Un roman ca o poveste: a fost odata un fluviu care se numea Amur. Pe vremea aceea, traiau intr-un sat siberian trei baieti pe cale de a deveni barbati: Razboinicul, Poetul, Don Juanul. Trei ape le-au impartit universul adolescentei: paraul Curentul, raul Olei si fluviul Amur, aflat la limita inchipuirii lor. In satul pierdut in imensitatile albe ale taigalei, au dorit femeia, au taiat drum in zapada si au trait primul miracol: un film cu Jean-Paul Belmondo. Occidentul navaleste in micul cinematograf Octombrie Rosu. Cei trei baieti revad filmul de saptesprezece ori la rand. Incep sa inteleaga ca exista in viata lucruri perfect apolitice, perfect amorale si straine de orice ideologie, cum ar fi niste coapse bronzate de femeie. Poate de aceea povestea incepe undeva, in Siberia, si sfarseste, candva, la New York, departe de vremea fluviului Amur.Observatia criticului: Desi reteta lui Makine este aproximativ aceeasi - sate sovietizate, aflate la capatul lumii si oameni care se agata cu toata puterea sufletului lor rusesc de un minuscul colac de salvare occidental -, fiecare dintre romanele lui are o poezie proprie.
Andreï Makine was born in Krasnoyarsk, Soviet Union on 10 September 1957 and grew up in city of Penza, a provincial town about 440 miles south-east of Moscow. As a boy, having acquired familiarity with France and its language from his French-born grandmother (it is not certain whether Makine had a French grandmother; in later interviews he claimed to have learnt French from a friend), he wrote poems in both French and his native Russian.
In 1987, he went to France as member of teacher's exchange program and decided to stay. He was granted political asylum and was determined to make a living as a writer in French. However, Makine had to present his first manuscripts as translations from Russian to overcome publishers' skepticism that a newly arrived exile could write so fluently in a second language. After disappointing reactions to his first two novels, it took eight months to find a publisher for his fourth, Le testament français. Finally published in 1995 in France, the novel became the first in history to win both the Prix Goncourt and the Prix Medicis plus the Goncourt des Lycéens.
Trei tineri (porecliți Don juan, Războinicul și Poetul) dintr-un cătun din Siberia (numit Svetlaia), situat în taiga, nu departe de fluviul Amur, trăiesc o revelație care le va marca viața pentru totdeauna. În cinematograful de pe bulevardul Lenin din orășelul apropiat, Nerlug, vizionează cîteva filme cu Jean-Paul Belmondo. Înțeleg astfel că există undeva o lume care e diferită de lumea lor.
Cel dintîi, Le Magnifique (îl vor vedea de 17 ori), le va oferi o idee despre un Occident fabulos, despre o lume care contrazice la fiecare pas și prin fiecare gest obiceiurile lumii în care trăiesc spectatorii, mărginită de pădurea întunecată de cedri și pini și închisă într-un frig veșnic. Pentru ei, Occidentul e lumea gesturilor gratuite, a coapselor bronzate, a bacantelor înveșmîntate în transparențe, a canalelor vineții ale Veneției, a vilelor de lux. Prin aceste filme, viața lor cunoaște o răsturnare profundă. Occidentul devine tărîmul după care tînjesc, locul de la capătul visului, numele libertății.
Pînă la întîlnirea cu Belmondo, cei trei băieți au trăit obsedați de „taiga, aur și umbră”, alături de camionagii brutali și înecați în alcool, au cunoscut dragostea sub chipul și trupul unei prostituate de o frumusețe masivă (și indiferentă), au făcut saună pe malul rîului Olei și s-au tăvălit goi prin zăpada fierbinte, au săpat prin nămeți ca să poată ieși din izbe, au găsit rădăcina Harg, s-au îmbătat cu mirosul amar al cedrilor și au călătorit fără voie cu Transsiberianul pînă la țărmul Oceanului. Acolo Războinicul și-a fumat „ultimul trabuc” spre uimirea năucită a asistenței. Cînd s-au întors, au primit lecții de la bătrîna Olga, o femeie care avusese o guvernantă franceză și stăpînea literatura lui Flaubert, Zola și Proust.
