| Title | : | Black Snow: A Theatrical Novel |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0006541607 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780006541608 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Kindle , Hardcover , Paperback , Audiobook & More |
| Number of Pages | : | - |
| Publication | : | First published March 1, 1965 |
When Maxudov's novel fails, he attempts suicide. When that fails, he dramatizes his novel. To Maxudov's surprise - and the resentment of literary Moscow - the play is accepted by the legendary Independent Theater, and Maxudov plunges into a vortex of inflated egos. Each rehearsal sees more and more sparks flying higher and higher and less and less chance of poor Maxudov's play ever being performed. Black Snow
is the ultimate backstage novel and a brilliant satire on Mikhail Bulgakov's ten-year love-hate relationship with Stanislavsky, Method acting, and the Moscow Arts Theater.
After a lifetime spent struggling against censorship, not least in the theater, Bulgakov died in 1940, not long after completing his masterpiece, The Master and Margarita. None of his major fiction was published during his lifetime.
Black Snow: A Theatrical Novel Reviews
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Black Snow is a satirical roman à clef of two worlds – the one of literature and the other of theatres… And those worlds collide…
In creative throes, the novel is born and the author enters a literary world – the world of ostentation, hypocrisy and envy…The party warmed up. Layers of smoke were already billowing over the table. I felt something soft and slippery under my foot and bending down I saw that it was a piece of salmon. How it got there, I had no idea. Laughter drowned Ismail Alexandrovich’s words and I never heard the rest of his astounding tales of Paris.
No one cares about his novel so in agony the author turns his tale into a play…It was very simple. What I saw, I wrote down; what I didn’t see, I left out. There was the scene: the lights came on and lit it up in bright colors. Did it please me? Extremely. So I’ll write that down – Scene One. It’s evening, the lamp is burning; it has a fringed shade. Music lies open on the grand piano. Someone is playing Faust. Suddenly Faust stops and a guitar starts playing. Who is playing it? Here he comes, with the guitar in his hands. I hear him start singing. So I write: “Starts to sing.”
And the author finds himself in a theatrical world – the world of pretence, pomposity and intrigues… And the director is a king and god there… And the author’s life becomes a torment…“Nobody,” replied Bombardov, emphasizing every word, “has answered back, does answer back or ever will answer back.”
“Whatever he may say?”
“Whatever he may say.”
“And supposing he were to say that my main character ought to go to Penza? Or that this mother, Antonina, ought to hang herself? Or that she sings contralto? Or that that stove is black? What do I have to say to that?”
“That the stove is black.”
Those who bend and conform survive but they are despised and soon forgotten… Those who don’t want to bend and comply perish but their creations are imperishable. -
حس قدیمی رمان های روسی خوب...مثل یک نوشیدنی غنی و خاص
ادبیات روسیه برای قلب های گرفته اما زنده نوشته شده..قلب هایی که سخت اما عمیق میزنن..
اولین کتابی که از بولگاکوف میخونم,و طعم و بوی قلمش رو ازسه کلمه اول کتاب شنیدم و همین کافی بود..
کتاب برف سیاه در واقع کتاب خود بولگاکوف هه.
روایتی که خودش با عمق وجودش حس کرده,شربتی تلخ از زندگی که به اجبار نوشیده..شربتی که با قلم در اینجا حضور بهم ر��انیده و این نوشیدنی خوب رو ساخته در قالب یک کتاب.. -
Театральный роман = A Dead Man's Memoir = Theatrical Novel, Mikhail Bulgakov
Theatrical Novel, translated as Black Snow and A Dead Man's Memoir is an unfinished novel by Mikhail Bulgakov.
Written in first-person, on behalf of a writer Sergei Maksudov, the novel tells of the drama behind-the-scenes of a theater production and the Soviet writers' world.
A Dead Man's Memoir is a semi-autobiographical story about a writer who fails to sell his novel, then fails to commit suicide.
When the writer's play is taken up for production in a theater, literary success beckons, but he is not prepared to reckon with the grotesquely inflated egos of the actors, directors, and theater managers.
تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز بیست و پنجم ماه نوامبر سال2012میلادی
عنوان: دست نوشته‌های یک مرده؛ نویسنده میخاییل آفاناسیویچ بولگاکف؛ مترجم فهیمه توزنده‌جانی؛ تهران، کتابسرای تندیس؛ سال1390؛ در230ص؛ شابک9786001820106؛ چاپ دوم سال1392؛ چاپ سوم سال1395؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان روسیه - سده20م
سرگئی لئونتویچ شخصیت نخست این داستان پس از گذراندن دوره ای در زندگی خود، به یک ناکامی بزرگ رسیده، و در پی بحران‌ها و ناامیدی‌ها، میخواهد خودکشی کند؛ اما تلاش او برای خودکشی نیز، همانند تلاشش برای نویسنده شدن، شکست میخورد؛ دست‌نوشته‌های شخصیت نخست، تنها زاییده ی خیال و بیماری مالیخویایی‌اش است؛ خوانشگر نیز در این فضا با شادی‌ها و غم‌های او همراه است؛ «بولگاکف» به نیکویی در این رمان، دردهای خود از جامعه ی هنری را، درون شخصیت نخست داستان، نمایان کرده اند؛ داستانی که بی‌شباهت به زندگی خود «بولگاکف» نیست؛ چرا که اگر زندگی‌نامه نویسنده را، در کنار این رمان قرار دهید، دو داستان موازی، و مرتبط با یکدیگر، خواهید یافت؛ داستانِ نزدیک به یک دهه، از ارتباط «بولگاکف» با تئاتر هنری «مسکو» را، در یک سال نمایان میکند؛ داستان از زبان اول شخص بازگو میشود، و نویسنده خود در قالب نویسنده ای در داستان، گویی با خوانشگر خود، که به زودی کتاب او را می‌خواند، سخن می‌گوید، و خوانشگر را تا انتها با خود همراه میکند
نقل از متن کتاب: (دوستان، هیچ چیزی بدتر از بزدلی، و عدم اعتماد به نفس نیست، این دو خصلت مرا تا آنجایی پیش برد، که به این قضیه اندیشیدم که آیا به راستی خواهر نامزد کرده را به مادر بدل کنم؟ پیش خود استدلال می‌کردم: واقعا چنین کاری امکان ندارد، چرا چنین چیز بی‌خودی را گفته، خوب به هر حال آیا او در این حرفه خبره است؟
و با این استدلال قلم را برداشتم، و روی یک برگه ی کاغذ، چیزهایی نوشتم؛ اما باید صادقانه بگویم، حاصل کارم مزخرف بود؛ مهم‌ترین مسئله اینکه آنچنان از مادر ناخواسته آنتونیو نفرت داشتم، که به محض پدیدار شدنش بر روی کاغذم، دندان‌هایم را از خشم به هم سابیدم، در حقیقت هیچ چیزی درست پیش نمی‌رفت
نویسنده می‌بایست قهرمانانش را دوست داشته باشد، و اگر اینگونه نباشد، توصیه می‌کنم که دست به قلم نبرید، زیرا باور کنید نتیجه ی فوق‌العاده اسفباری عایدتان میشود؛ با خشم فروخورده‌ام، زیرلب زمزمه کردم: باور کنید! و سپس کاغذهایم را تکه‌تکه کردم، و تصمیم گرفتم، دیگر هرگز به تئاتر باز نگردم، هرچند که عمل کردن به چنین تصمیمی بسیار عذاب‌آور بود، و هنوز دوست داشتم بدانم که آخر کار چه میشود، اما با خود فکر کردم «نه بگذار التماسم بکنند.»؛
یک روز گذشت، روز دیگر هم همین‌طور، سه روز، و در نهایت یک هفته ی دیگر هم سپری شد، و هیچ کسی از تئاتر سراغم را نگرفت؛ ظاهرا حق با ليكاسپاستوف پست فطرت بوده، نمی‌خواهند نمایش‌نامه‌ام را اجرا کنند، آن پوستر، آن نمایشنامه «طعمه‌ی فنیز»، آه چرا هیچ‌کس سراغم نمی‌آید! آخر مگر دنیا بدون آدم‌های خوب هم میشود؟
تا اینکه یک روز، بالاخره در اتاقم را زدند، و «بمباردوف» وارد شد؛ آن‌قدر از دیدنش خوشحال شده بودم، که کم مانده بود اشک بریزم، «بمباردوف» روی صندلی نزدیک رادیاتور نشست، و پاهایش را روی هم انداخت، و گفت: -انتظار همه‌ی این چیزها را داشتم، همان‌طور که پیش‌بینی کرده بودم، به تو گفته بودم! نگفتم؟
فریاد زدم: فکر کن خودت فکر کن، چطور می‌توانستم صحنه ی تیراندازی را نخوانم؟ ها؟ چه طور نمی‌خواندمش؟
بمباردوف با لحنی بی‌رحمانه گفت: - خوب خواندی دیگر! خواهش می‌کنم، نتیجه‌اش را هم دیدی
باخشم گفتم: من هرگز از قهرمانانم جدا نمی‌شوم!؛
حالا مگر کسی گفته بود جدا بشوی...؛
اجازه بده!؛
و من که از خشم نفس‌نفس می‌زدم برای «بمباردوف» همه چیز را توضیح دادم: ماجرای مادر، درباره‌ی «پتیا» که می‌بایست تک‌گویی‌های مهم و ارزشمند قهرمان را بیان کند، و خصوصا درباره‌ی ماجرای آن خنجر، که حسابی کفرم را درآورده بود)؛ پایان
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 04/09/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی -
I must be one of only a few that didn't think a great deal of Master and Margarita. Not that it was bad, I just didn't think of it as the masterpiece I expected, generally brought on by all the hype surrounding it. Personally, I much preferred The White Guard, of which the subject matter interested me far more, and now having read Black Snow, I can put it right along side that as my fave Bulgakov. This is one of the last books Bulgakov wrote (although it didn't see the light of day until 1967) and explores the problem of censorship, something that plagued Bulgakov and many other writers like him. First gaining success as a playwright, this brilliant satirical comedy revisits his theatre days, probably with the intention of settling some old scores in the process. The Moscow Art Theatre was likely high on his mind, with Black Snow's principal characters being indisputable caricatures of theatre practitioners like Konstantin Stanislavski among others.
