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Это я - Эдичка
"Это я, Эдичка" (1979) самое известное произведение Эдуарда Лимонова (род. 1943) и самый скандальный роман из всех, когда-либо написанных на русском языке. Никому еще не удавалось превзойти его высоким градусом откровенности и чистотой литературного исполнения. Ведущие темы романа - трагедия любви, эротические опыты (гетеро и гомосексуальные), одиночество русского эмигранта в Америке.
Лицам, не достигшим совершеннолетия, читать не рекомендуется.
Лицам, не достигшим совершеннолетия, читать не рекомендуется.
335 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1978
114 people are currently reading
2921 people want to read
About the author
Eduard Limonov
172 books155 followersRussian: Эдуард Лимонов
Russian novelist and dissident political thinker.
Limonov is the leader of the unregistered National Bolshevik Party (NBP). Limonov served two years in prison for illegaly purchasing weapons.
Limonov's works are noted for their cynicism. His novels are also memoirs, describing his experiences as a youth in Russia and as émigré in the United States
Russian novelist and dissident political thinker.
Limonov is the leader of the unregistered National Bolshevik Party (NBP). Limonov served two years in prison for illegaly purchasing weapons.
Limonov's works are noted for their cynicism. His novels are also memoirs, describing his experiences as a youth in Russia and as émigré in the United States
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 207 reviews
September 2, 2018
Eduard Limonov is an incorrigible rebel. And he is one of those rebels that would revolt anywhere and against anything.
It's Me, Eddie by Eduard Limonov reminded me of the books by Charles Bukowski and Henry Miller – whatever they write about they write only about themselves. There are only them in the entire world, all the rest and all the others are just scenery and entourage…
It's Me, Eddie is stark graphic – it is a wild mixture of nostalgia and loathing, of sentimentality and squalor. But Eduard Limonov is sincere and he writes without ostentation.
Everyone is a smith of one’s own unhappiness.
I am on welfare. I live at your expense, you pay taxes and I don't do a fucking thing. Twice a month I go to the clean, spacious welfare office at 1515 Broadway and receive my checks. I consider myself to be scum, the dregs of society, I have no shame or conscience, therefore my conscience doesn't bother me and I don't plan to look for work, I want to receive your money to the end of my days. And my name is Edichka, ‘Eddie-baby.’
And you, gentlemen, can figure you're getting off cheap. Early in the morning you crawl out of your warm beds and hurry – some by car, some by subway or bus – to work. I hate work. I gobble my shchi, drink, sometimes drink myself into oblivion, seek adventure in dark city blocks; I have a magnificent, expensive white suit and an exquisite nervous system; I wince at your belly laugh in the movie theatre and wrinkle my nose.
It's Me, Eddie by Eduard Limonov reminded me of the books by Charles Bukowski and Henry Miller – whatever they write about they write only about themselves. There are only them in the entire world, all the rest and all the others are just scenery and entourage…
The laws were devised by the rich. But, as one of the proudest slogans of our unsuccessful Russian Revolution proclaims, “The right to life is higher than the right to private property!”
I have said that I did not hate the specific bearers of evil, the rich. I have even admitted that there might be among them victims of the world order. What I hated was the system, in which one man goes out of his fucking mind from boredom and idleness, or from the daily production of fresh hundreds of thousands, while another man barely earns a living at hard labor. I wanted to be an equal among equals.
It's Me, Eddie is stark graphic – it is a wild mixture of nostalgia and loathing, of sentimentality and squalor. But Eduard Limonov is sincere and he writes without ostentation.
My God! The past is so disgusting, and there's so much of it. I have more of it than most – yet I haven't amassed any things. And I do not foresee having things in the future. Shall I ever have all these little boxes, labels, tags… Never, I'm sure. I amass the immaterial…
Everyone is a smith of one’s own unhappiness.
April 27, 2023
Until recently, I was content thinking of Russian writer-turned-politician Eduard Limonov, a founder of Russia's National Bolshevik Party, as just another strange puzzling figure on the murky Russian political landscape.
Then I stumbled upon an article in my morning-off internet perusal spree that made me cautiously curious about the writer part of his image¹ (since the political part makes me really try to do a one-eyebrow raise, and I'm horrible at that).
And so I started (and, honestly, ended) my literary acquaintance with Limonov through his first novel It's Me, Eddie, a cynical memoir (or at least a memoir-ized work of fiction) of young Limonov's life in New York after leaving Soviet Union in the mid-1970s.
Let's see if I can summarize:
(1) a rambling story of a pretentious, cynical, angry and quite passive young man (a poet, by the way) full of disillusionment and bitterness...
