Translated material
Behavior - UD!
... comrade man,
how lure is
Your position ...
Okudzhava
You can’t say that the guys left unnoticed, in English. No, there was a lot of noise: bonfires in the square, courts, indignant old women, " walking together " by Sorokin - it was very loud, but it may also be louder - the silence of Pelevin's silence .
But they left. Not from Russian literature - from there they can’t be removed from there, not from the mass -media chatter of glossy magazines: the glosses, as you know, are always a little late, they, in their blind confidence that they are driving (they have from a spoon), refuse to notice that the baby is pup and its tastes have changed a bit. And he grew up. And the tastes have changed. Therefore, Pelevin with Sorokin left, where is from: from folk writers.
They were really exchanged, just as planned by "walking", not to Boris Vasiliev . On Stogov . For starters.
Further - there will be Bykov , Kuritsyn , Krusanov , give only time. This is my prediction.
I watch with interest how another new style comes to Russian male prose.
I will try to look at this process through a narrow gender gender (sorry - here again a barracks joke came out), that is, I wanted to say, from a high gender peak ... But what is it! Whatever you say - everything comes out for a continuous indecency. "... Sorry, doctor, I always think about her ..."
Yes, in general, our whole life, from the moment of original sin, is a continuous indecency. From birth to grave and from antiquity to the present day. But, for example, we, in one individual country, were allowed indecent recently.
And the people began to master it - the birthmark of indecent, as expected, from the basics. Not from the word, Visually familiar with the fences, but incomprehensible for the time being, by the time, but from a word, known almost from birth: it usually appears in our life immediately after mom , dad , woman and give , but not even to my grandfather . This word is Kaka . A bad word that exists so that the girls could not say it, but only hooligans can. Then the word with us grows a little and is already called at Ge , so we girls are supposed to speak. And all letters are impossible.
The writer Sorokin - he forever remained not only a child, but, of course, a girl, and this, on Ge , he never mastered. Sorokin is generally childish-feminine scorching in the language. His kaka is always some kind of feces , all sorts of things there and on hey - they get with him - genitals ... Such a bashful country girl from a good family, which is slowly mastering this world.
In Sorokinsky books - always a game for preschool age.Films of Alexander Row . Or Spielberg - for a family visit. Monsters, fears, blood, a river - but so that something that children come from - this is not. Sorokin is an ugly girl -household. Pelevin? This is unconditionally a boy. And older. Nine has already hit. Or, maybe eleven, but all this is certainly another period - donanism .
These are the heroes of the nineties. The area of fantasies of both of them is outside the relationship of sexes. Out of love. Outside of sex, outside a woman. And not for women. I could never love them, although I perfectly understand what they are doing in terms of owning a craft. After all, writing is a craft no worse than others. And of course, I enjoy the well -made prose. But the feeling that it is not for me. Not for me. Because for them there is no me. There is no me: hollows, hollows, inhy , that very gap, cracks in the space and time, in which everything male is shed from time immemorial. Including creativity. For Pelevin and Sorokin - a woman does not exist. And they in no way try to position themselves as men. It’s not good or bad - it's just like this: I do not want to be it. Male. I do not want to fulfill his duties. And the male has his responsibilities. Find yourself a female. To copulate. Give birth to cubs. Somewhere there in the middle, take care of the hole. And around - a flock, jungle. The laws of the pack. The laws of the jungle ... a man is entangled, tied hand and foot. And here are the nineties: around chaos. Who is my flock? Where is my jungle?
And who rushes to the shoulders? Yes, it seems not wolves - jackals ... And this is quite a shame.
Athletes go at the Olympics - without a flank and anthem. Guys are sitting without work. The women, as always, harnessed and plow. But do not give birth.
Once again, it seems like a country is not a country, and I am not me, and a hat is not mine, and more than anything else I want this (not mine) hat in the sleeve and somewhere away from here, but you won’t attack everyone. I got into a misunderstanding . I’m sitting in a misunderstanding, it is only clear that no such ancient words like the Motherland or there are men and women , again - love , they are no longer appropriate here and remember them.
