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THE STRANGER IN THE CITY: GENRE AND PLACE IN THE WORKS OF NIKOLAI GOGOL AND LIUDMILA PETRUSHEVSKAIA
DISSERTATION
Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for
the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate
School of The Ohio State University
B y
Kristin Anne Peterson, M.A.
* * * *
The Ohio State University 2000
Dissertation Committee: Approved by
Professor Angela Brintlinger, Adviser Adviser, Department of Slavic and East European Languages^d Literatures, Graduate Program
Professor Sabra Webber. Adviser Adviser, Division o ï Comparative Studies' in the Humanities, Graduate Program
Professor George Kalbouss UMl Number: 9994923
Copyright 2000 by P eterso n , Kristin Anne
All rights reserved.
UMl
UMl Microform 9994923 Copyright 2001 by Bell & Howell Information and Learning Company. All rights reserved. This microform edition is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code.
Bell & Howell Information and Leaming Company 300 North Zeeb Road P.O. Box 1346 Ann Arbor, Ml 48106-1346 Copyright by Kristin Anne Peterson 2000 ABSTRACT
Despite the many decades that divide Nikolai Gogol's and Liudmila
Petrushevskaia's writings, a number of their works are related by striking stylistic and thematic resemblance and a similarity of generic configuration. Working back and forth between these two writers, my dissertation seeks to unpack and shed light on issues that both authors grapple with. Their narratives are characterized by a common preoccupation with plots in which the main theme is the protagonist's search for identity. This dissertation considers the image of the stranger in Gogol's and
Petrushevskaia's fiction in order to confront each author's unresolved feeling about him(her)self and the estrangement inherent in family origins, gender and literary acceptance.
Both authors are writers on and of the margins, attempting to explain their position as outsiders, through the literary device of the stranger. The tensions in their works of fiction, a reflection of their own marginal positions, is expressed even in the generic forms they employ. Through a close reading of six stories by these two writers (Gogol's "Nevsky Prospect," "Diary of a Madman" and "Portrait," and
Petrushevskaia's "Our Crowd." "Medea" and The Time: Night.) my dissertation provides a new imderstanding of both authors' constructions and manipulations of a sense of place.
II Like Gogol's Petersburg stories, the works of Petrushevskaia I have selected are centered on the theme of alienation, and in each of the stories alienation from society is expressed through the eyes of the stranger, the outsider. Similar to Gogol's strangers, Petrushevskaia's strangers are liminal characters, figures that stand in the space between the known world and the unknown "outside" as reproduced in the text.
While the trope of the stranger functions in Petrushevskaia's works on the same three levels as Gogol's, the spatial, temporal and psychological, her strangers are very different entities. Petrushevskaia's strangers all belonged at one time or another to a group. Her writings document that disturbing 'falling away' from the family or group, the movement from unity and acceptance to individuality and denial.
The first chapter of this dissertation focuses on Gogol's appreciation of the arabesque, in his working out the problems of genre and place by drawing upon an exotic art form. Chapter two addresses Gogol's lifelong struggle as an "easterner" himself for legitimacy in the Russian literary canon, a struggle between his Ukrainian and Russian identities. Chapter three analyzes Gogol's struggle as figured through his portrayal of strangers in his fictional works. Chapter four discusses Petrushevskaia's postmodern strategies of writing women, a movement that celebrates the outsider, the de-centered, and simulating realities, with the aim of situating her prose within the contemporary Russian literary canon. The final chapter of this dissertation examines the way in which Petrushevskaia appropriates and revises mythologies of the feminine again focusing on the strangers, the outsiders from across time and space in order to establish her literary legitimacy in a canon centered on male authorship.
HI Dedicated to my family
IV ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to express sincere appreciation to my co-advisers. Professors .\ngela K.
Brintlinger and Sabra J. Webber for their guidance, insights, and support. I am fortunate to have been able to work with these professors from two different Departments at Ohio
State, both of whom have seen this project through from beginning to end. Specifically, I thank Professor Brintlinger for supervising and advising me, discussing ideas with me, offering valuable suggestions and insights and reading countless drafts of this dissertation. My Gogol chapters owe much to Professor Brintlinger; thanks to her suggestions 1 discovered things that I might otherwise have overlooked. I am also greatly indebted to Professor Webber who always listened to my ideas and offered me support and guidance, asking just the right questions to challenge me to think across disciplines.
The interdisciplinary nature of this dissertation, specifically my first chapter on Gogol and arabesques, as well as the final chapters on Petrushevskaia, are the end products of innumerable conversations with Professor Webber. Professors Helena Goscilo and
Margaret Lynd have offered me wonderful support in discussing ideas, offering suggestions and encouraging me to "just finish." I also want to thank Professor Margarita
Odesskaia who has encouraged me to believe in my topic and myself. Finally, 1 am also very grateful for the unconditional love and unwavering moral support of my friends, parents, siblings and grandmother. This dissertation is dedicated to my most precious source of support, my family.
VI VITA
September 26, 19 6 9...... Bom - Freetown, Sierra Leone
1993 ...... M.A. Slavic and East European Languages and Literatures, The Ohio State University.
1999...... Russian Language Instructor, Department of Modem Foreign Languages Ohio Wesleyan University
1993- present ...... Graduate Teaching and Research Associate, The Ohio State University
1993 ...... Assistant to Policy Analyst, Michigan Department of Education
1991-1993 ...... English Teacher, Latvian Ministry of Education
1991...... Desktop Publisher, Eppendorf Inc. Madison, Wisconsin
1987-1991 ...... Computer Soft/Hardware Specialist, Beloit College Computer Center
PUBLICATIONS
1. K.A. Peterson, "Circles and Crowds: ‘Svoi krug’ Liudmily Petrushevskoi v angliiskikh perevodakh." Eds, M. Odesskaia and I. Masing-Delic, Rossiia i SSkA.:formy literatiimogo dialoga. Moscow. Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi gumanitamyi universitet (2000): 164-171.
2. K.A. Peterson, Sabra J. Webber and Melinda McClimans, The Middle East and South Asia Folklore Bulletin. The Department of Near Eastern Languages and Cultures, Vol. 16, No. 3, Spring 2000.
Vll 3. FLA.. Peterson, "Tochki zreniia". Ohio 5 Viewpoints Series, Russian Video CD-Rom Project "Crossing Cultures and Platforms", August 1999.
4. K.A. Peterson, "U nego bylo takoe zhe angel'skoe litso, iasnoe i dobroe" (Simvolika podteksta rasskaza 'Chemyi monakh')." Molodye issledovateli Chekhova. Moscow, Russia III (1998): 74-77.
5. K.A. Peterson, Sabra J. Webber and Margaret R. Lynd, Fantasy or Ethnography? Irony and Collusion in Subaltern Representation. Papers in Comparative Studies. Vol. 8 (1996).
FIELDS OF STUDY
Major Field: Slavic and East European Languages and Literatures
Vlll TABLE OF CONTENTS
A bstract...... ii
D edication ...... iv
Acknowledgments ...... v
V ita...... vii
List of Figures...... xi
Note on Transliteration and Translation ...... xii
Chapters:
Introduction ...... 1
1. From Parts to Wholes...... 4
1.1 Fragmentariness and Heterogeneity: Gogol's Preface ...... 4 1.2 Arabesques'. Music, Art and Painting ...... 11 1.3 Schlegel's Arabesque: A Formal Literary Category...... 20 1.4 Gogol’s Plan îox Arabesques ...... 36 1.5 "Portrait": Framing the Arabesque...... 42 1.6 Arabesques as Amalgam of Styles: Architecture, Art and Literature 49 1.7 Conclusions ...... 57
2. A Powerful Stranger: The Marginal Author Mykola Hohol...... 61 a.k.a. Nikolai Gogol
2.1 Introduction ...... 61 2.2 The Russian Author Nikolai Gogol...... 62 2.3 The Ukrainian Mykola Hohol ...... 69 2.4 What's in a Name? Nikolai Gogol-Yanovski's Legacy...... 73 2.5 Pseudonyms: Gogol's Literary Masks ...... 79 2.6 St. Petersburg: Painful Positions ...... 81 2.7 The Marginal City Dweller: Physical and Temporal Dislocation ...... 87
ix 2.7.1 Physical Dislocation...... 88 2.7.2 Temporal Dislocation ...... 90 2.8 The Ukraine; A Romantic Homeland ...... 93 2.9 Psychological Dislocation: Gogol's Tower...... 102
3. The Stranger in the Fictional Works oiArabesques ...... I l l
3.1 Spatial Dislocation — The Place of the Stranger ...... 114 3.2 "Portrait": Framing Evil and Framing A rt ...... 118 3.3 "Nevsky Prospect": Temporal Dislocation - The Stranger in the C ity 126 3.4 Psychological Dislocation - The Stranger as Madman ...... 142 3.4.1 Gogol's M adm an ...... 145
4. Liudmila Petrushevskaia: Writing Women, Simulating Realities ...... 156
4.1 Introduction ...... 156 4.2 Writing From the Margins...... 164 4.3 Alternative Prose ...... 168 4.4 Russian Women Writers: A Silenced Voice Speaks ...... 171 4.4.1 The Powerful New Woman ...... 173 4.5 Russian Postmodernism: Alternative Realities ...... 177
5. Petrushevskaia's Strangers: Powerful Revisions of the Feminine ...... 197
5.1 Introduction ...... 197 5.2 Myth and "Cfiofi K'pyr" [Our C row d] ...... 200 5.3 The Postmodern Stranger in "M edea" ...... 220 5.3.1 Physical Displacement ...... 223 5.3.2 Andersen's "The Story of a Mother": ...... 228 Petrushevskaia's "Good" Mother 5.3.3 The Myth of Medea Revisited: "Bad" Mother ...... 230 Reclaiming Power 5.4 The Time: Night - A Family of Strangers...... 239
Conclusion ...... 257
Appendix A ...... 264
Bibliography...... 265
X LIST OF FIGURES
Figure Page
AI JIh c t c pHcynKa.MH Toromi h ruiano.vi ApaoecoK...... 264
XI Note on Transliteration and Translation
I have used the Library of Congress system of transliterating for all foreign words and names, e.g. Petrushevskaia, with the exception of names with an established English spelling, such as Gogol and Dostoevsky. Translations of Russian and German quotations are offered in the footnotes. Unless otherwise noted, all translations are my own.
XU INTRODUCTION
The terms space and place have long histories and bear with them a multiplicity of meanings and connotations which reverberate with other debates.
Space may call to mind the realm of the chaos of simultaneity and multiplicity; furthermore, it may be used in reference to both the synchronic and diachronic systems of structuralists. Place can raise the image of one’s place in the world and is connected with much greater intimations of mobility and agility in the context of discussions of positionality. Frequently the associations of "a sense of place" are bound together with memory, stasis and nostalgia. What gives a place a unique flavor is the fact that it is constructed out of a specific arrangement of social relations, meeting and weaving together at a particular point. Thinking of place in this manner implies that place is not so much bounded areas as open, porous and shifting networks of social relations. Places here are conceptualized in terms of the social interactions which they tie together. The idea of boimdaries in the sense of the divisions that frame simple enclosures is inherent in conceptualizations of space and place.
In this dissertation I seek to define Nikolai Gogol's and Liudmila
Petrushevskaia's sense of place by examining selected works through the lens of the
1 rhetorical device of the strange and the stranger, the link to the "outside," which is nevertheless itself part of what constitutes the place.
Russian literature has a particular fascination with legitimacy and the difficulty of securing one’s rightful place in society or even of working out what that place might be. Since the nineteenth century Russian literature has aroused sympathy for the "little" man and has also taught him to be a human being, demonstrating the pointlessness of spiritual blindness, timid conscience, and self-satisfied indifference.
By examining the trope of the stranger in Gogol's and Petrushevskaia's stories, it becomes apparent that the city, St. Petersburg, and Moscow, respectively, becomes, for the marginal city dweller, not only a place to live, but also a place where a person is forced to take measure of him or herself.
Chapter one outlines the fundamental concepts of the arabesque in music, art. painting, architecture and literature in order to show how and to what end Gogol manipulates this term for his collection. Chapter two addresses Gogol’s lifelong struggle for legitimacy in the Russian literary canon as essentially a struggle between his Ukrainian and Russian identities. Chapter three examines the rhetorical device of the stranger, the unfortunate hero who remains a disparate part of St. Petersburg society, formulating a set of parameters which will outline the importance of this device in the construction of the fictional works in Arabesques. Chapter four discusses the particular genre of women's writings to which Liudmila
Petrushevskaia's works belong. Specific reference will be made to the development and reception of women's writings in Russia and to the peculiar voice of the marginal woman writer. The final chapter will examine the way in which Petrushevskaia appropriates and revises mythologies of the feminine in order to establish her literary legitimacy in a canon centered on male authorship. Of particular interest is her depiction of women as mad, ill, hysterical or even diabolical, which appears in her works as powerful revisions of the traditional (but not the mythic) feminine, symbols both of decay and vulnerability but also of unexpected power. CHAPTER 1
ARABESQUES: FROM PARTS TO WHOLES
1.1 Fragmentariness and Heterogeneity: Gogol's Preface
At the same time Alexander Pushkin was writing his poem "The Bronze
Horseman: A Petersburg Tale" (autumn of 1833) Nikolai Gogol began work on his own cycle of Petersburg tales. The term Petersburg tales was not Gogol’s, but it has been used to denote his collection of stories including "HeBCKUM npocneKT" [Nevsky
Prospect], "flopTper" [Portrait] and "3anncKH cyMaciuejiuero" [Diary of a Madman], all of which were originally published as part oï ApaoecKU [Arabesques] in 1835.
Both writers turned to the city, the northern capital, and depicted it as a place of extremes: the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter, the greatness of the nobility and the extreme poverty of the lower class. In an article of 1836 Gogol writes,
T pym o cxBaiHTb o 6 mee Bbipa>KeHne Herepoypra-, Ciobom, KaK 5 yaT 0 npnexaji b Tpaxrup orpoviubifi JHJitDKaHC, b KOTopo.vi KavObifi nacca>Knp cuaeii bo boo jopory saKpuBiuncb n Bouieji b oÔLiiyio aajty noTO.vty TOJibKo, 'iro He 5 biJio apyroro .viecra,'
N. V. Gogol. Polnoe sabrante sochinenii. Ed. V.R. Shcherbiny. Vol. 7 (Moscow: Akademii nauk SSSR, 1937-52.) 170. (Hereafter referred to as PSS.) "It is difficult to fully grasp the character of Petersburg... It is as if a huge stagecoach, in which each passenger had sat hidden from the others during the entire journey, arrived at an inn, and the travelers entered the commimal room only because there was no other place to go." Gogol began his search to grasp the character of Petersburg in 1828, when he moved to the city to pursue his childhood dream of becoming a useful member of society. In his works, he writes about those strangers who are members of Petersburg society, but who for various reasons are unable to enter into the communal room.
Gogol’s Arabesques was released January 20-22, 1835. It consists of two balanced parts of mixed fiction and non-fiction, with a total of 18 pieces. Gogol's interest in eastern architecture and in the details of Arab culture is emphasized in the title Arabesques and acts as a frame for the whole collection. As Alexander Levitsky points out. a satisfactory explanation for Gogol's title choice has not emerged. He writes, "The general idea governing the approach to Gogol’s Arabesques is that they represent a shapeless miscellany of his essays on art and literature, combined with examples of fictional prose, usually published in Russia separately even in the
Academy edition.""
Many critics are quick to cite Gogol's preface to Arabesques as evidence that
Gogol himself believed that this collection was one that contained "much that is youthful." Gogol's preface reads:
Co6paHne a io cocraBJiaiOT nbecbi, nncanHbie mhoio b paanbie
Bpe.vieHa, apaaHbie ano.xH vioefi >kh3hh. H He roicaji iix no saxasy. Ohh BbicKa3bffiaJincb o t ayu iH , h npeiLvieroM H35npa.i a Tc.ibKO t o ,
*rro CHJibHO Mena n o p a ÿ K a m .M eacjy hh.\ih 'iirraTeaH oea covinenna Hafuyi .viHoro Mojioaoro. ripn3naK)Cb, neKOTopbix nbec a 6bi mo/Kot 5biTb ne aonycTHJi Boece b to coôpaniie, ecin 5bi naaaBa.i ero
roaoM npevKite, Koraa a oujt 5o.iee crpor k cboilm crapbiM Tpyja.\u
^ Alexander Levitsky. "Gogol’s and Neruda’s Arabesques." Papers in Slavic Philology 6; For Henry Kucera. Ed. Andrew Mackie, Tatiana McAuley and Cynthia Simmons. Ann Arbor: Michigan Slavic Publications, 1992, 239. Ho Heüocyr h oôcTOflrejibcrBa, nHorja ne O'ieHb npHfrrubie, ne no3BOJiiuin .vme nepeaiaipHBaib cnoKOHno h BHn.v!aTejTbHO cboh pyKomioi, H noTO.viy Qieio HaüeaTbca, aro 'iHTaxeiiH BejiHKoayiiiHO H3BHHHT MeHÆ^
Most critics agree with Carl Proffer who in his introduction to the only English translation of this collection writes, "it [Arabesques] does reveal the superficial leaming of a young man."'* The letters that Gogol v.Tote to Mikhail Pogodin and
Mikhail Maksimovich while he was writing Arabesques suggest the same thing. In a letter dated 14 December 1834 Gogol calls attention to the various genres included in
Arabesques. He writes,
Tbi cnpauinBaeiLib. uto a neMaiaio. HeaaTaio a BcaKyio BcaMniiy. Bee co'iHHenna, n otphbivH, n Mbicin. KOTopwe \iena nHoraa 3ann.via.nn. .Vle>Kjy hhmh ecTb n Hcropn'iecKne, toBecnibie y>Ke h HeH3BecTHbie. fl npoujy To.ibKo re6a r.naaeTb na mix noaiHcxomi- le .ib n e e . B mix viiioro ecrb vio.toaoro.'
The following letter of January 22. 1835 to Pogodin reiterates the idea that
Gogol’s writings are "youthful." He writes.
^ Gogol, PSS Vol. 8: 7. Gogol writes, "This collection is made up of pieces which I wrote at different times, in different periods of my life. I did not write them to order. They were expressed from the soul, and I selected only topics which greatly moved me. Among them the readers will undoubtedly find much that is youthful... But my lack of time and circumstances which are sometimes not very pleasant did not allow me to re-examine my manuscripts calmly and attentively, and I therefore dare to hope that the readers will magnanimously forgive me." ■* N. V. Gogol, Arabesques 8. Ed. Carl Proffer. Hereafter referred to as Gogol, Arabesques (Proffer). ^ Gogol, "To Pogodin," 14 December 1834 in Perepiska N. V. Gogolia 1820-1835, (1988) Vol. 1; 353. Gogol writes, "You ask what I am publishing. I am publishing a miscellany. All of the compositions, essays and thoughts which I am sometimes occupied with. Among them there are historical [pieces], well known and not so well known [facts]. I beg you only to glance at them with care. In them there is much that is youthful.." riocbiJiaHD xe 6 e Boncyio ecOTHHy vioio. FlorJiajib ee h noipen/in: b Hen onenb viHoro ecrb aercKoro n a nocKopee ee crapajicfl bbi- 5 poorrb b cser, 'rroGbi B.viecre c le.vi BbiSpoarrb H 3 vioefi kohtopkh Bcë crapoe, m crpaxHyBuincb, Ha'iaxb Hoayio ‘acH 3Hb.^
In a similar letter to Maksimovich of the same date, Gogol writes,
riocbuiaK) re 6 e cy\i 6 yp, cviecb Bcero, Kamy, b Koropon ecrb an viacno cyan ca\i.’
Yet, if Gogol's preface serves as a warning and apology to his readers, and if his excuse is that "his business and circumstances which are sometimes not very pleasant did not allow me to re-examine my manuscripts calmly and attentively." then why would he consult his great mentor, Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin, for editorial assistance? The following letter documents Gogol's request:
nocbiJiaio Ba.vi jbb 3 K3eMnjiHpa"Apa5 ecKOB," Koropbie, kg Bce- o 6 iu e.\!y H3y\ijieHHio, o'iyTnjincb b 2-x 'lacrflx. Oann jx 3e\in.i}ip xia Biic, a apyroH. pa 3pe3aHHbin.-a.1a viena. BbiHHTafrre Mofi n, cae.ianxe \inaocTb, B03b\iHTe K apanaatu b Baiun pyiKH n HnxaK ne ocranaB - anBaPiTe HeroaoBaHne npn Bnae ouin 5 oK, ho t o t /xe Mac n x Bcex naanuo. Mae oto oaenb nyacno. Hoiuan büm Bor aocraTOMHoro Tepnenna npn 'rrennn!*
^ Gogol, "To Pogodin," 22 January 1835 in Pis'ma N. V Gogolia 1820-1835, (1940) 10: 348. Gogol writes, "1 send you my odds and ends. Give it a try: there is much that is childish in it. 1 tried to send it into the world even sooner, in order to throw everything that is old out of my writing desk, so as to shake off myself and start a new life." ’’ Gogol, "To Maksimovich," 22 January 1835 in Pis'ma N. V. Gogolia 1820-1835, (1940) 10: 349. Gogol writes, "1 send you confusion, a mixture of everything, porridge. Judge for yourself whether or not there is anything of worth [butter]." Gogol, "To Pushl^," 22 January 1835 m Perepiska N. V Gogolia, (1988) 1: 145. Gogol writes, "I am sending you two copies of Arabesques which, to the surprise of everyone, appeared in two parts. One copy is for you and the other, cut, is for me. Read mine and do me a favor: take a pencil in your little hands and in no way stop your indignation at the sight of errors, but mark them all out immediately. -1 need this very much. God send you enough patience to read it!" These letters are evidence of the fact that Gogol did re-examine his publication and that he enlisted several of his friends to help him ve-\h\xik Arabesques.
Gogol's collection has continued to be disregarded by present day scholars as youthful musings. It is, however, imperative to remember that the writing of various parts oi Arabesques actually occurred in the years immediately preceding the publication of the collection (1829-1833) and were intended with that collection specifically in mind, not in Gogol's youth nor in "paanue Bpe.vieHa" or
"paaHbie 3noxn."^ While this collection seems at first glance to be a miscellany, the very title contradicts this categorization. Thus we must necessarily question Gogol's characterization and look deeper for an explanation of Gogol's peculiar collection if only in light of his chosen title. Certainly, as many scholars have pointed out, the fictional pieces contain many shared themes. Consider, for example, the theme of reality and illusion, the notion of identity/estrangement, and the topic of one's role in life, all of which are present in "Nevsky Prospect," "Portrait" and "Diary of a
Madman." But what exactly did Gogol mean by entitling his collection Arabesques'}
This decision troubled his contemporaries. Faddei Bulgarin, for example, asks in his review;
no'ieviy OHH ApafiecKH? ApafiecKaviH HaabiBaerot b iKHBonnQi n CKyjtbHType #HTacTHnecKHft yKpainenHH, cocraBJienHbifl m uBeroB h (finryp, yaopnaTbix h CBoenpaBbix. ApafiecKH poitHJincb na BocroKe,
^ See the commentary to the preface {PSS Vol. 8: 746.) "Written in different times and different epochs." H noTo.viy B HHX ne bxoübt usoopaÿKCHUJi /Khbothhx h .iioiieH, ko Topbix pHCOBaib 3anpeuieH0 KopaHOM.'°
Osip Senkovskii remarks, "BbiTb MOiKer 3X0 apa5ecKH—tio axo ne auxepaxypa.""
Although Bulgarin and Senkovskii did not seem comfortable with Gogol's title, in Russia, the term arabesques was undoubtedly by this time common place.
Around the time Gogol's Arabesques was released V. Dal' was in the process of compiling his multi-volume TosiKOBbifi aioBupb, the first version of which was finally published in 1863. The following is Dal's definition of the arabesque:
Apafiecxa a l tiHorxa apa5ean>: ooaee yrrrpfi. mh. >Kyjo>K. .leuuoe nan nncaHoe yKpameuHe, nofljo.vrb, KanMOio H3 ao.Manbixb n KpnBbi.\b y3op‘iHbL\i. nepxi., uBexoBb. .xncrbeBX, >KHBoxnbixb n.n.p.'“
It is likely that Gogol's own interpretation of the arabesque was of some influence on
Dal's definition. Consider, for example, the similarities between Dal's definition and
Gogol's discussion of what seems to be the arabesque in Gothic architecture in his essay "06 apxuxexxype ubineimiero BpeMenn" [On Present-Day Architecture]. He writes.
F. V. Bulgarin, "Arabeski. Raznye sochineniia N. Gogolia." Russkaia kriticheskaia literatura o proizvedeniiakh N. V. Gogolia. Ed. V. Zelinskii (Moscow, 1900) 1: 34. Bulgarin writes, "Why are they Arabesques? Arabesques is the name given in painting and sculpture to fantastic decorations consisting of patterned and idiosyncratic flowers and figures. Arabesques were bom in the East, and therefore they contain no images of animals or people, as the representation of such is forbidden by the Koran." “ O. lu. Senkovskii, "Arabeski. Raznye sochineniia N. Gogolia." Russkaia kriticheskaia literatura 1:27. Senkovskii writes, "Perhaps they are arabesques. — but it is not literature." Vladimir Dal. Tolkovyi slovar': Tom Pervyi (A-Z). Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo, 1863-66,21. His definition reads, "Arabesque (f) sometimes arabesn: BooGme y6npaxb crpoeHna jiHcrba.Mn, BHrauinMHCfl rpo3iibfL\in BHHorpaüa hjih yKpameHna\!n, hocbiuhmh neHCHbiH oGpaa BerBefi jepeBa, Gwjîo hhcthhkto .vi y Bcex HapojOB. B rornHeacofi apxn- leicrype Gojiee Bcero saMexen orne'iaToïc, xoth HeaŒbiH, leŒ o cnjiereHHoro Jieca, Mpa'moro, BeJin'iecTBeHHoro, rje Tonop He 3By‘iaji OT B6Ka. 3 th crpe.Mfliiinecfl necKOH‘iae.\ibi.vin jihhuemh yKpauieHHH h cern ckbo 3hoh pe3b5bi ne ‘iro jpyroe, xax leMHoe BocnoviHHaHHe o creoiie, serBRX » .incrbnx, jpeBeCHbix.‘^
Gogol's preface suggests fragmcnîariness and heterogeneity willi tlie use of terms like "co5paHne" and "nbecbi"; there is an elusive order suggested in the promised "jbc , ipn etuë necKasanHbie Hcriiiibi." a structure which will som ehow form itself from the apparent chaos of works written "b pasHbie Bpe.Mena.
B pa3Hbie anoxH."*’* What draws the various parts oï Arabesques together, as Melissa
Frazier points out, is that Gogol explicitly instructs the reader that she must see them as a whole. Frazier writes.
...and he gives us this message not only in his title, his preface and in his letters to his friends, but over and over in the pages of Arabeski. Again and again Gogol describes to us how order should properly form itself from chaos, presenting what is really a set of instructions as to how one might unite Arabeski, directives for the understanding of
usually used in an artistic way or as a description of a decoration, belt, a border of broken and crooked patterned lines, flowers, leaves, animals and such." Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 72. He writes, "Generally speaking, all nations have instinctively adorned their buildings with leaves intertwined with cluster of grapes, or with decorations bearing a vague resemblance to the branches of a tree. In Gothic architecture the most obvious, though obscure, characteristic is its closely knitted, forbidding, majestic forests where the axe has not rung out for a century. These embellishments which continue into infinity like endless lines and the networks of transparent carvings are nothing less than a vague hearking back to the boles, branches and leaves of trees." Melissa Frazier, Frames o f the Imagination: Arabeski and the Romantic Question o f Genre. Dissertation. University of California at Berkeley, 1995, 13.
10 genre and of the genre Arabeski represents as a whole in which disorder and individuality are integral parts, where beauty and sublimity meet.’^
Gogol's use of self deprecation in the preface echoes the tone of the ancient Slavic scribes, who, in keeping with their traditions, included a humility topos at the beginning of their documents. The purpose of Gogol's preface is twofold: on the one hand it is an incipit, an apology to his readers for "youthful" writings: on the other hand, it affords Gogol the opportunity to present a specific, constructed, very deliberate literary persona. By including the preface and in his choice of title, Gogol is able to influence how his readers will approach his stories.
1.2 Arabesques: Music, Art and Painting
We begin this investigation into Gogol's title with the meaning that is connected with the term arabesque. What are Arabesques, what is an "arabesque?"
The word "arabesque," encountered most frequently in the worlds of music and art, suggests sinuous movement and the interplay of light and shadow. J. M. Rogers in his book Islamic Art & Design defines arabesque (Turkish rumi) as "interlacing foliate scroll-work, often symmetrical, with split palmettes or fat buds, absorbed into the
Ottoman repertory from illumination or stenciled designs for bindings in fifteenth- century Mamluk Egypt and Syria." In his book. The Arabesque: the Abstract Art o f
Islam Rom Landau notes that the pure arabesque was "an art based on geometrical designs, employed for tiles, carvings, carpets, metalwork, stone or wood or metal
15 Frazier, 53.
11 adornment, bindings, works of religious or secular architecture" and that the arabesque does not exalt man’s feeble imitation of what God has created; it is geometrical, two-dimensional and shadowless.’^ Oleg Grabar in his book The
Formation o f Islamic Art informs us that the arabesque contains an overwhelming variety of motifs. He organizes them into three broad categories: vegetal elements
(predominately palmettes, grape leaves and bunches and rosettes), designs that can only be defined as geometric (frames i.e. mosaics or windows)'* and the miscellaneous category (hatchings or dots, border designs).'^
For concrete examples of the arabesque, musicians would most likely be
inclined to think first of Robert Schumann's Opus 18 for piano, entitled "Arabeske"; the usual example in art is Sanzio Raphael's work in the loggia of the Vatican; in architecture the example is based on Goethe's examination of Pompeiian houses.'"
Rogers, Islamic Art & Design 160 Rom Landow, The Arabesque 6. '* The tension here is between complete and broken unit. Oleg Grabar, The Formation o f Islamic Art 196. Arabesque-grotesque designs, far superior to the Roman ones, formed borders for the large mythological scenes on the walls of Pompeiian houses. Pompeiian rooms and summerhouses became the vogue; commercial and amateur designers sought to adapt the Pompeiian designs to their own needs. (See Curtis Dahl, "Recreators of Pompeii," Archeology, 9 (1956), 183.) Of this great interest in the arabesque, Goethe writes, "Wir bezeichnen mit diesem Namen eine willkurliche und geschmackvolle malerische Zusammenstellung der marmigfaltigsten Gegenstande, um die inneren Wande eines Gebaudes zu verzieren... Stabchen, Schnirkel, Bander, aus denen hie und da eine Blume oder sonst ein lebendiges Wesen hervorblickt, allés 1st meistenteils sehr leicht gehalten, und alle dieses Zieraten, scheint es, sollen nur diese einfarbige Wand ffeundlicher machen und, indem sich ihre leichten Ziige gegen das Mittelstiick bewegen, dasselbe mit dera Ganzen in Harmonie bringen." [We denote with this name an arbitrary and tasteful picturesque arrangement of the various items to decorate the irmer walls of a building... little sticks, scribbles, stripes from which a
12 Raphael, serving both as Prefect of Antiquities and Chief Architect of the Vatican, took delight in the grace and freedom of the old designs and he and his assistants imitated them in the Vatican stuccowork. The style received additional attention in the first half of the nineteenth century, stimulated by the discovery of the buried cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum.
Pompeii had actually been partially unearthed in 1748, but it was not until
1817, when several beautifully engraved books like Sir William Cell's Pompeian began to appear, that the popular imagination became caught up in the long- concluded drama of Pompeii."' It is difficult to pinpoint the exact time when the nineteenth century interest in the arabesque first began, but the most detailed references to the style begin to appear after 1817. after the publication of Cell's
Pompeiana. Two other major archeological books on Pompeii soon followed—Henry
Wilkins' Suite de vues Pittoresques des Ruines de Pompeii in 1819 and Les Ruines de
Pompeii, by G. Mazois, in 1824.“ From 1817 on, Pompeii underwent a second, non- archeological resurrection on canvas and in print. William Wordsworth. Percy flower or another living being peeks out here and there, all is of light style, and it appears that all these flourishes should only make the wall friendlier, and by moving their light features against the monocolored centerpiece, bring it (the centerpiece) into harmony with the whole (building).] (See essay, "Von Arabesken," quoted by Karl Konrad Polheim in Die Arabeske. Paderbom; Verlag Ferdinand Schoningh, 1966, 39. Curtis Dahl writes that Cell's book provides all the raw material needed for a colorful tale and that the pages abound in sketches of the ruins and of the way the buildings must once have appeared, and in descriptions of the circumstances and attitudes in which the corpses were found. See Archeology Vol. 9. No. 3 (Autumn 1956), 183.
13 Shelley and Sir Walter Scott made the site their theme; perhaps the greatest impact on Russian culture was made by Karl Bryullov's dramatic painting, in flashing
chiaroscuro, of the hapless flight from the holocaust.^
The arabesque provides the perfect example in Bryullov's visual art of
disparate beings, some of them hybrids in themselves, blended into a whole and
harmonious design. In these designs, the varied representations of men and monsters
are integrated into a single design by the device of sinuous foliage, which twines around and about the individual figures or groups of figures; all classes of objects are
" See Henry Wilkins' Suite de Vues Pittoresques des Ruines de Pompeii. Rome: [s.n.],1819 and Charles Francois Mazois' Les Ruines de Pompeii. Paris: F. Didot, 1824-38. See for example. Sir Walter Scott's essay "On the Supernatural in Fictitious Composition, and Particularly in the Works of Ernest Theodore William Hoffman," which first appeared unsigned in the Foreign Quarterly Review of July, 1827. Scott's article is a careful discussion of arabesque painting. Frazier points out that Joan Nabseth Stevenson, in her unpublished dissertation Literary and Cultural Patterns in Gogol's Arabesques, suggests that Gogol may have drawn his title from Sir Walter Scott's 1829 essay which appeared as "0 chudesnom v romane: Sochinenie Val'tera Skotta" in the same year in Syn otechestva i severnyi arkhiv. It is highly likely that Gogol knew of Scott's works, as the former included remarks about Scott in his essay "On Present-Day Architecture." In this essay Gogol writes, "Val'ter Skott pervyi otriakhnul pyl's goticheskoi arkhitektury i pokazal svetu vse ee dostoinstvo. Mogushchestvennym slovom Val'ter Skotta vkus k goticheskomu rasprostranilsia bystro vezde i proniknyl vo vse." [Walter Scott was the first to shake the dust from Gothic architecture and display its merits to the world. By dint of Walter Scott's powerful words the taste for the Gothic spread quickly everywhere and impregnated everything.] In addition, in letters to various acquaintances Gogol mentions rereading all of Scott's works. In a letter to M. P. Pogodin (September 22, 1863), for example, he writes, "Prinimaius' perechityvat' vnov' vsego Val'tera Skotta, a tam mozhet byt', za pero." [I begin again to reread all of Walter Scott, and perhaps then will pick up the pen.] In a letter to V.A. Zhukovsky (November 12, 1836), Gogol informs his friend of the reading he did during his spring in Geneva, "Tam prinialsia perechityvat' ia Mol'era, Shekspira i Val'ter Skotta." [There 1 began to reread Molliere, Shakespeare and Waiter Scott.]
14 made to seem equally animate; a stone column, a flower, a snake, lightening, can equally well terminate in the head of a man. The eye, forced to follow the main lines of the foliage, is tricked into unifying the disparate parts, and the design is seen as a pleasing whole.""*
The nineteenth century art critic Jacques Ignace Hittorff was the first to speculate at length on the arabesque style. He points to the illusionistic quality of the frescoes at Pompeii, which makes walls seem transparent. He continues that due to this spatial boundaries seem to dissolve and force the viewer's hapless eye to follow the labyrinthine main lines of the design. He writes.
On looking for the most probable causes which may have favored the origin of the ancient Arabesques, while we study the surfaces of the rooms in the excavations of Pompeii and endeavor to enter into the spirit of those productions, thrown, as it were, upon the walls by a playful fancy and an easy hand, we find, in the diverting and pleasing impression which they make upon us. that their first effect is to awaken corresponding sensations, and next, from the apparent extent of the small spaces, to widen the vista to the utmost stretch. Hence the necessity to make use of the amplest forms, and the most beautiful colors for men, animals, flowers, fruits, and their combinations. Thus, the application of the inexhaustible productions of natixre, together with those of art, called forth the most fanciful associations, producing an agreeable impression on the spectator's mind. Again, by keeping the upper portion of each apartment in white, or some other light local tint, a perfect optical illusion of transparency was brought about, an effect greatly promoted by the many architectural forms painted upon these surfaces, and consisting of twisted and variously shaped diminutive columns, trellises so multiplied, as to produce the illusion of perspective by removing firom before the eye the immediate boundaries of space. Our eyes, in fact, lose themselves in these
The foliage which twines itself sinuously about the hybrid forms corresponds roughly to the spin of Gogol's madman at the end of "Diary of a Madman," creating a further illusion of blending by taking all elements of the design into a lively, circuitous, kinetic embrace.
15 fascinating labyrinths in following the elegant colonnades, and in wandering from one structure to another.'^
Hittorff shares in the contemporary tendency to defend the "naturalness" of the arabesque by citing the infinite variety of the world we live in; he is particularly interested in calling attention to the mingling of the mundane and the divine. He writes.
With regard to the walls, of which the Arabesques serve merely as a border to larger pictures, we find scenes from the domain of the gods and heroes executed in a careful style; and the gaiety which is here to be found blended with sublimity in the main subject, is in harmony with the characteristic variety of everyday life.'^
Another passage from the essay reinforces the resemblance between the arabesque in painting and in literature. Hittorff continues.
The Arabesques constituted, so to speak, the fairy-world, brought before the visual sense by means of colors, and which in later time was transferred into the literature of tales and romance. In both instances, the bare truth would appear cold, monotonous, and dry; and when a vigorous mind seizes upon the treasures of nature, howsoever playfully commingled, and reproduces them with their characteristic qualities, provided it be done in select forms agreeably arranged, and in lively and harmonious colors, who could feel surprised that, despite the ire of the venerable Roman architect, and as he himself laments, 'everyone who has seen these extravagances, far from denouncing them, is invariably pleased with them.'“^
In Hittorffs view the arabesque is a wonderfully positive style that depicts a world of infinite variety in such a way as to render the variation harmonious rather than
Jacques Ignace Hittorff, "On the Arabesques of the Ancients as compared with those of Raphael and His School." Description o f the Plates o f Fresco Decorations and Stuccoes o f Churches and Palaces in Italy. Ed. Ludwig Gnmer, x. Hittorffs prefatory essay is foimd on pages ix-xvi of the volume. ® Hittorff, X.
16 chaotic, by visually suggesting that, rightly seen, all the components of creation are
simply the diversified parts of one great sentient form. His view represents one
school of opinion about the nature and value of the arabesque style in general.
To another kind of observer, the style can take on a far more ominous
appearance. To the eyes of a person who stumbles across an arabesque fresco
without knowing or intuiting the philosophy that informs the design, the style
suggests a frightening prospect. It seems to speak of a dark, slippery, incalculable
sort of world, a world in which the orderliness of the universe as we know it is
scattered. In this world, shapes shift without warning, and nothing is what it seems.
It is evident from Gogol’s essay "The Last Day of Pompeii" that he
understood the magical quality of the arabesque in art to transform disparity into
harmony. In particular, this essay is a discussion of Karl Bryullov's gigantic canvas
of "The Last Day of Pompeii." which was first exhibited in the Hermitage in August
1834. Gogol was particularly fond of Bryullov for his ability to "capture diversity to
an extent, which nobody previously had managed to capture.""* Gogol points out that
many painters of the nineteenth century chose similar topics, great natural
catastrophes, but that the overall expression of these other pictures "is charged with
extraordinary uniformity.In Bryullov’s painting, however, Gogol was able to
Hittorff, xi. Gogol,Arabesques 205 (Proffer). Gogol,Arabesques 205 (Proffer).
17 discern each individual in the crowd, "expressing thousands of different feelings."'’”
In "The Last Day of Pompeii" Gogol writes,
PaccMaTpuBafl h.\, Ka^Kerca, Gommca joxHyTb Ha hh.\. Becb 3tot 3#eK T , KOTOpblH paSJlHTB npupoje, KOTOpblfi npOHCXOilUT OT cpa- jKCHHUfl CBexa c TeHbK), eecb jtot 3 Gogol was fascinated with Bryullov's work for several reasons. In the painting Gogol found an echo of his age, of the impending apocalypse. Throughout Europe hope in the imminence of a second coming persisted in some form right up to the 1830s. but in the face of repeated disappointment, that hope grew ever dimmer. Gogol recognized in his age Russia's own tradition of apocalyptic thought and its belief that in the apocalypse Russia would occupy a special place as the third Rome which is third and forever. These ideas came together with the events of the early nineteenth century, particularly in Russia, to raise Russian apocalyptic expectations very high. Gogol,Arabesques 206 (Proffer). Gogol, PSS 7: 116. Gogol writes, "Looking at them closely almost makes one afraid to breathe on them. This whole effect, with which Nature overflows, is the result of the struggle between light and shade; this whole effect has become the aim and goal of our artists... Bryullov's painting may be said to be a complete creation of worldwide significance. It includes everything. Within its limits it captures diversity to an extent which nobody previously had managed to capture. The underlying thought corresponds exactly to the style of our century, which, generally speaking, seems aware of its own terrible process of disintegration and is striving to unite all 18 In The Poetic Language o f Pushkin Boris Gasparov has shown how, in the wake of the anti-clerical spirit of the French Revolution, Paris became for the Russian cultural consciousness the "New Babylon," the place from which the Anti-Christ would appear. With the rise of Napoleon and his invasion of Russia, it seemed that the Anti- Christ had appeared and that the apocalypse was about to unfold.^" Not only did Bryullov's painting offer Gogol appropriate subject matter for his collection, but, as we have seen in his interpretation of the painting, he found an affinity with the painter in his own struggle to depict the process of the disintegration of the parts into the whole. In this painting the arabesque is truly imitative of nature - this nature that both Bryullov and Gogol perceived is one which is inextricably mingled, mysteriously unified, where connections and correspondences exist in the midst of apparent heterogeneity, incongruity. genres into general groups and is selecting violent crises experienced by the vast masses." Gasparov offers a number of examples to suggest how widespread the tendency was in Russia to interpret Napoleon's invasion in apocalyptic terms. Frazier points to Gasparov's indication of the real weight given these interpretations with the following example: "According to a Derpt professor, who anticipated Pierre Bezukhov in sending a letter to Barclay de Tolly, presenting the case for Napoleon's infemal nature. According to this professor, "l'Empereur Napoleon" could be represented numerically as 666, as could "quarante deux," Napoleon's age in 1812 and the number of months the Beast will mle in the Apocalypse. See Boris Gasparov. Poeticheskii iazyk Pushkina. Wiener Slawisticher Aimanach Sonderband 27 (1992) and Frazier. 211. 19 1.3 Schlegel's Arabesque: A Formal Literary Category European fascination with Islamic ornament had its roots in the medieval and Renaissance periods and reached its peak in the nineteenth century/^ One factor that may have fueled Gogol’s interest in the decorative aspects of Islamic architectural tradition was the awakening of the Romantic spirit in Russia with its search for the picaresque/"* Gogol’s romantic tendencies have been noted in his fiction and are apparent in his worldview as well. Consider for example, that he thrived on the exploration o f exotic lands, most notably lands east of Russia.^^ In his collection. Gogol reaches towards a more complex understanding of the arabesque which incorporates the notions of nature and culture, fiction and nonfiction and east and west, a strategy that moves him into a central position as one who straddles all of those dichotomies. The East was certainly very fashionable subject matter. Francois Rene Chateaubriand and more notably. Lord George Byron, had made the remote and exotic cultures of the Muslim Near East popular with the Romantic writers. In The German Benedictine monk Theophilus, who was a practicing craftsman, included in his 12'*’ century technical manual De diversis artibus a section on metalwork explaining "whatever Arabia adorns with repousse or cast work, or engravings in relief (Theophilus 1986,4). During the Renaissance arabesques were used in Venetian-Saracenic metalwork, and they appeared in pattern books published from the early sixteenth century (Francesco di Pellegrino, Jean Gourmont, and Balthasar Sylvius: see Gombrich 1979, Ward-Jackson 1967 and page 61 of Albert Gayet's Ornamentalism and Orientalism. Gogol was certainly interested in the picaresque, even late into his career. Some refer to his magnum opus Dead Souls as a picaresque novel. 20 addition. Sir Walter Scott's novels, set in Scotland, made Romantic writers appreciate the exoticism of other nationalities. By juxtaposing such varying locations as the remote East, the Ukraine and St. Petersburg (clearly an exotic location for the outsider Gogol), Gogol is able to capitalize on this newly found interest in things Ukrainian. Simon Karlinsky writes, French writers turned their attention to France's Celtic minorities, while both Russian and Polish writers discovered the Ukraine. By the 1820s the Ukraine was assuming the same function in the Russian popular imagination that, through Bums and Scott. Scotland had already assumed in the English imagination.^^ Gogol's preoccupation with the East, or the Asiatic, is evident in his essay "yiCn3Hb" [Life]. This poetic essay, where Gogol personifies the ancient civilizations ("Ctoht b yr.iy Haü nenojBn>KHbiM Mopevi jpeBnnfi Ernner, pacKnuy.ia BO.ibHbie KOJiounn Bece.iaa Fpeuna. ctoht h pacnpocTnpaeTcn >Ke.ie3Hbifi Pnvi. ycrpeM.iaa aec KontiH h CBepKaa rposnoio cra.Tbio Me‘iefi.") is a moving tribute to religion and the East. As Robert Maguire notes, this essay ends with the birth of Christ in the East - a synonym for "Asia."^^ Gogol’s essay describes how each of the civilizations had a vastly different understanding of the meaning of life. Egypt believed only in death, he claims, while the Greeks claimed that "y{Cn3Hb C03jana jjia >kh3hh, j.ia For a closer study of the arabesque and Gogol’s Romantic spirit consult Melissa Frazier’s dissertation Frames o f the Imagination: Arabeski and the Romantic Question o f Genre. See Simon Karlinsky, The Sexual Labyrinth o f Nikolai Gogol 31. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7; 91,92. Gogol writes, "Ancient Egypt stands in one comer overlooking the motionless sea, joyous Greece set up independent colonies, iron Rome stands and spreads herself, thrusting out a forest of spears and gleaming." and 21 HacJiaÿKüeHHH" an d th a t o n e sh o u ld "yvieH 5brrb jocrofiH biM H acna:K jennfl!" w h ile Rome cried, "OraBbi, cnaabi ^ a ^ a f i ‘leJiOBeK!"'"* At the closing of the essay, all three static nations presumably find the "true meaning of life" by turning toward the East. Gogol writes. 3aiiy\iajicfl apesanfi Ertiner, yBHTbifi nepor.iH(t)aMii, nonHÿKaa uttace rBOH niipa.MHjb!; GecnoKOHHO r.imiy.ia npeKpacaaa Fpcuwa; onycnu o'Bi Pn.M Ha :« e jie3Hbie cboh Konba; npuHHKJia y\o.\i Be.inKaa Ashh c napoaa.MH-nacTbipfLMH; narHy.ica A papai, jpeBHHfi npanpauiyp 3e.\I.TH_^^ Therefore, for Gogol, the East (Asia) is synonymous with eternal life, eternal movement, and remains in stark contrast to "motionless Egypt and Greece" and "ironclad Rome.""*° In this essay, the static locations (Egypt. Greece and Rome) are at once made to realize the error of their ways and submit to the all-powerful East. 1 find it fitting, not odd, as Proffer notes in the "Notes" to the English version of Arabesques, that this work served Gogol as a calligraphy exercise.^' This idea complements our findings on the arabesque and Gogol's understanding of the term.'*' Because of the religious nature of this essay and the link to the East, it follows that page 283 of Robert Maguire'sExploring Gogol. Stanford: Stanford University Press. 1994. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 92. Gogol writes, "Life was created for life, for enjoyment"; "learn how to be worthy of enjoyment!"; "Thirst for glory, for glory, Man!" Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 92. Gogol writes, "Ancient Egypt sank into thought, bedecked with hieroglyphs, lowering her pyramids; beautiful Greece looked on in alarm; Rome lowered her eyes onto her iron lances; Asia with her nation of shepherds eavesdropped; Ararat stooped, the ancient forefather of the world..." ■*° Gogol, Arabesques 143 (Proffer). Gogol writes, "She [Egypt] stands motionless, as if spellboimd, like a mummy untouched by decay." Of Greece he writes, "And everything stands motionless as if in petrified grandeur." Gogol, Arabesques 261 (Pioïîex). 22 Gogol would chose it for calligraphy practice. As we will note later Gogol was well aware of the exalted position that calligraphy held in the East and tried to develop his own calligraphic style, which he used in his "Plan" for the collection. Yet, it would be foolishly simple to suggest that the meaning of Gogol's title is exclusively linked to the popular subject matter, the remote and exotic cultures of the East (sometimes represented as the Ukraine) of the early 1800s, for the arabesque meant much more to Gogol. We turn our attention to the arabesque in German philosophical thought in order to understand what Gogol may have meant by entitling his work Arabesques. Susarme Fusso, and more recently, Melissa Frazier have asserted that Gogol's Arabesques is permeated by the spirit of Friedrich Schlegel.'*^ In Schlegel's thought as expressed in Gesprach iiber die Poesie [Discussion on Poetry. 1800], the arabesque is both an artistic and a literary genre. In his monumental work Die Arabeske: Ansichten und Ideen aus Friedrich Schlegels Poetik [The Arabesque: Views and Ideas from Friedrich Schlegel’s Poetics^, Karl Konrad Polheim discusses Schlegel's postulation of the arabesque in art. He writes, Einmal ist die Arabeske Beiwerk, verzierender Schnorkel oder Abschweifung... Zum andemmal ist die Arabeske Selbstzweck, und so findet man sie vor allem im orientalischen Ornament und in der modemen abstrakten Malerei."^ ■*' I am referring to the fact that arabesque is frequently associated with calligraphy. See Susanne Fusso, Designing Dead Souls: An Anatomy o f Disorder in Gogol', page 114 and Frazier, page 2. Karl Konrad Polheim, Die Arabeske: Ansichten und Ideen aus Friedrich Schlegels Poetik 12. "On the one hand the arabesque is an accessory, a decorated flourish or 23 The artistic arabesque is described here as an "accessory, a decorative flourish, a digression, an end in itself." In a later passage Polheim notes that early German definitions of the artistic arabesque (from Lexicon Architectonicim, 1744) exclude depictions of persons and animal figures."*^ In order to comprehend Gogol's understanding of the arabesque we may look to Schlegel's postulation of arabesque as a literary concept that incorporates all of the above descriptive material from the arts. Polheim writes. In der Literator ist es das von der Fabel abschweifende Beiwerk, die Digression, die geme Arabeske genannt wird. aber auch eine Einzeldichtung, wenn sie gegeniiber dem Gesamtwerk nebensachlich oder iiberfliissig erscheint."*^ In this definition, the arabesque represents a genre that is at once a literary digression [von der Fabel abschweifende Beiwerk] and a separate type of genre in itself [eine Einzeldichtung]. Therefore, in Schlegel's thought, the arabesque is to be unlike any other genre for it is to be one genre which is yet all genres, both part and whole. Polheim has identified four theoretical groups of meanings for the arabesque, as well digression... On the other hand, the arabesque is an end in itself, and as such one finds it mainly in oriental ornament and in modem abstract paintings." Polheim, 17. "In der bildenden Kunst war das Wort Arabeske durchaus verbreitet: 'Arabesques’: Blumen-Ztige sind allerhand erdichtetes Laub- und Blumen-Werk, dergleichen die Araber zur Zierde zu machen pfiegten, da sie sonst keine Bilder der Tiere und Menschen malen durften." [In art the word arabesque was common: Arabesques (flowery ornaments): consist of all kinds of leafy and flowery arrangements, which the Arabs used to produce for decoration since they were not allowed to paint pictures of animals and humans.] Polheim, 12. "In literature it is that which is a digressive accessory from the plot, a digression, which is preferably termed arabesque, but it is also a separate poetic work of fiction, when it [the title arabesque] appears unimportant or superfluous to the whole work." 24 as a fifth group that is both independent of the others and necessarily a part of them. The fifth group defines the term as it will be examined here: Die Arabeske als eine Geisteshaltung oder Formmdglichkeit, als eine Struktur im weitesten Sinn, welche auf das hochste und letzte Ziel, die imendliche Fiille in der unendlichen Einheit, gerichtet ist und den im menschlichen Bereich noch zu erahnenden Ausdmck dafur verkdrpert."*’ In this Romantic notion, the arabesque is not only a specific genre, but it represents a very specific epistemology as well. In the arabesque. Schlegel discerns the harmony in the chaotic world, without reducing that chaos to a sterile order. As Frazier states, "This is the genre which endlessly creates as it names."■** To exemplify his genre theories Schlegel prepared a "Werkplan" for each: notes and sketches that would later become paradigmatic literary works in the particular genre. A "Werkplan" does exist for the arabesque f"Zu den Arabesken"). but no completed literary work. Since Schlegel considered the "fantastische Fiille und Leichtigkeit" [fantastic abundance and ease] of Ludwig Tieck’s works the most wonderful aspect of that writer's arabesques, and since he believed literary works, especially prose, to be capable of a greater "Mannigfaltigkeit" than the other arts, we Polheim, 24. Fie writes, "The Arabesque as a spiritual attitude or a possibility of form, as a structure in the broadest sense, which is directed towards the highest and final aim: infinite abundance in infinite unity and which incarnates the yet to be anticipated expression in the human sphere." Frazier, 13. may expect from the literary arabesque as near equivalent as is possible of the Pompeiian architectural examples Gogol admired and wrote about/^ Because Gogol's title stands above all of the works in the collection, it also points to Polheim's second definition of the arabesque, namely that Gogol intended his arabesque to be perceived as a separate genre in itself. In a footnote to the above quoted passage Polheim offers many literary examples of the use of this genre, including Gogol's.^® Gogol was undoubtedly aware of other authors who were writing arabesques. Consider, for example, the German authors Karl Leberecht Immermann, who dubbed his collection Munchhausen a "Geschichte in Arabesken" ["A Story in Arabesques"], and Franz Blei, who subtitled his Bestraften Wollustling [The PunishedSex- Obsessor] "Eine Arabeske" ["An Arabesque"], and the American author Edgar Allan The influence of German Romanticism, for example the writings of Tieck, Hoffman, and Schelling, on Gogol's early works is a scholarly commonplace. I point to Gippius' Gogol', one of the earliest such discussions. Polheim's footnote reads, "Und ahnliches ist oft gemeint, wenn epische (auch lyrische) Autoren ihre Werke Arabesken betiteln, wie Bechstein oder Putlitz. Freilich konnen auch andere Momente vorherrschen, so bei Poe und wohl auch bei Gogol (Bezug auf das Groteske und Grausige), wie denn der Xitel oder Untertitel Arabeske gerade durch seine Elastizitat so schwer zu fassen ist." [And often one means similar things when epic or lyric authors such as Bechstein or Putlitz entitle their works arabesques. Of course other moments can also dominate such as in Poe's works and perhaps also in Gogol's (reference to the Grotesque and Horror), since in the title or subtitle arabesque is so difficult to comprehend due to its elasticity.] 26 Poe who published his collection Tales o f the Grotesque and Arabesque in 1839. Not unlike Gogol's collection, Poe's collection of short stories was his first large foray into prose writing.^' It seems very likely that Gogol was also aware of the German Romantics' conception of arabesques.^” John Kopper, for example, discusses the degree to which German philosophy underlies Russian works of the 1830s in general and Gogol's in particular. He writes. In historical terms Gogol's work is a rereading—or one might say misreading—of Romanticism, as represented by Schelling. By the time Gogol began to publish, German philosophy was sweeping the Russian intelligentsia and essays in his Arabesques like 'On the Teaching of World History,' 'On Present-Day Architecture.' and 'A Few Word About Pushkin' show the kind of popular simplifications that German philosophy underwent in its reception by an educated but philosophically unrefined culture. ^ * It was mainly an attempt by Poe to make the tales more marketable to the periodicals of the time period. The stories tend to carry the same gloomy and disturbing mood of Poe's later pieces, and focus on death. There are a few exceptions though, including comedies poking fun at Gothic writers with less skill than he and a science-fiction oriented story in which a man travels to the moon in a balloon and records the trip in precise detail. Some of the most famous pieces from this collection are "Message Foimd in a Bottle," "William Wilson," and "The Fall of the House of Usher." Gogol'sArabesques was published five years earlier, in 1835. See Melissa Frazier's dissertation for a detailed analysis of Schlegel's influence on Gogol where she notes, "Gogol was not the only Russian whose works in some way responded to Schlegel's arabesque: I would mention, as does Monika Greenleaf in Pushkin and Romantic Fashion, Evgenii Onegin, and also PogoreTskii's Dvoinik Hi moi vechera v Malorossii (1828) and Odoevskii's Pestrye skazki (1833) and Russkie nochi ( 1844). The extent to which any of these writers were familiar with Schlegel is unclear." John Kopper, "The 'Thing-in-itself in Gogol's Aesthetics: A Reading of the Dikanka Stories," Essays on Gogol: Logos and the Russian World 54. 27 If, as Kopper suggests, Gogol followed German philosophy he was most certainly aware of the concept of the arabesque in German thought. In his essay "Schlozer, Müller, and Herder," for example, Gogol discusses these German philosophers as great architects of world history and reserves his highest praise for Herder, "As a poet he [Herder] is superior to Schlozer and Muller."^"* This essay supports Kopper's notion that Gogol borrowed ideas from German philosophers, most notably from Herder. In Gogol's essay, the author emphasizes the notion that Herder concentrates on the parts that make up the whole of history. Gogol writes, "With him [Herder] hegemony of the idea completely swallows up tangible forms. Everywhere he sees individuals as the representatives of the whole of humanity."^^ In the same manner. Gogol was undoubtedly aware of Herder's writings on the arabesque included in the former's seventh collection, Humanitatsbriefe [Humanity Letters. 1796]. O f the arabesque Herder writes. Es gibt mehrere Gattungen angenehmer Konversationspoesie. die ohne Reimen nichts sind. Der gesuchte, so wie der ungesuchte, der versteckte so wie der klingende Reim sind in ihnen kunstmapig geordnet. Man sollte sie Arabesken nennen: denn eben auch den Arabem gait der Reim fur ein Siegel des vollendetsten Ausdrucks.'^ Gogol,Arabesques 149 (Proffer). Gogol,. Arabesques 149 (Proffer). Johann Gottfried Herder, Sammtliche Werke. Ed. Bernhard Suphan, Vol. 18:43. Herder writes, "There are several kinds of enjoyable 'conversational poetry,' which would be nothing without rhyme. The forced as well as the imforced rhyme, the hidden as well as the sonorous rhyme are artfully arranged in them. One should call these [works] Arabesques: for even the Arabs valued the rhyme as a seal of the perfect expression." 28 Other German philosophers, writers and literary critics were interested in and writing about arabesques. Friedrich Hebbel, for example, wrote above the Prinzen von Hamburg [Prince o f Hamburg], "Und die Wucherpflanzen der Romantik haben sich nur als überflüssige Arabesken herumgeschlungen" and Gottfried Keller writes about his Narren auf Manegg [Fools o f Manegg] that "die kieine Arabeske geradezu als trivial und leer erscheinen konnte."^^ For such German Romantics as Schlegel the arabesque as an absolute and early artistic concept, "die romantische Form par excellence," represented the ideal of endless fullness in endless unity While it is useful to acknowledge Gogol's probable sources, it is more important to understand the peculiar turn that he gave this term in his own critical and literary practice. It might be argued that Gogol's appropriation of the arabesque is related to his knowledge of the musical equivalent (through Herder) or the artistic form rather than to his knowledge of Schlegel's theory. However. Gogol was interested In and often discussed possible interaction and fusion among his aesthetic categories. In "CKV.ibnrypa. >KHBonncb n viyabiKa" [Sculpture. Fainting and Music], for example, he writes, KaK cpaBHHTb Bac .Me>oy cofroio, rpn npeKpaatbie uapnubi \inpa? MyBCTBenHafl, njteHtrrejibHaa CKyjibrrrypa BHyiuaer nacia'A jenne, yKHBonncb—THXHH BOCTopr H vie'iraHne, viysbiKa - crpticrb n QiHTenne ayiun. PaccviaipnBan vjpa.viopHoe nponsBejeune acyabn- Typbi, ayx HeBOJTbHO norpyacaexcfl b ynoenne; paccviaipHBafl npo- Hebbel's text reads, "And the usurious plants of the Romantic entwined themselves only as superfluous arabesques." Keller’s text reads, "The small arabesque could almost appear as trivial and empty." For additional comments on both passages, please consult Polheim, page 21. Polheim, 15. 29 H3BeüeHHe ÿKvœonucn, oh npoepauiaerca b co3epuaHne; cibiuia viy3biKy—B 5ojie3HeHHbiH Bonjib, khk 5bi jymoo6jiajeao TO.ibKO ojHO ^cejianne BbipaTbca H3 lena.^^ In a physical as well as a philosophical sense, Gogol is intrigued by the problems of perspective and point of view, whether he is explaining the difference in the Russian and Ukrainian characters or minutely detailing his plan for teaching history and geography to children. The problems of perspective are exemplified in Gogol's disgust at contemporary city planners, who aim for a uniform appearance of buildings on the city landscape. He writes, 3 to Bce pasHO ecru obi renuft cra.i > jep>KHBaTbC}i o t opHrnHa.ibHoro h HeofibiKHOBeHHoro rioToviy TOJibKo. 'rro nepea hum fiyjy-T C.1HIUK0M yace hh3kh n HU'iroKUbi ofibiKHOBenHbie Gogol suggests very definite innovations, especially the introduction of high towers as well as borrowing from different cultures and periods in an effort at Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 22. Gogol writes, "How are you, the princesses of the world, to be compared with each other? Sensitive, captivating sculpture encourages enjoyment; painting - quiet elation and reverie; music - passion and confusion of the soul; examining a work of sculpture in marble, one's soul involuntarily sinks into a state of intoxication; examining a painting, it is converted into contemplation; hearing music - into a wailing of illness, as if the only desire gripping the soul is to tear itself fi’ee of one's body." Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 69. " It is as if a genius were to restrain himself from expressing the original and the unusual, so that ordinary people will not appear to be too small and unimportant." 30 variety. Much of what he writes in Arabesques harmonizes with his views on other aspects of art.^' Similarly, for Gogol, the best architectural structure was to "remind man of his cosmic insignificance." Gogol believes that building entire cities in a variety of architectural styles would be useful in presenting a "living history of architecture." In his essay "On Present-Day Architecture" Gogol notes that his ideal city would have a street that acts as a chronicle of architectural styles. He writes. f l ayMan, ‘ito aecbMa n e Mema.io 5bi HNierb b ropoae ojhv TaKvro y.inuy, KOTopaa 5bi B.Nieiua.ia e cefie apxHTeKTypiiyio .leToniicb. Hiofibi HaHnna.iacb ona TH»:e.ibLMn, MpaanbiMn BopoTa.Mn. npoiuejuin KOTopbie apnreJib Bnae.i obi c jByx cropon BoaBbiiuaioiiinecH BejiHMecTBenHbie 3aaHna nepBofibiTHoro anKoro Bxyca, ofiuiero nepBOnawa.ibHbLM n a p o ja \i. FIotom nocrenenHoe n3Meneiine ee b paanbie BnabL_*' This street, which would incorporate the colossal Egyptian. Greek. Alexandrian and Byzantine, Roman, Arabic, and Gothic styles of architecture, would become "HcropHfl pa3BHTna BKyca."^^ As Frazier points out, "Gogol presents architecture and the book as analogous to one another, as two types of ideal structures, two genres, two epistemological In "The Portrait," for example, one notes an insistence on integrity and the artist's calling to use his craft for the creation of an awareness in the minds of men of a higher level of being. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 82. "I thought that it wouldn't do any harm to have in a city one such street which would act as a chronicle of architecture. It should begin at one end with heavy, somber gates, passing through which an observer would see on both sides the towering majestic buildings of the original, uncultivated style which is common to all proto-nations. Then he would see the gradual change into various styles." Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 82. He writes, "the history of the development of style." 31 forms.Gogol uses one term metaphorically for another in expressing similar thoughts, for example, when he writes in "On Present-Day Architecture:" "ApxnTeKiypa—TOvKe Jieronnci \inpa: ona roBopm Torja, Koraa yAe MOjpiaT n n eaiH « npeüaHHfl n Koraa y^ce hhuto ae roBoptiT o noniSiuevi napoae."^^ Similarly Gogol equates the creation of architecture with the creation of literature, insisting that any great architect must be both TBopeu n n03T [creator, poet].^^ The seemingly very different works that comprise Arabesques, therefore, may in fact be Gogol's ideal representation of all genres. In this sense, when Gogol writes about the ideal street, which would allow the observer to encounter all styles of architecture, he also alludes to the ideal literary form, the arabesque, which would encompass all styles of literature. The following chapter discusses how the fictional stories which were published \n Arabesques, namely "Nevsky Prospect." "Portrait" and "Diary of a Madman," are not only thematically linked to each other (through the reoccurring trope of the stranger and Gogol's concentration on psychological abnormalities and progression of mental disorder and an emphasis on the illusive dividing line between reality and fantasy) but are also elements of the literary representation of Gogol's ideal genre. The remaining pieces of Gogol's ideal literary genre are represented in his non-fictional works included in the collection. ^ Frazier, 68. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 81. "Architecture is also a chronicle of the world: it speaks when songs and legends have already fallen silent and when no one any longer speaks of a perished people." Gogol,mVol.8:75. In Arabesques, artistic examples, mostly nature imagery, featuring sinuous entanglements of leaves and blossoms, are so numerous that they continuously vie for the reader's attention and have possibly obscured earlier identification of the arabesque as a formal literary design as well.^’ The following argument is based on literary considerations and correspondences that extend beyond Gogol's musical and artistic knowledge and suggest to me Schlegel's influence. We have discussed Gogol's reliance on Schlegel's theory of genre as a means to resolve the confusion of Gogol's title. In Schlegelian aesthetics the arabesque is a literary genre. In Athenaums-Fragment 116 Schlegel offers the fundamental characteristics of his ideal genre, a mixture of the novel, the letter, and the aphorism that share a particular heterogeneity and fragmentariness. He writes. Die romantische Poesie 1st eine progressive Universalposie. Ihre Bestimmung ist nich bloss. alle getrennten Gattungen der Poesie vvieder zu vereinigen und die Poesie mit der Philosophie und Rhetorik in Beriihnmg zu setzen. Sie will und soil auch Poesie und Prosa. Genialitat und Kritik, Kimstpoesie und Naturposie bald mischen, bald verschmelzen, die Poesie lebendig und gesellig und das Leben und die Gesellschaft poetisch machen, den Witz poetisieren und die Formen der Kunst mit gediegenem Bildungstoff jeder Art anflillen und sattigen und durch die Schwingimgen des Humors beseelen... Die romantische Dichtart ist noch im Werden.. Sie allein ist unendlich. wie sie allein frei ist und das als ihr erstes Gesetz anerkennt, dass die Willkiir des Dichters kein Gesetz iiber sich leide.^* See for example, Levitsky who does point to the framing function of the arabesque, namely, that the arabesque frame allowed parts of the represented world to protrude or grow beyond the confines of the painting. While he points to Gogol’s use of this in "Portrait," where moonlight is unable to be contained by the frame of the window and the portrait steps out of its frame, he does not account for the numerous other manifestations of the arabesque in Gogol’s collection. Friedrich Schlegel, Kritische Schriften 38-39. "Romantic poetry is a progressive universal poetry. Its mission is not just to reunite all the separated genres of poetry 33 Schlegel's idea of genre, as Frazier has pointed out, is differentiation or naming; it is the ordering of a way of knowing. Schlegel's "Romantic genre" is a vision of the chaotic parts that encompass the whole. Gogol's Arabesques is also a foray into the individual (chaotic) parts that encompass the whole of his collection. Gogol captures the reader's attention with his verbal artwork as well as a combination of "playfulness and seriousness" and plunges us into a social milieu that eventually exposes itself in all its weaknesses. The characters and the narrator act and react in swiftly shifting scenes that seem to be a chaotic presentation of the situation at hand, but we will find in the chaos colorful, intricately entangled literary precursors of "erlebte Rede," [colloquial speech] interior monologue and the stream of consciousness narrative technique. Therefore. Gogol's deliberate chaos is in the control of the author. Arabesque is the term Schlegel used to indicate the ideal synthesis of chaos (in human nature and in the universe as a whole) and the underlying order of the universe. "Chaos ist gleich Arabeske," [The arabesque is chaos] he wrote, and he gives us a working example of what he means in the chapter "Treue und Scherz" of Lucinde, which consists entirely of free dialogue. Whether or not Gogol had read Lucinde, he employs the same logic of image technique, that is, a flow of ideas and and to put poetry in contact with philosophy and rhetoric. It will and should also now mix poetry and prose, geniality and criticism, the poetry of art and of nature, now merge them, make poetry lively and social and make life and society poetic, poeticize wit and fill and saturate the forms of art with conservative (education materials) of all kinds and inspire them through the vibrations of humor... Romantic poetry is ever 34 perceptions that trigger and succeed each other without connective (authorial or narrationai) explanation. What might have seemed chaotic to early nineteenth century readers does have an underlying orderly framework that resembles in its control of the narrative the total concentration required of a dancer executing the arabesque turn in ballet. The logic of image flow, in Schlegelian terms, reflects with its variety one aspect of the universe, its "unendliche Fiille" [infinite abundance]; the underlying order reflects the other aspect of the universe, "unendliche Einheit" [infinite unity] - the fact that all the empirical phenomena in their infinite profusion spring from a single source and from an organic whole.^^ The formal arabesque structure ofArabesques has two configurations: the first involves a serpentine shifting of thematic materials, that is. a rapid alternation of one theme with several others. The second configuration is the one more commonly seen in Gogol's prose: again it is a shifting of thematic material but without a framework theme. This time the imagery is exotic and a fantasy world emerges from time to time within the shifting landscapes, for the material of this configuration has a spatial as well as thematic variety. The more typical Gogolian arabesque involves abrupt narrative shifts from reality to fantasy to reality to grotesque imagery to reality. The characters return to reality after each imaginative shifting of perspective, thus creating the serpentine textual line that is characteristic of the arabesque in art. developing:.. It alone is infinite as it alone is free and recognizes as its first law that the arbitrariness of the poet tolerates no law above him." 35 In the process of this revelation Gogol comes as close as any Romantic writer to dramatizing the endless diversity Friedrich Schlegel expected in a work of the imagination. 1.4 Gogol's Plan for Arabesques We now turn to an examination of the ways in which Gogol manipulates the arabesque in an attempt to reveal to his audience that thread which binds together the works in Arabesques. While the source of Gogol's knowledge of the arabesque has yet to be identified, one can turn to his notebooks and the scribbling he did while writing Arabesques in order to ascertain his particular understanding of the term. Albert Gayet provides the most comprehensive general definition of arabesque, and therefore, the one that will be adapted for purposes of this argument. He states, "the arabesque is assigned a purely decorative function that differed fundamentally from the iconographie tradition of Western representational art and that it [the arabesque] is generally classified in terms of its geometric, vegetal and calligraphic variants. That Gogol intended to represent specifically these three variants is apparent from his scribbling and drawings contained alongside his plan for the table of contents of Arabesques. (See Appendix A, "JlucT c pucynKa.vin Foro.iH n nJianoM Hans Eichner, Friedrich Schlegel 69. Gayet, 64. 36 ApaSecoK.")’’ Here the geometric appears in the form of various building structures, presumably of Greek origin (FpeKH), the vegetal is expressed in his drawing of a tree (top left) and the calligraphic variants are obviously scattered throughout the drawings, sometimes standing alone, other times included within the space of the geometric drawings. One aspect of the arabesque art forms, which must surely have attracted Gogol, is their point of origin, in a very special sense. Gogol's intention to represent different variants is clearly expressed in the following sentence that runs into the drawing of one of the structures: " Hpoiuy BapnanTh cero poja" [Include variants of all sorts/types]. While Vasily Gippus interprets Gogol's intended order for ÀpaôecKiL he does not comment on the other items. One of Gogol's most interesting exercises in calligraphy is included among his scribblings. The word E.iapa, (Blara). the only one to be repeated, is the largest word on the page. When read from right to left, this word, apa(.i)a {ara(l)b), may in fact be a palindrome of "Bsiapa" the beginning of the word ,Apct5ecKn {Arabesques)J~ In this plan, Gogol implies that his artistic creation is the combination of varied elements; the artist fuses preexistent shapes, ideas, qualities. "List and Gogol's drawings and plan ïor Arabesques." This drawing is included in Gippus' book on Gogol, but neither he nor anyone else has provided commentary on it. 1 would point out that it is does not seem out of the question that Gogol would have intended this to have been read from right to left since Arabic, the language of arabesques, is read this way. Similarly, a number of commentators, including Peace, have pointed out that in "Diary of a Madman," Gogol's phrase "King of Spain" (HcnaHHfl) is a jumbled version of "King of Writing" (flucaHUfl). In a similar fashion, the key to one of Gogol's later short story "Nos" (Nose), according to Ermakov, is actually found when the title is read in reverse, rendering "Son" (Dream). Simon 37 into whatever new harmonious arrangements of them he can devise, bringing the heterogeneous materials and sensations together into a unified whole to demonstrate their essential inclination toward combination; in doing so, he reveals, at least partially, the hidden unity of all the works by combining elements hitherto not found combined. What can one make of Gogol's intended order for Arabesques? The table of contents of Arabesques consists of a strange mixture of various works of different genres, with no discernible pattern. The order of the works is as follows: (Part One) ripejncioBue; CKyjibnrypa, /KtiBonncb n \1y 3wKa; O qiejunx Bexax; r.iaaa n3 ncropnaecKoro po\iaua; 0 npenoaaBaunn eceofiiuen ncTopun; flopTper; Bsjiai ua cocraBJieune Maiiopocoin; HecKo.ibKO cioB o riyLUKnne; 0 6 apxnTepKxype HbineiiiHoro Bpe\ieun: A.TiVlaMyH."^ (Part Two) /fCn3Hb; LLIjteuep, MmtJiep h Fepaep; Hcbckhh npocneKx; 0 viajiopoccenricKn.\ neaiax; Mbicxn 0 reorpa({)Hn; riociejHnn xeub llo.vinen: rijxenunK; 0 XBHvKeHiui napcjoB b kohuc V seica; danncicn cyMauieamero.* '■ Karlinsky also comments on Gogol's initial intention to deliberately motivate the absurdities, incongruities, and deliberate illogicality of the story "Nos" by presenting it as the hero's bad dream. Karlinsky writes, "The Russian title of the original draft was 'Son' ('Dream'). In the final version, the dream framework was omitted, and the original title was changed to read backward, producing 'Nos' (Nose)." Karlinsky, The Sexual Labyrinth o f Nikolai Gogol 123. Preface; Sculpture, Painting and Music; On the Middle Ages; A Chapter from a Historical Novel; On the Teaching of World History; The Portrait; A Glance at the Composition of Little Russia; A Few Words about Pushkin; On Present-Day Architecture; Al-Mamun. Life; Schlozer, Müller and Herder; Nevsky Prospect; The Songs of the Ukraine; Thoughts on Geography; The Last Day of Pompei; The Captive (excerpt from a 38 While there does not seem to be any discernible pattern to Gogol's Arabesques, the preface to the collection, as well as the contents of the collection, point to Gogol's desire to be taken seriously in all genres. His collection of eighteen different works includes ten historical essays, five essays on art and literature and three major works of fiction. It does not seem all that unusual that Gogol places so much emphasis on the specific genre of the historical essay. During the early 1800s an interest in history was almost the rule rather than the exception among the best writers of fiction and poetry. In Russia, the new genre of the historical novel was almost entirely indebted to Walter Scott who found numerous imitators. Maguire reminds us that Pushkin, for example, commended the most famous Russian historical novel of the time, Mikhail Zagoskin's Y'uri Miloslavskii ( 1829), by noting that "the novelistic event fits smoothly into the very broad framework of the historical event."^^ Pushkin himself had drawn heavily from history for a number of his works such as Boris Godunov, "Poltava", "The Bronze Horseman" and The Captain's Daughter. In addition to Zagoskin's novel, there were plenty other historical novels circulating in Russia during the first half of the nineteenth century.^® Historical Novel); On the Movements of Peoples at the End of the Fifth Century; The Diary of a Madman, Maguire, 266. Yuri Miloslavskii, a novel about the adventures of a young duke and his fiiend, a Ukrainian Cossack, as a huge success. Consider, for example, Ivan Lazhechnikov's The Last Novice ( 1831 -33) and The Ice Palace (1835); K. Masalskii's The Musketeers', Fadeei Bulgarin's Dimitri the Pretender (1830) and Nikolai Polevoi's An Oath by the Holy Sepulchre (1832). 39 From the beginning of his literary career Gogol had shown interest in historical events. In 1829 "Hanz Kuechelgarten," a versified "idyll in pictures," appeared, followed by a historical novel The Hetman (1830-1832).'’ During this time he also composed the highly successful collection of stories Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka (1832), many of which included historical figures. Maguire speculates that Gogol took to writing historical essays because it was in keeping with "the fashion of the times."’* The Ukraine was already in vogue and had already attracted the attention of historians and Russian writers such as Pushkin.’^ Arabesques is also indicative of other contemporary writings, the nineteenth century Russian Almanac. Similar to Gogol's collection, almanacs were also collections of seemingly random works of various genres, side by side under one title. There were a vast variety of Almanacs published between 1829 and 1835. some of which Gogol undoubtedly read.*° By emulating the almanacs of the day. Gogol was ” Fragments of this "Walter Scott" type historical novel have survived under different titles, one of which was included in Arabesques. ’* Maguire, 269. Another reason Gogol may have included historical essays in his collection is as proof to his audience that he could write well in different genres. (By 1835 he was already well-known for his Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka.) Pushkin's poem "Poltava" (1829) is set in the Ukraine. In addition, Pushkin's letters document that during 1830-31 he read many books on the history of the Ukraine in anticipation of publishing his own work on the history of the Ukraine. Unfortimately, what remains of his intentions are only outlines of possible topics and a precis. See Pushkin, "Ocherk" 138-42. I am referring to the following almanacs which were published between 1829 and 1835: SuMuepja ajib\taHæc ua 1829 rojr, BnenoK rpauiiu aM.vfam.\ Ha 1829 rojr, Tc&pefi: aM.\taHa.x na 1829 roj, Jlenmma: aM.\taim.x aa 1830 rojr, Pajyra: jimrepaTypHMff u wyauKajibHMft ajibxtaHax aa 1830 rojr, CntxoTRopeana TpHJiyaaaro: ajn>Maaa.x aa 1830 rojr, UapcKoe cejio ajn>.\iaaax aa 1830 roj, Tearpaimami aju>.\iaaax aa 1830 rojr, VapamacHfi aabMaaax (1830 and 1831); 40 able to show his talent as a non-fiction writer. While his preface contains some very derogatory remarks about his own works, it ends with the hope that, "two or three valid ideas can make up for the imperfection of the whole."*' Gogol's misgivings about how the works in his collection would be received, however, were justified. The critics devoted considerable attention to his fiction and passed over all the essays in virtual silence. This fact may account for the reason Gogol himself seemed to abandon writing about history after the publication of his prosaic fictional writing, Taras Bulba and his collection of works with strong emphasis on the historical essay (1835). The order of the works, or the way of knowing in Gogol's collection, is obscured specifically because that is what Gogol intended. By imposing a random order upon his collection. Gogol forces the reader to pay more attention to the titles of the various works. Nevertheless, the artist/creator of Arabesques who stands outside of the work provides us with names and clues to his text. If combination is the nature and function of art, then Gogol undoubtedly thought that the arabesque designs being discussed in his own day provided an admirable and obvious demonstration of his aesthetic theory, and it is little wonder that he gave the name Arabesques to his own collection. QipomajiimepaTypHbifi aMManax aa 1831 roj, 3apn: ajbmHax jjia lOHOUiecTBa (1831); UifHTHn: aM.maax aa 1832 roj, Qteæpaoe: aiaaue ajmmaax aa 1831 rojT, Ejanao.M: aM Maaax aa 1832 rojiand flojapoK dnejauM: a.miaaax aa 1834 roj. 41 1.5 "Portrait": Framing the Arabesque Gogol’s interest in art and defining the persona of the artist (a possible self definition) is present in "Portrait" as well as in many other essays included in Arabesques. In "Sculpture, Painting and Music," the very first essay of this collection, written in 1834, for example, he extols the beauties of the "three wonderful sisters." According to Gogol, painting and music are superior to sculpture because they are able to capture that which sculptures render motionless. Gogol writes that painting and music are able to capture phenomena which no words can name ("HBJieHHfl H3 jpyroro, SearpannwHoro \inpa, nasBanna KOTopbix ner The painting he refers to here is not portraiture, but bears a strikingly resemblance to the arabesque. In fact, his description of painting seems to contain the main elements of the arabesque, namely the framing and vegetal elements. Gogol writes. Ho—CBer.iee qihh noicaji moh, b vioeû CMHpennofi Kerne, h aa aapaBCTByer >KHBonncb! BoaBbimenHafl, npeKpaaiaa, k3k ocenb. B SoraTOM CBoeM ySpancTBe MejihKaroiuaa CKB03b nepenaer OKiia. yBHToro BHHorpaaoM, cviHpenHan n o6mnpHaa, kbk BceaenHaa apxaa \ty3biKa 0 ‘ieH - Tbi npeKpaaia!*^ 81 Gogol, PSSVoX. 8: 7. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 21. He writes, "phenomena from another boundless world which no words can name." We should also note that Gogol’s interest in music is present in his fictional work "Diary of a Madman," originally titled "The Mad Musician." Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 20. "But — gleam more brightly, my glass in my peaceful cell, and long live Painting! Exalted, beautiful like autumn in its rich adornment flashing through the window’s sash, entwined with vines, as peaceful and spacious as the universe, radiant music of the eyes—how beautiful you are!" 42 Gogol seems to have associated the arabesque style in art, which was thought to create unity out of disparity, with his own doctrines of cosmological and aesthetic unity. The arabesque, therefore, usually occurs in his stories at significant moments when his heroes begin to experience intimations of unity, and begin to discern connections between things which were previously supposed to be unrelated. As I will show in the next section, "Arabesques as an .Amalgam of Styles," in those stories which deal with the arabesque, the hero experiences some disjuncture or something strange. Typically, the hero either creates an artificial environment or accidentally encounters some physical entity such as an unusual natural setting or a remarkable creature (the portrait); the room, natural phenomenon or remarkable creature, like the arabesque design, appears to unite a variety of objects or concepts from widely separated temporal and geographical points of origin into a harmonious whole. The short story "Portrait" provides an excellent example of Gogol's dependence on and manipulation of the arabesque.^"* Levitsky notes that the term "arabesque" is used to denote a number of things including the histories of painting, architecture, design, music, dance and even patterning in verbal expression. He correctly points out that all of these disciplines are addressed in Gogol’s work, but he ^ I use the 1835 Arabesques version, not Gogol's revised 1842 version. Gogol made substantial revisions to his first version. For example, he rewrote the ending, in which the demonic portrait metamorphizes into an unfamiliar landscape right in front of the spectators' eyes. Placed within the context of the 1835 collection, this ending seems appropriate as it is in keeping with Gogol's panoramic historical view. Most of Gogol's contemporaries favored the "more realistic" second version. For a more detailed discussion, see my comments to the reception of Arabesques on the following two pages of this dissertation. 43 does not provide adequate examples of Gogol’s use of the arabesque. While Levitsky does point to the framing function of the arabesque, namely, that the arabesque frame allowed parts of the represented world to protrude or grow beyond the confines of the painting and notes Gogol’s use of this in "Portrait," where moonlight is unable to be contained by the frame of the window and the portrait steps out of its frame, he does not account for the numerous other manifestations of the arabesque in Gogol’s collection. Indeed, Levitsky has missed an essential basic function of the arabesque, one that will shed new light on Gogol's story. As we have noted, as an aesthetic category, the arabesque carries a rich visual heritage. In order to understand the meaning of Gogol's title, it is imperative that we have a more comprehensive understanding of the Muslim theological opinion of the painting of living figures. The arabesque does not exist to imitate what God has created: it is geometrical, two- dimensional and shadowless. Although the Qur'an does not officially forbid painting, there is a sura from the Qur'an which later generation theologians cite in support of their condemnation of this type of art; it reads, "0 believers, wine and games of chance and statues and (divining) arrows are an abomination of Satan's handiwork: then avoid it!"®^ According to Bukhari's collection of the Hadith, Traditions o f the Prophet, the Prophet Muhammad is reported to have said that those who will be most severely punished by God on the Day of Judgment will be the painters. It reads. Whosoever makes an image of him will Allah give as a punishment the task of blowing the breath of life into it,..Those who make these Qur'an, verse 92. 44 pictures will be punished on the Day of Judgment by being told: Make alive what you have created.*^ Portraiture, in any form whatsoever, naturally came under the theological ban of pictorial representation of living beings. It is such an understanding of the arabesque that Gogol employs for his story "Portrait." Therefore, "Portrait," a story that encompasses all of the themes noted and also questions the purpose of art, is the framing story in this collection, that is, it is really an illustrated lesson on the nature and ideal function of the arabesque in the plastic arts. Critics such as Vissarion Belinskii and Stepan Shevyrev spoke favorably of "Nevsky Prospect" and "Diary of a Madman." but disapproved of "Portrait."*’ In an essay entitled "06bHCHenue ua oribflaienue no noBOjy rioavibi Toroan MepTBbie jy u n f" Belinskii discusses Gogol's re-working of the story for the 1842 publication. He writes. "Ona 5biiia iianeMaTana a 'ApaoecKax' erne a 1835 roay; ho, joii>kho obrrb, HyBcreya ee neaocraTKU. foro-ib Hejaano nepeae.ia.i ee coaceM."** In fact. Belinskii had praise only for the first part of the revised work. He writes, "flepean 'lacxb noeecru, aa ne.MHoruMu ucKvrraneHUflMu, crajia HeqxtBenenHo jiyuiue. He would have liked Gogol to concentrate only on the artist Chertkov and Rom Landau, The Arabesque 6. See also. Bukhari's Collection of the Hadith Vol. 2: 43. *’ Gogol, Arabesques 8 (Proffer). ** V. G. Belinskii's remark can be found in his article "Ob’iasnenie na ob’iasnenie po povodu poemy Gogolia "Mertvye dushi" in N. V. Gogol ’ v Russkoi Kritike, page 183. He writes, "It was published m Arabesques already in 1835; but Gogol, most likely feeling its shortcomings, not long ago reworked it completely." *’ Belinskii, 183. "The first half of the story, with a few exceptions, became incomparably better." 45 his "fall." His rather strong condemnation for Gogol's "other story line" reads, "Ho BCfl ocrajTbHafl nojioBUHa noBecrn HCBbiHoaiMO jy p u a n co cropoHbi rjiaoHOH vibicjui n CO CTopoHbi noüpo6HOcreH."^° Belinskii adds, "[E.\iy] »e ay/KHO 5biJio 5b[ npiinjieraTb lyT n crpaunicro noprpera c crpaiUHO gnjotphuihmh ÿKHBbiMii naaaviH; ae ay^Kao 5buio 5bi an pocroBUjnKa, an avKTcnoaa, an Niaororo .. Although Gogol reworked the second half of "Portrait," most likely to appease his critics, I find Belinskii's comments to be disturbing. It would be difficult to imagine Gogol's story about the artist's rightful place in society, without the added intrigue of the temptation by the demonic portrait. If we turn our attention to geometric concepts of Islamic art. we must consider the difference of status assigned to the artists. In "Portrait" there are three artists represented, Chertkov, the monk Grigory and Gogol himself. In Islamic thought the painter is condemned by religious authority, while the calligraphist (one who exercised in the service of religion) is exalted. The profession of the calligraphist was one of honor and dignity presumably because he copied the Qur'an, and his labors therefore received a religious sanction. Thomas Arnold notes, "It is thus clear that the reason for the exalted position given to calligraphy in the Muslim world was its connection with the Word of God and with the first of God's Prophets, Adam."^' Belinskii, 183. Belinskii writes, "but the whole other half of the story is unacceptably stupid [durno] both in its main idea and its details." Belinskii, 183. "[He] shouldn’t have included the horrible portrait with the horrible penetrating, life-like eyes; the usurper was not necessary, neither was the auction, nor many other things..." Thomas Arnold, Painting in Islam 2. 46 Calligraphy sometimes influenced the work of the painter, i.e. the arabesque is sometimes described as a "calligraphic art," because it suggests the flowing, rhythmic lines of the Arabic characters.^^ Gogol’s essay "Life" (1834), included in Arabesques, served as a calligraphy exercise. Gogol also seems to contrast the holy art of calligraphy with the secular art of copying in his fictional work "The Diary of a Madman." In doing so, he sets up a direct contrast between the rightful artists (those who glorify God) and the base artists (Poprishchin and later Akaki, Gogol's two famous copy clerks who live in St. Petersburg). The fact that Gogol identifies with both artists is important since he spent time in St. Petersburg as a copy clerk, yet. as a writer, he also engages in exercises of calligraphy. In Muslim law. as Arnold states, the worst sin of the painter is his attempt to identify himself with God by usurping the creative function of the Creator.*^"* The blasphemous character of his attempt is further emphasized by the use in this tradition of the actual words o f the Qur'an (v. 110) in which God describes the miraculous activity of Jesus.^' God is described as the Creator in both Christian and Muslim worlds. The Bible states, "In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters... So God created humankind in his image." Arnold, 3. Arnold, 5. Arnold, 5. See also Qu'ran 110 "thou didst breathe into it, and by my permission it became a bird." 47 (Genesis 1:1-2; 27) and the Qur'an (lix. 24) indicates: "He is God, the Creator, the Maker, the Fashioner." In "Portrait," Gogol echoes the idea that God is the Creator [artist]. Grigori, for example, claims, "In our world all is arranged by the All Powerful; but our world is dust before the Creator [Co3jaTe.7&]." Similarly, the Russian word for painter, xiiBoniiceu, is derived from "life-giving," while the Arabic word for painter mnsawwir means "forming, fashioning, giving form."^^ Paradoxically, in the Christian world a high form of praise is bestowed upon the artist in calling him a creator, while in the Muslim world this term serves to emphasize the most damning evidence of his guilt. According to Islamic religious tradition, one of the main dangers of reproducing life-like forms is the possibility of idolatry. The great danger of giving permanence to a temporary earthly form was to be avoided.*^* This danger. Arnold notes, "caused a statue or a picture to be regarded with suspicion, through apprehension of the possible influence it might exercise on the faithful by leading them astray."^ There exists a superstition in the East that an image is not different from the person it represents. In this sense, the image is a kind of double, and injury to one implies corresponding suffering to the other. The divinely inspired artist then was to deliberately rework naturalistic motifs into unreal forms that opened up artistic Arnold, 6. Arnold, 6. There are, of course, no Muslim saints in mainstream Islam. ^ Arnold, 10. 48 imagination and "plunged into linear speculations of an abstract nature." In Gogol's story, Petromikhali, by contrast, forces the devoted icon painter Grigory to produce his double on canvas. In this sense, Grigory's aesthetic creation of Petromikhali is a reenactment, on a minor scale, of the Divine creation. Yet, both Gogol and Grigory recognize that on the human scale, this is not primary but secondary creation, the inevitable result of that first act. 1.6 Arabesques as Amalgam of Styles: Architecture, Art and Literature Gogol was scarcely unique in his interest in the arabesque, but his fascination goes deeper than that of his contemporaries. Other nineteenth century writers seemed to be interested in the style because of the popular enthusiasm for the antique in general and for Pompeii in particular. For Gogol, it was something deeper. A complex worldview, oddly compatible with Gogol's own forming philosophy, was pictorially embodied in these freshly unearthed frescoes of a long-dead civilization. The arabesque appealed to Gogol for the otherness of the designs as well as their unexpected familiarity. Gogol worked over the metaphysical and cosmological theory which he then found embodied in arabesque art during a period of almost fifteen years. The essence of the theory is simple. The basic idea is that all things, however apparently diverse, were once and will again at some time in the future be Ernst Kuhnel, The Arabesque 6. I follow the well-established notion that Gogol's views as expressed in Selected Passages (1847) were in fact the same ones he had expounded upon twelve years estWex m Arabesques. See, for example Karlinsky’s The Sexual Labyrinth o f Nikolai Gogol 259. Karlinsky draws a correlation between the compositions of Arabesques and Selected Passages, noting that they both contained a hodgepodge of ideas. 49 united in a single entity, God. Gogol's theory as expressed in Selected Passages (1847) was critically denounced by many of his friends and by the literary critic Belinskii in the famous Saltzbrunn letter. Carl Proffer writes, "Among the things Gogol did to try to persuade people that he had not suddenly changed course was suggest they go back and read Arabesques. Turgenev recalls that once Gogol jumped up, got a copy of Arabesques, and started reading aloud to prove the continuity of his ideas."In "ABTopCKaa ncnoBejib" [An Author's Confession], published after Gogol's death, the author admits his possible mistakes in matters of education, serfdom, and economic relationships, but asserts that Selected Passages expresses views that were previously stated in Arabesques and contains a central core of truth and good will which his friends and contemporaries, to his great sorrow and bitterness, chose not to see. Gogol writes, H He coBpaiuajicfl c CBoero nyxH. fl men toig >Ke joporoio. flpej- vier y mchh 6bin Bcerja ojhh n t o t >xe: npejMeT y Mena omji— nvH3Hb, a He 'rro jpyroe. vKtOHb a npecneaoBa.i b ee jeHCTBnTenb- HOCTH, a He B vie'rrax Boo6panceHna, h nptimen k tomv, kto ecTb HCTO'tHHK >KH.3HH„ EcjiH B3rjiaHemb Ha viecTo H jonnatocTb KaK ua cpencTBO K jocTHiKeHbK) He uejiH ae.viHofi, ho ue.iti neSeaiofi, bo cnaceHbe CBoen jym n— yBnnmub, hto saxon, jannbiH .XpncroM, jan xax 5bi n a xeGa ca.vioro, xax 6bi ycrpeMnen .immho x xe5e caMOMy, saxe.M, «rroGbi aaio noxaaaxb xeSe, xax 6brrb ua CBoe.vj viecre bo Baaxofi to6ok) aojüXHOcTn.‘°^ 102 Gogol, Arabesques 9 (Proffer). Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 444; 460. "I didn't stray from my path. I went down that same road. My object has always been one and the same; life and nothing else. I pursued life in its reality, and not in dreamy imagination and I came to him who is the source of life... If you consider place and position [employment] as a means not toward all worldly achievements, but toward heavenly ones, in the saving of one's soul, then you see that the law that Christ gave was given as if for you, as if it were 50 Time and again his works document Gogol's own conception of the universal human inclination to struggle in the direction of the lost memories of Unity. Gogol's discussion of Bryullov's style of art points to Gogol's interest in the ancient arabesque designs, mosaics, reliefs and frescoes of Pompeii. Many critics called this a decadent form, and, to be sure, the ancient arabesque is a style which seems to have flourished in cities doomed to cataclysmic destruction. In her article on Edgar Allan Poe's Arabesque Patricia Smith writes. It [the ancient arabesque] is a form of art particularly suited to be practiced in the "lonesome latter years" of a civilization, for it presciently embodies the concept of destruction in its most graceful aspect. The very form of the designs, which delicately and convincingly interweave all categories of life, foretells another, richer state of being in which the apparent separation of God, Man and Nature will be seen for what it is - a temporary illusion to which fallen intellects are susceptible. The annihilation of an individual city or of a single man may be an event pleasurable as well as fearful to contemplate, inasmuch as it is the type, the image of the millennium in which all creation will be gradually annihilated, all individual identities shattered by being reunited into the one.'*’'* In this sense, the ruins of Pompeii, because they contain the prophetic arabesque, may point to intimation of eternity rather than of mortality. As we will note in the next chapter, Gogol's doomed city, St. Petersburg, plays a part in the destinies of the individuals who are the main protagonists of his fictional short stories, Poprishchin. Chertkov, and Piskarev, all of whom die. When the arabesque does occur in Gogol's writings, it is likely to render that prophecy. directed personally to you, as if in order to show you clearly how you can be in your place, in the position [employment] that you took." Patricia Smith, "Poe's Arabesque" 45. 51 The title Arabesques and descriptions of its art forms in Gogol's collection, which though unnamed are clearly arabesques and are never used casually. Even when the art forms are absent, Gogol manages to suggest the effect of the arabesque in other ways. Inevitably, the descriptions are inserted into a passage to evoke a sense of impending death and to suggest that the nature of that death is some sort of dissolution into unity. Portraits of men who are on the verge of annihilation often bear the telltale mark of the foresighted artist - the arabesque device which illuminates the true significance of the coming death and which, by its very presence, almost seems to seal the certainty of that fate. So, for example, unity is achieved at the end of "Portrait," when the portrait of Petromikhali, which Chertkov initially believed to be "some supernatural sorcery which ignores the laws of nature" and which could mediate the supernatural-natural realms by becoming real, is dissolved into a "certain unfamiliar landscape." The passage reads, TyT paccKaabiKiBLUHH ocranoBHjicH, h c iy m aie.iu, BHU.viaBUiue e\iy c nepaaBJieKae.MbiM yiacrueM, HCBOJibHo o6paTn.au r.iaaa cboh k CTpaHHO.viy noprioery n, k yanBJieFUiK) CBoe.My. .3a.\ieTHJtn, 'iro r.aaaa ero BOBce ne coxpaHB.iH to h crpaHHOH /Khbgcth, Koropaa laK nopa3HJia n.\ aiaaa.ia, yjHBJieune euie 5o.iee yBe.iH*injiocb, Koraa ‘lepibi crpaHHoro H3o6paÿKeHHH no'iTH He'iyBCiBUTejîbHO aaaajiH HOieaaTb, KaK noieaaer jbLxanne c ‘ihctoh cra.TH. Hto-to \iyTHoe ocrajiocb ua nojioTne. H Korja nojoujJiH k ae.viy SjiHvKe, to yBHüejiH KaKOH-TO He3Ha‘iaiiiHH neftsax. Tax 'rro noceTHre.nH, y ^ e yxoüfl, j o j f o neaoy.MeBa.TH: aeHCTBHrejtbHO jih ohh Buaean TaHHCTBemibiH noprper hjth o to 6buia .vie'rra h npeacraBH.Tacb MTHOBeHHo rjiasa.M, yTpy>KjeHHbLM joartLvi paccviaTpHBanHe.M craptDiHbix KapTHH.^^ 105 Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 267-268. Gogol writes, "Here the narrator stopped and the people in the audience, who had given him their undivided attention, involuntarily turned their eyes to this strange portrait and, to their surprise, noticed that its eyes had 52 This passage emphasizes both the harmonizing properties of art and its power to reverse normal conditions, to render irrelevant what we think of as natural law. This is precisely the dual power of the arabesque, which breaks down everyday categories and blurs separate entities into a unified pattern. What then relates the "Portrait" most emphatically to the arabesque in art is the action it performs. When one studies an arabesque carving, the eye naturally follows the elaborate curling fretwork, which embraces a number of diverse objects. If he is perceptive, his mind unifies the varied components of the design into an organic whole, and the original unity of all creation is suggested. The unifying motion of the arabesque design is an illusion; the work of art really remains static, although clearly capable of being extended infinitely or more commonly, returned to its beginnings. In "Portrait." however. Gogol gives us a kinetic version of arabesque art. With its ability to change to a peaceful landscape picture, Gogol shows that the essence of both the portrait and the arabesque carving is that of combination. The portrait is a physical and kinetic incarnation of the arabesque design, although it takes a rougher form than the arabesque we have already encoimtered. The story moves from the simple idea of a misguided artist to lost all of that strangely lifelike quality which had so struck them at first. And their amazement increased even more when the features of the strange picture almost imperceptibly began to disappear as does one's breath from the surface of clear steel. Only a vague outline remained on the canvas. And when they drew nearer, they saw a certain unfamiliar landscape. Thus the visitors, who were already moving off, remained puzzled for a long time: had they really seen a mysterious portrait, or was it all just a dream, momentarily appearing before their eyes, which were strained by prolonged examinations of antique pictures?" 53 the larger theme of the power of art to overturn natural order and to finally establish a more ideal kind of harmony. In "Nevsky Prospect" Piskarev innocently sets out on a more or less routine pursuit of his ideal woman only to encounter some strange, circumscribed area of land (in this case, Nevsky Avenue) which forms a natural arabesque design, and which invites the beholder to yield up his identity—and his life—in exchange for the beautiful and terrible revelation it offers. The arabesque in Gogol's works sometimes suggests something kinetic—the motion toward unity—in a static medium; symbolically, it sometimes moves in the direction of the form-obliterating spiral. The most obvious example of the kinetic movement of arabesque is found in the closing image of "Diary of a Madman," the final diary entry that closes the whole collection Arabesques: H e r , a oojibiue He n.vieio aiji lepnerb. Bo/xe! h to oh h je.iaioT co MHOK)! Ohh jTlkdt vine ua ro.ioB v .xojiojuyio boj\ ! Ohh iie BueMJiHDT, He BHJflT, He c-iyuiaioT vieHfl. Hio a cae,ia.i hm? 3a hto OHH MynaT viena? Hero .kotht ohh ot viena, oeanoro? H to \iory jaTb a H.M? HHHcro ne H.\ieio. H ne b cnjiax. a ne \iory Bbinecru Bcex .NiyK Hx, rojioBa roptrr vtoa. h Bce xpy/KHTca npejo mhoio. Cnaarre Ntena! eoshMirre Menai jafrre Mne TpofiKy fibicrpbix, khk BHX opb, KOHefi! CajHCb, moh hmiuhk , aeenH , moh KoaoKOJibHUK, B3BeHTeca, kohh, h Hectrre Mena c OToro cseTa! Jajiee. jajiee, •iTo6bi He BHjiHO 6biiio HHHero, HHHero. Boh hc 5 o KJiySnTca nepejo MHOK); 3Be3üOHKa caepK aeT BiiajiH; a e c n eceT ca c TeMHWMH aepeBbHMH h viecaue.M; arabifl TyMan crejieTca noa HoraMn; crpyna 3B6HHT B TyMHHe; C OJHOH CTOpOHbl MOpe, C jpyTOH MTaJIHH; BOH H pyccKHe H36bi BHiweKyr. üo m jih t o moh am eer saajtH? iVlaTb JTH MOH QiaHT o e p e j okho.m? MaryiuKa, cnaai TBoero fieüHoro Cbffla! ypomi aie3HHKy Ha ero SojibHyio rojroByiuKy! noGMorpH, KaK viynaT ohh ero! nptoKMH ko r p y j n gboch f ie m o r o 54 QipoTKy! e\iy Her viecra nacBere! ero roHflr! MaxyuiKa! noKajiefi 0 CBoe.M SojibHo.M jHTHTKe!.. A 3Haere jih, 'rro y a.iyKnpcKoro aea noa ca.vttiM hocom iuninKa?‘°^ Without some knowledge of Gogol's philosophy of the arabesque, it seems to me that this final passage must seem nearly incoherent — the most sense that one can make of it is that the feverish setting helps to unhinge the poor, half-crazy hero from this earthly realm.On its most profound level, the sustained nightmare of "Diary of a Madman" is not about the Spanish Inquisition and the psychological terror which its subtle engines can inflict, but about the plight of Gogol's fallen hero who has forgotten his origins, his identity, and his future, and who constructs by reason a picture of his state of being. What actually happens is clear enough; the setting is carefully calculated to bring the hero to the very brink of enlightenment, and, like Gogol, PSS V o l 3: 182-183. Gogol writes, "No, I don't have the strength to take anymore. Lord! What are they doing to me! They pour cold water on my head! They won't listen to me, they don't see me, won't hear me. What have I done to them? What are they torturing me for? What do they want from me, wretch that I am? What can I give them? I have nothing. I have no strength, I can't take their tortures, my head is burning, and everything is swirling before my eyes. Save me! Take me! Give me three horses as swift as a whirlwind! Get in, coachman; ring, my little bell; dash on, horses, and take me from this world. Further, further till 1 can't see anything, anything. The sky whirls before me; a little star twinkles in the distance; the forest rushes past with its dark trees and the moon; a gray mist stretches out beneath my feet; a chord resounds in the mist; on one side the sea, on the other Italy; there Russian cottages can be seen. Is that my house which looks blue in the distance? Is that my mother sitting by the window? Mother, save your wretched son! Shed a tear on his aching head! See how they are torturing him! Take your wretched orphan to your breast! There's nowhere for him on earth! They're persecuting him! Mother! Take pity on your sick child!... And do you know that the Bey of Algiers has a pimple right under his nose?" In his article "Arabesques. Raznye sochineniia N. Gogolia." Senkovskii, for example, writes that the volume is "... a complete mystification of science, the arts. 55 most of Gogol's heroes, when he reaches the penultimate point of knowledge he simply ceases to exist in this dream world of separation and multiplicity. He is reunited with the One as soon as he perceives that he himself is a part of all that is. While the arabesque is not specifically mentioned, it is alluded to in the final image of the simple spiral, the madman whirling about who resolves all he sees, including the universe itself, into a radical blur by means of his spin, and finally collapses ultimately into a state of nihility. If the formative motion recapitulates the motion of the cosmos toward oneness, it also recapitulates the movement which arabesque art endeavors to convey—the illusion of separate objects appearing to enter into combination through the unifying device of sinuous lines or vines. Thus, the final vision which the arabesque replicates becomes one in which unity is almost perceived, and it becomes impossible to distinguish one thing from another. Gogol would have been fascinated with the idea that the arabesque has the power to make rigid spatial boundaries dissolve, freeing the beholder from his cramped quarters in the space-time continuum. He certainly would have been attracted to the idea that arabesque paintings depict the relations between a God or hero and the objects which surround him, and that this mystical relationship is one which modem viewers, having lost the theological key, can only appreciate dimly. Finally, Gogol was always fascinated by the narrative problem of limited points of view, and he must, 1 think, have been extremely interested in the many critics who sense and the Russian language! ... Here it's necessary to bring in the Sphinx, so that he could explain to you this logographic chaos." (See 23 and 25.) 56 disliked the arabesque, and who thought of the designs as immoral or as the work of madmen. It comes as no surprise that Gogol's visionary heroes, those little men who experience the arabesque, often seem mad. 1.7 Conclusions In this chapter I have outlined the fundamental concepts of the arabesque in music, art, painting, architecture and literature in order to show how and to what end Gogol manipulates this term for his collection. We have noted that for Gogol the arabesque represents both a particular genre, one which would ideally represent the infinite fulfillment of an endless unity of genres, as well as a specific worldview. Gogol's future texts continue to be marked with fragmentariness and heterogeneity as he continues to push at the margins of genres in his attempt to better convey a worldview he later claimed did not change throughout his life.'”* The following chapter discusses the non-fictional works in Arabesques in relation to Gogol's experimentation with identity in order to show that Gogol's anxiety over genre is linked to his anxiety over self and his position as a "misfit" in the conventional Petersburg order. In the third chapter I will examine the rhetorical device of the stranger, the unfortunate hero who remains a disparate part of St. Petersburg society, formulating a set of parameters which will outline the importance of this device in the construction of the fictional works in Arabesques. I offer as examples Bu6paHHbie Mecra fu nepemicKH c jpyjbm uf and the "poema" M eprsue j y u i n 57 Bibliography Chapter One: Arabesques: From Paris To Wholes Arnold, Thomas Walker. Painting in Islam. Oxford; Clarendon Press, 1928. Belinskii, V. G. '‘Ob’iasnenie na ob’iasnenie po povodu poemy Gogolia 'Mertvye dushi.'” iV. V. Gogol ’ v russkoi kritike. Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo detskoi literatury, 1953. Bukhari. Hadith. Vol. II. Dimashq: A.'A. al-R. al-Mu'allimi, 1994. Bulgarin, F.V. "Arabeski. Raznye sochineniia N. Gogolia." Russkaia kriticheskaia literatura o proirvedeniiakh N. V. Gogolia. Ed. V. Zelinskii. Moscow: Tip. 1. A. Balandina, 1900. Dahl, Curtis. "Recreators of Pompeii." Archeology 9 (1956): 183. Eichner, Hans. Friedrich S c h le g e l. Twayne Publisher. Inc., 1970. Frazier, Melissa. Frames of the Imagination: .Arabeski and the Romantic Question of Genre. Dissertation. University of California at Berkeley, 1995. Fusso, Susanne. Designing Dead Souls: .An Anatomy of Disorder in Gogol'. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1993. Gasparov, Boris. "Poeticheskii iazyk Pushkina." Wiener Slawisticher .Almanach Sonderband 27 ( 1992). Gayet, Albert. Ornamentalism and Orientalism. Paris: F. Vieweg, 1889. Gell, William. Pompeiana. London: M.A. Nattali, 1846. Gippius', Vasilii. Gogol': Materialy i issledovaniia. Moscow; Izdatel'stvo Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1936. Gogol, N.V. Arabesques. Ed. Carl Proffer. Ann Arbor: Ardis Publishers, 1982. — . Mertyve dushi. Moscow: V tipografii, 1855. — . "Avtorskaia ispoved'." Polnoe sobranii sochenii. Ed. N.L. Meshcheriakov. Vol. 7. Leningrad: Nauka, 1940. — . N. V. Gogol. Polnoe sobranie sochinenii. Ed. V.R. Shcherbiny. Vol. 1-8. Moscow: Pravda, 1984. 58 . Perepiska N. V. Gogolia 1820-1835. Eds. A.A. Karpov and M. N. Virolainen. Vol. 1. Moscow: Khudozhestvenaia. literatura, 1988. . Pis'ma iV. V. Gogolia 1820-1835. Eds. N.F. Bel'chikov and B.V. Tomashevskii. Vol. 10. Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1953. . Vybrannye mesta iz perepiski s druz’iami. Moscow: Russkaia kniga, 1992. Grabar, Oleg. The Formation o f Islamic Art. New Haven: Yale University Press. 1973. Greenleaf. Monika. Pushkin and Romantic Fashion. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. Herder, Johann Gottfried. Sdmmtliche Werke. Ed. Bernhard Suphan. Vol. 1-33. Berlin: Weidmann, 1877-1913. Hittorff, Jacques Ignace. "On the Arabesques of the Ancients as compared with those of Raphael and His School" in Description o f the Plates o f Fresco Decorations and Stuccoes o f Churches and Palaces in Italy. Ed. Ludwig Gruner. (London. 1844). ix- xvi. Hoffman. Ernest Theodore William. "O chudesnom v romane. Sochinenie Val’tera Skotta". Syn otechestva (1827): 50. Karlinsky, Simon. The Sexual Labyrinth of Nikolai Gogol. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1976. Kopper. John. "The 'Thing-in-itself in Gogol's Aesthetics: A Reading of the Dikanka Stories." Essays on Gogol: Logos and the Russian World. Eds. Susanne Fusso and Priscilla Meyer. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1992. Kuhnel, Ernst. The Arabesque. Trans. Richard Ettinghausen. Graz: Verlag Sammler, 1977. Landau. Rom. The Arabesque. San Francisco: American Academy of Asian Studies, 1955. Levitsky, Alexander. “Gogol’s and Neruda’s Arabesques.” Papers in Slavic Philology 6: For Henry Kucera. Ed. Andrew Mackie, Tatiana McAuIey and Cynthia Simmons. Ann Arbor: Michigan Slavic Publications, 1992. Maguire, Robert. Exploring Gogol. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. 59 Mazois, Charles Francois. Les Ruines de Pompeii. Paris: F. Didot, 1824-38. Odoevskii, Vladimir. Pestrye skazki. 1833. Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1993. — . Russkie nochi. 1844. Leningrad: Nauka, 1975. Polheim, Karl Konrad. Die Arabeske: Ansichten und Ideen aus Friedrich Schlegels Poetik. Paderbom: Verlag Ferdinand Schoningh, 1966. Pogorel'skii, Antonii. Dvoinik Hi moi vechera v Malorossii. 1828. Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo khudozhestvennoi literatury, 1960. Qur'an. Ed. Richard Bell. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. 1960. Rogers. J. M. Islamic Art & Design. London: British Museum Publications. 1983. Schlegel, Friedrich. Kritische Schriften. Ed. Wolfdietrich Rasch. Munich: Carl Hanser Verlag, 1964. Scott. Walter. "On the Supernatural in Fictitious Composition, and particularly in the Works of Ernest Theodore William Hoffman." Foreign Quarterly Review (Julv 1827). Senkovskii, O. lu. "Arabeski. Raznye sochineniia N. Gogolia." Russkaia kriticheskaia literatura. Vol. 1. Ed. Vasilii Apollonovich Zelinskii. Moscow: Tip. A. Gattsuka. 1889-1893. Smith, Patricia. "Poe's Arabesque." Poe Studies. Vol. 7. No. 1. Pullman: Washington State University Press, 1974. Stevenson, Joan Nabseth. Literary and Cultural Patterns in Gogol’s Arabeski. Dissertation. Stanford, 1984. Wensinck, A. J. "The Second Commandment." Mededeelingen der Koninklij'ke Akademie van Wetenschappen, Afdeeling Letterkunde. Vol. 59. Series A. No. 6. Amsterdam: J. Mailer, 1925. Wilkins, Henry. Suite de Vues Pittoresques des Ruines de Pompeii. Rome: [s.n.], 1819. 60 CHAPTER 2 A POWERFUL STRANGER: THE MARGINAL AUTHOR MYKOLA HOHOL A.K.A. NIKOLAI GOGOL 2.1 Introduction This chapter discusses Gogol's position in Russian literature as that of an outsider. We will note his use of the stranger trope as a possible autobiographical construction. Of particular interest will be Gogol's manipulation of the stranger (outsider) trope in order to express the view of the marginal construct who illustrates the vale of the Ukrainian regional as the non parochial perspective to the national center (Ukraine was, at this time, considered a part of the Russian Empire). Drawing from Gogol's letters and the non-fictional works in Arabesques, we will consider how Gogol, a Ukrainian writer in Russia, attempts to mediate a foreign discourse by recourse to oral and written media and multiple genres drawn from a spectrum of sources from the geographically central to the periphery and beyond and from the here and now to the distant past to the timeless. We begin this research (sections one and two) by investigating Russian and Ukrainian views of the author. Sections three and four document Gogol's personal search for a "home" in his struggle to choose a name for himself, through the various pseudonyms that he used in his attempt to form a literary identity. The remaining sections consider the effect on Gogol of his physical and temporal dislocation from 61 his beloved homeland, the Ukraine, while the conclusion discusses Gogol's psychological dislocation, as represented in the image of the tower. 2.2 The Russian Author Nikolai Gogol Hohol has remained not only a very great Russian writer, but also a prime example o f Ukrainian character... - iVfykhaito Drahomanov We must necessarily turn our attention to the complex problem of Gogol's split personality, a problem that centers on the duality of the Ukrainian who by virtue of historical-biographical circumstances became one of the greatest Russian writers. As Wasyl Hryshko points out, the Ukrainian-Russian duality made Gogol the most controversial writer in Russian literature both during his lifetime and after his death, and what his unusual heritage brought to his literary works is "traced by Russian literary critics in all of his works-from the Evenings, generally accepted as "purely Ukrainian," to the admittedly not so "purely Russian" Dead Souls''^ Many Russian scholars regard Gogol as the founder of modem Russian prose." A whole new movement in Russian literature, ForojieBCKoe nanpaBncHue, bears his name.^ The Soviet Encyclopedia calls him a Russian writer, while the * Wasyl Hryshko, "Nikolai Gogol and My ko la Hohol" 115. " See for example: V. Belinskii's O Gogole; N. Chemyshevskii's, "Ocherki gogolevskogo perioda russkoi literatury;" V. Pereverzev'sTvorchestvo Gogolia and N. Stepanov's Gogol: tvorchesky put. ^ This idea began as early as 1834 with Belinskii's writings on the "Pushkinian period of Russian literature" and the subsequent period's new leader, Gogol. The idea was made explicit in Chemyshevskii's "Essays on the Gogolian Period of Russian Literature" first published in 1855. Chemyshevskii believed Gogol to be the founder 62 Ukrainians claim him as their own. Pushkin, for example, recognized in Gogol the makings of a great artist. He praised Gogol's Dikanka stories and wrote in August 1831 that, [they] amazed me. They have a real liveliness, genuine and unforced without finickiness or stiffness. In places there is great poetry and sensitivity. All this is so unusual in our literature .[Emphasis added] It is rather ironic that part of what made this collection of stories so unusual was Gogol's rude remarks directed against Russians. In "Shponka." for example, Storchenko refers to the "damned Russians" (npOK.inTbie Kauanw) and talks about a person "lying like a son-of-a-bitch Russian" (fipeuie Kaic cv'ibi MOCKa.i). If Russian critics acknowledge Gogol's Ukrainian roots, they normally refer to the Ukrainian linguistic and thematic subject matter that he introduced into Russian literature. Boris Eikhenbaum noticed, for example, that "the use of Ukrainian offered an opportunity to lower the Russian literary style without at the same time making it coarse."^ Yet. most critics agree with Vladimir Nabokov, who in his book on Gogol, wrote, we must thank fate for his not having turned to the Ukrainian dialect as a medium of expression, because then he would have been lost. When I want a good nightmare I imagine Gogol penning in Little Russian dialect volume after volume.. Here Nabokov refers to Ukrainian as a dialect of Russian, even though it had been half a century since the Russian Imperial Academy of Sciences afforded Ukrainian of a civic trend in Russian literature, a literature that was concerned with Russian social reality. Vikenti Veresaev, Gogol v zhizni 124. ^ Boris Eikhenbaum, Iermo«/ov 135. 63 the status of "language." Nabokov, of course, is correct in pointing out that had Gogol written in Ukrainian his works may have not seen the light of day. In fact, Gogol did not have to search far for an example of a Ukrainian writer who had failed to make a name for himself. The lesson he learned from his father (Vasyl Opanasovich), who wrote verse in Ukrainian, was that that in order to be a successful writer he must seek his career in Russia.’ George Luckyj writes. In March 1827, writing to his mother (Mariya Ivanovna) and remembering his late father, Hohol declared that his memory was prompting him to test his "powers for the sake of an important and noble work; for the benefit of the country; for the happiness of its citizens...^ Russian critics did not look favorably on the anti-Russian feelings which were present in Gogol's Ukrainian stories of 1831-1835. Nikolai Polevoi. Osip Senkovskii and Faddei Bulgarin to name a few all commented on the anti-Russian sentiments found in his early works.'’ ^ Vladimir Nabokov, Nikolai Gogol 32. (This essay first appeared in Paris in 1930, was issued in book form in the US in 1944 and then printed in Novy Mir in 1987.) ’ Gogol in fact, "borrowed" material from several of his father's plays for his stories, keeping the Ukrainian themes but re-working the language. "The Fair of Sorochintsy" utilizes many of the situations of Vasilii Gogol's comedy The Simpleton. In a letter to his mother dated April 20, 1828 Gogol requests two of his father's comedies. He writes, "'There is general interest in everything Little-Russian here, and I will see whether one of them could not be presented in the theater." Gogol actually used the plays for his stories, and the plan to produce them was most likely a pretext. In addition, several epigraphs to the Dikanka stories are taken from his father's comedies. * Gogol, PSS 10: 90 and George Luckyj, The Angiiish o f Mykola Gogol 51. ^ See V. Zlinskii: Russkaia kriticheskaia literatura o proizvedeniiakh N V. Gogolia, which includes reviews by N. Polevoi, O. Senkovskii, V. Bulgarin. Among other things, Russian critics were enraged by his "unnecessary hits against Russians," who 64 Gogol appeared outside his usual Russian surroundings openly as a Ukrainian, even the "Ukrainophile" Mykola Hohol, while at the same time, he appeared to his Russian friends as the great Russian author Nikolai Gogol’.A ccording to Hryshko, the term Ukrainophile at that time in Russia was equivalent to "Ukrainian nationalist," and because of this-anti-Russian.’* Furthermore, while Gogol was writing Dead Souls, he not only isolated himself from Russia (he was living in Paris), but he surrounded himself with a circle of Ukrainian friends. Hryshko notes that besides fellow coimtryman and roommate Danilevskii, I.P. Simonovskii, a fellow classmate from Nizhin, also came to live with Gogol. Certainly, this small circle of Ukrainian friends is reminiscent of the larger Ukrainian circle of young men who gathered in Petersburg at the end of the 1820s and the beginning of the 30s.'" The precedent for writing in Russian had been firmly established when Gogol began his literary career. Russian was not only the official language of the Empire, but it was the language of the intelligentsia and of literature. In a postscript to a letter to his mother written at the end of July 1829 Gogol announces his decision to travel and his plan to write, abroad, something about the Ukraine in a foreign language)^ were frequently referred to as "cursed katsaps," even in such a neutral story as "Ivan Fedorovich Shponka and his Aunt." *° Gogol especially emphasized the wholly Russian character of Dead Souls, and having evidently attached to this fact a special importance for his future as a Russian writer he notes in a letter to V. Zhukovskii, "The whole of Russia will appear in it! It will be the first decent thing I have written, a thing which will make my name famous." (N. V. Gogol: PSS Vol. 11: 77.) " Hryshko, 120. *^ V. Shenrok, Materialy dlia biografii Gogolia. Vol. 3: 149-150. A. Bely suspects that by foreign language Gogol meant Russian. 65 Gogol's first successful literary publication, "Evenings on the Farm at Dikanka" (1831), was written in Russian, but it contained a short Ukrainian glossary. There were certainly Ukrainian writers writing in Ukrainian at the beginning of the nineteenth century. One recalls the Ukrainian poet, Taras Shevchenko, who not only called Gogol his friend and brother, but also addressed a poem to Gogol in 1844. The poem, which is reminiscent of Gogol's literary tendency of "laughter through tears," concludes with the words, "Let us. then, laugh and cry."'"* Ultimately this credo would be immortalized on Gogol's tombstone as the biblical verse. "Through my bitter word I shall laugh."Gogol's later views of Ukrainian literature are recorded in the following conversation about Shevchenko he had in 1851 with his Ukrainian friends Bodianskii and Danilevskii: ro ro iib na 3T0T B onpoc c ce K v v u y npoMOJiMa.i n n a x o x jiu .icfl. Ha nac n3-3a kohtopkm aiosa nocvioipe.i ocropoAHbiM ancr. 'R’aK Bbi ero naxoame?' noBTopna BoaHHCKnfi. '.Xopomo, >rro h roBopnrb.' orBern.i Forom: - 'To.ibKO ne oGuabieO), a p y r Motu bei - ero noK.ioHHHK, a ero a tr a ia a cyjbSa aocroHHa BCHKcro ynacrHH n coxaaeHUfL.' 'Ho 3a‘ieM Bbi npHMeujUBaere cioaa am ayto cyabôy?' c HeyaoBo.ib- cTBHe.M Boapaatm BoaaiiCKHfi - 'oto nocropoHnee- CKa/Ktiie o TajiaHTe, o ero næanu-' T. Shevchenko, "Hoholiu." Povne zibrannia tvoriv u shesty tomakh. Vol. 1: 257. Much later these words were obliterated by the new rulers of Russia, who inscribed the monument with the words, "To the great Russian master of the word, Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol-from the government of the Soviet Union." (See Luckyj, 102.) 66 'üerTK) MHoro,' - Herpo.viKO, ho npHMO nporoBopHjr roTOJTb - 'h jaÿKe npn6aBJTiG, aem o Goabuie, ‘le.vi ca.viofi no 33nn. Ha.M-TO c BaviH, KaK NiajiGpoccaM, 3to, novKajiyfi, h npuflTHo, ho ne y Bcex HOCtI, KaK HaUIH. üa H H3bIK_' Bomhckhh He BbijepÿKa3 , craji Boapa^Kaib h paaropHHn.ica. forojib 0 TBe»iaji eviy chokohho. ’Ha.\i, O oin MaKai\iOBHH, najo niicaib no- pyccKn, Hajo CTpe.viHTbCH K noiuep>KKe h ynpo'iennio oanoro, BJiajbiHHoro H3biKa jjih Bcex pojubix na.M njie.vien. üo.viHuaHTOfi jjih pyccKMX, 'lexoc, vKpammcB n ccpSos jOji>KHa ubrrb eaHnan uiHibuiH - H3biK riyuiKHHa. KaKOK) HBJiaercfl eeaHrejiHe jjia Bcex xpHCTHaH, KaTOJiHKOB, ajoTepan h repuryTepoB. A bw xothto npoBanciibCKoro no3 ia yKacvieHa nocraBHTb b ypoeenb c Moabepo.vi h LLIaTo6 pnaHOM!™ Ha.M, viaaopocca.M h pyccKuvi, ny/Kna ojna H033HH, cnoKOfmafl H ciuibuaa, ocranBiiHBaBCb y kohtopkh h onupaacb na ee chhhoh, - neraeHnaa no 33na npasjbi, joGpa h Kpacom fl 3Hara h .1106.110 UIeB>reHKa, kbk 3e\!.iaKa 11 japoBHToro xyjo>KHHKa_ Ho ero nor>onjiH naiuH y\iHHKH, naTOJiKuvB ero na npoHBBCiieHUfl, lyÿKjbie ncrnHHOviy TajianTv. Ohh see eiue jo>KeBbiBaioT eBponeficKHe, jaano BbiKHHVTbie >KBaKn. PyccKHfi h \ia.iopocc - 3T0 ayuiH 5.iH3iieuoB, nonojinaiouiHe oana jpyryio, pojHbie » ojHHaKOBO Qi.ibHbie. OrjaeaTb ripejiio*iTeHne, ojhoh b yuiep 6 jpyrofi, hcboimo^kho.''® 16 Veresaev, 471-472. "Gogol remained silent for a while after the question and bristled up. His wary, stork-like figure looked at us again from behind the writing desk. 'How do you find him?' repeated Bodianskii. 'All right. What is there to say?' replied Gogol-'only don’t be offended, my friend. You are his admirer and his personal fate deserves our sympathy and commiseration.' 'Why do you drag in his personal fate?' -protested the dissatisfied Bodianskii. -'let's leave that aside. Tell us what you think o f his talent, his poetry.' 'There is a great deal o f wagon grease in it' said Gogol quietly but firmly. -'And I would add, more dross than real poetry. For us, as Little Russians, this is, perhaps, agreeable, but not everybody's nose is like ours. And the language...' Bodianskii grew impatient, began to protest and grew angry. Gogol replied to him quietly. - ’We, Osip Maksimovich, should write in Russian. One should strive to support and strengthen one dominant language for all o f us kindred races... Pushkin’s language should be the Bible for the Russians, Czechs, Ukrainians and Serbs. And you want to place the Provincial poet Jasmin [1798-1864] on the same level with Moliere. We, Little Russians and Russians, need a single strong kind of poetry... 1 know and like Shevchenko as a coimtryman of mine and a talented artist. But he was misled by our great intellectuals who suggested to him works alien to his talent. They are still chewing over the European cud that has been 67 For Gogol Ukrainian was still a peasant language and he believed that fellow Ukrainians should write in Russian, as he had. Gogol was probably aware of the fact that tlie peasant/artist Shevchenko was forced to write in Ukrainian because he lacked any primary or secondary education in Russian. Shevchenko remained virtually unknown outside the Ukraine because he did not write in Russian. It is not so surprising that Gogol calls Pushkin's language the Bible for Russians, Czechs, Ukrainians and Serbs, but what is surprising is that in support of this Gogol does not recall Pushkin's non-Russian roots. At least two of Gogol's fellow "Russian writers," Pushkin and Lermontov, also shared non-Russian roots. Luckyj identifies that to most other Russian authors, "Hohol's Ukrainian origin was not an embarrassment but rather a sign of the effective flowering of the Russian imperial culture."'^ Most Ukrainians agree with what Alexandra Efimenko wrote in 1902: The great writer was a native son of the Little Russian, and an adopted son of the Great Russian narodnost. To his adopted mother he gave everything: his great talent, his life, his heart's blood. But nothing can destroy the fact that his life and talent he did not receive from her, but from his mother.'* It is precisely this aspect that we must explore, Gogol's marginal status within the Russian Empire and how he chose to represent himself to the people of that Empire. discarded. A Russian and a Little Russian-these are twin souls complementing one another and equally strong. To give preference to one to the detriment of the other is impossible.'" Luckyj, 8. '* A. Efimenko, "Natsional'naia dvoistvennost v tvorchestve Gogolia." Vestnik Evropy. No. 7: 243. 68 2.3 The Ukrainian Mykola Hohol But we have grown up in an empire and were conditioned by the empire which bears alienated human beings. We don’t have a mother, who protects and cares, but a step-mother who requires servants. - Evhen Sverstiuk (1993) Most Ukrainian writers regarded Gogol as their own, yet most likely did not object to him writing in Russian. Luckyj writes about Mykola Petrov, who in his work Sketches in the History o f Ukrainian Literature in the Nineteenth Century (1884), considered Gogol to be a Ukrainian writer whose "mission it was to bring deep concord between the two peoples, bound materially and spiritually, but separated by old perplexities and a lack of mutual appreciation."''^ The Russian writer and literary critic Andrei Siniavskii discussed Gogol's split personality in terms of Ukrainian-Russian relations. He writes. Not without reason a foreigner (nnopcjeu) is able, at times, to express better the consciousness of the stepmother nation with whom he has become sufficiently familiar to be her lawful child, yet not sufficiently knitted to her to lose the foreign, outlying (oxpaHiiHbifi) look. So, Gogol, having strolled along the Nevsky, so boring to everyone, saw it for the first time from the periphery, from the crossroads of Ukraine and Nevsky, at which he has just arrived, and has observed it more vigilantly and with greater estrangement than anyone living in the capital could have done...“° [Emphasis added] M, Petrov, Ocherki istorii ukrainskoi literatury XIXstoletiia 203. It is interesting that this work was published in Russian as publishing in Ukrainian at that time was banned. For more information see Luckyj, 10. Andrei Siniavskii, V teni Gogolia 437,439. 69 While early on Gogol chose to depict himself as a marginal figure, a stranger from the outside, and by doing so, called upon Ukrainian folk images from his own nation in order to add depth to his writings. During the early nineteenth century many authors came to the capital firom various provinces and were therefore able to perceive the capital in a different manner from those who actually grew up in St. Petersburg, to refresh a literature that otherwise would grow stale."' Although Gogol's search for his rightful place in Russian society was most likely a personal one, many Ukrainians praised Gogol for his role in the quest for Ukrainian national identity. The leader of the first Ukrainian government in 1918, Mykhailo Hrushevsky, for example, vvTote, "[Gogol] showered old Ukraine with flowers and her grave with the scent of poetry, without suspecting her impending resurrection."^" It is interesting that many letters which Gogol wrote to his Ukrainian friend Maksimovich during the time he was writing Arabesques in Petersburg and especially longing for the Ukraine were considered too harsh to be included in the Kulish edition of Gogol’s letters.^ Panteleimon Kulish was Gogol's first biographer. From 1852-54 ■’ Konstantin Batiushkov (1787-1855) for example, came from Vologda in northeastern Russia; Vasili Zhukovskii (1783-1852) from the village of Mishenskoe in the Tula province; Fiodor Tiutchev (1803-73) from a small family estate (Ovstug) about 200 miles firom Moscow; Ivan Goncharov (1812-91) from the Volga region of Simbirsk; Mikhail Lermontov (1814-41), who was actually bom in Moscow, but after his mother died (Lermontov was 3 years old), moved with his grandmother to her estate in Central Russia; and Nikolai Leskov (1831-95) grew up at Gorokhovo, near Orel. ^ M. FIrushevsky, "Yubiley Mykoly Hoholia." Literaturno-naukovii visnyk 608. ^ See, for example comments in Kievskaia starina. Vol. 78, No. 9 (1902): 116-118. 70 he published his Notes for the Biography o f Nikolai Gogol, a collection of the latter’s letters and documents. In 1853 Kulish proposed to Nekrasov to publish a biography of Gogol in Russian. The biography was announced in CoBpe.MeitHiiK [The Contemporary] early in 1854. Although Kulish had reservations about Nekrasov's leftism, they proceeded with the project. It is rather interesting that Kulish, a fellow Ukrainian, chose to omit Gogol's rude statements about Russians. There are two possible reasons. Most likely Kulish did this because he believed in the idea of a common-Rus' (o6uiepyccKHfi) heritage for both Ukrainian and Russian literature. This idea was borrowed from an older, well-established Russian notion that all Slavs should acknowledge Russian supremacy.""* In one of the omitted letters to Maksimovich in July of 1833, for example, Gogol writes, "Turn your back on Katsapiia and go to Hetmanshchnya."'^ In this letter he degrades Russia by using its Ukrainian name "Katsapiia" (land of the long-bearded goats) and glorifies the Ukraine by its historical name Hetmanshchina. (the Hetman Domain, a name from the time before the Ukraine lost its autonomy in 1783).“^ Similarly, in a letter dated December 20, 1833, Gogol advances a non-Russian view of Kiev, the capital of the Ukraine, as he denies any Russian claim to it. He writes to Maksimovich, More recent Ukrainian scholars have posited the idea of "obshcherusskost" as a shield for Imperial domination. See for example, Luckyj's chapter "Common- Russianness versus Ukrainianness" in The Anguish o f Mykola HohoP, pages 12-15. J" Gogol, Vol. 10:273. Hryshko, 128. Luckyj writes that when in 1783 serfdom was introduced to Ukraine, the Cossack regiments, which were the administrative backbone of the Hetmanate, were abolished. (See Luckyj, 31.) 71 T yja, TVüa! b K nee! b jpeB H ufi, b npefcpacHbiH K h c b ! Oh nam, oh ne Hx, ne npaBüa? TaM nan Boxpyr nero jeaaHCb jeaa crapiinbi Hauieft.^^ The Russian view of Kiev was very different. Because the Russian Imperial drive was fed by the desire to occupy the fertile Ukraine as well as the desire to seek cultural contacts with the west and the south, most Russians claimed Kiev as their own. There was deep conviction in most Russian hearts that the Ukraine belonged to Russia. To Russians, Kiev is the "mother of Russian cities" (viaib ropcaoB pyccKHX). The prevailing Russian opinion is that Rus' is Russia.'* Gogol's friend Kulish was one of the first to claim Kievan Rus' as the cradle of the Ukraine. Gogol also wrote about the romantic steppe where the Cossacks and the Tatar horsemen roamed, through which Taras Bulba and his two sons rode to the Sech to join the free Zaporozhian host. In one of Gogol's essays included in Arabesques, "A View of the Gogol, PSS Vol. 10: 288. "Go there, go there! To Kiev, to ancient, beautiful Kiev! It is ours, not theirs, isn’t that so?... It was there or near there that the great deeds of our past took place." ■* Most likely, Gogol's ideas concerning Rus' and Russia changed during his lifetime. Pushkin's death helped to strengthen Gogol's resolve to continue with Dead Souls and his belief in Russia. In letters to Pletnev (March 16, 1833) and Pogodin (March 30) Gogol writes, "you may think that I do not love our vast native Russian land... But I will not write a single line about foreign lands. I am homeless, tossed about by the waves, and I can only find an anchor of pride, which higher forces placed in my breast-to place my head in my native land." (Veresaev, 207.) The famous ending of Dead Souls with the Russian troika also points to Gogol's changed insight into the nature of Rus'. The line reads, "Whither art thou soaring away, then, Rus'?" For Gogol, as well as for his readers, Rus' was now synonymous with Russia. The same year Gogol published Dead Soids (1842), the revised version of Taras Bulba was published. In the second version of Taras Bulba, Gogol's Cossack epic is turned into an attempt to fuse Ukrainian and Russian history. As Carl Proffer notes, in the new version Gogol replaces Rus' with Russia and "all references to Ukraine as an area distinct firom Russia" were removed. See also I. Zolotussky, Gogol 324-30. 72 Composition of Little Russia" (1832), Gogol again advances a nationalistic view of Kiev as he discusses the influence of Kievan Rus’ on the Ukraine and on Russia. 2.4 What's in a Name? Nikolai Gagol-Yanovski's Legacy The tension of Gogol’s personal quest to make a name for himself as a Russian writer and to preserve his Ukrainian heritage is most apparent in his earlier writings. We begin this search for Gogol's identity where Gogol undoubtedly began, with the dubious nature of his personal identity, his family name. Nikolai Yanovski- Gogol's own name combined Yanovski. a rather common name with a Polish flavor, and Gogol, a name suggesting Cossack origin, unusual and expressive, with a slight comical connotation.^^ Gogol ultimately chose to eliminate Yanovski from his name, in favor of the more exotic Gogol. Tapac By.ibôa [Taras Bulba, 1834], Gogol's first major effort in historical fiction, is an attempt to deal with his past as a romanticist historian. In this novel Gogol attempts to document the turbulent history of his native country through the eyes of his fictitious protagonist, the colorful Cossack Taras Bulba. Leon Stilman has shown that Gogol borrowed details for his fictional account from an historical The word xo.xojib [hohol'/Gogol'j in Ukranian and Russian is onomatopoeic, in that is the sound that one makes when laughing. Gogol uses a related word in this sense in the following passage from his short story "Nevsky Prospect:" "oHa GbiJia KaKOio-TO VvKacHOK) BOjieio aüCKoro jyxa, iKaiKayuiero paapyuinTb rapMOHHK) ÎKH3HH, frpouicHa c xoxoTO.M B ero nyHHHy" [she had been thrown into the abyss by the terrible will of some laughing spirit from hell, who thirsted for the destruction of the harmony of life.] In addition, it is a derogatory term (in Russian) for "Ukrainian." Vladimir Dal's definition includes many examples of this derogatory usage. 73 compilation known as McropHH pycoB [History of the Russians] as well as from other seventeenth century chronicles and historical documents/^ While reading through these documents, Gogol undoubtedly came across a historical character who played a prominent role among the Cossacks in the second half of seventeenth century Ukraine, the Cossack and later Hetman Ostap Gogol. Was Ostap Gogol the ancestor of Hohol the writer? Gogol's paternal grandfather, Afanasi (Opanas) Demianovich Yanovski, petitioned to add the name Gogol in 1788, three years after Catherine II issued an edict which made the right to own "inhabited estates" (i.e. serfs) an exclusive privilege of the nobility. Because Afanasi Demianovich owned such "inhabited estates," thanks to his marriage (he stated in the petition that he owned 268 serfs registered in his wife's name), he was determined to claim recognition of his noble origin. In support of his claim, Afanasi Demianovich produced a Polish document (dated December 6, 1674) which stated that the King of Poland made a grant of land to "noble Hohol," his Mogilyov colonel, as a reward for the surrender of the fortress of Mogilyov to the Poles. Although the document did not prove that Afanasi Demianovich was related to Ostap Gogol, the colonel of Mogilyov, Afanasi was acknowledged as the descendant of Ostap Gogol and was allowed to add the name Gogol to Yanovski, affording him noble status. Stilman writes. 30 Stilman, 39. 74 to say the least, it is questionable that Afanasi Yanovski was actually a descendant of Ostap Gogol, the Mogilyov colonel, even though the document he produced was genuine, as apparently it was.^' Afanasi's brother and his descendants never added Gogol to their name. By emphasizing the theme of the family name and mistaken identity in "floBecrb o TO.vi KaK noccopHJicfl PteaH HBanoBnM c Heauovi HuKU(()opoBHHeM" [The Story o f How Ivan Ivanovich Came to Quarrel with Ivan Nikiforovich,] Stilman acknowledges that Gogol may have had some knowledge of the procedure through which his grandfather obtained recognition o f his noble ancestry. Yet, one must wonder whether or not Gogol was aware that this ancestry was of a rather doubtful nature. Ultimately Gogol chose to identify himself with his hypothetical ancestor. Ostap Gogol, who lived in a period that attracted Gogol as a writer of historical romance. There is little doubt that Gogol knew the main facts of the career of Colonel and later Hetman Ostap Gogol.^" Cossack chronicles of a battle in the winter of 1655 document an account where the Poles and the Tatars besieged three Cossack colonels; one of the three Cossacks was Ostap Gogol. The Colonel Ostap Gogol, who served the Tsar, killing many Poles and Tatars during the siege of Mogilyov, is also mentioned as a supporter of the Empire in reports given by Moscow's voevodas (generals-in-chief) in 1658 and 1660.^^ However, in May 1663, the Hetman of the Ukraine (which was under Polish control), reported to the King of Poland that Stilman, 54. As previously mentioned, Gogol probably read the account of his namesake in his copy of Istoriya Rusov. Stilman, 40. 75 Colonel Gogol now intended to go over to the King's service; and a few months later, that Ostap Gogol had sworn allegiance to the King.'”* Throughout the rest of his life. Colonel Gogol was involved in the struggle of the Ukrainians to achieve independence from both of the Ukraine’s oppressors, from Poland and Muscovy. It wasn't until January 16, 1831 that the signature N. Gogol appeared for the first time on the pages of the Literary Gazette, under a piece entitled "/KenimiHa" (Woman). After anonymously penning the two volumes of the Dikanka stories (September 1831 and March 1832), Gogol began to sign his own name to his stories. Gogol-Yanovski was cumbersome and Yanovski was dropped just after the author arrived in St. Petersburg. Stilman writes. During his first year in Petersburg, Gogol did some tutoring to supplement his meager salary of government clerk. One of his pupils has the following recollection: 'The double name of our teacher. Gogol-Yanovski, embarrassed us at first; somehow we found it simpler to call him Mr. Yanovski rather than Mr. Gogol; but at once he protested against this vigorously. 'Why do you call me Yanovski?' he said. My name is Gogol, and Yanovski-that's just an addition; the Poles invented it.''^^ Stilman reminds us that Gogol is the name of a bird (the golden-eye. a member of the goose family) and that in Russian it occurs in the expression xojirrroroJie.M [khodit gogolem] (to go about like a golden-eye, that is to swagger, to be jauntily superior in manner.)^^ Stilman points to two references that Gogol made regarding his last name to establish the fact that Gogol was conscious of the Russian meaning of his name. 34 Stilman. 40. Stilman, 55. Stilman, 56. 76 The first reference is found in the concluding paragraph of Taras Bulba in which Gogol uses the name of the bird, restoring his last name to its original meaning. The passage reads, Heviajiafl peKa üaecrp, h mhofo ua hch aaBOjbeB, peaawx rycibix Ka.vibiujeH, OTMe.iefi h r.iy6oKoaonubix mcct ; ônecrtiT peaaoe 3epKajio. oraaiueHHoe bbohkhm fPianbe.vi .leGeaeA, h ropjufi rorojib obicrpo Hererra no hrm , n \morn Ky.nuKOB, KpacH03o6bix KypyxTanoB h bcbkhx hhblx nrtiu b TpocrnnKax h aa npu5pe>Kb}LX.^’ [Emphasis added] The second reference is in a letter to Zhukovski that Gogol wrote in November of 1836. It reads, -nauapana.T aa^Ke cBoe hmh pyccKHMU 5yKKiMn e lilnjibOHCKOM noaaevie.Tbe, ae nocae.i noanHcaib ero noa aByvia cnaBabiMn u.vieaaMU TBopua h nepeaoa'inKa LLiHjiboacKoro yaanKa Bnpo'ie.M aa/Ke ae obuto h Mecra. floa an\iH pacmicaaca KaxoH-TO Bypaaajea -Baioy nocaeaaefi KOJioaabi KOTopaa b rean Koraa-an5yab pyccKofi nyTeuiecTBeaaHK pa.36eper \ioe rrrnMbe h.mh ecin ae caaer aa aero aar.iHMaatai.'’* Another reason Gogol may have chosen his peculiar last name becomes evident when we take into account Vladimir Dal's second definition of the word Gogol, PBS Vol. 2: 146. "No small river is the Dniester, and along it are many inlets, many spots thickly grown with sedge many shoals and soundless pools; all aglitter is the mirror-like river, ringing with the sharp whoops of swans, and the proud golden-eye \gogo[\ swiftly wings over it, and the sandpipers, the red-breasted snipe and different other birds are many in the rushes and along its banks." Gogol, PSS Vol.8: 114. "... [I] even carved my name, in Russian letters, in the dimgeon of Chillon; I was not bold enough to sign it under the glorious names of the author and of the translator of the "Prisoner of Chillon" [Zhukovsky was Byron's Russian translator], and there was no room either: a certain Bumashov signed his name right under theirs. At the base of the last column, the one that is in the shade, one day a traveling Russian will decipher my bird's name, unless some Englishman will be sitting on it." 77 xoxojib [hohol'] in which he points to the Northern Russian BoJioroiiCKHH [Volo- godskii] region's variant with its own version of "akanie", xaxajtb [hahal']. Dal' writes, Xoxojib: BJTiL xaxajib, jiioGobhhk, jpy>KOK.^^ Xaxajib: o5ManiunK, ruiyx, HajVBajia, nptiHttMatotmie b h j nopaaoworo aeaoB6Ka/° Gogol was undoubtedly aware of this second, derogatory meaning of his chosen name. By shunning the name Yanovski, Gogol was able to capitalize on the anti-Polish feelings in Russian society (after the Polish revolution) which gained support from such prominent Russian writers as Pushkin (cf. his "To Russia's Slanderers") and at the same time, by marking himself as a Ukrainian who writes in Russian, he forged the cohesion of his Ukrainian and Russian selves, in an attempt to prove to his audience and to himself that Ukrainians and Russians are in fact one and the same. By aligning himself with the Cossacks, Gogol offers himself a personal link to romanticists' interests in the colorful history of the Cossacks. Yet. in choosing the name Gogol, the author also links himself to Dal's second definition of the word, "the deceiver, the cheat." The ways in which Gogol deceives himself and others will be elaborated upon in the following sections. Vladimir Dal'. Tolkovyi slovar'. Vol. 4. Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo, 1863-66, 580. "Hohol': [in Vologodskoi region see,] 'hahal', lover, friend." Dal, Tolkovyi slovar' 559. "Hahal': deceiver, cheat, swindler, a person who pretends to be honorable." 78 2.5 Pseudonyms: Gogol’s Literary Masks At the same time Gogol was struggling with choosing a name for himself, he was also trying to make a name for himself as an author. Pseudonyms offered Gogol the opportunity to conduct a "diagnostic exercise in self-presentation and thus to seek out the optimum point of departure for his authorial self.""*' It is not surprising that the inexperienced young author from Nizhin was not willing to reveal his identity while "testing the waters" of the St. Petersburg literary scene. During his first three years in Petersburg the world would be introduced to Gogol under several pennames. Gogol published his first printed work anonymously, a poem entitled "Italy" (1829), in the March issue of Cbm OTe'iecræ. "Hans Kuchelgarten" (1829), Gogol’s first major venture into the Petersburg literary scene (published five months after he arrived in St. Petersburg), was penned under the name "V. Alov." The reception it had was such that the yoimg Gogol quickly bought up every copy of the long narrative poem and burned them. The pseudonym "V. Alov" was obliterated together with his German Romantic hero. Gogol used three different pennames during 1830. A chapter from his tale "The Terrible Boar" was penned "P. Glechik"; "Some Thoughts on Teaching Geography to Children" was penned by" G. Yanov"; and a chapter from his historical novel The Hetman appeared under the pseudonym "oooo." Stephen Moeller-Sally postulates that the pseudonym "oooo" consists of four zeros. This interpretation Stephen Moeller-Sally. "oooo; or, The Sign of the Subject in Gogol's Petersburg." Russian Subjects: Empire, Nation and the Culture o f the Golden Age. 333. 79 contradicts a more common hypothesis based on Viktor Petrovich Gaevsky's assertion that the four "o"s represents the four "o"s found in Nikolai Gogol- Yanovsky/" Moeller writes. This solution [Gaevsky's] has the comforting advantage of simplicity and direcmess, since it locates the signature quite literally within the author's name. However, it also obscures troubling ambiguities. Why should the four round figures necessarily be letters?"*^ While Moeller advances a convincing argument, there is perhaps another explanation favoring the interpretation of the signature as four "o"s. Not only do the four o's appear in Gogol's own name, but they are also especially indicative of Gogol's nationality, his unique "Ukrainianess." Gogol's contempt for fellow Ukrainians who moved to the capital city and changed their Ukrainian names, which usually end in "-o" to the more standard Russian ending "-ov," is indicated in the following passage from one of his earlier works of the Ukrainian Dikanka collection. "The Old-time Squires." -Bcerja cocraBJiflioiiine npoTHBonojio/icHocrb tcm hubkhm viajio- pocQiHHa.vi, KOTopbie BbiiuipaioTCfl n.i aerrapeti, Torpaiuefi, HancjTHflror, kbk capam a, najiaibi n npHcvTCTBenHbie Mecra, aepv r nocieaHHDio KonefiKy c cboux tk q aevi-iHKOB, uaBomaKDT HerepGypr flSeaHtiKaMH, Ha>fcnBaHjr naKOHeu KamiTa.i n TopyKecTBeuHO npn- 5aBJiHK3T K ([laMHJiHn CBoefi, OKaHHHBaioiueficH Ha o cnor bb.^ Moeller-Sally, 325. Moeller-Sally, 325. Gogol, PSS Vol. 2: 7. Gogol writes, "...those mean Little-Russians, those upstairs-the peddlers and wood-tar boilers who, forcing their way upwards like locusts, invade courts and government offices, rob their own countrymen of their last kopeck, immdate Petersburg with pettifoggers, gain a capital at the end and gravely add the letter v to their name ending in o." 80 Yet while Gogol held these Ukrainians in contempt, he understood the importance of refashioning his literary persona to reflect a more "Russian" view. The above passage makes this double standard of his clear; at the same time Gogol felt he must pursue his career in Russia, he also expressed distaste for the capital and for fellow countrymen who were doing just that, seeking their fortunes in Petersburg. It is not surprising, however, that the young Gogol, having just arrived from the provinces and unsure of himself, would want to take the precaution of hiding his identity and, in doing so, would choose to emphasize his uniqueness, his Ukrainianness. Nabokov writes, "[Gogol] may be excused this time for anxiously peering from behind a clumsy nom de plume (V. Alov)-to see what would happen next."*^ Gogol's different literary personae afforded the author the chance to hide behind several different masks. 2.6 St. Petersburg: Painful Positions - B ca.MOM je.ie K>aa 3a6pooi.i pjccKyio ctd.ihun - Ha Kpaii cBera! CrpamihiH Hapoa pjcckhh : obina cro.inua b KneB»“ - 3aea> cihuikom rem o, Ma.io xo.ioay; nepee.xa.ia pyccxaa cro.iHua b .V1ockb > - Her, H TjT \ia.io xo.ioja: noaaBan 6or nerepGjpr.^* Gogol's initial struggle to find a sense of self is enmeshed in the linguistic web of naming; first he was forced to choose a name for himself and then, by using Nabokov, 15. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 168. He writes, "But really, where has it been flung, the Russian capital-to the very edge of the world! The Russians are a strange people: they had their capital in Kiev-it was too warm, there wasn't enough cold; the Russian 81 pseudonyms, he chose to hide behind different literary personas. Gogol's struggle to find his rightful place within Petersburg society also plays a great role in his quest to find a sense of self. Since Gogol's school days in Nezhin, he dreamed of making a life for himself in St. Petersburg. The following letter to "uncle" (second cousin) Petro Kosiarovskii a year before his move to St. Petersburg documents Gogol's love for the unknown and distant capital. Gogol writes, ü a , MO>KeT fibiTb, MHe uejibifi b6 k jo c r a H e r c a oT/KHTb b O e re p - fiypre, no Kpafinefi viepe Tajcyio uejib nanepra.i a y>Ke nBjaena. Eme c ca.\tbix epesten npouuibLX, c cavibix .ler no'iTH HenoHHviaHvia, a njra.Meneji Heyraoi.Moio peBHOcrbio cien a ib >KH3Hb cbohd n y a cn o io ana finara rocyaapcTBa, a KHoen npnuecrn xotb Manefiiuyra nojib3y„ .XojioaHbiH nor npocKaKHBan na niiue \ioe\i npn viwcan. ■rro, .MO/Ker fibirb, vine joBeaerca nornSnyTb b nbinn, ne 03naanB CBoero H.viean nu oantiM npeKpaaibivi x.iaw-obtTb b Mupe n ne OBuauffTb CBoero cymecrBOBamt!f-3TO obuo j.n i \ienH yAcaaio!'^ [Emphasis added] Gogol's lifelong dread of obscurity is deeply felt in this letter. His chosen path was to be government service in the Department of Justice, a department that was administered by Troshchinskii, the "benefactor" of the family. capital moved to Moscow-but no, here too it wasn't cold enough: the Lord sent us to Petersburg!" Gogol, PSS Vol. 10: 111-112. He writes, "Perhaps I shall have to spend all my life in St. Petersburg. At least that is the goal which I sketched for myself long ago. From the earliest times, from the years when I could hardly understand anything, I was fired with unquenchable fervors to make my life useful for the good of the state, I was impatient to be even of the smallest use... Cold sweat appeared on my face at the thought that, perhaps, I would perish in the dust, without marking my name with a single beautifiil act; to be in the world and not to mark it with one's own existence-that was terrible to me." 82 On December 13, 1828, armed with letters of introduction from Troshchinski to one or two bureaucrats in high positions, Gogol left the Ukraine with his friend Danilevskii for St. Petersburg. In a typical instance of imagination preceding experience, Gogol arrived in the capital full of hopes for a brilliant future and of notions about service in the government, but his initial impressions of St. Petersburg were extremely negative. In January of 1829, a week after he arrived he wrote to his mother, "CKa>Ky etue, 'rro FlerepSypr Mue noicaaajtcfl eoBce He tukhm . KaK h jyuaa, a ero Boo5pa>Kaji ropaaao Kpacneee, Be.inKO-iennee.-"''* Gogol remained without a position for four months after his arrival, time that afforded the future author of "Nevsky Prospect" to wander about the city and record his impressions. In a letter to his mother of May 22 Gogol indicates that he has received an offer for a position. Regarding the nature of his position. Gogol writes. Htuk a ocraKxi) lenepb b nerepôypre. Mue npej-iararai \iecTo c 1000 pyO.ieH /Kaiioeanba s roa. Ho aa uewy .in. eaea Moryiuyra BbiKynnTb rcaoBofi nae.M KBaprupbi h cro.ia. Mne aojivKHO npoaarb CBoe aaopoBbe n aparouemioe epevia? b aenb n.Meib CBofroaHoro Bpe.vieHn ne Gojiee, kbk asa 'laca, a npo'iee Bpe.via ne oixcanrb or cTQjia n nepenncbiBaib crapwe ftpeaan » r.iynocrn rocnoa CTOJiOHa'iajibHHKOB H npo'i- HiaK a croio b paaavMbH na /KH3Hemio.M nyin, O/Kttaaa peiuenna eme HeKOTopbivi mohm O/KnaaHna.M.'*^ ■** Gogol, PSS Vol. 10: 136-137. "I will tell you also that St. Petersburg turned out to be not at all as I thought. I imagined it to be much more beautiful, more splendid..." Gogol, PSS Vol. 10: 143. He writes, "So I am staying in Petersburg. I am offered a position with a salary of 1,000 rubles a year. But for a price hardly sufficient to pay the yearly rent and the food, do I have to sell my health and my precious time? To have not more than two hours free a day, and the rest of the time not to move away from the desk, copying old rubbish and nonsense of the office chiefs... So here I 83 Gogol's lofty idea of a position in government which would "benefit mankind" did not come to be and instead, he found himself in a position where he "copied old rubbish all day long."^° The state bureaucracy favored offices and functions over persons, so that signs of identity (proper names) were subordinated to generic forms of identification like titles/' Therefore, by finding a place in the bureaucratic machine. Gogol had merely traded in one mask for another. The yoimg author was disillusioned with his position in Petersburg and with the city itself. Yet, he knew that in order to succeed as an author, he must make his name in Russia. In another letter home, soon after receiving employment, Gogol confesses that if he were to be transferred in his job, then. BoiKe coxpann ecnn joBejerca exaTb e Poccmo. Ho npnanaKXi. ecjiH paccy jn rb , KaK ny>KHG, to , necMOTpa na \ioio oxotv n yKenanne e xa n b Mauopocam, a coBepuietmo riorepnio Bcë, earn yjajKxa> lu flerepoypra. 3 je a t o m k o 'lejoæky jocruruyn mo'jKIIO uero-mi6yjbJ~ [Emphasis added] At the end of July 1829 Gogol wrote to his mother that because of an unhappy love affair he had decided to leave Petersburg for foreign lands.The impact that the stand mediating, on the path of my life, awaiting the outcome of certain of my expectations." The struggle to find a place in the bureaucratic machine is the central theme of "Diary of a Madman," a first-person narrative that documents a satire of social structures through the "drama of self-fashioning." (See Moeller-Sally 334.) Moeller-Sally, 334. Gogol, PSS Vol. 10: 173. "God forbid, if I had to go to Russia. The only place I would like to go would be Little Russia. But, to consider it properly, regardless of my desire to go to Little Russia, / tvowW lose everything if I left St. Petersburg. Only here can a man attain something ..." Gogol left a few days after burning all of the copies of "Hans Kuchelgarten." Stilman writes, "It is generally believed (but by no means established) that Gogol's 84 failure of his first narrative poem "Hans Kuchelgarten " had on this decision should not be underestimated, for with it, Gogol's first attempt at literary fame and his dream of escaping the servitude of his clerical job, had been stifled. He traveled to Luebeck, Travemimde and Hamburg. Gogol returned to Petersburg as unexpectedly as he had left. Upon his return on September 22, 1829, he attempted to find work as an actor but was unsuccessful. In November he was finally appointed to a clerical position {vimoBfiiJK) in the Department of Government Properties and Public Buildings where he lasted three months. In March he found another position with the Department of Domains and in July he was promoted to "Assistant Chief of the First Bureau of the Second Division."^"* In one of his letters home he describes his usual day. B 9 'lacoB yipa OTnpaB.iHroa> a xa>jabiH jeiib b cbok ) aojDKHOcrb h npofibiBara xa.M jo 3-x 'lacoB, b noaoBHne ‘leTBeproro a o6ejaio„ b 5 aacoB ornpaBJiaKXb a b Kiiacc, b aKaae.MHio xyjo>KecTB, rje aanHMaiocb /KHBonnaK), KOTopyio a HHkaK lie b cocroannn ocraBHTb, -Te.M fiojiee, arc aaecb ecib Bce cpejcTBa coBepmencr- BOBaxbca B Hew. w Bce ohh Kpovie xpyaa w cxapanwa Hwaero ne xpefiyiox. rio aiiaKOMCXBy ceoeMy c xyjoÿKHWKa.viw, w co mhofw .mw jaÿKe 3Ha,MeHHXbi.\iH. a w.\ieio B03MO)KHocxb no.ab30BaxbCH cpejcxBa.viw w Bbiroaa.viw. jjia mhofwx HeaocrynHbi.MW. Me roBopa y>Ke o6 wx xajianxe. a ne \iory ne Bocxwiuaxbca wx xapaKxepoM w ofipaiueHweM; 'ixo axo 3a .xioaw! y3HaBiuw wx, iie.ab3a oxsaaaxbca ox Hwx HaeeKWKaKaa CKpc.viHocxb npw BCJiwaawuieM xajiauxe! 0 6 awHax w B noMWHe Hex, xoxa neKoxopbie W3 hwx cxaxcKwe w ja>Ke jewcxBWxe.TbHbie cosexHWKW. B KJiacce, Koxopbiw noceuiaio a xpw pa3a B Hexe.xK), npocwÿKWBaio jBa aaca; b ce.vib aacoB npwxoKy passion for the angelic creature, and the angelic creature herself, were invented by him for the benefit of his mother, as an excuse for his voyage... The real motive, it is held, was the failure of'Hans Kuchelgarten.'" (Stilman, 138) One can only assume that Gogol would have appreciated the irony of his new title. 85 üOMOfi, Hüy K K0.viy-Hn6yiib H3 CBOux 3HaK0.vibLX na Be'iep, - KOTopbix y vieHH Taicn ne viam Bepme an. 'iro ojhhx oüho- KOpblTHHKOB MOHX »3 HciKHHa 10 2 5 HeaOBOK/^ Undoubtedly Gogol realized that the arts, namely literature, and not government service, were his "primary concern and purpose." In February 1831 he resigned his position with the Department of Domains. By the time Gogol resigned he had published the poems "Italy" and "Hans Kuchelgarten," a story entitled "The Eve of John the Baptist," a "Chapter from an Historical Novel," another fragment from an unfinished novel, entitled "The Tutor," and an essay, "A Few Ideas on the Teaching of Geography to Children." During this time Gogol had also been hard at work on his collection of stories which would be published as "Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka." While writing the Dikanka stories the author fashioned himself as a representative from the margins, and in doing so, decided to mine his Ukranian homeland for literary material. He makes his intentions very clear in a letter to his mother pleading for information on Ukranian folk material. He writes, fl Bac 'lacTo SecnoKOK) npocbSora jocraBJuiTb vine CBejeHna o Maiiopocoin nan 'rro-jiu5o noacGnoe, 3to cocraBJiaer viofi xae5. fl n Tenepb nonpoiuy Bac coGpaib necKoabKO TaxoBbix CBeaeHufi, ecan rae-anGo ycabiLUnre saSaBHbifi anexaoT vie>fcay My^HKavin b naujHvi ceae, nan b apyro.vi KaKOvi, nan vieauy novieuinKavin. CieaafiTe Gogol, FSS Vol, 10: 179. "At nine in the morning 1 go to the office and remain there until three. 1 dine at half-past three.,. Roimd about five I proceed to the Art Academy class where 1 study painting-a hobby I simply cannot drop. I cannot help admiring their mood and manners. What men! After one has got to know them one would cling to their company forever. What modesty and what genius! Class work-three times a week-goes on till seven, then I return home and spend the evening with friends of whom I have many. Believe it or not but there are twenty- five of my (Ukrainian) school chums here..." 86 MHJiocTt, BriHcyHTe üiifl vieHfl T aioK e HpaBbi, oSbBian noeepbH. /la paccnpoaiie npo crapuay» KaKiie njiaTba 5 biJiH b h x Bpevia y COTHHKOB, HX /K6H, y TbICflHHHKOB, y HHX Ca\BL\; KBKHe MBTepHH 6biJin n3BecTHbi B HX Bpe.Mfl, H Bcë c nojpoSHewiueio; Kaxne aHeKüOTbi H HCTopnH GiyHajiHci B HX Bpe.MH, CMeimibie, saSaBHbie, ne'iaiibHbie, yÿKaaibie. He npeHe6peraHTe nn>ie.M, see HMeer jjia vieHfl ueay/^ As we have mentioned, the Dikanka stories met with great success, but Gogol was only able to exploit his exotic homeland for so much material. In his next collection. Arabesques, he incorporates non-fictional material on the Ukraine, with impressions of St. Petersburg as developed in his fiction. 2 .7 The Marginal City Dweller: Physical and Temporal Dislocation In February 1831, after serving fourteen months in government otTices, Gogol was appointed to teach history at the Patriotic Institute in St. Petersburg, an institution for young women under the personal patronage of the Empress. On April 16 Gogol wrote to his mother, rocyjapH H H npuKaaajia MHraxb Nine e Haxo.tHuie.MCfl b e e BeaennH HHCTHTyTe 5 .iaropoiuibix aeBHU. BnpoueM bm ne jy M afiT e, •rro 6 bi 3T0 viHoro 3Ha*iHJio. Bcfl B b ro ja b to.m , 'iro « renepb iieMHoro Gogol, PSS Vol. 8:37. The reference to his village's customs and beliefs no doubt would later be material for Gogol's story "How Ivan Ivanovich Came to Quarrel with Ivan Nikiforovich," which was included in his Dikanka collection. His letter reads, "I bother you often with my request to find information or something of that sort for me about the Ukraine. That represents my bread. I once again ask you to gather such information. If you hear a funny joke among men in our village, among the landowners, or among others, be so kind as to write down for me those customs and beliefs. Yes, and please ask what kind of dress the majority of the women wore in their day, what their husbands wore, what most people wore, what kinds of material were popular in their time and all the details; what kinds of jokes and stories occurred during their time, the funny, the fun, sad and horrible [events]. Don't disregard anything, everything is important to me." 87 oomuie H3Becren, 'iro jieKUHn \ion Majio no viaiiy sacraBJiiOT roBopHTb 0 6 0 vine- Ho vieyoy tom aanarna ,vion, KOTopwe euie GojTbuiyK) npuHecyT vine H3BecrHocrb, coBpeiuaioTCfl mhohd b thuih , B vioefi yeüHHeHHOfi KovmaiKe: jjih hux Tenepb Bpevtenn \inoro/^ Early in 1833 Gogol decided that his road to fame led through history, a subject he had been studying in connection with his teaching duties at a girl’s school. It was at this time he announced plans to write a history of the Ukraine. WTiilc Gogol continued throughout his life to collect information, mostly folksongs, for this vast undertaking, this project was never realized. At the same time he also talked about expanding the project to include the history and geography of the whole world, "in three if not in two volumes," to be entitled Se.MJH n jk >j h [The Earth and Its Peoples]. 2.7.1 Physical Dislocation Gogol felt that he was a stranger in the large and indifferent northern capital. He longed for his native country and in 1833. when the building of a university in Kiev was being discussed, he made desperate efforts to be appointed there as a professor of history. Gogol had the support of several of his influential friends in his efforts to obtain the position in Kiev. Pushkin, for example, intervened on several Gogol, PSS Vol. 10: 194. "The Empress ordered me to give lectures at the Institute for Young Ladies of the Nobility which is under her authority. But you mustn't think that this means much. The whole advantage is that now 1 am a little better known, that little by little my lectures make people speak about me... But meanwhile those occupations which will bring me even greater renown are performed by me in the quiet, in my solitary little room: I have much time for them now." 88 occasions to discuss Gogol's appointment with the Minister of Public Education and President of the Academy. Sergei Uvarov. Gogol tried many means of flattering the Minister. In one such attempt, Gogol asked Pushkin to call to Uvarov's attention Gogol's recent essay "A Plan for the Teaching of World History," which appeared on the pages of the official Journal o f the Ministry o f Public Education. Gogol's purpose is clear in the final lines of this essay (later reprinted in Arabesques.) He concludes with some self-advertising and a statement of his loyalty and patriotism to the Empire. Gogol writes, Miie Ka^Kercfl, >rro xaKofi oôpaa npenoaaBamia riyjer jeficrBUTe-ib- Hee G.iMxe K HcrnHe. Ho KpafiHefi \iepe, r.iySoKO noHn.viaiomnH Bejitraie ncropnn yBuauT, xro oh ne npon3BejeHne MnioBeHHOfi (J)aHTa3HH, HO H.TOJ jojifHx coo6pa>KeHHM n onbira; ‘ito hh ojhh OTHTOT, HH oaHO CJIOBO H6 SpoLueno 3aecb jjifl KpacoTbi n MHuiypHoro 5jiecKa, ho h.\ nopoatiao ao.iroBpe\iennoe 'irenne .leronHceft vinpa„ h >rro oana .iiorioBb k nayKC, cocraB-XHioiiieH aaa NieHfl HaciaaueuHe, nonyjHJia mohh oribannTb moh Mbic.in; 'iro ue.ib MOfl-o6pa30BaTb cepaua lOHbix CjiymaTejiefi tom oaiOBare.ibnofi onbiTHOcrbK) KOTopyro pasBeprbiBaer ncropnn, noHiiMaeMan b ee HCTHHHO.M BeJlHMHH; Cie.iaTb HX TB6pabI.MH, \iy>KeCTBeHHbI.MH B CBOH.X npaBHiia.x, •rroôbi HtiKaKofi JierKO.vibicneHHbifi (tmnaTHK h HtiKaKoe viHHyTHoe BOJiHCHHe He M ono noKOJieriaxb n.\; cie.iaxb n.x KpOXOKHMH, HOKOpHbLMH, SjiaXOpOiUIbLMH, Heo6xOJH.MbI.MH H HyÿKHbEVlH CHOJBHvKHHXaMH BCJlHKOrO XOCyjapH. 'rro6bI HH B DiacxHH, HH B HeoiacxHH He H3.MenHJiH OHH CBoe.My jojiry, CBoefi Bepe, CBoeft 6iiaropojHOH necxH h csoefi KJiaxBe-oi/re æ pituw i OTe'iecTBy // rocyjapKp^ [Emphasis added] ■* Gogol, PSS Vol. 7:48. Gogol writes, "He who has a deep imderstanding of history's grandeur will see that it [the Plan] is not the product of some momentary fantasy, but the fruit of long reflection and experience; that not an epithet, not a single word, has been used here for the sake of embellishment of tawdry brilliance-they are all the result of prolonged reading of the annals of the world... and that nothing but love for learning—which is my delight—has urged me to set forth my ideas; that my goal is to shape the hearts of young listeners using that substantial 89 Despite such praise for the Emperor and his self-proclaimed "superior qualifications," Gogol failed in his efforts to obtain an appointment in Kiev. But, in July 1834 he was appointed Adjunct Professor of World History at the University of St. Petersburg. Gogol's disappointment at having to stay in Petersburg is expressed in the following letter, written in August 1834 to Maksimovich: XoTS jyiua oi.ibno TOCKyer 3a VKpaHKOH. Ho ny/Kno noicopnTbCfl, H a noKopujicH 5e3ponoTHO, 3aaa >ito c cboch croponbi ynoTpe6n.i BCe BOOlOiKHbie Ctl.lbl.^^ 2,7.2 Temporal Dislocation It was during this time that Gogol taught the history of the Middle Ages. He gave his opening lecture for this course, "On The Middle Ages," in September 1834 and later included it in Arabesques. In this essay Gogol attempts to weave an order to the chaos of the Middle Ages. He begins, Bce, ‘ITO 5biJio n nponcxojujio. uce 3ann.viaTe.ibH0, ecm TO.ibKO one VI coxpaiHLiHCb Bepubie .leTontioi, BbiKjiio‘iaa pa3Be coBpeujeHiioe SeccrpacTHe aapoaoB; Beaje ecrb hhtb, KaK bo bchkom TKann. ecrb ocHOBa, xoTH oiia HHorja coBpeuienno GbisaeT 3aTKana yTOKO.vi; KaK b .Ty»incroM Ka.vine ecrb HeBHTH.vibiH cbct , KOTopbifi on OT.itiBaeT, 5yjy‘in o6paiuen k cojtHuy. - ona HoieaaeT To.ibKo c vTpaToio H3BecrHH.®° experience which history, understood in its true grandeur, has to offer; to make them firm, virile in their manner so that no giddy fanaticism, no momentary agitation may shake them; to make them humble, compliant, noble, useful, indispensable supporters of their Great Monarch; that in fortime or misfortune, they may never betray their duty, their faith, their noble honor and their oath—to be faithful to their Fatherland and their Emperor'' Gogol, PSS Vol. 10: 337. "Although my heart desperately longs for Ukraine, I must submit. I submitted myself with resignation, knowing that on my side I have done everything possible." Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 24. "Any object or event is interesting, provided only that reliable documents have been preserved about it, breaking off the complete 90 Gogol relates the information in chronological order with the help of a metaphor. He equates the Middle Ages to "youthful time", when everything was seething courage, impulsiveness, a propensity for dreaming, heedless of the consequences. He writes: Bce 5biJio B HHX (cpeiiHHx seKax) - no33Hfl h SeaoTMeTHocTb. Ecih M0:4CH0 CpaBHHTb >KH3Hb OjlHOfO ‘leJlOBeKa C >KH3HHI0 Ue.lOFO ‘lenoBe'iecTBa, to cpejHiie BOFca Gyayr to x e , «rro Bpevia BOCHHTaHHH HeJlOBOKa B IIIKOJIP.^' What Gogol was trying to achieve was a brilliant synthesis. His view of history is obsessed with gigantism-size and distance are always extreme. The Middle Ages were remarkable to Gogol precisely because it was then that all of Europe looked to the East for knowledge. Gogol writes. Hy)KHO GbiJio BCHD viaccy oGpaaosaTb h eocnnTaTb, aaTb efi yatuerb CBCT, KOTOpbHI 'laCTO 330.1011BJtO JVXOBeHCTBO, H BCH \iaCGl J.lfl 3T0T0 H3BepraeTca b jpyryio 'lacTb CBera. rje noTvxaKDuiee apaBHficKoe npocBeiueuHe ch .ihtch nepejaTb efi cbom n.ia,Menb. h- BCfl EBpona Boa^npyeT no Abhh . He BnpaBe .in \ibi H3y\i.iaTbCfl? OGbiKHOBeHHO KaKofi-Hn5yjb Bbixoaeu H3 .leM-in o6pa30BannoH ojmh npHHoaiT npocBeineuHe n nepBbie cBeaenHH b iien3BecTHyio crpany ii nocreneHHO oGpasyeT JUKapefi; ho o6pa30BaHne 3 to Tmterca vieajieHHO, nepoBHo. 3aecb >Ke. nanpoTiiB, napojbi ca.MH Bceio CBoera viaccoK) npHxoaflT 3a o6pa30BaHne.v!„'^' impassivity of nations; the thread is detectable everywhere, just as in any material there is a pattern, albeit at times interwoven with the weft: as in a radiant stone there is an unseen light which it gives off when turned towards the sun-it disappears only with the loss of information." Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 33. He writes, " Everything about the Middle Ages was poetic and carefree... If it is possible to compare the life of one man with the life of the whole of humanity, then the Middle Ages must represent that time of a man's upbringing which is spent in school." Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 28. "It was necessary to create and educate a whole mass of people, and to let them see the world... and for this purpose a mass of people erupted in another part of the world, where the Arabian enlightenment was striving to pass on its flame to them, and-all Europe journeyed across Asia. Are we not justifiably 91 As Vasilii Gippius has demonstrated, for Gogol, humanity's past was a magical, fairy tale world. Gogol was not interested in factual accuracy and precise information. For Gogol, teaching history (and later geography) was like relating a story. After delivering three initial lectures, Gogol seemed to have run out of the material and interest to pursue this profession. For the rest of the school year he either cancelled lectures or showed up with a bandaged cheek, and claiming that he had a toothache, he would make a few incoherent remarks and dismiss his students.*^ Gogol was finally asked to resign his position, after the vice-president of the amazed? Usually enlightenment and the first scraps of knowledge are brought to an unknown land by some lone traveler from an enlightened country, who then gradually educates the aborigines; but such a process of education is slow and erratic. But here, on the contrary, the people themselves came in search of education 'en masse." Turgenev, one of Gogol's auditors recalls, "fl 6bi.i ojhun» U3 ciyuiaTejieH rorojifl B 1835 rojy, Korja on npenoaaBa.i (!) ucropuK) e C-nerepfiyprcKovi ynHBepcHTere, 3 ro npenoaaBaHue, npaeay cKaaaxb, nponcxojuiio opunina.TbHbL\i ofipaac.M, Bo-nepsbix, Foro.ib U3 xpex .ickuuu nenpe.\ieHHO nponycKa.T jse: BO-BXopbLx, j a ^ e Korja on noaB.xH.TCB na K a^jp e, on ne roBopu.x, a luenxa.i xxo- xo BecbNia necBB3noe, noKasbiBa.x na\i rpasiopbi na aajiu , H3o6pa>KaBuiiie Bvubi OajiecxHnbi h üpyrux Bocxxubix cxpan, - u Bce Bpe.MH y>KacHG Kon^yau.ica. Mbi Bce 5bi.iu yfie/Kjenbi (h ejBa .in .vibi omn6a.nncb), xxo on nnnero ne cmhcihx b HcxopnH H ‘1X0 r, Forojib-finoBCKnn, naiu npo#ccop (on xaK HMenoBa.xcH b pacnucannH nauinx tckuhh), ne n.vieex nn'iero ofiiuero c nncaxejie.vi Foxotc.m, ynce toBecxnbiM na.vi khk anxop Be'iepoB na xyrope 6m a J iK a n tm " (Quoted in Veresaev, 168.) "I was one of Gogol's auditors in 1835 when he taught (!) history in St. Petersburg University. That teaching, to tell the truth, went on in an original way. Firstly, out of three lectures Gogol' without fail missed two: secondly, even when he appeared at the rostrum, he didn't speak, but whispered something utterly disconnected, showed us steel-plate engravings representing views of Palestine and other eastern coimtries, -and the whole time was terribly embarrassed. We were all convinced (and we were scarcely wrong), that he had no idea of history and that Mr. Gogol-Yanovskii, our professor (so he called himself in the schedule of our lectures), had nothing in common with the writer Gogol, already known to us as the author of Evenings On A Farm Near Dikanka." 92 Academy of Sciences received several complaints about his teaching. Gogol's attitude to his resignation is summarized in the following letter to Mikhail Pogodin: H paouteBajicfl c yHHBepcuTerov!, u «lepea vieoiu onarb 6e33a6oTHbifi K033K. HeysHaHHbiH fl B30uieit na Ka#jipy n Heyanamibifi c\o»:y c nee. Ho b s th nojiTopa roaa-roiibi vioero 5eccrraBHfl, noTOMy aro oôiuee MHenne roBopuT, 'iro a ne aa CBoe jeao aaajica - b 3tu ncjTTopa roiia a MHoro Bbinec o rry ja n npn5aDH.i b coKpoBniminuy jym n. Y:¥p ne jerocîte mhcim, ne orpatariennba'i xpoKiaai jcpyr .viou.\ cBeaennH, no BbicoKue, ucnojiHeHHbie ucruHbi h y^Kacarouiero BeiiHHUfl vibicriH BOJiHOBa.iu \iena_^ 2.8 The Ukraine: A Romantic Homeland Although Gogol's academic career had ended, his literary position was more secure than ever. During his tenure, both Arabesques (January 1835) and Mirgorod (March 1835) were published. Mirgorod is a fictional tribute to Gogol's homeland, while many of the non-fictional works in Arabesques contain Gogol's 'nationalistic' ideas on the Ukraine and its history. There are two essays in Arabesques that are thematically connected to the Ukraine, "A Glance at the Composition of Little Russia" and "The Songs of the Ukraine. " "A Glance at the Composition of Little Russia" was written from December 1833 to January 1834 and first published in the April 1834 issue of the Journal o f People's Enlightenment. For Gogol the history of ^ Gogol, "To Pogodin," 6 December 1835 in PSS Vol. 10; 378. He writes, "The university and I have spat in each other's faces and a month from now I'll be a free Cossack again. Unrecognized, I ascended the podium and unrecognized I now leave it. But during the year and a half-the time of my disgrace, for the general opinion holds that I undertook something that I had no business undertaking-during this year and a half there were many good things that I acquired and there was much that I added to the treasure house of my soul. I am no longer agitated by childish ideas or by the previous narrow scope of my knowledge, but by lofty ideas full of truth and of terrifying grandeur." 93 the Ukraine is actually framed around the idea of the different origin and character of the Ukrainian and Russian people. The main thesis of the essay is that the Ukrainians are of "pure Slavic" ancestry, while the origin of Russians is "mixed, half-Finnish." "A Glance" and "On the Movement of Peoples at the End of the Fifth Century" both document the conflict between established political entities and the raw force of the less organized and therefore less civilized peoples, all o f whom originate in "Asia."^^ Gogol’s concern is with the Tartars (Mongols) who appear in Russia in the thirteenth century. He portrays how early Russia, which was then fragmented into hundreds of minor principalities and devoid of "any unifying power," was easily overcome by the invasion from the East. What many scholars find most striking about this essay is the fact that Gogol calls the Mongol invasion "wonderful.In "A Glance at the Composition of Little Russia" Gogol writes. T orja oiynnjiocb juBHoe nponciuecTBue. Ha Aann. U3 cpejnnbi ee. H3 creneff, Bbi6pocnBuinx crojibKO napoaoB b EBpony. nojufljica caMbifi crpaiunbiH, caMbifi viHoro'incieHHbiH, coBpeiuuBiuiui cro.TbKo 3aBoeBaHHH, CKOJibKo JO Hero ne npotoBOjujt hhkto. Y x a a ib ie MOHfOjIbl, C \IHOrO‘IHC.3eHHbI\IH, HHKOfja JOTOjIO H0 lUUaUHblMn Ebpohoeo TaSyna.MH, KoneBbiMn KuStiTKa.viH, .xjibmy.in Ha Pocoikd . ocBCTHBiun n y ib cboh njia.Mene.M n no>Kapa.MH~®’ Gogol’s Asia includes the Near East, Siberia and China. See for example Maguire’s discussion of the origin of the Slavs and his remark that the "next logical step [for Gogol] would be to extend this idea to Great Russia as well" in Maguire, 283. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 50. "Then something wonderftil happened. From the center of Asia, from those steppes which had thrown so many nations into Europe, there arose the most fearful, most numerous one of all, which had to its credit a far greater number of conquests than anyone had ever achieved previously. The terrible Mongols with their innumerable herds of horses and nomads’ tents swept across Russia, lighting their way with flame and conflagration." 94 Gogol proceeds to explain that Russia was then split in two, north and south. Great and Little Russia. He writes, "üpyrue saKOHbi, jpynie o5bman, apyraa uem, jpyrtie cbhsh , jpyrae noiiBuni cocraBHjrn na Bpe.MH jBa coBepiueHHO paajin'iHbie ■xapajcrepa."®* According to Gogol the histories of the two Russias differed greatly because of the geographical layout of the land.^^ Of the North he writes, MecronojioîKeHHe, oaHooGpaaao r.najKoe n poBuoe, Beaje no>rru 5oJiOTHcroe, HcrbiKannoe neMajibHbtviH ejiH.\iu h coaia.\in, noKaabiBajioHe >KU3Hb >KHByio, HcnojiHenHyio jBH^KenHH. ho KaKoe-TO np03fl6eHne, nopaxaiotuee jyiu y Mbicnfluiero.’° But the South, with its "unprotected, open land was a land of devastation and bones and enriched with blood" is a place where "only a warlike nation could ever take shape. It is not surprising that the southern, unprotected, open land of the Ukraine finds a parallel in Gogol’s description of nature in Central Asia. In "On the Movement of Nations at the End of the Fifth Century" he writes, Hpupom Cpejmeft .A3hh coBpeiueHHO jpyroro poja: ona ojho- o6pa3Ha u iien3MepnMa. CxenH ee oe36pe>KHbi, khk-to orpoMHO poBHbi, K3K 5yaTG no\0/KH na nycTbniHbiH oKean, Hnrje ne OCTaHB,riHBaeMbIH ocrpoBOM’" Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 53. He writes, "Different laws, different customs, a different goal, different connections and different exploits formed two nations of entirely different characteristics." This idea is also echoed in the essay "On the Teaching of World History" in the same collection. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7:51. "The lie of the land, monotonously smooth and level, marshy almost everywhere, studded with firs and pines, displayed not a lively vitality but a certain fi-ozen rigidity, which is so striking to a thinker’s soul." Gogol, P55 Vol. 7:50. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 121. "Nature in Central Asia is entirely different: it is uniform and immense. The steppes there are botmdless and immensely flat, so that they resemble a deserted ocean uninterrupted by even a single island." 95 The warlike nation Gogol refers to, those individuals whose "ungovernable will could not tolerate laws and authority," are the Cossacks/^ According to Gogol, the Cossacks displayed Asian traits, turned against the Tatars their own methods of warfare-the same Asiatic raids-and even kidnapped and married Tartar women/"* As Maguire points out, by blending the image of the Tatars and the Cossacks, Gogol makes "Asiatic," "eastern" and "southern" synonymous/^ It is not difficult to imagine that Gogol (with the advantage of hindsight) would look favorably upon the Mongol invasion precisely because it created two vastly different Russias and opened the possibility for Southern Russia, the Ukraine, to form its own nation, with a unique people. Maguire asserts that "the next logical step [would be] to extend this idea to Great Russia as well." He adds, "the paradigms were available."’^ Gogol did not extend this idea to Russia, because this is not what he intended. Gogol's writings point to his belief that these two nations, the Ukraine and Russia, were vastly different. In Gogol’s mind, at the heart of the Ukrainian nation is the intermixing of two cultures, Asia and Europe. He concludes this essay. O r 3Toro CMeuieHUfl >ieprbi .luua ux, BHaaajte paano.xapaKxepHbie, no.nyHHJiH o m y o6tuyio (])H3UorHOMHK), 5ojiee aauaTCKyio. H bot ccxraBHJiCfl Hapoa, no aepe u \iecry /KtirejtbcrBa npnHaj.ae/KaBuiutli Eapone, ho .v ie^ y tom no oGpaay >kh3hh, oGbMaaM, KOCTio.viy coBpeuieHHO aanaiCKHH, - Hapoa, b KOTopo.vi rax crpanno CTOJtKHyancb aee npoTHBonoao>KHbie nacrti CBera, aae pa3H0- xapaKiepHbie crtLXHH; eBponeHocan ocropo/KHOcrb h a3naTCKaa 73 Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 55. Gogol,f& y Vol. 7: 55. Maguire, 283. Maguire, 283. 96 oecne‘iH(xrrb, npocroiiyiune ic xHTpocrb, CHJTbHaa jeffrejtbHocrb » BejTH'iafiiuaH Jienb h Hera, crpeMnenne k pa3BHTnio h ycoBep- uieHCTBOBaHHio - H M eîoy T 6M /KejiaHHe KasaTbca npeHeSper- aioiiiHM BCflKoe coBepiueHCTBOBaHne.^^ Gogol’s fascination for the Cossacks is certainly evident in his historical novel Taras Bulba [1835] where he makes explicit the identity of Cossacks and Asians. He writes. "Nothing could resist this Asiatic [Cossack] attack." Indeed, in this novel he contrasts the Cossacks, whom he favors because they are courageous, passionate and carefree, with the Russians, who are callous, lazy and orderly. Similarly Gogol's nationalistic vein continues in his essay entitled "The Songs of the Ukraine." He writes, "Humto ne .viO/Ker 6brrb cu.ibnee tiapomofi .\iy3biKu, eciu To.ibKO napcjt u.vie.i no3TU*iecKoe pacnomxeuHe, pa3Hoo6pa3ue n jeflTejibnocrb /KU3hu."’* Certainly, Gogol believed that the Ukraine is such a nation. Once again, in this essay he makes it clear that Ukrainians and Cossacks are one and the same entity. Ukrainian songs, he writes, are songs about Cossacks. In Gogol's essay "Songs of Ukraine," the author advances the Herderian notion of history and Volksgeist in his belief that folk songs are historical documents. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7; 58. "Because of this intermixing, their facial feattires, at first so different, acquired a common, more Asiatic appearance and that’s how the nation came into being, belonging to Europe by faith and habitat, but completely Asiatic in lifestyle, customs and dress; a nation in which two opposing parts of the world, two vastly different elements, collided with such strange results: European caution and Asiatic carefreeness, simplicity and curming, strong vitality and lethargic comfort, attempts at development and perfection-and at the same time the desire to appear contemptuous of every perfection." Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 104. " Nothing can be stronger than national music, provided the nation is of a poetic disposition and has a lifestyle which is varied and active." 97 While studying Ukrainian sources (for Taras Bulba), Gogol became disappointed with the chronicles and turned to Ukrainian folklore. Stilman writes. In the Ukrainian dumy, full of color and drama, of popular memories and emotions-he found something more real and meaningful than in the factual accounts of the chronicles.^^ In a letter to Maksimovich Gogol writes, "Moa pajocrb. xtOHb moh ! neain! K\ik a oac .iioôjtio ! Hto ace aepcxBbie .leronnai, b KOTopbix a Tenepb poiocb npea 3 tumh 3B0hkhmh , acnBbi.MH iieTonncaMn!"*° For Gogol the songs were not only music but actually contained the history of his country. In a letter dated March 6. 1834 to Izmail Sreznevskii, who was himself at this time engaged in publishing a collection of materials on Ukrainian history and folklore, Gogol writes, Ecin obi naiu Kpafl ne nMea TaKoro ooraicTBa riecenb - a obi HHKOfja He nncaii Hcropnn ero, noTOMy 'iro a ne nocrHrnyj 5bi H He HMe.1 nonaTHa o npomejutesi, h.th Mcropna vioa obua 5bi coBpemeHHO ne to , ‘rro a jyviara c aeio cjeaaTb Tenepb, 3 th -to necHH 3acraBHjTH \iena c /KajnocTbio mrraTb see jeTonncn h jocKyTKH KaKoro 5bi to hh 6bino B3jopy_ H noTO.\iy-To Kaaubih 3BVK necHH vine roBopnT >KHBee o npoTeKuie.M, neace-iH nauiH aajbie H KopoTKPie .ieronnai, e c in mo>kho na3BaTb .TeTonnca\in ne co- BpeNteHHbie 3anncKn, no no3jnne bhohckh, HanaBintieca \ Ae Torja, Korja na.MHTb ycrynmia viecro 3a6BeHHio,*‘ 79 Stilman, 172. Gogol, PSS Y o l 8: 66. "My joy! My life! Songs! How I love you! What are all the stale annals in which I am now rummaging compared to these resonant, living annals!" Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 299. "If our land did not have such a wealth of songs, I would have never written about its history because I would not have comprehended its past, or else my History would be completely different from what I intend to make it. The songs incited me to read eagerly all the chronicles, all the scraps of any kind of rubbish... Every sound of a song tells me more vividly of bygone days than our limp and brief chronicles-if only one may term chronicles not contemporary records but later extracts begun at a time when memory had already yielded to oblivion." 98 For Gogol these ancient songs demonstrated the rich heroic past of his native land and proved superior to Russian songs because of their range of sentiments. Gogol's strong Ukrainian sentiments and distaste of anything Russian is supported by the Polish poet Bohdan Zaleski who, in a letter to the Polish scholar Franciszek Duchinski, recalled a meeting he had with Gogol. Zaleski writes. About twenty-five years ago the famous Russian writer Gogol visited Paris. He was very friendly with Mickiewicz and with me, his fellovv- Ukrainian. We often gathered in the evenings for literary and political discussions. Naturally we talked most of all about the Russians who were loathsome to us and to him... [Gogol] had with him splendid collections of folk songs in different Slavic languages. He wrote an e.xcellent paper on the question of the Finnish origin of the Russians which he read to us. In it he showed on the basis of detailed comparison between Czech, Serbian and Ukrainian songs with Great Russian songs the glaring differences in the spirit, customs and morals between the Great Russians and other Slavic peoples. He chose a different song to characterize a different human feeling: on the one hand, our Slavic song delightful and tender, and along with it a morose, wild and almost cannibalistic Russian song, just like a Finnish one. My dear compatriot, you must imagine how pleased Mickiewicz and I were with this article... One must also regret the loss [the article could not be traced] of many racy anecdotes about the Great Russians which Gogol alone knew and which he could tell with his characteristic sharp wit.®“ It is rather curious that the Polish poet Zaleski, a self professed "fellow Ukrainian (spolukraincem)," considers Gogol a "famous Russian writer" and yet spends the whole passage documenting Gogol's extremely anti-Russian sentiments. Gogol's preoccupation with the East, in his mind, the Asiatic, is also present in his essay entitled "Life." This poetic essay, where Gogol personifies the ancient civilizations ("Ancient Egypt stands in one comer overlooking the motionless sea. 99 joyous Greece set up independent colonies, iron Rome stands and spreads herself, thrusting out a forest o f spears and gleaming"), is a moving tribute to religion and the East. As Maguire notes, this essay ends with the birth of Christ in the East - a synonym for "Asia."®^ Gogol’s essay describes how each of the civilizations had a vastly different understanding of the meaning of life. Egypt believed only in death, he claims, while the Greeks claimed that "Life was created for life, for enjoyment" and that one should "leam how to be worthy of enjoyment!" while Rome cried, "Thirst for glory, for glory, Man!"*'* At the closing of the essay, all three static nations presumably find the "true meaning of life" by turning toward the East. Gogol writes, 3aayviajica jpeBHHfi Eriiner, vBHTbivi neporjtn$aM n, noHn>Kafl m iAe CBon nnpa.viHiibi; SecnoKOHno r.aanyjia npeKpaaiaa fpeuHa; onycTM Ji OHH Ph.m na >KeJie3Hbie cboh Konba; npuHiiK.na yxo.vi Be.iHKaa Aana c napoaaMH-nacrbipaMH; Haniyjica A papar, jpeBnufi n p a n p a iu y p 3e v u iH _ * ^ Therefore, for Gogol, the East (Asia) is synonymous with eternal life and eternal movement and remains in stark contrast to "motionless Egypt and Greece" and "ironclad Rome."*^ In this essay, the static locations (Egypt, Greece and Rome) are at once made to realize the error of their ways and submit to the all-powerful East. 1 Bohdan Zaleski, "Ukrainofilstvo Gogolia." Kievskaia starina Vol. 78: 116-117. Maguire, 283. Gogol,Arabesques 114 (Proffer). Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 92. "Ancient Egypt sank into thought, bedecked with hieroglyphs, lowering her pyramids; beautiful Greece looked on in alarm; Rome lowered her eyes onto her iron lances; Asia with her nation of shepherds eavesdropped; Ararat stooped, the ancient forefather of the world..." Gogol, Arabesques 143 (Proffer). Gogol writes, "She [Egypt] stands motionless, as if spellbound, like a mummy untouched by decay." Of Greece he writes, "And 100 find it fitting, not odd, as Proffer notes in the "Notes" to the English version of Arabesques, that this work served Gogol as a calligraphy exercise.*^ This idea complements our findings on the arabesque and Gogol’s imderstanding of the term.** Because of the religious nature of this essay and the link to the East, it follows that Gogol would choose it for calligraphy practice. Certainly Gogol was well aware of the exalted position that calligraphy held in the East. At the very least, as we have already noted, his plan for the contents oî Arabesques includes many exercises in calligraphy, with special emphasis on the geometry of the lines that make up a whole. It seems hardly a coincidence that the Arabic word for calligraphy is handasat al- khatt, a word that means literally "the geometry of line," and that the first letter of the Arabic alphabet a lif is written as a straight vertical straight line. All other letters are derived from this simple vertical line. When a circle was drawn with the alif as diameter, the shape and the proportional sizes of all the other letters of the alphabet could be derived from this circle. All Arabic cursive scripts which have been developed have been constructed on the same geometric method based on the alif and the circle.*^ Gogol is intrigued with these very simple, yet beautiful schemata because they encompass his idea of the arabesques, parts that may be forged into a everything stands motionless as if in petrified grandeur." See Arabesques (Proffer) 143. *’ Gogol, Arabesques 261 (Proffer). ** I am referring to the fact that arabesque is frequently associated with calligraphy. See chapter four, "Arabic Calligraphy," in Issam El-Said's and Ayse Parman's Geometric Concepts in Islamic Art. 101 whole. Yet, just as the uniting circle of the Arabic alphabet is never revealed in the final product of calligraphy, so too the unity of Gogol's collection still remains just out of reach. 2.9 Psychological Dislocation: Gogol's Tower We have noted how in Gogol's early works the author exploits his homeland, the Ukraine, in detailing its unique folk rituals and exotic setting. While these stories were highly successful, Gogol ran out of material and decided that in order to climb into a stratum of society he would have otherwise not been allowed into or recognized in, he had to shed his Ukrainian identity. By moving from the Ukraine to St. Petersburg the young Gogol, a figure from the margins, attempted to position himself (both physically and psychologically) within the center of the Russian literary scene, but brought with him "objects of power" from the East, the outside. In this section I will discuss the final discursive trope inherent in the image of Gogol as a marginal figure in the non-fiction works included in Arabesques. We have remarked how Gogol is displaced physically, through the portrayal of foreignness (the Ukrainian as a foreigner in Russia), and temporally, as figured in his essays on "The Middle Ages" etc. The third component that coexists with the previous two is the psychological stranger. This section examines outsideness through the imagery of the tower (elevated height) as a locus from which social, physical and authorial alienation may be articulated. Stilman was the first to notice the image of the tower in Gogol's writings. He writes, "The image of the tower appears in Gogol's writings with an insistence 102 which suggests a symbolic projection of the subconscious: the image of a tower of extraordinary height."^” If this image, as Stilman argues, can be interpreted as a projection of Gogol's subconscious then it also represents a projection of the author’s self-perceived social and physical alienation. Gogol frequently turned to the image of the tower to represent physical and social alienation. In his Confession (1847), Gogol writes that his main reason for leaving Russia was that he needed to place himself in a position of power where he could overlook "the whole, the mass." Similarly, in "TeaipcUibUbifi pajbeaab" [Leaving the Theater] the tower image is a sign of alienation and. in this instance, is likened to being in jail. In this story, the author of the play overhears the following remarks: r ie p B b ifr . A roBopar, ‘rro nojooHoe npoHcuiecrene cnyinaocb c ca.viHM aBTopoM: on b kaK0 .\i-T0 ropoje aueji b Tiopb.\ie .la jo.m i. rxjio ju n c jpyrofi cropoini rpynnbr. H er, a i o n e b Tiopb.Me, 3 to obLio na SaiiJHe. 3 t o Bnje.in re. Koropbie npoe3>Ka.in. FOBopar, j t o obLTO ‘rro-TO neo6biKHOBeHHoe. BooGpaatrre: no3T na Bbicciafiiuefi uaiune, Boxpyr ropbi, MecTonojio>KeHne BocxnTHTe.ibnoe. n on orryja ‘urraer cthxh. He npanja .in, ‘rro ajecb aB.iaerca KaKaa-To ocoGennaa ‘lepra nucaTeiin? rTcnoMiH nojioxirreM Horo CBoficrm'. Abtop JojoKen Gbrrb y \iHbifi ‘le.ioseK. r 1ŒOJIIH OTpHuarejibHoro œofiCTBæ. Hn'iyrb ne yvinbifi. fl an aio , on cnyvKHJt, ero ‘lyTb ne BbimaiiH na cjiy^KGbi: npocbGbi ne VMea nanncarb.^' Stilman, 215. See N. Tikhonravov's and V. Shenrok's Sochineniia N. V. Gogolia, page 994. "The First: You know what they say-that a similar incident happened to the author 103 Gogol's fear of being placed in the high tower is caricatured here. Gogol's tower was also his prison as he forced himself to look over the masses from this distanced height. Yet, at the same time, the tower offers Gogol an advantageous position from which to view the world.^^ In this sense, the author is able to see far from his tower and is able to give guidance to his country. In "On Architecture" (1832 or 1833), Gogol recommends the building of very high towers, especially in capital cities. He writes, Baiunn orpoviHwe, KOJiocaJibHbie neorixoiUiMbi b ropoae, ne roBopn y >Ke 0 ea>KnocTH hx Ha3na‘ieHnn jjin xpncrnancKnx uepKseti. Kpovie Toro, ‘rro ohh cocraBJiaiOT bhj h v^pameHue, ohh nv/KHw jijifl cooÔLueHHH ropojy peaicnx npnMer, 'iro6bi cny>KHTb viaaKovi, yKa3biBaBiuHM 5bi nyTb BcaKoviy, tie jonycKan cSnTbca c n\TH„ .Vle>Kjy Te.M KaK jjih croJiHUbi neorixojHvio Btuerb, no KpaHnefi viepe, na nojiTopacra uepcr bo see croponbi™ Cioiinua no.aynaer cytuecTBeHHyio Bbirojy, oôoapeaaH npoBimunn h 3apanee npejBiun Bce.*^ himself, in some small town; he was jailed there-for debts. A gentleman from another group: No, it wasn't in Jail, it was in a tower. Those who were driving by saw it. They say it was most unusual. Imagine: the poet on an extraordinarily high tower, mountains all around-a perfectly delightful situation-and he w as reading his verses from there. Wouldn't you say this discloses some kind of a peculiar trait of the author? A positively disposed gentleman: The author must be an intelligent man. A negatively disposed gentleman: Intelligent? Not at all. What I know is that he held a position, and they all but kicked him out-couldn’t write an application." ■ I anticipate that Gogol's conception of direction (horizontal vs. vertical) changed during the course of his life. Many critics have pointed to the vastness [horizontal direction] of Mother Russia as exemplified in his magnum opus Dead Souls (1842). Yet, it is imperative to remember that during his early career, Gogol's jreference was for the vertical. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7: 70. "Huge, colossal towers are essential in a town, to say nothing of their importance for the Christian churches. Besides providing attractions and embellishments, they are essential to a town in that they provide it with landmarks which serve as lighthouses, indicating the way to all and preventing them from getting lost... But for a capital city, it is necessary to see over a distance of at 104 In this passage, Gogol emphasizes the practical reasons as well as the aesthetic reasons for building high towers. When read together with the following passage, it becomes clear that what Gogol is advocating has as much to do with his perceived role as "prophet," showing the way to the masses and preventing them from losing direction" as it does with his aesthetic preference for gigantic, colossal towers. Karl insky writes. What he really seemed to want was to be in a position of power and influence from which he could direct and instruct his fellow men, aspiring to a career first as a government official, later as a university professor, and ultimately as Russia's prophet and moral preceptor.^"* Gogol's preference for distanced height is apparent from his early writings. In "On Present-Day Architecture", for example, Gogol writes, fl npejno'iuTüK) noTo\iy eiue roTH'iecKvio apxureKTy py, 'rro oiia 5ojiee jaer paary.ia xyjO/KnuKv. BooopaiKenne >KHBee u njia.MenHee crpeMHTCH b bucotv, neAe.nu b lunpnny?^ [Emphasis added] This theme reappears in Gogol's essay on Pushkin. In this essay, Gogol watches the poet viewing his native land as if he were standing atop the Caucasus mountains. The spatial literalism in this essay, namely, "the more ordinary the subject, the higher least 150 versts in all directions. The capital receives the greatest benefit, surveying the provinces and seeing everything in advance." Karlinsky, 22. Gogol, PSS Vol. 7; 73. "I also prefer Gothic architecture because it affords the artist a greater chance to revel in his art...imagination heads upwards rather than outwards with greater alacrity and passion." 105 must be the poet in order to extract from it what is extraordinary, and incidentally, in order that the extraordinary something be complete truth" is a summary of the poetics to which Gogol ascribed.®'^ Yet, the tower that Gogol feared and dubbed his prison also served as his shelter. Stilman writes. The poet and the prophet dominating humanity and demanding a tribute in the form of ideas and experience from humanity was also a hopelessly lonely and feeble human being hiding in this hole. Suffering in his body and in his soul, unable to fulfill the demands, unable to love or to be loved, fearing death and finally abandoning himself to death as his only escape.*^’ Interestingly, in March 1852 Gogol made one last attempt to elevate himself to a higher place, in uttering his final words, "give me a ladder" (jafiTe vine .lecTHHuy). In his frantic delirium, Gogol probably recalled the somber tale his grandmother, Tetiana Semenivna, recited to him as a little boy about the ladder (Ukrainian, drabyna; Russian JiecTHHua) which the angels lowered to a dying man while reaching for him with their hands. Luckyj writes, "If the ladder had seven nmgs then the dead man's soul would be "in seventh heaven," but if there were fewer, then the soul would have to be elevated."^* Thus, Gogol's final plea, one uttered in See chapter three of this dissertation for a discussion on how the theme of distanced height operates in "Diary of a Madman." Gogol's fictional characters, for example, often find that elevations disclose a different picture of what is happening below. One such example is the flight of the main protagonist at the end of "Diary of a Madman." Stilman, 218. Luckyj, 39. Luckyj also postulates that Gogol may have seen the popular Ukrainian play "Lestnitsa na nebesy," which could have impressed itself more on the young Gogol's mind than his grandmother's tale. 106 Russian, recalls images of his family and his youth and is an indication of his constant striving for this civil servant's, educator's, and writer's "rightful place" in the world. What Nabokov so eloquently said about Gogol's fiction, that "the essence of mankind is irrationally derived from the chaos of fakes which form Gogol's world" can also serve as a guidepost for understanding the man himself.^^ Sadly, as his letters and texts document, Gogol was never really at home, neither in the Ukraine nor in Russia. Time and again the details of his life document the fact that Gogol also had great difficulty in living in the real world. It seems that the romanticized homeland that Gogol dreamt of and wTOte about existed only in his mother's stories and the author's own imagination. The details of Gogol's biography point to his lofty goals and habit of self-deception. One needs only look as far as his failed career as a professor of History, his unfinished History o f the Ukraine, Collection of Ukrainian Folksongs, and ending to Dead Souls for examples. The fragmented essays included in Arabesques are also a part of a bigger project that he was tmable to sustain. Arabesques, as we have noted, is the perfect expression of genre for Gogol. Like the episodic, picaresque novel Dead Souls, the form of Arabesques does not call for a tight structure, which is perfect for an author who had difficulty witli closure. Yet, regardless of whether or not Gogol is regarded as a Ukrainian or Russian writer, and despite his own questions of identity and self ^ Nabokov, 143. 107 deception, one can be sure that posthumously Mykola Hohoi a.k.a. Nikolai Gogol has found a place, alongside the other masters of nineteenth century prose, in the Russian literary cannon. Thousands of volumes about Nikolai Gogol have been written in North America and Europe. Philip Frantz's Gogol: A Bibliography lists over 9000 books and articles. 108 Bibliography Chapter Two: A Powerful Stranger: The Marginal Author Mykola Hohol a.k.a. Nikolai Gogol Belinskii, V. O Gogole. Moscow; OGIZ, 1949. Chemyshevskii, N.G. "Ocherki gogolevskogo perioda russkoi literatury."Polnoe sabrante sochinenii. Vol. 3. Moscow: OGI, 1947. Efimenko, A. "Natsionalnaia dvoistvennost v tvorchestve Gogolia." Vestnik Evropy 7. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1902. Eikhenbaum, Boris. Lermontov. Leningrad: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo detskoi literatury, 1936. El-Said, Issam and Ayse Parman. Geometric Concepts in Islamic Art. London: World of Islam Festival Publishing Company, Ltd, 1976. Frantz, Philip. Gogol: A Bibliography. Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1989. Gogol, Nikolai. Mertvye dushi. New York: Modem Library, 1936. — . N. V. Gogol. Polnoe sobranie sochinenii. Ed. N.L. Meshcheriakov. Vol. 1-14. Moscow: Akademii nauk SSSR, 1937-52. Hrushevsky, M. "Yubiley Mykoly Hoholia." Literaturno-naukovii visnyk. Kiev: Vyd- vo Literaturno-naukovii visnyk, 1909. Hryshko, Wasyl (Vasyll). "Nikolai Gogol and Mykola Hohol." The Annals o f the Ukrainian Academy o f Arts and Sciences. Vol. 12. No. 1-2. Ed. Omeljan Pritsak. Cambridge: Ukrainian Academy of Arts and Sciences, 1972. Karlinsky, Simon. The Sexual Labyrinth o f Nikolai Gogol. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1976. Kievskaia starina Vol. 78. No. 9. Kiev: [s.n.], 1902. Luckyj, George. The Anguish o f Mykola Gogol. Toronto: Canadian Scholar's Press, 1998. Moeller-Sally, Stephen, "oooo; or. The Sign of the Subject in Gogol's Petersburg." Russian Subjects: Empire. Nation and the Culture o f the Golden Age. Eds. Monika Greenleaf and Stephen Moeller-Sally. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1998. 109 Nabokov, Vladimir. Nikolai Gogol. Manchester; Richmond Hill Printing, 1947. Pereverzev, V.F. Tvorchestvo Gogolia. Moscow: Sovremennyia problemy, 1914. Petrov, M. Ocherki istorii ukrainskoi literatury XIXstoletiia. Kiev: [s.n.], 1884. Shenrok, V.I. Materialy dlia biogrqfii Gogolia. Düsseldorf: Brucken-Verlag, 1970. Shevchenko, T. "Hoholiu," Povne zibrannia tvoriv u shesty tomakh . Vol. 1. Kiev: Akademia Nauk URSR. 1963. Stepanov, N. Gogol: tvorcheskiiput. Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 1961. Stilman, Leon. Gogol. Tenafly: Hermitage Publishers, 1990. Tertz, Abram (Andrei Siniavskii). V teni Gogolia. London: Overseas Publications Exchange, 1975. Tikhonravov, N. and V. Shenrok. Sochineniia N. V. Gogolia. Petrograd: Literatumo- izdatel’skii otdel'. 1919. Veresaev, Vikentii. Gogol v zhizni. Moscow: Moskovskii rabochii. 1990. Zaleski. Bohdan. "Ukrainofilstvo Gogolia." Kievskaia starina. Vol. 78. No. 3. Kiev: [s.n.], 1902. Zelinskii, V. Russkaia kriticheskaia literatura a proizvedeniiakh N. V. Gogolia. Vols. 1-3. Moscow: Tip, A, Gattsuka, 1893-1895. Zolotussky, I. Gogol. Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 1984. 110 CHAPTER 3 THE STRANGER IN THE FICTIONAL WORKS OF ARABESQUES The terms space and place have long contested histories and bear vrith them a multiplicity of meanings and connotations which reverberate with other debates. Space may call to mind the chaotic realm of simultaneity and multiplicity or the synchronic definiteness of structuralist systems. Place can raise the image of one's "place in the world" and is connected with much greater intimations of mobility and agility in the context of discussions of positionality. Frequently the associations of "a sense of place" are bound together with memory, stasis and nostalgia. What gives a place a unique flavor is the fact that it is constructed out of a specific arrangement of social and physical relations, meeting and weaving together at a particular point. Thinking of place in this manner implies that place reflects not so much bounded areas as open and porous networks of social relations.' Places here are conceptualized in terms of the social interactions which they tie together. On the other hand, the idea of botmdaries in the sense of the divisions which frame simple enclosures is inherent in conceptualizations of space and place. In the third and fifth chapters of this dissertation I seek to define Gogol's and Petrushevskaia's senses of Massey, 59-69. Ill place by examining selected works through the lens of the rhetorical device of the stranger, a link to the "outside" which is nevertheless itself part of what constitutes the conception of place. In this chapter I will examine in depth the rhetorical device of the stranger, in selected short stories by Gogol. I will discuss tlie physical, temporal and psychological alienation that Gogol's strangers face. The Russian terms neanaKOVieu and nocroponnfi are used to refer to the stranger, although in some cases they are also translated into English as "unknown person" or "outsider." nocropoHnfl is derived from the word croponnH [side or direction,] and is related to co croponw, from a distance, from another place. riocropomtH then can refer to either "that which is outside" or "he/she who remains outside." Strangers are entities who remain outside the society, community (in the sense of nocroponH»), or nation (in the sense of HeanaKOMeu/foreigner) where they currently reside. In Gogol's works there is often a metonymic slide from being a stranger to feeling estranged or strange and vice versa. Instead of the outsider looking in, the insider looks around and finds himself (and the reader) on the outside. Frequently a particular sense of estrangement is felt in a supposedly familiar situation. In Russian texts of the earlier half of the nineteenth century, the figure of the stranger was used as an evaluative tool. The community, portrayed through the eyes of a visitor, was praised or condemned on a more objective level, under the assumption that the outsider can perceive (and name) that which insiders can or will 112 not or are too close to see. This stranger became a substitute for the national reader, who was educated along with the protagonist. This manner of narration, whether ironic or serious, was prominent in many works of realism, such as the works of Pushkin ("Bronze Horseman" 1833), Lermontov {Hero o f Our Time 1840) and later in Dostoevsky's "Poor Folk" (1846) and Turgenev’s Rudin (1856). Gogol discovered the theme of alienation and his particular formulation of it at a time when, as Donald Fanger has shown, Balzac and Dickens were also writing about the central theme of the nineteenth century realistic novel: the solitary ambitious or underprivileged hero face to face with the corrupt and impersonal metropolis." As Fanger points out, Dostoevsky's result is Crime and Punishment, which is a synthesis of the three variants of this theme which Gogol, Balzac and Dickens pioneered. In each of Gogol's Petersburg stories alienation from society is seen through the eyes of the stranger; the trope of the stranger functions on three levels, the spatial, temporal and psychological. His strangers are liminal characters in the van Gennepian sense - figures that stand in the space between the known world and the unknown outside as reproduced in the text. This go-between is a link between three major identity dilemmas that Gogol himself faced, which I have outlined in the second chapter. ^ Fanger, 3. 113 3.1 Spatial Dislocation — The Place of the Stranger The notions of space, place, placelessness and betwixt and betweenness are extremely prominent in Gogol's works and are an essential part of his worldview. In this chapter I discuss Gogol’s interest in spatial categories in order to show how he manipulates the trope of the stranger to reflect spatial, temporal and psychological dislocation in the fictional works of his collection Arabesques. Place and space are familiar terms often used interchangeably; we say there is no place like home and speak of home as a private space. In this chapter I turn to the geographer Yi-Fu Tuan's definitions of place and space, which he acknowledges are inextricably linked. He writes. What begins as undifferentiated space becomes place as we get to know it better and endow it with value. Architects talk about the spatial qualities of place; they can equally well speak of the locational (place) qualities of space. The ideas "space and place" require each other for definition. From the security and stability of place we are aware of the openness, freedom, and threat of space, and vice-versa. Furthermore, if we think of space as that which allows movement, then place is pause; each pause in movement makes it possible for location to be transformed into place.^ Place is defined here as rootedness, space as freedom. Furthermore, Tuan calls his reader's attention to the fact that space becomes place when enriched with human experience and meaning. In Arabesques, Gogol differentiates place from space. In several of his non- fictional articles contained in this collection, he explores the earth's surface in order to study the relationship between human beings and their physical environment. He ^ Yi-Fu Tuan, Space and Place 6 . 114 divides space into two distinct locations. The natural space of the East, as represented in the Ukraine, is opposed to the cultural space of St. Petersburg. The Ukraine, the East, is synonymous with movement, while the cultural space of St. Petersburg is associated with inertia and the failure of urban civilization. The open space of the Ukraine is related to a time when "all was obtained by the saber." when each in his turn aspired to be a man of action, and is starkly contrasted with the cultural space of Gogol's St. Petersburg, where people are more passive, either acted upon or observing the actions of others.'* Russian writers of the eighteenth century tended to see Petersburg as a magnificent monument to the power of human reason and will. Part I of Pushkin's "The Bronze Horseman" (1833) honors this point of view; but Part II strikes a new note tliat came to predominate in virtually all literary treatments of Petersburg well into the twentieth century. As Robert Maguire and John Malmstad observe, beneath the 'western' façade lay a shadowy world of intangibilities and unrealities, alien to man's reason and apprehendable only to his unconscious being-an 'eastern' world, in the Russian terminology. It was Petersburg, with its uneasy coexistence of 'west' and 'east', that appealed to the Russian mind as being emblematic of the larger problem of national identity.^ If for many Russian writers St. Petersburg represents the uneasy mixture of east and west, for Gogol it is the Ukraine that offers the answer to this mixture in the vital coexistence of east and west. ■* See for example, Gogol's essay "A Glance at the Composition of Little Russia" in PSS Y o l 7: 58. ^ Robert Maguire and John Malmstad, Petersburg .w. 115 Place, on the other hand, represents for Gogol not an east - west disjunction but a single individual's position within, for example, Petersburg or between east and west. A person's position or role in the community is an important notion that occupied Gogol most of his life. In a section in Selected Passages (1847j, Gogol writes, "It was not for nothing that God ordered each of us to be in the place in which he now stands." Similarly, in An Author's Confession (1847). he writes, "we are appointed to serve, and our entire life is service... Such service is possible only in a place or post which everyone, high and low, should occupy." This place is "a means for attaining not an earthly goal but a heavenly goal, in salvation of your soul". Therefore, "it is hardest of all for the person who has not attached himself to a place, has not determined in what his duty consists". The notion that (em)placement is a desirable state of being, and one which is not easily attained, is present in all of Gogol's works. Like Robert Maguire. 1 find that place occupies a great role in Gogol's worldview.® To his demonstration that Gogol draws upon certain religious and aesthetic subtexts for his works, I will take account of the influence on Gogol of the oral formulae and the vulnerability, danger and power of the "placeless." Gogol's characters futilely attempt to define the place they are to occupy in this world. A tormented life followed by agonizing death is the result for those who are imable to do so. I postulate that many of his characters occupy a state "betwixt and between the ® Maguire, Exploring Gogol 7. 116 positions assigned and arrayed by law, custom, convention and ceremonial."^ These liminal characters are threatened by their society and in turn threaten the stability of the society in which they live.^ They, like Gogol, have a power of their own. If, as Maguire and others have suggested, St. Petersburg is a contrived place, consistently denied the attributes of real place in Gogol’s universe, I will show that this city is a liminal place for Gogol's strangers. Maguire also observes that distanced height (horizontal rather than vertical place) can function as a structural principle in Gogol's works. Some stories are built on a line marked by progressively higher places for the protagonist. I will consider the protagonist of "Portrait". Chertkov, whose name is frequently associated with the devil ['lepr], but also shares etymological links to the Russian word for line [‘lepra.] It will be through this line [literally, Chertkov] that another reality, the supernatural, enters the world through a work of art. Gogol's text reads, '4to 3T0?' - jyMa.T oh ca.vi npo ce 6 fl, - 'ncKyccTBo n.in CBepx- ecrecTBeHHoe KaKoe BOJimeGcrBO. Bbir-ianyBiuee mumo aaKOHOB nptfpoiibi? Kakaa crpaHnafl, Kaicaa HenocTttacH.MaB sajaaa! H.nti j.ia ‘leJiOBeKa ecrb laKaa aepra, j o KOTopoH jo b o jh t Bbicmee noanaHne, H ‘lepea Koropyio LuarnyB, oh y>Ke noxHiuaex necoaaaBae.vioe TpyüOM ‘lejioBeKa, oh BbipbiBaer >ito-to >K»Boe H3 >kh3HH, oaymeB- jiflionieH opnninaji? Oi'iero >Ke o to t nepexoa 3a 'lepry, nojiojKeHHyio rpannueio jjw Boo6pa:aceHHfl, laK yÿKacen? Mjih 3a BOoGpavKeHtieM, 3a nopbiBOM cteayer, tiaKoneu, jeHcrBnTejibHocrb, la yvKacHaa jeHcrBnrejibHOcrb, na Koiopyio cocKaKHBaer BOoGpavKeHne c CBoefi o a i KaKHM-TO nocTopoHHH.\i tojimkom, la ^ See for example, van Gennep's Rites o f Passage for his discussion of the liminal. * Consider, for example, the demonic portrait in the short story "Portrait" which exists simultaneously as a part of the real world of St. Petersburg and beyond the threshold of that world. 117 y/KacHEfl üefiCTBHTejTbHocrb, Koropaa npeüCTaBJiflerca >Ka>Kiiyiue.viy ee Toraa, Koraa oh, /Kenaa nocrnrHyTb npeKpacHoro ‘le.ioBeKa, BocpyÿKaeTCfl aHaTOMH‘iecKn.vi HOÿKO.vi, pacKpbffiaer ero eHyipennocTb H BHÜHT OTBpaTHTe.TbHOrO He/ioBeFca?"^ It is through this improper placement that the other is transferred from canvas to real life. As in most of Gogol's works, the conflation of the imaginary with the real opens the path to demise. 3.2 "Portrait": Framing Evil and Framing Art Many scholars have attempted futilely to find the source for Gogol’s "Portrait." Most presume that Gogol looked to Russian and or Ukrainian folklore for inspiration-perhaps via his literary predecessor Aleksandr Pushkin or perhaps directly from the oral tradition.The following discussion of the folkloric themes in this story will show that the evil force in St. Petersburg is in fact a stranger, a figure out of place. Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 230. '"What is this?' he wondered to himself, 'is it art of some supernatural sorcery which ignores the laws of nature? Does there exist a line to which higher knowledge leads a man but, once he has crossed it, he grasps something not created by human effort and tears something live out of the life which animated his model? Why is it so terrible to cross over this line, which is the borderline of the imagination? Or does reality finally follow the imagination, the impulse-that awful reality which knocks imagination off its axis as if by some external shock, that terrible reality which presents itself to a man thirsting after it when he, wishing to discover that which is beautiful in man, arms himself with a surgeon's knife, butts through to the inner self, and sees that which is so repulsive in man?" N. Ul’ianov, for example, in his article "Na Gogolevskie temy," points out that Evgenii from Pushkin’s "Bronze Horseman" comes from Kolomna, the same area in Petersburg the evil Petromikhali lives (104). Lev Annenskii writes, "zanimalsia li avtor nad epizodom iz knigi zhizneopisanii Vazari, net li zdes’ sviazi s nezakonchennoi kartinoi Leonardo da Vinchi, ne nashel li Gogol' prototip vo vremia puteshestviia po Italii, klassicheskoi strane portretov, izobrazhaiushchikh liudei s sil’nymi strastiami..." (111). 1 will show that Gogol augments his story by drawing 118 The main protagonist in "Portrait" is Chertkov, whose name was thought to have been derived from the most popular name for the devil in Russia ['iepr.\ While Gogol certainly was aware of this connection, Roman Jakobson has shown another, perhaps more interesting derivative of Hepr. Following a suggestion by Leo Spitzer, Jakobson related this term to the Russian word family meaning "line etc.": ‘lepra "line, limit", 'leprnrb "to draw". Old Russian ‘lepecrn "to cut." This new meaning adds more dimension to Gogol’s character. He is at once associated with the devil himself as well as the limit or line from which the devil can cross from the magical realm to the real, taking advantage of the vulnerable - those between places or out of place. According to Felix Ginas some words of this family have a magical function, e.g., "Russian 'lyp (in children’s games): He cry nan . 3a >iyp (don't cross over the line); Czech chara charm; a borderline up to which something is permitted or magically prohibited, e.g., the line which marks the so-called magic circle where the evil demons retain or lose their power."” The validity of this etymology can be confirmed by an exact parallel in Finnish where pirn "devil" comes from piiru, piiri "line, boundary line; circular line, circle, area enclosed": cf. Piirtaa "to draw a line; to encircle, surround something; to cut."'" The Russian nepr most likely denoted the magic circle and subsequently came to mean the devil, a being whose activities are from several international folk motifs listed in Stith Thompson's M otif Index o f Folk Literature. ' ' Felix Ginas, "The Devil in Russian Folklore" in Essays on Russian Folklore and Mythology 97. Felix Ginas. "The Devil in Russian Folklore." Essays on Russian Folklore and Mythology, 97. 119 magically controlled by this circle, keeping him in place. Certainly Gogol was aware of the importance of the magic circle in folk beliefs, customs and practices. In his earlier work, "Bhu" [Vii], the main protagonist, seminary student Khoma Brut, is protected against the terrible demon by the magic circle he draws around himself; it is only when he breaks the spell by looking at the horrible demon that all is lost. It seems highly likely that Gogol borrowed the motif of the magic circle that protects Khoma Brut from the devil from a story containing the international motif that Stith Thompson classifies under the number D1381.11, types 810. 815 found in Irish, Lithuanian and Indian folklore. The subclassification K218.1, "Devil cheated by having priest draw a sacred circle about the intended victim" echoes Gogol's description of Khoma Brut's activities in ViiP According to Russian folk sources, "devils can practically be anywhere, and are believed to be watching constantly for holes and gaps into which to crawl." Since the devil could be in any hole or gap, the Russian peasant like folk in many parts of the world made the sign of the cross whenever he yawned, opened doors, drew water, in short, wherever he encountered an aperture the devil might enter, a place betwixt and between, inside and outside, a threshold, a crossroads. That Petromikhali takes on the role of the devil in "Portrait" can hardly be contested. Gogol's description of Petromikhali as the Anti-Christ points to the author's Stith Thompson. M otif Index o f Folk Literature. Vol. 2. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1955-58, 291. Oinas, 100. For a detailed analysis of Russian peasant folk belief, consult Linda J. Ivanits' Russian Folk Belief 120 impression of St. Petersburg, a whole city out of place, constructed on bones, the ideal location for the devil. The demonic presence in St. Petersburg is directly connected to its evil origins because Gogol's devil is related to the founder of the city, the artist/creator Peter the Great, Peter Alexeevich, who traveled Europe under the name Peter Mikhail(ovich) and was called the Anti-Christ by his opponents. In a letter to M. P. Pogodin dated February 1, 1833 Gogol discusses Peter's reign and offers his opinion on the man who tried to westernize Russia. He writes, «Kaxafl CMeimiaa aiecb bo epevia ilerpa, Korja Pycb npeepaTnaacb na ope.Mfl B uupio.ibHK), 5utko\i naSniyra napcjovi: ojuh gim noacraBJiflji ceoro Sopoay, jpyroMy naai.ibuo 6pnjtu. BcoopasuTe, •rro OJUH opanuT AHTU.\pucroB> hobubhv, a vie>Kjy tcm gi.vi xoaer ciejiaTb HOBOMOJHbifi noKJioH H obercfl U3 a u i cKoeepKaTb y /KUMKy {{)paHuy30Ka(I)TaHHUKa.‘^ In Gogol's story, every description of Petromikhali points to his evil nature. He is a moneylender who lives in rooms that are cold cellars at BeKXUfi jom [Vetkhii dom] in Kojovma [Kolomna], the demonic and slummy neighborhood just outside of St. Petersburg.'^ Kolomna, Gogol informs us is, "ne noxo’Ae na crojuuy, no Bviecre c jtum He noxo>Ke u na npoBUHUuajibHbifi ropojoK . 3jecb see, 'rro oce.io OT jBHyKemiH croMimi.''^^ [Emphasis added] Certainly, in many ways, this is a liminal location, a gap or hole in which the devil has chosen to live. The company he Gogol 1988, "To Pogodin," 1 February 1833 in Perepiska N. V. Gogolia, 1: 341. The reference to Petromikhali's home conjures up images of the Old Testament, "Vetkhii zavet." '* Gogol, PSS Vol. 3; 252. "..not like the capital, not like a village... Everything that settles out of the living capital is here." 121 keeps also suggests that this location is one neither here nor there, an eternal limbo- land. The rest of the inhabitants of this liminal location are also in transitory states; they are the "orcraBHbie 'ihhobhhkh, BüOBbi, n Bbicny/KtiBiunecfl KyxapKn", literally those who have resigned, or are no longer needed.'^ Gogol's use of the verb OTcraBaxb, to lag behind, lose touch with, in a sense to be (re)placed is indicative of the importance the author emphasizes on one's place in society. Certainly these forgotten people are no longer in touch with the real world. Grigori's son, who calls this group o f people ashen [n.