There were stuffed birds, aquariums and terrariums were there, a portrait of the ninety-year-old scientist Pavlov riding a bicycle hung, hovered there, pots and boxes with grasses and flowers stood on windowsills; among them were very exotic and old plants, from some cretaceous period. Besides that—a collection of butterflies and a herbarium assembled by the efforts of generations. And we were there, lost in the foliage, in primeval forests, in thickets, among the microscopes, falling leaves, and colorful plaster casts of human and nonhuman entrails—and we were studying. Please, list the ships of the river registry and more precisely—tell about us, those who were sitting there. Right now I don’t remember the majority of the last names, but I remember that among us was, for example, a boy who, if he made a bet, could eat several flies in a row, there was a girl who would suddenly stand up and strip naked because she thought she had a beautiful figure—naked. There was a boy who kept his hand in his pocket for a long time, and he could not act otherwise because he was weak-willed. There was a girl who wrote letters to herself and answered them. There was a boy with very small hands. And there was a girl with very large eyes, with a long black braid and long eye-lashes; she was getting straight As but she died approximately in the seventh grade, soon after Norvegov, for whom she nourished a joyous and tormented feeling, and he, our Savl Petrovich, also loved her. They loved each other at his dacha, on the shores of the enchanting Lethe, and here, in school, on discarded exercise mats, on different floors of the back staircase, to the accompaniment of the knocks of Perillo’s methodical pendulum. And maybe it was precisely that girl whom our teacher Savl and we called Rose of the Wind. Yes, maybe, but perhaps such a girl never existed and we invented her like everything else in the world. That’s why when your patient mother asks you: And the girl, did she really die?—you should answer: I don’t know, I don’t know anything about the girl. And then she would come in, our beloved Veta Arkadievna. After getting to the lectern, she would open the class register and call on someone: Student so-and-so, tell us about rhododendrons. The one called on began to say something, having something to say, but regardless of what he, other people, or scientific botanical books had to say about rhododendrons, nobody ever said about the rhododendrons the most important thing—do you hear me, Veta Arkadievna?—the most important thing that they, the rhododendrons, growing every minute somewhere in the Alpine meadows, are much happier than we are because they don’t know either love or hate or the Perillo slipper system, and they don’t even die. And if they actually die, they are not missing anything, they are not upset. And a tree, grass, a dog— are not upset. Only for man, burdened by egoistic pity for himself, is dying upsetting and bitter. Remember, even Savl, who gave himself fully to science and its students, said, after he died: I died; it simply makes me mad.
Student so-and-so, allow me, the author, to interrupt your narrative again. As a matter of fact, it’s time to finish the book: I ran out of paper. To be honest, if you’re planning to add here some two or three stories from your life, I’ll run to the store at once and buy several packs. With pleasure, dear author, I’d like to, but you wouldn’t believe me anyway. I could say something about our marriage to Veta Arkadievna, about our great happiness together, and also about what happened in our dacha settlement one day when the Sender finally went to work: On that day the river overflowed its banks, flooded all the dachas and carried away all the boats. Student so-and-so, this is quite interesting and seems to be entirely believable, therefore, let’s go to buy the paper together and on the way you’ll describe everything in order and in detail. Let’s—says Nymphaea. Happily chatting and counting pocket change, patting each other on the back and whistling foolish songs, we go out on the thousand-legged street and miraculously turn into passersby.
NOTES
DEDICATION
Vitia Dancin: The dedication of the novel to the feeble-minded boy Vitia Dancin (Vitia Pliaskin in Russian) reveals hidden information. The name of the boy should bring to mind St. Vitus’ dance, Sydenham’s chorea, an illness characterized by the uncontrollable movement of extremities. The idea of escaping societal controls is an important theme of the novel.
EPIGRAPHS
But Saul, also known as Paul: The quote from Acts of the Apostles (New Revised Standard Version) introduces two important features: the doubling of characters and their names, especially Saul and Paul (in Russian and in the text of the translation Savl and Pavel), and spirituality, the element abhorred by the negative characters in the novel: the narrator’s prosecutor father, Dr. Zauze, and Perillo, the director of the school.
Russian verbs: The verbs represent exceptions to the rules, indicating that the novel will break rules and readers’ expectations.
The same name!: The quote from Poe’s poem stresses again the idea of doubling and doubles, turning our attention to the double personality of the narrator.
