Alexander Ageev. Hunger 23

Hunger 23
Practical gastroenterology reading

Alexander Ageev

Publication date: March 27, 2001

...You get stuck in Rozanov, like in a swamp, and it’s impossible, after thinking about something “Rozanov-esque” for an hour or two, to successfully switch to something else, even to Bykov’s novel , which ends with the swamp where the main character dies. No, some powerful inertia is at work, and when I returned home on Friday (and I wrote the previous issue at work, taking advantage of the relative calm before the weekend), I “rozanized” for a long time (here the fusion of “resonance” and “masturbation” is quite Rozanovsky, if think about it).

I even went online, found a certain resource on the topic, and wandered there for some time in displeasure, because most of what was displayed on this useful site were, after all, traces of some random encounters with Rozanov: the author walked his way towards his goal, tripped over one of Rozanov’s many “bricks” (or this “brick” almost fell on his head and almost deprived him of an independent life, like Remizov), commented on this incident to the best of his talent and moved on.

What, in fact, is what amazes Nikolyukin: who literally lives with Rozanov for a year, publishes his collected works volume after volume, writes books about him, and is completely not susceptible to the Rozanov virus (one could say “discourse”, but that’s not exactly true) , because he himself thinks and expounds as if he had never taken Rozanov into his hands. It would be nice to make nails out of such literary critics.

On the contrary, it is completely normal (“how could it be otherwise?”) to perceive Viktor Sukach’s complete dissolution in the object - just read his disturbed “ Memoirs of Rozanov .” The structure of thoughts changes, then the syntax changes, and then you can talk with V.V. in the next world ( “t.sv.” ), and almost meaninglessly, with intonation nods and gestures. But to do this, one must, in some high sense, be simple-minded, “transparent” and, probably, have some kind of informal religious experience.

And for the uptight “intellectuals” Rozanov is an eternal temptation, but they, especially the “proud” ones, as soon as they step on Rozanov’s shaky ground (almost not a metaphor), immediately fall into a parody, and even understand this, but from understanding the parody only becomes stupider and angrier (like, for example, “ The Rose Garden ” by Vladimir Tuchkov).

And in general, Rozanov is very dangerous (as Herzen put it on a completely different occasion): the stinking organic matter is too close, you need to know or feel the cultural paths (“bumps”) in order to wander through this swamp.

By the way, one of the fashionable online entertainments somehow reminds me of this very poignantly lately. Interesting, but dangerous.

Well, if I, having wandered, returned to the swamp again, it follows that it is necessary to say a few words about “Justification” by Dmitry Bykov. Having reminded, however, of my right not to write reviews here, but to give in to pure taste.

After about twenty pages I got used to the font (I hadn’t read anything in such a large font for a long time) and became angry either with the publisher or with the author - for their, one might say, condescension towards me, towards my supposed inability to perceive small letters (style nuances). Then I gradually relaxed and began to enjoy myself. This pleasure consisted mainly in guessing the episodes, which the author himself wrote with pleasure.

After the death of the Kursk, we are all literate and know that a modern submarine has two hulls - one is “light” (“soft”), the other is seemingly “durable” (“hard”). And so it was absolutely not interesting for me to deal with the “light” case, that is, with the “alternative historical” plot, which, may Adelaide forgive me , in my head was associated more with Suvorov’s writings (like “Control”) than with the line Lazarchuk-Uspensky (whom, however, I also read with one eye, sometimes easily guessing the plot moves). One way or another - the genre target is designated, the hit can be recorded.

In the “light” body, in this external form, there are, of course, annoying errors (why is it, for example, that those who have gone through the Filter - almost dead and practically deprived of all human feelings - remain some kind of stupid patriots and are not at all out of fear helping the Supreme to win war? - a psychological stretch), but this does not interfere with the “moving properties” much, the block letters are large, the plot moves dynamically, and even Danilkin was touched by some of the retardations (about the village of the dumb).

And not everyone will immediately guess that the “version” that the main character cherishes and investigates will be disavowed in the end. To do this, you still need to know the “history of the issue,” as Adelaide or, for example, I know it. Well, that is, at least know the “complex of ideas” that Bykov presents as a publicist.

