The Latest Novel by Dmitrii Bykov

 

Below is a fragment of the chapter, “A Manual on Levitation”, from the 2010 novel Ostromov, ili uchenik charodeiia : posobie po levitatsii, Ostromov, or the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, by Dmitrii Bykov. The Ukrainian literary organization, Portal, comprised of authors, publishers, and editors, awarded the work “Best Form” in 2010. It was the best-selling book in Russia throughout all of 2011.

Translated by Kristina Uvarova
Edited by Michael Marsh-Soloway

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A Manual on Levitation

Aleksey Alekseevich Galitsky was a hopeful man and it ruined him. Until 1918, he played at Berk’s private theater, but Berk left and the theater closed. It was easier for Galitsky than it was for many: he did not have to provide for a family, preferring bachelor comforts and non-burdensome contacts to household fetters. In 1918, he was 48, he was robust, and as it was said, he was trusted. His search for income brought him to a group of lecturers, PCCMS (PECUCU) – The Petrograd Commission of Cultural Management of Scholars, which was founded by the passionate propagandist of the spoken word, Tabachnikov. Tabachnikov proposed that oral speech is mastered more easily than written speech, and consequently all the teaching at schools for the victorious proletariat should be converted to provide for verbal lectures toward all branches of knowledge, but above all, toward reading aloud, and for this Galitsky proved indispensable. He was there rain or shine, he got under way in high school and university classes, but then, when Tabachnikov expanded his power, he went to the factory workers; his voice heightened, wheezed, and Galitsky read.

Surely it was joyless activity. Aleksey Alexeevich never admitted this to himself and boasted to his friends that an audience always infuses him with gratitude and energy. But it was hard to read to the children, or to the workers, especially in long, cold auditoriums with dusty windows. The new repertoire basically consisted of verses by the proletarian poet, Kirillov, which were long and passionate, like bright red ribbons. The verses didn’t affect the spectators and were objectionable to him all the same, and even the old folk almost wholly fell into unlawfulness. He strayed away from the routine, instead mustering the compositions of Balmont and Minsky, who in their own time had enough red ribbon, but he contrived to drag a love note, no more than five stanzas. During the remaining time, the proletarians were drowsily fixed as they always tired before any labor.

But there was such happiness to go back home on foot through the sleeping city where, for some reason, he did not meet not a single one of the legendary thieves, about whom so much has been gossiped. Aleksey Alekseyich went on through snowy Petrograd, the fair city without lights, and read aloud to frozen drifts all that he wanted. These returns were saved only by his blessed memory and the readings in front of proletariat he completely forgot. They provided him with a poor ration and it was all that was required of them. Well, sometimes he appeared grateful in the proletarians’ eyes and even astonished, with which the love toward art always begins. And shortly somebody from among the grateful proletarians informed against him. They didn’t get together after the work day for listening about the old regime; and Tabachnikov set a great scandal for Aleksey Alekseyich.

He shouted that his innovative theory met unbridled resistance, that there is a necessity to read to the workers and not lyrics about the bouqu-u-u-ets (which Galitsky had never read in his life), but to give them basic knowledge, at least of physics, and in case the actors are too useless to read from a course on physics, then at least let us give them an unperturbed program, so that nobody acts audaciously! Aleksey Alekseyich felt that something important was not said and hence he grinned widely out of delicateness, submitted his resignation from PCCMS, and suggested that he should find other opportunities so that nothing terrible happens… In a minute Tabachnikov calmed down, became softer and even called him his dear friend, he shook his hand for a long time and swore to return Galitsky to his position as soon as the opponents of the oral reading calmed their villainous heat, and you know, took a deep breath.

So Aleksey Alekseevich remained without service, but as we know, he was a hopeful man, so he didn’t lower his head, and turned to Victor Petukhov the director of SHKURa number five, althought it was called the Grade A school on the Vyborg side. Petukhov was also an experimenter, but so was everybody else. Nothing was to be taught in simplicity, everything only with the help of an unprecedented methodology. So it seemed to Petuhkov that for proper assimilation one needs an active body, and in general he expressed that the memory of the body was stronger than that of the mind. Every physical law corresponded to its own physical exercise. Aleksey Alekseevich came to the Petuhkov and offered him his service. Already in the fall of 1919, he started teaching a course, where, with time, the comrades of SHKURa‘s members had been drawn. They not only put on “The Tale of Tsar Saltan”, and “The Flea”, but also took up Shakespeare. Of course, it had to all to be within the limits of the antimonarchical repertoire, just to strike social evils under the curtains, but Aleksey Alekseevich contrived here to twist his own evil, to read them Bryusov, and to see in their eyes…

What could be seen in the hungry yellow eyes of high school students in 1919? But it seemed to him that that his word was cascading upon a gentle soil, and indeed, as though a pair, hunted and hopelessly abased, began to bloom and even imitate something, Aleksey Alekseevich invited them to his home to drink carrot tea and to talk intimately, and several times, he was trusted to lead the lesson when the philologist was ill, but most unbearable was the demand of Petuhkov to sit during the reading of “Eugene Onegin”, so that the whole class also sat.

But there was such happiness to arrive home on foot in that wonderful hour, when the day declines into night, but it was still luminous and just above Petrograd stretched a carrot-tinged, no better to say apricot dawn! How pleasurable it was to read to the trusting booby, Anisimov, anything from a beloved work, noticing that he asked more and more meaningful questions! In everything, positively in everything, it was possible to find charm and meaning, and if you could look with uncomplicated eyes, Aleksey Alekseyich Galitsky could have been happy at this post, if Petuhkov had not committed an offense with something before the authorities and his school was dissolved. What’s more, the dejected Anisimov and Malakhov, who had just understood and committed something to memory, went to work: one of them to the depot, another one to the Trotsky tobacco factory, and there they were immediately destined to forget everything that they were taught by the eccentric artist.”

Translations of the excerpts from the works of modern writers are made for the educational purposes only.

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Scenes from Russia

Excerpt from “Balustrade in Bykovo” by Maria Stepanova

By Dmitrii Kuzmin.gallery.vavilon.ru

“Russian Gothic,
Domes-lamps.
Girls-sweethearts.
Church and mallows…”

“Русская готика
Купола-лампочки.
Девочки-лапочки.
Церква и мальвы….”

[Maria Stepanova. Stikhi i proza v odnom tome. Moscow: NLO, 2010.p.94]

About the author: born in Moscow in 1972, Maria Stepanova is one of Russia’s leading contemporary poets and the chief editor of the online cultural portal openspace.ru. Among her many awards are the Andrei Bely Prize (2005), the Hubert Burda prize (Germany, 2006), and the Lerici-Mosca Prize (Italy,2011).

Excerpts from works of contemporary writers are used for educational purposes only.

© Featured image from the photo-gallery : vargala.livejournal.com

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Strelnia Elegy by Joseph Brodsky

Excerpt from  Strelnia Elegy
by Joseph Brodsky

Translated by Margarita Dimova


Light of the palaces and castles, the palaces and castles’               light,
the flowerbed of brick roses, blooming in the winter,
what native scenery of sudden losses,
what a beautiful whistling from years past.

As if you see someone’s footprints, long familiar,
on the snow in the sleeping land,
as if in front you is not the shore you longed for,
but the former land of clamorous love.

As if I will forget myself and everyone else,
and you have already left, even said goodbye,
as if you have left from here forever,
as if you have already died far away from this beach.

You suddenly came into the train
and saw for a moment the sunset and the roofs,
but I still stand waist-deep in the water,
and listen to the distant and beautiful thundering of wheels.

You are here no more. And will be no longer.
The light of oblivion flies back to the golden funeral feast,
in the land of sorrow and pain,
a beautiful radiance on an unknown life.

The street lamps still glow white in the darkness,
the same ship is freezing in the bay.
The new snow is whirling and the goats bleat,
as if this new life will not pass you.

You are here no more, and will be no longer.
It’s time for me to leave this place for the new path.
There is no oblivion. Nor is there pain or sorrow.
You are here no more, thanks be to God.

They bring me a horse and with my foot in the stirrup
I see in front me the same golden Strelnia,
the bay still glowing white in the darkness.
The new snow whirls and the goats are bleating.

In the Tsars’ Village in wintertime
a shadow of vain love appears before me
and life runs again in January’s darkness
like the frozen wave to the beautiful shore.

