Posts tagged with "русская литература"

«Дорогие друзья» [Dear friends], I did something very bad this Tuesday: «я пропустила занятие по русскому языку» [I skipped Russian class]. I really did not want to, I assure you. «Но мне было надо написать письменную работу» [But I had to finish my essay (literally "written work")]. But luckily, this does not mean I have run out of ideas for posts on this blog. This is the second post in a series, so please read the first part if you have not already, otherwise this will not make much sense. In the photo: the woman who wrote the poem below, «Анна Ахматова» [Anna Akhmatova].

As promised, here is the second half of the poem.

И замертво спят сотни тысяч шагов
Врагов и друзей, друзей и врагов.

А шествию теней не видно конца
От вазы гранитной до двери дворца.

Там шепчутся белые ночи мои
О чьей-то высокой и тайной любви.

И всё перламутром и яшмой горит,
Но света источник таинственно скрыт.

Translation:

And through frozen sleep one hundred thousand footsteps
Of enemies and friends, friends and enemies.

You cannot see the end of the procession
From the vase of granite to the doors of the palace.

There my white nights are whispering
About someone’s lofty and secret love.

And everything burns with mother-of-pearl and jasper,
But the source of the light is mysteriously hidden.

Obviously it is better «в подлиннике» [in the original] and I know I am «плохая переводчица» [a bad translator] of poetry.

One of my favorite things about this poem is the longing present in it. «Ахматова тосковала по родине» [Akhmatova longed for her homeland] but after the revolution in 1917, that homeland did not exist anymore. I think she used St. Petersburg as a metaphor for the Russia of her youth because she was not born in St. Petersburg. «Санкт-Петербург был столицей бывшего Российской империи» [St. Petersburg was the capital of the former Russian empire].

If you have any interpretations about the poem, please leave them in the comments! After all, I am not «литературовед» [a literature expert], so I’m sure some of you know way more about this than I do.

I would advice you all to continue doing what I always do – and sort of have instructed you to also take pleasure in – look for signs of Russian literature EVERYWHERE! I found this bumper sticker on a car in downtown San Francisco today: “What would Taras Bulba do?” [«Что бы делал Тарас Бульба?»] Don’t recognize where it’s from? But of course you do! It’s the main character of the novel with the same name «Тарас Бульба» [“Taras Bulba”] by «Николай Васильевич Гоголь» [Nikolai Vasil’evich Gogol’].

«Всему есть предел» [there's a limit to everything], the Russians say. All good things come to an end, people speaking other languages claim. No matter what your native languages might have been, «дорогие читатели» [dear readers], it has been a pleasure for me to have been able to guide you through «сложности и весёлости русского языка» [the difficulties and the gaieties of Russian language] here on the Russian blog since November 2007. As many of you already know, in June this year I left Russia «после 6 (шести) лет» [after six years] of living, studying, working there. Perhaps not a few of you also are aware that currently «я проживаю в США (Соединённых штатах Америки)» [I am living in the USA] and «учусь в аспирантуре университета Беркли» [studying in graduate school at Berkeley]. Thus my reality has changed drastically in the past couple of months – not only have I met a new country, but an entire new world of responsibilities, opportunities and adventures has opened up before me. And no matter how much it makes me sad to say so, I realize that this is «перекрёсток» [the crossroads] of my personal road and the road of the Russian blog.

This is my last «пост» [post – even though some of the nit-pickier might say that this word in Russian should be used only for talking about different kinds of fasts, «великий пост» [lent], for example, and not be confused with texts submitted to blogs of various kinds]. But before I take my final bow, I really want to say «спасибо» [thank you] to all of you, the readers, «мои милые друзья» [my sweet friends], for the essential contribution you have made by way of your comments – as well as guest posts – to this blog. It is true that nothing written ever comes into existence before it is read; and thus only through you can I some day in a very distant future say that once upon a time, when I was a young girl and living in Russia, did I work as a professional blogger… I want to say «спасибо» [thank you] for every time anyone of you have corrected my spelling or my grammar – in Russian as well as in English (I wouldn’t be the kind of writer I am today if it wasn’t for such corrections!) –  and for all the times we have connected on a deeper level through Russia as a country, Russia as culture, Russia as literature, and Russian language as a way of life. It is my innermost wish that you all continue «ваши усердные занятия русским языком» [your zealous studies of the Russian language], and that you learn also to treasure every little step forward.