\ierc)T nenejibHyio uapy>KHOcrb], further comments that they are comprised of "all of the pitiful and unhappy sediment of humanity" [OiOBO.vi, >KaJiKHH h HeoiacrubiH ogijok MejioBe>iecTBa.]‘° These poor, lower- ranked people [HHiUHe] were afraid of Petromikhali and came to him only when they were in extreme need [cihuikom KpatiUHH Hy>Kja.] This strange creature, who sits on a divan, with legs folded underneath himself, offered people money under certain conditions (no one quite knew what conditions), but those with the spirit [jyx] to do it turned yellow, wasted away and died. Gogol's devil has Eastern features; he is described as an Asiatic, with dark olive colored skin and Asian dress. The fact that he sits on his legs may also point to the general folk belief that the devil is a fallen angel who attempts to lure souls away from God, for if taken in the literal sense, perhaps Gogol’s devil became lame in the fall. This stranger or outsider is displaced Gogol,PSS Vol. 3: 252. "retired clerks, widows and cooks who served out their time." Gogol, Vol. 3: 254. 122 physically, through his portrayal as foreign, yet he is at the same time part and parcel of St. Petersburg, a city itself both imaginably and actually on the edge or out of place. The artist Grigori is described as a religious, devout painter who devoted himself only to painting icons. Gogol describes the story of his fall as follows, OüHaKO /Ke OJUH pas KpaHHOcib ero laK yBejin'imtacL, ‘rro on roTOB V/Ke obij njxn k rpeKy, KaK Bjpyr BHesanno pacnpocrpan- njiacb eecFb, ‘iro y>Kaaibifi pocroBimiK naxojnJCH npn aieprH."' That Gogol uses the words KpatiHOcrb (from Kpafi. or border) and yeejin‘in.iacb (to grow, magnify) is important, for it is this seemingly demonic expansion of space that led the religious icon painter to sin by attempting to capture on canvas the features of a living man. Once again Gogol points to the confounding of the real with the imaginary and the vulnerability and power of the liminal. Grigori is called to Petromikhali’s deathbed and ordered to paint his portrait [Hapncyfi c \ienfl noprper!]" The hint that the portrait will contain living features is evident in this phrase which indicates that they will be taken directly from [c vienfl] the living man. Gogol may have drawn this motif from folklore.^ Thompson's Motif Index o f Folk ■’ Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 257. "However, his need became so great on one occasion that he was prepared to go to the Greek, when suddenly the news spread around that the awful usurer was on the point of death." ^ Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 257. "Paint my portrait!" ^ 1 would point out that Gogol's plot shares some similarities with other contemporary stories such as Balzac’s first novel La Peau de Chagrin (1831), where the main protagonist, Raphael de Valentin, pledges his soul to the devil in an attempt to change places with his own youthful portrait. Balzac writes, "If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to grow old! For that - for that - 1 would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for that!" (Balzac, 60.) This same motif is also present in an episode in 123 Literature lists several subcategories of "contest in lifelike painting" which are international motifs. H504.1 (.1, .2 and .3) all document various artists who engage in life like painting. H504.il, for example, reads: "Contest in lifelike painting: fly on saint's nose. Second artist in first artist’s absence paints a fly on a saint’s nose in a picture. On his return the first artist tries to drive away the fly.”"'* In addition, Gogol’s detail of the devil tempting the painter is listed in Thompson's index under P482 and finds a close, but not exact parallel in L. Barag’s Bocro'UfOCJOBmiŒan CKciJka qmBHirreJibHbifi yKasare.ib aoAcewB under the listing 819*: noprper Hepra: Kpenocrnofi ifcnBonnceu no npnKa3v 5apnna piicyer noprper ‘lepra; pncyer b fiane, ne atorpur na nero n npHHoair fiapmiy; oapuna naxojar NieprBbLvi.'^ Gogol’s artist realizes that this is no time to paint a portrait and pleads with the man to repent before the "Higher Power" (npunecrw noKaanne BceBbiLuneMy.)"^ The devil will not repent, and Grigori is forced to paint his portrait. He captures the fire that is going out in the original. When he is finished, the man dies and Grigori is left with the horrible image [ofipas] of Petromikhali. The dual meaning of the word ofipaa in Russian, namely as either image or icon, must be taken into consideration. Benjamin Disraeli’s Vivian Grey (1826), and later in Edgar Allan Poe’s The Oval Portrait (1839) and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture o f Dorian Gray (1891). Thompson, 419. Thompson, 176. Barag, 207. Barag's text reads, "The Devil's Portrait: A serf painter is ordered by his master to paint a portrait of the devil; he draws the portrait in the bathhouse and doesn’t look at it; the serf brings the portrait to his master, who is found dead." Barag indicates that the motif is foimd in Afanasev's, Smirnov's and Bashk's collections of folktales. (This same motif is identified by Antti Aame in Types of the Folktale as specifically Russian (he cites Andreev) under the number 819. See Aame, 227.) 124 That Grigori was an icon painter who engaged in religious paintings to glorify God makes the temptation (to paint the image of the devil, in a sense, an icon which preserves the evil powers on earth) even more blasphemous. Gogol writes, "Ero ySeÿoeHHfl 5buiH TBep>Ke rpaunTa, h acM cnjibHee SbiJio HCKyuieHne, tcm oh Sojiee pBajtCH npoTnsycraBHTb e\iy necoKpyuinMyio o in y jyiuH cBoeft."'^ In a final attempt to rid himself of the possessed portrait, Grigori burned the portrait and the deceptive/unholy image [neflCHHfi o6 pa3] of Petromikhali flew up the chimney."* Feeling relieved, Grigori turned to the comer of the room where one of his icons [oGpaa] hung. Petromikhali’s image [o6 pa3] hung in place of the icon. Grigori, the devout icon painter, crosses the line by painting the portrait because in doing so he attempts to imitate the creative activity of God."^ By preserving life on canvas, Grigori creates an artistic stasis; he preserves Petromikhali against the ravages of time, but at the same time he encloses and captures the ephemeral beauty of life. The act of keeping the form of the dead among the living is a presumptuous mockery of the Creator. Similarly, because the portrait can come alive, and is able to move freely between canvas and real life, it can also J® Gogol, P 5 -5 Vol. 3:257. Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 261. "His convictions were firmer than granite and the greater the temptation, the more he strove to resist it with all the indomitable strength of his soul." Gogol's choice ofhchchuh o6pa3 [unclean image] to represent the devil is in stark contrast to the clear/clean image of Christ and his angles in the following popular phrase: "flcHoe jihuo ribiBaer y Xpticra, y anrejia." [Only Christ and angels have clear faces.] At the end of the story Grigori is saved by praying to the Icon of the Virgin Mary. This motif is wide-spread in international folklore and can be found under Thompson's classification: D 1639.2, "Image of Virgin saves painter." 125 shift from two to three dimensions and back again. The portrait/demon, through his multiple displacements, can also move across cultural boundaries (supernatural- natural) and mediate social categories, as he has the ability to make Chertkov rich. 3.3 "Nevsky Prospect": Temporal Dislocation - The Stranger in the City Gogol’s fictional works, most notably "Nevsky Prospect," portray a special form of public life, which is played out in a zone [the city] that is neither quite public nor private, which partakes of both; the semi-private meeting places such as cafes, terraces and even the boulevards when reserved for certain group activities, hotels, etc. These commodified spaces in which everything was for sale, and to which anyone was free to come at one time or another, attempted to recreate the atmosphere of the salon or the private house. Here, a section of society was at home. This society. which constituted itself as a spectacle, was a society of outsiders, and the boulevards and cafes offered a temporary homeland for those individuals without a home. This proliferation of public places of pleasure and interest created a new kind of public person, and unknown, with the leisure to wander, watch and browse: the flaneur, a key figure in the critical literature of modernity and urbanization, but already a well known universal type in folk literature. As Elizabeth Wilson notes. In literature the flaneur was represented as an archetypal occupant and observer of the public sphere in the rapidly changing and growing great cities of nineteenth-century Europe. He might be seen as a mythological or allegorical figure who represented what was perhaps the most characteristic response of all to the wholly new forms of life that seemed to be developing: ambivalence.^® 30 Elizabeth Wilson. "The Invisible Flaneur." Postmodern Cities and Spaces, 61. 126 The flaneur makes his first public appearance in an anonymous pamphlet entitled Le Flâneur au salon ou M. Bon-Homme: examen Joyeux des tableaux, mêlé de vaudevilles, dated 1806.^* A French dictionary of popular usage from 1808 defines "un grand flaneur" as "a lazybones, a loafer, a man of insufferable idleness, who doesn't know where to carry his trouble and boredom."^' While Vladimir Dal's dictionary does not list the flaneur, Gogol most likely was aware of the figure of the flaneur, if not his exact name, from Balzac's writings. Balzac first introduces the topic o f flânerie in the Physiologie du mariage (1826) with conjectures about a woman glimpsed in the streef*^ The flaneur appears as the ultimate ironic, detached observer, skimming across the surface of the city and tasting all its pleasures with curiosity and interest. Benjamin writes of the way in which the flaneur-as-artist "goes botanizing on the asphalt." He is the naturalist of this unnatural environment. Characteristically the In addition to Le Flâneur au salon ou M. Bon-Homme: examen Joyeux des tableaux mêlé de vaudevilles (Paris, chez M. Aubrey [1806]), the following works on the flaneur were published between 1824 and 1833: J.B. Aldeguier's Le Flaneur, ou mon voyage à Paris, mes aventures dans cette capitale, et détails exacts de ce que J'y ai remarqué de curieia, et de nécessaire à connaître (Paris 1824); Honoré de Balzac's Comédie humaine, Ed. P-G Castex (Paris: Gallimard-PIéiade, 1976-81; "Le Flâneur à Paris" in Le Livre des cent-et-un (Paris: Ladvocaat, 1831) and Emile Zola's Au Bonheur des dames (Paris: Gamier-Flammarion, 1833.) See D'Hautel. Dictionnaire du Bas-langage ou des manières de parler usitées parmi le peuple (1808). Geneva: Slatkine Reprints, 1972. The first recorded usage dates fi'om 1585 in Touraine. The Norman flanner, derived from old Scandinavian flana appears in 1645. "Flaner - Rôder sans motif de côté et d'autre; fainéantiser; mener une vie errante et vagabonde; Flaneur: Un grand flaneur - Pour dire im grande paresseux; fainéant, homme d'ime oisiveté insupportable, qui ne sait ou promener son importunité et son ennui." Balzac's most famous portrait of the flaneur. Physiologie du flaneur, was written in 1841, several years after "Nevsky Prospect." 127 flaneur appears as a marginal persona. Benjamin saw in Baudelaire's flaneur the archetype of the one who is not at home: The flaneur is still on the threshold, of the city as of the bourgeois class. Neither has yet engulfed him; in neither is he at home. He seeks refuge in the crowd.^ Therefore, the flaneur is never at home, except when he Is in the crowd. Drawing from Walter Benjamin's writings on the flaneur, 1 will develop the argument that the two protagonists in Gogol's "Nevsky Prospect" are in fact the first Russian flaneurs in literature. Originally, the literary figure of the flaneur was tied to a specific time and place: Paris, the capital of the nineteenth century as it was conjured by Walter Benjamin in his analysis of Charles Baudelaire.^^ But the flaneur also walked along the pages of Nikolai Gogol's works. The flaneur, as the secret observer of the spectacle of the spaces and places of the city, is at the same time linked to the marginal figure as transitory subject among the crowd. As Keith Tester remarks: Consequently, flânerie can, after Baudelaire, be understood as the activity of the sovereign spectator going about the city in order to find the things which will occupy his gaze and thus complete his otherwise incomplete identity; satisfy his otherwise dissatisfied existence; replace the sense of bereavement with a sense of life.^^ In "Nevsky Prospect," the figure of the flaneur and the activity of flânerie has left the streets of historical Paris and has, instead, been connected to something more Walter Benjamin. "Paris, Capital of the Nineteenth Century." Reflections: Essays, Aphorisms, Autobiographical Writings, 156. ^ Benjamin, 200-240. 128 by way of a genre of urban existence. Like Baudelaire, Gogol defines the city in terms of its public spaces, movements and rituals. For Gogol the city is a place of flux and fleeting meetings against a somewhat more concrete background. Gogol describes two individuals who wander along Nevksy Prospect and engage in flânerie. Flânerie, according to Baudelaire, is more specific than strolling. It is a spatial practice of specific sites: the interior and exterior public spaces of the city.^^ Flânerie is also the psychotic appropriation of space through the exploration of the city. The flaneur is said to visually consume the city as a series of sights.'’* The failure of flânerie is that it does not solve the problem of the flaneur's alienation. Because flânerie involves staging an alienated relationship with the environment, it cruelly perpetuates alienation from others while the others can define themselves as insiders vis a vis the flaneur. The flaneur, always the outsider, scans for himself the urban environment and passers-by for information on the true nature of the world in an attempt to orientate himself in a changing world.'’^ Gogol’s flaneurs differ from each other in nature. The first, the shy Piskarev, is a romanticized tragic figure who is not only not able to fit into society (he is an artist in a land of civil servants), but ultimately takes his life because of his position in society. He is, as I will outline below, an inept flaneur. The second type, the Keith Tester, The Flaneur 7. The figure of the flaneur is long attested in oral literature and is akin to the fool, harlequin, trickster, and the king who goes about his city disguised as a commoner. See Charles Baudelaire's "Le Soleil" in Les Fleurs du mal No. 87 in Oeuvres complètes. Paris: La Pléiade, 1961. Baudelaire, 84. The flaneur is also typically out to see and be seen. 129 charming lieutenant Pirogov, is a masterful voyeur, who is very much in his element on Nevsky as he chases after his catch, the unknown blond girl. We are introduced to both men as they are out for an evening stroll on Nevsky to have a sly look at a lady they have spotted in the distance. Pirogov, who seems to be well versed in the nighttime ways of Nevsky, encourages his friend to follow the woman of his desires. Gogol writes, "Mto )K Tbi ne lueiiib 3a 5piOHeTKOK), fcorja ona TaK le G e noHpaBHnaO)?"'’® The shy Piskarev responds. O, KBK vio>faio!_ KaK S y jio ona H3 xex, KOTopbie xoaflT eeenepy no HeecKOMy npocneKxy; oto jo.T^Kua 5brrb onenb anainafl aa.Nia. - OJUH Hjiaut na nefi c tg h t pySjiefi eoceMbjecjrr!'” This statement shows Piskarev's belief that his place is somewhere below that of the brunette and that he wouldn't dare dream of displacing her. As allegorical figures. both men are representative of two types of people, the romantic artist (Piskarev) and the realist (Pirogov). When read in this light, Gogol's story becomes a means of interpreting the society in which he lived in terms of an overwhelming process of commodification. If the whole society was engaged in a sort of gigantic prostitution, where everything was for sale (including the writer's art), then the death of Gogol's flaneur-artist can be interpreted as a literary allegory in which Gogol anticipates the death of Romanticism Gogol, PSS Vol. 3:11. "Why don’t you follow the brunette, since you seems to fancy her so much." Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 11. "Oh, how could 11... That would be like saying she was one of those ladies who walk to and fro along Nevsky Prospect of an evening. She must be very well-to-do, why her cape alone must be worth about eighty rubles!" 130 in Russian literature and the triumph of Realism/" Gogol used the arsenal of the arabesque to give expression to his concept of reality as a highly irrational, impenetrable, and mysterious force. His notion of a deep intertwining, if not struggle, of everyday life and the encompassing forces of nature, on the one hand, and the individual on the other, anticipates the deterministic world of the emerging realism and naturalism. Gogol's famous opening to "Nevsky Prospect" begins with a description of the trajectory, literally the road, which his protagonists will follow. He writes. Her Hnnero nyniiie HeBCKoro npocneKTa, no Kpafinefi Ntepe b nerepriypre, jnn nero oh cocraBnner see. Mevi ne onecrnT oia yjiHua - KpacaoHua HameH cro.inubi!'*^ In this statement, Gogol fixes Nevsky’s spatial coordinates and offers the reader a concrete reference point from which to understand the spirit of St. Petersburg. His brilliant use of metonymy, in which he attempts to capture the essence of St. The relation of the artist to the flaneur is beyond the scope of this dissertation. Interesting material has been written on this topic which equates the artist to the flaneur. One such parallel, for example, is the alienation of the individual where the detachment from the city that makes the flaneur a stand-in for the artist becomes the anomie and the alienation of the individual troubled by an invasive consumer society that precludes creativity. Balzac was the first to write on the connection between the flaneur and the artist. His celebration of the artist-flaneur sets a model that will be developed over the mid-nineteenth century by Balzac himself and also by others who identify the flaneur as a distinctive feature of modem Paris and of the artist in the making. The image and activity of flânerie is also tied to the literary practice and social justification of the labor time of writers who, like the flaneur, both put their observations up "for sale" on the market and wish to pursue flânerie for their own purposes. For discussion on the artist-flaneur, consult Balzac's La Comédie humaine. Ed. P.G. Castex. Paris: Gallimard-PIéiade, 1976-81. Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 5. "There is no finer sight than the Nevsky Prospect, at least not in St. Petersburg; it epitomizes the whole town. This road sparkles in so many ways-the beauty of our capital!" 131 Petersburg in Nevksy Prospect, the essence of Nevsky in its appearance at different times of the day, and the essence of the people of Nevsky, who are represented by their clothing, parts, smiles and mustaches, signals his fascination with fragments that represent wholes. It is this emphasis on fragmentary glimpses, snapshots of the lives of others, that is the fundamental condition of city life, the source of its most basic dynamic that Gogol attempts to capture. By using metonymy rather than metaphor, Gogol projects his city as endlessly fragmented. In describing the various people who frequent Nevsky, Gogol turns to synecdoche, an integrative form of metonymy, in which a part represents the whole so that people on Nevsky are reduced to bonnets, waistlines, sleeves, moustaches. eyes and smiles. In doing so, Gogol shows how city life embodies a form of social relations among strangers, a form of coexistence of community that privileges unity over difference. By documenting city life in motion. Gogol depicts how the various activities of groups of people on Nevsky are regulated by time. He writes. B iBenajuaTb aacoB na HeBCKufi ripocneKT jeaaioT naSeru ryBepnepbi Bcex naiuiH c cbohmu nuTONmaNui b GaTHcroBbix BopoTHHUKa.x. AHT.TUHCKHe ibKOHCbi H (j)paHuy 3CKne Kokh nayT noj pyxy c BBeperaibiMH hx pcanTejTbCKOMy none«ieHHio nHTG.vma.viH h c npHjruHHOK) coaHanocrHK) HSbHCHaiOT hm, mto BbiBecKH Haj viarasHHaviH aejiaioTca aaa Toro, •rroGbi mo>kho 5buio ncqDeacTBOvi hx ysnaib, t t g HaxGanTca b cavibix viara 3tmax_ Ho 6 ber ipn naca, h sbicraBxa oKan'ineaeTca, lOJina pejeex- B ip n 'laca - HOBafl nepe.viena. Ha HeBCKovi npocnexie aapyr nacraer Becna: gh noxpbmaerca aecb qnHGBHHxa.viH b ænenbix BHuviyHaHpax.^ ^ Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 9. "At twelve o'clock tutors of all nationalities invade Nevsky Prospect with their pupils in cambric collars. English Joneses and French Cocks walk arm in arm with the pupils entrusted to their parental supervision and with proper decorum explain to them how the signboards over the shops are intended as a means 132 Therefore, it would appear that it is time, and not space, that threatens to reinstate the structures of exclusion from one group or another. However, when read in light of Gogol’s preoccupation with place and identity, this passage takes on new meaning, namely, it is the unity of the community of officials in green uniforms and the tutors that affords them the specific time to parade on Nevsky. The strict delineation of social relations on Nevsky Prospect during the day denies the value of differences between individuals and between types of people and is founded upon a unitary ideal of subjectivity. In Gogol's Petersburg foreigners cease to be foreign and it is the hierarchies of wealth and power within the city that create the asymmetrical and impenetrable barriers among segments of the population. Gogol's description of tutors who explain to their pupils that signboards over the shops are intended as a means o f informing people o f what is to be found in the shops themselves anticipates one of the challenges to flânerie that Benjamin later identified. This challenge revolves around the rationalization of the spaces of the city which removes all mystery from the city. Flânerie is predicated on the possibility that there might be secrets to be imputed to things. of informing people of what is to be found in the shops themselves... But the clock strikes three and the exhibition comes to an end, the crowd thins out... At three o'clock-another change. It's suddenly spring on Nevsky Prospect, it is covered all over with officials in green uniforms." This artistic description of Nevsky has its origins in a letter that Gogol wrote to his mother in April 1829. He writes, "B rierepfiypre .viHoro ryjimmA. 3h.viokd npoxa^iBaioTCfl see npasjHoiuaraioiuiieai or jBCHaimaTn ao asyx lacoa (b sto epena ciyÿKaiiine aamrru) no HeBCKo.viy npocneicry." [There are many people who like to take walks in Petersburg. In the winter they all stroll in idle celebration on Nevsky Prospect from 12:00 to 2:00 (at that time the office workers are busy.] (Gogol's choice of prazdnoshataiushiesia is 133 Benjamin writes that. An extensive network of controls has brought bourgeois life ever more tightly into its meshes. The numbering of houses in the big cities may be used to document the progressive standardization.^^ By giving each house a name (or number), a single place was offered meaning; the romance of what might lurk behind the doors of houses has vanished. It becomes impossible for the flaneur to impute to himself a responsibility for what things might or might not mean. Gogol then introduces the first of his two main protagonists, the artist Piskarev. Gogol writes, 3 t o t \io.iojoH Me.noBeK npnHajjie>Ka.i k tomv Kjaccy, KOTopufi cocraBJHer y m ej o b o m h o crpannoe nB.iemie u crojbko x e npumjjiexirrk rpaxjanaM rierepoypra,œ o m k o jihuo, bbjihio- uieeai ua.M b ŒOBiuemiH, npnuajjiexHTk cymecTBemioMy siiipy. 3tO HCKjIHD'IUTeJIbHOe COCIOBHe D'ieub HeodblKHOBeUHO B TOM ropoje. r je Bce n.in •ihhobhhkh, nut! Kvnubi, n,in MacrepoBbie HCMUbi. 3 t o 6biJi \yjO/KHHK. He npaeaa an, crpannoe nsaenne? Xyjo>KHHK neTepôyprcKnfl! xyjo>KHHK b .le.Mae aieroB, xyjo>KHHK b crpane ({)nHHOB, rje Bce viOKpo, raajKO. poBno, flaejno. cepo, TyManno- K laxoMy poay npnHaaae>Kaa onnGinnbiH navin Moaoaofi neaoBex. xyaoxcHMK FlucKapcB, sacrennnBbn'i. poÔKnw, no b ayuie CBoefi HocnBiurifi ncxpbi lyB crsa, roroBwe npn yao5no.\i caynae npeapa- TnxbCfl B naa.Mfl.'^^ [Emphasis added] interesting in that it evokes images of loimging, idling, flânerie.) The reference is "To M.I. Gogol'" 30 April 1829 mPis'ma N. V. Gogolia 1820-1835. Vol. 10: 140. Benjamin, Charles Baudelaire 47. Gogol, PSS Vol. 3:13. "This yoimg man belonged to that class o f people who seem such a strange phenomenon to us and who belong to the citizens o f Petersburg about as much as a face which we see in a dream belongs to the material world. This exclusive class is very unusual in that city, which is composed solely of officials, merchants or German craftsmen. He was an artist. They're an odd lot, aren't they? A Petersburg artist! An artist in the land of snows, an artist in the land of the Finns, where everything is damp, slippery, flat, pale, gray or misty... And to such a breed belongs the young man whom we have just described, the artist Piskarev, shy and 134 It is apparent from our frrst introduction to the shy artist that part of his displacement is a direct result of his position as an artist in St. Petersburg, yet Gogol's artist also experiences temporal dislocation throughout the story. Consider, for example, that not only does Gogol not afford Piskarev a rightful place among Petersburg society, but presumably because there are "so few artists in St. Petersburg," Gogol does not afford them a specific time to frequent Nevsky. As the story progresses, Gogol describes the mysterious nightlife on Nevsky. Once again it is the specific time of day that brings about Nevsky's change. He writes. Ho xaK TO.ibKO cy.\iepKU ynajyT ua jomw h yanubi n 5yjo*»iHK. HaxpbiBuiHCb poro/Keio, BCKapaSKaerca ua aecrnnuy 3a>KnraTb (jwnapb, a 113 HnaeHbKnx OKOuieK .viaraannoB Bbiramiyrre acra.Ninbi. KOTopbie ne cMeioT noKaaaTboi cpean jhh, loraa HeBCKnfi npocnexT onHTb O/KHBaer u na*innaeT meBe.inTbca. T o rja nacraer to TanncTBeHnoe Bpe.viH, Koraa aa.vinbi jaioT Bcesiy KaKofl-io 3a.MaH»iuBbiH, 'lyjeaibiH CBex.’’^ It is during the night that this poor artist pursues his ideal woman only to find that she is a prostitute. Gogol's artist is obviously an outsider in Petersburg and it comes as no timid, but concealing feelings in his soul, which, at the right moment, were ready to burst into flame." Gogol frequently contrasts the gray, misty Petersburg to his homeland, the Ukraine, which is colorful. In a letter home, for example, he writes, "ripHxoa BccHbi B Hamy nbuibHyKD crojinuy, Koiopaa BOBce ne noxo/xa na aeaiy, aacraBJweT viena c co>KajieHne.vi Bcno.vinnaTb o nauiefi Manopocaifiacofi Beene." ["Spring has come to our ashen/gray capital. But because it doesn't look like spring Hiere], it makes me recall with regret our Ukrainian spring."] Gogol, PSS Vol. 8 : 36. ^ Gogol, PSS Vol. 3:10. "But as soon as dusk descends on the houses and streets and the watchman, wrapped in matting, clambers up the ladder to light the lamp, and the notice cards which dare not be shown in broad daylight appear in the shops' lower windows, then Nevsky Prospect takes on new life and begins to quicken. Then that mysterious time arrives when the lamps bathe everything in a deceptive, wonderful light." 135 surprise that he is equally out of his element while on this second, nightmarish Nevsky. He finds that at this mysterious time not only is not all that it seems, but that this new world is not completely real. While in pursuit of the beautiful stranger Piskarev notices, TpoTyap HeccH noü h h .m , Kaperw co CKaqyiuuMn .loujaab.MH KaaajiHCb HeaB»>Kn.\ibi, m oct pacraruBaiica » jioMajica ua cBoefi apKe, jovi cTOflji Kpuiueio bhh3, 6yjKa Bajin.iacb K ne\iy naBcrpe«iy, M a,ie6apja aacoBoro BNiecre c 30Ji0Tbi.\in cnoBa\ni BbieecKH n HapHCOBaHHbiMn HOKHHuaMH S.iecre.ia, Kasajiocb, ua ca.MOfi peaiHue ero r.aai'** In this depiction of Nevsky time stands still, and physical structures defy their intended purposes. Once again Gogol's brilliant manipulation of metaphor comes into play in his use of scissors to represent Piskarev’s physical and mental alienation from reality. Just after Piskarev sees the scissors on his eyelids, and while still in rapid pursuit of the girl, he thinks, "Bo)Ke! crojibKO oiacrtia b o j h h \inr! laKaa ayjeaiafl >KH3Hb b j b > x vinHyTa.x! Ho ne bo a ie .in 3t o Bce?"'*^ Displaced in time and unsure of the reality of the situation, Piskarev follows the unknown girl upstairs. When Piskarev finally realizes that he has come to a brothel, he experiences physical displacment. Gogol writes, "On GpooiJtcn c o Bcex nor, xaic jHKaa K03a, Gogol, PSS Vol. 3; 14. "The sidewalk swam beneath him, carriages with galloping horses seemed to stand stock still, the bridge stretched and snapped its arch, a house was standing upside down, a sentry box stooped to meet him, and the watchman's halberd together with the golden lettering of the signboard and a pair of scissors depicted on it shown with brilliance which made him think they were on his very eyelids." Gogol, PSS Vol. 3:14. "Lord, how much happiness in a single moment! A lifetime's ecstasy in two minutes! But was this not all a dream?" 136 H Bbi6 e}Ka;i Ha yjinuy. « T a n a a KpaccasHua, xaKne 5o>KecTBeHHMe Heprbi - h rje }Ke? B KBKOM Mecre!...»'"^^ [Emphasis added] Gogol uses the word place ( v/ecro) here in the dual sense, namely to emphasize the physical location, the brothel, as well as the place the girl has chosen for herself in society/' Piskarev, the shy dreamer, believes that this is a horrible mistake, that, "oHa 5biJia KaKoio-To yxacHOio eojieio ajcKoro jyxa, >Ka>fayiuero paapyuiHTb rapNtOHHio a h 3HH, Spoiuena c xoxotom b ero nyMnny."^* Because he is so disillusioned with reality, Piskarev turns to his own dream world where the stranger is a beautiful uapnua [tsarina.] Yet. even in his dreams, Piskarev experiences spatial disorientation. For example, in the first of numerous dreams he searches several rooms in her mansion in order to find her. yet comes up empty handed. He is agitated and exhausted and resigns himself to the comer where he just gazes at the crowd. Piskarev is now only able to dream; everything reminded him of the real world; even the daylight that peeked through his windows, irritated him. Gogol writes. Gogol, PSS Vol. 3:16. "He took to his heels like a wild goat and ran out into the street, uttering 'such a beauty; such a divine creature-what's she doing in a place like ±at?"' By nature the prostitute is a liminal figure. Possessed by all men yet owned by none, she emerges as a pivotal figure of transition-wandering, unstable and destabilizing. She is equally disturbing because she represents the woman who will not stay in her "proper place." Gogol, PSS Vol. 3:17. "she had been thrown into the abyss by the terrible will of some laughing spirit fi"om hell, who thirsted for the destruction of the harmony of life." 137 KoMHaxa b xaKOvi cepo.vi, xaKovi viyinoM 5ecnopflüKe~ 0 , KaK OTBpaTnrejTbHa jeHCTBHTejThHocrb! Hto oaa npoxnB N!e*rrbi?_ Bee aaeBHoe h jeficxBHxejibHoe apanno nopaxam ero ciyx_ HaKoneu aioBHaeana caejiajina ero >kh3hhio, h c oxoro epe.vieHH BCfl >KH3Hb ero npriHiina cxpaHHbifi o6 opox: on, viokho cKa3axb, cnaji Haasy n 5oapcxBOBaji bo oie/^ Once again, Gogol conflates the imaginary and the real, the nightmare with reality. The simple-hearted artist then devises a plan to save his beloved. Piskarev visits her one afternoon (Gogol writes that it is 2:00 pm) and asks her to renounce her position in order to become his wife. After answering, "fl xojibKO xro xenepb npooiyiiacb; Mena iipnee3Jin b ce\ib aacoB yxpa. fl obi.na coBcest nbana," she dismisses his proposal.By including the detail o f the time of day, Gogol emphasizes how these two very different people will never be able to find common ground. Piskarev. the shy artist, is able to stay alive only as long as he is able to dream of saving his newfound love.^^ At the same time, the beloved has been out all night drinking, and because of her profession, is still asleep at 2:00 in the afternoon. The story "Nevsky Prospect," therefore, is a tribute to Nevsky's spatial. temporal, ethnic and cultural nuances and a document of the demise of the romantic and the triumph of the realist. It becomes clear that Nevsky Prospect is a place in Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 22. "The room was in such gray, murky disorder...Oh, how loathsome reality is! How can it compare with a dream?.. .Anything cormected with daily life or reality had a strangely grating effect on him... Eventually the dream became his life, and from then on his life took a strange turn: he, one might say, slept while awake and was only awake in his sleep." Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 26. "I've only just awaken. 1 was brought home at seven o'clock this morning. 1 was quite drunk." After she dismisses him, in a fit of madness, he cuts his throat and bleeds to death. 138 which different kinds of people live in relative proximity to one another, sharing services as well as spaces, but not always belonging to a single community. Gogol's first hero is an inept flaneur in the sense that he is impelled to act upon what he sees. In other words, he loses the detachment required of the true flaneur and therefore is fated to die. His second hero, Pirogov, the unflinching realist. is ultimately able to discern fantasy from reality (he can recognize that his fantasy girl is actually "unattainable" because she is married). In addition, he is able to make light of his situation, Gogol shows the reader, when at the end of the story he spends quite some time joking with his "dream girl," and her rather strict husband. Pirogov engages in the ways of the flaneur, yet he is not a traditional flaneur. Unlike Piskarev. Pirogov is able to detach himself from his fantasy; he can reconcile his idea of the stranger with the reality of her situation, her position in society. Melissa Frazier's assessment of Gogol's work is founded upon the idea that Gogol reacts to the acceleration in the turnover time of capital in production brought about by the new strategies of flexible accumulation that require parallel accelerations in exchange and consumption. She writes, Russia of the 1830s was in a time of transition, not least from the patronage system to "print-capitalism" and, correspondingly, from empire to something at least colored by the notions of nationality. In this sense the contradictions of Arabesques could be said accurately to reflect the contradictions of Gogol's actual community.’® Frazier points to such technological changes in communication as the printing press that allow much more rapid circulation of commodities and money. In this way, she Frazier, "Arabesques, Architecture, and Printing" 294. 139 proposes to deduce Gogol's aesthetics from fundamental changes in the process of capital accumulation. Given this type of analysis, it should come as no surprise that Frazier offers an unfavorable diagnosis of Gogol's attempt at transition. She writes. On some level, Gogol was always bent upon producing a true whole, even at the expense of the part. It is only that he failed in his aim; try as he might, the whole where printing and architecture, Hugo and Chaadaev would co-exist lay just beyond his grasp.^’ There are a few levels at which one might object to such an analysis. The one I will argue here is based upon the fundamental representation of city life in Gogol's works. I use Jonathan Raban's account of urban life in Soft City in order to expand upon some of my objections. Raban argues that the fundamental condition of city life, the source of its most basic dynamic, is not the fact of greater abundance of commodities and services, nor the greater speed in their delivery and consumption, but the idea that in cities people live in constant proximity to strangers. He writes, "to live in a city is to live in a community of people who are strangers to one another.This notion. I believe, is fundamental to the understanding of all of Gogol's works set in St. Petersburg. Certainly in "Nevsky Prospect," "Diary of a Madman" and "Portrait." all of which depict the artists' (strangers') struggles for a place in society, each of the main characters experience themselves as actors, based on their relations with others. The contacts they have with others sometimes involve the most 'personal' parts of their lives. Frazier, 295. See Jonathan Raban's Soft City. 140 At the opening of "Nevsky Prospect," for example, the reader is exposed to the sounds and occasional sights of others going about their daily lives. Gogol then narrows the lens to focus on Piskarev and Pirogov in order to show how city life allows the self to collapse into its manner of presentation. Piskarev takes the fragmentary glimpse of his ideal woman and extrapolates this in order to identify with her and to judge her. Gogol writes, y era 5bijui aa.viKnyTbi ueiibivi poe.M npejiecTHeHuinx rpei Bee, 'iro ocraercfl ot BocnoMunaHHa o jerciBe, ‘rro ja e r Me'iraHne ii inxoe BaoxHOBeHue npn cBeraiueHCH Jia.Mnaae, - see 3 to , Kaaajiocb. coBOKynnjiocb, cinjiocb » oipaBHJioa b ee rap.vionn‘iecKnx ycrax.'^ As Raban points out, "we rely of necessity upon stereotypes or cues to determine the manner of person we are dealing with, the cut of their clothes or of their hair, an accent or a manner of speaking."^® This mode of relating to others, by identifying them on the basis of their appearances, social roles or other singular characteristics, reacts back upon a person's own sense of self, and city dwellers therefore are given to acting. I believe that it is this dynamic that has affected Gogol’s sense of self, as this sense is collapsed into its manner of presentation. The hiding of true identities-the recoding of self as other (native as foreigner, foreigner as native) comprises the logic of this action. As discussed in chapter two, Gogol's move from Ukraine to St. Petersburg offered the young author the opportunity to question his own identity. If he were to succeed as a writer, he must, out of necessity, define himself as a Russian Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 13. "Her mouth promised a host of charming dreams. All those things which recall memories of our childhood and which provide dreams and quiet inspiration in the light of a gleaming light-all this, it seemed, invited, merged and was expressed on her harmonious lips." 141 artist, creator, dreamer, and not the strange Ukrainian, Mykola Hohol. Writing about St. Petersburg afforded Gogol, in Raban's words, "the opportunity to question this source of both the sense of freedom and endless possibility in relation to personal identity, and the fear of becoming a 'stranger to oneself."^' Both the stranger and the flaneur are figures of the modem metropolis, a space in which both outsiders and insiders are dis-placed. In this section I have discussed the flaneur who appears in Gogol's works as a literary counterpart to the more familiar stranger. In city life, the stranger typically closes the gap between the distant (foreign) and the (local) intimate, violating the division of near and far and in doing so, forces us to rearrange our cognitive understanding of the spatial distribution of social relations. The stranger, therefore, is oftentimes a foreigner who attempts to become a native, whereas the flaneur is the inverse, a native who attempts to be foreign.^" 3.4 Psychological Dislocation - The Stranger as Madman In this section 1 will discuss the third discursive trope inherent in the image of the stranger in the works I have chosen to analyze. The stranger or outsider can be displaced physically, through the portrayal of foreigimess. or temporally, as figured in "Nevksy Prospect," through the use of dream sequencing and timelessness. The third component that coexists with the previous two is the psychological. Through the use Raban, 23. Raban, 250. For discussion on the idea of the flaneur as an inversion of the stranger please consult Rob Shields' article "Fancy footwork: Walter Benjamin's notes on flânerie" in 142 of dreams, we have seen how Gogol implies a type of regression, a denial of the present in the invocation of illusion, and I have documented how for Gogol alienation is inseparable from foreignness. This section examines outsideness through the imagery of insanity as a locus from which social, legal and physical marginalization may be articulated. The most common images of madness that Gogol evokes in "The Diary of a Madman" are hallucinatory voices (talking dogs), outrageous thoughts (the madman believes he is King of Spain), and the effects of institutionalization on the individual. Karlinsky writes that in the nineteenth century, "Diary of a Madman" was frequently read as a clinical case study and that medical specialists published articles certifying that the story contained a classical outline of the onset of paranoia.^'’ Michel Foucault's work Madness and Civilization posits that the positivistic Enlightenment ideologies that accompanied the creation of the city in the modem era (the age of European industrialization) discursively reconfigured the trope of insanity. Insanity was re-read as idleness and perfidy. The newly-created citizen's inability to cope with changing labor requirements was read as unwillingness to cooperate and tantamoimt to rebellion, if not openly so, as in the cases of the Luddites and the saboteurs. Insane asylums were converted from religious hospitals to houses of The Flaneur. Ed. Keith Tester. Shields discusses the relevance of Benjamin's flaneur to Georg Simmel's stranger in his The Stranger (1950.) “ Karlinsky, 118. 143 correction, and in many instances the insane, vagrants, orphans and debtors were thrown into the same prison. The price of freedom in the new city was the possibility of confinement. Foucault writes. Confinement was an institutional creation peculiar to the seventeenth century. It acquired from the first an importance that left it no rapport with imprisonment as practiced in the Middle Ages. As an economic measure and a social precaution, it had the value of inventiveness. But in the history of unreason, it marked a decisive event: the moment when madness was perceived on the social horizon of poverty, of incapacity for work, of inability to integrate with the group; the moment when madness began to rank among the problems of the city.^ The hegemonic city has one problem: the threat of ungovernability. When a citizen cannot fill the minimal social obligations demanded by the city, the government of the city must act to insure that the patterns of production are not disrupted. Instead of the medieval solution of exile, the modem city (as an agent of the state) opts to take an active role in the socialization (or re-socialization) of the individual. In this environment the sanitarium becomes a place of condemnation for the idle, a gallery for the sins of addiction, lack of self-control, inability to work at a trade, unwillingness or inability to behave according to societal norms and to relate to reality. In this location there is a convergence of temporal and spatial confusion; patients are disoriented and de-intensified, feeling no pain or happiness, living in a regressive or fantastic state. The trauma of where they are is often lost on them in the ^ Foucault, 64. 144 eternal now of the clinic. Madness and its role in society is, then, another marginal locus from which Gogol has taken interesting thematical material. 3.4,1 Gogol’s Madman The hero of "Diary of a Madman," Aksenty Poprishchin (the name is derived from nonpHuie, profession or chosen field of work) is a meek copy clerk who in insisting he is of noble origins refuses to accept his place in society. As Karlinsky points out, Poprishchin's class pride is consistent with his particular form of insanity, megalomania, in which he imagines himself to be the King of Spain in order to restore to himself the social importance that his serf-owning ancestors once had.^^ In the first entry of the madman's diary Poprishchin overhears a conversation between two dogs, Madgie and Fidele, and learns that they are carrying on a correspondence. Gogol places the idea of Poprishchin's initial sanity into question from the very beginning of the story. The entry reads. Ho, npn3Haiocb, h ropasjo fiojiee yjHBUjiCH, Koraa Mej>KH cKaaajia: « f l n u ca jia k Teoe, (Duae.ib; Bepiio, n o .iK a n ue nputiec nncb.Ma Moero!» ü a 'troo a He nojiyauii >KajtoBaHbH! Fl eme b /KU3hh tie cjibLXHBaii, 'rrofibi cofiaKa \iorjta nucaTb. ilpaBUiibno nucaxb vio^Ker TOJtbKO JBOpHHUH. OhO, KDHe'lHO, HeKOTOpbie H Kyn'IUKH* KOHTopiuuKH H ja ^ e KpenocTHofi Hapoa nomicbiBaer HHoraa: ho hx nucanne 6ojibiueio ‘lacTbio .NiexaHUHecKoe: hh aanarbix, hh tohck , hh ciiora.®^ Karlinsky, 118. ^ Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 166. "But, I confess, I was far more surprised when Madgie said, 'I wrote to you, Fidel; obviously, Poklan did not deliver my letter.' May I never draw my salary again if I'm lying! Never in my life have I heard of a dog who could write. Only noblemen can write correctly. Some merchant-clerks can do it, of course, and even some serfs occasionally write a little; but their writing is mostly mechanical; no commas, full stops or style." 145 In his reference to writers, the author hints at that changing nature of writing as a trade in the mid-nineteenth century and at the same time shows how class position is important for his hero who is condemned to a menial position in the director's office sharpening quills. Gogol brilliantly inverts the prestige and respect afforded to ancient scribes in this image of the low-level civil servant who is engaged only in sharpening quills and not the esteemed exercises of calligraphy. Poprishchin's madness is directly linked to his obsession with rank. He is deeply hurt by his superior's house servants because they are unaware of his rank. Gogol writes, fl Tepnerb He Mory -laxeMCKoro icpyra: Bceraa paaKi.iHTCH b nepeanefi, h xotl 5bi rojioBoio noTpyjHjica KHBHVTb_. Ja anaeuib -iH Tbi, rJiynbiH .vonon, >ito ii 'ihhobhhk, a o.iaropoaHoro npoHCXQÿjeieHHfl.*’ Not only is Poprishchin not afforded the respect he feels he is due from his inferiors, but his superiors also take to taunting him. In the third diary entry his boss screams at him, Beab Te6 e yyKe aa copoK .ler - nopa 5bi y\ia naopaTbca. Mto Tbi BOOÔpavKaetub ce6e? Tbi jyviaeuib, a tie anaio Bcex tbohx iipoKaa? Bejb Tbi BOjio'iHiiibca aa aupexTopcKOK) joaepbra! Hy, nooioTpn na ceSa, noayMafi TOJtbKO, «rro ibi? seab tm nyjtb, ocaee Hiiaero. Bejb y Te5a Her hh rpouia aa jyuioio.®* Gogol,Vol. 3: 168. "1 cannot stand these servants: they're always lounging about in the hall and they can't even be bothered to nod their heads... Don't you know I'm an official of noble birth, you stupid lackey?" Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 168. "You're past forty now, y'know-time you had some sense. What are you thinking of? You don't think 1 know your little game? You've got your eye on the director's daughter! Well, just look at you; just think; you're a nobody, that's all. And you don't have a penny to your name." 146 The new meanings of poverty, the importance given to the obligation of work, and all the ethical values that are linked to trying to attain a woman outside of his social class ultimately determines Poprishchin's experience of madness and inflects its course. Spurred on by a sense of pride of his noble origins, Poprishchin refuses to surrender to his lowly position as a copy clerk. Gogol writes, H pasBe to KaKux-HnSyjb pasHO'inHueB, to noprubLx ti.iti to ymep- CKjttiuepcKtix jerefi? fl jBopatttiH. '^Ito >k, ti a Mory jociy^KtiTCH. Mue eiue copotc asa roaa - Bpe.via laK oe, b xoTopoe, no- Hacrofliue.viy, TOJibKO ‘rro na'itiHaerca cny/KÔa. n oroati, nptiareab, 5yje.M ti Mbi nojiKOBHtiKOM, a Moncer 5birb, e c iti 5o r aacr, to >ie.\i- Htiôyjb ti noGojibuie. 3aBeae.M ti \ibi ce6 e penyiautiKD em e ii nojiy'ime iBoefi.^^ This prophesy comes to fruition only inside the madman's deranged head, just after he is insulted once again by members of a lower rank, the two dogs Madgie and Fidele. In an interesting twist, Gogol's hero intercepts and reads Madgie's letter to Fidele which contains thoughts about Poprishchin. The letter reads, .\x, ma cherè, eciti 5bi Tbi stiaaa, xaKOti 3T o ypoj. CoBepmeiitiaH 'lepenaxa b vieiUKe». (Da.vitiatia ero npecrpaunaa. On eceraa ciiatiT I! MtiHtrr nepbfl. Bojioca na roaoBe ero o'lenb noxo/Kti na ceno. riana Bceraa nocbiaaer ero BMecro cnyrti_ Oxfiti ntixaK ne MO/xeT yaepvKaTbca ot cviexa, xoraa raaatrr na nero.^° Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 169. "Am 1 some low-class intellectual son of a tailor or non commissioned officer? I'm a nobleman. And I may even get promoted. I'm still only forty-two years old-the age when one's service career is really only just beginning. Wait, friend! We'll make the rank of colonel yet, and perhaps, God willing, even something higher. We'll acquire a reputation, too, and a better one than yours." Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 175. "Oh, ma cherè, if only you knew what a monster he is. A real tortoise in a sack... He has a really strange surname. He's always sitting repairing quills. The hair on his head looks very much like hay. Papa always sends him in place of a servant. Sophie simply cannot restrain herself from laughing when she looks at him." 147 Poprishchin is an outsider because of his position in society. His isolation forces him to obsess about the dogs' thoughts and actions. At the same time, this commingling of madness and marginalization serves also to allow the portrayal of Gogol's protagonist, who did not conform to societal norms, as mentally unfit. In believing that he is the king of Spain, Gogol's outsider is robbed of his agency, and becomes a stranger even to himself. In this sense, not only does he not have a place in society; he has been removed from human experience. Poprishchin lives in a context of no context and therefore must supply himself with a rank and position in order to define his role in the man made world of St. Petersburg. His previous life had been circumscribed not by impersonal destiny, but by forces of a rigid rank system introduced by Peter the Great. This consciousness suppresses or elides the sense of self. Poprishchin, as a liminal figure, therefore, moves between reality and irreality, in the sense used by Gaston Bachelard: The demands of our reality function require that we adapt to reality, that we constitute ourselves as a reality and that we manufacture works as realities. But doesn't reverie, by its very essence, liberate us from the reality function? From the moment it is considered in all its simplicity, it is perfectly evident that reverie bears witness to a normal, useful irreality function which keeps the human psyche on the fringe of all the brutality of a hostile and foreign non-self Because he is not recognized in his own Russia, Poprishchin literally takes on the role of a foreigner in becoming the King of Spain. In his diary entry of April 43, 2000, we read. Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics o f Space 13. 148 CeroüHfliuHHfi üeHb - ecTb jeHb BejiHHaHuiero Top>KecTBa! B HcnaHHH ecTb Kopom. Oh OTbiCKajica. 3 t o t Kopojib a. HvieuHo TOJTbKO ceroüHfl oo 3T0M ysHaji H. ripn3Harc)Cb, vieHH Biipyr KaK ôyjT o MOHHnefi ocBeTH.no. fl ne nonnviaio, KaK a \ior jy.Maib h bo- oGpaÿKatb ce6e, ‘rro a iHTy.napHbiH coBexHUK. KaK \ioraa b30hth vine B rojiOBy axa cyMacSpomaa Mbioxb? Xopomo, tfo eme ne jorajaiica hhkto nocajuib Mena Torüa b cyMacuiejujHH jom.^‘ From reading the newspapers Gogol's hero finds that the throne of Spain is empty and therefore is able to project himself as the rightful heir to the throne.^’’ Fortunately for Poprishchin by the end of the story, when he truly is brought to the insane asylum, he is so disorientated that he believes he has been summoned to Spain for his coronation.^"* Gogol writes, CeroaHa noyxpy asHmiCb kg njhc jenyiaibi HcnancKne. h a BNiecre c HH.MH ce.T B Kapexy. Mue noKaaa.iacb crpanHoio neGObiKHOBeimaa CKopocxb. Vlbi e.xa.iH xaK luh6ko. 'ixo ‘lepea no.i'iaca jocxur.iH HcnaHCKHX rpanHiL^^ This dislocation in space is preceded by his inability to remember dates (disorientation in time) and anything about his past life or position in society (disorientation in place). Poprishchin interprets everything that takes place in the asylum as a necessary step in his elevation in rank. His frequent beatings, for Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 177-78. "Today is the day of greatest celebration. There's a king in Spain. He has been found. I am this king. And I only found out about it this very day. I confess it hit me like lightning. I don't understand how I could think or imagine that I was a titular councilor. How could that ridiculous idea have got into my head? It's a good thing nobody thought of putting me in a lunatic asylum." Gogol borrows this detail from current events. He refers to the Carlist Spanish civil war (1833-39) in which Don Carlos unsuccessfully contested the succession of his niece Isabella II to the throne. Poprishchin's confinement eliminated from the social order a figure who was unable to find or recognize his rightful place within society. 149 instance, are perceived and described by him as a Spanish custom of chivalry on elevation to a high rank. When his head is shaved and cold water dripped on it Poprishchin believes that he has fallen into the hands of the Inquisition and that the warden is the Grand Inquisitor. The logic that Poprishchin uses to explain the atrocities inflicted on him in the asylum is typical of the language of madness. Foucault, for example, writes. The marvelous logic of the mad seems to mock that of the logicians because it resembles it so exactly, or rather because it is exactly the same, and because at the secret heart of madness, at the core of so many errors, so many absurdities, so many words and gestures without consequence, we discover, finally the hidden perfection of a language... The ultimate language of madness is that of reason, but the language of reason enveloped in the prestige of the image, limited to the locus of appearance which the image defines.^^ In a final fit of madness. Poprishchin realizes that there is no place for him and cries out to be liberated from his torture. Gogol writes. Hero xoTHT ohh o t \ienH, oejuioro? Hxo Ntory jaib a hm ? fl Htmero ue H.Meio~ C naaiie vieua! BoabMnie vieua! jafiie vine TpofiKV fibicxpbix, KaK BHXopb, Konefi! Cajncb, Mofi aMiutiK. .menu, moh KOJioKOiibUHK, BBBefrrecfl, kohh, n Hecme vieua c 3Toro CBexa! üajiee, aajiee, 'iroGbi ae bhüho fiburo Htniero, Hn>iero.’’ The flight of the madman represents a collapse of time and space. It is a flight from the reality of this world as well as one madman's internal struggle for place. In Gogol, PSS Vol. 3; 181. "The Spanish deputies came to me this morning and I got into a carriage with them. The unusual speed seemed strange to me. We traveled so fast that we reached the Spanish border after half an hour." Foucault, 94. Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 183-84. "What do they want from me, wretch that I am? What can I give them? I have nothing... Save me! Take me! Give me three horses as swift 150 crossing the boundaries between the real and imaginary worlds, Poprishchin finds that he does not have a place in the real world. This liberation effect allows the reader a certain relief from the alienation of life in the city. The escapism in Gogol's texts becomes muted as Poprishchin's final line 3Haere Jin, ‘iro y ajDKnpcKoro aen noa ca.MbiM hocom uiniUKa?" recalls the main catalyst of the hero's madness, an obsession with rank.’® The image of rank obsession opens and closes the narrative as Poprishchin affords the head of Algiers a title of respect reserved for Turkish dignitaries, yet at the same time mocks him (and presumably the Turkish control of Algeria in 1518) by pointing out that he has a pimple under his nose (presumably referring to the French who enjoy control of Algiers from 1830-1962). The confrontational nature of this text is somewhat troubling. The mild discomfiture is cathartic, relieving tension and through sublimation, liberating the reader from the consciousness of the real world. Like a stranger in the real world. Poprishchin remains an odd, inexplicable presence, pointing vaguely toward an unseen threat, reminding the reader that all is not well in this world. Poprishchin's madness begins when in delirium, his mind binds itself to the "arbitrary" notion that he is the King of Spain. He becomes a prisoner of this as a whirlwind! Get in, coachman; ring, my little bell; dash on. horses, take me from this world. Further, further till I can't see anything, anything." Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 184. "And do you know that the Bey of Algiers has a pimple right under his nose?" Foucault points out that delirium is derived from lira, a furrow and deliro, to move away. Hence the meaning of delirium is to move out of the furrow, away from the proper path of reason. See Foucault, 100. 151 apparent liberty. Madness, Foucault writes, "is no more than the derangement of the imagination, it is escaping truth and its constraints and the appearance of the unreal.Poprishchin is mad because he posits, as an affirmation of his status, the content of the image "I am King of Spain." Foucault writes. And just as the consciousness of truth is not carried away by the mere presence of the image, but in the act which limits, confronts, unifies, or dissociates the image, so madness will begin only in the act which gives the value of truth to the image. The image in Poprishchin's imagination is given value by his mind. He affords this image, created in his imagination, total and absolute truth. Foucault writes, "The act of the madman never oversteps the image presented, but surrenders himself to immediacy, and affirms it only insofar as it is enveloped by it."^* Poprishchin's madness, therefore, is linked to his imagination, for he centers himself within this image, yet at the same time he is confiscated by it and incapable of escaping from it. In this chapter I have outlined Gogol's rhetorical use of the stranger in order to document the physical, temporal and psychological displacement of his heroes in the three fictional works o f Arabesques. In addition, 1 have discussed the theme of alienation in these stories as an inseparable element of foreignness and one that may, taken to the extreme, lead to insanity. For Gogol's characters madness does not seem to be empowering. While they create worlds for themselves that certainly do have, a la Foucault, a certain logic to them, the end result of their fabulations is complete Foucault, 93. Foucault, 94. 152 estrangement from the everyday world. Gogol's characters are so focused on the injustices and humiliations they are wrongfully forced to suffer that they think there must be some mistake about their low status and miserable lives. In this sense, characters such as Piskarev and Poprishchin are unable to harbor the resources they need to survive. In addition, by imagining multiple contradictory worlds—the city street at night as opposed to the daytime, being King of Spain as opposed to a clerical worker— they are unable to resolve the contradictions between these worlds. So, for example, when Poprishchin heads for Spain he finds himself in another world that has nothing to do with an insane asylum. These strangers are indicative of Gogol's own experimentation with identity and anxiety over genre, which is in turn linked to his anxiety over self and his position as a "misfit" in the conventional Petersburg order. 153 Bibliography Chapter Three: The Stranger in the Fictional Works o f Arabesques Bachelard, Gaston. The Poetics o f Space. Boston: Beacon Press, 1964. Balzac, Honoré de. La Comédie humaine. Ed. P.O. Castex. Paris: Gallimard-Pléiade, 1976-81. —. Physiologie du mariage. Trans. Sharon Marcus. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1997. Barag, L.G. Vostochnoslavianskaia skazka sravniteTnyi ukazateT siuzhetov. Leningrad: Nauka, 1979. Baranov, V. I. and A.N. Rannii. "Khudozhestvennoe istolkovanie povesti N. V. Gogolia." Filologicheskie nauki (1967). Baudelaire, Charles. "Le Soleil." Oeuvres complètes. Paris: La Pléiade. 1961. Benjamin, Walter. Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era o f High Capitalism. Trans. H. Zohn. London: Verso. 1983. —. "Paris. Capital of the Nineteenth Century." Reflections: Essays, Aphorisms. Autobiographical Writings. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. 1986. D'Hautel. Dictionnaire du Bas-langage ou des manières de parler usitées parmi le peuple ( 1808). Geneva: Slatkine Reprints, 1972. Fanger, Donald. Dostoevsky and Romantic Realism. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1965. Foucault, Michel. Madness and Civilization. New York: Pantheon Books, 1965. Frazier, Melissa "Arabesques, Architecture, and Printing." Russian Subjects. Ed. Monika Greenleaf and Stephen Moeller-Sally. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1998 (277-296). Gennep, Arnold van. Rites o f Passage. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960. Gogol, N.V. "To Pogodin" 1 February 1833. Perepiska N. V. Gogolia. Eds. A.A. Karpov and M. N. Virolainen. Vol. 1. Moscow: KJiudozhestvenaia literatura, 1988. - - -. "To M.I. Gogol'" 30 April 1829. Pis'ma N. V. Gogolia 1820-1835. Eds. N.F. Bel'chikov and B.V. Tomashevskii. Vol. 10. Moscow: Izdatel'stvo akademii nauk SSSR, 1953. 154 Ivanits, Linda J. Russian Folk Belief. London: M. E. Sharpe, 1992. Karlinsky, Simon. The Sexual Labyrinth o f Nikolai Gogol. Cambridge; Harvard University Press, 1976. Maguire, Robert. Exploring Gogol. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. Maguire, Robert and John Malmstad, Petersburg: Andrei Bely. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1960. Massey, Doreen. "Power geometry and progressive sense of place." Eds. J. Bird, B. Curtis, T. Putnam, G. Robertson and L. Tickner. Mapping the Futures: Local Cultures, Global Change. London: Routledge. 1993. Oinas, Felix. "The Devil in Russian Folklore.'’ Essays on Russian Folklore and Mythology. Columbus: Slavica Publishers Inc., 1985. Raban, Jonathan. Soft City. London: Fontana/Collins, 1975. Tester. Keith. The Flaneur. London: Routledge, 1994. Tompson. Stith. M otif Index o f Folk Literature. Vol. 2. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1955-58. Tuan. Yi-Fu. Space and Place. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. 1977. Turner. Victor. The Ritual Process. Chicago: Aldine Publishing, 1969. UTianov, N. "Na Gogolevskie temy." The New Russian Review. New York: Russian Review Publishing Company, 1969. Wilson, Elizabeth. "The Invisible Flaneur." Postmodern Cities and Spaces. Ed. Sophie Watson and Katherine Gibson. Oxford: Blackwell, 1995. 