N. Norman Shneidman
Contemporary Prose in Post-Soviet Russia
Literature as a form of art always reflects, to a degree, the social, political, and economic reality in which it is created. An artist, in a free society, can use his or her creative imagination to venture beyond the immediate realm of one's practical experience, yet even one's subconscious and imaginative faculties take root in the real world and are nurtured by past experiences or experimental knowledge. To that effect most contemporary Russian writers are the products of Soviet upbringing and education, and the current changes in their mentality, which take place under the influence of the new social environment in which they create, are still in the early stages of development.
Today, a decade after the collapse of the Soviet state, the life of most individual Russians has changed drastically, and members of the creative intelligentsia in general, and of the writers' community in particular, try hard to adapt to the new social and economic conditions in the country in order to survive. Thus, the creative output of most contemporary writers reflects today not only their artistic approach to literature, but their ideological, political, and social attitude to the situation in the new Russian state as well. In the late Soviet era there were two distinct streams of literature in the Soviet Union: official Soviet literature, and underground anti-Soviet samizdat and tamizdat literature.
Today, there are also two divergent ideological literary streams in Russia. One includes all liberal writers, regardless of their artistic inclinations, and the other one incorporates all Russian conservative, so-called Apatriotic, writers. The literature of each stream has its own readership, and representatives of each group do not fail to criticize and attack each other on political and ideological grounds. The ideological split between the conservatives and liberals is reflected today in the organizational framework of the writers= community, and in the establishment of two antagonistic writers' unions. The new Union of Writers of the Russian Federation is conservative, nationalistic, pro-Slavic, anti-Western, and claiming affinity to the Russian historical heritage and the Russian Orthodox Church. Aleksandr Prokhanov, Vasilii Belov, Valentin Rasputin, Vladimir Krupin, Iurii Bondarev, among others, as well as a number of young writers, primarily from the provinces, belong to this conservative union. The newly formed Union of Russian Writers, although also adhering to traditional Russian cultural values, is also liberal, democratic, pro-Western and supports freedom of expression, human rights, and political reforms in Russia. Andrei Bitov, Vladimir Makanin, Evgenii Evtushenko, and Viktor Erofeev, among others, as well as many writers of the young generation, belong to this liberal union. The conservative and liberal unions have separate offices, and distinct monthly periodicals and weekly newspapers.
Despite the insurmountable ideological rift in the Russian writers' community, the two unions have recently made efforts to patch up their differences and form a joint writers' organization with a common platform. This is essential in order to gain access to the Russian state administration, to reclaim the property of the former Soviet Writers' Union, and to battle for the improvement of the economic conditions and political rights of Russian writers. It appears, however, that the ideological schism is so deep and the animosity and mutual hate is so intense that no rapprochement is currently possible. Rasputin, for example, states bluntly that he cannot imagine himself to be a member of a creative union to which Evtushenko and Iurii Chernichenko belong.1
The internal strife in the Russian writers' community and the extreme ideological views expressed in various literary journals are a reflection of the current political and intellectual situation in the country. In the late 1980s and early 1990s ideological dissension in the writers= community assumed political form and many writers became directly involved in political activity, thus transforming writers= unions into ideological formations. Conservative writers express their extreme chauvinistic, nationalistic, and anti-government views in their public appearances, journalism, and biased fiction. Moreover, they call for the formulation of a new Russian national Aidea which would replace the communist ideology of the Soviet era. This Aidea would have to express the messianic role of Russia and its unique path of development.
Some authors formerly identified with Soviet Avillage prose stand out most prominently among the anti-democratic writers of the conservative Apatriotic camp. Rooted in the Russian native soil movement and Slavophilism, in the past these writers defended the patriarchal character of the Russian village and opposed the intrusion of city culture and technological progress into the Russian countryside. Today writers such as Belov and Rasputin are particularly active in preaching their adherence to the Russian Orthodox Church, and they
claim that Russian Orthodoxy should be part of the new national ideal. In an extensive article, in which the Apatriotic principles of contemporary Russian culture are expressed, Kapitolina Koknesheva writes that Athe conservatives have always asserted that the essence of Russianness was determined by faith - Russian Orthodox faith.... The creative work of Russian writers always expressed the national relation to life... Conservative writers believe in personality, liberal writers believe in individualism. 2
In general terms the situation on the current Russian literary scene is paradoxical. On the one hand, the number of writers and titles published increases regularly, while, on the other, the number of readers of serious prose, and the artistic quality of most narratives published, are in the process of decline. There are a number of interrelated causes which determine the current complex state of affairs in Russian literature. The difficult economic situation in the country affects both the readers and the writers. The reader who has little money to buy books turns away from serious prose and spends his or her cash on pulp literature which is entertaining and easy to follow. The writer, who is unable to sell the product of his labour, often stops writing serious fiction and starts producing mystery narratives and detective novels.