«Ведь изучению языка нет предела!» [For the study of a language has no limit!]

My life, though located outside of Russia geographically, continues to move inside of Russia on several levels. I’ll continue to teach Russian here at the university; and master more and more while traveling along on the magical mystery tour known as a career «в науке» [in science/academia]… And one day – which now seems so distant and far – I will become that «профессор русской литературы» [professor of Russian literature] I dreamed of becoming when I was a teenager. And one day – who knows, right? – you might send your kids to college and as you do, urge them to take a class in Russian language or literature, and – once again, who knows? – I might turn out to be the one to teach them. I promise I’ll go easy on them and take it one «падеж» [case] at a time…

If there were more time, I would stay on and blog for infinity. They say that there’s always a «выбор» [choice], but in this case «мне и не придётся выбирать» [I don’t even have to choose], for «я уже выбрала» [I have already chosen].

Anyone happen to know if they sell bumper stickers with “What would Tatiana do?” [«Что бы делала Татьяна?»] anywhere? You know, the leading lady from the ‘novel in verse’ by «Александр Сергеевич Пушкин» [Alexandr Sergeevich Pushkin] «Евгений Онегин» [“Eugene Onegin”] is probably my favorite character in all of Russian literature. And to think that I spent almost three years blogging without even mentioning her! Russian literature is indeed an abyss… And with that disturbingly thrilling picture I leave you once and for all, repeating as I go «спасибо!» [thank you!] and «прощайте!» [farewell!]…

This is mimosa, one of the first flowers that appear at Russian markets in late winter and early spring. There’s much discussion whether the flowers Margarita carried the day she met Master were indeed «мимозы» [mimosa flowers]. After all, Bulgakov never named them, not in Chapter 13 anyway. He only described them as «отвратительные, тревожные жёлтые цветы» [disgusting, troubling yellow flowers]. If you still think that it might be some other kind of flower and not mimosa stick around – the answer will be revealed to you in a few chapters. In the mean time here is an interesting and highly relevant fact about mimosa. It was, by some accounts, Stalin’s favorite flower.

Remember how Master came to live in his cozy little basement apartment? «Он выиграл лотерею» [He won a lottery]. This is another mystery. Does Master strike you as someone who buys «лотерейные билеты» [lottery tickets] and who’s interested in «быстрое обогащение» [quick riches]? Besides, it seems that all the fund-raising lotteries conducted by Soviet government between 1925 and 1939 were «вещевые», meaning that various household items, not money, were given away as prizes. Seems like Bulgakov gave his Master an “easy way out” of the daily grind, emphasized his not fitting in with the societal realities.

Speaking of lottery, have you ever heard a phrase «выиграть в лотерею по трамвайному билету» [lit: to win a lottery with a tram ticket]? It means to be so lucky that you don’t even have to try hard if at all. Such person is also called «счастливчик» [the fortunate one] or «везун» [the lucky one] from the word «везти».

The word «везти» itself has a couple of meanings. One is to carry or drive as in «Сергей меня подвезёт до вокзала» [Sergey will drive me to the train station]. The second meaning is to luck out, as in «с мужем мне очень повезло» [I am lucky to have such a husband] or «Свете повезло и она смогла провезти все украшения через таможню» [Sveta lucked out and was able to carry all the jewelry through the customs].

I personally don’t know anyone who is «везунчик» [lucky one], a kind of person that whatever he undertakes, «ему фартит» [the luck is on his side]. Most of my friends have «полосы везения, чередующиеся с полосами невезения» [lucky streaks followed by the unlucky ones].

