Rainy Dawn

Hello Gentle Reader

Russian literature is never a piece of work which is spoken in soft whispers in back alleys. It’s not tucked away in the obscure reaches of libraries. Rather: it is a vibrating boom, a boisterous bell blaring through the streets. Russian literature is well aware of its magnanimous reputation, its ostentatious appeal and difficulty, its grandiose aura which never dwindles or dulls, but retains its potency, fermenting and ripening every year, as it ages further into classical status. Russia by geography alone is an intimidating sight; it is after all the largest nation on the planet. Its borders have changed, expanded and receded through the years. Its history is riddled with bloody battles, uprisings, superstitions, injustices, inhumanities, tyrants—but also some of the greatest monarchs of the world, who were more progressive then their ‘western,’ counterparts. Its monarchs have been reveled and celebrated, but also feared and hated. Its military campaigns have taken down emperors, but also made an empire. Its frost bitten soil has been sowed with salt, blood, and tears; it’s been nurtured through prayers and pleas; and defended with heart, spirit, and stoic resilience. Russian literature is no different. It eclipses its many neighbors with ease. More people can name at least three writers from Russia then they could from: Ukraine, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Mongolia, (North) Korea, Kazakhstan, or Belarus. Competition may come from more worldly read readers, who may have read authors from: Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and Finland. Poland and Norway are always its best competition. Yet through and through, Russian literature is dominates. Its pantheon alone has some of the greatest writers of the world: Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Alexander Pushkin, Nikolai Gogol, and Anton Chekhov. These glimmering golden deities were known as the greatest authors of the Golden Era. In their twilight sprung the Silver Age which hosted its own iridescent pantheon of writers of its time: Boris Pasternak, Anna Akhmatova, and Ivan Bunin. Then the pantheon would enter a darker era. Fit with other historical precedence’s the twentieth century saw the storm of revolution blow through Russia and late led to the rise of the communist Soviet Union. Literature once again prevailed, becoming a voice of resilience, resistance, satire and mordant humour, with authors such as: Lyudmila Petrushevskaya, Marina Tsvetaeva, Mikhail Bulgakov, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Bella Akhmadulina and Joseph Brodksy. After the thaw and collapse of the Soviet Union, Russian literature has remained a pinnacle of world class literature, standing (or sitting) with authors such as: Mikhail Shishkin, Vladimir Sorokin, Victor Pelevin—but also the voices of previous Soviet authors such as: Lyudmila Petrushevskaya.

Russian literature, however, is often influenced by its times, events, and its climate. The Soviet Era demanded its authors worked for the betterment of the state and by extension the collective. Writers, artists, musicians, singers, journalists, were meant to report and praise the ideals of Russian communism, the government, and the people— all contrary to and despite its failures, its famines, its corruption, its oppression. Not all writers confirmed to this perspective. Marina Tsvetaeva released elegiac poems; Anna Akhmatova embodied and gave voice to the suffering of the persecuted; Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn shed light on a government and a state out of control and drunk with power; while Mikhail Bulgakov gave a dark satirical tone riddled with irony to mock the state; while Lyudmila Petrushevskaya provided dark fabulist depictions of the reality, contorting it in a surreal carnival mirror of horror and mundane comedy.

Konstantin Paustovsky appears to defy and rebel against the expectations outlined by both his fellow writers as well as the state. Despite being a Soviet Era writer, Konstantin Paustovsky skirted Soviet propagation and ideological prerogatives; he was also able to evade the expectations of his contemporaries and fellow writers who offered resilience and resistance to the state. Rather Konstantin Paustovsky praised the numerous untold beauties of the vastness of the Russian landscape, the voices and personalities of the Russian people, and the unique and striking history of the expansive country. The predilections of Konstantin Paustovsky to not engage in the lowly business of politics and instead fixate on the wonder and hope of the Russian people, rather than the cruel realities of the citizens, allowed him to be loved by his readers and often left to his own devices by the government and its censors who did not view him as a threat. It was a tight rope act that Konstantin Paustovsky played and walked on. On one side was the expectations of the state and government, who threated both imprisonment and publication bans on the one hand (with a plethora of other added devices, threats, and cruelties also inventoried in their arsenal), but on the counter weighted end: the government promised in return for service to the state, privileges and luxuries; incentives and rewards for promoting its ideology, its services, its perspective, but also diminishing dissidence, and spreading fear as well as terror of the greater enemies and threats abroad. Of course to fall into the line of the service of a machine that sought absolute control and authority, meant one was merely a puppet or a patsy for the regime. Such an individual had no high regard for truth, and merely sold their own skin, words, and talents for a few extra pieces of bread, a larger apartment perhaps, and whatever other luxury and privilege the government saw fit to bestow them. On the contrary though, if one actively opposed and undermined the attempts at controlling language and by extension reality, and how it is portrayed in literature, poetry and other expressive mediums, then they themselves were the guardians of the veracity. They were the freedom fighters of thought, continually working for a better Russia, and a better Russian people, one which did not believe in the lies of the government or the dreams of the state, but one that was depicting the squandered conditions of the people, and dared to dream of a better future for them. Those freedom fighters of thought were the unsung heroes who were persecuted in the brain drain, prosecuted on anti-intellectual grounds, and imprisoned for being free thinking, thought provoking, and daring to claim the truth which was in contrast to the official record.

