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Post–Social Realism: Literature from Russia

November/December 2003

Post–social realism, a new crop of Russian writers indulges the ironic, the satirical, and the sardonic–anything but the earnest. Wladimir Kaminer writes of trading in all sorts of new markets in “Animal Transport” and of the demise of an iconic Russian fantasy in “Paris Lost”; Boris Fishman interviews him on writing, reading, music, and being an expat in Berlin. Vyacheslav Pyetsukh, Alexander Pokrovsky, and Alexander Selin all make merry with other icons of Russian-ness not yet defunct. Nina Kossman provides new translations of the essential poet Marina Tsvetaeva, writing intensely of nature and the emotions in a world of revolutionary change, while contemporary poets Gennady Aygi and Larissa Miller aim to chart a new course, looking backward and forward at once.

Animal Transport
By Wladimir Kaminer
“Azeri! Prepare to die!” he shouted, and fired into the sky.
Translated from German by Liesl Schillinger
Paris Lost
By Wladimir Kaminer
Our government was very generous with its citizens; it couldn’t be compared to an imperialist regime.
Translated from German by Liesl Schillinger
An Interview with Wladimir Kaminer
By Boris Fishman
Boris Fishman interviewed Wladimir Kaminer September 3, 2003.Boris Fishman: Did you start writing before emigrating to Germany? What did you do in the Soviet Union?Wladimir Kaminer: In the Soviet Union,…
Translated from Russian by the author
From “Me and So Forth”
By Vyacheslav Pyetsukh
Bukin was definitely frightened, but Zavzyatov, who was dragging along the bottle of vodka and the bows, all wrapped in newspaper, seemed oblivious to danger
Translated from Russian by Dinara Georgeoliani & Mark Halperin
Nancy
By Alexander Pokrovsky
The whole base held its breath, waiting for the long-awaited washing to commence.
Translated from Russian by Tony Perry
The Geological-Surveillance Institute Part 1
By Alexander Selin
“Like that, is it?” said IIvan Ilyich. “And the future Messiah, who might that be?”
Translated from Russian by Nick Allen
[Bring to me all that’s of no use to others]
By Marina Tsvetaeva
Bring to me all that’s of no use to others:My fire must burn it all!I lure life, and I lure deathAs weightless gifts to my fire.Fire loves light-weighted things:Last year’s brushwood, wreathes,…
Translated from Russian by Nina Kossman
Trees VI
By Marina Tsvetaeva
Neither with paint, nor with a brush.Light is his kingdom: his hair is gray.The red leaves tell lies.Here light tramples color.Color is trampled by light.The heel of light crushes the chest of color.Isn’t…
Translated from Russian by Nina Kossman
Trees VIII
By Marina Tsvetaeva
Someone’s heading for a fatal victory.Trees gesture like tragedies.Sacrificial dance of Judea!Trees flutter like sacramentals.This–a conspiracy against the era:Against weight, number, fraction,…
Translated from Russian by Nina Kossman
Trees IX
By Marina Tsvetaeva
What revelations,What truthsWhat do you rustle of,The floods of green?With sacramentsOf what raving sibyl,What do you rustle of,What do you rave about?What’s in your fluttering?But I know–you…
Translated from Russian by Nina Kossman
[It is not fated that, in this world]
By Marina Tsvetaeva
It is not fated that, in this world,The strong join the strong.Thus, Siegfried parted from Brunhild,A sword stroke instead of a marriage.In the allied brotherly hatred–Like buffalos!–rock…
Translated from Russian by Nina Kossman
Face Thereafter
By Gennady Aygi
whole –with a whisper of ordering of the firmament and as out of the shining facein a time of sorrow –mine –I create it and by fireconcealing images of the raceit is lit 1965The…
Translated from Russian by Peter France
Again: In the Intervals of Sleep
By Gennady Aygi
what is watchingalways comes to an end: and the day! and the world! . . it is the uniquethe unceasing – is it over its featuresthat the soul glides: like dust! – and…
Translated from Russian by Peter France
Consolation: Roses
By Gennady Aygi
to N. A.in your presence even the toesare as if they remembered! and the mind more stronglypierces our headin your presence! and together perhaps you are thatwhenceseparatingthey drew out: of…
Translated from Russian by Peter France
Third Grasshopper
By Gennady Aygi
(after the “Grasshoppers” of VelimirKhlebnikov and e.e. cummings) to my son Andreygrasshopper-sign flickersover field under heaven! – (sign to Reason – be on guard!be…
Translated from Russian by Peter France
And: Like a White Page
By Gennady Aygi
in dust is no vowel. . . death is a sound: a shout – to God?he – in the surface of dust: is what then – a gleam?oh not treasures of sacrifice: nor representation! . .…
Translated from Russian by Peter France
Field – All Year – Out of the Window
By Gennady Aygi
to W. Woroczylskibehind my back – it seemed – were islands: of the terror-idea! – as if a certain chillwas spread – for a year of this life: were they places –…
Translated from Russian by Peter France
Place: A Beer-Stall
By Gennady Aygi
oh clearlywith gathered forceeverywhere it shows itself: skyglow of the yearlike features of the land: drawing:from everywhere: any: fire: for incandescence! – and this is no shout!but…
Translated from Russian by Peter France
Work: Morning: Papers
By Gennady Aygi
to V. S. but you are not the surrounding of such a onebut a stair in yourself where poverty is like skyglow: oh ice-holes of illness! as if by someonethey were always directed: with meaning!…
Translated from Russian
[“Well, let’s fly . . .”]
By Larissa Miller
“Well, let’s fly . . .”“Where to and why?”“Just fly to nowhereafter that cloud . . .”Just let’s rush off nowhere, nowhere,let’s listen to the wires…
Translated from Russian by Richard McKane
[“La vie,” Edith Piaf sings]
By Larissa Miller
“La vie,” Edith Piaf sings,“La vie, la vie,” seize the moment . . .And this voice is eternally rightand there’s no threat of it being buried in oblivion.“La vie,”…
Translated from Russian by Richard McKane
[Fate’s little pictures]
By Larissa Miller
Fate’s little picturesdrawn by a most slender pen,will hang in the damp airon a little spider’s web.The rains drawwith their own flying handwriting,and the wind shuffleslight strokes like…
Translated from Russian by Richard McKane
[The wind revels in the quiet night…]
By Larissa Miller
The wind revels in the quiet night . . .The Lord has marked the coming dayin a black draft, so as to recreate iton a clean white copy, and the skywill be bright in a momentand will flare in a crimson…
Translated from Russian by Richard McKane
[All this moves and rustles]
By Larissa Miller
All this moves and rustles,plays and waves,dances blindly to someone’s pipeand crowns someone’s thought.It plays and singsand beckons with an apple branchand at times sweetly wounds the soul,at…
Translated from Russian by Richard McKane