Joseph Brodsky  (1960)

 

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The Early Poetry of Vladimir Nabokov Remembered Today

 

Gleb Struve, a renowned twentieth-century critic, called Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov “émigre Russia’s greatest gift to Russian literature”. Born in 1899 to a family of aristocrats in St. Petersburg, Nabokov received an excellent education, attaining fluency in English, French, and Russian before the age of five. Fleeing the turmoil of the Russian Revolution in 1917, Nabokov traveled first to the Crimea, then to England in 1918, where he enrolled in Trinity College at Cambridge, then to Berlin in 1922, where he first took up his professional career of letters, then briefly to France before the onslaught of World War II, and then to America, where he continued his literary pursuits while teaching at Wellesley, Harvard, and Cornell.

Despite the controversial nature of his novels, Nabokov’s works have received international acclaim and scholarly recognition. His most famous texts include The Defense (1930), The Gift (1938), The Real Life of Sebastian Knight (1941), Lolita (1950), Speak Memory (1951), Pale Fire (1962). It’s been a privilege this semester to be enrolled in Professor Julian Connolly’s seminar here at the University of Virginia on writings by Nabokov and other émigre authors.  See Professor Connolly’s most recent work A Reader’s Guide to Nabokov’s “Lolita.”

Before finding his artistic strengths in the realm of prose, Nabokov tried his hand at poetry. The following two short works represent foundational expressions of Nabokov’s creative consciousness and provide a glimpse into the early outlooks a great artist whose works seem ready to span generations and cultural contexts.

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Live. Do not complain, and

Do not count past years or planets,
And well-composed thoughts will merge
Into a single answer: there is no death.
Be merciful. Do not summon kingdoms.
Gratefully value all.
Pray– for a cloudless sky,
And cornflowers in wavy rye.
While not despising the dreams of the worldly-wise,
Persevere to create the best.
Among birds, the trembling, and the scant,
Learn to bless, learn to bless!

–February 14, 1919

Translated by Michael Marsh-Soloway

Original Russian

Живи. Не жалуйся, не числиlaura-i-ee-original-200x300

ни лет минувших, ни планет,
и стройные сольются мысли
в ответ единый: смерти нет.

 Будь милосерден. Царств не требуй.
Всем благодарно дорожи.
Молись — безоблачному небу
и василькам в волнистой ржи.

 Не презирая грез бывалых,
старайся лучшие создать.
У птиц, у трепетных и малых,
учись, учись благословлять!

—————————-

The almond tree blossoms at the crossroads,

The almond tree blossoms at the crossroads,
Mist flickers over the mountain,
Silver speckles hurry
Along the azure surface of the sea.
The chatter of birds, inspired
The evergreen leaf more brightly.
Blessed is he who on this spring day
Exclaims earnestly: “I am pure!”

– March 24, 1918

Translated by Michael Marsh-Soloway

Original Russian
Цветет миндаль на перекрестке,
Мерцает дымка над горой,
Бегут серебряные блестки
По глади моря голубой.

Щебечут птицы вдохновенней,
Вечнозеленый ярче лист.
Блажен, кто в этот день весенний
Воскликнет искренно: “Я чист!”

– By Michael Marsh-Soloway


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The New Russian Literature

One of our goals is to introduce the new Russian literature to readers in America. Despite the appearance of many talented new authors, only a few of them have had works translated into English and become known to the western public. Even less known in the West is the younger generation of Russian authors, whose talented and fresh voices have begun to change the literary landscape in Russia in recent years.

Since 2000, the Russian Foundation’s Debut Prize has helped to discover and aid a new generation of Russian literary talent by nominating and awarding the Debut Prize to the most outstanding and original works by young authors.

 

 

 

By Dmitri Kuzmin http://gallery.vavilon.ru/

The director of the Debut Prize , Olga Slavnikova, is one of the most prominent Russian writers today, herself the winner of the prestigious Booker Prize for her novel 2017 (2006). As a talented and successful writer, she is committed to helping talented young Russian authors: “The authors never lived in the Soviet Union – or were very young when the USSR collapsed. They are new people, and entirely new writers. They are free of the Soviet legacy in every sense. They have no nostalgia and do not resonate with the sort of art that attempts to turn everything Soviet into vintage chic…one may say without exaggeration that this is the most ingenuous and honest literature in Russia since 1917.”

This new generation of writers and poets has the potential and ambition, and most importantly – the  talent – to become potential future classics of Russian literature. The works of the finalists of the Debut Prize create a vibrant, colorful image of the new Russian literature, free from the limitations of the past and now more open to the world.

