El parc

by Sergei Dovlatov, Miquel Cabal Guarro (Translator)

Borís Alikhànov fa temps que no té feina, s’acaba de separar i decideix passar l’estiu fent de guia al Parc Puixkin. Una bona manera de fugir dels maldecaps i fer la seva a la ciutat de vacances. Viu a un allotjament atrotinat que paga en espècies: aiguardent i cigarrets. Borís va trampejant entre un personal devot del poeta Puixkin, la gent del poble i atenent els grups organitzats que pugen en autobús de visita al paradís de bedolls i art, fent ús creatiu dels seus recursos literaris i vitals. Al Parc hi recupera un cert equilibri, entre la moderada jovialitat i una tristesa resignada en un microcosmos –suposadament– benigne, una miniatura de la Unió Soviètica. Però, de tant en tant, té el pressentiment que allò no pot durar per sempre. I no s’equivoca, rebrà una visita imprevista que ho destarotarà. De cop i volta, s’avergonyirà de la casa, de la feina, les concessions que ha fet i es veurà abocat a replantejar-se el seu futur topant amb la crua realitat de la qual pretenia escapar: la possibilitat irreal de prendre les regnes del seu destí.

Genres: Fiction, Russia, Russian Literature, Humor, Classics, 20th Century, Novels

132 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1983

About the author

Sergei Dovlatov (Russian: Сергей Довлатов) was born in Ufa, Bashkiria (U.S.S.R.), in 1941. He dropped out of the University of Leningrad after two years and was drafted into the army, serving as a guard in high-security prison camps. In 1965 he began to work as a journalist, first in Leningrad and then in Tallinn, Estonia. After a period of intense harassment by the authorities, he emigrated to the United States in 1978. He lived in New York until his death in 1990.

Reviews

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sometimes when life is going downhill attempts to start toeing the line may just exacerbate the situation… And turn one’s existence into an unpremeditated fun…

Natella had come from Moscow at the urge of romantic, or rather reckless ideas. A physicist by education, she worked as a schoolteacher. She decided to spend her three-month holiday here. And regretted coming. The Preserve was total pandemonium. The tour guides and methodologists were nuts. The tourists were ignorant pigs. And everyone was crazy about Pushkin. Crazy about their love for Pushkin. Crazy about their love for their love. The only decent person was Markov…
‘Who is Markov?’
‘A photographer. And a hopeless drunk. I’ll introduce you. He taught me to drink Agdam. It’s out of this world. He can teach you too…’
‘Much obliged. But I’m afraid that in that department I myself am an expert.’

This short passage perfectly portrays the state of affairs in the Preserve, in the entire country and in the souls and minds of its dwellers in that unforgettable epoch of the grand farcical ideals.

[Matthias · Rating 4 out of 5]

I like to get drunk.

This statement is true and non-fictional but it should not cause you, dear compassionate reader, to worry. My liking of alcohol’s immediate effects is nothing compared to my dislike of its mid- and longer term consequences. I’ve got the stomach of a baby so I can't take the habit far enough to even call it a habit, as every fibre of my body seems to protest vehemently against overzealous drinking.

But I like my peripheral vision to get blurrier for the sake of a greater perceptibility of that which is right in front of me. I like the generous warmth that my numbed brainwaves seem to emit towards everything around me. I like to tap into that pond of easy truths, too often soiled by the bleak reality reflected in it. After three beers it feels like I’m jumping into that pond, diving to the bottom and marvelling at the colourful shells and fish. The world of sound is far away, my movements are slower and when I look from the sandy bottom up to the watery surface the only conclusion I can reach is that everything outside of the pond is, quite simply put, ridiculous. People’s faces look warped, their actions look stilted and their words are gibberish, but despite the light playing tricks on me I see everything around me for what it is: ludicrous. It’s a completely blissful experience, if not for the fact that my body will be forced to resurface. As my head breaks through the surface the light hurts my eyes, the noise hurts my ears and the beautiful shell I took with me is nothing but a piece of dead wood. Is it so weak to be inclined to dive back in again?

Apart from getting drunk, I like reading about people who do. It allows me to find those shells again without the resurfacing to reality being all too painful. Bukowski’s “Post Office” was my first encounter with literature by or about those who liked to toil around in the pond and had to come to terms with what awaited them on the shores, and with Dovlatov I found a new favourite in this particular genre.

Pushkin Hills tells the story of a recovering alcoholic and struggling writer, Boris Alikhanov, who finds himself a job as a tour guide in the eponymous preserved estate. The book is mainly carried by the protagonist’s wit that comes from having dived into the pond once or twice too often, the kind of acuity that seems to cling to an alcoholic like wet clothes to a body. This wit is often translated into astute observations on the colourful cast of characters, which is what impressed me the most in this book. It’s as if Dovlatov possesses a peculiar brand of efficiency that manages to retain all the warmth of that which he is describing without needing more than two adjectives to do it. It's this generosity coupled with modesty that made this book sound a lot less self-centered and vitriolic than Bukowski's famous novel, and more pleasant as a result.

This is a book about impressions rather than plot, but as I saw Boris take another plunge in the pond I could not help but sympathise with his plight, gain an understanding of his philosophy and hope with liver and soul that he would be alright. A very special read.

Zazdaróvye. To your health, Boris.

[AiK · Rating 5 out of 5]

Совковая убогая правда заключена в этой маленькой повести. Грустная история о спившемся, но несломленном диссиденте, вся вина которого состоит в простом инакомыслии. Инакомыслие проявляется даже на работе – в крамольных вопросах о подлинниках артефактов, въедливости к истории Пушкина, не говоря уже о книгах, которые никто не осмеливается печатать. Судьба многих советских диссидентов, которые таким образом оставались без средств к существованию и были вынуждены скатиться к алкоголизму и преследованиям по статьям административного кодекса «за тунеядство» формировалась из какого-то глубинного противоречия - с одной стороны, способность мыслить вне установленных рамок, с другой стороны, невероятная пассивность. Сильный женский образ Татьяны, тихий и скромный, но в своей ясной целеустремленности могущей свернуть горы, восхищает ее успехом в том, как она заставила жениться автора и как прошла все инстанции, чтобы выехать из страны!
Юрий Левада (известный социолог, изучавший пост-советское общество и основные качества пост-советских людей) и Довлатов едины, считая, что пассивность - одна из основных характеристик пост-советского человека.: «Всю жизнь я ненавидел активные действия любого рода. Слово «активист» для меня звучит как оскорбление. Я жил как бы в страдательном залоге. Пассивно следовал за обстоятельствами. Это помогало мне для всего находить оправдания.
Любой решительный шаг налагает ответственность. Так пускай отвечают другие. Бездеятельность – единственное нравственное состояние… В идеале я хотел бы стать рыболовом. Просидеть всю жизнь на берегу реки, И желательно без всяких трофеев…»
Понравилась мысль, что держит людей здесь. «Язык. На чужом языке мы теряем восемьдесят процентов своей личности. Мы утрачиваем способность шутить, иронизировать. Одно это меня в ужас приводит.»

[Jaguar Kitap · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sitemizdeki Defter bölümündeki 7 Soru - 7 Cevap adlı yeni köşemizin
ilk konukları Sergey Dovlatov'un eşi ve kızı (ki aynı zamanda çevirmeni).
Okurlarımızın Dovlatov'un yaşamı ve eserleri hakkındaki sorularından seçilecek yedi soruyu bizler için yanıtlayacaklar. Sorularınızı buradan da iletebilirsiniz. Detaylar şurada: http://jaguarkitap.com/notebook/7-sor...

[A. Raca · Rating 4 out of 5]

"... Neyiniz var? Kıpkırmızı olmuşsunuz "
"İnanın, sadece dışım kızıl. İçim anayasal demokrattır."

💚

[Hank1972 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Back in the U.S.S.R.

Si torna indietro nell’Unione Sovietica degli anni ‘70. Un po’ di Leningrado e il Parco Puskin, parco a tema dedicato al grande poeta nei luoghi dove fu confinato per un periodo e sepolto dopo aver perso il duello con il rivale in amore. Il moloch sovietico è lì ad imporre la propria cappa di controllo, censura e repressione sulla vita di ogni cittadino, specialmente di intelletuali e scrittori, per di più magari ebrei, che da quelle parti non se la sono passata mai tanto bene (un po’ modernizzata, senza bardatura ideologica, la Russia di oggi non è molto diversa).

E poi mi piace pensare ad un ritorno impossibile di Dovlatov - Boris, suo alter ego in questa biografia romanzata - nella sua patria che in fondo amava, un po’ come cantavano i Beatles. Ci ha provato, a resistere. Scrittore non pubblicabile, frequentava le riviste underground. Per campare e per allontanarsi da un complicato rapporto con moglie e figlia, se ne va a lavorare come guida turistica al Parco Puskin. Dove tra fanatici del poeta e improbabili colleghi di lavoro e amici di via, cercherà più che altro di abbattere con ironia, tenerezza e fiumi di vodka l’assurdità del sistema sovietico e provare in qualche modo a realizzarsi, come uomo e come scrittore.

La fine è nota, ed il finale del libro lascia una scia di malinconia.

Il mio primo Dovlatov, subito in sintonia.



“La forza della scrittura di Dovlatov sta sempre, fino alla fine, nella capacità di superare il dualismo e di accettare, per la storia di ognuno e per la Storia di tutti, un destino più umano e meno eroico. Per questo i suoi racconti aiutano a smascherare il settarismo che non è solo fuori, ma soprattutto dentro ognuno di noi. E questo smascheramento taumaturgico aiuta a vivere meglio e spiega, forse, perché, per nutriti gruppi di sofisticati estimatori, Dovlatov sia divenuto un autore di culto.
Col suo stile laconico e inconfondibile, con la sua curiosa passione per le più bislacche qualità umane, Sergej Dovlatov ci appare oggi come un ignaro emulo dei chassidim, i cui racconti, immortalati da Martin Buber, erano stati per gli ebrei orientali l’unico conforto laico nella solitudine e nell’angoscia. Un conforto, come lo ha definito Elie Wiesel, «contro la malinconia».”
Dalla postfazione “Contro la malinconia” di Laura Salmon, traduttrice.

[Vanja Šušnjar Čanković · Rating 5 out of 5]

S Lomovim izdanjima nikad nema greške. I ove godine sam, normalno, zalomila na njihovom štandu na Festivalu književnosti "Imperativ" i između ostalog tražila nešto od Dovlatova. Prodavač mi je predložio Puškinova brda, Flavio mi kasnije, kada sam se već opredijelila savjetovao Kofer,.. Da sam znala da će mi se ovoliko svidjeti, odmah bih uzela sve njegovo što su preveli i objavili.

Dovlatov piše zadivljujuće inteligentno i duhovito, mnogo je zabavan i samo svoj, krajnje originalan. Kasnije ću prekucati odlomak iz knjige da vidite šta propuštate. Sad moram tražiti sve ostale. Izvanredan!