Peste ani, după moartea anonimă a Războinicului în America Latină, Utkin (Poetul) și Dimitri (Don Juan, Amantul) se vor întîlni într-un resturant cu specific rusesc din SUA. Se regăsesc în Occidentul copilăriei lor. Poetul n-a ajuns să scrie romane (a preferat să redacteze cărți de benzi desenate), Amantul și-a găsit un loc în industria cinematografică, nu știm foarte precis.
Pe vremea fluviului Amur este un roman despre inițiere (inclusiv erotică) și despre hazardul istoriei. Înțesat de metafore (uneori, inutile), el spune o poveste despre puterea invincibilă a iluziei. Andreï Makine rămîne un Ionel Teodoreanu al Academiei franceze...
Makine is one of my favourite writers, and this is another fine example of his craft. Many of its elements are familiar from his other books - the setting in Siberia, the mixture of memory and mature reflection and a nuanced view of the realities of an upbringing in the declining days of Soviet Russia.
This rites of passage story follows three teenage boys from a Siberian village, as all three are changed by the experience of seeing Belmondo's spy parodies in a local cinema - each of the three takes inspiration from a different aspect of these escapist fantasies. In the framing modern part of the story, the narrator Dmitri (Juan to his friends) still corresponds with the writer Utkin, whose leg never recovered from a childhood accident, and provides him with stories. The third friend Samurai is now dead.
All three were brought up by older relatives, none of them parents, who relate tantalising aspects of adult culture and life in the west. The Siberian setting also plays an important role in the story, as does the glamour they occasionally glimpse as the Trans-Siberian express passes.
East meets West through images and imagination. For most readers in North America and western Europe it will be difficult, if not impossible, to visualize the utter remoteness of a Siberian village lost in the vast plains of the taiga. Life is completely controlled by nature - winters last seven months or more. Before allowing the land and the people to recover in a short spring, winter hits with another vicious snowstorm. Only the houses' chimneys are seen protruding in the expanse of white. Digging out a path is like hollowing out a deep tunnel back to the surface. Makine's intricate portrayal of the land's extraordinary beauty, whether under snow or during the spring thaw, reveals his deep connection to nature and his Siberian past. It is a backdrop and, almost, a participant in this engaging story.
First of all, though, this is a growing-up story of three local boys: Dmitri, the narrator, and his friends Utkin and Samurai. For them "the beauty of the land was the least of the preoccupations in the land where we were born..." It was taken for granted. The reader senses the equilibrium between the boys and their natural environment. A vivid account of their thrill at swimming in the icy cold current of the Olyei River and being confronted with unwelcome onlookers. Taking a steam sauna in a remote bath hut in the forest reflects their intimacy and happiness at being friends.
Daily life is also controlled by the political powers: the story is anchored in the early 1970s and Soviet rule dominates all aspects of it. Their village, having played an important role in the past and during the war, it is now only a shadow of itself: controlled by "gold, the gulag, and the taiga". The boys accept their reality while dreaming of a different world beyond their community on the shores of the Amour River and inhospitable Siberia. The Trans-Siberian train speeding by in the night symbolizes the wider world, the link between Occident and Orient...
For the three teenage friends, growing up also includes an increasing awareness of sexuality and curiosity for women and love. Eroticism and sensuality, let alone "love", had never been part of the local people's vocabulary, going back to the village's founding some 300 years ago by Cossacks. Carving out an existence has always been rough and challenging. Now, any sense of reality or knowledge of the outside world was filtered through Soviet-style propaganda: reaching or surpassing the monthly quotas; winning whatever battle was being fought. Women and men were, above all, socialist partners with a mission to fulfill the expectations of the system. For boys, eager to explore their blossoming feelings, this was not a good introduction.
Into this bleak and harsh reality "strolls" Jean-Paul Belmondo, charming, easy-going and successful ... and the boys and the villagers are changed forever: Belmondo appears on screen in "Red October". The impact could not have been more dramatic if he had come in person. The political slogan banners at the Politburo pale in comparison to his big poster in the main village square. He represents a life in the "Occident" that is fantastic as it is alien, stiring the boys' imagination. There, people have an easy time, life is rich, and the hero usually wins the girl. For the villagers, it is impossible to distinguish between fiction and reality. Through many repeat visits Dmitri and his friends slowly understand the story line. Each scene, every small item is analyzed and interpreted as authentic reflection of life in the West. The boys increasingly live an alternative reality - they visualize Paris, Venice and more. The West has met the East.