Well, just remember last summer, when the online “New World” held a discussion around Seryogin’s article about the fact that real Christianity is not the drool and snot of “humanism,” but a doctrine that is quite merciless to humans. The people then admired: “Oh, how fresh, how brilliant!” - and Bykov got angry and scolded the boy:

“Whoever argues, humanism in its Western European understanding, pre-Nietzschean humanism, extremely narrow, cowardly, built on the ideas of rationalism and equality, is essentially a rejection of God, or at least a departure from him. This is the replacement of life with existence, and to argue with There will be few hunters for Seryogin. But this is where he makes his main substitution, either purely fraudulent or absolutely childish, he confuses humanism in its narrow, liberal-European understanding with humanity, and this is a completely different matter. philosophy is rational, comfortable, and in many ways anti-Christian - then humanity has not yet compromised itself in any way as the only way of self-preservation of humanity as a whole. Humanism puts life above all else - humanity asks, if possible, not to torture a person when it can be done without. , oh yes. But there are no things more important than humanity."

How could Bykov not disavow the “version”, which precisely rejected “humanity” from the threshold, but was based on images that seemed terribly disgusting to him: “Large-scale people, large-scale passions, great achievements, a lot of blood, destruction of the weakest, copulations of the strongest " . Bykov the publicist is always a little more brutal than the intelligentsia’s “general opinion,” but he doesn’t allow himself to go far from it, just that “slightly.”

But the novel is another matter. At the plot level, you can observe all the political correctness required by us, throw away the old-fashioned Stalinist-Soviet “excuses,” and under the cover of all this painted cardboard, building a psychological portrait of the main character that is excessively detailed for plot purposes of this type, reflect to your heart’s content on strength/weakness .

The best, most deliciously written episodes in the novel are those in which Rogov is “strong.” Sometimes he uses his “strength”, sometimes he watches with curiosity the behavior of the “weak”. There are not many of them, these episodes: about Rogov’s short service in the army (excellent, precisely written pieces), about the moment of “comprehension of the law” in the village of sadomasochists, brief, randomly thrown remarks about the “weakness” of his wife, from whom he separated so as not to be her nanny, memories of her father (of course, “weak”).

One can object to me that in the “reconstructions” Bykov endows his half-dead people with this “power,” thereby “disavowing” its attractiveness, showing “the other side of power.” But I (purely sensually) still have the feeling that the “power” itself and the author are extremely attractive, and the characters simply use it senselessly, participating in a meaningless collective action staged by the maniac Supreme. There is not even a hint of freedom in them. What if there were both strength and freedom? Self-director?

And I remember what Bykov wrote six months ago, objecting to Seryogin:

“The fact is that much can be opposed to humanism - at least the titanism of Nietzsche, at least the Christianity of Florensky, at least the Old Testament, “tribal” pathos of Rozanov. But for some reason, much more often they contrast it with the most bad taste, bad manners, vulgar fascisation of society, cheap gigantism , the movement of crowds, sadomasochistic orgies, the youthful instinct of destruction and blasphemy."

And what, perhaps, is Bykov’s “Nietzsche’s titanism” more attractive than other options? Florensky and Rozanov are hardly his heroes, and it is he who gives battle to bad taste and bad manners in the novel. Even not Nietzschean, but Blok’s “man-artist” vaguely seems to be in the novel’s outcome: however, “humane”, who does not require sifting through “piles of human slag”, having grown from slag himself and knowing that this is how - among the slag - he will have to spend a lonely an “artistic” life, which no one, however, will appreciate. And he understands that it is also impossible without “slag” - “artists”, finding themselves alone with each other, tend to execute rather than have mercy on their own kind.

“Humanity” in Bykov’s version very much reminds me of royal mercy, and I really don’t like it. I don’t like “equality,” but to hell with it, if for Bykov it is part of humanism “in its Western European understanding,” I’m too lazy to argue. Let's be patient. The “Western European” understanding of humanism so far - in the absence of other intelligible versions - suits me quite well. And I see a threat to it precisely in the extreme spread of all kinds of “artistic” practices, which, by the way, are parasitic on it.