Tag Archives: Rasputin

Silent Darkness versus Natural Imagery of Sound and Movement in the works of Zabolotsky and Rasputin

In his poem “I Do Not Look For Harmony In Nature,” Zabolotsky uses imagery of the river’s stillness and the sunset’s silence when describing the pain and isolation he feels amidst the dark Russian forest. The dark waters that grow quiet and “drop into exhaustion” are said to magnify a sense of pain for the narrator (Zabolotsky 177). Here, it seems that darkness and desolation transcend the boundary between nature and man through the elements of the environment itself: “human pain rises” up to the narrator “from the dark waters” around him (177). However, this is a passive and weak sense of connection between man and nature compared to man-made components of the landscape, which have expressive description, such as “glittering turbines, voices of labour, electric power,” and “construction” (177). It is man’s artificial impact, namely factory and production that supply the energy to the setting of this piece, rather than the silence and darkness of the natural environment.

In contrast to Zabolotsky, Valentin Rasputin characterize the Russian waterscape by the natural sounds and lively movements of its constituents in “Baikal.” These sounds and movements successfully transcend the boundary between man and nature. “Crying seagulls, falling snow,” and “fish playing in lavish abundance” are three distinct images that independently speak to the liveliness of nature around Lake Baikal (Rasputin 191). These sensory elements have a direct effect on Rasputin’s colleague, and in a similar sense to the still, dark images that cause pain to Zabolotsky’s narrator, transcend the boundary between man and nature, yet do so more actively by “lifting his spirits” (191). Whereas nature pales in comparison to industrialization in “I Do Not Look For Harmony In Nature,” and thus falls short of reaching harmony with man, an opposite result is achieved here, as Baikal, “created as a mystery of nature not for industrial requirements,” functions more actively in transcending boundary and thus inspiring the Colleague. It seems that Lake Baikal and its natural movement and sound extend far beyond the stifled attempts of Zabolotsky’s setting, largely due to the energy of nature itself, rather than the artificial energy of man’s industrialization in Zabolotsky’s poem.

Nature’s Moral Goodness versus its Deception in Valentin Rasputin’s “Baikal”

After close examination of Lake Baikal in Rasputin’s essay, there seems to be great variability between the moral and heavenly descriptions of Lake Baikal, versus mysterious and sometimes deceptive illustrations of what Rasputin and his colleagues observe within the region.

From the beginning of this piece, descriptions of “the sacred sea,” “the sacred lake,” “ the sacred water,” illustrate Lake Baikal as a region closely connected with the divine. It is said to be “considered enlightened” by those who frequent it, and Rasputin states that this part of Russian is “wrought by God” (188). Here, there is a connotation of spiritual goodness paired alongside Lake Baikal. Later, the accounts of the colleague’s miraculous transformation after visiting the region similarly associate a divine and everlasting power with the region. This colleague states that his “spirits have been lifted” by Baikal, and that he now addresses the lake formally as “Father Baikal” (191). Spiritual imagery, specifically the epithet “Father,” implies Lake Baikal becomes a heavenly force for those who witness it. Now with that supernatural, divine connotation comes a sense of morality mention on page 193—Baikal’s heavenly abundance is evidenced by its vast nature, which in itself “is always moral.” Furthermore, Rasputin states that Baikal “has never refused to help human beings,” even despite their constant utilization of its resources. By use of notions like morality and unconditional support of Russian people, Lake Baikal and its heavenly nature suggest moral and spiritual goodness.

With these various (and seemingly harmless) characteristics of Lake Baikal, such as spiritual enlightenment and even its physically bright, blossoming rocks, there is surprisingly also a notion of deception and mystery portrayed through Rasputin’s observations. In the beginning of this piece, it is mentioned that Baikal noticeably “dumbfounds” its visitors due to its otherworldly nature (188). Specifically, “its rocks seem to blossom” and its snowy mountains are accentuated so much so that the human “eye perceives” them “as many times closer than they actually are” (189). Here, there is a deceptive component to the Baikal region, which almost tricks its visitors into imagining scenery different than it really is. Another scene that depicts similar deceptive notions is during winter when “the transparent ice seems so thin” that one is “afraid to step on it” even though it “might be over one meter thick” (191). This second excerpt and its imagery of ice and transparency coincides the moral goodness of the Baikal region; however, the fact that frozen lake is so clear that it deceives its visitor contradicts the region’s divine, moral goodness.

In sum, Lake Baikal in Rasputin’s essay seems to encompass both moral and divine notions yet simultaneously comes across as deceptive and mysterious. Do you think these characteristics should mutually co-exist? Perhaps they enhance one another, and purposely portray the region as complicated: spiritually divine and moral, yet also deceptive, a force to be reckoned with. I would love to hear your thoughts!

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.

Art and the Environment

After reading “Baikal” by Rasputin and looking at the Aivazovsky paintings I was struck by the different portrayals of water in both the literature and the paintings. Though the paintings did not necessarily depict Lake Baikal, they paired well with the descriptions, both positive and negative from the narrator in Rasputin’s text.

There were many descriptions of Baikal as sacred, specifically “for its miraculous, life-giving force and for its spirit, which is a spirit not of olden times, of the past, as with many things today, but of the present, a spirit not subject to time and transformations, a spirit of age-old grandeur and power preserved intact, of irresistible ordeals and inborn will” (Rasputin 189). After introducing Baikal as such an important and powerful lake, he reflects on a time when he brought a colleague on a walk around the lake when its “beauty was in full bloom and at its peak” (190). The man by the lake’s beauty that, by the end of the day, he cannot intake anymore beauty. The Aivazovsky paintings, specifically “The Sea,” “Sailboat near the Crimean Shore,” and “Moonlit Night” struck me as portraying the kind of serenity and beauty that the man saw on his visit that day. The landscape is vast and shocking and the water is call and beautiful.

The other paintings by Aivazovsky parallel the other side of Baikal that Rasputin is careful to mention to his friend. The side that “can rage for no reason” and when “the transparent ice, swept clean by the winds, seems so thin that the water beneath it is alive and stirring” (Rasputin 191). The paintings “Night Storm at Sea,” and “The Ninth Wave” show the other sides of water that aren’t seen when the sea is calm and the sky is blue. Though these conditions are different and sound more daunting than the picture-perfect day initially described, they are all shown in the paintings to be stunning, striking, and rich in color. Rasputin agrees with this intensely beautiful portrayal of a raging sea, regardless of the dangers. He ends “Baikal” with a cry for protection of the lake, which is interesting given the lack of thesis or obvious political motivation. I wonder if art and literature ever collided to advocate for the environment.