Makine's portrayal of the boys, their emotions and experiences of growing up is beautifully presented. There is Olga, Samurai's Francophile older friend, who introduces the boys to French literature and culture; there is Utkin's grandfather and Dmitri's aunt. They all come to life and round off the picture. Humour and irony balance the serious exploration of the challenges faced by young people living in remote places like Siberia and with ambitions to change their lives. They feel torn between Occident and Orient, between the unknown and the familiar worlds. Despite their different personalities and ambitions, they each have to choose their future direction.
Similarly to other Makine books, the story is embedded in a short narrative set decades later in a far away place. It sets a frame and also allows for reflection of the lives lived. Once Upon the River Love is very rich novel. It is specific in its captivating detail of land and people while at the same time raising pertinent general issues of fiction versus fact, imagination versus action and the role of these in forming young people's minds everywhere. I read the novel in the original French and was captivated by the exquisite style and richness of language. The emotional depth of the story reveals the Russian roots of the author. Read it slowly and savour its beauty.
As anyone who’s read Andreï Makine knows, his writing is almost too evocatively beautiful for words; it’s for this that he was awarded the Goncourt Prize. (As English speakers, we can sometimes forget that there are worthy prizewinners in other languages, as well.) He grew up in Siberia but had a French grandmother, which facilitated the switch to writing in that language when he moved to France. All beside the point… I’ve read several of his novels and they have never disappointed because of his melancholic view of the Soviet Union, about the people and how the system failed them, but without being political. The focus is always on the lives of Russians, not the Soviets.
This short novel is about the lives and dreams of three young men growing up in a small town in Siberia - yes, a coming-of-age novel, but non-typical – where they are completely isolated from the world. There are three worlds in this town: gold-miners, lumberjacks and the gulag which furnishes slave-labor for the timber industry and one factory. Dmitri, who narrates the story, paints a bleak picture of the narrow possibilities in this town and one reminder that the outside world exists: the Trans-Siberian train that thunders across the tundra and which employs his grandmother as a switchman. His friends, Samurai and Utkin, are the other two members of this trio: Samurai, obsessed with acquiring increased physical strength due to an incident in his childhood, and Utkin, crippled as a child by an ice floe in the river.
All this isolation changes when one day, the nearest town shows a Jean-Paul Belmondo film, an enormous shift from the usual Communist propaganda films shown previously, boasting of surpassing targets for crop yield and factory production, and where the only “romance” was two young Soviets glowing in the field, fade to black, and then a proud young mother with a healthy infant in her arms. On the other hand, there was Belmondo, beaming as he fought evil and won over beautiful women. (It was hard for the young women to equate these exotic examples of the female sex with the worn-out women of the town they lived in!) Every week, seventeen times, they hiked an entire day to the bigger town to see their hero Belmondo and try to understand the film from an unknown universe. However, not only are the young men affected but the whole area’s attitude is affected; suddenly, people are smiling and have a more positive attitude towards life – even the drab schoolteacher shows an attractive side that the boys never could have imagined! The cinema has to bring in additional seats and some people just bring their own to be assured of a place. Finally, the film’s run ends – but then another Belmondo film appears! Now in Mexico instead of the Mediterranean, but still good vs evil for the boys, although others are more moved by the romantic scenes. All of this leads to other joint adventures (such as their first sight of the ocean when they accidentally are carried by the Trans-Siberian Express to the Pacific), sexual awakenings and a greater awareness of the depth of the despair and cruelty around them. Eventually, they split up and go their separate ways, each infected by the possibilities of a life outside of their Siberian world.
It’s difficult for me to convey how much I love Makine’s novels; he’s like this hidden, overlooked diamond that I can only hope others will also discover. Unfortunately, I have only one of his novels on my bookshelf left to read but it’s the Goncourt winner, “Dreams of My Russian Summers”, so it’s sure to be a good one. Hopefully, others will also hope on the “Makine Express” and love him as much as I do.