As part of the outreach program, the New York-based non-profit  Causa Artium, in partnership with the Debut Prize Foundation, started the New Russian Literature Program and in February 2012 sponsored a tour of the prize-winning young writers from Russia: Alisa Ganieva (2009),  Dmitry Biryukov (2005), Irina Bogatyreva (2006), and Igor Savelyev (2004). The thematic and literary styles of these authors are different, as different as their experiences. In all of their works, however, one can see the talent, humor, and optimism which are influencing the phenomenon of the New Russian Literature – genuine, multifaceted, and fearless.

Among the works submitted to American audiences in Washington DC, Boston, and New York were “Salam, Dalgat!” by Alisa Ganieva (2009) and collections of short stories like “Off the Beaten Tracks” and Squaring the Circle  (short stories by winners of the Debut Prize), 2010. 

Olga Slavnikova

Olga Slavnikova is one of the most renowned contemporary writers in Russia. She was born in Sverdlovsk (now Yekaterinburg)  in the Urals  to the family of  aerospace engineers. After graduating from  Yekaterinburg State University, Slavnikova worked as a fiction editor, then managing editor of the literary magazine ‘Urals’. She has lived and worked in Moscow since 2001. Her first novel was published in 1988. Among her acclaimed novels are  Стрекоза, увеличенная до размеров собаки (‘Dragonfly the Size of a Dog’), Бессмертный (‘Immortal’).

But her real magnum opus is 2017  –  a fascinating love story set in her native Urals Mountains region. The novel is also a philosophical reflection on the dramatic history of Russia and its future, beauty of the nature, and  it’s full of references to the mythology of her native Urals. It won the Russian Booker Prize in 2006.

Alisa Ganieva

Alisa Ganieva was born in 1985 in Moscow, but soon moved with her family to their native Dagestan. A graduate of Moscow’s  Literary Institute, Ganieva has since won numerous awards for her prose and also a prize for her literary criticism.

She was propelled to true stardom by her work Salam tebe, Dalgat! (2009).

From the first strophes of Salam tebe, Dalgat! one is introduced to the marvelous world of the Caucasian  Dagestan village where people are discussing subjects unimaginable from a Western perspective – how to steal a bride and where you need to drink your vodka till the last drop –  which are all happening at a party with various colorful personages. And  there the party could end in the assassination.

Sometimes the tale is written with an incredible sense of  humor, but beneath the exotic facade is an exploration of the problems of humanity written with such talent that it makes the story about Dalgat the true discovery.

It is all the more unusual that this work was a written by a young woman, who was hiding behind the name of a young Dagestani fighter named Gulla Khirachev, and who uncovered her true identity only after the announcement of the award of the Debut Prize.   This literary mystification only adds to the charisma of Alisa Ganieva. Salam tebe, Dalgat! has since been translated into English.

Dmitry Biryukov

Dmitry Biryukov was born in 1979 in Siberia and lived in Novosibirsk’s “Academic City.”  Novosibirsk holds a special place in Russia; it is situated in the heart of Siberia and is populated by a special kind of people who are called “sibiriak” in Russian – strong and independent people.

Biryukov holds degrees in history and philosophy in addition to his post-graduate work at the Institute of Philosophy and Law and the famous Literary Institute in Moscow. After the success of his short story, Birukov has started work on a long novel.

In America Burykov was reading the excerpts from his story Uritsky Street.

Irina Bogatyreva

Irina Bogatyreva was born in 1982 in Kazan, Tatarstan. She is a graduate of the Literary Institute in Moscow in 2005. Since then she has been recognized by numerous literary awards for her stories published in Russia’s leading literary journals.

Bogatyreva’s  autobiographical hitchhiking trip from Moscow to Altai was described in her work Off The Beaten Track. What made this story so fascinating to young people? It is a story about a girl alone on the road having adventures and meeting all kinds of people. It is an everyday story but written with a talented eye to the details and  understanding of the psychology of young people.

Igor Saveliev

Igor Savelyev was born in 1983 into a family of writers in Ufa, Bashkiria.  He still lives there  and works as a crime reporter for the local news agency.  In 2005, his short novel Pale City won the Debut Prize. It is a wonderful narrative about his native Ufa and young people.  One can see the freshness of his style and association with modern cultural icons which attract the young readers to him.

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Contemporary Russian Poetry in Translation

Brodsky in Norenskya We continue our series of contemporary Russian poetry in translation. One of the early masterpieces of Joseph Brodsky was  written in the transit prison after his infamous trial in 1964. The translation of this poem was submitted at the first  MPT Poetry Translation Competition 2011.

