Posts under Literature

Reading for/about the Sick: «Униженные и оскорблённые» [The Humiliated and Insulted]

Posted by Josefina
Nov
17
2009

Though I am still not entirely «здорова» [healthy] yet, today I «чувствую себя гораздо лучше» [feel much better] than the days before and that’s why I finally have enough strength to write a post. I was «очень тронута» [very touched] by all of your kind wishes of health and for me to get better soon, which is why I think I’m improving as fast as I am! «Болеть» [being sick] is, as we all know, one of the most boring situations a human being can be in. When you’re sick you can’t really do anything at all, except stay in bed and try to sleep as not to let the fever get the best of you. But when you’re sick you can also «читать книгу» [read a book], because reading books are very easily done when in bed. The problem is what book to choose. My choice was the only novel written by «Фёдор Михаилович Достоевский» [Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky] that I haven’t actually read before: «Униженные и оскорблённые» ["The Humiliated and Insulted"]. Before this I had already managed to read everything by Dostoevsky, some novels even twice (either both in Swedish and Russian or both in English and Russian) wrapping it up about a year ago with «Подросток» ["A Raw Youth"]. Do not let this surprise you, though - after I first read ‘Dusty’ (as I like to call him after the Allen Ginsberg poem) at the age of 18 I managed to swallow almost everything from «Бедные люди» ["Poor Folk"] to «Братья Карамазовы» ["The Brothers Karamazov"] within a year in different translations. Somehow I never got a around to «Униженные и оскорблённые» ["The Humiliated and Insulted"], even though I tried once to read it in an English translation when I was also sick - I was 19 at the time and living in Saint Petersburg. But I couldn’t do it. The book was too full of «болезнь» [sickness] for my taste back then and I put away the book for good after about a 100 pages.

Five years later I picked it up again and this time I found it relieving to read about all these «нездоровые» [unhealthy] people in Saint Petersburg back in the 1800’s. Everyone in this book «болеет» [is sick/ill]. On every page you find things like: «Я сделался больной» [I became sick], or «Она похудела» [She had lost weight], or «Он побледнел» [He had turned pale], or «Она была в бреду» [She was delirious], or «Он хворал» [He was ill/sick]. The imperfect verb «хворать» [be ill, be sick] is old and thus used in modern Russian language mostly when talking ironically of disease, but back in Dostoevsky’s days this verb wasn’t old at all (or not AS old anyway) and that’s why when he uses it then it is without any irony. Reading about other sick people when you are sick yourself is refreshing and you feel like you’re not alone at all but part of a world filled with other sick people also going through fevers and pains. But then again, I’m still in a town «в карантине» [in quarantine] and around me are thousands of other sick people so why I am feeling alone? Because you don’t really get to meet any other sick people when you are yourself sick…

 Meet my «полка с книгами Достоевского или о Достоевском» [bookshelf with books by Dostoevsky or about Dostoevsky]. It used to be ONE bookshelf, anyway. As you can see clearly on the picture above, «великий русский писатель» [the great Russian writer] has started to spread to other book shelves…

Let me tell you something about Dostoevsky. Judging from what I’ve got by him and from what I’ve read of him and about him and the fact that I’ve translated him and written a BA thesis on him and even worked «в музее Достоевского в Омске» [in the Dostoevsky Museum in Omsk], I think I know a thing or two about him. When dealing with Dostoevsky you should know this first of all: «Фёдор Михаилович жизни-то не изобразил» [Fyodor Mikhailovich didn't portray life]. If you think you’ll find «реализм» [realism] when opening up a copy of «Записки из подполья» ["Notes from Underground"] then you are sorely mistaken. Dostoevsky called what he wrote «фантастический реализм» [fantastic realism] but that was not really what he was about anyway; what he wanted to do was «найти в человеке человека» [to find in the human being a human being]. That’s why we shouldn’t get hung up on small details in his novels that are unrealistic or seem illogical. Let’s take “The Humiliated and Insulted”, for example, since I’ve just finished reading it. This book could also be called “Much Ado about Nothing” (perhaps Dostoevsky knew this title had already been used before him in world literature). In this book not a single character work as much as a day - if you don’t count the main hero when he’s writing his books - but keep going around to each other to solve problems that seem unsolvable to them, but not to the reader.