Makine is one of my favorite contemporary authors, someone whose writing is so close to my soul and my heart. This is my second time reading this one, and I love it even more than the first time. I love the way he describes the setting (such fantastic imagery); the dreams, yearnings and desires of the boys. The language is so poetic and, aside from a couple of places, it doesn't go over the top. Of course, this story is written from the point of looking twenty years back by our narrator, and it's no wonder that there is such harmony of themes and motifs, such tenderness in description of even the ugliest parts of life in that forsaken Eastern Siberian town. It is a meditation of youth, on East and West, and on dreaming.
Prin stilul său de exprimare, Makine reușește să te transpună în trecutul sovietic, în mijlocul Siberiei acolo unde rănile lăsate de război se vindecă cel mai greu.
"Pe vremea fluviului Amur" este povestea a trei băieți dintr-un sat siberian aflat în apropiere de un lagăr, dornici de a cunoaște viața dincolo de aceste ținuturi peste care domnește tăcerea și frigul. Ei descoperă Occidentul - o existență orbitoare, o lume liberă, prin vizionarea de 17 ori a unui film cu Belmondo. Cum e să lași în urmă taigaua, izbele îngropate în zăpadă, oamenii chinuiți de amintirea războiului și să fugi spre civilizație, spre libertate?
"Frumusețea era ultima dintre griji în ținutul în care ne-am născut, Utkin, eu și ceilalți. Acolo puteai să trăiești toată viața fără să știi dacă ești urât sau frumos, fără sa cauți taina mozaicului care e chipul unui om, nici misterul topografiei senzuale a trupului său.
Nici iubirea nu prindea rădăcini în ținutul acela auster. Iubirea pentru ea însăși a fost, cred, pur și simplu uitată - atrofiată în măcelul războiului, sugrumată de sârma ghimpată a lagărului aflat la doi pași, înghețată de vanturile polare."
A novel of such mystical beauty with subtleties so rich, each word melts in your mouth like honey. A credit to Geoffrey Strachan's wonderful translation of a tale steeped in abandonment one can't help but be moved by the prose. Once Upon The River Love is a once in a lifetime treasure. Don't deny yourself the pleasure and read it now!
This is one book that has stayed with me over the years since I finished it. The details have faded away, but the beautiful feeling I experienced from Makine's prose still revisits me from time to time.
Príbeh o dospievaní, nachádzaní vlastnej identity v uniformite a šablónovitosti života v 7O- tych rokoch na východe vtedajšieho Sovietskeho zväzu. Troch chlapcov prezývaných Utkin ( káčatko), Samuraj a Don Juan, žijúci na brehu rieky, ktorá v zime zamŕza a na mieste, v ktorom sa ľudia musia po snehovej víchrici vykopávať z domov, viaže priateľstvo, posilňované každodennou cestou do vzdialeného kina, v ktorom hrajú filmy s Belmondom.
Svet belmondových filmov, v ktorých je veľa sarkazmu a nadsázky berú chlapci smrteľne vážne a túžia prežiť rovnaké príbehy plné boja proti jasne definovanému zlu, tajným agentom a v náručí nádherných žien. Drsná každodennosť ich vlastných príbehov ich v niektorých momentoch konfrontuje so scénami filmov, ktoré videli a za ktorými museli chodiť 37 kilometrov do mesta cez tajgu, les a so snežnicami na nohách. Realita je taká drsná, že romantizujúci pohľad na ľudí a svet okolo ju robí aspoň o kúsok znesiteľnejšou. " ...všichni tři se jdeme podívat na stejný film, ale každý uvidíme jiného Belmonda." str. 128.
Každý z chlapcov má inú východiskovú situáciu s ktorou vstupuje do sveta dospelých. Cesta každého z nich je iná.
Andreï Makine a fost ales, la 3 martie 2016, în Academia Franceză, iar una dintre cărţile lui impresionante este „Pe vremea fluviului Amur”.
