Книжка-6

1965 Booklet 6 Contents

It is easy to say that our literary criticism is lagging behind in its tasks, that it has not yet taken up a serious and concrete conversation, that it has lost some of its combat capability and efficiency; instead of disputes and discussions on contemporary artistic phenomena, there are deep-seated arguments that do no one any good. But I am not saying this because, instead of the statement, I am more concerned with the reasons for this state of affairs and the ways to overcome it. Maybe I am wrong, but it seems to me that at least one reason is very obvious. Some literary critics were simply stunned by the sudden expanse that has recently opened up to them. Previously, they were used to seeing themselves as performers. And as is known, being a performer in literature is not difficult: they tell you what is good and what is bad, you go home, sit down at the typewriter, and by morning the article is that. And you are convinced that you are leading the literary process and speaking on behalf of the party. Thus, little by little you lose a sense of reality, you detach yourself from practice and you live with the obsession for a special role in literature. But with the decisions of its April Plenum, the party changed the situation: all matters returned to their true essence, including the matters of literary criticism. However, it took time to achieve results. It had to be understood that literary criticism does not enjoy any special rights, that it is an ordinary literary genre, like other literary genres. The task turned out to be more complex than before: now the literary critic is required to be competent, independent, well-intentioned, and principled in his assessments. He can no longer excuse his mistakes with instructions "from above" but is obliged to answer for his activities before the party and the people in the same way as all writers.

I have always treated criticism with respect. But if I say that I am in love with it, I would obviously be lying, since it is too much to ask someone to love the stick that is waved under their nose with enviable constancy... Well, joking aside. Let's be objective and say that the arguments around the "problem" of whether literary criticism is equal to other literary genres seem pointless to me. In my opinion, this depends on criticism itself, just as it depends on fiction or poetry whether it will be equal to criticism. A critical article can be read with joy and pleasure, just like any other literary work. Unfortunately, this does not happen very often, and the great fuss that has been made recently about the rights of criticism has a certain basis: it lies both in the incorrect attitude of some writers towards criticism and in the lack of inner confidence of some critics. When you don't feel confident in yourself or your poetry, you sometimes start screaming and beating your chest without knowing why...

Certain people, aware of the full responsibility of their work, have set out to penetrate the essence of literary phenomena, patiently traversing the entire uneven surface of our literature, have studied it and continue to study it in full publicity. Personally, I deeply respect the activities of these literary critics and they cover my concepts of literary criticism. It is true that they are few, but at the same time this difficult work, which requires an extremely strong burning of thought, could be done by anyone. I do not understand the desires of some of our publications to talk more and more about literary criticism, and we even witness how huge spaces of these publications are taken up by disputes about whether it has a place or not, whether it takes good care of its work or only speaks kind words, whether it is able to fulfill its tasks, etc., etc.; as if someone has taken away its rights or does not want to recognize its merits. It is unsympathetic - I think - when someone is particularly insistent on having something acknowledged. At least this work is a frivolous occupation for serious people. There is a natural dislike and irritability for certain remarks in the work of this or that writer, personal considerations have accumulated and alienated the assessment of writers and books. It seems to me that no amount of effort will be able to bring people who have long since become strangers to each other face to face. A section of literary criticism also complains that it was not loved by writers. There are simple laws of human reciprocity and it is best if we do not complain. The work of the writer and the work of the literary critic is purely male work and I do not understand what explanation of love should exist where male sweat is boiling! Since we are talking about literary criticism, I cannot help but mention another group that I personally believe has nothing to do with literary criticism, but rather has leaned towards it and complains most about demanding recognition. Unfortunately, this dusty group argues more about the dust that it has raised for itself. I notice in it boys with whom our sideburns began to grow together, then they studied on state scholarships here or abroad and accumulated a lot of knowledge, but their manifestations are devoid of impetuosity of thought; they too early began to seek the protection of this or that broad back, of this or that significant face, they became voluntary squires, without realizing clearly enough that the sword of fate is carried by ordinary people. It is unpleasant to watch the frivolous waving of these squires, forgetting that we live in complete publicity. It's unpleasant to give advice, but I would say: let's learn to shave our own sideburns before shaving other people's beards. I wouldn't mention this group if it hadn't struck me that it is spreading more and more, gaining more and more territory, in order to fill, according to some, a concomitant void. If there is a hole somewhere, let it remain a hole, instead of filling it with cotton wool.

