Alexander GrinReseñas

Russian author Aleksandr Stepanovich Grinevsky (1880 – 1932) better known by his pen-name Alexander Grin, was born in Vyatka of an exiled Polish family. In his youth he was a sailor, gold-miner, construction worker, soldier and even, during a short stint as member of the Socialist-Revolutionary party, a would-be terrorist. These formative experiences provided plenty of raw material when he eventually gravitated towards literature. Grin churned out stories at an incredible – if not downright alarming rate – in 1915 alone, he wrote more than 100 short stories and poems. By the mid-1920’s, he had built a fairly solid reputation. However, he eventually lost favour with the Soviet regime and, whilst he did not suffer any direct persecution, the authorities’ dismissal of his work as “not needed” led to a marked decline in his fortunes and health. Following the Second World War, Grin’s writings underwent a reassessment and 1965 saw the publication of a six-volume collection of Grin’s works. In Russia, Grin is now considered a key author of the early 20th Century – his fairy-tale novella Scarlet Sails, in particular, is much-loved and has inspired film, opera and ballet, as well as lending its name to an all-night festival in St. Petersburg celebrating the end of the scholastic year.

It is fair to say, however, that, in comparison, Grin remains a little-known figure in the English-speaking world. Hopefully, he will get a wider readership, thanks to this selection of short stories, newly-translated by Bryan Karetnyk and published by Columbia University Press as part of their “Russian Library” series.

As far as the style and content of his stories are concerned, Grin has been said to be reminiscent of Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Louis Stevenson, Alexandre Dumas and Franz Kafka. In his introduction to the collection, Barry P. Scherr explains that the influences on Grin, whether as declared by himself or as stated by others, include not only these mentioned authors, but also Rudyard Kipling, James Fenimore Cooper, Jules Verne and Mayne Reid. This roll-call of potential influences is significant. It shows, first of all, that Grin was at odds with the Russian tradition, and closer to foreign authors, especially those writing in English. During his lifetime, this gave rise to a strange rumour about Grin – namely that during his sailing years he had killed an English sea captain and stolen a suitcase full of manuscripts, eventually translating them into Russian and passing them off as his own. Grin’s “foreignness” also contributed to his ostracization by the Soviet regime. In this regard, Barry P. Scherr further observes that Grin often employs convoluted syntax, as well as phrasing and similes which, in the original Russian, sound unusual and odd. Karetnyk’s translation brings out Grin’s style, yet remains readable throughout – even as plots get denser and more fantastic.

The difficulty to compare Grin to one or more specific authors, however, also reveals how protean a writer he could be, a fact which is borne out by the selection of eight stories in his volume, chosen from various stages in the author’s career. The chief common element in the featured pieces is the (very Romantic) presence of a male narrator or protagonist, who is generally facing some sort of physical or psychological struggle against which he must prove himself. Apart from this basic similarity, the stories are very different from each other. Quarantine, the earliest piece, has an autobiographical element, in that it presents us with a revolutionary who is having second thoughts about an assignment he has been given. “She” features another troubled male protagonist obsessed by the image of a woman – it is one of Grin’s first stories to reveal the influence of Poe.

Many of Grin’s later works are based in an exotic setting, which his fans fondly refer to as “Grinlandia”. Recalling the tropical backdrop of 19th century adventure stories, Grin’s made-up world seems strangely unrelated to any real geographical place. His made-up territory is generally populated by European emigrés and adventurers, usually with English, French, Spanish or strange-sounding names.

The first Grin work set in “Grinlandia” is “Reno Island”, from 1909. Karetnyk, however, opts instead for Lanphier Colony, published only a few months afterwards, and possibly a more typical example of Grin’s adventure stories. The hero here is one “Horn” who, hurt in love like the protagonist of “She”, tries to set up an ideal settlement on a remote island – with tragic consequences. There is a similar concept in The Heart of the Wilderness, although the mood of this latter story is lighter and its outlook more optimistic.

The Devil of the Orange Waters is another “Grinlandia” work – a psychological study of a Russian political exile whose experiences fill him with despair and antipathy to life.

Grin seems to purposely avoid reference to topical political events. The Poisoned Island is a notable exception, despite its exotic setting. It takes the form of an inquiry into what appears to be a mysterious mass suicide on a tropical island. There is a suggestion that this was a case of collective hysteria provoked by news of world conflagrations.

The final two stories in the collection abandon Grinlandia, being set in Petrograd and inspired specifically by the author’s experiences living at the House of Arts, an institution for artists established by Maxim Gorky. Ironically, despite their ‘realistic’ setting, these are also amongst the more fantastical of Grin’s tales, and could easily be classified as examples of “weird fiction”. The main character in The Rat-Catcher, who is recovering from typhus and has no fixed abode, is offered accommodation in a huge abandoned building in Petrograd. As night approaches, the protagonist realizes that the building is haunted by mysterious figures who seem to be plotting the murder of the eponymous Rat-Catcher. There follows a nightmarish adventure in the labyrinthine building, which can be either taken at face-value as a supernatural experience, or simply a hallucination provoked by the narrator’s fever and hunger. If I dare add another potential “parallel”, I would say that Grin’s brand of the unheimlich recalls some of the tales of E.T.A. Hoffmann.