Propelled into the world of egomania, work contracts, and backstage squabbles after his woeful novel is turned into a play, Maxudov chronicles his experiences with a clinical eye for the absurd.He simply falls in love with his new tag as a playwright, and doesn't want to be away from this world for a second, but he soon finds out the theatre is not the magic place it had once seemed, and its two cocksure co-directors have not been on speaking terms for years. Filled with some dazzling set pieces, we get petty animosities, intrigues, clashing egos, and above all, the absurdities of the Theatre's famous Method. Maxudov is obliged to cut, alter, substitute his play, and in the end its beyond recognition. Rehearsals drag for so long that with the off season coming on, he suddenly acknowledges that production may never materialise. Maxudov's lethal treatment at the hands of the literary elite is superbly carried through, and unlike Bulgakov who in reality didn't have the luxury to criticise or rant and rave, Maxudov does so accordingly. -
Human memory is an amazing thing and having just finished Black Snow: A Theatrical Novel I understand once again that, after I fell in love with Mikhail Bulgakov some years back by reading first his The Life of Monsieur de Moliere, there has been a constancy in my strong and deep appreciation, that is to say my feeling of affection, for this writer with every single book penned by him that I had read meanwhile, and there are several in house...
Black Snow, most people say this is an incomplete, unfinished work. It might be so but for my mind’s eye, although there is some ambiguity at the end, when the last page cuts you short from the narrative, I have the feeling that I was given enough to complement myself the remainder of the novel. Ha. How about this level of low modesty :D Let’s not forget, I do love Bulgakov and this gives me a sense of possessiveness over his story. Additionally, throughout the read, I experienced the piercing feeling that the author was winking at me the whole time. But, of course, such kind of effect can happen only if you like the writer yourself.
The matter of fact is that the novel was finished even from page 2, where the author warned the reader that this is not his own work, but a manuscript of a man that committed suicide . So, we’re being told in just 2 pages the whole intrigue, and that the person who actually wrote this ‘memoir’ resumed successfully his second attempt at suicide . But, of course, we don’t need to insist on this part…It is enough that we are introduced into the very strange and unhappy circumstances that affected severely Sergei Leontyevich Maxudov, a lowly employee with the newspaper The Shipping Gazette, who seemed a sick man, and apparently suffered from an illness with an extremely unpleasant name: melancholy. He had never been connected with the theatrical world in his life, still he first wrote a novel, then tried to adapt it to a play, and then he assisted in despair to how his play was rehearsed for the planned performance…
-I’m going out of my mind…, I whispered.
-No, don’t do that… It’s simply that you don’t know what kind of place the theatre is. Of all the complicated things on this planet, the theatre is the most complicated of all…
-Go on, gon on! I shouted, clutching at my head.
-They liked your play so much that panic set in, Bombardov began. That’s why it all came to the boil like that… As soon as they had become familiar with the play and the senior members had to to hear about it, they set about deciding who should take which part. It was decided that Ippolit Pavlovich should play Bakhtin, and they thought that Valentin Konradovich should take the part of Petrov.
-What?... the Val… who?...
-Yes, him.
-But really! I yelled, rather than just shouted. Wasn’t he—
-Well, yes, he was, Bombardov said, evidently anticipating what I was going to say. Ippolit Pavlovich is 61, Valentin Konradovich, 62…And how old is your oldest character Bakhtin?
-He’s 28!
-There you are! So as soon as the senior members had been sent copies of the play, it became impossible to tell you what was going on. This was the first time such a thing had happened during the fifty years of the theatre’s existencee. They’d all simply taken umbrage.
