Our theme for tomorrow’s class, “Post-Soviet decay and corruption”, is portrayed in various ways in the film Leviathan. On the surface, the Russian political system depicted in this movie is corrupt, to say the least, but when you look a bit deeper, this film works to depict several other aspects of their reality as corrupt and decaying. Visually speaking, the colors and tones used in the camerawork are dreary and bleak – this is seen everywhere from the washed out skin tone of the characters to the lack of natural color in water bodies and mountain ranges. Where I would expect color, there are only washed out tones of greys and greens, and I think this acts as a commentary on the wider societal reality of the time. The bleakness of the camerawork reflects the very bleakness of the characters and the society in which they are currently living. Most evident is the corruption and decay of the characters and how societal influences have created this in them. There are numerous examples of corruption in one’s character: Lilya cheating on Kolya with Dmitri, Dmitri willingly betraying his dear friend Kolya, the many acts of cruelty of Vadim, and generally, the characters in this film seem overly aggressive in their interactions with others, whether aggression is permitted or not. Kolya resorts to physical violence when he feels at all threatened or upset, as does his son, Roma, and Vadim and his colleagues. Social justice is not a feature in this film, as we see through the broken justice system, and the characters act according to this notion. The emotional states of these characters, similar to some of the Post-Soviet experience, are broken. Not to mention, the prevalence of alcoholism in both the male and female characters speaks to their depressed mental state. Throughout this film, I was reminded of this idea of collectivism and how this type of society was characteristic of the Soviet Union. As it relates to these characters, I noticed a lack of this collectivist mentality – most of these characters operate independently and out of self-interest. Almost every aspect of this film – from the aesthetics and camerawork to the poor
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A shift in fear
A reoccurring theme I picked up on in Alexievich’s Voices from Chernobyl was the greater fear humans had of fellow humans than of the natural environment and creatures within it. The quote that captured my attention initially was the following: “Any animal is afraid of a human. If you don’t touch him, he’ll walk around you. Used to be, you’d be in the forest and you’d hear human voices, you’d run toward them. Now people hide from one another. God save me from meeting a person in the forest!” (44). The first part, “any animal is afraid of a human” seems accurate and nondebatable to me – humans typically sit above most animals on the food chain and have historically displayed dominance over lesser species. The last part of this quote is what I found most striking. The voice of this quote claims that where humans were once unbothered by, and maybe even comforted by, the sound of human voice, we now fear it. Not only do we fear fellow humans in this situation, but we also retreat from them, which is the opposite, this quote claims, from what used to be true of mankind. The last part, “God save me from meeting a person in the forest!” really shows the fear of this person, and others in his situation, have of other humans. Considering the context of this time and their experiences in Chernobyl, fear of others humans can be understood.
Another woman discusses her level of comfort with humans in the forest, explaining that upon leaving home each day she dressed in “clean clothes, a freshly laundered blouse, skirt, underthings” (60) in preparation for if she were to be killed that day. She explains further, “Now I walk through the forest by myself and I’m not afraid of anyone. There aren’t any people in the forest, not a soul” (60). We have seen in some of the past literature we’ve read a fear of the elemental forces of nature, the sublimity, and the unknown; however, the fear this woman refers to regards humans, those of her very own species. We further learn, “I can’t be afraid of the earth, the water. I’m afraid of people” (60). This clearly shows the shift from a fear of nature to the fear of humans. She did not expand on what fear of the earth, water, and nature more generally entails, but we might speculate that fear of these things might have to do with their vastness, elemental force, unpredictability, etc.
Another man shares, “And I’ll say this: birds, and trees, and ants, they’re closer to me now than they were. I think about them, too. Man is frightening. And strange” (66). His current relationship with nature – what he defines as birds, trees, and ants – is more evident than it was before, in part to do with the decline in his relationship with humans. More broadly we might consider society as a whole and how this decline in human-to-human relations may be applicable more broadly. Lastly, one man states, “I am afraid of man. And also I want to meet him. I want to meet a good person. Yes” (67). This quote has a different tone than the rest. The ones discussed previously more directly point out the fear of humans and lack of fear of nature. However, the tone of the latter quote is more hopeful – while the man fears humans, he does want to meet someone that can disprove his fear of humans. The experiences of the people in this book are horrifying and the trauma and terrible mistreatment they have endured under the supervision and leadership of fellow humans makes it abundantly clear why they may be conditioned to fear humans. This last quote, while more hopeful, reinforces that idea.
