The Beauty of History

Hello Gentle Reader

In “The Guadian,” Sofi Oksanen, the renowned and acclaimed Finnish writer, who has so far documented Estonia’s forgotten past; discussed her new novel “When The Doves Disappeared,” which will be/has been published in the United Kingdom in May (though its North American release, happened back in February). In the article, Oksanen discussed the present crisis of Putin’s imperialistic endeavors concerning Ukraine, and its subsequent partial occupation and consequential resistance, of anti-fighters, fighting alien occupancy. It should come to no surprise, that the entire ordeal has many Eastern European countries concerned for their own sovereignty and futures as: Free States.

Yet for many, they look at the situation, as spectators looking upon a bully, with his victim. It’s on ‘his,’ side of the school yard; and better yet in a twisted sense of fate, and good grace: it is not ‘I,’ who is the receiver of ‘his,’ abuse, insults, and tormenting invective nature. For now ‘I,’ am free to build a sand castle without fear of having it stomped before my eyes; or worst, rub the sand from my eyes. If ‘I,’ so pleased it is not possible to create a house of leaves, without it being demolished with swift kicks. Life is good – for it is not ‘me,’ on the other end of the fist, or standing with my back turned, with words fired into it. Fear is all but a kernel of the possibility that ‘now,’ is simply: ‘for now,’ and tomorrow could be ‘my,’ day or: ‘my,’ turn.

Oksanen points out, that in her Finnish school years: Finland’s neighbor, linguistic cousin, and Oksanen’s other homeland: Estonia; was not included on any of the maps. Rather it was most likely consumed with the name United Soviet Socialist Republic. Oksanen decries and criticizes this model of Finland’s foreign policy – or rather its attempt at the time to negate Estonia’s existence, in its own interest, as to not create waves, or upset the then Soviet government. Sofi Oksanen however is not without her criticism from the left and communist supporters or sympathizers, much like Nobel Laureate in Literature Herta Müller, who has also received criticism and accusations of working with or for the CIA; because of her own criticism of Putin, and the Ukraine incident. Yet this unrest goes beyond simply fighting. It goes beyond snarling barking dogs, rolling tanks, jets flying over head, bombs dropping, and bullets whizzing. The incident has also gone back into a dirty war: a war of propaganda. This is a dirty campaign of language and of psychology. Estonia itself has felt the nettle sting of, such political distortion of reality and contortion of historical facts. Back in two-thousand and seven, Estonia received a cyber terrorist assault. Putin before hand had been critical of the Estonian government’s relocation of a monument, commemorating the Red Army. Putin had called Estonian’s “Nazis and Fascists.” The moment these words were fired, and received in the ear canals of Estonians, instinctively they understood Soviet era propaganda, being used. Referring to them as “Nazi’s and Fascist,” comes from Estonia’s dual occupation of both the Red Army, and then Nazi Germany, before the Soviet Union solidified its grasp on Estonia once again, and the dream of an independent Estonia was lost, and forbidden. The old era propaganda that is currently being used, does not bring back nostalgic memories, or shimmer with the beauty of history. It is a nightmare returning. A nightmare, which had engulfed the land, and even vaulted the sky. Viivi Luik in her novel “The Beauty of History,” quickly captures the oppression of the Soviet occupation, as a suffocating regime and system, in her novel “The Beauty of History.”

“Toward waning, the sky rises higher and take on its true form. It becomes a dome and a vault. With strange and threatening self-evidence it encompasses military district headquarters, militia stations and pass port offices. Those who are trapped beneath this vault cannot escape.”

The sky maybe the same; stretched across the globe, but it for the Soviet states, it was never a free sky. The sky was a reminder, of their flights of fantasy and fancy, at dreaming of a free sky, under a free earth; away from the drab grey of Eastern Europe and the red communist ideals. The author quickly points out that the ideology, like the sky far exceeds just Estonia but travels:

“Down in the mountains are Dracula’s castle and Ceausescu’s kingdom.”