«Униженные и оскорблённые» is a novel about highly complicated «личные отношения» [personal relations] between a small group of people related to each other in one way or another. The main hero is «Ваня» [Vanya], a young writer that has just had a big success with his first novel, despite being chronically ill and already early on in the novel he declares that he is dying (but then does not mention it anymore). Vanya is in love with «Наташа» [Natasha], a girl together with whom he grew up in the country side before going to Saint Petersburg to study. Natasha is in love with «Алёша» [Aljosja], the stupid and rather thoughtless son of «князь Валковский» [prince Valkovsky]. Prince Valkovsky used to be good friends with Natasha’s parents, «Ихменевы» [the Ikhmenevs], and they also worked for him but now they are in a fight over some money and that’s why they have all left the province for Saint Petersburg in order to settle their differences.

The novel begins with how «Ваня» [Vanya] becomes witness to how the old man «Смит» [Smith] with his equally old dog «Азорка» [Azorka] die in public and decides to move into the old man’s apartment. At this apartment his grandchild «Нелли» [Nelly] shows up one day. Nelly is also chronically sick with epilepsy and living under awful conditions with drunkards and so Vanya saves her and as he tries to do so he runs into his former classmate «Маслобоев» [Masloboev] in the street - who is very drunk also, but decides to help Vanya save Nelly. Nelly turns out to be the daughter of «князь Валковский» [prince Valkovsky], who before both «унизил» [humiliated] and «оскорбил» [insulted] her mother even though he was officially married to her and stolen a large amount of money from her, causing her to die «в чахотке» [in tuberculosis] «в подвале» [in the basement] without any money and leaving her daughter to beg on the streets for food. Prince Valkovsky is not bothered by this at all, and in his evil, selfish and disgusting character we can see how Dostoevsky is beginning to work his way artistically toward such unforgettable bad guys of his like «Свидригайлов» [Svidrigajlov] in “Crime and Punishment” and «Ставрогин» [Stavrogin] in “The Devils”. Prince Valkovsky is never accused of sexually abusing under-age girls in the book - which is the ultimate crime in the world of Dostoevsky, the only crime you are never forgiven - but toward the end we are informed that he recently got engaged to a fourteen year old… Before this he tries desperately to get his foolish son Aljosja away from the poor Natasha, and thus hooks him up with the wealthy young girl «Катя» [Katya]. Aljosja proves his lack of stamina by dating both girls and also visiting some prostitutes in-between hiss two women and after always coming home to Natasha to fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness… In the end of the novel everyone is recovering from the humiliation and insults, and gaining back all the weight that they lost during the 1,5 year that the novel took place and during which they were all suffering from various diseases. Except for epilepsy Dostoevsky is not the kind of writer to specify just exactly what his characters have come down with.

An illustration of «Нелли» [Nelly] from the book in a collection of Dostoevsky’s works in 12 volumes published in 1982. Why is it that I can’t read a single book without it ending up looking like this - filled with post-its?!

When we’re talking Dostoevsky we must never forget that no matter how unrealistic his artistic world is, he is first and foremost «христианский писатель» [a Christian writer]. That’s why the key to understanding his sometimes feverishly strange yet wonderfully captivating dialogues between people over vodka in different questionable establishments is to always keep an eye on where he puts «Новый Завет» [The New Testament]. In this novel it turns up early on in the apartment of the old man Smith, and was the book that he used to teach Nelly. In the culmination of the novel Nelly brings up the Good Book again, and the part quoted is how Jesus said «прощайте обиды» [forgive insults] and that’s when we realize what this book is about: «прощение» [forgiveness]. In the same way we can easily come to terms with “Crime and Punishment” by looking at what chapter Sonya reads to Raskolnikov. Remember Lazarus? Yes, of course you do, and then it is no surprise to you that this is a novel about «воскресение» [resurrection]. Putting things simply - Dostoevsky didn’t think outside the box, i.e. the Bible; he only thought inside the box. Think this somewhat limited his chances of reaching a broad audience world-wide? Well, not really. Despite claiming to rather want to ‘stay with Jesus, if Jesus is outside the truth, than with the truth’ Dostoevsky did well as a writer and succeeded in becoming the most influential 19th century writer in the 20th century.