“Freedom”  by Joseph Brodsky

( Gripping my ration of the exile… ) 

Gripping my ration of the exile
in embrace with the rattling lock,
arriving at the places of dying,
again I turn to my native tongue.
The radiance of the Russian iambic
is more stubborn – and hotter than fire,
like the finest lamp,
in the night it illuminates me.
I can hardly raise my pen,
and my heart is fearfully beating.
But the shadow from behind my back over Russia,
like the bird in the grove, cries,
and the proud scattered echo
caught in my chest in white pallor.
Only hatred from the South to the North
hastens, overtaking the spring.
Burning up with a hacking cough,
bowing still lower in the night,
I am almost ablaze. Thereby
I obstinately keep the likeness of a candle
from dying out,  like the very last wall.
And this great flame flickers along with me.

March 25th, 1964
Arkhangelsk Transit Prison

Translated by Elena Dimov

 

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The Librarian by Mikhail Elizarov

Mikhail Elizarov was born in 1973 in Ivano-Frankovsk, Ukraine and could hardly remember the Soviet epoch of the generation of his parents and grand-parents. However, in 2007 this young writer wrote a book which would come to be associated with the Lost Generation of Soviet people and won the 2008 Russian Booker Prize.  It was the fourth and largest book of the bright debutant of the 90′s and in essence the first major post-Soviet novel showing the reaction of the generation of the 30’s to the world in which they lived.
The title of the book,  Библиотекарь ( The Librarian), deceptively conjures up the expectation of perhaps some quiet evening reading. Indeed, The Librarian is a novel about books, about the mystical powers of the written word. In the beginning, one hardly expects the strange turbulence which books such as this can create including the violent refusal of the readers of the books by the obscure writer Gromov to recognize the end of the epoch, and an almost Kafkaesque end to the book.  Gromov’s books had the magical powers to change the person who read them and readers started to organize  the “libraries” or armies to fight for these books.

Moskva : Ad Marginem, c2010.

The Librarian starts with a quotation from The Foundation Pit by Andrei Platonov. And in some sense it is the continuance of the ideas of the great and tragic book by Platonov about lives spent in vain.”The worker must fully understand that baskets and engines can be made as necessary, but it’s not possible to simply make a song or a sense of excitement. The song is more valuable than mere things…” Andrey Platonov

     Gromov

“The writer Dmitry Alexandrovich Gromov (1910-1981) lived his final days in complete obscurity. His books completely disappeared in the debris of Lethe, and when political disasters destroyed the Soviet motherland, it appeared as though there was nobody left to remember Gromov.

Barely anybody read Gromov. Of course the editors who determined the political loyalty of texts and the critics read it. But it was unlikely for somebody to be worried about and interested in titles like “Proletarian,”(1951) “Fly, Happiness!”(1954), “Narva”, (1965),”On the Roads of Labor” (1968), “The Silver Flat-Water,”(1972) or “The Calm Grass”( 1977).

The biography of Gromov went side by side with the development of the socialist fatherland. He finished middle school and pedagogical college and worked as executive secretary in the factory newspaper’s editorial board. The purges and the repression did not touch Gromov; he quietly endured until June of ‘41 before he was mobilized. He came as a military journalist to the front. In the winter of ‘43 Gromov‘s hands were frostbitten; the left wrist was saved but the right was amputated.

So all of Gromov’s books were created by the enforced lefthander. After the victory Gromov moved the family from the Tashkent evacuation to Donbas and worked at the city newspaper’s editorial board until his retirement.

Gromov started to write late, as a mature forty-year-old man. He often addressed the theme of the formation of the country, glorified the cotton being of the provincial cities, towns and villages, wrote about mines, factories, the boundless Virgin Soil and harvest battles. The heroes of his books were usually the Chairmen of the Kolkhozes, red directors, soldiers returning from the front, the widows keeping their love and civil courage, the pioneers and Komsomol members – strong, cheerful, and ready for heroic labor. Good triumphed with painful regularity: the metallurgic factories were built in record time, the recent student during his  sixth month internship at the factory became a skilled specialist, the plant exceeded the plan and accepted the new one, and the grain in the fall flowed by the golden mountains to the Kolkhoz’s granaries. Evil was rehabilitated or went to prison.” …

….”Although Gromov published more than a half-million copies of his books, only several copies survived in the club’s libraries in distant villages, hospitals, ITK, orphanages, or otherwise rotting in the basements between the materials of the party’s  congresses and serials of Lenin’s collected works.