Fandango – the title piece – also combines an actual setting (post-Revolution Petrograd) with extraordinary happenings, giving it a tinge of magical realism. Yet, its mood is markedly different from that of The Rat-Catcher. A contingent of Spanish-speaking visitors to the House of Arts, led by the mysterious Bam-Gran, appoints the narrator as an interpreter. A strange series of events transports the narrator to the Grinlandian city of Zurbagan which, in contrast with the bleakness of Petrograd, glows with Mediterranean passion, as represented by melody and dance-rhythms and melodies of the Iberian “fandango”. Perhaps herein lies the key to Grin’s work – it is “escapist fiction” in the best sense of the word, a transformative experience which, at least temporarily, carries us away from the everyday to a more colourful world.

For a full, illustrated review accompanied by a selection of examples of the "fandango" in classical music, visit https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/08/Alexander-Grin-Fandango-Russian-Libra...

Az én ’77-es irodalmi lexikonom azt mondja Grinről, hogy művein átüt a forradalom utáni évek lelkesedése – hát lótúrót, azt. Kezdjük ott, hogy a húszas-harmincas éveket (haláláig) azzal töltötte, hogy alkalmi munkák után talpalt, és gyakran éhezett is – egy ilyen embertől lelkesedést várni kábé annyira életszerű, mint egy államtitkár, aki egyben keményen dolgozó kisember is. Az egész grin-i életmű az elvágyódásról szól, könyveit benépesítik az egzotikus, délszaki figurák, tengerjárók, kalandorok, csupa olyan személy, aki Szovjetoroszországban egész egyszerűen nem fordulhatna elő. Kevés olyan írót ismerek, aki nagyobb hiábavaló vágyakozást jelenítene meg műveiben, mint ő.

És ugyanakkor kevés olyan írót ismerek, aki vonzóbb életművet hagyott volna hátra – ami azzal együtt bámulatra méltó, hogy közben iszonyatosan egyenetlen is. Ez a kötet kiváló példa rá. Az első történet, a Fandango az egyik legfinomabb, legérzékenyebb látlelet az orosz húszas évekről, pedig a történelmi hátteret jobbára csak sejteti. Grin egy csodás kontraszttal játszik: egyik oldalon ott van a szürke, jéghideg szovjet valóság a élelmiszerjegyekkel, a puskalövésekkel, a káosszal, a másik oldalon pedig a meleg mediterrán napsütés, a varázslat, és a spanyol dallam, a Fandango vissza-visszatérő taktusai – a képzelt világ, ami után elbeszélőnk vágyakozik. Bravúros megoldás, nabokovi ihletettségű mondatok, csillagos ötös. Az utolsó kisregény, a Hincs kalandjai egyetlen zaklatott monológ Lebegyev tollából, aki kölcsönkap egy pokolgépet, és ezzel elkezdődnek hányattatásai. Kiváló, lüktető, látomásos próza, ez is legyen öt csillag. Csak sajna a kettő között ott van a Jessy és Morghiana, ami kiváló példa arra, milyen gyengén is tud írni Grin, ha a mondatait nem tölti meg a személyes élmény mágiájával. A végtelenül bő lére eresztett történet középpontjában egy testvérpár gyűlölködése áll – az alapötlet még megjárja, de az egész olyan giccses, olyan kiszámítható, mint valami rossz lektűr. (Illetve lektűrnek nem olyan rossz, de Grin ne írjon lektűrt, ha tud mást is.). Különösen bántó így, hogy két kiváló írás közé van bepasszintva. Mondjuk három csillag, jóindulattal. Kétszer öt, meg három, osztva hárommal az 4,33333. De ennyi csillag nincs.

I've wanted to read this for years and years and I finally got around to it. It's a lovely, simple little tale with more depth than you'd think at first, and the translation seems well-done...or at least, I appreciated the language even though it wasn't in the first language.

Cynical as I am, I expected a very different ending: I thought that Asole would have decided to make her own miracle by leaving the town the very morning that Grey sailed into the bay. That seemed suitably adult. Instead, and I can't say that I regret this at all, we get a very fairy tale-like and charming happy ending. I'm more than happy to take it.