The pressure of the market, however, affects, even those writers who stick to their trade and continue to write serious prose. Since publication honorariums are small and royalties are low, there are very few authors who can survive and support their families on the income generated from writing serious prose. Hence, most writers are forced to supplement their income by working as journalists, translators, or editors, and, therefore, have little time to perfect their artistic craft. Thus, much of the recent literature currently on the market is hastily produced and superficial. That refers especially to the works of authors without a vivid imagination, and to members of the younger generation who still have little life experience.
The decline of the artistic quality of the literature published in the second half
of the 1990s has also been affected by some others causes. Thus, in the days of perestroika, and the immediate post-Soviet years, a number of new names appeared on the literary scene. Some of these new authors had been perfecting their works in the underground for years before they could officially have them published. Still others mastered one theme, which has recently exhausted itself, and are currently unable to diversify their creative range. Many of these writers continue to publish, but they produce mediocre texts which cannot satisfy the high expectations of readers and critics alike. Thus, the early works by authors such as, for example, Viacheslav P'etsukh, Anatolii Gavrilov, Valeriia Narbikova, Andrei Korolev, or Aleksandr Lavrin were much better than their recent publications.
There are also some authors of well known narratives, writers of the mature and older generation, who currently rest on their laurels and produce little of any significance. They are satisfied with their reputation established many years ago and publish little of substance. Bitov, Ruslan Kireev, and Mikhail Kuraev, among others, belong to this group. The quality of literature is also influenced today by the conscious decision of a number of writers to become involved in practical endeavours not directly related to literature or the arts. Thus, for example, Belov and Rasputin have turned their main attention to political activity, Krupin has become a Russian Orthodox educator, while Anatolii Pristavkin has
become an important government bureaucrat.
The situation on the current literary scene has also become affected more than at any other time, perhaps, by the shift of generation. The past several years have witnessed the passing of a number of well known and prolific Russian prose writers whose names and works are closely connected with the Soviet era. Most prominent among them are the former editor of Novyi mir (New World) Sergei Zalygin (1913-2000), the editor of Oktiabr' (October) Anatolii Ananev (1925-2001), Viktor Astafev (1924-2001), I. Grekova (1907-2002), Iurii Davydov (1924-2002), Petr Proskurin (1928-2001), Evgenii Nosov (1924-2002), and Vladimir Kornilov (1928-2002).
In addition, many writers of the older generation, such as the representatives of the former war prose, Iurii Bondarev and Gigorii Baklanov, are today close to eighty and produce little of any literary significance. The former so-called sorokaletnie (forty-year-olds), which include writers such as Anatolii Kim, Anatolii Kurchatkin, and Bitov, are today in their late fifties and sixties. They are split between old values and a new reality, and their slowly diminishing output is in most instances in substance and spirit below the level of their earlier works.
Hence, most literature published today in Russia is written by those who are today in their 30s-50s, and have entered the literary scene in the years of perestroika and the immediate post Soviet era. Oleg Ermakov, Aleksandr Terekhov, P'etsukh, Irina Piolianskaia, Aleksandr Kabakov, Tat=iana Tolstaia, Viktor Pelevin, Vladimir Sorokin, Narbikova, Liudmila Ulitskaia, Aleksei Slapovskii, Mikhail Butov, Sergei Kaledin, Aleksandr Ivanchenko, among others, have entered the literary scene in the decade between 1985 and 1995. Most of them continue to be active and publish regularly. Some, however, like Ivanchenko, Terekhov, Narbikova or Kaledin have published little of any literary substance in the second half of the 1990s. Among the new names of the late 1990s it is necessary to single out Oleg Pavlov, Andrei Volos, Ol'ga Slavnikova, Dmitrii Lipskerov, Andrei Utkin, Sergei Gandlevskii, Andrei Dmitriev, Marina Vishnevetskaia, and Nikolai Kononov. The writers who have made their debut in print in the second half of the 1990s represent a wide range of thematic and artistic means. Their works extend from Slavnikova's prose written in the language of traditional realism, Lipskerov's narratives steeped in fantasy, to Kononov's poetic prose and his emphasis on the psychological investigation into his characters.
