Book on Gogol's "DEAD SOULS": ОГЛАВЛЕНИЕ (TABLE OF CONTENTS)

 

ОГЛАВЛЕНИЕ

TABLE OF CONTENTS

 

ВМЕСТО ПРЕДИСЛОВИЯ

PREFACE                                                                                                                   2                                                                                                             

ПРЕДИСЛОВИЕ

INTRODUCTION                                                                                                         5

 

ПО-РУССКИ ПИШЕТ ПИСАТЕЛЬ, КОТОРЫЙ НЕ УМЕЕТ ПИСАТЬ ПО-РУССКИ

A WRITER OF RUSSIAN WHO CANNOT WRITE IN RUSSIAN                                             27

 

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«Мертвые души»

 

НАЧАЛО

THE BEGINNING                                                                                                         28

 

ГРОТЕСК

A WORD ON THE GROTESQUE                                                                                     32

 

СОВЕТСКАЯ ТОЧКА ЗРЕНИЯ

THE RUSSIAN SOCIO-POLITICAL SCENE AND SOCIAL CRITICISM                                      33

 

ИРОНИЯ и САТИРА

IRONY and SATIRE                                                                                                      37

 

СМЕХ В «МЕРТВЫХ ДУШАХ»

THE LAUGHTER OF DEAD SOULS                                                                                  42

 

ЛЕЙТМОТИВЫ: СНЕДЬ

LEITMOTIFS: FOOD                                                                                                    56

 

ПРАВДОПОДОБИЕ

THE SWINDLE: COULD IT WORK?

THE TIME FRAME, VERISIMILITUDE                                                                             63

 

МЕТАФИЗИКА «МЕРТВЫХ ДУШ» И МЕРТВЫХ ДУШ

THE METAPHYSICS OF “DEAD SOULS” AND DEAD SOULS                                               69

 

ЛЕЙТМОТИВЫ: САПОГИ

LEITMOTIFS: BOOTS                                                                                                   79

 

 

ПОРУЧИК РЯЗАНЬ

P.S. ON BOOTS: LT. RIAZAN                                                                                         82

 

ОМНАСТИКА-ГИМНАСТИКА

OMNASTICS GYMNASTICS                                                                                          85

 

“СОВСЕМ НЕ ПОДЫМАЕТСЯ ПЕРО”

MISOGYNY                                                                                                                100

 

МЕТАФОРЫ ВДРЕБЕЗГИ

METAPHORS RUNNING AMUCK                                                                                  103

 

ЛЕЙТМОТИВЫ: ЛОШАДИ, ПОВОЗКИ, ДОРОГА

LEITMOTIFS: HORSES AND CARRIAGES;

VEHICLES; THE ROAD                                                                                                 107

 

ОТСТУПЛЕНИЯ

DIGRESSIONS                                                                                                            115

 

ПАТЕТИЧЕСКИЙ/БАТЕТИЧЕСКИЙ

GAMES OF PATHETIC/BATHETIC                                                                                  130

 

МУЗЫКА

THE MUSIC                                                                                                                132

 

НОЗДРЕВ

NOZDRYOV, THE EMBODIMENT OF VULGARITY

(AND CREATIVITY)                                                                                                      136

 

МЕГАЛОМАНИЯ

MEGALOMANIA                                                                                                         141

 

ЛЕЙТМОТИВЫ: СНОГСШИБАТЕЛЬНОСТЬ

LEITMOTIFS: DUMBFOUNDED                                                                                    146

 

ЛЕЙТМОТИВЫ: П. С.

P.S. ON LEITMOTIFS                                                                                                   148

 

СКАЗИФИКАЦИИ

SKAZIFICATIONS                                                                                                        149

 

ВРЕМЯ И ВРЕМЕНА ГОДА

TIME AND SEASONS, SPACE, DISTANCES                                                                      158

 

 

ТЕМА ТВОРЧЕСКОГО ВООБРАЖЕНИЯ

THE THEME OF THE CREATIVE IMAGINATION                                                               163

 

ВЫДУМЩИКИ

MORE ON LIARS AND LYING                                                                                       175

 

СОЧИНИТЕЛЬ И ЕГО ЧИТАТЕЛИ

THE WRITER AND HIS READERS:

INTRODUCTION TO SECOND EDITION OF DS                                                                 180

 

ПРОЛЕПСИС (ПРЕДВОСХИЩЕНИЕ ВОЗРАЖЕНИЯ)

THE WRITER AND HIS READERS: PROLEPSIS                                                                 182

 

ЧИЧИКОВ И БРАК

CHICHIKOV AND MARRIAGE                                                                                       194

 

