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Art | Literature
Dovlatov Sergey Donatovich
Writer
“My main mistake is in the hope that, having legalized myself as a writer, I will become cheerful and happy.
This did not happen…"
Sergey Dovlatov.
Sergey Dovlatov was born on September 3, 1941 in Ufa.
His father Donat Isaakovich Mechik was a theater director.
Sergey's mother, Nora Sergeevna Dovlatova, also worked as a director, but later became a literary proofreader.
In 1941, after the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, Donat and Nora got to Ufa, and in 1944 they returned from evacuation to Leningrad.
Later, Dovlatov wrote about his youth in Leningrad in the book "Craft": "I have to report some details of my biography.
Otherwise, much will remain unclear.
I'll make it short, dotted.
Fat shy boy...
Poverty…
My mother self critically left the theater and works as a proofreader...
School...
Friendship with Alyosha Lavrentiev, for whom a Ford comes...
Alyosha is naughty, I have been entrusted to raise him....
Then they will take me to the dacha....
I'm becoming a little tutor....
I'm smarter and read more…
I know how to please adults ... black yards....
Dreams of strength and fearlessness ...
Endless twos...
Indifference to the exact sciences....
The first stories.
They are published in the children's magazine "Koster".
They resemble the worst things of average professionals....
It's over with poetry forever.
Certificate of maturity…
Production experience…
Printing house named after Volodarsky…
Cigarettes, wine and men's conversations... a growing craving for the plebs (that is, literally not a single intelligent friend)...".
In 1949, Sergei's father left the family, after which Nora Dovlatova left the theater and got a job as a literary proofreader.
Since that time, Sergey Dovlatov was left to himself, and after graduating from school in 1959, he entered the philological faculty of the Leningrad Zhdanov University, where in 1960 he met a student of the philological faculty, Asya Pekurovskaya, whom he soon married.
But later Asya preferred to Sergey the more successful Vasily Aksenov, whose novels were already published in the magazine "Yunost".
When she told Dovlatov that she was leaving, he replied that he would commit suicide, and then threatened to kill her if she did not stay with him.
But Asya was adamant, and Dovlatov shot at the ceiling.
Hearing the shot, his mother entered the room, after which Pekurovskaya ran away.
In 1961, Sergey Dovlatov was expelled from Leningrad University and in mid July 1962 he was called up to serve in the army, where he got into the system of protection of correctional labor camps in the north of the Komi ASSR.
Dovlatov wrote: "...
Zhdanov University (sounds no worse than "Al Capone University")...
Phil Faculty…
Absenteeism…
Student literary exercises...
Endless re examinations…
An unhappy love that ended in marriage...
Acquaintance with the young Leningrad poets Rein, Naiman, Wolf, Brodsky ... 1960.
A new creative upsurge.
Stories that are vulgar to the extreme.
The theme is loneliness.
The invariable entourage is a party.
Hemingway as a literary and human ideal...
Short lived boxing classes...
A divorce marked by a three day drunkenness...
Idleness....
A summons from the military enlistment office.
Three months before that, I left the university.
In the future, I spoke about the reasons for leaving – vaguely.
He mysteriously touched on certain political motives.
In fact, everything was simpler.
I passed the German language exam four times.
And every time he failed.
I didnot know the language at all.
Not a single word.
Except for the names of the leaders of the world proletariat.
And finally, I was kicked out.
I, as usual, hinted that I was suffering for the truth.
Then I was drafted into the army.
And I got into the convoy guard.
Obviously, I was destined to go to hell…
The world I found myself in was terrible.
In this world, they fought with sharpened rasps, ate dogs, covered their faces with tattoos.
In this world, people were killed for a pack of tea.
I was friends with a man who once salted his wife and children in a barrel.
The world was so terrible.
For the first time I understood what freedom, cruelty, violence is....
But life went on.
The ratio of good and evil, grief and joy remained unchanged.
There was anything in this life.
Work, dignity, love, debauchery, patriotism, wealth, poverty.
There were careerists and life seekers, compromisers and rebels, functionaries and dissidents.
But the content of these concepts has changed dramatically.
The hierarchy of values was completely broken.
What seemed important has faded into the background.
My consciousness has come out of its usual shell.
I started thinking of myself in the third person.
When I was beaten near the Ropchinskaya forest exchange, my consciousness acted almost imperturbably: "A person is beaten with boots.
It covers the ribs and stomach.
He is passive and tries not to arouse the rage of the masses...".