[Sandra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un libro sui generis, per uno scrittore singolare: “anarchico, vagabondo, individualista, solidale con ogni eversione solitaria”, emigrato negli Stati Uniti ma con il cuore nel suo paese di nascita. Ed Il parco di Puskin non è soltanto un affresco molto colorito e realistico dell’Unione Sovietica negli anni settanta (simbolicamente identificabile in un parco culturale dedicato al poeta immortale che personifica l’animo dei russi); è principalmente la rappresentazione dell’assurdità e insensatezza del mondo, incarnate in una galleria di personaggi sgangherati, per lo più intellettuali ubriaconi tediati e oppressi dal disagio esistenziale, che cercano di vincere con la vodka, mentre il protagonista, uno scrittore fallito che nessuno in Russia vuole pubblicare, trova rifugio all’insensatezza della vita nello scrivere: “vivere è impossibile. O si vive o si scrive. O la parola o l’azione..”.
Ma non si pensi che i toni siano malinconici e pesanti come la cappa che pesa sopra le teste di questa umanità contraddittoria e vagabonda, tutt’altro: l’umorismo di Dovlatov rende le pagine del libro un inno al fallimento, una presa in giro alla sfortuna, per cui nel corso della lettura si sorride con pena. Sintomo di un grande scrittore, peccato sia poco conosciuto.

[Pedro · Rating 4 out of 5]

La versión que he leído es editada en Argentina, e incluye además los cuentos Ariel y La uva. Para el habla de los personajes utiliza el modo coloquial argentino, al que no estoy acostumbrado en mis lecturas, después de haber leído tantas traducciones españolas en un castellano más o menos neutro. Por otra parte, me ha quedado la impresión que la traducción no ha podido reflejar en algunas ocasiones la dinámica de la lengua original. También me ha costado un poco, cómo en otras obras rusas, la identificación de un personaje, cuando se alternan su apellido, nombre y patronímico o apodo. Aunque sin llegar al extremo del teatro de Chéjov.

La novela comienza con el viaje de Borka a lo que pronto sabremos que es el la Reserva Nacional Pushkin, dónde trabajará durante una temporada como guía para turistas. Deja atrás un matrimonio fallido y una hija, así cómo los fracasos de intentar convertirse en escritor.
Allí alternará con diversos personajes, por momentos desconcertantes, que parecen atrapados en una endogamia cultural en torno a la figura de Pushkin; antes que ellos, Borka preferirá formar vínculos con los marginales del pueblo vecino. Pero pronto su pasado comenzará a pisarle los talones.

Me he asombrado con una novela de gran agilidad narrativa, que no se pierde a pesar de las agudas reflexiones del narrador y abundantes referencias eruditas o sobre las costumbres e historia rusas. Y un notable e inteligente sentido de humor, a veces rodeado por un aura trágica.
Y las monumentales borracheras, que por mi formación austera me cuesta mucho comprender, pero me provocan cierta curiosidad, como la que he encontrado en Bajo el volcán (Malcolm Lowry), o La leyenda del Santo Bebedor (Joseph Roth).

Ha sido un afortunado hallazgo el conocimiento de este autor; me gustaría leer más de su obra, cuando las condiciones económicas de mi país permitan acceder a sus otras obras.

Debo hacer algunas aclaraciones sobre la edición argentina que he leído, que no se vincula automáticamente en GR con las otras versiones del libro: Заповедник, ruso, https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1... Pushkin Hills, inglés, https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1... Retiro (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3....

[Eylül Görmüş · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ne acayip kitap. Okuduğum bir yorumda “kimi zaman süper absürt ve komik, kimi zaman buz gibi acımasız ve gerçekçi” gibi bir şey yazıyordu, hakikaten öyle – aslında bu anlamda tipik bir Rus romanı diyebiliriz. Şu sıra çok başka bağlamlarda tartışıyor olsak da, bu “Rusluk” meselesi acayip bir mesele hakikaten – Svetlana Aleksiyeviç’in buna bunca kafa yorması boşuna değil. Bütün bireysel alana sirayet etmiş bir dev yapı ve onun köşesinden bucağından nefes almaya çalışan insanların tuhaf umutsuzluğu. (Daha da tuhaf olansa çarlık döneminde de, Sovyet döneminde de, şimdi de devletin benzer “görkem”ini koruyor olması – dolayısıyla oldukça yapısal bir marazdan ve mirastan bahsediyoruz.) Dovlatov’un “en kişisel romanı” denen bu kitapta yazdıklarını yayınlatmayı başaramamış bir yazarın Puşkin Tepeleri Milli Parkı’nda turist rehberliği yapmaya başlamasının öyküsü fonunda bence en çok da bu çözümsüz birey-devlet ilişkisini okuyoruz, bana kalan bu oldu yani en azından. Kısacık, hızla okunan ama dopdolu bir kitap. Okuduğum ilk Dovlatov idi, devamı gelecektir.

[Meltem Sağlam · Rating 5 out of 5]

İlk olarak “Dovlatov” adlı film ile adını duyduğum bu müthiş yazarın okuduğum ilk kitabı da aynı filmi gibi beni inanılmaz etkiledi. Keskin bir zeka ve inanılmaz bir dili kullanma ve mizah yeteneği, ender rastlanır bir anlatım yeteneği ile birleşince, ortaya doyumsuz bir eser çıkarmış. Diyaloglar, betimlemeler, adlandırmalar ve duyguyu aktarımı inanılmaz.

Bir muhalifin yaşamının ne kadar zor olduğunu ve ne kadar yeteneği olursa olsun, şansının olamayacağının canlı bir örneği.

İzlerken de, okurken de yüreğimin acıdığını hissettim.