1. NYMPHAEA
Right, but how to begin: The first line of the novel introduces the topics of creativity, language, and writing, the major concerns of the book.
making gwooking noises: In Russian, the expression ekaia selezenkoi (making noise with the spleen) is used to describe the noise made by trotting geldings (by the way, the horses make the noise not with the spleen but with the scrotum). Even though there is no word in English for this sound, American equine specialists favor the onomatopoeic “gwook.”
our colleague Pavlov: Ivan Petrovich Pavlov (1849–1936), the Russian physiologist, who won the Nobel Prize in 1904, is famous for his description of “conditional reflexes” in dogs.
rossignol: French for “nightingale.” In the Russian original, Sokolov uses the English word in transliteration to make the name of the bird sound exotic and mysterious. To achieve the same effect in English, I use the French name.
Gogol’s buttonless overcoats: A reference to Nikolay Vasilyevich Gogol’s short story “The Overcoat” (1842).
Vetka I’m a branch: The name of the object of the narrator’s affection, Veta Arkadievna Akatova, the teacher of botany, biology, and anatomy, are significant; her last name is related to the word for acacia and her first name, Veta, a shortened Elizaveta (Elizabeth), produces a diminutive Vetka; in Russian, the diminutive is a homonym for a branch in both uses—as a branch of a tree and a branch of the railroad.
Lethe river: In Greek mythology, Lethe is one of the several rivers of Hades. Those who drank its water forgot their past. In the text, Lethe is not so much the river of forgetfulness as of confusion of time and memory.
properly list even one ship: A reference to the catalogue of ships (neon katalogos) in the second book of Homer’s Iliad.
Hermes . . . Cape Horn miss: In Russian, Hermes (Germes) and Cape Horn (Gorn mys) sound alike; in English translation this similarity was retained by the addition of the word miss, which does not affect the stream of consciousness of the narrator too much.
Tinbergen: Nikolaas Tinbergen (1907–1988) was a Dutch scientist who shared the 1973 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine with Konrad Lorenz and Karl von Frisch for their studies of animal behavior; he was known for The Study of Instinct (1951).
ammophila: Ammophila sabulosa, the sand wasp.
philanthus: Philanthus triangulum, the European beewolf, a predatory wasp that uses bees as food for its larvae.
on a reed pike: In the Russian original, rather than saying “on a reed pipe” (na trostnikovoi dudochke), the narrator says “on a reed foolish girl” (na trostnikovoi durochke). The English translation preserves the sound similarity and the narrator’s slip but, unfortunately, changes the meaning of the substitute word.
blazing fires . . . churning: A quote from the folk tale “Sister Alenushka, Brother Ivanushka.”
I’ve been living with her . . . who is registered here: A reference to the Soviet system of communal apartments, where several families lived in separate rooms but shared the bath and the kitchen, and to the Soviet system of registration that allowed one to occupy a living space and without which one
could not permanently live in the city.
Trachtenberg: The name derives from the famous Russian Jewish mathematician Jakow Trachtenberg (1888–1953), the inventor of the system of rapid mental mathematical calculations.
our teacher Norvegov: The narrator addresses his teacher, Pavel Petrovich Norvegov, most often as Savl Petrovich (using the first name and patronymic); when he talks about him, he uses the last name, Norvegov, or the first name, Savl.
there is no happiness . . . peace and freedom: A reference to a line in Aleksandr Pushkin’s 1834 poem “It’s Time, My Friend, It’s Time”: “There is no happiness in the world, but there is peace and freedom.”
brainless Panurge’s herd: A reference to the 1532 French novel Pantagruel by François Rabelais, in which Panurge buys a sheep from the merchant Dindelaut and, in revenge, makes it jump off a cliff. All the other sheep stupidly follow and tumble to their death. The French expression is “mouton de Panurge.”
Berezov: A town 1,100 kilometers north of Tobolsk. It was a place of exile for many Russians, the most famous of whom was Aleksandr Menshikov, the favorite of Peter the Great; he was sent there in 1727 and died two years later. Today, it is an urbanstyle settlement called Berezovo.
garden of hell: In Russian, adskie kushchi, an antonym of the expected raiskie kushchi (garden of paradise).
thirteenth labor of Hercules: According to Greek mythology, Hercules had to perform twelve labors for King Eurystheus of Tiryns in penance for killing his wife and children.
sing a song about a bluebird: A slightly altered quote from Push-kin’s 1825 poem “Winter Evening” (“Zimnii vecher”).
sucked up . . . shaku: In Russian, issiaknut’ (to dry up, evaporate) and shaku (a Japanese measurement, originally the length from the thumb to the middle finger; today, it is one-tenth of a jo). The appearance of this word is important for the section in which the railroad workers read Kawabata and Dogen.
what was to be done: In Russian, Chto delat’? is the title of two famous works: a 1863 novel by Nikolay Chernyshevsky and the 1902 pamphlet by Vladimir I. Lenin.