Vivii Luik is one of Estonia’s most renowned poets and writers, along with the late Jaan Kross. Vivii Luik herself had emerged onto the Estonian literary scene, as a literary prodigy, at the age of eighteen. Her debut collection of poetry “A Holiday of Clouds,” had been taken note by critics. The following collections captivated readers, with the musicality and fragility of language; but also with the perception of the world, and nature as a reflection of mystical changing feelings and perceptions of the world. Luik has, often been compared to a canary in a coal mine; sensing even the most miniscule change in the air, and documenting it in her poetry; and was quick to sense the changing political landscape of the collapse of the Soviet Union. Vivii Luik is also an accomplished novelist. Her first novel “The Seventh Spring of Peace,” was written in a child’s view point, depicting country life (I presume on a kolkhoz – or collected farm) in post-war Soviet Estonia. The novel depicts the communal misery of the time, the frightening stories and propaganda of the forest brothers, and their dreams of liberation, the absurdity of life in the regime, and the sensitive political subjects, that are sure to arise. All of which is filtered through the clear eyes of a child. The novel broke the day dream or forced perception or memory of the “Happy Soviet Childhood.” What was, described was the harsh stinging realities of the brutalism of the Soviet system, and the political uncertainty of Estonia for many years. The novel struck her audience with her highly refined poetized language, and novelty subject matter. It is one of the most outstanding novels of Estonian literature, of recent memory (published originally in nineteen-eighty five), with its interesting representation of language, to depict unsightly perpetuated horrors of history and forced political ideologies, by the reigning empire. The next novel Luik would write would be in nineteen-ninety one, titled “The Beauty of History.”

“The Beauty of History,” is a love story, framed by history. Specifically speaking, the novel is framed by the year nineteen-sixty eight, the year of The Prague Spring. The Prague Spring was the first crack in the Soviet foundation. Upon being elected the First Secretary of the Communist Party (of then) Czechoslovakia, Alexander Dubček the reformist, set about enacting reformations of the country. Dubček attempted to offer more, freedoms to the citizens of Czechoslovakia especially in the areas of freedom of media, speech and travel; as well as decentralize the economy away from Moscow (Soviet Russia), and instill democratization. This all eventually ended in the invasion of Czechoslovakia and the crushing of the Prague Spring by the Soviet Union and other members of Warsaw Pact. Luik states in “The Beauty of History,”

“A Czech boy pouring petrol over himself and then lighting a match does not really go with the carpets in the living-room of Europe, so the television is switched off.”

The statement readily shows Europe’s apathy or inability to understand or show interest in the workings of Eastern Europe, and the everyday extraordinary tragedies that would continue to happen there.

“The Beauty of History,” however is not an overtly political novel. It is far more lyrical in its treatment of the political situations, and is narrated by a politically unaware unnamed Estonian young woman, who falls into the world of a Latvian sculpture who is far more politically aware then she is, and goes by the name Lion (pronounced Leon). The world of both these two lovers becomes entangled in history. For the young woman, the political shivering of the Iron Curtain, have emotional consaquences, which send her world out of alignment. While the Latvian sculpture, already sensing the changing political environment, takes practical note and is working on evading military service, by dissenting to the West. Language becomes the key part of this novel. Neither one of these two lovers, can speak the native language of the other. When Lion, offers German as a common language, she can only muster phrases that do not communicate or bode well for any serious dialogue. Both then are forced to speak the least popular of the reigning languages: Russian, in order to communicate with each other. Yet because of the prevailing ideology and the suffocating atmosphere of the times, another language must be created. A language that takes ordinary conversations, and gives them shadow meanings, in order to communicate more hidden intentions, that discuss in secret whispers and wheezes, the topics that would be considered taboo or not of the norm. Yet this becomes confusing in its’ own right, for the young woman, as she:

“Can never understand whether the talk is simply of buying butter and cream or of the arrival of fateful news.”

In between all of this, past and future collide with each other at random, in a poetic language that at times comes in a whirlwind, which will shake up the narrator. The novel also has its own references to Estonia’s past and ideological subjugation, which is always at risk of being lost on readers who are not familiar with the history of the country or the time. However the novel is a beautiful poetic intensely written piece of work. It has moments of Kafkaesque surrealism, which will unhinge an already held perspective, for a new upstart to reality. The novel is short, but not simple or sweet; nor is it a coherent tale, of historical fiction, that explicitly details a specific time period. It is a collage of impressions, thoughts, emotions, and attempts at understandings, in a collaboration of text that spins and usurps the novel, while maintaining it to be an engrossing read. However, despite the beautiful pristine crystallized language used in the novel, the language can become overtly lyrical at moments, in its dense baroque like ambiguity. Despite this, it is still a novel which is a pleasure to read, and was published right at the time of Estonia’s new emergence to the world, as the Iron Curtain had been pulled back, and revealed. It is truly a canary’s song, which rather than crying out in desperation to warn of a dangerous gas, instead celebrates fresh new air, and reverberates in the sun.

On a personal note: I’d love to see the other two novels by Viivi Luik published into English: “The Seventh Spring of Peace,” and “Shadow Theatre,” as well as her essays to find publication into English as well. However I am aware of the issues of this, because Estonian language is incredibly difficult with its only linguistic relatives being Finnish and Hungarian. Despite this though, one can hope that the works of Viivi Luik, Doris Kareva, and Tõnu Õnnepalu, will someday make it into the English language.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
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M. Mary