“Я САМ ПО СЕБЕ”

CHICHIKOV AS INDEPENDENT CHARACTER                                                                  195

 

ЧИЧИКОВ КАК ПРЕДСТАВИТЕЛЬ САТАНЫ

CHICHIKOV AS SATAN’S REPRESENTATIVE                                                                    198

 

ОКОНЧАНИЕ

THE ENDING                                                                                                              200

 

CONCLUSION: DEAD SOULS AND DEAD SOULS THEN AND NOW AND NEXT                     208

 

ОПТИМИЗМ

THE OPTIMISM OF DEAD SOULS                                                                                  217

 

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ВМЕСТО БИБЛИОГРАФИИ

APPENDIX ONE: IN LIEU OF A BIBLIOGRAPHY                                                               219

 

«Мертвые души» на английском языке (переводы)

                      APPENDIX TWO: TRANSLATIONS INTO ENGLISH                                         220

 

Introduction                                                                                                             220

 

THE TEXTUAL COMPARISONS                                                                                      222

 

The Opening Passage of the Novel                                                                              222

 

On Food                                                                                                                   228

Who Is Drunk?                                                                                                          230

Feminine Hypocrisy and Cant                                                                                     231

Sobakievich on Scoundrels                                                                                         234

The Scottish Conundrum and Where to Slap with the Back of a Boot Heel                      236

 

Smash-Mouth Bashings and Back-of-the-Noggin Clouts                                                239

Skaz Narration Within the Narration                                                                           241

More Problems with Women: the Pen That Won’t Stand Up                                         244

Haberdasheries                                                                                                        246

Cute                                                                                                                         250

Noses Stuffed with Hussars                                                                                        251

Nineteenth-Century Russian Invective                                                                        253

Translating Lofty Rhetoric                                                                                          255

 

A Light-Gray Jacket Works as Scrivener, and Occiputs Untranslated                                               262

 Magpies and Nuts (and Testicles)                                                                                265

Эй, ухнем! (Hey, heave-ho!)                                                                                      268

Pecking Orders                                                                                                         272

The Conclusion of the Book                                                                                        282

Final Thoughts                                                                                                          293

[book now available for purchase on Amazon.com]

Translations: the Bestest of the Best, NINETEEN, Aleksandr Pushkin, "На холмах Грузии лежит ночная мгла," THE HILLS OF GEORGIA LIE QUIESCENT

                                                                     Tallulah Gorge

Aleksandr Pushkin

(1799-1837)

 

На холмах Грузии лежит ночная мгла;
Шумит Арагва предо мною.
Мне грустно и легко; печаль моя светла;
Печаль моя полна тобою,
Тобой, одной тобой… Унынья моего
Ничто не мучит, не тревожит,
И сердце вновь горит и любит — оттого,
Что не любить оно не может.

1829

                                                                             d

                      Literal Translation

 Upon the hills of Georgia lies the murk of night;

Before my eyes the Aragva River roars.

I feel sad and at ease; my sorrow is bright;

My sorrow is full of you,

Of you, you alone . . . Nothing torments

Nor troubles my melancholy,

And my heart burns and loves anew—because

It cannot help loving.

 

d

 Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie

 The hills of Georgia lie quiescent, swathed in night;

Tallulah River’s rapids in the gorge below are raging.

I feel at ease with anguish; my melancholy’s bright,

Suffused with you, the anguish is engaging.

So full of you and you alone that sorrow

Seems not the least aggrieved by pain or woes;

My love flames up, will burn still on the morrow, 

For hearts cannot but burn when in love’s throes.                                                                                        

                                                                                            Date of translation: March, 2022

 

Translator’s Note

 I took the liberty of translating not only the poem, but also the setting, from the Georgian Republic in the Caucasus Mountains to the Appalachian Mountains of Eastern Georgia, U.S.A.  

 

Translation of Poem by Yury Levitansky, ЮРИЙ ЛЕВИТАНСКИЙ, "Это Осип Эмильич шепнул мне во сне," IN A DREAM IN A WHISPER

 

ЮРИЙ ЛЕВИТАНСКИЙ
(1922-1996)

 

Это Осип Эмильич шепнул мне во сне,
а услышалось – глас наяву.
– Я трамвайная вишенка, – он мне сказал,
прозревая воочью иные миры, –
я трамвайная вишенка страшной поры
и не знаю, зачем я живу.
 
Это Осип Эмильич шепнул мне во сне,
но слова эти так и остались во мне,
будто я, будто я, а не он,
будто сам я сказал о себе и о нём –
мы трамвайные вишенки страшных времен
и не знаем, зачем мы живём.
 