It is possible to surmise that the appearance of a great number of new authors, whose creative personalities began taking shape in the post_Soviet era, has both a positive and negative effect on the artistic level of contemporary Russian prose. On the one hand, the new author widens the thematic and artistic range of contemporary Russian literature, but, on the other, the lack of training and professional guidance affects adversely the language and style of many young authors. Moreover, it limits their ability to apply a variety of artistic devices, stripping often their texts from poignancy and depth. In current Russian conditions, when creative freedom has no bounds and editorial guidance is at a premium, talent and especially self-discipline, which many young writers are lacking, become of utmost importance.
The 1990s was, perhaps, the first decade in Russian literary history that did not bring to the fore either a single name of a great new writer or a work of prose which could be placed among the recognized classics. Today, the novel in Russia is often no longer a carefully constructed artistic edifice, but rather an accidental collage, written in most instances in poor Russian and inundated by slang and foreign words. The structure of this novel is loose and there is no psychological investigation of the reasons which motivate human action. Characterization is shunned, and direct speech and Aesopian language are replaced in such novels with the play of words and fragments of various styles. The modern hero is often characterized by a sick imagination and morbid fantasy. Moreover, most novels lack depth. Thus, for example, popular narratives, such as Chapaev i Pustota (Chapaev and Void, 1998) and Generation "P" (1999), by Viktor Pelevin, are innovative, topical, and have some dramatic intensity, but no atmosphere, sincerity, or deep ideas. Vladimir Makanin=s most important recent work, Anderground, ili Geroi nashego vremeni (Underground, or the Hero of Our Times, 1998) is written in realistic and logical prose, but its structure is unconventional, and the accumulation of sketches of individuals, scenes and encounters creates a picture of gloom and offers no solution to the problems posed. Iurii Buida's Ermo (Ermo, 1996), written in elegant Russian and placed within a realistic facade, is no more than a sophisticated play of words, events, and ideas. Similarly, Tat'iana Tolstaia's recent novel Kys' (Kys', 2000) is a mixture of fantasy, mythological symbolism, elements of science fiction, skaz, anti-utopia and Russian folklore, but the only positive feature of the novel is its figurative ornamental language.
Contemporary Russian prose defies classification. Neither the thematic, nor generic, artistic, or generational approaches could cover the whole range of literature under discussion in a coherent manner. In the Soviet days there was a clear divide between different thematic literary streams such as, for example, city prose, youth prose, village prose, war prose, the labour and historical themes, and the writers' community was also divided along similar lines. Today authors write on similar subjects, but the demarcation lines are no longer there, and there is a thematic and stylistic overlapping in many contemporary novels.
Moreover, when one compares the current prose with that of the Soviet period it becomes clear that despite thematic similarity the recent political, economic, and social changes in the country have also affected the essence of the subjects discussed. While the old themes are still here, the methods and substance of portrayal have evolved to concur with the new reality. Thus, for example, the former Second World War theme in Soviet literature initially evolved into novels and stories about the war in Afghanistan, by writers such as Ermakov and Prokhanov. More recently the war theme has shifted to the portrayal of the Russian military debacle in Chechnia.
Russian "village prose," as it was defined in the Brezhnev era, is also no longer in existence. Belov and Rasputin still occasionally write about life in the Russian countryside, but the Russian village described in their works of the 1960s and 1970s has changed beyond recognition. Mass migration, transformation of the means and methods of agricultural production, and the natural demise of the generation of the Darias and Matrenas has created a new reality in the Russian village. Hence, the emphasis in most works by former "village prose" writers is no longer on the psychology, the habits, and way of life of the peasants, but rather on the negative ramifications of the political and economic changes which have taken place in Russia in the last two decades. These writers are critical of the current situation in Russia, and are nostalgic for the Soviet past. They criticize and idealize Soviet reality, at the same time. In any event, if one wants to get a more truthful and objective picture of the current situation in the Russian agricultural communities, rather than reading the recent works of Belov and Rasputin, one is advised to become familiar with the prose of Boris Ekimov, in particular his novella "Pinochet" (Pinochet).3
The former Soviet youth prose, the main objective of which was ideological education and indoctrination, ceased to exist together with the disappearance of its main sponsors the Soviet government and the Young Communist League. The substance of the former historical novel has also changed. Before, there was uniformity in the interpretation of the historical past. Today, there is a variety of interpretations of the same events, and the current assessment of the historical past often tells the reader more about the convictions of the author than about the actual historical state of affairs. The former Soviet labour and production themes faded away with the privatization of state property and the changes in the means and methods of production. The Soviet worker, the hero of socialist labour, has been replaced today by the successful entrepreneur, businessman or bureaucrat who knows how to manipulate the system and become rich by exploiting and abusing simple people.
