Posts tagged with "vasily aksyonov"

I’m afraid I only managed to photograph «памятник Мусе Джалилю» [the monument to Musa Jalil] – «татарскому поэту-патриоту» [to the Tatar poet and patriot] – from behind while in Kazan’… Even though Tatar literature isn’t really a part of ‘all things Russian’ in the strictest of senses – why be so strict, anyway? «Татарстан» [Tatarstan] is a part of «Российская федерация» [Russian Federation], hence we are allowed to mention also excellent Tatar writers on our Russian Blog! This monument stands «на площади 1 (первого) мая» [on the 1st of May Square] in front of «казанская Кремль» [the Kazan’ Kremlin].

Kazan’ is the home of many literary museums: you can find out everything you’ll ever want to know about the founder modern Tatar poetry «Габдулла Тукай» [Gabdulla Tuqay] in the «литературный музей Габдуллы Тукая» [literary museum of Gabdulla Tuqay] and walk along the street named after him in the town – where the museum is also located. During Soviet times the poet Tuqay wasn’t deemed worthy of attention nor scholarship because he had been part of «буржуазная культура» [bourgeois culture] of the late 19th century. In the past twenty years he’s finally received a long overdue and most worthy come-back; both to Tatar as well as Russian culture and literary scholarship worldwide. In April this year I heard an excellent presentation on him at a conference in here Yekaterinburg and was struck by how interesting he sounds. I should get myself a copy of his poetry translated into Russian! There’s a «музей-квартира Мусы Джалиля» [museum-apartment of Musa Jalil] for further exploration of Tatar literature – something well worth indulging oneself in while in Kazan’. But for lovers of traditional Russian literature there are places to go and get enlightened at too, of course! There’s «музей Е. А. Боратынского» [museum of E. A. Boratynsky] – a poet who in the early 19th century was second only to Pushkin.

And here we have «мастер русской словесности» [the master of Russian literature & language] – «Лев Николаевич Толстой» [Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy] himself! The great writer has been eternalized on a painting in the main assembly hall of «Казанский государственный университет» [Kazan State University], where he was once a student – long before he acquired that awesome beard…

There’s no museum dedicated to Tolstoy in Kazan’, but it was here that he studied «восточные языки» [eastern languages] at the university (he didn’t graduate but dropped out and according to his professors he was both stubborn as a person and unwilling to learn as a student). Kazan’ was the location where Tolstoy first started keeping a diary – the room in which he did so (it was in the university hospital where he was treated after catching a disease that shall remain unnamed…) is still available to public view today. But Tolstoy has shared his memories of Kazan’ in Russian – and world! – literature in another way than just simply by way of his diaries: his famous short story «После бала» [“After the Ball”] is set in Kazan’ and is about his brother Sergey, who was once in love with the daughter of an army general… The rest is, as they say, history!

Let’s play a fun game with these pictures of «участники марксистского кружка в Казани» [participants of the Marxist circle in Kazan] (Lenin’s not pictured, but at this point we all know he was in it): «Найти Максима Горького[Find Maxim Gorky!]. This game can be rather difficult if you a) don’t know that the famous writer back then was still going by his birth name of «Алексей Максимович Пешков» [Aleksey Maximovich Peshkov]; and b) aren’t familiar with the fact that «Горький» [lit. ‘Bitter’] rocked an enviously bushy mustache back in the days. Oh no! I gave it away, didn’t I?

If you’re a hard-core fan of «соцреализм» [socialistic realism] – and let’s be honest: who isn’t?! – a place not to be missed when in Kazan’ is of course «Литературно-мемориальный музей А. М. Горького» [The Literary Memorial Museum of A. M. Gorky]. In the basement of the museum they have recreated the bakery where the future writer – at the time still working through his «университеты» [universities] as he liked to call his education from hard manual labor and wondering around allover the great nation – worked from 1886 till 1887.