And why are these men and women, why be called so, why poke with souls and loins - if you can’t give birth? And you can’t give birth, because there is nothing to feed. Yes, and scary around. Tomorrow as a star, he will cover everyone at once. Better to hide. Climb into the dugout. And there to play, as if we are children. We are sitting, talking normal children's conversations: all Sorokin is children's conversations - at night in the dark, about what is impossible . Horror stories. Indecent. Poils with a river. Blood -shaped, too - boys -girls with cut hands, legs. Poems.
"... I will go to the sun to go in the sun ..."
"... Mine, the ass of God
Come to the threshold! "
- And the uncle took this girl and put his iron right in her head ... Hy ! The girl was flooded with blood and died. Shshsh! Scary. Good and scary. Even somehow comfortable from all this.
Pelevin is an older boy. He jokes. He is a type of cut. And in general, a skeptic. Surviving the incomprehensible around. But also so - not in an adult way. At the native level of the third class. No, this is well done. Just not for an adult. And men, of course, love him. Especially young. In men - the child gets stuck for a very long time. Maybe by year olds begins to grow up.
These heroes arose in the post -revolutionary decade. And how much screaming was around them. And they - they were exactly the same as they had to arise in that confused, incomprehensible space and time.
And it is funny to watch how the landscape around gradually changes, and the heroes of the nineties are replaced by new Russian male writers.
It seems to have stopped downloading. The bombers flew away. The people are already in the field for a long time, but here, finally, the man gets out slowly.
Yes, here he is. And this is perhaps mine. And, most importantly, she is mine ! Mine that is! Don't be afraid, dear. I did not abandon this machine gun. The banner there, the wounded commissar - threw it all, did not stand it to his own , because he finally realized: here we have to go out to his own almost impossible. About a hundred years ago, it was possible to determine who was his own , and now ... But I saved my own . Hold on! Well, hold a little, sheer to accelerate, and then I myself somehow.
In general, he came out - a man. Red, green, gold -bearing, very vague color, because he polished in everyday storms. But everything is with the same non-beybike, all with the same vanka-all-in, with a gun offhand, a bayonet at the ready. And he, perhaps, has no other treasures. Are natural bowels. Yes Russian literature.
This one who has come out is not a hero yet. That is, they still did not guess. They have not yet been holding him by the hero. And if the author of Mitkov Volodya Shinkarev once introduced the term heroic drunkenness , then the term heroic rowing is still unknown to the people. But - the Russian writer, the Prophet who is supposed to lead the people - came out first.
I got up. I got it. Trinked. In general, he opened the season of restoration work on the salvation of the people's genocode.
These are male voices. The Hero -Hero and the Hero, the schoolchild of the elementary grades, was replaced by a hero - a man of draft age.
He does not want to be called to be called up, but he is ready to marry. Here he is, look - curly. With an accordion. The ud is cheerful and tireless, blazes with a red banner and curls with a biblical serpent. As my friend of St. Petersburg prose writer Sasha Etoev wrote: "He calls young girls to dance and to sin" ...
Hey, Maroussia, go to the quadrille!
With Sorokin and Pelevin will not go - not one. No, it's not about appearance.
The current heroes - Kuritsyn, Bykov, Krusanov, Stogov - do not shine with such beauty. Bykov - a thick chest of drawers, Stogov - by itself, a spilled portrait of an owe in his youth - pink, bald, with live black eyes, Crusanov generally a scarecrow of Kudlat with an unbroken face, Kuritsyn - Tatar with an Asian woman's physiognomy, almost one worse than another. Yes, I have my own groom. True, he is not a prose writer - a poet, but also to look at this creature without tears - it is impossible. It does not resemble it cowboy from the advertisement of the “Malboro” cigarettes. However, for the incomprehensible cause of tears, I begin to pour not when he appears, namely, when the time comes to part with him.