Did you know that The Old Testament is called «Ветхий Завет» in Russian? I got this question on an exam once, and after answering it correctly the professor was so impressed that he decided not to ask me anything else. Just thought I could give someone else this tip!

Now I’m off to bed once again…

 
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Two Years with Russian Blog!

Posted by Josefina
Nov
9
2009

«Да!» [Yes!] «Наконец!» [Finally!] Today is not just another day, today is «девятое ноября» [the 9th of November] and a very special day. Why? Not simply because today is «день рождения великого русского писателя Ивана Тургенева» [the birthday of the great Russian writer Ivan Turgenev] - happy 191st b’day to the author of «Отцы и дети» ["Fathers and Sons"]! - but also because «в этот день» [on this day] two years ago I published my first post here on this blog. So it is finally official: «я пишу для этого блога про русский язык, русскую культуру и русскую литературу уже два года» [I have written for this blog about Russian language, Russian culture and Russian literature for two years already]. «Ура!» [Hurrah!] I thought I’d take today to switch to a more personal tone in this post - something I rarely do due to the enormous amounts of grammar that constantly need to be dealt with and explained. Today I will tell you a little something about «моя жизнь тут в России» [my life here in Russia]. After all, most of the readers of this blog have probably noticed a steady decrease in the amount of post published here these days, and there’s an explanation for this. This explanation is «моя русская жизнь» [my Russian life]. Before continuing any further I would also like to say that - just like I did in my post a year ago - all of your comments are very dear to me! I love it when you correct me and my sometimes sloppy grammar (big shout out to all the native speakers who read this blog! Thank you! both Russians and native speakers of English, that is…). I love it when you share your thoughts and experiences from Russia with me, and I would very much like this dialogue between us to continue also in the future. So keep reading, and I’ll keep writing - anytime I get - and keep commenting! I love the comments. They give me so many new ideas of what to write about, so keep them coming!

 On nights like these I fall in love with Russia all over again…

What can I say about myself, then? When I started writing this blog two years ago I was 22 years old and living my fourth year in Russia. Now I’m 24 years old and this is already my sixth year in this country. Originally I’m «из Гётеборга» [from Gothenburg] the second biggest city «в Швеции» [in Sweden]. I moved «в Россию» [to Russia] in late August 2004 when I was 19 years old. First I lived in Saint Petersburg for a semester, while I studied Russian as a foreign language. In February 2005 I moved «в Омск» [to Omsk] «в Сибири» [in Siberia] where I also studied Russian as a foreign language. I stayed in Omsk for a year and a half and even though it is pretty much impossible to sum up that experience in just a few words, I can say this much: it changed who I am forever. Summing things up even more I can say that I have grown up in this country. When I arrived here I didn’t know anything. I was a teenager with nothing but a huge dream: I wanted to become a professor of Russian literature. But at the time I didn’t speak Russian at all. All I knew when I arrived were two words: «пиво» [beer] and «привет» [hi]. Needless to say, my first week in this country was splendid… I am living proof that it is actually possible to «выучить язык» [to learn (completely, fully) a language] just by living in a country and studying hard and trying with all that you’ve got. Now I wasn’t always the best student. Right now I am the best student I have ever been, as a matter of fact, but I’ve always tried hard and spent a lot of time with Russians. And that’s how I learned this language and this country’s culture - from spending a lot of time with Russian friends. If you don’t have anyone to talk to, then you’re not going to learn how to talk. So during these past five years and plus-two months I’ve done a lot of talking! That’s one of the best advices I can give to anyone who wants to learn Russian - find Russian speaking friends! If you’re not in Russia, then go to a language club or café and sit there with your little phrase book and try your best at making conversation. Who knows? Maybe you’ll not only learn something new, but also find a new friend in the process….

