Across the boards of time, composition, and society (3.5/5)
I came across Red Star Tales while searching
for online for translated Russian science fiction. I had already bought some
collections and novels, but most had been from the 1960s and 1970s—nothing recent.
Considering that this 2015 publication fit in perfectly with my project—as mentioned
above: reading translated Russian science fiction in 2016-2017—I knew I had to
contact the publisher, Russian Life Books.
Paul expedited a review’s copy my way, which I
quickly opened and slowly made my way through. Interspersing the stories
throughout July, I kept synopses of all the stories for a later full review of
each, which I published on Tongues of Speculation. In addition, Paul was kind
enough to even put me in contact with Yvonne Howell, the editor, and together
we shared our favorite and not-so favorite stories in the collection… but that’s
nearly true for all collections.
What’s significant about Red Star Tales? It
covers one-hundred years of science fiction, from 1892’s Fyodorv essay to 1992’s
Lukyanenko story; through pre-Stalin Russia, the USSR Cold War, and
post-Collapse Russia; and also having translated new pieces of work that had
never been the light of day in English (all aside from the Strugatsky brothers’
“The Spontaneous Reflex” [1958/1961], which was first published in Soviet
Science Fiction [1962] and translated by Violet L. Dutt). All covers from
the well-kept fantlab.ru website,
which I used heavily when researching the titles below.
My favorites, you may ask?
- The
most intriguing for me would be Valery Tsiolkovsky’s two stories—“Rebellion
of the Machines” (1908) and “Mutiny of the Machines” (1915)—about machine
rebellion, both unfinished pieces of work; both, however, are also
fertilely ripe for a full-length novel that probes the human dependence on
machines, our trusting nature of technological acceptance, and our demise
when these two fail.
- The
single best story of the eighteen would be Alexander Belyaev’s “Professor
Dowell’s Head” (1926), which was first published as a novelette but later
expanded into a novel. The novelette version is included in this
collection, yet I naturally eager to get my paws on the novel. The story
itself is filled with plausible and intriguing science, deception by many
parties, appealing gruesomeness and darkness, and layers of social commentary.
- The
Strugatsky brothers’ “The Spontaneous Reflex” is still one of my favorites
of the collection and of Russian science fiction. It can be viewed simply
as a robot-on-the-fritz story that entertains, but the undercurrents of analogy
run deep here—What does the robot represent? Why does it go haywire? What
exactly stops its rampage?
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”Karazin: Meteorologist or
Meteorurge?” (1892,
essay) – Nikolai F. Fyodorov (3/5)
Synopsis: In a scientific
essay, the author writes about the extraordinary theories and experiments of
one man names Karazin. Where weather used to be a passive study of incremental
measurements and eyewitness accounts, Karazin has taken the initiative to make
the weather work for him. With a sense of social unity needed for his project’s
success, the government passes in favor of a competing theory that has more practical
and militaristic application, much to Karazin’s disdain. 7 pages
Analysis: I’m no
physicist, not even at the armchair level, though I do find pleasure in
particular physical science problems: e.g. What length of wire is needed for a
1mm coiled turning the size of a CD and how many turns will take? Karazin seems
to be approaching a similar nasty feat of science: How to conduct electricity
from the neither-regions of the atmosphere all the way to earth for general
use. His theories seem plausible for 1892, I suppose, as it was passed by
boards for study, but I found it rather implausible. Consider:
- Karazin
wants to run a machine up to the highest, most energetic reaches of the
atmosphere. This region between space and the atmosphere is called the Karman
line, which is 62 miles (100 kilometers) above the earth.
- He
wants to usefully conduct the electricity down to earth, so let’s use
0-gauge wire as the standard. It weighs about 1,687 pounds/mile; hence,
Karazin would need about 52.3 tons of wire suspended in the air (assuming
zero stretch).
- To
lift 52.3 tons, hydrogen would be a good gas to use, but it’d have to be
the size of four Hindenburgs: thirteen times the length and nine tines the
height of a 747. It’d be big.
- Then
there’s the cost… but that’s enough.
Aside from theoretical science, the essay
also offers a little glimpse at a centuries-long struggle of science: a
government’s sinister urging to use all science for war. Karazin envisioned the
use of his invention to benefit all of mankind, but the government was only
keen to progress the state along by other means.
One additional and surprising theme is
religion. Early in the essay, the author paraphrases, “humanity is not meant to
compete with nature, but only to regulate her” (33) and further toward the
conclusion claims, “transforming the blind forces … should unite all of us”
(36), which, according to the author, is a Christian tenet of conceding that life
is good; opposite of this is the Buddhist mindset that believes life is
evil. Following this Christian
tenet, it is the author’s opinion that science, through Karazin’s own
invention, to establish “the interdependence between sentient being and the
blind, unfeeling forces of nature” (35).
Review: As it’s an
essay, there’s neither plot nor character. It hypothesizes uses of purported
scientific progress with a philosophy of “non-secular transhumanism” (22). So,
technically it’s not fiction but it is speculative. If you can cringe
past the science, there’s a deeper nature to this brief essay, even if it’s a
bit flowery at times.
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“On
the Moon” (1893, novelette) – Konstantin Tsiolkovsky (2/5)
Synopsis: The writer of
the account and his unnamed physicist friend awake to find themselves to
peculiar conditions that they soon realize to be the low gravity of the moon.
Though their trip is unexplainable, they don’t dwell on the reasons for their
presence; rather, they take to the originality of their position and explore
the feats they can accomplish, the sights they can see, and the extremes they
can endure. Curiosity gets the best of the duo as they travel further and
further with dwindling supplies and worsening conditions. 40 pages
Pre-analysis:
Most, if not all, men are kids at heart. Given the right opportunity, a man can
gleefully snicker to himself, widen his eyes at a whim, and geekishly indulge
wherever he pleases. Admittedly, that’d be me with Lego’s, but I’ve seen other
men turn to putty with the thought of creating overly complicated and
cross-referencing Excel spreadsheets or preparing to watch a new episode of
Star Wars. Most, if not all, men are geeks at heart. Kids, geeks… you get the
idea. Konstantin
Tsiolkovsky’s particular niche was the following: the moon was his
playground, his mind was the child; fantasy the joyous currents of air between
the two.
Analysis: Like most—note:
not all—early science fiction, “On the Moon” follows a whimsical plot purely
based on imagination without any finesse. The introduction states very clearly
that it is “almost devoid fictional grace or plot tension” (11). Although the
so-called plot is a far cry from literature, it does describe some phenomena
upon the moon, which the introduction also mentions as accurately describing
“the physical sensations of weightlessness, low boiling temperatures,
disorientating diurnal rhythms, and other things a human being would encounter
during a sojourn on the moon” (11). However, it reads a bit more interesting
than an employee manual or grade school science textbook.
