Round -Table discussion
New York, 1989
A.M. - We gathered here at the round table to discuss some problems of the adaptation of a Russian writer in America.
We must admit that any writer's creative paths are mostly paved with thorns and not with roses in any society at any time. Apparently the special situation a Russian man of letters finds himself in here, tells on his creative work and makes it more specific.
S.D. - As concerning me, I have only one problem: how to write. I believe that a mature writer over 45 faces only this unsolved problem.
A.M. - I trust it has some additional facets due to the circumstances of emigration.
S.V. - No doubt, in the process of our "transplantation" we have to reconsider some of our old concepts and to construct new ones, which we did not have before in our past experience. For example, the words "publisher" or "publishing house" have acquired, quite different meanings here in the States.
S.D. - Sure, you have touched a very important question. Being in the USSR I considered myself rather competent in Western problems. I had been gathering all possible information about the Western way of life to prepare myself for the new changes. However, only here and only through my personal experience and not from the heresay could I really understand the special character of this country, America. There were several stages in this process. At first it seamed to me that I knew everything, then there was a period when I felt lost and confused". Finally, I became confident of myself and the surrounding as I realized that there existed some logic of events. The moment I got that notion, I learned to analyze and to foresee the problems. I guess my fate in America is following certain logic. I can say the same thing about the fate of my friends here, though each of them has chosen his own way. Those who have not achieved success in America - simply do not possess the qualities required by the commercial market: either the themes of their works are not interesting for American readers or the language and style cannot be rendered in a foreign language. Take Zoshenko, for example, it is impossible to translate his books into a foreign language as he created, a language of his own, which had no equivalent. But more often it is pure literary quality that determines a writer's fate. As the practice has shown, good quality does find its way to the reader, sooner or later. Unfortunately it is not a law.
Take Mark Girsh's book "Brighton Beach", it has not been published yet, though it has been praised very highly even by such authors as Norman Mailer.
A.M. - In connection with this example I have a question: to what extent is this natural selection and sifting of the works of Russian writers objectively justified? There is no doubt that the process of re-evaluation is taking place here.
S.D. - Yes and no. Besides our literary "generals" like Aksenov, Gladilin, Voynovich, Vladimov, a big list of authors has appeared who have not been known before and who have started publishing their books only here in America. We two, Solomon Volkov and I, are among these writers.
S.V. - Indeed. You were born here and now you are blossoming. In fact "New Yorker” is your Alma Mater. After Nabokov you are the only Russian prose writer whose works have been published in this magazine. In your case it happened absolutely naturally because you came here as a mature writer with your own views and style which corresponds to the style cultivated by this magazine for years.
S.D. - This case proves that the selection of our works in the American market does not reflect the objective values of all the works. There are many nor less talented writers who cannot find their own publisher and reader. Their names are still unknown. This is a shame.
I do not believe that there are cases of "undeserved” luck among our literary men. Take Limonov, whom nobody knew there and who is still not very popular among certain groups of people here. Nevertheless the man is very gifted and he managed to expose a new layer of life and to attract the attention of American public.
Fridrih Nezhansky, for example, used his experience as a lawyer and created a number of detective stories which became popular in the commercial market.
K.F. - Topol, Neznansky's co-author, had a very difficult period at the beginning. I was helping him to write application papers to different publishing houses. Nobody showed any interest in his books until a British publisher published his work and paved the way to American publishing houses.
S.D. - Indeed, you can find definite logic in each case: good quality plus some other conditions.
S.V. - Nevertheless only one book of a new emigrant has become a best seller level. It is of Shevchenko's.
S.D. - But only one Russian poet enjoys the world recognition at the present time, it is Joseph Brodsky.
To my opinion there is a number of Russian literary men who are no less gifted but due to some circumstances they have not achieved the level Brodsky has achieved. Maybe he is closer to the Western culture, besides he knows the English language. He writes many pieces in English. On the other hand , Sasha Sokolov, so popular among American slavists, has not been published in commercial publishing houses. The outstanding writer Erofeev will never reach the American public because the main theme "metaphysical" nature of vodka-drinking associated in Russian with spiritual elevation, will escape an American reader.
K.F. - Russian themes for Americans are exotic. They have poor knowledge of Russian history, besides our nation is very isolated from the world culture. It is a sad fact.
A.M. - What, to your mind can evoke interest in Americans to the Russian affairs and Russian literature in particular? What might stimulate their interest new masterpieces, gimmicks, or changes in the atmosphere of the social life?
K.F. - The saddest thing is that all these questions are decided here in emigration. It would be much simpler for a writer living in the Soviet Union to submit their manuscripts to American publishers to be tested in a natural way. But here we are facing two problems: adaptation and survival in the new society and the continuation of the literary career. I do not understand what hopes your writers and artists might have coming over here.