When «невезуха» [informal - bad luck] or even «непруха» [even more informal - bad luck] happens many Russians ask rhetorically «что такое «не везёт» и как с этим бороться» [what’s lack of luck and how to overcome it]. They might complain that «везёт как утопленнику» [just my luck; lit. having the luck of a drowned man]. But most know that «если не везёт в картах – повезёт в любви» [if one is unlucky in cards, he’s lucky in love] or «кому не везёт в любви, тому карта прёт» [those unlucky in love are dealt the best hand in cards]. Besides, everyone knows that «дуракам всегда везёт» [fools are always lucky]. So «если вам не везёт» [if you aren’t having much luck] whether «в любви» [in love], «в картах» [in card games], «по работе» [with or at work], or even «по жизни» [in life], that’s just another proof that you’re a smart cookie.

Like many people in many other countries, Russians believe «число тринадцать» [number thirteen] to be a particularly unhappy one (we even had a discussion about «пятница, тринадцатое число» [Friday, the 13th] on our Facebook fanpage some time ago. Isn’t it strange then that Master makes his entrance in Chapter 13?

To begin with, it is not often that one has to read almost half through the novel to meet its hero. Can you think of any other «литературное произведение» [literary work] that does the same? I can’t.

And then, when the hero finally appears, he does so in Chapter 13 that increases the feeling of «мистика» [mysticism] and reinforces the reader’s impression that some «чертовщина» [devilry] is afoot.

Can it also be a veiled reference to Matthew 3:13 “Then cometh Jesus…”? After all, the title of the chapter, «Явление героя» [The Appearance of the Hero], evokes one of the most well-recognized Russian paintings «Явление Христа народу» [The Appearance of Christ before the People].

Whatever the allusion, the appearance of Master brings a third dimension to the novel. So far it had two plot lines running in parallel. One was set in the ancient Jerusalem and centered on Pontius Pilate and Yeshua; the other, mischievous one, set in Bulgakov’s Moscow, involved Woland and his victims. The only link between the two was the poor «сумасшедший» [insane, lit. the one who left his mind] Ivan Bezdomniy. And now, we have another «душевнобольной» [insane, lit. the one with an ailing soul] who strengthens the link.

If you know the saying «когда бог хочет наказать человека, он лишает его разума» [when god wants to punish a man, he deprives him of the faculty of reason], you might find it very curious indeed that the only two people in the entire Moscow who have an inkling as of Woland’s true nature are the two mental patients. Things are getting more and more mysterious!

Maybe you’re asking yourself «кто это?» [who is this?] looking at the painting above. But if you’ve been reading «Мастер и Маргарита» [“Master & Margarita”] together with us the past two months, then you should know by now that this is «Михаил Булгаков» [Mikhail Bulgakov]. Though you might still wonder «где это?» [where is this?]. Well, it happens to be on the wall «в одном знаменитом московском подъезде» [in one famous Moscow doorway (entrance)]…

…and this «знаменитый подъезд (нынче подъезд номер 6 (шесть), видимо)» [famous entrance (or I would call it ‘staircase’ rather) (currently entrance number 6, apparently)] leads up to the part of «музей М. А. Булгакова в Москве» [the M. A. Bulgakov Museum in Moscow] which is also known as «квартира номер 50 (пятьдесят)» [apartment number 50].

The walls have been re-painted many times to cover up the curios remarks and talented artworks left by various «поклонники писателя» [devotees/admirers of the writer] over the years. But there’s no stopping «любовь читателей» [the love of the readers], for new paintings and fresh messages keep appearing and re-appearing on these walls. That’s why every time you go there you might find something entirely new! When I visited the museum in June I especially liked where it says «Булгаков – гений» [Bulgakov is a genius] with BIG letters, and then in smaller letters (not visible on the picture above, sadly):«это правда, я проверил» [it is true, I (male) verified/tested/checked it]. «Как?» [how?] There’s no further explanation! Oh, and then there’s the «МАСТЕРство не пропьёшь» [‘you can't drink your skill (handicraft; trade) away’]. I hope that’s true! «А кто-нибудь проверил?» [Did anyone verify it?]