Review: As mentioned
above, there’s very little—if any—literary merit. As one blogger has been
quoted in the introduction as saying, it’s “a tine baby step for Russian
literature, but a giant leap towards humanity’s era of cosmic exploration”
(11). It may hold a place in the heart of Russian science fiction, but its
artistic merits make it an irksome read if for anything other than a historical
curiosity. Regardless of the poor writing style, Tsiolkovosky remains a pioneer
of thought regarding humanity’s relationship with space, be it the moon or in
orbit. He was a visionary. To synopsis his achievement in this regard, consider
the author’s own epithet:
Man
will not always stay on Earth; the pursuit of light and space will lead him to
penetrate the bounds of the atmosphere, timidly at first but in the end to
conquer the whole of solar space.1
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“Rebellion
of the Machines” (1908, unfinished) – Valery Bryusov (4/5)
Synopsis: In the thirtieth
century, everyday life is immersed in electricity, technology, mechanisms, and
gadgets. Across the world, all this technological sophistication is run by a
generator in each of earth’s eighty-four machine zones. Descending from zone to
district to county, the power trickles down to meet demand. The mysterious
nature of technology and its constant service to mankind takes a more sinister
role—it begins to attack. Accidents soon appear to be murder by machine. 8
pages
Pre-analysis:
The title of the story—which Google translated to “Rise of the Machines”,
actually—evokes the image of the Terminator stalking after Sarah Connor. The
horror of the first Terminator movies (let’s leave it at that because the
sequels were simply bent on action scenes, tropes of time travel, and destruction)
lies in the single-minded stalking of the Terminator, the pinpoint obsession of
the Terminator to accomplish this one task: kill Sarah Connor. From Sarah’s
perspective, she’s just a normal woman, yet, for some reason, she becomes the
prey of a futuristic monster. The future is manifested in the monstrosity of
the Terminator, and Sarah, as a result, fears what the future holds.
Whereas Terminator personalizes fear in the
form of a single-minded machine stalking after a seemingly harmless woman, “Rebellion of the Machines” disassociates
the fear to embody the everyday, tactile world: the telephone, elevator, tram,
or light switch.
Analysis: Ignorance is
bliss, until that same ignorance bites us on our ass, or in the case of “Rebellion of the Machines”,
it electrocutes us to death via the earpiece on our phone. Complacency with the
modern-day wonders around us is tantamount to the same proverb; we don’t fear
them, of course, but at the same time, we don’t understand them. Our
reliability on these devices sets us on the precipice of fatally ignorant when
they begin to falter, go on the fritz, act up, or when the so-called gremlins
wreck the works. We’re left helpless by our ignorance.
Nowadays, this helplessness can be
witnessed by our panic when our laptops crash, when our phones don’t reboot
from a fall, or even when a fuse (hey, some people are helpless in all
situations). Revert your technology back 110 years… I’m sure they dealt with
similar problems: your phonograph’s quality deteriorates quickly, your Brownie
camera takes poor photos, your radio receiver is too staticky when receiving
Morse code, your windshield wipers smear something terrible, your Model T has
some funky steering, etc.
Regardless of the era, occupants of the
time will experience their own form of helplessness against the “ghost in the
machine”, be it digital computer, electric typewriter, pneumatic pump, or even
pulley systems, levers, flints, fire, or rocks. Whenever we use technology—see
any of the above—our widespread use of the device is far ahead of our
widespread understanding of the same device. Imagine how many cavemen damned
their deities when literally playing with fire—Ugg damn it!
Review: The story is
sort of a precursor to a novel, much like a historical outline prior to writing
the actual novel. Given that the time was 1908, this may well in fact have been
the very piece that was going to be extended into its entirety, be it a
novelette, novella, or even novel. At the end of the story printed in Red
Star Tales, the story ends with “”I froze in [Editor’s note: the text ends
here]” (85). Though only eight pages long, the entire length of the story is
compelling in one way or another. It needs some editorial refinement, for sure,
but it comes off well. If the story had ended with “I froze in” without the
editorial note, the reader could have assumed that the author had met their
fate via an electric typewriter, ballpoint pen, or fountain pen—intriguing, to
say the least.
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“One
Evening in 2217” (1906) – Nikolai Fyodorov (4/5)
Synopsis: Aglaya isn’t a
young girl with her mind set on beginning a family. This has never been her
prerogative until repeated remarks urge her to seek a path toward marriage and
reproduction. Inexperienced in these matters, she registers to “visit” the
famous Karpov for one evening. Immediately struck with shame, the memories
haunt her and compels her to visit a friend. There, the two are interrupted by
Pavel Vitinsky, who, it turns out, holds many of the same ideas as Aglaya—they
see eye to eye in both figurative and literal senses. 19 pages
Pre-analysis:
Initial love, like dawn at the first light, is superficial when the
participants are at their dimmest: the spectator sluggish in the morning, the
spectacle only breaching the horizon. At first sight, touch, and conversation,
the mind and body are saturated with hormones that encourage courtship, much
like the dusty heavens spellbind the eye toward its painted skies. Linger the
eye upon that same spectacle for a while longer and that same eye will be
blinded—set the heart’s expectations upon the same target for ever after that
love-at-first-sight and that same heart will be blinded; therein, the sun has
no care for the spectator, only the latter is hurt.
Analysis: Aglaya is a
loner. She shares her emotions with no one and no one shares her ideas; thus,
she is left as an island amongst humanity. Just as the continents drift, so too
does Aglaya as she realizes that, as an island, she cannot thrive and develop
alone. She bows down to the lowest common denominator, thus lowering herself
and her standards, before reaching heights she never before knew possible—those
same heights are propelled by the shared ideological interests of a mere boy.
From this spring of ideology, Aglaya finally feels a sense of bonding that she
had never known. As the trio of conversation becomes a duo of dialogue, she
firstly quietly reflects on her choices in life before openly confiding in her
escort, from which a Shakespearian comedy ensues.
Review: I prefer not to
read any introduction to a story prior to reading the story itself so that it
doesn’t contaminate my opinion or perspective of the same story. After reading “One Evening in 2217” and
forming a palpable view of it, I finally read the introduction and was
pleasantly surprised to see my opinion confirmed: “It is remarkable to find
most of the essential themes of Evgeny Zamyatin’s brilliant dystopian novel WE
(1924) already present in this under-acknowledged harbinger” (11). Perhaps it’s
a tad too keen on highlighting the emotional proneness of proud individuals,
but it does foreshadow the coming ideological intolerance of the Stalin years.
Not only this, but it also plays on the role of females in early
twentieth-century Russian society with a surprising take on sexuality, reproductive
rights, and purity (be it body or mind, which is where the twist is turned in
this story).
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“Mutiny
of the Machines” (1915, unfinished) – Valery Bryusov (3.5/5)
Synopsis: From the
nineteenth century on, inventions have become so common that any simpleton
could conjure one up. On through the thirtieth century, mankind has progressed
with ample forms of power including the powerful source of radium, but much if
that power is for automation: trade, production, transportation among them,
save for accounting. Aside from inventing, people have little activity in their
lives, which doctors warn about due to illness stemming from their sedentary
lifestyle. Meanwhile, all whim within the city can be theirs. 6 pages
Pre-analysis:
Aside from speculation of the future relationship between man and machine,
Bryusov adds only one section of number that refers to the world’s urban
population. Consider the United States’ urban population from 1890 (29.2%),
1910 (46.3%), and 2010 (80.7%), which doesn’t account for the so-called
megacities, only the urban areas. In 1910, megacities hadn’t even existed—New
York was the first in 1950.