I moved «в Екатеринбург» [to Yekaterinburg] in late August 2006 and have been living here ever since. All the time I’ve been a student «в Уральском государственном университете» [at Ural State University], «на филологическом факультете» [at the department of philology]. Now I’m a second year student «в магистратуре» [in the Master's program] and will be graduating in June next year with a diploma that says I’m «преподаватель русской литературы» [a university teacher of Russian literature] with all «отлично» [‘excellent', the equivalent of an A or a 5] grades - so far, anyway (keeping my fingers crossed). I have already worked as a university teacher, though, at Ural State University since October 2007. But I don’t teach what I’ve actually studied; I teach Swedish as a foreign language. And that’s one of the main reasons as to why I don’t have enough time to write here as much as I would like to since the beginning of this fall semester - this year I have three groups in different levels and I teach three evenings straight a week, leaving me almost dead by Friday night. I have two hour classes every Wednesday, Thursday and Friday from 18.30 to 20.30. But I love to teach, and I love my Russian students. We learn from each other, I teach them Swedish and they teach me Russian, they teach me about Russian reality and I try my best to show them what Swedish reality is like. I would also advice anyone who ever gets to chance to teach abroad to take this chance - it can give you so much! You’ll meet lovely people, though - of course - there are going to be many though times and rough patches and hard obstacles to overcome. Thankfully, I only have lectures in the Master’s program on Mondays and Tuesdays, so that leaves me with enough time to prepare my own classes the rest of the week. When I’m not stuck reading tons of Russian literature for seminars, that is…

I love Russian literature. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything as much as I love Russian literature (except for my family). That’s why I also love this painting of «Владимир Маяковский» [Vladimir Mayakovsky] that I came across on my way home one evening.

As you’ve probably noticed if you’ve been reading this blog already for some time, I have two favorite Russian writers that are dearer to me than all the rest of them (although I appreciate all of them equally!): «Фёдор Достоевский» [Fyodor Dostoevsky] and «Варлам Шаламов» [Varlam Shalamov]. My Bachelor’s thesis was on Dostoevsky’s time in Siberia, and my future Master’s dissertation will be on how he used material that he collected during his time there in his future novels. But in the future I would like to go on and research the connection between these two writers; I would love to write a doctoral dissertation on how Shalamov used Dostoevsky’s “Notes from the Dead House” in his “Stories from Kolyma”. To get even more personal I can reveal that I have applied to study at a graduate program in the U.S., but I’m not sure if I’m going to get in. Come early February and I’ll know where I’ll be headed next - perhaps, to California! If not, then I will continue to dedicate myself to Russian literature and Russian language somewhere else. Perhaps I’ll move back home to Sweden and start working at the university there instead. I would have loved to stay in Russia for all of my life, but for many reasons this is not the best place to start an academic career. And I really want to start an academic career! Does that sound silly? I suppose it is a little bit silly. But then again, most dreams are a bit silly… My ultimate life goal - or maybe it is just a dream anyway - would be to move back to Russia in a couple of years, once I’m done with my Ph. D. and go teach somewhere in Siberia. I love the city of «Томск» [Tomsk], where I’ve been twice, but I think I’d rather go to «Иркутск» [Irkutsk] and live there instead, even though I’ve never even been there… Not even traveled through!

I think it is true that once you’ve become very close to a foreign culture, when you’ve come to close that it has become a part of who you are, then you can never truly let go of it. Even if I’m not always going to live in Russia, a part of my heart will always belong to this country. People here often ask me about my future, and since I don’t know where I’ll end up, I always tell them: «Несмотря ни на что, душа моя требует России!» [Despite everything, my soul demands Russia!] There is still much in this country left for me to discover, and still I have many stories that I haven’t yet told anyone… This country has taught me a lot. And I am so thankful for everything that this country has given to me - education, experience, friendship. Maybe this sounds like I’m already saying «до свидания» [farewell] with another eight months left to spend here? That’s not entirely true. I’m just summing up what I’ve come to understand so far. And what I’ve come to understand is this - life is beautiful. And no matter what we must always appreciate, respect and love life.

