Saturday, July 18, 2020

Mad Scientists & Talking Heads: Belyaev’s Professor Dowell’s Head

Alexander Belyaev’s Голова профессора Доуэля (known as Professor Dowell’s Head in Antonina W. Bouis’s English translation) made for some perfect retro – it was written in 1925 – reading during this bizarre pandemic summer. In my last post, I wrote in my “Up Next” section that my reading preference is “the odder the better right about now” so a book about live, talking heads separated from their bodies was just the thing.

Александр Беляев Голова профессора Доуэля russian book Alexander ...
Eek!
And so. Professor Dowell’s Head focuses on two mad scientists. The mad scientist in the title, professor Dowell, is mad because he’s angry at his former colleague, professor Kern. Kern is a mad scientist who fits neatly into this wonderfully concise stock character definition on Wikipedia. Kern’s “unusual or unsettling personality traits” emerge right at the start of the novel, when he hires a young medical professional, Marie Laurent, to work in his Paris lab. He asks her if she can keep quiet. Kern then accuses beautiful women of having double the usual female deficiencies (like, oh, chattiness) and wants to know if Laurent’s nerves are in order.

It’s clear from the start that Marie will need strong nerves to work with Kern: she’s quickly shown a lab where a live human head is installed on a stand. That head belongs to none other than Dowell, who will soon tell Laurent how his head ended up in Kern’s lab. Professional, professorial jealousy, not to mention crime, comes into this, revealing some of Kern’s “unusual or unsettling personality traits” that fit with mad scientistdom. Laurent’s nerves do indeed suffer from what she learns, particularly since she’s far more sympathetic to mad-angry Dowell than mad-insane Kern. Kern will find and install two more heads in his lab, even attaching one to a body he finds at the morgue. Other characters (including professor Dowell’s son and one of his friends) enter the novel, too, though I’ll skip the details to prevent spoilage for future readers.

Professor Dowell’s Head combines science fiction and adventure, and is enough of a classic that it’s noted in A History of Russian Literature, which mentions that the book involves one of Belyaev’s “plots in which the human subject gains immortality and forfeits the body.” I certainly can’t argue with that and shudder a bit on a ninety-degree day as I confess that this is something I think about. Belyaev’s characters and plot turns are straightforward but he sets them up for maximum effect, establishing dualities – two scientists, mind and flesh, ethical and unethical behavior – so his characters can contemplate questions about what it means to be human.

Reading Professor Dowell’s Head during these pandemic months felt particularly striking. That’s likely because I’m so content with home-based social distancing, something some people apparently find about as appealing as preserving severed heads in a lab. I can’t say I’d want that fate myself, but I’m not at all bored at home, though of course all of me is still here. There are books to read, cats and humans to feed, vegetables to harvest, and hundreds of pages to translate. Dowell may not be especially happy in Kern’s lab but he’s far better off than the other two heads, who aren’t nearly as suited as Dowell to an existence that’s completely about the mind, not the body. Professor Dowell’s Head is relatively easy reading with a fairly quick-moving plot that’s appropriately peculiar for our odd times. Professor Dowell’s Head isn’t nearly as masterful as, say, Bulgakov’s Heart of a Dog, which is also dated 1925, also involves strange medical experimentation, and is (so far) my favorite Bulgakov. Even so, Professor Dowell’s Head is a solid page-turning novel that readers (including young adults) might enjoy discussing during this pandemic summer – both the novel and the pandemic raise plenty of questions about life and science.

Up next: Potpourri! Or maybe something else?

Disclaimers and disclosures: Only that translator Nina Bouis is a wonderful friend and colleague. I didn’t realize until writing this post that she translated the book!

9 comments:

  1. oh no! he's one of the worst )) i barely could go through four first volumes, the further the worse
    https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2535109329

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    1. I totally understand you, Mx! It's not great literature by any stretch of the imagination but it was a lot more readable than, er, some of the other books I'm supposed to be reading... (Not sure if that's )) or (( if you take Big Book into consideration!) Most of all, since I didn't grow up with Soviet fiction, it's interesting to read some of these odd books that have survived, despite not being great literature in terms of the writing.

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    2. I will endure it to the end though, like that hedgehog who ate cactii. Probably.

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  2. Well, it sounds fun, but alas like all the Macmillan Sci Fi books currently costs an arm and a leg (and possibly a head...)

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    1. It's most definitely not worth losing a limb (and certainly not a head!) over, kaggsysbookishramblings! As I mentioned to Mx above, it's not great literature, but I found it good pandemic summer reading.

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  3. What a blast from the past, Lisa. I did a few of the Macmillan Soviet sf books, an uneven bunch, but fun. Thanks for reading, posting, and reminding!

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  4. This book was one of two Soviet pop-culture references that appeared in the book about math and neuroscience I translated for Anna Sverdlik a few years ago! The author talked about this story haunting her as a child, and her studies in neuroscience later convinced her the premise was hogwash - basically, we can't think and reason without our bodies (outside of science fiction, of course). Professor Dowell's Head made the final cut and stayed in the English version of the book. Cheburashka, on the other hand, got edited out as unfortunately too hard to explain.

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    1. Thank you for your comment about Professor Dowell's Head and your translation, fairvega! It's interesting that Prof. Dowell made the cut but Cheburashka didn't, though Cheburashka is, indeed more difficult to explain!

      It's funny, I haven't translated anything (yet, anyway!) that mentioned Professor Dowell but two books have mentioned Belyaev's Amphibian Man.

      Happy translating to you!

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