(2) ...feeling lost in a new country that is not fitting his sensitive artsy personality;
(3) pathetically and creepily obsessed with the wife who left him;
(4) a man high on misogyny, full of feelings of exaggerated superiority over everyone and anyone while at the same time battling insecurity, depression and anger;
(5) casually experimenting with homosexuality while dwelling on the images of the aforementioned ex-wife;
(6) with a dab of not atypical Russian antisemitism, quite repulsive attitudes towards women, and feeling that however down he may be, the world still remains beneath him and his amazing nature;
(7) constantly dwelling on some aspect of his presumed moral/ethical/whatever cynical superiority ...
(8) ... all while he has deep feelings of resentment for the way his new country is treating his special snowflakeness.
(9) All this, by the way, is on the background of fully typed out frequent obscenities - not that common in Russian literature where they frequently would be spelled to the equivalent of f--k or m****r-f****r.
(10) Oh, and a few candid descriptions of sex.
Phew!
No, I did not like Limonov's book. Yes, the only feelings it evoked in me was bored irritation and frequent checking of how much longer until the end of it.
Limonov's protagonist was simply irritating (reading his thoughts was similar to imagining the screeching sounds the nails make on a chalkboard, if I have to compare it to anything), and sex and obscenities alone are not enough to sustain attention of this freely-swearing gynecologist. On the other hand, misogyny, self-pity mixed with self-entitlement, and constant whining and bile were grating on my nerves in a very unsettling fashion.
The intended message of this book, as far as I can even find one, is that because the world sucks it's okay to be an asshole bitching about unfairness in the most pretentious fashion one can imagine.
If the intent was to shock the reader, it failed with me. If the intent was to sigh in relief that this very "meh" book has ended, then it served its purpose.
From now on, I'm content with occasionally seeing mentions of Limonov in Russian political news (since Russian politics can often be a neverending source of black humor) and to stay way from his literary efforts. 1 exasperated star.
Then I stumbled upon an article in my morning-off internet perusal spree that made me cautiously curious about the writer part of his image¹ (since the political part makes me really try to do a one-eyebrow raise, and I'm horrible at that).
The aforementioned article, if you're interested: http://globalvoicesonline.org/2013/05...
And so I started (and, honestly, ended) my literary acquaintance with Limonov through his first novel It's Me, Eddie, a cynical memoir (or at least a memoir-ized work of fiction) of young Limonov's life in New York after leaving Soviet Union in the mid-1970s.
Let's see if I can summarize:
(1) a rambling story of a pretentious, cynical, angry and quite passive young man (a poet, by the way) full of disillusionment and bitterness...
(2) ...feeling lost in a new country that is not fitting his sensitive artsy personality;
(3) pathetically and creepily obsessed with the wife who left him;
(4) a man high on misogyny, full of feelings of exaggerated superiority over everyone and anyone while at the same time battling insecurity, depression and anger;
(5) casually experimenting with homosexuality while dwelling on the images of the aforementioned ex-wife;
(6) with a dab of not atypical Russian antisemitism, quite repulsive attitudes towards women, and feeling that however down he may be, the world still remains beneath him and his amazing nature;
(7) constantly dwelling on some aspect of his presumed moral/ethical/whatever cynical superiority ...
(8) ... all while he has deep feelings of resentment for the way his new country is treating his special snowflakeness.
(9) All this, by the way, is on the background of fully typed out frequent obscenities - not that common in Russian literature where they frequently would be spelled to the equivalent of f--k or m****r-f****r.
(10) Oh, and a few candid descriptions of sex.
Phew!
No, I did not like Limonov's book. Yes, the only feelings it evoked in me was bored irritation and frequent checking of how much longer until the end of it.
Limonov's protagonist was simply irritating (reading his thoughts was similar to imagining the screeching sounds the nails make on a chalkboard, if I have to compare it to anything), and sex and obscenities alone are not enough to sustain attention of this freely-swearing gynecologist. On the other hand, misogyny, self-pity mixed with self-entitlement, and constant whining and bile were grating on my nerves in a very unsettling fashion.
The intended message of this book, as far as I can even find one, is that because the world sucks it's okay to be an asshole bitching about unfairness in the most pretentious fashion one can imagine.
If the intent was to shock the reader, it failed with me. If the intent was to sigh in relief that this very "meh" book has ended, then it served its purpose.
From now on, I'm content with occasionally seeing mentions of Limonov in Russian political news (since Russian politics can often be a neverending source of black humor) and to stay way from his literary efforts. 1 exasperated star.
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March 18, 2025Limonovljevo pripovedanje računa sa onim prećutnim autofikcionalnim aksiomom: proživljeno je nadređeno literarnom. Onda je uobičajeno da priča bude simbolički "prizemna" i poprilično labava. Recimo da ovde pratimo potucanja ruskog literate [Edička kao alterego] po Njujorku nakon što ga je ostavila supruga. Dinamizovana priključenija treba samo koliko-toliko zanatski vispreno izliti na papir, ukoliko već [daleko bilo!] nema aspiracija ka dubljem promišljanju forme i uzusa žanra. Dalje se rutinerski igra na karte istinitosti* (ako ko još pada na fol), ambivalentne dopadljivosti narativno favorizovanog subjekta (mada mu se prividno fućka, želi on da nam se sviđa i kad nam se ne sviđa) i ekskluzivnosti vlastitog iskustva koje želi da nam se saopšti a bez kojeg ne treba ni sedati za sto, premda ne treba baš ni zaigrati "all in".
