but more importantly in celebration, of her memory.'

'I was very sorry to hear the news about Natasha. She was such a fantastic teacher - I can't imagine having done my degree without her warm, and often hilarious, input. Slavonic Studies has lost a wonderful and charismatic ambassador.'   'It seems every Russian language programme is headed by a fierce, passionate and irrepressible woman. You have to be tough to teach the Russian language to fledgling neophytes who have no idea what they signed up for. Often, but not always, this woman is called Natasha.

The fiercest, most passionate and most irrepressible of all was Natasha Franklin, Language Teaching Officer at the University of Cambridge, and my first Russian teacher.

Natasha was a veritable force of nature. Supervisions, supposed to last fifty minutes, often ran for three or four hours. Cases, conjugations, and aspects were drummed into us. One poor soul said he was late for a 9am class because he had been out rowing. Her face assumed an expression of menace and she intoned: 'You must give up this habit. Rowing and Russian Do Not Mix.'

I remember stumbling over the word безобразие in first year: 'Without shape? Shapeless? Shapeless thing? Shapelessness?'

'And shapeless things are EVIL,' added Natasha, trying to point me towards the right answer, something like 'disgrace' or 'outrage'.

'You what?'

'Yes! Shapeless things are EVIL, like water!'

'Water is not evil!'

'You have not yet read Pushkin's Bronze Horseman,' she snorted mysteriously.

I've never thought of water in the same way since. And I cannot see the word образ or безобразие without recalling this.'

A memorial service in celebration of Natasha's life will be held on 14th November 2021, at 2pm in the Chapel, Sidney Sussex. Numbers may be limited. Please let us know if you would like to attend by emailing slavonic@mmll.cam.ac.uk.

If you would like to make a donation to the Natasha Franklin Memorial Fund, you can do so here.