Аннотация: A New Year in October and A Night in October. A literary note.
A New Year in October and A Night in October. A literary note.
Once upon a time, a very positive impression was made on me by the novel "New Year in October" (author Andrei Molchanov)[роман 'Новый год в октябре' Андрея Молчанова]. This work was published in the journal "Yunost" in 1983.
I periodically tried to find out about the literary fate of Andrei Molchanov. According to my assumptions, he - after starting of "new times" - he climbed somewhere into the wilderness, into the depths of the swamps, and there, in a wooden house made of logs, behind a high fence, he writes a some outstanding works.
Gradually, I found out that he was engaged in useful state cultural and educational activities, and that he was promoted to rank of general. I did not find any works comparable to "New Year in October" (in the creativity of Andrei Molchanov).
It was all the more interesting for me to read the (accidentally) discovered story by Konstantin Paustovsky 'Night in October' [рассказ Константина Паустовского 'Ночь в октябре'].
We can take into account, that Andrei Molchanov graduated from the correspondence department of the Maxim Gorky Literature Institute in 1982, and Konstantin Paustovsky is widely known for his teaching at the Literary Institute, although he worked at this institute in the years before 1968 (the exact years of teaching, in my opinion, are not indicated in the biographies of Paustovsky).
Maybe, reading the story by Konstantin Paustovsky "Night in October", I will learn some "secret" of the "New Year in October"?
I start reading the story of Konstantin Paustovsky: 'In the village, everything helps to concentrate, even the crackling of a wick in a small kerosene lamp and the sound of the wind in the garden, and in between these sounds, that complete silence, when it seems that the earth has stopped and silently hangs in the world space.' [unofficial translation]
I'm trying to remember the lines from the Andrei Molchanov's novel:
'He arrived at the dacha in the evening. The sky was filled with rapidly thickening blackness, and the crimson stripe of sunset over the roofs of the village was fading away, like an ember flying off from a fire. He got out of the car and after its stuffy interior, it was as if he had plunged into the spring water, the air was so clean and cold. The abandoned garden faintly rustled with falling leaves.
From a distance, frozen in the air, the rumble of bells floated.
In one of the rooms he found a hammock, hung it in the yard, climbed right into his sleeping bag in trousers and a sweater and froze in a sweet chill, looking at the stars. A branch of chokeberry, bent over his face, tickled his temple with a velvety fluff of berries.
He reached out to them with his lips, bit off one and began to suck out its astringent sour juice.
A meteorite blazed in the sky with a fiery broom ...
He woke up at noon. It was quiet, bright and cold.
Sunny hares walked through the garden littered with fallen leaves. Two maple leaves, as if cut out of yellow paper, quivering from the wind, lay on his chest ...
He walked among the thorny gooseberry bushes, overgrown with tall rusty nettles, ate plums with a frosty coating on dark purple sides and composed a some beautiful poems." [unofficial translation]
I return to Paustovsky's story: 'The meadows smelled of cold, wilted grass, the sweet smell of willow leaves... The moon was sinking to the earth, its light had already dimmed.
And the air! What air, my dear mother! He was infused with herbs [he is filled with the smell of herbs] during the whole autumn. I have never breathed by such air anywhere, except in our places. Do you hear the roosters crowing? This is in Trebutino. How ringing they are! [How loudly they sing!] You can hear them for four kilometers!' [unofficial translation]
Does it seem, these two works to have something in common? Or maybe not?
I will read further.
I continue to read the story of Konstantin Paustovsky.
'We started screaming again. In response, the forest hummed just as indifferently ...
The wind blew the clouds away, and above the black garden the starry sky was already sparkling, now flaring up, then just as immediately dimming ... We returned to the house. Lamps were already burning there, the table was covered with a clean tablecloth, and Turgenev calmly looked from the wall from the black frame." [unofficial translation]
It is possible that there is a some connection between Andrei Molchanov's novel and Konstantin Paustovsky's story. This is the opinion I have come to.
[DCCCLXXVIII. The Sketch about literary awards ... Lyceum and Yunost ... the Fruits of Enlightenment .... - June 7, 2019.
MDXLVI. Molchanov Andrei Alekseevich. Suborbital literary flight. Experimental essay - an attempt of a partial biographical reconstruction. - July 6, 2020.
MCMV. The "Yunost" magazine and the All-Russial literary prize "Far East". An essay on the history of Russial culture. - December 15, 2020.
MMСCVIII. The scales with three bowls. A note about the book by Alexander Korzhakov "Boris Yeltsin: From Dawn to Dusk". - June 10, 2021.].
September 16, 2022 09:18
Translation from Russian into English: September 16, 2022 10:36.
Владимир Владимирович Залесский 'Новый год в октябре и Ночь в октябре. Литературная заметка'.
{ 3176. Новый год в октябре и Ночь в октябре. Литературная заметка.
MMMCXLVII. A New Year in October and A Night in October. A literary note.
Vladimir Zalessky Internet-bibliotheca. Интернет-библиотека Владимира Залесского}