In “Mutiny of Machines”, Bryusov predicts
that a quarter of earth’s five billion people will live in these same
megacities (those with populations of over 10 million). While Bryusov predicted
112 cities, the figure in 2015 (with a global population of about 7 billion)
was actually only 35, or about 47% of the world’s population. He may have
overshot the mark in regards to the number, but considering that he tried to
nail it more than 100 years ago, you can’t say he was far off the mark.
Analysis: With the
population’s influx into the megacities, everything is at their convenience,
which makes them all the most sloth. Power for the machines is readily
available, and so all ways to implement this supply of energy is used, many
ways, of course, are useless but not wasteful. As the unseen energy use
increased, the population’s physical activity decreased, leading doctors to
“issue warnings about muscular atrophy, decreased mobility, or impairments in
arm movement” (110). Automation followed the population for dusk to dawn, from
eye-rise to eye-shut; their entire world was provided by a press of the button,
all carried out by machine.
Review: Unfortunately,
the story stops there with the editor’s note, “the text ends here” (110),
similar to the other Bryusov unfinished story “Rebellion of the Machines”
(1908). If this, in fact, were the true end of the story, it might signify the
laziness of the writer in modern times, unable to summon the effort to put pen
to paper or to document not the mutiny of the machines, but the meekness
of the masses (I love alliteration). Perhaps extended three- or four-fold, the
story could have better taken a glimpse into life in the megacities… a bit of
dialogue wouldn’t have hurt either rather than the didactic delivery of this
story and “Rebellion of the Machines”.
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“Professor
Dowell’s Head” (novelette, 1926) – Alexander Belyaev (4.5/5)
Note: The version from 1926 is a novelette
while the 1937 version is the novel. The Macmillan and Collier editions are
both novels; however, the Russian Life Books version is the novelette, which
his reviewed here.
Synopsis: Miss Adams took
an unusual job under the supervision of Professor Kern, even with his threats
and temper. She soon meets the subject of her time while under employment: the
detached yet still living head of Professor Dowell. Disregarding Kern’s threat,
Miss Adams secretly opens an innocuous valve, which allows the head to speak
and confess. She soon alliances herself with the head prior to beheading two
other corpses for a scientific exhibition, where Miss Adams takes the soapbox
for a hysterical rant. 45 pages
The Author’s Work:
Belyaev is one of most accomplished SF writers from Russia with eight novels
and nine short stories having been translated and published in English. His
work began to be published in 1926, so considering that he died in 1942, he was
quite productive and, posthumously, has been a shining example of Russian and
Soviet SF literature.
Pre-analysis:
You may never read such a tragic biography as the one of Belaev. After birth
(1884), his father forced him to take a religions path in his life and entered
him into a seminary, but, not feeling particularly religious, declared himself
an atheist in a seminary. After his success as a lawyer, he became a writer,
but during this time (1814) he contracted tuberculosis, which spread to his
spine and paralyzed his legs. Not wanting for care for a crippled, his wife
him. He convalesced in Yalta with his mother a nanny, took a few odd jobs in
Yalta, but eventually found himself back in Moscow as a law consultant. He had
two daughters, one which died in 1930, and lived until 1942, when he died of
starvation after he refused to evacuate the town as he was recovering from an
operation. The Nazis gave him an Orthodox ceremony or his interment, the exact
place of which is not known. His wife and remaining daughter were sent a Nazi
camp yet later returned to Russia only to be suspected of collaboration with
the Nazis, thus being exiled to Siberia.
Analysis: The most
pivotally traumatic point in Belyaev’s life came when his wife left his as he
lay diseased, defenseless, and unable to care for himself. He must have hated
his body for the state he was in, the hatred of which must have been a
double-edged sword whose two edges were honed to lethal lines that attacked his
body and mind. Surely, a better life could be had in the future, if not in
reality than at least in fiction. Perhaps this is where Belyaev’s motivation
came for some of this SF themes: organ and brain transplants, a procedure of
which that only became reality in 1954 with the world’s first kidney
transplant.
Belyaev’s 1928 novel The Amphibian revolves
around the transplantation of gills, while his 1930 novella is about a brain
transplantation from a man to an elephant. Prior to these two stories is “Professor Dowell’s Head”,
which doesn’t feature a transplantation, as such, but the revival and
sustainment of a detached, bodyless head. Perhaps in Belayaev’s grieving for
the abandonment of his wife and the dereliction of his body, being a healthy
living head would be preferable to having an ill body.
Professor Dowell actually headed (oops, a
pun) the research that allowed him to have a detached the living head; his
co-researcher—Professor Kern—is exclusively using his ideas to further his
career and gain fame from the success. If Dowell doesn’t agree, what’s Dowell
going to do—violently blink at Kern? With a good mind, Dowell concedes in doing
to literature review for Kern, but he oddly doesn’t become morose with his
stationary state. When Kern brings in two more victims for their bodyless
experiment, the duo don’t fair as well.
Tom and Miss Watson are the next two heads,
but their occupations don’t involve the use of their mind: Tom is a physical
laborer while Miss Watson used to occupy her time with another physical use of
her body. Now bodyless, the two don’t adjust as well to their state as Dowell.
The rigors of occupying one’s mind doesn’t suit all walks of life, so only
Dowell is able to withstand the hours of by using his mind. Here, Belyaev may
be simplifying and exploring social class in that the intelligentsia is fine
being secluded to their whims while the common laborers aren’t suited for a
similar life.
Review: Not only is this
story compelling from start to finish, but it also has some social overtones as
mentioned above. Take these two perspectives in parallel with Belyaev’s
personal history and the story suddenly becomes intensely personal. This
doesn’t necessarily make the story better, per se, but it does bring it sharply
into a contextual focus. Admittedly, the idea sounds corny from the 1920s, but
Belyaev masterfully carries the idea through its plausibilities and social
perspectives. This is much better that “Hoity-Toity”, which I didn’t care for
at all.
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“The
Lunar Bomb” (1926) – Andrei Platonov (3/5)
Synopsis: An ex-miner with
big ideas better suited for the big city, Peter Kreuzkopf heads for the capital
with his technical plans for sending a sphere into space. Surprisingly, his
plan is passed by the board for approval and initial construction begins.
Ignorant of his device’s own power, he electrocutes to death forty workers and
soon is found of administrational malfeasance. Found guilty and imprisoned, he
tries to take his life but is later restored to his own project that he had
lost hope on. Still with a deathwish, he impresses upon the government for him
to ride on his own device to the moon. 23 pages
The
Author’s Work:
Platonov was once heralded as a significant writer in the Soviet Union in the
late 1920s, just after the famine and right before the first Five-Year Plan in
1928. Both readers and critics found his work significant, but later drew
unfortunate scorn from the State for his criticism of the system. Today, he
better known for his novels Chevengur (1926, untranslated) and The
Foundation Pit (1930/1987). According in Wikipedia:
In terms of creative works, Platonov
depicted one of the first state-controlled dystopias of the 20th century. The
novel is often compared to George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four and Aldous Huxley’s Brave
New World. However, both English novels were published long before a
translation of The Foundation Pit became available. (link)
Analysis: Though this story was written in
the same year as he reputedly significant novel Chevengur, I didn’t find
much of an anti-establishment or dystopian theme throughout; rather, dedication
seems to be of importance here… perhaps with social parallels.
