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Drink-drunk! Red eggs.
Drunk-drink! Red noses.
Beat-bash! Happy faces.
Bash-beat! Heaps of sausage.
Give-gave! Holiday bribes.
Gave-give! This and that.
Trim-tree! Gloved visits.
Tree-trim! Vodka and cream.
Drink-Drunk! Syrups and jellies.
Drunk-Drink! Belly aches.
Beat-bash! Back to work.
Bash-beat! Dream is over.
1909
--Sasha the Black (Translated from Russian by me.)
From How to Make a Living as a Poet:
On Monday, March 24 2008, 7:00pm - 9:00pm The Poetry Society of America and Bowery Arts and Science present: A Celebration of Vladimir Mayakovsky. Featuring Martha Plimpton, Ron Padgett, Francine du Plessix Gray, Rachel Cohen, Matvei Yankelevich and Val Vinokur, and Michael Almereyda in a reading of the essential Russian futurist poet’s works, plus selections from the new anthology, Night Wraps the Sky, Writings by and about Mayakovsky, published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Event takes place at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, New York.
[Spaceeba, Kirill!]
A transcript of a telephone call that I received at work this morning...
KJK: "This is Kevin"
Woman: "Hello, I'm confirming a meeting today for 2pm"
KJK: "Excuse me, who is this?"
Woman (impatiently): "I was told that you would arrange a meeting with me today."
KJK: "OK, but who are you?"
Woman: "Ms. L-- advised me that you would set up a meeting with me for today at 2"
KJK: "I need to know who you are."
Woman (mounting impatience): "Ms. L-- didn't tell you about this?"
KJK: "I'm sorry but I can't help you unless I know who I'm speaking to."
Woman: "Well, Ms. L-- said that we were going to meet today. I need to know where.
KJK: "WHO IS THIS???"
Woman: "My name is Ms. B--. Didn't Ms. L-- tell you?"
KJK: "Why don't you tell me what the meeting is supposed to be about and I'll see if I can help you."
Woman (exasperated): "It is frustrating that you don't seem to understand what I'm talking about."
You don't even want to know what that meeting was about...
Laguagehat has been reading Sergei Aksakov's Years of Childhood, a book that I've always *meant* to read. Anyhow, LH quotes D.S. Mirsky's profile of Aksakov in his History of Russian Literature.
The principal characteristic of Aksákov's work is its objectivity. His art is purely receptive. Even when be is introspective, as he is in the greater part of Years of Childhood, he is objectively introspective. He remains unmoved by any active desire except to find once again the time that has been lost - "retrouver le temps perdu." The Proustian phrase is not out of place, for Aksákov's sensibility is curiously and strikingly akin to that of the French novelist... Like Proust, Aksákov is all senses. His style is transparent. One does not notice it, for it is entirely adequate to what it expresses. It possesses, moreover, a beautiful Russian purity and an air of distinction and unaffected grace that gives it a fair chance of being recognized as the best, the standard, Russian prose. If it has a defect, it is the defect of its merit - a certain placidity, a certain excessive "creaminess," a lack of the thin, "daimonic," mountain air of poetry...
The most characteristic and Aksakovian of Aksákov's works is unquestionably Years of Childhood of Bagróv-Grandson. It is the story of a peaceful and uneventful childhood, exceptional only for the exceptional sensibility of a child encouraged by an exceptionally sympathetic education. The most memorable passages in it are perhaps those which refer to nature, for instance the wonderful account of the coming of spring in the steppe. ... [I]f ordinary life, unruffled by unusual incident, is a legitimate subject of literature, Aksákov, in Years of Childhood, wrote a masterpiece of realistic narrative. In it he came nearer than any other Russian writer, even than Tolstóy in War and Peace, to a modern evolutionary, continuous presentation of human life, as distinct from the dramatic and incidental presentation customary to the older novelists.
Zeek: A Jewish Journal of Thought and Culture has devoted a special print issue to the Russian Jewish Diaspora. The Spring '08 issue presents work engaged with identity, history, language and culture, and features contributors from around the world.
What Zeek hoped to put together--and what we believe we have achieved--is a journal of record on contemporary Russian Jewish artistic production.
If you plan to be in New York in the next few weeks be sure to drop by one of the events celebrating the Russian issue: March 23 at the Jewish Museum in NY, April 6 at the KGB Bar, April 11 in DUMBO.
Zeek: Russified Salon & Performance
March 23, 3.30-5pm
The Jewish Museum, 1109 5th Ave (at 96th St), NYC
Join Zeek for a performance by the bard and poet Vadim Pevzner and a presentation by visual artists Alina and Jeff Bliumis as part of Off the Wall: Artists at Work. Free with museum admission. Museum admission also includes a Zeek issue and entry to Levi Okunov's fashion show on March 27.
Zeek: Russified Release & Reading
April 6, 5-7pm
KGB Bar, 85 E 4th St (at 2nd Ave), NYC
An evening of celebration and readings, featuring Zeek contributors Val Vinokur, Matvei Yankelevich, Margarita Shalina, David Stromberg, and more. Co-presented by the 14th Street Y. Free admission and free Zeeks available. First 30 guests also receive a free shot of vodka.
Lizok's Bookshelf on Gogol's The Overcoat:
So many readers and critics have written so much over the years about “The Overcoat,” often using social, Freudian, and other analytical prisms, that fresh insights are tough to find. Much of the debate concerns themes Nabokov eschews: class differences and big messages. Nabokov believes “The Overcoat” requires creativity from readers and even advises that readers stay away from Gogol’ if they are looking for ideas, facts, or messages.I (mostly!) agree with Nabokov because “The Overcoat” is so nuanced that it must be felt. As Nabokov notes, the story’s setting is absurd, which he defines not as funny but as pathetic and representative of the human condition in a “nightmarish, irresponsible world.” Nabokov believes Gogol’ wrote best when he avoided treating rational ideas in a logical way. With “The Overcoat,” writes Nabokov, Gogol’ “really let himself go and pottered happily on the brink of his private abyss.”
