Literature without pathos

Literature without pathos

Publication date: January 27, 2000

Obituary as a prelude

Combining the two interviews below under one heading, in our opinion, is quite justified. Their main characters are people in the field of modern Russian literature, or what is left of it, “exposed.” And in both cases it was successful. Almost enchantingly.

Not least of all, their well-deserved success is explained by the fact that the appearance of works of this kind was expected. The more interesting was the process of transforming the potential into the actual. All the more readily they were forgiven for possible flaws and roughnesses. Perhaps this success was even more surprising for the authors themselves.

Let us explain from our point of view the nature of this phenomenon.

There is no need to say that the old literature - both traditional and anti-traditional (in most cases this is the same thing) - has become decrepit. And then she simply died. There is no need to make a propeller out of these relics, like the anecdotal Chapaev. As for dying , she did it more than once. Suffice it to recall the Hellenistic era.

And it looks like we'll still see another episode of "Hellrires". Therefore, we will be careful. Moreover, the essence of the problem should be formulated differently. Valuable . literature has not so much died as changed its orientation—its value focus

The inflation of the literary text, which has been talked about so much and which seems to have finally happened, is, first of all, an inflation of themes. Most texts are boring, and the efforts of their compilers are pathetic only because, according to the famous remark, it is not worth pouring new wine into old wineskins. And the cavalry attack on tanks is also history.

As a result, and finally financial the same political, moral descriptive, journalism. If only because, due to its tasks, it is omnivorous .

Given the current situation, this is a serious head start. And the more thorough the ability of the author who is ready to follow such an attitude, the more tangible its benefit. The proportion here is almost geometric. Actually, such authors turn out to be the main characters of these interviews. And in the case of Grigory Chkhartishvili (Boris Akunin) - the creator of the series of intellectual detective stories "The Adventures of Erast Fandorin", and in the case of Maxim Sokolov - the author of the two-volume book "Poetic Views of Russians on History" , a collection of weekly journalism and essays refined in style.

Strictly speaking, both of them risked going in search of their Terra Incognito. Or, if you like, leaving the visionary squint, see it directly “under your feet.” And this risk paid off.

That's probably all there is to our point of view. The reader is invited to compare it with the position of the authors themselves. Perhaps this comparison is where the interest that the following material can count on lies.

Conversation between Denis Bychikhin and Grigory Chkhartishvili

Denis Bychikhin: What do you think about the reviews in the book press that B. Akunin’s detective stories are collecting? To what extent do they correspond (“play along”) with the substantive strategy of the project? Does such a strategy exist?

Grigory Chkhartishvili: It seems to me that there is a fair amount of overlap in the flattering reviews of my books. Akunin’s works, in my opinion, are entertaining and, I hope, enjoyable to read, but nothing more. When I hear that this is a new Dostoevsky or Borges (or even hyper -Borges), I feel like little Tsakhes. I simply write entertaining fiction - the kind that would entertain me. And if many people like it, then that means there are a fair number of people like me in our country. I don't know if this is good or bad. That is, for me it is certainly good.

As for strategy, since B. Akunin is a project, strategy, of course, exists. But it is not based on press reviews, which do not depend in any way on the will of the author, but on the texts that I am going to write over the next two years. The “New Detective” series (“The Adventures of Erast Fandorin”) will continue, and I will bring it to an already thought-out ending, unless I get tired of it.

In February, the first novel of the parallel series “Provincial Detective”, similar and not similar to “Fandorin”, will be released. The new series is not Moscow, but, as the name implies, provincial. And the detective there is a woman, a cassophore nun, Sister Pelagia. Less dynamics, more literary stuff, descriptions and branches. If “Fandorin” is intended as immersive reading, then “Pelagia” is a read for a leisurely train ride: I read, looked dreamily at the landscapes passing by, drank tea, read again...

I hope that the newly written play “The Seagull” - about what really happened to Konstantin Treplev - will be staged in one of the good theaters in the capital. Did you believe that he shot himself? No matter how it is. He was killed, and the crime will be solved.

