KAZAKH FICTION
The article by Comrade Togzhanov on Kazakh proletarian literature and proletarian writers was printed in The Soviet Steppe (No. 259). Comrade Togzhanov argues the opinion of a number of comrades “on the presence of proletarian literature in Kazakhstan” to be incorrect. As soon as the article is also a direct objection to an article of mine, which was printed in Enbekshi Kazakh, I believe it to be my duty to throw light upon the actual state of my discrepancies with Comrade Togzhanov in support of my previously expressed views.
Firstly, it is worth mentioning for the sake of information that Comrade Togzhanov, who has always advocated correctly formulated questions and criticized this aspect in others, fails to see a flaw of his own in the same respect. Instead of providing a comprehensive discussion of each single issue, he tackles numerous issues simultaneously and gets confused, thus confusing others as well. Personally, I fail to see any ways to justify the method of evaluating out literature by criticizing the imperfections of certain writers?
Secondly, I have been addressing the issue of proletarian literature1 but not “fully developed proletarian writers”, while Comrade Togzhanov engages his “underdeveloped writers” to “prove” proletarian literature to be absent. Now let me get back to the point.
Let us begin with facts. Comrade Togzhanv accuses me of claiming proletarian literature to be hegemonic in Kazakhstan.
1Do not mix it with peasant literature, which is a different issue. (G. M.).
It would definitely be laughable if I had really stated this. Not to mention the young Kazakh literature, the Russian literature, which possesses a treasury of fully developed proletarian writers – Gladkov, Furmanov, Bedny, Fadeyev, and many others, still provides evidence of a “necessity of fighting for its historical right for the hegemony of proletarian literature.”
What did I state? I did not state the hegemony of proletarian literature in Kazakhstan; I merely claimed proletarian literature to be present and to be historically entitled to hegemony in the future Kazakhstan. Neither did I state the presence of fully developed proletarian writers in our country. This is the opinion to which I stick.
What was my evidence when I claimed proletarian literature to be present in Kazakhstan?
It was my “using the term proletarian literature to denote literature which is an instrument of the proletariat, helping it reshape the country into socialism” (See my article in Enbekshi Kazakh). What did I state next? I answered the question whether the literature of Kazakhstan met the requirement. I stated that there was a new literature of a post-October origin, which did. I quoted eight pieces by totally unknown authors, which had been printed in district newspapers. I mentioned neither the authors’ first names nor their family names; instead, I mentioned the total number of works and claimed them to be proletarian literature.
I did not judge by evaluation of certain writers as Comrade Togzhanov does; on the contrary, I wrote that “the approach of Comrade Togzhanov based on personal evaluation of the authors, which leads to claiming proletarian literature to be absent in Kazakhstan with reference to their flaws, is incorrect.”
I studied the total of literary works, which I call those of a “post-October origin” and, having selected the portion, which in its contents meets the proletarian requirements, used the term proletarian to denote it. I take the entire system of children of October who contribute to creating the new literature, which they undoubtedly do unequally, for their growing is not marked by maladies; they originate from petite bourgeoisie and are now largely undergoing a conversion to the proletarian ideology. I also included labor and aul correspondents, who act as a reserve and undoubtedly give rise to dozens of proletariat-oriented writers. As Comrade Togzhanov puts it, my statement of proletarian literature being present in Kazakhstan is based on labor and aul correspondents exclusively. It is incorrect.
Comrade Togzhanov has corrupted my idea concerning Union of Proletarian and Peasant Writers. According to Togzhanov, I employ this evidence (the existence of the KazUPPW) of proletarian literature being present in the country, which is very incorrect. What I did state was the following: proletarian literature cannot be created with the help of establishments; neither can it be created with an order. Thus, the party organization that allowed such a union to function could by no means expect proletarian literature to be created with only its help; it only expected to arrange and manage the currently existing and potentially developing pro-proletarian literature.
I put particular emphasis on the fact that “Kazakhstan should not be distinguished from the USSR. It would resemble Sadvokasov’s self-determination of Kazakhstan. Kazakhstan is a part of the USSR, and its economic, political, and cultural development are tightly connected to the Union’s general development, which takes place with direct guidance from the Union’s proletariat. Proletarian dictatorship, possessing every instrument of regulating the life of society, cannot but influence our literature intensely, which has already resulted in the appearance of certain works on general proletarian subjects in put literature.”
This approach of mine is based on the resolution of the first convention of All-Russia Association of Proletarian Writers (1928), point 19 of which claims the following:
“Participation of the proletariat, and mainly the peasantry, of nations which have been oppressed by tsarism, in the process of socialism building and Cultural Revolution do require development of national culture…
The USSR Cultural Revolution, which leads to establishment of proletarian culture, including proletarian literature, directly influences the direction of literary development of the nation’s formerly oppressed by tsarism. Both in the process of the revolution and under the influence of the international connection of proletarian literature, an increase in the amount of proletarian literature is also inevitable in economically underdeveloped nations.”
After this point, I demanded Comrade Togzhanov to either admit or deny this unity. But, unfortunately, he did answer the question.
This is largely the evidence I employed to state the presence of proletarian literature in Kazakhstan.
The issue of proletarian literature in Kazakhstan has been discussed for several years, and it is time we worked out a party paradigm in this aspect.
Advocates of the Alash Autonomy keep repeating that proletarian literature would be impossible in Kazakhstan. They have been pushing us back to the “free steppe” of knighthood, khaks, and well-honored aksakals.
On the other hand, some communists, for instance, Comrade Togzhanov, claimed that “under the circumstances which are currently characteristic of the Kazakh aul, a proletarian writer is unlikely to appear, for out proletarians are few in number and cannot influence the Kazakh social life” (1925, “On Magzhan and Aymaugov’s Criticism”)
In his book which appeared in 1929 under the title of “Issues of Literature and Criticism”, Togzhanov claims that he “cannot agree with the opinions of those who claims proletarian literature to be present in our country in an amount which could at least be barely tasted.”
I believe there is an obvious misunderstanding or underestimation of proletarian unity or the shared proletarian purpose.
This was the point to which I objected.
What did Comrade Togzhanov refer to? He referred to the alleged fact that “a proletarian writer can originate from the proletariat only. Writers who live in auls are not proletarian writers.” He divided writers into town and aul. For instance, he calls Comrade Seyfullin “the writers who was the first to acquire the town character.” On the contrary, my opinion is based on the assumption that there is no universal aul and no universal town; thus, evaluation of literature should be performed with regard to its content in terms of social classes. What matters is what is written and from whose standpoint it is written. Whom it helps in doing what. Does it help the proletariat in communism building?
Personally I do not understand why Comrade Togzhanov cannot treat literature which celebrates, for instance, the active participation of the poor in confiscation of bays’ property and restructuring an aul into a kolkhoz, etc. as proletarian.
I also referred to the resolution of the first convention of the ARAPW, which includes our KazAPW. The resolution holds as follows:
“We use the term proletarian literature to denote literature of proletariat-oriented cognition, which affects readers in accordance with the objectives of the working class as the fighter against capitalism and the builder of the socialist society.”
I asked whether we had literature fighting against bays, the Alash Horde, and the general capitalist component of the aul, against bureaucracy, and celebrating building of socialism? The answer was that we did.
Т. Comrade Togzhanov is not opposed to defining proletarian literature; neither is he opposed to our having literature which fights against the capitalist component of the aul and celebrates our building activities. Thus, I consider his unproven denying of proletarian literature in our country to be inconsistent.
Considering the abovementioned evidence, I have been treating proletarian literature as a real fact. However, I am far from admitting its hegemony. Moreover, I consider it necessary to mention the poor influence of it (proletarian literature); but we cannot ignore its locally rapid development, which includes participation of a wider social range (writers, newspaper columnists, labor correspondents, aul correspondents, wall newspaper journalists, etc.) in comparison to the short period of time within which it has been created and has been developing.
1929
ON THE OLD CULTURE’S HERITAGE
The issue that you have tackled requires immediate addressing with further implementation of the decision, for translating the principal literary works which represent the socialist Kazakhstan into Russian is a matter of great political significance in terms of international education of the public. As Bolshevists, he cannot but admit that we have not only failed to address the issue so far but also have been giving it insufficient attention, which accounts for the absence of revolutionary fiction translated into Russian, as Comrade Koganovich stated accurately in the course of his conversation with you.
We have discussed your letter at the meeting of the Proletarian Kolkhoz Writers Front Line and scheduled a number of measures which provide for translation of principal works by proletarian authors in which the socialist Kazakhstan is depicted. In particular, we have planned the translation of 75 printed letters with Kazakhstan Publishing House, including the play Maydan (The Front) by Mayli Meimbet, Kek (The Revenge) by Dzhansugurov, short stories by Musrepov, Seyfullin, Mukanov, Tokmagambetov, etc.
The plan is obviously insufficient and needs serious Marxist criticism. However, we believe that the abovementioned works will evoke an interest for Kazakh national literature, which is national in its form and proletarian in its contents”, in large section of the reading Russian public.
The issues related to the heritage of the old literature suggested by Comrade Isayev are also of great significance. As Bolshevists, he cannot but admit that we have not undertaken anything in this aspect yet. In spite of the fact that the Kazakh past has scarce literature and culture, it still has a plentiful oral, that is, folk literature.
A vast amount of folk culture is currently preserved by people aged from 70 to 80, which have been handing it down till now. We should take the literary heritage from them and make use of the wholesome part, taking it with a grain of salt.
All historical images have been represented in literature. Small- or large-scale, they could not but leave an imprint on literature, especially on the oral one. Studying them under Marxist criticism and employing them to create a new culture, which would be “national in its form and socialist in its contents”, we should clearly define our attitude towards the old literary heritage, rebuffing right opportunistic and leftist sentiments in a most resolute way following the instruction of Comrade Lenin, “Without having a clear understanding of the fact that proletarian culture can only be built by means of accurate knowledge of the literature created in the full course of the human development, of its reshaping, without such understanding we cannot accomplish the task. Proletarian culture does not appear sporadically, it has not been made-up by a bunch of people who call themselves proletarian literature experts.
This is nonsense. Proletarian culture appears as the result of the natural development of the knowledge which the humanity has worked out under pressure from the capitalistic society, the society of landlords, and the society of bureaucrats1.”
Comrade Isayev’s suggestion is based on Lenin’s instruction concerning our attitude to the old literary heritage.
Taking it into consideration, the KazAPW has taken the following measures:
The KazAPW is preparing a printable version of complete works by classical Kazakh writer – Abay Kunanbayev, Sultan Makhmut Toraygurov, Abubakir, Baukan Chulak, Mayli Khoka Akin, etc.
Forewords by the KazAPW will be included in each book.
Folklore groups are being established for collection of folk literature (printed as well as oral).
The KazAPW is currently arranging a periodical dispute on the works by old classical writers and contemporary ones.
Besides, the KazAPS has accepted the rest of suggestions by Comrade Isayev and is taking measures to implement them.
1932
TO A VETERAN OF REVOLUTIONARY KAZAKH POETRY
Dear Saken!
Few of your penmates have passed the test in the battlefield of the proletarian revolution as heroically as you did and tempered his pen in its demiurgic flames. You were the first Kazakhstani writer to celebrate the glory of the class who is destroying the ramshackle old world and building a new one, flourishing and happy, meant for the new happy man. Your beautiful works, La Marseillaise, To My Worker Brothers, and To Youth, which were written with a bayonet right in the battlefield, flashed like a lightning across the cast steppe, being a perfect stimulus for the Kazakh labor society to unity around the young Soviet government.
1V. I. Lenin Complete Works, B. 41, p. 304-305
What made the works even more valuable was the fact that they guided the working class when it found itself in the “cobweb of many roads”, as they would call it in auls back then. Your verse has now become national songs. They are sung all over Kazakhstan. I guess there is no literate Kazakh who has not read your large-scale novel The Hard Road, which was the first of its kind in Kazakh literature, and appreciated the heroism and resourcefulness of its bolshevist revolutionary characters.
Your superb poem Sovietstan remains a beautiful evidence of the industrialization era, which presents an image of our great country moving like an express train to the station of ultimate human happiness named communism. Dear Saken, we are all happy to know that your merits of a veteran and a “kosh bashy” of revolutionary Kazakh poetry has been truly appreciated by our party and government and that you have been rewarded highly. First of all, we owe it to Comrade Mirzoyan, who not only raised the significance of the culture front to a lever which had never been achieved in Kazakhstan but also managed to bring socialist Kazakh literature to a level equal to that of the Union’s leading republics.
1936
HERO OF THE SOVIET UNION NURKEN ABDIROV
People bear revenge in their hearts and show the power of revenge in their deeds. If Moscow is the heart of Soviet people, Karaganda is their fiercely frowned eyebrows, one of the stone clubs the blow of which is fatal to their enemy.
I feel like comparing the young eagle named Nurken Abdirov, who has been sledge-hammering the enemy without stopping to think about his number, unintimidated by it, with a flash of lightning released from under the frowning eyebrows, from out of the furious heart. If a young eagle is keen-sighted, if his wings are never tire, if he is as sturdy as tempered steel, you can tell that he comes from a nest like Karaganda. Heroes are born here who make the country’s glory. While mothers give birth to the heroes, Karaganda is the place where they grow up and gain strength. Old Father Abdir and the caring Mother Bakzhan moved from Karkaralinsk to Karaganda when their children were very young.
“It was me who cut “the black mouth” of the well-known steam mine,” Abdirov says.
To deserve the strength of one’s father and the milk of one’s mother means to come up to the expectations of one’s country, which is the golden cradle of our childhood. The first thing to sink into Nurbek’s mind as he was watching his father and elder brothers work was the conviction that his duties must be far wider than those of his brothers and far deeper than those of the rest of youth. Being a common accountant at a book store, Nurbek would marvel at portraits of renowned Soviet pilots and dream of becoming a fearless aviator like they.
“My shoulders just as wide, my arms are just as sturdy, my fingers just as strong as theirs,” he would tell his friend.
“Right, my future akyn!” his comrade supported him, promising great accomplishments for his young friend.
Each act of Nurken was marked by his vigor, his very nature. Both studying and working, he found some time to attend the Karaganda District Air Club and was given the rank of a reserve pilot. Sky was enticing to him, and his ardent feelings urged him into the sky. When Nurken was called up for military service in 1940 aged 20, he was a proficient pilot. So he graduated from a military school for pilots within two years instead of longer studying and obtained the rank of sergeant in the fall of 1942, after which he served as a strike pilot. On the notable day of his first mission, October 23, 1942, before accomplishing the great purpose of which he had been dreaming for many years, when he was to account to the country that had reared him, Nurken was thinking profoundly, and his deep concerns were mouthed in a letter to his mother:
“Mother! Out long preparation is over. We are going to the front, where violent battles are being fought. If I was rude or disobedient when I was younger, I am now asking you to forgive me with my head bent down low. The enemy will not take my life easily. If I am to die, I will have many of them dead before it happens. I have a swift plain full of lead treat for the Germans… Unless we destroy the Germans, they destroy us, and you will never see the enjoyable peaceful leaving come back. Dear Father and Mother, the dawn has come, we are starting off is a minute.” Now the whole country knows what it cost Nurken to give his youth to the Great Patriotic War.
A heart incapable of loving cannot be filled with vengeance. Nurken had an unusually warm and unforgettable affection for his dearest and nearest. The old Barzhan still keeps 82 letters by Nurken. They are an evidence of a bid love born in a big heart. Nurken wants to learn something about the life of his dear old people, who are so far away from him, day after day. The words which he addresses to them are encouraging and heartening. His letters addressed to the two-year-old Svetlana, the daughter of his elder brother Sarsen, demonstrate what affection this heart hosts, being so merciless to the enemy. He mostly starts by calling her Svetzhan. One of them reads as follows:
“Svetzhan! Yesterday I was wandering around the city and calling at a bookstore; they sell portraits of young kids. I liked them a lot, and I bought one for you. Mother and Askap, make sure that Svetzhan is always neat and clean. May her hair and her entire appearance resemble those portrayed in this card.” (29/VII—42).
The young dzhigit who loved his motherland and his family so deeply once had an opportunity to come home, to embrace his mother, but he shoes not to use it even when the enemy stepped across the threshold of the Soviet Country, when the people of Ukraine and Belarus were suffering horribly. He hurried to go to the fighting front. ”I am in a hurry to stuff the crazy fascist dogs with killing bullets; this is why I am not coming home. I am using the time meant for recreation to destroy the enemy. None of us can expect any recreation unless it is done, Mother,” Nurken writes in one of his letters.
Somewhat earlier, sharing his desire to finish studying as soon as possible, he writes, “All nations of the Soviet Union have the same calling – do not let a single fascist cast his shadow over the Soviet face!”
Nurken was deeply concerned about the position of his old parents and ill brother, but he chose to devote himself to the great cause of protecting his Motherland. Under the constant stress of front life, he would find a couple of minutes to stretch out a hand to his parents by writing them a letter, for he did know how precious and long awaited it would be.
Nurken Abdirov, the twenty-two-year-old Soviet eagle who came from the famous nest named Karaganda was granted the title of a Hero of the Soviet Union for his exceptional courage demonstrated during the Great Patriotic War. Nurken was the seventh Hero of the Soviet Union of those belonging to the Kazakh nation who showed their heroism during the Great Patriotic War. His life has not been fully studied, and his heroic deeds are not fully known. But two characteristic features of Nurken can still be clearly seen now. They are the following.
Nurken was an ardent member of the Komsomol. He had no time for loitering about. Coming back from work, he would plunge into reading. When talked to, he would only look up for a moment and then keep reading. School had not given him all the knowledge he needed, and he did his best to fill this want.
Nurken’s days were filled with work and pilot club activities, and reading was most of his night routine. Cold water helped him open his tired eyes, and Soviet writers opened the world to him. Nurken was tireless in breaking down the ore of knowledge. However, just as barren rock appears in a sound bed of ore, there are numerous gaps in the knowledge offered by the Karaganda Ore Mining and Smelting Technical School. The ready mind is willing to fill the bridge the lacuna.
If you add heroism, which he demonstrated so vividly at the front, you will see a most accurate image of Nurken, who was a hero in the true sense of the word, a man who mastered the sophisticated science of his time, learned to use contemporary technical devices, and studied all ways of fighting a devastating war. To put it differently, you will see an advanced man of the advanced time. A young Soviet man whose heart has no fear and who struggles for unobstructed and smooth sailing in the ocean of knowledge. This is one thing.
The second thing is that it was not at wartime that the Hero of the Soviet Union Nurken Abdirov mastered the art of piloting; he represents the constellation of young man who resemble Gorky’s falcon in their early developing passion for the sky. He seemed to be willing to go so high as to feel free in his powerful movements, which he did not want to be limited to the battlefield. He was the son of the Kazakh people, who dreamt of the sky, was deeply concerned about his Motherland, and treated the sky as a large-scale battlefield to fight for the future, for the mankind in.
We have already mentioned the fact that Nurken’s heroic deeds have not been fully studied yet. But if each Soviet man could destroy 12 tanks, 28 trucks, 18 cars of ammunition, 3 fortifications, 3 pieces of ordnance, and over fifty soldiers and officers of the enemy, as Nurken did, his military merits would be considerable.
In his letter to his family bearing the date before his death, Nurken writes:
“Svetzhan! We attack the Germans’ positions and give them lead rain... On a recent mission, we found numerous German tanks. I believe those of the hundred tanks which remained intact were few.” (December 18, 1942). There is no doubt that a considerable portion of the tanks destroyed was Nurken’s contribution.
The Soviet land cries for revenge. The call of its wounded ground, the order of the enraged country, must be satisfied immediately. If the enemy previously got ten bombs, he should be getting a hundred of them. If he used to get a hundred, he should be getting a thousand. The fighters’ hearts are screaming with hatred. They have to throw off the fingers of the zheztyriak, who is reaching for their throat, and cut his hands off elbow-high. That was the wish of Nurken as he started another mission on his YAK gray falcon.
The enemy is hiding behind fortifications, he is still shooting bullets, and he won’t stop the death harvest. So he must be destroyed.
The Eagle of Karaganda attacked the enemy’s fortifications, turning two of them into dust. Over 20 German officers were thrown to the ground in the last embrace which was never to be broken. German guns started shooting at Nurken. The Eagle turned around for another attack. This time he knocked down six tanks. But the Eagle was wounded as fell – the plane was set ablaze. Bullets were whishing around it, and it was all flames. The fire soon spread to the wings of the plane. The hero took a decision to fit the heroic Soviet tradition, “The last of my energy must belong to my people!”
The image of Captain Gastello was brought to his mind. What did he do in a similar situation? He died game to defend his Motherland. He thought of the 28 heroic guardians from Kazakhstan. What did they do? 26 of them died game to protect the heart of the country – Moscow.
So Nurken did not abandon his true friend, the plane, but directed it towards the enemy’s swarm and collapsed onto his tank column. Nurken’s new life cost the enemy a lot. He lost numerous tanks, soldiers, and officers.
The Eagle of Karaganda committed a heroic deed and met his demise just as an eagle would be expected to do. The Eagle of Karaganda was awarded the title of the Hero of the Soviet Union.
1943
AYTYS REBORN
During a war unprecedented in the world history, in a fatal battle against a plated monster that has attacked the freedom loving humanity, the, monolithic Soviet people have been developing the power of their creativity.
A Soviet writer or akyn cannot and must not think of anything which is not connected with giving every possible assistance to the front. Guided by the noble feeling of having a duty to their Motherland, the national akyns of Kazakhstan have managed to fir the requirements of the time.
Battle sons of Dzhambul, who is the giant of the national poetry, and comrades-in-arms — Doskey, Nurpeis, and Shashubay, have been crushing the enemy in the battlefield of the Great Patriotic War along with the Red Army.
Another large-scale and utterly important phenomenon magnifies the glory of Karaganda Region akyns. It is that of aytys.
An aytys is a poetic competition of two or many akyns, a kind of oral folk arts which is the most popular among the people and the most efficient. It has been practiced since ancient times. Before the Revolution, the most characteristic feature of it used to be castigation of actions of the tsar’s henchmen and the nobility. This is the reason why the phenomenon of aytys has been fully decayed since the second half of the past century because of persecution by the tsarist government and bays. Thus, the issue of restoring this traditionally common and the sharpest tool of Kazakh oral poetry is of utter importance nowadays.
It is pleasant to know that it was the advanced district of the Republic, which is that of Karaganda, where the akyn aytys started its second – and first real - revival. It is also important that the basis of its rebirth is new in its principle. While the focus of earlier aytyses were akyns themselves, any Karaganda akyn aytys is now meant to glorify what has been created for the country’s welfare and for elimination of minor and major flaws which interfere with the human formative labor and has been created in such a robust manner.
The aytys is now widely spread in Karaganda District. Following the example of the akyn aytys arranged by mines No. 20 and 18, an aytys took place in the Nurin District, in which two kolkhozes competed, and in Shetsk District.
Other districts followed the suit of Karaganda District. An aytys between Karakalin and Nurin Districts is to be held soon. Writers and poets have been delegated from Karaganda to assist in arrangements for an aytys in Semipalatinsk and Kyzylorda Districts. This is the scale of what has come out as a result of Karaganda akyns’ incentive at an early stage of its development.
The aytys is colossally significant. The aytys is not only easy to perceive but also easy to remember. Presented in akyns’ apt and imaginative phrases, both praise and criticism sink deep into people’s memories. You are unlikely to find an old Kazakh who would not remember at least some lines from aytyses in which Birzhan, Sary, Kulmambet, Kemprbay, Dzhambul, and Shashubay participated many years ago. We owe the saving of the colossal Kazakh heroic and lyrical epic literature to akyns and people’s memory. Murun Zhyrau alone remembers 400 thousand lines of the epic poem about 40 Kazakh batyrs.
The best people of the past had a good reason to rely on akyns. They were well aware of the effect which poetry had on their nation. The first people to unite the Kazakh people in 16th century Zhanybek the Wise and Commander Kasym Khan would want the legendary singer Asak Naygu to be with them all the time.
Bukhar Zhyrau did Abylay Khan a precious favor in terms of creating the Kazakh stet in the 18th century, for he helped him unite the Kazakh people. The Kazakh people owe much to Makhambet’s songs when it comes to their national liberation fight against tsarism in the 19th. The leader of the national liberation movement of 1916 Amamngeldy Imanov valued akyns as well.
Law, tradition, rights, and decisions by people’s courts took the form and rhythm of the oral folk poetry in ancient times; many of them are still used by Kazakh people.
Akyns’ words and poetically expressed thoughts have been the accompaniment to each step of the Kazakh people in their way for their future. Centuries have passed, and rulers have passed away, but the people are still here, and words, that is, akyn songs, still linger.
The purpose of the aytys should now be to accomplish the civil tasks which appear in the situation of war, that is, to fight falling behind and slovenliness in production, to scourge those who break state and social discipline nationwide.
Brilliants reports and resolutions often prove to be less efficient than the truth mouthed by national akyns, the one who express the people’s ideas directly. The more aytyses take place in the mass, the deeper their trace will be.
Aytyses attended by the akyns of the two giants of Kazakhstan, which is the third all-Union coal fire-room, Karaganda and the first copper giant of the Union, Balshakh, are of prime importance. It is to bring about further improvement in the performance of the two giants.
Before expressing this or that thought, before estimating the performance of Karaganda and Balshakh, the akyns studied the actual situation in terms of industry. Karaganda’s akyn Koshen Yeleulov studied Balkhash for 15 days; it took Balkhash’s akyn Shashubay Koshkarbayev the same time to familiarize himself with Karaganda.
Akyns believe their eyes only. They prefer to give special attentions to thinks which look good or bad in terms of unsophisticated people’s wisdom and honesty. Both akyns were overcome with pride, which they took in the progress Karaganda and Balkhash had recently made. But each of them remains intransigent in terms of this or that industry flaw. Thus, celebrating labor and people pushing the country forward, the akyns were frank in terms of industrial gaps as well.
There is no doubt that the akyn aytys will be helpful in terms of upbringing, elimination of minor and major industrial flaws and is capable of bringing Karaganda and Balkhash to the level of the requirements formulated by the Great Patriotic War.
1943
THE COAL KARAGANDA
Only two decades have passed since the morning when the last small group of Kazakh works was saying goodbye to the fruit of heir eighty years’ toil – Karaganda, which had ruined and drowned by its previous owners. It was cold. The dull sun appeared just once to hide behind the dirty clouds handing low over the vast desert. The starving winter was forcing the workers to go to the auls, the cold and merciless wind was tearing their rags. They were leaving Karaganda behind them.
Inside his dull-looking dugout, the elderly worker Bekbosyn Sykhymbayev buried his pick. When leaving, he was looking back to see the squeaky lock on the door. The young republic was incapable of giving their job back to Bekbosyn and his comrades.
Only a decade has passed since the sunny morning when former coal cutters got up simultaneously in auls and villages, hearing the call of the party, to create the Union’s third coaling place – Karaganda. Hundreds of new people followed them to their abandoned dugouts. Only seven huts had survived the savage wind and the keen frost. But Berkbosyn Sykhymbayev did find his corroded pick. The fight for the bread of industry began to expand the owner of the Soviet state.
Only one decade separates the Karagandaugol Trust with its four exploration and production mines and the Karagandaugol integrated plant, which united five trusts and about fifty high and medium capability mines. After ten years, the large industrial city of Karaganda with nearly half a million population appeared where the seven dilapidated huts used to stand.
It took the Kazakh people great effort and energy to create such a steamship — the country’s third powerful coaling place in the East. There has been a large flow of help to the industrial center of Kazakhstan from Russia and Ukraine. The nurse of Kazakh workers can always feel the friendly hand of its brothers. At its very rise, in 1931, 400 proficient miners arrived to Karaganda from the Donets Basin, and 117 Kazakhs went to study in Donbas. They returned as coal cutters, timberers, and mining machine operators.
During the Great Patriotic War, when the country required Karaganda to take the place of the Union’s second coaling place, new defense factories pullulated around the basin. Karaganda did fulfill its duty to the country honorably. Thousands of planes, tanks, cannons, millions of bombs, mines, grenades, and bullets were produced with the help of the Karaganda coal.
The basin was significantly larger than it used to be before the Revolution. Judging by key indicators — average coal production per day, the face line, the number of long-face places, miners, and devices, it nearly doubled. Tubber or pick cutting was forgotten as well as skids coal transportation.
The development was achieved by overcoming great difficulties. After assistance was provided, the powerful basin could fulfill its potential. The amount of coal won was growing month after month, making a foundation for further development in the new year.
The miners of Karaganda achieved great success in the pre-October competition. Having received an extra task in October, they overproduced by 11 thousand tons by producing 50 thousand tons more coal that in September. That was the highest coal winning in the history of the basin. 233500 tons above-target coal was contributed to the High Command during the pre-October competition.
Miners of the Kirovgol Trust are still the basin’s leaders. Having met the requirements of the October Competition successfully, they unloaded 13704 above-target fuel. The Stalinugol miners have been disputing the pas of Kirov coalminers with great perseverance. They have produced 8 extra tons of coal over the nine months’ program. The miners of Molotovugol Trust have also shown a good performance.
But there still are some underachievers in the basin. The Leninugol Trust and certain mines of other trusts fail to accomplish the objective.
In the pre-October period, young coalminers of the basin headed by Komsomol members have demonstrated an example of achieving the desired goal. In July, they promised to produce a present to October’s 26th anniversary, which was to consist of 40 troop trains of coal. Today they have reported their obligation to have been overaccomplished — 130 trains of coal have been produced by Karaganda’s youth and Komsolmol members! The young patriots are preparing another present for the Constitution Day — another 15 trains of coal in excess of the plan.
The role of women is growing more and more significant in the basin. Those who used to be kolkhoz farmers and housewives have mastered the art of coalmining. 20 all-women digger teams are already working. The team of Shura Mordovchenko at Mine 31 showed an accomplishment of 122% percent in September and 140% in October.
The coal struggle is involving an ever growing spectrum of workers. A movement based on direct participation in coal production is becoming popular among the intellectuals. The Instructor of the District Trade Department Comrade Babisheva changed her work to operate an electric locomotive at Mine 31.
The national technical intellectuals have become more numerous – 40 sections are managed by Kazakhs, and Kazakh overseers are heads of 162 worker shifts. Out of 28 mine party organization secretaries, 16 are Kazakhs. The Kazakh Ibrayev, Kuzembayev, and Serikov have grown to be gifted facilitators who control complex economic bodies.
It is indicative that the Republic’s leading industrial city, Karaganda, is also the leader in terms of Kazakh cultural traditions. The aytys, which is a profound manifestation of culture, has become truly popular here. At the same time, a fertile ground has been prepared for the new culture. The District Kazakh Theater is a massive success.
Three generations of the Kazakh nation are permanently contributing to the expansion and reinforcement of the Karaganda Basin. The first generation includes old workers whose experience is largely pre-revolutionary, headed by the 77-year-old Bekbosyn Sykhymbayev, who has been working in the basin for 62 years. The second generation consists of core workers, whose typical representatives are Kuzembayev, Mbrayev, and others, who have now become production managers. The third generation consists of young workers whose childhood coincided with the first five-year plans, who have suggested talented managers – Bulambayev, Kudaybergenov, and others. The three generations are united to form a team of trailblazers who demonstrate perseverance in their struggle for the new peak of labor productivity.
Nowadays, each mine of Karaganda is a large underground factory, at which many thousands of people work. Karaganda is currently producing an amount of coal which its previous owner would not have obtained within a year daily. And how many pristine resources — enormous coal deposits — are hidden in the interior of the Soviet Union’s third steamshop!
The coalminers of Karaganda, devoted patriots of their socialistic Motherlands, are laboring without stint to put the interior treasure of Karaganda to front service and promote the wealth of their native land.
1948
THE SONG AS A WEAPON
The struggle of the freedom-loving Kazakh people for their liberty and happiness takes us back to the hoar of innumerable ages, to the vortex of the colossal historical events which took place on the vast Asian arena.
From the Altay Mountains to the Volga, from the Ural Mountains to the Alatau, repelling numerous attacks of hostile hordes, the nomadic Kazakh people traveled without yielding a sliver of the fertile ground on which the Kazakh SSR is now situated. The Kazakh was traveling, but he would not leave his native land for his enemy. In a manner of speaking, the Kazakh was traveling windward.
