Favorite Russian Writers A to Я: S Is Splendid

The Russian letter С—S in the Roman alphabet—is a bit of a traffic jam for good writers. Though I don’t seem to have any S-starting favorites that I’d defend to the last letter, there are lots and lots of writers I’ve read in moderation and enjoyed enough that I look forward to reading more of their work. I’ll list some of them here. NB: I’ll address the letters Ш and Щ, which transliterate as sh and shch, later in their own posts.

Saltykov-Shchedrin

Classics first, where Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin’s Господа Головлёвы (The Golovlyov Family or The Golovlyovs) is one of the most supremely painful and masterfully claustrophobic books about family I’ve ever read. It was almost physically difficult to read. Highly recommended! Then there’s Fedor Sologub, whose Мелкий бес (The Petty Demon) I’ve enjoyed twice, first in translation, later in Russian. It’s a wonderfully fun and diabolical symbolist novel (previous post) with characters who enjoy, among other things, tearing at wallpaper. I also remember enjoying some of Sologub’s poetry in grad school.

As for contemporary writers, there are so many S scribes I’m not sure where to start. Roman Senchin comes first, I think: everything I wrote above about The Golovlyovs applies to Senchin’s The Yeltyshevs (previous post), a novel about a family that moves to a village from a regional center. Senchin’s The Information, about a young superfluous man in Moscow, is also painful and claustrophobic, good in a different way even if it takes some time to engage with. Then there’s Marina Stepnova, whose Lazar’s Women (previous post), a family saga with twists of пошлость (poshlost’) and postmodernism, was a finalist for last year’s major awards, winning two third prizes from Big Book. I’ve also enjoyed some of Stepnova’s short stories and am looking forward to her Surgeon.

Though it feels strange, I have to acknowledge Vladimir Sorokin, whom I’ve come to appreciate, though we got off to a bad start with Ice not long after I start writing the blog (previous post). I pretty much swore then that I wouldn’t read more of the Ice trilogy… but I broke down and read the next book, Bro, (previous post) and am now even curious about the third. As I wrote at the end of my post on Bro, “It’s taken me a few years and a few books to edge into Sorokin’s world.” My favorite Sorokin book is A Day in the Life of an Oprichnik (previous post), a short novel that describes a future Russia that feels rather like the Middle Ages.

I’ve enjoyed lots more books by S-starting writers, from Olga Slavnikova’s 2017 (previous post) to Aleksandr Snegirev’s Vanity (previous post) and Petroleum Venus (previous post)… and I have lots more books by writers with names beginning in S on my shelves, notably from the Brothers Strugatsky, whose world I have yet to find a way to edge into. As always, I’m open to reading ideas.

Compass Translation Award Announcement: For all you poetry translators out there, the Compass Translation Award has extended its 2013 deadline for entries to July 15. This year’s poet for translation is Maria Petrovykh. Information about the award is here. If you’re as unfamiliar with Petrovykh as I, Wikipedia can help, thanks to Languagehat, who wrote the Petrovykh entry after enjoying reading her work.

Disclaimers: The usual, for writers and agents. I’ve translated a Senchin story and excerpts from The Yeltyshevs.

Up Next: A trip report about the Translators’ Coven in Oxford and poetry translation events in London. And I’m finally reading Maya Kucherskaya’s Тётя Мотя, which literary agency Elkost is calling Auntie Mina. I loaded Auntie on the Nook for my trip but already started reading: I’m finding it perfect for my scattered frame of mind because it’s an old-fashioned long novel focusing on characters and their situations in life. That feels soothing right now, with so much going on.