Peter Kreuzkopf is and always has been a common
man, a working man. His marriage ended in disaster as she herself was a
proletariat. They never managed to see eye to eye or share the same interests.
As he is and always has been an engineer at heart, he could never adapt upward
to the proletarian lifestyle of which his wife was so fond. Though he tried to
dedicate himself to his socially lofty wife, he failed.
In
the capital awaiting word of the success of his submission, Peter
Kreuzkopf takes a
freelance job testing cars. He only needs to take the car out and drive it so
many kilometers before bringing it back for them to analyze the data. On his
first drive, he swerves to miss an animal only to hit a small boy. Stopping the
car and going to the boy’s aid, he sees that the youth was already dead.
Solemnly, he buries the boy and promises to dedicate his life to the poor
commoner boy. Though he tries to do so, one obstacle gets in the way: himself.
Bent
of suicide, his last hope rested with the State to allow him to board his own
experiment to fly to and orbit the moon. When even they denied him, he cut his
last thread of dependence and fell back on the only person he had left:
himself. With the legal system on his side, he takes a step closer to the death
that awaits him, a death so righteous for such a man with limited
perspective—the death of a hermit rather than a voyager.
Review: If you can think past the
contraption that spins/revolves thousands or millions times per minute,
maintain its integrity, and allow a human to survive on board before it’s
flung—with precision, mind you—into the orbit of the moon… then there’s a
mildly compelling tale of a man trying to find a toehold in the jagged façade
of his society, where relationship fails him (wife leaves), his dedication
fails (seems to forget the boy he killed), even his work fails him (he
accidentally kills come workers). As he himself is the obstacle to all of the
above, his last goal also finds himself as the obstacle—can he commit suicide?
It may not be heroic, but it’s what his fate defines.
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“Rays
of Life” (excerpt, 1939) – Yuri Dolgushin (2.5/5)
Synopsis: Collaborating,
Nikolai and Ridan have a device and a method that’s able to literally kill a
body and later revive it free of its previous symptoms of disease or illness. A
number of other mammals have undergone the routine, each taking longer to
revive as they move up the evolutionary ladder, so the current experiment with
Anna is taking considerably longer. Amid the tense atmosphere, they discover a
German spy who is bent on sabotaging their experiment, but their angst at
success weighs more heavily upon their shoulders. 15 pages
Pre-analysis:
“Rays of Life” comes between Belyaev’s original novelette “Professor Dowell’s
Head” (1926) and Curt Siodmak’s novel Donovan’s Brain (1942), both
dealing with prolonging the life of a disembodied mind. This vivification of
life or the sustenance of the spark of life seems to be a trend during these
three decades. Dolgushin isn’t a widely known writer in the sphere of English
literature, neither in the literary sense nor in the genre sense. According to
my resources, only the above-mentioned novel has been translated into another
language—Romanian (1961). So, with Red Star Tales, this excerpt from a novel is
the English-language sphere’s first exposure to Dolgushin.He’s also published
screenplays, so-called sketches, and articles, but Generator Wonderland
(1939) remains his only stand-alone novel.
Analysis: As this novel
(the spy element of which involves a Nazi) was written on the eve of Europe’s
descent into total war, perhaps the novel is best taken into context with the
chaos that ensued from the war: shifting alliances, redrawing of borders, and
the millions of deaths. Hitler invaded Poland in the same year as the story was
published, the same year, also, when Russia invaded their own “spheres of
influence”, according to their non-aggression pact in August, 1939.
“War is hell” is largely attributed to the
American Army Civil War general named William Tecumseh Sherman. Hell on earth
wasn’t limited to the American civil, but found more fertile and expanse
grounds in Europe with World War One (around five million military deaths, one-third
of which was Russian). World War Two, however, saw more than eleven million
military deaths in addition to more than seven million civilian deaths. Russia
knows hell very well, all too well.
But what if the plague (war) could be
eliminated by killing the body (government)? Acts of aggression between nations
can only be perpetrated by heads of government and their respective bodies of
government. Suppress, quash, or eliminate said government, and war with another
nation is thereby cut off… in theory, of course—remove an aggressor and there’s
no aggression. This is abstract, naturally, as the opposing aggressor would
remain steeped in anger and would take occasion of any situation to gain an
advantage (like flogging a dead horse, as if it were an enemy).
It’s a romantic vision of life as a simple
routine: A becomes infected with B, suppress/deaden A, B passes away as a
consequence, revive A to its full natural state. This romanticism works in
parallel with the excerpt’s themes; on the cursory level, it’s meant to be the
thriller rather than a thinker, a science experiment rather than a social
experiment.
Review: Dolgushin has a
different take on this disembodied-mind theme yet spices it with romance, spy
thrill, and science. As the introduction states: “Dolgushin wanted to fill his
novel [505 pages of which] with lightly fictionalized, but genuinely exciting
information about new discoveries in the biological and physical sciences”
(14). This mere excerpt captures all these themes: revivification, romance, spy
thrill, and science… and the chapter excerpt feels as forced as you might
expect. Stated again in the introduction, the original full-length novel “does
not stand out for its artistic merits” (14).
------------
“The
Nur-i-Desht Observatory” (novelette, 1944) – Ivan Yefremov (3.5/5)
Synopsis: Having staved
off death while fighting on the front, Ivan Timofeyevich gets off only wounded
and is sent to the isolated and desolate Kazakh steppes to recuperate. A
soldier at heart, he’d rather toil away; when he sees a woman named Tanya
standing alone at his destination, he gets just this chance. They cross the
land to an ancient observatory that’s built of stone and clad in mystery. While
their joyfulness is unexplained, they bide their time amid the inscriptions and
spectral emissions that lay deep within. 28 pages
Pre-analysis:
Radium was a wondrous discovery in 1898. Its luminal effect was mesmerizing to
the human eye, thereby attributing the element with health and vigor. Soon,
products began to be promoted with the same element: radium and it radioactive
properties in salts, in toothpastes, and even water1. Even today, the restorative
properties of low-level radiation is a hypothesis (radiation homeostasis) but
remains a borderline pseudoscience along with its kin homeopathy (“like cures
like”).
Eventually, scientists and other who
professionally dealt with radiation became aware of its harmful effects yet
kept it a secret from the frontline employees (see the watch painters known as The Radium Girls). Even
up through 1934 when Marie Curie died, not many scientists—let alone
layman—knew the truly fatal side of the beautiful luminosity of radium and the
other radioactive elements. However, the notion of radiation homeostasis stayed
alive and touched nearly all borders of the world: America, Japan, and even the
Soviet Union (see on left).
Analysis: This story ties
together three elements: romance, adventure, and radiation homeostasis. Aside
from these and a sense of entertainment, this story offers very little else.
The most trying part of the story is the romantic friction between the
solider-cum-archeologist (Ivan) and the translator-cum-archeologist (Tanya).
The ebullition of well-being isn’t their own company, as they had first
thought, but only the radium-rich soil on which the observatory stands. Tanya
is disheartened by this as she had thought that their love was real and not the
curative effects of radium; Ivan, however, discredits the unnatural forces of
the radium as all sorts of spectral emissions are around them all the time, so
who is to decide which ones cause which effect?
Here,
my heart had come back to life, and it had opened… to you. Who knows? Maybe the
scientific advances of the future will offer a deeper understanding of the
effect radioactive substances have on us. And who’s to say that we aren’t under
the influence of many more radiations—cosmic rays at the very least. Up there …
all sorts of energy could be streaming, emanating from the dark depths of
space… the particles of distant world. (223)
Like living and working around radium,
long-term negative effects on the central nervous system would also result from
the same sort of exposure of cosmic rays. If Ivan wishes to exclude all types
of radiation, then only love remains; hence, their love is real (ugh, this
ended on a mushy note).
Review: The keenest
aspect of the story is the adventure one: a real archeologist is digging
through the remains of an ancient observatory in search of inscriptions, a
hidden vase, the story underneath it all—in both figurative and literal senses.
The romance adds extra machismo to the story as the soldier wins over the girl…
then there’s the cringe-worthy looting of the observatory that the professor
condones. Each bit of the story is irksome—the adventure, the romance, the
radiation—but it actually ties together into a semi-decent story.
------------
“Explosion”
(novelette, 1946) – Alexander Kazantsev (2.5/5)
Synopsis: In April 1945,
an editor of a science journal is approached by two men with competing theories
for 1908’s Tunguska event, which the editor actually witnessed himself. Fuelled
by the theories, the man digs through his trove of historical data and
commentary of the event in order to defend his own theory. After August 1945’s
events, however, one of the previous two theorists returns and spouts forth an
outlandish tale involving a native black-skinned Siberian and a mystical source
for the huge explosion. 26 pages
Pre-analysis:
According to Kazantsev’s Wikipedia page, he
was a pioneer of Soviet UFOlogy whose writings dealt mainly with
pseudoscientific theories. The page also says without a citation that “He
believed the Tunguska impact was caused by an alien spacecraft that crash-landed
on the Earth.” So, prior to reading a Kazantsev story, you need to be prepared
for two things: some focus around the Tunguska Event and some other outlandish
pet theory that goes hand-in-hand with it.
Analysis: As Kazantsev has
indulged himself with a few pet theories of the pseudoscientific realm in the
form of a short story, there’s very little to analyze. I think the aura of the
story is best captured by the collection’s introduction:
Kazantsev
went on [after the story’s publication] to have a long and
less-than-admired career as a cultural conservative and Party hard-liner who
pushed back against literary innovations and artistic freedom in the 1960s … As
a Communist Party stalwart, Kazantsev wrote a macho, fun-to-read,
mystery-catastrophe in which the figure of the dangerous alien is easily summed
up in two words: “female” and “black.” (14)
Review: This is the
third Kazantsev story that I’ve read and it’s the third story of his that
involve the Tunguska Event—at this point, it feels like Kazantsev is a
one-trick pony. The lamely titled “Explosion” is a variation of the previous
theme in “A Visitor from Outer Space” (1951) and “The Martian” (1958) that
posit a Martian UFO for the explosion. “Explosion” shrugs off this prior theme
in favor for something more mystical and less science fictional. His personal
interest in Martian canals, a fabled planet in the asteroid belt, and the
Tunguska Event taint his stories to the degree of obsession.
------------
“The
Spontaneous Reflex” (1958) – Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (4/5)
Synopsis: With numerous sensors, Urm is able to sense the
world to a more thorough degree than any human; however, like a human, he too
can become bored. Unsatisfied with its underground concrete cube as its sole
known location, it opens the door, satisfied with its squeak. In the halls, in
approaches danger without fear, destroys without conscious, and frightens
without shame. As it reaches the surface, its Master attempts to bargain with
it and, in the end, to find a way to disable it. A victim of its own success,
mere bulldozers are able to pin it. 23 pages
Analysis: High technology, especially of military value, is
often a closely guarded secret as it’s usually of sensitive nature. The robot
named Urm—an acronym for Universal Robot Machine—is a superior robot to such a
degree that it can learn and develop while left on its own; in essence, the
robot was given free-thought. Indeed, this would be a dangerous thing if given
free movement through the land, but even Soviet citizens didn’t have free
movement, instead, Urm is confined to a subterranean prison devoid of
sensation.
If Urm had not been
given free-thought, it would have been content to stare at its bleakly grey
environment; however, with primary urges to experience the world and adapt, it
tests the door, the halls, the walls, and even under the open sky. Not made of
flesh and bone, its curiosity is backed by metal and mechanizations, propelling
it through walls and radiation without harm. Its two weaknesses are its most human-like:
(1) As it has had very little experience in human communication, its
salutations come off as horrifically abrupt; (2) Its locomotion is an adaptable
one for all terrains—two legs and two arms.
Having been suppressed
for so long, it fails to find allegiance among the men at the base; also having
been given the fallacy of man’s locomotion, it fails to escape… only o be
defeated by a much simpler technology and one that doesn’t rely on human
fallacy: the treads and scoop of bulldozers. As it wallows in frustration, the
only rational thing for its creator (its Master) is to simply switch it off.
Review: This is a familiar trope of a robot gone berserk,
complete with undeveloped human emotions while following a foundational,
pre-programmed prerogative. What it makes up for in originality is its allegory
of the danger of free-thought, inherited human flaw, development in seclusion,
and reliability of tried-and-true methods. It’s a well-fitted glove for a
Soviet story compounded by the repeated haunting salutation of the robot:
“здравствуйте как поживаете?” or “Zdravstvuite, kak pozhivaete?” or “Good day,
how do you do?” Even taken at its most literal level, the action story would be
a good, short romp yet with a lackluster ending if you weren’t aware of its
allegory.
------------
“Soda-Sun”
(novella, 1961) – Mikhail Ancharov (3.5/5)
Synopsis: The man
nicknamed Soda-Sun has an odd and patchy background, especially when
considering that he has no previous degree or experience to warrant his
position as a research assistant. He ought to be science-minded, but his
theories rattle the nerves of all around him, thereby referring to him as a
clown: the devil is real and takes the shape of a man even today. When the same
science group uncovers an unexpected giant mammal, Soda-Sun is there again with
another crazy theory, a well-dated skull, and a frank letter of explanation. 58
pages
Pre-analysis: Promotions are hazardous, like
lion-taming or base-jumping. The opportunity for success exists and if you put
in the honest effort, your chance for success climbs along with your awareness
of the situation—i.e. put in the extra hours at the office, log your work,
exhibit your accomplishment, take on extra responsibilities… and your work will
be rewarded with a promotion. This, however, isn’t the hazard; rather, it’s the
people who don’t bide by the “honest effort” credo for a level playing field:
the suck-ups, the ass-kissers, the bribe-payers, the false-flatterers, the
yes-sir-right-away-sir-what-a-nice-tie-you-have-on-today-sir kind of people,
the… you get the drift. Oh, the numerous
examples from my own life…
Under
normal circumstances, there are only two kinds of victims when the latter kind
of person wins: (1) the honest johns and janes and (2) quality company management.