Гумилевский трамвай шёл над тёмной рекой,
заблудившийся в красном дыму,
и Цветаева белой прозрачной рукой
вслед прощально махнула ему.
 
И Ахматова вдоль царскосельских колонн
проплыла, повторяя, как древний канон,
на высоком наречье своём:
– Мы трамвайные вишенки страшных времен.
Мы не знаем, зачем мы живём.
 
О, российская муза, наш гордый Парнас,
тень решеток тюремных издревле на вас
и на каждой нелживой строке.
А трамвайные вишенки русских стихов,
как бубенчики в поле под свист ямщиков,
посреди бесконечных российских снегов
все звенят и звенят вдалеке.
 
d

                                       Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie
 
In a dream in a whisper he said that to me,
Osip Emilych said it, you see,
and it rang on through my waking hours:
“I’m a cherry pit riding a trolley,” quoth he,
“catching a look at first hand of worlds sour,
On a cherry pit ride through Horrendous and Dour,
and I can’t comprehend how to be.” 
 
Those were the words of dear Osip in dreamland,
words that go echoing now far and near,
as if I, and not he, said the words muttered offhand,
as if I said of him and myself the words drear:
“We’re cherry pits riding a tram though Horrendous,
and we can’t figure out why we’re here.”
 
Above a dark river ran Gumilyov’s tram,
lost its way in a reddish smoke-haze,
and Tsvetaeva, raising a translucent hand,
saw him off with a troubled, sad gaze.  
 
While gliding past columns Corinthian, Petrine,  
repeated Akhmatova that same refrain, 
in her manner disdainful, imposing, benign:
“We’re cherry pits riding through Viciousness Sheer, 
and we can’t comprehend why we’re here.”
 
O, thou muse of dear Russia, our Parnassus proud,
from time out of mind prison bars shadow thee,
loom o’er all of thy lines that don’t lie.
And like harness bells clinking neath coachman’s shrill cry,
the cherry-pit riders of our poetry,
midst boundless snow forming a white Russian shroud, 
keep on sounding their song in the far vistas free.
 
d
 

                                                             Translator’s Note
                            The Hard Lot of the Russian Poet of the Twentieth Century
 
Osip Emilevich Mandelstam (1891-1938). Arrested several times, exiled. After last arrest sent out to a labor camp in Siberia, but died in transit, in Vladivostok.
 
Nikolai Gumilyov (1886-1921). Arrested and accused of taking part in a counterrevolutionary plot. Shot. Gumilyov has a poem titled “The Tramcar That Lost Its Way.”
 
Marina Tsvetaeva (1892-1941). After a life full of unspeakable adversities and personal sorrow, she hanged herself in the provincial town of Yelabuga.
 
Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966). Gumilyov’s wife. For this fact she was never forgiven. Never herself sent to the Gulag, but in place of her they arrested her son. She was hounded by Soviet authorities throughout her life.
 

Translation of Poem by Innokenty Annensky, Иннокентий Анненский, "Тоска мимолётности," THE ANGUISH OF EPHEMERALITY

 

Иннокентий Анненский
(1855-1909)

                       Тоска мимолётности

Бесследно канул день. Желтея, на балкон
Глядит туманный диск луны, ещё бестенной,
И в безнадежности распахнутых окон,
Уже незрячие, тоскливо-белы стены.

Сейчас наступит ночь. Так чёрны облака...
Мне жаль последнего вечернего мгновенья:
Там всё, что прожито, — желанье и тоска,
Там всё, что близится, — унылость и забвенье.

Здесь вечер как мечта: и робок и летуч,
Но сердцу, где ни струн, ни слез, ни ароматов,
И где разорвано и слито столько туч...
Он как-то ближе розовых закатов.

Summer 1904, Yalta

d

                                           Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie
 
                     The Anguish of Ephemerality
 
Without a trace the day has died. On terrace gleams
A misty disc of moonlight void of shadow;
Midst hopelessness of windows opened wide meseems
Stand drearily pale walls now purblind, sallow.
 
Night is now at hand. So black the clouds’ quagmire.
I feel sorry for the gloaming wreathed in doom:
With all that one’s lived through—the longing and desire,
With all that’s on the way—oblivion and gloom.
 
Here evening’s like a dream: both volatile and shy,
But to the heart, devoid of tears, of aromatic scents,
Where rent apart and then cohered are storm-clouds in the sky,
The eventide seems closer to a sunset’s pink effulgence. 
 
[from the Anguishing Cycle]

                                                        "SALVE" St. Petersburg, Russia