Vyacheslav Kuritsyn. Kuritsyn-weekly from May 29, 2001

Kuritsyn-weekly from May 29, 2001
Vyacheslav Kuritsyn

Publication date: May 30, 2001

Today ’s issue is extraordinary: mainly about the fact that on Friday in St. Petersburg at the Astoria Hotel the first ceremony of awarding the “National Bestseller” took place . Let me remind you that the finalists included Sorokin with “The Feast ,” Bolmat with “On Their Own ,” Bykov with “Justification ,” Yuzefovich with “The Prince of the Wind,” Limonov with “The Book of the Dead” and Prokhanov with “Walkers in the Night.” The small jury consisted of the same Limonov, Pavel Krusanov , Elena Schwartz, banker Vladimir Kogan (whom, when announcing the jury, I once stupidly introduced you to the translator Viktor Kogan), Artem Troitsky and Dmitry Dibrov, who dropped out of the game for some reason. There was also an honorary chairman in the person of Khakamada, who would name the winner in the event of a tie (she read the texts, because she admitted that “Pir” could not). This option was quite real. Each member of the jury had to hand in an envelope with the name of their candidate before the ceremony, and Prokhanov, for example, with Limonov, could easily have had 2 votes each. Then the Princess of the Right Forces would have pronounced a verdict: Prokhanov.

Everything happened differently - the winner was determined not by Khakamada, but by me. Fans of conspiracy theories, as well as citizens who are sure that “everything is bought” in all awards, will be interested to find out how history is actually made. Very simple. Buy a large bottle of Okhta vodka, 300 g. sausages, the same amount of cheese. A member of the jury gets drunk on the eve of the ceremony - in this case it turned out to be Krusanov. And it comes out on the sly: who will you vote for, dear member? Pasha is not a greedy man, he did not boast of secrets. He said: for Bykov.

Next is a matter of technology. I had to bitterly slap myself on the forehead, say, “I knew it would all end in a big mess,” and explain to my friend on my fingers that the novel “Justification” is complete crap and that the boys really won’t understand Pasha if he gets into such a mess. And Pasha not only understood the correctness of my words, not only gave his teeth that he would rewrite the letter to Yuzefovich in the evening, but also, like a real kid, he honestly rewrote it. As a result, Yuzefovich had 2 votes, and Bykov had one. Without Pasha's castling, as you understand, it would have been exactly the opposite. I dare to assure you that decisions regarding RAO UES are made in approximately the same way.

Schwartz also voted for Yuzefovich; banker Kogan, of course, spoke in favor of the red-brown Prokhanov; Limonov for himself. Troitsky gave Bykov his voice, making a long speech about some crazy tablets that he drew in order to understand which of the authors was stronger stylistically and which wrote more instructively. He chose “justification” for a reason that is not entirely clear: they say, he read 90 percent of the text and thought, what nonsense, and then, as it turned out that it was all invented by a mental patient, he was so happy: that’s why it’s nonsense! Justified by the plot!

In general, in the first draw for the “National Bestseller” everything turned out surprisingly well. Firstly, the list of finalists was strong, significant and intriguing: no Booker, say, had ever had such a good shortlist. Secondly, the story with the envelopes and the speeches of the members before opening their envelope turned out to be very ingenious. Thirdly, the very idea of ​​holding the ceremony in St. Petersburg is happy. For several days, a crowd of Moscow literary people - publishers, nominators, journalists, provocateurs - hung around the city on the Neva, fraternizing with the locals and with Vladimir Bondarenko. White, again, the nights have slowly gone by. Fourthly, the laureate is a very bright person. One can sigh that Bolmat and Limonov as laureates would have had better PR, one can remark that “The Prince of the Wind” is not Yuzefovich’s best text, one can generally grumble about the trend that Yuzefovich, together with Akunin, personifies, but he is such a disconcertingly nice person (see by the way , interview in "Ex Libris"), which for "National Bestseller" can play the role of an angel.

However, the main thing is still unclear: about the 50,000 copies in which the laureate should be published. That is: it’s unclear where to put them (not every book can be sold so much even to our affectionate public), and it’s unclear what will happen with copyrights. Vagrius is laying claim to Yuzefovich. They, of course, will figure out how to resolve the situation without me, but it’s purely interesting what the mechanism will be.

In St. Petersburg, meanwhile, there was City Day, for which the Anichka horses were opened from repair, and Zenit as a gift lost to Lokomotiv 1:5, which all the newspapers there write about on the front pages. Mystical cases are still in circulation. We were walking with a couple of Moscow colleagues along the Fontanka, and reached the house where Alexander Etkind, an expert on the eros of the impossible, lives. They whistled through his window (just shortly before this, Voznesensky, a journalist from Ex Libris, bought himself a new shiny whistle), Etkind took out his scooter, and went for a ride along the river. And suddenly I remember that I once saw a drowned man here, under this bridge. And after a second I understand that this is bullshit: I have never seen a drowned person here. I saw him once in Sverdlovsk, about 15 years ago. But I didn’t see it here. And where did this crap memory come from? This becomes clear after half an hour: the prose writer Ger broke Etkind’s scooter, the ride ended and we sat down in a cafe exactly opposite the strange place. And suddenly Etkind says: “I once saw a drowned man here.”

That is, the city seems to be in order, it’s thriving.

There are also big boards on every corner that say: $1000. And nothing else. Black and white, big signs. I decided that these guys from the federal banking system were purely promoting their own loot. Advertising money: that's what Pelevin didn't think of in Generation Mu . I thought of advertising God, but I didn’t think of money. It is possible to advertise God, because He and money are two different things. And in the syntagm “advertisement of money” the references specifically stick together. In Moscow we don’t advertise money. Well, everything is ahead.

I observed a similar effect in the Berlin Zoo, it seems: an attraction consisting of a deep black funnel. You place a coin, and it flies very beautifully along this funnel - strictly on its edge - into the hole below. The attraction as such: you just give money and watch how it becomes not yours.

And film expert Trofimenkov told an anecdote. A new Russian walked into the bathroom, look, and his claws grew - in the manner of the novel "Kys" or the story "Nails" . He calls the boys: send me a dude to cut my nails, otherwise they’ll bring the devasiks soon, it’s inconvenient. The doorbell rings, there's a guy with a suitcase. "Hello, I'm a pedicurist." - “Yes, Yuri, according to the lantern, whether you’re a fagot or what, I need to cut my nails.”