Betrayal
The role that the environment plays in “I do not look for harmony in nature”, and the tone in which it is described, is very different than what we’ve seen in past readings. I have found that most pieces represent nature as very strong and persistent in the face of all the disruption it faces. In this poem, however, I felt less of this “hope” I felt in the past, feeling more of the hopelessness of nature coming through. Not only has nature become unidentifiable to humans, as Zabolotsky makes clear in explaining that he no longer even bothers searching for harmony in nature, but also that nature can no longer identify itself. Zabolotsky writes that the black water is now “weary of its vigour”, “its bodily movement”, and “its massive labors”, seemingly trying to express that the hopelessness we often see in humans regarding the environment has reached nature itself. A force once so in balance and in harmony can no longer recognize its new form and purpose, an idea that reminds me of Professor Breyfogle’s lecture. The role of water around Lake Baikal was created to maintain itself and the wildlife depending on it. All of a sudden this purpose was shifted to supporting factories and working endlessly to work toward hydroelectric power. If we were to personify the water within Lake Baikal, we might imagine that altering its purpose so drastically could make it unable to identify itself, similar to how nature is depicted in Zabolotsky’s “I do not look for harmony in nature”. I see themes of betrayal in both of these instances, the industrialization of Lake Baikal and the transformation of nature in Zabolotsky’s poem. The waters of Baikal, the wildlife inhabiting it, and even the residents of the area we’re betrayed by the forced industrialization; and, too, the narrator in Zabolotsky’s poem loses a connection with nature, and nature itself almost loses a connection with itself.
Is all of nature created (and enjoyed) equally?
Valentin Rasputin does a beautiful job writing Baikal. This piece is written in a very lyrical and intriguing manner, both informing and inspiring the reader. Rasputin depicts Lake Baikal as different from other natural landmarks, and at one point, claims it one of nature’s “favorites”. For me, this begged the question of whether or not nature creates all natural environments equally, to be enjoyed equally by all, none objectively better than another. Early on in this piece, Rasputin writes, “How and with what can its beauty actually be compared? … each of us regards his own region as beloved and dear…From the time we are born we drink in the air, the salt, and the scenes of our homeland; these influence our character and shape our vital makeup to no small degree” (189). According to this view, maybe all of nature is created equally, but experienced differently, and even biasedly, by love who live in it. For instance, I might find that the beauty of my home environment is objectively better than the environment a couple of towns over. This seems right to me in many ways. However, there are some flaws in this view. I love my hometown and will always think that the ocean surrounding my tiny island is the most beautiful of them all, but I must admit that I believe this because of the personal attachment and emotional bond I have with it. I’ve traveled a great deal and have seen oceans must more beautiful than the Atlantic surrounding my island – the colors of the Indian and Atlantic oceans colliding at the very point of Cape Town, the sky above it, and backdrop behind it, were so obviously more beautiful than the ocean I’m used to here. According to this view posed by Rasputin, I should think there is nothing more beautiful than my island ocean, so why is it that, in some ways, I prefer the ocean in Cape Town? This leads me to Tolstoy’s quote:
“How, in the midst of nature’s charms, can feelings of malice and vengeance or the passion to destroy others like himself possibly remain entrenched in man? It seems that all evil in a person’s heart should vanish when it comes into contact with nature, this spontaneous expression of beauty and goodness” (192).
In my mind, I related this quote to the story of the colleague who becomes silent after witnessing the natural beauties of Lake Baikal. He clearly had a lasting life-altering experience that influenced the way he viewed and approached life thereafter, but can all people experience this, as Tolstoy hopes, or does it take a certain type? Maybe an open-minded person more in touch with nature is most capable of this transformative experience because it is obvious that not everyone experiences nature in the same way this colleague does. Looping back to my point of the island ocean versus the Cape Town ocean, maybe it is that I am more unfamiliar with the latter and thus have a greater appreciation from it; and from this, we might say that nature is created equal, and can be enjoyed equally by all, but that it does take a certain type of person, and maybe even some extent of removal from a place, for us to appreciate the full and true beauty of nature.