 What it all comes down to is that I’m just «обычная девушка» [an ordinary girl] and like all other girls I love «пить вишнёвое пиво» [to drink cherry beer]. So is there a better way to end today’s post than to say «на здоровье!» [cheers!]?

 
Posted under Culture, History, Literature, News, The Russian Emotion, Traditions, language
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Instead of a Russian Time Machine: «Алмазный мой венец» [My Diamond Crown]!

Posted by Josefina
Oct
13
2009

How many times have we not wished that our neighbor was «сумасшедший учёный» [a crazy scientist] who would one day come knocking on our door, asking if we’d like to try out his newly invented «машина времени» [time machine]? The scene, as I always had pictured me it (and I’m sure you see it in pretty much the same way), would remind a lot of the classic Soviet movie «Иван Васильевич меняет профессию» ["Ivan Vasil'evich: Back to the Future"] except given the chance I wouldn’t want to switch ‘profession’ with any Russian tsar and end up in the 16th century. If I had the chance to travel anywhere I wanted to in Russia’s exhilarating past I’d choose to go visit the 1920’s. If I had a lunatic of a Russian neighbor «с такими очками, как у студента физического факультета в советские времена» [with the kind of glasses of a student of the Physics Department in Soviet Times] and he would offer me a ride «в его машине времени» [in his time machine], then I would ask him kindly to set the date to somewhere between 1920 and 1926. Why? Isn’t the answer obvious? Because of all the wonderful Russian writers and poets who were alive back then! Who were so young and ambitious and starting out by writing their best work in those first delicate years of the Soviet Union! Because of everything that was happening in Russian culture during the first half of that decade! It was the first fragile years after «Октябрьская революция» [the October Revolution] and a brand new state was building «новый мир» [a new world] that needed not only «новое искусство» [new art] in general but also «новая литература» [a new literature] especially, and this of course included «новая поэзия» [a new poetry].

None of my neighbors here «в студенческом общежитии» [in the student dormitory] are a crazy scientist and none of them (as far as I am aware at this moment in time) are working on a time machine. But the thing is that we don’t really need a time machine in order to travel back to the 1920’s in Russia - all we need in order to feel just as if we were really there is to pick up a copy of «Алмазный мой венец» ["My Diamond Crown"] by Валентин Катаев [Valentin Kataev]. It isn’t a novel. It isn’t a novella. Not a poem. It’s not recollections. And certainly no memoir, not even a lyrical journal… Then what it is? Let’s call it simply «произведение искусства» [a work of art]. A work of art in which Valentin Kataev writes down stories as they appear in his memory: stories mainly about his youth in the 1920’s and his closest friends with whom he used to spend time, read poetry and drink vodka «в Одессе» [in Odessa], «в Харькове» [in Kharkov] or «в Москве» [in Moscow]. Now Kataev’s ‘drunken chronicles’ would mean little to nothing to us - in the year 2009 - had his closest friends not been the most famous Russian writers and poets of the time…

 This is how a copy of the very first edition of «Алмазный мой венец» Валентина Катаева» [Valentin Kataev's "My Diamond Crown"] from 1979 looks like. It was only printed in some 30 000 copies, but had to be reprinted over and over again when it became «культовая книга» [cultic book] in the early 1980s.