155 CHAPTER 4 LIUDMILA PETRUSHEVSKAM: WRITING WOMEN, SIMULATING REALITIES 4.1 Introduction From the early nineteenth century to the modem day, Russian literature has expressed a particular fascination with social and artistic legitimacy and the difficulty of securing one’s "rightful" place in society. The first chapter of this dissertation focuses on Gogol's appreciation of the arabesque, in his working out the problems of space and place. Chapter two addressed Gogol’s lifelong struggle for legitimacy in the Russian literary canon as essentially a struggle between his Ukrainian and Russian identities. Chapter three analyzed Gogol's struggle as figured through his portrayal of strangers in his fictional works. Writing at the end of the twentieth century, Petrushevskaia has her own issues with social and artistic legitimacy. Working back and forth between these two writers can help unpack and shed light on the issues they both grapple with in their own ways. Postmodern tendencies in Liudmila Petrushevskaia's works were already hinted at in Gogol's writings. Petrushevskaia too writes from the margins as outsider, artist and woman. The development and reception of women's writings in Russia is linked to the peculiar voice of the marginal woman writer. The final chapter of this dissertation will examine the way in which Petrushevskaia, like Gogol, appropriates and revises mythologies, though in her case, these are mythologies of the feminine, in 156 order to establish her literary legitimacy. Of particular interest will be her depictions of women as mad, ill, hysterical or even diabolical, which parallel some of Gogol's conceits but that appear in her works as a powerful revision of the traditional feminine, symbols both of decay and of unexpected power. I will show how Petrushevskaia manipulates myth in order to illustrate how her heroines are able to overcome the expectations that a dominantly patriarchal culture has placed on them. By examining her use of the powerful rhetorical device of the mysterious stranger in our midst, I will be able to form a set of parameters by which Petrushevskaia’s works provide her with the means to transcend the expectations of the male dominated literary canon and to create an alternate lineage in which the female does have agency. Most of Petrushevskaia's characters are marginal constructs. The use of characters peripheral to the metropolis and to life within it as a symbol of transition are not new to Russian prose. Russian literature of the nineteenth century also aroused the reader's sympathy for the "little" man making do in the interstices of the city and taught him the pointlessness of spiritual blindness, timid conscience, and self-satisfied indifference. We have noted this example in the utterly realistic petty clerks and destitute artists in Gogol's Petersburg tales.' ' Belinskii in "Petersburg and Moscow," points out that the civil servant (huhobhuk ) was the "native, the true citizen of Petersburg." Commenting on the conditions of life in the city, he writes, "It is well known that in no other city in the world are there so many yoimg, elderly, and old homeless people as in Petersburg." (Fanger, 154.) 157 Petrushevskaia’s insistence on realistic detail evokes that of 1830s Russian realism." Gogol's own version of realism depicts "all those things that an indifferent eye fails to notice-all the stupendous, terrible slime of trivia in which our lives are mired. Gogol's Petersburg stories, borrowed from his own experience, show him turning his attention away from the Ukraine and the past (romantic material) to Russia and the present (realistic depiction). In the same years (1833-35) that Balzac and Dickens were documenting for their audiences the unsuspected sides of Paris and London, Gogol, as demonstrated in chapter three, showed how St. Petersburg might be explored with the eye of a realist and evoked with the tools of a romantic."* Like Gogol, Petrushevskaia also exposes the fragmented individual, a character extracted from the crowd together with her troubles and sufferings. The fragmented individual is, in a sense, all of us. She de-romanticizes Medea and other mythic figures only to reinvest them with perhaps a more realistic nobility. Several ^ Russian realism, as it is seen in Goncharov, Turgenev and Tolstoy, was bom a decade after Gogol's Dead Souls (1842). ^ Fanger, 102. ■* One must be careful in attempting to pigeon hole Gogol into one of the set literary genres of romanticism or realism. Along these lines, I would like to clarify that I use realism not in the historical sense of the term, to refer to a specific movement or period extending in Russia from about 1830-1890, but in a more broad sense, referring to a "conscious orientation toward truth, especially unpleasant truth, as opposed to idealization or myth." (McLean, 364.) In chapter three I have discussed Gogol's emphasis on realistic details in his fictional works of Arabesques. McLean also points out Gogol's reliance on Balzac's works which exhibit another of "realism's proclivities, fascination with the 'lower depths' of society." 158 literary critics have remarked on Petrushevskaia's reliance on Gogol's theme of tlie "little" man.' Sergei Bavin, for example, writes, Kpnrnxa, CTOJiKHyBuiHCb c MnpoM nepcoHa>Kefi nerpyiueBOcoH, jojFoe Bpe.Mfl nperibffiajia b HeaoyMennn OTHocnTe.ibHO acrerHHec- KOH 3HaHH.M0CTH yBHüeHHOrO H npOHHTaHHOFO, HO HO'tTH CilHHO- jyiuHO H c 3HTy3na3.M0.vi Bbiaajia Kapr-^iianui na SeaycioBHyio 3TH‘iecKyio ueHHOCTb Toro HBJieHHfl. KoHe'iHO. CBOHD pojO) cbrpajia Tpa,lHUHH OTPMeCTBeHHOH K.Taca!K5! (PorOJlb, /loCTOCBCKXX, MCXOC) c ee BHHMaHHe.M k "5ejHbL\i .iiojiaM," (c ee ryMaHH3M0.vi h co- crpajaHHe.vi») HepcoHaiKH OerpyiueBCKOH, SeyciOBno, ''\ta.ienbKne [Emphasis added] Evgenii Shkol'vskii, in his article "Kocaa >KH3Hb'" [Lopsided Life], links Petrushevskaia to Gogol by placing her works within the natural school and pointing out her use of the absurd and fantastic. These remarks on Petrushevskaia's works are a strong echo of the early remarks that Gogol received on his own Dikanka and Petersburg stories. Shkol'vskii writes, nerpyuieBCKafl ocraerca HaocoGy: b ee npon3BejeHHHX - coHeraHHe "naTypa.ibHOH uiKOJibi" c mhcthkovi, aScypaoM, npoeKUHefi nojco- ^ Petrushevskaia, Sobranie sochinenii Vol. 1: 128. (Hereafter referred to as Petrushevskaia, SS.) Petrushevskaia changes this theme slightly to focus instead on the "little" woman. In "ilo% K c 6 h h " [Ksenia’s Daughter], for example, Petrushevskaia writes about literary depictions of prostitutes. She remarks: "literature has always sought to describe the prostitute's justification. Actually, it is ftmny to imagine someone daring to describe a prostitute with the purpose of blackening her. The task of literature... consists in showing all those who are typically scorned as people deserving respect and pity." See Sergei Bavin's "Gbyknovennye istorii" in Moskva (1995): 5. He writes, "The critics who collided with the world of Petrushevskaia's characters were, for a long time, relatively puzzled at the aesthetic significance of what they saw and read, but they almost unanimously and enthusiastically gave her a "carte blanche" based on the absolute aesthetic value of these works. Of course, the tradition of Russian classics (Gogol, Dostoevsky and Chekhov) also played a role in her emphasis on the 'little people,' (with her emphasis on their humanity and suffering...) Petrushevskaia's characters are without a doubt 'little people.'" 159 3HaTejibHbLX Kourviapoa Bpeun HOin> - 3to ceroaHauiHne "3amicKH cyMaciueamero," CBHXHyBiueroca na naiuefi 5brroBOH no'me/ Petrushevskaia's works are rich with well known literary images and comparisons that can be attributed to Gogol. T. Belova has shown how in the story "EepetiKa Bepo'iKa" [The Jewess Verochka] Petrushevskaia describes her heroine with a familiar Gogolian image fromDead Souls: "Her delicate face was like an egg in the neck of her dark short-cut hair."® In her article in 3na.\m, critic Natal'ia Ivanova argues Petrushevskaia's dependence on Gogol through the former's aesthetic use of 'noiUjJocTÉ [banality]. The idea is based on Petrushevskaia's return to middle-class themes, namely the classical critique of bourgeois vanity {noiu.iocrb). Ivanova writes, .VlaTepnanoM, KOTopbifi o 6e nncaTenbnnuti [[leTpymeBCKaa n TojicraH] ynopno \iearr cbohmh pyKa.Mw, HB-'inercfl Obir {nouiJocTb, MeuiaiicTBo n.T.j.).^ It isn't surprising, then, that Petrushevskaia takes as her subject the city. If Gogol showed how St. Petersburg might be explored with the eye of a realist and ’ Evgenii Shkol'vskii. "Kosaia zhizn'" in Literaturnaia gazeta (April 1, 1992): 21. "Petrushevskaia stands apart: in her works the 'natural school' is combined with the mystic, the absurd and the projection of subconscious nightmares. TVie Time Night is a present day "Diary of a Madman," dislocated onto our very soil." ® See page 122 of Tania Belova's "Postmodernist Tendencies in the Works of L'udmila Petrushevskaja" in Critical Essays on the Prose and Poetry o f Modern Slavic Women. The passage from Dead Soul's concerning the governor's daughter reads: "The pretty oval of her face was perfect as a newly laid egg and just like one glistening with a bright transparent whiteness." Natal'ia Ivanova, "Neopalimyi golubok" in Znamia No. 8 (1991): 216. "The material that both Petrushevskaia and Tolstaia persistently knead with their hands is part of everyday life (banality, narrow-mindedness and so on.)" 160 evoked with the tools of a romantic, Petrushevskaia's self-prescribed task is to create a literary mosaic of "real" Moscow life. Maia Koreneva describes Petrushevskaia's urban prose: Petrushevskaia's subject is the contemporary city environment, but she does not describe it directly; rather, she focuses on the déclassé layers of humanity that have flooded all urban conglomerations. Koreneva uses the term déclassé to refer to those strata of society that are sometimes called the "lost people"-those who do not fit into any of the officially identifiable classes as the USSR constituted them when Petrushevskaia first began writing in the 1960s. Koreneva continues. Déclassé characters are in effect, displaced persons, those who fall through the cracks of official categories. Yet ironically, by their very numbers they represent one of the largest groups in Soviet and post- Soviet urban society.’ * In both Gogol’s and Petrushevskaia’s works, the city, for the marginal city dweller, becomes not only a place to live, but also a place where a person is forced to take measure of him or herself. Petrushevskaia mentions this in the preamble to her screenplay of the cartoon version of Gogol's "Overcoat." She remarks, iVImiocepiiHe ecrb nepsoe jmnvKeHne ‘lejioeeKa. oxBa'ienHoro yKajtocFbio. nonpoSyH-Ka npmorn Seaao.viHoro! _ H joflpwH, 5jiaro- HpaBHbiH aejiOBeK hhctwhkthbho OTUiaTbiBaercH or Hecemifl raKoro Kpecra- Jlnrepaiypa XIX B6Ka_ ne peuia.ia Bonpocbi HevieajieHHO, He jaaajia aapeca xoro Tmeayuffloro crapnKa„ JlirrepaTypa, kbk jHoacKaa viojiBa yxpoM nocne ySnHCTBa, paarjiamajra oocroHreab- Maia Koreneva. "Children of the Sixties." Dialogues/Dialogi: Literary and Cultural Exchanges Between (ex)Soviet and American Women, 194. II Koreneva, 205. 161 CTBa. rasera 5 h norpeSoBaria HaKasaTb bhhobhhx . Cya 5bi nx npwroBopHJL JlnTepaiypa oôpaTnaaa x ‘lyBcrey MHiiocepana HHTaTejifl_‘‘ Writing about the turn in contemporary literature back toward the "little man in the city," literary critic Alla Latynina noticed this as a prevalent theme of the literature of the "forty-year olds."'^ She writes, MajieHbKiifi •lejiOBeK b r o p o je , b ce.Mbe. er a noBcejneBiian x iib h l , ■Aena, reuia h aio6oBHnua, SojtbUbie jexii, oÔMeubi, noBbimeHna no cnyArie, aarajibxepbi, Sojiesnu h H cue.ienna. n p o cib ie, Bce.vt nonarbie >iejiOBe'iecKne KOH({)JiHKTbi - bot ae\i saiiajtacb nposa copoKajterHnx. n 3T0 ribuio BaAHO™ O n a ne ap ana.'’’ [E m p h a sis ad d ed ] *" "Mercy, encompassing pity, is the first human emotion. Just try to shelter a homeless person... even the kind, grateful man instinctively recoils from taking up such a cross... Literature of the nineteenth century... did not solve the question quickly, did not give the address of the frail old man... Literature, like rumors on the morning after a murder, divulges circumstances. The newspaper would demand that the guilty be punished. A court would sentence them. Literature appeals to the rnerciful feelings of its readers." The term "forty-year-olds" was coined by Russian literary critics in the late 1970s to refer to a group of authors who were in their 40s during this time. As Brown points out, several authors whose dates o f birth range from 1935 to 1944 were included within this group. Some such writers include: Vladimir Makanin, Anatolii Afanasev, Vladimir Gusev, Valerii Popov, Ruslan Kireev and Anatolii Kim. This type of writing also falls under the heading "MocKOBCKaa lUKOJia h ropojC K aa LUKOJia" [Moscow school and the urban school] and was practiced mostly in the 1970s. Moscow school was coined mainly because most of the authors of this generation used the city as background, social-psychological motivation and sometimes as a character in itself. For more information on this period, consult chapter five, "The ’forty-year-olds'", of Deming Brown's The Last Years o f Soviet Russian Literature, 100-125. A. Latynina, "Za otkrytym shlagbaumom" in Moskva: SovetskiipisateT (1991): 139. "The little man in the city, in the family, his daily life, his wife, mother-in-law and mistress, sick children, his transfers and successes in the work place, his audits, sickness and cures, simple conflicts which everyone can comprehend-this is what the prose of the forty-year olds was concerned with and it was important... It [the prose] did not lie." 162 Petrushevskaia's prose differs from that of the forty-year olds in a very specific way. In an interview with Nancy Condee she remarks on this difference: A ‘rro KacaercH "copoKaiiermix" laK HaabisaeMbLX "nucaTejieH TeneHUfl >kh3hh," 3Tot #HO\ieH oTcyTcrayer b \ioefi paGore. Ecrb TRKOH Bojioaa MaxaHUH, k to, a MyBcreyio, npoaoiDKaer TpaanuHn Tpnc|)OHOBa~ HO 'rro KacaercH ecen ocrajibnofi thk na-^bmaeviOH "vjocKOBCKOfi uiKOJibi," 3T0 HacTOfliuee rpa(()OMaHCTBO, viajib'iuKH, 3apa5aTbmamuinp jeHbni, riaSbie nepoM B HHKorja ne nniuy o noBceÆeBHocriLH ontoiBaK) iiCK.Tjo'BfTe.7L//6/earryaunn, hohhtho? fl nniuy o cnyiaax, o KaTacrpo(|)ax_. HiiKorja o noBcejHeBHOcru}^ [Emphasis added.] Petrushevskaia's emphasis on the unusual situation, the catastrophes her heroines undergo and her insistence on remaining objective are defining factors in this "new" type of prose, a prose that harkens back to the catastrophes of Gogol's male characters like Akaki Akakievich and Piskarev. Her works have been consistently distinguished by her interest in every form of reality, even the "lowest"-reality not adjusted to fit certain standards, not ennobled in the name of any lofty goal. Petrushevskaia's realistic sketches are the opposite of the familiar, flattering pictures presented by the official writers of Socialist Realism in the press when she first began writing.’^ One See N. Condee's "Liudmila Petrushevskaia: How the 'Lost People' Live" in Materials o f the Institute o f Current World Affairs (May, 1986.) "As far as the 'forty- year olds' go, the so called 'writers of the current of life,' this phenomenon is absent in my work. There is Volodia Makanin, who 1 feel continues in the tradition of Trifonov... as far as all the others of the so called 'Moscow school,' it is real 'graphomania,' boys, making money off of their weak writings. 1 never write only about everyday events. 1 describe unique situations, do you understand? 1 write about events, catastrophes. Never about everyday events." Proponents of the methods of Socialist Realism, who believed in the virtue of instruction and direct appeal, would not have considered resorting to Petrushevskaia's strategies. The conflict reflects the long-standing argument about the way art can most effectively establish the laws of truth and beauty in the world. 163 strategy that Petrushevskaia adopts to enhance the impression of objectivity, so that descriptions in her works appear consistent with reality, is exemplified in the tone of her cold, detached narrators. I. Borisova formulates the effect as, "Petrushevskaia writes what she sees and sees things as they are."*^ As Koreneva points out, Borisova omits an important eiement-the creative act. Petrushevskaia, therefore, "makes us believe that she writes what she sees and sees things are they are."'* 4.2 Writing From the Margins As a woman writing about women's lives and problems, Petrushevskaia writes from the margins. As Ewa Thompson writes in Imperial Knowledge. "One of the discoveries of feminism is that woman is the quintessential Other. In some ways, she remains an outsider."'^ Rather than making a push to be part of the mainstream literary conversation, Petrushevskaia defiantly writes herself even more toward the periphery, the precipice of the artistic community-a bold though common enough strategy for those whom, like women, society problematizes. Women can act as valuable 'strangers' to the social order, perceiving what can be seen fi-om a 'wild zone' from which women are able to recognize multiple standpoints as they juggle multiple identities."® As Sandra Harding observes. Koreneva, 196. '* Koreneva, 197. See page 200 of Ewa Thompson's "Deconstructing Empire: Liudmila Petrushevskaia" in Imperial Knowledge. The titles of two recent publications about Russian women reflect the emphasis on women's multiple identities. I refer to Balancing Acts: Contemporary Stories by Russian Women and Francine du Plessix Gray's Soviet Women: Walking the Tightrope. 164 Members of marginalized groups must struggle to name their own experiences for themselves in order to claim the subjectivity that is given to members of dominant groups 'at birth' through the latter’s insertion as legitimate speakers and historical agents into dominant language, history and culture. Achieving publicly self-named 'experience' is a pre-condition for generating knowledge. So women speaking women's experiences is a crucial act, and an epistemological one, too.*' Just as Gogol's fresh perspective on the city and city folk owes a debt to his particular arrival from the "periphery," Petrushevskaia's sense of place, arising as it does from the defiant resistance to the center, both actual and metaphorical, determines the identity of her oeuvre. That body of work in turn results in her situating herself even more firmly in her place and identity of "choice." Writing about the specific problem of the identity of women authors, Linda Alcoff remarks. She is not merely a passive recipient of an identity created by external forces. Rather, she herself is part of the historicized, fluid movement, and she therefore actively contributes to the context within which her position can be delineated. I would include Lauretis' point here, that the identity of woman is the product of her own interpretation and reconstruction of her history, as mediated through cultural discursive context to which she has access." In Petrushevskaia's fiction this identity is rooted in and to a large extent determined by the sort of place in which her characters are located: the imcertain, temporary, imstable quality of places. The concept of place serves a unique role in Petrushevskaia's prose: its temporary, undetermined quality reflects the crises of a certain class of contemporary urban women. Again, as with Gogol's Akaki *' See page 151 of Sandra Harding's "Reinventing Ourselves as Other: More New Agents of History and Knowledge" in American Feminist Thought at Century's End. 165 Akakievich, Piskarev and Aksenty Poprishchin, Petrushevskaia's protagonists' urges to establish certain stable, harmonious places remain essentially thwarted. And, since human relationships are linked to this ideal place, Petrushevskaia's protagonists are usually unable to establish or sustain friendships. Writing against the tide, as it were, taking a preordained outsiderhood and foregroimding it, a woman might write her own life in fiction, even in advance of living it, perhaps unconsciously, without recognizing or naming the process. Here at the interstices of the conscious and unconscious, where fiction and autobiography blur, is where some feminist, class-based social or cultural intervention can occur. Like those of others on the periphery, Juditli Kegan Gardiner concludes. Autobiographies by women tend to be less linear, unified, and chronological than men's autobiographies. Women's novels are often called autobiographical, women's autobiographies, novelistic... Because of the continual crossing of self and other, women's writing may blur the public and private and defy completion.'^ Petrushevskaia's works, thus do not develop along standard literary linear schemes and her heroines rarely resolve the problems assigned to them. The lack of interconnectedness of events further lends itself to an emphatic portrayal of the instability of place and the isolation of characters. Frequently in Petrushevskaia's works a woman's identit)' is forged largely through her social relationships with others; on the one hand, through her support system (consisting mostly of other “ Linda Alcoff, "Cultural Feminism versus Poststructuralism; The Identity Crisis in Feminist Theory." Signs: Journal o f Women in Culture and Society Vol. 13:3 (1998): 434. ^ See page 182 of Judith Kegan Gardiner's "On Female Identity and Writings by Women" in Writing and Sexual Difference. 166 women); on the other hand, through her temporary relationships with men.''* In her preface to Balancing Acts, Helena Goscilo perceives Petrushevskaia's protagonists as: belonging to a drastically different segment of Russian womanhood. Calculating yet tractable victims of men as well as of their own temperaments, they function on a disquietingly desperate level of human intercourse that Petrushevskaia communicates starkly through the compulsive monologues constituting her narratives.'^ Even in her self-assessment Petrushevskaia pushes herself to an awkward periphery - claiming a hard-edged masculine femininity for her subjects and her prose. She insists that her writing exemplifies a more 'terse' and 'masculine' style, relying rather on strong plot and character studies than on the more flowery 'feminine' literary style, trivialized for its penchant for detail and sentimentality. The term 'woman writer' is in fact deemed derogatory in Russia, and Petrushevskaia certainly rejects it, even as she, in her own way, interrogates the same "women's" issues. Carol Greene, in the opening paragraph of her essay "Contemporary Soviet Women Writers," writes. The renowned Soviet literary critic, Natalya Ivanova, subsumes under it [the term 'woman writer'] a preoccupation with women's concems- stories of failed and of happy female lives, weddings, divorces, betrayals-and narrowness of outlook, triviality, coquettishness, and fastidiousness. Of the most visible contemporary women authors, Lyudmila Petrushevskaya feels that women's prose implies superfluous ornateness or decorativeness. She sees herself as writing in the 'male manner', which means to her, a focus on the essentials of plot and character.'^ [emphasis added] See for example, my analysis of "Our Crowd" and The Time: Night. Goscilo, Balancing Acts x-xi. Goscilo sees Petrushevskaia's works as a contrast to other contemporary women writers such as Tatiana Tolstaia. See Carol Greene's "Contemporary Soviet Women Writers" in Canadian Woman Studies/les cahiers de la femme Vol. 10: 4 (Winter 1989): 77. 167 Most of Petrushevskaia's stories are centrally about women and almost all of her main characters are women. She usually depicts both sides of the contemporary woman, the working woman and the mother. Her descriptions of women, their miserable lives, their successes and failures are tributes to the daily struggles that women face and represent one of the many voices of the new Russian woman. And, in fact, her topics are those of which Russian "women writers" stand accused: stories of fated female lives... divorces, betrayals, though her style is spare. 4.3 Alternative Prose Other metaliterary factors affect the construction of Petrushevskaia's texts. She identifies her work with the new wave of contemporary Russian literature of the 1970s and 1980s. The depiction of the contemporary urban life of women was one of many important components of that new literature. As a counterpart to Petrushevskaia's embracing and rejecting of her gender with its implication for her art and its reception, is how she positions herself and is positioned among the (mostly male) writers of the last thirty years. The fact that she automatically is "other" in the world of artists, critics and the Russian public surely contributes to her wild prose excesses, her exceeding the stark limits set by other writers of the time. Petrushevskaia's prose is generally referred to as alternative fiction; part of the "cruel," "tough," "coarse" or "young prose" movement. Petrushevskaia herself is classified as a writer of ‘lepnyxa [black stuff]. Many of the stories that belong to alternative prose, including hers, were written about and during the so-called "period of stagnation" of the 1970s and early 1980s. Many of Petrushevskaia's works were 168 produced before perestroika, and are now for the first time generally accepted, perversely centralized, while simultaneously retaining the flavor and edginess of another era, whose values they have maintained and whose voice they transport into our days."’ Her works are only now becoming canonized, some thirty years after their first harsh reception. In a 1989 article Igor* Shtokman discussed Evgenii Popov's works in connection with the literary genre "xecTKaa npoaa" [cruel prose], Shtokman's defines cruel prose as a particular genre of writing that deals with the seamy side of life and is determined by the writer's bleak view of the contemporary Russian life. Petrushevskaia's prose continues to document the cruel reality of what is contemporary life in Russia. Clarence Brown asserts that alternative prose has its immediate origins in two groups of Russian writers, namely the literary "underground" of the 1970s and early 1980s and Russian émigré writers (such as Siniavskii and Limonov). Brown writes that critics of alternative prose claim that it represents a reaction against utilitarian art and has no ideology or program. Viktor Erofeev, for example, states that the literature of the late 1980s can be read in its entirety as a "novel about the wandering of the Russian soul." The authors of alternative fiction are in fact engaged in a rebellion against both the cynical corruption of the Brezhnev years and the uplifting humanism of the '60s dissidents. This type of fiction is at once a challenge and an attack. Gone are the "golden dreams" and hypermoralizing that had been cast over citizens through Petrushevskaia's first publication, the collection EeccMeprimn suoôoBb [Immortal Love], appeared only in 1988, almost thirty years after she began her literary career. This collection includes stories that were written in the 1960s and 70s. 169 the help of art, propaganda and media. The heroes and heroines of alternative prose are, as Borisova remarks in an afterward to a collection of Petrushevskaia's stories, the characters in alternative prose are almost always the "little people" of the crowd. In his article "Alternative Prose" Sergei Chuprinin comments on the specific world that exists with this wave of literature. He writes, 3 t o t \inp jpyrofi npo3bi Hacejien no'rrn ucKiiiOMHTejibHO .irojbMH /KajiKHMH, He3ajaM.iHBbi.vin, vmepGHbLMn; HvieHno jto , a n e cioÿKeTHbie cKa5pe3HOCTH hjth uenHTObie a(J)opH3Mbi &o.ibiue Bcero H moKHpyer MUTaTe.ien h kphthkob."* Harking back to Gogol's madmen and other misfits. Tatiana Tolstaia's crowd includes many degenerates, Viktor Erofeev's characters are idiots and maniacs. Venedikt Erofeev's characters are philosophizing alcoholics, while Petrushevskaia's are demented intellectuals. Petrushevskaia can be just as cruel as her contemporaries, but her works differ from those of her fellow (male) cruel prose writers in some respects. The heroes of other writers of cruel prose such as Venedikt Erofeev (Moscow- Petushki), Evgenii Popov ("Reservoir") and Viktor Erofeev ("The Parakeet") are generally male. In her early 60s, Petrushevskaia is hardly one of the young writers, but she is a source of inspiration for many of them. Her works stress cramped living conditions, lack of money, family arguments, and life against the backdrop of Stalinist terror. Among other such current topics, she writes about prostitution, rape and the everyday misery of city life. Critics blame her for placing too much emphasis Sergei Chuprinin, "Drugaia proza" in Literaturnaia gazeta (February 8,1989): 34. "This world of alternative prose is populated, practically exclusively, by pitiful 170 on the seamy side of life. Her works emphasize the cheerless aspects of reality-a norm of the Russian life she has known in the past half century. 4.4 Russian Women Writers: A Silenced Voice Speaks Petrushevskaia, as we have noted, does not consider herself a feminist, or even a woman writer, rather she believes that she belongs to that group of writers who happen to be interested in writing about women."^ Nonetheless, she is the "other" in her time and place simply because of her sex, so that her writing follows certain kinds of trends in Russian women's literary discursive moves (even that of rejection) along with those evoked by her time and place. What, then, is she rejecting? For her rejection finally seems only selective-a rejection of style, but not of content. Feminism as a general movement in Russia came into vogue in the 1860s, as can be shown by the spate of books published about the "woman question" between 1860 and 1880.^° Pioneering women such as Maria Tsebrikova, Alla Trubnikova, Anna Filosofova and Nadezhda Khvoshchinskaia organized the first university for women in Petersburg, published their own journals on education and child rearing. people, the unlucky, the waning; it is precisely this, and not the bawdy plots or the weighty aphorisms, that shocks readers and critics most of all." M. Zonin, in an interview with the author, asked whether or not Petrushevskaia had a feminist bias (({le.vinHncrn'iecKHH yKJiOH) in her choice of main characters. The author answered, that she was simply more interested in writing about women: "H HX HyBCTByio aiJibHee, yjK Gomuo xopouin, a ero (reopfl-\iy>tcHHHy) ‘lepea HHX." ["I feel them more strongly, they are awfully attractive, while I feel him (the male hero) through them."] (See his article in Literaturnaia gazeta No. 47: 9.) For bibliographic information, please consult Anna Bios' Die Frauenfrage im Lichte des Sozialismus and Lily Braun's Die Frauenfrage, Hire geschichtliche Entwicklung und wirtschaftliche Seite. 171 and participated in international congresses of feminists in Europe/* Meanwhile in the late nineteenth century, the authors like Goncharev and Turgenev of the great realistic novels created the strong woman as a complement to the nnmHnfi qeJiOBeK [superfluous man]. These strong women compensated for the weakness of the men, who, tom by their inner conflicts, were constantly in search of their place in society. As early as 1908 Aleksandra Kollontai wrote what has been deemed the first Russian feminist doctrine, Coua.ibHue oaiOBu xeHCkoro Bonpoca [Social Origins of the Woman Question.] Her novel BojibHan nioooBb [Free Love, 1923] discusses the ideal monogamous union between man and woman which rests on a mutual love she termed "KpbiJiaTbiH apoc" [winged Eros . I n the 1920s Kollontai, a member of the Politburo, foimded the Department for Women's Affairs (>KenoTje.i). While Kollontai enjoys wide readership outside of Russia, she remains virtually unknown in her homeland. Literary critic Tatiana Mamonova writes. ...the name of Alexandra Kollontai, and a few of her works on Marxist theory, appear under the rubric of 'party publicist", apparently so no- one will read her. Rare is the person who knows of her diplomatic work, even fewer have ever heard o f her as a feminist.^^ ^* In 1869 Trubnikova met with Josephine Butler to discuss the possibility for enlarging the international women's community by means of an international feminist press. The importance of Filosofova's work was recognized by the International Council of Women when they appointed her Honorary Vice President and asked her to form a National Coimcil of Women in Russia. (See Tatiana Mamonova's article "Solidarity Between American and Soviet Feminists" in Russian Women's Studies 161.) Kollontai develops her notion of winged Eros ftirther in an article entitled "Dorogu krylatomu Eros." Mamonova, 163. 172 Petrushevskaia though not only knows of Kollontai, but admires her. By entitling her latest collection of prose flo jopore 6ora Jpoca [Along the Road to the God Eros] Petrushevskaia links her texts to Kollontai's "ilopory KpujiaTOviy 3poc" [Make Way for Winged Eros.]^’* However, the fact remains that Petrushevskaia's prose, that of the new generation of women writers, differs from Kollontai's in several essential ways. 4.4.1 The Powerful New Woman In the first six decades of the twentieth century, the strong women represented in literature served as a model for the positive heroines of socialist realism. Then, in the literature of the 1970s-90s, in contrast to socialist realism, the retreat of the female protagonist into the private sphere, remote from public politics and economics, is emphasized. This is the literary context in which Petrushevskaia was writing. Of central importance is the individual, who strives for self-realization beyond the working world; her desire for harmony in personal relations finds all but ideal conditions in matrimonial and family bonds.^^ As early as the 1970s, when Petrushevskaia is first writing, the themes of weakness, loneliness, hopelessness are prevalent in Russian women's writings. Consider, for example, Irina Velembovskaia's OiajKan yKeniuiina [Sweet Woman, 1973]; Maiia Gania's y c im iu b ŒOH va c [Hear Our Time, 1976]; I. Varlamovia's MmiMaa xfOHb [A Nyusya Milman, in her dissertation "One Woman's Theme and Variations: The Prose of Lyudmila Petrushevskaya." is the first to point out this link. (See pages 136- 37.) Monika Katz, "The Other Woman: Character Portrayal and the Narrative Voice in the Short Stories of Liudmila Petrushevskaia." Women and Culture 189. 173 False Life, 1978] and V. Tokareva's Flponaju o h o nponajo.M [Damn it All, 1972.] It isn't until the Gorbachev initiated period of perestroika (late 1980s), though, that the new literature comes into full force. During this time, the floodgates opened for women writers and five collections of women's prose were published: yK'eHŒan H o ru K a (MocKBa: CoBpe.vieHHHK, 1989); %!creHbKaH XH3Hb (MocKBa: Mo.TOüafl rBapjHfl, \99Q)\He no.MHHUiaa 3sia (MocKBa: Mockobckhh pafioMUfi, 1990); HoBbie av/c?JO^A7/(iVIocKBa: .Mockobckhh pafioMUfi, 1991); .-locT////e//7A7 /(M ockbu : fyMaHnrapHbifi ((xDua, 1991).^^ The new prose was linked to the women who wrote it, literary critics (predominantly male) did not know how to react to it. A survey of the prefaces to the above-mentioned collections shows that the editors (mostly male) were still grappling with where to place the new prose. L. Stepanenko and A. Fomenko, for example, in their preface to Women's Logic respond in courtly but confused fashion: HaBecTHoe npoHnaecKoe onpeaejienHe, nepetuejuiee k na.\i o t (])paHuy3GB - "Logique feminine" - /KencKaa .loniKa - , H3aaBna xapaKiepuayer yKencKHH acjiaj yua h xapaKiep nocrynKOB KaK He npeacKaaye.vibiH, amrn'mbiH. Ho, B03M0>KH0, HM6HH0 3TH.M H npuBJieKaTejien, H 3aBopa>KHBaeT /K0HCKHH xapaKTep H oGpaa.^^ The English translations of the works mentioned are: Women's Logic, A Clean Life, Remember No Evil, The New Amazons and The Abstinents. See L. Stepanenko and A. Fomenko's "Zhenskaia logika" in Sovremennik {\9%9): 2. "The well-known ironic definition, which came to us firom the French-'logique feminine'-women's logic-has for a long time characterized women's style of thought and character approach as not predictable, alogical. But perhaps it is precisely this that makes a woman's character and image both attractive and bewitching." 174 In this preface Stepanenko and Fomenko defend the separate works that comprise this collection as comprised o f "ÿKeHCKnfi xapaKTep h oGpaa" [w om en's character and image.] Anatolii Shavkut in his forward to A Clean Life attempts to afford women's writings a new place within the literary canon by showing that what the times call for is a higher understanding o f literature which would collapse the strictly delineated categories of male and female prose. Women writers had to be dealt with, thought about, in a way that men didn't need to be considered as a group. He writes, B nociejiHee epexifl oiuymaeTCH noiaë.M noBOfi >KencKOH BO.THbi B .iHTepaiype. Ha KaKo.\i-To "Htœe qpejHero" ypoene, KOHeMHO, npoHcxoiiHT pa3aeJTenne "^encKOfl" n "\iy>KCKOH" npo3bi. Ecjih ‘/Ke nnaHKa xyao/KecrBenHocni nojnn.viaeTca Bbiuie, TO HCHO BHjiHO: cyuiecTByeT jiHiiJb oaHa .inTepaiypa fiacTOfluiafl.^® L. Vaneeva, the editor and one of the main authors of Remember No Evil, is the only one to ardently defend the legitimacy of the new prose. She (!) writes. OTBe'iaa Ha Bonpocbi cKerrrnKOB, b tom ancjie n npoTMBonojio>Knoro nojia, Mbi roBopuM b noae yTBepanTejibno: /KencKaa npoaa ecrb. Ona cymecTByeT ne kbk nptixoTb 3.MaHainnpoBannoro co3naHHfl, bo ‘ito 5bi to hh crajio nbrraioiuerocfl B03BecTH ca.Moe ceria b KaTeropnaecKHH n.\inepaTHB. Qua cymecrByex khk nen35eÿKHOcrb, npoiuiKTOBaHHaa Bpe.Mene.vi n npocipaHCTBO.vi.^^ A. Shavkut, "Chisten'kaia zhizn'" Molodaia gvardiia (1990): 3. "In recent times one can sense an upsurge of a new women's wave in literature. On some kind of 'lower-middle' level, of course, there occurs a division between 'women's' and 'men's' prose. If the bar of artistic value is raised higher, then it becomes clear that only one type of literature exists: real literature." This is a point that wouldn't have to be made vis a vis male literature. Actually, I find that there is a difference between men's and women's writing due to their concrete experiences (and access to power) are so different. L. Vaneeva, Ne pomniashaia zla iv. "To answer the skeptics' questions, including those of the opposite sex, we say in the affirmative: women's prose exists. It exists not as whim of emancipated consciousness, trying to elevate itself as a categorical 175 This preface, however, met with tremendous criticism, most notably from P. Basinskii who retorted in his article "no3a5bffiuine aoSpo?" [Those Who Have Forgotten Kindness?]: ripH H unn cocTaaneHHfl c6opHHKa, ero noiiaaro.iOBOK, npejHCJioBHe, HanHcanHoe o t aeiopoB, - Bcë ykaabiBaeT na to, tto oto ne npocro KHHra, HO - onbiT mrrepaTypHoro .viaHH(J)ecra_ Ohh nocrynnjin "HPrKpovmo," RpOTM.lH "BbDOB," o6THBHJ!H B COBpe'.ieHHOÛ .lüTcpa- Type HeKyio Hoeyio JtHTepaTypHyra Bejin*iHHy, oTseaaTb 3a hcthh- HbiH viaciirraS kOTopbift TOJibKo n.\i ca.vin.M/° The author argues against this new writing by emphasizing that women authors are not models of what a good women should be, namely, jo6po [kind] and CKpo.MHO [modest.] It would be highly doubtful that he would have used such language in his critique (the authors are "too bold" and they have "forgotten to be kind") had he been reacting to a collection of contemporary male writings. Certainly. the problem of what to do with "women's writings" remains a difficult one for contemporary Russian critics. Barbara Heldt, in her forward to the collection Perestroika and Soviet Women, writes. If glasnost has provided some venues for writing by women, a second line of attack on their writing comes from what might be called gendered criticism-i.e. attempts to marginalize women authors by assigning gender to their writings, calling it 'lady-like', (i.e. not imperative no matter what. It exists as an inevitable [category], a product of time and space." ■* See P. Basinskii's "Pozabyvshie dobro" in Literaturnaia gazeta Vol. 7 (1991): 9. "The principal composition of this collection, its afterward and foreword, written by the authors-all of it points to the fact that this is not simply a book, but a literary manifesto... They all behaved indecently, threw around challenges, declared some new superiority within contemporary literature, answered for the true scale of which only they themselves need to answer." 176 concerned with big issues). Damskii is a damning word, used to denigrate women's writing about women and men.'** The kinds of moves women writers pursue are intimately linked to postmodernism because they, like postmodern writers, seek a strategy of showing that hierarchical pairs (in this case masculine/feminine) depend on the social construction of two terms as polar opposites. The very status of masculinity is dependent on the forceful assertion of its purity, of its not incorporating any of the traits labeled 'feminine' to the point where Petrushevskaia's discursive move is to deny at times any artistic strategies with those of other women either by writing against a perceived women's style or by claiming transcendence of male/female categories (Shavkut). At some point it becomes clear that the underlying assumptions of any number of hierarchical pairs, including that of male vs. female artists but also of class, morality, genre as well as artistic hierarchies like popular, folk and high art, need to be interrogated. Russian writers were addressing these questions along with Europeans, even thought abstract discussions of postmodernism came late to Russia. The following section discusses Russian postmodernism as a means for relating an alternative reality. 4.5 Russian Postmodernism: Alternative Realities The term "postmodernism" ("after-time"), while prevalent in contemporary Western cultural and literary thought in the 1970s and 1980s, has received attention in ■** Mary Buckley, Perestroika and Soviet Women 169. 177 Russia only since the 1990s/" And, it should be cautioned that its general description tends to blur very real differences between, for example, Petrushevskaia's artistic strategies and those of even other women writers of the last quarter of the twentieth century. Still, rediscovery of the "little man" is a shared theme. Among the diverse definitions of postmodernism, 1 would single out as most important for this discussion the production of reality as a series of plausible copies, or what the French philosopher Jean Baudrillard calls "simulation." Other features of postmodernism, such as the questioning of comprehensive metanarratives or of oppositions between high and low, elitist and mass culture, seem to be derived from this phenomenon of hyperreality. Another key notion of postmodernism is Jean-Francois Lyotard's "incredulity towards metanarratives.""*^ In postmodernist writings, therefore, the universal narratives promising salvation or transcendence-what Lyotard calls the "dialectics of Spirit, the hermeneutics of meaning, the emancipation of the rational or working subject"-lose their binding, legitimizing force."" Postmodernism as a cultural term suits the given situation in Russian culture if we consider Communism an extremist form of Modernism-with its utopian emphases, the avant-garde breakup of reality, and the mania for infallible truth. Epstein, for example, writes, "As recently as the late 1980s "postmodernism" was still a rather exotic term that served highbrow intellectuals as a kind of shibboleth. Several conferences in Moscow have now been devoted exclusively to postmodernism." (He cites a conference on literary postmodernism at the Gorky Institute in April 1991 and a roundtable on philosophical postmodernism organized by Voprosy filosofii and published in No. 3 (1993): 8-16. Jean-Francois Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge xxiv. " Lyotard, xxvi. 178 Petrushevskaia's prose belongs to Russian postmodernism in a very specific sense. In her works, the author attempts to create the illusion of real life, something Mark Llpovetskii deems "postrealism.As I have previously suggested, her writings have an affinity with the stylistic devices and subject matter of her literary predecessor Nikolai Gogol, but at the same time they are a reaction against the peculiar concept of truth promoted in Socialist Realism, namely the false idealization of Soviet reality that precludes the description of its numerous negative aspects. If Socialist Realism presented reality in a monstrously distorted form, disfigured beyond recognition, Petrushevskaia's plots, on the other hand, focus on the dehumanization of the twentieth-century woman, who is a product of a Soviet society that lacks a moral foundation. Her works reveal the falsity, hypocrisy of social morality and ethics, and also the theoretical problems of establishing a moral foundation, problems associated with a postmodern sensibility. Her insistence on writing about events of everyday life proves to be only a mask which covers something more profound, as sometimes a plain worldly story turns out to be a parable, as evident in her "Mcpea no.ifl" [Across the Fields].’’^ The critic Shkolvskii was one of the first to recognize Petrushevskaia's tendency to mix the real with something more illusory. He writes. See his discussion of writers such as Liudmila Petrushevskaia, Mark Kharitonov and Sergei Dovlatov in "Izzhivanie smerti. Spetsifika russkogo postmodemizma" in Znamia Vol. 8 (1995): 194-205. The story is about two young people who are forced to cross a muddy field together during a rain storm. They are on their way to a party where the young man's fiancée is waiting for him. Crossing the field is reminiscent of the Russian proverb 'zhizn' prozhit' ne pole pereiti" [to live life to the end is not the same as crossing the field.] Petrushevskaia's story is a beautifully constructed reversal of the proverb. As Adele Barker points out, "The field, in fact, becomes a metaphor for life itself. As 179 .\BTOp BC6MH OJJiaMH CTpeMHTCH C03jaTb HJ1JH03H10 "peaJTbHOfl /KH3HH", üajieKO He cpa3y cranoBHTca hcho, t to naxojHuibCH a 3ajie KpHBbK 3epKaji h BHju-iuib Mnp rJia3aMH HenopviajibHoro e vieiiHUHHCKOM Qibicjie 3Toro oioea 'le-ioBeKa/^ Petrushevskaia seems at first to be continuing in a humanistic, realistic tradition that in Russia is usually associated with Gogol. A sensitive, subtle observer of her fictional characters. Petrushevskaia confronts them with delicate ethical quandaries of everyday life. Yet, Petrushevskaia undermines the usual relationship between implied author and reader by dispensing with a reliable authorial voice in the narrative. Her narrator's coldness and distance seem to belie their internal pain, conflict and vulnerability. In this sense there is a lack of narrative collusion between narrator and reader. The implied author no longer leaves those clues needed to reconstruct an authoritative truth within the text. The reader-left to her own devices by the author-is now forced to search for new clues outside the boundaries of the text, either in the real world or the world of folk beliefs. The reader stands, as it were, face to face with unmediated characters and events. Petrushevskaia's characters often find themselves in what Thompson refers to as "no-exit situations.""*^ By writing about everyday people, Petrushevskaia encourages the reader to take certain fictive these two young people race across the field, the rain, the mud, and the abandon they feel silently bind them together... for each knows that as soon as they have crossed the field the momentary closeness which binds them together will be gone forever." (See pages 440-445 of Barker's article "Women without Men.") Shkol'vskii, 21. "The author, with all her might, attempts to create the illusion of 'real life,' eventually it becomes clear that we are in a hall of distorted mirrors and we see the world through 'sick' eyes (the eyes of a person who is, medically speaking, abnormal.')" 180 characters as examples of behavior. She writes about problems which according to official organs do not "exist." Perhaps this is one of the main reasons that her texts were not published in the 1970s and since publication, continued to receive negative publicity in Russia."*^ In his article ".VInp MOÿKer 5biTb -1K)6oh" [The World Can Be Anything] Oleg Dark reminds us of Petrushevskaia's reaction to this period of her literary career. Petrushevskaia allegedly remarked, "Mto >k6 a crpauiHee CoiOKeHuubiHa? He neMaxaKDT, roBopnr 'HepHyxa'."^° At the same time Petrushevskaia's story "That Kind of Girl" was turned down for publication in HoBbifi Mnp [The New World], Solzhenitsyn's works were appearing on the pages of that very journal. Why were contemporary Russian readers able to understand the horrors and difficulties of gulag life easier than Petrushevskaia's "black stuff?" For one. unlike Solzhenitsyn's heroes, Petrushevskaia's heroines were easily identifiable. In fact, readers were afraid to see themselves in her characters.^' In addition, as Thompson, 207. Thompson writes, "Petrushevskaia's space is more like the constricted arena of Samuel Beckett's plays; from these spaces there is no exit." In the early 1970s Petrushevskaia sent her short story "That Kind of Girl" to the editors of Novyi mir [The New World] A. Tvardovskii, the general editor, did not publish this work, yet wrote on the margins of the manuscript, "C aeropoM CBfl3M He lepflTb." [Don't lose touch with the author.] See O. Dark's "Mir mozhet byt' liuboi" in Dmzhba narodov No. 6 (1990): 23. "What, am I more horrifying than Solzhenitsyn? They don't publish me, they call [my works] black stuff." After the publication of "Our Crowd" for example, many readers flooded the journal with negative letters. The general idea of the letters is best summed up in one of the expressions; Katcl 9ro o nac? Mbi ne xaKne. [What! That is about us? We are not like that.] Oleg Dark concludes his article on Petrushevskaia's works in a similar vein with the following question: "HeyvKeJTH .vibi laKne, Heyacejin .vinp laKOB, dipauiHBaer qnraie-ib." [Can it really be that we are that way, that the world is such, the reader asks.] (Dark, 235.) 181 opposed to Solzhenitsyn's heroes who live in the terrible past of labor camps and prisons, Petrushevskaia's heroines lived through their tragedies in present-day Russia, a generally peaceful time. In answer to Petrushevskaia's question about whether or not her writings are more "horrifying" than Solzhenitsyn's, Russian editors and readers alike seemed to respond "yes." It took almost ten years before The New World finally published one of Petrushevskaia's stories ("Cbom Kpyr" [Our Crowd, 1979]).^* Petrushevskaia's ability to obscure fictional boundaries by mixing the real with the mythological not only recalls Gogol's experiments with different genres, but it is also one of the many characteristics of postmodernism. As a discourse that dissolves borders, postmodernism allows fact and fiction to exist simultaneously and enter into virtual, interactive relation.^^ In his book Jlureparypa n KimemTorpa(p [Literature and Cinematography] Viktor Shklovskii formulated an important "law" of literature-"the law of canonization of lower genres."^"' According to that law, in order to renew itself literature draws upon the motifs and forms of subliterary genres. Elements of popular This was the same year that Petrushevskaia's first play JlioôoBb [Love] was published in the journal Teatr. For more on this aspect of postmodernism, consult Brian McHale's chapter "Chinese-Box Worlds" in Postmodern Fiction (112-132). Both Shklovskii and Bakhtin operate on the assumption that oral genres are somehow "lower" than written genres. This point is, of course, highly controversial. In fact, various media have their own standards by which they should be considered. When oral genres, material culture (or even film genres) are considered with the standards of written genres they will, of course, fall short since they are being incorrectly measured. While I use Shklovskii and Bakhtin's theories of the canonization of genres, I recognize the problem inherent in deeming one type of media "lower" than another, or in Bakhtin's words, "subliterary". 182 art that exist on the periphery of culture are introduced into literature and given the status of fine art or, in Shklovskii's words, "canonized."^^ The law of canonized lower genres was further developed by Mikhail Bakhtin in his "FlpoôiieMa peneBbLX /KanpoB" [The Problem of Speech Genres,] written in 1952-53, but published only in 1979/^ Unlike Shklovskii, who focused on the opposition between literary and subliterary written genres, Bakhtin included both written and oral forms, since both involve the use of language. Bakhtin distinguished two types of speech genres, primary (simple), which include different kinds of oral dialogue, and secondary (complex), encompassing novels, dramas, commentary and so on. The secondary genre arises in more complex and highly developed cultural communications. During the process of their formation, the secondary genres absorb various primary genres, which therefore lose their immediate relation to actual reality and begin to function as parts of a new, complex structure. According to Bakhtin, in each epoch, certain speech genres (both primary and secondary) set the tone for the development of the literar) language. Any expansion of the literary language which results from the incorporation of extra-literary elements inevitably entails some penetration by these elements into the written language, and new generic devices for the construction of speech are devised. This process leads to a fundamental reconstruction and renewal of speech genres. Shklovskii, Literature and Cinematography 27. Mikhail Bakhtin. "Problema rechevykh zhanrov." Estetika slovesnogo tvorchestva 237-280. 183 While I strongly disagree with the terms both Shklovskii and Bakhtin use to indicate that the genres of the oral tradition are "lower" than those of the literary tradition, I find that their general assessments of the law of canonization of genres, and Bakhtin's theory of reconstruction and renewal of speech, are pertinent for a study of the peculiarities of genre in Liudmila Petrushevskaia's works. Her collection of stories flecHii X X æk'a [Songs of the Twentieth Century] offers a nice example. Songs of the Twentieth Century appeared in the journal The New World under the title fJecHU Bocrowbix cjiaBm [Songs o f the Eastern Slavs.]^^ In The New World version, in addition to the general title, which clearly alludes to Pushkin's TlecHU aanajHbLX ciaBB [Songs of the Western Slavs], Petrushevskaia includes the subtitle, ".MocKOBCKtie ciyian" [Moscow Incidents]. In a short preface Petrushevskaia defines "incidents" as a distinct genre within contemporary urban folklore. She writes, VlocKOBCKne ciy'ian - 3to ocooenHbifi \inp ropojcKoro ([lOJibK.iopa, Ha‘inHaK)uiHHCfl oôbpmo cjtoBaMvi: 'Bot obui laKOH ciyM atï. C iyaan paccKaabiBaioTCfl b nnoHepcKnx JtarepiLX, b SoJibHnuax, b T p ancnop re - ra.M, rae y HejioBeKa ecib noxa Bpe.viH.^* See Liudmila Petrushevskaia's "Pesni vostochnykh slavian" in Novyi mir 8 (1990): 7-18. The change of the title, from an emphasis on time (the twentieth century) to space, is interesting, especially in light of the subtitle 'Moscow Incidents' that Petrushevskaia provides for this collection. See page 7 of Petrushevskaia's article "Pesni vostochnykh slavian" in The New World. "Moscow Incidents are a special world of urban folklore that usually begins with the following words: 'There was such an incident.' Incidents are told in summer camps, in hospitals, on public transportation, or anyplace where people have the time." These incidents are similar to urban legends, personal experience narratives and local legends. 184 Petrushevskaia's works exhibit hybridization of genres; elements of the essay, parable, sketch, and feature story cross the boundaries of single works and continue in others/^ Likewise, most of her works are fragmentary, lacking beginnings and endings.^® Petrushevskaia made her reputation through her plays, which startled audiences with their new intonation, audibility, and tape-recorder effect.^' In light of Petrushevskaia's preeminence as a dramatist, it is no accident that many of her short stories, especially the ones that contain direct speech, might easily be performed as one-act plays. The mixing of genres is also evident in Immortal Love, as Petrushevskaia divides her collection into two categories: monologues and stories/histories (ncropnn).^" Likewise, as Stephen Mulrine has observed in his Melissa Smith and Nyusya Milman point out that a striking change in her narrative occurred after 1988, when her first prose collection Immortal Love was published. In her second collection. Along the Road to the God Eros, published only in 1993, she introduces and relies heavily on dialogue. They write, "This change suggests that her early concern with mastering pure generic forms has given way to a confidence in her unique literary voice." (See "Liudmila Petrushevskaia" in Russian Women Writers Vol. 2.) In chapter five I discuss the cyclical nature of her texts. Frequently, the final line of her stories is an echo of the opening sentence, e.g., "Such a Girl." The designation of her dramatic style as a new type of realism, "tape-recorder realism," is attributed to the theatre critic Anatolii Smelianskii. According to an interview Melissa Smith conducted with Smelianskii in 1994, the latter believes that Petrushevskaia's dramas are comparable only to Aleksandr Vampilov's and Victor Rozov's dramas. (See Russian Women Writers 1427.) Despite Petrushevskaia's distinctions, even the stories contained in the section entitled "Histories" are monologues. The word HcropnH [histories] is similar to cnyHan [incidents] in that it implies something that is told. In addition, ncropnH also has the implication of scandal or "uncomfortable situation" as in the Russian phrase, "fl nonam b laKyio ncropmo-" [I found myselfin such a (horrible) situation...] 185 introduction to the English version of Cinzano: Eleven Plays, certain of her dialogues, A Glass o f Water and Isolation Box, for example, are effectively monologues. He writes, Petrushevskaia in a sense writes through a spectrum of narrative, the actual genre being determined by the varying amounts of time she permits her characters to tell the story Petrushevskaia's second collection. Along the Road to the God Eros, includes fairy tales, incidents/urban folklore (ciy'ian) and supernatural prose (cæpxv ecrecTBeHHafl npoaa.) Initially Petrushevskaia used the label "fairy tale" (cKaaxa) as an Aesopian device, a means of eluding censorship. Smith and Milman are the first to write about how Petrushevskaia got her stories past the censors. Petrushevskaia explains, 1 had [in the editorial staff of the Village Youth magazine] one supporter, a department head. For many years he had been trying to get my stories through. He failed. Then he said, 'Let's publish a little fairy tale!' Well, little fairy tales! All right!^ Even after she no longer needed to get around the censors, Petrushevskaia continued to label her works "fairy tales", only later she added "for adults."^^ The material she uses is woven from real life; as she asserts, it is based on real facts. In the animated film "CxaSKa cxasoK" [The Tale of Tales,] directed by lurii Stephen Mulrine, vii-viii. ^ Quoted in Russian Women Writers. N. Milman writes that the quotation is taken from an unpublished interview Andrei Saalbach had with the author on October 3. 1983. Perhaps her use of the word fairy tale also alludes to the oral nature of the genre as well as to a specific time in Petrushevskaia's career when her works were dispersed 186 Norstein and based on Petrushevskaia's scenario, Petrushevskaia explores this new genre in order to depict childhood memories in terms of scents, sounds, lights and emotions.^^ In an interview at the beginning of the film Petrushevskaia states, Moe pario'iee viecro na ruioiuaaH, Ha yjinue, na njm>Ke. Ha .ikdjhx . Ohh, caviH Toro He anan, jnKiyrar \iHe le.Mti, a HHorja n (|>pa 3hL_ A H Bce paBHo nosT. H BtDKy Ka>Kjoro H3 Bac Bauia So.Tb - moh OOjTI).^^ "The Tale of Tales" won six international prizes and was named the best animated cartoon o f all times by the International Association of the Animated Film. Although it is nearly impossible to recount the content of "Tale of Tales," in Petrushevskaia's words, it is a "telescopic story, which can extend and at the end is contracted to one simple phrase: 'We are living.'"^* Not unlike Western postmodernists, Petrushevskaia proceeds from a critique of power, in most stories, the power that a patriarchal society exerts on women. In doing so, she questions the concept of truth, attempting to show the limited, temporal, incomplete and paradoxical nature of truth. She addresses the problem of how any principle of social solidarity can be found in the absence of foundational truths and values. The inevitable consequence of the breakdown of religious and philosophical from apartment to apartment, hand to hand, retold and discussed only in the safety of friends' kitchens. The film is a heart-rending rendition of Gogol's "Overcoat." Her introduction was reprinted in R. Doktoris and A. Plavinskii's article "Khronika odnoi dramu" in Literaturnoe obozrenie 12 (1986): 90. "My work place is in the square, in the street, at the beach, among people in general. Not realizing they are helping me, they dictate to me themes and sometimes even phrases. Still, 1 am a poet. 1 can imderstand absolutely each of you. Your pain is my pain." 187 certitude is formulated in her works with the use of fragmentation, anarchy and perpetual conflict, more reminiscent of oral or folk forms than of written, literary forms. Another standard formula used to describe postmodernism is Foucault's idea of the "disappearance of the subject" into its linguistic context.^^ Foucault's notion fits well with a general tendency, which many critics have already ascribed to postmodernism, toward the objectivization and contextualization of the subject. The subject can further be broken down into three basic subject positions. Eshelman writes, The first is the minimal subject, which forms its basis in a pre- reflexive, residual consciousness and continues the tradition of a limited subject. The second subject is the maximal subject, which collects large parts of society within the confines of the ego. The third type is the middle subject, which constitutes itself amidst a plurality of conflicting ties to other subjects. In all three cases, there exist two basic variants of philosophical concepts of subjectivity that also run through Western postmodernism. Subjectivity can either constitute itself through reflection on what the self is not (Trifonov, Voznesenskii, Evtushenko) or through the withdrawal into a pre reflexive origin (Shukshin, village prose.)^° The postmodern idea that models of reality replace reality is not new to Russia. In his book Early Soviet Postmodernism Raoul Eshelman postulates that Soviet postmodernism was a specific reaction to the utopian or totalitarian late modernism of the Stalin era.^' Eshelman argues that postmodernism is not the See page 63 of Victoria Vainer's "An Interview with Liudmila Petrushevskaia" in Theater Vol. 20 (1989). ^ See his well-known remarks in The Order o f Things 381-387. Raoul Eshelman, Early Soviet Postmodernism 45. Eshelman, 10. 188 creation of the entirely new, but rather the new arrangement of the already well known. In Soviet culture simulation was prevalent in the form of hyperevents, simulating "the celebration of labor," for example, precisely in order to stimulate real labor. Likewise, Socialist Realism successfully simulated all literary styles beginning with ancient epic songs, proceeding to Tolstoy's refined psychologism and ending with the futuristic poetics of placards and slogans. Recent literary critics have shown how the movements of Postmodernism and Socialist Realism are actually components of a single ideological paradigm deeply rooted in the Russian cultural tradition.’" One of the most grandiose simulacra that expressed the simulative nature of the Russian culture was St. Petersburg: the city erected on a Finnish swamp. The realization of Petersburg's intentionality and ideality, the lack of firm soil to stand on, gave rise to one of the first, and most ingenious, literary simulacra.’^ We have noted Gogol's portrayal of the city as one composed entirely of fabrications, designs, ravings and visions, lifted up like a shadow above the rotten soil. In Gogol's words. ’■ Epstein, for example, points to the following postmodern features of Socialist Realism: "1. The creation of hyperreality that is neither truthful nor false but consists of ideas that become reality for millions of people. 2. The struggle against modernism as an "obsolete" mode of aesthetic individualism and linguistic purism. 3. The erasure of specifically Marxist discourse that then degenerates into a pastiche of many ideologies and philosophies, even combining materialism and idealism. 