But personally to me «Казань» [Kazan’] is first and foremost the city of «Евгения Гинзбург» [Yevgenia Ginzburg] – last August I wrote here on the blog about her GULAG memoirs «Крутой маршрут» [English title: “Into the Whirlwind”; lit: “Steep Route”]. This book changed me – no matter how cliché it might sound! This was the only trace of her I was able to find in Kazan’ – in the university museum… Yevgenia Ginzburg – apart from being one of the most awesome women ever alive – was also the mother of the famous Soviet writer «Василий Аксёнов» [Vasily Aksyonov]. He was born in Kazan’ in 1932 and died last summer.

There is as of right now no museum of Vasily Aksyonov in Kazan’ – but the work on a literary center dedicated to the Soviet writer is in progress and will most likely open sometime next year. In the mean time I had to settle for a story I heard from a woman I met at Kazan’ State University – about how her grandmother knew Yevgenia Ginzburg back in the days. She would always point out that Aksyonov’s mother had been a «яркая женщина» [brilliant; striking woman]… When I heard this my first reaction was: «Конечно[Of course!] Currently I’m reading Aksyonov’s last novel «Таинственная страсть» [«Secret Passion”] about the generation of poets and dissidents in the 1960’s. And I promise that a post on this is soon to come on the blog!

Don’t let the fact that it takes a while to pronounce the long title above today scare you from reading today’s post! This long title is an attempt of mine to combine two equally interesting subjects worthy of one post each but really also equally interconnected with each other and thus worthy of being mentioned in one sentence (like the sentence I used in today’s complicated title above). Do I have your attention? Then «давай!» [come on!] and hear me out on this one. Have you ever tried keeping a diary in Russian? «Это хорошая идея, и, на самом деле, очень даже хорошая идея» [It is a good idea and in fact a very good idea indeed]. It could be a simple way of practicing the language at least a couple of times a week, if you, for example, keep finding yourself unable to write something every single day. I have never actually tried it myself (yet!), but during my years as a student of Russian language in Russia I’ve met many other students from around the world that have been accurate keepers of such ‘practice diaries’ in Russian. Perhaps this phenomenon could be called something like «дневники для практики языка» [diaries for language practice] in Russian? Some of my fellow students have been so persistent in their diary writing that they have given their notebooks to their professors for proof reading and thus also grammar correction every week.

What’s important to know before you start writing your Russian diary is that in Russian you do not «писать» [write] but actually «вести» [lead, conduct, guide; drive, navigate, pilot; carry on; hold, keep; prosecute, carry out an activity; give, transact] your «дневник» [diary; journal; day book]. If that was too many English verbs to one Russian verb for you to handle, then focus on the translation of «вести» here as ‘to keep’ and you’ll understand the phrase «я веду дневник» as ‘I keep a diary’ and can be fully content with this as it is a completely satisfactory comprehension of it. You’ll also be able to answer the question «ты ведёшь дневник?» [do you keep a diary?] (that’s the informal way to inquire, the formal way would of course be: «Вы ведёте дневник?» [do You keep a diary?]).

Have there ever been moments in your life when you’ve wished that you could back and check details from your past in diaries? Only to realize that you either а) didn’t keep a diary at the time; or б) didn’t write down what was truly significant? Have there ever been times when you have wanted to retell stories from long ago? Important accounts you wished you had written down? Things you have now forgotten? Names of people lost forever into the deepest corners of your memory? Not all of us can rely on our «память» [memory; recall; recollection] but have to write things down as they occur in order to later make them «воспоминание» [sg. recollection, memory, remembrance; flashback; memorial; reminiscence] first and later part of our «воспоминания» [pl. memoirs; reminiscence; memorials]. Some of us, however, are blessed with another gift – a gift to «запоминать» [memorize; mark] in order to much later «вспоминать» [recall, recollect, remember; reminisce]. The past month I’ve spent together with the memoir of a person blessed with such an amazing ability to remember every thing – from names of important people to the tiniest of details. During the past month I’ve been traveling through a memoir written with the accuracy of a diary – «Крутой маршрут» ["Journey into the Whirlwind"] by the brilliant, intelligent and lovely «Евгения Гинзбург» [Yevgenia Ginzburg].

