Nikolai Nikolaevich and Camouflage: Two Novels

Russian Library

by Yuz Aleshkovsky

Among contemporary Russian writers, Yuz Aleshkovsky stands out for his vivid imagination, his mixing of realism and fantasy, and his virtuosic use of the rich tradition of Russian obscene language. These two novels, written in the 1970s, display Aleshkovsky's linguistic gifts and keen observations of Soviet life.



Nikolai Nikolaevich begins when its titular hero, a pickpocket by trade, is released from prison after World War II and finds a job in a Moscow biological laboratory. Starting out as a kind of janitor, he is soon recruited to provide sperm for strange experiments intended to create life in the Andromeda galaxy. The hero finds himself at the center of the 1948 purge of biological science in the Soviet Union, in a transgressive tale that joins science fiction (and science fact) with gulag slang and a love story. The protagonist and narrator of Camouflage is an alcoholic who claims that he and his gang of friends are just one part of a vast camouflaging operation organized by the Party to hide the Soviet Union's underground military-industrial complex from the CIA's spy satellites. As they pass their time on the streets and share their alcohol-inspired fantasies, they see the stark reality of the Cold War in Russia in the late seventies. Nikolai Nikolaevich and Camouflage introduces English-speaking readers to a master of the comic first-person narrative.

Genres: Fiction, Russian Literature, Russia, Novels

232 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1978

About the author

The author was born in Siberia in 1929; he spent several years in a labor camp before he was able to emigrate to the West in 1979.

Aleshkovsky writes in the tradition of Fyodor Dostoevski and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn.

Reviews

[Yuri Sharon · Rating 3 out of 5]

Two novellas from the 1970s. Both are sci-fi/social commentary told in the rough Russian voices of abusive louts who drink too much, compulsively swear and hilariously mangle their paltry store of general knowledge. The teller of Nikolai Nikolaevich is paid to masturbate for a series of experiments; while the narrator of Camouflage is paid to pretend he is a habitual drunk. Welcome to the crazy world of Yuz Aleshkovsky.
I rate Nikolai Nikolaevich a little less than a three, and Camouflage a bit above.

[Mandy · Rating 4 out of 5]

These two humorous novellas are very much in the tradition of Russian satirical, usually dissident, literature, in the manner of Gogol and Bulgakov, and captures the absurdities of everyday Soviet life, the bureaucracy and inherent dangers of opposing the regime. The target in Nikolai Nikolaevich is Soviet science, and in Camouflage the Cold War. Nikolai Nikolaevich is set just before and just after Stalin’s death, and our hero, an ex-con and pickpocket, is recruited to provide sperm for an experiment to create life in the Andromeda galaxy. The project is useless but ideology comes before scientific rigour. He gives up his criminal lifestyle for this lucrative new career, but the esoteric experiment goes the way of much Soviet research, especially after the 1948 purges in biological science. Camouflage is set in the Brezhnev era and here our hero is alcoholic Fedya Milashkin who is convinced that the drab and dreary appearance of Soviet society is merely a strategy designed to fool the CIA spy satellites and to disguise the development of hydrogen bombs hidden underground. Both novellas offer perceptive insights into Soviet life and it’s no surprise that they couldn’t be published when written in the 1970s. Rooted in their time and place, the excellent introduction is pretty much essential, as are the notes at the end. They could be read with enjoyment by someone not familiar with Soviet literature, but I feel that at least some familiarity with it is necessary for a full appreciation. But for the Russophile the two stories are a delight, funny, wry, with a strong narrative voice in both instances, and are read with a chilling recognition of what life was really like during these years.

[Nicki Markus · Rating 5 out of 5]

Both Nikolai Nikolaevich and Camouflage are humorous tales hiding deeper meaning. Though funny, and featuring an engaging blend of literary fiction and fantasy, they also offer a commentary on the harsh realities of life in the Soviet Union. Both stories kept me spellbound, and I really enjoyed Aleshkovsky's narrative style, which used a first-person perspective and occasionally broke the fourth wall. I would definitely like to read more from this author in the future.