Quote Roundup

p. 16) In his silence there had been so much more than mere hate. And not a person failed to sense this. If he had only screamed, expressed his joy at Manners' plight in gestures, or shown pride in his own maliciousness, the fishermen might have understood. But he had acted differently from the way any of them would have acted. His conduct was utterly incomprehensible. He had set himself above everyone else, and by doing so had committed the unforgivable.

p. 36) "The future will show you many a sail, not scarlet, but dirty and evil. From a distance they'll look grand and white but close by they will be torn and coarse."

p. 46) "This is paradise! I have it right here, see?" And Grey laughed quietly, opening his palm.
From the mouths of children...

p. 66) She listened without reproach. But in what he had found to be the meaning of his life, the truth of his being, she saw only toys with which her little boy was amusing himself. Such toys as continents, oceans, ships.

p. 94) Nowadays, children, in their games, only imitated what their elders did.

p. 144) So-called miracles are made with one's own hands. When the most important thing for a man is to get a precious sixpence, it's easy enough to provide him with that sixpence. But when a heart conceals the seed of a flaming plant, a miracle, that is the miracle to make happen--if one can.

The one you do it for will be reborn and so will you. When the chief warden himself frees a prisoner; when a billionaire presents a villa, a chorus girl, and a safe full of money to a clerk; and when a jockey just for once holds his horse back for the sake of a horse who's had a run of bad luck, everyone understands. That is nice, that is inexpressibly miraculous. But there are other miracles: a smile, gladness, forgiveness, and a word which is needed and said in time. To experience them is to possess everything.

Plot:
Assol grows up in a fisher village. She is poor and not particularly well-liked in the village, but an old storyteller foretold her that one day a ship with red sails would come with her love to take her away. Ever since Assol is waiting for that ship to arrive. Meanwhile, Arthur Gray is a rich kid who dreams of becoming a sea captain, a career choice that is both unthinkable and un-understandable for his parents. So Gray runs away to make his destiny.

Scarlet Sails is a beautiful, romantic fairy tale that pulled me in deeply and made me want to read more of Grin’s work. Wonderful.

Read more on my blog: https://kalafudra.com/2019/12/18/scarlet-sails-alexander-grin/

Es hat mir gefallen. Das Buch wirkt ein bisschen wie aus der Zeit gefallen: Edgar Allan Poe im 20. Jahrhundert! Ich bin ein Fan des Autors, habe aber schon lange nichts gelesen; so war es gleich eine Wiederentdeckung. Es ist nicht der Überflieger, aber so etwas wie ein viktorianischer Grusel-Krimi - und mit Humor geschrieben! - Das Format "Roman-Zeitung" ist allerdings wirklich gruselig: es fühlt sich mit seinen Kolumnen an wie ein Groschenroman, die Seiten sind vergilbt und brüchig. Und die Übersetzung wirkt an einigen Stellen sehr unbeholfen.

L'attrapeur de rats est une nouvelle de 85 pages, paru pour la première fois en Russie en 1924. Son auteur (1880-1932) semble dans ce texte sortir quelque peu du style de roman qu'il écrivait d'habitude. On est à Petrograd, dans une ville meurtrie par la Guerre civile. Un jeune homme, très pauvre, tente de vendre ses livres sur le marché. Il rencontre une jeune fille qui est occupée exactement à la même chose. Elle lui vient en aide, il cherche à avoir son nom, mais elle lui donne son numéro de téléphone qu'il va perdre pratiquement immédiatement. Peu de temps après, il tombe malade, est hospitalisé et perd son logement. Une connaissance lui propose de squatter pour quelques jours le bâtiment d'une ancienne banque, 220 pièces, désertées depuis la Révolution. Il y découvre des faits et habitants étranges.

Plutôt pas mal. L'auteur sait créer une atmosphère inquiétante, la chute est très bonne mais arrive un peu trop comme un cheveu sur la soupe : on en aimerait un peu plus. 40 pages de Petrograd, 30 pages de banque, 15 pages d'habitants étranges et de complot, c'est un peu court : l'auteur installe bien son décor et ses personnages mais l'action de fin manque de détails. Cela donne surtout envie de découvrir des textes plus longs ou en tout cas plus de textes pour se faire une meilleure idée de l'auteur.

I read the English translation, not the original Russian, because I happened to have a copy around. The book seemed to me to be of no particular time or place, but it is much beloved by Russians.

Die 13 Erzählungen dieses Bandes entstanden 1922 bis 1928. K. Kasper schreibt im Nachwort, dass in dieser Zeit „sich die Tendenz zur parabelhaften Verfremdung in Grins Prosa am stärksten ausprägte.“ Ich fand die, die ich las, sehr unterschiedlich. Die Handlung steht immer im Vorergrund, aber in einigen (z.B. Das Neujahrsfest ..., Die Schlange) ist sie so vorausschaubar, dass sie mich langweilten, zumal ich die Sprache wenig anziehend finde, obwohl das natürlich an der Übersetzung liegen könnte. Dagegen hält einen Der Rattenfänger gefangen, wie wenn man sich in einer Piranesi Radierung verirrt – bis zum enttäuschenden dénouement. Die Titelerzählung gefiel mir am besten, aber auch hier störte mich oft die Sprache – sie läßt der Phantasie wenig Raum – und die Betonung der Handlung. Dann legte ich das Buch beiseite. (I-12) ** bis ***½

A wonderful, magical romance. I received this book when I was a child, and I still love it...