While reading Kataev’s work of art - which consists of no more than 221 little pages without any chapters, it’s just one big «сплошной текст» [continuous text] - I kept shivering. Why did this book make me shiver? Reason one: «у меня очень трепетное отношение к русской литературе» [I have a very quivering relation to Russian literature]. Reason two: «у меня склонность к трепету перед русским поэтам и писателям» [I have a tendency to quiver in front of Russian poets and writers]. And Kataev’s work of art is just as much about literature in general as it is about poets and writers. Kataev knew everybody! People who have become in my eyes almost like literary gods after all of the great novels, splendid short stories and poetry I’ve read by them - «Юрий Олеша» [Yuri Olesha], «Сергей Есенин» [Sergey Yesenin], «Владимир Маяковский» [Vladimir Mayakovsky], «Михаил Булгаков» [Mikhail Bulgakov], «Борис Пастернак» [Boris Pasternak], «Осип Мандельштам» [Osip Mandel'shtam], «Велимир Хлебников» [Velimir Khlebnikov], «Михаил Зощенко» [Mikhail Zoshchenko] - are people that Kataev lived with. To him all of these great poets and writers of the 1920s were not simply «товарищи» [comrades] but «друзья» [friends]. Together they did all sorts of things; they lived their lives side by side back then. When Kataev writes about everything these writers and poets did together - about what was strange about life back then, about all of the evenings that happened to get a tad too ‘wet’, about how they were broke as well as when they were rich just after getting something published - it feels as if they’re alive again. While reading Kataev you feel as if these classic Russian writers are coming to life right in front of your eyes. And you don’t need any time machine at all. After a couple of pages you’re already there. Right inside the stormy literary world of a very young, very hopeful USSR - just as young and hopeful as the writers and their creations were back then. And that’s why I shivered all the way through this work of art - I felt like I was actually there!

But Kataev doesn’t write his friends’ real names in his text. No, he calls his famous friends something else and thus allows for the reader to figure it out on their own. This is called in Russian for «роман с ключом» [‘roman à clef' or ‘novel with a key'] and is done so well by Kataev in «Алмазный мой венец» that the copy I borrowed in the library last week - from 1979 - was full of different people’s notes and guesses and question marks and exclamation marks… It was interesting in itself to read what the people reading it before me had come up with…! Some guesses were right, others were wrong - but all of them equally qualified, of course. At times Kataev will give you pretty big hints, though, that you won’t be able to misunderstand. For example when he talks of how he came up for the basic plot behind «Двенадцать стульев» ["The Twelve Chairs"] and gave it as an assignment to be written by «брат» [brother] and «друг» [friend]. It is more than obvious here that the ‘brother’ must be his own younger brother «Евгений Петров» [Yevgeny Petrov] and the ‘friend’ then none other than «Илья Ильф» [Il'ya Il'f].

 How should one read «роман с ключом» [‘a novel with a key'] properly, you might wonder? You could try following my example as portrayed above - with a pencil in hand! I made a list of the nicknames in my notebook and while going through the text I filled in the real names next to them as I kept guessing. It was a lot of fun! But then again I am «филолог» [a philologist] and we tend to think things like this are amusing.

Out of the very many interesting things and people you can read about in this truly wonderful work of art, let me mention just a few. I hope that I in this way will give all of you a clearer picture of what this little book it is really about. I hope to show you exactly how close Kataev was with the most brilliant people of his time, of his youth. Not that he himself wasn’t brilliant; after all, he wrote this, didn’t he? And maybe I hope that you’ll read it, too, and come to shiver and smile and be unable to stop reading for curiosity just like I did…

Kataev writes about how he was in love with «синеглазка» [blue-eyed (girl)] when he was very young. She was the younger sister of a writer he calls «синеглазый» [blue-eyed (masculine adjective)]. With this blue-eyed writer he would play in casinos in order to win money and buy vodka and sausage. And he, ladies and gentlemen, is Mikhail Bulgakov!

Kataev would often drink with «королевич» [from the word for ‘king'] and he was among the first to hear this poet’s brilliant «Чёрный человек» ["The Black Person"] - one of the last poems he wrote before taking his life. This is, dear comrades, none other than Sergey Yesenin!

Once «королевич» [Sergey Yesenin] got very drunk and ordered Kataev to take him to the apartment of «Командор» [Commander], since he was convinced that they deep down weren’t poetical enemies at all, but brothers who loved each other deeply. Who is then «Командор»? You guessed it: the only one to be written with a big letter in Kataev’s work of art is of course Vladimir Mayakovsky!