-But who with? With the casting director?
-No. With the author.
All I could do was to gape in astonishment. Bombardov continued:
-With the author. And, indeed, this was how the group of senior members had reasoned amongst themselves: “We are looking for, thirsting for, parts to play. As founding members we would be so happy to demonstrate our skills in a modern play and…look what happens, it you please! Along comes this man in a grey suit brining with him a play in which the characters are young boys! That means we won’t be able to perform it, doesn’t it! Has he brought that play along as a joke or something?! The youngest senior member, Gerasim Nikolayevich, is 57 years old.
-But I’m not in any way claiming my play has to be performed by senior members! I yelled. Let the parts be taken by younger actors!
-Oh, that’s brilliant! Bombardov exclaimed, looking at me with a devilish expression. So you’re saying, in other words, let Argunin, Galin, Yelagin, Blagosvetlosv, Strenkovsky come out and take their curtain calls…Bravo! Encore! Hurrah! Just look, you good people, what wonderful actors we are! And that means that the founding members will just sit there with confused smiles, as if to say: so we’re superfluous now, are we? So it’s off to the poor-house for us, then? Very funny! Brilliant!
This is indeed a brilliant idea. I mean I have just realized what my next read to tackle is going to be: The Diary of a Superfluous Man! by tender Ivan Turgenev. Isn’t that amazing!? :))
Black Snow: A Theatrical Novel is a whimsical novel, and it is best to approach it with a feeling of delicious anticipation, looking forward to receiving a very pleasing reading experience, same like its author experienced it when he saw the following poster placed on the Moscow Independent Theatre board:
Forthcoming:
Agamemnon , Aeschylus
Philoctetes, Sophocles
Fenisa’s Snare, Lope de Vega
King Lear, Shakespeare
The Maid of Orleans, Schiller
Not of this World, Ostrovsky
Black Snow, Maxudov -
تعصب الکی خوب نیست حتی روی نویسنده ای چون بولگاکف ...
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"يوميات رجل ميت" كتاب مضلل من دار الرافدين، فأسماء القصص القصيؤة على الغلاف لا تلفت النظر الى ان نصف الكتاب هو لرواية "قلب كلب" المشهورة لبولغاكوف. والترجمة الجديدة لم تكن افضل من الترجمة القديمة.
- القصص القصيرة الاخرى كانت جيدة بشكل عام، خصوصا "الى صديقتي السريّة".
- يعيب الكتاب كثرة التمهيدات والمقدمات، لم يكن لها داعي ولا معنى ولا اعرف ما هي فائدة ان تقدّم للقارئ ملخص عن القصة واستنتاجاتك الشخصية قبل ان يقرأها!!
- هناك لمحات كثيرة من حياة بولغاكوف الشخصية في هذه القصص، المعاناة في النشر والصحافة والإضطرار لتقديم عدة خطابات حسب آلية النشر ونوعية المتلقي.
- كتاب جيد بشكل عام. -
هدف بولگاکوف از نوشتن این کتاب، شکنجه روحی مخاطب است. اگر باور ندارید کتاب رو بخونید.
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اگر بتوانید از میان دریای متلاطم و توفانی انبوه نام‌های طولانی و عجیب روسی گذر کنید به سرزمین خوش آب و هوای معانی کتاب وارد خواهید شد.
بولگاکف با این کتاب که در لایه رویی به تئاتر و مصائب نویسندگی و غول سانسور در شوروی می‌پردازد عملاً درد مشترکی را فریاد می‌زند که به شدت برای ما آشناست.
طنزی گزنده که گاها بسیار شیرین و خواندنی میشود.
برف سیاه اسم نمایشنامه قهرمان ماست که در نهایت به سرنوشتی شاید محتوم دچار میشود.
البته برف هیچوقت سیاه نیست ولی این اشاره‌ای است به این نکته که به مدد دست‌اندرکاران، برف سفید به برف سیاه ناممکن و ناموجود، مبدل شدنی است. -
حافظه انسان چیز خارق‌العاده‌ای است. اتفاقها در حافظه حتی دمی نمی پاید. این است که سعی در منظم کردن حوادث در ذهن و بازآفرینی آنها کاری است غیرممکن. از این حلقه زنجیر دانه‌هایی می افتد، قسمتهایی با درخشش زنده به یاد می‌آید، اما بقیه درهم و برهم تکه و پاره است و در ذهن جز غبار و رگبار چیزی به جا نمی‌ماند.
از متن کتاب -
Brilliant, yet it does seem unfinished.
A plethora of hard to keep track of names.