I received a free eBook review copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

[James Varney · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very funny. "Nikolai Nikolaevich," which Yuz wrote in 1970, is clearly a trial run for what would later become "Kangeroo," his greatest novel. "Nikolai Nikolaevich" features a zek, a petty pickpocket, who gets involved with Soviet officials, in this case scientists. His job? To masturbate every morning to provide sperm for "the Institute," acting on the order, "Attention - Orgasm!" The tale is told in Yuz's amazing blend of filthy Russian slang, rooted in Russian obscenities and prison camp culture, and Communist jargon. It's a wonderful piece of writing.

At one point, our narrator (everything I've read by Aleshkovsky is written in the first person) looks through the windows at the bodies in a morgue. "You can't tell which corpse is a guy and which is a broad (at this point, it doesn't matter which is which). My legs buckle from fear and weakness. There's nothing scarier for me, a pickpocket, than to see a person naked, without pockets. At the beach, I never know what to do with my hands. At the bathhouse, I get a sense of what it's like to be unemployed. But even if they're naked and pocket-less at the bathhouse, at least they're alive. Here's they're dead. Complete pessimism." Confused, Kolya says he "can feel my inferiority compass is getting the better of me."

As always, at its heart, Yuz's fiction is about the monstrous crime of Communism. His writing is a scream against the injustice and dehumanization that reigned for decades in the Soviet Union, and a demand for vengeance against the Bolshevik perpetrators. When Stalin dies, a friend remarks, "Anyone else wouldn't even keep his own prison cell in the shape Stalin kept the whole country. He was a real mob boss."

A reader wonders how Aleshkovsky is going to wrap it up and he does so brilliantly. One of the scientists at the Institute asks him:
"You simply jerk off, to use your expression. And what do we do? Answer me."
"Jacking off? Is that it?" I ask, not thinking, as I should have, and the academician almost hit the ceiling. "That's absolutely right! That's it - jacking off! Jack-ing off! Absolutely jacking off. All of Soviet and world science, Kolya, is nothing but jacking off - ninety percent of it! And Marxism-Leninism? It's obvious onanism. Yours at least is harmless. But how much blood has been spilled by Marxism-Leninism - just in its laboratory (that is, in Russia)? An entire oceanful! An ocean! And have we ever produced any beneficial, useful jizz? Not a drop. Everything all around us is jacking off! The Party jerks off. The government engages in onanism. Science is masturbating and it seems to everyone that, any minute, some crippled Kimza will start yelling, 'Attention - Orgasm!' and things will get easier, the bright future will begin. That's Communism."

Highly recommended.

[Translator Monkey · Rating 2 out of 5]

Oh dear. It's difficult to rate a book (a pair of novels, as it were) like this, because you don't want to tarnish the work that went into it by the folks who aren't the author. Let's get to them first.

First, the author of the broad introduction deserves special mention. The "subtleties of Russian obscenity" are expressed in great detail and at great length, explained to grease the skids for what the reader was about to encounter. No amount of honking the horn or flashing the brights, however, could prepare the reader for these novels. Not sure who the author of this introduction is - it's "unsigned," but I suspect the words are those of the editor, Susanne Fusso. It's a shame that the piece went without offering the name of the writer, because it is seriously a brilliant piece of work on its own.

The translator, too, should be given a sincere round of applause for what had to be a taxing effort. The amount of coarse language, prison and military slang, and shabby (even for the 1970s) jokes and puns would have made a lesser translator just walk away. But Duffield White attacked the task (with help duly noted in the Acknowledgments section) with aplomb. Some of the translations will appear clunky, derivative of the much taunted style of Constance Garnett at times, but that has nothing to do with White and everything to do with Yuz Aleshkovsky, the author of these works.