The Akunin website, which Artemy Lebedev is working on, will open. It will be a nice site - with reference materials, texts, quizzes and toys. Someday in the future I will be happy to develop a script for computer quests “The Adventures of Erast Fandorin”.

The NTV-PROFIT film company is going to make a film based on Azazel. I will write the script myself.

There are some other subprojects, but I won’t talk about them yet, so as not to jinx it.

D.B.: A hypothetical reader of the series “The Adventures of Erast Fandorin” - in your author’s idea?

G.C.: Anyone. Anyone who brushes their teeth in the morning and does not vote for the Liberal Democratic Party. There is nothing complicated in my texts; they do not require the slightest brain strain. Swim with your own waves and don’t be afraid of troubles. If you are upset because of some sad incident with the heroes, it will not be much and not for long.

D.B.: Are your reference points, let’s say, examples of a similar genre in the Russian literary tradition? In the world? Could you outline such a chain of succession? Moreover, its Russian-language links are the most interesting.

G.Ch.: In the world - as many as you like: Conan Doyle, Stevenson, Dumas, Chesterton, etc. up to "The Name of the Rose" and "Perfume". With Russian literature it is more difficult - due to the fact that there was no high-quality leisure literature either before 1917 or after. Well Aldanov. Well, "Two Captains". Well, the Strugatskys. In my opinion, that's it.

D.B.: How productive is this “dual” existence as a popular fiction writer and a professional scientist? If there is a “flow” of accumulated experience from one sphere of activity to another, then what are its mechanisms?

G.Ch.: Let me start by saying that I am not a scientist and never have been. I am an essayist, that is, initially a person of an undignified profession, who in my texts avoids footnotes and reference bibliographic apparatus. As for dual existence, it is very, very productive. I regret that I did not make this discovery earlier. It is necessary to change genres, it refreshes the brain and does not let you get bored. I recommend that all writers give it a try. Let's assume that M. Gasparov, during a break between treatises, will compose a fantasy, and P. Dashkova, during a break between detective stories, will write an absurdist tragedy. Isn't it interesting?

D.B.: The question is of a slightly different nature. What is your forecast for the situation in Russian-language literature, say, in the next decade? In your opinion, are its current pillars?

G.Ch.: I am sure that in the first decade of the new century, Russian literature will blossom in lush and exotic colors, once again surprising the world and reviving interest in reading. And this will happen precisely at the expense of gaming, leisure literature - precisely because we didn’t have it before, and there are many professional writers, and readers can’t wait. Akunin is the first frail snowdrop in this clearing. There will be others. It would be nice to create a creative association of literary players like me - say, called KB (Fiction Writers Club). That would be fun.

D.B.: Does it make sense to talk about literary fashion in the case of Boris Akunin’s books?

G.Ch.: In my opinion, we need to talk not about fashion, but about a long and lasting interest in this kind of literature. The discerning reader yearned for normal, easy reading that would not be primitive or vulgar, and B. Akunin shamelessly takes advantage of this.

Conversation between Denis Bychikhin and Maxim Sokolov

Denis Bychikhin: How would you define the genre of your book? Formally, these are texts strictly tied to reality, comments on events, which nevertheless have literary value. Are there analogues of this kind of work? Were they taken into account when compiling the two-volume work?

Maxim Sokolov: As they say, I didn’t try, God brought us together. It is unlikely that this was a particularly sophisticated plan. It would just be a shame if these texts disappeared. We reached an agreement with the publishers, I began to collect and put together materials, and this turned out to be quite a difficult task. The main thing is that it is not entirely clear and familiar to me.

What happened in the book is the result of a fairly large number of sequential operations. Lapping in. Some were thrown away, some remained. Moreover, I am not at all sure that the final version is ideal. Probably, if I had had more time and opportunities at my disposal, everything could have been done differently.

Therefore, I must admit: I did not have any serious plans. In addition to such pure oddity, it would be nice to make the section titles from one word. In my opinion, this was the only creative idea. But she is not mine either. General de Gaulle has exactly the same quirk in his work .