The renowned Kazakh singer Asan Kaygy celebrated the promised land of his nation. The great batyrs Koblandy, Syrym, Isatay, and Amangeldy defended it against the enemies. Brave heats, courageous sons of their nations – this is who they were. The batyrs fought against the enemy, while their wives — Kortka and Balym sharpened their spears and saddled their horses for them. A Kazakh batyr cavalry was part of the Russian army which defeated the Teutonic Knights, the German dogs.
With the point of his steel spear, the first military commander of the Kazakh people and the first man to unite the nation Kasym Zhanibekov outlined the border of the Kazakh land back in the 16th century. It has already been a quarter century since the Soviet Kazakhstan began to grow and bloom within those borders. It is not alone now as it used to be before. Its thoughts and expectations are one with those of the great multi-national Soviet Union.
The first Kazakh scientist and philosopher Chokan Valikhanov (19th century), the Lermontov of the Steppe, as the advanced democratic Russian thinkers called him, made an abrupt turn towards Russia. For his whole life, his aspiration was to bring the Kazakh nation closer to the Russian people. Just like Lermontov, he disapproved of the monarchy’s military feudalistic bureaucracy, the sellouts of the time.
What did Abay and Amangeldy do? The Kazakh classic poet, the unparalleled Abay fought against the nobility of the steppe for his whole life, sending his sons to study in Petersburg, and translating poems by Pushkin and Lermontov; Tatyana’s letter from Eugene Onegin was sang all over the Kazakh steppe long before the revolution took place.
A true conflux of thoughts which crowned the Kazakh struggle for brotherhood with the Russians took place in the flames of the October Revolution. The bolshevist batyr Amangeldy Imanov, having led his people through the uncompromising fight against the Russian tsar, joined his forces with the people of Russia. The Russian proletariat helped him achieve the title of a Hero of the Civil War and its commander.
Within twenty-five years, the Kazakh nation has covered a way that would have been impossible to cover in several centuries under the previous circumstances. It is owing to the fraternal help of the Russian people and other nations of the great USSR that the true cultural explosion, the true possession of the ground’s treasure, and the increase in physical and cultural wealth have been achieved so rapidly.
Now time has come to defend our Motherland against the faithless and guile enemy, the invasion of fascist. The barbaric slaveholder Hitler has put his foot on the neck of numerous European nations
and robbed them, spilling an amount of human blood fit to fill an ocean. It has been two years since the Soviet people started their heroic fight against the high-handed invader. The enemy has got a lot of beating but is not dead yet. The beginning of his hand has come, there is no place in the world where he could hide. But the fight is not over. It will take up time and energy to free the mankind from the band of fascist bandits. The final days are coming.
Kazakhstan is the armory of Read Army. Trains of agricultural products are constantly running to the front line. Struggling for a progress in people’s animal breeding, the republic has been rewarded with the State Committee of Defense Flag and the first prize. The industry is functioning properly.
Our Karaganda has grown as well. We, writers of Kazakhstan, want to share the coalminers’ heroic struggle for coal and the joy of their labor victory. Numerous writers and poets have come here from Almaty. Karaganda had a group of talented akyns headed by Doskey – Shashubay, Ilyas, Kaits, and others. Karaganda is the cradle of the Hero of the Soviet Union Nurken Abdirov as well as the coal masters Sikimbayev, Bulambayev, and Iblayev. We want to help the battle – and home front to forge our victory over Hitler. We want to show the dignity of our struggle, to show the best people of the Soviet era.
We can take pride in the fact that songs by Dzhambul, Doskey, and Nurpeis as well as works by numerous Kazakhstani writers have been encouraging front-line soldiers. But it is not enough. Successful as it may be, the Soviet Kazakh literature is still far behind the heroic deeds of our time.
One of the ways in which literature can contribute to the general struggle is the so-called aytys, that is, a competition, which is popular among Kazakh people.
Two popular akyns, Kain Aynabekov and Ilyas Mankin, having studied the state of two major mines (No. 18 and No. 20) decided to find an easy-to-understand form to depict it for you. They will be abrasive but fair. There is no limit to their attacks and defense. If the knowledge of one akyn are insufficient in terms of the other’s business, he will definitely be helpless, as well as if he lacks proficiency, which will certainly lead to his opponent’s winning very easily. It is also disagreeable for an akyn to fail to admit his failure and try to challenge what is most clear.
Karaganda is to make a great contribution now, for Karaganda is surrounded by Soviet giant. The number of furnaces which require quality coal is growing with each day.
Hitler is receiving his daily portion of “peels”, which are fatal for the enemy. It largely depends of Karaganda. Time will come for our Read Army to free our dear Ukraine, Belarus, and the Crimea. Let the rage of Karaganda coalminers and songs by the akyns of the city turn into a continuous flow of coal-loaded trains!
1943
THE MAJESTIC IMAGE
The name of Amangeldy Imanov, the leader of the national liberation movement which flows to the stream of the Great October Socialist Revolution, has become popular and widely favored with the Soviet people. We partly owe it to literature and art. In songs by akyns and poets, in works by Kazakhstani writers who celebrate Amangeldy’s heroic deeds, his image has been created to symbolize the friendship of the Kazakh people and the great Russian nation.
The fact that Kazakhstani writers and akyns have been turning to the heroic image of Amangeldy Imanov during the Great Patriotic War against the fascist Germany is quite natural. Recently, a series of poems, hundreds of thongs, and several drama works depicting the legendary batyr and bolshevist Amangeldy Imanov from various modern creative standpoints. The subject is central to poems by such akyns as Oman Shipin, Sar Yesenbayev, and Imazhan Zhilakydarov and such poets as K. Abdykadyrov, G. Maldybayev, and the play by Sh. Khusaynov, and others.
Special mention must be made of the merits of the National Artist of the Kazakh SSR A. Kasteyev, who has created the first documental portrait of Amangeldy Imanov, which will undoubtedly remain the reference for further artistic elaboration of Imanov’s image.
It was about ten years ago that the image of Amamngeldy Imanov began to be created in literature and art; the movement which covered a short but extremely important period in the history of the Kazakh people reborn (1916— 1919) had been poorly studied by that time. There was no biography of the hero, not to mention a scientific history of the period.
To provide a profound and accurate description of the movement, which started as a struggle for separation from the tsarist Russian and led to the ever-lasting union with the Russian people, was not easy for artists and writers of the period. It was not so easy to realize that Amangeldy Imanov did not merely take after Kenesary or Isitay, just as the movement of 1916—1919 did not merely take after the rebellions of XIX. The historical pattern was that the national liberation movement of years 1916, in which the true aspiration of the entire Kazakh laboring population was reflected, could only be worthwhile if it took the course of the proletarian revolution. The historical role of Amangeldy Imanov was his correct understanding of the objective that the liberation movement had at its last stage.
Literature had to overcome the then dominant opinion on Amandeldy as another Kazakh heroic epos batyr, which was a challenge. As a counter-balance to this opinion, another one, which was just as primitive, was suggested, according to which Amangeldy Imanov, the leader of the rebellion, the military commissar of an entire district, the first one to make all the necessary arrangements for the Kazakh government in the steppe, was nothing more than a hunter, a workhand, or a brave dzhigit. Such a simplistic idea of Amangeldy Imanov has been just harmful for the image of a true commander and a new-type public official.
The current idea of Amangeldy Imanov is largely different. Studies dedicated to the movement of 1916—1919 and the hero’s biography shed light onto his image. The present thoroughly checked data are a complete refute of the long dominant twisted idea. Amangeldy’s personal diary, the authenticity of which is beyond doubt. Helps us get a true and undoubted portrait of the hero.
All the “scientific” and literary works have so far been based on the simple and seemingly unmistakable assertion that “Amangeldy was a poor daily laborer.” The matters of the personal qualities and political ideas, which turned him into the head of the movement, of how a common steppe laborer could develop such an accurate understanding of the national liberation movements during the revolution, have not been left without an answer. Amangeldy’s diary answers the questions.
According to the diary, Amangeldy Imanov was deeply concerned about the fate of their people long before the rebellion of 1960 took place. A diary note holds the following:
“On March 14 19800, a tsar’s order appeared, demanding state officers to treat Kazakh kindly and all state agencies to accept complaints written in the Kazakh language…”
“In 1834, at the request of Sultan Konur-Kuildzhi, Tsar Nikolai I signed an order preventing Kazakhs from ever being taken to be soldiers even if the Kazakhs gave up their nomadic way of living and switched to the settled style and crop growing.”
“In 1838, volost administrators were created for the Kazakhs of Orenburg and Siberia.”
“According to Article 658 of the Code of Turkestan, if volost or aul heads appropriate taxes collected, creating a deficiency, they are obliged to largely compensate for them with their own money.If they lack property, the only variant is to get it from the people.”
Only one who was always concerned about his nations’ life and what was to happen to it could have written such notes. When in Petersburd, Amangeldy Imanov wrote a large section of his diary, which was known as “The history of tsars and that of the Kazakh nation.” he history starts with Prince Mykhail Romanov, who “was enthroned on the 12th of Febryary of «the year 1613”, and ends with the rule of Zelander II. What is characteristic, the “common shepherd” Amamngeldy Imanov does not simply put a downer on Russian tsars. Amangeldy mentions some of them as outstanding. By the way, he writes the following about Peter I, “The fourth tsar was Fyodor’s younger brother born to a different mother (Alexey’s second wife), Peter I. In 1703, he founded the city of Petersburg. He created eight state departments as well as the division into governorates. He got 250 factories and works built. He gave ranks to those who were highborn. He forced Russians to shave their beards and wear comfortable clothes which did not interfere with people’s activities. He died on January 28, 1725, aged 53.”
The following note is dedicated to Alexey Romanovich: “Orders, codes, and laws originated with this tsar. According to his law, those who cursed God was to be burned at the stake; those who forged money using cheap metal were to have melted metal poured into their throats; those who killed their fathers or mothers were to be put to death...”
All those diary notes are an evidence of the historian’s sober and observant mind.
The diary of Amangeldy Imanov provides a most precious evidenced, which is especially valuable for historians. It can give a lot to writers and artists willing to elaborate his image as well.
Without a deep understanding of Amageldy Imanov’s personality, life, and activities, one cannot be sure of whether the image of the national hero created in literature and art is true to life. It wants mentioning all the more as no truly profound image of Amangeldy has been created yet. Whatever has been created is first steps. Amangeldy’s image is waiting for authors in every literary genre and type of art.
1944
CELEBRATOR OF THE SOVIET ERA
The Merited Artist of the Kazakh SSR, the national akyn and the tireless celebrator of the Soviet era Nurpeis Bayganin has finished his eighty five years’ life full of fire and passion, rage and hatred, joy and happiness.
Hatred for invaders and absolute faithful love for his nation has been filling Nurpeis Baygabnin’s works since he was a child. Encouraged by the dream of his nation which came true, Nurpeis Bayganin celebrates things which would be impossible in the bitter past and is impossible everywhere apart from the Soviet Union– the Leninist national cohesion, the true, the eternal, and the unshakable. The wise akyn had dedicated many passionate lines to the great Russian nation, with which the Kazakhs’ life is closely connected.
...Centuries were passing, leaving a barely noticeable trace on the vast Kazakh steppe. The ground has been trampled with horse hooves many times. Blue, golden, and other hordes have devastated the land many times. The traces of formative history were few, offensively few. Perhaps the only celebration of true human feelings has been the poem Kozy Korpesh and Bayan Su, besides which there were only mazars...
A different time has come to the Kazakh steppe.
Since the first five-year plans, the akyn of the steppe Nurke, as people lovingly calls him, has heard the massive rumble of the enormous construction and seen works and factories emerging magically near his aul, where calves used to graze and children used to play. He sees the Union’s third coaling station, the powerful Chimkent Lead Factory and the major integrated plant, Balkash Copper Works appear in his native city. The Kazakh word “altyn”, which means gold, is added to the name of the Altay Mountains (gold), and from then on the ore-yielding mountains are called Altyn Altay in songs by Kazakh akyns and poets. The akyn has dedicated numerous well-known songs of his to the mountain range.
The peak of Nureke Bayganin’s creative career coincides with the economic and cultural boom in the Soviet Kazakhstan. The poet has been showing great perseverance in search of ways to contribute to the formative labor. Still entertaining kolkhoz farmers and workers with his usual oral improvisations concerning the most burning and acute problems, he has been thinking painfully of the way to give everything that he bears inside him to the younger generation.
Nureke conceived a number of large-scale narrative heroic poems, but he had to face a serious problem – Nureke could not write his works down. However, the singer was given all the necessary assistance in his Soviet Kazakhstan.
Within a short period of time, Bayganin created a number of large-scale works of high artistic merit: Koblandy Batyr, Yer Orak, Nargyz, and others.
The master of lyrical songs and creator of countless improvisations is becoming one of the major artists by creating extensive epic pieces.
The aging singer has been demonstrated intense vitality in the time of major challenges, that is, during the Great Patriotic War.
He has created numerous songs dedicated to the heroic defense of Leningrad, the resounding defeat of the Germans near Moscow and Stalingrad, and the heroism of Soviet people at the home front. Traveling around auls and industrial bodies of his native Aktube District, he would collect thousands of rubles, dozens of cattle and small stock heads for the Defense Fund. His poem Twenty Eight, which is dedicated, as the title suggests, to the defense of Moscow, the heroism of Panfilov’s soldiers, and a major defeat of the German invaders near Moscow, sounds like a perfect summary of his creative aspirations.
A gifted singer, a patriot devoted to his Motherland, a brother-in-arms of the national poetic giant Dzhambul, an order bearing akyn, and a merited arist of the Kazakh USSR, Nurpeis Bayganin was deeply loved by his nation. Along with Dzhambul, he developed the most fruitful traditions of Kazakh oral literature, being one of its major feeders.
Nurpeis Bayganin was also widely known among Russian readers and had many friends among Soviet writers all over the country.
Death has sealed the mouth of the singer who celebrated the glory and power of his wonderful Motherland.
Goodbye, Soviet Era Akyn, dear Nureke!
1945
IN THE NAME OF THE ENTIRE HUMANITY
Berlin, the crimeful cradle of vicious ideas and evil undertakings, has fallen. The citadel of cunning betrayal and bloody crime has fallen, and it has no right to appeal to the traditionally humane. The hand that threw it to the ground has suffered for its victory. Let it be a never-tarnished evidence of the evil being doomed to defeat and inconsistent with the very spirit of the advanced mankind; let it show that the only possible end to the crimes committed by fascism is severe punishment and shame which cannot be wiped out in the course of history.
Berlin has fallen! The Red Flag is fluttering over it today, manifesting our historically crucial victory to the world. It sounds proud; it sounds colossal. The Red Flag is flattering over the German Capital, informing the world that the fascist state which has caused innumerable harm and anguish to the mankind, which was dreaming of a domination based on slavery, humiliation, and abasement for other nations, has fallen.
Berling has fallen! It has fallen under pressure from the Soviet arms tempered with a most intolerable heat of the rage and hatred of the Soviet people!
What the Soviet man cherishes most it freedom and independence, honor and clear conscience. His memories of yesterday, of the heroic struggle for today and for tomorrow are still very vivid. He is the owner of his country; he is the great patriot of his Motherland. The snobbish enemy could not possibly fathom the feature of ours. The Soviet people, tormented and humiliated by Hitler’s henchmen, the walls of each city ruined by the enemy, each cultural monument destroyed and befouled by him cry for a severe punishment for military criminals, for the eradication of the tower of obscurantism and aggression.
Berlin, from where hostile hordes were moving towards our Motherland along every road and every channel, by land, by sea, and by air, from west to east, bringing death and slavery four years ago, has fallen.
The liberator, the Red Army, took the same roads to march against Hitler’s Germany by land, by sea, and by air, from east to west, bringing freedom to those enslaved and a just retribution for the death of millions of people, for ruined Soviet cities, factories, plants, and for the befouled Soviet soil to the enemy.
Glory to the Soviet weapons which have brought Berlin to its knees! Glory to Soviet soldiers, commanders, and marshals!
It has been about two hundred years since the Russian army conquered Berlin. With the typically German accuracy and formalism, the Germans handed the keys to Berlin to the Russians. The Germans had the right to ask for quarter back then.
This time, the falling of Berlin was different. Deprived of its right to beg, it fell, beaten hollow. It is waiting for punishment, which is reasonable. The center of German imperialism has fallen. It was the citadel of German aggression. The criminal who was wreaking havoc with an image of death on its forehead should not expect to be granted life!
Berlin has fallen, and the fascist state is being ruined. But the German people in itself have lots to understand, do, and experience to free themselves from the vicious ideas forever, to be capable of cursing the evil which was born and matured in their home, which they have been combating poorly, forever and ever.
It might be more appropriate than ever to recite the verse by the great German poet Goethe to the German nation, “Of freedom and of life he only deserves who every day must conquer them anew.”
Berlin, the cradle of crime against the entire humankind, had fallen. The Soviet Army leaded by the commanders Zhukov and Konev has planted the Red Flag, the Flag of Victory over it. The flag is flattering over Berlin in the name of the entire progressive humankind!
1945
SONGS BY ABAY
The great Abay would find and select the wholesome things, which were apt for fighting against the old and moribund. The youth’s aspiration for the freedom of personality and spirit made him feel happy. Abay defended youth, for which purpose he used the entire charm of his talent.
Abay shone like a guiding star for his nation. Lonely in his noble struggle for the future of his enslaved people, for everything that is high and human, he would work his fingers to the bone to get through the frozen darkness and backwards mentality. The way led to the Great Russian nation, to is culture. The leading representatives of the Russian democratic revolutionary thinkers – Belinsky, Chernyshevski, Pushkin, and Lermontov lit his way. Chernishevsky’s best disciples, Mikhaelis, Dolgopolov, and Gross were Abay’s friends.
Abay used the profoundly humane motives of Pushkin’s and Lermontov’s poetry to tell his nation about the fair and honest Russian people. Abay thought that friendly relationship with it would not only save the Kazakh people but also direct them towards prosperity.
The new feature film of the Almaty Production House Songs by Abay is dedicated to Abay, a great poet and citizen of his country. Mukhat Buetov and Griroriy Roshal (G. Rodhal and E. Aron production) wrote the script.
The strictly realistic film Songs by Abay was shot in a way to convey a certain poetical loftiness. A deep and vague message is concealed behind its simple title.
He tells sheer truth about the Kazakh people and their singer and educator without unnecessary ethnographic exoticisms. Being shot in the traditional Kazakh style, the film is international in terms of its content. It is not a life chronicle of a great poet, not an episode from his life; it is rather an episode of the life of the Kazakh nation, which provides a truthful holistic representation of its past tragedy. The poet Abay overlooks the clash of the old and the new, which is depicted through an expressive opposition of virile and typical characters. The producers of the film have demonstrated their expertise by creating an all-round portrait of the Kazakh nation, including both its most typical features and peculiar detail, in the short film. A clear-cut and distinguished image of a poet citizen who fights for human rights in society has been created.
The film is both dynamic and expressive. The main characters have been given a very distinct representation. The image of Abay, which was created by a true stage master, the national artist of the KazSSR Kalibek Kuanyshpayev, is that of nobility and mental purity. The speech and deeds of Dolgopolov, a representative of the progressive Russian culture played by the merited actor of the RSFSR Oleg Zhakov, is enticingly amicable towards the people oppressed. The vivid portrait of the cruel biy Yerden was created by the national artist of the KazSSR Yelubay Umurzakov. Baymagambet, whose part belongs to the national actor Serke Kozhamkulov, is charmingly simple. The national artist of the KazSSR Shaken Aymanov succeeding in acting the role of the arrogant Sharip.
The social controversy of Abay’s epoch lacks exposure in the film. The shadow sides of the Kazakh social life are depicted through personal antagonism of characters; the ideas of Abay do not present the film's core. Moreover, the plot, which is based on Aydar’s unrequited loved, gets no further elaboration. The parallel lyrical motives (Abish — Magish, Kokpay — Karlygash) are even more feeble and watery. Sharip’s hypocrisy gets no representation; the image of Abay’s son Abdrakhman is infelicitously depicted, and Oguzbayev shows a very poor performance of the part.
In spite of its shortcomings, the film “Songs by Abay” is a great accomplishment of the young Almaty Cinema Production House. It will definitely take its rightful place among the best films of the East USSR.
1946
ANOTHER OBJECTIVE OF SOVIET DRAMA
The problem of the ideological and artistic level of the Soviet drama has become one of the pressing issues in terms of the general development of the Soviet literature.
The fact that the problem is perceived differently in different Soviet literatures does not offset it and, on the contrary, suggests a necessity of setting and solving the agenda items of the Soviet drama.
Our great teachers – V. G. Belinsky, A. M. Gorky – always emphasized the fact of drama’s being the most sophisticated genre of literature. We are far from having overcome the difficulties it suggests. Comrade Fadeyev mentioned it at the meeting of Ukrainian writers.
I feel that another factor, which should be mentioned, is that dramas of the multinational Soviet Union, which have achieved different levels of development, want a sensible generalization and estimation of the experience at least within certain brotherly literatures.
This is the only way in which I see the objective of Comrade Sofronov’s report delivered at this plenary session, or rather at the new stage of development of the Soviet drama.
However, the report by Comrade Sofronov, which I found to be very elliptical in its wording, added very little to what had been widely known before the meeting took place and the report was delivered. A proper creative critical analysis of one or two best works of the recent years would have given us a lot in terms of elaborating on and discussing the basic problems of the Soviet drama.
The first thing I had expected of a special report was at least mentioning the obsolete drama canons, the standards and limitations under the obsolete law, finally, of the obsolete definitions of the very concept of drama and tragedy, which many of us use dues to the lack of new ones. I find many of those obsolete canons do be unacceptable and constraining in terms of further development of the Soviet drama in a number of cases. Creating the new high-principled Soviet drama, one cannot write within the old bourgeois and pre-bourgeois drama framework.
Let us tackle the knot of the very matter of drama, that is, the matter of conflict. I mean a dynamically and logically evolving conflict and its very nature.
Comrade Sofronov defined the nature of conflict as the fight of the old against the new, an ideological clash. It its correct, but what we are concerned about, comrades, and what we should theoretically help writers about is the ways of its creative employment and transformation into artistic imagery. If we take Potapov and Severova from your, Comrade Sofronov, play “The Moscow Character”, which I have translated into Kazakh, to be an example of the fight of the old against the new or vice versa, one can hardly make out the old and the new it. There is nothing old about Potapov, who is quite successful at producing agricultural machines and refuses to accept Severova’s order for fabric dyeing machines. A single phrase by Potapov to indicate that the agricultural machinery factory cannot be used to fabric dyeing machines to put an end to Severova’s accusations as well as to the conflict. What does it have to do with the old of Potapov and the new of Severova?
On the other hand, Potapov is much higher than Severova when it comes to his activity. Obviously, we deal with artificial running down aimed at locking the man in the cage of the old notion of conflict. I believe it to be a mistake to divide the characters of our play into heroes and villains schematically. To mi mind, the Soviet man will have a more comprehensive and natural personality is we rely on the favorite saying of Marx, “Nothing human is alien to me!” I believe that a proper image of the Soviet man can be created only after we have deviated from the iconographical approach forever. The Soviet man can be characterized by courage, steadfast ideology, love, happiness, sadness, and many other human passions. Thus, creating an image of the Soviet man, a dramatist should be entitled to neglect the convention of the real life. Only then can the dramatist achieve the level of Soviet romanticism and, consequently, heroism.
The problem of images and characters, which could be convincingly antagonistic and capable of viral and effective conflicts, is the drama’s major problem. I had expected the report to contain its detailed analysis.
It is a common fact that Belinsky considered tragedy to be central to drama. As far as I know, this opinion has not been argued yet. The question arising is as follows: is there any Soviet tragedy and is its presence generally possible? Personally, I believe that the work meant was “Lyubov Yarova” by Trenev in its highest, tragic sense, and a Soviet tragedy is fully possible. However, it is only possible if we reject the idea of tragedy as of something, which must have attributes of a disaster, something dark and hopeless as well as predestined? For instance, is the death of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, P. P. Matrosov, and many other heroes of the Great Patriotic War of heroes of the Civil War not romantic and tragic?
Personally I think of them as of a high optimistic tragedy.
Moreover, I believe that we tend to overload dramatists when we speak about creating a high-principled drama work, often claiming that one cannot encompass what is unencompassable. We demand things which could be organically interwoven with the thread of the dramatic work to be personified. Belinsky demanded any play to have a clear-cut subject; he demanded the dramatic conflict to be centered on a key idea. Demanding a play to have what we would be entitled to demand of a large novel, we promote a wider scale of for the play, thus depriving it of its profoundness. Thus, the message, the key idea of the piece, is being constantly interfered with and fails to get a full and all-round elaboration.
The significance of the life of laborers, studying the work life of the Soviet man is currently a matter of utter importance for Soviet dramatists. This is a most correct requirement to writers based exclusively on the party’s policy. It is because writers do not get their inspiration from the real life but arrange their characters according to their own schemes that similar villains, similar opportunists, and similar party appear in plays.
As I have already mentioned, the drama of a number of the Soviet Union’s brotherly nations has achieved a certain level of maturity and needs a serious generalization and estimation of its practice as well as crucial assistance provided by progressive Russian literature.
We believe the literature of the Kyrgyz, Uzbek, Turkmen, and Azerbaijani nations to be developing in two major directions, which are manifold folklore and history motives and those of the Soviet present reality.
It should be noted that the abovementioned literatures could be characterized by a tendency of admiring the nations’ past, which has always been essential to them. However, the admiration of each literature and writer has a unique nature.
In due time, searching inspiration in the past seemed quite logical. It was determined by a historical necessity. For example, the Kazakhs are not desperately religious, though they cannot boast overwhelming atheism – they used to be rather superstitious. To put an end to their being influenced by mosques, ishans, mullahs, and khojas, to make them go to clubs and theaters, we had to turn to the nation’s history, to its folklore. Besides, the Kazakh epos, which was still alive due to akyns, was both high-colored and efficient.
At a certain stage of the republic’s cultural development, its past was a true friend of the young Soviet Kazakh literature and art.
I have a question to ask our critics and theorists, most notable Comprade Fadeyev.
It is a well-known fact that A. M. Gorky said, “The literature of socialist realism is based of socialist experience.” The way I have interpreted this quotation by Gorky is that the most essential aspect of each work which defines it as belonging to this or that artistic method to be its message. To put it differently, for a work to be said to be written within the method of socialist realism, it has to convey a socialist message exclusively.
Out of the entire pre-revolutionary Russian literature, including pre-revolutionary works by Gorky, our critics and scientists accept only one work as socialist realism. It is The Mother by Gorky. Unless my interpretation is too mechanical, works that represent advanced tendencies in general but not conveying socialist ideas directly can be referred to as realism but not socialist realism.
Otherwise, there would be no need to limit the themes present to the contemporary reality. On the other hand, the concepts of socialist realism oriented works and true socialist realism are not equivalent.
This is far from being a matter of my private interest or that of a single genre; it is a matter of ideological guidance and further growth for numerous nations of the Soviet Union; that is why I want to shed light on the issue.
Let me return to another issue of our drama. Incomplete data indicate the total amount of plays by Kazakh dramatists to be 82 depicting the Soviet reality. Two thirds of the amount had never been staged, while one third was introduced to the audience once to leave the stage at once and be forgotten just as the former two thirds. The images of industrial, agricultural, and cultural leaders did not linger either, because most of them had been poorly constructed without considering the actual artistic truth.
As it usually happens, all the necessary elements of drama canons were present in the plays – they had both a Soviet-oriented idea, and heroism, and labor achievements, and aspirations, but they lacked the natural truth of conflict and convincing characters, an artistic transformation of the ideas conveyed by means of persuasively depicted portrays.
It seems to me that the phenomenon is spreading to other literatures all over the Soviet Union. A vivid example is the play Other People by Goldes.
What is the right approach to this phenomenon? I believe this to be foul formalism, for it is not about the form but about the twisted and anecdotic content. We should wage war on this formalism.
What does it mean? It means that Kazakhstani dramatists are greatly indebted to the Soviet audience, especially those of them who have shown themselves to be mature enough in terms of depicting the bitter way of an individual in the pre-revolutionary past; they have failed to illustrate the struggle of the soviet man for building a socialist world.
International friendship in the Soviet Union has been given an extremely poor representation in our literature. Our plays have shown dozens of Yegors, Alekseys, and Ivans, who have acted as the Russian proletariat who brought the ideas of socialist revolution to the Kazakh steppe as well as representatives of the Great Russian nation, which suggested a kind of international friendship, but none of those Yegors and Ivans has won a sable presence on the stage. Dozens of representatives of other brother nations who were to demonstrate international friendship vanished from the stage as well. The phenomenon seems to be common in our brotherly literatures.
What makes me speak on this is the fact that the issue of studying our nations must logically be integral to the issue of studying people. The problem of a proper theatrical depiction of international friendship in the Soviet Union, one and infrangible as it is must be the greatest and the noblest objective of all Soviet dramatists and writers.
Finally, the last issue to which I would like to drive the attention of the audience is that of translating plays of Soviet nations into Russian and testing the works by national writers with the powerful machine of large-scale Russian theaters.
This shall be one of the most efficient ways to improve the ideological and artistic merits of brotherly dramas.
1948
KAZAKH LITERATURE ON THE RISE
Before the Great October Socialist Revolution, Kazakhstan used to be the land of nomads and deserts leading its wretched existence of a backward periphery of the tsarist Russia.
The Great October Socialist Revolution has led the Kazakh people to the unobstructed road of blooming creative power under the victorious banner of communism. Nowadays, the free Kazakh people are creating their culture, which is national in its form and socialist in its content with the brotherly help of the Great Russian nation.
Reading the front page of Pravda, dated February 25 of the current year filled the workers of Kazakhstan with rightful pride, for it read as follows: “Kazakhstan, which used to be a land of nomads and deserts not so long ago, is now turning into a highly industrialized country reaping the fruits of Lenin’s national policy and acting as an instructive example for the colonial East moaning under the yoke of capitalist slavery.”
With each accomplished five-year plan, Kazakhstan is progressing more and more towards its communist future.
Total elimination of illiteracy, compulsory education, national academy theaters, and the Academy of Science have turned into a regular part of our daily routine.
The history has no evidence of decades for national literature and arts being arranged in any of the so-called civilized capitalist states. In our country, it has become part of the system, a certain exam, a form of real simulation of the Soviet culture’s further growth.
During these days, which are extremely significant for the Kazakh culture, the Kazakh literature is to account to renowned contributors to the Soviet literature and culture, science and technology, in the capital of our Motherland - Moscow. Seeing the Kremlin, we can feel our hearts swell with pride, for we are to account to a person, the Communist Party, whose genius has brought the Kazakh nation to the way of radiant happiness?
The young Kazakh literature was conceived in the vivifying light of the Great Socialist Revolution. Being guided by Lenin’s party, it grew and matured with a true support provided by the Russian realistic art, which is the most progressive type of art ever. The works of Abay Kunanbayev, who originated the written Kazakh literature, were influenced by poetry of Pushkin and Lermontov. Such revolutionary Russian writers as M. Gorky, V. Mayakovsky, M. Sholokhov, and A. Fadeyev stood at the cradle of the Kazakh Soviet literature. Naither our predecessor Abay nor contemporary Kazakh writers and poets can be imagined apart from the Russian culture, like the Kazakh coaling stage of Karaganda or the giants of nonferrous metallurgy without the accomplishments of the Soviet science and technology.
The progressive Russian literature has always acted as a teacher telling us to participate vigorously in life, truly spread the ideas of our party and those of Soviet patriotism to people. Struggling for high ideological and artistic quality of works driven by a party-oriented approach is the basic trend, which can be used to characterize the contemporary Kazakh Soviet literature.
Implementing Lenin’s national policy on a daily basis, the Communist Party of Kazakhstan has grown a powerful army of literary workers. While about a decade ago Kazakh writers were rare, the today’s Union of Soviet Writers of Kazakhstan united 130 professional writers and about 200 young literature-oriented men. The fact that dozens of works by Kazakh writers and poets, including young ones, have been translated into Russian, is a powerful evidence of their considerable success.