4. The erasure of any specific artistic style and ascension to a new "metadiscursive" level of socialist realism that combined classicist, romantic, realist and futurist models. 5. The rejection of "subjectivist" and "naïve" discursive strategies and the transition to "quotation marks" as a mode of hyperauthorship and hyperpersonality. 6. The erasure of the opposition between elitist and mass culture. 7. An attempt to construct a posthistorical space where all great discourses of the past should find their ultimate resolution." (See Epstein, 206-207.) Here I refer to the fact that St. Petersburg was a planned city, peopled by an imagined, ideal community. 189 O , He Bcpbie 3T0viy HescKoviy npocneicry!... Bcë oÔMan, Bcë M6‘r r a , ecë ne t o , nevi KaÿKerca!... Oh Ji^ex b o BCHKoe Bpevin, 3 t o t HeBocHH npocneKT, h o 6omee Bcero loraa, Koraa H0% o y uieHHOio MaccoK) HajiHÿKex na Hero... h Koraa ca.vi je.vioH aavKPH'aer .lavinbi jjth Toro TOJTbKO, ‘iToSbi HOKasaTb Bce He B HacTOHine.vi csere.^'* Gogol's Nevsky is a holistic thought-image, in whose complex dialectic a properly artistic episode (the story of two young men's romantic delusions) turns out to be a transition mediating empirical reality and the universal idea of Nevsky Prospect, and by association, all of St. Petersburg. Therefore, it seems plausible that elements of contemporary Russian postmodernism may be linked to Gogol's portrayal of his grandiose simulacrum, St. Petersburg.’^ In the nineteen sixties and seventies, a wave of modernism emerged in Soviet literature: futurist, surrealist, abstractionist, and expressionist trends were revived in literature, painting and music. In the seventies and eighties, a wave of postmodernism arose in opposition to the neomodemist generation of the sixties. As early as the mid-seventies, conceptual art and literature, with their comprehensive reconsideration of the entire phenomenon of Soviet civilization, were becoming increasingly popular in the Soviet Union. Mikhail Epstein writes. Gogol, PSS Vol. 3: 38-39. "Oh, don't believe in Nevsky Prospect!... All is deception, all is dream, nothing is what it seems!... It lies at every moment, this Nevsky Prospect, but most of all, at that hour when night descends upon it in a fast congealing mass... and when the demon himself is lighting the lamps-only to show everything not in its natural light." Many Western and Russian literary critics believe that Russian postmodernism is a Western import. See for example, Slobodanka Vladiv-Glover's article on Early East European postmodernism entitled "Post-Modernism in Eastern Europe after World War n - Yugoslav, Polish and Russian Literatures" \n Australian Slavonic and East European Studies 2 (1991): 123-143. 190 Conceptualists proved to be the first Russian postmodernists to stop opposing reality and ideas: whether it be opposing veritable reality to misleading ideas, as did Solzhenitsyn, Shalamov, and Grossman, or high ideas to low reality, as did our metaphysical and mythological writers The conceptualists' idea of a problematic continuity between modernism, socialist realism and their own postutopianism provides one of the keys to analyzing the historical development of Soviet postmodernism/^ Groys sees the differentiating feature of Russian postmodernism vis-à-vis its Western counterpart: Russian postmodernism is an ironic reaction to the temporary, unsettling victory of the avant- garde in a terrorist dystopia, whereas Western postmodernism developed out of the defeat of the avant-garde, its seduction and cooption by the market forces of capitalism/* Postmodernism's overt goal is the disruption of hierarchical totality, a disruption to be enacted by empowering the suppressed differential components within that totality. Petrushevskaia is able to achieve this goal by empowering one of the most suppressed voices within the Russian literary canon, that of women. In several of her works ["Our Crowd," "Medea," "Such a Girl," The Time: Night] the social totality within which her characters function is a constructed whole that gains unity only through a process of exclusion. In his book Postmodernism and Its Critics, John McGowan writes, "Postmodernism favors internal models of transformation. Epstein, 202-203. This argument lies outside the scope of my dissertation. For more information on conceptualists and postmodernism, consult pages 18-21 in Raoul Eshelman's Early Soviet Postmodernism. See the discussion on page 109 of Groys' Total Art o f Stalinism. 191 relying on a return of the unsuccessfully repressed, of the outsider or marginalized character who was formerly (originally) an insider."’^ The final chapter of this dissertation, "Petrushevskaia's Strangers," is devoted to an analysis of selected stories with particular emphasis on Petrushevskaia's postmodern strategies of representing that outsider who was formerly an insider, and her emphasis on dissolving the borders between fact and fiction, specifically through her use of myth. I will show how the author appropriates and revises mythologies of the feminine in order to simulate a new world in which the female has agency. 79 See page 23 of John McGowan's Postmodernism and Its Critics. 192 Bibliography Chapter Four: Liudmila Petrushevskaia: Writing Women, Simulating Realities Alcoff, Linda. "Cultural Feminism versus Poststructuralism: The Identity Crisis in Feminist Theory." Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society. Vol. 13:3 (1988). Bakhtin, Mikhail. "Problema rechevykh zhanrov." Estetika slovesnogo tvorchestva. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1979. Barker, Adele. "Are Women Writing Women’s Writing in the Soviet Union Today? Tolstaya and Grekova." Studies in Comparative Communism. Vol. 12:3-4 (1988). Basinskii, P. "Pozabyvshie dobro." Literaturnaia gazeta 7(1991). Baudrillard, Jean. "The Precession of Simulacra." Semiotexte 4(1983). Bavin, Sergei. "Obyknovennye istorii." iV/o5cow (1995). Belova, Tatiana. "Postmodernist Tendencies in the Works of L'udmila Petrushevskaja." Critical Essays on the Prose and Poetry o f Modern Slavic Women. Eds. N. A. Efimov, C. D. Tomei and R. L. Chappie. New York: Mellen. 1998. Bios, Anna. Die Frauenfrage im Lichte des Sozialismus. Dresden: Kadan. 1920. Braun, Lily. Die Frauenfrage, ihre geschichtliche Entwicklung und wirtschaftliche Seite. Leipzip: S. Hirzel, 1901. Brown, Deming. The Last Years of Soviet Russian Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Buckley, Mary. Perestroika and Soviet Women. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Chuprinin, Sergei. "Drugaia proza." L/terafurna/a garera (8 Feb. 1989). Condee, N. "Liudmila Petrushevskaia: How the 'Lost People' Live." Materials o f the Institute o f Current World Affairs (May, 1986). Dark, 0. "Mir mozhet byt' liuboi." Dnizhba narodov No. 6 (1990). Doktor, R. and A. Plavinskii. "Khronika odnoi dramu." Literaturnoe obozrenie 12 (1986): 90. 193 Epstein, Mikhail. "The Origins and Meanings of Russian Postmodernism." After the Future: The Paradoxes o f Postmodernism and Contemporary Russian Cidture. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1995. Eshelman, Raoul. Early Soviet Postmodernism. Frankfurt am Main/ New York: Peter Lang, 1997. Foucault, Michel. The Order o f Things. New York: Pantheon Books. 1971. Gardiner, Judith Regan. "On Female Identity and Writing by Women." Writing and Sexual Difference. Ed. Elizabeth Abel. Chicago: U of Chicago Press, 1982. Glenny, Michael. "Our Crowd." Granata (1991). Gogol, Nikolai. Polnoe sobranie sochinenii. Ed. N.L. Meshcheriakov. Vol. 3. Moscow: Akademii nauk SSSR, 1937-52. Goscilo, Helena Ed. Balancing Acts: Contemporary Stories by Russian Women. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989. . "Our Crowd." Glasnost: An Anthology o f Literature under Gorbachev. Ann Arbor: Ardia, 1990. Gray, Francine du Plessi.x. Soviet Women: Walking the Tightrope. New York: Doubleday, 1989. Greene, Carol. "Contemporary Soviet Women Writers." Canadian Woman Studies/les cahiers de la femme Vol. 10:4 (1989). Groys, Boris. The Total Art o f Stalinism. Trans. Charles Rougle. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992. Harding, Sandra. "Reinventing Ourselves as Other: More New Agents of History and Knowledge." American Feminist Thought at Century's End. Ed. Linda S. Kauffman. Cambridge: Blackwell, 1993. Ivanova, Natal'ia. "Neopalimyi golubok." Znamia No. 8 (1991). Katz, Monika. "The Other Woman: Character Portrayal and the Narrative Voice in the Short Stories of Liudmila Petrushevskaia." Women and Russian Culture: Projections and Self-Perceptions. Ed. Rosalind Marsh. New York: Berghahn Books, 1998. 194 Koreneva, Maia. "Children of the Sixties." Dialogiies/Dialogi: Literary and Cultural Exchanges Between (ex)Soviet and American Women. Ed. Susan Aiken. Durham: Duke University Press, 1994. Law, Alma. "Undying Love, [interview]" The Stairlanding. Scarsdale: Theatre Research Associates, 1983. Latynina. A. "Za otkrytym shlagbaumom." Moscow (1991). Lipovetskii, Mark. "Izzhivanie smerti. Spetsifika russkogo postmodemizma." Znamia No. 8 (1995). Lyotard, Jean-Francois. The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge Minneapolis: Minnesota University Press, 1984. Mamonova, Tatiana. "Solidarity Between American and Soviet Feminists." Russian Women's Studies. Oxford/ New York: Pergamon Press, 1989. McGowan, John. Postmodernism and Its Critics. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991. McHale, Brian. Postmodern Fiction. New York/London: Routledge, 1987. Milman, Nyusya. One Woman's Theme and Variations: The Prose o f Lyudmila Petrushevskaya. Dissertation. University of Michigan, 1993. Mulrine, Stephen. Cinzano: Eleven Plays. London: Random Century Co.. 1991. Petrushevskaia. Liudmila. "Pesni vostochnykh slavian." Novyi mir 8 (1990): 7-18. Petrushevskaia, Liudmila. Sobranie sochinenii. Vols. 1-5. Khar'kov and Moscow: Folio and TKO, 1996. Shavkut, A. Chisten'kaia zhizn'. Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 1990. Shklovskii, Viktor. Literatura i kinematograf. Berlin: Russkoe UniversaTnoe Izdatel'stvo, 1964. Shkol'vskii, Evgenii. "Kosaia zhizn'." Literaturnaia gazeta (1 April 1992.) Shtokman, Igor'. "Vkus podlinnosti: zhestkaia proza i ee effekt." Literaturnaia gazeta (April 19,1989.) Stepanenko, L. and A. Fomenko. Zhenskaia logika. Moscow: Sovremennik, 1989. 195 Thompson, Ewa. Imperial Knowledge. London: Greenwood Press, 2000. Vainer V. "An Interview with Ludmila Petrushevskaya." Theater Vol. 20 (1989.) Vaneeva, L. Ne pomniashaia zla. Ed. N.A. Rylnikova. Moscow: Moskovskii rabochii, 1990. Vladiv-Glover, Slobodanka. "Post-Modernism in Eastern Europe after World War II Yugoslav, Polish and Russian Literatures." Australian Slavonic and East European Studies 2 (1991). Zonina, M. "Bessmertnaia liubov'." Literaturnaia gazeta. No. 47 (1983). 196 CHAPTER 5 PETRUSHEVSKAIA S STRANGERS: POWERFUL REVISIONS OF THE FEMININE !t locks as if we were all travelling. There is no definite sphere of existence... not even a h om e... In our houses we are like campers; in our families we are like strangers. - Petr Chaadaev 5.1 Introduction This chapter of my dissertation will examine the way in which Petrushevskaia appropriates and revises mythologies of the feminine in order to establish her literary legitimacy in a canon centered on male authorship. I will show how Petrushevskaia manipulates myth in order to illustrate how her heroines are able to overcome the expectations that a dominantly patriarchal culture has placed on them. Petrushevskaia calls upon the provocative tool of myth to simulate a reality that reflects the notion that women are in control. This chapter will examine selected works by Petrushevskaia through the rhetorical device of the postmodern stranger.' By examining the rhetorical device of the stranger in selected short stories, I will be able to form a set of parameters by which Petrushevskaia’s works provide her with the means to transcend the expectations of the male dominated literary canon and to ' Postmodern strangers are fragmented, uncertain individuals without hope of self. In this sense they are contrasted with Gogol's strangers who remain hopefhl. 197 create an alternate lineage in which the female has agency. Like Gogol's Petersburg stories, the works of Petrushevskaia which I have selected are all centered on the theme of alienation, and in each of the stories alienation from society is seen through the eyes of the stranger. Similar to Gogol's strangers, Petrushevskaia's strangers are liminal characters, figures that stand in the space between the known world and the unknown "outside" as reproduced in the text. While the trope of the stranger functions in Petrushevskaia's works on the same three levels as Gogol's, the spatial, temporal and psychological, her strangers are very different entities. Petrushevskaia's strangers all belonged at one time or another to a group. Her writings document that disturbing 'falling away' from the family or group, the movement from unity and acceptance to individuality and denial. 1 start with an epigraph penned by Petr Chaadaev that best summarizes Petrushevskaia's oeuvre. The family whose members are estranged from one another is the theme of the works examined here: "Our Crowd." "Medea" and The Time: Night. Specifically, I focus on the mother as stranger who traverses through the stages of rites of passage and therefore finds herself on the road, estranged from her family, travelling, as it were, by herself through various stages of life. Petrushevskaia usually focuses on the family as the primal scene in which the construction of identity takes place, but a similar process occurs within other social groupings in which the individual finds herself or with which, in later life, she chooses to align herself. The child has no choice but to occupy the position of "daughter," sister, niece and so forth, and these relational names highlight her 198 dependence on the others in the household for the first indications of identity in the world. I take as axiomatic that this self-identity is formulated in relation to other, that the process still leaves various moves or strategies open to the self, that the self must go through some process of recognizing its identity as its own. By relying on a structure which favors internal models of transformation, a return of the outsider or marginalized figure who was formerly (originally) an insider, Petrushevskaia shows that her strangers are postmodern constructs. Of particular interest will be Petrushevskaia's depiction of women as mad, ill, hysterical or even diabolical, who appear in her works as powerful revisions of the traditional feminine, symbols both of decay and of unexpected power. In Petrushevskaia's works there is often a metonymic slide from being a stranger to feeling estranged and vice versa. Instead of the outsider looking in. the insider looks around and finds herself (and the reader) on the outside. Or, frequently the outsider travels to a place where she once believed herself to be at home, but she has been "forgotten" by the people of her country or group, along with the friendship and culture she once enjoyed. Petrushevskaia's outsider is an outsider to herself, a true immigrant, despite the fact that she has never left her country. In this sense, the reader, also a stranger to herself, can identify not only with the outsider but also with her alienation and estrangement from the present. By evoking timeless myths, Petrushevskaia simulates a reality that is necessarily based on a time outside of time. Petrushevskaia's denial of the 199 recognition of the present reinforces the authority of ageless memory and necessarily forms a criticism of the present state of affairs. 5.2 Myth and "Cboh K pyf [Our Crowd] Petrushevskaia has been strongly influenced by oral tradition. As I have discussed in chapter four, in her cycle of stories included within Songs o f the Eastern Slavs, she identifies the very specific genre of myth as city lore, ropojCKiui (pOMKJiop [city folklore] as the umbrella under which the stories of the collection are gathered. She writes, "MocKOBCKiie ciyuau - 3T0 ocooeiiHbiH Mnp ropoüCKoro ((HDJibKJiopa, Ha'iuiiaioiiuiMCfl o6 m>iho cnoBa.Mu: 'Bot 5biJi laKofi ciyaafi'."" Within the oral tradition, her preference is for myth. The ethnographic range of myths employed by Petrushevskaia is very broad - from general Indo-European mythology to specific Scandinavian myths. Myth is well integrated with the contemporary story by Petrushevskaia through an extended system of references, namely proverbial sayings and rituals. As a rule, the contemporary plot is presented in a realistic manner, with the depiction of concrete characters and events. Her stories closely follow the mythological pattern of a rite of passage, based on the triple formula separation-initiation-retum. In "Our Crowd" for example, the narrator separates from the group, initiates her son into the group and then is offered a "return" ■ See page 7 of Petrushevskaia's "Pesni vostochnykh slavian" in Novyi mir 8 (1990). '"Moscow Incidents' are a special world of urban folklore that usually begins with the following words; 'There was such an incident.'" This statement is a formulaic opening, akin in oral literature to "once upon a time," but Petrushevskaia's opening implies a true story as opposed to a fairy tale or marchen. 200 through her son to the group. There are also mythological oppositions in the narratives that could reflect cosmic spatial and temporal relations such as day/night, light/darkness, and the struggle between chaos and cosmos. In transmitting the thoughts of her protagonists, the narrator relies on fundamental oppositions; happiness/unhappiness, fear/courage and life/death. In many of her texts, the heroine undergoes a symbolic death as a necessary part of an initiation rite. In "Our Crowd" the narrator sacrifices her place among the group of friends for her son's security, therefore undergoing a symbolic death within the circle as a necessary part of her son's initiation into the group.^ In the late 1970s and early 1980s Soviet critics argued about the role of mythology in contemporary Soviet literature. Some critics questioned the appropriateness of mixing the archaic and highly conventional forms of mythology with realistic methods. In his article "I Crave Fiction" Lev Anninskii criticized mythological literature for creating some kind of "superreality" by imposing allegorical meaning on simple realistic details, for the stylistic "oversaturation" of mythological prose with allegories and symbols and for its pretentious ornamental style."* This critic attacks Chingiz Aitmatov's use of myth, something that will not be discussed here. My task is to show how Petrushevskaia manipulates myth in order to simulate a reality that reflects the notion that women are powerful, independent forces to be reckoned with and are able to take control of and maneuver through alternative realities. ^ The narrator's Christ-like sacrifice is inverted by Petrushevskaia in that in her story a female (mother) saves her male son. 201 Many Russian authors have recognized mythic structures and motifs as resources for story-building. luri Lotman distinguishes mythical from plot-texts. Mythical texts are essentially cyclical and characterized by the absence of the categories of beginning and end. Lotman writes, "The central, cyclical text- generating mechanism could not be typologically unique. It needed as contracting party a text-generating mechanism organized in accordance with linear temporal motion and fixing not laws but anomalies."^ "Our Crowd," a modem plot-text, offers an interesting example of this interaction. The linear unfolding of the narrator's story of illness is starkly contrasted with the cyclical nature of the rest of the plot, exemplified in the story's beginning and end which are isochronal in their evocation of the clever {\\fm n) narrator. The cyclical structure of the narrative of "Our Crowd" therefore points to a mystical submersion into cyclical time. According to Joost van Baak, such identity between beginning and end of a story can be considered a narrative solution of mythical cyclicity. Repetitious constructions at the beginning and at the end of the story echo each other. The story opens with the narrator's assertion: "I'm a hard, harsh person, always with a smile on my full rosy lips and a sneer for everyone," followed shortly after by "I am very clever" and closes with her horrible action as she brutally hits her son in the face, causing him to bleed while a group of her friends look on, and she asserts that she "understands" and is therefore, "clever." The final action of the narrator’s slap is an echo of her words "I’m a hard, harsh person." Nina Kolesnikoff, "Myth in the Works of Chingiz Aitmatov" 63. ^ luri Lotman, "Vtorichnye modeliruiushchie sistemy" 161. 202 William Bascom defines myth as "a sacred narrative, often associated with theology and ritual, explaining how the world and man came to be in their present form."^ My definition of the function of myth stems from Lauri Honko's idea that myths function as examples, as models. He writes, "myths have, of course, numerous specific functions, but we may generalize and say that they offer both a cognitive basis for and practical models of behaviour."^ He adds. From this point of view myths can be characterized as ontological: they are incorporated and integrated into a coherent view of the world, and they describe very important aspects of life and the universe.^ Myths are also rhetorical, presented to certain people in certain ways in order to advocate for an interpretation of the past and present, or as a prescription for the future. Mythical comparison reveals a deeper level of meaning, by directing our attention to the universal questions of the human condition, the meaning of life, and the ethical questions of our relations with others. Myth is also used to emphasize a comparison between something particular and something universal. Petrushevskaia's prose is able to transcend the particular and localized and acquires universal significance through her use of myth because she shows that just as the individual is part of society, so too the city is part of the greater cosmos. But yet to draw on a particular version of a myth is to comment on a local situation. Petrushevskaia uses myth to express the absence of reliable myths to structure the ethics and behavior of the postmodern present. ^ Bascom, 55. ’ Lauri Honko, The Problem o f Defining Myth 50. * Honko, 51. 203 • In Petrushevskaia's texts, dependence on mythology appears in overt forms. Occasionally, the importance of myth is signaled by the title itself as in "Vlejea" [Medea]. The most overt use of myth takes the form of an embedded story, introduced directly into the narrative and juxtaposed with the contemporary story. In "Medea," for example, the embedded myth is realistically motivated, appearing within the story in the form of a narrated tale. In some of her works the narrative incorporates more than one myth, with the second myth either extending the parallel suggested by the first one, or adding a new dimension to the story. In her short story, "Our Crowd" for example, a Christian myth (Heaven and Hell) is supplemented by the pagan Nordic myth of the Valkyrie as deliverers of fallen soldiers. Whereas the biblical myth appears in the story as an embedded narrative, the Nordic myth is only alluded to with such devices as descriptions of various characters and rituals. The pagan myths, issues of transition and loss of innocence, and aspects of the Christian myth of Easter will be discussed in order to document to what end Petrushevskaia uses these various myths in her stories. Petrushevskaia's texts are frequently based on a system of multiple oppositions that track the progressive interweaving of mythic and realistic elements. Binary oppositions are seen on the compositional plane of the story, at the level of its verbal structure, and also on the thematic level. In "Our Crowd" the nature of these binary oppositions follows the principle of two contending powers: the immortal (heaven, light, the soul) and the mortal (earth, darkness, the flesh). Consider, for example, the river in the story "Our Crowd" which acts to physically mark the 204 division of the narrator's world from the world of the dead, the cemetery, where her parents are buried. This symbolic marking represents the division between darkness/mortality and light/immortality. The oppositions are intensified by lexical means as well as by repetition. Petrushevskaia uses colloquialisms in reference to ordinary time, and more formal, elevated vocabulary in reference to the immortal, as in her descriptions of Easter celebrations. The latter descriptions contain the anticipation of rebirth and light. Therefore, the narrator discusses the ritual of the egg, symbolic of rebirth and eternity, in elevated language. The structure of paragraphs mirrors the division into the ordinary and the festive. "Our Crowd," which first appeared in the January 1988 issue of The New World, was written in 1979. The story depicts a dying mother's wild attempt to influence events to provide for her soon-to-be-orphaned son. Neither the mother's method nor the provision seems very promising. Many Russians found "Our Crowd" extreme, frightening, and full of unnecessarily revolting details, yet it survives as an important tribute to all mothers who will, at any cost, try to secure a better future for their children. At the end of the story, as the narrator watches her son being carried away, she remarks, "fl >Ke ycrpoHJta ero cyabfiy oHCHb aeuieeoH Tcenofl_TaK a see paccHurajia, h laK o h o h fiyaer."^ She finishes by reassuring herself that her son is a smart boy and he will "figure it out." She says, "Ho laK .iy>nue - j .ih Bcex. fl ^ Liudmila Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1 ; 67. "I provided for his future at a cheap price... That is how I calculated it and that is the way it will be." 205 yvmafl, a noMHMaio."‘° In this statement Petrushevskaia shows the price the mother is forced to pay in order to be able to secure a better future for her son. Survival triumphs at a chilling price. "Our Crowd" is a story about a group of friends that gather every week to drink. The story progresses and from authorial digressions the reader discovers that the narrator is dying of a genetic disease and that her husband left her and their 7 year-old son for another woman in the group whose husband had recently abandoned her. The main action takes place on Easter at the narrator's house. In the evening she sends her son away to the dacha to spend the night, presumably so the friends can drink in peace. Among the honored guests are the newly wed "relatives" Kolia (the narrator's ex-husband) and Marisha. During the course of the party, the narrator, who has not revealed to anyone that she is dying, tells Kolia that she plans to put their son in an orphanage. As the party is breaking up, the drunken guests walk out into the corridor and notice the son sleeping in the stairwell. His mother grabs him and hits him across the face so hard that he begins to bleed and choke. At this moment Kolia shouts that he will take the boy away. The final scene is the group embracing the son. It seems that when the narrator sent her son to the dacha she hadn't give him a key and he was forced to come back, but she had told him that he wasn't to knock on the Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 67. "But this is better - for everyone. I am smart, I imderstand these things." 206 door. She remarks, "fl ero y>Ke HayHHJia b ero roiibi noHUMaib 3anperbL"“ At the end of the story, as she watches her son being carried away, she thinks, "fl >Ke yapoHJia ero cyjb5y o'lCHb aeuieecH uenou- TaK a ece pacoinxaiia, h xaK oho h 6yaer."^^ The story ends, "Ho laK iiyiue - jjta ecex. fl y\iHaa, a noHHViaio.'^ This story contains several layers of mythical and archetypal motifs. Their patterns not only function as principles of textual organization, but are called upon by the author to augment her story. An obvious reference is to Tania the Valkyrie, the blond, blue-eyed toothy woman who becomes the Friday evening hostess after the group stops going to Marisha's place. Petrushevskaia makes several references to Tania; she writes, "C na.vin Bcerja 5biJia Tana, Ba,%Knpna Mexp BoceMbjecax pocry, c xinHHbiMH 5e.ioKypbiMn bojiogimh. oaenb oejibiMn .lyoa.Mn, xpacaBHua. .aioSnMHua Cep’Aa."''* The second mention of her is after Serzh stopped spending nights at home with Marisha and the Friday evening meetings are moved to "a safe place, in Tania the Valkyrie's room." The reader's final encounter with her is at the end of the text when the friends are gathering at the narrator’s place, "BouiJia TaHa-Ba.TbKnpnfl. p ajocrno CBepKaa 3y5a.Mn n rjiaaa.MH."'^ ‘ * Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 67. "And I'd already taught him at his age to understand when something was forbidden." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 67. "I've already arranged his fate at a very cheap price..." "That's how I calculated it all, and that's the way it will be." ^ Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 67. "But it's better this way-for everybody. I'm smart, I imderstand things." '■* Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 48. "Tania was always with us, a Valkyrie of 1 meter 80 centimeters tall, with long curly blond hair, very white teeth and also large, bluish- gray eyes, a beauty, Serzh’s favorite." ^ Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 63. "Tania the Valkyrie came in, all happy-like, with wonderfully sparkling teeth and eyes." 207 Petrushevskaia's Tania steps out of ancient Norse mythology to take her place among the many strong female characters in "Our C row d."Tania, like her mythic predecessor Freya, is blond, blue-eyed and beautiful. In Germany, Freya was sometimes identified with Frigg, the wife of Odin. In fact. Friday (Freitag) originates from Frigga's day (Frige daeg, A nglo-Saxon).It is associated with Venus in ancient Anglo-Saxon belief. Petrushevskaia, therefore, makes a point of having the friends meet on Friday, specifically a women's day, emphasizing that it is the women (Venus) who dominate. By focusing on Tania's role as Valkyrie, Petrushevskaia calls to mind the portrayals of powerful, independent women in the Medieval Nordic family sagas. Scandinavian myth parallels the Christian myth of upper and lower worlds of Heaven and Hell that are connected in Petrushevskaia's text by the staircase. Another expression of the basic mythic idea may be recognized in the common notion that earthly cities, temples or religious institutions have their duplicates in some other, transcendental sphere, often identified with the heavens. In Petrushevskaia's writings As legend states, the Valkyries were warrior maidens who attended Odin, ruler of the gods. They rode through the air in brilliant armor, directed battles, distributed death lots among the warriors, and conducted the souls of slain heroes to Valhalla, the great hall of Odin. Those men not chosen for Valhalla were sent to Hel where they exist miserably until the great Battle at the end of the world. The leader of the Valkyries was Freya, goddess of love, fertility, and beauty, sometimes identified as the goddess of battle and death. She also is said to possess the ability to see the future. Blond, bine-eyed, and beautiful, Freya traveled on a golden-bristled boar or in a chariot drawn by cats. Her father was Njord, a fertility god. (Tania is introduced just after Aniuta and her 'illness,' barrenness.) Petrushevskaia further comments, 'Aniuta's poison was going around in our crowd, and the seal of doom lay on Aniuta and Andrei." Therefore, the very fertile Tania is contrasted to the barren Aniuta. In comparing the various day and planet names we note that Friday is named for Venus. The Latin names of days of the week: Dies Solis, Dies Lunae, Dies Martis, Dies Mercurii, Dies Jovis, Dies Veneris, Dies Satumi certainly serves as an excellent 208 earthly cities, most notably Moscow, have a duplicate in the transcendental sphere of Hell. In his article "Myth and Story" Theodor Gaster writes: Christian tradition asserts that there is an 'upper' as well as 'lower' Jerusalem - an idea which is echoed in sundry passages of the New Testament (notably in the Book of Revelation) and thence forms a theme.'® A similar idea is echoed in Scandinavian mythology. Aaron Gurevich writes, Scandinavian topography is not characterized by purely geographical coordinates; it is permeated by emotional and religious sense, and geographical space is at the same time religious and mythological space.* In the vertical model of the Scandinavian mythological cosmos, the opposition is between life and death represented by the World-Ash, Ygdrasill. Life above, in the masculine space of Valhall, is contrasted with the feminine space, below, in Hel.‘° Hel is also the name of the northern death-goddess, who in Scandinavian mythology is mistress of the ninth earth or nether world. One half of her body is that of a beautiful woman, the other half is a rotting corpse, green and black. She lives beneath the roots of the sacred ash (Yggdrasil), conducting all who die of sickness or old age to one or another of these nine worlds. Petrushevskaia's narrative includes a reference to a time of innocence, when all of the characters were yoimger, living in another world. This time, starkly example. Petrushevskaia makes Friday a women's day by associating it with Venus and with domestic space. '* Theodor Gaster, "Myth and Story" 118. Aaron Gurevich, Pokhody vikingov 45. Kirsten Hastrup. Culture and history in medieval Iceland : an anthropological analysis o f structure and change 149. 209 contrasted with the real time of the story, exists outside of the narrator's reality. Petrushevskaia's text emphasizes the fairy tale quality of this time. She writes. Ho Toriia vibi Bce }khjih KaKn\iH-TO noxoüa.viH, Kocrpaviu, nnjiu cyxoe BHHO, o'leHb upGnu3npcBaiin n a a c Bce\i h ne xacajina c^epbi nojia. Tax xaK 5buin cjihlukom MOJtoabi u ne ana.iu. *itg nac >KiieT Bnepean; H3 C(I)epbi nojia aecb napoa BOjiHOBajio TOJibKO to , 'rro y Mena 5bui Geabifi KynajibHHK, cxB03b Koropbifi Bce npocBeaueaao, » napoa noieiiiaaca naao mhom, xax '.tor; oto npoucxoaiiao, xoraa vibi Bce iKH-iH B na.iaiaKx rae-Hu6yab na 5epery viopa.'* The vagueness of "somewhere (rae-nu5yab) on the seashore" is directly associated with fairy tale or mythic place and also the disorientation and "placelessness" of postmodernism.'^ Thus, the group was united in innocence and the men took on the traditional roles expected of them: "a Cepac ynoptio aoBna pbioy c no.viouibio noaBoanofi oxoTbi h lax ocyiuecTBana cboio MyacecxBenHocrb."^ The loss of innocence is awakening sexuality. Once the forbidden topic is introduced to the conversations o f "«incibix .noaefi" the narrator notes. ’’noBaa eo.tna npocBemeHUfl xocHyaacb oatiaxo n nauiero KpyÿKxa."''* By contrasting the rather natural way of life, i.e. innocence, with a vulgar, more enlightened way of thinking ■' Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 57. "But at that time we all lived on hikes and campfires, drank dry wine, were ironic about everything, and didn't go near the subject of sex, because we were too young and didn't know what lay ahead of us; the only thing that disturbed everyone in the area of sex was that I had a white swimsuit that showed everything, and the group amused itself at my expense all it could; this happened when we were all living in tents somewhere on the seashore." " Petrushevskaia's use of rje-HHoyjb is somewhat unexpected. One would expect the more grammatically correct rje-io in this statement. However, rje-Hu6yjb is used here most likely because it is expresses a location even more "vague" than rae-TO. ^ Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1:58. "The rest of the time Serzh persistently kept trying to spear fish while he scuba dived and realized his virility this way..." 210 about one's own sexuality, Petrushevskaia comments on the fail from innocence that is experienced in the transition from childhood to adulthood in order to foreshadow the narrator's child's impending transition. This passage, in which the narrator introduces this public (group) to private matters, is also the beginning of individualism within the group. She writes, 3 to SbiJto He'rro HOBoe Jjih Dcero Hauiero o6iuecTBa, b KOTopo.vi jo Q!X nop KaÿKjbifi >khj1 Tax, x a x 5yaT0 ero cn y n afi ejUHCTBenHbni. HU ca.vio.viy nocvioTperb, hh jpyniM noxaaaTb."^ This is also the point at which the narrator is first set apart from the group: Bce aa.Mepjni, a (Zepx cxaaaji t v t >xe, nro othochtch xo vine peaxo 0TpnuaTe.TbH0, na‘ia.1 opbisraib cihdhoh h xpnnaib, a \ine 'rro. a CHiiejia xax xaMennaa, nonaBiu» b Tonxy.*^ Preoccupied with self, the narrator loses touch with the deep ties by which she is bound to others. In this passage Petrushevskaia painfully describes the inner landscape of the individual at the beginning of its journey into higher consciousness. In this short story Petrushevskaia problematizes the sense of public and private worlds. Her usage is beyond that of simply deeming the public world political, and therefore setting up an opposition to the private world, which is traditionally associated with the social and familial. In Petrushevskaia's disparate, Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 58. "pure people; a new wave of enlightenment touched even our crowd" Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 58. "This was something quite new for our whole society, in which everybody until then had lived as if their case were unique, which they shouldn't examine themselves or reveal to anyone else." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 58. "Everybody froze and Serzh said then and there that he had extremely negative feelings towards me and started spluttering and shouting, but what did I care; having hit a bull's eye, 1 sat like a stone". 211 marginal world, a possibility of exchanges and revelations opens up. Jean Bethke Elshtain's conception of the public and private is relevant to this discussion. He writes, The public and private are two of a cluster of 'basic notions' that serve to structure and give coherence to all known ways of life and those individuals who inhabit them. The public and the private as twin force fields help to create a moral environment for individuals, singly and in groups; to dictate norms of appropriate or worthy action; to establish barriers to action, particularly in areas such as the taking of human life, regulation of sexual relations, promulgation of familial duties and obligations, and the arena of political responsibility. Public and private are linked to other basic notions: nature and culture, male and female, and so on."^ The public/private dualism is defined here by Fay as a gendered concept. Inherent in all dualisms of this sort is a value hierarchy. The opposition of a male public realm versus a female private realm is no exception: a sense of power is embedded in the public realm, whereas in most cultures, women are relegated to and silenced within the private (domestic) domain. In Petrushevskaia's story the author complicates the absence of women in the most powerful, and prestigious sectors of society, the public domain, as her women characters like the narrator, Marisha and Tania are empowered by taking on powerful roles within the private sphere, which Petrushevskaia shows to be not separate fi'om, but interwoven with the public. Although the narrator is forced to separate from her son and the group, it is through her that her son is allowed entry into the group, his rite of passage. Arnold van Gennep's notion of the rites of passage, including the various stages that one passes through, is pertinent for this discussion. The narrator assists her son through 212 the transition from one social status (or room) to the next by negotiating him through the stages of separation (pre-Iiminal), transition (liminal) and incorporation (post- liminal). In Petrushevskaia’s story the front door to the apartment provides the boundary between the old and new world; it is both territorial passage and threshold. Likewise, it is significant for the story that Petrushevskaia's narrator instructs her son not to enter the house under any circumstances. The son, who has been separated from his mother, returns home to find himself in a liminal state, neither here nor there, literally and figuratively on the threshold of two worlds. The threshold here is also that line between life and death as represented in the staircase. The staircase, therefore, acts as a ladder from one world into another. Both of the actors, the narrator and her son, who interact on this particular stage are on journeys, one on the path to a new life and the other to death. It is only through his mother's actions that the son is offered passage into the new world. The son experiences the movement from transition to incorporation on the doorstep of the apartment. The rites of the threshold, as van Gennep notes, are "not union ceremonies, properly speaking, but rites of separation from a previous world."** As Victor Turner also points out, these rites, which he calls "life-crisis ceremonies" (in his case, particularly those of puberty, marriage and death) themselves indicate a "sort of breach in the customary order of group life, after which many relationships among group members must change drastically."^^ Certainly, the events that occur in Petrushevskaia's emotionally Jean Bethke Elshtain, Public Man, Private Woman: Women in Social and Political Thought 5. ■* Arnold van Gennep, Rites o f Passage 45. Victor Turner, The Anthropology o f Experience 41. 213 charged space focus on the separation from the old world rather than the incorporation to the new and at the same time, as a result of the narrator's actions, the dynamics of the group is changed forever. Petrushevskaia writes, _H H HEKOHeu OTKpbiJia jBepb n.\i Bcevi, H OHH Bce yetu eJtH A.iem y, KOTopwH cnaji, a ia a he cryneHbKax. fl BbiCKO‘iH.ia, nojHaaa ero » c JHKHM KpHKOM "TbI 'ITG, TbI File!" yjEpnJlE HO JlHUy, TEK ‘ITQ y pefrenKE nojTHiiECb KpoBh, H OH, en ip HP npoaiyBUJHCb, c r a .i 3 a x .ie5 - biBETbCE. f l HE'iEJtE 5nT b e f o BO MCMy nonEJio_^° Petrushevksia's title, "Our Crowd," implies that the dominant image in the story is that of a circle.^' I suggest that the circle that Petrushevskaia alludes to is exemplified not only in the cyclical structure of the plot, but also in the narrator’s analogies to Dante's "Inferno" in which the circles of Hell are described. Herein are the sinners in the circle of friends matched by their sins to the circles of hell. Dante's cantos tell the story of the state of souls after death, according to the beliefs of medieval Christianity. Hell is the condition of the soul after death, brought to that point by the choices made during life. It is the place for those who deliberately, intellectually, and consciously chose an evil way of life. Dante speaks of having strayed from the right path. Throughout the poem he advocates that people must consciously strive for righteousness and morality. For Dante, one must always be aware intellectually of her own need to perform the righteous act. Sin, therefore, is Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 65. "... and I finally opened the door for all of them, and they all saw Alesha, who was sitting asleep on the stairs. I leaped out, dragged him upright, and with a wild shout of'W hat are you doing? Why are you here?!' I struck him across the face so that blood started flowing from the child's nose... I started hitting him blindly." ^ ‘ Speakers of Russian instinctively understand the double meaning of Kpyr in Russian, which denotes both crowd and circle, as in "Cboh Kpyr" [Our Circle]. 214 a perversion of the intellect. According to Dante, the "Inferno" is a huge, funnel- shaped pit with its center beneath Jerusalem, its regions arranged in a series of terraces, diminishing in circumference as they descend. Each of the nine circles is designated for a particular sin, and the order of the sins is according to their wickedness, the lightest near the top of the pit and the most severe at the bottom. The sinners in Hell are arranged according to three capital vices; incontinence, violence and fraud. Their punishments are governed by the laws of retribution, corresponding to the sins either by analogy or by antithesis. Petrushevskaia's circle of friends consists of nine people: Marisha, Kolia, Serzh, Andrei, Zhora, Lenka, Aniuta, Nadia and the narrator herself.'’’ The least serious sinners are Kolia, Aniuta and Nadia, guilty only of "passion on earth" and they therefore would find a place at the top of the funnel, in circle two. Lenka and Zhora are the "seducers," whose place is in the eighth circle of hell along with thieves and hypocrites. In a lower layer of the eighth circle are the sewers of political discord, Serzh and Andrei, and the sower of discord among kinsmen. Marisha, who stole the narrator's husband. The ninth circle, reserved for the narrator, is a specific layer for those who have been treacherous to kin. Dante's story begins the night before Good Friday and ends at daybreak on the morning of Easter Sunday, suggesting his rebirth as a new man. Petrushevskaia's text also has its climax on Easter Sunday. In the morning the narrator takes her son to the As a mythic goddess who conducts the dead souls to heaven, Tania does not necessarily fit into Dante's schemata of hell. 215 cemetery to pay homage to her dead parents and to instruct him in the rituals she expects him to honor after she is dead. She writes, _y nac eiue coxpaHUJincb 3Tu rpajnuHU nacxamHbix rukhukob na oaaftumax, Kooa Ka^Kerca, hto ace o6oiujiocb b Konue kohuob xopouio, noKOHHHKH JievKaT xopouio, 3a Hux nbioT, y5panbi MorujiKU, Bosayx CBeÿKnft, nrnubi, hukto ne aaGbir n nu'rro ne 3a5biTO, H y Bcex la K a ce 5yjer, Bce npoHüer u aaKOHMUTca la ic ace MHDHO H ÔJiaronojiyqHO. c 5yviaA-HM\in imerauH, (|>nTorpa Easter is the most significant religious celebration of the year for many Christians, particularly for members of Eastern Orthodox churches. This holiday, known in Russian as Be.iimifl jeiib [the great day,] commemorates the resurrection of Jesus Christ following his crucifixion, a triumph of eternal life over physical death. In Petrushevskaia's text, it is also symbolic of the beginning of a new life for Alesha. By hitting her son on the face instead of blessing him, Petrushevskaia's narrator secures a better life for her son, a life within the circle o f friends who have been united in their concern for him, the innocent victim. The Christian celebration of Easter is linked to the Jewish celebration of the Passover. The name "Passover" was derived from the actions of the angel of death as described in the book of Exodus. The angel "passed over" the homes of the Jews that were marked with blood. The Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 62. "..to this day we've kept the tradition of Easter picnics in the cemeteries when everything seems to have finally worked out fine in the long run, the dead lie there nicely, people drink to them, the graves are neat, the air is fresh, nobody is forgotten and nothing is forgotten, and it will be the same with everybody, everything will pass and end just as peacefully and happily, with paper flowers, photographs on ceramic, birds in the air, and painted eggs right there in the earth." "Nobody is forgotten and nothing is forgotten" is a saying prevalent on many 216 same angel exterminated the first bom son of every family whose doorway was not so marked. In Petrushevskaia's text, Alesha in a sense, is also "passed over" on that Easter day. Certainly, this first-born son's blood was present on the threshold of the home and as we have already noted, he was "reborn" into a new life on that day. Petrushevskaia links the ancient ritual to the bounded space of the narrators house that has openings that must be protected. In this case, Alesha’s blood saves him as it secures his safety within the protected area of the home.^"* Petrushevskaia's circle suggests the balance and completeness of a group of friends. The narrator refers to the "common" life of the Friday crowd, and its "nest" referring to the gatherings as if to a cozy home. This home, however, is not exactly a pleasant alternative to the harsh realities of the outside world. The friends who gather, for example are even more cruel to each other since they know each other's faults. Ironically, it is the crowd of strangers, united in their visit to the cemetery who are depicted as pleasant and caring. The narrator describes them as "friendly" and "mellow." The world of the dead somehow provides consolation and is saturated with "fresh air and plastic flowers." By drawing a parallel between the chaos of home and the quietness of the cemetery, Petrushevskaia's narrator seems to be saying that the peace which an ideal home or "nest" should contain is found only in death. This story is about wholeness-how the narrator was originally contained within it, but then fell away from it. By exerting self-will, the narrator drives a wedge WWII grave markers. Perhaps Petrushevskaia's narrator is parodying the Soviet myth of death and resurrection. It isn't clear whether or not the narrator's Mends are also redeemed on Easter when they do join together to protect Alesha. 217 between herself and the others. In seeking to fulfill her son's needs she brings upon herself the pain of alienation, thus exchanging one pain for another. Of necessity she sins, alternately against herself and others. In her own struggles with self-will and the "necessary sins," she comes face to face with a need for redemption. She also offers a part of herself as a sacrifice. Specifically, her sacrifice goes against self-will because she brings the power of atonement down into human lives in order to elevate her son to a higher level. By presenting herself as an unnatural, vicious mother, the narrator transforms her son from an unwanted, sloppy, bed-wetting child into an innocent victim. Through the theme of imminent death and regeneration the narrator achieves a kind of immortality by sacrificing her life within the circle for the life of her son. She belongs to the circle, but paradoxically, as an outsider, or as a person speaking from the margins.^^ The narrator, as outsider, confesses that she is dying from a disease that she has inherited from her mother, yet she also confesses to being infected by the self-chosen disease of articulating 'tactless' remarks. She defends her habit of saying that by saying that she feels she is more honest than her fnends and is therefore "disliked by everyone, from the first glance and forever." However, she seems to be proud of her ability to perceive situations and immediately and acutely articulates them, regardless of the effect they will produce on her friends. The narrator, therefore acts as the voice of common curiosity, articulating questions while the others remain silent. It would appear as if she is still enveloped in a childlike innocence and that her uncensored questions, bothersome to her adult friends who function according to the rules of etiquette, are encountered with bitterness and distaste. Her articulations separate the narrator from the circle of Friday companions, and therefore enable her to observe events with "clarity," unpolluted by obstacles of assumed behavior. However, she is aware of conventions of behavior, and therefore her straightforward speech is not as innocent or naïve as that of a child. Through her articulations of "tactless" comments she develops a voice that otherwise would not be heard. By explaining that she is smart because she blocks out everything that she does not understand as a pile of "non-existence," the reader finds that her statements imply an unchanging view of the world. Because she does not imderstand, she is imwilling to grapple with a changing 218 Petrushevskaia's narrative documents the complete collapse of moral foundations in this circle of friends and shows a woman in exile from her community. More importantly, she patches together an ethical/moral action—saving her son— from her own internal strength and fragments of myth. Petrushevskaia's prose is a far cry from the prose of Russian women writers of the 1960s, where the women protagonists took a more passive outlook on their own situations. Symbolic of this is the scene in Natal'ia Baranskaia's Heje.in fi'aA' HejejiH [A Week Like Any Other] where the women speculate about the purpose of a questionnaire that they have been asked to fill out. They agree that the sociologists must be wondering why women do not have more children, and are about to come up with a new plan - at least two babies per couple. One woman remarks, 'Ax, TbI uiyTHUib?!' - B rojioce ee cthiuho pa30>iapoBanne. - 'Hy Kone'iHO mypmub- A a jyvaio. jeooMKH, 'rro aiiKera - j to iie npocro Tax. üaayT na\i. MarepaM, KaKne-Hn6yjb .Tbroibi. H bot paSo'iHH acHb coKparaT. M o/xer. naMiiyr fioabiin'nibie 3a jexefi 3anjiainBaTb, He roiibKo ipn ana» Bor yBturrre. Pa3 nsyaaioT. ‘tT0-Hn5yjb H cjejiaioT.'^^ This psychology of resigned reliance on the paternalism of higher authority-a simple folk hopefulness-is characteristic of women's struggles during the late 1960s to the mid 1970s. Petrushevskaia's story, in stark contrast, documents a woman's struggle to world. Yet, when forced to provide for her son's future, she is extremely calculating precisely because she does imderstand what she must do. ^ See page 27 of Natal'ia Baranskaia's "Nedelia kak nedelia" in Novyi mir No. 11 (1969). "'Oh, you're joking,' she said, her voice full of skepticism. Of course you're joking... But I think girls, that this questionnaire is not for nothing. They're going to give us mothers some benefits. Right? They'll shorten our working day, maybe they'll even start to pay us for more than just three days of absence from work when 219 actively control the fate of her son's life, for in her final act, the narrator exerts her own sense of JitniHOcrb [personality, person or identity] in order to resolve the tension of her son’s threatened isolation from the collective. Petrushevskaia evokes both pagan and Christian myths. In this work there is psychological motivation for the myth, provided by the connection between the mythic heroes and Petrushevskaia's characters. I have discussed two such instances, namely Tania the Valkyrie, representative of the powerful, independent female figure in Nordic mythology who controls the future of slain heroes, and .A.lesha, the innocent child who is reborn on Easter day. In Petrushevskaia's story myth functions as a model for behavior. The women are strong, and most importantly, take control of their futures. Petrushevskaia's text extends beyond a mere explanation of events, but through the use of myth, the author implies that which is not stated. That is. it becomes clear that on this "great day" the dying narrator is self-condemned to isolation, while through those same actions, her son is offered new life. 5.3 The Postmodern Stranger in "Medea'' The thematic spaces in which Petrushevskaia's postmodern strangers move are represented in her works by different modes of transportation which communicate between the inside space of a closed structure and the outside space of the city. In her stories, generally, socially isolated and simpler modes of transportation are preferred (walking, the train, a taxi). The stranger, at times of isolation, inhabits both normal our kids are home sick. You wait and see; if they're studying the situation, it means 220 space (apartments, doctor's offices) as well as spaces of social marginalization (stairwells, hospitals, mental institutions, prisons etc.). As discussed in chapter three in reference to Gogol's "Diary of a Madman," the sanitarium is a refuge for the upper class, a place "to avoid scandal," as Foucault would have it, a place where time stops, where it no longer has meaning.^’ It is a place of condemnation for the idle, a gallery for all of the mortal sins; addiction, lack of self-control, unwillingness to behave according to societal norms, and inability to forget a better past. The sanitarium in Petrushevskaia's works is a special setting that provides a microcosm of social alienation and societal repression, which also allows the narrator to address the medicalization of non-conformity. As a modem equivalent of the convent, the sanitarium represents a final resting place for the dispossessed and unrecognized, at least in literary representation. In works such as "Medea" and The Time: Night, patients experience a convergence of temporal and spatial confusion; they are disoriented, and de-intensified, feeling no pain or happiness, living either in a regressive or fantastic or merely unconscious state. Foucault suggests that humanism and reason have functioned as exclusionary terms, and that a society's identity is formed vis a vis what it forcefully excludes. Foucault's histories provide a wider view of the conflicts and fields within which practices of definition and exclusion occur, thus making evident the relation of reason to madness. The included and the excluded, the same and its other, are revealed as i^ey're going to do something about it.'" Foucault, 64. 221 dependent on one another within the larger dynamics of the constitution of identities within a social whole that privileges some identities over others. The thrust of this perspective is conveyed by Barbara Babcock's assertion that, "what is socially peripheral is often symbolically central."'’’* She continues, a society's representation of the other is not simply a powerful image but fundamentally constitutive of the categorical sets through which we live and make sense of the world.^^ Foucault therefore points us beyond the binary opposition of the same and its other toward the larger economy of the discursive and social practices that create and enforce the distinctions of (and the hierarchies that stem from) the binary opposition. Madness in Petrushevskaia's works, most notably in The Time: Night, is represented as either non-sense or silence, both of which are on the other side-beyond the limit-of language. The non-sense of the narrator Anna A's constant babbling as well as her mother's silence offer a striking contrast to Anna's claim to be a poet, and therefore a master at manipulating words. The human subjects of Petrushevskaia's texts are strangers, poor devils, nameless and sometimes insane women. The tropic quality of madness in the post modern era yields something less than a tragedy; it holds neither the hint of divine illumination alluded to in the pre-modem era nor the devil's perversity attributed to it in the neo-classical era, nor even any particular insights into the human subconscious that early psychoanalysts would have claimed to have found. In the next section of this chapter 1 discuss the postmodern madwoman who falls into a pathetic Barbara Babcock and Peter Stallybrass, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression 25. 222 shallowness similar to Jamesonian schizophrenia, not a diverse Quixotian interdiscursive state but a mere flattening of affect and a reduced ability to cope. This is the marginal limbo from which Petrushevskaia has taken interesting thematic material. 5.3.1 Physical Displacement "Medea" opens on a street in Moscow, more precisely, as the narrator notes, "Ha Ka.naHMeBKe," at the intersection of three train stations. The physical location, literally, the place where the narrator begins her journey with the taxi driver is an important detail as Petrushevskaia stresses the liminal location of the crossroads, a place betwixt and between. A person familiar with Moscow will recall that there are three train stations at "na Kanan'ieBKe," the laroslav. Leningrad and Kazan stations, each of which leads out of the city of Moscow to the north, west and east, respectively. It is at this intersection, near the Komsomol'skaia metro station, that the narrator comes into contact with a very different world. It therefore becomes evident that this story will document various journeys of different Muscovites. The analogy of the physical journey both characters undertake with a traversal through life is a conceit rooted in folklore, and as Helena Goscilo has remarked, "has been popular since antiquity, as Bakhtin's study of the chronotope illustrates.T he double voiced narrative in "Medea" manifests the equivocal nature of placelessness. While championing the benefits of experiencing the world from a different place, it also Babcock and Stallybrass, 25. See page three of Goscilo's "Dostoevsky Revamped: The Gendered Undergroimd of Liudmila Petrushevskaia." 223 challenges the apparent value of "no place." A simple glance at each of the stories that are relayed, first by the narrator and then by the taxi driver, provides ample material to test this theory. The narrator begins her "complaints" by relating how her mother missed her train because the taxi she ordered never came. This story is followed by the taxi driver's who counters with how he was once lost in Moscow while on a call and never found out what happened to the people who were waiting. Certainly it is not accidental that Petrushevskaia's taxi driver became lost in his own city. In fact, this detail becomes important for two reasons: first because he is not able to find his way around his own city, and second because of the physical locations that Petrushevskaia details in the story. For example, the exact areas where the driver was lost as well as the area where he should have been are relayed in detail. The taxi driver says. "fl TO/Ke OJHH pa3 OKaaajicti b Tponapese. a y \ie»H aaxaa b Ha.Mafi.ioBo."'” TponapeB [Troparev], to the southwest of the city center, is a huge open area near a park, two cemeteries, and the river O'laxoBKa [Ochakovka]. MsMafi.iOBO [tmailovo], almost exactly the same distance from the center of Moscow but to the northeast, is also near huge open spaces, a park and the ripeoGpaÿKeHCKoe [Preobrazhenskoe] cemetery. Both of these large open spaces are outside the center of the city, indicating some kind of separation from the rest of the "Muscovite" world. As scholar E. Dukov has pointed out, these areas are fundamental locations for the continuance of rural traditions that have infected the city. Regular mass popular 224 festivals known as napKOBwe naraHKH [park spots] have been developed in the outlying parks of Moscow and St. Petersburg. Dukov writes, "The spots developed in outlying parks (in Izmailovskii Park in Moscow and in Udel'nyi Park in Leningrad) and, as folklorists have shown, have literally reproduced the spatial and genre structure of ritual festivals. Mummers, famous singers, dancers, and accordion players appear there. These spots offer convincing evidence of the vitality of the traditional rural consciousness, of the folkloric world view."'*" These open areas are in stark contrast to the rest of the city, and may be considered the "village-like" areas within the city. It seems likely that the park represents the middle ground between city (culture) and wilderness (chaos). The next two stories told by the narrator continue the transportation theme. First, she relates how a friend of hers was traveling to Siberia (by train) and was forced to return because her child died on the journey there. The trip was not only "not realized," but along her journey, the woman experienced the frightening death of her son. The next story is about the narrator's travels on the aJteicrpu'iKa (commuter train) and her encounter with an exhibitionist. Once again, the mode of transportation is mentioned, but the destination and whether or not the narrator was successful in her travels is not elaborated upon. ■*’ Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2: 42. "And I also one time foimd myself in Troparev, but my order (pick up) was in Izmailova." See page 53 of E. Dukov's "Do we live in a Tower?: Thoughts about certain Paradoxes in Urban Culture" in Soviet Studies in Literature. 225 In each of the above stories the protagonist attempts movement in order to achieve a goal. With the exception of the taxi driver, who finally finds his fare, it is clear that the movement is not successful. Just after the narrator hears the taxi driver’s horrible story, she understands that she has lost her ability to reason. She says, "H noiepfljia Boofiiue c o ofipavKeHne: rje, 'iro, a Koraa."’’