The New Criterion, September 2020

The New Criterion September 2020 edition is available online. I want to highlight four articles, the first two behind a paywall, alas. If you’re interested in those articles, be sure to find access to a copy of the magazine. Also note, the other articles currently accessible may not stay available once the October edition is available online.

The first article is “True Lies” by Andrew Stuttaford, detailing the complicated career of Curzio Malaparte and focuses on his recently released Diary of a Foreigner in Paris (translated by Stephen Twilley) by New York Review Books Classics. I’ve been an admirer of Malaparte’s prose, if not his personal history.

Malaparte described the Diary as being, in part, “a portrait of a moment in the history of the French nation, of French civilization.” And so it is. Amid interminable rambling about the malign impact of Cartesian thinking on the French, a vivid picture emerges of a France still broken by the German occupation. Malaparte, referring to the foreign occupations of other peoples—including his own—over the centuries, sees this as an exercise in self-abasement: an unsympathetic observation so soon after the Panzers had been driven out, but a reflection, possibly, of the disappointment felt by this lifelong Francophile, and lifelong narcissist, that France appeared to be disappointed by him.

One more quote:

Even as he publicly moved to the left, Malaparte’s break with fascism never seemed entirely clear cut, an impression, if inadvertently, bolstered by the Diary. Malaparte stresses that his opposition to fascism predated the fall of Mussolini, a claim backed up by tales of imprisonment and exile that were at best exaggerated, at worst fictitious, and, with the exception of one failed intrigue, had little or nothing to do with politics. While the Diary is by no means a complete account of Malaparte’s time in Paris (it contains almost nothing on his literary or—a new detour—theatrical activities), it may be telling that there is nothing on his sending funds to Louis-Ferdinand Céline, a brilliant writer, disgraced by anti-Semitism and collaboration, then skulking in prudent, if impecunious, exile in Denmark. That said, Malaparte does reveal that at least some of his socializing was with individuals sullied by the war years.

As Stuttaford notes, this may not be the best place to start if you’re interested in reading Malaparte. “For the most part, this diary is a work for Malaparte completists who will pass over the fatuous philosophizing to savor again the dropping of aristocratic names, the wildly un-reliable gossip, the unexpected erotic tangents (armpits!), and of course the old lies, so many of them, sometimes with extra embellishment, sometimes pristine.” The notes I have on some of Malaparte’s books in translation can be found at these links:

• Kaputt summary
• The Volga Rises in Europe (I was happy to see Stuttaford’s note that “in my minority opinion, his greatest work” as I quite liked it, too)
• The Bird that Swallowed its Cage: The Selected Writings of Curzio Malaparte

The second article is “Forests of Arden” by Paul Dean, a celebration of the completion of the Arden Shakespeare Third Series. The Arden series has long been my favorite “go to” for the plays and I enjoy their introductions. Dean goes through the history of each series, detailing the work involved as well as noting some of the changes in each series. He also provides an abundant amount of information (critical and praising) about some of the choices made.

Textual theories and critical fashions come and go, but annotation is probably the feature of the Ardens which students and actors have valued most highly. In this respect, too, there have been changes, notably in what earlier editors felt they could assume was general knowledge, and which they therefore left unremarked.

One more quote to highlight what the literary landscape looked like at the start of the first series, as well as the length of time each series took to complete and the time between each series' completion:

When Arden 1 began in 1899, the major critical authorities were still Dryden, Johnson, Lamb, Coleridge, and Hazlitt, and of these, only Coleridge went much beyond thinking of Shakespeare in terms of character and morality, to consider dramatic structure and poetic texture. Keats’s insights in his letters are irreplaceable, but they are not systematic. Swinburne, and one or two German scholars such as Gervinus, represented (then) contemporary criticism. By 1924, when Arden 1 came to an end—with Much Ado About Nothing, rather delightfully—there was little to add to the belles-lettrists, apart from A. C. Bradley and T. S. Eliot. By contrast, Arden 2, appearing from 1951 to 1982, could profit from the work of a galaxy of distinguished names on both sides of the Atlantic, following the rise of the New Criticism, the proliferation of academic writing (and academic journals), and the first phase of literary theory imported from continental Europe.

The third article is “Gray Mists & Ancient Stones,” an excerpt from the forthcoming translation of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s memoir Between Two Millstones, Book 2: Exile in America, 1978–1994. “These pages, written in 1987 but published here for the first time in English, describe portions of Solzhenitsyn’s 1983 trip to the United Kingdom: his visit to the western highlands of Scotland, speech at Eton, and meeting with Prince Charles and Princess Diana.”

I’m no confirmed monarchist, to sympathize wholeheartedly with each and every crown, and, in addition, I gravely reproach the British throne: frightened of public opinion, George V refused to offer basic shelter to his deposed cousin, Nikolai II. None of the past was forgotten, yet there prevailed in me that bittersweet sympathy for this amiable young couple [Charles and Diana] in the stifling calm before the storm.

The last article is “Hildebrand’s Aesthetics of the Universal” by Gerald J. Russello, a reflection on Dietrich von Hildebrand’s philosophy. This interested me because I have lined up his recently translated Aesthetics to read but haven’t worked up the courage to tackle it yet. Other books included in the discussion are Graven Images, My Battle with Hitler, and Morality and Situation Ethics.

In his monumental two-volume Aesthetics, the German philosopher Dietrich von Hildebrand (1889–1977) rejects the notion that beauty is unimportant to nurturing civilization or is somehow reserved only for the elite or privileged: “One should not make the mistake of assuming that because many people today apparently lack any sensitivity to beauty, beauty is not a fundamental source of happiness, even for the simplest people. . . . The atrophy of this sensitivity is a terrible loss, and this ought not to be interpreted as a progress that modern man has made in the industrialized world.” As a consequence of our rejection of beauty, we have confused our understanding of aesthetic experience. Now everything is “art” if it expresses some feeling, no matter how vulgar or ugly, and it seems we must promote—and pay for—anything designated as art.

One of Hildebrand’s quotes from Graven Images struck me as extremely relevant today, and heightens my interest in reading his writings:

Moral goodness is identified with broad-mindedness, desire of progress, tolerance. Several fundamental amoral values such as purity, reverence, humility are not included in morality. Other moral values such as justice, veracity, generosity are seen in the light of the open-minded liberalism, erroneously interpreted as consequences of this morality.

Andrei Platonov on YouTube

Another YouTube videos post, where the videos have under 1,000 views, this time related to Andrei Platonov. I guess there is a tie-in between the previous post and this one: Vasily Grossman gave the main speech at the funeral of Platonov.

The first video is Alexander Petrov's animation of the Platonov story "The Cow" (which can be found in Soul: And Other Stories from NYRB). There are some changes from the short story but I still enjoyed it--the message of love, compassion, and inconsolable grief comes through just as clear as in the story. Platonov wrote the short story close to the time his son was arrested and sent to a labor camp.

On the surface, the second animated video "Chevengur" by Mikhail Maximov has little to do with the book. Many of the ideas of it, though, are captured in a very dark 5 minutes. Haunting.

The page for "The Nikita" quotes Platonov but I'm not sure of the source material. It seems like a composite of a couple of his stories from the collection in Soul. Whatever the source (and I'm trying to find out more on this), I really enjoyed this short film. I'll stop there on descriptions...please watch and enjoy it, too.

