This week, I’ve chosen to focus on probably my two favorite readings to date: Gogol’s “The Nose” and Dostoevsky’s “White Nights”. Both stories pandered to the romantic side of me, which I absolutely adored. In “The Nose”, the absurdity of social standing is teased as Kovalyov wakes up without his nose and suffers at its hand as it surpasses him in rank. The narrative of the protagonist wandering around St. Petersburg is cartoonish and charming, especially as he struggles with his love interest’s nagging mother. The ridiculous nature of her letter in response, spinning a missing nose into a proposal acceptance, is hilarious: “If by this you mean to say that I am, as it were, turning up my nose at you, that is, rejecting you out of hand, then I am surprised that you yourself should bring this up, since I, as you are aware, was of a directly contrary opinion, and if you were now to seek the hand of my daughter in the legitimate way I would be prepared forthwith to grant your request, for this has always been the object of my most earnest desire…” (57). The desperate mother peddling her daughter in the face of a rogue nose adds to the sheer madness of the piece and contributes to the social climbing motif in a misogynistic but comical way. The internal struggle of Kovalyov is different yet similar to the struggle of Dostoevsky’s narrator in “White Nights”, as both grapple with a whimsical identity crisis set in a whimsical city — whether stemming from unrequited love or societal insecurity, their experiences are beautifully melancholy. As Dostoevsky’s narrator says, “The dreamer’ – if you want an exact definition – is not a human being, but a creature of an intermediate sort.” Both of these pieces took different spins on the hopeless human condition in a conflicted and cosmic city.
Author Archives: Price Nyland '20
Here is your Tsar, forgive…
As I watched the opera excerpts, I was immediately struck by a number of things: first, the costumes. The aesthetic feels truly Russian and the splendor of the Tsar and his men surrounding him, backed by a massive church bell, is a striking image. Delving deeper, I was fascinated by the begging of the commoners, urged on by the always conniving boyars, pleading with Boris Godunov to rule over them. The way Boris looks down at the peasants reaching after him is a bit terrifying, paired with the divine worship the Tsar receives “throughout Russia”.
Once again, as many of our texts and films have shown, religion permeates every aspect of life — blessing the new Tsar as a sort of deity himself, the monks discussing internal strife and the benefits of leaving the “world of sin”… There is an immense amount of respect held for monastic life. Moving on, can we talk about the monk’s discussion of Ivan’s son’s death?! It was like another perspective on that famous portrait; I loved it.
Lastly, I was very interested by the dying words of the Tsar to his son, as he ushered him into an era to come that would not be easy to reign over. The pose of the Tsar dying in his son’s arms was a strangely pleasing parallel to the earlier discussion of Ivan IV (and of course how his relationship with his firstborn played out). It was a truly painful scene (“o cruel death, you torment me!”) complete with an absolutely dramatic death that seems to be key.
Apologies if this is not my best or most succinct writing, but this opera made for a good sick-in-bed watch!
“The Golden Stirrup”
Once again, the background reading provided excellent perspective and oriented me historically (which I needed).
The Lay immediately struck me with the very inciting nature of the questions asked in the invocation. Without losing the name-heavy tendency, The Lay immediately invoked wild imagery with reverent depiction of Russian rulers (Yaroslav, Mstislav). Bird metaphors dominated the introduction, and I found myself taken with this inspiring figure, riling up his army with words. It reminded me of Julius Caesar. The essence of Russian pride was eminent and the language conveys the splendor of Prince Igor: “Then Prince Igor set his foot in the golden stirrup and rode into the open prairie” (172). I am still very curious who The Lay would have been intended for, audience wise, because the work fluctuates with its tone — sometimes the animal imagery is triumphant, other times it is dark and looming. Overall, the language was heartbreaking: “The wine of this bloody banquet was drank to the last drop. The Russians gave their guests to drink from the same cup. They died for the Russian land” (176). I enjoyed the opera paralleled with this reading because they both matched in grandeur and melancholy, which seems entirely Russian to me. It was very interesting to listen to the opera & simultaneously read.