More Bulgakov, now! -
Chronology
Introduction & Sources
A Note on the Text
Further Reading
--A Dead Man's Memoir (A Theatrical Novel)
Notes -
خود کتاب رو دوست داشتم ولی پایان‌بندیش بدترین چیزیه که به عمرم دیدم.
این تیکه‌ی کتاب رو نگا: «ناگهان صدای بم و نرم و نازک مردی [...] به گوشم رسید» صدای بم و نرم و نازک😐😐 -
My sweet delight author. ♥️
Reread. I love him even more after each other reading.
"I twice started on Lesosyekov's novel The Swans, each time getting as far as page forty-five, and then turning back to the beginning again, because I had forgotten what had happened. I began to feel really alarmed; my head seemed not to be functioning properly." -
CENSORSHIP: When Maxudov's novel fails, he attempts suicide. When that fails, he dramatizes his novel. To Maxudov's surprise - and the resentment of literary Moscow - the play is accepted by the legendary Independent Theater, and Maxudov plunges into a vortex of inflated egos. Each rehearsal sees more and more sparks flying higher and higher and less and less chance of poor Maxudov's play ever being performed. Black Snow is the ultimate backstage novel and a brilliant satire on Mikhail Bulgakov's ten-year love-hate relationship with Stanislavsky, Method acting, and the Moscow Arts Theater.
After a lifetime spent struggling against censorship, not least in the theater, Bulgakov died in 1940, not long after completing his masterpiece, The Master and Margarita. None of his major fiction was published during his lifetime.
my cover
Translated by Michael Glenny.
Opening: On the 29th April Moscow was washed clean by a thunderstorm. The air was delightful; it mellowed the heart and made one want to start living again.
First read twenty odd years ago - where does time go!
Bettie's Books -
Black Snow is a novel by Mikhail Bulgakov. This apparent platitude is full of contradiction. The book is perhaps better described as an autobiographical episode, with Bulgakov renamed as the book’s central character, Maxudov. It’s also a satire in which the characters are precise, exact and often vicious caricatures of Bulgakov’s colleagues and acquaintances in the between-the-wars Moscow Arts Theatre, including the legendary Stanislawsky. In some ways, Black Snow is a history of Bulgakov’s greatest success, the novel The White Guard, which the theatre company adapted for the stage under the title The Days of the Turbins. The play ran for close to a thousand performances, including one staged for an audience of a single person, one Josef Stalin who, perhaps luckily for Bulgakov, liked it.
Black Snow is also a sideways look at the creative process, itself. Maxudov is a journalist with The Shipping Times and hates the monotony and predictability of his work. Privately he creates a new world by writing a novel in which the author can imagine transcending the mundane. But the product of this and all creation is useless unless it is shared. Only then can it exist. Only then can the author’s relief from the self he cannot live with be realised. But when no-one publishes the novel, when no-one shows the slightest interest in it, the author is left only with the isolation that inspired the book, but now this is an amplified isolation and more devastating for it. So he attempts suicide. But he is such an incompetent that he fails. It’s the same middle class Russian incompetence that Chekhov celebrated in Uncle Vanya where no-one seems able to aim a shot.
But then this unpublished book is seen by others, for whom it seems to mean something quite different from the author’s intention. Instead of a novel, they see it as a play. They ask for a re-write, complete with changes of both plot and setting. Effectively, the only way the work can have its own life, its own existence, is for it to become something that denies the author’s own intentions and thus nullifies the reason for writing it. And so Maxudov goes along with things and thus in effect he is back again doing what he does for The Shipping Times, in that he is writing things that others want.
And here is where Black Snow becomes a parody of what was happening later in Bulgakov’s own career. He wanted to write a play about censorship and control. This, obviously, was impossible in Stalin’s Soviet Union, so he set the play in France, basing it upon the historical reality of Moliere. After four years of tying to prepare the play for performance what finally emerged was a costume drama from which all allusions to censorship had been removed or watered down. So Bulgakov’s intended comment on Soviet society was lost. And the play flopped.
So the satirical caricatures are truly vicious. We have an impresario who is incapable of remembering the playwright’s name. We have the opinionated arty intellectual, full of biting criticism and dismissive posturing until he realises he is speaking to the author and then he does an instant, blushing volte-face. We have a character that is so sure about every detail of organisation and experience that they are almost always wrong.