The final videos are from The Dialogues with Solzhenitsyn, a documentary filmed by Alexander Sokurov with the Russian writer. In the documentary Sokurov presents Solzhenitsyn with topics and questions, following up (and sometimes trying to guide him) on topics that are listed in the "About" section below the videos. Part of the documentary focuses on Solzhenitsyn's thoughts on Platonov, stressing the language used (particularly his syntax).

I've included an attempt at a transcription based on the subtitles--any errors in copying what was presented are mine. There seems to be a dig at a particular writer by Sokurov by saying Platonov wasn't a "count-writer." Solzhenitsyn is correct in saying Platonov wasn't a "malicious anti-Soviet critic" since he was a believer in the revolution. He was a strident critic on how the revolution had developed, though. There is a beautiful passage in Chevengur I don't believe I quoted when reviewing the novel where a peasant rebukes someone adhering to the party line that having the land is great but the government shouldn't have taken all their wheat. After cursing the Bolshevik, hoping he chokes on the land, the peasant says "All you've left us is the horizon...you can't fool us." (I'm quoting from memory since I had to return the book).

The Dialogues with Solzhenitsyn, part 15 of 19 (the subject of Platonov starts at the 8:10 mark):

The Dialogues with Solzhenitsyn, part 16 of 19 (the subject of Platonov goes through 6:40):

Transcript:
Starting at the 8:10 mark in video 15 (of 19), Solzhenitsyn (AS below) and filmmaker Alexander Sokurov begin to talk about Andrei Platonov. From the subtitles:

Sokurov: “When did you read Andrei Platonov?

AS: “Late. When did I read him? In the end of the 1960s. I still want to write about him, but can’t find the moment.”

Sokurov: “How could it come into being? Can you help me to understand? What’s this language? Where from? I have the impression his language was formed under the influence of the provincial Soviet press of the time.”
AS: “Not the press. Not the Soviet.

Sokurov: “Of some people who…”

AS: “No.”

Sokurov: “who wrote much, as if his language was formed in a quite different way.”

AS: “No, he did not absorb an influence of a high culture. Thanks to God. Were he not an assistant to a locomotive-driver, were he to began [begin] from the Academy, we would have no Platonov. He is such a …”

Sokurov: “His language is a living one.”

AS: “He is just a living image of our simple people, who are caught by the revolution and try, by their own understanding, to understand and to express it. Hence, his expression is like groping. [End video 15] [Video 16] The world is so complex intersecting the traditional world, where he had grown, his parents, his family and the rest, and this incredibly new Soviet world he wants to believe in, he wants to believe, he’s not a ‘malicious anti-Soviet critic’ as they described him, he wants to understand by himself. This is why he gropes, almost like a blind man. He is touching his words, looking for their combinations.”

Sokurov: “Is it stylistics or philosophy?”

AS: “Both. The process of cognition. His style, his syntax is an imprint of the cognition.”

Sokurov: “Of the language, of life?”

AS: “Of both. Language is only an accessory tool. He is studying life. But his expression is always from the inside. And his amazing combinations of words show what we were speaking about, only we were speaking of words, that all of them already exist. But syntax too! The syntax, the constructions, and the government, the government of words, it’s all there. It’s all there, but before him… And he only started it. Still, he was not the first. Some combinations can be found…”

Sokurov: “How do you imagine him? What kind of man? How did he walk, speak? What was he like?”
AS: “Like a genial self-taught man. A genial autodidact invents a steam engine. Like Polzunov. Who else did we have?”

Sokurov: “He’s not a count-writer?”

AS: “No, no. Not a who?”

Sokurov: “A count-writer.”

AS: “No, no, no, no. An absolutely genial autodidact. Interesting. Yes. I studied his syntax. To write about him, and I want to write about him. I have to work a lot. No time… Perhaps one day I’ll have time.”

Sokurov: “How terribly sad it is, that his life was so hard, so unbearable. All was so cruel.”

AS: “That disaster with his son. He was forced to write some pro-Soviet things. I feel pity for those who wrote anything pro-Soviet. He wrote just a bit of it.”

Sokurov: “Yes, just a bit.”

AS: “A bit.”

Sokurov: “But still it is amazing, and resembles nothing.”

AS: “No one.”

Sokurov: “Suddenly a man appears, like a plant, like a unique plant in a forest. He could have not existed.”
AS: “He could. A unique one.”

Sokurov: “Now look: such a writer appeared, but what changed in the Russian literature? Or such people doesn’t [don’t] matter so much? They make a tremendous impression on us, the readers. They are a part of our life, as literature in general. Nothing is so important as literature for our life. But among the fellow writers, among the literary workers, what does mean [is the meaning of] the arrival to the world of such a…”

AS: “You mean, internationally?”

Sokurov: “Even if only for the Russian practice.”

AS: “Remember that in Russia, the Bolshevik censorship made many work underground. Poems and novels were born without anyone knowing them. They returned to the surface with such a delay, unpardonable. In their time, they could have tremendous social effect. They were weakened by being released only 50 years later.”

Sokurov: “For example, Astafiev, Belov, Rasputin?”

AS: “They came in time…”

Sokurov: “I know they did.”

AS: “Yes, yes.”

Sokurov: “Were they influenced by that extraordinary language…”

AS: “Of Platonov?”

Sokurov: “Does a writer feel such an influence?”

AS: “They all have succulent language. A fine vocabulary. All have good, bright vocabulary. By its origin a natural vocabulary. But the syntax…Platonov, on the contrary, doesn’t have any special vocabulary. He’s all syntax. But in the syntax of all the three, I can’t see any [of] Platonov’s influence. I don’t know.”

Sokurov: “I’m not even so interested in the influence of his literature, as in the influence of his personality upon the milieu of writers.”

AS: “Platonov is too uncommon …”

Sokurov: “No way to capture it?

AS: “No. No, there were such cases before, even there were such combinations, one could start … Not long ago I gave an example of a pre-Platonov writing. An early Platonov. There was a bit of it in the works of Apollon Grigoriev, of Hetzen, some few and scattered elements. I mean only syntax. Expressions. Government of words. I had one more example, I forgot it. Before Platonov, but very alike. But of course, Platonov is the king.” [change of subject at 6:40]

Solzhenitsyn, the Iliad

I have joked about 2012 being "The Year of the Doorstop" because of the size of the books I've read and plan to read before the end of the year. 2013 will probably prove to be a sequel: "Year of the Doorstop, Part 2," if my plans hold. One of my intended reads is the entire Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. I first read the series when I was a teenager, which means that comprehension and retention were almost nonexistent. I also have the benefit now of Anne Applebaum's remarkable book Gulag: A History.

For those not wanting to tackle three lengthy volumes of Solzhenitsyn's work may be interested in an excerpt from the introduction by Natalia Solzhenitsyn to the abridged version published in Russia in 2010. There's also a supposed introduction to Natalia Solzhenitsyn (although there's little about her). I'm hoping this means the abridged version will be available in English before too long

Speaking of doorstops, in the same issue at the same site is a look at three recent releases of the Iliad: two recent translations by Anthony Verity and Stephen Mitchell plus "Richmond Lattimore’s 1951 translation of the Iliad, which has just been re-issued (without alteration, but supplemented with maps, notes, and a useful introduction by Richard Martin." Looks like I may have at least one more addition to next year's plans from this trio.

Update (5 Oct 2012): Even more on the Iliad, including a look the new translations as well as many older ones.

Apricot Jam and Other Stories—It seemed that we had been filled to overflowing, yet there was still more to come

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Apricot Jam and Other Stories
Counterpoint, Hardcover, 375 pages
ISBN: 1582436029 / ISBN-13: 9781582436029

Comments on the first five stories can be found here. This post covers the last four stories in the collection, the first three of these translated by Kenneth Lantz, “No Matter What” translated by Stephan Solzhenitsyn.