The Russian city did not vanish, and city life is still an important subject of contemporary prose, but the emphasis in this prose has changed from the old Soviet days as well. Before, city prose concentrated on the portrayal of the so-called city byt, or daily life of the urban middle class, and the investigation of intricate family relationships of the city intelligentsia. Today, the composition of the middle class has changed drastically, along with its interests and problems. Contemporary prose set in Russian urban centres concentrates primarily on the investigation of the effects of the recent political, economic, and social changes in Russia on the lives of the simple city inhabitants, and along with personal and family problems it treats issues such as corruption, crime, housing, and living standards. Thus, for example, in the novel Nedvizhimost' (Real Estate, 2001), Volos discusses the complicated procedures of real estate transactions in the privatized housing market in Moscow, and the new accommodation problems faced by the residents of the capital. On the other hand Slavnikova, in her novel Odin v zerkale (Alone in the Mirror, 1999), delves into the eternal problems of love, marriage, and infidelity, which become extremely complicated in the new conditions of post-Soviet city and business life.
Prose fiction is often nurtured by autobiographical and confessional material, but in the last decade memoir literature has made a special mark. Many authors publish their notes, diaries, observations, and reminiscences in loosely arranged narratives, without any chronological sequence and without trying even to cover up, under the guise of fiction, their past. Many such works by Gandlevskii, Evtushenko, Nina Gorlanova, and Andrei Sergeev elicit public interest, and one such narrative, Al'bom dlia marok (Stamp Album, 1995), by Sergeev was awarded even the 1996 Booker Russian Novel Prize.
The prose of Russian classical writers may teach, inspire, or heal. Today, instead, most authors are indifferent, if not heartless, observers of the difficult life in contemporary Russia. That is particularly true of most liberal authors, because those belonging to the Apatriotic camp are committed to their conservative cause, and they defend their dogmatic right-wing positions and attack their opponents with frantic determination. As in the Soviet days, ideology continues to be the main prerogative of their art. Most writers of the conservative camp follow in the traditions of Russian conventional realism and seldom innovate or experiment with genre, style, or language. Their prose may be thematically distinct, but their criticism of the current Russian system of government is unequivocal. And yet, this literature is boring, because it is repetitious and offers nothing new. The prose of liberal writers, instead, may be of low artistic quality, but it is more interesting because it is thematically and stylistically innovative, and it may surprise, astound, and puzzle the reader.
In order to make up for the artistic shortcomings in current prose, public taste is manipulated by publishers and booksellers. With the help of advertisement, promotions, and business acumen they attempt to dictate public demand, and writers are forced most often to comply. For a manuscript to be accepted for publication a liberal writers is required today to produce a gripping story in which there is an inventive and fascinating plot, a mixture of politics, sex, scandal, shock, and some mystery. Most contemporary novels and novellas rarely
appeal to the reader's emotions, and many writers have turned today from creators of works of art into skilled professional scribblers. That is not to say that there are no talented authors in Russia today. Indeed, writers such as Butov, Dmitriev, or Utkin exhibit a lot of promise, but it remains to be seen whether they will not succumb to the pressures of the market as many others have already done.
In the first half of the 1990s the writers of the liberal camp could be subdivided into three distinct streams. To one group belonged those who followed in the traditions of Russian conventional realism. Another group was composed of those who identified with Russian post-modernism. To the third group belonged those who combined in their works traditional realistic narrative modes with a variety of elements of post_modernism. Some literary scholars today make an attempt to analyse contemporary literature within the context of the evolution of different literary genres and artistic trends.4 However, the theoretical substantiation of literary terms, in particular ones such as Russian post-modernism, is so vague and contradictory that it is often difficult to determine whether a writer is a realist, a post-modernist, an adherent of the avant_garde, of conceptualism, or of all the above mixed together.
