| On Wednesday, the Academy of Russian Contemporary Literature (college of literary critics) held readings dedicated to the results of 2003. Those entering the Great Hall of the Central House of Writers were given an elegant booklet with photographs and biographies of ARSS members (published by the Vremya publishing house). The discussion, which was attended by critics, writers, publishers, a literature teacher, a literary agent and a bookseller, was preceded by the presentation of the book “Scat, Crocodile” (M., “Eksmo”) by last year’s Apollo Grigoriev Prize winner Marina Vishnevetskaya. And at the end of the day, the public learned: the co-founder of the Rosbank award is now leaving the project. In other words, ARSS is left without “reward” money.
Looking for the reason for this decision is a job for a slacker. “Grigoryevka” (more precisely, the one that awards the ARSS prize) always had enough ill-wishers, they were not shy in their expressions — We can only thank Rosbank for the fact that for six years it provided the laureates with good money. It is foolish to dispute the importance of the “material part,” but it is permissible to recall: the prizes were not invented to strengthen the writer’s wealth, but to establish—with all the reservations—the “Hamburg score.” ARSS intends to look (is already looking) for new well-wishers, but if none are found, it will still name the laureates. They will be identified by the nominations of fellow academics by a jury selected by a traditional draw: Pavel Basinsky (chairman), Natalya Ivanova, Alexander Genis (USA), Valentin Kurbatov (Pskov), Samuil Lurie (St. Petersburg) I asked one of today's best Russian writers, How would he react to a “non-monetary reward” - he firmly answered: the same as to a monetary one, mail for honor . They will say that a friendly feeling was at work here - yes, but it’s just worth a lot. With money, of course, it’s better, but it’s not bad to remember that the wonderful poet (and great critic) who gave the name to the Arsov award spent his entire life balancing on the brink of poverty and misery.
This story would not be worth talking about if it were not part of another: criticism (more precisely, those critics whose names are somewhat noticeable, most of them members of the ARSS) are now being poured with slop with enviable energy. Not too harmonious, whiny and scolding voices merged into one brazenly victorious outwardly (hysterically offended - in essence) howl, the meaning of which is equal to one phrase: so that you all die!
Responding to absurd accusations of the collapse of literature, morality, the country and the universe is as stupid as dying “of one's own free will” of that gloomy retired goat drummer or the cheerful muzzle in a blazer. It's stupid because the answer already exists. This is the work of those critics who, no matter how far they diverge in views and tastes, maintain professional norms, remember that they belong to tradition and perceive the fate of literature as their own. My workshop can submit a patent for nobility - this year the books of Nikita Eliseev and Sergei Borovikov, and more recently - three more ARSS members were published: “Hidden Plot. Russian literature at the transition through the century " by Natalya Ivanova (SPb., "BLITS"), "Where the pheasant sits... Essays on recent years " by Andrei Zorin and "Change of fate. Articles from recent years » by Sergei Chuprinin (both - M., “UFO”).
Three new books - three projections of Russian literature (culture, history, life) of the turn of the century. It’s not at all difficult to guess the author’s differences, but the three writers have something in common that exceeds “debatable standards.” These are individuals. And therefore - critics.
Natalya Ivanova knows how and loves to be in the center, from where everything is visible - effectively combining literature with politics, journalism, mass culture, collecting (in other cases - violently destroying) sociocultural phenomena and symbols, she consciously draws a general map of our literature. Therefore, among her heroes are writers with an undeniable reputation (Viktor Astafiev, Yuri Davydov, Oleg Chukhontsev), and “cult” writers (Eduard Limonov, Tatyana Tolstaya, Dmitry Prigov), and those who, in Ivanova’s opinion, deserve a place on the proscenium ( Svetlana Kekova, the untimely deceased Felix Svetov, Semyon Faibisovich, Roman Senchin) and... Alexandra Marinina. That is why Ivanova writes so expressively both about the confrontation of cultural trends (in the articles that make up the “Lines” section) and about writer’s clashes (in the “Disputes” section). Therefore, she was able to build a weather history of literature (“Chronicles” that move from “Past Imperfect: 1986” to “The Life and Death of the Simulacrum in Russia: 2000”). Therefore, closing the “Hidden Plot” (explicit! now - explicit!), you regret that the book did not include the latest works, in particular one of the best articles of the outgoing year, “Klondike and Clones.”
Andrei Zorin does not seem to be a “critic”. He writes more and more about politics and ideology, looks at the diversity of literature with skepticism (an ironic report on chairing the Booker jury is indicative here), and does not like many people. But if he loves, then how! Read Zorin’s notes about the poetry of Lev Rubinstein, about Galich and Prigov, about “The End of the Quote” by Mikhail Bezrodny and “Records and Extracts” by Mikhail Gasparov - real passion breathes here. Zorin has a brilliant sense of what is called “modern”. Readers of his book “Feeding the Double-Headed Eagle...” remember with what grace the author reconstructs the decayed and once highly relevant meanings of texts and events of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. He also works with today's culture. His silences about other literary facts are stronger than many greetings and funerals. No, in Zorin’s opinion, some opus of today’s energy means there is no point in it. This is not fair (especially for such a hardened traditionalist like me), but it's co-zi-da-tel-no! Because Zorina is driven by a thirst for genuine novelty, without which culture becomes a bunch of dummies. What it becomes in the absence of reasonable conservatism is a separate question. But not to Zorin. The experience of a historian who has a keen sense of the logic of the “alien”, loyalty to the spirit of freedom and calm sanity promise the birder good luck in hunting both eagle and pheasant - we will wait for new trophies.
In the preface to “Change of Fate,” Sergei Chuprinin explains the bitter subtext of his title. He calls his book “not only old-fashioned literary-centric, but also ridiculously critical-centric,” signaling to the reader that the time for such a strategy is gone forever. Probably, this self-awareness caused the pause that Chuprinin, who worked extremely intensively at the turn of the 80s and 90s (section “Firstborn of Freedom”), and this year published three fundamental and energetic articles (section “Zero Years”), took in the middle of the past decades. Of course, he wrote even then, and in the “Broken Mirror” section there are diamond fragments (for example, “A graphomaniac - it sounds proud”), but... But there was still a crisis, and Chuprinin’s “incomplete” presence in criticism ( despite the fact that he ran the magazine “Znamya” and built his titanic encyclopedia ) had a depressing effect on me. Now we can say: it’s passed. And although I don’t like the “zero years” construction, although I cannot agree with Chuprinin’s thesis about the “change of fate” of literature, which thirty years ago “was one of the main things in the country,” and now, they say, has become something else , although it seems to me that there are plenty of mourners even without Chuprinin, I would venture to say: all these are trifles. Because if, amid chatter about the “end of everything” (at a discussion at the Central House of Writers, the thesis was voiced: there are no critics under capitalism), articles by Chuprinin-2003 flare up, if the author writes a fascinating book, if his colleagues and, I dare say, friends continue to read, write, argue and rejoice at the success of a fellow man, then the formula “change of fate” takes on a different - happy - meaning. This is what Chuprinin said on the last page: we will continue to live, doing what was written for us . I formulated it more sharply - see the title.
Andrey Nemzer
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