“Zhelyabuga Village” is a first person narration of an incident in a western district of the USSR during World War II. The narrator commands a sound-ranging battery setting up in a forward position in order to pinpoint German batteries. He starts by detailing the procedures, considerations, and pressures that go into such an operation. I found it fascinating to look at the technological techniques and problems that had to be addressed. As in the previous story, we see a political officer hanging around” the battery, offering nothing useful. Despite some repetitions in technicalities, I found the “war” part of this story powerful because of the no nonsense way the narrator looked after both his job and the sixty soldiers (and inadvertent civilians) under his purview. Solzhenitsyn describes an impromptu birthday party, full of fatalistic rhetoric and an elevated feeling of community. “Over this war you could have counted the number of such days on one hand. Our spirits soared. It seemed that we had been filled to overflowing, yet there was still more to come.”

The narrator skips ahead fifty-two years to describe an official visit to Oryol “for the commemoration of the fiftieth anniversary of Victory Day.” Characters muse about the changes in and differences of the place during the elapsed years: “It was a different world, one we had never seen before.” We meet the beauty that had been trapped in the cellar with the troops, two yellowed teeth left in her head and the hint of rape as she declares she forgets “what I need to forget.” A minor protest erupts as village women block the delegation's caravan to protest their treatment—they gave their all in WWII and they feel ignored. After empty promises from those in charge, the old women get specific with their charges: “Never a holiday, never a day off, never a bit of leave. And what did they tell us then? Your labor will be our victory; it will help us end the war quickly and bring some peace to the country. So why have you forgotten those who toiled away, tell me that?”

“Times of Crisis” follows the life and career of Georgy Zhukov. Solzhenitsyn seems to admire Zhukov because of his love of the motherland, at least to the extent that he puts results for his country ahead of personal fame or wealth. Solzhenitsyn has shown this level of empathy with Soviet officials in other works, such as Stalin in “In the First Circle.” The first section of this story covers Zhukov’s growth and development in the Red Army fighting against separatists and bandits. The steps taken by the state against the peasants in the area take an increasingly intimidating and oppressive approach. Zhukov admires these tactics: “No great commander can manage without harsh measures.” In both sections, Solzhenitsyn seeks to understand Zhukov by imagining his inner thoughts and desires.

The second section has Zhukov writing his memoirs, looking back on his career during World War II and later. Because of his position he directly oversaw some of the USSR’s major war accomplishments, directly interacting with Stalin during many of the campaigns. Zhukov brushes aside the faults and failings of Stalin, not able to conceive that the empire's leader could be anything other than human. Or competent. While he is adept at military matters, Zhukov flounders when it comes to political wrangling. He fails to comprehend anyone that places personal advancement over the well-being of the motherland. Shunted aside to an imposed retirement, Zhukov eventually decides to write his memoirs. The first problem he encounters revolves around presenting his experiences his relationship with other people, in particular Stalin (both ellipses in original):

It was precisely here that he saw the biggest obstacle to writing his memoirs. (Maybe he should just give up the whole thing…?) How was he, a general who had had long and close contact with Stalin during the Great War and who had seen his many moods and who had even become his closest deputy, to write about the man who was the head of government, the general secretary of the party, and soon the Supreme Commander of the armed forces? As a veteran of that war, he could scarcely believe how the Supreme Commander had since been dethroned and how a few dimwits were trying to stain his reputation by telling cock-and-bull stories—how he “commanded the front lines by looking at the globe…” (It’s true, he did have a large globe in the room next to his office, but there were also maps on the wall, and he would lay out other maps on the desk when he was working. The Supreme Commander would pace from corner to corner, smoking his pipe, and then go to the maps so as to understand clearly the report he was being given or to indicate what he wanted.) Just now they’ve thrown out the biggest windbag of them all [Meretskov], kit and caboodle. And maybe, little by little, they’ll be able to restore proper respect for the Supreme Commander. Still, some irreparable damage was done.

The second problem comes when party officials find out Zhukov is writing his memoirs, who then bring in overseers to insure his book tells the story they want told instead of what really happened. Though Brezhnev eventually approves the book, Zhukov feels empty, as if he has lost a battle because he didn’t take advantage of certain moments given to him. The book was a fight he could never win.

“Fracture Points” is an interesting look at the changes in Soviet business from World War II through the 1990s. Part one follows the rise and development of Mitya Yemtsov as he develops a successful business model that bucks the government appointed system. He grasps what is needed over the years, including the changes of the 1980s (even though “privatization” becomes a frightening word). He sees that the forced governmental interlocking parts will fail since certain sectors could not sustain their business independently. Solzhenitsyn has always been a vocal critic of unbridled capitalism, but he shows his wrath for Russians playing at democracy and capitalism without realizing all that it entails: “You rushed off to elect some self-style democrats, most of them former instructors of Marxism-Leninism, some economists, ivory-tower professors, and journalists… Who elected them?”

Part two tracks the professional career of Aleksi Tolkovyanov, a promising physics student who finds himself in the Russian army in the late 1980s just as history reaches one of its "fracture point." The army changes him in the sense that he loses his love of science but he takes advantage of the loosened restrictions to pursue other goals. He and some friends set up a bank, providing a front for unsavory businesses. “The buy-and-sell era had already begun.” While disgusted that they have to deal with shady people, Toklovyanov hopes that the climate will change and they can restrict their business to only legitimate deals. An attempt on his life (a bomb blast in the lobby of his apartment building) destroys that hope for him. A faint light of hope persists, though, and he turns to the backer of his bank, Mitya Yemtsov. The old businessman demeans the younger generation even though they display the same sort of adaptability he did years ago. And, of course, Yemtsov intends to make a profit from their work.


Part One of “No Matter What” starts with an incident in World War II in which Lieutenant Pozushan catches members of the mess detail cooking stolen potatoes. After explaining the situation to the major, his superior admits “You cannot change human nature even under socialism,” suggesting the lieutenant allow the men to finish cooking the potatoes. The inevitability of human frailty leads to an acceptance of subversive actions.

Part Two follows a deputy-minister as he tours a section of the Angara River (probably during the 1990s) as he listens to complaints from locals about the government’s and private industries’ destruction along the river. A timber company and a series of dams spell disaster for those left along the river. Despite getting a hearing, it’s clear nothing will change: “If a decision is adopted, and even reconfirmed, there is no changing it anyway, no matter what. All will proceed according to plan.” Thus we see another thing that cannot be changed, whether it occurs under socialism or capitalism.


So how do I feel about the overall collection of stories? If I haven't made it clear, I enjoy much about Solzhenitsyn’s writing, fiction and nonfiction, so don’t expect a completely unbiased review (even though I think he's wrong in certain aspects of his overall framework). The strongest work in these pieces focus on life under communism. The stories on World War II appear to include personal experiences, which I found interesting but I realize such stories aren’t for everyone. Solzhenitsyn struggles in the stories (or parts of stories) set in the post-Soviet age—it’s clear he is unhappy about many things but his focus doesn’t consistently have the same bite. Which isn’t to say they aren’t good stories. It seems he was still working on how to evaluate and express his feelings on the changes in Russia, those for the good as well as for the bad. While there are no consistent themes across all the stories the feeling that a bad decision…such as missing an offered chance…lies at the heart of many unhappy or unfulfilled situations whether it be with individuals, groups, or the country. Literature, and the use/abuse of it by the Soviet system, comes in for its fair share of exposure but not to the same extent as the look at pivotal moments.