The literature of our republic has all BASIC genres, which characterize it as a well-developed hind of art. While at the beginning of the Great October Revolution me had no more genres besides poetry, the leading type of literature in today’s Kazakhstan are prose and drama. Our poets and writers decided to have created more than forty novels and short stories, dozens of plays and poems by the 30th anniversary of the Soviet Kazakhstan. Many have already managed to keep the word they gave to the people and have arrived to Moscow with their new works.
Soviet readers know the novel Abay by one of the greatest Kazakh writers Mukhtar Auezov, who has been awarded the State Prize. The book presents a wide social picture, a darkly painted representation of the past life of the Kzakh nation. We are proud to read reviews of this novel in central newspapers, which are unanimous about its being a major accomplishment of not only the Kazakh literature but of the entire Soviet literature.
One of the pioneers of our literature, the first novelist Sabit Moukanov is present at the decade with his new novel The Syrdarya celebrating the Kazakhs’ heroic labor during the war and in the post-war period. The work was highly appreciated by the Soviet public. Sabit Mukanov was one of Soviet writers who fought violently against the bourgeois nationalists.
He contributed greatly to unite representatives of the young Kazakh socialist literature. Mukanov’s works are fairly called a living chronicle of the great social changes in the Soviet Kazakhstan.
The renowned Kazakh prosaic writer G. Mustafin has brought his large novelette Chiganak and the novel The Millionaire. Both of the works depict the innovative and selfless labor of the kolkhoz peasantry as well as its life of abundance and luxury. The author provides a picture of progressive agricultural experts mastering Michurin’s agricultural biology, which they combine with their national experience and then implement. In spite of its shortcomings, which have been mentioned by critics, both of the works by Mustafin present a valuable contribution to the Kazakh Soviet literature.
The novelettes Sary Su by A. Tokmagambetov and Talas by A. Abishev deal with the problems related to turning Kazakhstan into a Soviet animal breeding platform. The novelette Distant Vastness by G. Slanov deals with the theme of cultural growth in the Kazakh village. The large novel Kurland set during the Great Patriotic War was written by the young gifted writer A. Nurpeisov. Such young writers as M. Tiesov, S. Omarov, M. Imanzhanov, T. Sagynbayev, S. Bakbergenov, and many others have been quite successful in prose.
The decade is attended by one of the most talented dramatists of Kazakhstan A. Abishev, who has brought two plays of his, One Family and Friendship and Love, which have practically served as the turning point of the Kazakh drama towards the Soviet reality. A realistic depiction of love for one’s Motherland, selfless labor, and the honesty and nobility characteristic of Soviet people presented the ideological and artistic basis, which guaranteed the author success with the Soviet audience.
The most renowned Kazakh poets А. Tokmagambetov, Т. Zharonkov, G. Ormanov, А. Tazhibayev, Kh. Bekozhin, К. Amankzholov, А. Sarsenbayev, Zh. Sain, and K. Abdykadyrov have created numerous valuable works which celebrate the glory of the socialist county, the heroism of the Soviet people demonstrated during the Great Patriotic War, and their labor accomplishments in recent years.
Seeking inspiration in the Soviet reality is very typical with Kazakh poets, which has been especially clearly seen lately. The poem by Amanzholov Our Poem and his book of poems The Storm, Kh. Bekhozhin’s poems Keltemashat and The Syrdarya, G. Ormanov’s poems Betpak Dala, The Golden Torrent, Zh. Sain’s book of poems Aygakya as well as poetry by A. Sarsenbayev and S. Maulenov, outstanding against the general background, are an evidence and whatever new and significant our poetry can boast.
Kazakh Soviet literature has been growing and maturing in the united family of the multi-national Soviet literature, always aspiring to take after it in the best sense, learning from progressive Russian penmate. Translations of works by Russian writers into our language have not only enriched Kazakh literature – they have been supporting Kazakh writers in their creative growth. Numerous copies of the single volume book by Pushkin, plays by A. Ostrovsky, such works by Soviet writers as A. Fadeyev’s Young Guard, B. Gorbatov’s Unbroken, V. Vasilevskaya’s Rainbow, N. Ostrovsky’s Born to the Storm, S. Babayevsky’s Companion of the Golden Star, P. Pavlenko’s Happiness, and M. Bubenny’s The White Birch have been published.
We feel proud about the accomplishments of or national literature, but we do not overlook its flaws. The historical solutions suggested by the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party in relation to the principal problems of Soviet literature and art helped us discover a number of harmful appearances in Kazakh literature. The Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party in Kazakhstan has claimed rough political mistakes to be made at Kazakhstan’s literary front. The republic’s party representatives disapproved greatly of some writers’ intention to drag our literature back by adding some elements of the bourgeois nationalist ideology to it.
The 4th Kazakhstani Bolshevist Convention, which was held a short while ago, did mention the constant improvement of Kazakh Soviet literature, but at the same time it was emphasized that some of our writers were trying to embellish the past of the Kazakh nation, its nomadic way of living, thus distorting the actual reality as well as the truth of history. In works by a number of authors, truthful and profound depiction of Soviet people, their noble minds and mental purity, has been substituted with reductionism and oversimplification.
The party’s guidance has encouraged us to start a new, even more relentless fight for Bolshevist, truly national art.
We writers of North Kazakhstan, a squadron in the great army of Soviet literature, feel sure that we will eliminate the shortcomings completely with guidance from Lening’s party. We shall dedicate our entire creative work to high-principled patriotic works to match the great Soviet nation, which is the builder of communism.
1949
RAISE THE BAR FOR LITERARY CRITICISM!
Kazakh Soviet literature has been developing and maturing with each year, being fit to take a leading place in the world of the multi-national Soviet literature. With a wealth of experience provided by classical Russian and contemporary Soviet literature to support it, it has been enriched with new motives and has elaborated complex approaches and forms of all genres within the period of its existence, which is more than twenty-five years.
We had no genres but for poetry represented by our only poet Abay before the October Revolution. The Kazakh nation owes the origination and development of its proper written literatures to the Soviet era, which has opened a vast space for it to demonstrate its physical and mental energy in every possible way.
Within the years, our army or writers and poets reared by the great Communist Party has grown. It must be emphasized that our Kazakh literature’s accomplishments of the recent period have been much longer lasting and more serious than it used to be about 10-15 years ago. It is not a happy coincidence that stands behind the comforting trend, it is not a stroke of luck with this or that writer; what accounts for it is a natural and real growth of personnel in terms of our literature.
Firstly, the leading part of the so-called older generation of Kazakh writers, fortified with experience and armed with the Marxist-Leninist theory, have taken the right way of analyzing their past artistic and ideological flaws and come to provide examples of sound works of deep messages.
Secondly, there was an incoming of talented and well-prepared youth in the post-war period, as it was all round the Soviet Union. It is worth noticing that some of its representatives have been seriously improving the heritage of the older generation.
Nowadays, all genres are present in Kazakh Soviet literature, though differently developed. The only sad exception is children’s and juvenile literature, which is, in a manner of speaking, rather unshaped. Though a circle of children’s writers has already been established here, we still fail to meet the increased demand of Soviet children and youth.
Writers of Kazakhstan owe much to their young readers.
As far as major fiction genres, that is, prose, poetry, and drama are concerned; their successful development has been en evidence of the maturity, which Kazakh Soviet literature has generally reached. Prose, which has shown stable development, is based on more refined and virile traditions, especially when it comes to its most complicated forms – the novel and the novelette. But short prosaic forms, such as short stories, novellas, essays, etc. remain underdeveloped. Such a dire condition of short prosaic forms has been unchanged within the recent decade. Our critics do not seem to have enough time or zest to shed some light on the reasons why this area is so backward.
In my opinion, drama should be treated as a genre, which is very close to prose. It is closely connected to the origination and development of Kazakh theatrical art as well as Kazakh actors. Our drama has made its first successful steps on its way to the All-Union stage. The best works by Kazakh dramatists have been translated by great Soviet dramatists such as B. Lavrenev, A. Zacobson, and others.
While the antebellum period showed a dominance of themes of the past, there has been a dramatic change in the situation recently. The genre now tackles upon a wider range of subjects and has been enriched with essential themes related to our contemporary life. But the most important and crucial point is that our drama has come to possess more experienced creative workers than the other literary genres.
Though it might hurt poets, but I believe Kazakh poetry to be inferior to the drama in terms of its artistic and ideological merits nowadays.
Our poetry has a longer history than all other types of Kazakh written literature. Represented by Abay, it used to have a deeply national origin based on a profound understanding of the artistic and ideological basis of revolutionary democratic poetry. Owing to Abay’s translations, the Kazakh people came to know about Pushkin’s and Lermontov’s poetry earlier than poets of other national republic of East Soviet Union and fathomed it deeper and more fully. The process of forming Kazakh poets, as it was all over the Soviet Union, implied constant learning from leading revolutionary poets headed by the outstanding poetic innovator V. Mayakovsky. Learning them and at the same time translating their works into the national language, our poets have mastered the artistic principles of Soviet poetry. Our poetical personnel outnumbers that of the others genres significantly. Thus, we are fully entitled to expect out poetry to provide a larger scale and more perfection.
In spite of the abovementioned serious problems, Kazakh Soviet literature is about to come onto the All-Union and world stage to be judged by a mature and exacting reader. All the three books of M. Auezov’s novel Abay, Bogatoz, The Syrdarya, and My Mekteps by S. Mukanov, Chiganak, The Millionaire, and Karaganda by G. Mustafin, A Soldier from Kazakhstan by G. Musrepov, The Expanse by G. Slanov, The Heart of the Altay by D. Abilev, and poems by A. Tazhibayev, T. Zharokov, G.Ormanov, Zh. Sain, Kh. Bekkhozhin, K. Amanzholov, and many others have been translated into Russian.
The best works by Kazakh authors have been translated into many languages.
The wonderful novel in three books Abay by M. Auezov awarded with the First Class State Prize has been translated into fifteen languages; the novel The Millionaire G. Mustafin has been translated into nine languages; the novel Botagoz by S. Mukanov has been translated into six languages; the novel A Soldier from Kazakhstan by G. Musrepov has been translated into seven languages. The play Kozy Korpesh and Bayan Slu by G. Musrepov has been translated into nine national languages of the Soviet Union. B. Lavrevev has completed a translation of the play Chokan Valikhanov by S. Mukanov.
It is worth mentioning that such talented Soviet writers as L. Sobolev, B. Lavrenev, A. Yakobson, S. Zlobin, I. Selvinsly, V. Lugovskoy, M. Zenkevich, P. Kuznetsov, N. Sidorenko, and others are willing to cooperate with us and translate our works.
The classics of Russian and world literature as well as outstanding Soviet works translated into Kazakh should be treated as most generous and precious contribution into our mental culture. The Kazakh Soviet library has been enriched with translated books more considerably than it has been with originally Kazakh works. Anna Karenina by L. Tolstoy, four volumes of lyrical poems and The Captain’s Daughter by A. Pushkin and A Hero of Our Time by Lermontov have been translated into Kazakh. Translations of major works by N. Gogol and I. Turgenev are nearly completed, fables by I. A. Krylov, Woe from Wit by A. S. Griboyedov, Who Lives Well in Russia by N. Nekrasov, The Storm, Talents and Admirers, and It’s Not all Shrovetide for the Cat by A. Ostrovsky, short stories by A. Chekhov, Otello, The Taming of the Shrewd by W. Shakespeare, Intrigue and Love by F. Shiller are being translated. Works by V. Hugo, O. Balzac, P. Merimee, D. Defoe, J. Verne, J. Swift, Nazym Khikmet (A Legend about Love and poems), Pablo Neruda, and certain short stories and poems by writers and poets from countries of people’s democracy have been translated as well.
The situation has been improved greatly in terms of translating works by outstanding Soviet writers and poets. Within the recent decade, My Universities, Childhood, Mother, Forma Gordeyev, The Lower Depths, Vassa Zheleznova, and a book of short stories by A. M. Gorky have been translated into Kazakhs; In the World and the poem Cladimir Ilyich Lenin as well as poems by V. Mayakovsky are currently being translated.
The Young Guard by A. Fadeyev has been republished; Virgin Soil Upturned and the first book of The Quiet Don by M. Sholokhov; the first two volumes of A. Tolstoy’s Peter I, A Pedagogical Poem by A. Makarenko, How Steel Was Tamed and Born of the Storm by N. Ostrovski, Tsusima by A. Novikov-Priboy, the first book of The White Birch by M. Bubennov, A Companion of the Golden Star by S. Babayevky, The Living Water by A. Kozhevnikov, two books of The Storm by V. Latsis, Story of a Real Man by B. Polevoy, The Rainbow by V. Vasilevskaya, and Looking Ahead by V. Panova have been published.
This was a brief account of the situation, which we have in terms of Russian literature in Kazakh.
It is very logical that the Union of Soviet Writers of Kazakhstan suggests the problems of literary criticism as a branch of science meant to shed theoretical light on the further development of our literature to be discussed publicly. It seems to me that it is high time we absolutely admitted that something quite unbearable in going on in our literature. Firstly, I cannot think of a mature literature tolerating utterly backward criticism and theory with such indifference or continuing its development with no theoretical generalization of its many years’ practice. It is beyond all reasonable doubt that the accomplishments of our literature would be much more significant if it had been assisted by scientific Marxist-Leninist criticism.
Problems of Kazakh literary criticism cannot be viewed as separate from the general objectives of Soviet Union as a whole as well as from progressive Soviet criticism.
Our critical theory is still underdeveloped; literary criticism as a truly scientific, meticulously creative work is underestimated.
In his report On the Objectives of Literary Criticism held at the 8th plenary meeting of USSR WU, Comrade Fadeyev mentioned dozens of scientific works dealing with issues of literary criticism and theory, while we cannot name a single work which contains a critical analysis of works by at least one writer, or at least one work, not to mention a whole genre or the entire literature. “Praising instead of criticism” was a very fair account of the few works by our critics, which were buried in oblivion before they saw the world given by The Pravda. Within the four years, which have passed after the meeting, numerous people have been awarded scientific degrees in Theory of Literature, but there still are no works analyzing the literary creative process
1It is only because works by Russian poets and writers who live in Kazakhstan are critically accessible all around the Soviet Union that I do not mention them.
in our republic profoundly. I cannot understand why works on literary theory, which can be used to obtain a title, cannot be published. Our scientists do not seem to care about the fact that there is an awful gap between literary theory and the practice. Apparently, there is the same gap between some people’s desire to get a degree and their scientific responsibility.
It is also a well-known fact that most pressing issues of Soviet literature have been constantly tackled upon in Pravda as well as in Literaturnaya Gazeta, but they have been neither studied nor discussed in our country, not to speak of implementing the theory in our literary practice. Knowing Kazakh literature to be drastically backward, our critics and scientists still do not find it necessary to study the reasons behind this phenomenon and help eradicate them.
The problem of a positive character that of typicality, issues of the specific nature of various literary genres, an others have been discussed in central media. But no single newspaper of our republic has succeeded in reaching the theoretical level necessary to be heard from Kazakhstan, to hold a discussion on at least one of the many burning problems of Kazakh Soviet literature. A vast majority of Kazakhstani writers remained speechless.
Our literary magazines, such as Adebiet Zhana Iskusstvo and Sovetsky Kazakhstan do not treat literary criticism as a matter of prime importance.
Dozens of people are laboring to fathom the most expansive critical and theoretical legacy of Great Russian thinkers and such revolutionary democrats as Belinski, Chernyshevski, Dobrolyubov, and others, thus contributing to the welfare of the theoretical part of Soviet literature. However, our nation has been doing very little even in terms of translating the works into Kazakh. In Kazakh schools, where children are taught in their mother language, no books by Belinski and Chernyshevski are present, because of which pupils have to work out an idea of them based on what they are told. The only small book of critical articles by Belinski published in a translation by our scientist writers is rife with mistakes, crude inaccuracy, and is absolutely unfit for practical usage. The main point is that neither the Writers’ Union nor educational establishments and research institutions work systematically to provide the possibility of familiarizing with the critical and theoretical legacy of revolutionary democrats in people’s native language.
The works by classical writers of Marxist-Leninist literature on art and literary theory published in a good translation, at least one book of such works must have become the indispensable guide for Kazakh writers long ago. However, we still lack such a book. It is a huge gap in the development of literary criticism, an artificially created literary famine.
What is the situation in terms of literary critics? Firstly, there has always been a lack of them, and no dramatic changes have taken place recently. Secondly, the first generation of Kazakh critics which seemed promising 15-20 years ago, represented by B. Kenzhebayev, T. Nurtazin, B. Shalabayev, Zh. Sarsekov, and some others, seems to have quitted. It looks like they failed to find any similarities between literary theory and criticism and became literary experts in various educational establishments of our republic. They are still entitled to love literature but are very indifferent to the dynamic literary process.
New critics entered the stage after graduating from universities in the post-war period. The young critics T. Akhtanov, K. Nurmakhanov, E. Buketov, S. Kirbayev, M. Sarsekeyev, T. Alimkulov, Z. Kabdulov, A. Nurkatov, and others demonstrate varyingly good background knowledge and skills. However, they lack experience, courage, and truly unveil, confidence their potential. Apparently, this is the only reason why they have a very reserved style and mostly submit reviews. It should be noted that the activities of young critics is unobstructed in our country, but they are still not as bold and energetic as one would expect.
What is bad is the fact that we still have no tradition of treating the critical work as a profoundly creative and noble activity to match a most progressive thinker, which is extremely necessary.
The low level of cultural and theoretical merits of our criticism shapes its tone, which is still largely dictatorial and rude. It is neither profound nor edifying and often is, in a manner of speaking, one legged. What our critics say concerning one work refers to this work only without providing a guiding idea for literature overall. As is self-obvious, the proficient all-Union criticism only pays attention to our literature in regard of this or that book, which appears in Russian. The most of what our critics produce remains out of view with the proper criticism aimed at helping writers. We could name dozens of authors whose works have never received a critical analysis, which are naturally stewing in their own juice. They include such poets as G. Maldybayev, A. Temirzhanov, who have not written anything for fifteen years after getting no support from literary critics. An even greater number of Kazakh poets and writers are definitely regressing. But critics do not seem to care
We cannot tolerate with the occasional principal discrepancies between the Soviet critical approach and our local idea of literary criticism. Soviet criticism is soundly edifying, while we sometimes act according to the saying, “beating determines consciousness.”
The gap between progressive Soviet criticism methods and our local idea of criticism has also influenced the critical articles, which appear in the republic’s newspapers.
In would be utterly unfair and principally incorrect to deny the enormous work done by the republic’s press in terms of literature, raising young creative workers, and spotting minor and major mistakes in literature in due time.
However, our editors often forget about common sense and sobriety.
To illustrate our observations, the story behind the novel Abay by M. Auezov and the autobiographic novel The School of Life by S. Mukanov can be told. It is a fresh on, a story, which took place in 1953.
It is a well-known fact that all Soviet newspapers, including those of our republic and later those of countries of people’s democracy has appreciated the ideological and artistic merits of the novel Abay as a large-scale literary work since its first volume was published in 1942, that is, for more than ten years. Indeed, the novel Abay is not only a new milestone in Kazakh literature but also an outstanding work of Soviet literature. However, it is also well known that on June 21, 1953 our most well reputed newspaper Kazakhstanskaya Pravda published a disturbing leading article, from which we could only infer that the novel was to be disposed of immediately. What did the article state?
Here are some extracts.
“M. Auezov has a wrongful approach to depicting the protagonist — Abay... We mostly see Abay surrounded by feudalistic bays and youth wasting their time idly...
The author attempts to portray despicable traitors of the Kazakh nation, who later turned into proper bourgeois nationalists, as positive characters, who allegedly affected Abay… Auezov lacks color to portray progressive Russian people. Their images are too impersonal and fail to convey the best of the Great Russian nation.
The author is reluctant to expose the regressive nature of pan-islamism and pan-turkism.
Numerous scenes of the old aul have an atmosphere of nostalgia about the feudal bay order. The author describes the time, which the people curse with undisguised sadness.
Feudal patriarchal customs and traditions are described with great sympathy and admiration.
Instead of exposing the anti-people role of the feudal patrimonial noblemen, M. Auezov glorifies them, portraying them as nearly the promoters of people’s interests.
M. Auezov ignores the working people.”
The article is an evidence of the abyss between the principles of Soviet literary criticism and our arbitrary understanding of them.
The novel Abay by M. Auezov is not flawless. The author has a manner of accusing those who are opposed to working people, which is far from being bold, but the novel us not finished it. We can judge it only when it is complete, but now, while it is being created, it is our duty to suggest remarks, which the author can use to finish his large work of many years.
The review of the youth newspaper Leninskaya Smena on Anov’s book The School of Life dated April 25, 1953, was even ruder. In its article Moved by the Past, the newspaper heaps obloquy upon the author for alleged idealization of the past and distortion of historic truth. The article calls the author’s sympathy with the poor “a hypocritical phrase”. The conclusion is as follows, “It was not worth taking one’s pen.”
One cannot remain calm and indifferent when talking about other flaws of our literary criticism. It is too tolerant in terms of flaws, sometimes even inert and shortsighted. It notices the worst diseases of literature too late and finds them in an advanced state.
For instance, let us talk about translation, essentially that of poetry. The situation is extremely bad. The majority of translators from Russian into Kazakh are literary craftsmen with no artistic thinking. No classical writer of world literature has ever become at least as popular as The Arabian Nights translated by the poet K. Abdukadyrov among Kazakh readers when translated by such people.
As it has been stated above, we translate Pushkin’s works systematically. However, the situation is not perfect. For some reason, the translation of Eugene Onegin was entrusted to the young inexperienced poet translator K. Shangitbayev. He did the job poorly. However, none of our critics seems worried about this. But the reasons behind the failure cry for analysis. To do the work is the great creative duty of our critics.
However, I cannot but mention the great success of our poets A. Tazhibayev (Ruslan and Lyudmila), Т. Zharokov (Prisoner of the Caucasus), Kh. Bekkhozhin (The Gavrilyad), G. Ormanov (Copper Horseman), Т. Аlimkulov (Bandit Brothers and The Bakhchisarai Fountain); К. Amanzholov (Poltava).
Numerous young Kazakhstani poets have shown their proficiency and knowledge by translating works by Pushkin. For instance, translations by S. Maulenov, М. Alimbayev, Zh. Omirbekov, А. Shamkenov, Т. Ismailov, etc. are and evidence of great creative accomplishments. However, Pushkin is not placed higher than the translators in works by I. Mambetov, K. Zharmagambetov, Abikenov, and others.
In this regard, I cannot but write about the carefully written critical article by the young scientist Sh. Sarybayev, which was printed in the first issue of the Sovetskiy Kazakhstan magazine in 1954. Analyzing the work dedicated to the translation of Pushkin’s poems meticulously, he provides incontestable evidence. All our editors and translations should read it.
When translating works by Abay or G. Tukay into Russian, we are entitled to demand the best and renowned poets of the WU USSR to do it, and so we do. By why do we let young poets, whose artistic manner is not mature yet, practice by translating Pushkin and Lermontov into Kazakh? I believe it to be very improper.
The situation concerning the translation of V. Mayakovsky's works is also bad. “It is especially difficult to translate my poems,” the author said himself, “I introduce the common colloquial language into verse.”
Translating Pushkin and Lermontov, Abay learned as well, creating new forms of verse to match the new content. However, our contemporary translators do not seem to look for new forms when translating Mayakovsky. No translation of his works can be called truly successful.
When reading the translations, one cannot get the general feeling of Mayakovsky, his bright poetic style, his rhythmical patterns. We have obviously failed to find the key to his poems in terms of translations.
Flaws in prosaic translations are also numerous. However disappointing it may seem, some are present in the translation of I. S. Turgenev’s A Nest of Gentlefolk produced by our best prosaic writer M. Auezov. The translation A Nest of Gentlefolk is generally inferior to the translator’s own prose. M. Auezov has prepared a brilliant theatrical translation of Lyubov Yarovaya by K. Trenev, The Inspector General by N. Gogol, Otello and The Taming of the Shrewd by W. Shakespeare, and other works. However, the translation of translation A Nest of Gentlefolk does not make an impression of an exacting and artistically skilled translator.
It is absolutely unclear why the social meaning behind such words as “world”, “the world of fashion”, or “estate” has been changed: the worlds “world” and “the world of fashion” have been translated as “the cultured society” or “the cultured society”, while “estate” has been translated as “settling” or “town”, and “the science of the world” has been translated as “the science of manners.”
The Young Guard translated by G. Slanov is rife with factual mistakes. In the second edition, improved, the translator made his translation sound much better stylistically; the book has come to share nearly every peculiarity of the original. However, it still has lots of twisting, ad-libbing, and ill language.
The first volume of The Silent Don (translated by N. Baymukhamedov), two volumes of Peter I (translated by Kh. Zhabasov) and others need serious editorial consideration.
As a significant accomplishment in the sphere of prosaic translations, A Captain’s Daughter translated by A. Tazhibayed, A Hero of Our Time by Zh. Sain, and Carmen by Merimee translated by A. Ipmagambetov should be named. Misused language and rough translations are very few in the texts.
Another serious issue on which our literary criticism should be focused is that of literary language. A number of the republic’s newspapers have published articles concerning it.
I would like to analyze two latest articles in Sotsialistic Kazakhstan — those by Professor M. Balakayev and the writer M. Auezov.
Professor M. Balakayev rightfully demands pure literary language with all its unprejudiced laws and standards adhered to. He is absolutely to claim that certain writers misuse the so-called inversion. However, I believe Professor M. Balakayev to be deliberately exaggerating linguistic flaws and inferring arbitrarily when it comes to works by M. Auezov.
He writes, “But this tendency of his (that is, the art of creating new collocations) has been recently turned into liberty, and his language is getting farther and farther from that of the people... As we can see from his texts, Auezov believes confusing and oversophisticated language to be an artistic merit…” Having provided several unconvincing examples, Balakayev states, “This all proves that the author does not take the law of his mother language into consideration and goes beyond its standards.” It is clear that Auezov, a writer who is very particular about wording, could not have given the critic a reason for such conclusions. Certain long-forgotten words, such as “norpir”, “nor”, “durk”, “oberkeu”, etc. «will definitely linger in his words only. But one cannot infer that Auezov does not take linguistic standards into consideration judging this way. Auezov enriches our literary language with reinterpreted literary collocations, thus making their inner relations between the words wider and deeper.
In his response to the article by Professor M. Balakayev, M. Auezov at first seems to admit the principal significance of the article, but he fully refutes it while reasoning. His main argument is a single phrase – “poetical vocabulary is not common vocabulary.” Now we definitely need a clear-cut definition of poetical vocabulary, because it is difficult to understand. It is not easy to infer it from the following, “Sometimes it is interesting in terms of eloquence to employ poetical syntax or «a poetically vocabulary consisting of new (fresh?) words.” The words “eloquence” and “syntax” make it sound even more confusing, for it is clear that the poetical vocabulary will be drained as soon as it takes us away from the real life.
The main flaw of our criticism is its standard and stereotypical requirements to all works.
Such criticism does not consider the peculiar features of genres, the latters’ law and standards; it speaks a lot on the message but says nothing on what has been done to convey it.
Drama, which has been getting more critical response than any other genre, can be an illustration.
Let us analyze a very typical review printed in Sotsialistakh Kazakhstan” on December 9, 1953 and dealing with the play My Love by the young dramatist M. Imanzhanov.
«A blossoming steppe... Summer and winter grazing land for all the four kinds of cattle is spread from the Alatau to Balkhash...
Even this small valley of our vast republic can be called a smith’s shop of thought and labor aimed at the development of animal breeding.
Multifaceted research is being conducted in scientific laboratories. The enormous experience of kolkhoz and sovkhoz production, the creative aspiration of each scientists and chaban is contributing greatly into the comprehensive program for further development of socialist animal breeding by merging to form a single stream and bring new beneficial discoveries. This is the theme of M. Imazhanov’s play My Love. It gives an account of a new fine-fleece breed, alatau, which was tested and has been bred as the one, which yields a lot of wool.
It is a common fact that Kazakhstan plays a major role in our country’s animal breeding. Along with other domestic animals, an expansion of fine-fleece sheep breeding is currently an issue to be paid special attention to by laboring republics…”
In a manner of speaking, this is the starting point of Zh. Altabayev, who us the author of the articles. There is no single word on what kind of a solution is given to the main conflict dramatically, or how novel and typical it is.
“A drama must be severely, thoroughly efficient,” А. М. Gorky says in his article On Plays. In new plays, which are based on a modern social conflict, a tiniest accomplishment of the author is essential to us, but it is even more important to know the extent to which the conflict chosen by the author motivates the action. However, our critic does not tackle upon the question. He avoids speaking on the elaboration of the conflict and the extent to which it fascinates the reader with its idea and truthful artistic solution.
Besides, our critics failed to provide a comprehensive analysis of the play Bloom, Steppe! By A. Tzhibayev. Candidate of Philology А. Malovichko gives a more or less correct definition of the play’s ideological content but does not mention its artistic merits or demerits in the second issue of the 1953 Sovetskiy Kazakhstan magazine.
What re the critical reviews, which we have on poetry and prose? It is worth mentioning that a trend which I believe to be very important is clearly seen in our poets’ works, — a transition to a larger scale. G. Yergaliyev has written four large poems, which are The Girl From Our Aul, A Father’s Confession, The Broad Way, Your River; Т. Zharokov has written two large poems — The Woods Rustling in the Steppe and Temir Tau; Abilev has written an extensive poem which has been called a novel in verse, The Ailtay Heart, while A. Tazhibayev, who seemed to have transferred to drama, has finished his Komsomol Speaks consisting of five small poems dedicated to the first spring of soil clearing. After staying silent for a long time, А. Togmagambetov is working successfully on the first chapters of his poem The Word Unmouthed. The works depict the broad work enthusiasm of the Soviet people, their railway construction, factory, and mine accomplishments, showing the leading and the backward of industry as well as agriculture.
Such a new and reassuring phenomenon is an evidence of a common raise of our poetry, a common raise of our poetry, which is generally backward now, to come soon.
Our poets’ social boom seemed to be sure to claim the attention of literary critics.
However, there is nobody to speak on these works clearly and without flatter. Articles of our newspapers looked more colorful with phrases like “a noble aspiration”, “a timely aspiration”, “an expected response”, “it’s a topical subject”, “an essential subject”, “we can see art”, “we can see the fire of breathing, etc. But where they see and hear it is veiled in silence (not to let the friend down!). Neither the dramas’ composition, nor the elaboration of the plot, nor definite images of the characters have lingered in my memory.
Our critics do not seem to care about negative trends either. In my opinion, such poets as К. Abdukadyrov, Zh. Syzdykov, A. Khangelding, S. Mashakov, M. Khamizhanova, O. Malkraov, A. Onalbayev, S. Selov, and K. Mukushev lose their unique voice when being generally exposed.
For instance, it affected the response to the Komsomol campaign aimed at reclaiming virgin soil. Everything that was published in relation to the subject sound labored, unconvincing, and insincere. The poet Zh. Sain mostly travels on what he had said on the friendship between Russian, Ukrainian, and Kazakh people before, in his military poetical series. His line reading as “Go, Dear, the apple of my eye!” addressed to the members of Komsomol sent to Kazakhstan from the RSFSR and Ukraine sounds like rosewater.
The young poet M. Alimbayev devotes twenty eight lines of his poem (out of forty four) to the description of Aysha waiting for the guests with a table laid, while the remaining sixteen describe a guest’s toast: he tells that his father went to the Amur during the first five-year plan, and he has now arrived in Kazakhstan to support the tradition originating with his father. “And let us drink!” No more thoughts. The poet T. Alimkulov failed to invent anything but a lyrical description of the once barren steppe. It is only in the last eight lines of his poem (out of fifty-two) that he mentions a tractor and virgin soil turning. Another poet, Amanshin, has more ideas than the previous two, but they get a very prosaic wording.
Some of other writers and poets have fallen behind because of an extremely poor culture. However, other reasons may exist. Critics must keep their eye open for thing like this to give a helping hand to their comrades when they need it.
But a critic praising a bad work does rather harm than good. It is all the more harmful if the alleged favor is done by editors of a well-reputed newspaper. That was the case when the Sotsialistik Kazakhstan newspaper attempted to help amateur poets. On November 9, 1953, the newspaper published a review of poems, which had been sent to the editorial office called “The Party’s Thoughts”.
“People’s love for the Party is overwhelming,” the article read, “this is why people dedicate their most felicitous word which comes from the bottom of their heart, the most passionate feeling to the party.” Then comes a description of the poems quoted in the article, “All magnificence of the great love which people’s heart has for the party.”
But what poems does the newspaper quote to back up the assertion, which implies a great responsibility? What does it call a fervent word that comes from the bottom of one’s heart? That is where it gets into a scrape. None of the poems published in the newspaper can be called felicitous. They are mostly direct imitation of works by national akyns and poets, such as A. Tokmagambetov, G. Ormanov, and others.
In one of the poems, the newspaper’s editors failed to notice a direct plagiarism of lyrics by Baymukhamedov.
Baymukhamedov put it as follows, “Party kayda bolsa, zhenis sonda.”
The line is repeated several times in numerous variations. But the editors of Sotsialistik Kazakhstan claim a Zal. Zhunusov to finish his poem “Forever the Party” with lines of a deep message:
“Party kayda bolsa, khalyk sonda,
Party kayda bolsa, zhenis sonda.”
What does it indicate? The fact that the newspaper was extremely improvident in its desire to praise what was by no means worth the attention of a well-reputed newspaper.
Thus, the situation is dire when it comes to criticism. The article certainly fails to give a full account, but whatever has been omitted is not essential. The cultural and theoretical background knowledge of our literary critics is poor, and their writings lack efficiency. It is far easier to eradicate the very notion of vulgar literary authoritarianism, because things of the kind cannot last in the Soviet Union. But to upgrade the theoretical aspect of literary criticism to meet the requirements of the Party’s principles, scientific objectivity and profundity takes up labor and time. And no single literary worker, no matter if he is a scientist, a writer, or a critic, is entitled to refuse to do the hard job.
We must make every effort to help the literary criticism meet the high expectations of today and accomplish the objectives that the entire Soviet literature is to achieve.
1954
MESSENGER OF FRIENDSHIP
The great Kazakh poet and Enlightener Abay Kunanbayev lived and worked in the second half of the previous century when the first’s shoots of the new and unfamiliar could reach the Kazakh steppe. The Kazakh people, being economically, politically, and culturally backward, were beginning to be familiar with the Great Russian culture.
Abay Kukanbayev came to experience the outrageous despotism of the feudal society early and fought against it to protect the miserable. The poet was lucky to meet Russian revolutionary democrats in exile. They formed a lasting and true friendship. It were the Russian people who opened Abay’s eyes to see the world played a most crucial role in the formation of his views, his mindset.
From the very first day of his conscious literary activity, Abay was a poet of profound social and civil themes who tackled upon the most pressing problems of his epoch. He castigated the ruling class mercilessly. But Abay did not go any further; he merely encouraged his people for a revolution. Thus, the poet was historically and nationally narrow-minded.
However, silent preaching is not characteristic of Abay’s works. We appreciate the poet’s realistic exposure of the feudalistic vice, for he inherited the progressive traditions of the Russian literature of the 19th century and acted as an Enlightener of his nation.
In Abay’s time, the problem of Kazakh education, progressive democratic Russian upbringing of the nation had become central. Another Enlightener, Chokan Valikhanov (1835—1865), an educated man of his time and a Russian officer, had a large-scope program. A most renowned pedagogue of Northeast Kazakhstan, a poet and a public person, Ibray Altynsarin (1841—1889) addressed the same issues. He opened Kazakh schools, driving mullahs, Islamic preachers out of the steppe. Altynsarin was the first to publish a Kazakh textbook based on the Russian alphabet and create a reader of the kind. In his poems and edifying works, he celebrates the Russian progressive culture, encouraging friendship with the Russian nation.
Abay’s poetical work is distinguished through a bold adherence to the social principles of art and intense intrusion into life, which is common for his works and Soviet poetry. He was objected to celebrations of abstract beauty, nostalgia for the old times, the “golden age” of the clan system, as well as to nomadic subsistence economy, the advocates of which were violently anti-urbanistic.
Abay achieved a high artistic level by studying Russian literature profoundly. However, he saw a clear difference between the Russian of Pushkin and Chernyshevsky, and that of tsarism. This is why he satirizes tsarist bureaucratic officers in some of his poems. The very significance of Abay as an Enlightener is his effort to share the legacy of progressive thinkers with Kazakh people and instill a hatred for tsarism in them. In his poems Here I Am, A Volost Administrator, To Kulembaym and others, the poet reveals the true identity of the tsar’s henchmen, fat cats of the steppe, their stupidity, avarice, cowardice, and nothingness, their disgusting cringing before the seniors. His works resemble the bitter satire of Shchedrin and Gogol.
Being an implacable enemy of the routine and staleness of the feudalistic patriarchal life and custom, the cried shame upon the existing order and was tireless in his search for the truth. However, Abay could not think of a way to put an end to the social oppression of his people. Being optimistic in his ideas, Abay was lonely in his community, which made his feel desperate. Summing up his long life, which had been full of struggle and worries, the poet wrote,
From mountain peaks
I shouted to the world,
And echo was my return.
I wandered about the face of the earth,
Searching for someone to give a response
But ages have passed,
And I can see nothing but peaks
And hear nothing but the hollow echo.
But the poet’s big heart, though torn “into forty pieces” by the untruthful world, would not stop caring about his people. Abay’s poetry became complicated and expansive. In his civil poems, he celebrated the human accomplishment, the man’s will and mind, showing that he puts faith in his infinite aptitude. It is labor that the poet treated as the principal criteria of human dignity. Only conscious, honest, and useful labor can dignify a man. Abay believed the fact that his contemporaries, being accommodated to a blood-sucking lifestyle, did not do any socially useful work, to be the reason behind most of their flaws.
Numerous poems by Abay deal with moral problems. He called for the old law, custom, tradition, and morals to be reviewed. The poet advocated the human nature of the man, celebrating his love of the world, of nature, of life, and for people. The essence of Abay’s humanism was brotherhood of all workers around the world and reciprocal cultural enrichment.
Being the pioneer of Kazakh written literature, Abay introduced his major innovations to poems written under the artistic influence of Pushkin and Lermontov, Goethe and Byron. Growing deeper and wider, his creative aspirations did not lose their unique character, and the distinctiveness of his talent was preserved.
The verse created by Abay was absolutely contrary to the ancient Oriental traditions. It can be traced in his social-themed works as well as in his lyrical poems. It is hard to convey the beauty and the charm of Abay’s poetry in a different language. However, even translations bear an unmistakable trace of his innovative proficiency.
When shadows grow long
And the sunset is coolly crimson
And the time draws the line
To go behind the hills, —
I shall mourn in the silence,
Seized by the dew fall,
Twilight shall be aglow.
My entire life is behind me.
The original lines are authentically enticing.
My head is gray with dreams.
The foliage of my hopes is yellow and dry.
Here we can see a novelty even at the level of collocations; none of Kazakhs could think of saying “foliage of hopes” before Abay. This very new imagery was created by the poet in the course of his work on translations and received a logical and convincing wording in a number of his poems to come into common use in Kazakh literature as a whole.
Before the Revolution, the life of an Oriental woman was especially hard and sad. Abay managed to depict the best features of a Kazkh woman, the purity and depth of his feelings, her high morals, her loyalty in love and friendship. He collapsed the torrent of his revealing rage on adherents of the Sharia Law, calling those who advocated the kalym indecent sellers and buyers of their own children. Abay saw the emancipation of the Kazakh woman within the framework of Russian culture, the progressive public ethics.
Abay was a pioneer in terms of national Kazakh poetic forms as well. Researches have estimated the amount of new Kazakh forms of verse introduced by the poet to be as large as seventeen have. If you add the distinctive intonation patterns of his poems and their most sophisticated and diverse inner rhythm, Abay’s significance as that of innovator will seem even more overwhelming. The great poet had such a well-developed sense of the form-and-content relationship that each single work of his written by the mature author can illustrate their unity.
In Abay’s prosaic contemplations, he appears to be a humanist, a democrat who secures the people’s interests and exposes the vile of the oppressors. It should be notice that Abay eventually infers happiness to be a social category, meaning that it requires a reconstructed society.
Being passed on by word of mouth, Abay’s philosophy came to be widely spread. The lines by the enlightening have been accompanying the nation in joy and sorrow. The Kazakh have loved his word and trusted in it as that of their wise protector. “Learn from the Russians,” Abay said, “They have the light and the knowledge.”
Besides, Abay was a distinctive composer. Up to twenty melodies composed by him have been preserved by now. They have an unmistakable groove and are richly intonated; in spite of their being surprisingly similar to Russian songs, they are absolutely authentic. What we can see is a happy conflux of two lyrical traditions enriched by the genius of Abay.
Being a polymathic, well-cultured man of his time, Abay mastered Russian to perfection by means of self-education, studied numerous progressive works of Russian and world literature as well as the philosophy of materialism. Abay’s merit in historical respect is his being one of the first to promote Russian revolutionary democratic culture so efficiently in the East, promulgating the immortal works of Pushkin, Lermontov, Krylov, and other writers with his translations. Kazakh intellectual culture, a synthesis of which Abay’s works are, is rooted deeply in that of Russia.
These days, when the entire country is commemorating Abay Kunanbayev by celebrating his 50th death anniversary, we call Russian people our elder brother again, rightfully proud, for they have nourished our intellectual maturity and given it its wings, stimulated our growth and progress. Again, we glorify Abay, the messenger of the eternal friendship of two nations
1954
ERA OF MATURITY
To estimate the actual situation of Kazakh literature, we have to find out how truthfully and profoundly the socialist reality is depicted in it and to what extent the artistic form matches the ideological content of its words. To put it differently, we have to estimate the extent to which Soviet Kazakh writers have mastered the method of socialist realism.
We faced the second meeting of Soviet Kazakhstani writers with only a few short stories, several novelettes, mostly unfinished, and several flawed novels.
Our significant works included then The Mysterious Banner by Sabit Mukanov, My Peers by Sattar Yerubayev, and Life and Death by Gabiden Mustafin.
To create a large novel sounded like a dream of a distant future. We lacked both daring and creative potential to talk about mastering the method of socialist realism. Now Kazakh prosaic workers have become more numerous and come to provide a better quality. A new team of new young writers, who are very promising, has joined our writers’ organization.
While the leading genre of the second meeting was poetry, now the place is rightfully occupied by prose.
Supported by Russian culture, Soviet Kazakh prose has now entered the all-Union and world cultural stage. Such works as Abay, Botagoz, and The Millionaire are well-known not only among our readers, but also abroad.
The success of Soviet Kazakh literature can be explained by the fact that our writers have been adhering to the ideological and artistic requirements set by the method of socialist realism, which requires the message to fir the wording, that is, the content to be one with the form.
Let us study a number of examples.
In recent years, the four-volume novel by M. Auezov Abay, which is famous among Soviet readers, depicting a history of fifty years of the Kazakh nation in a most comprehensive way, covering the issues of the social relations that existed in the Kazakh steppe of the time, has been finished. The work introduced the Soviet public to the life of Kazakhs as well as the life and works of our great poet Abay. It is a major success of Soviet literature.
The novel The Mysterious Banner by Sabit Mukanov exposes the deed social controversy of the Kazakh steppe that was finally eliminated under the October of 1917.
While in the novels Chiganak and The Millionaire by Gabiden Mustafin we see pioneers, the most advanced people of the kolkhoz aul, kolkhoz labor in The Syrdarya by Sabit Mukanov and Distant Vastness by Gabdol Slanov is shown as the great power of socialist transformation of soil.
The abovementioned works do have certain flows, which are described below, but they present a proper depiction of our socialist reality, showing our active participation in life and its transformation.
Within the period from the second to the third meeting, our Motherland was affected by the greatest historical event ever – the Great Patriotic War. The novelette The Young Generation by Alzhappar Abishev, the novel Kurland by the young writer Abdizhamil Nurpeisov, the novelette Zheksen by the young writer Orazalin and A Soldier from Kazakhstan by G. Musrepov are dedicated to it.
The military theme was a challenge for Kazakh writers. We should treat these works as the result of a decent aspiration to novelty.
For a long time, Kazakh writers did not dare tackle the working class issue. Now we have four novels depicting the life of the working class in Kazakhstan. They are a considerable contribution to our literature. They are Zhanartau by G. Slanov, which depicts the life of oil workers, Sea Child by A. Sarsenbayev, which is dedicated to the life of fishers, The Land Awakened by G. Musrepov, and Karaganda by G. Mustafin, which depict two periods of life of Karaganda coal miners.
We must mention the first success of young prosaic writers who entered our literature after the Great Patriotic War. They are S. Shaymerdenov with his novelette Road to the Future depicting the life of students and young scientists, M. Ymanzhanov, the author of the novelette The First Months, and B. Sokpakbayev, who wrote the novelette In a Distant Aul.
Writers of Kazakhstan have been penetrating various aspect of our life in their attempt to embrace all of its essential aspects.
A trend that is significant for the future is present in our literature. It is that of shedding some light on tomorrow along with addressing the most burning problems of today.
We currently have a group of prosaic workers who prefer the genre of short stories. They are Seytzhan Omarov, Mukan Ymanzhanov, Berdybek Sokpakbayev, and Toleukhan Sagymbayev.
Baubek Bulkyshev, whose short life was interrupted at the front of the Great Patriotic War, has brought our journalistic prose to a much higher level with the help of his felicitously worded articles and sketches. The essay has been developed to act as the basis for larger works in the future. This can be regarded as the inner genre enrichment of Kazakh literature.
Remarkably, it is the works which meet the requirements of socialist realism most that become most wide-spread and long remembered. Such works influence further development of the national literature greatly.
In this respect, let us study the four volume novel by Mukhtar Auezov Abay, which is an outstanding representative of Kazakh prose.
What are the requirements? In recent years, such issues as the creation of a positive character, those of conflict, composition, language, idea, and form have been addressed both in central and republican newspapers. However, as they have been addressed as isolated matters, with no consideration of their interconnections, the requirements set by the method of socialist realism for a work of art could not be seen as a whole and sometimes grew less clear and rather vague.
In my opinion, the method of socialist realism requires a complete integrity of the form and the content. No “topicality” talk can save a work that is artistically poor, that is, has a poor imagery. Just as the content should not be treated as separate from the form, the idea should not be treated separately from artistic skills. Nothing must be neglected for the sake of something else. If the positive images of a work are convincing and complex, their negative opponents must be just as convincing and vivid. Conflict denotes a struggle of two opposite things. If one of its parties is a strong positive character and the other is weak, the positive one is sure to lose under the circumstances.
A great ideological message can only reach the conscience of a reader when being depicted by the author in a truly comprehensive way through struggling and conflicts which are real and correspond to certain phenomena of life. The convincing and true-life nature of the man and side plot lines depends on how successful the author’s choice of characters and depiction of their actions is. An image is created out of thoughts and actions. No image is possible without action. The language of a work is of great significance as well. The artistic nature of it lies in the style and in the masterful composition, a continuous elaboration of events and conflicts, developing characters created with a sense of aesthetical moderation.
The extent to which the requirements are met depend on the author’s artistic power and skills. When I mention the novel Abay by M. Auezov first, I believe the work to match the artistic and ideological demand of the socialist realism method to the fullest extent.
Our young and mature writers whose ambition is to master the art of literature will learn from this novel for a long time. Most of its characters, especially that of Abay, have become types, “familiar strangers”. Each of us has his or her own idea of the poet Abay, his inner features and appearance. The image of Abay created by M. Auezov fits the people’s idea of their beloved poet. Thus, the reading public accepted the image, believing it it. Throughout the novel, we see Abay, a great poet who mourned his miserable nation and showed it the way to the future, promoting friendship with the great Russian people.
Abay is not alone in the novel. He has the support of the best representatives of the working mass, such as Darkembay, Bazarly, and Darmen. They are opposed to the patriarchal feudalistic custom of the Kazakh steppe. M. Auezov breaks no historical tradition. In the novel Abay, we can see the masses both violently rebellious and helpless.
Creating Abay’s image and those of representatives of the working mass, the writer found vivid and impressive means of portraying. However, he did not make the negative images any weaker. There is no character within the group of people opposed to Abay who could fall with a wift of wind.
Characters of a despotic and violent nature are portrayed in the novel, including Kunanbay and the son of Takezhan, against whom Abay fought for his entire life. Depicting the deeds and thoughts of Alshibay, Bozhey, Karatay, and others, the writer tell us how strong feudalism was in the steppe back then.
This is the way in which the truth of history is depicted in the novel. Remarkably, both hostile parties are presented as equally strong opponents.
The trigger of social struggle in the novel is unlawful seizure of land from weaker clans, which was the real reason of Kodar’s death. Throughout the four volumes, the struggle never subsides; it is fascinating and engaging. Darkembay, Togzhan, old Iis, and especially the way of Abay evoke joy and sorrow in us. It demonstrates the author’s skills of composition, his ability to depict the progression of events, to expose the inner world of his characters through their actions and, finally, provoke either sincere love for a character of hatred for it. If you take into account the picturesque style full of live and thought, you will have a full idea of works by M. Auezov.
Abay is a novel about the future of the Kazakh nation. It would be unthinkable without the friendship with the Great Russian people, their progressive ideas and culture. We can feel the end of spontaneous forms of class struggle approaching and the way of conscious struggle and revolution being revealed to the Kazakh masses. It is the struggle for the future what makes the image of Abay appealing to our readers.
Novels about Abay would definitely be impossible without the experience accumulated in our literature within the previous period.
In this regard, the works by Sabit Mukanov, who is rightfully considered one of the founders of Kazakh Soviet literature, is of special significance. Being the first Kazakh novel, his work The Mysterious Banner influenced the process of creating the novel Abay. Generally speaking, the work has influenced the development of our prose greatly. For the first time in Kazakh literature, the issue of social controversy as addressed, being the matter largely considered by the great Kazakh enlighteners Chokan Valikhanov, Abay, and Ibray Altynsarin. In his novel, Sabit Mukanov showed that the issue as well as the entire future of the Kazakh nation could only be settled by means of a proletarian revolution. The character of The Mysterious Banner Askar takes the revolutionary path which neither Abay nor Valikhanov, who lived in a different time, could have taken. In fact, Askar carries on their initiative under different conditions. I believe Askar to be another “familiar stranger”, as Belinsky put it. The image of Askar, a common aul teacher, has become a generalized character of a revolutionary democratic Kazakh highbrow. The character provides an expansive image of the epoch. The author does not blow whistle on the character’s life.
He demonstrates Askar’s consciousness growing and the character gradually comes to be a true revolutionary. The image of Askar is used to deeply illustrate a most important idea, that is, the impossibility of the nations which used to be oppressed like the Kazakhs before the Revolution to change their situation in any other way but by subverting their abusers.
The novel The Mysterious Banner by S. Mukanov proved to be entitled to last. It largely meets the requirements of socialist realism. The social class controversy are depicted as tightly interwoven with the character’s life in The Mysterious Banner. Both positive characters and their enemies are portrayed in a most vivid way. Thus, the novel is important to Kazakh Soviet prose. However, it is still unclear why the author decided to call it Botagoz. In the final analysis, it is not the daughter but the son of the Kazakh nation who is the protagonist, and the book’s message is conveyed not through minor lyrical characters but through scenes of social struggles. Thus, the new title makes the book sound somehow weaker.
As I have already stated, our prosaic writers address the problems which our society is currently facing as well as those of tomorrow.
The positive trend is largely represented by Chiganak and The Millionair by Gabiden Mustafin. It can also be traced in other novels and novelettes: The Syrdarya, The First Months, The Road to the Future, and Distand Vastness. The trend is new to Soviet Kazakh prose.
It is an evidence of the mature state of our literature. The novelty originated with Gabiden Mustafin.
Within the 15 years which passed between the two conventions, G. Mystafin came to play a major role in Soviet literature after finishing three novels. He has contributed greatly to directing our literature towards the problems of today.
To depict our today’s reality is a complicated task, which is not even commonly approachable. Mustafin demonstrates a creative growth by creating generalized images of our contemporaries. His novel The Millionaire, which has been translated into many languages, is already represented in world literature. However, I believe his Chiganak to meet the requirements of socialist realism to a fuller extent. To my mind, Chiganak provides an extended description of numerous aspects of our life. The protagonist of the novel Chiganak Bersiyev is the generalized progressive agricultural worker. He is truly a type of an image. The greatest advantage about it is the fact that nothing is unnatural about Chiganak’s working activities or outlook. The character is portrayed in a simple and convincing manner, presenting a modest and trustworthy man. Having been brought up within the national tradition framework in the best meaning of it, the character remains an advanced workman of his epoch. Thus, the image can serve as a most admirable example for the kolkhoz mass.
Apart from depicting common people like Chiganak, the author exposes the remnants of the old days which harm the life of kolkhozes in a most bold manner. He convincingly describes scenes of the old and the new fighting against each other in agriculture. There is no false enthusiasm about the novel. This is what makes it such an interesting reading. It means that the author has found right artistic means for the novel’s message. This is why I believe Chiganak to meet the requirements of the socialist realism method more than The Millionaire does.
The matter addressed in The Millionaire is undoubtedly of great importance – the novels shows prospects of kolkhoz building development and the relations between socialist and private ownership. Judging by the experience of numerous kolkhoz farms, we can tell that the larger a kolkhoz’s collective property grows, the less necessary private property is for its member. In a kolkhoz, where a working day provides an opportunity to meet every financial demand of its members, private ownership would interfere with the increase of income per working day. It is true. However, the idea got no representation in the struggle part of the novel. It has neither advocates nor oppositionists. The Millionaire shows the ideological struggle between the innovative Zhomart and Dzhakup, who prefers not to go any extra miles. The crucial issue that the author tackles so shyly does not really fit the conflict. Being underdeveloped artistically, the right idea comes to a clash with the requirements of the September plenary meeting.
One of the most significant works, which originated due to the onset of active invasion into socialist life is the novel The Syrdarya by Sabit Mukanov. It tells us of large patches of fertile soil yielding a luxury of harvest due to public kolkhoz labor. The author’s intention is to show that economic and cultural building is not stagnated during the rough time of the Great Patriotic War; on the contrary, its development grows even more intense to give the enemies who threaten our peaceful work a truly hard blow. Having deep knowledge of what life is like; the author depicts the achievements of the creation which has to be performed under most trying conditions. He demonstrates the public support given to such major issues as channel cutting and dam construction.
If we consider The Syrdarya in relation to the objectives concerning the expansion of kolkhoz production and its enforcement, the novel appears to consort with today’s matters of virgin and fallow land taming. One of the novel’s major characters, Syrbay, is an innovative worker like Chiganak. Recently, other writers have been referring to Mukanov’s works to present characters like Chiganak and Syrbay in their plays. This represents the significance of The Syrdarya in terms of depicting the great truth of the socialist life.
It used to be hard for a nation like the Kazakhs, who used to be nomadic and do nothing but breed animals, to start growing crops, cutting channels, and mastering new agricultural devices.
We still face a number of difficulties in this respect.
The stage which the advanced areas of the Soviet Union have long left behind them still lingers in some of Kazakhstani kolkhozes. What I mean is the excessive attention which certain people pay to their private property, thus cheating the public of its rightful share, idles and slackers, and indifference to innovative devices – the remnants of the old aul lifestyle which still have to be fought. Thus, we need to estimate the social significance of such works as The Syrdarya and Distant Vastness, which celebrate socialist labor, correctly.
Apart from works dedicated to raising the principal agricultural issues, we have several books of great significance which depict the life of contemporary workers. In a manner of speaking, our writers have to upturn virgin soil to work in the sphere. Remarkably, writers who present a profound depiction of the life of the working class never regret it. They are inspired to create. Just like large-scale industry has the power to upgrade agriculture, depicting the life of the working class gives our literature a variety of opportunities for representation of our reality.
Among the works which are dedicated to the working class, the novel Karaganda by Mustafin, which has already been published in Kazakh and Russian and become widely known, is worth special mentioning. Judging by the novels’ reception in central and republic newspapers, the author has definitely achieved his goal. Having got some experience from his earlier novels, the writer managed to present a number of full-blooded images in this work. He depicted the history of the industrial giant of the Kazakh steppe. The novel Karaganda portrays Soviet people. Such major characters as Meyram and Sherbakov meet every requirement for generalization, and the novel is largely satisfactory in terms of its meeting the artistic and ideological requirements for socialist realism.
The first effect of it has been the good reception which Karaganda got with the public.
As we have already noted, one of the characteristic features of Soviet Kazakh literature is the great interest which it takes in life. The works of our young prosaic writers are mostly marked by it as well. While Mukan Ymanzhanov addressed the issues of polytechnization of schools, which are of utter importance now, in his works, Safuan Shaymerdenov depicted the struggle against the backwardness of biology in his Road of Life.
One of our young writers, Abdizhamil Nurpeisov, depicts the strength, firm will, and consciousness of the young Soviet people who were brought up by the Communist Party in the rigor of the Great Patriotic War.
Due to works by young gifted writers, our literature has been enriched with positive images of scientists such as Bozhanov and Dobrov as well as those of Soviet warriors – Yesey, Skorikov, and others.
Each of our young writers has a peculiar manner of depicting the characters and feelings of Soviet youth, of which a great power of observation and fresh colors as well as a deep understanding of the reality are characteristic. It is utterly important for our prose.
The first thing we can infer now is the fact that Soviet Kazakh prose has taken the right way in terms of theme diversity, active interest in life, and ideological growth. It should be developed in this respect.
However, it would be an illusion to say that Soviet Kazakh literature has generally achieved the level at which it completely and perfectly meets the requirements of socialist realism in terms of its artistic and ideological merits.
As Soviet literature in general, Kazakh Soviet prose has found the right way of development, but lots of its problems remain unsolved. This is the point which I would like to emphasize. We have solved the problem of ideological lacunae, but as long as we keep failing to preserve the integrity of ideology and beauty, good ideas are sometimes tarnished and depreciated. Thus, the works which we believe to meet the requirements of socialist realism sometimes turn out to fail the task. Some of our writers succeed in generalized images, others are good at creating intense dramatic conflicts, and some are keen on another thing. However, we have works which fail to meet numerous requirements of socialist realism. Their message is deprived of its proper artistic form. The works should be treated as stillborn. We have not cured the ailment completely yet.
I have mentioned the novel Abay by M. Auezov, which is a work which adheres to the principles of socialist realism completely. However, it would be disorderly or coward of us to refrain from giving some critical feedback to assist the writer in completing the work on which he has been toiling for many years now.
Personally I find it disagreeable that the mature Abay happens to be not the initiator of the public trend but merely its witness and adherent, as well as his supporting the spontaneous protest of the mass only at the crucial moment. I believe it to prove Abay as the protagonist acting as the people’s leader to lack decisiveness and vigor.
There is one more thing to it. We do remember a large speech of the author. I mean the scene when the ideas and thoughts of revolutionary democrats reached the Kazakh steppe with Chernyshevsky’s disciples or adherents and Abay was listening to them with all of his being. What kind of soil did the ideas find in the Kazak steppe, that is, in the heart of the general public? Did the seed take root? If yes, how did it develop and how did it influence Abay’s outlook? Whether Abay was inferior or superior to the generalized man of his time should be defined by his attitude to the public trends of the time, and this is the aspect in which Abay must not be the same as the rest of the Kazakh steppe.
Unfortunately, there is no answer to this question in the first chapters of the fourth volume of the novel which have been published in a journal.
Naturally, criticism addressed to the rest of our prosaic writers should me considerably more severe. The fact is that they have not mastered the socialist realism method completely yet. The characters which we create sometimes lack appeal. Their life is short, and the reader has no interest in what they do. It is not infrequent that the life of Soviet people looks dull when depicted in books, and the characters’ nature is rather ordinary than demure. A character who is mentally poor cannot win the reader’s admiration.
A scene from the novel Chiganak, which is considered to be a valuable work, can be used to illustrate it. The language used by Zhanbota and Amantay, who are in love, is as follows.
“Zhanbota stood combing her hair and looking round, then she plopped into the water; Amantay rushed to grab her clothes.
“Oh, you brazen!” Zhanbota exclaimed at seeing it.
“It’s you who’s brazen,” Amantay said and sat down on her clothes.
“Why am I?”
“Why would you get naked in my presence?”
“How come it’s in your presence? You’ve just appeared.”
“Now, I’ve been lying here for quite a while, I’ve seen it all.”
“You’ve seen it all, so give my clothes back to me!”
“Now, I’m not satisfied yet, come here!”
“I’d rather have my body eaten by a gudgeon than let you see it.”
“Then keep sitting as you are,” Amantay said and marched away with the clothes under his arm.
“Wait! Wait!” Zhanbota said impatiently.
Amantay came back.
“What is it?”
“You’re acting according to the old Kazakh custom. Is it becoming?”
“I like this very Kazakh tradition, and I can’t judge beyond it.”
“Do you deny culture?”
“I’ve got no time for babble…”
“Love is a tender creature, which hates your being rude.”
“No, love is sturdy. You can cut it with an axe, and it’ll stay alive. Some people drain it to embellish it. My love may be a little bit too rough, but it won’t fail. It’ll live as long as I do.”
“Hey, pickle, are you telling the truth?” Zhanbota asked.”
The ill-cut but well-tailored love, which G. Mustafin treats as the opposition to “fragile love”, is characteristic of the writer’s sympathetic characters, who are rough and not free of barbarism. The scene of grabbing the clothes of a bathing girl and the following “lyrical” dialogue are an evidence. It is obvious that, even though we have given up axe to use sharper and more sophisticated tools in creation of our characters, we still have nit mastered them completely.
Ignoring aesthetic concerns, bombast, and sometimes crude naturalism can often be felt in books by Sabit Mukanov. In particular, the ideological and artistic flaws of the novelette Baluan Sholak result directly from naturalism. Balusn Sholak, whom the author suggests as a positive character, turns out to be a man of heartless physical strength who cannot tell one thing from another, an abuser who punishes both the guilty and the innocent. The public would not accept the book.
Sabit Mukanov’s novel The Syrdarya, the subject of which is essential, is no step forward in terms of the writer’s creative career. The large-scale idea lacks a properly deep artistic solution. There are numerous well written scenes and pages in the novel, but it still cannot be estimated as good. The composition often grows non-cohesive, and the plot is loose. The author packs the book with whatever he knows. It has plenty of memories and legends which not only fail to expose the characters’ nature but even distract us from the main plot line. What is most important, there is no full-scale image of a single character. Party workers are poorly portrayed. We can somehow make out of the author’s narration and outrageously long dialogues that their intentions are good. However, we cannot watch them working, showing their individualities, under realistic circumstances. Their minds, habits, thoughts, and ideas are vague and fuzzy. The speech of Polevoy, who is Russian, is a mere imitation of the language spoken by an old Kazakh from an aul. The language of the novel is generally meager. It has enough declamation but few lively and vivid scenes. The Syrdarya failed to become the next step after Zhumbak Zhalau and give us the joy that we had been expecting.
The reason was the writer’s neglect for the friendly criticism which he had been getting.
Undoubtedly, the writer has never had drastic ideological breakdowns. S. Mukanov has made certain blunders and mistakes, but he has always kept to the right direction politically, and it is the robust Soviet ground on which he has been standing. The reason why he failed is a regress in his art.
S. Mukanov claims himself to prefer simple, unsophisticated literature, which common people can easily access and understand. But he has a false understanding of the category of simplicity, which leads to his works appearing ordinary and simplistic. The writer should consider it deeply and give up his wrong opinion. First of all, he should understand that his gift has been bound by the false idea of simplicity for a dozen years.
According to socialist aesthetic principles, common accessibility is the greatest artistic merit. However, it does not mean simplification; it requires a highest extent of artistic development which we have not yet achieved.
During the 19th party meeting, we were reminded that the ideological and cultural development of Soviet people had become far better. Ordinary and simplistic works fail to meet their requirements, which have progressed as well.