“...Beklenmedik bir konuşma özgürlüğünden daha güzel ne olabilir ki zaten?...”, sf; 126.

[okumadan_olmaz · Rating 4 out of 5]

1983’te Rusça olarak yazılan Puşkin Tepeleri, yaklaşık 30 yıl sonra yazar Dovlatov’un kızı tarafından İngilizce’ye çevrilmiş.
Kahramanımız Boris Alikhanov sorunlarından kaçmak ve biraz da para kazanmak için Puşkin’in anısını yaşatmak için kurulan turistik bölgede tur rehberliği yapmak için Puşkin Tepeleri’ne geliyor.
Yazarlık kariyerinde(!) istediği başarıyı elde edememiş, evliliğini sağlıklı bir şekilde yürütememiş ve alkol problemi yaşayan Alikhanov yeni işi ve çevresini aslında bir kaçış gibi görüyordu. Peki, gerçeklerden nereye kadar kaçılabilirdi?
Kitap, gücünü kurgusundan ziyade Boris’in çevresindeki insanlarla olan derin diyaloglarından alıyor. Sovyet Rusya’sının etkisini yoğun bir şekilde gördüğümüz ve o dönemi etkileyen sanatçıların da bolca referans verildiği kitap, Rus tarihini ve bahsi geçen Rusları çok iyi tanımasanız da yapılan yıldızlı açıklamalarla sizi hikayenin içinde tutmaya yetiyor.
Keyifle bir çırpıda okudum (yalnızca sonunu sevmedim) ve Rus edebiyatına dair okuma yapmak isteyenlere mutlaka öneriyorum.

[Hakan · Rating 3 out of 5]

SSCB döneminde muhalif görüşleri nedeniyle göç etmek zorunda kalmış yazarın bu romanının özyaşamöyküsel öğeler içerdiği anlaşılıyor. Diyalog ve kısa cümleler ağırlıklı kitap kolay okunuyor. Ama bu temponun, diyalogların içinde, karı-koca arasındaki anlaşmazlıklar, yan karakterler aracılığıyla Sovyet toplumunun bazı özellikleri, rejim muhalifliği gibi konular mizah da kullanılarak etkili biçimde işlenmiş. Epey bir Sovyet/Rus edebiyat şahsiyeti zikrediliyor ki çevirmenin dipnotları olmasa bu isimlerin büyük çoğunluğu herhalde birçoğumuza bir şey ifade etmeyecekti. Tabii olayların romana adını veren - başkahraman muhalif yazar Boris’in rehberlik yaptığı - Puşkin Tepeleri Milli Parkında geçmesi, bu ünlü Rus şaire ilginizi de tetikleyebilir. Romanın gizli bir kahramanı ise alkol, Dovlatov’un da alkolizm batağına saplandığı kitapta yer verilen özgeçmişinden görülüyor. Jaguar’ın en azından bizler için kıyıda köşede kalmış iyi yazarları yayınlaması ne güzel. Çeviri de (Ayşe Hacıhasanoğlu) çok iyi.

[Bezimena knjizevna zadruga · Rating 5 out of 5]

Postoji čitav arsenal paralela koje spajaju velike i sjajne sovjetske disidentske samizdat autore koje sam čitao ovog proleća (Jerofejev, Dobičin). Večiti ruski cinizam prema svakodnevici, prezir prema uspostavljenim levim vrednostima, inat beskrajnih duša dangube, alkohol, o da alkohol, potopljenost pisanja u samu srž istog, može se ovako u nedogled.

No Dovlatov ima nešto više. Njegova destruktivnost ne prelazi granice, njegova proza pleše, njegov humor je urnebesan, njegove opaske seku bez animoziteta, njegova višeslojnost ne opterećuje, njegov talenat je nekontrolisano savršen.
I Dovlatov je kao i svi veliki i visoki ljudi dobronameran, Dovlatov voli svoje junake i antijunake, Dovlatov ne osuđuje, samo konstatuje u usputnom ismevanju.

Ne dajte da vas ubede da je ovo kratki roman o autorovom boravku u Puškinovom kompleksu u ulozi turističkog vodiča, ovo je genijalno na toliko više načina. I kao i svi stvarno veliki romani, kratko je i čitljivo. Tačno znam i kome ću prvo da ga prosledim.

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Vodka-fuelled pitch-black farce featuring some terrific dialogue by yet another impressive dissident Soviet writer. I'll be reading Dovlatov again for sure now. A short read at only 160 pages that flags up incompetent bureaucracy and censorship within the writer's life, and that dazzles with a crazy cast of other characters at the Pushkin preserve who, unfortunately, come and go all too quickly when I craved more time with them. The preserve itself, whilst encountering mishaps and misfits, works on a deeper level as a microcosm for art and politics within the Soviet life. If only all literary tour guides were like this...!

[Baris Ozyurt · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Bir sanatçı, otuz yaşından önce bütün sorunlarını çözmüş olmalıdır. Sadece tek bir sorun, ‘nasıl yazmalıyım’ sorunu hariç.”(s.68)

[Dimitri · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Dovlatov è un cantore del paradosso che attua l’alchemica trasformazione dell’insensatezza in coralità epica.” (dalla postfazione della traduttrice Laura Salmon)

Ogni passo decisivo presuppone responsabilità. Che se la prendano gli altri. L’inattività è la sola condizione morale.