It is well known that in post-modernist art there is always a fusion of form and a confusion of realms - a combination of fact and fiction, with emphasis on improvisation, play, and abstraction. Form is not conjunctive but disjunctive, and the world described is not hierarchical but fragmented and in a state of anarchy. Post_modernism does not aspire towards accuracy of knowledge. It denies the very ideas of reality and truth, and it elevates relativism into an end in itself. This literature destroys affinities, and it aims at the marginal and the impersonal. It is characterized by a high degree of reflexivity, intertextuality, scepticism, irony, and parody, which often evolves into straight plagiarism. In view of the multitude of traits, ascribed to post-modernism, one may wonder about the number of post-modernist characteristics which are requisite for a work of art in order to be included in this category.
Thus, for example, I.S. Skoropanova5 includes Bitov, Evgenii Popov, Vladimir Sorokin, Liudmila Petrushevskaia, Buida, Pelevin, and P'etsukh in her list of contemporary Russian post_modernist prose writers. M.N. Leiderman and M.N. Lipovetskii, on the other hand, do not include Petrushevskaia in their list of post-modernist authors. Instead, she is classified together with Makanin as a post-realist, a new designation intended to unite those who allegedly combine determinism with the irrational in their works, and the study of the socio-philosophical essence of humans with the metaphysical elements in their nature.6
As if to replace Petrushevskaia in their list of post_modernist writers, Leiderman and Lipovetskii include, without much justification, Tat'iana Tolstaia among their post-modernist authors. Another scholar, Roza Glintershchik, includes even Makanin in her list of post_modernist authors.7 It is obvious that since there is no uniformity in the practical application of theoretical literary terms, it is difficult not only to classify contemporary Russian authors according to genre, style, or artistic inclination, but also to analyse and compare their recent creative output in a meaningful fashion. At this point it is worth noting that by the late 1990s many Russian writers and critics cast away their initial post-Soviet fascination with post-modernism and returned to conventional realism.
The 1990s are marked by the emergence on the literary scene of a significant number of new women writers. In addition to the appearance in the late 1980s of Tolstaia and Petrushevskaia, the early 1990s brought to the fore the names of Gorlanova, Narbikova, Svetlana Vasilenko, Ulitskaia, and Polianskaia. In the second half of the 1990s Vishnevetskaia and Slavnikova made their appearance in print, the latter both as a writer and critic. Thematically the prose of contemporary Russian women writers is little different from that of their male counterparts. It is, however, more introspective, emotional, and occasionally sentimental. It provides also a female view of how recent changes in Russia have affected women's fate, and a glimpse into the predicament and social status of Russian
women on the threshold of the new millennium. The better known Russian women writers are today rarely involved in issues which concern representatives of Western ideological feminism. Instead, they concentrate on the investigation of the female character, and on the problems that Russian women face in their daily lives. Single motherhood, sexuality, infidelity, and loneliness, as well as the economic conditions of Russian women in the post-Soviet era are at the core of their works.
It is also worthwhile to note that the second half of the 1990s is the period of the rapid development of the Russian mystery and detective novel, and the names of writers such as Boris Akunin, Aleksandra Marinina, Polina Dashkova, or Dar'ia Dontsova have become household names in contemporary Russian society. Most authors of detective novels combine in their narratives mystery with contemporary Russian byt, while Akunin sets his novels in the Russian historical past.
The evolution of the literary process in Russia in the second half of the 1990s can be characterized by the expansion of literary sites on the Internet, and the appearance of a number of literary clubs and salons in which groups of writers, poets, and critics assemble from time to time to read their works and exchange opinions on a variety of literary and cultural subjects. In addition, this period is marked by the proliferation of numerous literary prizes established and sponsored by various banks, financial institutions, organizations, and individuals. In general, since most professional authors have a hard time in making ends meet, the many generous prizes, awarded to contemporary Russian writers are of great financial significance, the more so since publication royalties are low, and many private publishers refuse to pay royalties at all, claiming, rightly or not, that the
sale of a given book has not covered the original publication costs incurred.