Pentru cititorii francezi ai romanului „Pe vremea fluviului Amur”, de Andrei Makine, Amour înseamnă, în primul rând, dragoste şi apoi numele celui mai lung râu din Rusia. Cei trei eroi ai romanului se aruncă în ambele: în valurile râului Amur …şi în valurile dragostei – amour, cum zice Belmondo, care este cea de-a patra prezenţă constantă din carte... continuarea recenziei este aici: http://goo.gl/vGfJ69
In the melancholy-poetic language of Andreï Makine we are introduced to the enormous scope and the generally grayness of the Siberian landscape. In winter, lasting seven months, it is intensely cold; spit falls in ice cubes on the frozen street. Three boys, who are mainly raised by older relatives not being their parents, spend their teenage years together in a Siberian village, completely surrounded by vast pine forests, the taiga. In the beginning they are in a fixed pattern of activities. Politically instigated production assignments control the local society. So it must be a huge contrast to notice the following influences:
Gradually, through the regularly passing trains of the Trans-Siberian Express and suddenly awakened by films with Jean-Paul Belmondo in the city, they realize that the world is bigger and different than they have experienced so far and as it has been presented to them. Makine brings to the reader the image of an enormous pendulum swing between East and West, each with its own characteristics, familiarities, ideals and freedoms. The youngsters travel far, to see the same Belmondo film seventeen times, walking more than 30 km to get there - it shows the attraction and their ambition, and they travel in their imagination. The author uses many images in his story, metaphors everywhere, comparisons that are rich in symbolism. That makes this novel beautiful literature. JM
El estilo de Makine me gusta. Ya me gustó cuando leí hace años Le testament français, y me ha vuelto a gustar ahora en esta segunda lectura. Y me gusta la ambientación, la atmósfera que crea, los personajes que dibuja. Pero en este caso me ha parecido un tanto vacuo, como si detrás de esa historia de fascinación por Occidente no hubiera nada, con lo que muchos pasajes se me aparecían como meros ejercicios estéticos. Sin embargo, he disfrutado de la lectura y seguro que volveré a Makine en el futuro.
Boys grow up in ussr. Boys watch western movie. Boys become horny. Boys grow up. Boys move to west. Boys reflect on past.
Jk this was lovely. It called to me from the used book cart at second story. To review this reductively is to complement its simplicity, from which its complexity can begin.
“Night fell and we were still marching. I did not yet know that I would remember for the rest of my life the look she gave me. In the war. Then in the camp for seven long years. And even today… Marching along in the dusk, I said to myself: ‘at night to each of them comes a memory within him. And now I have the look she gave me.’ … an illusion? A fantasy? Maybe… but thanks to that illusion I have come through hell. Yes, if I am alive, it is thanks to that look. That haven where the bullets could not touch me, where the boots of the guards bruising my ribs could not reach my heart.”
There's something so effortlessly beautiful in the way Makine builds counterpoint and the dynamic of a story, from the heat of a carefully crafted erotic encounter to the depths of the main character's austere and harsh childhood in far-east soviet Siberia.
When most people start reading a book, they begin by adjusting to the pace of the narrative, trodding along the story, adjusting their expectations and getting acclimated to the intention of the narrator, maybe checking the page number every once in a while. Then, if they're lucky and they get caught up in the story, it all stops being words on a page and drifts naturally like the moving scenery outside a train window. For me, Makine's stories jump straight to the latter.
P. S. I do have the nagging feeling that it ended too soon though. That I wanted to know more of how Dimitri fled the USSR and how he kept the legacy of his childhood alive. The pacing of the book changes abruptly in the last 30 pages and it throws you off a bit. It doesn't take from the beauty of the narrative, but it leaves you wanting more.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
6Citind această carte în lumina întâmplărilor din primăvara anului 2022, nu mai găsești familiara senzație de nostalgie pe care, de obicei, o izvorăște în noi scriitura lui Makine, ci mai degrabă trăim o premoniție. Superb scris, romanul descrie trecerea unor adolescenți pe tărâmul vieții de adulți luând cu ei cele mai frumoase visuri despre Occident, căci în jur de reflecta doar nemilosul frig al Taigalei Sovietice.
Mi-a plăcut mult și m-a cucerit mai degrabă povestea, decât scriitura, nelipsită de farmec.