Ultimately, Black Snow is about a creative process where a writer can create whatever is imaginable. But then in communicating it, the receivers change it, transform it into what they want it to be. The writer makes the snow black, the recipients read it as black but change it to white and then probably argue whether it has already turned to rain. Black Snow is an enigmatic, super-real and surreal satire. -
There are some oppressive regimes (well, most of them) where it’s not a good idea to be a wit. Like Burma, for example, where two comedians were sentenced to twenty years hard labour for, um . . . telling jokes. Or, as Bulgakov learned the hard way, when Stalin is King and Russia is tooling up for another war. Black Snow is about censorship but mainly about the inner workings of the Moscow Theatre, how Stanislavsky was a fraud, and how being a playwright in Stalinist Russia was harder than swallowing a church.
The narrator is a suicidal and callow writer who grumbles his way through the Russian theatrical elite, dodging censorship, criticism and resentment at every turn. As a satire on the writing life it’s pitch-black, as a cock-snook at stage pretention it packs a wallop. Modern shows such as
The Bigger Issues or Annie Griffin’s Coming Soon flesh out the ideas explored, showing great comedy does stand the test of time.
The novel is unfinished and the ending is tacked-on, but be fair, the writer was scheduled to die in a few weeks. -
Bulgakov's 'theatrical novel' Black Snow introduces the reader to the unfortunate Maxudov, whose efforts to publish a book, and later to turn that same book (based on his own suicide attempt) into a play, are met with varying degrees of contempt, incompetence and unhelpful interference from the literary contingent of Moscow. It's a typically Russian novel: it feels more modern than it has any right to, brims with sarcastic wit, and is often morbid. It's years since I read
The Master and Margarita, and I'd forgotten how exuberant and funny Bulgakov was. It's amusing in its own right, but also works as a biting satirical take on Soviet censorship: Maxudov finds his work altered beyond recognition, then stifled by endless rehearsals which go nowhere, leading, ultimately, to a tragic conclusion. But Black Snow was unfinished at the time of the author's death, and feels like it, with an abrupt and unsatisfying ending. The book I read felt like the bones of a greater Black Snow that was never written. -
It may be heretical to muse along these lines, but I was heartened to imagine what would've been the result of a collaboration between Mikhail Bulgakov and Preston Sturges. My mind's eye sees something similar to 42d Street but with Joel McCrea in the lead as a struggling playwright, Barbara Stanwyck vamping her way into the production, causing the author to rewrite and ruin his artistic vision. The NKVD (led by William Demarest) will undoubtedly swoop in during the final reel. A pipe and mustache have the last laugh.
While reading this unfinished farce, I was viewing a few episodes of the 2005 Russian miniseries of The Master and Margarita
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0403783/?.... Even at the gravest of junctures, there is always humor. A quip can be made while fearing the late night knock on the door.
This is a very incomplete work which festers and taunts. There is a vein of promise which alas will never be realized.
2.5/5 -
+++اما ناگهان... آه از این وازه لعنتی!... تا دم مرگ هراس ناگفتنی و لگام گسیخته ای از این واژه همراهم خواهد بود. از این واژه به اندازه عبارت های "حدس بزن چه؟" ، "تلفن با شما کار دارد!" ، "تلگرافی برایتان رسیده" و "لطفا سری به اداره بزنید" وحشت دارم. خوب می دانم پشت سر این واژه ها چه نهفته است..
کتاب "برف سیاه" نوشته "میخائیل بولگاکف" است. نویسنده مانند آثار دیگرش، در این اثر نیز به انتقاد از فضای هنری مسکوی زمان خود پرداخته است.
مساله ایی که بولگاکف در این کتاب به آن می پردازد همان مساله ایی است که نویسنده در زمان حیات بسیار با آن درگیر بوده؛ یعنی سانسور در دنیای هنر.
"مقصودف" نویسنده ایی است نوپا که در حال نوشتن یک رمان است که پس از اتمام با انتقاد تند اطرافانش مواجه می شود.. پس از مدتی با "تئاتر مستقل" قرارداد می بندد تا رمانش تبدیل به نمایشنامه شود اما در آن ها نمایشنامه خو را دستخوش تغییر و تحولاتی سلیقه ایی می بیند.. درمندگی و ناامیدی که برای "مقصودف" بوجود ما آید همان تاثیری است که برای یک هنرمند در چنین فضایی رخ می دهد..
من این کتاب را با ترجمه (احمد پوری) که نشر چشمه به چاپ رسانده، خواندم. -
إنها المرة الأولى التي أقرأ فيها لكاتب روسي معادٍ لثورة لينين
وهي المرة الأولى كذلك التي أقرأ فيها قصة خيال علمي مسخرة لنقد الوضع الاجتماعي
لقائي الأول ببولغاكوف رائع جداً
و"قصة كلب" في هذه المجموعة كانت الأفضل بلا منازع -
Много ми беше мил и близък главния герой, но останалите персонажа бяха трудни за следене и напълно изтървах нишката. Но идеята е ясна - трудно е да си творец в страната на абсурдите, сред абсурдни хора. Изключителни диалози, Булгаков е гениален в това отношение. Аудиокнигата е майсторски прочетена.