We are walking down the street with a critic friend of mine and talking about the theater. He is a great aesthete, a convinced communist and loves talented works of art. A woman comes towards us. Suddenly he stops, looks at her carefully and when she has passed us, he exclaimed: - What a beautiful woman! - Her nose was a bit big - I object, - and... her forehead seemed to be low... - It doesn't matter - he objects. - In general, she gives the impression of a beautiful woman. - Look - he says, turning after her - what a graceful head, a slender figure, beautiful legs... A stunning beauty!.. A woman with atmosphere! Aesthetic.. 7 I could not object further, because he understood women. I fell silent. And suddenly some resentment flickered in my heart. - And why do you, the critics, when making an ideological and artistic assessment of a given work of art, not evaluate it precisely like this, by its overall, spontaneous impact on the reader or viewer, and only then note its weak points? My friend was very resourceful, biting, and replied with subtle irony: - It depends on the author.

They say about me that I didn't like criticism. I didn't listen to it. But who loves criticism! And what criticism don't I listen to? I have heard it more than once among colleagues: do we have any criticism at all today? Principled, in-depth, that would make you reevaluate and draw conclusions. The question always arises - who is the one who sits down to advise you? What does he know and where does he know it from - from life, from books, from the gossip in the cafes or from the prejudices of the literary islands? Many people claim in conversations, although they don't have the courage to state it openly, that today we don't have such criticism that would objectively examine, fairly assess our contemporary literature, so as to leave aside what some have suggested to themselves that they should lead and guide it. The names of the few established critics have not been associated much with the works of current writers lately. It is as if they have lost themselves in their professional and editorial sections. It is enough to open a literary magazine or newspaper, and we will be convinced that the criticism of contemporary works is engaged in by the most mediocre amateurs, publicists, journalists and not just any omniscient "truths". They often affirm what the people affirm or vice versa - they are silent about or deny what the people affirm. More than once it has come to a contradiction between critics and the people. Critics have emerged as scribes, cut off from life; instead of moving forward, they lag behind its conflicts and problems, studying its changes from newspapers and reports. In theory, they admit that they - the critics, and not only the writers - must know life. Otherwise, how will they find out how truthfully life is reflected? And in practice, the opposite happens. They write about everything - both what they know and what they do not know. Placing themselves above the creators, they administer justice, without embarrassment or remorse in all directions. And with such a sense of arrogance and self-aggrandizement that if you just touch them, they immediately come up with long defenses of their honor. If they insult a writer and he tries to respond, they will say: "That's what he is, he lacks a sense of modesty, he speaks for himself. He quotes himself. He calls his heroes to help!" And when it comes to their turn, they open entire discussions, turn the pages of magazines into battlefields. They were not understood, their wisdom was not quoted accurately, their thoughts were twisted, they were humiliated before society. And long and overlong self-defenses follow one another, the purpose of which is to highlight themselves, to make noise, so that they may be paid more attention. Thus discussions about so-and-so and against so-and-so were born. I invite our entire writing community to hold referendums for Mulyo or Pulyo, because if we don't take a stand on this issue, we will die. It turns out that ethics is only needed for writers, but not for critics. And since this is the case, who will listen to such criticism?