I recall seeing some announcements of this book saying this collection of stories would be a good introduction to Solzhenitsyn. If you’re looking to avoid his longer works for such an introduction, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich would be a much better choice (although I want to put in a word for the longer works, too). I have no hesitation in recommending the first four stories of this collection to the general reader looking for a sample of Solzhenitsyn general style. The remaining stories gave me various levels of enjoyment but I realize not everyone has the same interest in the writer as I do. Solzhenitsyn has some characters in the 1920s express hope for the change in the direction the country was taking, hopes we know, without having to read further, will be dashed. Fewer characters in stories set in the 1990s express similar hopes as a result of recent changes. Their path still unfolds, but Solzhenitsyn didn't seem to think the results will be much different.

The stories employing a structure Solzhenitsyn called binary tales—two parts related by something tangible, a continuation of the same story but set years later, or simply two unrelated stories with a similar theme—can be uneven but when they click, such as the opening “Apricot Jam”, this approach adds to the story’s impact.

Apricot Jam and Other Stories: there is queer small substance to this heroism

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Apricot Jam and Other Stories
Counterpoint, Hardcover, 375 pages
ISBN: 1582436029 / ISBN-13: 9781582436029

As I mentioned in this post, I ordered this collection of Solzhenitsyn’s short stories and now that I’ve finished the first five (of nine) I better get my thoughts down on paper before I confuse the stories. From the book jacket:

These groundbreaking works—inter-connected and juxtaposed using an experimental method Solzhenitsyn referred to as “binary”—join Solzhenitsyn’s already available fiction as some of the most powerful literature of the twentieth century. With Soviet and post-Soviet life as their focus, these stories weave and shift inside their shared setting, illuminating the Russian experience under the Soviet regime.

The first story, “Apricot Jam,” uses the so-called binary style. Part one of the story is a letter from a kulak (a relatively well-to-do peasant) serving a hard labor sentence to a famous Soviet writer responding to the writer’s claim that “the purpose and meaning of life” as “labor in a communist society” (Kenneth Lantz translated the five stories in this post). “To that I reply that there is queer small substance to this heroism and this labor because it comes from driving people like us nigh to we drop.” The peasant goes on to explain the loss of the family farm to collective agriculture and his current plight—nearly starving to death. He begs the writer for a food parcel while recalling the apricot tree in the orchard and the jam his mother made from the crop. Part two focuses on the famous writer in his posh dacha as he entertains a couple of guests, one a department head at the state publishing house. The writer and department head rival each other in praising socialist realism with such statements as “Creating an art of world significance—that is the task of the writer today. The world is waiting for examples, for architectonics from our literature.” The writer complains that other authors fail to use “the language Russians have been speaking for a thousand years” which he discovered when reading confessions coerced from torture. The writer, after flattering himself with the claim that “When I write, I can comprehend my reader through my imagination, and I can see exactly what he needs”, comments on the peasant’s letter. The writer swoons over the language in the letter but ignores the writer's plea. The symbolism of the apricot jam at the dacha reinforces the disconnect between the writer and his claims.

“Ego” and “The New Generation” look at what it takes for someone to sell out their principles. (“The New Generation” can be found online.) Physical threats are effective for some, not for others, but threats to family prove very effective in both of these stories.
Elif Batuman goes into more detail about a few intriguing features of "The New Generation".

Another “binary” story,“Nastenka,” follows the difficulties of two different women with the same name of the title. The first Nastenka has a rough life as she tries to eke out an existence as a librarian. Raped often by the men in her life, she takes control of her sexuality and uses it to become the mistress of a war hero with access to material comfort she didn't know was possible. The second Nastenka trains to be a literature teacher. While she guards her sexuality, she witnesses the rape of literature in the name of the common cause. Never quite sure what texts are approved or not, this Nastenka feels gratified when the students respond in an inspired fashion to propaganda. Solzhenitsyn doesn’t need to comment on the insipid poem, just as he didn’t have to remark on a literature student’s passionate harangues decrying the literature of the past.

“Adlig Schwnkitten: A Tale of Twenty-Four Hours” covers a day in the life of a forward artillery brigade as it invaded Germany on January 25-26, 1945. The brigade, extending too far from the main force, is ambushed by the Germans and successfully retreats with minor casualties. In addition to the excitement of the operation, Solzhenitsyn provides a glimpse into the political workings of the army. Political officers from SMERSH (the wartime counterintelligence agency—the book has a handy glossary for many terms, names and agencies) accompany the forces and military leaders would defer decisions on troop movements to them. For political reasons, records of officers contained unexplained gaps and records of brigades ignore heroism shown by commanders. General directives, such as 'no retreat', make sensible options off-limits for officers. How much of the story is a chronicle of Solzhenitsyn’s experience remains uncertain (to me), but I do know that as a commander of a sound-ranging battery he was encircled near Liebstadt and he was able to break out with few men lost.

I hope to get to the final four stories this weekend…

That which devours my wallet most of all

Sigh...another book I want...and just pre-ordered...

Alexander Solzhenitsyn's 'last stories' will appear in English at last

A collection of nine short stories by Alexander Solzhenitsyn, described by scholars as ranking alongside his best work, is to be published in English for the first time. In one of the publishing events of the autumn, the collection will appear under the title Apricot Jam and Other Stories, fulfilling a long-held desire of the author that the work be available to the English-speaking world.

The collection reveals that Solzhenitsyn was still experimenting with literary form towards the end of his life. Eight of the stories have two parts, which are conceived as pairs. Daniel J. Mahoney, a Solzhenitsyn scholar, said: "This was a new form that Solzhenitsyn, always a pioneer of new genres… called binary tales. They're two-part stories that are connected by a theme, even though there's a sharp contrast. They [each] range from 20 to 50 typed pages. Many of them highlight the moral dilemmas and choices of people under a totalitarian regime. A few deal with the dilemmas of post-communist Russia."

Update (4 Aug 2011): One of the short stories in this collection, The New (Upcoming) Generation, can be found here.

In the First Circle summary

In this novel Solzhenitsyn continues his investigation into what he called “the timeless essence of humanity” as well as the “fixed universal concepts called good and justice.” He examines the moral order of the Soviet system and the individuals within it, from Stalin down to a prison janitor. What does it take to defy the evil of such a regime, and what is the cost? What are the failings of the West in understanding the malevolence that lies behind the Soviet mask? While a historical novel, Solzhenitsyn’s quest transcends the time and the setting, looking at basic human questions such as the potential conflict between being a good person and a good citizen. Fortunately we have the uncensored version of the novel available now, which investigates in more detail the transformation within Volodin, leading to the opening phone call and the action of the book. Below are my posts on this work:

Online resources for the author and the book

Discussion on Chapters 1 through 52
Discussion on Chapters 53 through 96

First Circle (1991 movie)

In the First Circle discussion: First Circle (1991 movie)

How do you present a multi-layered novel of over 700 pages in a 3 hour movie? This production makes an honest effort and it proves successful on some points but unfortunately falls short on many others. There are some substantial changes and additions which complicate making an evaluation.