And yet Gromov had dedicated fans. They scoured the country collecting surviving books, and would do anything for them.  In the normal life Gromov’s books had the titles about  some flat waters and grasses. However, Gromov’s collectors used significantly different titles – the Book of the Power, The Book of Strength, The Book of Rage, The Book of Patience, The Book of Joy, The Book of Memory, The Book of Meaning…”

Copyright Mikhail Elizarov

Translated by Elena Dimov, edited by Margarita Dimova

Translations of the excerpts from the works by the contemporary writers are used in educational purposes for students of modern Russian literature  or for literary criticism only.

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Many Talents of Dmitrii Bykov

Dmitrii Bykov is one of the most prominent contemporary Russian writers but he is still not known in the West. In 2006  Bykov won the National Bestseller Prize for his book “Boris Pasternak . He became the winner of the National Bestseller Prize again  in 2011 for his novel  “Ostromov, or the Sorcerer’s Apprentice” . Only several of his works were translated to English:  his novel Living Souls was translated to English and published by Alma Books in 2010.  Dmitri Bykov is also a poet.

Excerpts  from Amid the Empty Meadows…

By Dmitri Bykov
Translated by Michael Marsh-Soloway

“Amid the empty meadows,
In the amber brume of the afternoon,
My sweetheart lies
Curled up beside me.

The bay willow is blooming,
Honey thicket and dogrose,
I, her lover,
Dozed off in the thick grass.

She gazes off somewhere,
Above the thick grass,
Above my pileous,
Dozed-off head–

And thinks, which of
The centrifugal forces
Will sweep us away, shattering
The remnants of our wings.

And all the while, I sleep blissfully,
She looks there,
Where hellish Hades
And black water,

Arms stretching out,
Embrace on the stoop,
And separations are long
And eternal– in the end.

For the time being,
The sultry heat of Hades frightens her–
A dream, warlike and playful,
Through and through, comes to me.

But my dreams are not things
In which there is something prophetic.
I dream only of objects,
And scents, and color.

I dream not of separation,
Or a foreign land,
But the curve of brushwood,
And, perhaps, of her.

And this malachite
Rug beneath my head–
With the dispersal of the battlefield
Into its protective color.

I dream of automatons,
Cartridge pouches, boots,
Some squares,
Some circles”.

Russian text©2000, Dmitry Bykov

Translations of excerpts of the works of  modern writers are used for educational purposes and literary criticism  only.

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Next generation of Russian classics

 

Recently, I heard  many questions about whom to consider the best contemporary writer among the new generation of Russian writers. It is always risky to make a prediction  for the future. What the writers themselves think?

From the interview of the winner of SuperNatsBest ( bestseller of the decade) Zakhar Prilepin for the afisha.ru published on January 14th, 2011: “afisha.ru: Who, in your opinion, is the best writer of your generation and why? (You don’t need to mention a specific name.)

Z.P.: In my generation (the thirty-year-olds) the ones with the best chance of becoming classics are Sergei Samsonov and Mikhail Elizarov. In the next generation up (the forty-year-olds) – Dmitry Bykov and Alexander Terekhov. I can’t say who the best writer is. For example, I like the work of Mikhail Tarkovsky and of Dmitry Danilov. But could I call one of them the best? And why would I? One possible answer to this question is to say that the best is the one who can do more than anyone else. Then the best is Bykov. Another possible answer is that the best is the one who can do something that no one else can. Then it’s Terekhov. The third answer is that the best is the one who does something in a way only he can. Then it is Danilov and Elizarov and Senchin and Shargunov and Ildar Abuzyarov and Andei Rubanov. OK, let’s make this simpler. In reply to your question I’ll name a person who recently wrote a great novel. His name is Alexander Kuznetsov-Tulyanin and the book is called The Pagan. Not many people have read it, which is a real shame”.

http://booksfromrussia.org/news/short-interview-zakhar-prilepin

Zakhar Prilepin’s interiew gave an outline of the modern literary process in Russia. We should not forget however the appearance of the literary tendencies connected to the New Realism in Russian Literature. One of the best contemporary novels  was written  by Olga Slavnikova  –  2017 , it is  already a modern classic.  We will continue the conversation about the best contemporary Russian writers.

By Elena Dimov

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