D.B. : What about Russian-language samples? Can they be listed?

M.S.: The fact is that most Russian thinkers, in addition to the major works that brought them fame and which are mostly quoted, as a rule, have a large body of journalism, polemics, and small forms, which are very interesting to read, sometimes even more interesting than large format bricks .

Among such authors one can name the same Vl. Solovyov, Berdyaev, or, if you like, Ilyin. And I thought that this could become one of the prototypes. That is, strictly speaking, you take the collected works of one of the classics, take out large things from there, because in this case, unfortunately, they are not written like that, and what remains can be considered as an example of the genre.

D.B.: In my opinion, is an analogy with the journalism of Saltykov-Shchedrin also possible? How justified is it, in your opinion?

M.S.: Shchedrin’s motives? Hardly. My language somehow developed this way on its own , it turned out this way by nature. There were no special efforts here. As, perhaps, with Shchedrin.

I don’t equate myself with the greats, but reading his texts does not at all give the impression of some kind of painful work on language. The man simply took it and poured out the bile.

D.B.: We can say that with the publication of the book, your albeit marginal status, your marginal position, took shape. From these positions, how would you describe the current situation in literature, which of its representatives could you single out?

M.S.: It probably worked out too well - a marginal position. In the sense that I just know very little. I read little. Therefore, I have nothing special to say.

I tried to read Pelevin, but without much success - I somehow got bored. I attempted to kill Sorokin, but I just vomited and got bored again. Apparently, the attempt was not very active. I had to show more willpower, but I didn’t. And therefore, in fact, I haven’t read anything and don’t know anyone.

D.B.: And such a phenomenon as serious well-known writers who are engaged in journalism - say, Rubinstein, Gandlevsky, Skidan?

M.S.: In my opinion, the most successful of them is Rubinstein. I got the impression that Rubinstein is a thorough and hardworking person. Maybe that's why he does it this way. He's more collected. As for Gandlevsky and Skidan, I’m just not that familiar with their journalism. Nothing particularly sank into my soul. But again, I repeat, there is no need to take my reviews on this part seriously, because I just don’t know much, I’m a fairly ignorant person and I can easily hit the mark with my finger. And my amount of knowledge is clearly not enough to make any serious judgments.

D.B.: Let's take the other pole - let's say, publicists and writers? Among them we can mention Prokhanov. How do you feel about his journalism?

M.S.: Prokhanov... I am more familiar with Prokhanov, because I read him at one time. On the one hand, Alexander Andreevich really invented his own style. Something - and you can’t take that away from him. Moreover, this style is very paradoxical.

On the one hand, it is quite automatically generated, it seems to me. Alexander Andreevich simply turns on a certain button, and the text begins to reproduce itself. All of his editorials are largely similar to each other. And, in general, they are all about the same thing. It feels like you are constantly reading the same text. It seems that such a thing could be entrusted to a machine or some kind of computer program.

On the other hand, in my opinion, none of the patriots or opponents-parodists have yet succeeded in imitating Alexander Andreevich successfully. From which it follows that there is some kind of secret, some kind of spark here.

Roughly speaking, in almost every era there is an author who is not so much priceless or significant, but unique in his own way. Like, for example, Count Khvostov or Benediktov: it’s not that they are geniuses, on the contrary, they are not at all, but, nevertheless, no one can write like Benediktov: “look at the beautiful woman, charming breasts . ” In my opinion, of the subsequent poets, only Anatoly Ivanovich Lukyanov could do this. Others didn't succeed.

So Prokhanov has such know-how. That's why we all appreciate him.

D.B.: Which publicist, besides Prokhanov, could you call a person with such a “button”?

M.S.: I think this is my former colleague at Kommersant, such a handsome Russian, Igor Svinarenko. He certainly has his own recognizable intonation, his own syllable. Now he writes columns for Moscow News after leaving Kommersant. And in Kommersant he wrote quite a lot and fruitfully.