S.V. - It is your "fellow slavist" who seduces them.
K.F. - I enjoy reading Russian books, but I am not typical. I know the language. When I visited the USSR I was often asked "Can I work as a professional, would my work be accepted in the West?” Unfortunately my answers do not convince anybody, as I explain that the main thing in the West is advertising and public relations. One has to master that, to make contacts, that is the core of the essence. Still they keep repeating the same question: "What about the quality of my work? Is it acceptable?”
A.M. -I understand it is very hard to tell the truth and to give a realistic picture of the future life of each individual , we are not Gods to predict the fate. However, a very complicated ethical question arises here: who, if not foreign guests can give truthful information to people who are in the process of changing their lives completely by making a decision to emigrate from the USSR? They have no other sources of information.
S.V. -I would think that a duty of each foreigner is to tell the whole truth as only realistic assessment of your opportunities will prepare you for the future. Delicate “yessing” leads to catastrophes.
S.D. - The point is that these people have no obligations towards us, aliens. They are simply not ready to assume the role, nobody has asked them.
S.V. - O.K. Just think. I will give you an example from my own experience. A young avanguard composer in jeans with holes arrives in the USSR. He starts telling his Russian counterparts about his huge house and cars. The Russian musicians get the idea that the fellow bought all this property for the money he got for his musical works. It would never occur to them that that American composer was spending his father’s money, which he made by selling utensils or something else, as he himself does not earn a cent by composing music. It is very important to explain to people the difference between “art for himself” and commercial art.
A.M. - But the concept “commercial” art is very relative. The best artists make names through the commercial market.
S.D. - My works, for example, appear in the American market four years later than in the Russian market. It is good to have bilingual readers.
S.V. - I would like to return to the previous theme. Russian people do not understand that in order to become known, one must possess some capital.
A.M. - What do you mean by the word “capital”? Only finances or a system of contacts, background, etc.?
S.V. - I use the word in a large sense but the main thing is to have money. Without money you cannot start anything: advertising, rent a hall for an exhibition or a performance, efforts to get an art critic present during the show, etc. Only after these preliminaries one can start applying for a grant or selling works. I have heard of one case, which is an exception. Some playwright’s script interested Paul Newman, the man got a commitment. Everybody explained to him: “You have no idea how much you have skipped”.
A.M. - There is another side of the medal. You know the name of Paul Getty. He headed the list of the richest Americans for many years. That man was always sighing: “I would trade this top place in the list of the richest to see my name on the cover of the album with the music I have composed.” Naturally he could have published tons of these albums at his own expense. But what value could it have?
S.V. - Indeed, you cannot buy a positive critical article in respectable press. No money could do that.
Some mix up commercials with paper coverage and professional evaluation. These are quite different things. But in order to get a review of press coverage one needs money.
S.D. - One needs a working wife or another job to make money. As concerns me – my social status has risen considerably and I have become better off in America: now I have no problems with my kids’ footwear and clothes, now I have money for summer vacations, etc. Much depends on what you have left behind and from where you start here. Of course writers who were among the first dozen of the most prominent Soviet people, such as Gladilin, Aksenov probably do not feel such enormous difference in their wellbeing.
A.M. - You have just used the word combination “bilingual readers” which must mean that you have to work on “two fronts”: Russian and American publishing houses. I suppose you must have developed a kind of “feeling”: what is good for Americans and what is better for Russians and what will go with both. If the answer is “yes”, what intuitive criteria have you developed?
S.D. - Oh, yes. My intuition is helping me a lot: I know what I must do, what I can do and what I am not supposed to do. For example, my “Reservation” cannot be translated into English, one needs to decipher the whole reality which is totally unknown to Americans. Though I like this work very much.
A.M. - Maybe you could give us some concrete examples of that kind of difficulties.
S.D. - I would write in Russian: “the thirties have come.” But in English I would have to add “…a new wave of Stalin’s terror.” Once when working on my translation I was about to cross out the name of Esenin, but I was told; no need, people know him, he was Isadora Duncan’s husband. On the other hand “New Yorker” did not want to publish the material about Felix Dzerzhinsky. It was published in the “Parisian Review”. I have special difficulties when translating political events.
For us, Russians, some word combinations are symbols of definite concepts. For example, “1938”, a night doorbell”, “a priest’s son”, etc.
Joseph Brodsky is against translating into Russian some of his works written in English. He wrote them for Americans considering their life experience and their mentality. He had to explain things, which are obvious to Russians. I am sitting here with Solomon Volkov whose books were published in many languages but Russian.
S.V. - It is due to some special factors. The thing is that my book about Balanchine “rings the bell” only here in America. In Manhattan he is God. In Russia people practically do not know the man. ...
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