Alexandra Alter has an amazingly good NY Times story (archived) about one of the most important contemporary Russian writers, Vladimir Sorokin (see my posts about Roman and Norma and his translator Max Lawton); it actually sounds as if Alter knows what she’s talking about, which is not something I’m used to in American media accounts of Russian literature. Here are some excerpts:
Sorokin is widely regarded as one of Russia’s most inventive writers, an iconoclast who has chronicled the country’s slide toward authoritarianism, with subversive fables that satirize bleak chapters of Soviet history, and futuristic tales that capture the creeping repression of 21st-century Russia. But despite his reputation as both a gifted postmodern stylist and an unrepentant troublemaker, he remains relatively unknown in the West. Until recently, just a handful of his works had been published in English, in part because his writing can be so challenging to translate, and so hard to stomach. Now, four decades into his scandal-scorched career, publishers are preparing to release eight new English-language translations of his books. […]
Sorokin doesn’t fit the classic mold of a dissident writer. While he’s been critical of Putin’s regime, he’s hard to pinpoint, stylistically or ideologically. He’s been pilloried for violating Russian Orthodox Christian values in his stories, but is a devout Christian. He deploys gorgeous prose to describe horrifying acts. He’s celebrated as a literary heir to giants like Turgenev, Gogol and Nabokov, but at times, he’s questioned the value of literature, dismissing novels as “just paper with typographic signs.” […]
“His books are like entering a crazy nightmare, and I mean that as a compliment,” the novelist Gary Shteyngart said. “He was able to find the right vocabulary with which to articulate the truth.”
The translations arriving this year reveal the dizzying strangeness of Sorokin’s work, and reflect his obsession with the horrors of Russia’s past and his anxiety over where the country is headed. The first, “Their Four Hearts,” out this month from Dalkey Archive Press, follows four archetypal Soviet heroes who are subjected to grotesque degradations as part of a savage mission that culminates in them being compressed into cubes and rolled like dice onto a frozen lake made of liquefied human remains. Sorokin wrote the novel in 1991, as the Soviet Union fell apart. It was so controversial that incensed workers at a printing plant refused to produce copies.
The second book, “Telluria,” coming out in August from NYRB Classics, is a dystopian fable set in the near future, as Europe has devolved into medieval feudal states and people are addicted to a drug called tellurium. Through the smokescreen of a twisted fantasy teeming with centaurs, robot bandits and talking dogs who eat corpses, Sorokin smuggles in a sly critique of contemporary Russia’s turn toward totalitarianism.
Six more English editions of Sorokin’s works — including “The Norm,” “Blue Lard” and “Roman” — are scheduled for release in the next four years, and another three are being translated, bringing the bulk of Sorokin’s catalog into English.
“Sorokin has earned his place in the canon,” said Max Lawton, a Sorokin superfan who translated all eight of the forthcoming books, and who acted as an interpreter during the interview. “I felt like it was insane that he hadn’t been fully translated.” […]
Sorokin says he’s drawn to futuristic, fantastical settings because they feel like the most accurate lens to examine the chaos and instability of the present. “The world is changing so unpredictably that classical realistic prose isn’t able to catch up to it,” he said. “It’s like shooting at a bird that’s already flown away.”
“This is why I prefer complicated optics,” he continued. “In order to see what is real, you need two telescopes.” He switched to English, and added slowly: “One from the past and another from the future.”
There’s much more about his life and the development of his writing at the link. I’m very glad his works are being published in English, especially translated by someone as closely connected to the work as Max; I hope they do well.
And as lagniappe, I offer you Impregnated Goblin matches; in that Reddit thread, HildredCastaigne says:
According to some internet speculation I’ve seen, the original was probably something like “impregnerad mot vatten” i.e. “water proof”. But “vatten” is similar to “vätten” which means “goblin”
Makes sense, I suppose, but I’m not sure a sensible explanation is what’s called for. (Also, Impregnated Goblin sounds like it might be something out of a Sorokin novel.) Thanks, Nick!
Oh, I forgot to mention this classic bit of NYT prudish obfuscation: “a foul-smelling brown fecal substance.” You could say all that in four letters constituting one syllable, folks!
…How many foul-smelling brown fecal substances do they distinguish at the NYT…?!?
They should have spelled it “f*c*l”. I shall certainly write the editor.
The correct spelling is “f**c*l.” Being American is no excuse.
fo’c’sle?
Not sure I see the relevance
It is better not to dwell on what they get up to in the fo’c’sle. It is certainly unsuitable for the chaste pages of the NYT.
David M.: How many foul-smelling brown fecal substances do they distinguish at the NYT…?!?
As it happens, I just finished yesterday’s crossword puzzle in Dagbladet*. ‘Skitt’ in 20 letters turned out to be ‘bleieinnholdsvariant’ “diaper content variety”.
* The new one. There are two. The old one revolutionized Norwegian crossword puzzles 20-odd years ago by introducing arcane compounds as solutions to short and simple keywords. The new one came a couple of years ago and took that even further.
If it’s good, why did the NYT publish it? Shome mishtake, shurely?, as I am told they say in the journalishtic shubculture.
@Trond. We really don’t hear much about the details of Norwegian cultural development in the Anglophone media, so it is good to learn that a subset of those who are NOT black-metal musicians setting fire to medieval wooden churches are instead inoffensively busying themselves by improving the quality of local crossword puzzles.
Those subsets are not mutually exclusive, you know.
The current issue of Der Spiegel has an angry and bitter essay by Sorokin about Putin as the destroyer of Russian culture: “Wie Putin die russische Kulturnation zerstört”; sadly, the online version is behind a paywall.
The Guardian recently had a similar piece.
Maybe it’s the same article and he’s syndicating it? Did he liken Russian literature to a mammoth in the Grauniad article?
Here’s the Graun article:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/feb/27/vladimir-putin-russia-ukraine-power
arcane compounds as solutions to short and simple keywords
The kenning is back! Hail Arinbjorn, the table-bear of the birches’ fear!
@Hans: “Maybe it’s the same article and he’s syndicating it? Did he liken Russian literature to a mammoth in the Grauniad article?”
No, they are two completely different pieces. I was able to access the Spiegel article on my phone but can’t replicated the trick on the laptop. It’s good. The Guardian piece isn’t that good:
The Golden Horde had ceased to exist decades before Ivan the Terrible was born. Vasily II the Blind (or the Dark), Ivan’s great-grandfather, was sometimes called – by his adversaries – a friend of “the Tatars.” The Golden Horde already started falling apart while Vasily II was fighting for the Moscow throne (ca. 1450).
There’s still no scholarly consensus as to why Ivan IV turned from reform to terror. If you’re interested in the roots of Muscovite despotism, you can do better than focus on Ivan IV. Herberstein visited Moscow twice during the reign of Ivan IV’s father Vasily and observed that Vasily’s power over his subjects was immeasurably greater than of any other potentate.
To me it seems he “simply” had the biggest anger management problem ever. He was fully capable of horrifying himself with his actions taken in anger, as opposed to stopping before things got that far.
by introducing arcane compounds as solutions to short and simple keywords
I love that – simple clues and cryptic answers…
David Marjanović: He was fully capable of horrifying himself with his actions taken in anger, as opposed to stopping before things got that far.
As illustrated in what is probably Ilya Repin’s most famous history painting in the West.