Favorite Russian Writers A to Я: Pushkin, Pasternak, Platonov, Panova

Well, I’ve done the unthinkable twice today: first I posted a piece to the wrong blog, for which I apologize, now I’ve skipped the letters N (Н) and O in my “Favorite Russian Writers” series. I don’t mean to disappoint fans of Nabokov, Nekrasov, Odoevsky, or Okudzhava but I don’t have any real, true favorites among those letters… despite enjoying Nabokov’s Gogol and some of Ostrovsky’s plays. Beyond a dearth of N and O favorites, the letter P (П) is so much more fun that I’m happy to jump N and O…

The letter P, of course, has to start with Alexander Pushkin, who would be a favorite just for his Повести Белкина (Belkin Tales) (previous post) and the short story “Пиковая дама” (“Queen of Spades”). They get better for me with each rereading. And then there’s all the poetry…

Moving into the Soviet era, I can’t not mention Boris Pasternak, whose Доктор Живаго (Doctor Zhivago) I read multiple times in grad school. Even if I didn’t enjoy Zhivago as much when I read it four years ago (previous post), I still have a deep sentimental attachment to my experiences (re)reading and talking about the book in school, trying to figure out the meaning of the rowan tree and gathering references to sources of light so I could write a paper. Plus there’s the Pasternak dacha, which I visited regularly when I lived in Moscow.

Platonov's grave, Moscow. 

Then we have Andrei Platonov, whose “Возвращение” (“The Return”) is one of the most perfect short stories I’ve ever read. I think “Родина электричества” (“The Motherland of Electricity”) was my introduction to Platonov, though, followed by his difficult Котлован (The Foundation Pit) (previous post) and his wonderfully disorienting Ювенильное море (Juvenile Sea or Sea of Youth) (previous post). I think disorientation is what I love so much about Platonov: his word choices, word order, and word inventions create texts that jar me linguistically and emotionally. Platonov may be my favorite of these favorites. 

Another favorite is Vera Panova, whose novella Серёжа (translated as Seryozha and Time Walked and A Summer to Remember) is a beautiful account of a child’s life with his mother and new stepfather. My previous post generated lots of very enthusiastic comments from people who first read Seryozha in Tamil, Bengali, and other languages. I thought Panova’s Спутники, (The Train), about people who work on a hospital train during World War 2, was also very good.

Among contemporary writers, Zakhar Prilepin is probably my closest to a favorite, thanks to his Грех (Sin) and a few short stories that I also thought were very good; I enjoyed his political novel Санькя (San’kya) far less.

Bonus! Daniel Kalder, who writes a weekly column for RIA Novosti, sent the link to his interview with Russian critic Lev Danilkin; it’s in English. Danilkin mentions Prilepin and another P writer—Victor Pelevin—as popular, even naming Pelevin when asked “Who are the great authors of today?” I was particularly happy to see Danilkin mention books that discuss the October events of 1993… Enjoy!

Up next: Andrei Rubanov’s Жизнь удалась (All That Glitters, on his literary agency’s page). And more soon about Read Russia and BookExpo America… 

Photo: SreeBot, via Wikipedia. 

Vera Panova’s “Seryozha”: A Child’s View of Post-War Russia

A novella about a preschooler’s life in the post-War USSR might not sound like much fun, but Vera Panova’s gentle Серёжа (translated as Seryozha and Time Walked and A Summer to Remember) skillfully balances a child’s observations of joy and worry. Panova composes her novella of linked vignettes about Seryozha’s adventures – emotional, physical, and social – providing insights into the psychology of a child and his Soviet adults. The most constant thread in the stories is Seryozha’s relationship with his new stepfather, who works at the local collective farm.

Panova uses остранение (ostranenie, defamiliarization) frequently in Seryhozha, showing situations and objects from Seryozha’s childish perspective. Non-Russian readers in the 21^st century may also feel almost like children as they witness everyday aspects of Soviet life: tight living conditions, a funeral, and the consequences of World War 2 for families. Much of the child psychology feels universal, though, including Seryozha’s mother telling him he gets on her nerves. Or children teasing one another with “жадина-говядина,” (zhadina-goviadina), a rhyming phrase that means (sort of) greedy-beef.

Panova’s portrayals of people and their settings feel honest, whether she looks at Seryozha’s lack of memory for his biological father or children’s curiosity about a body covered with tattoos. The combination of humor and pathos also feels true – particularly in the scenes where the children tattoo themselves – as do Seryozha’s thoughts and tantrums.

Seryozha is dated 1955, placing it, historically, toward the beginning of the Khrushchev Thaw. Panova was vilified a year earlier for lacking party spirit in a previous book, and Seryozha not only lacks party spirit – despite Seryozha’s stepfather’s job at the collective farm – but also includes small mentions of religion.

I found the chapter on a newly freed prisoner particularly interesting: Panova portrays with sympathy a man who claims to be innocent of the thievery for which he was jailed. Panova looks, through Seryozha’s eyes, at other questions of morality, including hypocrisy. When Seryozha calls an adult a fool (дурак) for playing a trick on him with an empty candy wrapper, he believes his mother won’t object, but she instead asks him to apologize. Seryozha begins to bond with his stepfather after overhearing him say that the boy is already far more mature than the foolish man.

The simple prose of Seryozha reads beautifully as a story of a child’s experiences, but it also resonates as a symbolic portrayal of its time: the first years after the death of Stalin, when the Soviet Union was adjusting to life under a new leader. Panova’s own life experience included the arrest and death of her second husband’s in the 1930s for alleged involvement in the Leningrad opposition after the death of Kirov.

Seryozha is the second work by Panova that I have read and enjoyed. I also highly recommend her Спутники, (The Train), a slice-of-life novel about people who work on a hospital train during World War 2. The two pieces have a lot in common: simple language, characters who feel real, and an organic quality to mentions of patriotism and ideology. Though Panova’s writing may feel effortless, her messages are not simplistic.

For more on Panova's life: Вера Панова