Narativna lica "Ja, Edičke" - ajoj, kako me samo nervira govor o sebi u 3. licu! - prevashodno su marginalna. A je li i moglo drugačije?!
- Imigrant na socijalnoj pomoći, koji s vremena na vreme nalikuje orvelovskom "nikome i ničemu" samo u Njujorku, što romanu daje izvesnu klasno angažovanu primamljivost. Orvel se, doduše, ne busa zbog svog JA ili svog UMETNIČKOG POZVANJA, za razliku od Edičke koji nije sav u tome, ali nije ni da nije. Za početak, dovoljno je uporediti naslove.
- Zvanično nekanonizovani, što će reći antiakademski ali (sobomnamećući) kultni pisac koji dostojanstveno ne parazitira na antisovjetskom disidentskom statusu. O, Edi-bejbi, pozdravljam. Odatle je jasniji bif sa Solženjicinom koji će te nazvati insektom koji piše pornografiju.
- Supružnik kome se bračno i postbračno nabijaju rogovi. Hteo-ne hteo bivšu mora isterati iz glave (gornje i donje), a Edička je, ako je ko i posumnjao, jebač koji jebanjem gasi jebanje, ostavljenost i usamljenost. Često zbog obaveznih seksualnih pika(nte)rija*** ovakvi narativi znaju da skliznu u (polu)pornografsku šokantnost ili papirno iživljavanje fetiša. No, bez obzira na sve, Edi-bejbi, zatvori oči sada, i dalje pati za draganom.****
Sve u svemu, zadata matrica zna bude potrošna i(li) napadna, naročito ako/kada sablažnjivi mehurići šoka ishlape ili se pretera u (samo)hvalisanju ili se pročita više ovakvih narativa.
Nije baš da sam pao na dupe.
*Kada mu ustreba u političke svrhe, Limonov će se brže-bolje ograditi od opisanih homoseksualnih doživljaja.
**Argatovanje u hotelu, muljanje po njujorškim ulicama i ćumezima, upoznavanje sa raznorodnim tipovima urbane džungle. Vorholova velvet-underground bananica sa naslovnice novijeg LOM-ovog izdanja upravo to treba da sugeriše.
***It's Miller time kao prva asocijacija, mada su mi na pameti i Radakovićev "Sjaj epohe" i Oklopdžićev "CA. blues". Opasne stvari, seks, droge i alkohol, u koje Limonov uštrcava i homoseksualno.
****Dragana će mu 1984. i knjiški udariti cajper.
Narativna lica "Ja, Edičke" - ajoj, kako me samo nervira govor o sebi u 3. licu! - prevashodno su marginalna. A je li i moglo drugačije?!
- Imigrant na socijalnoj pomoći, koji s vremena na vreme nalikuje orvelovskom "nikome i ničemu" samo u Njujorku, što romanu daje izvesnu klasno angažovanu primamljivost. Orvel se, doduše, ne busa zbog svog JA ili svog UMETNIČKOG POZVANJA, za razliku od Edičke koji nije sav u tome, ali nije ni da nije. Za početak, dovoljno je uporediti naslove.
- Zvanično nekanonizovani, što će reći antiakademski ali (sobomnamećući) kultni pisac koji dostojanstveno ne parazitira na antisovjetskom disidentskom statusu. O, Edi-bejbi, pozdravljam. Odatle je jasniji bif sa Solženjicinom koji će te nazvati insektom koji piše pornografiju.
- Supružnik kome se bračno i postbračno nabijaju rogovi. Hteo-ne hteo bivšu mora isterati iz glave (gornje i donje), a Edička je, ako je ko i posumnjao, jebač koji jebanjem gasi jebanje, ostavljenost i usamljenost. Često zbog obaveznih seksualnih pika(nte)rija*** ovakvi narativi znaju da skliznu u (polu)pornografsku šokantnost ili papirno iživljavanje fetiša. No, bez obzira na sve, Edi-bejbi, zatvori oči sada, i dalje pati za draganom.****
Sve u svemu, zadata matrica zna bude potrošna i(li) napadna, naročito ako/kada sablažnjivi mehurići šoka ishlape ili se pretera u (samo)hvalisanju ili se pročita više ovakvih narativa.
Nije baš da sam pao na dupe.
*Kada mu ustreba u političke svrhe, Limonov će se brže-bolje ograditi od opisanih homoseksualnih doživljaja.