And yes, that brings us to Aleshkovsky himself. I appreciate his writing, I really do. I also appreciate what he brought to an otherwise polished era of Soviet writing. But let me put it bluntly (and why not?) - simply because you are the groundbreaker when it comes to peppering your work with expletives doesn't mean that every third line (I'm not exaggerating) requires vulgarities to describe bodily functions, sexual organs, or the act of sexual congress itself. It becomes tiring very quickly. And the jokes were probably quite a hit a) in their time, and b) among Russian speakers in c) the Soviet Union. But they fall tremendously flat after the 40-50 years since they were first concocted.

In Aleshkovsky's literary world, everything is not only a grostesquery, it is defecating on the reader's hands and face from start to finish. At least in these novels - his wonderful "Kangaroo" was a brilliant piece of satire, and didn't rely anywhere near as heavily on this level of depravity. It's a shame; I read thee books and wanted very much to fall in love with them. Quite the opposite occurred.

[Theediscerning · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting brace of Soviet-era novellas. The producers of the book make great store by how they've translated a lot of argot, cussing and street slang into something readable, and it is actually quite remarkable how easily the first piece trips off the page. It's not as good as it could have been, however. The work concerns an ex-con who has a breed of wonder sperm, that some scientists are intent on milking from him on a daily basis for mysterious purposes. Things are going swimmingly for him until he finds the equally mysterious emotion called love getting in the way of this new career. It tries to have its cake and eat it, and while it's light-hearted and somewhat clever, what it wants to say about Soviet times gets in the way of the plot, and vice-versa. The slapdash feel of the piece is evident when there's nothing of said relationship in the last 20pp, which is a pity. The introduction tells us what exactly the slightly misunderstood 'samizdat' meant, and this does feel like a first draft smuggled fresh off the typewriter roll. (In fact, the introduction is quite brilliant, both being spoiler-free and managing to tell us exactly what the original context was, negating the otherwise welcome academic footnotes in the story.)

The second piece would appear to be even richer in fun for the reader, being as it is the narrative of a bloke who is convinced everything drunken, sordid, underhand and disreputable about his Russia is merely a shadowplay for the benefit of the American spy satellites, and dressing to disguise the countless hydrogen bombs being produced underneath the streets. That is, until he comes to the opinion that even that set-up is, to put it bluntly, buggered. Again it veers too widely from the satire to a post-Aristophanes message, to something else with a lot of waffle in between, and this one does need the notes, for it speaks at times much less to the ignorant Westerner. But still, two brave, distinctive and entertaining monologues, the likes of which you'll seldom see elsewhere. To some extent they were definitely quickly-produced pieces of their time, and so not as wonderful as this volume attests, but they're still worth considering.

[Richard Thompson · Rating 3 out of 5]

I did love the narrative voice in both of these short novels. In the first one, it's the aggressive and profane words of a man who has spent time in the Soviet prison system, and in the second one, the narrator is, at least outwardly, a Savok, a fellow who has bought into the Soviet system and all of its myths, or has he?

Mr. Aleshkovky's satircal comedic style, when it works, makes him a worthy successor of Zoshchenko and Ilf & Petrov, though "Camouflage," with its group of bumbling drinkers, sometimes reminded me more of Nekrasov's "Who Can Live Happy and Free in Russia?" The writing is consciously transgressive. Every page includes some sort of jab at the party or the government or the failings of the Soviet system. These books were never going to get past the censors. But sometimes it feels more like he is being transgressive for the sake of transgression, and when that happens, the humor begins to fall flat. For a contemporary American audience the parts of his humor aimed at gays and women also feel a bit misdirected. And in both novellas, though they are only each 100 pages, Mr. Aleshovsky isn't able to sustain the tone. The plots sag and the humor begins to work less well three quarters of the way in. Both would have worked better as short stories at half of the length.