And all of them, the current, - women like. Moreover, as an insider, a person who observes the life of the above writers, I can indicate that almost all women like them. With them, the current, - any . Theoretically, any agrees to give birth from them. This is probably not connected with the appearance. It doesn’t matter - fat, small, bald, such, like ... their eyes are on. They have an ud - clicks .
And those of the nineties have no.
Here is Sorokin - it seems to be prominent. Beautiful, tall and ... no. There is no Yan - male essence.
Pelevin too.
All this happens not only in life, but also in prose.
Each of the current in his works is always a lover.
Sometimes - the husband, by the way, is often a husband (Stogov, Crusanov). Sometimes a womanizer, but a womanizer is not a meaningless collector, but rather a polygamist, that is, again - a husband. And even when it all starts with the image of a male-bearing man, that's like in the last novel of Kuritsyn, a husband, a defender, still comes out. Hope and support.
The modern hero - I agree to marry. I agree to bring to a woman. Know her, give birth with her. And, finally confused about the one who is the Germans here, and who are ours, he, although he does not want to go to war, for every war is now not his war, but this own way is ready, if necessary, to protect. That is, in addition to rs, it is also equipped with a simple weapon. With a stick, a horn, a stone ax ...
Because - loves . They learned to love again. In an adult way. With a complete measure of responsibility. They write about love again. They remembered the old words. And they found many new ones. Modern Russian prose finally spoke about bodily love. For the first time after the senior erotica of Bunin, the pedophilic extravaganza of Nabokov and unsteady, with an eye on English -speaking literature, the successful attempts of Vasily Aksenov in a “burn”, our boys suddenly spoke easily and freely. I instantly overturning numerous theories that our language is not good for this , is not able to talk about it that only uy on the fence we have a medical encyclopedia. But the Japanese ... And the French are here ...
For many years, the area of bodily love - indecent - was closed. On the table, everything is in the table, please. Pluggha into a glass - I will drink in the morning . How sad to rub in a glass - about love. Well, where did it come from - if all these years, only South Russian Jews living in Israel and Europe could afford to heroically write about it (in America - it is no longer possible, a Puritan country, they refused to print Oednia !).
These South Russian, my brother’s brother, they are amazing guys, and they honestly and conscientiously described in the past difficult times - everything was as it was . And as I lay down , and how I inserted it , and how I planted it by its very ears . And about high! And they wrote about lingonberry papillae , not alien to the beautiful, and about the cherries of the umbilies , I'm not talking about buds and roses there ... Silence, silence! Yes, in general, these were honest writers . And honest lovers. It is not their fault that when crossing the borders they gave out freedom of speech, but the very word itself was not given. Someday, all this Jewish Russian Eros, who created the myth of the unsuitability of our language for bodily love, will be collected in one big thick book, and believe me, it will be a very funny book.
By the way, Limonov has the same monstrous style whenever he eats about it . These are the worst pages in his piercing book. Even the story with a black man on the beach inserts exclusively the fact that a person decided to tell us about it. And that a person admits that he at that moment is a high. We take a cultural shock for delight before prose. And it is written - terrible. All the same Efraim Sevla and Eduard Topol . When I read the "Edichka" - the first reaction was: a genius! If only he did not write anything ...
And the current ones - everything is slowly doing. They seem to agree to occupy this - still an infinitely tempting position: a man. They returned. And they want to talk about love. About this . Of course, they will find words. They will find many words. The tradition of Russian erotic prose, love prose, timidly begun at the beginning of the last century, will be revived. The thread was already reaching from those boys to ours.
Such days have gone. He must find words to tell her - how good it will be, if only she fits.
Probably no one has noticed this - a new tradition of modern male Russian prose.
And I noticed. Soon she will notice. And, of course, she will fit. Forgive the nineties: incomprehensible, Sorokina, Pelevin ... will forgive everything. Lie down. He will love his ears. For starters. Then the other parts of the body. And she will be fine. Yes, in general, it will be good for both of them. But in the beginning it is supposed - the word ...