Alcolista senza soldi e con un matrimonio in crisi, lo scrittore fallito Boris Alichanov decide, per guadagnare qualche rublo, di fare la guida nel parco del più amato poeta russo.
Questo romanzo forse non è allo stesso livello de “La valigia”, ma anche qui Dovlatov, con il suo umorismo empatico, ci fa conoscere personaggi scalcagnati e profondamente umani. Ad un certo punto, la moglie di Boris arriva a sorpresa al parco e Boris si vede costretto a invitarla al ristorante. Per fortuna in suo aiuto arrivano due suoi amici, alcolisti pure loro.

Mi girai. Sulla porta c’erano Volodja Mitrofanov e Stasik Potockij. Mi rallegrai che ci fosse un pretesto per interrompere quel discorso. Basta soltanto, pensavo, che riesca a stenderla su un letto …
“Presentatevi,” dissi, “sedetevi con noi.”
Stasik fece un inchino solenne.
“Potockij, prosatore, membro dell’Unione degli SS … degli Scrittori Sovietici.”
Mitrofanov fece un muto cenno con la testa.
“Sedetevi qui, è più fresco.”
“Al fresco ci sono stato abbastanza,” reagì argutamente Potockij.
Mitrofanov continuava a tacere.
Compresi che non avevano soldi e dissi:
“E’ arrivata mia moglie. Quindi siete miei ospiti.”
E andai al bar a prendere la vodka. Quando tornai, Potockij stava animatamente raccontando qualcosa a Tanja. Volodja come prima taceva. Stasik notò il mio sguardo stupito. Mi spiegò indicando Mitrofanov:
“Vedi, una vespa gli è volata in bocca.”
“Santo cielo!” disse mia moglie. “Ed è ancora lì?”
“Ma no! Vedi, stava finendo l’escursione al monastero, e a quel punto una vespa gli è entrata in bocca. Volodja, pardon, l’ha scatarrata, ma quella aveva fatto a tempo a cazziarlo. E ora non può parlare, gli fa male.”
“E gli fa male anche a deglutire?” chiese Tanja.
Volodja scosse energicamente la testa.
“No, a deglutire non gli fa male,” tradusse Potockij.
Versai a entrambi la vodka. Chiaramente mia moglie non gradiva quella compagnia.
“Le piace il Parco?” chiese Potockij.
“Ci sono dei punti bellissimi. Il panorama dell’altura di Savkino, il viale della Kern …”
Mitrofanov d’un tratto si irrigidì:
“F-o-e,” proferì.
“Come?” chiese mia moglie.
“F-o-e” ripetè Mitrofanov.
“Sta dicendo che è una ‘finzione’”, chiarì Potockij, “vuol dire che il viale della Kern se l’è inventato Gejcenko. Cioè, il viale ovviamente c’è, è un normale viale dei tigli. Ma la Kern non c’entra niente. Probabilmente non si è neanche avvicinata a quel viale.”
“Ma a me piace pensare che proprio su quel viale Puskin le dichiarò il suo amore.”
“Era una cortigiana,” precisò Potockij inflessibile.
“E-e-fiofa,” aggiunse Mitrofanov.
“Volodja vuol dire che era ‘semplicemente viziosa’.”

[Miroslav Maričić · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nije relevantno dati knjizi ocenu, ipak ukusi se razlikuju pa dozivljaj iste ocene nece svima biti isti. Ipak zbog preporuke za citanje ovu knjigu ocenicu sa apsolutnom peticom, uz dodatak da bih joj dao bar nekoliko petica. Jednu za humor, drugu za stil, trecu za realisticno predstavljanje obicnog coveka i cetvrtu za glavnu temu koja se krija ispod debelog sloja sale. Fantastican je nacin na koji Dovlatov prelazi sa lagane puskinovske teme na temu sovjetske palanacke stvarnosti, dokolice i prijateljstva. Ljubav u doba intelektualnog zatvora, disidenti koji ne umeju da pognu glavu, ali moraju od necega da zive, egzodus u strane zemlje uzrokovan ljudskim talogom i sljamom, a sve to prikazano da se cita sa osmehom na licu i gorcinom u grlu. Sjajna knjiga, Dovlatov ne posustaje u kvalitetu i sa svakom knjigom dize lestvicu kvaliteta.
"Slobodu zelim! Zelim apstrakcionizam sa dodekafonijom!... Imao sam ideju da zbrisem odavde, bilo gde. Makar u Juznu Rodeziju. Samo sto dalje od naseg sela... Ali kako!? Granica je pod kljucem! Od jutra do mraka pod strazom..."

[jeremy · Rating 4 out of 5]

sergei dovlatov's pushkin hills (Заповедник) - finally published in english translation some three decades after its completion - is an often hilarious, sometimes wistful, but always entertaining novel of vodka-fueled disintegration. autobiographically inspired (at least conceptually), pushkin hills confronts personal failure, culture, art, and sociopolitical legacy - yet does so in a wise, sincere, and spirited way which effortlessly enriches dovlatov's already-wild romp. the late russian writer wrote with pathos and playfulness aplenty and pushkin hills is nearly pitch-perfect from beginning to end.

looking around, do you see ruins? that was to be expected. he who lives in the world of words does not get along with things.

*translated from the russian by dovlatov's daughter, katherine. with a favorable afterwood by james wood.

