Alexander Ageev. Hunger 86

Hunger 86
Practical gastroenterology reading

Alexander Ageev

Date of publication: October 13, 2003

Over the past ten years, gradually, year after year, through the efforts of many writers on literature, one curious genre of business prose has been formed. I would label it this way: “An angry critical reflection on the bastardity of the Booker shortlist, as well as the general insignificance of the Booker Prize and its harmful role in the development of Russian literature.”

I myself have worked in this current genre several times, and my colleagues willingly use this canon as soon as autumn comes and, accordingly, the time to count chickens. Needless to say, cursing the Booker jury to your heart's content is a sacred thing.

This year was no exception - critics' comments on the announcement of the shortlist were kept more or less within the framework of the above-mentioned genre. Although, let’s say, Mikhail Edelstein did not become particularly angry and tried to maintain some kind of objectivity.

However, he began “for health”, writing these words in support of the jury:

" Let's say right away that the jury, apparently, squeezed the maximum out of the long list. Nikolai Alexandrov, who stated that the short list gives an adequate idea of ​​the average level of the modern Russian novel, was undoubtedly right. Outside the short list, there were practically no works left that were more interesting or more significant than those that made it to the finals ,"

but then his text unfolds clearly “for repose,” since each of the declared works (except, perhaps, the smuggled documentary narration of Ruben David Gonzalez Gallego) is so elegantly, without abuse, destroyed. Moreover, the critic managed to say a lot of unpleasant things even to his favorite, Afanasy Mamedov. In the sense that if he bets on him, it is only for good intentions that others do not have:

"Frau Schram" is a fairly average novel. However, of all the finalists of the current Booker, Mamedov is the only one who is busy solving some actual literary problems. I don't really like the way he does it. But the rest are simply doing something else that has little to do with literature as such ".

What saves Mikhail Edelstein from anger and partiality is his long-standing conviction that Russian literature of recent years is not God knows what kind of high art. The Booker jury, which gave the mountain, to put it mildly, an inadequate list, simply confirms it in this conviction: the texts are average and below average, but what do you want, gentlemen, this is the level of modern Russian literature. I don't have any other writers for you...

Personally, this position irritates me extremely, since I have a higher opinion of Russian literature of our days than Mikhail Edelstein and the Booker jury he supported.

Edelstein (and in unison with him many others) regrets only that “Spelling” by Dmitry Bykov was not included in the short list. But is it only “Spelling”? Without particularly rummaging through my memory or leafing through magazine files, I will immediately name three novels that are head and shoulders above everything that the Booker jury liked. This is " The Resurrection of Lazarus " by Vladimir Sharov ("Banner", 2002, ##8,9), " Event Horizon " by Irina Polyanskaya ("New World", 2002, ##9,10) and, finally, the most curious composition by Oleg Yuryev" New Golem, or the War of Old Men and Children. A Novel in Five Satires " ("Ural", 2002, ##8,9). All of these are very serious things, “literature as such,” to use Edelstein’s words, and certainly novels at that.

When I saw the Booker shortlist, I was almost speechless. It happened, of course, that in the long lists of various awards there were names that were completely unfamiliar to me - no matter how much you read, it is impossible to keep track of the entire literary sea. But for the short list of the most prestigious (out of a bad habit, we must stubbornly continue to consider it as such) literary prize to include as many as three authors absolutely unknown to me - this is the first time.

Theoretically, one can, of course, assume that an unknown writer suddenly creates a masterpiece - this has happened in literary history. But even in this rare case, “the earth is full of rumors” and the reading community (even if it has narrowed and fragmented in recent years) must worry, interpret and discuss an unexpected miracle at every corner. That is, this miracle should become an event for a certain number of understanding people. I don’t remember anything like this related to the opuses of Natalia Galkina or Elena Chizhova.

In a word, I absolutely do not want to admit that the current Booker shortlist gives an adequate idea of ​​the average level of a modern novel, as Nikolai Alexandrov believes. It can give even less insight into the state of Russian prose in general. Well, imagine - over the course of a year you have read many cool things by Marina Vishnevetskaya, Asar Eppel, Anatoly Azolsky, Boris Ekimov, Igor Sakhnovsky, Alexander Khurgin, Evgeny Shklovsky, Georgy Ball and many more, and it was they who set a certain level in your consciousness prose writing - and a very decent level. However, at the end of the year, the Booker jury gives you a kind of sour list, which is embarrassing to read - it is so at odds with your personal sense of the state of literature.