**Argatovanje u hotelu, muljanje po njujorškim ulicama i ćumezima, upoznavanje sa raznorodnim tipovima urbane džungle. Vorholova velvet-underground bananica sa naslovnice novijeg LOM-ovog izdanja upravo to treba da sugeriše.
***It's Miller time kao prva asocijacija, mada su mi na pameti i Radakovićev "Sjaj epohe" i Oklopdžićev "CA. blues". Opasne stvari, seks, droge i alkohol, u koje Limonov uštrcava i homoseksualno.
****Dragana će mu 1984. i knjiški udariti cajper.
May 11, 2025
I first discovered Limonov in the Georges Pompidou Library in Paris, in the late nineties, when I was living like a clochard and would go there to nap — on the soft carpets between the bookshelves. There wasn’t much Russian literature to put under your head back then — Dostoevsky, Bunin, and Limonov. That’s how he entered me — not through protest, not through shock value, but through that strange, almost blessed time, when loneliness smelled of bread, leather RER seats, and expired freedom.
It’s Me, Eddie is not a novel, but a cult confession of a nonconformist — the raw voice of an exile, stripped down to the muscle. It’s about loneliness, lust, humiliation, ambition — but without complaint. The voice of someone pushed outside: outside of the homeland, outside of decency, outside even of his own fate.
He is ruthless to himself, cynical, and at times — uncannily precise. Vulgar and poetic. Foolish and sharp. In love with pain, and aching for recognition. He speaks plainly. You don’t want to analyze him — you just want to sit beside him. His brutality and physicality don’t repel — they draw you in, because there’s a kind of truth there. Not social truth, not literary — but something nocturnal, like when you’re sitting on the steps by the Seine, finishing someone else’s joint, and finally stop lying to yourself.
You don’t read it for the plot — and rereading it now, years later, I see it even clearer: you read it because you recognize something of your own in this homeless Eddie. A hunger for the real, a rage against emptiness, a desperate need to feel alive.
It’s Me, Eddie is not a novel, but a cult confession of a nonconformist — the raw voice of an exile, stripped down to the muscle. It’s about loneliness, lust, humiliation, ambition — but without complaint. The voice of someone pushed outside: outside of the homeland, outside of decency, outside even of his own fate.
He is ruthless to himself, cynical, and at times — uncannily precise. Vulgar and poetic. Foolish and sharp. In love with pain, and aching for recognition. He speaks plainly. You don’t want to analyze him — you just want to sit beside him. His brutality and physicality don’t repel — they draw you in, because there’s a kind of truth there. Not social truth, not literary — but something nocturnal, like when you’re sitting on the steps by the Seine, finishing someone else’s joint, and finally stop lying to yourself.
You don’t read it for the plot — and rereading it now, years later, I see it even clearer: you read it because you recognize something of your own in this homeless Eddie. A hunger for the real, a rage against emptiness, a desperate need to feel alive.
April 27, 2011
One of the best books of the 20th century. Limonov stirs up a poet's rage against everything that is anti-human, everything that is repressive and stifling . . . His solution - tear it all down. Eddie-Baby leaves the USSR for America with promises of riches, women, drugs, and artistic liberty. He finds abject poverty, his wife leaves him, wine and vodka still suffice, and unique voices are marginalized as much in America as they are in Russia; in short, nothing changes. Passion and love are juxtaposed with the rote boredom of work and urban life. Along the way, Limonov takes aim at political activists, Russians, Americans, men, women, and especially our predilection to surrender to life. He rarely misses his mark . . . The sentiment is close to that one found in the romantics, especially the 19th century rebellion against urbanity and the industrial mode of life.
There's a short section early in the book where Limonov accuses his reader of being a slave to work, of having a petty bourgeois mentality, and a pathetic soul. This is capped off by the admonition, "You're shit!" It's hard to disagree, put in those terms. With Eddie as my accuser, I'd confess to anything . . .
Ignore the reviewers who are shocked by Limonov's provocations. What is shocking is not sleeping with a black man on the street, but living a beige life.
For those interested, Limonov's politics also show an early alignment with national bolshevism and a repudiation of anglo liberalism. We see somewhat weaker critiques of the early Bolsheviks, and especially a condemnation of the post-Khrushchev Russian bureaucratic state.
Limonov's prose has a tendency to reach hysterical levels of emotion; whether this is a good or bad mark will probably depend on the reader.
There's a short section early in the book where Limonov accuses his reader of being a slave to work, of having a petty bourgeois mentality, and a pathetic soul. This is capped off by the admonition, "You're shit!" It's hard to disagree, put in those terms. With Eddie as my accuser, I'd confess to anything . . .
Ignore the reviewers who are shocked by Limonov's provocations. What is shocking is not sleeping with a black man on the street, but living a beige life.