Mi s-a încheiat imaginea despre această carte citind mai jos, în recenzii, pe aceea a lui Valeriu Gherghel unde încheie cu: „Andrei Makine rămâne un Ionel Teodoreanu al Academiei franceze...” 🤭
A coming of age story that ranks up with the very best, of three friends growing up together in the village of Svetlaya in eastern Siberia in the 1960s. Dimitri, a dreamy and romantic adolescent, who will leave the frozen tundra for Cinema School in Leningrad, narrates, telling lovingly of his close companions, Samurai and Utkin. Samurai has become obsessed by strength after he was sexually assaulted at ten years old, and Utkin, a much weaker boy with a limp after his leg was crushed by an ice flow, but the brains of the trio. Though their locality might seem lacking in inspiration for youths of their age, they are between 14 and 16, their escapades are full of hope and dare; whether it is Dimitri sexual initiation with a red-haired prostitute, the many miles they travel on skis to the Red October cinema to watch the films of their idol, Jean-Paul Belmondo, (sixteen times for one film alone), to their trip on the nearby Trans-Siberian railway to the east coast, and a brush with the 'Western World'. It is refreshing to read, humorous regularly, and generally, quite wonderful. Now, I need to try and get my hands on Dreams of My Russian Summers, which some reviewers say, is even better.
Richly described and dream-like storytelling of a young teenager coming to adulthood in the remote Siberian taiga. Mitya, Utkin and Samurai are close friends who grow up in an isolated community in Eastern Siberia - with gold prospectors and loggers passing through and a labour camp to the outskirts. The boys find escape when French films with Belmondo (the iconic French actor) start showing in the cinema (hours' walk in snow shoes across the taiga). They see the first film 17 times and Belmondo fever grips the imagination of the Siberians. Through the imagination of Belmondo, and their accidental trip to the Pacific Ocean by the Trans-Siberian railway and they all eventually escape out of their small community. A huge part of Mitya's metamorphosis is through sex - his experience is limited to prostitute and later a vaguely outlined relationship with a Siberian girl. Life in Eastern Siberia is harsh and the inhabitants adjust - Makine is a master of words and Eastern Siberia with the innocence of youth lingers long after the book is read.
Light and beautiful, haunted by the idea of growing suddenly and forcefully, but actually growing slowly and effortlessly, like a hesitant wild animal. A book about children growing up, about the land of the desolate taiga growing into the luxuriant forests of sexual desire, about a very Eastern Russia gradually growing more and more Western. And yet its subtle self-subversion at the end (if the narrator lied about the woman in the opening passage, how much of what he said can we consider true? did Samurai ever really go to South America? etc) gently halts all the growth we had witnessed. Is the West true? Is living in New York worth anything when you eat in a Russian restaurant anyway? Are youthful dreams useless and ridiculous? None of these are asked explicitly, but they simmer under the final episodes of the novel, again like a small wild animal that traces its steps back to its burrow.
Sviđa mi se kako Andrej Мakin sklapa svoje rečenice, veoma poetičan i nostalgičan stil. Druga njegova knjiga koju sam pročitala nakon „Muzika jednog života“, koja mi se isto dopala. Ovo je priča o odrastanju trojice dečaka iz malog sela „sa svega dvadesetak izbi“ u Sibiru, u „tmurnoj bestragiji... na kraju Zemljine kugle, ... na kraju Euroazije, tamo gde se zemlja, nebo i okean spajaju u jedno““, na obali reke Olej koja „je vijugala između dva tamna zida tajge, široka, duboka... koja se uliva u ogromnu pritoku mora: reku Amur.“ Jedan od njih, Dmitri, je narator i priča nam priču o njihovom detinjstvu, negde 70-tih godina prošlog veka... Prosto neverovatno kako se živi na drugoj strani sveta, u tom hladnom, usamljenom svetu.
Having loved Dreams of My Russian Summers, I was very disappointed in this book. Either it was intellectually above me or too confusing to follow. I did not become involved with the characters nor was I sorry to finally reach the story's end.
While I admit the work is beautifully written, in my view the plot -- pertaining to budding sexual interest as it related to a fixation on a French film actor -- is tedious and simply not interesting. I found this book tiresome. The last few chapters, relating to a reunion between friends decades later, are an exception and save this book from a lower rating.
“[Nostalgia:] of the most terrible kind: for places and faces one has never seen. Which one mourns as being lost forever. Young savage that I was, I could not know that this was simply love that had not found its object.”