And then, of course, I want to ask: “Who are the judges?” However, as long experience shows, this is a useless endeavor: the most worthy and qualified critics, once on the Booker jury, make such a strange choice that one is amazed. It’s as if someone is deliberately zombifying them there. So this time - well, who would have thought that, for example, Irina Rodnyanskaya could become a co-author of such an obscure list? Okay, there are all sorts of representatives of the “cultural community”, for whom participation in the Booker jury is a reason to remember how books are read in general, but the irreconcilable and passionate Rodnyanskaya?!

However, there is nowhere to go - the list has been made public and no one will change it, therefore, we can only hope that the matter turns out in the least disgraceful way for Russian literature. And, in my opinion, there is only one way out - to give the prize to Leonid Zorin's Jupiter .

Mamedov’s “Frau Schram”, on which Mikhail Edelstein focused his favorable gaze, is well defined, in my opinion, by a term that was in vigorous circulation in the 70s - “literaryism”, that is, to simplify, a more or less skillful imitation of literature . They fall into literary philosophies precisely when they set out to solve “proper literary problems.” Especially if these tasks are understood narrowly instrumentally, and the goals of literature are located exclusively in its own space. Meanwhile, in some way, the target of literature is, for example, I am a sinner and millions more like me. But we, God knows, were not created by anyone and remain, if our senses do not refuse us, in reality itself, that is, outside of literature.

“Jupiter” by Leonid Zorin against this background is simple to the point of challenge: the only plot line, the only hero, narrating in the first person (this narrative is almost carelessly made up to look like a rather lapidary diary). All supporting roles are not given detailed development - a silhouette type is given, and that's enough. This, in a word, is minimalist poetics, and it, of course, refers to the laconicism of Stalin’s works, into whose image the famous actor Donat Vorokhov “gets used to”, who reluctantly took on his role in a mediocre play.

In what corner of this text Mikhail Edelshtein discovered “sociality” - I have no idea. No socio-political problems are raised or interpreted here, and accordingly, there is no smell of any “pamphlet” (Edelstein also said this). In general, Leonid Zorin has been studying experimental psychology in his prose for the last few years, and he is especially interested, it seems to me, in the measure of plasticity of human consciousness. A certain dotted line of openly provocative texts is being built: “Mr. Friend” - “Teetotaler” - “Whip” - “Jupiter” - after reading which one is not tempted to exclaim: “Man - that sounds proud!” On the contrary, a person is something that “grandmother said in two.” It’s not that each of the named texts breathes misanthropy, but there is no doubt that there is a decent degree of skepticism. Zorin, in essence, is engaged in a quiet, private revision of the humanistic tradition, without manifestations or declarations. The occupation, it should be noted, is quite relevant for the turn of the millennium. It should also be noted that the writer, despite all the skepticism, manages not to give up decisively and completely on this tradition. How he manages to do this is a big mystery to me personally. Perhaps the whole point is that man, despite all his potential weakness, unreliability and even baseness, remains for the writer the most amusing of the Creator’s creatures. Zorin is still not bored with him, with the man, although he guesses about his real price. This contradictory creature rarely “sounds” proudly, but it is the only one endowed with a semblance of free will, and therefore containing some hitherto unmanifested potentials. Humanity is an area of ​​uncertain, partly even skeptical, hope.

"Jupiter", among other things, is also a visual aid to the psychology of art. In order to create a deep and voluminous image of a tyrant, executioner and, in general, an enemy of the human race (which is what Donat Vorokhov is concerned with on the pages of the novel), the artist inevitably has to build it according to the laws of human logic, that is, to understand (and thereby partially justify) the reasons and motives of tyranny and butchery. There is one of two things here: either Stalin is a non-human, and a normal person (actor) simply does not and cannot have the tools to understand him and embody him on stage. Or he is a human being, and then all humanistic “presumptions” begin to “work”, including the presumption of innocence. In this case, each of us can find within ourselves, if not a ready-made Jupiter, then a lot of quite suitable material for its construction.

In a word, I will root for Leonid Zorin, although, to be honest, “Jupiter” is not the best link in his provocative cycle.