It is necessary to note, however, that the award of literary prizes does not reflect, in any way, the current state and artistic level of Russian literature. In the Soviet days literary prizes were awarded on the basis of the ideological reliability of a work of art. Today, most members of juries are guided by personal biases, as well as by the requirements of commercial, ideological, or political considerations established by the sponsors. Thus, the standards of most prizes are seldom determined by pure artistic quality, and an award can often surprise the reading public and baffle even the author himself. The establishment of so many literary prizes has influenced, to a degree, the formation of literary taste, and even fostered a new phenomenon whereby many authors write with the apparent objective of satisfying the expectations of sponsors and jurors, hoping thus to be nominated for, and perhaps awarded, the coveted prize. The most prestigious prize is the Booker Russian Novel Prize. Along with the major Booker Prize there is also a parallel smaller award, the so-called "Little Booker," awarded annually for different literary accomplishments as designated each year. The Academy of Russian Literature presents annually a prize for short fiction, named after Apollon Grigor'ev. There is also a prize named after Andrei Belyi; an anti-establishment prize, the so-called anti-Booker; a prize for the national best-seller; a "Triumph" prize established by a Russian independent charity foundation; a prize established and sponsored by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn; a prize for the best literary debut; numerous prizes sponsored by the conservative Apatriotic writers community, as
well as prizes established by literary journals and the regional administrations in
provincial Russia. It is obvious that the abundance of literary prizes provides writers with publicity and financial support, but it also confuses the reading public
and erodes the criteria established for good literature.
The transition to a market economy in post-Soviet Russia has had a mostly
negative effect on the former Soviet intelligentsia, the disappearing Soviet middle class, and the former elite. These were previously the social strata that were mainly interested in the development of culture, literature and the arts. Today, more than a third of all Russians read no books altogether. There is currently a glut of publications, but fewer readers than a decade ago. There is an over abundance of information in the daily press, weekly magazines, and television, and literature has turned from an educational and inspirational artistic medium into a source of excitement, hype, and entertainment, as well as a means of psychological escapism from the dreary conditions of life in contemporary Russia.
Accordingly, in the second half of the 1990s, the circulation of the most important literary journals in Russian continued to drop. In October 1994 48,750 copies of Znamia appeared in print, in December 2001 only 8,300 copies were published. The circulation of Novyi mir dropped from 29,000 in November 1994 to 12,350 in December 2001, and the circulation of Oktiabr' dropped from 38,200 in November 1994 to 5,920 in December 2001. The circulation of Literaturnaia gazeta dropped from 310,0000 in December 1994 to 78,000 in December 2001.
The exposure of the reading public to good literary texts is further complicated by the changing tastes of the readers and by the perverse publication and marketing business practices of most major Russian publishing houses. Artistic and educational quality is no longer the determining factor of publication policy. Private publishing houses are in the business of making a profit rather than educating or entertaining. In 2001 12,484 books and pamphlets, in the category of artistic literature, with the total edition of 115,600,000 copies were published in Russia. Close to 60 per cent of the above were thrillers, detective novels, and other pulp narratives. The question AWhat kind of books do you read most often? was posed in a public poll, conducted in 1998 among 2,401 respondents from different socio_demographic groups. 32 per cent of the participants replied that they read predominantly detective novels, and only 6 per cent read contemporary Russian prose. 35 per cent declared that they read nothing altogether.8
More than a third of all titles published in 2001 appeared in small editions of
less than 500 copies each; close to 10 per cent in editions from 501 to 1,000 copies, and 21 per cent in editions from 1,001 to 5,000 copies. Only 0.7 per cent of all books published in 2001 appeared in editions of over 100,000 copies. The average number of copies published per title dropped from 11,628 in 1996 to 7,710 in 2001.9 Since there are many authors who cannot find a publisher willing to accept their manuscripts, self-publication has become the choice of many writers. In 1988 the state publishing houses were given permission by the government to accept publication orders from private citizens, and in the decade between 1988 and 1998 more than 7,000 books were published at the authors' expense.10 It is necessary, however, to point out that self_publishing is an expensive endeavour, and that few Russian citizens can afford it, the more so since the author has usually little possibility of recovering some of the expenses incurred by distributing and selling the privately produced books. However, not everything is as negative as it might appear from first sight. A multitude of new small
publishing houses are active, and numerous new journals and almanacs of limited circulation, in particular in the provinces, are being published regularly.
Despite the many problems which complicate the situation on the current Russian literary scene, literary activity in Russia today is still vibrant. The future development of Russian literature, however, will largely depend on the general economic, political, and social situation in the country. Besides, there is still hope that among the many new writers appearing daily on the current Russian literary scene a new genius, who will set new standards and will serve as an example for the young generation, may emerge.
Notes
© N. Shneidman
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