Cynics by Anatoly Marienhof

Translated by Bryan Karetnyk

Review by Karen Langley

When faced with a totalitarian regime and a disintegrating world, how should the writer or artist respond? In many cases they turn to satire, and that was often where authors in the early years of the Soviet regime went. Post-revolution Russia was a tumultuous place to live, going through civil war, famine and conflict with the wider world. Many writers reflected this in their work in different ways; but often those writings couldn’t be published until much later. A case in point is a recent release from Penguin in their classics range – Cynics by Anatoly Marienhof. Published in Germany in 1928, it was banned for decades in the author’s native land, not being published there until 1988. Now available in a stylish translation by Bryan Karetnyk, it makes entertaining yet sobering reading.

The world which is captured in Cynics is a very particular time in Soviet history; divided into sections marked out by years – 1918 is the first and 1924 the final – the narrative spans a period which saw radical events happening in that country. As the book opens, we meet our protagonists: bookish and idealistic Vladimir who is madly in love with the beautiful Olga. Neither character, frankly, seems the type to survive the Bolshevik upheaval. The pair hold onto pre-revolutionary standards, parading around in tattered finery; their lack of practicality is summed up by the fact that the tormented Vladimir brings Olga flowers, whilst other men bring flour and millet…

Olga is persuaded to marry Vladimir, as her building’s central heating will be out of service all winter; her reasoning is that two in the bed will be warmer! However, she does seem to care for him despite this. Matters take an unexpected turn when she decides she needs to work for the revolution, and Vladimir introduces her to his brother Sergei; the latter will be able to bring material comforts to the situation but inevitably a love triangle develops. While Olga works for the new regime, Vladimir is found an educational post by Sergei.

Things become even more complicated, though, with the arrival on the scene of Dokuchaev, a chancer who has managed to make his way through the conflict by wheeler-dealing whenever he could and whose star is currently on the rise. The triangle becomes a square; but it is not really clear where the story will end; can the couple survive the rapid changes in the regime, and does their marriage itself have a chance? Will Sergei survive being sent off to war and returning injured? Can Dokuchaev continue to dodge the authorities with his schemes? And what is the future for ordinary, gentle people in a totalitarian situation?

“…as you know, Olga, the most delightful thing about a revolution is the element of surprise.”

All of this is told in an individualistic, highly stylised narrative with wonderfully funny and idiosyncratic writing; Vladimir’s turns of phrase are unusual, his metaphors unexpected, and the book’s prose sparkles, despite the horrors it often relates. And there are plenty of horrors. The period covered by the narrative embraced post-Revolutionary turmoil, War Communism and the NEP (New Economic Policy), which was introduced to try and stop the country going completely bankrupt (it is this latter element which allows Dokuchaev to deal with dodgy schemes and the black market). Cleverly, Marienhof intersperses his narrative with reports of what’s happening around the country, which alter throughout the book to reflect the constant twists and turns of the regime, and these make for dark reading.

“The Bolsheviks are fighting (bravely, no doubt) on three fronts, in four districts, and in twelve different directions.”

In an almost collagist manner, Marienhof cuts and pastes the story of Olga and Vladimir with these sentences and paragraphs relating the major events of the time. From political losses and gains, information about shortages and rumours of arriving rations, these sections slip into stories of food running out and grim details of cannibalism reaching parts of the country. This modernist technique, rather like that used by the American author John Dos Passos in some of his pioneering writings of the early 20th century, is dramatically effective. The reports are factually presented, and the more horrific for it; and they throw the lives of Olga and Vladimir into sharp relief.

Cynics is billed as a black comedy, and it certainly is dark and funny. The witty writing as well as the startling contrasts between the starving peasants and the well-fed functionaries is striking, and I can understand why this satire would have been unacceptable in Soviet Russia of the 1920s. However, there’s much underlying tragedy in the book; whether it’s Vladimir’s hopeless love for Olga, the futility of his job under the new regime, the pure horrors of the famine, the terrible loss of any cultural values or the pointlessness of life itself, all of these factors critique the Soviets and they would never have allowed the book to appear.

In a short, cleverly written, witty and profound book, Marienhof really gets across the horrors of living during the early years of the Soviet Union. The book packs an enormous punch, and the end hits hard. If Marienhof had never written anything else, he certainly made a significant mark with this story, and in a world still riven with conflict it’s just as relevant as it ever was at pointing out that it’s always the ordinary people who suffer.

A word on the excellent translation by Bryan Karetnyk; he’s become something of a specialist in Russian émigré writing, responsible for allowing us to read some wonderful books in translation from his pioneering anthology of émigré stories, to major works by authors such as Gorky, Yuri Felsen and Gaito Gazdanov, amongst many others. These works shine new light on a fascinating, troubling period in history, as well as its aftermath. Marienhof stayed in Russia, unlike some of those names, remaining basically unpublishable; he’s an author who’s lingered for too long in the shadows and this new edition will hopefully bring his name to the wider audience he deserves.

Karen Langley blogs at kaggsysbookishramblings and is unshaken in her belief that war is a Bad Thing (www.kaggsysbookishramblings.wordpress.com)

Cynics by Anatoly Marienhof (Penguin Books, 2026). 978-0241688540. 165pp., paperback.

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