A number of more severe critical remarks should be addressed to A. Abishev and G. Slanov. It has been nearly twenty years since they entered our prose. Most of works by A. Abishev are plays, however, he is the author of 4 to 5 novelettes. It should be noted that his novelette The Young Generation has been criticized severely by republic and central newspapers. Judging by the outcome, it has been rather useful. The author’s ideological message does not suggest a deliberate distortion of the image of the Soviet youth.
However, the novelette depicting heroes of the Great Patriotic War and Soviet youth failed to become a precious pearl in the treasure of our literature. Neither did any of the works which he wrote before of after. The lastet novelettes by A. Abishev, Sakhara Sauleti (The Beauty of the Steppe) and Terem Temyrlar (The Deep Roots) got the most negative response from writers.
In the time when the requirements for fiction are especially strict, A. Abishev suggests bare ideas of how necessary public economy is and how crucial it is to provide absolute abidance. He never stopped to think of the work’s aesthetic appeal, that is, of art. Opening each single page of the two books, one could find an example to illustrate their poor style, while felicitous phrases were scarce. His latest novelette Terem Temyrlar (The Deep Roots) is especially bad. The book cannot possibly be rectified, even taking into account every critical remark. All works by A. Abishev are rife with patterns which do not conform to the principles of socialist realism, that is, obviously contrived, artificial conflicts, gloss and varnish instead of direct depiction of the controversy offered by life itself, making up controversies which feel dead, etc.
The endless failures of this man, who is gifted in terms of literary work, can be attributed to his disability to see the deep meaning behind the ideological and artistic requirements of socialist realism, his disability to find the right images, his running between two extremes.
Our only school of art is the Russian realist literature of the 19th century and contemporary Soviet literature. We master the great ideas in adherence to Marxist Leninism, while Russian writers headed by M. Gorky and V. Mayakovsky as well as modern masters of socialist realism should be our teachers in terms of style.
Some of our writers approach studying and polishing their skills with a casual attitude, forgetting about the rather unpleasant results which it might have.
A. Abishev says that he still cannot find the genre which fits him most. I think that the genre of drama is the closest to him.
The flaws which works by A. Abishev have are also present in those by Gabdol Slanov and Magzum Teisov. G. Slanov is a greatly experienced writer who has written four novels dealing with major issues of Soviet life. However, books by G. Slanov never last.
The characters he creates do not linger in people’s memory. For instance, the novels Zhanar Tau (The Volcano) and Ken Oris (Vastness), which is now Shalkar, are dedicated to an important sphere of our socialist life, a major subject which should have been approached in a most responsible way.
The main reason of the failure is a false conflict underlying the novel. At the beginning of Shalkar, the problem of cutting a road to the Tasegen Forest appears. Some people say that the road should be cut from the forest right to the kolkhoz. Others say that it should lead to stations, while the forest should be transferred to a different area. The author supports their parochial opinion. Parochialism is not a question to be approved of anywhere, especially in a literary work. Moreover, building a road cannot suggest a serious conflict.
Our writers have to understand that true literature cannot be created by merely declaring one’s good intentions, good ideas. An idea is the objective accomplished with artistic scenes, actions, and clashes. The objective can only be achieved if the main conditions of artistic depiction are met. The latter eventually depends on one’s skill.
This is the period when a writer whose work is not aimed at mastering artistic skills is at risk of being trapped. It is time we understood that an ideologically charged work is primarily highly artistic in the full sense of the phrase.
In this regard, the novelette Kutkaru (The Salvation) by M. Teisov does not stand up to criticism.
We know no other work by him.
We have made a number of mistakes in terms of Alzhappar Abishev and Gabdol Slanov as well. Instead of exposing the flaws of their works in due time, we practiced a liberal approach, being reluctant to spoil our relationships. A situation like this never helps a writer. I believe it necessary to discuss every work by every artist since the very beginning, to analyze all mistakes and blunders meticulously, pointing them to their delusions. It is not hard say that a writer has written a poor thing, but to show him the way in which eh could get rid of the flaws is a hard job. Our Union has not taken to it yet.
Works by many young prosaic writers, such as Mukan Imanzhanov, Zhardem Glekov, and others, are not flawless either. It should be taken into consideration that some of them are still literarly underdeveloped; those who have taken a wrong way should not be forgotten.
In his novelette Algashky Aylar (First Thoughts), M. Imanzhanov tackles an issue which is of great importance nowadays, that is, that of polytechnic education. However, the novelette lacks convincing stylistic devices. It collision is false. In the author’s scheme, a young man fresh from school is opposed to the whole working aul. He initiates every change in the aul’s life. But what would have happened if Zhakipbek had not returned to the aul? None of the problems brought up in the novelette would have been solved. Conflicts cannot be treated so carelessly. Besides, there is something contrived, sentimental, and vaguely pessimistic about Imanzhanov’s works, which are often glossy yeasty speeches.
In the complication of works by Imanzhanov, which was published in 1948, there is a short story named Gul (The Flower). Reading it, one somehow thinks of Bazarov, a character of Fathers and Children by Turgenev.
For a person who has just looked through the novel Fathers and Children, its plot is about as follows: Bazarov’s friend takes him to his home for holiday, where he is wounded in the arm during a duel and dies of an infection. In the end of the novel, one can see his grieving parents at his grave.
Imanzhanov has the same scheme. The second paragraph starts the following way, “His name was Arman. According to his name, he lived his life without achieving what he wanted and died very young.”
Believing that something of an extraordinary nature must have happened, you go on reading to find out that Arman had some lemonade while spending his time with his girlfriend during his winter recess, after which he caught a cold and died. Then his girlfriend and friends are depicted as wallowing in sorrow and grief. There is a description of a small grave, a flower growing on it, a beloved fiancée attending the grave, his dear mother, and his faithful friend ... This is it.
So what the message that Comrade Imanzhanov put into this work? If the tendency is tragic, it cannot be regarded as anything but tragic. Imanzhanov wrote the story very young, in 1940. So it could be omitted. However, the writer included it into his anthology after eight years, in 1948. A certain sentimentalism is characteristic of all works by Imanzhanov. This is what makes a suspicious impression. This is what made me think that he should be warned against the falsely tragic and sentimental trend.
It is not pessimist but the robust, pure, and sublime feeling of vitality which is characteristic of Soviet youth.
In the works by some writers which cover the contemporary subject, cheap praise is dominant – they mostly claim that it used to be bad and has grown good now instead of studying the socialist reality profoundly and exploring its essence. The work which gives an answer to the question why it is so good now is the novelette Kainar by Tlekov.
“…She (Maria) can saw a newly-shaven yedilbay sheep rise laboriously, hardly lifting its own rear. When they weighed him, he was found to make eighty five kilos. It was beyond any doubt that he wold produce at least a kilo of fleece in autumn. Though he was the fattest and the hairiest representative, he could still be an evidence of the possibility to have gained as much fat by the end of the year which other sheep, which were not as large, presumably had.”
The phrases certainly do not belong to the artistic category; they sound thick and hardly understandable and might need a translator. Such mistakes are most common with writers whose general education is poor and who have not mastered the art of writing. The fact reminds us of the necessity of setting strict requirements to our writers in terms of increasing their political and literary awareness.
All of us are to work hard in order to master the art of writing, creating images of Soviet people. Over thirty novels and novelettes have been written within the recent fifteen years, but they still end to lack full-blooded positive characters.
Our reading public has become unbelievably more aware. People who have obtained a higher agricultural education are being suggested as kolkhoz chairpersons. The kolkhoz field specialist Maltsev has discovered a new approach in crop growing, which is of great scientific significance.
At the All-Union Agricultural Exhibition, a dairy maid sheds light on methods of achieving good results in milking, referring to her experience which is in its turn connected to science. There is no chaban of the past who would tell that fall is coming judging by the way his goat bleat at night. Undereducated chabans are few now. As long as we want people to understand us and ourselves to deserve it, we need to look to the height reached by them. However, our works still fail to take the situation into consideration, and the images that we created often look too simplistic and backward.
As the final critical remark on our literature, I would like to mention a considerable flaw common in works by Gabiden Mustafin. Whenever one does some close reading with his novel The Millionaire, one finds the conflicts and clashes between the innovative Zhomart and the conservative Zhakip to fade away by the middle of the book. However, all the questions mentioned in the beginning of the book and underlying the conflict, receive a very easy and unobstructed solution. Just as no struggle appears concerning Akhmet’s idea, there are no difficulties faced with the taming of nature. The novelette’s compositional core makes it sound feeble. The conflict gets to its climax too soon and is settled too quickly. The situation is the same with the novel Kazaragnda – the struggle and conflict are not elaborated till the very end of the book; the characters’ motives and ideas are clear in the middle. Thus, Comrade Mustafin should master the art of creating more intense and sophisticated conflicts.
The last matter which I would like to tackle is that of short stories and sketches, which we underestimating call minor literary genres.
Our writers who work in the sphere are S. Omarov, M. Imanzhanov, T. Saginbayev, B. Sokpakbayev, sometimes A. Abishev, G. Slanov, and M. Teisov. Over a decade has passed since such writers of the older generation as M. Auezov, S. Mukanov, and G. Mustafin stopped to work within the framework.
S. Omarov attempts to cover a diversity of subjects in his short stories. M. Imanzhanov mostly explores the life of youth, showing a lyrically pensive tendency. Short stories by B. Sokpakbayev and T. Saginbayev explore school life and seldom kolkhoz labor. The variety of subjects has grown wider in this genre as well as in the rest of literature. However, the state of this prosaic genre is by no means satisfactory in terms of artistic merits.
Fairly speaking, good stories with admirable and striking characters are very few in our literature. The number of stories written 15 to 20 years ago seems much bigger than the number of those newly written. The grander and pathos of today as well as the life of the common Soviet man are rather conveyed in a contemplative manner, with descriptions of the writer’s feelings and emotions rather than by portraying people. Character-making detail, eye-catching scenes which give a precise impression of the man’s spirit are very uncommon in our stories. S. Omarov mostly has an excess of pathetic appearance. M. Imanzhanov ruins the good ideas which he has with his sentimental emotions. B. Sokpakbayev is often lost in tiny detail, though he shows a spontaneous artistic brilliance. The first book of short stories by T. Saginbayev was published in 1948. However, the six years have been too fleeting to impact him.
It is worth mentioning that is was the short story which gave the initial rise to Kazakh Soviet prose. Mukhtar Auezov, Sabit Mukanov, and Gabiden Mustafin contributed to the genre for about 10 to 15 years. Now they have turned to major genres, while young prosaic writers have little interest in short stories. Most amateur writers tend to start writing things which they cannot cope with. Moreover, young writers often lack experience. Most of our young writers who have graduated form a high school would stay in town and work at some establishments instead of getting closer to production and construction. This is the reason why ill-conceived, laborious subjects and plots are so common. Being closely interrelated, the circumstances lad to a neglected state of the minor genge. It is time that we understood our backwardness in terms of short stories and sketches to be intolerable.
First of all, we have to admit the genre’s quick reaction to the newest events, which results in the writer’s increased energy. Writers who create short stories and sketches have never been less fervent than those who write novels and novelettes. Short story drilling is significant in terms of establishing oneself in a certain genre.
In spite of the fact that the abovementioned is widely known, we still underestimate short stories.
We could expect a boom of short stories and sketches after the 19th party convention and the September plenary petting of the Central Committee, but there was none. We still do hope...
Reclaiming virgin soil is not only an important event in the life of Kazakhstan; it is one of the greatest events for our entire Motherland, a new stage in the history of our country. Kazakhstani workers do about a half of the job, while we, writers, do not seem to have been infected with their enthusiasm eat. As the saying goes, the old ones are frozen, and the young ones are lost back. We could not be the ones to promote the great idea. No relatively satisfactory work has been created apart from two to three sketches. The writers who took trips to the virgin land seem to have been lost in their thoughts till now. Publishing a series of short stories and sketches covering the virgin soil subject is as good as a novelette or a novel. Our Writers’ Union should find solutions to eliminate the backwardness of the genre instead of just studying the reasons behind it.
This seems to be the end of my account of the achievements and shortcomings of Kazakh prose.
What are the objectives which we are currently facing?
They depend on our literary achievements which we have now. Second convention young writers have now matured artistically and become experienced creative workers. Young gifted people have established themselves in the recent fifteen years. With their minor and major flaws, the works of Kazakh prose that have been created within the period could serve as a basis for further development of our prose.
Considering the abovementioned facts, I would like to set the following objectives.
The first is to make joint efforts to upgrade minor genres without neglecting major prose. Working on a large book does not interfere with writing a short story from time to time. Young writers working on minor genres fail to refer to the older generation’s experience. They need mature writer’s assistance.
Secondly, we have reached a level of literary development which implies a greater necessity of meeting the ideological and artistic requirements of socialist realism. The evidence of our understanding of those requirements should be our ability to choose the right topic, explore a reality-based conflict, build a flexible plot, create convincing characters, the ability to choose clear expressions and artistic devices, that is, it is all about mastering the essential art of writing. To create classical literature, we should primarily learn from classical works. We cannot create a big literature without reference to their masterpieces — it will not meet our expectations and demand. We, Kazakh writers, are successors Tolstoy, Turgenev, Gogol, Chekhov, and Gorky. To master the art of writing represented by our great Russian predecessors is an objective of great importance.
A literature which only refers to national-scale works cannot grow and progress rapidly. It is only by being connected to the entire Soviet literature namely the experience of its most advanced writers, that national literatures can develop.
Russian literature is the most progressive, advanced literature in the world. Belated or not, we refer to contemporary writers of the Great Russian nation when exploring major subjects. We should never lose our connection to the great teachers.
If we help each other by criticizing each other’s works strictly and fairly, Kazakh prose will eventually be able to meet the great demand of the Party and the People.
1954
I LIVE IN KAZAKHSTAN
My Republic of Kazakhstanicovers thousands of kilometers in its vastness. Its steppes are boundaryless; its mountains are rocky; its rivers are swift; and the treasury of its ground is endless. To have a clearer idea of the enormous vastness of Kazakhstan, take a look at a geographic map, study it closely.
...The first wift of spring enters the room with a breeze. The buds on popple trees are getting swollen. They are going to burst to show a snow-white fleece.
Spring, the generous spring is approaching Almaty.
Listening to the monotonous dropping of water, I can hear them inform of the beginning of sowing in South Kazakhstan on the radio. Millions of sheep and herds of horses are already grazing in the new green in the area. Aul and village children are more cheerful than ever when they head for school in the morning. Farms and fields are buzzing with life. They are about to yield far more cotton than has been harvested – the industry is going to get plenty of the white gold, which it needs so much.
The same radio broadcast mentions severe frosts in the republic’s west and north. However, those regions are preparing to welcome spring as well. Tractors keep ploughing the snow-bound field day and night, leaving deep furrows behind them. , Those directing them, tractor drivers, do understand that The 18 million hectare virgin soil which have just been upturned need enough water.
Life is generous today in the Kazakh land. But the future of my republic is even more promising and lavish. We can see its glorious outline in the Resolutions of the 20th Soviet Union Communist Party Convention. However, the Kazakh nation, just as other Soviet people, is used to a larger-scale living. Each and every honest heart swells with pride at the thought of what is to be done within the sixth five-year plan. Let us study the figures: the investition growth rate for Kazakhstan will make 250%; 78 billion rubles will be invested. Looking at the figures, I can see colorful factory smoke, abundant crops, I can feel the rattle of steam engines and mining machines.
But those are not only plans and not only future. We can feel the approaching tomorrow even now, at this very moment. Large-scale deals have been made at coal mines in Karaganda recently. By the end of the sixth five-year plan, the mines are expected to produce nearly twice as much coal as they did in 1955. Enormous oil pipelines will be founded, and two refineries will be built in technical perfection. After a little time, we will hear the humming of new Kazakhstani furnaces.
Our republic enjoys a wealth of iron, coal, and rare metals. This is the reason why foreign investors once craved the treasures to badly. Having become the true owner of its country after the Great October, the Kazakh nation, assisted by its Russian brother, has been building new giant factories within its five-year plans, and what used to be a desert has been wrapped in major steel roads. Finally, new railroad lines are to amend the map of Kazakhstan under the Resolutions of the 20th Party Convention. In the vast country, which would not produce even common knives before the revolution, large-scale machinery and gauge plants are to be built.
In recent days, I have been talking a lot to people of various occupations to discuss the ambitions of the sixth five-year plan. Though there was a difference between what figures presented in the documents an Almaty heavy machinery plant worker and an academy member remembered, the clear intentions are most encouraging. In the enormous army of builders of communism, everyone is well aware of what his or her duties are. This is the reason behind the perseverance with which one of the most renowned Soviet scientists, Kanysh Imantayevich Satpayev explores the soil which has fed him and the poetical enthusiasm with which the writer Mukhtar Auezov tells students, workmen, and kolkhoz farmers about the life of the friendly Indian nations.
The great life of Soviet people is enticing and fascinating in its common aspiration involving both miners and cotton growers, engineers and writers. For instance, let me describe the routine of a common Soviet writer, that is, one of my own. It is mostly devoted to others than to me. One of the translators who work on The Silent Don by M. Sholokhov came to me at 10 pm to seek my advice about conveying the very spirit of this outstanding work in Kazakh. A bit late, I saw the writer with whom I am cooperating to create my newest book. Then I was invited to the Kazakh USSR Minister Council to address the issue of creating a new satirical magazine. In the same morning, I talked to the head of the Kazakh Academic Drama Theater on which of my plays to present in Moscow within the art and literature decade. In the afternoon, the Writers’ Union discussed a new anthology which is to include some works of mine. I spent the evening reading the editorial version of a new play to be published in Moscow and answering letters by young authors. I am invited to attend the Ministry of Culture tomorrow to address the issue of creating several thousands new libraries, hundreds of clubs, and dozens of radio broadcasting centers in the republic in 1956. This is the way in which my routine is influenced by activities of many people and establishments who maintain the cultural development of the Kazakh nation.
...Apart from its direct meaning, the Kazakh word denoting virgin soil has that of pristine. Several years ago, many aspects of my republic’s life were, in a manner of speaking, pristine. Now we are proud to speak of the great work done to upturn the “virgin soil” in Kazakhstani industry, agriculture, and culture.
The directing hand of the Party has not only managed to raise soil fertility but also awaken the great energy which was dormant in people. It is a fact of special significance.
There is nothing that we value more than people, courageous, diligent, and utterly devoted to the Party and to their Motherland Soviet people.
1956
THE GENEROUS FALL
The vast plain was lost in a dark autumn night. The thick of birches is asleep, still and unruffled, and there is a winding road between the trees. A white hair suddenly darts away at hearing a car every once in a while, and then it is silent again.
But as soon as you are not in the forest, the night languor is gone. A muffled hum of engines can be heard in the steppe. Bright rays of light cut the darkness in every direction. They move across the steppe, vanishing to flash suddenly at a turn of the road. There are neither people nor machines harvesting crops and taking them to elevators to be seen. It looks as if an invisible and powerful force was doing the great and hard work, filling the space with shrill light and enormous noise.
The harvest period was approaching its end. Where a wall of high thick wheat’s was used to stand, where the crops collapsed under their massive weight to shine softly like golden plush, a stubbly field reaching the horizon can be seen.
The Kazakh steppe is hundreds of kilometers long from north to south and from west to east. The virgin soil upturned, which appears right here, behind the fences of kolkhoz villages, auls, and sovkhoz settlements, meets the yellow sand of Kzylut and the slightly burned birches shedding their leaves. The landscape which encourages labor, which is typical of virgin soil harvest, is everywhere – in the steppe plain, in fields surrounded by lucid bushes.
It is its lavish abundance that makes this generous autumn feel so blissful; the virgin soil has been happily tamed. It has already brought most of what has been spent to claim it back to the country.
The workmen of our country has proudly reported their duty to his Motherland to have been fulfilled, for they have not only upturned virgin soil but also grown an abundance of crops in it. The billions pood of crops brought to the state garners by the republic's farmers turned Kazakhstan into one of the Union’s largest garners at once.
One can hardly find a place in Kazakhstan in which the wonderful changes related to virgin soil reclamation cannot be seen. Numerous small areas produce as much crops as entire provinces used to do. Certain provinces produce about a half more of twice as much as the whole of Kazakhstan used to yield three years ago.
Out Kostanai Province, which has fertile soil and yields a lot, used to be called the Kazakhstani Kuban, which was a great privilege, as it only gave 10—20 million pood of crops to the country. What can we say about it now? The country has received as much as three hundred billion pood finest crops from the steppe of Kostanai – neither Kuban nor Stavropol area have produced as much.
The great yield of the virgin soil cost us a lot! The country treated its harvest as the prime objective for everyone. Technical devices were coming endlessly, and dozens of thousands of young patriots were arriving to help the people of Kazakhstan from all over the country. And still the harvesting period did take up energy.
In reaping time, the local party and Soviet bodies were acting as emergency operation centers. As soon as the harvest was over in the South, hundreds and thousands of harvesting machines, cars, grain conveyors, and other devices as well as people were sent hundreds of kilometers away, to the north, to the crucial points of the bread struggle. Mutual help was unprecedentedly common. One could often see a harvester operator finish the operation in his sovkhoz just to cross the border without even stopping the machine and attack his neighbors’ crops.
People of every age felt enthusiastic about fighting for the Kazakhstani billion. But we must admit that it was not always without a hitch. Not everything was actually done the way we had expected. Citizens of Moscow, Leningrad, Kyiv, Minsk, Chishinau, and many, many other participants of the bread struggle shared the joy and sorrow of the virgin soil harvest with old and new residents.
There is one more peculiar thing about this harvesting period which I would like to mention. It was separate harvesting what helped us cope with the generously yielding virgin soil. Its advantages were very obvious soon, as many billions pood of crops were saved due to it. The names of many renowned machinery operators are known all over Kazakhstan. The people and the Party do appreciate their heroic labor.
The renowned harvesting operator Petr Muzyka, a frequent winner of the Kazakhstan machinery operators’ competition, has harvested 3 thousand hectares of crops within the season. And what crops they are! Cutting down 100-120 hectares of wheat per day, he produced 1500—1700 centers of ground wheat.
The harvester operators of Avangard Machine and Tractor Station Yevstafiy Sazonov and the Hero of Socialist Labor Grigoriy Zubkov were harvesting up to 100 and more hectares of crops a day each by using the coupling gears of their Stalinets-6 machines. The Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Kazakh USSR awarded them with the honorable title of merited machinery operators of the republic.
People who seem to have long lost the habit of doing field work are not infrequent among virgin soil harvest heroes. In Mayakovsky Sovkhoz of Kostnai Province, an academy teacher, Master of Agriculture, A. Oskin, who used to be an outstanding harvester operator, arrived as the head of a Timiryazevka student group. A student of the kolkhoz management school, formerly a harvester operator, Fedor Topchiy came to stay in his kolkhoz during his vacation. Having received their harvesting machines, A. Oskin and F. Topchiy competed against the republic’s best operator, the Hero of Socialist Labor A. Isakov. How contagious the enthusiasm was! With what respect and affection people looked at the pedagogues standing on the harvester man way
This year and the great harvest of the virgin soil is an evidence of the overwhelming wealth which has been hidden in the pristine Kazakhstani steppe forever. The country is growing wealthier! The number of millionaire kolkhozes is growing in the steppe. A small Amangeldy kolkhoz situated in North Kazakhstan Province never got an income of 300 thousand rubles. Now it is more than 3 million.
Everywhere, all around our republic, in each of its village, aul, and settlement, you can hear people express their enormous gratitude to the Party and its Central Committee, which have discovered the powerful source of wealth. The soil which was pristine for ages shall serve to people from now on!
1956
THE MAN OF THE STEPPE
The vocabulary of an earlier steppe Kazakh did not include such words as power, law, and voting. He had none of the things in his daily routine. The meaning of the words was as obscure and unclear as the Quran.
However, power and law did exist in the steppe. The poor could feel them at their side like lashes over their heads. The life of the poor was pain, serfdom, and dreams of a better living. The endless and grim-looking steppe shortened their lives, depressing with its indifference.
The great Kazakh poet Abay was forty when he suddenly released the following line, “Old age has come, the thoughts are grieved, and the sleep is light…” It seems surprising that the sad words were written by a great thinker, a passionate fighter, a great poet who was brave enough to “fight against a thousand ignorant men”, against those who oppressed the nation and owned the Kazakh land. How hopeless and rough life was if a person of such gift and power believed himself to be old aged forty!
Hard, monotonous centuries were passing by. As if trying to justify himself and make the son calm sown, a father would say, “That’s the way our ancestors lived, and so do we.” The Kazakh steppe seemed frozen it time.
Even at the end of the 19th and at the beginning of the 20th century, the steppe Kazakh was still living in the unsound morass of the distant past. It would be no wonder if a man, even like Abay, felt old so early. For a man who thinks, it is not that simple to live another empty and meaningless years “like his ancestors used to do.”
Indeed, that was the Kazakh pre-revolutionary was in the steppe.
To break the monotonous rhythm and the chain, to destroy the oppressors and change people’s lives, to make time go faster, a non-compromising fight against the autocratic government was initiated. The people won their freedom in the glorious struggle and, as the song goes, started conquering time and space to be the ruler of the earth.
In one of his songs, the wonderful akyn Dzhambul, who witnessed both the old time and the new one, sang that he was born after the October (let us mention that he was older than 70 in 1917). He treated his age of 70 as not old but mature and soaked in the youthful enthusiasm. The old man’s lines are full of sense. The appearance of the steppe is changing rapidly. People manage to do what they could not possibly do in decades within a single year, and a decade is enough to commit the deeds which would demand centuries before. The periods we live are enormous, and our years are like centuries.
Our nations are flourishing in the bright sunshine of the communist spring, filled with pride and glory of working people. Our great epoch has instilled a brave and bold spirit, the spirit of courage and heroism, creativity and chivalry in us. It is the spirit of Lenin’s Party, the spirit of bolshevism, to which there are no limits.
It is not only seas and mountains, steppes and woods what the Soviet man takes pride in. He is proud of whatever he has created within the forty years, what has transformed the very appearance of the country, giving it steel and concrete clothes. New seas do not appear on their own, rivers never join on their own, and water did not go to deserts on its own. From the Ural to the Tien Shan, from the Caspian Sea to the Altay, there is a continuous belt of steel and iron, copper and lead, coal and oil powerful giants. Cities of Kazakhstan are awakened by a choir of factory sirens, steam trains and boats. The kolkhoz steppe responds with the booming of thousands tractors. Kazakhstan may be creating more within a working year than it used to produce within a century. It is the dear Soviet government who has given the country such power.
The prediction of the English vulture Urquhart, who asked for a permission to “potter around in the steppe near Balkhash and farther” when the Soviet government was newly established” never came true. “You won’t take to the areas before 50 or even 100 years have passed, anyway,” he wrote to the Soviet government. It was after 10 years and nor after 50 or 100 that the coal Karaganda started rattling, and the copper of Balkhash was first poured. Nowadays, dozens of enormous industrial works are standing serried, and most cultured socialist cities have grown. In particular, Karaganda is about to reach the population rate of half a million people.
The English vultures “pottered around” in the Kazakh steppe for a long time. In times of tsarism, they grabbed our oil, coal, and copper, as well as our gold and silver. They were prowling around the steppe frantically.
“It is sheer heaven for a mine explorer,” wrote Nelson Felle, the head of the Spassk Copper Ore Joint Stock Venture, delighted at what explorers had discovered near Balkhash.
The former US president Herbert Hoover, one of the heads of the Russian-Asian Corporation, and the US millionaire Morgan, as well as the son of a former French president Ernest Carneau did not scruple to feed at the Kazakh trough. They got their knuckles rapped by the Soviet government. I want to thank my government for this from the bottom of my heart!
The achievements of the Kazakhstani cultural revolution are especially essential and unparalleled throughout the Kazakh history. The Kazakh minds and feelings have been liberated from the deadly oppression of centuries, barbarism, and despotism. Dominant ignorance and cultural poverty are now a thing of the past. The socialist culture has its roots deep in the Kazakh daily life. The Kazakh nation has covered a great distance from the national musical instrument called the dombra to a philharmonic orchestra. The Kazakhs who used to be illiterate have created the Academy of Science.
The cultural progress of the peasantry, who used to be the most backward strata, is most admirable. In Avangard Kolkhoz, which is situated in Chilik District of Kzylorda Province, 19 people have obtained higher education, and all of them are producing rice. My Zhana Zhol Kolkhoz situated in Presnogorkovka District of Kostanai Province has given 22 People’s Teachers to the republic. Twelve young men and women of the kolkhoz are studying in higher education establishments of Almaty and Moscow, five have returned to the farm after graduating from such establishments. The Kolkhoz has a comprehensive school, where about three hundred children study.
Those are the deep cultural roots in the kolkhoz villages and auls of Soviet Kazakhstan.
Could the Kazakh nation, which had come to own enormous space after the October and still had no industry and technical devices have overcome the major obstacles of the new life and the new society on its own? No. Only the selfless help and support of its friendly brother nations inhabiting the Soviet Union could create the basis necessary for the republic’s rapid growth and development. It is only due to the Communist Party, which has been making every effort to make its knowledge and power serve the people that we managed to make the giant steppe out of the past into the present
The Communist Party has been encouraging our nation to perform new feats of labor. The people’s spirit is a great force. It gives one courage in battles and heroism in labor, making one trust in what one is doing and believe in victory.
It is only due to the Party, due to the Soviet government that we have gloriously leaped from the dark centuries to the sunny world of socialism, the world of equal rights for nations and individuals, the world of friendship and happiness. And I say, “Viva my dear Government! My dear Party!”
1957
THE GREATEST MASTER OF THE MULTINATIONAL SOVIET LITERATURE
It was forty years ago that the dawn of the Aurora’s salvo broke the dark Petrograd night to proclaim the end of tyranny, the sunrise for the nations of Russian, the dawn of freedom and happiness. The revolutionary cruiser’s rumble, which sounded like a bell tolling invitingly, informed the whole planet of the beginning of a new era in the history of humankind.
Workers of all nations and tribes were delighted to hear about the extraordinary take-over – the Great October Social Revolution in Russia. Kazakhstan, the enormous country of ancient nomads, whose struggle for social justice can be traced back to the hoar antiquity, was more enthusiastic than ever about its revolution.
It was in that glorious year that the twenty-year old son of a nomadic cattle breeder Mukhtar Auezov wrote his first work of fiction – a play on the tragic life of Kazakh youth in the patriarchal feudalist environment rotting in its stagnation. The young man of the steppe had a bold manner of tackling issues of great social significance, stigmatizing and curding the terror of the old patriarchal order.
Four decades have passed since then. Lead by the great Communist Party, the party created and reared by the ever-living genius of our most admired Vladimir Lenin, who is deeply embedded in our memory, our Motherland has become a powerful union of socialist republics to promote peace, democracy, and socialism. The Kazakh land has already turned into a flourishing socialist republic. The tragedy Yenlik Kebek. Which was initially staged in yurts, has become one of the greatest works of Kazakh theater art.
Muktar, who used to be young, has grown to be one of the greatest masters of the multinational Soviet literature and an outstanding public person of the Soviet Union. Being a member of the Academy of Science, he truly enjoys the laurels on his gray hair.
Mukhtar Auezov’s merits in terms of Kazakh social culture development are enormous. Being an extremely learned, omniscient person and a renowned master of socialist realism, Comrade Auezov was one of the few people to head the progress and advance of Kazakh Soviet literature in its infancy and was one of the pioneers of Kazakh prose and drama who contributed greatly to the genres.
His four-book saga on the great poet of the Kazakh nation Abay Kunanbayev has been widely recognized in our country as well as far beyond its borders. The phrase which K. E. Voroshylov uttered when giving the writer a governmental award presents an exhaustive and correct estimate of the saga by Auezov and goes as follows, “You have shown your nation to be a great one, you have glorified it, and I do hope that you will keep doing so. The whole of our Motherland knows your work devoted to Abay, to your great nation.”