[Strasna Mera · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ovo je jedna šarmantna, duhovita i laganim stilom ispričana, ozbiljna priča. Kroz nju upoznajemo svet ruskih intelektualaca u komunističkom režimu poslednjih decenija 20.v. Široki spektar sporednih likova, precizno dočaranih, prikazuju nam SSSR deceniju pre pada Berlinskog zida, dok je u glavnoj liniji priča o jednoj, onako odistinskoj, upornoj, ljubavi.
Knjiga se čita u dahu, sa osmehom na usnama, ali, baš kao kod pravih majstora, ostavlja gorak ukus u ustima.
Nestrpljiva sam da pročitam još neku njegovu knjigu.
p.s. 5 je ovde potpuno subjektivna ocena :)

[metsch · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kitabi bitirdim
Tarih bilginiz varsa kitaptan çokça keyif alacaksınız. Dipnotlarla başarılı bir şekilde zenginleştirilmiş bir metin. Mesajı olan bir Jaguar kitabı her zamanki gibi
Bavul'u mutlaka okuyacağım
Emeği geçen herkese çok teşekkür ederim.

🤘🏻🤩💙📚🍀

[Laura Leaney · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love this book, the author, the whole ironic "almost dissident" voice. Funny and compassionate, the writer Boris Alikhanov (based on Dovlatov) cannot get published in Soviet Russia. He has left his wife and daughter to work as a tour guide at the Pushkin Hills Preserve, staffed by very strange devotees to Pushkin. The writing is hilariously understated and brimming with sad truths. When Boris gets to the Preserve he has not yet been trained as a guide. Here is a slice of excellence:

"Do look at the guidelines. Also, here is a list of books. They are available in the reading room. And report to Galina Alexandrovna that the interview went well."
I felt embarrassed.
"Thank you," I said. "I'm sorry I lost my temper."
I rolled up the brochure and put it in my pocket.
"Be careful with it - we only have three copies."
I took the papers out and attempted to smooth them with my hands.
"And one more thing," Marianna lowered her voice. "You asked about love…"
"It was you who asked about love."
"No, it was you who asked about love…As I understand, you are interested in whether I am married? Well, I am!"
"You have robbed me of my last hope," I said as I was leaving.

If you don't laugh at this, don't read this book. If you pick it up, know that there is a lovely little piece by James Wood in the back. I wish I could write like Dovlatov. I wish he were still alive.

[Sergey Tomson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Однажды кто-то из друзей попросил дать прочесть "Заповедник". Шел чистить зубы и, проходя мимо книжной полки, решил сразу приготовить книгу, чтобы не забыть. Просто открыл, полистать, вспомнить... В три часа ночи, дочитывая книгу, осознал себя сидящим на полу в ванной с зубной щёткой в руке. И так каждый раз, как открою. Засасывает. Обожаю!
С этой книги началось знакомство с Сергеем Довлатовым.

[Artem Chapeye · Rating 5 out of 5]

сильная книга - это когда смеешься и плачешь на одной странице. хотя читаешь третий раз и, в общем, знаешь, что дальше.

[Hulyacln · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sözcüklerle arası iyi, alkolle arası ise ‘fazla iyi’ olan bir adam Boris. Eski eşi ve çocuğu ile ne yapacağını bilmese de bir şeyler denemek istiyor. Karşısına çıkan fırsat ise Puşkin Tepeleri Milli Parkı oluyor, orada rehberlik yaparak her sorununu ele alıp bir düzene kavuşmak. Bunu kısmen başarıyor da..
.
‘Bavul’ ile anlatımının içine çekildiğim Dovlatov ‘en şahsi romanı’ olarak bilinen bu eserinde de beni etkiledi. Satır aralarındaki sistem eleştirileriyle, siyasi söz oyunlarıyla, hiçbir şey anlatmıyor görünüp karakterin içini göstermesiyle bir çırpıda biten eserlerden Puşkin Tepeleri.
.
Ayşe Hacıhasanoğlu çevirisi, Jenny Volvovski kapak tasarımıyla ~

[Chase · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s always good sign whenever you finish a novel and are left desperately craving for more.... Pushkin Hills is the first work I’ve read by the legendary Russian dissident writer Sergei Dovlatov, and it damn sure won’t be last! Boy what a simple joy this was to read…Sergei’s prose is laser precise, stripped bare of any needless narrative fluff, it nearly floats off page with boundless humor, cold hard wit, and the self-destructive truths that pock-mark a wanna-be writer’s existence. And even though the novel clocks in well under 150 pages, it was enough to convince me of the genius of Dovlatov, and I can’t really say I’ve read another writer like him…He has a very strange mixture of off-beat humor, and cold realism that’s shot through with the occasional lapse into moments of obscene surreal lyricism. And within the space of sentence he can have you laughing your ass off, or stone faced as you stare into the abysmal chasm of the human soul. If all goes well Pushkin Hills might even make my year end list, it’s that good!

The book follows a failed writer and unrepentant drunk, Boris Alikhanov, as he seeks to revitalize his career and escape the confines of his loveless marriage, by taking up a position as a summer tour guide for the less than illustrious Pushkin Hills Preserve, a kind literary theme park dedicated to its namesake, the patron saint of Russian literature. The book is replete with crackpots and provincial wash outs, each of which is lovingly crafted by Dovlatov, they all become larger than life, and get mixed up into some raunchy vodka soaked antics. It’s a joyous romp. The only thing that left me a bit miffed about the narrative is how brief it is, just as we’re settling into the world and its characters, it’s already pretty much over and done with. Which some might say (myself included) that this is hallmark of a great book and writer, one who knows not to overstay the welcome, but I’d say still it could’ve had much more and still not have exhausted or sidetracked the overall impact. Especially as the book moves into its darker and more melancholic final third, as Boris spirals into self destruction following his wife and daughter's immigration to America, leaving him to confront his own personal failings, and his "dedication" to drink and art that cost him his family.