Chapter 12 – «Явление героя» [“The Appearance of the Hero”, or an even better English translation might be: ”The Hero Appears”] – is where we, the readers of “Master & Margarita”, finally come to understand what the novel’s title means. In this chapter an enigmatic «гость» [mas. guest] comes into the room of «Иван Бездомный» [Ivan ‘Homeless’] in the mental hospital in the middle of the night – through the balcony. During his visit he asks about how Ivan came to be there as well as manages to tell the story of his life, all without ever mentioning his own name. Not even once! The stranger is fascinated with how Ivan’s arrival to the mental hospital is tightly linked to Pontius Pilate – a historical figure about whom he himself once wrote an entire novel. After receiving this piece of curious information Ivan asks the mysterious man: «Вы – писатель?» [”Are you a writer?”]. But he almost corrects him: «Я – мастер» [“I am a master”]. He points at this hat which has the letter «М» sown onto it in yellow silk and comments: «Она своими руками сшила её мне» [“She sew it for me with her own hands”]. Who is «она» [she]? The Master does not mention her name while telling Ivan the whole story about how they met. But we all can guess that she must be the «Маргарита» [Margarita] from the book’s title, right? Chapter 12 might just as well be called «Явление героя и героини» [“The appearance of the Hero and the Heroine”] for from this chapter on she comes to play an equally important part to the story as he does – perhaps an even greater one! In my strictly personal opinion, the title of the novel might just as well have been «Маргарита и Мастер» [“Margarita and The Master”] instead of the other way around. Chapter 12 is only our first introduction to the novel’s two ‘main’ characters, but the further we reach in their stories and their involvement in the plot, the more will we understand that it is not entirely clear who of these two are really «главный» [main, chief, principal; head (in mas. sing.)] – or should I perhaps say «главная» [the same adjective but in fem. sing]?

Chapter 12 is where the according to some scholars «фантастический роман» [fantastic/fantasy novel] transforms from «реалистический роман с элементами фантастики» [a realistic novel with elements of fantasy] into «любовный роман» [a love novel]. Or it might be more correct to call that aspect of the novel for «история одной любви» [the history of one love] – what love is that, you might ask? Well, the love «между мастером и одной замужней женщиной» [between the Master and one married woman] «без имени» [without a name]. We all realize that she’s «Маргарита» [Margarita] – as we find out that their love came upon them like a thief on the street, according to what the Master told Ivan.

Since they are indeed a «знаменитая пара из русской литературы» [famous couple from Russian literature], I thought to myself: “Why not finish this post with a quiz to see if you can pair some literary couples with the books that chronicle their love story?” I had a bit of «кризис с фантазией и памятью» [crisis with (my) fantasy and memory] while trying to come up with at least five couples – not all of them necessarily had a happy ending. If you know more couples than this, please share them in the comments (and don’t forget to mention in which book we might find them)!

1. «Соня и Раскольников» [Sonia and Raskol'nikov];

2. «Лара и Живаго» [Lara and Zhivago];

3. «Наташа и Безухов» [Natasha and Bezukhov];

4. «Татьяна и Онегин» [Tatiana and Onegin];

5. «Одинцова и Базаров» [Odintsova and Bazarov].

*

A. «Война и мир» [“War and Peace”];

B. «Отцы и дети» [“Fathers and Sons”];

C. «Преступление и наказание» [“Crime and Punishment”];

D. «Евгений Онегин» [“Evgeny Onegin”]

E. «Доктор Живаго» [“Doctor Zhivago”].

Leave your answers – or guesses, if that’s how you’d rather define them – in the comments like this “1 + E” (if you think that’s right). You get extra points if you can also add who the writers behind each of the novels are! I’ll publish the correct answers on Thursday. If this was super-easy for you, then let me introduce a more difficult task: How come (almost) all the female characters on the list above are mainly called by their first names, whereas the male go by their last names?