Continuation of winter and fate in ‘Kolyma Tales’
Last class, we discussed the role of winter in the plots of our various readings. In Lend-Lease from Kolyma Tales, I found that the role of winter played an especially important role in this story’s theme. Further, fate plays a key element in Lend-Lease, as it did in the stories from last class. In this story, Shalamov alludes to the importance of the physical properties of the camp more and more as the plot continues. Toward the middle, he begins to describe the stone and permafrost of the camp as keepers and revealers of secrets, a sort of documentation of the past war. He writes, “Stone keeps secrets and reveals them…The permafrost keeps and reveals secrets”, and of the corpses buried in the stone: “The corpses wait in stone, in the permafrost…The north resisted with all its strength this work of man, not accepting the corpses into its bowels. Defeated, humbled, retreating, stone promised to forget nothing, to wait and preserve its secret”. It appears from this quote that these feelings of defeat are regularly experienced in these camps – prisoners past and present, as well as the physical land – yet a glimpse of hope is present in the preservation of secrets Shalamov describes.
Shalamov’s describes the camp as horrifying, cold, and cruel places, as they were, but the theme of fate seems to lurk in his writing. While the cold led to miserable experiences of labor and frostbite, it also created this frozen earth, capable of preserving the bodies of these people lost to starvation, torture, and cold: “All of our loved ones who died in Kolyma, all those who were shot, beaten to death, sucked dry by starvation, can still be recognized even after tens of years…The corpses wait in stone, in the permafrost” (178). It seems as if being able to recognize the bodies of these people pays them the respect and admiration they deserve, making it sure that people will not forget them – because their physical bodies have not deteriorated, the camp’s history and the individual experiences of these people, too, will not be erased.
Tolstoy: Recurrent Themes Across Master and Man and The Cossacks
A common theme I see between Master and Man and The Cossacks is that of what it means to be “truly happy”. At the end of both of these short stories, Olenin and Vasili appear to believe that a life rooted in altruism is most promising for leading a happy and fulfilling life. First, we have Vasili, a rich landowner that is predominantly concerned about buying land, and his peasant, Nikita, whom he treats poorly and often exploits. After a long and strenuous voyage together, Vasili leaves Nikita to die in the cold but ultimately returns out of a sense of duty. Vasili lies on Nikita to keep him warm and dies to save Nikita. During this Vasili exclaims, “‘I have been frightened. That is clear, and have lost my nerve’”, followed by Tolstoy’s narration: “But this weakness came not as an unpleasant sensation; rather as a notable, and hitherto unknown, delight” (525). To me, this quote explains Vasili’s newfound desire to act in service of others – this once “unknown delight” is now the very reason he sacrifices his life for another.
After his life seemingly flashes before his eyes, Vasili has passed away at last, yet is not disturbed by this; rather, he finds peace in knowing he is no longer alive. I discussed the importance of Vasili’s death in itself above but now want to move on to his “after death” thoughts and reflections, at least how Tolstoy tells it. He writes, “He remembers his money, the shop, the house, the buying and selling, the Mironovs’ millions; and he really cannot understand why that man, called Vasily Brekhunov, had troubled with all those things which he has troubled himself” (527), reminding me of how Olenin feels about his own past. He expresses boredom with his life of riches and purges himself from high society. Olenin makes an effort to leave behind the selfish life he once led to become less egocentric and find purpose in life through giving to others. Both Olenin and Vasili come to realize that the materialistic aspects of their lives are not what gives them purpose and turn to altruism to somehow reverse this. Lastly, Tolstoy writes, “…all his beings speaks joyfully and tenderly. And he feels himself free” (527). This reminded me of how Olenin finds a sense of freedom among the natural environment in the Cossacks. On a similar note, there were elements of nature in both stories that seemed similar to me. Vasili exposes himself to the natural and harsh realities of nature – the cold, wind, ice and snow – to save the life of his peasant. Olenin, too, exposes himself to his natural environment and expects that this will bring peace and happiness to his life. Vasili died in the natural elements while Olenin lived, but both were able to find some sort of inner peace through this experience.
Olenin vs. John
Comparing The Cossacks and A Dream in Polar Fog – this last section of Rytkheu’s A Dream in Polar Fog reminded me of Tolstoy’s The Cossacks in a couple of ways, but I will discuss two here. First is the way in which two different social classes think about themselves and “the other”. In The Cossacks, Olenin and his aristocratic fellows of Moscow are divided both physically and socioeconomically from the people of the Caucasus. Olenin, of course, has his own preconceived notions of the Cossack people, but nonetheless claims to go on this journey with an open mind and lofty goals for self-improvement. At the start of Chapter 21, John says, “The thing that divides us from one another is stereotypes about others and wrong ideas about ourselves… I think that the biggest mistake might be this: Each nation thinks that it’s the only one that lives in the right way… In itself, the idea is harmless. It even helps keep order in a society. But when a nation tries to change another’s way of life forcibly, that’s when things go wrong” (Rytkheu 222). I believe this to be true in the majority of cultures and societies, but do not feel this overlaps with how Olenin feels about the Cossack society. As the story goes on, we see Olenin purge himself of the wealthy values he’s adopted through high society Moscow in an attempt to integrate himself into this new village lifestyle he desires. He finds the simplistic lifestyles and values of the Cossack people beautiful and in this sense, does not appear to believe his aristocratic life is any better than that of the Cossack people. In fact, Olenin is sickened by the life he once led.
Second, the personification of nature appears in A Dream in Polar Fog as it does in The Cossacks. Also, in this same chapter, Orvo says, “…man starts to believe that he is the strongest and the smartest, and that he is the only master of the earth. And this is how it goes, for a time. But then, nature, Narginen, the Outer Forces, take away all the extraneous things… This is the kind of storm the Outer Forces use to clear away all that can lift man about them… It’s as though Narginen is reminding us: I’m master here, and it’s only on my sufferance that man lives here at all…” (Rytkheu 230). At the bottom of page 229, it is noted that *Narginen is defined as “the external forces that guide all life”. In The Cossacks, Olenin states, “Perhaps in her I love nature, the personification of all that is beautiful in nature; But I do not have a will of my own, and what loves her is some elemental force passing through me all of God’s world, all of nature presses this love into my soul and says: “Love” (Tolstoy 148). Olenin’s quote here shows that nature is stronger than him and therefore has control over him and his love for Maryanka. In this instance, the Narginen Orvo references, to me, seems relatable to the elemental forces Olenin mentions.
Loving vicariously through nature
In the first few pages of The Cossacks, Olenin is amazed by the vast, snow-capped mountains that tower over the Caucasus. He often stops to reflect on the beauty of his natural surroundings – parting with his privileged city life in Moscow, Olenin uncovers a new appreciation for his natural environment. In Chapter 33, Olenin’s reflects on his life, past and present, and the natural beauty surrounding him, concluding that “Happiness is being with nature, seeing it, talking with it” (145). Olenin’s love for nature and for Maryana are separate in his mind at first, but by the end, Olenin draws connections between the two. He first compares Maryana to nature in Chapter 33, “she, like nature, is even, calm, and self-contained” (147), and later states that “Perhaps in her I love nature, the personification of all that is beautiful in nature; But I do not have a will of my own, and what loves her is some elemental force passing through me; all of God’s world, all of nature presses this love into my soul and says: “Love” (148). For me, this quote admits that nature is stronger than Olenin, and thus, has control over him and his love for Maryana. Is his love for Maryana imaginary and merely symbolic of his new-found love for nature? Or, has nature had such a positive influence on him that suddenly it is allowing his heart to open up, feel love, and mostly, give love?
Olenin set out on this journey to the Caucasus with the hope of learning to love someone other than himself. Thinking back to the woman that loved Olenin but he did not love in return, we potentially see the opposite at the end of the story: Olenin loving Maryana and her failing to reciprocate. Part of me hoped they would end up together in the end, but ultimately, Olenin has achieved what he set out to do: loving another as he loves himself. Though, I do not entirely agree that Maryana does not love Olenin. There are several instances where her feelings are apparent in tear-filled eyes or simple body language but she refuses to express this in words. For instance, when Olenin admits his feelings in the orchard, Tolstoy writes, “…it seemed to him that she had long known all the things he yearned to tell her … But she doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to reply” (141). Maybe Olenin and Maryana both struggle to accept the love they have for the other and therefore cannot fathom a life together. Olenin doesn’t think he is worthy of her love and feels that a village man, such as Lukashka, is more fitting for Maryana. Maryana is less open about her insecurities, but could very well be held back by her own self-doubt.
Reciprocating Love
The last two lines of The Hills of Georgia by Pushkin read:
For thus my heart must burn and love – because it’s true
That not to love – it knows no way.
In essence, this last line says that without love in your heart, one does not fully exist. This reminded me of Olenin’s desire to allow love into his heart, to become less egocentric, and love others as he loves himself. In talking with Olenin and the others, the person at the beginning of Chapter 1 labeled “the man who is leaving”, says, “‘You think that to be loved is as great a happiness as to love, and if a man once attains it, it will be enough to last him for the whole of his life’” (4). To me, this articulates that being loved by someone, as the beautiful girl does Olenin, is not considered happiness unless that love is reciprocated, which Olenin does not. One of the reasons he leaves for the army is because he is not satisfied with the self-absorbed life he leads and trusts that a new environment will bring him the mental clarity to accept love into his heart, and moreover, reciprocate this love to others. The man who is leaving continues, ‘But why couldn’t one love, too?’…‘Why shouldn’t one be the one who loves?’” (4). This reinstates the idea of providing others love rather than simply accepting their love to you. It seems that Olenin wants to fall in love, expressing that “…within me there’s a desire to love, and nothing could be stronger than that desire!” (5).
Ivan Bunin’s Caucasus also ties into this desire for love and happiness. The adulterous couple sneaks away, the woman leaving her husband at home and unaware of her affair. This narrative reminded me of Olenin’s story in a couple of ways. The way the narrator describes location is key to both narratives. In Caucasus, Moscow is described as rainy, gloomy, and with an unfulfilled and unhappy tone, but the hopeful final destination, the south, is described as warm and beautiful in a much more upbeat tone. The couple hopes for happiness and peace in their new life, as Olenin does in his new life at the Caucasus. Both the adulterous couple and Olenin are leaving a life of mistakes and unfulfillment to discover a more liberated and gratified version of themselves.
Village Prose
Matryona’s Homestead differs from our readings in the past couple of weeks in that it goes further than the surface level and shifts the more apparent aspects of Russia that have changed (industrialization, deforestation, etc.) and explores more historical details, such as village life and culture. For me, Matryona represents the traditional villager of the time – hard working, never complaining, acting often out of selflessness – all despite her ill health and old age. Although she is deeply attached to her home and feels that it has supported her through much of her life, she follows suit of the drunken villagers and helps deconstruct her very own home. Matryona was a lovely woman yet her selfless acts were taken for granted and exploited by her fellow villagers, which follows with the fact that village life in that time was exploited and restructured by the ruling communist power.
Ignatich mentions that he wants to live in a peaceful and wooden part of Russia but is disappointed when he fails to find this on the collective farm school where he is assigned. Evident by the factory smokestacks polluting the air and the drunken villagers, and between the misuse of logging and wide-spread industrialization, the Russia he wanted seemingly no longer existed. Our theme for tomorrow’s class, fittingly, is “The village in Soviet prose of the Thaw period”. I did some research and found that village prose was a movement in Soviet Russian literature beginning during the ‘Khrushchev Thaw’ (the decade following Stalin’s death where the Soviet Union experienced some freedom from the repression and censorship they experienced after the revolution), that focused largely on representing rural village communities and their struggle during this time.
Specific to village life, this traditional aspect of Russia was exploited and reorganized, but I get a sense in this piece that while many aspects of village life were forcibly changed, there is still a sense of community and traditional life that they are holding on to. This could be seen in the sustained selflessness and kindness of Matryona regardless of the exploitative villagers, or even more so in Vanya’s deep love for reading in Gogol and Raika. He writes that regardless of the hardships of winter, the coldness and hunger, he holds on to his one passion: reading books to his Mama and Talya. This is a small yet significant way of maintaining some sort of joy in a not-so-joyous time.