Yet, when this sort of ass-kissery (Is that a word? If not, it’s mine.) occurs
at academic and governmental spheres, the number of victims becomes
exponential. When those same I-kiss-ass-so-much-I-never-see-the-light-of-day
scum are also deceptively clever people, everyone is the victim. You know the
kind of tools I’m talking about…
Analysis: Soda-Sun was a clever man or
resources during the war; some may have called him a courier, others a
smuggler. Regardless of his official title, he provided goods to those who
asked. Yet after the war, his specific talents and connections were no longer
needed, so Soda-Sun used his well-honed cleverness on an unsuspecting realm:
academia.
Considering
his position in academia, he holds a dangerous idea that the devil is real,
which is certainly a position that could never be analyzed quantitatively.
Still, his superiors keep him on staff where the damage only grows because of
his stalwart stance and immature interference. When one urbane discovery
becomes a absurd exhibition of impossibility, surely Soda-Sun is behind the
extravagant prank, yet when academia probes deeper into a
part-prank/part-discovery, they are witness to one of two realities: (1) either
a very extravagant prank or (2) the discovery of an impossibility.
Even
when Soda-Sun is ousted from his position, the repercussions of his harm remain
as the mystery of his supposed prank unfolds. His series of juvenile notes of explanation
prolong the suffering of the serious academics, the hunt of which leads them
into deeper and darker terrain. It’s this “deeper and darker terrain” that
could possibly be an analogy for pseudosciences, or areas of knowledge that
academia refuse to probe because of the taint of skepticism from the greater
scientific community.
Review: This isn’t an easy story to read.
I’m not sure if it’s because of the story-telling or my state of mind;
regardless, I had a hard time following the ins and outs of the unraveling
prank and/or mystery. The introduction of the collection mentions that this
story is about “creative genius”, humanity’s “untapped capacity” of genius, and
the source of his genius (18). Certainly, that’s buried in the story somewhere
along with my idea of what the story is about. It’s the longest story in the
collection but also one of the most convoluted—again, maybe my mind was broken
on those days that I read the story.
------------
“The
Exam” (novelette, 1979) – Sergei Drugal (4/5)
Synopsis: Within the
Institute for the Restoration of Nature, Nuri walks amid the tame musings,
comments on, and holds conversations with its various gene-adapted animals. The
numerous mammalian and human denizens of the Institute offer their advice and
urge Nuri to consider a freestyle parable, but he considers it beyond his
ability. Possibly inspired by his experience with speaking to anthropomorphized
animals, Nuri is finally able to spin on a parable while under observation—but
to whom and to what end? 20 pages
Pre-analysis: As a small spoiler to the story,
the aim of the inquisition through parable is to become a teacher. This raised
both of my eyebrows as I have some experience in research into Soviet
educational philosophy when I studied my M.Ed. a few years ago. The class had
been through s good chuck of the educational philosophy book when I overheard
two students talk about “Who’s your favorite educational philosopher?” My first
utterance to self: “Total nerds”. My second utterance to them: “Mine’s Anton
Makarenko”, to which they replied: “Are you serious?” Then I was like, “Oh, I’m
sure you’re all in love with John Dewey, right?”, to which they agreed.
Long
story short, thank you Wiki: Makarenko
saw integration as one of the key aspects of education: “the activities of
various educational institutions — i.e., the school, the family, clubs, public
organizations, production collectives and the community existing at the place
of residence — should be integrated”… think of Hillary Clinton’s It Take a
Village to Raise a Child (1996) but seventy years earlier.
Analysis: The exam in the story is an
example of “authentic assessment”. To summarize, thank you again Wiki, an
authentic assessment is:
[T]he measurement of
"intellectual accomplishments that are worthwhile, significant, and
meaningful," as contrasted to multiple choice standardized tests.
Authentic assessment can be devised by the teacher, or in collaboration with
the student by engaging student voice.
Beautifully
worded. Nuri is the student in this regard while the random denizens are his
teachers who are trying to encourage him to create a parable by framing the
situation. They give him multiple chances to engage his voice, his narrative,
but he only offers his first parable at the end of the story when he has to
define his “moral profile” to a bunch of toddlers. As ridiculous as the
situation may be, it’s about as authentic as a test can be for a teacher… minus
the lofty language of non-toddlers: “What kind of moral profile does a bachelor
have? We’d rather see if he can tell us a good story” (349).
And
so, Nuri’s formal education ends with the application of his knowledge to a
situation he may actually face when he becomes a teacher; thus, he allowed to
go into the world and into the workplace to begin his informal education… the
ins and outs of everyday authentic assessments.
Review: The story was a bit spastic in its
delivery as it tended to bounce between new characters—both human and
animal—urging Nuri to tell a parable. It was frustratingly disconnected but it
really snapped into focus for me at the end… perhaps only because of my
knowledge of Makarenko and authentic assessments. The re-read of this story
proved to be more satisfactory. Tantalizingly, this story is the tip of an
iceberg that belongs to Drugal’s collected works of called The Institute of Nature
Restoration (19??/1980), which, sadly, was only available in Ukrainian
and Russian. It seems that its publication origins are forever lost. So, you
may have to be happy with the tip rather than the whole berg.
------------
“Mixed
Up” (novelette, 1980) – Vladimir Savchenko (4/5)
Synopsis: When an alien
race beamed their personalities across space to Earth, mankind learned the
secret of interstellar travel; not everyone, however, was able to sustain the
transfer, as evidence by the death of several so-called psychonauts. When M. A.
Kolotilin returns from his beamed journey, his eyes sense sound while his ears
register color. Initially perplexed by this mental cross-wiring, he soon begins
to accept and adapt to the uniqueness of his state even while his wife leaves
him and his fellow scientists urge treatment and experimentation. 47 pages
Pre-analysis:
Let’s shun the cliché “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” in favor of David
Hume’s “Beauty in things exists merely in the mind which contemplates them”. I
think this appropriately shifts the subject from the person beyond the senses:
the mind and that which registers the senses. If you were to change the mind,
you’d change the perception of beauty, but not the memory of that beauty—for
better or for worse.
Analysis: Kolotilin knew
of beauty in the form of sight and sound prior to his psychonaut jaunt—the
stars, the forest, the symphony, and his wife. When returning to Earth into his
own body, these two senses swapped in indescribable ways. As his mind had only
known a world where eyes and ears registered their respective sense, Kolotilin
was left bewildered and left reliant on his reliable sense of touch and space.
For want of remembering beauty, he plays
music and sees his wife, but both of these instances fail to imprint a new
sense of beauty in his mind. His isolation in the laboratory doesn’t inspire
this same fledgling sense, so he prescribes himself a walk outside where beauty
reigns in his memory and to his new senses, the latter trumping the former.
When the scientists urge him to experiment in transliterating his senses so
that he can experience the so-called real world again, he adamantly refuses to
cooperate so that he can perfectly adjust to his new found sense of beauty… but
he also achieves a greater sense of life:
And
that which is petty, stupid, empty and low is people and in the world will
remain for me incomprehensible noise and visual trash. And good riddance. I
hear that which is seen and see that which is heard, but I perceive not sounds
nor light, but that which lies beyond them. So am I poorer or richer
for it? (385)
If we use our subjective sense of beauty as
an analogy, could the same be same for a philosophy, an ideology, a system of
governance? I’m no Soviet historian, nor am I savvy with political science,
alas:
The Soviet Union in 1980 was seeing a
growth on the global scale thanks in part to its military strength, indeed it
also was experience an economic growth, from $1 trillion in the 70s to $2
trillion in the 80s. Leonid Brezhnev, the General Secretary, had been holding
the reins of the party and the State for sixteen years. Aside from cold deathly
stares of the Americans across the intangible yet noticeable Iron Curtain,
things were looking good for the Soviets.
