| Elena Syanova’s first novel, “Cry, Margarita” (M., “Olma-press”, 2002; “Original” series) was dedicated to Hitler’s inner circle on the eve of the Nazis’ rise to power. The book aroused polemical responses, which were immediately rebuffed by lovers of the “everything is more complicated” formula. Well, yes, Hitler, Rudolf Hess and Robert Ley were monsters, but they thought, suffered, loved Germany, knew a lot about the arts, broke into hysterics and, in general, were not too different from all other people. Which are sinful in essence. Women are better than men, non-politicians are better than politicians, history is a nightmare, and those who go beyond the boundaries of private life will inevitably destroy themselves and their loved ones. (At the same time, there are millions of “distant” ones, but so much has already been written about this.)
Now Syanova is developing success. In the same “Olma”, where the place of the brilliant “Original” was taken by the “Master Class” series. The nature of the “project” can be judged by the kitschy covers and advertising slogan: “The books... truly represent the gene pool of modern prose. A varied style of writing, a modern interpretation of the main issues of existence, a good, flexible Russian language.” In approximately the same “plastic” language (“truly gene pool”), Syanova interprets the main issues in a modern way. To “Margarita” were added “Eagle’s Nest” (from the Anschluss of Austria to the beginning of the Second World War) and “To Each His Own” (from the last days of Hitler’s bunker to the execution of Nazis convicted in Nuremberg), but Margarita - Hess’s sister, Leia’s wife - remained the author's favorite. Just like her husband, just like her brother. Executioners, of course, are also criminals. But how smart, decisive, chivalrous. Tragic. And how are the winners better with their rotten democracy, shameful past (the Germans exterminated Jews and Slavs - this is how the Americans exterminated the Indians before), bombing of peaceful German cities and legally formalized reprisals against the losers? The attempts of the Americans to conclude a deal with Ley, who holds the secret of the “gold of the party”, are depicted with pathetic contempt - the leader of the Labor Front, the idol of the German workers, an opponent of SS methods and crude anti-Semitism will not be a compromiser. He, of course, would have raised Germany from the ruins in an instant (where the opportunist Adenauer and the overseas occupier were!), but if he lost, he would die with music. Mourned by Margarita, disillusioned with National Socialism, but faithful to her hero husband. She will raise Lei's children correctly - Syanova will probably write another novel about this.
The right path. The combination of intellectualism and barbarism is back in fashion. On the one hand, Nazism is only a special case of the sinfulness of the human race. On the other hand, it is much more attractive than bourgeois vulgarity. With the third, people (Hitler and his associates) are not equal to their political roles (they loved children, music and dogs). On the fourth note, not everything in the Third Reich was bad (Dr. Ley built roads, started Volkswagens, and gave vouchers). With the fifth... At any cost, piling up contradictions and tactical reservations, presenting “facts” and exploiting distrust of myths, playing on sentimental strings and indulging in “advancement”, they sell us on: evil and good are indistinguishable, everything depends on the starting point, everything has been worked out humanity's “norms” are just the tricks of clever winning demagogues. Texturally rich and aesthetically poor, boulevard novels by Syanova are a typical, but by no means an isolated example of a cunning and evil lie . Explaining why this lie is increasingly gaining strength in a country that has committed no less crimes in the last century than Germany, which has managed not only without Nuremberg and “decommunization,” but also without any semblance of German national repentance, voluptuously savoring its humiliation, is reckless. looking for enemies-traitors and dreaming of “showing it to everyone”, I consider it unnecessary. How to answer the question: who needs this?
Meanwhile, the problem of repentance and - accordingly - the guilt of the Soviet person has not been removed from the agenda. It was her that Alexander Kabakov tried to place at the semantic center of the novel “Everything is Fixable” (M., “Vagrius”). The novel has three parts - three “epochs of development” of the hero. The end of adolescence - the black year of 1953 (the fight against cosmopolitanism, which led the hero's father to suicide, the death of Stalin and the premonition of new times), the "thaw" youth (dashing blackmail, the tenacious embrace of the gebukha and salvation in the army - this part was published in last year's "Banner" "), the threshold of old age is our days (the hero, who has set his sights on a reputable business, is mercilessly “abandoned” by his partners). The novel has an air of time (each part has its own), there are successful psychological moves, there is plot energy (although in the third part it is not clear why the scoundrels bothered with the mug for so long, it seems, so that the reader does not get bored). Kabakov’s desire to prove that he is not a fiction writer, but a writer, is sweet, naive and, in my opinion, only harms the cause. (And so we believe.) The conflict between love of life and conscientiousness could well organize a novel. It turned out differently.
The hero believes that, by betraying loved ones in small ways, he constantly attracts their greater betrayals to himself, over and over again casting the poor fellow into the abyss. As the case progresses, it turns out that there were no disastrous betrayals - mocking fate dealt with the hero. As for his own sins, it is impossible to regard them - despite all the efforts of the author - as something serious. Yes, it’s not good to walk away from your wife. But, after all, who hasn’t it happened to? (It seems that Kabakov is not writing Anna Karenina.) And it’s bad to farce. (But this is part of the OBKhSS, not literature. Moreover, the poeticization of farce is given with captivating frankness.) Shouldn’t you have gotten into business? But why? Moreover, the “ordinary” existence of the hero in the interval between the second and third parts is also characterized contemptuously. Again: why? Kabakov senses some painful problem, but cannot name it. “Survivor” (hero certification) is too broad and empty a word. And was he, who had messed up so much, a “survivor”? The thought runs away somewhere, but the feeling remains. Strong and strange - vehement hatred of oneself and life, inseparable from hope: from Monday everything will go differently. And again: why? Don't know. But I somehow like the title of the novel (and what corresponds to the title in the book). Some things can be corrected - Kabakov will write again.
It is not clear why we need to correct something that has already been achieved. It is not clear to us, the readers. And writers love to dig through old things. And not always successfully. A classic example is “Petersburg,” literally raped by Andrei Bely in a later edition. So Sergei Soloukh decided to restore order in the “Lonely Hearts Club named after Unter Prishibeev” (Kemerovo, 1996; republished - M., “O.G.I.”, 2002), for my taste, one of the best Russian novels of the late twentieth century century. The result was a “coloring book” with a cool title “The most disgusting part of the body” (St. Petersburg, “Helikon Plus”). Long, branching, musically ornamental phrases were sharply compressed. Stunning metaphors have been put on temporary leave. The inversions that fascinated soloukhophiles and infuriated solohophobes have not exactly disappeared (not this one was attacked), but they have made a little room for “words in the right order.” The dynamic plot has become even more dynamic. The rhythm, having lost its whimsicality, is heard more clearly (more obsessively). Love - for the sake of which Soloukh piled up his vegetable gardens - remained love. The experiment was completed. The master showed that he can do not only this way, but also this way.
For what? Yes so. After all, Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy wrote in the margins of Pushkin’s “Aquilon”: How aren’t you all tired/ Asking the storm empty things?/ Everyone is stuck: why, why?/ Then, something is in my nature. If The Nastiest Part of the Body captivates new readers, I'll be happy. But I still advise them to read “The Club.” And the prose that sooner or later will burst out of Soloukhov’s computer. Andrey NEMZER
|