Often in our arguments about contemporary Bulgarian drama we tend to fall into extremes. In moments of good mood we only praise it, in bad moods we pour reproach after reproach. The gesture of excessive tolerance in such cases suddenly turns into caustic and witty malice. However, if we abandon the paradoxes and one-sided analogies with the work of today's greatest European playwrights, we cannot help but acknowledge several important facts. First, after September 9, 1944, an internal explosion took place in Bulgarian drama. It came along the line of ideas, and this is already certain evidence of significant changes in the very nature of drama. Since drama is an active history of society, it could not remain aloof from the problems that were posed by the September 9th people's revolution. Even more. It found itself at the center of the socio-political struggles that decided the fate and future of the Bulgarian people. In this sense, it also appeared as a continuation of the basic spirit of our native dramaturgy - of its social tone and commitment. And yet, here one more circumstance must be taken into account. While in poetry, fiction, painting, even in the theater we had bright examples of ideological communist art - Smirnensky, Vaptsarov, Karaslavov, Zhendov, Danovski - in dramaturgy the peaks of social pathos after Vazov were marked by the art of Yavorov at the end of the ten years and that of St. L. Kostov in the thirties. That is, by the creativity that did not set as its goal the uncompromising and effective struggle against the bourgeois world, more precisely, that did not fight in the name of the most progressive ideal of the era. The only more categorical example in this regard is Vaptsarov's play "The Ninth Wave", but it, unlike his innovative communist poems, conscientiously follows the spiritual structure of the classical Ibsen line in modern dramaturgy.

According to the unanimous opinion of critics, Dimitar Dimov failed to build an antipodal world to "Nicotiana", to depict the heroic and bright beginning of our time, which could be contrasted with the dark forces of the bourgeois world. The images of workers and communists in his remarkable novel "Tobacco", with few exceptions, are far inferior in brightness and vitality to the other images in the novel. In itself, this mishap is an unhappy phenomenon in our literature, but it is too eloquent and instructive, contains too many interesting problems for us to easily pass it by, to simply register it, without making an effort to examine and explain it, to discover the mysteries and truths embedded in it, to reveal its true significance for our literature. Because often the failures of talent turn out to be more fruitful and more valuable for history than any mediocre success. They bring us closer to more truths, they reveal to us a deeper and more interesting picture of the world, there is more life, more drama and power in them than in all mediocre "achievements", in all talentless straightforwardness and innocence. Or, to paraphrase a sentence of Guizot, we can say that talent enjoys this wonderful and deserved privilege of having its errors fertilize truths.

There is a portrait of him, painted by the artist Nikola Mihaylov, which has always attracted my attention and brought me face to face with the "dilemma" of Petko Todorov. I would not say that it is the most accurate pictorial interpretation of his image. But it achieves a kind of balance between our current assessment and the enthusiastic ideas about him of contemporaries and admirers from the past. On the canvas, Petko Todorov, the "meek" Petko Todorov, sits with his hand resting on the back of his chair, focused, lost in his thoughts. This ascetic profile of a hermit perhaps hides the secrets of a late-born fanatic, whom new circumstances and other character traits have prevented from recognizing the extremes of spirit and thought. Perhaps. But everything else - from the kind, half-hidden gaze, to the long, relaxed, artistic fingers, speak of the soft character of a born intellectual. This is a man who, for all his ambitions, may never have been completely confident in himself, but who has always taken his work seriously - with that seriousness that is more like inner conscientiousness and dedication. Entangled in a web of greenish half-shadows that crawl over his arms and beard, growing into the surrounding landscape, in the painting, he seems to be a spiritualized and civilized Dragon from the world of his own idylls. The warm range of butter-green tones flows over his face, overflowing into the environment as a continuation of his thoughts, as a plastic symbol of his thirst for an eternal connection with his native nature. This is how he remained in the minds of his best connoisseurs from the past - with his eternal striving to penetrate the soul of his people and merge with their nature. This is how we can perceive him today, with all the sobriety and all the reservations that the obvious weaknesses of his work impose on us. The artist himself was apparently not unaware of their awareness, because he found a way to hint at them and balance his image with a few sure strokes: in the upper right corner of the painting, a landscape detail somehow imperceptibly creeps in, like a projection of the writer's thoughts, which irritates, "disturbs" the impression, because it carries something of the bad German taste from the time of the Secession. And this is Petko Todorov again, seen from a different side.

"For us, the Bulgarians, the Hieromonk and Pro-Igumen Paisius of Hilendar is a national pride." This high and in a sense new assessment of the first Bulgarian Revivalist, sounded by the illegal radio station "Hristo Botev" during the armed anti-fascist struggle, was an assessment not only of the revolutionary working class and the Communist Party, but also of our entire progressive society, of the working people heroically fighting against fascism and capitalism. That is why, after the victory of the socialist revolution in our country, Paisius of Hilendar attracted the strong attention of many literary critics, historians, philosophers - T. Pavlov, Zh. Natan, D. Kosev, P. Dinekov, P. Zarev, Em. Georgiev, V. Velchev, Hr. Hristov, Vl. Topencharov, B. St. Angelov, etc. Some foreign (mainly Soviet and Italian) scholars also showed special interest in his personality and work - A. N. Robinson, G. D. Gachev, R. Picchio, etc. In response to accumulated misconceptions on the part of biased bourgeois scholars in the past, the problem of Paisius' ideology naturally turned out to be the most relevant now. In connection with this problem and to a large extent as subordinate to it, the questions of the era, of the socio-economic, political, and cultural state of the Bulgarian people in the 18th century, as well as the questions of the domestic literary sources of "Slavic-Bulgarian History" were thrown into a new, broader, Marxist-Leninist study.

The issues of aesthetics have always been of great interest to both science and artists. This interest has obviously grown in recent times, thanks to which a lot of research has appeared. Despite this activity, however, there is still no unity among scientists on a number of issues. One of the reasons for this state of affairs is the fact that theoretical generalizations are not always connected with the direct study of the artistic mastery of the individual artist-writer. If this statement is true for modern fiction, how much more so for medieval Slavic literature, especially for old Bulgarian literature. Of course, today it is no longer possible to maintain the view that this literature is purely religious-dogmatic, dry and uninteresting, that it has primarily cognitive significance, helping us to more fully reveal the relevant historical era. To deny any artistry in Old Bulgarian or Old Russian literature is not justified either historically or factually. Because in different centuries there was a different idea of ​​artistry, and when assessing the degree of artistry of a particular monument, we should not take our own point of view, we should not come up with our own claims to artistry, but take into account the understanding of artistry in the society of that era, monuments". 1 which was contemporary to each of these On the other hand, old Bulgarian literature, like Serbian and Russian medieval literature, possesses undoubted artistic merits: it holds the attention of its reader, satisfies his aesthetic sense, acts on his imagination and reason, elevates thoughts and feelings, and gives knowledge of a diverse nature. The stylistic and linguistic form of the works unconditionally corresponds to the appropriate cultural preparation of the reader, so that he can perceive them, be moved by them. Here it is absolutely necessary to observe a certain ratio between the creator and the reader. When this ratio is violated, the impact of the book is insignificant, a reaction begins against it, an opposite movement appears.

The First World War had already ended when, in mid-1919, I took off the epaulette of a hastily made second lieutenant. Then, during this unfortunate war, which brought so much suffering and deprivation to the people, from the so-called "school for reserve second lieutenants" in Knyazhevo, after a few months of training, candidate officers emerged, who were immediately sent to the fronts and to the rearguard. From Ruse, where I was demobilized, in semi-civilian clothes, I found myself in Sofia to enroll in university. In Sofia, the aftereffects of the war that ended catastrophically for Bulgaria were keenly felt. Poverty in material life, heartbreak and despair in spiritual life! The people reacted strongly, possessed by anger against those responsible for the catastrophe. Foreign troops were marching through the streets of the capital, the French general Chrétien was in charge of the country... The national poet Ivan Vazov had published a small collection of poems under the title "It Will Not Perish!" to encourage his people, to bring serenity to their deeply troubled souls, to restore their faith in more glorious days:

A beautiful and proud woman has raised a sword in front of her. There is much grandeur, tragedy and beauty in her flight forward and upward. This is the new monument to the fallen heroes for freedom, which is located in front of the National Theatre in Warsaw. A diverse movement is captured in the sculpture. I don't know why, in addition to the fate of the Polish nation, it also evokes associations with the Polish theatre. With its history and its current youth. I involuntarily recall Mickiewicz's "All Souls' Day", Słowacki's "Cordian" and "Balladina". I look at my watch - I have to hurry - I must not miss the beginning of "Death of a Lieutenant" by Mrożek. I expect it to be something extremely funny and sad. (And I did not fly away...). I take a last look at the Theatre Square. From afar, the humiliations or perhaps the forced stops and the whirlwind flights that this strange woman with the sword hides within herself are somehow more palpable. But you feel - no matter what happens - she is indestructible, she will raise her clear forehead. I calmly enter the theater hall and immediately become her prisoner. Time flies imperceptibly, the performance lasts about two hours. It is only 9 o'clock in the evening and it is not even dark enough outside. There is time to walk, talk and argue with Poles about their theater performances, about famous playwrights, about interesting stage characters.

One of the most interesting events in the cultural life of Poland this autumn was the first international congress of translators of Polish fiction (the first event of its kind in the socialist countries), which took place from 4 to 12 November of this year. At the invitation of the Authors' Agency, over 60 people arrived in Warsaw (from the USSR and the socialist countries, from the Scandinavian countries, from England, France, Italy, the Federal Republic of Germany, South and North America, Mongolia, Japan and Israel), among them prominent poets and writers who translate Polish fiction into 32 languages. The aim of the congress was for the Polish side to express its gratitude and appreciation to those who, through their work, acquaint foreign readers with the achievements of Polish literature, and to give them the opportunity to get acquainted with life in Poland, to enter into close and direct contact with writers' circles and to get to know the problems of literary development in Poland more closely.

One of the most striking manifestations of the struggle of Bulgarian writers against capitalism and fascism is the founding and activity of the Union of Labor Writers. Labor writers! Today this concept is almost forgotten. It is connected with a certain period of political and literary development in Bulgaria - the beginning of the 1930s. This is a period of great revolutionary upsurge of the masses, a time when the clash between the exploited and the exploiters acquired such a sharp character that many expected it to end with an open armed conflict, with the overthrow of the fascist dictatorship. This is the time when, despite terror and violence, despite special laws for the protection of the state, the red communes reappeared in the country - the workers in a number of cities and villages won the elections and seized local power. Even Sofia, the capital of bourgeois-fascist Bulgaria, was captured! The initiative to create a unified anti-fascist union - the Union of Labor Writers - belongs to the proletarian writers, grouped around the newspaper "Workers' Literary Front". Already with the establishment of the Union - February 1932 - a decision was made to publish a special organ - the Front of Labor Writers", the first issue of which was published in June 1932. An important part of the activities of the Union of Labor Writers and its organ "Front" was occupied by problems of the Soviet Union and Soviet literature. This problem already occupies one of the central places in the draft platform of the Union. In point 3, the main task of the union was defined as: "Protection of Soviet culture and the USSR, against the preparing anti-Soviet war". The words with which the project ends are remarkable: Long live the USSR - the true fatherland of the workers and toilers of the whole world and the hearth of culture". Proletarian today and the universal tomorrow This attitude of writers, of the toilers in our country towards the Soviet Bulgarian Proletarian Union is the result of the deep traditions of the Bulgarian Communist Party of loyalty and devotion to internationalism, to the liberation cause of the proletariat. The Soviet Union is the country where the socialist revolution first won, it became the vanguard of all humanity in the struggle for the destruction of the hateful exploitative society, for the triumph of the communist ideal. This is why the USSR is the fatherland of all toilers of the whole world, it must be protected like the apple of the eye. The Soviet people are tracing the path to the future in all areas of life and their experience is a lesson and an example for all. In this spirit, the Bulgarian Communist Party has been educating its members and the entire working Bulgarian people for decades. people.