Mukhtar Auezov is essentially a large-scale writer. As it always is with literary or artistic talents, the best and most sublime thing about his works is their humanism, simplicity, and absolute clearness. He is always motivated by an unparalleled aspiration to outpour the onrush of feelings and moods which are characteristic of his deeply poetical nature obedient to vigorously sincere emotions. The simplicity of Auezov’s work is not laborious; it does not appear as a result of a wrong intention to imitate the national ethos. It is never sophisticated and never pretends to be inaccessible for the common reader.
Mukhtar Auezov has been successful at combining his writing activities with fruitful scientific and pedagogic work. His papers of Kazakh folklore, on the Kyrgyz heroic epic poem Manas and the Uzbek poem Alpamysh, his lectures delivered in higher education establishments of Almaty has been a considerable theoretical contribution to literary studies. He is rightfully considered to be one of the greatest Orientalists of the Soviet Union.
It was the Soviet reality and our Communist Party, which has been helping the writer with great care, showing him the right direction, what turned Mukhtar Auezov into a true writer. Let us wish our dear hero of the day a long life full of creative inspiration so that he can serve the great purpose of the Communist Party – that of communism building.
1957
OUR FATE HAS BOUND US FOR EVERLASTING HAPPINESS
The life and biography of each of us, Soviet people, regardless if the nation we belong to, is the life and biography of our nation. Now that the Kazakh, the son of the deprived nomadic shepherd of yesterday, is treated as a talented person working to build the new society, nobody feels surprised. It is the essence of the Kazakh nation – the nation of enthusiastic creativity awakened by the victorious thunder of the Great October and the genius of Lenin’s Party. Being filled with enormous pride at this realization, we, Kazakhs, direct our eyes towards the Russian nation, with which our fate has bound us forever, to utter words of sincere love, and our hearts are filled with gratitude.
The Russians have helped us and all the nations of the Soviet Unions become free and civilized by committing their heroic deeds and sharing their sober ideas with us.
Just walk around the vast Kazakhstan to see how much the people have changed, what a world is open to them now – it is wide and radiant and full of beauty. A gray-bearded kolkhoz Kazakh can tell hoe cultured and learned you are at first sight, judging by the first words you utter. One of the principal indicators for him is the extent to which you know the Russian language.
We are proud of our knowledge of Russian. It is only due to Russian that there is no sphere of culture to which the Kazakh nation has no access today. Having learned the language of Pushkin and Lomonosov, Plekhanov and Lenin, the Kazakh nation, which used to have no alphabet, has mastered every sphere of human knowledge.
This is the reason why we feel thankful to the Russian nation and willing to learn from it, study its language. This is the reason why we can the Russian nation our elder brother and its language our second mother tongue.
1957
MY REPUBLIC OF WHICH I AM PROUD
How vast is the Land of Kazakhstan! From the Altay to the Ural, from Siberia to the distant Alatau its land stretches generously. Three thousand kilometer from east to west and nearly two thousand kilometer from north to south – that is the territory of my republic. In could house 5 Frances or 21 Englands. We have both snowy mountains and hot steppes, green valleys and poorly populated deserts. In February, spring sowing starts in South Kazakstan, and the north is frozen with a temperature of as little as 50 below zero. Its rivers and lakes break their ice chains in different time, and the very play of their waves is different.
The past of my native country is sad and rough. The Kazakh land is covered with ruins of ancient cities, monuments, and tombs. They are an evidence of the tragedy which the nation experienced in the past. How many times the Kazakh land has been invaded, how much it suffered and how deprived has it been for many cruel ages!
Fighting bravely against foreign invasions, Kazakh people would mark their thorny historical way with heaps of stone and remnants of clay walls instead of palaces, for they had to lament about their best sons and daughters fallen in battles of various epochs.
However, the Kazakh nation has brought to us beautiful objects of spiritual culture, which show us the very essence of the nation, its grief and suffering, its hopes and expectations, through the ages of dark social and national oppression. A great number of folklore works, fairy tales and legends which have been brought to us orally, present an exhaustive description of the nation’s past deprivation and rough life. One of the last people to witness the people’s deprivation, the great Abay, created austere realistic scenes to depict the life of the Kazakh people groaning in the feudalist yoke. The great Kazakh poet Abay was forty when he suddenly released the following line, “Old age has come, the thoughts are grievous, and the sleep is light…”
It seems surprising that the sad words were written by a great thinker, a passionate fighter, a great poet who was brave enough to “fight against a thousand ignorant men”, against those who oppressed the nation and owned the Kazakh land.
How hopeless and rough life was if a person of such gift and power believed himself to be old aged forty!
Hard, monotonous centuries were passing by. As if trying to justify himself and make the son calm sown, a father would say, “That’s the way our ancestors lived, and so do we.” The Kazakh steppe seemed frozen it time.
To break the monotonous rhythm and the chain, to destroy the oppressors and change people’s lives, to make time go faster, a non-compromising fight against the autocratic government was initiated. The people won their freedom in the glorious struggle and, as the song goes, started conquering time and space to be the ruler of the earth. The old man’s lines are full of sense. The appearance of the steppe is changing rapidly. People manage to do what they could not possibly do in decades within a single year, and a decade is enough to commit the deeds which would demand centuries before. The periods we live are enormous, and our years are like centuries.
Years seem astonishingly short to us, we are in advance of the time, we create seas in deserts, gardens in steppes, and direct rivers where we need them to flow. Our years are passing in labor of creation. We get power and energy by creating the glory of the epoch. We keep pace with the life, so, as the saying goes, we can’t afford the time tp get old. The renowned Kazakh Soviet poet Sabit Mukanov says in his poem Now That I Am Fifty, “I am going to live to be a hundred years old, but not to get old!”
We are approaching the fortieth anniversary of the Great October. Forty years is a lot in terms of an individual’s life and very little in terms of that of a nation. But what a leap the nation has done within the four decades! Due to the October Revolution, the Kazakhs have transformed their pattern of life from patriarchal feudalism with its primitive economy to socialism without dwelling on capitalism, that is, skipping as much as an epoch.
Within the forty years of Soviet government, Kazakhstan has broken the ice of ignorance and illiteracy, created new towns, cities, factories, education establishments, theaters, and palaces of culture; it has tamed wild deserts and steppes.
Socialism has awakened and revitalized the great treasures of Kazakhstan, which was known as a backward country just a short while ago. Nowadays, Kazakhstan is a large-scale industrial and agricultural country. . The metal working industry of the Kazakh Soviet Social Republic is 1757 as capable as it used to be in 1913, while coal industry is 383 times as capable. The Karaganda Coal Mining Field is currently producing more coal than the whole pre-prevolutionary Russia. The future prospects of my republic are even more promising. For instance, the sixth five-year plan implies an investment of 78 billion rubles for Kazakhstan. It is half as much again as it was dating the first five-year plan for the All-Union economy! The facts are historically essential for the national development of the Kazakh people, who used to have no working class and mostly breed cattle before the revolution.
Vladimir Lenin’s speech at the III Komsomol meeting come to my mind – the ingenious leader mentioned the significance of orderly labor for communism building. Today’s Kazakh generation consists of responsible builders of communism, who have mastered the necessary technical and cultural tools.
Powerful machinery has now come to the vast steppe, which used to see nothing but birds of passage and occasional camel caravans. The nomads of yesterday, whose ancestors composed so many songs and tales of the time when all people would be brothers and life would be happy, live there today.
I heard many tales when I was a child. My grandmother would tell me some on winter evenings by the fire which she would make in the yurt. The shepherd whom we, children of the steppe, would accompany throughout the long summer day “drinking shepherds’ sour milk and catching young birds” would also tell some. Lastly, I heard some from signers who would sign to people on holidays.
In spite of the diversity of plot and situations offered by the tales, their message was the same – it was the dream of justice on earth, of physical and mental abundance. There was a number of tales in which a hot sand steppe was turned into vast meadows and blossoming gardens with prattling creeks in them. In Koblandy epic poem, the protagonist’s winged horse could cover a distance of a six months’ trip within several seconds. In the legend called The Giant Bird, humans had wings to fly. People did believe in their future and hope for a better time to come. It came.
Naturally, the way covered by our culture is of great personal importance to me, as I am a writer. Once our ancestor, the great enlightener and Russian officer Chokan Valikhanov wrote that the Kazakh nation would achieve a historically rapid progress by taking the lead of Russian culture. This prophecy of Chokan came true.
The Kazakh nation is the nation of songs and music. Alexander Pushkinw as interested in the Kazakh epic poem Kozy Korpesh and Bayan Slu. The Kazakh folk music recorded by Russian music scholars has won the hearts of the best representatives of the learned Russian and Euripe. But the voice of the Kazakh nation has never been as opulent as happy as it has been in the Soviet time. Folk instrument ensembles that perform not only their national pieces.
But also works of Russian and world classics give concerts in many cities across the Soviet Union, including Moscow. The best plays by Abay Kazakh Academy Opera and Ballet Theatre, Kazakh Academy Theatre of Drama are well-know all over the country.
Kazakh literature has long entered the All-Union stage, via which it has reached the international reader. The novels Abay by M. Auezov, Botagoz and Sulu Shash by S. Mukanov, Chiganak Bersiyev and The Millionaire by G. Mustafin have been translated into a number of languages. Books of poems by A. Tazhibayev, G. Ormanov, T. Zharokov, A. Sarsenbayev, Kh. Yergaliyev, D. Abilev, and S. Maulenov are popular with the Soviet reader.
Last year, I visited one of remote outruns and saw young animal breeders who had obtained seven-year and secondary education reading works by Pushkin, Turgenev, and Hugo in their native language.
Once I heard a tale, which I later recognized in one of Nizami’s poems. Learning from the great poets of the past, I often resort to this national source of art, that is, tales, to speak on our reality, the reality which has proven to be superior to all legends which the people created with their minds and hearts.
We feel grateful to out dear Communist Party for this reality.
1957
OUR HEARTH IS WITH THE PEOPLE
My native land of Kazakhstan is extremely enthusiastic about the new decision by the Plenum of the Central Committee of Communist Part of the Soviet Union, which is to call and extraordinary 21st meeting of the Communist Party; it is inspiring. The igniferous furnaces of the Altay, Chimkent, Dzhezkazgan, Balkhash, and Temirtau giants, which have been giving the country trains of copper, stannum, lead, and iron per year, are glowing even brighter. The harmonious buzz of harvesters of the republic’s virgin soil, where the fate of the Kazakhstani billion is being shaped victoriously, has grown louder. Caravans of heavy trucks loaded with weighty crops are constantly moving. Songs of sheep herders, who have assumed the responsibility to have achieved a sheep and goat livestock of 75 million by 1965, blend with those of field camps to create a powerfully sounding choir across our vast country.
Both Kazakhstan’s trains of metal, and its new billion poods of crops, and its billions of poods of crops to come in the future, and its dozens of millions sheep fit the plan of communist building, the plan of the country’s peaceful competition with the most well-developed capitalist countries perfectly.
But the greatest thing to it is definitely the fact that our people know that we have been outperforming and will keep outperforming capitalism not only in terms of science and technical development, but also in people’s education, in meeting people’s financial demand, in labor productivity, and in every sphere of life. A Soviet man is unlikely to fail to fathom the grander of the USSR’s key economy figures for the period of 1959—1965. Within the forty years of the socialist era, our people have got used to the large figures which are always realistic.
The entire country is now thinking over the new plan. I can easily imagine a scientist who is now sitting with his head bent to drawing of new smart machines; I can easily think of an architect who can see the splendid outlines of communist cities in his mind.
Writers are deeply absorbed in their thoughts about the new seven-year plan as well. Our mistakes have been numerous. We, writers, sometimes failed to keep pace with the epoch, to keep pace with time. The spirit of the era has not always been properly embodied in our works. Our duty is to win the heart and soul of multinational readers building communism, those true heroes of real life for whom it is our primary responsibility to write.
The USSR has become the classical socialist country, many countries and nations are learning from its wealth of experience. After the 20th convention of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, the all-encompassing meaning of the new era of the mankind which has been initiated during the Great October, the era of labor, the era of national equality and brotherhood, the era of noble humanism has become even more definite.
The multinational culture and literature of the Soviet Union is one of the greatest achievements of our nations. However, world leading literature should meet the public demand to an even greater extent. It is about more exacting requirements to it and to Soviet writers; it is all about mastering a true art. It is the second thought which occurs to me when I think of our society in 1965, which will undoubtedly have reached an even higher stage of economic and metal development by the time.
Being one of the USSR’s powerful working areas, Kazakhstan has been straightening its enormous shoulders by completing one five-year plan after another. We, writers of Kazakhstan, are proud of our republic and are concerned with ways of increasing its spiritual wealth, with creating books to be in accordance without beautiful epoch.
1958
THE GREAT ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF THE DECADE
The Kazakh Art and Literature Decade in Moscow is approaching its end.
We have spent mealy yen days filled with excitement and joy in the capital of our Motherland – Moscow. We felt nervous to perform before the exacting audience and readers of the capital and delighted to see the sophisticated audience and readers sincerely admire and appreciate out art and literature, which is socialist in its nature and national in its form. Colossal changes will take place in the economy and culture of our country within the nearest years. The cultural development of the Soviet man as the builder of the new life, our reader and viewer, will be improved significantly.
We are especially pleased to see it now because our Decade is another compelling evidence of the massive verdure of national countries in the land of socialism.
The recognition of the ideological and artistic merits of Kazakh literature and the fact that its best works have been translated into 10 languages of the world prove our literature to have turned into one of the leading literatures of the multinational Soviet literature, approaching its age of maturity in all of its genres.
It was only the 20th meeting of our Party, which created unheard-of favorable conditions for all scientists and cultural activists, that the development of Kazakh literature acquired a rattling good speed.
I would like to give a briefly account of the patterns which I believe to be significant and characteristic of the development of Kazakh literature within that very period.
Firstly, Kazakh writers, regardless of their preferred genres, switched to major forms, which are typical of mature literature, after the 20th convention. 20 novels and novelettes, 19 poems, and 4 large-scale works of literary studies have been created within the recent years.
Secondly, a vast majority of Kazakh writers switched from historical themes to those of modern days after the 20th convention, The Kazakh literature of the latest period has images of industry workers, Soviet warriors, kolkhoz farmers, scientists, and engineers.
Thirdly, new young prosaic and poetic writers, whose works won the attention of Moscow writers and then publishing houses, the names of which I omit just because they have been mentioned in literary discussions too often, joined us in the same period.
Fourthly, there are 6 members of the and 2 corresponding members of the Academy of Science of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic, 4 Doctors of Science and 7 Candidates of Science among the participants of this Decade. This respectable group are not guests of honor here – they have brought a proper library of scientific papers. They suggest a large book of sketches of the history of Kazakh Soviet literature, which has been created by the staff of Institute for Language and Literature of the Academy of Science of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic edited by our academician writers M. Auezov and S. Mukanov, to be discussed. They have also brought a large monographic work by the corresponding member of the Academy of Science of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic Ye. Ismailov, which covers the subject of people’s akyns headed by Dzhambul. They have brought a large scientific work on contemporary Kazakh literature by our literary critic M. Karatayev; they have brought a number of monographic works on the works of certain leading Kazakhstani writers, which are to be the subject of a large-scale occupational conversation among the literary scholars of Moscow. During the first Decade, no single work of literary studies was discussed.
Fifthly, 11 Russian writers from Kazakhstan, whose best works have been published for the Decade and are going to be discussed among the literary workers of Moscow, are taking part in this Decade, while the first Decade was attended by a single Russian writer from Kazakhstan, I. Shukhov.
Those are the detail of this Decade which I find worth mentioning.
I believe it to be unnecessary to trouble you with the long list of writers and titles that have contributed to the great success of our Decade. They were being mentioned during the literary discussions and in central newspapers and journals, But I would like to give an answer to the natural question – what have we brought to our second Decade and what we have inferred from it. To give the answer, it is certainly necessary to consider the results of discussions held on the works by our writers, which took place not only in the headquarters of our multinational literature, that is, in the USSR Writers’ Union, but also in the reading rooms of a number of Moscow libraries, university halls, and factory clubs.
The multinational audience of the capital, who is the most unbiased and exacting critic, has both greatly appreciated our works and given us notes of criticism as well as cordial regards.
I would also like to highlight the two essential points at which we had agreed with the management of the USSR Writers’ Union before starting our creative discussion. Firstly, the festive atmosphere of the Decade was not to be an obstacle in our way to fastidious and to-the-point criticism. Secondly, the works by Kazakh writers were to be analyzed considering the increased requirements to the multinational literature, with no allowance for the imperfections of youth or whatever condescension it might be. I am pleased to say that both of the arrangements have been adhered to throughout the discussion. The real accomplishments of Kazakh literature have been highly appreciated, while its shortcomings have been treated without a trace of condescension. There is no doubt that each of our prosaic writers, poets, playwrights, and critics, being encouraged by the great success of the second Decade, will take a treasure of deep thoughts and recommendations given by his Russian penmates, which would be extremely useful for the future of Kazakh literature. One who ignores the fair criticism from the bottom of a friendly heart will definitely get the least of creative luck.
Over a hundred poets, prose writers, critics, and playwrights from Moscow, Leningrad, Kiev, Kazan, and other cities of the Soviet Union has contributed greatly to the discussion of Kazakh literary works. The Kazakhstani writers have enjoyed not only attention but also the necessary creative atmosphere which has defined the high level of the discussion. We, wirters of Kazakhstan, feel deeply indebted to the bard of multinational Soviet literature N. S. Tikhonov, our commander-in-chief A. A. Surkov, M. V. Isakovsky, S. I, Kirsanov, V. A. Smirnov, K. M. Simonov, A. V. Sofronov, Ye. N. Permitin, L. A. Kassil, Ya. V. Smelyakov, M. K. Lukonon, D. I. Yeryomin, Yu. N. Libedinsky, M. D. Lvov, S. P. Zlobin, Z. S. Kedrina, P. P. Vershygora, Ye. F. Knippovich, K. Ya. Finn, and many other writers of Moscow who have treated our books with such enthusiasm and ensured a high level of discussion.
I feel sure that writers of Kazakhstan will treat the critical remarks of their Moscow friends not only from the point of view of requirements to mature literature but primarily from that of the colossal objectives set to writers in the abstract of the 21st Convention of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union.
Besides, I cannot but emphasize the fact that all Moscow newspapers headed by Pravda have been providing a detailed coverage of the preparation for our Decade and its progress. A great number of pressing issues related to the development of Kazakh art and literature have been addressed in it. Thus, let me express my sincere gratitude to our dear Pravda, Izbestiya, Kultura i Zhizn, Literaturnaya Gazeta, and other newspapers of the capital.
The intelligent, unbiased, and learned reader of Moscow have treated the works of our literature and art with great enthusiasm and appreciation. But the main thing for us is the fact that our Moscow colleagues have been treating us as brothers and friends, sharing the joy of our success and feeling free to point at our blunders.
Thank you for this kind feeling of brotherhood, dear citizens of Moscow!
Kazakh literature can truly be called the messenger of international friendship. It celebrates the brotherhood of all nationalities inhabiting our Soviet Union. The historical friendship of Kazakh and Russian literatures can be traced back into ancient times.
In our happy Soviet time, Kazakh literature as a member of the brotherly union of literatures is moving to an even more versatile flourish. We can see the maternal care of the Communist Party to be the reason, which is an evidence of the victorious nature of Lenin’s national policy.
1958
BOOKS TO GO ON A JOURNEY
When you look at library shelves, you face wise and kind guides that have already won the reader’s heart.
When you indulge in the habit of browsing your comrade’s books, you enter the circle of his tried friends in a way.
When you notice a familiar book in the hands of your companion traveler, you feel closer to him or her.
But what can the feeling which seizes you in a printing office when you see freshly stitched and bound books about to go on their long journey compared with?
Hundreds, thousands, and tens of thousands of books…
I have recently visited the mailroom of Poligrafkombinat, which is the largest printing house of Almaty, during which I looked silently at piles of books with names of my friends, my literary colleagues, printed on their backs.
Naturally, I did not see all of the one hundred thirty titles which were taking part in Moscow Decade, but what I thought was that our books were to meet the most friendly and exacting readers and stand a severe trial by competing against works published in other fraternal republics in a friendly manner.
I certainly do not want to compare the Decade to a parade or a competition. For us, it is primarily a serious creative conversation. However, it does have something of an important exam as well as the competitive enthusiasm. This is the way we have the situation, or dear Uzbek, Tadzhik, and Turkmen fronds. You may have lest us behind in this or that genre, but here you are – you have something to learn from us as well.
My eyes dwell upon the book’s backs again.
I find out that the printable editions of the last volumes of the six-book anthologies of works by the well-known veterans of Soviet Kazakhstan literature – Mukhtar Auezov and Sabit Mukanov are ready.
It has not been long since Mukhtar Auezov completed his Abay saga, which has become widely popular in many countries. But his new book, Sketches on India, which describes the country of a most ancient culture and young revival, the country where our writer was welcomed as a deeply thinking explorer in love, has already been sent to the readers
Has it been long since Sabit Mukanov wrote his novel Botagoz, which depicts the heroic days of the Civil War which are always important to us? But his new two books of autobiography called School of Life are already finished. The second book of the work, which was created in accordance with the kind tradition initiated by Gorky, started its journey to the reader right before the Decade. But Sabit has also managed to finish his new and hopefully fascinating report on his China traveling. He has been not only to Beijin but also to cities of the neighboring Xinjiang and to the vast Tibetian highland.
As for the authors of the novels The Millionaire, Karaganda, and Shiganak, which belong to the celebrator of out kolkhoz life Gabiden Mustafin, he has completed his first book on the sovietization of the Kazakh aul within the first revolutionary years. Besides, he has just returned from the brotherly Mongolia, and I do hope that we will soon read his sketches on the country which is a neighbor of our Kazakhstan.
I have mentioned only three names so far, but what a wealth of literary space they offer, how deeply they penetrate the modern reality and history, what careful creative attention is focused on countries of the awakened East.
...Studying the heaps of books laded delicately to warehouses by mail service officers, I can see a pattern of the recent years, which is probably the most noticeable and promising – new names have been appearing! Many of them have already been flashed in the capital’s newspapers and magazines and singled out for particular notice by our literary critics. They can very well be expected to establish themselves as popular reading in some time. With few exceptions, the names belong to young people just starting their literary career.
Here are some of them, picked randomly, no awards and merits.
Let me mention Zeinulla Kabdolov, the author of the novelette Sparkle of Life, a passionately written book of young energy telling of young workers and students and the formation of the national Soviet intellectual strata. His peer Safuan Shaymerdenov is, in a manner of speaking, his literary neighbor, as his novelette Inesh is inhabited by young characters, individuals of ready minds and ardent hearts.
Another two writers, Takhavi Khatanov and Abidzhamil Nurpeisov, are somewhat older. Their early youth was tempered in the fire of the Partioric War. Being witnesses and participants of the great fight, they dedicated their novels to military events. Akhtanov’s book The Thundering Days is already available in Russian. As for Nurpeisov, he has been working on the improvement of his novel and enrichment of is vocabulary with great patients, so only a reader who knows Kazakh can read it so far.
This year, the novel Ak Zhaik by Khamza Yesenzhanov, the Russian title of which is The Yaik – the River of Light. Yesenzhanov belongs rather to the older generation that to the young one. But his name as that of a Soviet prose writer is new in Kazakh literature. The author’s attention is focused on the struggle for the Soviet government in the Ural Mountains; he managed to collect extensive historical data, study them with great care, and create an interesting epic work full of action and highly valuable due to many social portraits of both revolutionaries and their opponents.
Though it is not my intention to present a systematic analysis in this note, I must say that the theme of modern reality is still not being elaborated on as actively as it is expected to be by all writers of our republic. However, I am well aware of the fact that both the older generation and young representatives of the literary world are striving for it. One of our writers has dipped into virgin soil reclamation; it suddenly dawns upon another one that his frequent visiting Temirtau constructors and metal workers could yield a literary profit. Images of those who helped Kazakhstan become the Union’s second granary are starting to appear in our major books.
It has just struck me that, though I have covered many pages with my writing, no single word has been said on poets so far. It is not because we have less of them than we used to have or because the poetry has grown meagre. It is out of the question.
The thing is that poetry was the leading genre during the first Decade of Kazakh Literature and Art in Moscow, while prosaic works were extremely few. Nowadays, the center of gravity has been brought to prose, which is in itlef an evidence of professional maturity of Soviet Kazakhstan literature.
So let us consider poetry. The place which it occupies in publishing house dispatch and in readers’ hearts is rightfully considerable. Among the numerous poetic books presented during the Decade, I would like to pay most attention to the one which is currently being stitched in the print shop. It is a multi-authored book of large-scale poems titled In the Kazakh Land. Each of the authors whose works are included in the book has got his books of verse published. However, I find a book of narrative epic poems to be a most notable work. The poems are a chronicle of two stages in the people’s life, their past and present. Thus, Kurmangazy by one of the mature poets Khamit Yergaliyev is a poetic narration on a wonderful Kazakh composer presented against the large-scale social background of the events of the middle of the previous century. Bell in the Steppe by the young poet Gafu Kairbekov is dedicated to the enlightener and poet, founder of the first Russian-Kazakh schools Ibray Altynsarin, Abay’s contemporary. Sandstorm by Tair Zharokov is a passionate narration on the first revolutionary years.
Akhan Aktayev by Khalizhan Bekhozhin deals with our contemproraries and the industrial giants of the steppe.
Some of those who contributed to the book — Tair Zharokov, Abdilda Tazhibayev, and Khalizhan Bekhozhin — have been working fruitfully in the sphere of Kazakh poetry for a long time, while, for instance, Gafy Kairbekov represents the young generation which is just entering literary life. It makes the fact of his poem being a mature and colorful work written with great confidence and ardently inspired even more pleasing.
The poet Sattar Seytkhazin is even younger than Gafu Kairbekov. A book by his has been published in Russian in Moscow, and a beautifully worded and most candid quatrain of his was once printed as a slogan in the front page of a popular Moscow newspaper and traveled all around the country.
The country where Abay and Dzhambul were born has not been depleted of poetic talents.
The ear of the gray-haired Gali Ormanov is still careful about finest detail, and his poetry sounds heartwarming; Abdilda Tazhibayev still has an inclination towards happy and deep contemplation; the partisan poet Zhumagali Sain keeps elaborating in the civil theme as if bringing the Ukrainian Aydar River closer to our steppe Ishim.
I can see the covers of their books as colorful as a dzhailau in spring.
I can hear the rhythm of their verse and make out not the traditional Kazakh patterns but also meters which used to be unknown and alternate rhymes, intonations, imagery, and similes, which give a brand new tune to out poetry.
What is most important, I can feel their lyrical poems to be full of love for Motherland and its people, the noble aspiration to get closer to our contemporary readers.
Novels, novelettes, and poems...
I am not mentioning drama, for it has every opportunity to make itself known on the stage of Moscow theaters during the Decade.
But now my eyes are dwelling on the modest-looking piles of a simply bound black book. Its title is Born to the October. Its author is Mukhamedzhan Karatayev. It is a book of critical articles, studies, and sketches on Kazakh literature. You can also find a monographic study on the Kazakh translation of The Silent Don by M. A. Sholokhov and portraits of Abay, Dzhambul, Ilyas Dzhansugurov, and Mukhtar Auezov, revise and passionately written political sketches. Just like the extensive monographic work by E. Ismailov Akyns or sketches by Т. Nurgazin on S. Mukanov, A. Nurkagov, and M. Auezov, the book Born to the October are a living evidence of the fact that the republic’s literature stands firmly on its feet and is a fully legitimate participant of Kazakhstan’s cultural life.
To enumerate, to merely enumerate everything would mean to make the note at least twice as long.
I have not mentioned any books by my Russian comrades who live and work in Kazakhstan. But those include the inspiring celebrator of our northern steppe favored by A. M. Gorky, Ivan Shukhov, the historical novel master, the virgin soil playwright Nikolay Anov, author of three novels Dmitriy Onegin, and many others.
I have to resist the temptation to speak on Uigur writers and poets who have a department of our own in our Writer’s Union.
I have not mentioned the living improvising akyns, successors of the great poetic hero Dzhmbul. I am glad to refer poetry enthusiasts to the book The Steppe Singing, which has been published on the occasion of our Decade.
But there are two books, the luxurious printed covers of which I can see, two gift books on which I would like to dwell. They were being created by the nation for many centuries, people put their heart — sincere, inquiring, excited, empathetic, understanding, and humorous into it; they are warmed with the dream of happiness, of strong and powerful heroes. You must have guessed that what I mean is tales and heroic poems. Kazakh Tales and Kazakh Epic Poems include the best of what has been preserved in the people’s memory.
It was one hundred twenty five years ago that Alexander Pushkin, being in the steppe of Orenburg, was one of the first Russian people to hear the enticingly lyrical narration on two lovers. His papers include a brief note on Kozy Korpesh and Bayanslu. It was far later that the poet Tveritin created a poem themed on that lyric-epic work. It is only now that V. Potapova has prepared a translation of one of the most tender and brightest folk poems in its meticulously trued variant and it is not part of this book, which can be rightfully considered to be an accomplishment of Almaty publishing art. It has a perfectly crafted cover, colorful illustrations, a font easy to read, and an austere style. It is pleasant to hold the books, which can easily compete with the best representatives of Moscow publishing industry.
I have been mostly telling of what has been prepared by us on the occasion of the Decade, though in brief. However, the creative activities of our writers are by no means limited to that.
In recent years, the translation of world literature, such as works by Shakespeare, Balzac, Hugo, Heine, Byron, Dickens, Dreiser, Pushkin, Lermontov, Gogol, Turgenev, Goncharov, Tolstory, Chekhov, Gorky, Fadeyev, Sholokhov, and Mayakovsky, has acquired an unheard-of scale. Now the names have come to be generally familiar in Kazakh auls. In 1958, 22 books in Kazakh written by authors from Asia and Africa have been published on the occasion of the Tashkent Conference, which include works by the Indian writers Radindranath Tagore and Prima Chand, the Chinese writers Lu Xun, Mao Dun, and Guo Moruo, tales of African and Asian nations, novellas by Egyptian and Iraqi writers, and a collective Asian and African book of poems. The books have found and keep finding their readers like the immortal book of fairy tales The Arabian Nights has won its way to the herders of most remote auls.
...Books are going on a journey.
I can see their authors behind them, old, mature, and those who are just starting their literary career.
More than fifty writers have come to Moscow to attend the Decade, which is less than one third of the Writers’ Union of Kazakhstan, a large-scale creative organization which has regional offices in a number of the republic’s cities, publishes three printed issues of its own, not to mention numerous other magazines and newspapers and the Lazalh State Fiction Publishing House.
When we were starting our sensible life at the daybreak of the first revolutionary years, a worker’s faculty was our dream, steppe songs written down manually were out library, and the greatest publishing opportunity which we could possibly have was to see our verse printed on gray paper in a newspaper of Orenburg or Semipalatinsk.
Almost four decades have passed since then. The changes in the nation’s cultural life have been so drastic that one is at a loss for words. The liberated people inspired by the party have become truly capable of making miracles.
One of the miracles is tangible and simple, but its power is equal to that of our Irtysh hydraulic power plants – they are the piles of books near which I have been lingering to face my thoughts.
Here, in the publishing house, books start their journey to auls, newly built houses, libraries of kolkhoz settings, and the bookstores of our capital.
Have a happy journey, my dear friends, have a happy journey to the hearts of your readers!
1958
OUR BROTHERS AND FRIENDS
In early 19th century, Russian settlements started to be peacefully founded near Kazakh auls in the steppe.
By getting familiar with Russian physical and non-physical culture, people of the steppe have developed new ideas of life and new ideals. In spite of Islam, the appeal of the Russian school was constantly growing in the steppe. It was the Russian school which unveiled the eyes of Chokan Valikhanov and Ibray Altynsarin, who, by the way, had predecessors reared in Russian schools.
The nations inhabiting the enormous territory of the Russian Empire were getting to know each other close. Their cultures started to interweave in a friendly manner. Abay composed verse which did not sound like anything before him in Kazakh poetry. By means of his translation, the letter of Tatyana was passed from mouth to mouth with steppe singers, and a Russian girl named Maria, Yegor’s daughter, composed songs in Kazakh. In the twenties of our century, Kazakhstan could already be proud of its Russian writers.
