*

Đọc sách



Anthropology

Something to live for

CAROLINE HUMPHREY

Margaret Paxson

SOLOVYOVO:  The story of memory in a Russian village

390pp. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Paperback, $24.95; distributed in the UK by

Combined Academic Publishers. £16.95.

0 253 21801 2

 

Marx wrote that "the tradition of all of the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living". Much of Russia's twentieth-century history was a ferocious battle to extirpate the heavy weigh of past traditions and replace them in people's minds with the "radiant future" of Communism.

Margaret Paxson's Solovyovo describes the unexpected contortions of the fallout from that battle. For villagers living in the forested north of Russia - whom Paxson carefully avoids denigrating as peasants - it is the past that is radiant. These people hate what they see as Russia's squalid, disorganized and immoral present.

The "radiant past" is not a specific era. For some it is a vague time before the Second World War, for others it is even identified with the grim years of famine around 1947; but one way or another it coincides with Stalinism.

Paxson's anthropological study discusses the villagers' conceptualization of the past in general, their calendars and remembrance of ancestors, for example. But much of her book's interest for a general reader lies in the way she carefully uncovers the moral values that underlie the idea of the "radiant past" and make it relevant for today. These are people, mostly middle-aged or elderly, whose lives are, and have been, almost unimaginably hard. Deeply attached to their household farms, they were torn away and forced into a collective, many had relatives who were arrested and died in labour camps (there are some survivors), they ate grasses in famine, and they toiled almost without break in the fields and byres. Even if the collective allowed holidays, how could people go away and abandon their cow, which provided lifesaving sustenance?

Wages and conditions improved somewhat in the late Soviet era, but thereafter they have, slid backwards: the electricity and telephones are halting; houses have no running water or drainage; petrol is expensive and the roads regularly impassable, so they rely on horse cart and sleigh. The shop has closed, the clinic has closed. This has become a subsistence economy: the cow, fishing, hunting, gathering berries, and the acres of potato fields are how you get by: the scythe, the spade and hand milking are how you do it. Yet not a single villager here is illiterate, and they have those long dark hours of winter to read newspapers, sing songs, remember the past and mull over what they were promised.

The villagers idealize a time in the past when people were equal, cooperative and close to one another. The "radiant past", in fact, describes a quality of relationships. It goes with the idea of svoi (being one among one's own), it is inimical to greed, to individuals who stand out, to aliens. These people mistrust money and hardly use it among themselves. One man remembered "the happiest period of my life" during the great famine of 1947, because "it was as if there was some kind of inspiration then .... the mood of everyone was better, regardless of the hard life. It was more festive. We associated with one another more".

The spirituality of that time was nothing to do with God - it consisted in freedom from greed and jealousy. Indeed, the villagers repeatedly say they were free (svobodniye) during Stalinism, meaning by this not political liberty but being equal, open to one another, expressive, oriented to the other rather than oneself. Stalin comes into this picture as the great master who assured the power of the totality, maintained order and decent behaviour. If the price was camps, executions and fear, so be it - were terrible but necessary. Above all, the "radiant past" contained within it the promise of the "radiant future", which is the perfection of all the qualities of the idealized past, harmonious, free and morally better than the present. In this village world, as Paxson describes it, the old Russian forest spirits, the miraculous, curses, the evil eye and so forth are not divided off from the mysterious "forces" that spring upon people in economic or political life. "They [the secret police] came by night", people say, and these arrest stories have the same structure as other narratives of the miraculous. The same means is used to rescue any such situation - a particular kind of heartfelt "address" to the spirit forces, or to the tsar, the police, an icon, this being a gesture beyond the normal, a way of pulling in the alien powers into the sphere of relationships, taming them.

Solovyovo has some longueurs. It is overdutiful in referring to anthropological theories, and Paxson sometimes assumes a faintly didactic tone of patient explanation. Nevertheless, it is a remarkable achievement. Margaret Paxson covers a wide range of themes with great subtlety. Her use of an extended metaphor ("the landscape of memory") helps her to express connections between different pools of the villagers' recollections and point to depths that other writers have not perceived. She pays insightful attention to the Russian language. Her sensitive empathy with these bleak lives has helped her to write the best ethnographic study of Russian country people available today.