-
I read first "A Dead Man's Memoir: A Theatrical Novel" (Penguin Classics) and right after I finished it I read this edition, Black Snow (Melville House). While I appreciated a lot the abundant notes of the Penguin edition, I must point out that I enjoyed the Melville House edition far better, probably because I was reading the same novel for the second time; but I also liked the translation better.
I wish the author had been able to finish this novel. I was left wanting more. But I do have a soft spot for Bulgakov, so I guess I would have wanted more anyway. -
میخائیل بولگاکف در واپسین سال‌های قرن نوزدهم میلادی در شهر کی‌یف اکراین زاده شد. وی در رشته‌ی پزشکی تحصیل کرد اما از علاقه‌اش به نوشتن و ادبیات دست نکشید. پس از اتمام دانشکده‌ی پزشکی به خدمت سربازی رفت و به عنوان پزشک به روستای نیکلسکی اعزام شد و در آنجا بود که نخستین مجموعه داستان خود را با نام یادداشت‌های پزشک روستا نوشت. در سال ۱۹۲۰ و پس از یک دوره‌ی سخت بیماری تیفوس، بولگاکف تصمیم گرفت پزشکی را رها کند و به فعالیت‌های فرهنگی بپردازد و حاصل این تصمیم او هفت رمان و داستان کوتاه و تعدادی نمایشنامه است. اغلب آثار بولگاکف در شوروی پس از انقلاب درگیر سانسور و توقیف شد. وی در سال ۱۹۳۲ نمایشنامه زیر یوغ ریاکاران را نوشت که در مورد روزهای پایانی زندگی مولیر و رنجیدگی او از حسادت اطرافیان است. نمایشنامه از آغاز تا اجرا با کارشکنی‌های بسیاری روبرو شد و پس از چهار سال تمرین و هفت روز اجرا توقیف شد. توقیف نمایشنامه موجب خشم و رنجیدگی زیاد او شد و حاصل این خشم و رنجیدگی نوشتن رمان برف سیاه بود. بولگاکف در رمان برف سیاه با زبانی کنایه‌آمیز تجربیات خود را از نوشتن این نمایشنامه و همکاری با تئاتر مسکو شرح می‌دهد.
رمان برف سیاه از جایی آغاز می شود که لئونته‌ویچ مقصودف، کارمند روزنامه‌ی کشتیرانی، پس از خودکشی ناموفق تصمیم می‌گیرد برای پایان دادن به فقری که گریبانش را گرفته کتابی بنویسد و آن را با بهایی هرچند ناچیز به دست ناشری بسپارد. مقصودف در هر فصل کتاب به تفصیل و با جزئیات دقیق آنچه را که در جریان نوشتن رمان برایش اتفاق افتاده است بیان میکند و تصویری دقیق و شفاف از جامعه‌ی فرهنگی روسیه در نیمه‌ی اول قرن بیستم می‌آفریند:
"در مسکو جوان‌هایی هستند که حتماً شما هم به آنها برخورده‌اید. این آدم‌ها معمولاً روز انتشار مجله در دفترهای نشر سرگردانند، اما نویسنده نیستند. معمولاً در تمرین‌های نهایی نمایشنامه‌ها حضور دارند، اما بازیگر نیستند؛ همیشه در نمایشگاه‌های نقاشی حاضرند، اما نقاش نیستند. ستاره‌های طراز اول باله را مثل خیلی از آدم‌های معروف دیگر که زیاد هم ندیده‌اند، با نام کوچکشان صدا میزنند. در مراسم افتتاح تئاتر بالشوی خود را در ردیف هفتم و هشتم جا می‌کنند و از آنجا برای هنرمندی دست تکان می‌دهند، در متروپل آنها را می‌بینی که پشت میزهای کوچک کنار فواره‌ها جا خوش کرده‌اند و نور رنگارنگ لامپ‌ها پاچه‌های گشاد شلوارشان را روشن میکند."
پس از سرخوردگی از چاپ داستان اول مقصودف تصمیم می‌گیرد به کار سابق خود بازگردد؛
"گذران زندگی واجب‌تر از همه چیز بود، یعنی که باید پول به دست می‌آوردم. بنابراین رویابافی را رها کردم و پی کار افتادم. در اینجا بود که زندگی گریبانم را گرفت و مانند بره‌ی گمشده‌ی عیسی به روزنامه‌ی کشتیرانی برگرداند."