What made me think of the historical connection between Kazakhstan and Russian was the fact that the old timeswere the beginning of the traditional international friendship, which brought about the friendship between Russian and Kazakh literatures.
Over thirty Russian poets and writers are currently members of the Writers’ Union of Kazakhstan. They are out brothers and friends. It is self-evident that we sincerely enjoy our brothers’ and friends’ success and feel truly sorry about their failures. We share numerous problems connected with the republic’s peculiar nature, problems which have to be solved with joint effort.
The army of Russian writers residing in Kazakhstan is a mighty force. The works by I. Shukhov, M. Zverev, N. Anov, D. Snegin, and N. Titov depicting the republic’s life are widely known here, and one only here. One can hardly imagine a learned person unfamiliar with the novel The Bitter Line and Hatred by Ivan Shukhov. It is a true-to-life depiction of life, complex and ambiguous as it is, adherence to the spirit of the era depicted, colorful characters, lively landscapes, and vigorous style what has rightfully given popular appeal to the novels. Ivan Shukhov has said that the lives of a Kazakh and a Cossack, or those of a Kazakh and a Ukrainian immigrant living close to each other are inextricably interconnected. The tribulations of Shukhov’s, Snegin’s, and Anov’s characters make one feel what once was the grief of the entire Kazakhstan.
What about the books by Russian Kazakhstni writers which depict the activity of Soviet people, the socialist transformation of the republic? They are numerous, such books. Apart from Aq Mechet and The Wings of the Song, historical romans which are not less rightfully popular with the Kazakh writer, N. Anov has written two plays on virgin soil reclamation.
The novelette Distant Approaches and the novel In the City of Verny by D. Snegin, which depict events of different epochs, has a greatly international appeal. Having started his career as a poet, Snegin has now switched to prose and is working in the field with great perseverance, not without creative agony.
The most natural environment for Russian Kazakhstani writers is the modern theme. If we turn to the facts of the recent years, which have been rife with historically significant events, we have seen than our colleagues and compatriots have been one of the first to respond to the burning issues.
D. Snegin has published a cycle of interesting sketches on the life of virgin soil workers full of labor heroism; Ivan Shukhov has published two books of virgin soil sketches without a pause – The Goldmine and The Working Days of the Steppe. The sketches seem to be the logical conclusion to the author’s many years’ work aimed to show the way in which the people’s dream of turning barren Kazakh steppes into a flourishing granary came true. Reading the sketches by Shukhov, a major original artist, we can virtually see the people, hear their picturesque speech, admire the steppe of feather grass and wheat, smell herbs, and feel blows of the hard wind of the steppe. The writer’s colors are bright, and the wording is weighty and clear. I. Shukhov is currently working on his new large-scale modern-themed novel.
The children’s naturalist writer M. Zverev has been working fruitfully for thirty years. He has travelled all across the Altai with his notebook and binoculars; he has visited most remote areas of Kazakhstan and the Betpak Dala Desert. М. Zverev has such extensive and profound knowledge of Kazakhstani nature than he need not resort to hokum. His style is simple, clear, and convincingly natural which can only be attributed to his vast experience. The scenes of waterless deserts and Altai woods, Balkhash swamps, and the Tien Shan mountains are presented in an accurate and truthful manner in his sketches, novelettes, and short stories.
The journalist F. Yegorov left Kazakhstan to go to the front. Being wounded in one of the battles, he was imprisoned. He spent five months behind the wire to escape and fight again. Having come back from the front, Yegorov went to Almaty, worked in Kazakhstanskaya Pravda for ten years, and has finished his novelette Head Up High a short time ago (it was printed in Novy Mir). He is the youngest member of our Writers’ Union, but it is clear that he started his literary career with a wealth of life experience.
At the time when the Kazakh Decade was held in Moscow in 1936, books by Russian Kazakhstani writers were extremely few. Now they are much more numerous. Apart from works by Shukhov, Snegin, Zverev, and Anov, a number of books by Russian writers, including the book of novelettes and short stories Night of Light by A. Semenov, The Fiftieth Parallel by S. Martyanov, books of poems Signs of Fall by N. Titov, The Late Encoutner by L. Kranshoshchekov, The Snowmelt by F. Morgun, and multi-authored prosaic and poetic books have been published on the occasion of the Decade.
If you add novels by Z. Tankhimovich, books of poems by D. Ryabukha, L. Skalovskiy, and A. Bragin, film scripts by V. Abyzov, and critical articles by N. Rovenskiy, if you remember works by N. Kuzmin, F. Chirva, D. Cherepanov, B. Petrov, V. Vanyushin, if you mention the talented youth represented by I. Shchegolikhin, V. Novikov, A. Ananyev, and others, its will be clear that Russian Kazakhstani literature is flourishing.
It is true and pleasant to know, but I would like to suggest a few general remarks for our comrades.
First of all, it would be great of the republic’s Russian writers had a deeper understanding of their responsibility as that of representatives of the great Russian literature. Unfortunately, our writers sometimes lack literary culture. Some books are declarative and contemplative instead of influencing the reader by means of their imagery.
Some writers do not dare to show their things in Moscow, to have them discussed by the capital’s leading writers. As far as I understand, we should not stew in our own juice.
Creating works on the past and the present of Kazakhstan, Russian writers naturally cannot but depict the life of Kazakhs. However, they are not always successful in creating Kazakh characters.
The reason is the fact that the writers lack communication with their Kazakh characters, knowledge on their daily living, way of thinking, and habits. Certainly, the lack of language knowledge is essentially sad.
It is not the first time that we have mentioned the necessity of knowing the national literature language for the Russian writers who have connected their lives to their brothers’ literatures. Snegin and Shukhov do not merely write about Kazakhstan; they are generally recognized translators of Kazakh literature! If you add the fact of Snegin’s and Shukhin’s fathers having spoken Kazakh fluently… well, it is clear. Learning a language must not be turned into a state problem as some of our Russian writers are trying to do in the republic by demanding special schools, allowances, etc. You need “a little” to know a language – to truly love it and be interested in it.
It is a well-known fact that Russian writers and scientists (Ilminskiy, Alektorov, Dal, Tveritin, etc.) have managed to fully master Kazakh in spite of the absence of an alphabet, which helped them preserve valuable objects of Kazakh physical and non-physical culture. The renowned Kazakh poet Sultanmakhmut Toraygyrov wrote in one of his first poems, “I swear that I will master Russian and Russian writing.” It must be mentioned that he did achieve it due to his great perseverance and love of the language.
We live in the time of cultural flourishing, most intimate connections, mutual influences, and enrichment of cultures. Under our conditions, studying our brothers’ languages as some of the greatest cultural elements, is no extra bonus for writers who live in national republics, and not for them only.
We, Kazakh writers, truly respect works by Russian Kazakhstani authors as brothers and friends.
We live and work at each other’s side. Our experience proves that constant intimate communication between Kazakh and Russian writers is crucial to the development of our literatures.
1958
THEY DESERVE A BETTER SONG
The greatness of out literature is determined by its showing the new man, the new hero – the Soviet worker and the builder of communism – to the work. Lots of books have been written on him. There are far more to come. But they are never enough.
Writers are greatly indebted to the common Soviet toiler. What part do the worker and kolkhoz member characters play in our books? Though it does not fit the truth of life, they often make the “general background”, their thoughts merely follow those of other characters, who are depicted closely. For example, I am not going to distinguish a factory worker from the head of the place, for they live the dame life. What I mean in a different thing - it is that common people have been getting a necessary but bland part in recent works. They express approval or disapproval at meetings (how many books with scenes of astonishingly similar meetings we have!), vote for or against, support the fit ones and refuse to have the lame ones. Is it really the only way to depict “people’s opinion”?
I may be exaggerating a little, but I am sure that the “common” worker of our Today and Tomorrow has not found a decent equivalent in books yet.
All of us writers love being called Gorky’s disciples. Read his immortal short stories, one by one, and you will see that Gorky mostly concentrated on the common man. Gorky protected capitalism, which was a sore not only on society’s body but also in people’s minds, mercilessly and sternly, like a surgeon; he portrayed the people’s character in a lovingly meticulous manner. How many unforgettable images and picturesque portraits of common people he left us! The conclusion is obvious – we are poorly learning from Gorky’s works, and our writings on the common man are not good enough. Of course, it would be unfair to accuse all of our writers. As I have already said, we have been having numerous wonderful works written within Gorky’s framework of portraying “people of little marks and their great work.” In my opinion, the short story Destiny of a Man by M. Sholokhov gives literature an unmistakable twist into the everyman theme. The power of our wonderful poet A. Tvardovsky can be attributed to the same feature of his works. I found the recent short story by Tvardovsky Stove Setters most beautiful. Its protagonist Yegor Yakovlevich is a man of a truly folk nature.
However, as the saying goes, there is no rule without an exception. I think that we have too much of such exceptions.
So why do we focus so rarely on the builder of communist, who is definitely the greatest hero of today? Don’t you, comrade writers, that we are losing our nerve in the face of difficulties, which are inevitable for a writer attempting to portray a common workman of kolkhoz farmer? I think is is easier to portray a manager. In such case, business conflicts are obvious, sometimes you can exploit external attributes,
describe a room, a telephone, a secretary, arguments, and the fight against the backward. But try to grasp the essence or the catchy detail of an unshowy workman, one of those who work with huge machines in a huge workshop.
The workman environment has few shallow characters; it has conflicts of its own, which are large-scale and are by no means limited to the clash between an innovative workman and a conservative manager.
I would like to mention two facts concerning animal breeding in Kaxakhstan which seem very ordinary. In Kuybyshev Kolkhoz of Kirov District in Taldy Kurgan Province, an old sheep herder, a member of the Supreme Soviet of Kazakhstan Zakirbay Zhanbosynov. In 1934, he was entrusted with a herd of thirty hair sheep. By the end of 1958, the kolkhoz had come to possess thirty thousand fine fleece sheep without being a single one. The fact surely sounds like a tall tale, but is it not clear that it was a most hardly fought heroic struggle against the nature, the rudimental attitude of aul swellers, and his own illiteracy that Zhanbosynov made the dream come true? Who know what wonders the old wizard could have worked if he had some scientific information to refer to! Is his life and work not a desirable material for a writer?
I will tell you another thing.
In Chokan Valikhanov Kolkhoz of Gvardeysk District, female dairy maids have united to form a communist labor group. The group is headed by a demure young woman Z. Tambishayeva. The group’s lifestyle and work is uncommon and contradictory to the old aul custom. The girls have introduced a rigorous daily regimen, which is by no means characteristic of old animal breeders; what is even more important, their ambition is to combine production with studying in a most sensible way. Two of them are entering a medical university this year and one girl is entering a conservatory, but the group will not fall apart – the place of those leaving for studies will be taken by other girls. The group is well-disciplined and has great respect of labor. I believe members of the group to be introducing numerous changes into the customary old-fashioned animal breded routine quite unconsciously, being an enticing role model for many peers who could keep living in the old way in many aspects.
Such phenomena, such people’s initiative deserve close attention of writers and can teach us a lot.
It is only by making his connection to the people’s everyday life and working activities even more intimate that a writer can create a true-to-life portrait of a workman.
We have been discussing the necessity of actively penetrating the life with greatest fervor and sincerity for several years, but our actions in this regard are still too passive. It seems to me that we have forgotten a nice recommendation by Gorky: to create a generalized portrait to represent a type, one has to study dozens of prototypes closely and pick the essential things.
The principal method of studying life which we still employ is the so called creative trips. I agree with my comrades who believe a month or two be too little to fathom life. What is the usual beginning of them? It is mostly a previous “leads”. We start by going to the district or regional committee to obtain the innovator’s address and profile and go straight to his house without lingering anywhere or looking closely. We break with the great literary tradition. Let me quote one of renowned writers, “Never take large roads, only pathways, sleep in barns if there is no hotel in the neighborhood, feed on bread and water if you cannot get other food, never avoid rain, distance, or long hours of constant walking – this is what you need to get to know a country, to get into is very heart, to find a thousand of things you would never expect to find not so far away from tourist cities.” This is what Mopassan wrote while traveling around Brittany.
Why do I find it so crucial to renew the discussion on the common worker theme?
By creating works on the Soviet man, our literature should pay its tribute to him, the creator of happiness and the creator of our seven-year plan, who does deserve a better song. Besides, books on our contemporary can be a great help to writers in terms of coming to understand the beauty of what is being done around him, nurturing modesty, generosity, and an understanding of the complexity and greatness of life — things without which neither a writer nor a literature can possibly exist.
1959
KAZAKHSTAN IS A RICH COUNTRY
A writer’s correspondence is always interesting. The way an author’s talks to his penmate readers and characters, friends from the literary work and everyday life exposes the author’s mind, allowing us to see the deepest of his intentions.
And how important correspondence with foreign readers is!
Apart from everything else, is an evidence of our international comrades’ love for our Motherland, the deep interest which they take in the cultural life of the USSR, and out international connections which are growing more and more intimate.
I take the liberty to publish a letter by a Chekhoslovak reader to me and my response.
“Prague, May 9, 1959
Dear Comrade Musrepov,
I am writing to you from the distant Chekhoslovakia. Not long ago, school students presented me with a Chekh translation of your novel A Soldier from Kazakhstan. It is a nice book, I liked it a lot. It portrays kind and brave people. After I had finished it, I realized that I have a question, that is, a number of them. Are you going to publish a sequel? If one has already been published, what is the title? Your work could make a trilogy: book 1 – before Kostya goes to get the treatment; book 2 – his returning to the battle front and campaign to Berlin; book 3 — military discharge and the characters’ life under the peaceful USSR conditions. It it because nobody in Prague could answer my questions that I take the liberty to disturb you.
Your novel has evoked an interest for the Kazakh Republic and its people in me. What kind of a nation are the Kazakhs? Where do they live, what language do they speak, and what was the earlier name of Kazakhstan and the nation? You article in Ogonyok magazine (No. 44, 1957) gave me the answers to some of the questions. Many things became clear to me later. I would thank you specially for the information on Kazakh writers. I have already found here, in Prague, the works Botagoz by S. Mukanov, The Millionaire by G. Mustafin, and Abay by M. Auezov. I read all the books in their Chekh translations. Now I know more about your republic than I used to know before. Out article The Republic of Which I Am Proud has helped me to a certain extent, so I have been able to tell the children something about Kazakhstan. Now I can see how rich the country is (It must be the second richest country in the Soviet Union, isn’t it?) What tremendous success in forty years, what literature! It is about to achieve the high level of Russian literature, which can be proven by the fact that the Kazakh writer Auezov has been recently awarded the Lenin prize.
Let me apologize once again for taking the liberty to disturb you, being a total stranger to you.
If you have a minute to spare, please write to me to let me know is there is a continuation on the life of Kostya Sartaliyev and other comrades. What are you working on and what have you written?
I wish you great success! I hope that you are in good health.
Sergey Rushevskiy (retired).
Address: Chekhoslovakia, Prague-2
Sergey Rushevskiy.
Sekaninov Street, 50.
R. S. After finishing the novel Botagoz, I still have a question. In one place, the author mentions Kyrgyz people, while in a different place Kazakhs are mentioned. Is there any difference or is it the translator’s mistake?”
“Almaty, June 30, 1959”
Dear Comrade Sergey Rushevskiy,
I apologize for giving you a belated reply – I have just returned to Almaty from Moscow.
I was truly pleased to read your letter.
I think it goes without saying that any author is extremely happy to know that his characters have found the way to a reader who lives thousands of kilometers away from their land. I have another feeling added to that personal sentiment of mine – I feel proud of the entire Kazakh literature, my penmates, and my republic.
You are not mistaken – indeed, Kazakhstan is rich, vast, and most interesting country. Its territory is equal to that of the entire Europe without England; to put it differently, Kazakhstan could host seven Frances. It occupies the first place in the Soviet Union in terms of nonferrous metal. You have definitely heard of the virgin soil upturned in the Soviet Union, have you not? Out of the 36 million hectares reclaimed within the recent six years, 23 million belongs to Kazakhstan. Judgin by state budget, our republic is number three. It is easy to find the answer to the question of Kazakhstan’s significance in the brotherly family of Soviet republics which you feel curious about. In the people’s economy of the Union, we do not generally occupy the second place. The second place is occupied by Ukraine, which enjoys a better-developed industry and agriculture.
In earlier times, before the Great October, my country used to be a backward colonial animal breeding province, and my nation was even deprived of its name of the Kazakhs. You were asking if there is any difference between the Kazakhs and the Kyrgyzs. Like the Kazakhs, the Kyrgyzs are Turkic speaking but freestanding nations, the Kyrgyzs have a republic of his own. However, tsarism has a single name for both nations – the Kyrgyzs. This is the reason why reresentatives of the tsarist bureaucracy speak of Kyrgyzs, while Kazakhs use the proper name for themselves.
You were asking about the project by the engineer Davydov. No, it is not being implemented. It is one of the numerous Kazakhstan irrigation projects. It does have an appeal and a technical creativity, but it would be difficult to implement at the present stage. The Irtysh - Central Kazakstan Canal is closer to the real life. It was discussed at the 21st convention of the Communist Party of the Sovier Union. I could tell you about the wonderful irrigating construction in the Hungry Steppe, about the Syrdarya dam which has turned the barren soil into fertile fields and gardens.
We have got a new project – the result of many years’ work of the hydrologists of the Kazakh SSR Academy of Scene headed by the republic’s youngest members of the republic – Ufa Mendybayevich Akhmedsafin. Studying the origin of clear water springs among salt marshes and lakes, analyzing the data obtained from hundreds of deep-hole wells, Kazakhstani hydrogeologists have made a conclusion that underground seas exist here. The underground seas were formed for millions of years in cup-formed depressions of tectonically origin. Torrents of mountain and atmosphere water go there, to the enormous underground cups, through sand, Sandston soil, and gravel.
The scientists have mapped the Chuya Sea,which lies under the rocky soil of our great Betpak Dala Desert, a voluminous underground artesian basin in the Sydarya Subduction, and a basin in the Embensk oil area in the west of Kazakjstan. Certainly, it is not easy to use the water supply, but the essential thing is that the republic will definitely be irrigated in the nearest historical future. To describe our republic in detail, I would have to write a book and not a letter. This is why I decided to send you some books in which you have find a wealth of information of the past and the present of Kazakhstan – they are selected works by our renowned enlightener and writer Chokan Valikhanov, a history of the Kazakh SSR and sketches on Kazakh writers by M. Karatayev and A. Bragin.
You were willing to know about my literary intentions.
I am working in the sphere of drama, writing plays for our theaters. My greatest work is a trilogy on the formation of Kazakh working class. I am also sending the first book of the trilogy – it is hard to tell when I will finish it –the protagonist of A Soldier from Kazakhstan suddenly meets his new friends in the miners’ land of Karaganda. I am strongly assured that this is what should happen.
With a friendly handshake and best regards,
Gabit Musrepov”
1959
THE EXACTING WRITER
I am concerned about certain general literary issues, in particular, those connected with out drama.
It is a well-known fact that the position of the modern drama leaves much to be desired.
The Soviet drama started its victorious march as a revolutionary, heroic drama. It has lost much of its most valuable feature – the heroic pathos – within the recent years, and the reason is largely the growing number of people who introduce the spirit of empiricism to the dramatic art.
The earthbound approach to our heroic today is still widely spread. The heroic and romantic pathos which true art needs and which gives it the possibility to glorify a character, present a close-up, and make him the holder of our minds.
Unfortunately, it is not drama what is gravely affected by dullness. I guess that the second-rate has to be fought as hard as possible and jointly, and the Writers’ Union as well as the Ministry of Culture should put a definite end to the bland useless scribble.”
We have spent a great deal of time chewing on the “conflictless theory”. I am certainly not intended to lament over that nonsense. None of the real writers has ever advocated the “theory”; it is only bunglers who have been feeding on it. We cannot but regret the fact that, being totally aware of the fact that the conflict is the core to any work of fiction, literary science is still not studying the nature of dramatic conflict and that of the conflict which appears under specifically Soviet conditions. In his report, A. Surkov claimed the nature of modern conflicts to lie in people’s labor and social activity. It is surely true. But as soon as we turn to practice, we come to face countless standards and schemes of characters. A character’s labor and social activity often smothers his nature and personality. The drama is mostly going around one and the same plot: a husband wants to go to virgin soil works, and his wife is opposed to it.
It is time that we debunked the fraudful tricks to which “figures” of the nearly-literary world resort and which are alien to our literature. One-character-fits-all plays and screenplays which convey no individual or national character are traveling from one republic to another. If the author calls his character Khodzhakev, he can make an Uzbek; if he is Khodzhibekov, he will get the character turned into an Azerbaijanian; and the name of Khodzhibayev will turn him into a Kazakh. Sometimes a thing is rejected in Moscow but directed to the republic – we are supposed to be universally tolerant. It is not the worst thing which can happen. I have a huge novel manuscript in my desk drawer which used to lie in the Writers’ Union of the USSR.
They could have easily said to the author that it was no novel at all, but for some reason I was the one to tell the ugly truth.
I think it is time we sorted it out with the so called production background theory. I do not demand tractors to plough soil right on the stage or the audience to admire an oil fountain. But we cannot allow the man to be separated from his labor activities. In many plays, the only way to tell a workman is by looking at his clothes, and we do not see the way in which his personality reveals itself in the main aspect of life; we have not learned to tell it in the language of art yet. It also seems to me that we are being a little too generous about generalization, forgetting the deeper sense of the concept and failing to consider the artistic value of images.
Now I would like to say a couple of words on the technical issues which I believe to be connected with out creative progress.
The thirds writers’ convention is to initiate a new way of managing the multinational Soviet literature. We are unanimous about the fact that the previous form is outdated. I also find it necessary for the convention to take the concerns of national writers into consideration as well.
We cannot keep managing national literatures via Brotherly Literature Committee councilors. The Union’s responsible workers are the ones to assume the responsibility.
No national literature can be judged by its translation. The administrative body of the Writers' Union should consist of people who can speak not only Russian but also read works of national literatures.
The editorial activities of all printed issues of the Writers’ Union has to be totally rebuilt so that they truly become those of multinational literature. Traditionally, our printed issues deal with a limited group of national authors, which is the most renowned and essential small. It is time attention was also paid to a wider scope of literary workers and their production was traced in the original instead of Russian, which mostly appears in three to four years after the book is initially printed.
To my mind, formally including representatives of national cultures into the editorial staff of newspapers and magazines is not enough. We need a more capital reconstruction. For example, it would be very helpful if the staff of Literaturnaya Gazeta could read in the languages of the most advanced literatures.
No evidence is needed to prove the necessity of arranging a central publishing house for national USSR literatures.
Printed speeches by V. Lapis and M. Guseyn as well as those made at the convention by O. Gonchar, P. Brovka, and others have given sufficient reasoning for all the measures. I join the abovementioned writers and hope that the convention will support us unanimously.
1959
THE NECESSARY CREATIVE UNION
The third Convention of USSR Writers is a new frontier in the life of the multinational Soviet literature and cultures. We, writers of the Soviet Union, were accounting to the party and the people for what we had been doing between the two conventions. To tell the truth, we did have things to report, accomplishments to share, and especially intentions for the future.
I am going to emphasize the peculiarities of the convention which I believe to be the most important.
To start with, it is the complete and harmonious unity of Soviet writers with the Communist Party in terms of understanding the profound objectives of the new period in our country’s development, the period of large-scale communism building. It is the reason behind the active treatment of most pressing issues, that is, of artistically valuable depiction of the splendid era of Soviet heroism. The issue of contemporary reality has never been discussed so comprehensively by all writers, by the entire multinational Soviet literature.
The success or this or that literature, this or that writer shall be defined exclusively and unconditionally by the contemporary theme. Besides, we should remember that the contemporary orientation can by no means be treated like a temporary campaign. It is not a campaign but the general line of the development of our literature.
The matter of our connection to life has to be addressed in a different, broader and deeper way. Creative trips have come to be nearly the only form of studying life. Is it right? Is forty five or sixty days enough to study life?
Are there no other, more stable forms of getting accustomed to the labor atmosphere?
Contemporary problems cannot be solved without top quality, without the union of form and content. An abrupt turn to our heroic contemporarily at the same time implies greater artistic requirements.
The greeting of the Central Committee of the Soviet Union Communist Party reads as follows, “The literature of communism must be a great literature not only in term of its rich ideological content, but also in terms of its artistic perfection. Great ideas require great skills; heroic characters require a decent artistic performance.”
A Soviet writer cannot be indifferent to the splendor of Soviet people’s labor enthusiasm, the grander of the seven-year plan. A Soviet writer cannot but participate in the formation the future man’s mind with greatest passion.
In the meanwhile, the march of Kazakhstani writers towards the contemporary theme is far from being orderly. Naturally, most of writers tackle major Kazakhstani industry and agriculture labor issues as well as those of the intelligentsia. Every department of our Union has creative plans which are very different from those of the previous year, they are not embellished with pre-revolutionary aul girls. We only need the plans to make good books and screenplays, a good drama.
An insignificant but odd discord has been brought about by the military literature committee. It recommends to re-publish whatever has been written and published in our country in relation to the war on certain Great Patriotic War occasions with great perseverance. There is no single title in the plan. I would expect the military committee to realize it on their own and amend their drafts.
The second part of the meeting was dedicated to a high-toned and fundamental conversation on the consolidation of literary workers, which is to be based on the party and allow no individual or group deals or collusions. It was probably the first party convention to exclude personal rational from the discussion of or work, the first convention, during each the sacred arms of the party, that is, criticism and self-criticism, have been used for the purposes they were meant for, that is, as friendly recommendations to help the writer in his work instead of castigating and wrenching him.
The 3rd meeting of USSR writers was largely focused on the problem of national literatures development. The reason behind the fact of that the literature and culture of Soviet nations have matured greatly. While the 2nd meeting was marked by shy participation of representatives of national cultures in the discussion of general literary issues, it is quite different now. The period between the two meetings of USSR writings have been extremely fruitful for all cultures. The national literature decades which have been held in Moscow within the period have shown the enormous success of the cultural revolution in national republics.
This is the wat I see the third milestone, the achievement of which we owe to the brotherly mutual help of literatures, particularly the invaluable help of the advanced Russian literature and culture.
We continue to be deeply indebted.
Kazakhstani writers do understand that the republic’s life has already written a number of wonderful books about those who transform nature and create the nation’s wealth on its geographic map. Our objective is to depict their heroism artistically. I do not want to contradict those who claim life to be always in advance, because it is absolutely true.
It is not always the present and the past what Soviet writers should write about; they should also direct the insightful eye of an artist towards today to give the party even greater help in communist rearing of the working class.
For the work to be successful, the Writers’ Union and other creative unions of Kazakhstan, the Ministry of Culture and its artistic establishments should produce a well-thought plan of further actions.
However, there has been no creative collaboration between our unions and the Ministry of Culture. Vindicating the honor of our cloth and acting in dissimilar ways, we do not help each other; instead, we stand in our shared way.
For example, the backwardness of our drama and cinema drama cannot be tolerated any more. The way it has always been before is as follows: the Writers’ Union has been planning the development of literature in the whole, and the plan would always have too many titles, bringing about the necessity to make them short year after year. However, the Union has been showing little interest about how our theatres feel. The Ministry of Culture still fails to get to start a fruitful cooperation with the writers. Is it not one of the reasons why drama is fallen behind the other genres?
Our relationship with the Composers’ and Cinema Workers’ Union is just as bad.
For instance, some poets write contemporary-themed librettos. But Kazakhstani composers refuse to elaborate the contemporary subject. I remember the resolution adapted at the first composers’ meeting of our republic, which claimed composers to treat librettos as their work. It was a proud thing to claim, but we can hardly be proud of the results.
The Cinema Workers’ Union, being the youngest union, is naturally undergoing a period of arrangements. However, its first steppes towards collaboration with us have no trace of creative extraordinariness. Let us think of the speeches made by Sh. Aymanov at the 4th Kazakhstani Writers’ Meeting and by M. Romm at the 3rd All-Union Meeting. They both mentioned the mass nature of cinema. However, they made an impression of opposing cinema to other types of art, making a fetish out of it. They present the technical miracle behind cinema in a way which makes it sound unfathomable to the profane. In my opinion, the contrasting in unnecessary, and the cinema fetish can do nothing but harm. Cinema is one of the kinds of realistic art developing according to the creative principles of socialist realism.
Indeed, we still have not find a form of creative cooperation. We are boasting in front of each other too much:
“Well, no way you can do without me!” At the same time, we are well aware of the fact that we share the same task – to provide a decent literary and artistic presentation of our heroic reality.
Our creative cooperation is a guarantee of our future success.
Each of us to have work hard, very hard to depict the epoch of the heroic seven years. Work is exactly what we need, because only a true master can provide reliable help to the party
1959
ON THE STATE AND OBJECTIVES OF KAZAKH SOVIET LITERATURE
The 4th Meeting of Writers of Kazakhstan starts under most favorable conditions, when the highest of all-human ideals – the communist order — has become the actual reality for the Soviet writer, the creative environment for him to work in, giving all of himself, the entire power of his poetic soul and heart to the order.
We have over 40 years of socialism building behind us, the period of colossal victories of the new socialist world. From now on, each single ton of metal, each good book, that is, whatever is treated as a representative of physical as well as non-physical culture, shall contribute to the building of the communist society.
The historically significant 21st Convention of the CPSU, which has been recognized by the communist and labor movement of the entire world to be that of builders of communism, initiates a period of extensive communist society building. With what pride and with what high communist awareness the writer and poet whose country is the leader of the greatest revolution ever, which in fact creates a new human society on earth, should create!
We, contemporary Soviet writers, have been lucky enough to witness science start the space era, being in advance of the boldest, unrestrained imagination of poets and writers of all times. Its contribution has been not only three sputniks of the Earth but also a new Soviet planet added to the Solar System. Everything which used to be called a miracle before: the deeds of Hercules,
the Gardens of Babylon, and many other things, have lost its color in the face of the real creations of the human mind, of the sputniks and the planet, the radiance of which helps people all across the globe see the unrestrained leap of thought and imagination in the country of socialism. Stretch of imagination and thought is the thing with which every writer is most familiar! Personally I believe the realistic imagination connected with the Soviet reality and the heroic deeds of the Soviet people to be capable of initiating a true somersault, especially in such genres as military and children’s literature without being limited to them.
The ideological, political, artistic, and esthetic tools of the social world, which have been used to promote the Marxist Leninist theory in an ever growing scale due to literary works, has grown to be an endless source of the new, socialist moral values. The Marxist Leninist outlook has become not only the ideology of the socialist artistic intelligentsia; it has been winning the minds of cultural workers of the capital world and colonial countries steppe by steppe, ever wider and deeper.
I could mention dozens of names belonging to most progressive and renowned men of art and literature of the capitalist world, who have already become efficient promoters of socialist realism and undermine the ideological basis of fascism and colonialism in their works, exposing the vile of those who initiate war and hostility.
On the unruinable basis of historical victories of socialism, the young world, that is, the world of socialism, assumes the responsibility for the future of the entire mankind. What we have been saying on the universal victory of socialism has now acquired the nature of direct practical activity. While the great founder of the theory of human society development K. Marx claimed that “philosophers explain the world, while we need to change it”, we have to complete a great mission – our generation of Soviet culture are to participate directly in the transformation of the world and creation of the new communist world.
I doubt that writers need to have great imagination to see an obstacle to war, not imaginative but real, an obstacle to the deadliest threat to the mankind under today’s conditions, the obstacle which the socialist world headed by the Soviet Union has been building on land and in the air as well as in the minds of the working class, in the seven years’ program adapted by the 21st Convention of the CPSU. The heroic peaceful labor of the socialist world, primarily the Soviet Union, has created fortresses which prevent the capitalist world from waging war not only to our entire system but also to any country in the world. The decisive word is ours, and the world will always be “No!” Labor, which turned the man into a human being at the dawn of his existence, is now saving the socialist society from the military threat, preparing to turn the very ideology of military aggression, which kept the human mind bound for ages, into a museum item.