Yasnaya Polyana Long List & Rushed Reading Roundup

The Yasnaya Polyana award announced long lists for its XXI Century and Childhood, Adolescence, Youth prizes last week. The XXI Century list contains some familiar names from recent short lists: Elizaveta Aleksandrova-Zorina’s Маленький человек (A Little Man), Evgenii Vodolazkin’s Лавр (Laurus), Andrei Volos’s Возвращение в Панчруд (excerpts) (Return to Panjrud), Maksim Kantor’s Красный свет (Red Light), Evgenii Kliuev’s Translit (which won a second in the Russian Prize), Maia Kucherskaia’s Тетя Мотя (Aunt Motya), Anna Matveeva’s Подожди, я умру — и приду (Wait a Bit, I’ll Die and Then Come Back… or thereabouts), and Sergei Soloukh’s Игра в ящик (The Box Game). The only longlisted books I’ve read thus far are Vodolazkin’s Laurus (previous post) and Roman Senchin’s Информация (The Information) (previous post). Yasnaya Polyana’s long list contains 41 books, many written by writers I’ve never heard of, let alone read… which is what I appreciate about long lists. A news item from April 30, 2013, notes that Yasnaya Polyana received 163 nominations: 105 were for the XXI Century category and 58 were for Childhood, Adolescence, Youth. Of those titles, 41 made the XXI Century long list and 22 made the Childhood, Adolescence, Youth long list.

Nonfiction isn’t my thing but I can’t help but mention that the Просветитель (Educator/Enlightener) award recently announced a long list, too. Two titles caught my eye: Sergei Beliakov’s Гумилев сын Гумилева (excerpts) (Gumilev, Son of Gumilev) in the biography category, and Maxim Krongaus’s Самоучитель Олбанского (I’ll go with Teach Yourself Olbansky). Beliakov’s book is already a finalist for the 2013 Big Book award.

Reading Roundup: My attention span has been painfully short during this long season of translation deadlines, travel preparations, and achingly beautiful weather… which means I’ve been reading more short fiction than usual and tossing more books aside than usual. (This also makes me fear various types of mistakes...) I find it horribly difficult to write about short fiction without retelling or spoiling entire stories but do want to note a few I’ve enjoyed. First off, a comment from Elena Bochorichvili prompted me to seek out “Волшебная мазь” (“The Magic Ointment”), a lovely story about a Georgian family that was first published in Novyi mir. Bochorichvili uses repetition beautifully as she blends together World War 2, the legacy of Stalin, family dynamics, and a mulberry tree. I didn’t want “The Magic Ointment” to end. (Ah, the heartbreak of good short stories!) Earlier this year, a friend brought me three books of by Aleksandr Furman that are part of a four-book series called “История одного присутствия” (“The Story of One Presence”). The books tell, chronologically and from a close third-person perspective, of the Soviet-era childhood of one Aleksandr Furman. I’ve read sections from the beginning of each book and share my friend’s puzzlement about how to describe the appeal of their chapters/stories. Furman doesn’t seem to write soft-focus tales of happy childhoods: my scattered reading may be very skewed but parental comfort seems largely absent in a world filled with threats. The first piece in the second volume details a long, scary-sounding hospital stay and the second tells of a sexual predator; the first piece in volume three describes the teenaged Furman’s stay in a psychiatric hospital, where he seems to feel more comfortable than he’d felt “outside.” Something about Furman’s tone, though, is accessible, even welcoming. I’ve been enjoying reading the books out of order; this seems to be something of a habit for me. Finally, I’m officially giving up on Leonid Iuzefovich’s Князь ветра (Prince of the Wind), the inaugural National Bestseller winner, after reading 249 of 347 pages: though I enjoyed Iuzefovich’s first two historical detective novels (previous post) about Ivan Putilin, a based-on-a-real person police inspector, I found Prince of the Wind too densely stuffed with historical detail and background on Mongolia to read well. The underlying story here is good, involving murder, family dynamics (again!), the possible sale of a soul to the devil, and, yes, observations about Mongolia, but the book felt terribly out of balance to me. Alas.

Up Next: A continuation of the Favorite Russian Writers series, in which I move on to the letter S. Then a trip report on the Translators’ Coven and poetry translation events in London. And, eventually, Red Spectres: Russian Gothic Tales from the Twentieth Century, a collection of stories translated and selected by Muireann Maguire. I haven’t read all the stories yet but can already say I particularly enjoyed Aleksandr Chayanov’s “Venediktov,” where I marked the line “Thoughts of diabolical encounters persecuted me relentlessly.” The combination of chits for souls and an atmosphere reminiscent of Russian sentimentalism is a winner for me.