Dovlatov’s prose is what really puts this overtop for me. It’s the most direct style of writing I’ve encountered since reading Agota Kristof’s notebook trilogy all the way back in December. No space is wasted on useless description or narrative asides, and the dialogue is brimming with life, bravado, and a fair bit of laughter. It’s directness and lack of concern for setting a scene also lends the narrative a very unpredictable and shambolic quality that suites the characters and story to a tee.

Pushkin Hills is best kind of literary palette cleanser, a brief and wild romp into the drunken excess of the Russian soul. I will be reading more Dovlatov soon!
5/5

[Mohsenam · Rating 4 out of 5]

سرگی دولاتوف نویسنده‌ی روسی کتاب هاش زمان شوروی هیچ وقت به چاپ نمی رسه و مجبور میشه همراه مادرش به آمریکا مهاجرت کنه، داستان تپه پوشکین به نوعی داستان زندگی خودشه و درمورد نویسنده ایه که در جامعه شوروی دچار الکل شده و نمی تونه چیزی بنویسه و منتشر کنه و خودشو با پوشکین مقایسه
می کنه و از طرفی به هیچ وجه حاضر نیست همراه با زن و دخترش به آمریکا مهاجرت کنه، گفتگویی که با زنش دراین مورد انجام میده برای من جالب بود که میذارم :
«توضیح ندارد. زبانم، مردمم، کشور دیوانه ام... فکرش را بکن، من حتی پلیس کشورم را دوست دارم.»
«عشق آزادی است. وقتی در باز است، همه چیز عالی است. اما وقتی درها را بسته اند، می شود زندان.»
«اما خوب الان که در بسته نیست.»
«می خواهم از فرصت استفاده کنیم و برویم. خسته شدم از بس برای هر جنس بنجلی صف ایستادم. از
بس جوراب سوراخ پا کردم خسته شدم. خسته شدم از بس حسرت سوسیس و بیفتک خوردم. چی تو
را نگه می دارد؟ درختان غان، موزه ارمیتازیا رودخانه نوا.»
«درخت غان کم ترین چیزی است که به آن فکر می کنم»
«پس چی؟»
«زبان. هشتاد درصد شخصیتمان در زبان خارجی از بین می رود. قدرت بیان طعنه و کنایه و مطایبه را
از دست می دهیم. همین به تنهایی مرا به وحشت می اندازد.»

[Janet]

Just bought this, discovered it at City Lights in San Francisco. Somebody said recently in regards to this book that 'Russian humor is tragedy plus vodka.' Dovlatov's book of short stories "The Suitcase" I have probably bought six times--I keep giving it to people. If you haven't read it, do! And who doesn't love Pushkin? Cannot wait to read Pushkin Hills.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 3 out of 5]

"I'm fed up with standing in line for all kinds of junk. I'm fed up with wearing stocking with holes. I'm fed up with getting excited about beef sausages... What's holding you back? The Hermitage, the Neva River, birch trees?"
"I couldn't care less about birch trees."
"Then what?"
"Language. In a foreign tongue we lose eighty per cent of our personality. We lose our ability to joke, to be ironic. This alone terrifies me."
"I don't have time for jokes. Think about [our daughter]. Imagine what awaits her."
"You are blowing everything out of proportion. Millions of people live, work and are perfectly happy."
"Let these millions stay. I am talking about you. Either way, you are not published."
"But my readers are here. While over there ... Who needs my stories in Chicago?"
"And who needs them here? The waitress at The Seashore who hasn't even read the menu?"
"Everyone. They just don't know it yet."

Pushkim Hill by Sergei Dovlatov, and translated by his daughter Katherine Dovlatov was a finalist for the 2015 Best Translated Book Awards.

The novel is narrated by Boris Alikhanov, a alcoholic and unsuccessful author, who takes a job as a tour guide at Pushkin Hills, a museum estate dedicated to Alexander Pushkin.

Boris is a comic figure and the novel is full of his one-liners and sardonic observations:

"You know I've read so much about the dangers of alcohol I've decided to give it up ... reading, that is."

"On the drive to Trigorskoye [the Caucasian tourists] lovingly gazed at the sheep. Evidently they were able to identify their potential as kebabs."

and the world of Pushkin Hill is itself a humorous microcosm of Soviet society with a array of memorable characters.

In the meantime his wife is trying to take advantage of an opportunity to move to the west - the exchange above is from the middle of the novel when she visits and tries to persuade Boris to come with them.

The observations on the loss of exile and the fate of the author abroad are all the more poignant because Dovlatov himself was an émigré and wrote this novel in 1983, 5 years after he left the USSR for America.

However Boris suggest to himself that his true reasons for not going are different:

"But at the same time I knew that all my rationalisations were lies. It wasn't about that. I simply couldn't make this decision. Such a serious and irreversible step frightened me. After all, it would be like being reborn. And at one's own will. Most people can't even get married properly ... All my life I had detested active behaviour. To my ear, the word "activist" sounds like an insult. I lived in the passive voice, so to speak...Any decisive step imposes responsibility. So let others take responsibility. Inactivity is the only moral condition."

Boris, working of course in a museum dedicated to an author, is also vocal on the way that society first rejects but then, post their death, lionises famous writers. He asks whether the objects in the museum are truly authentic - the curator points out that they are of a period ("we are trying to recreate the colour, the atmosphere"), but not Pushkin's actual personal effects, given "the museum was created decades after his death." Boris retorts:

"First they drive the man into the ground and then begin looking for his personal effects. That's how it was with Dostoevsky, that's how it was with Yesenin, and that's how it'll be with Pasternak."

Boris does at times assume a greater familiarity with not only Pushkin's work but also his life and times than most English readers will possess, necessitating that curse of the translated novel, footnotes. However, readers would be best advised to skip these until the end of the novel, and instead immerse themselves in the flow of Boris's prose.