A few examples of these differences:
- In the movie, Volodin hangs up after his attempt to alert the American embassy about nuclear secrets about to be passed to a Russian spy. The novel has the phone line abruptly cut, signaling to Volodin that officials had been listening, an important difference. (The competency of the officials eavesdropping is greatly enhanced in the movie as well)
- Rubin admits he had turned a cousin over to the officials, but in the book his earliest arrest occurs when he shields a family member. While Rubin shows his loyalty to the Communist party, in spite of their persecution of him, he is also loyal to family and friends and having him snitch undermines one of his best qualities.
- There are several scenes with Stalin in the movie, showing the leader as unstable and violent. While that may have been the case, Solzhenitsyn took care to paint Stalin in a sympathetic and complex light. The novel emphasizes his weariness and age during the one section that focuses on him.

The movie does not have the luxury of unfolding slowly the way the book does. Nor can it take time to provide background stories for many of the characters. Volodin’s change from a so-called follower of Epicurus, reveling in the plenty that the upper circles of Soviet society provides, to someone torn between loyalties is glossed over. In addition, many storylines are compressed or combined for the movie. The novel shows many links or bridges between the prison and the outside world. For the movie, that bridge is condensed into the character of Klara, the actress Coraly Zahonero ably shouldering the burden (yes, I was smitten). The philosophical discussions between Rubin, Nerzhin and Sologdin are reduced but can still be effective, as in this pointed exchange:

“I’m talking about the real world. Not the malcontents like you behind bars.” (Rubin)
“This is the real world. Right here in this prison. This is your Stalinist dream.” (Nerzhin)

Fortunately there are a few scenes that strengthen the story. The visit between Nerzhin and his wife is particularly poignant. In addition, the movie does a great job of showing the disparity between the two parties held in the book. The paucity of the prisoners’ birthday celebration for Rubin lies in stark contrast to the opulence of an official’s soiree.

Even with the good parts I have trouble recommending the movie. While semi-faithful to Solzhenitsyn’s novel, the unevenness in quality can be frustrating. When the movie departs from the book, little is added. Even worse, the changes often undermine what Solzhenitsyn painstakingly builds. It is easy to be dismissive and sniff "Read the book instead", yet not everyone has the time to immerse themselves in this large, complex novel. I think in this case it would be better to say this film provides a good introduction to anyone wanting to read the book.

In the First Circle discussion: Chapters 53 – 96

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn being searched
Picture source

“The trouble with pinning our hopes on the Americans is that it eases our conscience and weakens our will; we win the right not to struggle, the right to submit, to take the line of least resistance and gradually degenerate. I do not agree with those who claim that over the years our people have begun to see more clearly, that something is maturing in them. Some say that it is impossible to oppress a whole people indefinitely. That’s a lie! It is possible! We can see for ourselves how our people have degenerated, how uncouth they have become, how indifferent they are not only to the fate of the country, not only to the fate of their fellows, but even to their own fate and that of their children. Indifference, the organism’s last self-preservative reaction, has become our defining characteristic. Hence also the popularity of vodka—unprecedented even by Russian standards. This is the terrible indifference of the man who sees his life not cracked, not chipped, but shattered, so fouled up that only alcoholic oblivion makes living still worthwhile. If vodka were prohibited, Revolution would break out immediately.”

--(In the First Circle, page 667)

All quotes from In the First Circle by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn come from the recent uncensored version, translated by Harry T. Willetts,
Harper Perennial, 784 pp., $18.99
ISBN: 0061479012

This section covers the second half of the book. While many storylines are not resolved, the fate of several main characters can be presumed. Solzhenitsyn carefully unrolls the novel, leaving the reader feeling more constricted and claustrophobic with each page. The cumulative and systematic deprivation of freedom, whether at the special prison (sharashka) or the infamous Lubyanka, overwhelms at times. The ease in which prisoners surrender to punishment and humiliation makes the few instances of defiance, symbolic or real, stand out from other characters’ submission.

Once again humor appears in many forms in this section. During the inmates’ Sunday night break, Lev Rubin provides entertainment by putting the historical Prince Igor on trial for treason, viewing The Lay of Igor’s Campaign through a Marxist/Stalinist lens. Rubin provides a brutal satire, both of the work and the Soviet justice system. Many inmates are unable to enjoy the humor since the spoof touches a little too close to home. At times the humor revolves around how the West dealt with the Soviet Union. The tale of “The Buddha’s Smile”, in which an alleged visit to the Butyrki (Butyrka) Prison by Eleanor Roosevelt to inspect the Soviet penal system, lapses into farce as a translator tells Mrs. Roosevelt that the prisoners’ complaints (that they are saying in Russian) are really a “protest against the distressing situation of the blacks in America” (page 429). The Potemkin village-like display of plenty and leniency during her visit provides an illusory efficiency that the system could never realistically provide. For the prisoners selected for this charade, their brief taste of freedom and dignity makes the return to the normal state of affairs in the jail extremely bitter.

Possibly the funniest part is reserved for the closing lines, illuminating the lack of understanding by the West of such a totalitarian regime. A French reporter, held up in traffic, notes seeing several trucks marked “Meat”: “Every now and then, one encounters on the streets of Moscow food delivery trucks, spick-and-span and impeccably hygienic. There can be no doubt that the capital’s food supplies are extremely well organized.” (page 741) The “Meat” trucks actually carry prisoners, the label ironically describing how the contents are viewed. It is the operation of a well organized prison system he is witnessing, symbolizing how the West failed to understand the true nature of Soviet affairs.

Philosophical discussions flow throughout the work, giving Solzhenitsyn a pretext to lay some groundwork for themes he would raise later in formats. He does not spare the West, providing similar cautions that appear in his Harvard University speech. Some of these themes from include warnings that society should not have material aims as its only goal, citizens must be honestly informed, and democracy leans toward mediocrity as the norm.

I mentioned in the previous post that there are many literary references throughout the work. Many of the inmates immerse themselves in books, with some references superficially relevant, like The Count of Monte Cristo for its wrongful imprisonment. Other references cut deeper, such as Thomas More’s Utopia where criminals work as slaves for society. Machiavelli makes several appearances, both directly and indirectly (see Goethe’s Faust in the previous comment for an indirect example), as well as other examples from literature. For some reason, the number of biblical quotes and allusions (see one example below under Gerasimovich) surprised me.

Literature is used for more than just quotes and allusions. Innokenty Volodin’s experience with books sums up much about education in general, not just in the Soviet system: “What he found most difficult of all was to lay down his book and think for himself” since his “whole education had trained him to take certain books on trust and reject others unread.” (page 440) His uncle exposes him to some of the ideas and questions raised by Alexander Herzen. “Herzen asks what are the limits of patriotism. Must love for your native land extend to any and every government it may have? Must you go on abetting it in destroying its own people?” (page 449) Writing, whether for publishing or individuals, has significance in this section as well. We meet Nikolai Galakhov, a popular writer, whom everyone wanted to rub shoulders with. However he finds himself writing specifically with a critic in mind, not for himself or the public. In addition, those that wrote letters to the prisoners unconsciously self-censor themselves—letters are “unwittingly drained of the juices of real life by their writers before the censor ever saw them.” (page 398) In addition, language is so regulated, even in conversation, that many find it impossible to express themselves in the “approved” language.