Disclaimers: I’ve translated fiction by Elizaveta Aleksandrova-Zorina, Evgenii Vodolazkin, Roman Senchin, and Vladislav Otroshenko, who’s a member of the Yasnaya Polyana jury. I received books by Aleksandr Furman from a friend who, if I remember correctly, obtained them from the author for me. The Overlook Press sent me a copy of Red Spectres; translator and story selector Muireann Maguire acknowledged me in the book for reading a draft of Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky’s “The Phantom,” a story that thoroughly creeped me out even when my main focus was language… Thank you to all! 

NatsBest Thrown to the Wolves… and Bears

RIA Novosti reports that the writer known as Фигль-Мигль (Figl’-Migl’/Figgle-Miggle) won the National Bestseller award earlier today for her novel Волки и медведи (Wolves and Bears). According to RIA Novosti, the jurors split their votes between Wolves and Bears and Maxim Kantor’s Красный свет (Red Light), leaving honorary jury chair Lev Makarov to split the tie. Update: A June 3 article from Gazeta.ru offers more detail on voting: Kantor and Figgle-Miggle each had two votes, spurring the tie-breaker. Aif.ru has more, here. 

Figgle-Miggle reportedly accepted the award wearing large sunglasses, thanking the jury but declining to identify herself with a more conventional name. (Articles from June 3 include photos of the author without her glasses...) Her pseudonym is the singular of фигли-мигли, which sounds like figgly-miggly and which the Oxford Russian-English dictionary translates as “tricks.” When Figgle-Miggle’s Ты так любишь эти фильмы (You Love Those Films So Much) was shortlisted for the NatsBest in 2011, one of this blog’s readers suggested the English word “flimflam” as a possible translation. You Love… lost a tiebreaker vote to Dmitrii Bykov’s Остромов, или Ученик чародея (Ostromov, or the Sorcerer’s Apprentice). Update: Wolves and Bears was submitted to NatsBest as a manuscript but should, apparently, soon be out in book form.

Up Next: A mishmash of short stories? Leonid Iuzefovich’s Prince of the Wind? Or maybe letter S favorite writers?

The 2013 Big Book Short List

I’ve been so caught up in work and preparations for my trip to England next month for the Translators’ Coven that I completely forgot about today’s Big Book short list announcement! Before I head to the beach for some Memorial Day reading, here’s a quick list, in the order the books were listed on Lenta.ru:

• Sergei Beliakov: Гумилев сын Гумилева (excerpts) (Gumilev, Son of Gumilev).
• Aleksandr Terekhov: Немцы (Germans). This book won the 2012 National Bestseller award.
• Vadim Levental: Маша Регина (Masha Regina).
• Dmitrii Danilov: Описание города (Description of a City). A short book but a big personal favorite (previous post).
• Maksim Kantor: Красный свет (Red Light, though “свет” can also mean “world”… and this is a historical novel). Also on the 2013 NatsBest short list.
• Evgenii Vodolazkin: Лавр (Laurus). Another big personal favorite: I have a particular affection for this book after translating some excerpts. Also on the 2013 NatsBest short list.
• Anton Ponizovskii: Обращение в слух (maybe For the Ears?).
• Iurii Buida: Вор, шпион и убийца (Thief, Spy, and Murderer). The online version’s pages calls this novel “an autobiographical fantasy.”
• Maya Kucherskaya: Тетя Мотя (Aunt Motya or Auntie Mina, per literary agency Elkost). I’ve been meaning to read this book for months.
• Andrei Volos: Возвращение в Панджруд (excerpts) (Return to Panjrud).
• Anna Matveeva: Подожди, я умру — и приду (maybe something like: Wait a Bit, I’ll Die and Then Come Back). Short stories.

I’m particularly looking forward to reading the Buida, Kucherskaya, and Levental novels, though I’m hoping to give all this year’s fiction a read. Off to the beach!