DB: Maybe?

M.S.: I don’t think there is any unique button here, as in the case of Prokhanov. Minkin is largely calculable. Rather, it's done . His texts, the chopped structure of his feuilletons are to a very large extent copied from Vlas Doroshevich. The influence there is very strong.

And it’s not even a matter of whose influence is felt. In Minkin's case, disgust interferes with the perception of anything. Let's assume that Prokhanov is a kind of self-sufficient creature, reveling in his Wagnerianism. He never tires of admiring the “bonfire of communist Valhalla” again and again. Of course, from a different point of view, how much is possible? Six or eight years in a row the fire of Valhalla is monotonous. But that's the person's taste.

In a sense, Prokhanov is not lying. But Minkin lies, and he lies disgustingly. In addition, when the informer and the cistern simultaneously pretend to be the academician Sakharov of our days and annoyingly appeal to morality, one begins to feel sick with such force that aesthetics is difficult to perceive. Prokhanov is good because he is not a monstrous Pharisee.

D.B.: Let’s continue the workshop theme. Faculty of Journalism: how well does this institution justify its purpose? Can it produce authors like Prokhanov, the same Minkin, etc.? - that is, journalists who are original in their own way? How necessary is it?

M.S.: Prokhanov can hardly be called a journalist. He is, let’s say, in some way an “abstractist and homosexual,” as Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev put it, but with such a Wagnerian bias. It’s difficult to call him a journalist. Minkin is also not a journalist; he has a completely different profession, much less respectable. And if you are interested in this phenomenon, then you know, to be honest, I never knew why a journalism department was needed at all. I can understand the fact that there is a television department there. It’s probably needed for something, because television is a kind of production, a factory, where you need to know some factory specifications. As for journalism itself, it has always been a deep mystery to me what you can study for 5 years at the journalism department.

Moreover, the memories from university times about the journalism department were not particularly pleasant. I studied in philology, and the journalism department, as far as I remember, among other faculties never enjoyed either respect or authority, rather, some kind of very dubious reputation. I repeat, I cannot understand what can be taught there in 5 years. If we talk about some kind of basic education, then basic education can be obtained anywhere - best of all in a classical gymnasium. For lack of it - at the same philological department. Whoever likes it.

And by the way, one of the secrets of Kommersant’s success in the initial phase of its existence was precisely that, with very rare exceptions, the original Kommersant had no professional journalists or people with a journalistic education at all. As far as I remember, among the journalists, only Yakovlev himself graduated from the journalism department, and no one else. Which, perhaps, allowed Kommersant to give the impression of some freshness. Simply because people’s language was not beaten, washed out, stamped, etc.

D.B.: In this regard, is it possible to talk about any stylistic “waves” within recent journalism - periods when a new language, a new manner, fresh newspaper slang appears?

M.S.: This is worth talking about in relation to the last decade. Moreover, the situation is complex, because there are waves of different orders. What happened at the turn of the 80s and 90s was a wave, if you will, of large size, a kind of ninth wave, because its appearance was associated with the death of the Soviet language.

The Russian literary language, more or less finally codified under the late Stalin, in the post-war years, by this point had become a dead language. The discrepancy between the codified, dead language and the living one, the one that was spoken, became absolutely colossal. The difference was not as strong as between, say, classical Latin and the vulgar Latin of the Middle Ages, but about there.

So, this language was completely deprived of the ability to express any new meanings, or simply new factual realities. Take a Soviet newspaper from the 70s and you will see that it is not only impossible to write well in this language, but it is even impossible to describe some of the simplest realities of today.

That is, the end of the 80s - the beginning of the 90s is really the time of the formation of some new language, the time of a language revolution, akin to the language revolution of the time of Peter the Great. This is actually why the language today is in such an unintelligible, disorganized state. It’s time to recall the monstrous language of the post-Petrine era - before Lomonosov and Derzhavin. It took several decades for it to resemble anything. Now we are in approximately the same state.