Terrible things were happening all around.
People turned into animals.
We were losing our human form – hungry, humiliated, exhausted by fear.
My carnal composition was exhausted.
Consciousness did without shocks.
If I was facing a cruel test, my consciousness was quietly happy.
He had new material at his disposal.
Hunger, pain, longing everything became the material of an indefatigable consciousness.
In fact, I have already written.
My literature has become an addition to life.
An addition, without which life turned out to be completely obscene.
It remained to transfer all this to paper..."
In 1965, after demobilization, Dovlatov entered the Faculty of Journalism and began publishing his first stories in the children's magazine "Koster".
Earlier, he met his second wife Elena, who later told: "We met in a trolleybus.
Sergey started talking to me, we drove through two stops, then walked along the same street for a while.
Before reaching the Maly Drama Theater, we said goodbye - Sergey went home, and I went to visit an artist…
For three years, we met by chance on the street.
However, this happened quite often - after all, then the whole youth evening life was spinning on Nevsky, we all lived close to each other.
Once Sergey even dragged me to my friend's house and really tried to persuade me to go to visit him later, but I refused.
Then Sergei was taken to the army, he came on vacation and went with his sincere friend Valery Grubin to the cafe "North".
I was sitting there with my friends.
I go out to call - and I run into Sergey.
The meeting turned out to be fatal.
Our relationship began with her.
However, we signed it only when he returned from the army..."
The reserved and taciturn Elena had a masculine character that Dovlatov himself lacked, and although he wrote that his wife was not interested in his prose, it was she who typed the complete collection of his works on a typewriter — and one movement of Lenin's eyebrows was enough for Sergei to understand that the story needed to be redone.
In 1966, Elena and Sergey had a daughter, Katya.
Elena Dovlatova told me: "...When Katya was born, we all moved to his mother Nora Sergeevna…
She immediately liked that there was a girl who could be commanded.
She liked to dress me up, watched my appearance, demanded that I put on makeup when going out to the city.
"Dovlat" in Turkish means the power of the state.
They both - both mother and son corresponded to their last name.
Sergei often repeated that I should be given an order for tolerating both of them.
But the difficulty of their characters was partly redeemed by their giftedness.
Nora Sergeevna is an excellent storyteller, with a brilliant memory.
Seryozha often asked her to remember some story that he needed to tell.
And she always told funny and bright stories.
Now, when I was going to St. Petersburg for a conference, she asked me to say during my speech that Seryozha was friends with her, appreciated her humor.
It's true.
He generally appreciated close people..."
Sergey Dovlatov himself also wrote about his daughter: "Our children are growing up so fast. ...I remember the nursery on Rubinstein Street.
A white bench.
The turned up back of a tiny shoe... we're going home.
I remember the feeling of mobility of a small palm.
Even through the glove, you can feel how hot she is...
I was struck by her helplessness in my daughter.
Her vulnerability to transport, wind... her dependence on my decisions, actions, words... my daughter grew up.
I remember she came back from kindergarten.
Without undressing, she asked: - Do you love Brezhnev?"
In 1968, Dovlatov filed for divorce from Asya Pekurovskaya, and in 1969 he officially registered his marriage with Elena.
And in 1970, Pekurovskaya had a daughter Masha from Dovlatov, whom she decided to show Dovlatov only after 18 years, but Sergei did not show any interest in the girl.
In the early 1970s, Dovlatov worked as a correspondent in the large circulation newspaper of the Leningrad Shipbuilding Institute "For Shipyards Personnel", wrote short stories, joined the Leningrad group of writers "Citizens" together with V. Maramzin, I. Efimov, B. Vakhtin and other writers.
Elena Dovlatova said: "...
Our life in accordance with our concepts was, in general, arranged.
This was how most of my friends lived.
Of course, we could use extra money, but we have never had quarrels because of their absence.
And he was always trying to do something.
At one time he served as a secretary to Vera Panova, who became attached to him mainly because of his extraordinary dexterity and lightness of hands.
When she was ill, she only trusted him to arrange her in bed so that she would be comfortable.
He read aloud to her a lot, they talked about literature, and returning from her on the train from Komarov, Sergei wrote his first novel, which was not finished, but parts were distributed according to his other works.
For some time, Sergey worked in a large circulation newspaper, received 85 rubles.
The editor there treated him very well, did not really load him with work, and in his spare time Seryozha began writing short stories.
When he gave them to his friends to read, they immediately went hand in hand, his creative evening was included in the work plan of the Leningrad Union of Writers - despite the fact that Dovlatov had not yet printed a single line.
The course of events promised him a fantastic career.
However, this evening, which was a great success, everything ended..."
In 1972, after quarrels and discord in the family, Dovlatov moved to Tallinn, where he worked as a correspondent for the Tallinn newspaper "Soviet Estonia".
In Tallinn, Dovlatov prepared a collection called "City Stories" for publication, but, despite the contract, the book was banned.
Dovlatov wrote in The Invisible Book: "I was waiting for a signal instance.
Suddenly a call: - The book is forbidden.
Everything is gone.
It was pointless to stay in Tallinn...".
Dovlatov spent the summer of 1974 with his mother and Katya at Tamara Zibunova's dacha near Tallinn, but troubles at work and the refusal to publish the collection "Five Corners" forced Dovlatov to return to Leningrad to Elena in 1975.
Meanwhile, in Tallinn, on September 8, 1975, Tamara Zibunova had a daughter, Alexandra, from Dovlatov.
In Leningrad, Dovlatov again worked in the magazine "Koster", but nothing came out of numerous attempts to be published.
And in 1976, Dovlatov's stories were published in the West in the magazines " Continent "and" Time and We", after which Dovlatov was immediately expelled from the Union of Journalists, and in the future his works could be read only with the help of Samizdat.
In the summer of 1976 and 1977, Dovlatov worked in the Pushkin Mountains as a seasonal guide.
The atmosphere that prevailed among the philological youth who visited the museum contributed to creative pranks.
In particular, Sergey Dovlatov was engaged in the fact that for a fee he showed the real grave of Pushkin to the tourists under the "big secret".
Impressions from this "reserved" life formed the basis of Dovlatov's almost documentary story "The Reserve".
In 1978, Sergey's half sister Xana left for New York to live with her fiance Mikhail Blank.
At the same time, Elena and her daughter Katya left for New York.
Elena Dovlatova told me: "I couldnot wait any longer for Sergey to decide to leave.
I had no doubt that it would be difficult, but it couldnot be worse.
I was ready for any physical work, for any everyday difficulties, just to get rid of the feeling of hopelessness and fear of the KGB, which was getting closer to Sergei...
If I decide something, I will break through the wall with my forehead, but I will achieve my goal.
However, I could not overcome Sergey's indecision for a long time.
Of course, I understood how scary it is for a writer to be in the atmosphere of a foreign language.
And I knew very well that he would never give up his vocation…
In short , I understood his doubts about emigration, and yet...
I wasnot sure that he would follow me, but I didnot care anymore.
I got permission very quickly, after three weeks.
And here it began.
At first, Katya got sick, she was generally a very sickly child.
When she recovered, I discovered health problems.
I recovered - Katya got sick again.
This went on for quite a long time, and nevertheless the day of departure was set.
I went to say goodbye to a friend and, returning from her, broke my arm.
So, in a cast, I went to emigrate..."
It was Elena Dovlatova who made all the important decisions in Sergei's life.
Despite the fact that they separated, Lena continued to live in his apartment with his mother and daughter Katya.
And unwittingly it was Lena, with whom, as Dovlatov thought, he parted forever, who contributed to his emigration.
It all started with the fact that Sergey went to see off Lena and Katya to the airfield, where he waved his scarf after them for a long time, and because of the cold wind, his throat hurt.
He called the self propelled barge "Altai", where he was working as a watchman at the time, asked to be on duty for him, and went home, where he started self medication with vodka.
Therefore, the doctor who arrived, instead of the hospital, stated that Dovlatov was intoxicated.
At this time, on the barge, they were on duty for him and recorded working hours in his name — this was a forgery, for which the authorities subsequently deprived Dovlatov of his job.
After that, Sergei was threatened with being arrested for parasitism, from which he escaped by bribing a friend of a journalist for a bottle of vermouth, who was sitting on the first floor and looking out for the policemen who came for Dovlatov.
As soon as they came, the journalist picked up the phone and said to Sergei: "The bastards are coming."
At this signal, Dovlatov closed the door on the latch and climbed under the blanket with his head — so he managed to hide for a long time.
However, in addition to the police, KGB officers were interested in Dovlatov, who took him during one of the exits to the store.
During a preventive conversation, a KGB officer started a conversation with him from afar: "Sergei Donatovich, do you love your wife?
Your daughter?
You are published abroad, arenot you?
If you donot want to leave, we will help you."
So, because of Elena's departure to America, Dovlatov himself went into exile with Nora Sergeevna at the end of August 1978.
They flew through Warsaw, Budapest, Vienna, and from there to the United States.
There was a distributor in Vienna, where emigrants from the USSR could change the original route and instead of going to Israel, applied for entry to the United States.
In anticipation of such a resolution, Dovlatov constantly wrote.
And in New York, Sergey, Elena, Nora Sergeevna and Katya began to live together again.
On February 23, 1984, Kolya's son, Nicholas Dowley, was born in the Dovlatov family.
Elena Dovlatova told me: "...I worked as a proofreader, then as a typesetter, but I didnot have to work with anyone.
I was the main earner, so I worked from morning to night.
When Kolya was born, she took a job at home, and Seryozha by this time began to serve on Radio Liberty…
I think he would be very happy if I gave birth every year.
He liked being in charge of the house.
It was felt even when he was walking with the dog.
He was walking so big, the dog was small, and there were a lot of children running after him...
Perhaps Seryoga really left Leningrad, but the writer Dovlatov had already arrived in New York.
During a couple of weeks of the Austrian transit, he wrote several wonderful stories, which were later included in the "Compromise", he became immediately known in emigration, who read his publications in the " Continent "and in the magazine"Time and We".
The publisher Karl Proffer, an undoubted authority in the Slavist world, became interested in him.
In his publishing house "Ardis" Sergey's book was published quite quickly.
But, of course, there could be no question of existence on literary earnings.
Like all emigrants, Sergey expected to earn by physical labor.
He even took a course in jewelers.
However, nothing came of it.
But it turned out to create a newspaper "New American".
It was the most rosy and lively period of our life.
Very quickly, the people who made the newspaper became heroes and favorites of the emigrant people.
They were recognized on the street, our phone rang incessantly, a kind of club was formed in the editorial office, where everyone wanted to get to.
The newspaper was so different from both Soviet and emigrant journalism, it was so permeated with fresh ideas and stylistic elegance that the best hopes were associated with it.
Unfortunately, our newspaper lasted only two and a half years.
It was made by brilliant writers, but useless financiers..."
From 1978 to 1990, twelve books by Sergey Dovlatov were published one after another in the USA and Europe, among which were "The Invisible Book", "Solo on Underwood", "Compromise", "Zone", "Reserve" and "Ours".
In the mid 1980s, Dovlatov was also published in the prestigious New Yorker magazine.
Meanwhile, readers in the USSR were familiar with Dovlatov's work on Samizdat and the author's program on Radio Liberty.
Dovlatov wrote about his life in America: "My drunkenness has subsided, but my bouts of depression are becoming more frequent, namely depression, that is, causeless longing, powerlessness and disgust for life.
I will not be treated and I do not believe in psychiatry.
It's just that I've been waiting for something all my life: a certificate of maturity, loss of virginity, marriage, a child, the first book, minimal money, and now everything has happened, there is nothing more to wait for, there are no sources of joy.
I am tormented by my uncertainty.
I hate my willingness to get upset over trifles, I am exhausted from fear of life.
But this is the only thing that gives me hope.
The only thing I have to thank fate for.
Because the result of all this is literature."
In New York, the Dovlatovs occupied a small three room apartment, in which they lived together with Nora Sergeevna and the dog Glasha.
Dovlatov wrote: "Two things somehow brighten up life: good relations at home and the hope of someday returning to Leningrad."
Dovlatov's literary activity in the United States did not bring much financial prosperity - he was paid only $ 200 a week on Radio Liberty, and the books were published, according to the publisher Igor Efimov, with a circulation of 50-60 thousand copies, for which the author received a fairly modest remuneration.
Dovlatov did not even have an insurance policy, which was the indirect cause of his death.
On August 24, 1990, Dovlatov died in a New York ambulance on the way to Coney Island Hospital.
That day, Dovlatov called his colleague on the radio and friend Peter Vail at work and said that he saw cracks in the ceiling, that his stomach hurt.
Vayl called an ambulance, which toured five hospitals, and where Dovlatov was not accepted due to the lack of an insurance policy.
Shortly before his death, Dovlatov left a literary will, where he indicated in which year to publish his works, and Elena faithfully fulfilled his will.
In addition to the will and prose, she was left with debts of 87 thousand dollars for the magazine "New American", which was edited by Dovlatov, and two children Katya and Nikolai.
Alexander Genis wrote: "...
In America, Sergey worked, was treated, sued, achieved success, was friends with publishers, literary agents and American "young ladies" (his word).
Here he raised a daughter, got a son, a dog and real estate.
And, of course, twelve American years is a dozen books published in America: an abbreviation of a writer's life.
And all this without going beyond the circle outlined by those American writers whom Sergey knew long before he settled in their homeland.
Dovlatov lived with ease and convenience in the read out America, because it was no less real than any other…
In America, Sergei found something that was not there in the fatherland - an indifference that fosters such hopeless modesty that it should be called humility.
For a Russian writer accustomed to the tutelage of a jealous government, the condescending absent mindedness of democracy is a difficult test..."
Sergey Dovlatov was buried in Queens at the Mount Hebron Cemetery.
A tombstone by the New York sculptor Leonid Lerman was erected on his grave.
Joseph Brodsky wrote about Dovlatov: "When a person dies so early, there are suggestions about a mistake made by him or others.
This is a natural attempt to protect yourself from grief, from the monstrous pain caused by loss....
I donot think that Seryozha's life could have been lived differently;
I only think that its end could have been different, less terrible.
He would never have written such a nightmarish end – on a suffocating summer day in an ambulance in Brooklyn, with blood gushing down his throat and two Puerto Rican jerks as paramedics himself: not because he did not foresee it, but because he had a dislike for too strong effects.
I repeat, it is pointless to defend yourself from grief.
Maybe it's even better to let him completely crush you – this will be at least somehow proportional to what happened.
If you later manage to get up and straighten up, the memory of the one you have lost will also straighten up.
The very memory of him will help you straighten up."
Sergey Dovlatov's favorite poem "On the death of a friend" by Joseph Brodsky.
...
Maybe there is no better gate to Nothing in the world.
A man of the pavement, you would say that you donot need a better one, Floating down the dark river in a colorless coat, Whose clasps alone saved you from disintegration, In vain a sullen Charon is looking for a drachma in your mouth, In vain someone is blowing his pipe at the top with a long drawl.
I send you a nameless farewell bow From the shores of who knows what.
It doesnot matter to you.
The author of Dovlatov's biography, Valery Popov, mentioned the words of Sergey Dovlatov's sister, Xana Mechik Blank: "...
Sergey was, first of all, a writer, and only then everyone else.
And as a really good writer, he transformed the events of his life into beautiful prose, which, however, had little to do with reality.
In fact, Dovlatov created a myth around himself with his own hands, in which everyone believed.
But this was not enough for him - he spent his whole life trying to match his lyrical hero in life.
It may seem strange to some, but it was largely self destructive work.
In his prose, after all, he constructed the image of such an outsider who ironically looks at everything from the outside.
In real life, of course, he was almost the exact opposite of this image.
But closer to his death, it seems that Dovlatov still managed to turn into his literary alter ego.
And this ultimately ruined him...".
A documentary film was made about Sergey Dovlatov.
Your browser does not support the video/audio tag.
Your browser does not support the video/audio tag.
The text was prepared by Tatyana Khalina.
Materials used:
E.
Dovlatova interview to the magazine "Ogonek" Katya Dovlatova interview to the magazine "Ogonek" V. Popov – "Sergey Dovlatov" ZhZL Materials of the site "Wikipedia" Materials of the site www.sergeidovlatov.com
September 3, 1941 – August 24, 1990
Related articles and materials:
Sergey Dovlatov (Documentaries)
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Dovlatov Sergey Donatovich (Literature)
"...Elena had a masculine character, which Dovlatov himself lacked so much."
In my opinion, terribly unfair words (about the lack of character) in relation to a person who put everything in life on the line for the sake of one main goal - to become a writer.
And to write as he himself wants, and not to someone (censors, the party, neighbors...)
And he became one.
I didnot get drunk, being a drunk.
He did not change his profession, although everything pushed him to do so.
He did not compromise with his conscience and did not become a "co writer".
I didnot buy any benefits.
This is not a character?!
Not a man's?!
Not enough?!
I wonder from what source this phrase comes... probably from Popov's book.
All of them, brothers in the shop, envied him, and even in the biography they did not consider it a sin to "kick" at least in something...
Boris Zimin [2013-09-03 21:15:38]
Everything happens in life.
Andrey Goncharov [2013-09-04 23:14: 58]
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