This is the title of Georgi Tsanev's new book. Compared to "Writers and Problems" (ed. 1961 and 1965) or the latest editions of "Pages from the History of Bulgarian Literature", "Tradition and Innovation" is not as complete, not as representative of the literary work of our prominent literary critic and historian, who turns seventy this year. However, it contains works - first of all, the study "Tradition and Innovation in Bulgarian Literature", as well as the essays on Nikola Furnadzhiev and Asen Raztsvetnikov - which, with their theoretical summaries and the persuasiveness of literary analysis, and with the breadth of literary erudition and the pathos of Marxist critical thought, appear among the best that Georgi Tsanev has left in the last two decades, among the best in our literary history and criticism of that time. He never stood as a dispassionate observer at his literary post, but always perceived the new in Soviet and our literary studies, boldly corrected his own views on the basis of his excellent knowledge of Bulgarian literature. Therefore, he gave his own solution to a number of current literary issues.

After her book on Bulgarian poetry in the period 1923-1944, Rozalia Lykova published her study of fiction during the same period. Having correctly understood the specifics of the literary process between the two wars, she set about characterizing it comprehensively and shedding abundant light on the work of its main representatives, with her inherent temperament. Before us is a researcher with a certain profile, who is able to discover the physiognomic in the artist's art, to determine his place in the development of Bulgarian literature. Her work is an interesting study of literary material, which is still insufficiently developed by our literary science. The book impresses with its correct assessments, with its characterization of the authors and the atmosphere of their work, and with its overall picture of literary life. Lykova's work is defined in the publisher's note as "a brief literary history of our fiction between the two wars." It is essential to see what distinguishes the author's literary-historical method. Her study contains essays on various artists and five general chapters, in which the literary historian's approach manifests itself with its characteristic features. The author not only knows the literary facts. She is able to penetrate behind them, into the spirit of the era in which social strata had shifted so that people's lives were emerging from their old trough, the rusty locks of social conventions and retrogradeness were broken, and new truths and ideals were born. The events also echoed in the sphere of literary phenomena. The foundations of a new literary movement were being laid. Existing methods of depiction could not meet the imperatives of the new era, which taught writers to analyze precisely, to see the true essence of things, to assess their real value.

Critical thought in our country seems to be in a feverish hurry to catch up with what has been missed, to reduce the delay left as a legacy from years of inaction or stagnation. Discussions, discussions. And many new books by critics - with new and old works in them. Bogomil Nonev has called his collection "Critical Chronicle 1960-1965". He pays special attention to the literary critic and his work, examining this topic in a separate article. But the entire book of Nonev raises some questions of the stylistics of literary criticism. With the temperamental characteristics, with the defense of Aragon's innovation in the novel "Holy Week" Nonev involuntarily defends his existence in criticism. The mixture of genres, the use of various means and forms - even an entire essay on Caravaggio's painting - in Aragon's novel has led to interesting artistic solutions. Without making any analogy with the results and their significance, I will say that the symbiosis of elements of criticism and journalism in the style of Bogomil Nonev shapes his authorial capabilities, determines the achievements and weaknesses of his style. It is difficult, it seems to me even impossible, to precisely delineate the boundary between criticism and journalism, between criticism and other genres of artistic creativity. In each author, his tendency to a certain way of perceiving and experiencing the work prevails, lyrical, journalistic or fiction features dominate in his style. At one point in his book, Bogomil Nonev says that "... the literary critic is a thinker, a journalist and an artist". The emphasis in his articles falls most strongly on the second of these qualities.