But such big waves as this one occur once every century, once every two centuries, and thank God. If they met more often, then any continuity in society would collapse altogether. And if we talk about some small stylistic outbursts, then these are completely natural things. Fashion changes every 5 or 10 years.

D.B.: Great. In this regard, it is interesting to know your opinion about such a fashionable magazine at the time as “Capital” - the same one in which Mostovshchikov and Okhlobystin worked. And about the current "Afisha".

M.S.: As for “Capital” with Okhlobystin, I hardly liked this magazine. Simply because the game they invented was not interesting to me. You see, a magazine is in some way a store that sells consumer goods. If I come to a store, then my interest is that consumer goods - that is, articles, notes - would be of high quality, suit my tastes and, preferably, be offered at a reasonable price. That is, information about how much the warehouse manager drank yesterday, who the saleswoman in the haberdashery department is sleeping with, how they are having fun, is of little interest to me. I came there to get some goods. I did not come to live the life of this trading group. Why the hell do I need this?

And they proceeded from the fact that the main thing in a store is not the product, but observation of the life of the sales workers. This idea seems quite strange to me. It seems strange to me also because I had some idea about the life of these sales workers, the workers of this magazine "Capital". I could laugh at some things, and at some things I could get a little annoyed, because, in my opinion, they too vividly embodied the psychology of the “golden year” before August 17, when... The guys got greedy, in short.

And why should the broad masses like this, why did they assume that the broad masses are filled with such altruism as to enjoy how cheerfully, richly and witty some cheerful young people live?.. Obviously, this is a question for the broad sections of the working people.

DB: "Poster"?

M.S.: It’s more difficult to judge here, because I don’t really understand who the reader of Afisha is. I am not a reader of Afisha. Here, in my opinion, the main contradiction is the following: in order to use the recommendations of Afisha - the magazine is still quite thick and there are many different useful recommendations - but in order to use only a small part of these recommendations, heroic forces are needed, quite a lot is needed money, at least 3, and preferably 5 thousand.e. per month, or better yet more. Well, a lot of time.

On the other hand, in order to earn these 3 or 5 thousand USD, you need to spend a fair amount of the same effort, time, etc., and therefore it is unlikely to be possible to combine all this. Theoretically, one can imagine the case of a rich slacker, let’s say, living on rent, who, thanks to this rent, has 3 thousand cu, he has no end of strength, and he frolics. There are simply few such people. As for the others, they either somehow don’t have time to do this, or else they have time, but for what purpose? So there is a serious problem here with the image of the ideal reader. It is not clear for whom this is being done.

It is completely unclear where they got such an ideal type. In Dahl's dictionary there is an expression about a person who constantly goes to visit, from one house to another - he goes, “with a general search.” That is, in fact, this magazine is for people who walk around “with a general search.” But there are very few of them. The circle of these revolutionaries is narrow, and they are very far from the people. But you can’t get advertising from such a narrow circle.

D.B.: And, say, the magazine "Ptyuch"?

M.S.: I guess I didn’t read it. You know, somehow this is alien to me. I tried to read "Ptyuch", but apparently I am old and stupid, and did not understand anything. In addition, among the psychedelics I only recognize “The Cure for All Sorrows,” that is, her darling, the national drink.

D.B.: And the last thing: Your positive program, something like a life recipe from Maxim Sokolov?

M.S.: Completely banal and unoriginal. Cultivate your garden: the Russian language - if you like, Russian literature... The theory of small things and so on, because, in general, the soil is good, but neglected. Lots of weeds. Of course, the land after a fire never looks like a marvelous garden; nothing grows there except weeds. To bring it into any required state, it takes a lot of time and effort, “blood, sweat, tears, anguish,” etc.

D.B.: So in your case there is a happy coincidence of that independence, which is ensured by considerable professional skill, and a positive credo? In other words, are you lucky?

M.S.: In this sense, yes. In fact, in most cases I am paid money for some kind of work that is interesting to me - money that allows me to live decently. I think this luck is not very common. And as long as God is merciful... In this sense, such a coincidence exists.