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Where there is no law, but every man does what is right in his own eyes, there is the least of real liberty
Henry M. Robert

Life is an Attempt at a Book

13 November, 2012 - 00:00

Precisely now when we in Kyiv and most other places in Ukraine are finally allowed to experience the scorching drama of real full-blooded summer, when our brains were melting, refusing to serve us, making us see not reason but cans with foaming ice-cold beer, when the Aeneid had reached its apogee and became a tour to hell, precisely then yours truly, together with Volodymyr Yeshkilev, one of the few surviving exegetes, finished work on a publishing project on which we had worked for two years. It is an encyclopedia, a special one, known here as “branch” or “sectoral” (Soviet literary bureaucratic coinage), although most my fellow countrymen will not even think this “branch” worth the effort. We have prepared an encyclopedia dedicated to a subject that may well be regarded, in today's profane light, as not really existing. Anyway, we have prepared an encyclopedia on topical Ukrainian literature.

This is the first attempt to broach the subject, the beginning of what we hope will be a long experience. Compared to the original cost estimates, subsequently reduced 10-12 times, our joint financial capacity turned out sufficient for a very concise encyclopedia. Despite its incompleteness and maybe even naive rendition, this outline of modern Ukrainian literature suddenly became very demanding. The original makeup literally grew before our very eyes. A disease, something to do with obesity, which I would diagnose as having to do with too many good names and texts that simply could not be left unconsummated. Be it as it may, in a month or two, our stars and Lileya NB Publishers willing, our book will come off the presses and maybe we will witness the miracle of its pages being turned by the “interested reader” (another cliche, a must for every literary review since Soviet times). There are about 300 pages of closely spaced text along with illustrations, charts, and tables. As to format, the medieval publishers gave it a beautiful appellation: in quarto. In today's computer mumbo jumbo it is known as A4, making each copy a heavy package. Hopefully, one will be embedded in a crack in one of the walls of the ruined edifice of Our National Literature.

What happened to our literature over the past quarter century? What has not happened that could have happened? What will we be left with after the turning point in chronology when we will have to use two zeroes to count the years? How will we master this new chronology, but most importantly how will we master ourselves?

I also compiled a supplementary textbook and this was an opportunity to reread, sort out and sometimes type out and enter into files texts which I was especially fond of or found interesting and important, contrary to prevalent opinions.

The main idea was to create a Gestalt image of a literature very different from what we used to know as “Soviet Ukrainian literature” for so many years and which is still dominant in all school textbooks approved by the Ministry of Public Education. I never coordinated my selections with the authors. I wanted this to be my choice, so I only hope that those that disagree will try to understand my good intentions.

Of course, I had to encounter “classification” (categorization) which I have never been able to comprehend and which my exegete co-author calls encyclopedic crassness. Much as I wanted to I could not ignore factors such as social environment, generation, and regional peculiarities. Whereas the oldest authors (“underground of the seventies”) were reared in Brezhnev's environs (he had just reached his political prime), with constant KGB manhunts, the youngest, the men of the nineties, had to content themselves with the illusory freedom of expression while their society was being thoroughly lumpenized. The system I chose looks rather eclectic. After all, our current surroundings are anything but pure.

And yet amidst these molten days I again live on expectations, having become aware, suddenly, with all scorching clarity, that this “quarter of the century,” this fourth quarter, this Urgent Ukrainian Literature is such a sizable chunk of my life so let it be a book.

 

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