But more than anyone else Kataev writes about «ключик» [‘the little key']. This writer and poet also grew up in Odessa, just like Kataev did, and they became best friends already when they were still both teenagers. «Ключик» then went and became a literary legend after publishing the novel «Зависть» ["Envy"] - about which I have written a post here on the blog last spring - and Kataev ended up traveling Europe after his best friend’s death reading lectures about him. Yes. Yes. I knew you would understand it straight away - this is clearly «Юрий Олеша» [Yuri Olesha]!

And then there’s «мулат» [‘mulatto' - Boris Pasternak] and «щелкунчик» [‘nutcracker' - Osip Mandel'shtam] and many, many more people and stories left to explore in his book… Too many for a simple blog post about Russian culture. What I hope to have given you today is an idea of what Kataev’s ‘work of art’ is like. I highly recommend that you read it. In the original Russian or in a translation. In the mean time I’ll continue exploring late 20th century Russian literature… and be back with even more revelations like this one! Happy reading everyone!

 
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Listen While You Read, or – Read As You Listen

Posted by Josefina
Sep
10
2009

«Белка» [Squirrel] in Siberia during the first month of spring - changing color from gray to red/orange.

In three days I’ll be returning to Russia - more specifically, «на Урал» [to the Ural Mountains] - but until then I have a great tip for all of you. One of the things that make learning a language outside of the country in which it is spoken very difficult is because it is hard to learn its melody. It is hard to learn how to speak it if you’re not sure how it is pronounced; what it sounds like. To make this problem a little bit smaller - to give a helping hand, so to speak - you could try listening to Russian books as you read them. Or the other way around - read them while listening to them. This idea came to me the other day when I was once again browsing through the splendid Russian site about Varlam Shalamov (I know, I know, this summer has been a little too much about this brilliant author, but sometimes I can’t help myself) and came across a section called «аудиозаписи» [recordings] where you can download (very legally and entirely for free) files with Varlam Shalamov reading some of his own short stories and poems. So I did. And was very pleasantly surprised both by the sound of his voice and the way he read his own works. Especially good is the recording of the short story «Белка» [The Squirrel] found in his short story collection «Воскрешение лиственницы» [Resurrection of the Larch Tree]. I recommend first locating the short story’s text here, then downloading the short story’s sound file here, and look at the text while you listen to Varlam Shalamov reading it. I loved it. I hope you’ll all like it just as much as I did.

And remember - this is one thing you can’t do with authors like Dostoevsky; download a file where he’s reading «Преступление и наказание» ["Crime and Punishment"] and then follow his voice in the text…

 
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«Что когда? или: дни недели» [What when? or: Days of the Week]

Posted by Josefina
Aug
31
2009

When meeting someone at this fall’s new schedule in a Russian university/firm/organization (really, anywhere Russian is spoken) you could ask them courteously: «Что нового приносит эта осень вашему расписанию?» [What new does this fall bring to your schedule?]. But that’s a really ambitious question and could sound a bit formal. A less strict way of asking the same thing would be: «Что на вашем расписании этой осенью?» [What's on your schedule this fall?] Or why not skip all kinds of formalities and be both «на ты» and a little bit rude at the same time: «Есть ли вообще у тебя какое-нибудь расписание?» [Do you have any kind of schedule at all?]

Tomorrow is 1st of September, known in Russia as «день знаний» [The Day of Knowledge] and the day when both school children and university students begin studying «после летних каникул» [after the summer holiday (note that «каникулы» is always in plural in Russian, even if it's just ONE holiday/break!)]. Summer is over, even though it might still be warm outside and seem like fall is far away. The 1st of September is my favorite day of the year; there’s something special about going back to school/university that makes me feel all happy inside. It’s very hard to explain (but maybe I’m not the only one who feels this way?) - I’m nervous and excited every time, despite the fact that I’ve studied for so long that I shouldn’t be the least excited, nevertheless nervous about it. September means the beginning of a new season - «осень» [fall]. «Осень» is a feminine noun, thus it should be paired with adjectives in the following way: «золотая осень» [golden fall], «красивая осень» [beautiful fall] or «холодная осень» [cold fall]. Fall means for many of us a stricter «расписание» [schedule], where every day has its very own timetable. That’s why I think we should discuss «дни недели» [days of the week] in Russian today! The names of weekdays in Russian differ a great deal from names in other languages (now I’m mostly comparing with Romanian and Germanic languages) and that’s why they deserve some extra attention. And as always I’m at my best when allowed to mix in «немножко этимологии» [a little etymology] in my posts… Oh, and in Russian language the days of the week are always written with a lowercase letter!