Katherine Dovlatov is to be generally commended on the translation, particularly given that Dolvatov (via Boris) gives the cast he encounters a range of idiosyncratic voices, and she successfully transfers the effect into English.

However, by her own admission, the novel's title rather defeated her. The original title Zapovednik "can mean a number of things—an animal sanctuary, or a tract of land set aside for people, such as a Native American tribe, which can carry negative connotations, or a museum-estate, which is a very Soviet concept. So it is a delineated zone of sorts, designed by man to keep things in, and it is a museum, the idea of which was unnatural, to my father.". The world Boris portrays fits neatly with all aspects of this concept - and by extension Soviet society as well - but the English title Pushkin Hills fails to do so.

Dovlatov also wrote according to his own self-imposed Oulipan-type constraint; he never had two words in a sentence start with the same letter, although his daughter explains this was intended to slow him down, and presumably carefully consider word choice, rather than for artistic effect. Unfortunately, albeit understandably, she baulked at trying to reproduce this in English.

Overall, a worthwhile read, and Boris is a very memorable character, often genuinely funny. On the downside, the novel didn't quite cohere for me; it's a relatively short work (135 not particularly dense pages) and I was left wanting a bit more substance.

[Caroline · Rating 5 out of 5]

What’s more, Misha’s speech was organized in a remarkable way. Only nouns and verbs were pronounced with clarity and dependability. Mostly in inappropriate combinations. All secondary parts of speech Mikhail Ivanovich used at his sole discretion. Whichever ones happened to turn up. Never mind the prepositions, particles and conjunctions. He created them as he went along. His speech was not unlike classical music, abstract art or the song of a goldfinch. Emotions clearly prevailed over meaning.
…
Misha’s overtures were reminiscent of the Remizov school of writing.

He called gossipy women rattletraps. Bad housewives - majordomos. Unfaithful women - peter cheetahs. Beer and vodka - sledgehammer, poison and kerosene.And the young generation - pussberries…

“Copper-trouble pussberries be hullabaplonking an’ God knows whatsa at the center…”

Outstanding writing, outstanding translation.

Dovlatov was a dissident writer who was never published in the Soviet Union and eventually emigrated to the United States in 1978. He died in 1990, so he just saw the collapse.

This is a novel that was written in the US, and is semi-autobiographical. It is also very, very funny, and very Russian--it is permeated by vodka and melancholy. The work has been masterfully translated by his daughter.

Boris Alikhanov, an alcoholic unpublished writer, takes a bus to the Pushkin Preserve in the vicinity of Pskov near Estonia, in search of a job as a tour guide. Along with the jokes, the wordplay, the irony regarding life in the Soviet Union, genius character sketches, and explorations of the core issues of life, Dovlatov interweaves literary criticism. After finally giving in to the administrators’ corporate Pushkin worship, his hero tackles the interviewer Marianna's question of ‘Why does he love Pushkin?’

”Pushkin is our belated Renaissance. Like Goethe was for Weimar. They took upon themselves what the West had mastered in the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Pushkin found a way to express social themes in the form of tragedy, a characteristic of the Renaissance. He and Goethe lived, if you will, in several eras. Werther is a tribute to sentimentalism. Prisoner of the Caucasus is a typically Byronesque work. But Faust, for instance--that’s already Elizabethan and the Little Tragedies naturally continue one of the Renaissance genres. The same with Pushkin’s lyricism. And if it’s dark, then it isn’t dark in the spirit of Byron but more in the spirit of Shakespeare’s sonnets, I feel. Am I explaining myself clearly?”

“What has Goethe got to do with anything?” asked Marianna. “And the same goes for the Renaissance!"

It turns out the correct answer was: “Pushkin is our pride and joy. He is not only a great poet, he is also Russia’s great citizen.”

He gets the job, and things go rather well until the failings of his past catch up with him. Amid reflections on how language is connected to nationality, whether one can recognize non-tragic love, how can an artist survive without compromising himself, whether love of inanimate objects is immoral ( I believe that their love of birch trees triumphs at the expense of love of mankind.), the KGB, and much more, Boris finds himself forced to make a heart-wrenching choice. Love and his Russian soul cannot both win.

And yet, the choice is nestled amidst so much laughter. The staff of the preserve mirrors most Soviet bureaucracies, and outrageous characters abound. Boris delights in taking flight from questions posed in all seriousness by the officious. His stories of the obtuse tourists he guides through the Pushkin shrines remind one of The Island of Second Sight. The depth of the story comes from his building, in so few pages, so many characters who are foolish, or laughable in other ways, but who are also kind, insightful, generous, or in some other way human in a way that makes them endearing as well as amusing.

It is hard to find a short quote that does justice to the writing; the jokes need the set-up; I am so tempted to just type in all 139 pages.

Early in the book, Boris has been drinking on the trip to the preserve, and the bus makes a stop:

The tour guide was eating an ice cream in the shade. I approached her:

“Let’s get acquainted.”

“Aurora” she said, extendign a sticky hand.

“And I am,” I said, “Borealis.”

The girl didn’t take offense."Everyone makes fun of my name. I’m used to it…What’s the matter with you? You’re all red!”

“I assure you, it’s only on the outside. On the inside I’m a constitutional democrat.”

“No, really, are you unwell??”

“I drink too much…would you like a beer?”

"Why do you drink?” she asked.

What could I say?

“It’s a secret,” I said. “A little mystery…”

And one might say that this book is a mystery story, in search of the answer to that question.

Very highly recommended. I’m going to press it on everyone I know.