And this week «мы читаем Булгакова у бассейна» [we're reading Bulgakov by the pool].

«Да, да, знаю, знаю» [yes, yes, I know, I know] – it has been almost two months since we all started reading «Мастер и Маргарита» [“Master & Margarita”] together and we haven’t made it further than chapter ten. «Честно говоря» [honestly speaking] I think we’re just going to keep reading this novel and writing a post about a chapter (or like in today’s post: TWO chapters, because one of them is really short) every week until we finish it because in every chapter there’s something interesting. By now I think it’s clear to all of us that we can find some little detail in every chapter – or in some cases, too many and too big details! – to focus on that’ll not only help us understand what «шедевр Булгакова» [Bulgakov’s masterpiece] is about, but also a little bit more about the Russian language. Today we’re covering mainly «глава 10 (десятая): Вести из Ялты» [chapter 10: News from Yalta], but also «глава 11 (одиннадцатая): Раздвоение Ивана» [chapter 11: The ‘Splitting’ of Ivan]. In chapter 10 we find ourselves at the «Варьете» [Variety Theater], located «на той же Садовой (улице)» [also on Savodaya (Garden) Street], where its financial director «Римский»  [Rimsky] and administrator «Варенуха» [Varenukha] are about to receive just what the title of the chapter is called: news from Yalta. Back in the 1930’s «не было интернета» [there was no internet] and «ни у кого не было сотового телефона» [nobody had a cellular phone] so it was not as easy it is now to get a message from «Крым» [the Crimea] to reach «Москва» [Moscow] instantly. We know that the director of the Variety Theater, «Лиходеев» [Likhodeev], has just been magically removed from Moscow to Yalta by Voland’s «шайка» [gang]. Now if this had happened right now, Likhodeev could’ve just updated «свой статус на фейсбуке» [updated his status on Facebook] to say something like «Воланд меня послал непонятным образом в Ялту!» [Voland has sent me in a strange way to Yalta!]. He could even have taken a picture of himself in Yalta with his phone and posted it on Facebook, just to prove to Rimsky and Varenukha that he was actually IN Yalta. But in the Soviet Union there was no Facebook, and smart phones had yet to be invented in the world at this point in history. So what did people in the 1930’s do to communicate with other people in places far away? They sent each other telegrams! In this chapter, a woman brings the Variety Theater something called «сверхмолния» [‘super-lightning’]. This is the same thing as «телеграмма» [telegram]: made from the word «молния» [lightning] with the prefix «сверх» which in this case means ‘super’ like in the word «сверхъестественно» [supernatural]. When sending a telegram people in the olden days tended to leave out the words that they could so as to save space. These were usually those words that the reader would understand as implied. In Russian it is not that difficult to understand which words are left out, because Russian language’s worst curse (for those of us trying to learn it at least!) also turns out to be a huge blessing sometimes: «падежи» [the cases]! Let’s see if we can put back the ‘missing’ words from the first telegram from Likhodeev in Yalta to his colleagues in Moscow:

«Ялты Москву Варьете Сегодня половину двенадцатого угрозыск явился шатен ночной сорочке брюках без сапог психический назвался Лиходеевым директором Варьете Молнируйте ялтинский розыск где директор Лиходеев».

There is a reason as to why I didn’t translate the Russian text above into English straight away. A lot of the forms of the words, like «Ялты» and «Москву», give away the meaning to the native speaker who would know that what is implied is really «из Ялты» and «в Москву». And that’s why the translation would have to be ‘from Yalta’ and ‘to Moscow’ – leaving out all the fun in the Russian original! Let’s see if we can make sense out of this sentence. I’ve placed the words I think are left out and implied in CAPITAL LETTERS, just to make it easier. If you don’t agree with me, then let your opinion be heard!

