| “October” (No. 5) decided to cheerfully celebrate its eightieth anniversary. In the preface to the May book, the editors say that the magazine “from its first issues was aimed at young people. And who should he look to in 1924, at the turn of the era?” Further - about the fact that many once young authors of "October" have become classics, about how "October" in recent times has struggled to recreate "a holistic picture of Russian literature", and about how the magazine now cares about novelty. (Everything is true. Although it requires some clarification.) This is how the “May-October” experiment is motivated: in the issue the works of “young contemporaries” are translated into the experiments of “young classics” (Olesha, Svetlov, Sholokhov, Selvinsky, Platonov, Mayakovsky, Bagritsky, Prishvin, Shalamov, Bukharin). It is assumed that the poems of Vadim Muratkhanov , Grigory Petukhov , Vitaly Naumenko , the stories of Antonina Chekhovskaya , Arseny Danilov , Roman Perelshtein , the article by Yulia Kachalkina should compete with the chapters of “Quiet Don”, scenes from “Bathhouse” and “Doubting Makar”. I'm not sure this is the optimal way to discover writers. It seems to me that in such a cheerful atmosphere it is difficult to discern genuine talent, that the reader will pay attention more to the principle of the game than to the essence of the works offered to him. But the anniversary is still not mine, but the editorial staff of “October”, which means it is up to them to decide how to celebrate their birthday. In any case, Alexei Lukyanov’s frivolously nimble story “The Savior of Petrograd” (another experience of virtual history, boldly changing the Russian past and constructing the future) and the solid story of Denis Gutsko, who has already established himself in literature, “Autumn Light” will not be left without readers. As for the “classics,” then, in my opinion, it is better to read their famous creations in books. Fortunately, there are enough of them.
Another thing is texts that are unknown or difficult to access. The most interesting thing in “Ural” (No. 5) is a block dedicated to the memory of Viktor Astafiev . Here is his “Autobiography” (2000), the story “Dead Clearing”, published by “Ural” in 1959, critical notes, a review of the story “Diophantine Equations” by the outstanding Yekaterinburg prose writer Andrei Romashov, answers to questions from the newspaper “Ural Worker” (1989) .
People associated with the theater should be interested in a selection of plays - “God Loves” by Zlata Demina , “Demobilization Train” by Alexander Arkhipov (both authors are students of the editor-in-chief of “Ural” Nikolai Kolyada) and “Thirty-three Happiness” by the more famous (winner “ Anti-booker") by Oleg Bogaev .
Reviewing the March issue of the Yekaterinburg magazine, I promised to speak about Dmitry Bavilsky’s novel “Angels in First Place” upon its completion (No. 4). And then I decided to wait for “New World” (No. 5), where another of Bavilsky’s novels, “Nodelma,” is presented. I drove myself into a trap: while mastering the second novel, I forgot almost completely the first. You can, of course, re-read it - I’m afraid, however, that during this time the muddy and confused story of a lonely young lady who calls herself Nodelma and serves as a system administrator in a certain corporation will disappear from my mind. So for the rest of my life I will scurry between the “provincial” and “Moscow” texts of Bavilsky (I’m talking about the registration of Bavilsky’s heroines; the author strives with all his might to make his contribution to the “provincial” and “Moscow” myths - always something about “ "genius of the locality" is turning up.) Worse than that: Bavilsky is a hardworking man (before the current ones, he had already published two novels - and I seem to have read them; one, for sure), will not stop there. No, I’ll admit my own weakness ahead of time. Because anyone who dares to annotate even a fairy tale about a Moscow computer scientist, or even the supposedly linked stories of an aging actress and a self-made psychotherapist, will certainly seem like a complete idiot to the reader. Bavilsky's plots are deliberately helpless and incoherent - and what logic can there be in the world of floating rock music, club gatherings, online dating, beer ice cream and angelic dominance. (There are definitely winged spirits in Moscow; but how things are in a novel, where they should be “in first place,” I admit, I forgot. But they are there in the title!) Bavilsky’s prose justifiably claims to be relevant and advanced. It contains “signs of the times” (from drugs to porn sites, from big business to hacking, from online dating to September 11), an emphasis on the “feminine”, murky (undecipherable) psychology, bitter irony, neat mysticism, constant hints for something “big and clean” and other club bells and whistles. Having set himself an interesting task - to become a fashionable writer - Bavilsky successfully completed the first part. And if someone (unlike the editors of Ural and Novy Mir) does not consider it fashionable , then we must admit: this same someone is catastrophically outdated .
The success of Rodion Beletsky’s story “Journey to Ivanovo by the Author, Kovrov and Baranov” comes down to its title. The author, Kovrov and Baranov are childhood friends living in the same house. One day they became bored and sad, and they decided to go to Ivanovo. But we went to a holiday home near Klin. Where we spent a couple of stupid, but rather pleasant days, drinking, having a hangover and vainly dreaming of hooking, signing, and bonding with someone. Descriptions of their country vigils alternate with all sorts of stories from the former life of Kovrov, who is completely indistinguishable from him and Baranov’s other characters (one of them is an actor, but I can’t remember who exactly; it seems like Baranov? or not?) , the author and his various acquaintances and relatives. Probably, they wanted to present to us the “variegation” of life, as well as the abundance of situations and types - the result was some kind of gray-brown-crimson suspension. It seems like the colors are different, but the tone is the same. It seems like funny stories are being told, but yawning makes your cheekbones cramp. It seems that you come across phrases that are real, but they don’t make you happy. It seems that the characters (especially the author) should evoke sympathy (they are so cute, funny, their friendship is so touching), but it doesn’t work. Because “cute” is cardboard, made up. Because the captivating “lack of ideas” is deliberate. Because the desire to please someone and correspond to something rushes, if not from every line, then at least from every third.
Is there anything encouraging about The New World? Eat. First, six letters from Yuri Dombrovsky to Vitaly Semin (publication by V.N. Kononykhina-Semina ; clever preamble and context-expanding notes by L.S. Dubshan ). In short, almost business-like notes, Dombrovsky’s personality is visible, his passion, energy, love for his friend, who is toiling in Rostov. You can see the time - the dead 70s. And in a strange way, Semin is visible - a great, although rarely remembered, writer today.
The second joy is Alexei Balakin’s strict and demonstrative review of that monstrous hack that is passed off as an “academic” collected works of Tyutchev. In fact, after such a review, the “publishers” and “commentators” should urgently move to house managers. But not with us. Where is it - following the work of Balakin, who dealt with the first volume, there is a review of the third volume by Sergei Bocharov (the most authoritative humanist and member of the editorial board of the magazine), where the conversation about the quality of the publication (its level, as one can understand, is clear to Bocharov) is replaced by judgments about Tyutchev's historiosophy. Willingly or unwittingly, this text becomes an indulgence to those who shamelessly disgrace philology.
The third joy is the poems of Vera Pavlova , combined into the collection “The Path and the Companion”. They open the magazine and end the review. To fight the past is doubly/ an absurd quixoticism:/ firstly, on his side/ he has numerical superiority,/ secondly, his troops/ are fashioned from wax./ Will a hand rise/ to fight such an army? Andrey NEMZER
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