«Понедельник» [Monday]:

«В славянских языках ПОНЕДЕЛЬНИК имеет значение первого дня или, согласно одной версии, дня “после недели”, поскольку “Неделя” является старым
русским словом, обозначающим современное воскресенье» [In Slavic languages MONDAY has the meaning of the first day or, according to one version, the day "after Nedelya" (week) since "Nedelya" is an old Russian word that marked the modern Sunday].

«Вторник» [Tuesday]:

«В славянских языках ВТОРНИК однозначно читается как “второй″ день недели» [In Slavic languages TUESDAY simply reads as the "second" day of the week].

«Среда» [Wednesday]:

«В таких славянских словах, как СРЕДА, СЕРЕДА, а также в немецком Mittwoch, финском Keskeviikko, название дня отмечает наступление середины недели. В древнерусском, оказывается, было ещё одно название среды - “третийник”» [In such Slavic words, as 'SREDA' (Wednesday), 'SEREDA', and also in the German Mittwoch, the Finnish Keskeviikko, the name of the day marks the advance of the middle of the week. In Old Russian language, it turns out, there was yet another name for Wednesday - ‘tretiynik' (lit. ‘the third one')].

«Четверг» [Thursday]:

«В славянских языках значение ЧЕТВЕРГА, очевидно, носит сугубо числовое значение четвёртого дня» [In Slavic languages the meaning of THURSDAY, obviously bears the principally numerical connotation of the fourth day].

«Пятница» [Friday]:

«В славянских языках, как вы уже догадались, этот день по смыслу “пятый″» [In Slavic languages, like you've already guessed, this day is according to meaning "the fifth"].

«Суббота» [Saturday]:

«Оказывается, русское название СУББОТА, испанское el Sabado, итальянское Sabato, французское Samedi восходят к ивритскому Шаббат, означающему “покой, отдых“» [It turns out that the Russian name for SATURDAY, the Spanish el Sabado, the Italian Sabato, the French Samedi ascend to the Hebrew word Shabbat, meaning "repose, rest"].

«Воскресенье» [Sunday]:

«День недели ВОСКРЕСЕНЬЕ пишется почти так же, как воскресение - слово, обозначающее то, что Иисус Христос сделал именно в этот день недели. В испанском же Domingo, французском Dimanche, итальянском Domenica, как и в русском ВОСКРЕСЕНЬЕ проявились христианские мотивы» [The weekday SUNDAY is in Russian written almost exactly (but not really!) as the word for resurrection - the word that means that which Jesus Christ did just on this day of the week. In the Spanish word Domingo, the French Dimanche, the Italian Domenica, just like in the Russian ‘RESURRECTION' showed Christian motives].

Out of the seven Russian week days the last one is the hardest to remember correctly, and learn how to write properly. Try to remember that Sunday has the old neuter noun ending spelling «ье» [soft sign + e], whereas Jesus’ awesome accomplishment is spelled with the more modern ending of «ие» [ji + e]. When pronouncing the word you don’t have to make any difference between the words; they’re pronounced exactly the same. And usually people will know what you mean depending on what context you put the word in. While we’re on the subject it should be added that scholars are still fighting over how to properly translate the title of the famous 19th century novel «Воскресенье» by «Лев Николаевич Толстой» [Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy]. Most translate it as “Resurrection”, but there a few researchers out there fighting to have it called “Sunday”… And some say Tolstoy saw the two as one and the same thing. Whatever the title is meant to mean - it is a wonderful piece of fiction either way.

Good luck with your new fall schedule!

 
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