«ИЗ Ялты В Москву: В Варьете. Сегодня В половину двенадцатого В уголовный розыск явился шатен, В ночной сорочке, В брюках, без сапог, психический назвался Лиходеевым, директором Варьете. Молнируйте ялтинский розыск, где НАХОДИТСЯ директор Лиходеев» [From Yalta to Moscow: to the Variety Theater. Today at 11.30 in the department of criminal investigation a brow-haired man turned up, in a nightgown, in pants, without boots, psychologically called himself Likhodeev, the director of the Variety Theater. Send a telegram to the Yalta investigation, where director Likhodeev is].

Because it would be physically impossible for Likhodeev – who just moments earlier made a phone call from his apartment to the Variety Theater – to suddenly be «в Ялте» [in Yalta], they don’t believe he is the one behind the telegram. Rimsky and Varenukha think it has been sent from a «Лжёдмитрий» [lit. ‘False Dmitry’, but in modern Russian meaning anyone who is an impostor]. The next telegram Likhodeev sends to Varenukha and Rimsky in Moscow is shorter than the first, but not as cryptically composed:

«Умоляю верить брошен Ялту гипнозом Воланда молнируйте угрозыску подтверждение личности Лиходеев».

In ‘complete’ Russian this would translate into:

«Я умоляю верить МНЕ. Я брошен В Ялту гипнозом Воланда. Молнируйте уголовному розыску подтверждение МОЕЙ личности. Лиходеев» [I beg you to believe. I have been thrown to Yalta by Voland's hypnosis. Send the department of criminal investigation a proof of my identity. Likhodeev].

It is indeed too bad that the ‘ancient’ art form of writing and sending telegrams is not something a person has to master these days – not even in Russian! The genre is quite interesting, especially to someone who is not yet fluent but still trying to figure out what the «падежи» [cases] mean and what they’ll do to those innocent Russian words. In telegrams, the case will not only be visible in the form of the word itself, but also important to the whole meaning of it. Isn’t that something to think about while you’re making your way through chapter 10 of Master and Margarita?

If telegrams are a genre of writing itself, then so is the famous act of «писать заявление» [to write an announcement; statement; application]. This is a very important thing to know how to do properly both in Russian language as well as if you’re going to spend some time living in Russia. In Russia you’d have to write a formal «заявление» [announcement; statement; application] for just about everything – Russians prefer to have everything documented and in writing on proper paper. Not very surprising then, that this is what we find «Иван» [Ivan] doing in his room at the mental hospital in chapter 11: writing a «заявление в милицию» [report to the police (I’m not sure if this is the proper English translation of the act, but that’s what I think you could explain the formal process of reporting a crime to police)] to let them know about the incident with professor Voland and his involvement in Berlioz’ death. Writing a «заявление» is not that difficult, and it sure isn’t worth making it harder than it should be – especially considering that you have to do it so often in Russia! This is how it’s done:

First you answer the question «Куда [To where?] and put the person or the place in accusative case like this: «В милицию» [To the Police].

Then you answer «От кого [From whom?] and put your own name in the genitive case, just like Ivan did in his: «Члена Массолита Ивана Николаевича Бездомного» [From member of Massolit Ivan Nikolaevich Bezdomny].

All of this is written in the right top corner of the paper – usually a blank, white paper without any lines is used. After this you write «ЗАЯВЛЕНИЕ» in big letters in the middle of the paper.

The finishing formality – before you go on and explain the reason behind why you’re writing this in the first place – is usually: «Прошу…» [I ask…]. And then you put everything that you want to ask for after that. Sometimes it seems silly in Russia to have to write a whole big paper like this when the actual request is only one sentence. Ivan’s «заявление» was a much more serious piece of work – so serious that he didn’t go on to finish it but as a matter of fact ended up not caring as much about the whole incident anymore. Maybe that’s what too many formalities will do to a person? Or maybe that’s the work of… the devil, also known as Voland?

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