by Yuri Olesha
At that moment he felt the time had come, the line had been drawn between two existences—the time for a catastrophe!—the time to break, break with everything that had been … right now, this minute, and in two heartbeats, no more; he had to cross that line, and life, repugnant, chaotic, not his—alien, violent life—would be left behind …
He stood there, eyes wide open, and from his running and agitation and because he was still weak, his entire field of vision pulsed before him and turned pink.
He realized how far he had fallen. It had been inevitable. He had lived too easy and conceited a life, he had held too high an opinion of himself. He was a lazy, foul, and capricious man.
Kavalerov understood everything as he flew over the sty.
He went back, collected his suspenders, and dressed. A spoon clanked—the widow was reaching out for him—but he left the building without looking back. Once again he spent the night on the boulevard. And once again he returned. But he made a firm decision: “I’ll put the widow in her place. I won’t let her so much as hiccup about what happened. Lots can happen when there’s drinking involved. But I can’t live on the street.”
The widow was lighting a small piece of kindling over the burner. She looked at him sideways and smiled smugly. He walked into the room. Hanging on the corner of the cupboard was Ivan’s bowler.
Ivan was sitting on the bed, looking like his brother, only smaller. A blanket surrounded him like a cloud. On the table was a wine bottle. Ivan was sipping from a glass of red wine. Evidently he had just woken up: his face hadn’t smoothed out yet, and he was still scratching dreamily somewhere under the blanket.
“What does this mean?” Kavalerov asked the classic question.
Ivan smiled clearly.
“This means, my friend, that we need a drink. Anichka, a glass!”
Anichka came in. She searched in the cupboard.
“Don’t be jealous, Kolya,” she said, hugging Kavalerov. “He’s very lonely, just like you. I pity you both.”
“What does this mean?” Kavalerov asked softly.
“Why harp on that?” Ivan got angry. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
He climbed off the bed, holding on to his drawers, and poured Kavalerov some wine.
“Let’s drink, Kavalerov … We’ve talked a lot about emotions … And we forgot the main one, my friend … We forgot indifference … Didn’t we? In fact … I think that indifference is the best of all conditions of the human mind. Let’s be indifferent, Kavalerov. Take a look! We’ve got ourselves a room, my friend. Drink. To indifference. Hurrah! To Anichka! And today, by the way … listen: I’ve got some good news for you … Today, Kavalerov, is your turn to sleep with Anichka. Hurrah!”
Moscow
February–June 1927
This is a New York Review Book
Published by The New York Review of Books
435 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014
www.nyrb.com
Yuri Olesha’s Russian text copyright © 1985 by Varvara Shklovskaya-Kordi
Translation copyright © 2004 by Marian Schwartz
Introduction copyright © 2004 by Ken Kalfus
All rights reserved.
Published by arrangement with FTM Agency, Ltd., Russia
Cover image: El Lissitzky, Untitled (Mannequin), c. 1923–9
Cover design: Katy Homans
The Library of Congress has cataloged the earlier printing as follows:
Olesha, IUrii Karlovich, 1899–1960.
[Zavist'. English]
Envy / Yuri Olesha ; translated from the Russian by Marian Schwartz ; introduction by Ken Kalfus.
p. cm. — (New York Review Books classics)
ISBN 1-59017-086-5 (pbk. : alk. paper)
I. Schwartz, Marian. II. Title. III. Series.
PG3476.O37Z213 2004
891.73’42—dc22
2004004060
eISBN 978-1-59017-541-5
v1.0
For a complete list of books in the NYRB Classics series, visit www.nyrb.com or write to:
Catalog Requests, NYRB, 435 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014
Table of Contents
Biographical Notes
Title Page
Introduction
Envy
Part One
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
Part Two
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
Copyright and More Information