Soap of Bloom

Imagine a soap television series retold in Joyce's manner. This will be the novel by Manuel Puiga " Painted Sponges " (per. From the spap. A. Kazachkov). It is from this novel - and not with his own " Spider -Woman " - should you start acquaintance with the work of the Argentinean: Anti -Kortasar with label poetics.

First of all, the literary abundance of Puiga is amazing. The amount of excess, completely meaningless information in his novel is amazingly great. But it is its mechanical multiplication that gives the result the effect of stale air, in which the harmless inhabitants of the province live and are aging.

The technique, as was said, is with Puiga Joyce : up to the repetition of the catechism of the “question-answer”. However, the super -task - unlike the same "Ulysses" - is insignificant, banal, unpretentious: like a piece of soap in the pocket of Bloom. At this junction of a complicated form for the southern passions, the book holds.

This thing is absolutely indicative for the literature of provincial countries, which, of course, was Argentina for the second half of the century. Cortasar , for example, purposefully complicated the banal reality, making it so acceptable. Puig, on the contrary, laid out life on elementary particles, defiantly complicating the forms of their literary processing.

Both methods are provincial, but Puig is much more cute.

Because it’s more honest or something.

The second number continues the publication of the brilliant novel by Anthony Burgeses "Iron, Rusty iron." The canvas is an epic and sweeping, but it is written vigorously and with humor and, in contrast to the “ war and the world ”, does not apply for the affirmation of the meaning of history. Heroes of different nationalities continue to rush about in the fields of World War II, mimicing in the conditions of a total malfunction of the eternal values. " ... you have been prepared for some crazy role in this inconceivable mess ... If so it happened, try to play this role as best as possible ," says one of the heroines of "iron".

This phrase could be taken to an epigraph to the whole novel.

And by the way, by the way, too.

Both writings - both Puiga and Burdessa - occupy the lion's share of the room, leaving a snack: 1) a small ominous play for the theater of the Mishima “ Her Highness of Aoi ” (per. E. Baybikova), 2) the verses of Malayz Aziza Deraman (per. V. Pogadayeva), which are more likely cognitive function (they write in Malaysia, we are transferred to us, into us, into us, into us, into us. Buzina’s garden), and 3) verses of the participants of the Moscow Biennale-2003 , translated more for a report than for poetry as such.

I strongly recommend, in terms of poetry, reading an interview with Grigory Kruzhkov with Sheimas Khini . This spreading conversation is almost "on equal terms." Cruzhkov - Angloman and an expert, a poet and translator, every question falls to the point: and it is clear that the Nobel laureate appreciates these hits with pleasure.

This conversation is amazing in that on the top ten pages a whole picture of English -speaking poetry of the twentieth century is built in front of you - the good "draw" experts in the highest sample. This is generally a very interesting couple: when the writer and writing-transcendent converge. Anyone who sits like a pheasant inside - and the one who, like a hunter, is following the trail.

Hence the effect of "stereo" in their conversation, some passages from which you need to quote and quote.

About Teda Huguse:

"The joke is that Hughes really had an epic and mythological sensation of England. When he thought about the royal power, he saw not this little woman in front of him ... or her ordinary well -intentioned son Charles. More precisely, he saw them on the stage of the Shakespearean theater."

About Yates:

"In the work of Jates there was a heroic aspect, almost like the founder of the nation. Yates is both the beginning and the end."

About Derek Mahuna:

"In our time, the heir to Yates in a sense ... Derek Mahun may be called. First of all, Mahun in a number of poems uses formal stanza and, at the same time, a noble solemn tone with musical cadents."

About Brodsky:

"Joseph was more flame, he flashed and lit up you like lightning. At the same time ... Joseph was more didactic. He loved to establish rules."

I read this conversation on the way to the subway when the train spits on top through the Izmailovsky park. Belowing the ears in the nuances of English -speaking poetics, I did not notice how the train stopped and opened the doors. On the phrase: “In Mandelstam there is something from Hopkins, when the phonetics of the word and intelligence light up about each other and begin to play with all the colors” Cold air burst into the open doors, and with it the Russian ditty, played on the platform under the accordion with pursing pensioners.

The effect was one hundred percent.

And, most amazing, absolutely not contrary to the conversation.