By Andriy OKHRIMOVYCH
There is a postulate to the effect that civilization is created by provincials.
The author of this discovery primarily has in mind such literary giants
as Balzac, Gogol, and Shevchenko.
Their provincial origin is presented as an axiom and the list of names
is made to look endless. But I think the logical premise is a lame duck.
Using it, one may assume that world civilization was created by a sex machine.
One could even scrape up a number of supporting examples. But let us concentrate
on great provincials. Characteristically, none of them was one bit enthusiastic
about reestablishing that honorable status. Breathing down the back of
the neck of an ambitious servant of the Muses and Graces, the provincial
phantom spurred his creative energy like an internal combustion engine
of sorts. Anything but Moryntsi or Myrhorod with its textbook pig lying
in a sty, a sight so serene, so near and dear to all. Anyone trying to
stir its oily surface is immediately proclaimed persona non grata
and is squeezed out of this body suspended in oblivion; or slowly but surely
drinks himself to death, burying hopes and ambitions one after the other.
Funny to think that Balzac was a provincial. He carried Paris in his heart
and was even bigger than that city; Shevchenko's holy gift and wrath do
not fit into Ukraine's sleepy daily routines or in the northern capital's
stage props; after all, they do not fit into the whole servile image of
Russia with its bootlicking court and caricature "carriers of spirituality."
A genius cannot be a provincial. Provincialism and brilliance are incompatible.
Even in his mother's womb a genius is greater than the greatest capital
cities. The reason is clear: it is God's will.