^ The added emphasis of the word rae (where), which appears first in this series of questions, underscores the importance of location or, by association, movement that has been negated. Petrushevskaia maintains some ambiguity in that this sentence follows just after the taxi driver explains that his daughter is dead, but before the narrator understands the details concerning the daughter's death. Fje, '/to, a Korja. on one level can be read where, what, when, as in what are the details of the daughter’s death. Yet on another level, it is about the narrator losing her ability to reason at this very moment and finding herself in a liminal state, neither here nor there, literally and figuratively on the road."" In the narrator’s story Petrushevskaia develops the theme of travel in order to map out the development of the narrator’s essential self, in this case, through her pilgrimage homeward. Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2; 44. "I completely lost my ability to reason: where, why and when." Neither of the characters know where they are going. In addition, they have different stories and their connection is random. This is at once a liminal moment and a postmodern one. 226 As Katerina Clark and Michael Holquist have observed, the quest is an important means by which a person can create herself/^ Therefore, the narrator's loss of ability to reason may, in a postmodern sense, also point to the loss of self into the other. By going out to the other, to experience the taxi driver's consciousness, the narrator sees the world through his eyes in order to come back with a better notion of self. Consciousness of self is possible only if it is experienced by contrast. This change in perception is emphasized in the original with the word cooopaxeHne. which can be translated as "reasoning," "consideration," or "understanding," but is best understood literally, as a derivation from oâpaj, "image," prefixed with so-, "with" or "together." Therefore, coo5pa}Kenile conlà have the secondary meaning of "putting images of the other together" in order to understand them. In addition. Petrushevskaia's word play with the prefix so- seems to indicate simultaneity in its aspect of sharing. It is only after the narrator has investigated the other's consciousness as completely as possible, has been inside his vision, that she can return to her own horizon, where the other is not perceived only in the form of what he himself is seeing as he looks out, but also from her own eyes. In this sense, the taxi cab driver, as other, is perceived as both subject and object.'*^ Therefore, he is rendered complete by the additions the narrator makes to him from her position of being both inside and outside of him, a position Bakhtin calls BuenaxojiiMOcrb (transgredience or extralocality).^^ Katerina Clark and Michael Holquist, Mikhail Bakhtin 76. Clark and Holquist, 78. Clark and Holquist, 79. Ill Movement, by taxi or any other means of transport, is no longer important to the narrator. Even her original goal of getting back to her family, who is anxiously awaiting her arrival, is not important to her. For while on this road, the narrator has met up with something more important than her personal journey and she slowly comes to realize this by the end of the story. The narrator's ultimate inability to find the key to the heart of any kindred soul is what returns her to an isolated state. The general anonymity, together with the extreme individualism of urban life, which sociologists long ago observed in real life and which writers such as Petrushevskaia depict in artistic reality, naturally penetrates into this taxicab. Each person is on his or her own journey and common existence has lost all meaning. Even the narrator's family becomes a mere illusion that dissolves in the prevailing indifference. 5.3.2 Andersen's "The Story o f a Mother": Petrushevskaia's "Good" Mother As if in an attempt to console her newfound confidant, the narrator relates a story of an acquaintance whose son hanged himself. By relating this horrific story, she offers advice from yet another viewpoint, that of the son's parents. The realistic stories then turn to the supernatural when the narrator summarizes one of Hans Christian Andersen's folk tales, "The Story of a Mother." Andersen's story, published in 1848, is about a mother who watches her son die, follows him, and after sacrificing her eyes (to the lake for information about her son) and her long black hair (to an old woman), she finds her child in Death's 228 garden/^ Her son has been turned into a little crocus flower, but there are many such flowers in the garden and she is not sure which one is hers. The mother is offered a glimpse into the future of two such flowers; one has a happy life while the other suffers immensely. When the mother pleads to know which is the fate of her own son. Death, God's gardener, answers that both are the will of God. The story ends with the mother pleading: "grant not my prayers when they are contrary to your will." Petrushevskaia's identification with the unfortunate and outcast echoes Andersen's preference for such heroes."*^ Unlike most other recorders of fairy tales, Andersen composed many of his own tales, and unlike typical fairy tales, his do not usually end happily. Andersen's tale, a moving portrayal of a mother's tragic plight, acts as subtext for Petrushevskaia's greater story, the myth of Medea. It is, in fact, the story of a good mother and as such dialogues with Medea, the story of a bad mother. Although "The Story of a Mother" does not contain the typical fairy tale ending, as a fairy tale it does set up the system of values that are associated with being a mother, unconditional love and self sacrifice. It is evident from the mother's final plea that she must give up her own free will and submit to a higher power. This strong woman, who was willing to sacrifice everything for her child, is ultimately rendered helpless. The motif of the eyes in the tale is important in that it is only after the mother has lost her eyes that she is finally able "to see." The belief in folk tradition is that the loss of one of the senses acts to heighten the other senses. Therefore, although the mother loses her eyes, she is able to become even more perceptive without them. Andersen was also very poor while growing up. 229 The main theme posed by Petrushevskaia’s incorporation of this story is that of ontological integration. She asks who is responsible, God and his law or woman and her free will? This problem is especially serious in Russian Orthodoxy, which emphasizes the free will of the individual. Is it the individual who authors a deed as an exercise of her free will, or is it merely an articulation of a larger movement whose whole articulates the will of a higher, extra-individual plan? Andersen's story sets up a clear moral, namely, submit to God's law. This message comes as no surprise as Andersen was a devout Christian who was known for including Christian messages in his tales. Yet, the question here is to what means Petrushevskaia employs this tale. The tale clearly emphasizes the recurring conflict between the individual and an impersonal force, a struggle between a fundamental self, responsible for its actions and an impersonal other, conceived as the source of accountability. As such, it is also in stark contrast to Petrushevskaia’s modem story of Medea, which portrays the self out of control and not responsible for her actions or as one who brings—and who alone can bring—divine justice to bear upon the taxi driver. S.3.3 The Myth o f Medea Revisited: "Bad" Mother Reclaiming Power Petrushevskaia's title suggests the obvious frame for the narrative - the story of Medea. It is one of a few direct references to the myth that the author supplies in order to provide her readers with several clues as to the nature of the story. For example, at the very beginning of the narrator's first encounter with the taxi driver, just after she enters the taxi and has complained to the driver about her mother’s fare 230 not showing up, she exclaims: "CnaTb X0‘ieTCH."^° This phrase resonates within the Russian literary tradition, most obviously recalling the chilling image of Chekhov's young sleepy nanny who brutally smothers a small child to death in the story of the same title, "Cnaib xoMercH."^' This seemingly simple statement uttered by Petrushevskaia's protagonist foreshadows the murder of the taxi driver's child. In contrast to the original "Medea," Petrushevskaia's story is told from the husband's point of view. In Greek mythology Medea is the goddess-enchantress who helped Jason, leader of the Argonauts, steal the Golden Fleece from her father. King Aeetes of Colchis. Like Petrushevskaia's story, the Greek version contains a long journey. For instance, after Medea and Jason get married, the couple sets off on a long voyage to Corinth. There are many variations of what happened in Corinth, but the most popular is told by Euripides; Jason divorces Medea to marry Creusa (or Glauce), the daughter of the king of Corinth, Creon. In revenge. Medea sends her two children with a robe and a crown as wedding gifts to Creusa. The magic ointment that Medea had dipped the gifts in bums Creusa and Creon to death. After this, in a final act of vengeance towards Jason, Medea kills her own children. The story of Medea supplies Petrushevskaia's reader insight into the possible reason the taxi driver's wife killed their daughter, namely as revenge on her cheating husband. Petrushevskaia's use of repetition in this story not only points to a formulaic folk-poetic structure which frequently repeats images and words, but also helps to Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2: 43. "I want to sleep," or "I (am) feel sleepy." Note that "CnaTb xonercn" is translated "I want to sleep," or "I (am) feel sleepy," but the English translation of Chekhov’s title reads, "Sleepyhead". 231 reinforce the notion that the two characters do not engage in a dialogue, but rather are talking "at each other," each about his/her own personal anguish. The narrator begins her story with the words, "ca.vtoe >KyTKoe" [the most awful thing] and then proceeds to complain about how much her mother worried about the missed taxi. The driver's immediate response is to negate her complaints with "He ca.vioe /KVTKoe" [not the most awful thing]. She then counters with "Kaxne 5biBaiOT" [such things happen] (still in reference to her mother's misfortune) to which he answers. "HHMero no cpaBeHemno c le.M, 'rro 5biBaer."^‘ Still in her isolated world of personal suffering, she answers his "unnero" [it is nothing] with her own bitter [a//c:7o]: "nnnero-TO, unnero nocKOJibxy y xa>KJoro CBoe - h o KOneMHO. JTO He caMoe crpaujHoe.^^ The emphasis on "each one has his own" is important in this phrase as it highlights the extreme isolation of these two characters, people who are brought together by fate, yet are still very much alone. Her repetition of "jTO He caMoe crpauinoe" and "GbtBaer laKoe" is echoed in his next utterance.'"* The two finally agree to these general statements, yet have not come to a full understanding of the other's misery. However, can Petrushevskaia's characters' utterances be trusted? We must question whether or not perhaps the most horrific thing is precisely what they claim is not horrific, namely that "y Kaÿooro CBoe."^^ The narrator then complains of her lack of sleep to which the driver once again Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2: 42. "It is nothing in comparison to what happens." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2:42. "It is nothing, nothing since each person has his own worries - but of course, that is not the most horrible thing..." Petrushevskaia, 55 Vol. 2:42. "That is not the most horrible thing..." and "such things happen," respectively. 232 answers, "3to Hnnero."^^ This apparent negation of her complaints is annoying to her and she returns once again to the main point that is bothering her, namely, that her mother missed the ride. She complains, "oneHb crpaiUHO 3a 5a5yiUKy."^’ The driver once again answers by negating her statement with "Hn'iero, HUMero."^* The story then shifts from the narrator's complaints to the taxi driver’s confession. He begins by repeating the phrase "h BUHOBaT" and then relates part of the story of his daughter's death.^^ The narrator, in her attempt to understand what she has just heard, admits that "ca.Moe crp aiU H oe - 3to nepBbifi roj."^° As if conceding to him, the narrator finally loses herself in his misery. She no longer travels alone on this journey, but is united with the driver. The following utterance exemplifies this notion: "fl noTepHJia Boofiuie coo5pa:+:eHue. rae. 'rro n K o r ja . .VIbi exajiu."^* Joined to the driver, the narrator tries to offer advice and console him. The driver continues his story by relating that his wife is tum [there]. By now, both narrator and reader surmise that "there" refers to a psychiatric ward. Not much later in the conversation, however, the taxi driver associates "there" with the after life. He states, "ÎVIeHfl sepuynu nocne cviepru. fl mniero ne noMnio. Ta.M HH'iero Hex."®' Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2 42. "everyone has his own (problems).." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2 43. "that’s (it’s) nothing..." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2 43. "It was horrible for grandma." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2 43. "That’s (it’s) nothing." Petrushevskaia, 55 Vo 1.2 43. "I am guilty." Petrushevskaia, 55 Vol. 2 44. "the worst part is the first year." Petrushevskaia, 55 Vol. 2 44. "I completely lost my reasonins: where, why and when. We drove on." Petrushevskaia, 55 Vol. 2: 45. "They brought me back from death. I don’t remember a thing. There is nothing there." 233 Yet, the narrator, not having a full understanding of the events leading up to the daughter's murder, cannot and has not fully emerged from inside of herself. She still believes that he is at fault. The driver continues his story by explaining how happy they all were at the dacha, just five days before the murder. He says, "fl Ha jaMe nepeKpbiBaa capafi, jejiajT Ta.\i okho. Ha jane. Bce 5buio xopomo."*'’ The dacha, a place of rest and relaxation outside of the city, doubles as the locale of "magical" events, the beginning of the end for the daughter.^ The driver continues, "Jo'ib c Aenofi npnexajiH, eviecre exajin oSpaTHO, aa narb iuiefi jo cuepru. Ohh iuhjih B.viecre, jOHKa 5pHDKH, yJceHa HJiaTbe."^^ This detail, namely that the wife was sewing a dress, is an echo of the mythical tale of Medea. In that tale. Medea's revenge comes from the help of a magical dress that she sews as a wedding gift for her rival.In Petrushevskaia's story, the details are somewhat obscured, but the magical element of sewing, something that both mother and daughter engage in, is emphasized. Traditionally, in Russian folklore, the weaving (or sewing) of dresses is connected to the ritual of giving a daughter away in marriage, preparing her for a new journey in life. Here, the connection is with another journey, namely to a different world. Petrushevskaia, Vol. 2; 45. "At the dacha I fixed up the little house, made a window there. At the dacha. Everything was fine." ^ The dacha, much like the parks in Moscow, represents the middle ground between city and wilderness. It is also the setting for magical events, i.e. the weaving of the "bridal" dress. Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2: 45. "My daughter and wife came, we went back (home, to the city) together, just five days before her death. They were sewing together then, my daughter some pants, my wife a dress." 234 The fact that the daughter sews pants [ffpiOKH] may help to unravel a different interpretation of the roles the mother and, by analogy, Medea, take on in their patriarchal societies. In Greek literature, particularly in tragedy, women play a very prominent role. Euripides' Medea exemplifies the values of sexual love and of the house {oikos), which Jason has trampled on. Jason, in turn, exemplifies the value system of a royal marriage and of the state {polis). By becoming "male" and destroying Jason's world by killing first his new wife and her father and then her own two children, Medea forces her way into the polis. For, despite all of her horrible acts, Medea is taken in her grandfather's, the Sun-god's, chariot to Athens and given refuge there by the King. Medea, therefore, is an embodiment of the problem of defining the nature of woman.^^ As Bernard Knox, Charles Segal and others have shown, Medea is a woman whose behavior and motivation is cast in a male rather than a female mode and who follows the male heroic code of honor and revenge. She is a sorceress, temptress, foreigner, barbaric, and dangerously clever.^* As such, she is also a threat to the home. In addition to ending Jason's oikos, she ruins her own father's household with her flight from home and the subsequent murder of her brother Apsyrtus. As a social play, "Medea" is a reflection of gender roles in classical Athens. Medea's marriage to Jason was without kin approval, her father was strongly against The bridal robe Medea made was steeped in poison and consumed the unsuspecting Princess in fire. For more on this see Charles Segal’s Interpreting Greek Tragedy: Myth, Poetry, Text. Some scholars believe that Medea originates from the region of the Caucasus. For more information on this consult Segal’s Interpreting Greek Tragedy. 235 the marriage, or dowry, and therefore she was isolated and dependent on Jason to be her protector. Jason, an exiled non-citizen, was offered the opportunity to contract a matriiocal marriage (with the princess) and inherit a throne. Jason's divorce from Medea however, left her abandoned and reduced her children to dependents of Jason's children by his new wife, the princess. The themes of the play center upon the reasons that Medea kills her children, namely that she was betrayed as a helper, wife and child bearer by her husband, and therefore strives for vengeance, to leave him childless, without any heirs. Her need to avenge herself is based on the male code of honor; "to harm enemies and help friends." The perversion of the code is that her friends, i.e. her husband and children, ultimately become her enemies. Medea is at once both male and female; and as such she crosses gender boundaries. As a female, she incorporates the forces of chaos, yet as a male, she successfully avenges her slighted honor and is also an agent of divine justice. The final question therefore, is ultimately of gender and the power of dominance. Through her act of revenge, Medea dominates her submissive husband. Gender roles are equally as important in Petrushevskaia's story. In Euripides' version, sympathy shifts from Medea to Jason as she moves from victim to victimizer, prey to predator. While Euripides’ version is told from Medea's viewpoint, Petrushevskaia's is told from the viewpoint of the wronged husband who is described several times by the narrator as a cnaôufi paôowiiK^^ Despite this "male" point of view, it seems that although it was the wife who actually committed the Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2: 42. "A weak worker, a weak man." The narrator calls him a weak worker or weak man four times within one paragraph. 236 murder, the husband/driver is mostly to blame/° The taxi driver himself takes responsibility for his daughter's death by alluding to an affair that he had, which may have driven his wife to commit the horrible act. On two occasions he states, .viHoro c e 5 e no3BOJifljL"’' At several places in the story the narrator interrupts her asides to the reader to state, "ho jejio ne b tom."’' The question is, of course, "b 'IOM lorja je.io?"’^ The answer to this question lies in the answer to another important question that Petrushevskaia raises, namely, "who is guilty?" To the driver’s claims of guilt, the narrator answers "see BHHOBaibi."’'* This statement highlights the main concept of the story, that everyone is guilty. Guilty not in the sense that each of us commits adultery (the taxi driver), or murder (the wife), but in Petrushevskaia's words, "Mbi Bce exa.TM no 3T0\iy nyiH. This phrase, which is connected neither to the narrator nor the driver, is uttered by the narrator after the driver recalls how happy the family was just five days before the murder and chides himself for not having done something to stop his wife. Clearly, as he will mention later, "H or nee OTjajiHJicn nocnejHHft roa. CloBce\i ne .ik)6h.i, tojibko a o n x y . He This of course, must be read in light of the fact that the author of this new version is feminine and probably sympathizes with her Medea figure. Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2 44,48. "I let myself get away with a lot." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2 42,46. "But that’s not what it is about." Petrushevskaia, S5 Vol. 2 42. "Then what is it about?" Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2 45. "We are all guilty." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2 45. "We all go down the same path." In this context, I read the phrase to mean none of us take notice of, or even care for, others. 237 SbiJio TaKoro KOHraicra."’^ The fact that the driver engaged in affairs with other women and no longer took notice of his wife or her mental stability, points to the lack of communication in the relationship. Above all, it is not only the affairs that have pushed this woman to commit such a horrible crime, but the sense of a lack of belonging. In an attempt to help his wife, the driver once called on a psychologist. Her answer was, "Hy «rro, BbnbiBafire noi.\oneK eB03icy, K.iajHTe b ooJibnnuy."The fact that the husband had all of the power to disregard his wife and even place her in a mental institution was finally too much for his wife. She had recently been fired from her job due to a fight with, as the taxi driver notes, "c Ke.M-To" [with someone]. That the driver doesn't know the details of his wife's firing once again points to the fact that he does not communicate with her, and in fact, does not care to. Ultimately, through her act of revenge, the wife takes action, becoming a dominant force to be reckoned with. In her final act, the wife forces the taxi driver into submission, just as she had been rendered powerless first at the work place and then at home. Petrushevskaia evokes Hans Christian Andersen's tale, "The Story of a Mother" and the myth of Medea in order to portray two types of mothers, the good and the evil. Her contemporary version of Medea is a depiction of a radical self out of control and not responsible for her actions. Psychological motivation for the myth is provided by the connection between the mythic heroes and Petrushevskaia's Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2:47. "I had been distant toward her this past year. Didn’t love her at all, only my daughter. There was not even that kind of contact." 238 characters. I have discussed two such instances, namely the taxi driver’s wife, representative of the strong, independent female figure in Greek mythology who empowers herself by taking revenge on her cheating husband, and the taxi driver, the guilt ridden, submissive figure reminiscent of Medea’s husband, Jason. 5.4 The Time: Night - A Family o f Strangers Anna Andrianovna, the main protagonist of The Time: Night (1992) epitomizes a favorite Petrushevskaian prototype-the monster mother who psychologically eviscerates everyone in her family through nurture and narration. 1 focus on this text, Petrushevskaia's longest work to date, because it best represents her emphasis on estrangement and the individual's search for her "rightful" place within a family of strangers.’® The Time: Night ostensibly recounts fifty-seven year old Anna Andrianovna's noble endeavors to sustain, morally and economically, her family members: her mother Sima, daughter Alena, son Andrei and grandson Tima. The novel is written in the highly traditional genre of notes turned over to a publisher, after the author/protagonist's death. Yet, by grafting a diary onto the pages of a fictional text, Petrushevskaia successfully blends different genres and voices into her novel.’^ The subtitle, "Notes from the Edge of the Table" is the first indication that this novel will not conform to any one strict generic category, and that it will be ” Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 2: 48. "Well, well. Call a psychologist, put me in the hospital!" The Time: Night was short listed for the first Russian Booker Prize in 1992. Alena's diary, conveyed in italics, is distinguished from her mother's story. 239 told from an outsider's point of view.*° At the very beginning of the novel Petrushevskaia informs the reader that the manuscript is comprised of seemingly random works, written on anything the author could get her hands on. She writes, Hepe3 jB e neiiejin npniuna b KOHBcpre pyKonnct, nbLThHafl nanKa co MHOiKecTBOM HcnucaHHbi.x JiHCTOB, LUKOJibHbK TerpajcM, ja x e SjiaHKOB TejierpaviM. nojaarojioBoic "3anncKn Ha xpaHD cxojia."®’ Petrushevskaia presents three generations of women whose fates are tragically similar. They live in a world in which there is too little of everything: too little food, space and most importantly, too little love. The story is extremely powerful because in Petrushevskaia's world, the Darwinian notion of the survival of the fittest takes center stage. The heroine Anna Andrianova is a daughter, mother and grandmother who struggles to keep her family together. She is also a poet who claims to have a mystic link to Anna Andreevna Akhmatova because of the similarity of their names and patronymics. Petrushevskaia writes, fl HOST. HeKOTopbie .iio6flT cnoB o 'nm iecca,' ho c\ioTpnTe, 'rro Ha.\i roBopHT .\lapnH a nun la >Ke .-Vnna, c KOTopofi \ibi ncrrti aro viHCTHMecKHe Te3KH, HecKQJibKG oyK B pa3Hnubi: ona Anna AtiapeeBHa, a Toxe, ho AnjpHanoBa.*^ As I have discussed in Chapter four, Evgenii Shkol'vskii points out that The Time: Night - is a present day "Diary of a Madman," dislocated onto our very soil." (See Shkol'vskii's "Kosaia zhizn'" in Literaturnaia gazeta (April 1, 1992): 21.) ** Petrushevskaia, 55 Vol. 1:311. "Two weeks later the manuscripts came in the mail, a dusty file with many loose pages, children's exercise books, blank telegram forms all covered in writing. The thing was subtitled "Notes from the edge of the table." Petrushevskaia, 55 Vol. 1:315. "I'm a poet. Some people like the word 'poetess,' but look what Marina [Tsvetaeva] said - or Anna [Akhmatova] - my almost namesake, we have this mystic link between us, there's only a few letters difference: she's Anna Andreevna and I'm Anna too, but Andrianova." 240 The only time Anna finds to write is at night (hence the title) when her family is asleep. She supplements her income by writing articles about the 200th anniversary of a tractor factory in Minsk and giving literary readings at children's camps. While most of her writing seems to be of journalistic nature, as a manipulator of words, she is also an artist of her own story. Anna copes with an alcoholic son (Andrei) who has Just returned from prison, a daughter (Alena) who has children by three different fathers and continues to be promiscuous, a mother (Sima) who is senile and has been institutionalized and a grandson (Tima) whom she smothers with love. The mother-daughter relationship between Anna and Alena is full of mistrust bordering on hatred. When Alena becomes ill before she gives birth and needs to be hospitalized. Anna calls her a "rotten bitch" and a "she-devil". Most of the hostility centers upon the fact that Alena keeps having children out of wedlock. However, Anna's children were also conceived out of wedlock. Thus, the cycle repeats itself, moving from one generation to the next. The reality of Moscow life, with all of its "deficits." is prevalent in this novel. Yet, one can extract a universal theme from this story as well. It is a novel about the tragic inner workings of an emotionally unstable family. Anna struggles with poverty, her daughter's unwanted pregnancies and the unreliable men in her life (the father of Arma's children, Anna's son Andrei, and the father of Alena's first child.) As a discourse, the narrative has a linear form; it is a chronicle of day to day events, yet the addition of Alena's diary frames the narrative as a text within a text. 241 The two narratives, Anna's and Alena's coalesce, into discourse, into the texture of the story. Anna's poetry is mingled with fragments of Alena's diary and references to the stories, poems and fairy tales of Russian literature.*^ At one point in the narrative Anna refers to her daughter as Anna Karenina, for example, in reference to Alena's visit to her son Tima. Petrushevskaia writes, Ona cavia, KcraTvi, cKpbœaer (J)aKT, c Ke\i ‘AHBer n /Kimer .ih , TOJTbKO niia«ier, npHxoafl poBHbiM Dierovi jsa pa3a co Bpe.Men poaoB. B o t a r c owjio CBnaanHe .\iiHbi KapeHnnofl c cbinoM, a j t o a 5biJia B po.iH KapeHUHa.*"* Helena Goscilo has observed that isolation or defensive immurement within the domestic domain is a related Petrushevskaian topos. She writes. Anna compares her life to one of Chekhov's heroines. She states. "riepeônpaeiiib actonb - ohh, \iy>K>innbi xax eepcroBbie cro.iGbi PaSoibi n \iy>K'iHHbi, a no aeraM xpono.iornio. xax y Hexosa." [You look back on your life and the men run like milestones through it. Jobs and men, with children for chronology, just like in Chekhov.], p. 345. Anna's daughter is compared to a Turgenev heroine. Petrushevskaia's text reads; "'H TO>Ke comaa,' - OTsena.ia aia npwLuasaa (cnerKa), G.ieanaa xax aenb lonaa aesyiuxa. repotiHH Typreneea." ['I'm also out of here,' answered my (just slightly) pimply girl, pale as death like a Turgenev heroine.] Likewise, the kind nurse at Sima's hospital, whose name is Sonia is compared to Dostoevsky's character. Anna states, "..Bac xax aosyi, ConenKa, coiiHeTOoe nvteHKO, Kaxoe yjHBHTeiibnoe b name Bpe.MH, n.via reponnu üocroeBCKoro, 6ynbTe Tax nio6e3Hbi~" [What's your name? Sonia, what a lovely name just like simshine, what an unusual name for our times, the name of Dostoevsky's heroine, if you'd be so kind...] See Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 345, 358 and 390 (respectively.) Petrushevskaia SS Vol. 1:317. "She, by the way, hides the fact of whom she is living with or whether or not she is living with anyone at all; she only cries when she comes here. She's been here exactly two times since the baby was bom. It was Anna Karenina all over again, the lost mother reunited with her son-and me, of course, in the role of Karenin." Helena Goscilo points out that Petrushevskaia's reference to Anna Karenina also recalls Tolstoy's famous opening sentence, "Every family is unhappy in its own way," a dictum that works equally well in Petrushevskaia's novel. 242 Petrushevskaia transforms the fabled refuge of home into a claustrophobic environment of spiritual laceration, sadistic exposure, and ceaseless emotional vampirism. She revises the genre of the family romance into a horror story. In The Time: Night both Alena and Andrei attempt to flee from the imprisonment of Anna's putative "home," while at the same time Anna struggles to distance herself from her own mother, by not offering her a "home" to come hack to. 1 have discussed the importance of the threshold, as represented in the staircase in "Our Crowd," as a means by which Petrushevskaia can focus on the spiritual liminality of her characters. The focus on the threshold, the place that is not a place, helps to emphasize one of Petrushevskaia's main themes, the protagonists' quest for "a place to stay."^^ This theme is especially prominent in The Time: Night where each of the main protagonists, Anna, Sima, Andrei, Alena and Tima, search for their rightful place within the family. As liminal figures, each of the characters is faced with a journey. Anna, Sima, Andrei, Alena and Tima traverse through stages of Van Gennep’s rites of passage, namely the stages of separation and transition; it is only Sima and Tima, however who pass into the final stage of incorporation. The story of Anna's life is the most prevalent in the novel as it is she who relates the others' experiences. At the opening of Anna's story Sima, her mother, has been separated from the family and placed in a hospital for the mentally ill. Sima is a helpless old woman who must rely on the kindness of others for food and care. While Anna admits that the disease is hereditary, she is not willing to acknowledge that she See page 18 of Helena Goscilo's "Women's Space and Women's Place" in Dehexing Sex. Goscilo, Dehexing Sex 128. 243 herself may be infected. She does confess, however, that she has already gone to see a psychiatrist about her daughter and has registered her as a psychiatric outpatient. Petrushevskaia writes, Ajiena aacviefliiacb, Kaic Bceraa, He anaa Toro, ‘rro a y>Ke KOHcyjib- TupoBajiacb c naixnaTpovi, h nocraBnna Aiieny na yaer b noix- jncnancepe u spaa e e y^Ke HaBeuiaji noj Buaovi Tepaneera. xora Ajiena Kax no .laKa.w oTReqajia na R o n p o rB j rp y fJn h peaKo,®’ Alena, however, is not committed to the mental institution like her senile grandmother. Sima is literally separated from her family, but figuratively she remains one of the main links to the madness that each of the members must face up to. The conversation that Anna has with Sima’s doctor at the psychiatric hospital emphasizes this theme. Petrushevskaia writes. Ta\i, 3a npejejta.MU fio.abHuubi, ropaaao fio.abme cvM aciuejmux. ‘ie\i Tyx, 'iTO ly T HopMa.ibHbie e ochobho.m .itoau, kotopblm 'lero-io ne XBaiaeT, n ne cKaaaaa 'lero.*** Certainly the reader has the feeling that Sima is better off in the hospital than on the outside, with her "crazy" family. Sima's transition from separation from the family, to incorporation to her new home occurs at the end of the novel when Anna arrives at the hospital to take her mother home.*^ Anna's family crises come together at this Petrushevskaia SS Vol. 1: 355. "As always Alena burst out laughing, not knowing that I'd already gone to see a psychiatrist and had got her registered as a psychiatric outpatient. In fact, a therapist had already been to see her in the guise of an ordinary doctor, though Alena as if to order had answered all his questions extremely rudely and sharply." Petrushevskaia SS Vol. 1: 353. "Out there, beyond the confines of the hospital, there are many more madmen than there are here inside; the patients in the hospital are quite normal people who just lack for something, she didn't say what." It is difficult to discern firom Petrushevskaia's text whether or not Anna actually intended to take her back home. 244 focal point of the novel, the day of her ovvn death. This is also the day that Sima is being discharged from the institution. Anna's options are to lose her mother's pension and allow her to be transferred to another institution or retain her pension by bringing her back home. Anna declares, zlo.viofi jOMOfi. BeapaüocTHoe BcraHer vTpo nocne 5ecco»Hofi houh c npoBopa4HBaHne.\! Bcex BapnanTOB: nencHH-To nenaia. no aanax 3anax/" On this fateful day Anna is united with her mother one last time in a symbolic journey through Moscow, yet the reader and the characters are unsure of their final destinations. The liminal state that both women find themselves in is emphasized by their getting lost in the city. Both are in transition, Sima from the hospital to an institution for chronic psychotics and Anna from the life that she knows to an uncertain death. Anna realizes that she is on her way out just the day before her death, the day Alena moves back into her apartment, literally taking over Anna's space and replacing Anna as Tima's "rightful" mother. Anna, having lived out her life in cramped and humiliating conditions, is saddened and reluctant to move over and make space for Alena and her family, the next generation. Petrushevskaia writes, 3 to a Tenepb oiiiejia, a lenepb o u ea a oaaa c KpoBaobiMn r.iasa.MH, npHiujra vioa oaepeiib au erb aa 3 to.m juBaa'aiKe c aopo'iKofl. 3na‘iHT, jo'ib Tenepb aoaa nepeeaex, h vme lyx Mecxa ae ocraaerca H anKaKOH aaae/KiibL M aa tcyxae fryier npaaaHOBaxb oanaoaecrBO, xaK Bcerja a aoaa.MH. Mae aex xyx .viecra!^‘ Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 376. "Home again, home again. And a joyless morning after a sleepless night going over all the alternatives: a pension's a pension, of course, but the smell of her. The smell." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 382. "So now it was me, it was me who sat there alone, with bloodshot eyes on the little couch in my burrow. So, my daughter was moving in. And there was nothing left for me: no room, no hope... And now she’d be the one 245 At the same time Anna tries to relocate her mother, she also realizes that she herself may be forced to relocate as she no longer has a place in her own home. Appealing to the drivers in charge of taking Sima to the institution, she tries instead to get a free ride to Anna's apartment. Thinking she is successful and that they are on their way home, Anna becomes frightened when she realizes that not only does she have no home to return to, but that the drivers have taken them to the wrong place. Petrushevskaia writes, O hh nac noBeajin. Kyja? ilyib 5biJt cjiO/Ken. Kyja nac Be3.in? K y aa?- Hepea SyKBaabHO aeorroK \innyT LUCK{)ep ocranoBHa h CKaaaa, hto npne.\ajin. ripnexajin_ Kyaa, Kyaa oh nptisea cgbccm He iy a a _ 'He \iorjiH 5bi cKaaaxb, rae vibi Ha.\oaH.Mca, y vienH Tonorpac^HMecKHH KpernHH3M, \ a , \a , xa Be'mo ne nonHMaKD, kbk aoGpaTbca - KaKoe viecro Petrushevskaia's lost souls are kicked out of the van in the middle of the street, left all alone on a bridge. As a metaphor, the bridge acts much like the staircase in "Our Crowd;" it serves as a transitional location, the point at which both women's lives will be changed forever. Once on this bridge there is no turning back. Petrushevskaia writes, "fae-To Mbi c t o h jih , na KaKOM-TO .viocry, cepboi ane.vi, 5.an>Ke k Be'iepy. y o6o‘iHHbL fl Bce apoiKajia. fae vibi HaxoaHMca?"^^ to celebrate her solitude in the kitchen at night, just as I'd always done. There was no room for me here!" Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 393. "Off they drove with us. Where to? It was a complicated route... Where on earth were they taking us, where?.. Precisely ten minutes later the driver stopped and said we'd arrived. Arrived... Where on earth had he taken us, completely the wrong place... 'Can't you tell me where we are. I'm a complete cretin when it comes to geography, ha ha, ha! I can never understand how I got some place-and [where] that place is 246 The van then returns for Sima and she is incorporated into her new life as the van carries her off to the institution. As a final sign of closing this chapter of her life, Anna symbolically throws all of her mother's belongings away in the nearby dumpster and heads home. By throwing out everything connected with her mother, it seems apparent that Anna resigns herself to accepting that her mother has traversed to the final stage, that of incorporation into the institution and, she (Anna) gains her own sort of freedom. In the novel, Anna also narrates the trials and tribulations of her son Andrei, emphasizing the transitory nature of his position within society. He is described by her as a drunk, liar and cheat, who is all too eager to steal from his own family. Along with his psychological problems (on several occasions he has tried to throw himself out of the second-floor window). Andrei is also physically disabled; he has a bad foot, which Anna attributes to his brawls in prison. The first stage that he passes through, separation from the family, occurs before the novel begins, when he is thrown in prison. Yet it is when Andrei returns to his family, to the psychic prison of the maternal apartment, that he experiences a transitional stage. Neither the family nor Andrei is sure of his place within the unit. Because of his liminal position, he also causes his family much anxiety. He can't seem to fit into the world outside of prison, yet he can't go back there either. He is neither of this world nor in it; his appearance is almost always described as death like, yet he seems to be alive. Anna, for example, several times makes reference to his sucking her blood and his flesh Petrushevskaia SS Vol. 1; 393-94. "We were standing somewhere by the side of a road, on a bridge, on a dull gray afternoon with evening coming on... I was shaking 247 looking yellow, tired to death. She urges him to "clean" up, in both the literal and figurative senses. Petrushevskaia's descriptions of Andrei echo the descriptions of Slavic folkloric vampires, those terrible beings who return from the dead to suck away their relatives' limited good. The similarities between Andrei's characteristics and those of the Slavic vampire are striking. Consider, for example Anna's rhetorical question directed to Andrei, the first time the reader is introduced to him. She asks: "Ha 'rro t h Tflneuib v Niaiepn, OTpbtBaeim, or oaoyiuKn Qimli h viajibiiUKH?"^'* Andrei, in fact, seems to take on the characteristics of the psychic and literary vampires, beings who prey on other's emotions as well as their blood and food sources. Anna's poem, which is inserted just before her narrative concerning Andrei's return, describes a terrible dark force that has returned to haunt her, her son. Petrushevskaia writes. CTpaiiniafl TeMHaa a u a , caenaa ôesyvinaa crpacrb - b hopu .iioÔHMoro cbma epoae oayaaoro cbiaa ynacrb, cruxu. Aajpefi ea MOK) ceaejK y, mok) KaprouiKy, mom 'lepnbifi xae6, ana mom aaM, npMjia M3 KoaoHHM, onarb, KaK paabiue, ea mom \i03r m ana moio KpoBb, Bccb cnenaeHHbiM M3 vioefi n u iU M , a o x ea rb iM , rpasHbiM, cviepreabHO ycraabiM.^^ Andrei remains in a liminal, transitional stage throughout the rest of the novel. While he promises Anna that he will no longer feed off of her, he is neither all over. Where were we?" Petrushevskaia S5 Vol. 1: 316-17. "Why, why suck your mother dry and deprive Granny Sima and the kid?" Petrushevskaia Vol. 1: 351. "A terrible dark force, a mad blind passion-to fall at the feet of my beloved son, like the prodigal son himself, my verse. Andrei came back from camp and ate my herring, my potatoes, my black bread, drank my tea, and once again devoured my mind and sucked my blood, he was flesh of my flesh, but yellow, dirty, tired to death." 248 incorporated back into Anna's family nor does he return to his previous prison life. Andrei, much like his senile grandmother Sima, is in fact estranged from his family, and has become an outsider to those once close to him. Anna's daughter Alena also traverses through several rites of passage, yet just as we have noted with Anna, Sima and Andrei, Petrushevskaia chooses to focus mainly on the transitional stage that these liminal characters experience. Alena, much like her brother, is separated from her family at the opening of the story. She has three children out of wedlock and attempts to live on her own, allowing her mother to raise her first child Tima. Like her brother Andrei, Alena is also alone in this world. The various fathers of her children will have nothing to do with her. As I have mentioned above, there is some hint that she has also inherited her grandmother's disease. Alena's various sexual adventures are described in the novel from her point of view; they are diary entries that her mother has found and read. Petrushevskaia writes. Mo fl flUTa.ia u BocxHtiKiJiacb, Btua b Hefi fryjyiuyK) nucaTe.ibHnuy, u xaK-TO ojHa>Kiibi 3T0 efi CKaaa.na » b joxaaaTe.TbCTBO npo- utiTtipoBajia ee yme $pa3y, uuyTKy - h 5bui cxanaan o urvione, Koropbifi fl ycrpanBaK) y nee, o5 oGwcxax, jhkhh, jhkhh cKaHaajT.^^ This love-hate relationship between mother and daughter continues through out the novel, yet one aspect remains the same; Anna constantly vies for control of her children. For example, Alena's first husband married her not out of love, but Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1; 333. "But I read them and was delighted, it looked like she had real potential as a future writer. I once said that to her and as proof I cited one 249 because Anna threatened to go to the head of his Department and have him kicked out of school, if he didn't "do the right thing." Alena undergoes a period of transition just after she is separated from her mother, while she is out on her ovvn. Her move back to Anna's apartment represents not only the shifting of generations, presumably something that also took place between Sima and Anna, but it also solidifies the importance of Alena's role as mother to her children. While Alena traverses through the transitional stage, she is never really "incorporated" into the family or the home as she actually only comes to get her son Tima and then leaves with her three children the next day. Alena's seeming liberation from the family blueprint is purposely orchestrated by Petrushevskaia to arouse readers' skepticism. The innocent child Tima is perhaps the pivotal character in this novel as he is the only one who Petrushevskaia allows to enter into the final stage of the rites of passage, that of incorporation. Indeed, it is fitting that Petrushevskaia allows the pure, clean child this opportunity. Tima's separation from his mother occurs before the novel opens. He is liminal in the sense that he lives with his surrogate mother Anna, yet his heart aches for his real mother, this stranger he barely knows. Anna struggles to feed and clothe him, yet at times Alena seems to want to take him back. While the two women argue over who will care for him, it seems that little Tima is afraid that he will end up without a home. Petrushevskaia writes, 'Co6npaH TuviKy, a ero aaGnparc) k «nefi viarepH.' Tmio'txa aaBbiJi TOHKHM rojioco.M, KaK KvieHOK- 'PajH Te5fl h caajia, no TBoefi nptninne', KHBOK b cropony T u m k h , a TuviKa b h3>kht KaK of her phrases, a little joke-and she was upset, accusing me of being the KGB, of searching her [belongings], it turned into a horrible, horrible scandal." 250 nopoccHOK, rjiasa noimbi cnea h He Hüer hh ko vme, hh k CBoefi '-.HCH viaTepn', a ctdht, Kanaerca. H nK oraa ne 3 a 6 y a y , KaK oh croH Ji, ejie aep^acb na Horax, viajibiH pe6eH0K, maiaflCb o t ropa.^’ Already at six, poor Tima has a nervous tic from all of his psychological traumas. The above passage reinforces the idea that Tima is a liminal character, caught between two women, his mother who is a stranger to him, and his delusional grandmother whom he calls Mama. Alena is finally triumphant in rescuing her child from his grandmother and escaping the psychic prison of her mother's apartment. Tima, therefore, by the close of the novel is incorporated back into his original family and Anna is left to die alone. At the same time Anna's family escapes the prison that is her apartment. Anna experiences herself on the outside; she becomes a stranger to her own family. One by one she attempts to "eliminate" all of the "dirty" family members, with the exception of the "pure" grandson Tima. Several times in her narrative she refers to both her children and her mother as "dirty," and insists that they clean themselves. When Andrei comes home from prison, for example, the first thing Anna uttered was to ask him to clean himself up. C noB a ’HÜH B ü y m ' n e -lesjiH boh, ho ctohjth b ro p jie kbk o 6 n j a _ 3 ia ({)pa3a ero ynnacajia, Hano.vinHajia o tom. Hero oh c to u t, noTHbiH n rpH3Hbrfi, b q)aBHeHHH co mhoh, botoo ‘tticrofi.’* Petrushevskaia SS Vol. 1:317-18. "’Get Tima ready, he's coming back to his f...g mother.' So then Tima started wailing in a soft voice like a puppy. 'For your sake I did it [put Sima in the hospital], because of what you have done'-nodding in the direction of Tima who the meanwhile was squealing like a piglet, his eyes full of tears and wasn't going to make a move towards either me or his f...g mother, he just stood there, swaying back and forth. I'll never forget how he stood there, barely able to stand on his feet, a little child shaking from grief." 251 Anna frequently uses this technique of distancing herself from her children by pointing out how she is different from them; Andrei and Alena are dirty, while she herself is pure. Anna also chides Alena for her lack of personal hygiene. Anna exclaims, "Tbi jojDKHa kek muhumym 'lame vibrrbca n \ibrrb rojiOBy, 3 to paa. H noTOM npeaoxpaHflTbCfl, npeaoxpanHTbcn, paa y'Æ . cnmub c humh ."^^ In a later passage, when Alena phones Anna because she is scared that she has protein in her urine, her mother remarks, "B Te6a CKonbKO y'lHJra, ‘rro uajo Ka>Kjbifi aeab coSniojiaTb rnrrieny. n.ioxo nojMbuiacb, bot n aecb SejiOK." When Alena gives birth to Tima, for example, she and her mother are traveling in a taxi whose back seat is covered with excrement. Yet Anna does not focus on the excrement which is already there when they get in, but on the mess that Alena adds to the seat. Likewise, Anna refers to her mother, who no longer has control of her bodily functions, as a KcTKV UH [shitter].'®' Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1:351. "The words 'Go and take a shower' stuck in my throat like an insult that wouldn't come out. ... no doubt he felt humiliated by that phrase, reminded of just what he was worth, all sweaty and dirty, alongside me, always spotlessly clean..." Petrushevskaia, Vol. 1: 358. "At the minimum you should shower and wash your hair more often, that's the first thing. And then you should use protection if you are going to sleep around." Petrushevskaia, SS Vol. 1: 364. "How many times have I told you that you must take care of your hygiene every day. You didn't wash yourself properly, that's all your protein's about." Ewa Thompson concludes that this is one of the main reasons that Anna sends her mother to the hospital in the first place. See, chapter seven "Deconstructing Empire: Liudmila Petrushevskaia," in Thompson's Imperial Knowledge 216. 252 Under the cover of the night Alena is able to slip out of her mother's control and by the story’s conclusion, Anna is left alone. Anna interprets the silence in her apartment as indicative of her family's mass suicide. Their escape is to a new life, outside of her reach. Total disintegration of family life in this story epitomizes the interim situation that all of Petrushevskaia’s city dwellers find themselves in. Under such conditions, the individual lacks ground for development and finds herself stifled. As Helena Goscilo remarks. In Petrushevskaia’s fiction those whom one trusts prove the most unreliable and destructive; if stepping into the enclosed space of one’s family home ideally represents finding refuge within the magic sphere of unwavering affection and sustenance, the Petrushevskaian household sooner approximates one of the Inferno’s circles of torment, for family members by definition constitute the greatest source of misery and laceration. Intimacy is a license to violate. The characters we have discussed in this chapter have assimilated only to the city’s simplest structures, acquiring only the most primitive survival tactics. Petrushevskaia conveys an absence of genuine intimacy and an attempt to overcome this estrangement. The mothers in ’’Our Crowd." "Medea" and The Time: Night build their own happiness not by overcoming the evil and viciousness of existence, but by incorporating them into their calculations and using them for survival and the survival of their children. In Petrushevskaia’s world everything is possible; everything is permissible. The narrator’s impossibility of securing a place for her son in "Our Crowd," Medea’s impossible position with her husband and Goscilo, "Dostoevsky Revamped: The Gendered Underground of Liudmila Petrushevskaia" 5. 253 Alena's agonizing problem of finding a place to raise her children render the question about the morality of their actions irrelevant. We have noted that depictions of women as mad, ill, hysterical or even diabolical appear in Petrushevskaia's works as powerful revisions of the traditional feminine, symbols both of decay and of imexpected power. Likewise, Petrushevskaia's manipulation of myth helps to illustrate how her heroines are able to overcome the expectations that a dominantly patriarchal culture has placed on them. In addition, Petrushevskaia explodes the mythology of the feminine to empower her characters who are cruel, cunning and violent, just like the men, only smarter. 254 Bibliography Chapter Five: Petrushevskaia's Strangers: Powerful Revision of the Feminine Babcock, Barbara and Peter Stallybrass. The Politics and Poetics o f Transgression. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1986. Baranskaia, Natal'ia. "Nedelia kak nedelia." Novyi mir No. 11 (1969). Clark, Katerina and Michael Holquist. Mikhail Bakhtin. Cambridge: Har/ard University Press, 1984. Dukov, E. "Do we live in a Tower?: Thoughts about certain Paradoxes in Urban Culture." Soviet Studies in Literature Vol. 23. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 1987. Elshtain, Jean Bethke. Public Man, Private iVoman: Women in Social and Political Thought. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Foucault, Michel. Madness and Civilization. New York: Pantheon Books, 1965. Gaster, Theodor. "Myth and Story." Sacred Narrative: Readings in the Theory of Myth. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984. Gennep, Arnold van. Rites o f Passage. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 1960. Goscilo, Helena. "Women's Space and Women's Place." Dehexing Sex. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996. — . "Dostoevsky Revamped: The Gendered Underground of Liudmila Petrushevskaia." Lecture. CUNY Graduate Center. New York, 16 April 1997. Gurevich, Aaron. Pokhody vikingov. Moscow: Nauka, 1967. Hastrup, Kirsten. Culture and History in Medieval Iceland. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985. Honko, Lauri. The Problem o f Defining Myth. Helsinki: Finnish Society for the Study of Comparative Religion, 1972. Ivanova, Natal'ia. "Neopalimyi golubok." Znamia No. 8(1991). Kolesnikov, Nina. "Myth in the Works of Chingiz Aitmatov." New Directions in Soviet Literature. Ed. Sheelagh Duffin Graham. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1992. 255 Lotman, luri. "Vtorichnye modeliruiushchie sistemy." Materialy Vsesoiuznogo simpoziuma po vtorichnym modeliruiitshchim sistemam. Tartu: [s.n.], 1979. Petrushevskaia, Liudmila. Sobranie sochinenii. Vols. 1-5. Khar'kov and Moscow: Folio and TKO, 1996. Segal, Charles. Interpreting Greek Tragedy: Myth, Poetry, Text. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1986. Thompson, Ewa. Imperial Knowledge. London: Greenwood Press. 2000. Turner, Victor. The Anthropology o f Experience. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1986. 256 CONCLUSION I am convinced that the world is not a mere bog in which men and women trample themselves in the mire and die. Something magnificent is taking place here amid the cruelties and tragedies, and the supreme challenge to intelligence is that of making the noblest and best in our curious heritage prevail. - Charles A. Beard Despite the many decades that divide Nikolai Gogol's and Liudmila Petrushevskaia's writings, a number of their works are related by striking stylistic and thematic resemblance and a similarity of generic configuration. These narratives are characterized by a common preoccupation with plots in which the main theme is the protagonist's search for identity. Invariably both authors introduce these quests through the rhetorical device of the stranger who relates his/her story from the point of view of the outsider. To consider the image of the stranger in Gogol's and Petrushevskaia's fiction is to confi-ont the authors' unresolved feeling about him(her)self and the estrangement inherent in family origins, gender and literary acceptance. Both authors are writers of the margins, attempting to explain their own position as an outsider through the literary device of the stranger. The tension in their works of fiction, a reflection of their own marginal positions, is expressed even in the generic forms they employ. Through a close reading of six stories by these two 257 writers ("Nevsky Prospect," "Diary of a Madman," "Portrait," "Our Crowd," "Medea" and The Time: Night), this dissertation provides a new understanding of both authors' constructions of a sense of place. Petrushevskaia seems at first to be continuing in a humanistic, realistic tradition that in Russia is usually associated with Gogol. A sensitive, subtle observer of her fictional characters, Petrushevskaia confronts them with delicate ethical quandaries of everyday life. Following in the tradition of Gogol. Petrushevskaia also dares to expose the fragmented individual, a character extracted from the vast, impersonal metropolis together with her troubles and sufferings. Harking back to Gogol's madmen and other misfits, Petrushevskaia's character include many degenerates, most of whom are demented intellectuals. In both Gogol's and Petrushevskaia's fiction identity is rooted in and to a large extent determined by the sort of place in which their characters are located: the uncertain, temporary, unstable quality of places. The protagonist's urge to establish a certain stable, harmonious place remains essentially a thwarted desire. Human relationships are linked to this ideal place; but the marginal protagonists are usually unable to establish or sustain them. The concept of place plays a unique role in Gogol's and Petrushevskaia's prose: its temporary, undetermined quality not only reflects the authors' own crises, but also those of contemporary urban men/women. If Gogol showed how St. Petersburg might be explored with the eye of a realist and evoked with the tools of a romantic, Petrushevskaia creates a literary mosaic of "real" Moscow life using the provocative tools of myth. As a writer living 258 at the boundary of two eras, it is not surprising that her heroines occupy two worlds simultaneously, the mythical and the real. Her ability to obscure fictional botmdaries by mixing the real with the mythological recalls Gogol's hybridization of genres, wherein elements of the essay, parable, sketch, and feature story cross the boundaries of single works and continue into others. In Petrushevskaia's case, it is also representative of one of the many characteristics of postmodernism. As discourses that dissolve borders, Gogol's and Petrushevskaia's works allow fact and fiction to exist simultaneously and enter into virtual, interactive relation. By blurring the boundaries between actual reality and invented reality, both authors simulate alternative realities. In their works, fiction becomes the instrument for the construction of reality instead of its violation. Gogol's St. Petersburg, one of the most grandiose simulacra that expressed the simulative nature of the Russian culture, finds its twentieth century counterpart in Petrushevskaia's Moscow.’ As 1 have discussed in chapters three and four, the realization of Petersburg's intentionality and ideality, the lack of firm soil to stand on, gave rise to one of the first and most ingenious literary simulacra. Borrowing from Gogol's image of an impersonal metropolis, Petrushevskaia's contemporary portrayal of Moscow as a place composed of fabrications, ravings and visions is a testament to how the city, for the marginal city dweller, is not only a place to live, but also a place where she is forced to take measure of herself. 259 Petrushevskaia's fictional works express the author's intent to create the illusion of real life, something Mark Lipovetskii deems "postrealism." Her writings at once call upon the stylistic devices of her literary predecessor Nikolai Gogol, and at the same time, are a reaction against the peculiar concept of truth promoted in Socialist Realism, namely the false idealization of Soviet reality that precludes the description of its numerous negative aspects. In Petrushevskaia's postmodern works the narrators ironically undermine the reading of their stories, and turn their readers' attention from the fictional truths to a highly literary questioning of the status of truth in fiction. As detailed in chapter five, her postmodern strangers are insiders with an outward glance or outsiders with an inward glance—and a hopeless desire to become insiders. Although Petrushevskaia writes almost a century after Gogol, her emphasis on the "little woman," the marginal character within the city, recalls Gogol's own accent on the "little man," the stranger out of place in the city. Both authors describe men and women stuck in the bog of contemporary urban life, surrounded only by cruelties and tragedies. Their interest in simulating realities, through writing about borders, the crossroads between this world and some other place, is implied in their works structurally, through the meeting of genres, and thematically, through the displacement of people, and places the texts of both authors in dialogue with each other. * Petrushevskaia directly acknowledges her reliance on Gogol's construction of the marginal city dweller in the preamble to her screenplay of the animated version of 260 Prospects fo r Further Research The subject matter and structural layout of these works, that blur the lines of genre and evoke "simulated realities," may also be indicative of the larger problem of a whole nation out of place. Russian authors in the 1830s-40s as well as the 1980s-90s struggled to find a genre that best expresses these ideas. The waning of poetic forms in favor of prose in the 1830s, and the unprecedented interest in fictional descriptions of historical events, is one method writers used to convey the plight of the individual. Likewise, authors of the new city prose, writing in the late 1980s and early 1990s, turned away from the government mandated Socialist Realism with its emphasis on the collective, and turned toward a presentation of the problems of the individual. Gogol's experimentation with genre may have been influenced by the popularity of Alexandr Pushkin's writings in which the latter set literary conventions against one another, broadening their boundaries by attempting new combinations, such as in Eugene Onegin: A Novel in Verse (1833)." The literary milieu in which Pushkin (and later Gogol) grew to maturity, as William Todd has remarked, "demanded that a writer practice a variety of genres in order to avoid an Gogol's "Overcoat." " Likewise Pushkin played with convention by reworking his historical work The History o f Pugachev (1833) into the prose fiction The Captain's Daughter (1836). The plot of "The Bronze Horseman" (1833) is also presented in a variety of different genres that document the history of Russian writing on Petersburg, beginning with the laudatory ode and ending with elements of romantic poetry. 261 ungentlemanly narrowness of interest."^ Similarly, the biographical moments relevant to Pushkin's creation of such texts, as well as his own family heritage, illustrate "his status on the margin of two social and cultural positions-'noble’ and 'savage,' and 'gentleman' and 'author.'""’ Therefore, I see some interesting prospects in the further exploration of the use of the device of the stranger as possible autobiographical constructs in works of other nineteenth century marginal authors such as Pushkin. Subsequent research into nineteenth century prose writings that document city life, such as Pushkin's, Gogol's and Doestoevsky's stories, could offer interesting material for discussion of the works of Petrushevskaia's contemporaries, writers such as Natal'ia Baranskaia. Andrei Bitov. Venedikt Erofeev. Irina Grekova, and luri Trifonov, who themselves turn to the theme of the city. Of interest would be an investigation of how these new writers of city prose respond to their literary predecessors and to what extent they are reacting to the stifling constraints that Socialist Realism inflicted upon its writers, to represent truth 'in its revolutionary development.' ^ William Todd. "Pushkin." Handbook o f Russian Literature. Ed. Victor Terras, 357. •’ Todd, 357. 262 Bibliography Conclusion Todd, William. "Pushkin." Handbook o f Russian Literature. Ed. Victor Terras. 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