تا آنکه پس ��ز مدتی، یکنواختی زندگی و بیهودگی روزمره عرصه را بر او تنگ می کند و این بار تصمیم می‌گیرد نمایشنامه‌ای با عنوان برف سیاه بنویسد و آن را برای اجرا به کارگردانی بسپارد.
***
بخشی از مرور کتاب «برف سیاه» که در وب‌سایت آوانگارد به قلم «سمانه زمانی» منتشر شده است.
برای خواندن کامل مطلب به لینک زیر مراجعه فرمایید:
https://www.avangard.ir/article/543 -
Manas subjektīvās gaumes 3,5, un, kā gandrīz vienmēr, apaļoju uz augšu. Bulgakovs tomēr nekļūs par "manu" rakatnieku, bet apzinos, ka grāmatas izlasīšana tomēr kaut kādā mērā man nāca par labu. Romāna iesākums šķita pārāk drudžains un absurds manai gaumei (kā viņa slavenākais romāns), un, kad beidzot nokļuvām teātra darbības aizkulisēs, kuras balstījās autora paša pieredzē, pēkšņi viss beidzās pusvārdā. Ļoti patika aina ar Staņislavska karikatūru.
-
بولگاکف نابغس
محشره حرف نداره
حتی همین کتابشم که ینی کتاب معروف و خوبش نیست حسودی ادمو به اوج میرسونه که چرا من نمیتونم بنویسم.
عالیه کتاب دوس دارم برم زبان روسی یاد گیرم فقط برای این که بتونم به ادبیاتشون دسترسی پیدا کنم -
za ljubitelje ruske literature, satire, apsurda, tragikomedije. -
برای من خیلی خسته کننده بود
با داستانی درباره هیچی طرفیم و تقریبا هیچ اتفاقی نمیفته
روند داستان طوری طرح ریزی شده که کششی برای خوندن متن وجود نداره -
Reread at the urging of the Strugatsky Brothers, and well worth the doing so. Although an excellent work, I shall leave my rating as a four plus rather than elevating it to a five minus. Bulgakov certainly did not like Stanislavsky and his Method!
Gogol and Bulgakov’s shared grave stone.
It is said that Gogol may have been buried alive. He died in Moscow at the end of winter in 1852, a few weeks short of his forty-third birthday. A couple of weeks earlier he had burned some manuscripts, including the second part of Dead Souls. Already deeply depressed by the sudden death of a friend, this joke played upon him by the Devil caused him to stretch out on a sofa, where he died (or lapsed into a coma) after nine days of refusing food and consolation.
He was buried in a monastery but when, eight decades later, Stalin and the Soviet authorities demolished that institution they moved the writer’s remains to Novodevichy Cemetery. It was then, in 1931, that his body was discovered face down in the coffin. There is a story, a legend, that fearing premature burial, Gogol had sometime before his death requested his coffin have an air hole and a string connected to a hand bell above the grave. That was not done. Indeed, his grave was surmounted by a large stone ― it was actually called a “Golgotha” stone. That stone was broken during the removal to Novodevichy and the smaller part was eventually placed on the grave of that other Russian writer of Ukrainian origin, Mikhail Bulgakov, whose grave is only a few rows from Gogol’s.
Bulgakov died in Moscow at the end of winter in 1940, a couple of months short of his forty-ninth birthday. I wonder who authorized the use of Gogol’s stone on his grave. It was a significant act and someone in high authority, perhaps Stalin himself, would have had to approve such a thing.
Another story I heard in Moscow in 2013 about Gogol’s reburial is almost as disturbing as the one of premature burial. I was told a senior, unnamed Soviet official took the opportunity of the opened coffin to purloin a section of Gogol’s coat and used it to rebind his copy of Dead Souls. His family are said to possess that unique volume to this day but are too ashamed to admit it.
But then, Moscow stories … who knows? -
Театър на абсурда:
http://knigolandia.info/book-review/t...
Разбира се, че не бива да се подхожда с очаквания, витаещи из космични висини, щом става дума за Михаил Булгаков, автор на чутовната “Майстора и Маргарита”. Но пък когато корицата смело обявява, че “Театрален роман” е най-смешната творба на Булгаков, то няма как да не очакваш нещо специално. Е, няма такова нещо – книгата е много повече тъжна, отколкото смешна, много повече драма, отколкото сатира. И макар че в никой случай четенето не бе разочарование, все пак стилово е по руски пивка, но не мисля, че ще запомня с нещо книгата. Разбира се, отчитам – и това трябва да се отбележи, – че романът е писан с цел конкретен период и конкретни реалности, с които Булгаков се сблъсква и които е искал да осмее.
издателска къща " ФАМА"
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