First, two brief news items...
This year’s Prix
Russophonie went to Hélène Henri-Safier for her French translation of
Dmitrii Bykov’s Pasternak. Henri-Safier’s
translation of Pasternak also won the
2012
Read Russia award, in the contemporary literature category. Further details
about the Prix Russophonie are online here.
Other finalists for the prize translated Mandelshtam, Tsvetaeva, Girshovich, and
a band of OBERIU writers.
Poet, translator, and publisher Maksim Amelin won the Solzhenitsyn Prize today. Several of Amelin’s poems are included in
the bilingual collection Contemporary
Russian Poetry: An Anthology, edited by Evgeny Bunimovich and Jim Kates;
the book is from Dalkey Archive.
Now, two brief notes on books…
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| Konstantin Flavitskii's not-quite-real account. |
Grigorii Danilevskii’s Княжна Тараканова (Princess Tarakanova where the princess word means a prince’s unmarried daughter, oy, oy, oy!) is an 1883 historical novel about the demise of pretendress Elizaveta Tarakanova, who claimed to be the daughter of Empress Elizabeth. Danilevskii tells his version of the story in two parts: the first is the diary of naval lieutenant Pavel Kontsov, who meets Tarakanova after he escapes from an Istanbul prison; his previous adventures include serving in the Battle of Chesma in 1770. True to his time, Kontsov tells his story as a confession of sorts, mentions Kheraskov (!), and experiences perils both sentimental and maritime. Kontsov writes his diary in 1775 on a ship, The Northern Eagle, stuffing the pages into a bottle that he tosses overboard during a storm he fears will wreck the ship.
Do not fear, dear readers: the bottle and the diary are, of
course, found in the second half of the book! The second section, told in a rather
bland third-person narrative, also includes scenes of the captured Tarakanova
in Peter and
Paul Fortress and a wrapping up of various loose ends from Kontsov’s story.
Catherine the Great is also present. All in all, I wouldn’t say Princess Tarakanova is great literature but
it made for moderately entertaining, easy reading on tired evenings. The highlight was Danilevskii’s
nineteenth-century take on the eighteenth century.
An
Armenian Sketchbook is Vasily Grossman’s Добро вам, literally
Good to You, in a translation from
Robert and Elizabeth Chandler; I read the Chandlers’ translation. Grossman wrote An Armenian Sketchbook about his 1961 travel to Armenia, where he
went to rewrite a literal Armenian-Russian translation of a novel by Hrachya Kochar.
Grossman hardly writes about the work, the writer, or the translator—I’ll admit
this was, initially, a disappointment for me—but I found his descriptions of and
reflections on things like Armenia’s stone (“Here, we were still in the Stone
Age.”), poverty, history, and trout surprisingly absorbing. In describing
village life, for example, Grossman catalogues certain residents’ criminal activity
and I scribbled in the margins that the passage reads like true-life чернуха, that dark naturalism I’ve
mentioned so many times before.
Robert Chandler and Yuri Bit-Yunan’s very helpful introduction to An Armenian Sketchbook notes the “deeply
personal” and spontaneous nature of the writing in Sketchbook and mentions that Grossman was, at the time, in the
early stages of cancer, which caused him physical difficulties that are detailed
in the book. Mortality is a frequent motif and in one scene, after some heavy drinking,
Grossman writes, “At this point I realized that I was dying.” He describes some
of these sensations—his “I,” for example, separating from his physical body,
and aloneness—then, two pages later writes, “If the world were not so
beautiful, the anguish of a dying man would not be so terrible, so incomparably
more terrible than any other experiences.” Grossman closes Sketchbook with some lovely descriptions of a wedding that
culminates, at least in Grossman’s account, in a dance with candles. Two of his
last lines are, “Probably I have said much that is clumsy and wrong. But all I
have said, clumsy or not, I have said with love.” I think it’s that love, along
with the spontaneity that Chandler and Bit-Yunan mention in their introduction, that appealed to me
so much in An Armenian Sketchbook.
Disclosures: The usual
for the news items. I received a copy of An
Armenian Sketchbook from the publisher,
New York Review Books; I am collaborating with Robert Chandler on a story by
Andrei Platonov for a collection that NYRB will publish.
Up Next: Ekaterina
Sherga’s The Underground Ship, which
just took an interesting turn. And maybe favorites from the letter R… we’ll
see.
, translated by Bryan Karetnyk; 
, translated by Peter Daniels; Angel Classics, September 2013, and 
, translated by Arch Tait; 
, translated by Stephen Capus; 
, translated by Ronald Wilks; 
, translated by Andrew Bromfield; Dalkey Archive Press, October 3, 2013.
, short stories translated by Sasha Dugdale and edited by Helen Constantine; 