I liked how both novellas are built on extended metaphors. In the first one it is masturbation, which is the narrator's job and at the same time a description of the world of Soviet science in which the story is set, the party, the government, Soviet society, and in some ways, life itself. We get the same idea in the second novella, where the theme is camouflage - the narrator's job is to be an actor playing the role of a drunk in a Potemkin village designed to fool American spy satellites and conceal a massive underground nuclear weapon facility. But he is not just fooling the Americans. He is also fooling the party, the Soviet government, the people around him (who also fool him) and himself.

[Stan Dunn · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have always had a strong interest in Russian literature, although I never had the chance to take a course when I was in school. I read many of the classics, but it's the 20th century literature that is most interesting because of rise and fall of communism and it's effect on the people of the country.

This volume by Yuz Aleshkovsky of two novellas, Nikolai Nikolaevich and Camouflage provide a window into Soviet life, the first just before and after Stalin's death and the latter during the Brezhnev period. What I found most interesting in both works is the heavy use of obscene language (apparently known as "mat" in Russian). This is part of Aleshkovsky's craft - according to the introduction, the significance of Russian obscenity is that "it is the language of dissidence, of protest against official ideology, both political and religious." Aleshkovsky makes good use of "mat" along with absurd plots to show the reader how the Soviet regime has really affect the masses, not the ruling class.

Perhaps it is obvious, but I would strongly recommend reading the Introduction for both context and history. Both novellas read like science fiction tales but I think they reflect Soviet life in two different periods. Aleshkovsky skillfully captures Soviet life in these strange stories that are a must read for anyone interested in the period. Personally, I will have to find some of his other works.

I received a complementary copy of the book and voluntarily chose to write a review.

[Ruth · Rating 5 out of 5]

I bought this book used on vacation in Cape Cod. Used bookstores are the greatest thing in the world and should still be everywhere, but they are not. The first novella made me laugh out loud in the outdoor cafe where we were waiting for our rented room to be available.

What made this book so funny? I want to say that it was the relationship between the translator, editor and author. The introduction to the book explains in great detail how the word "fuck" is too weak and bland to translate Russian "mat." It's not easy to translate ribald humor based in a particular time, place and language unfamiliar to the reader. It has to be translated, but also explained. How do you explain a joke without killing it? Aleshkovsky is 94 and apparently still invites Dr. White (who is also retired Wesleyan faculty) and Dr. Fusso to dinner. (I found this out from a footnote explaining what is solyanka.) It is this level of cooperation that makes it possible for this book, the translation I mean, to be funny. You could argue that dirty jokes are universal, but you know that's not really true.

Are these two novellas as funny as when it they were published as samizdat in the 1970s? Probably not. But the first one, Nikolai Nikolaevich, is still one of the funniest things I've ever read. If you like sexual and sometimes scatological humor in the service of dissidence, this will probably entertain you too.

[zunggg · Rating 3 out of 5]

Two filthy and fairly funny novellas from samizdat specialist and exponent of skaz and mat Yuz Aleshkovsky. Neither of these are as well-realised as his novel Kangaroo, but they are still pretty sharp. Nikolai Nikolaevich is the tale of a pickpocket/jailbird who is recruited as a sperm donor for a project to seed Soviet life in the Andromeda galaxy. Nikolai's voice is about 33% expletives and gulag slang which is only partially translatable. But a hell of a lot happens; there's even a rather touching love story amidst the masturbatory mayhem. Camouflage is told by the alcoholic Fedka Milashkin who's convinced that the squalor and desperation of everyday life in his generic Soviet city is all just "camouflage" to prevent American spy satellites from picking up on the military-industrial marvels taking place under the surface. This one features a brutal twist on Lysistrata and some punchy Politburo parody. It's kind of tiring to read, and loses a lot in translation despite Duffield White's best efforts, but the introduction and notes make up for that.

[Jason · Rating 2 out of 5]

I suspect the gratuitous cursing works better in Russian because of the inherent creativity and diversity in Russian мат that just doesn't translate. This is especially true if the author is employing camp slang, which is virtually impossible to tell in translation. As much as the translator tries, it just gets repetitive and seems unnecessary in English. This is one of those that really made me want to search for the original.