For those interested, Limonov's politics also show an early alignment with national bolshevism and a repudiation of anglo liberalism. We see somewhat weaker critiques of the early Bolsheviks, and especially a condemnation of the post-Khrushchev Russian bureaucratic state.
Limonov's prose has a tendency to reach hysterical levels of emotion; whether this is a good or bad mark will probably depend on the reader.
January 4, 2008
An incredibly vulgar and pretentious book. Written in an attempt to "shock" and most of it copies Henry Miller in his "Sexus, Plexus, Nexus" Trilogy. Overall entertaining, and I could see and understand where he was coming from... definitely not boring! Made me blush while reading in the NY subways. So cocky!
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January 13, 2023Read up on Eduard Limonov sometime. Turns out he likes pretty much all the ideologies all the time, a true weirdo. He died before Putin walked into a big field of rakes in the Donbass, but something tells me he would do some kind of weird Mishima-like move and say that Putin should hang himself in shame for failing to be sufficiently nationalist. And then mutter something about kulaks and go have some gay sex with one while denouncing the NATO homosexual agenda.
And it's hard to ignore his extremely weird biography when reading his very, very fun novel It's Me, Eddie, which is a portrait of the New York of Patti Smith and Lou Reed from a decidedly different point of view. It's beautifully moving and it's also a complete screed and what you imagine would come out of Dostoyevsky's underground man if he lived on the Bowery back before there was a Whole Foods there, and spent his time trolling for BBC. That should be a ringing endorsement, shouldn't it?
And it's hard to ignore his extremely weird biography when reading his very, very fun novel It's Me, Eddie, which is a portrait of the New York of Patti Smith and Lou Reed from a decidedly different point of view. It's beautifully moving and it's also a complete screed and what you imagine would come out of Dostoyevsky's underground man if he lived on the Bowery back before there was a Whole Foods there, and spent his time trolling for BBC. That should be a ringing endorsement, shouldn't it?
September 25, 2020
Η ζωή πίσω από το αμερικανικό όνειρο. Το δήθεν πλεονέκτημα της φιλελεύθερης δύσης έναντι της μιζερης σοβιετικής παράνοιας. Ωστόσο το περιθώριο χωράει πάντα όσους η αξιοπρέπεια δεν τους επιτρέπει να γίνουν χρήσιμοι ηλίθιοι. αυτοβιογραφικό εγωτικο και βαθιά αληθινό ένα πραγματικό διαμάντι!
4/5 ανεπιφύλακτα
4/5 ανεπιφύλακτα
October 30, 2012
This is the first russian book I read that had curses actually printed in it. I know in English it is not a big deal but actually see in the Cyrillic print, in the same font my pledge of allegiance to the young pioneers had been printed in -- "I fingerfucked her cunt for what seemed to be forever" was an unsettling and unforgettable experience. Besides the shock volume it's ok -- the usual bitch and moan of a misunderstood artist. This is an important book in the content of its time -- the close-up of the apocalyptic horseman.
February 16, 2022
Мне кажется, через 40 с лишним лет после первой публикации, эта книга читается совсем по-другому: англоязычных заимствований в современном русском языке стало чуть ли не больше чем в эмигрантской речи 70-х, в "откровенных" сценах нет ничего откровеннее того что мы видим в каждом втором фильме или книжке с рейтингом 16+ (я уж не говорю про, эм, профильные сайты), нравы богемной тусовки Нью-Йорка нас шокируют сильно меньше, чем идущие тут же рядом через строчку описания шалостей Харьковской молодёжи времён Эдичкиного отрочества, к мату через слово в письменной речи мы давно уже привыкли: спасибо, интернет.
Всё скандальное, чем книга и знаменита, облетело как шелуха, осталась щемящая история эмигранта, не нашедшего новой родины и потерявшего старую. А заодно с ней - и будущее, и любовь и какой-то понятный смысл существования.
Всё скандальное, чем книга и знаменита, облетело как шелуха, осталась щемящая история эмигранта, не нашедшего новой родины и потерявшего старую. А заодно с ней - и будущее, и любовь и какой-то понятный смысл существования.
February 19, 2021
Patiko, bet kažkuriuo momentu dulkinimosi, siuntinėjimo ant trijų raidžių ir savęs niokojimo pasidarė per daug.
December 16, 2012
Yeah...someone recommended this book to me in a dentist's office...I found it on the street and loved it. Actually, memoires of Russian punk might be even better.
November 12, 2007
This book is partly responsible for my acting like an asshole for as long as i did. I heard that Ayn Rand has the same effect. Eduard collects welfare in his crummy apartment, buys wine, and walks around at night wearing a white three-piece suit. He carries no money and therefore doesn't have to worry about being robbed. Plus he hates women. That about sums it up. Arrested for attempting to assemble an army in Russia to invade Kazakhistan. I heard him on NPR recently discussing the protest movement in Russia. They never mentioned the novels he wrote.