The allusion to Dante’s first circle of hell continues, particularly in looking at which characters still have hope. Inevitably they are the people that stand up, in whatever manner they can, to those in charge. The tie-in becomes explicit with the arrest of Volodin. The chapter of his arrest and where he enters the Lubyanka prison, is titled “Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here”. That such a sentiment can be conflated with the sign over the prison door that reads “Reception of Prisoners” explicitly marks the allusion and defines a different level of hell awaiting him. The last three chapters of the book cover the transportation of a handful of prisoners out of the sharashka and their condemnation to harsher stops in the gulag system. Yet standing up to the demands of a perverse system has granted something that cannot be taken away them: “They were gripped by the fearlessness of people who have lost absolutely everything—such fearlessness is difficult to attain, but once attained, it endures.” (page 740)

Some additional brief comments on the characters:

Gleb Nerzhin
Nerzhin’s die is already cast (see the previous post), but what happens to him and how he is treated is the interesting part. After time spent in prison camps, “All that was left to him, Nerzhin decided, was to be himself.” After reading about “The People” and his infatuation with “going to the people”, fashionable in the nineteenth century, he realized “Neither birth nor the labor of your hands nor the privileges of education admit you to membership of the People. Only your soul can do that. And each of us fashions his soul himself, year in and year out.” (page 496) Those that accuse Nerzhin of being a skeptic (“[Y]ou really must stop being such a skeptic. It’s just a facile excuse for refusing to fight.”—page 725) don’t see that he has moved well beyond skepticism, focusing on justice and dignity.

Lev Rubin
The truth about the communist system stares Rubin in the face yet he refuses to see it. While able to lampoon the system (such as the ‘trial’ of Prince Igor mentioned above), he remains blind to the true nature of those who control it. He feels that “soulless bureaucrats had jailed him for loving the common case with indecent ardor.” (page 526) While constantly screwed by the system, he insists on possibly rising above it all in order to make the system better. Yet time after time he is disappointed, culminating in abuse of his voice recognition project.

While some of the tie-ins between story threads are standard, a few twists make their confluence interesting. Rubin, upset by an argument with Sologdin, vows to strike back at him by making the voice recognition project successful. The effect of the argument, in other words, helps trap Volodin.

Dmitri Sologdin
The easiest way to describe Sologdin is that he disagrees with Rubin on every possible topic. Their arguments are legendary and all-encompassing, although neither sways the other to change beliefs. Sologdin does cause doubt to creep in to Rubin’s worldview, however. While downplayed in the text (although I may be wrong to what degree), his religious beliefs play an important part of his worldview.

Sologdin has some of the more damning lines against the Soviet system and against what Rubin holds dear. In response to Rubin’s insistence that the bureaucracy in the Soviet system is temporary, with those in power handing control over to the people: “They won’t go away till they’re slung out by the scruffs of their necks! Your state wasn’t created because of the ‘moneybags’—meaning ‘capitalist’—encirclement. It was created to cement by cruelty an unnatural way of life!” (page 514) Sologdin’s analysis underlines the overall view of book—people (portrayed sympathetically whether good and bad) are caught up in a monstrous system. The evil the system perpetrates isn’t because people are bad—the system itself is perverse. Those that refuse to contribute to the system are punished. The underlying question many characters have to address centers on where reform should start--the system itself or the people within the system?

Sologdin destroys two years of his work within the sharashka but negotiates to recreate it in order to earn remission of his sentence. Sologdin is such an important counterweight to Rubin (in a manner different from Nerzhin) that I wish Solzhenitsyn showed more of him in the novel.

Illarion Gerasimovich
The visit by Illarion’s wife in the first half of the book continues to haunt him. He feels he cannot serve the final three years of his sentence and keep everything he values. Yet when offered a sentence remission if he succeeds at different projects offered to him, Gerasimovich refuses. He realizes the projects would provide evidence for officials (spun in whatever manner they found useful) in order to imprison people. In balking at the offer, Gerasimovich shouts “It isn’t what I was trained to do! Putting people in prison isn’t my trade! I am no fisher of men!” (page 633)

Innokenty Volodin
Volodin emerges as a central character in this section after his brief (but important) appearances in the first half. As a diplomat, Volodin travels around the world mouthing the party line for the Soviet government. He lives a privileged life, calling himself a follower of Epicurus. Volodin follows the maxim “We are given only one life”, taking from life all that it has to offer (as does his wife). A nagging sense of something missing from his life dogged him until a couple of decisive moments helped put things in perspective. The first moment centered on his desire to actually read Epicurus. While he found the philosophy of Epicurus at odds with the usual adjective (‘epicurean’), the revelation lay in the letters and diaries of his mother he found while looking for her book on the philosopher. Reading her hidden history highlighted to him that everything the Communists said about the pre-Revolution era was a lie. The lies he had to mouth as well as the secret dealings related to his job now feel distasteful and repellant.

More importantly, his mother’s comments on character and conscience shook him to his core. She wrote “What is the most precious thing in the world? I see now that it is the knowledge that you have no part in injustice. Injustice is stronger than you, it always was and always will be, but let it not be done through you.” (pages 438-439) The change inside him radiated out to all his beliefs: “The great truth for Innokenty used to be that we are given only one life. Now, with the new feeling that had ripened in him, he became aware of another law: that we are given only one conscience, too. A life laid down cannot be reclaimed, nor can a ruined conscience.” (page 441) The second decisive moment came in visiting his uncle (his mother’s brother) at Tver, spending a few days with him and his wife. Ironically, the uncle embodies many of the Epicurus’ maxims, living simply among family and friends, happy in his self-reliance. The questions raised by Herzen through his uncle add to the change Volodin feels happening within him, leading him to perform the act of betrayal that opens the novel.

While believing he did the right thing in phoning the American embassy, Volodin goes through several stages after making the call. His initial terror fearing arrest lapses into apathy, not caring what happens to him. Once arrested, he experiences the bureaucratic system at its best…or worst: “He had never imagined that it would all be so crude, so stupid—and so ineluctable. The people waiting for him in the Lubyanka, low-ranking, obtuse people were uninterested in him as an individual and in the act that had brought him there but had a zealous concern for trivialities that took him by surprise and left him helpless.” (page 687) He doesn’t have far to go for the following stage: “The free man’s habit of thinking over his actions before performing them was atrophying fast, now that others were thinking so effectively for him.” (page 689) He further experienced the “logically calculated sequence” of arrest which would leave him “dizzy, robbed him of his ability to think straight and the will to resist.” (page 692) In reading through the ordeal of Volodin’s arrest, two nagging thoughts kept surfacing. The first was that the officials arrested the guilty man, yet the process and system still strike the reader as inhumane. The second, which will not be answered in the book (although the reader knows, years after the fact), is the question of whether or not Volodin’s call helps. While Volodin speculates on that question, it does not consume him even though it could. He realizes that before his arrest he was never truly free. The thoughts of his uncle help sustain him through the ordeal of arrest, helping him realize he could not have remained indifferent.


The final thing I want to mention, since I don’t see any reference to it in any review, is a historical inconsistency in the novel. Solzhenitsyn takes great care to document the days, December 24 through 27, 1949, that the action of the book takes place. He specifically mentions George Koval, the spy that assisted in providing the Soviets with classified information on atomic weapons, at least twice. Much discussion and argument in the second half of the book revolves around the Soviet Union developing and obtaining an atomic bomb and what it will mean to the world. And yet…the Soviet Union had already exploded Joe One earlier in 1949. Despite this possible inconsistency, I still highly recommend the work. Solzhenitsyn’s novel addresses the true nature of the Soviet Union’s totalitarian regime and the costs of remaining true to a just conscience in such a system.

Update (11 Oct 2012): For a real-life example of the Potemkin village production by a Communist regime, see the excerpt from Theodore Dalrymple's The Wilder Shores of Marx.

In the First Circle discussion: Chapters 1 – 52

Marfino, the Sharashka
Picture source

“For these defects, and for no other evil,
we now are lost and punished just with this:
we have no hope and yet we live in longing.”