Knock and it shall be opened unto you: Matthew 7:7.
ashes and diamonds: Popiółi diament, the title of the 1948 novel by the Polish writer Jerzy Andrzejewski and of the 1958 movie by Andrzej Wajda.
Is it really so cold . . . fresh snow is coming again: A translation of the Russian rendering of Kawabata. Compare with the published English translation of the fragment: Yasunari Kawabata, Snow Country and Thousand Cranes, translated by Edward G. Seidensticker (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1969), 12–13.
more than one jo: A Japanese unit of measurement, approximately 3.03 meters (119.3 inches); the equivalent of ten shaku.
The girl sat . . . looking at the dancer: The source of this quote could not be identified. Most likely it also comes from the Russian version of Kawabata’s Snow Country.
In the spring . . . the snow, clear and cold: This is Dogen’s poem “Innate Spirit,” used by Kawabata in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech.
Tsuneo Danilovich: This is the initial stage of the transformation of Semen Danilovich Nikolaev and Fedor Muromtsev, the railroad workers, into Ts. Nakamura and F. Muromatsu. The transformation is accomplished not only by reading Japanese literature but by the skillful use of Japanese vocabulary: shaku, jo, tatami (a Japanese mat), geta (Japanese wooden shoes), and sake (Japanese rice wine).
instrumentaria: The narrator’s invented word derived from instrumenty (instruments, tools).
Satan begged . . . pleases us too: From the autobiography of the archpriest Avvakum (1620–1682), one of the leaders of the Old Believers, opponents of Patriarch Nikon’s church reforms (1654–1656), written in Pustozersk prison in 1672–1673; see Zhitie protopopa Avvakuma im samim napisannoe (Moscow-Augsburg: Werden Verlag, 2003), 24.
in sweet maxims . . . in studios and studies: A series of expressions related by sound or rhyme. Compare the original: v sladkikh recheniiakh i rechakh, v prakhe otverzhennykh i v strakhe priblizhennykh, v skital’cheskikh sumakh i iudinykh summakh . . . v mareve i murave, v stadiiakh i studiiakh.
Cut, my scythe . . . make your path clear: Rhymed approximate translations of popular rhymed sayings: kosi, kosa, poka rosa and kosi, kosi nozhka, gde tvoia dorozhka.
draw beer from barrels: In Russian, the expression kachaite pivo iz bochek and detei v koliaskakh (draw beer from barrels and [roll] children in strollers) is based on two different meanings of the verb kachat’; in English, on two different meanings of the verb to draw.
from the beloved seashore: The seashore (lukomor’e) is a reference to the opening of Pushkin’s romantic epic poem Ruslan and Ludmila (1820).
hats of Monomakh: Monomakh’s cap (shapka monomakha) is a jeweled sable-lined golden crown that, according to legend, belonged to Russian grand prince Vladimir Monomakh (1053–1125).
tiny pieces of rubber tubing: In the Soviet bloc countries that shared the same bicycle technology (outdated in comparison to the West), the most common repairs were gluing a rubber patch on the punctured inner tube and replacing the worn (cracked) rubber tubing on valve stems. Every bicycle owner was supposed to keep a few rubber patches and a few inches of rubber tubing in a special pouch hanging from the back of the saddle.
in the grackles, no, in the apples: The narrator makes another slip of the tongue, mixing v ziablikakh and v iablokakh (“in the starlings” and “in the apples”). To preserve the euphony, in English starlings were replaced by grackles.
Ivan Fedorov: Fedorov (1525–1583) was the legendary founder of printing in Russia; in 1564, with Petr Mstislavets, he produced the first printed book, The Apostle (Apostol). In 1574, in Lvov, he printed the first Slavonic primer.
ah, beh, veh, geh: The narrator gives the old names of the first letters of the alphabet in Russian: az, buki, vedi, glagol, dobro, etc. Unfortunately, these original letter names cannot be translated and preserve the alphabetical order; therefore, the translation just gives a phonetic pronunciation of the initial letters of the Russian alphabet.
tables of ranks: As one of his reforms, Peter the Great introduced the Table of Ranks in 1722, according to which an individual from any social background, through merit, could attain the fourteenth rank, which was the highest. At the same time, reaching the eighth rank not only made the individual achieve a nobleman status but gave his descendants hereditary nobility. The entire list of objects that can be carried in a cart, including the tables of ranks, consists of many nonsensical or preposterous things, like pencils from the Sacco and Vanzetti factory or objects from the period of the Paris Commune.
A School for Fools Page 21