August 27, 2012
This was not a perfect book, but it's one of the best books ever written. The protagonist was a miserable wretch sometimes, but his life was that of a miserable wretch sometimes too. Deeply romantic and moving. Both in the classical sense and the general sense. The version I read was translated from Russian by S.L.Campbell (1983). I cannot speak for any other translation, but I do recommend this one as fantastic. Some of the diction and dialogue is what makes it one of the best books ever written.
May 6, 2016
Трогательная история так и не выросшего, оставшегося бунтарём и революционером ребёнка.
Где-то к середине книги поймал себя на острой жалости и сопережевании герою, и почему-то вспомнился Метроленд — появилось ощущение, что ты рос с Эдичкой, и он не предал своих идеалов, а ты шаг за шагом ушёл от своих, и теперь, годы спустя, с надменным недоумением наблюдаешь кажущиеся тебе надуманными проблемы старого друга.
Где-то к середине книги поймал себя на острой жалости и сопережевании герою, и почему-то вспомнился Метроленд — появилось ощущение, что ты рос с Эдичкой, и он не предал своих идеалов, а ты шаг за шагом ушёл от своих, и теперь, годы спустя, с надменным недоумением наблюдаешь кажущиеся тебе надуманными проблемы старого друга.
August 30, 2018
If you read this book with any trace of pride or insecurity - in other words, in a normal state of mind - you're not going to understand it. If you're at home, or if you feel comfortable somewhere else, or if you have anything to lose at all, you're going to hate it.
If you read this at your worst, when nothing seems to be going right and you don't belong anywhere, then you'll understand it.
If you read this at your worst, when nothing seems to be going right and you don't belong anywhere, then you'll understand it.
December 6, 2021
Очень похоже на Генри Миллера, мне такое нравится, и Эдичка понравился. Никакого отторжения текст не вызвал, да и та самая сцена с негром не так чтобы сюжетнообразующая, а вот подишь ты, разговоры только о ней при упоминании книги.
April 19, 2020
Λέει ο Λιμονοφ στο "Ένας Ρώσος ποιητής προτιμά τους μεγάλους νέγρους" :
"Την ώρα που εγώ καθαρίζω τα πιάτα από τα αποφάγια σας η γυναίκα μου πηδιέται κι
εσείς διασκεδάζετε μαζί της , απλώς και μόνο λόγω της ανισότητας που της επιβάλλει να
έχει ένα μουνί για πούλημα , ενώ εγώ δεν έχω. Θα τον καταστρέψω τον κόσμο σας μ'
αυτούς τους άντρες που δεν είναι τίποτα".
Ο Λιμόνοφ έχει τόπο και χρόνο, είναι ένας εμιγκρές στις ΗΠΑ στα 70s από την
πρώην ΕΣΣΔ όπου διαπιστώνει τη φτώχεια , τη μιζέρια των εργατών και την
ανυποληψία των ποιητών στην "χώρα της επαγγελίας¨, την καπιταλιστική Αμερική . Ταυτόχρονα χάνει την κοπέλα του, που για να κυνηγήσει καριέρα μοντέλου κάθεται σε πλούσιους. Ο ήρωας του Λιμόνοφ βρίσκεται σε διαρκή αναζήτηση, πολιτική, υπαρξιακή και σεξουαλική σε μια χώρα εχθρική και ξένη, πρακτικά γράφει ένα πολιτικό βιβλίο οργισμένο και τελικά με την βιωμένη εμπειρία του (ο Λιμόνοφ πράγματι ήταν εμιγκρές στις ΗΠΑ κι έπειτα ηγέτης ενός παράδοξου εθνομπολσεβίκικου κόμματος στη μετασοβιετική ρωσία) δίνει πειστικά επιχειρήματα:
"Πώς; Δε σας αρέσω; Δε θέλετε να με πληρώσετε; Διακόσια εβδομήντα οχτώ δολάρια το μήνα είναι λίγα. Δε θέλετε να με πληρώνετε παρ' ολα αυτά; Καλώς. Τότε τι στο διάολο με ξεσηκώσατε απο τη Ρωσία μαζί με ένα σωρό Εβραίους; Να πάτε να κάνετε τα παράπονα σας για την προπαγάνδα σας, είναι πολύ ισχυρή. Εκείνη σας αδειάζει την τσέπη, όχι εγώ"(σελ. 9)
Ο Λιμόνοφ είναι πολύ ιδιαίτερη περίπτωση. Σε αυτό το πραγματικά καλό βιβλίο η εμπειρία του ως εργαζομένου, ως απένταρου εμιγκρέ δίνεται με εξαιρετικό τρόπο, αλλά το ακόμα πιο ενδιαφέρον -και για τα σημερινά ακόμα δεδομένα- είναι το θάρρος με το οποίο σπάει επιθετικά και λάγνα το πρότυπο του κραταιού στρέιτ ρώσικου αρσενικού όταν γλαφυρά περιγράφει τις τυχαίες σεξουαλικές επαφές με φτωχούς μαύρους σε πάρκα και σκάλες. Ένα ακόμα συν στο βιβλίο είναι οτι διαθέτει μια από τις καλύτερες ενάρξεις πεζογραφίας που έχω διαβάσει, απλά περιγράφοντας τον ήρωα στον δεκατο έκτο όροφο ημίγυμνο να τρώει λαχανόσουπα. Απίστευτα αντιφατική περσόνα αυτός ο Λιμόνοφ.