While «в Кургане» [in Kurgan] on the 20th of July I came across this «хроника времён культа личности» [chronicle of the times of the personality cult] on sale in a bookstore and just had to buy it. Only when the Russian writer «Василий Павлович Аксёнов» [Vasily Pavlovich Aksyonov] died on the 6th of July did I realize that he was the son of «Евгения Гинзбург», whom I had known as the author of this spectacular work about 18 years spent on Kolyma ever since reading the notebooks of «Варлам Шаламов»… which I did in April this year. Time and time again it keeps being proved to me that to love Russia is to constantly discover something new about this country!

I started reading «Крутой маршрут» [the title could more literally be translated as ‘a steep route'] as soon as I had brought it home from the bookstore and since then I haven’t been able to let it go nor finished reading it. Finish reading it is not something done over a weekend – this memoir is over 800 pages long. And that’s one of the best things about it! I don’t know about you, but I’m a bit old-fashioned in the way that I prefer long works of fiction (or long memoirs, for that matter…) and now that I have only about 150 pages to go as I’m posting this I have to confess that I don’t really want it to ever end. I am absolutely and completely in love with Yevgenia Ginzburg. After spending almost the entire spring of 2009 with Shalamov and his tales from «Колыма» [Kolyma] it was not just interesting but also refreshing and surprising to read a woman’s account of the same place at the same time. Both Ginzburg and Shalamov were arrested during the terrible year of 1937 during ‘the infamous great purge’ and spent a total of 18 years in prison, camps and exile. Shalamov arrived in Kolyma already in 1937, Ginzburg only two years later – after spending two years in a prison cell in Yaroslavl. Of course one shouldn’t compare these two people because they are very different, but I can’t help myself. Both of them left important accounts of their life during this particular time in this region’s history behind that are well worth reading, even though they should be separate already by their different genres – Shalamov wrote many short stories, Ginzburg wrote one long memoir. Ginzburg is personal where Shalamov is not. They had different intentions with what they wrote and thus what they left for us to read are very different accounts. Yet many things remain alike and true even though – just like they both keep repeating in their works – there are many, many truths out there.

But while reading Ginzburg what kept coming back to me again and again was one single thought – that there seems to have been a lot more humor on the women’s side of the barbed wire. Not only Ginzburg, but all the other women surrounding Ginzburg in prison and in camps and in hospitals, keep joking and laughing long after Shalamov’s men have grown silent and stern and harsh. And the first thing the women in Ginzburg’s memoir say when they see the male prisoners upon arrival in Vladivostok after a month on a train is: “Oh no! And they who have such poor ability to endure pain!” (in Russian: «Они же так плохо переносят боль!») Women are really better prepared to endure that kind of cruel pain, and better prepared physically for hunger, which is why they did not die as fast and mercilessly as the men did on Kolyma.

Ginzburg was not able to keep a diary during her years in prison, camps and exile. And yet she remembered everything. In this work you’ll find hundreds of dialogues and an equal amount of names of real people from this time. «Крутой маршрут» is a terrible, beautiful, true chronicle of this time in the history of this country. Not only do I highly recommend it because of its value as a source for historical facts, but as a document of what it means to be a woman. Ginzburg is first and foremost a woman. I don’t really know how to explain it, but that’s what I found most in this memoir – her pride of herself and her sex combined with a marvelous dedication to motherhood which I have never read anywhere else before (but then again, I haven’t read that many books written by women – yet!). What I would recommend above everything else is of course to read it in the original Russian – not only because Ginzburg has a rich language, but also because she often quotes poetry. Both her own poems and the poems of many famous Russian poets. Poetry helped her survive these hardships. Poetry saved her life.

To me reading this memoir is one of the greatest reading experiences of my life. And the best part about admitting to this is that I haven’t finished it yet – thus the greatest reading experience of my life will continue!

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