Democracy isn’t for everyone. It’s one form
of beauty in the form of governance, but what works for one people in one
country doesn’t necessary apply across the board to all peoples and all
countries. The American ideological crusade to push democracy around the world
is an attempt to replace one subjective beauty with another. Take Thailand, for
example: Elected government after elected government have only brought the
country to the brink of civil war; since the coup two years ago, however,
social stability is finally savored, a fact supported by the recent referendum
approved by voters to allow the military junta to elect its own government for
the next five years.
To speak for the Soviets, perhaps the
hard-line communists truly believed in their form of society and government.
Democratic rhetoric (Kolotilin’s scientists) can’t ideologically understand
non-democratic systems (Kolotilin’s happiness). The former may see things as
they are—beautiful, natural, and perfect—while the latter may also see exactly
the same things—just as beautiful, just as natural, just as perfect—yet though
completely different senses. Who’s right; who’s wrong? Like my mum says, “As
long as you’re happy…”
Review: It’s a bit hard
to envision what Kolotilin experiences. The framing of this unique experience
on Kolotilin’s part is due to the equally unique method of traveling among the
stars. How this method was discovered and who used this method were a two
additional unique aspects of the story—so, to sum it up, the story is pretty
unique. Regardless, it’s hard to wrap your head around and rather lengthier
than need be.
------------
“Jubilee-200”
(short story, 1985) – Kir Bulychev (4/5)
Synopsis: Nearly two
centuries prior, a chimp breeding program began with the ultimate purpose of
producing a lineage with the traits of Logic and Reason. Limited success has
been observed with the elderly chimp named Johnny as he’s able to hold a
mundane conversation but is still prone to his wild nature. Meanwhile, through
the eyes of the Leader and the rest of his herd, the scientists are dumb to
their true intelligence and cunning, with which they hope to steal a plane and
make an escape to Africa. 17 pages
Pre-analysis:
I’m having trouble tracking down the direct quote, so I’ll paraphrase: someone
was said that monkeys don’t speak because they don’t want to be put to work. I
believe this was a serious attempt at reasoning why apes don’t speak like
humans, so it must have been a fairly early non-scientific approach to the
theory (say, early or late nineteenth century). This theory would imply that
apes have (1) a vocabulary and grammar as well as (2) the anatomical structures
to form thoughts and produce speech. Whoever said the paraphrase above had one
thing right, however: apes are capable of deception and lies,
but not to the great extent as collectively fearing being put to work.
Analysis: A coup would be
a sudden overtaking of authority while one definition of revolution omits
authority in the sudden change of a situation. The chimps in “Jubilee-200”
had no intention of throwing a coup as they simply wanted to escape from
authority rather than replace it. Their secret revolution, therefore, was their
well-planned escape through their decades of deception. If the scientists are
seen as the government and the chimps as citizens, the story—written in
1985—takes on an ominous glow only six years before the intergovernmental coup
d’etat.
Sometimes Big Brother knows; sometimes,
too, Big Brother lets things go the way he wants because the means agree with
the end, even though those means aren’t his own: protests could be a useful
pressure valve for the population or some terror may spark much wanted changes
in law enforcement. Though the perpetrators of the protests and terror may be
getting their way, the authorities sometimes smile down at their actions and
silently play into their hands. I won’t expound on any conspiracies (domestic
or international). If a popular grassroots means meet the same end as the
government’s intended forced means, surely it would allow the popular means to
unfold… possibly with an unofficial blessing and/or a well-informed mole.
On August 18, 1991, Yeltsin led a coup
against Gorbachev; both wanted freer economic systems, yet the former wanted
reform faster than the latter. Perhaps Gorbachev had his hands tied for policy
but wished for faster reform, which Yeltsin was able to accomplish through
swifter means. Surely, Yeltsin hated Gorbachev, but if Yeltsin could pull off
the coup in favor of greater reform, then perhaps Gorbachev would have
applauded it? Gorbachev had the opportunity to send Yeltsin to a far-off
ambassador errand when the firebrand openly criticized Gorbachev, but Gorbachev
kept the man on, though through a demotion. Gorbachev says he regrets keeping
Yeltsin, but…
Review: Another story
ripe for analysis! Much as the chimps unfold their plan in secret to a greater
end, the story, too, unfolds from a basic onset toward a greater end with a
twist in the end (as analyzed in the analysis portion of this review). It’s
well structured, well thought out, and unique – add in the twist and the
fertile ground for analysis and you have yourself a satisfying story!
------------
“Those
Burdened by Evil” (excerpt, 1988) – Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (3.5/5)
Synopsis: The dark, towering
figure casts a deceptive appearance amid the otherwise vacant apartment
building that overlooks the dreary scene of a town and its society, both on a
downward spiral. He questions their ethics, he scorns their composure, but most
importantly he hopes to help them in one way of another. Under his expansive
parka rest the folded wings of his true nature, and at his figurative side sits
the statuesque assistant who tells him of this earth yet walks a tenuous line
of disobedience. 8 pages
Pre-analysis:
Leaders tend to come in two forms: agents of maintenance or agents of change.
There are times when maintenance is greatly needed in order to find a base
understanding, standardize whatever’s needed, and get it on track. Any element
of change can greatly skew its ability to assess itself, thus hindering its
progress. In contrast, sometimes systems needs a kick in the ass; here, an
agent of change would be beneficial as they—hopefully—have the also have the
ability to analyze problems and find efficient methods of change… efficient,
here, being the key.
Analysis: Anyone with a
shred of knowledge about the later years of the Soviet Union will know that
Gorbachev had been introducing many changes to the Soviet government (e.g.
elections and the economy) since 1985. Some saw these changes as damaging to
the communist vision while others saw the same changes as not being progressive
enough to change what really needed to be changed—e.g. the head of power.
Though Gorbachev was an agent of change in contrast to the lineage of premiers
who strived to maintain Cold War tensions and backwardness on the global scale,
but sometimes some change is not change enough.
The agent of change in “Those Burdened by
Evil” is a winged angel of impressive stature whose origins are well known in
general yet here veiled in the story (will avoid any spoilers read from
fantlab.ru). If Gorbachev wasn’t an angel with power enough to scare its flock
to alter its moral fabric, then was he just a saint with good intentions. So
who was the archangel who wielded God’s word for democracy? I’d hardly compare
Yeltsin to an archangel let alone a saint, prophet or priest, but as he was
ushered into th seat of power after the USSR’s collapse, he must fit the
role of angel.
As this is only an excerpt to a novel,
there’s more room to postulate the allegories and parallelisms. Perhaps the
Strugatsky brothers also felt that their society was crumbling from underneath
them and that Gorbachev wasn’t the agent of change that they needed. Creating
an angel as that agent would be one form of worry, but creating an even higher
spiritual body as that agent would be complete desperation.