"Την ώρα που εγώ καθαρίζω τα πιάτα από τα αποφάγια σας η γυναίκα μου πηδιέται κι
εσείς διασκεδάζετε μαζί της , απλώς και μόνο λόγω της ανισότητας που της επιβάλλει να
έχει ένα μουνί για πούλημα , ενώ εγώ δεν έχω. Θα τον καταστρέψω τον κόσμο σας μ'
αυτούς τους άντρες που δεν είναι τίποτα".
Ο Λιμόνοφ έχει τόπο και χρόνο, είναι ένας εμιγκρές στις ΗΠΑ στα 70s από την
πρώην ΕΣΣΔ όπου διαπιστώνει τη φτώχεια , τη μιζέρια των εργατών και την
ανυποληψία των ποιητών στην "χώρα της επαγγελίας¨, την καπιταλιστική Αμερική . Ταυτόχρονα χάνει την κοπέλα του, που για να κυνηγήσει καριέρα μοντέλου κάθεται σε πλούσιους. Ο ήρωας του Λιμόνοφ βρίσκεται σε διαρκή αναζήτηση, πολιτική, υπαρξιακή και σεξουαλική σε μια χώρα εχθρική και ξένη, πρακτικά γράφει ένα πολιτικό βιβλίο οργισμένο και τελικά με την βιωμένη εμπειρία του (ο Λιμόνοφ πράγματι ήταν εμιγκρές στις ΗΠΑ κι έπειτα ηγέτης ενός παράδοξου εθνομπολσεβίκικου κόμματος στη μετασοβιετική ρωσία) δίνει πειστικά επιχειρήματα:
"Πώς; Δε σας αρέσω; Δε θέλετε να με πληρώσετε; Διακόσια εβδομήντα οχτώ δολάρια το μήνα είναι λίγα. Δε θέλετε να με πληρώνετε παρ' ολα αυτά; Καλώς. Τότε τι στο διάολο με ξεσηκώσατε απο τη Ρωσία μαζί με ένα σωρό Εβραίους; Να πάτε να κάνετε τα παράπονα σας για την προπαγάνδα σας, είναι πολύ ισχυρή. Εκείνη σας αδειάζει την τσέπη, όχι εγώ"(σελ. 9)
Ο Λιμόνοφ είναι πολύ ιδιαίτερη περίπτωση. Σε αυτό το πραγματικά καλό βιβλίο η εμπειρία του ως εργαζομένου, ως απένταρου εμιγκρέ δίνεται με εξαιρετικό τρόπο, αλλά το ακόμα πιο ενδιαφέρον -και για τα σημερινά ακόμα δεδομένα- είναι το θάρρος με το οποίο σπάει επιθετικά και λάγνα το πρότυπο του κραταιού στρέιτ ρώσικου αρσενικού όταν γλαφυρά περιγράφει τις τυχαίες σεξουαλικές επαφές με φτωχούς μαύρους σε πάρκα και σκάλες. Ένα ακόμα συν στο βιβλίο είναι οτι διαθέτει μια από τις καλύτερες ενάρξεις πεζογραφίας που έχω διαβάσει, απλά περιγράφοντας τον ήρωα στον δεκατο έκτο όροφο ημίγυμνο να τρώει λαχανόσουπα. Απίστευτα αντιφατική περσόνα αυτός ο Λιμόνοφ.
May 4, 2010
I read this book, cause I was curious about the "Limonov sucked a black man's cock" allegations. Thankfully the Dutch ( and also the French and Italian ) translation is called "The Russian poet likes big Negroes" Leave it to the Germans to call it "Fuck off, America" Maybe Germans don't see sucking a black man's cock as such a big deal.
The content, of course it could do with less gay sex and masturbation. It tells the story of a Russian emigre dissident, who is forced to take welfare and has lost all hope about free America. He becomes cynic and depressed and so on and so on.
It criticizes the glorifying rhetoric about America of Russian dissidents at that time and the neglect of the Russian dissidents by the American government. Russian scholars and poets were forced to work as busboys and movers. It served them right probably.
The content, of course it could do with less gay sex and masturbation. It tells the story of a Russian emigre dissident, who is forced to take welfare and has lost all hope about free America. He becomes cynic and depressed and so on and so on.