It's also difficult to remove the story from the political and social atmosphere it was written in, and this limits the accessibility of the writing because you have to have a fair amount of outside knowledge about Soviet history to get the jokes, which are often situational and indirect. Likewise, this is samizdat first and anything else second, so it's not a science fiction collection in the American sense of the word.

All of this makes the buy-in for really appreciating what the author is doing quite high - a nexus of cultural, literally, and linguistic competencies - assuming you can find a Russian copy.

[philosophie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aleshkovsky's stories are not significant only for their strong linguistic profile but also for the author's keen study of Soviet life; Nikolai Nikolaevich depicts the blindness of ideology whilst Camouflage deals with the bitter realization that a revolution in the name of the People has devolved into a system in which those at the top enjoy a luxurious life while the People starve and descend into mindless drunkeness.

The copy was kindly provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley.

[Olivia Raiche-tanner · Rating 5 out of 5]

A 4.5, rounded up. Nothing better than some Soviet satire.

The half-star lost is because Camouflage had the strangest handling of sexual assault I have ever seen in a book. It should have been a very serious offense against our main character but it mostly just came across as a resolvable inconvenience? Bizarre.

[Joseph Spuckler · Rating 4 out of 5]

A reflection of the mind of a writer in the closed Soviet system. Not a propaganda piece by a repressive government but the apathy of the people caught in the system that they are too tired to fight.

[Peter · Rating 5 out of 5]

It takes literature knowledge to understand Aleshkovsky's brilliance, and not be a adult with a children's mind who only cares about a plot. Two incredible novellas from one of the greatest satirists of all time

[bree · Rating 5 out of 5]

Provocative and curious; two frosty historical sci-fi stories written in the carnal voices of *mat* - Soviet era gulag slang with a heavy peppering of illustrious expletives. A must read for adult thinkers & tinkers, and anyone who has ever wondered what pivotal part they truly play on the grand stage of society. Whether secretly or not, we are all someone important to something.

[Derek · Rating 3 out of 5]

Notable as underground Soviet modernist satire, but perhaps not particularly noteworthy in terms of broader literary history.

[Lana (bags.and.books) · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thank you Netgalley and Columbia University Press for this ARC in return for my honest review.

I have no idea how to start. I am not entirely sure what I’ve just read. Fellow reviewers are talking about a strong linguistic profile that I cannot support as a Russian. It seems vulgar and overdone. I understand that Aleshkovsky was aiming for a simple Russian proletariat, in Nikolai Nikolaevich story, an ex-con, pickpocket, who does not know any better. His language is very characteristic along with drinking habits and money thirst. As a character Nikolai Nikolaevich is well written, I can even see that type of person who is looking to do less and earn more. Plot-wise the story fell short for me. Continued description of masturbation and sperm did not fascinate me a bit. His sudden love towards Vlada astonished me as quite unnecessary. I haven’t seen any science fiction in it as well, only some science and fiction.

The uselessness of the experiments and the amount of money thrown into them may signify the desire of the Soviet government to overachieve and always be first in any inventions, especially considering space development. Soviet literature is boring as all the work went through strict censorship, and Aleshkovsky would never ever pass it as his work did not show the Soviet Union as a dreamland with successful workers and happy citizens. The goal is completely different; Aleshkovky was trying to draw the reality of the pretended state, his own perception of USSR. I support his view and goal to show USSR as it was – cruel towards its’ citizen, propaganda driven – but I can’t see any value in this particular story.

I liked The Camouflage more as it gave me a bit more sense. The drunken stories of Milashkin that could have been his illusions in a hospital are quite interesting. However, Aleshkovsky’s obsession with gay rape lest me dumfounded.

I felt like Aleshkovsky threw everything that was prohibited or frowned upon in USSR and tried to be satiric. Personally, I didn’t find it satiric, only gross.