Review: Of all the
stories included in Read Star Tales, the novel-length edition of “Those
Burdened by Evil” is the one story that received the highest rating (8.41/10)
and had the most reviews (54), according to the fantlab.ru website. The reviews
heavily point out that the novel is deep and ripe for analysis with its
religious allegories and social parallelisms. Most mention that they need to
re-read and compare it to Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita
(1967) for its themes of religion. Even though this is an excerpt, there’s
still a tangible depth and enough setting to intrigue the reader. By itself,
however, the general theme of religion is only superficial and doesn’t come
into focus by the excerpt’s conclusion. To placate the reader, the conclusion does
offer a certain motion: expectation of change. Pray that this novel is
translated to English, one day.
------------
“Doorinda”
(excerpt, 1990) – Daliya Truskinovskaya (3/5)
Synopsis: Ksenya is seeing
hard times since her husband left her and their son to live alone in their
apartment block. Returning to her home on evening, she realizes that she had
forgotten her keys, and at that moment of good fortune, a man on the run offers
his help, which he does with several strange devices, but it also benefits
him—as soon as he’s through the door, he disappears. When Ksenya tries the door
on a rainy day, she suddenly appears at work. First, thoughts of food and
medicine stir in her mind. 17 pages
Pre-analysis:
A few words from Wiki regarding supply and rationing in the USSR in the 1980s:
Perestroika was a political movement for
reformation within the Communist Party of the Soviet Union during the 1980s, widely associated with Soviet Leader Mikhail Gorbachev and his glasnost (meaning "openness") policy
reform. The literal meaning of perestroika is "restructuring", referring to the
restructuring of the Soviet political and economic system. Perestroika
is sometimes argued to be a cause of the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the revolutions of 1989 in Eastern Europe, and the end of the Cold War. (wiki)
In
the 1980s shortages continued in basic consumer items, even in major population
centers. Such goods occasionally were rationed in
major cities well into the 1980s. Besides the built-in shortages caused by
planning priorities, shoddy production of consumer goods limited actual supply
…. By the time of the Soviet Union's collapse at the end of 1991, nearly every
kind of food was rationed. Non-rationed foods and non-food consumer goods had
virtually disappeared from state owned stores. While the gap was partially
filled by non-state stores which started to appear in the mid-1980s, the prices
in non-state stores were often five to ten times higher than in state stores
and were often out of reach for the general population.
(wiki)
Analysis: Desperation
settles upon Ksenya as she struggles with her life at home as she has to raise
her son by herself. She considers their lack of food and medicine yet is
hopeless against the inertia of perestroika to obtain anything
useful. Her stroke of fortune comes from the fantastic run-in with a fugitive
who enables her door to open to wherever she pleases. She allows her to
immediately bypass to a number of everyday annoyances: (1) she can forego
inconvenient public transportation, (2) she can pick and choose victual items
from hoarded stockpiles, and (3) she can obtain medical supplies just when she
needs it most.
In essence, the gift that Ksenya had been
given was the gift of capitalism. Consider: (1) if she had a private car, she
could avoid most the rain and arrive at work on time; (2) if she could go to a
supermarket, she could purchase items for her two-member family within her
budget; and (3) if she had a decent hospital, she could get the supplies and
care she needed for her son.
Review: As she considers
her life to have become magical, she interweaves herself into the fairy tales
she tells her son, an aspect of the excerpt that adds a meta-fictional element
to the longer novella-length story, which, according to various translated
reviews, sees Ksenya travel to romantic fantasy lands. So, as a reader show
doesn’t fancy anything related to “romantic fantasy”, perhaps its better that
the story was abbreviated before it go into the magical lands. The full-version
of the story could, however, offer a little more detail into the meta-fictional
element of this excerpt that, at first glance, seems to follow the 1930s or
1940s pulp tradition of “inexplicable devices doing wondrous things without any
reason”, if that’s a sub-genre or something.
------------
“My
Dad’s an Antibiotic” (novelette, 1992) – Sergei Lukyanenko (3/5)
Synopsis: Alik is proud of
his father, who is with the Assault Force Corps responsible for special mission
to quash revolt among planetary colonies. His dad is an impressive figure of
Herculean strength, but he’s thoughtful too in bringing his son a gift after
every mission—usually war loot. When his father gives Alik a bracelet from the
same planet as his best friend, he digs a little deeper into the bracelet’s
veiled origins, only to later learn that the, on that same planet, boys his own
age are recruited to fight in the resistance. 23 pages
Pre-analysis: Trophies from hard-fought wars
have been a source of pride from countless wars across countless lands wherein
countless people died. These trophies were the aim of the conquest and/or
conflict, so the winning of the trophies is doubtlessly a sign of victory—the
conclusion to the war. Spoils of war, on the other hard, are sort of like
tokens of combat, items had by chance. But the trophies and tokens shouldn’t be
held to the same standard—the trophy came through power, the tokens came by
chance, so fate dealt the gifts of the spoils of war… and haven’t we always
been told to not look a gift horse in the mouth?
The
intangible trophy from the victory on the distant planet is the suppression of
dissent, the end to a rebellion—the soldiers probably feel very little pride
over this trophy, so they resort to spoils of war as tokens of their victory.
Pride in these tokens/spoils is vacant as these items are kept merely for
interest like a memento from an event, a keepsake from a ceremony, or a
souvenir from a holiday. These same items are kept on shelves, stored in boxes,
or given to family or friends.
Alik’s
father paws off one such spoil of war to his son without much thought about
what the bracelet meant to its now-deceased owner. It was given to Alik in a
sort of low-key manner without much forethought as to the significance of the
gift—neither of them looked the gift horse in the mouth, until the boy’s
curiosity gets the best of him.
Analysis: Considering the story is from
1992, the year after the USSR’s change to modern Russia, the story is ripe with
reference to this transition. There’s certainly the intangible trophy of the
people—democracy—but what are the tangible spoils of war had by chance? “Choose
washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers…” (Trainspotting,
1996) – ah, the plentitude of capitalism!
The
older generation (akin of Alik’s father) may not give second thoughts to these
tangible spoils because having is much better than having-not—perish
the queues for bread, the rations of gasoline, and permits for travel. The
shift from inefficient communism to at-hand capitalism must have been warmly
welcomed and embraced! The more modern generation—what with their Pepsi,
Walkmans, and Levis—should have been more skeptical of these wondrous gifts
from the West. Who were they to shrug off the yoke from decades of tradition
and hard work? They must have learned their lesson from the proverb “Don’t look
a gift horse in the mouth”, unlike the wise young Alik from the story. The
youth don’t see the danger in what they have; meanwhile, Alik quickly learned
what the bracelet represented, thereby saving his life.
Review: This story, much more so than any
of the others, has a certain Western feel to it, akin to Joe Haldeman. The
analysis have may dug a little too deep into the story for want of a juicy
morsel, but on my initial read of the story, it really felt straight forward,
unlike many of the other stories in the collection. Perhaps it’s a sign of the
times or simply the author’s style, but the collection ended on a fairly weak
note with this inclusion.