Somehow, Konstantin Paustovsky was able to maintain a safe distance between declaring allegiance to either. His work is not political satire, nor is dissidence. On the flipside, it does not sing praise for the communist revolution, it does not glorify the communist ideology, it does not applaud the leaders, and it does not congratulate the false. It quietly appears to evade these subjects entirely, focusing instead on the personal and private predilections of the populace, who in their own quiet resistance and resilience ignore or are unaware of the machinations which hang over their heads. In the stories of Konstantin Paustovsky these same people continue to write stories, study at university, playfully crack the ice, listen to the singing birds, compose music, toil in fields and live their lives the best they can. They pay little to no mind to the rumblings and conspiracies of the government and the state, they continue to move on with their lives as best they can. Their hardships are of the universal suffering that is the human condition. There is little to no perpetration from either the government (i.e. police officer, KGB agent, government official), but just the way fate twists and turns endlessly in its own malicious amusement.

After the collapse and disillusion of the Soviet Union, it would suffice to state all prior states that were under influence and control of the Soviet ideological doctrine found themselves in a precarious and otherwise chaotic situation. What retaliations and retributions where to be expected? How were previous officials, progenitors, and propagandists expected to atone for their prior transgressions? Should they be allowed to suffer no action? Were their crimes allowed to be lost to history without coming to justice? How is one supposed to shut the door on such a historical period and leave it there? Not to mention all other questions about an unsettled future and unknown circumstances. After all when great empires fall and regimes collapse, no one is around to sweep up the mess other than the citizens, who are expected to put everything back in ship shape, and acquaint themselves with yet another new reality. Many readers young and old began to turn their backs on the previous writers of a generation which had survived like canaries in coal mines, singing the toil of the workers and only going silent when the toxins had finally silenced their brow beaten beaks. What of the others, who with cunning and intrigue undermined and resisted the corrosive touch of the communist party and its failed promises and destructive ideology? What was to come of them? For many they felt both sets of writers were representative of a past and a reality that no longer belonged to them. They were concrete and disillusioned. They only represented a time that had since come and gone now lost to the ruins of history. They were not representative of a new reality, or of a new future. Konstantin Paustovsky remained stoic (despite being dead twenty three years prior). His work remained and remains popular in Russia. His themes are eternal: love, spirituality, ecology, war, ageing. His political stances were ambiguous and apolitical. His subjects were the Russian people and its expansive diverse landscape; his stories touched their personal and private moments, glorifying them as examples of the beauty of the Russian people in comparison to its landscape. That is why Konstantin Paustovsky preserves and remains a stalwart promoter of the people, and no one else.

“Rainy Dawn,” is no exception to the authors preoccupations. It’s a testament to his endearing qualities and subject matter. In this collection of fine-tuned short stories, Paustovsky’s themes and characters shine with everyday commonality and mundane dispositions. Through war love transcends as two lovers are once again reunited at a chance encounter. A young woman is finally receives her gift from the stranger she encountered while collecting pine cones as a girl. The genius of Pushkin his meditated on while reviewing the passage of time, the onslaught of age, and the oncoming of death. A writer finds joy and peace to finally finish his work. A student sent on a geological collective, not only gains experience in her study, but is fond by her future lover, who never forgot their shared spark on a boat ride. Through and through this collection, gems and jewels of stories glisten and glitter of a Russia not tainted by tragedy or ideology, but rather one imbued with undying spirits and people, surrounded by a lush and diverse countryside, riddled with history and grandeur. Though he is not as well-known as his contemporaries, such as his mentor Nobel Laureate Ivan Bunin, or his predecessors, such as Anton Chekhov, Konstantin Paustovsky remains an astute champion of the Russian people, their spirit, souls, dreams and shadows. He is also a fierce admirer and chronicler of its landscape which has shaped the very people who populate his work.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary