Status
Available
Call number
Collection
Publication
NYRB Classics (2013), Paperback, 160 pages
Description
An NYRB Classics Original Few writers had to confront as many of the last century's mass tragedies as Vasily Grossman, who wrote with terrifying clarity about the Shoah, the Battle of Stalingrad, and the Terror Famine in the Ukraine. An Armenian Sketchbook, however, shows us a very different Grossman, notable for his tenderness, warmth, and sense of fun. After the Soviet government confiscated--or, as Grossman always put it, "arrested"--Life and Fate, he took on the task of revising a literal Russian translation of a long Armenian novel. The novel was of little interest to him, but he needed money and was evidently glad of an excuse to travel to Armenia. An Armenian Sketchbook is his account of the two months he spent there. This is by far the most personal and intimate of Grossman's works, endowed with an air of absolute spontaneity, as though he is simply chatting to the reader about his impressions of Armenia--its mountains, its ancient churches, its people--while also examining his own thoughts and moods. A wonderfully human account of travel to a faraway place, An Armenian Sketchbook also has the vivid appeal of a self-portrait.… (more)
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I had gone to Armenia because I was translating An Armenian Sketchbook, a memoir by Vasily Grossman about the two months he spent there in late 1961. He too had been impressed by the medieval churches. And like me, he had gone to Armenia to work on a translation; he had been commissioned to edit a clumsy literal version of The Children of the Large House, a long novel about the second world war by an established Armenian writer, Hrachya Kochar. That, at least, was the official reason; the real reasons were more complex. Show Less
User reviews
LibraryThing member gbill
There is so much humanity in this simple little book. Maybe it comes from Grossman having seen and been one of the first write about the concentration camps, or his frustrations with Soviet censors, who had just taken away his draft of ‘Life and Fate’, which he thought was lost forever. With
It seems Grossman travelled down there, frustrated by the lack of freedom in the Soviet Union, the censorship of course, and on top of that, the work he was doing with a translator to get a mediocre Armenian writer’s book translated into Russian. As he reflected on (dare I say it) life and fate, he was touched by the simple people he saw, and those who lived the Christian Credo and the golden rule. He didn’t idealize them – he saw plenty of less than perfect behavior and honestly commented on it – but he accepted it all as part of being human, and extended these sketches of Armenians and his travel within Armenia to something more global, and universal – and therein lies his greatness.
Chapter 4 is brilliant – a masterpiece which starts off by pointing out the wrongness of typical Russian’s views of Armenians, as they were the butt of many jokes, but then quickly expands to discuss the need for freedom, because allowing Russians to expose themselves to diversity would lead to the understanding that “all men are brothers”. Grossman’s words against nationalism and against reactionaries are so vibrant today as America and the world turns towards conservative, xenophobic populists. But despite this and his thoughts on many other subjects, such as religion, God, art, suicide, and the cosmos, this is not a heavy book in the slightest – as he celebrates Armenia and humanity, so (for example) he also includes his own very human (and hilarious) troubles when he desperately needs to find a toilet.
My only quibble with this learned edition, which includes helpful notes and some photographs of Grossman in Armenia, is the translation of the title to ‘An Armenian Sketchbook’. While that title is apt, it wasn’t Grossman’s, and it goes against my grain to see the original meaning changed in translation. Moreover, while these are indeed sketches and snippets of Armenian life, Grossman’s original title ‘Dobro vam’, itself a literal translation of the Armenian ‘Barev dzez’, carries with it so much more of the warmth and goodwill towards men that is his central theme.
And as he ends his book “Barev dzez – All good to you, Armenians and non-Armenians!”, I say barev dzez to you as well, Vasily Grossman, barev dzez, wherever you are.
Quotes:
On freedom, and diversity:
“When people are free, communication between different nations is fruitful and beneficial. … And the beggarliness, blindness, and inhumanity of narrow nationalism and hostility between states would be clearly demonstrated.
It is time we recognized that all men are brothers.
Reactionaries seek to excise and destroy the deepest and most essentially human aspects of a nation’s character; they promulgate its most inhuman and superficial aspects.”
And this one, please read this Donald Trump:
“Any struggle for national dignity and national freedom is first of all a struggle for human dignity and human freedom. Those who fight for true national freedom are fighting against mandatory typecasting, against a blind obsession with national character – whether characterized as positive or negative. The true champion of a nation’s freedom are those who reject the limitation of stereotypes and affirm the rich diversity of human nature to be found within this nation.”
And lastly…so powerful…
“What matters is the need to move from the rigidity of national stereotypes towards something more truly human; what matters is to discover the riches of human hearts and souls; what matters is the human content of poetry and science, the universal charm and beauty of architecture; what matters is human courage and nobility; what matters is the magnanimity of a nation’s leaders and historical figures. Only by exalting what is truly human, only by fusing the national with what is universally human, can true dignity – and true freedom – be achieved.”
On brotherhood, and the bond between writers and readers:
“True brotherhood and true lasting ties between people and nations are born not in offices, not in governors’ palaces, but in peasant huts, during journeys into exile, in camps and soldiers’ barracks. These are the links that last. It is the words written beneath dim oil lamps, the words read by people lying on bed boards in prison cells or sitting in peasant huts and smoky little rooms, that create the binding ties of unity, love, and mutual national respect.”
On suicide:
“Sometimes suicide is the logical act of someone with a great mind. While the stupid and the shortsighted crawl about in the mire and hope of optimism, he or she can see that in front of them is only a bog, a wall, or a precipice.
Sometimes suicide is a manifestation of blindness, of psychological limitation: all that can be seen is a wall. Someone falls into despair and is too shortsighted to see that there is a path, and a door, right beside them.”
On inner turmoil:
“The young Lermontov was mistaken when he wrote: ‘Then the anguish of my soul is stilled…’ The anguish of the human soul is terrible and unquenchable. It is impossible to calm it or escape from it. Quiet country sunsets, the lapping of the eternal sea, and the sweet town of Dilijian are all equally powerless before it. As for Lermontov, he was unable to still the anguish of his soul even at the foot of Mount Mashuk. No outward tranquility can save you from grinding anguish; no mountain air can cool you when flaming pitch burns your insides; not bloody and gaping wound can be healed by life in the wonderful town of Dilijian.”
On the feeling of dying; I loved the imagery:
“So I lay in a sweat, a passenger caught without a ticket, thrown out from a moving train with all my heavy suitcases. So I lay, watching as tens of thousands of suddenly useless, stupid thoughts, feelings, and memories slipped out from my tightly packed cases and baskets and flew off into the eternal darkness of winter.”
On writing:
“He asked me about my own impressions of Armenia. I said something about the beauty of the country’s ancient churches. I said I wanted books to be like these churches, simply made yet expressive, and that I would like God to be living in each book, as in a church.”
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great suffering often comes great compassion, and wisdom. Maybe it comes from Grossman sensing his own mortality, as he would die from stomach cancer just a couple of years after his visit to Armenia. Maybe it comes from the kindred spirits he saw in the Armenians (and they in him) as a Jew – Armenia, a country that saw countless invaders over the centuries and a genocide at the hands of the Ottomans as recently as 1915, and yet retaining their cultural identity.It seems Grossman travelled down there, frustrated by the lack of freedom in the Soviet Union, the censorship of course, and on top of that, the work he was doing with a translator to get a mediocre Armenian writer’s book translated into Russian. As he reflected on (dare I say it) life and fate, he was touched by the simple people he saw, and those who lived the Christian Credo and the golden rule. He didn’t idealize them – he saw plenty of less than perfect behavior and honestly commented on it – but he accepted it all as part of being human, and extended these sketches of Armenians and his travel within Armenia to something more global, and universal – and therein lies his greatness.
Chapter 4 is brilliant – a masterpiece which starts off by pointing out the wrongness of typical Russian’s views of Armenians, as they were the butt of many jokes, but then quickly expands to discuss the need for freedom, because allowing Russians to expose themselves to diversity would lead to the understanding that “all men are brothers”. Grossman’s words against nationalism and against reactionaries are so vibrant today as America and the world turns towards conservative, xenophobic populists. But despite this and his thoughts on many other subjects, such as religion, God, art, suicide, and the cosmos, this is not a heavy book in the slightest – as he celebrates Armenia and humanity, so (for example) he also includes his own very human (and hilarious) troubles when he desperately needs to find a toilet.
My only quibble with this learned edition, which includes helpful notes and some photographs of Grossman in Armenia, is the translation of the title to ‘An Armenian Sketchbook’. While that title is apt, it wasn’t Grossman’s, and it goes against my grain to see the original meaning changed in translation. Moreover, while these are indeed sketches and snippets of Armenian life, Grossman’s original title ‘Dobro vam’, itself a literal translation of the Armenian ‘Barev dzez’, carries with it so much more of the warmth and goodwill towards men that is his central theme.
And as he ends his book “Barev dzez – All good to you, Armenians and non-Armenians!”, I say barev dzez to you as well, Vasily Grossman, barev dzez, wherever you are.
Quotes:
On freedom, and diversity:
“When people are free, communication between different nations is fruitful and beneficial. … And the beggarliness, blindness, and inhumanity of narrow nationalism and hostility between states would be clearly demonstrated.
It is time we recognized that all men are brothers.
Reactionaries seek to excise and destroy the deepest and most essentially human aspects of a nation’s character; they promulgate its most inhuman and superficial aspects.”
And this one, please read this Donald Trump:
“Any struggle for national dignity and national freedom is first of all a struggle for human dignity and human freedom. Those who fight for true national freedom are fighting against mandatory typecasting, against a blind obsession with national character – whether characterized as positive or negative. The true champion of a nation’s freedom are those who reject the limitation of stereotypes and affirm the rich diversity of human nature to be found within this nation.”
And lastly…so powerful…
“What matters is the need to move from the rigidity of national stereotypes towards something more truly human; what matters is to discover the riches of human hearts and souls; what matters is the human content of poetry and science, the universal charm and beauty of architecture; what matters is human courage and nobility; what matters is the magnanimity of a nation’s leaders and historical figures. Only by exalting what is truly human, only by fusing the national with what is universally human, can true dignity – and true freedom – be achieved.”
On brotherhood, and the bond between writers and readers:
“True brotherhood and true lasting ties between people and nations are born not in offices, not in governors’ palaces, but in peasant huts, during journeys into exile, in camps and soldiers’ barracks. These are the links that last. It is the words written beneath dim oil lamps, the words read by people lying on bed boards in prison cells or sitting in peasant huts and smoky little rooms, that create the binding ties of unity, love, and mutual national respect.”
On suicide:
“Sometimes suicide is the logical act of someone with a great mind. While the stupid and the shortsighted crawl about in the mire and hope of optimism, he or she can see that in front of them is only a bog, a wall, or a precipice.
Sometimes suicide is a manifestation of blindness, of psychological limitation: all that can be seen is a wall. Someone falls into despair and is too shortsighted to see that there is a path, and a door, right beside them.”
On inner turmoil:
“The young Lermontov was mistaken when he wrote: ‘Then the anguish of my soul is stilled…’ The anguish of the human soul is terrible and unquenchable. It is impossible to calm it or escape from it. Quiet country sunsets, the lapping of the eternal sea, and the sweet town of Dilijian are all equally powerless before it. As for Lermontov, he was unable to still the anguish of his soul even at the foot of Mount Mashuk. No outward tranquility can save you from grinding anguish; no mountain air can cool you when flaming pitch burns your insides; not bloody and gaping wound can be healed by life in the wonderful town of Dilijian.”
On the feeling of dying; I loved the imagery:
“So I lay in a sweat, a passenger caught without a ticket, thrown out from a moving train with all my heavy suitcases. So I lay, watching as tens of thousands of suddenly useless, stupid thoughts, feelings, and memories slipped out from my tightly packed cases and baskets and flew off into the eternal darkness of winter.”
On writing:
“He asked me about my own impressions of Armenia. I said something about the beauty of the country’s ancient churches. I said I wanted books to be like these churches, simply made yet expressive, and that I would like God to be living in each book, as in a church.”
Show Less
LibraryThing member southernbooklady
a strange, slightly absurd, but also beautiful account of the writer's stint in the country as a translator tasked with interviewing another writer, the "father of Armenian literature" and translating his work. It's a little absurd because Grossman doesn't speak Armenian, and suspects he has been
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sent there because he was about to fall afoul with the current regime. Stalin's legacy is being torn down more quickly than even his statues are being knocked over in the public squares, and everything is in upheaval. But Grossman's description of the country and the people are beautiful. I conceived of a great desire to see Lake Sevan, and basically badgered my mom into reading the book. Show Less
Awards
PEN Translation Prize (Shortlist — 2014)
Language
Original language
Russian
Original publication date
1998 (Russian)
2013 (English translation)
Physical description
160 p.; 5.01 inches
ISBN
1590176189 / 9781590176184
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