-- From the Divine Comedy: Inferno by Dante Alghieri, Canto 4, lines 40-42, translation by Allen Mandelbaum.

“Do you know, Lev Grigorievich, this rush of impressions, this change of scenery is making my head spin. I’ve lived fifty-two years, recovered twice from fatal illnesses, been married twice to rather pretty women, fathered sons, been published in seven languages, received academic prizes, and never have I been so blissfully happy as today! What a place! To think that tomorrow I won’t be driven into icy water! I’ll get forty grams of butter! There’ll be black bread on the tables! Books aren’t forbidden! You can shave yourself! Guards don’t beat zeks! [prisoners] What a great day! What radiant heights! Maybe I’m dead? Maybe I’m dreaming? I feel as though I am in heaven!”

“No, my dear sir, you are still in hell, only you’ve ascended to its highest and best circle—the first. You were asking what a sharashka is. You could say it was invented by Dante. He was at his wits’ end as to where to put the ancient sages. It was his Christian duty to consign those heathens to hell. But a Renaissance conscience couldn’t reconcile itself to lumping those luminaries in with the rest of the sinners and condemning them to physical torment. So Dante imagined a special place for them in hell.”

--In the First Circle, page 12

All quotes from In the First Circle by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn come from the recent uncensored version, translated by Harry T. Willetts,
Harper Perennial, 784 pp., $18.99
ISBN: 0061479012

The reviews I linked to in the resources post mention the reference to Dante’s first circle of hell where limbo sounds preferable to the rest of hell. Not mentioned in those reviews but permeating the work are the words Dante gives to those in the first circle, “we have no hope and yet we live in longing.” While the prison or sharashka is specifically called out, I have no doubt that Solzhenitsyn wants the reader to question who is in hell. His depiction of the Soviet system paints a landscape where almost everyone longs for something despite their lack of hope. As with Dante, there are deeper circles of hell possible and many characters feel they are standing on the precipice--there is always something worse possible. Even those in power are subject to the geography: “Yakanov was at the summit of what looked like power…and he did not want to live. His soul was so empty of hope that he had not the strength to stir hand or foot.” (page 170)

Solzhenitsyn details the dehumanizing features of the all-controlling state which penetrates into every aspect of life. While the prisoners have every detail of life dictated to them, in many respects they have more freedom and stability than the general population.

These chapters cover approximately the first half of the book. The first chapter (which can be found here) has Innokenty Volodin placing a call to the American Embassy in Moscow to warn them of atomic bomb secrets about to be passed from the West to a Soviet spy. The remainder of this half revolves around the special prison at Marfino, the prisoners toiling on projects for the state, and the officials responsible for those ventures. One of their projects will tie back to Volodin’s phone call. Solzhenitsyn’s style moves the story along in fits and starts, introducing new characters before pausing to provide their histories. Chapters may not make sense, or at least their context may not be fully appreciated, until understanding the background. Even with the “Cast of Characters” section in the book it can be taxing to keep up with the many names (although I’m thankful that section was provided).

While there are many things to highlight, I’ll focus on two striking things about the story so far. The first item is the sympathetic care Solzhenitsyn takes with all of his characters. He spends five chapters on Stalin, somehow balancing brutal acts while providing compassion (OK...almost) for the monster. The same treatment, provided for all the characters whether prisoners or officials, reminded me of Solzhenitsyn’s lines from The Gulag Archipelago (quoted at the end of this post) in which he looks at the line between good and evil within all of us. He takes care to look at both aspects within all his characters. The second item is the humor throughout the book. The prisoners do not lose their sense of irony, mining the official doublespeak and absurd rules for jokes and mockery. In addition, the narrator slips irony and sly comments throughout. Far from a distraction, the levity makes the cruelty of the system stand out that much more.

I’ll take a quick look at three of the characters and some of their quotes:

Lev Rubin
Rubin believes “that in our complicated age Socialist truth sometimes forces its way forward by a torturous path.” (page 16--I love the irnoy of 'torturous') He emphasizes the “collective experience of mankind” despite the expense of the individual. (page 41) “Having lost all chance of private happiness long ago, Rubin had made mankind at large his family.” (page 244) He remains dedicated to the cause even though the state declared him dangerous and threw him in jail. He is willing to put up with hardships since he places himself in historical perspective.

Gleb Nerzhin
Gleb is not looking for unlimited freedom but moral self-limitation, practiced by both the individual and the government. Gleb wants to live now, not in Rubin’s historical perspective. He has found peace while in prison: “You just had to keep reminding yourself that prison was not just a curse—it was also a blessing.” (page 179) “In this place he had gained an understanding of people and of events not to be had elsewhere, least of all in the sheltered comfort of a quiet family home.” (page 201) Gleb wonders “how long must we suffer” (page 251), the ‘we’ being the entire country as well as he and his wife. When going to visit his wife he realizes “Stalin had robbed him and Nadya of their children” (page 250), not through physically taking them away but by preventing them from having any because of his incarceration. Solzhenitsyn spends plenty of time with Nadya as well, showing how difficult being the wife of a political prisoner can be.

Gleb turns down two offers of “redemption” (or at least more freedom) in this section. The first is a transfer to work on an encoding project. He turns it down because he wants to meditate and make sense of life, which he knows he can do at his current project. This first rejection seems to have a selfish component on Gleb’s part, preferring his known hell that still provides something he wants over an unknown situation. He realizes by rejecting this opportunity he will probably be transfered to a worse prison at some point. The second chance, in the wonderful chapter titled “Top-Secret Conversation”, is when Rubin asks Gleb to help him with his phonoscopy (visual voice mapping) project. Like the previous offer, this gives Gleb no joy but for different reasons. Gleb turns from selfish concerns to a principled stand against helping an immoral system. “Socialism promises only equality and a full belly, and that only by means of coercion. … You’ll find equality and full bellies in any good pigsty!” (page 339) Knowing that the project will only assist in entrapping innocent people, he bitterly turns on his friend Rubin in the ensuing discussion. “Justice is the cornerstone, the foundation of the universe! … We were born with a sense of justice in our souls; we can’t and don’t want to live without it!”(page 340) [Gleb’s faith in the United Nations provides one of the funniest lines of the book so far, although I’m pretty sure it was unintended]

Innokenty Volodin
Volodin makes the frantic call to the American embassy in the first chapter, but only appears again in this section as a character in someone else’s background. While his reasons aren’t given as to why he made the call, there are hints given in the first chapter and the backstory. “If we live in a state of constant fear, can we remain human?” (page 3) “When everything is a lie, Klara dear, you get tired early. Very early, twice as quickly” Innokenty Volodin tells his sitern-in-law. (page 306) Volodin also provides another meaning to the circle symbolism:

He looked at her with suffering eyes. Holding a broken stick like a pencil, he drew a circle on the damp ground. “You see this circle? That’s our country. That’s the first circle. Now here’s the second.” A circle with a larger diameter. “That is mankind at large. You would think that the first forms part of the second, wouldn’t you? Not in the least! There are barriers of prejudice. Not to mention barbed wire and machine guns. To break through, physically or spiritually, is well-nigh impossible. Which means that mankind, as such, does not exist. There are only fatherlands, everyone’s fatherland alien to everyone else’s….” (page 314)

The prisoners continually muse on some variation of the question of how to remain human while in prison. Gleb wonders that “perhaps prison is most horrible when there is no horror? When the horror consists in the gray routine never varying from week to week?” (page 251) While there are many examples comparing those in prison with those in the outside world, one prisoner highlights the difference in an unexpected speech. While being whisked through Moscow at night, the prisoner Bobynin muses that the free people he sees don’t appreciate what they have. When being interrogated by the Minister of State Security, his defiance drips through every word: “You took my freedom from me long ago, and you can’t give it back because you have no freedom yourself... The man from whom you’ve taken everything is no longer in your power; he is free again.” (page 94)

Literature plays a role in the book with many literary references and allusions. One prisoner explicitly lays out the image of Goethe’s Faust reaching sheer bliss through a misunderstanding. Does happiness really exist or is it an illusion? If real, can happiness be obtained? Unasked, but alluded to, is the question of redemption through ceaseless toil, a standard line of the Soviet state as well as the concluding part of the story. There are many other literary references with Russian authors figuring prominently, but at the heart (at least for the characters) resides Pushkin. I hope to have more on these references in the post for the second half.

---

“These grey men who ensure safety in our land, and happiness. In 1977, our country stopped counting suicides. They called them ‘self-murders.’ But it has nothing to do with murder. It knows no bloodlust, no heated passion. It knows only death, the death of all hope.”

--from the movie The Lives of Others

It was granted to me to carry away from my prison years on my bent back, which nearly broke beneath its load, this essential experience: how a human being becomes evil and how good. In the intoxication of youthful successes I had felt myself to be infallible, and I was therefore cruel. In the surfeit of power I was a murderer and an oppressor. In my most evil moments I was convinced that I was doing good, and I was well supplied with systematic arguments. It was only when I lay there on rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either, but right through every human heart, and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. Even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained; and even in the best of all hearts, there remains a small corner of evil.

--from Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago

In the First Circle online resources

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn at the prison camp in Ekibastuz (Kazakhstan)
Picture source

Such is the fate of Russian books today: They bob up to the surface, if ever they do, plucked down to the skin. So it was recently with Bulgakov’s Master--its feathers floated over only later. So also with this novel of mine: In order to give it even a feeble life, to dare show it, and to bring it to a publisher, I myself shortened and distorted it—or, rather, took it apart and put it together anew, and it was in that form that it became known.

And even though it is too late now, and the past cannot be undone—here it is, the authentic one. By the by, while restoring the novel, there were parts that I refined: after all, I was forty then, but am fifty now.

Written: 1955-58
Distorted: 1964
Restored: 1968

--The author’s note to In the First Circle

Thus begins the uncensored text to Solzhenitsyn’s novel, translated by Harry T. Willetts. As mentioned in a previous post, I read as much by Solzhenitsyn as I could when in my teens but somehow this novel eluded me. I’m happy that my first encounter will be with the full version the author intended. While chapters and passages are restored, one change includes the title. The “distorted” title, The First Circle, focuses on the place itself while the "restored" title emphasizes the people in that circle of hell. It’s a subtle change, but I think the "restored" title (and the text) raises the question of who exactly is in that circle. Below are some online resources for Solzhenitsyn and the novel:

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

The Wikipedia entry for Solzhenitsyn

The commencement address "A World Split Apart" delivered at Harvard University (June 8, 1978). Also available here.

[T]ruth eludes us if we do not concentrate with total attention on its pursuit. And even while it eludes us, the illusion still lingers of knowing it and leads to many misunderstandings. Also, truth is seldom pleasant; it is almost invariably bitter. ...

A decline in courage. . . may be the most striking feature which an outside observer notices in the West in our days. The Western world has lost its civil courage, both as a whole and separately, in each country, each government, each political party and of course in the United Nations. Such a decline in courage is particularly noticeable among the ruling groups and the intellectual elite, causing an impression of loss of courage by the entire society. Of course there are many courageous individuals but they have no determining influence on public life. Political and intellectual bureaucrats show depression, passivity and perplexity in their actions and in their statements and even more so in theoretical reflections to explain how realistic, reasonable as well as intellectually and even morally warranted it is to base state policies on weakness and cowardice. And decline in courage is ironically emphasized by occasional explosions of anger and inflexibility on the part of the same bureaucrats when dealing with weak governments and weak countries, not supported by anyone, or with currents which cannot offer any resistance. But they get tongue-tied and paralyzed when they deal with powerful governments and threatening forces, with aggressors and international terrorists.

Should one point out that from ancient times decline in courage has been considered the beginning of the end?

A 2007 interview with Spiegel: “No, I am not afraid of death any more.”

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn by Alexis Klimoff (from The Scribner Writers Series)

While I am completely unfamiliar with Rick Sincere, his blog post on 'Solzhenitsyn and American Democracy' pulls together some excerpts from his speeches as well as commentary from various columnists.

A review by F. Roger Devlin in The Occidental Quarterly of The Solzhenitsyn Reader: New and Essential Writings, 1947–2005, edited by Edward E. Ericson, Jr. and Daniel J. Mahoney.

At the First Things Online, Daniel Mahoney responds to a critic of the Reader and Solzhenitsyn.

Mahoney’s “Traducing Solzhenitsyn” is also available at First Things (and answers some of the charges of anti-Semitism).

The Claremont Review of Books’ review of the Reader

“Solzhenitsyn, Russell Kirk, and the Moral Imagination” by Edward E. Ericson, Jr. at First Principles

Let's do the time warp: TIME magazine’s 1968 article on Solzhenitsyn

I have to admit my confusion on Solzhenitsyn’s anti-Semitism—the conflict between some of his interviews and writings leaves me decidedly confused. I’ll include this post by Rabbi Jeremy Rosen and his view of Solzhenitsyn’s anti-Semitism. There is a section in the Wikipedia entry that addresses this question as well.

An obituary focusing on Solzhenitsyn’s equation of great writers as a second government

In the First Circle

I have already mentioned this review in The Wall Street Journal but will do so again. There is a link to the first chapter, also.

Reviews can also be found at The Second Pass and at First Things

The new version (above) provides a cast of characters, which is extremely helpful. The book's Wikipedia entry has one as well.


An article on Schism and Conscience: Solzhenitsyn’s First Circle and Cancer Ward

An article on the science behind voice identification, a major part of the book


As an aside, since this is on-topic (for a change)…I recommend Anne Applebaum’s Gulag: A History,

“a narrative account of the origins and development of the Soviet concentration camps, from Lenin to Gorbachev. Based on archives, interviews, new research and recently published memoirs, the book explains the role that the camps played in the Soviet political and economic system. It also describes daily life in the camps: how people lived, worked, ate, slept, fought, died and survived.”

Lev Kopelev, Solzhenitsyn and Dmitri Panin
(Lev Rubin, Gleb Nerzhin and Dmitri Sologdin in In The First Circle)
Picture source

"World's full of damned readers"

Picture source

The UPS guy must think I have a crush on him...I couldn't stop smiling as I signed for today's delivery at work. I splurged and bought the new release of In the First Circle by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. The Wall Street Journal has a review of this restored version as well as the first chapter.

I'm transported back to when I used to visit the library pictured above, which was within walking distance of our house. In junior high and high school I devoured everything they had by or about Solzhenitsyn. I know I only understood a small fraction of his writing, but there was something about the time (and me at the time, I guess) that responded to his writing. This looks like a good starting point to get reacquainted.

"Who's reading Gorky?" he asked in a menacing bass.

"I am!"

"What the hell for?"

"What else is there to read?"

"You'd be better off in the shithouse, communing with your soul. World's full of damned readers, damned humanists--dirty bums, the lot of you."