Disclosures: The usual, with direct and indirect ties to Big Book and many of the books on the list.

The Doors of Deception: Pelevin’s Burning Bush

In a recent email conversation, a colleague and I talked about Viktor Pelevin not being my cup of tea, coffee, or cocoa… that was before I read Операция «Burning Bush» (Operation “Burning Bush”), the first piece in Pelevin’s Ананасная вода для прекрасной дамы (Pineapple Water for the Fair Lady). Burning Bush, like Omon Ra before it (previous post), didn’t turn me into a Pelevin fanatic, but the novella does—continuing with the drink theme—serve up some interesting glasses of kvass.

Kvass tank, 1997.

I don’t like kvass in real life, but I can’t help but appreciate the literary kvass served up in Burning Bush because Pelevin slips in an acid mickey: our first-person narrator, Semyon Levitan, is recruited for a special FSB project that requires training time—lots of training time—spent in a sensory deprivation chamber. While tripping on acid his FSB master puts in his kvass. Part of what makes this novella fun is that it involves none other than George W. Bush: Levitan’s initial mission is to speak, as God, with Bush through an implant in Bush’s tooth. Don’t worry, Levitan is an English teacher who’s more than capable of chatting with Bush.

I haven’t read a lot of Pelevin but I certainly recognized elements that felt like spillovers from Omon Ra: strange secret government programs that require strange secret training and result in strange secret deceptions. There’s also a spiritual element that plays off Daniil Andreyev’s Роза мира (The Rose of the World), a book I’ve never read. Someone once gave it to me as a gift but it got lost in transit somewhere between Moscow and Maine, in an ill-fated box that also contained Lolita, The Brothers Karamazov, and materials about evaluating NGO projects. I hope everyone’s coexisting somewhere in peace. The important thing here is that the references to Andreyev involve Stalin and Satan.

Pelevin generally tends to lose me somewhere, to some degree, and Burning Bush is no exception: I thought the novella worked best before Pelevin began referencing The Rose of the World. The problem isn’t so much that I hadn’t read Andreyev—there’s a chunk of text in Burning Bush, I’d already heard about The Rose of the World, and it’s easy to find background online—but that Pelevin’s use of Andreyev felt a little too heavy-handed to me as a part of the story, even though the Satan element itself fits just fine. I generally seem to think Pelevin’s satire and descriptions of twisted but almost realistic contemporary situations and characters are the best aspects of his books, so I was pleased Burning Bush is a more restrained piece than some others I’ve read—Numbers comes to mind—and doesn’t implode by getting too outlandish too fast.

Which is to say it was the light, fun stuff that made Burning Bush good evening reading material after some long work days. There was plenty to enjoy: Levitan’s ability to imitate voices, the very thought of someone chatting with Bush through Bush’s tooth, fun references to Russian poetry, Tony Blair, and American political and pop culture, including Pulp Fiction, which is wildly popular in Russia. Speaking of “light,” I’ve purposely gone light on some of the details in Burning Bush in case the novella is ever translated into English.

A Note on the NatsBest: The National Bestseller award is back, with new sponsorship from film company United Partnership and the television channel 2x2. The seven-member jury that will choose the winner includes two representatives from the new sponsors and two writers: Sergei Zhadan, whose Voroshilovgrad (previous post) I read in Zaven Babloyan’s Ukrainian-to-Russian translation, and Aleksandr Terekhov, who won last year’s NatsBest for Germans. This year’s winner will be announced on June 2.

Level for Nonnative Readers of Russian: 2.0 out of 5.0, though the book may have felt easier than it is because of the humor.

Russian Name: Виктор Пелевин

Up Next: I’m not sure! NatsBest, perhaps a mishmash of short stories or Leonid Iuzefovich’s Prince of the Wind… or letter S favorite writers…

Image Credit: Kvas vendor, 1997, in Kaliningrad/Königsberg/Koenigsberg, from MicHael Galkovsky, via Wikipedia. I remember seeing these kvass tanks on the street!