It criticizes the glorifying rhetoric about America of Russian dissidents at that time and the neglect of the Russian dissidents by the American government. Russian scholars and poets were forced to work as busboys and movers. It served them right probably.
July 10, 2015
For me the antidote to my political problem with the novel was Limonov, who is styled as a commoner literature, writing frankly about personal adventures, problems, and dreams. And, I must say, I identified with it.
Once Limonov gets in your brain you'll never try to write a Great American Novel.
Once Limonov gets in your brain you'll never try to write a Great American Novel.
March 18, 2020
It's an interesting book but the material feels overly familiar considering how thoroughly it was summarized in Carrère's Limonov. Which is my own fault, of course. I definitely prefer Limonov's Kharkov to his New York. I liked the last chapter, though, and I'll read His Butler's Story eventually.
July 3, 2023
Podstawowa różnica między Polską a Rosją jest taka, że w Polsce się głosuje na Kukiza, a w Rosji nie głosuje na Limonowa.
(Teraz Limonow nie żyje, a Kukiz zamienił się w Mentzena, ale książka chyba jeszcze bardziej mi się podobała.)
Aнгиел ебаный <3
(Teraz Limonow nie żyje, a Kukiz zamienił się w Mentzena, ale książka chyba jeszcze bardziej mi się podobała.)
Aнгиел ебаный <3
February 3, 2025
Лучше бы Эдичка делал все то, что он описывает в книге, молча, продолжая страдать по ушедшей от него жене и ее, как он выражается, «пипке». Бульварное чтиво без сюжета и смысла.
February 11, 2024
ну мой, раздал всем
November 16, 2013
прочитал то, что является по признанию многих если не культовой, то знаковой для Лимонова книгой. впечатлил ужасный слог. режут глаз тут и там разбросанные по тексту американизмы "парти" "собвей" и прочие непонятно для чего втиснутые в повествовательную картину неправильно произнесенные иностранные слова. много нытья, скулежа и запредельного меганарцисизма. в книге заложен фундамент для будущих манифестов в духе уже хрестоматийного "все отнять и поделить". в принципе все последующие книги развивают основные векторы, заложенные в этом романе. вот только с искусно описанными гомосексуальными актами автор решил завязать. если не в жизни, то хотя бы на страницах своих будущих книг. паства не поймет, да и до сих пор не понимает похоже ;)
и да, без Лимонова не было бы Могутина с Малатовым, да и Стогов с Прилепиным бы ни за что не вылупились.
и да, без Лимонова не было бы Могутина с Малатовым, да и Стогов с Прилепиным бы ни за что не вылупились.
January 27, 2022
Limonov - soviet émigré and future leader of the Russian National Bolshevik Party - lives on benefits in New York, eating cabbage soup and sunbathing in the nude. There, in the land of opportunity, he finds that things in the US are no better than in the Soviet Union.
Like a real life Underground Man, Limonov is consumed both by a rage against society and a desperate need to be loved. He is Jordan Peterson's worst nightmare. He hates women, so he turns to men. He hates the rich and he hates their world - damning them to hell. He is essentially a pathetic figure who gets up to very little except imagining violent revenge fantasies against society and his ex-wife.
Poet, leftist, bum - it's him, Eddie.
Like a real life Underground Man, Limonov is consumed both by a rage against society and a desperate need to be loved. He is Jordan Peterson's worst nightmare. He hates women, so he turns to men. He hates the rich and he hates their world - damning them to hell. He is essentially a pathetic figure who gets up to very little except imagining violent revenge fantasies against society and his ex-wife.
Poet, leftist, bum - it's him, Eddie.
November 5, 2012
очень понравилось, особенно первая половина: так дерзко, с матом - в естественном его необходимом количестве, и пронизано всё таким откровенным отчаянием.. не стесняясь как самовлюблённости так и самоунижения вывалил весь свой мир на бумагу, - во всяком случае такое ощущение. Порнография, любовь, алкоголизм, человеческая потерянность, интересная ломаная последовательность.
К концу повторяется и чуть приедается, но всё равно впечатление сильное.
К концу повторяется и чуть приедается, но всё равно впечатление сильное.
August 23, 2020
Лимонов мёртв, но тут он? живее всех живых. А ещё большая любовь и классовая ненависть с концентрированным ресентиментом. Очень хорошо.
И, наверное, тот редкий случай, когда самовлюбленность не раздражает ни капли.
И, наверное, тот редкий случай, когда самовлюбленность не раздражает ни капли.
December 30, 2009
the best book i ever read!
October 31, 2015
Uwielbiam tego pana i się tego nie wstydzę!
(Zresztą, Mike to dobrze podsumował w swojej recenzji, nie trzeba nic dodawać)
(Zresztą, Mike to dobrze podsumował w swojej recenzji, nie trzeba nic dodawać)
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