The face of our Motherland is noble and magic, powerful and undefeatable when you look into its tomorrow and think of the great anthem in which the multinational Soviet army of artists of the word, brush, stage, and screen is to celebrate the heroic labor of the people and Lenin’s party. The artist who is lucky to sing a decent anthem to the labor heroism of his people shall truly be the greatest hero.
This, the crucial factor of the unheard-of progress of Soviet literature is the ultimate accordance of each writer’s creative activity to the aims and objectives of the new period of the country’s social development, that is, the period of communism building. This is the point of view, that of the program adapted by the 21st Party Convention, from which we, writers of Kazakhstan, should address all problems without exception which our literature is to solve creatively in the nearest future.
It is the writer’s noble objective, that is, to depict the heroic deed of the people as the builder of communism what we should discuss at our meeting. I would like to emphasize the fact of our country having become the classical socialist country viewed as an example to be followed and learned from in terms of whatever is heroic and consistent
about the socialist transformation of economy and culture, the preparation of highly aware members of the new society. Who should put the issue of the classical idea of socialist realism as the highest in ideological and artistic terms requirement to works on the agenda if not we; if we do have such literature, the requirements should be widely discussed. I think that Kazakhstani writers, being one of the major groups of the multinational Soviet literature, are capable of addressing the issues during their second convention.
It is a well-known fact that the Second Decade of Kazakh Art and Literature in the capital of our Motherland, Moscow, was decently organized and was received as a bright and festive event in the life of the Soviet Union’s multinational culture.
Our republic’s party newspapers Sotsialistik Kazakhstan and Kazakhstanskaya Pravda have been absolutely just and unbiased in their summing up of the Decade, which they did on February 22 of the current year. Unanimous like never before, they wrote the following beautiful words which encouraged Kazakhstani creative workers a lot, “The cultural level currently achieved on the basis of the people’s absolute literacy, its national opera, dramatic art, symphonic music, painting, sculpture, and the multi-genre literature looks even more magnificent.”
During the Decade, Kazakh literature proved to be a young, powerful, and mature literature of numerous genres and theme. It proved to be capable of meeting even more severe requirements of the party and the people. Pointing at its unmistakable lacunas fastidiously, quite a large number of Moscow’s leading writers, poets, prose writers, and critics were unanimous in their admitting the fact that issues concerning the entire Soviet literature could be discussed on the basis of Kazakh literature. The discussions of our literature which took place during the Decade in Moscow were largely marked by that flattering attitude. What we appreciate most is the fact that the festive aspect of the Decade by no means prevented critics from staying business-like and conceptual, and we, writers of Kazakhstan, returned from Moscow enriched with ideas and inspired for even greater ambitions.
We cannot but be proud when M. Auezov’s saga about Abay is recognized as a contribution to the world treasury of spiritual culture by the most exacting and unbiased critics; we cannot but be proud when the same critics find novels by S. Mukanov, I. Shukhov, G. Mustafin, N. Apov, and young prose writers such as A. Nurpeisov, T. Akhtaiov, and Kh. Yesenzhanov, as well as lyrical poems by A. Tazhibayev, G. Ormanov, A. Sarsenbayev, K. Bekkhozhin, D. Abilev, Kh. Yergaliyev, Zh. Sann, S. Maulenov, and a number of other Kazakhstani works to be a decent contribution into Soviet literature.
The best works of drama and criticism were estimated at the same level It is also worth mentioning that some of the major genres are not yeat as old as even 40 years. However, the deep connection which our literature has with life, its great variety of themes, the brigh national colors, and highly developed artistic skills were specially marked in Moscow.
I would like to put special emphasis on the appreciation of our contemporary poetry due to its rich themes and active penetration of people’s life. Supported by its fundamental basis, that is, by its wealth of epic works, those by Abay and Dzhambul, Toraygurov and Seyfullin, Maylin and Dzhansugurov, and realistic Russian poetry, it has truly progressed.
“It is extremely pleasant to feel,” N. S. Tikhonov said when discussing Kazakh poetry, “that our Kazakhstani brothers exist as a powerful poetic army, not only as a powerful army focused too exclusively on their own space, no matter how vast it is, but also depicting the events happening in the world and expanding our minds, leading our people to their shared dream.”
I guess it would be too much glorification if I added something to the high opinion expressed by N. S. Tikhonov, the country’s greatest poet, and, in a manner of speaking, the conscience of our multinational poetry. I will only add that there is no case of the literature of a nation totally bound by absolutely illiteracy and ignorance progressing so greatly within such a short period of time – as little as forty years -in the past history of culture. What made the miracle possible was the victory of the October Revolution, which started the new era of humanity, the era of unheard-of physical and mental progress, which is socialistic in its content.
The fact that two out of the four works selected for the last tour of the competition for Lenin prizes belong to Kazakh writers, that is, M. Auezov and S. Mukanov, is also an evidence of the high level of the ideological and artistic development of Kazakh literature. In the transparent and honest literary competition between all nations of the Soviet Union, our two writers have delighted us by reaching the finish line within the top four. It is a most important and remarkable fact. I can only add that the works have been judged by the most exacting and unbiased, greatly experienced and enthusiastic art lovers and adherents of socialist realism literature.
The wrote representation which Kazakh prose has won in the international literary world is also an evidence of its high quality; the epic novel by our greatly talented writer M. Auezov has been recognized as an outstanding contemporary works capable of influencing other literatures, including foreign ones.
There is one more example of our literature’s continuous progress which I would like to ass. While the number of works which we brought for our Decade was 86 for poetry and over 20 for prose; various departments of the Writers’ Union and its editorial offices now have 8 more novels and novelettes in the Kazakh language, 5 novels and novelettes in Russian, 5 new plays, and over 20 books of poems.
The facts prove our literature to be both mature and significant, to have, in a manner of speaking, crossed the line of “internal consumrion”, and to be quite capable of tackling the problems which the entire literature is facing. We have undergone the global Moscow review at this level, and we are entering the period of expansive building of the communist society at the same level.
The period between the two meetings of Kazakhstani writers (1954—1959), which was deeply and favorably influenced by the historical decisions of the 20th Convention of the CPSU, was especially fruitful. In my view, the most characteristic feature of the period is the fact that the further development of our literature was clearly defined by the transition to major forms of prose, poetry, and scientific as well as critical literature, which sometimes prevented minor forms from being developed. I am delighted to note that a number of promising young Kazakhstani writers have presented their first significant works, mostly prosaic ones, at the same time as when the large-scale work on Abay by M. Auezov and the two-volumed authobiographical novel My Mekteps by S. Mukanov were finished. They met the challenge of Russian publication without overindulgence and claimed the attention of Moscow writers and critics at once. The great ideological and artistic significance of the works belonging to the group of young talented writers lies not only in their theoretical fitness on their entering the world of literature, due to which they managed to start with large scale-works depicting our heroic present times, but also in the fact that they demonstrate a deeper and more refined understanding of the typical features of theory contemporaries, their mentality, and the intellectually rich thinking than it used to be before.
The greatest youth contribution into our literature which took place within the period between the two conventions was the clear formation of a new large prosaic subgenre, e.g. the military genre, which became central to the heroic contemporary theme. The heroic pathos of the Great Patriotic War in Kazakh literature is rendered through memorable images of Soviet warriors and their valiant patriotic heroism.
In this respect, I would like to begin with the the deeply substantial, multidimensional novel by N. Nurpeisov The Long Awaited Day, which has become one of the most significant phenomena in Kazakh prose after being improved. Our Moscow friends also appreciate the first novel by T. Akhtanov The Thundering Days, which depicts the heroic deeds of Soviet warriors at the battlefront of the Great Patriotic War as well as The Long Awaited Day by Nurpeisov does. The novel was printed in two languages on the occasion of the Decade and has just been accepted by Sovetskiy Pisatel Publishing House for mass issuing; it is also about to be published in German in GDR, which will definitely be its first step towards the international reader. The military novelette by the young prosaic writer F. Yegorov Head Up High has garnered attention in Moscow as well as in Kazakhstan. Ut was printed in our Sovetskiy Kazakhstan magazine and reprinted in the Novy Mir magazine, which is an evidence of its considerable artistic and ideological merits.
I believe I should mention the large-scale book by Dm. Snegin Distant Approaches, the poem Manshuk by M. Khakimzhanova, which describes the military heroic deeds of the first female hero of the Great Patritic War who came from the Soviet East – Manshuk Mametova, and another poem written about another heroine of the Great Patriotic War, also a Kazakh woman, L. Moldagulova, the poem Chapayev by Yergaliyev.
The subject of the Patriotic War which got considerable representation in wirks by K. Amanzholov, A. Sarsenbayev, Zh. Sain, D. Abilev, G. Ormanov, A. Tazhibayev, L. Krivoshchokov, L. Skalkovskiy, and many others, would be worth another mention, but the only reason why I omit them is because they have been discussed many times before the meeting. However, I cannot resist saying a few words on the wonderful poem by Dzh. Muldagaliyev Song about a Song, which is dedicated to the heroic deeds of the patriotic Tatar poet Musa Dzhalil, who was posthumously awarded a Lenin prize. What is most astonishing about Muldagaliyev’s poem about the writer is the fact that it presents a fine and interesting combination of the heroic and the lyrical, the lofty and the simply true.
A very short time ago, after the Decade, the Kazakh Youth Theatre presented an anti-fascist play by out two tight-lipped playwrights Raimkulov and Isabekov, which got a warm reception with the audience. Other authors have written decent plays on the subject of the Great Patriotic War. Thus, the new subgenre under question involves all aspects of literature and is likely to be developed.
I am inclined to attribute much of the transition of our literature to the contemporary-themed stage, which was more clearly marked after the 20th Party Convention and, to tell the truth, is far from being stable, not to speak about its completeness, to young talented authors. The issue is central to the entire Soviet literature.
Our young writers elaborate on the best traditions of Soviet writers by celebrating the socialist contemporary reality in dozens of prosaic and poetic books, an theming the new outlook of Soviet people, creating images of workers, kolkhoz farmers, and representatives of working intelligentsia. Quite naturally, the crucial events arranged by the party and the government are also depicted in those books, and the reader can feel the authors’ sincerely enthusiastic attitude to such events.
The first novels by the young prose writers Shaymerdenov and Kabdulov, novelettes by Nurtazin, Raimkulov, Baytanayev, Kuzmin, Shchegolikhin, short stories and sketches by Chirva, Petrov, and Khurshaikhov, poems by Alimbayev, Kairbekov, Mambetov, Ibragim, Muldagaliyev, Shamkenov, and Antonov, the poem on the Kazakhstani Magnitka by Balykin, the virgin soil poem by Seytkhazin, the first compilations of beginner poets such as Duysenbayev, Altayev, Shopashev, Zakonov, Abdrakhmanova, and many others cope pretty well with filling the gaps which exist in the contemporary-themed literature.
In the novel Inesh by S. Shaymerdenov, which was written before our third meeting took place but later reworked, as well as in the novel A Spark of Life by Z. Kabdulov, the life of the university intelligentsia and that of Soviet students are depicted.
What is characteristic of the works?
Firstly, university intelligentsia novels are new to Kazakh literature as such; secondly, the works’ common thread is the idea of the intimate relationship between the younger generation and life. In spite of the large-scale, sometimes rather severe criticism which the books have received in Moscow, I feel obliged to put an emphasis on their merits. Though there is a certain similarity of plots, which sometimes appears to be intolerable and which I am inclined to attribute to the solidarity in themes, the novels are evidence of various interesting talents. The similarity is more evident in translations than in the original. What we have is not mutual imitation but a commendable competition. I. Shchegolikhin wrote his novelette At an Institute to describe the life of Soviet students, which has certain rough mistakes and is sometimes ill-conceived but nevertheless presents a number of pressing issues related to the upbringing of our youth Perhaps those very writers will be the ones to make the contribution which will feel the lacunas of our literature in terms of images related to science and culture. However, it goes without saying that the success depends in the closeness of their connection to the vast world of people who perform great intellectual work.
The novelette Murat written by a prosaic writer who is still young in terms of experience, T. Nurtazin, is dedicated to the great idea of the connection between science and production, which is peculiar to the Soviet labor style. The plot of the novelette is centered on the relations between a factory producing agricultural devices and a progressive virgin soil kolkhoz, on the complaints which the crop growers have about the devices.
I could mention dozens of other titles by young authors and provide brief summaries of them to put an even greater emphasis on the role which they have played in the transition to the contemporary-themed stage; however, it does not seem to be practically necessary now.
At the same time, it would be incorrect and essentially wrong to this that the transition to the contemporary-themed stage begins with works by the young generation. All representatives of the older and middle generations of Kazakh writers, with rare exceptions, have brought revolutionary works to literature, and many of them are truly merited in the face of the party and the people. They were the ones to blaze the trails which later grew to be the wide roads leading to the diverse themes of today. Even such hard-to-tackle subject as that of the working class has not been entrusted to prose or drama only. Now we have a large group of middle generation writers, who are blazing their trail to this large-scale subject with great perseverance. The initiator of the recent breakthrough is one of our leading poets D. Abilev, who managed to fascinate others with his poem The Heart of the Altai published in 1953. For instance, the group of our leading poets has produced six large-scale poems on various working class subjects within the period under review, including The Steel Born in the Steppe, Temir Tau (T. Zharokov), The Banner in the Mountains and Waves of Fire (D. Abilev), Akhan Aktayev (K. Bekkhozhin), and Life in Lava (Igensartov). In spite of grave artistic mistakes, which I will mention later, the poems remain the most progressive works of our poetry, which initiate the new step towards the depiction of the labor heroism of Kazakhstani working class. I believe it even more significant due to the fact that a number of outstanding Kazakhstani writers – D. Abilev, Kh. Bekkhozhin, and N. Titov seem to be seriously engaged in the subject. In two poems of his, The Banner in the Mountains and Waves of Fire, D. Abilev tells the story of the first years of building the industrial Altai, which were full of hard work, referring to the generally known resolution on its significance by V. Lenin. The period of the Great patriotic War, which is closer to us, was depicted by Kh. Bekkhozhin in his poem Akhan Aktayev on the Dzhezkazgan basis.
The poems are far from perfection, but we cannot but appreciate the authors’ creative aspiration, even if we have to wait a little before we can congratulate them on having achieve a true success. A young literature, a young genre, and any young undertaking cannot grow to maturity without the search, which sometimes has to be agonizing, without disappointment and failures. It is only persistent work and deep consecration of oneself, one’s heart and soul that can eventually bring about the delight of success.
The working class issue is one of the central contemporary problems.
Due to the celebration of the 40th anniversary of the Great Octiber Revolution, our civil war theme has been considerably enriched within the period in question. The first revolutionary conflicts between different stratae of Kazakh society, which were headed by the Communist Party and by Russian proletariat, claimed the attention of a large group of our poets and prose writers again – four poems, two novels, and one novelette, which are quite voluminous, consist of many thousands of lines, and a great number of printed pages, have been written to shed light on the subject.
The poems Sandstorm by T. Zharokov and The Bloody Battle by Kh. Dzhumaliyev, which cover the same subject and have nearly parallel plots, describe the events of the Civil War in West Kazakhstan. The poet Kh. Yergalnev described a scene from Chapayev’s life. The novel by Kh. Yesenzhanov The Yaik – the River of Light, which is an evidence of the author’s serious and thoughtful approach to his work, also depicts revolutionary events. In his novelette Morning Has Come and his novel Tokash Bokin, the prose writer Z. Shaskhin depicts certain revolutionary events in Zhetysu, which used to be connected not with Kazakhstan but with Central Asia, or, to be more precise, with Uzbekistan. The novel by Dm. Onegin In the City of Verny and the book by the young prose writer Ananyev Verny Stories also describe the events of Zhetysu.
As you can see, one of the most important contemporary themes has been considerably enriched within three or four years. The ideological and artistic value of the works is defined by their showing the sole big truth of our reality – the transition of the national liberation movement to the proletarian revolutionary stage and the first joint revolution of Kazakh and Russian workers headed by the Communist Party. That defined the historical significance of the most large-scale movement in Kazakhstan, that is, the Turgay movement, which was headed by the national hero, the first Turgay military commissioner Amangeldy Imanov and A. Dzhangildin.
Unfortunately, having studied the works more closely, I come to a disappointing conclusion: the enrichment is rather quantitative than qualitative both in informative and ideological or artistic terms, and the works cannot be called a new dawn in our literature’s period of maturity.
Kazakh children’s literature has been demonstrating a trend towards considerable changes by making a big step towards contemporary themes from tales and fables. Dozens of novelettes, poems, books of poems and short stories, and illustrated books have been published in two languages. They include the novel by A. Sarsenbayev Born in the Waves, the novelettes by the young prosaic writers such as A. Baytanayev (about a young sheep herder), B. Sokpakbayev (about the life of kolkhoz children), works by older writers – M. Zverev and S. Begalin, and short stories by S. Omarov and N. Gabdullin constitute the better part of literature which brings up the young generation in a close connection with life. The books deserved a special mentioning as a great achievement of Kazakh children’s literature during the Decade.
A numerous groups of poets, represented by S. Begalin, U. Turmanzhanov, M. Alimbayev, A. Duysenbiyev, Sh. Smakhanov, and others, have won great popularity among their young readers. The first truly successful children’s film The Golden Eagle of Azamat, which is helpful in terms of personal enrichment of the young audience and encourages the latter to study nature, was written on the basis of M. Zverev’s screenplay.
Thus, we have previously absent features, such as considerable enrichment of the genre and a change of direction towards the contemporary theme, in children’s literature.
In a manner of speaking, the creation of the satiric Ara magazine (The Bumblebee) initiate a new stage in the development of satire and humor. What was once started by Dzhansugurov, Maylin, and Tokmagambetov, but has been far from being complete, is not developed by young prose and poetry writers, who add new features to it. New feuilleton writers, such as Adambekov, Zverev, Kadyrbekuly, and Omelin have appeared. The yound satiric poets Smakhanov, Zakonov, Balykin, and Rashev, who have collaborated with the artists Chekalin, Leonov, the late Khrapkovskiy, and such young artists as haydarov, Yerzhanov, Khodzhinov, and others, not only to restore the once backward genre of satire and humor, but also to enrich it considerably. That is the reason why one of our youngest magazines, Ara, has now become one of the most popular magazines in the republic.
Such prose and poetry writers of the older and middle generations as A. Tokmagambetov, N. Titov, S. Seitov, S. Maulenov, L. Krivogtsekov, B. Amanshin, S. Shaymerdenov, and many others are still contributing to the development of that genre. I am pleased to say that a compilation of the best satirical works by Kazakhstani writers is going to be published as part of the Krokodil library.
As you know, the state of criticism in Kazakh literature was discussed during the Decade in Moscow. Renowned critics and literary scientists of Moscow and our brotherly republics participated in the discussion, which was held in the Gorky World Literature Institute. All the speakers were unanimous about their high appreciation of the well-developed criticism and literary studies. The scientists spoke very positively of the Outline of Soviet Literature, which has been created by a group of authors from the Institute for Language and Literature of the Academy of Science of the Kazakh SSR as of a great achievement of Kazakh criticism. Being based on a proper set of approaches, the outline took into consideration the significant flaws of similar works in other national republics and became an evidence of an increased coverage of contemporary problems of Soviet literature with Kazakhstani literary scientists.
Professor Ye. Ismailov’s monographic work The Akyns, which contains a health of factual data concerning Kazakh folklore was appreciated as a considerable contribution into all-Union literary studies to fill the gap in the sphere of the extraordinary akyn theme in Moscow.
The attention was focused on the book of articles by M. Karatayev Born to the October, which was highly appreciated by the participants of the discussion. Unanimously admitting it to be a necessary and useful book on Kazakh Soviet literature with rich factual material and conclusions, they also put an emphasis on its specific nature, which is defined by its author being not an armchair critic but a fighter, an active participant of the dynamic process of the formation and development of his literature. The speech of Georgy Lomidze on this book sounded very interesting, “In works by M. Karatayev, a different spring is active – the spring of journalism. His writing is passionate, he is always ready to take his sword and fight against the dissidents; his arguments is enthusiastic and passionately confident. Having read the book, you feel grateful to the critic for his consistent approach to the defense of the Marxist-Leninist literary theory, for his fine taste and sensibility. Some were surprised and delighted to note that the Kazakh critic wrote interesting articles on The Silent Don by M. Sholokhov and about the Russian poet I. Selvinskiy. Nearly all the speakers recognized the book by M. Karatayev and A. Bragin The Song Journey to be a most interesting invention in terms of the sketch form for literary material, which allows one to feel the republic’s geography, the light and air of Kazakh literature.
Critical bibliographical articles by Kazakh critics, such as B. Kenzhebayev’s work on Sultanmakhmur Togaygurov, T. Murtazin’s article on Sabit Mukanov, A. Nurkatov’s tribute to Mukhtar Auezov, and S. Kirabayev’s work on Gabiden Mustafin, as well as a book of critical articles by T. Alimkulov, which were appreaciated as the fruits of mature critical thinking, were also discussed.
Summing up the critics’ speeches, A. T. Dementyev, who is present at our meeting, expressed his great satisfaction with the accomplishments and achievements of Kazakh critics and literary researchers, which give allow them to rightfully be in advance of entire Union’s literary criticism.
Those are what I believe to be the principal indicators of our literature’s progress, indicators of its maturity; that is the form basis, on which we should form the objectives for the future period.
I am not sure whether I have managed to present a proper description of our literary objectives; thus, I would like to express the essence of my ideas once again. It is as follows.
1. The country has entered the stage of expansive communism building, which is the beginning of a new, even more advanced level of cultural and literary development.
2. All of us, our working people and the Soviet government are proud to know that Kazakhstan is entering the stage not only as a well-developed industrial and agricultural republic but also with a mature culture of its own in the broad sense of the word, a mature literature of many genres, which acts as the principal link in the chain of development of numerous types of art and culture.
At the same time, our young culture on the whole as well as our young literature have certain considerable gaps which cannot be tolerated and to work out a creative solution to which we should take every effort that we are capable of, the effort of each and every of us and not a separate group of writers, for it is only the solution of the problems which can make the further rapid progress of our literature possible. It is the essential subject on which the business-like discussion at our meeting should be centered. It includes the problems of our contemporary reality, art, and criticism.
With deep party concern, in a fully unbiased and fair manner, the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Kazakhstan pointed at a number of considerable lacunas in the development of our culture and literature. Our republican party newspapers Sotsialistik Kazakhstan and Kazakhstanskaya Pravda have also been acting within that framework.
The publications encouraged our literary newspaper Kazakh Adebiet, which has published a number of exhaustive critical articles which present a sober and unbiased estimation of the flaws in certain works by our poets and prose writers. I believe that our literary newspaper will follow the party line in the future.
I am also sure that our convention will not resort to distorting motives to mitigate the proper substantial criticism and will take the way of exposing the roots of major and minor gaps in our literature to eradicate them and not hide, which will be an unmistakable indicator of our literature’s maturity.
What serious lacunas of our culture and literature did the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Kazakshtan mentioned? It mentioned the excessively status of the past themes in the republic’s theatres and other artistic establishments and certain wrong trends with certain artists and writers, which prevent our writers from fully turning to contemporary themes objectively or subjectively.
Admitting the remarks to be absolutely reasonable, I cannot but say that the dominance of the past theme is not a mole on the body of our literature but the experience which has fostered its formation and maturing.
The young Kazakh literature, which owes its very birth to the Great October Revolution, has been formed on the basis of contemporary subjects and ideas.
The sense of historical novelty, understanding and artistic generalization of his epoch, and encouragement of revolutionary destruction of everything old and backward make the greater part of the content of works by the revolutionary poet S. Seyfullin. The complicated works by B. Maylin lingers in my mind like a large-scale chronicle of the socialist transformation of Kazakhstan. All works by I. Dzhansugurov sound to me like fine poetry of revenge on the dominance of the dark past, which had not been ousted from our life back then. Study the development of M. Auezov, S. Mukanov, G. Mustafin, A. Gokmagambetov, T. Zharokov, G. Ormanov, A. Tazhibayev, A. Sarsepbayev, K. Amanzholov, D. Abilev, Zh. Sain, A. Abishev, Sh. Khusainov, K. Bekkhozhin, Kh. Yergaliyev, K. Dzharmagarbetov, and many others, and you will definitely come to the conclusion that they all with rare exceptions entered the literary world with contemporary-themed works.
So why and at what stage of our creative search did the twist into the past happen? I can answer, it was when we turned to large-scale works and major genres. As I see it, it is equally true for all genres of a young literature.
Though it may sound hardly plausible, the first poet to take the wrong was of the past was our dear S. Mukanov with his once much talked-of poem Slushash, which was written over 30 years ago. The work of the famous writer proved to be infective, and a heard of poems of the same theme and form appeared to anthem the bitter life of the Kazakh woman in the long epoch of the patriarchal feudalistic stagnation. That was the way in which such poems as Kuralay Slu and Akbope by I. Bayzakov, Kokshetau by S. Seyfullion, Kuy, Kuychi, and Kulager by I. Dzhansugurov, which were used to measure the quality of other works for decades, appeared. A younger generation of poets joined the writers to produce a dozen of poems, which had an imitative nature. S. Mukanov himself was soon and completely alienated from the past, but the deed was done – he had shown the direction. The push proved to be so strong that the most modern of our poets still elaborate on the subject. They are also most sincerely shocked when you tell them that works of the kind are unlikely to win the heart of the modern reader, not that of the old aul but the contemporary cultured and exacting reader.
The older generation of drama is also guilty of that. In includes M. Auezov and G. Musrepov. The two leading playwrights have been the most enthusiastic about celebrating the nature of heroes of the past, who wanted to see light and fell in unequal battles against their time. The repertoire of Kazakh thatres and the development of our young drama and opera have been shaped by Yenlik Kebek, Ayman Sholpan, Koblandy Batyr, Kalkaman Mamyr, and Beket Batyr by M. Auezov as well as Kyz Zhybek, Kozy Korpesh, and Akhan Sere for nearly twenty five years. Our youth, the youth working in the sphere of drama, namely S. Kamalov (Yer Targyn), A. Tazhibayev (Zhomart’s Carpet, We Are Kazakhst Too, and The Lifted Dome), Sh. Khusainov (Aldar Kose), A. Abishev (Kambar), Akhinzhanov (Altyn Saka), etc., took the lead.
Undoubtedly, it used to be logical and inevitable in the context of early cultural development. Firstly, under the conditions of the 20-s and 30-s, when the past not only was not as distant as now but also had powerful roots and teeth of its own and people’s spiritual wealth was used against everything new, we had to take the weapon away give it back to the people soberly revaluated. Secondly, no nation having at least a little self-respect cannot but create a right civil and cultural history. Thirdly, the everyday life plots which were being passed from mouth to mouth not only facilitated the mastering of major drama forms for writers but also helped the nation get used to the new theatre culture sooner. It was rather hard to tear the working class away from the tight net of religion and custom, the labyrinth of ignorance which had been created for ages. The past themes were not the only subjects elaborated upon; those of contemporary reality were also popular. For instance, only 15 works out of the 150 dramatic ones written by Kazakh writers within the 25-30 years deal with the past. However, the contemporary theme proved to lack the writers’ warmth so hard and to be so under celebrated that it failed to feel cordial with the Soviet reader. We cannot forgive ourselves for the fact. We were greatly delighted many times when a contemporary play was being staged but remained unforgivably indifferent at its shameful vanishing from the stage. It means that we have been contributing too little into the creation of a modern work, instead of which we promoted childish things which could not linger onstage.
The results of such abnormal practice going on for many years brought about a qualitative dominance to the old themes, and we took only three contemporary plays out of fourteen to the second Decade. They were Heirs by N. Apov, One Tree Is No Forest by A. Tazhibayev, and The Road of Life on a libretto by K. Bayseitov. It is another evidence of the fact that the qualitative dominance of the old themes eventually turned into quantitative one. The greatest power of literature, the leading playwrights possessing both experience and skill took sides with it. The contemporary variant appeared to have more chematism, more shallow subjects, less poetry, and less ideological and artistic depth than the past. Our critics often print articles on the characters from past-themed plays, but can we think of such fool-blooded contemporary characters? We cannot name a lot, because they lack many things – they have been driven a lot of assort data, they wear numerous awards, but they lack a natural and convincing appearance. Even a legendary people’s hero like Amangeldy Imanov, whose character has been worked upon by many authors, still has not become a monumental drama or poetic character.
In the literature of such a multinational republic as Kazakhstan there are no rememberable representatives of the Russian, Ukrainian, or other nations, who help us build our industry and reclaim our virgin soil. Our literature has not produced any interesting, fool-blooded works celebrating international friendship yet. We also lack rememberable generalized party or governmental officers. It is a great problem, since it refers to the depiction of our contemporary reality.
The dominance of historical novels in our prose is a well-known fact. I need not prove that their quantity is by no means great, but they possess the crucial merit – high artistic skills, which is an unmistakable indicator of the author’s being professional about the genre. They belong to our leading and experienced masters of prose. So, the contemporary theme is mostly represented by younger and less experienced writers. Among the older generation of writers, only G. Mustafin remains correct and consistent in working on the contemporary subject.
Indeed, our republic’s party newspapers were right to say, “If a writer or a composer only tackles the past, his thoughts are bound by “ancient history”. To prove my thought, I must say that the results of our leading writers’ work were not at all top-notch when they attempted to depict the modern reality after writing about the past – their isolation from life and the fact that their thoughts were history-bound did have a certain effect.
What makes the situation even graver is the fact that the past subject has recently been attracting representatives of poetry, which is a more active genre in our literature – 6 out of the 8 poems which were published in 1958 tell about the past. The poet Kh. Yergaliyev, who has contributed considerably into the development of out poetry on the whole and by creating poems in particular, got the first part of his large poem about Kurmangazy, which the author claims to have taken 7 years of his creative life, published. He is still working on the second part. The book published has been recently criticized with great objectivity, as a result of which it became clear that the book needs radical reworking.
The poet G. Kairbekov, being very young, had a large poem on Ubray Altynsarin published. The writing is not bad, U would even say talented, but it is so yeasty that the critics demand it to be twice as short, with which I absolutely agree.
The nice poem Sibr Omar by K. Toguzakov tells about the distant past. The elegiac poem by A. Tazhibayev The Portraits begins in the pre-revolutionary period. The poems Sandstorm by K. Zharokov and The Bloody Battle by Kh. Dzhumaliyev, which tell about the same national liberation and revolutionary movement in West Kazakhstan, failed to be a delightful new dawn in mature poetry. Moreover, the poem by Kh. Dzhumaliyev rather raises our eyebrows; it is bland and poorly written.
The most awful thing is the fact that the Russian translation of many books is so embellished that one can hardly believe the original to be as poor as it is. It has become a general pattern for good works to sound worse when translated into Russian and for bad ones to sound better.
The reason why I am not analyzing the merits and flaws of the works is because they are not the subject of the article, which in fact is the significant twist into the past themes and the necessity of turning to the contemporary ones. As you can see, it is really serious, and the disproportion has to be eliminated.
In a friendly manner, I envy Uzbek writers, who managed to produce the factual material to focus the literary discussion on the contemporary man during the Decade in Moscow, which we failed to do. In spite of all accomplishments of our literature, the contemporary theme remains a great problem, which we are obliged to solve by making every reasonable effort.
It is absolutely clear that Kazakhstani writers must provide a complete turn towards the contemporary theme. The success of a genre or a writer must be clearly and unconditionally defined by the extent to which the subject of our heroic contemporary reality has been mastered and provided with a perfect artistic form. Obviously, it is the only way to improve the artistic and ideological merits of ou literature.
Secondly, it is all writers and not a certain group of them, all genres and not some of them that are facing the problem of contemporarily. It is only by making a joint effort to provide a sound depiction of it in all genres that we can properly treat the issue of our heroic contemporary reality.
The contemporary reality must be the principal subject for every writer, the main and leading stream of our literature in general. Being in accordance with one’s epoch is not enough now; one must study it by means of active creative participation in the large-scale communist building.
“A writer’s place in the army of those who create is eventually defined by how sharp his reaction to the pressing problems of today is,” our republic newspapers Sotsialistik Kazakhstan and Kazakhstanskaya Pravda stated, which is absolutely true and correct.
We must bear it in our minds that the contemporary turn cannot be viewed as a temporary campaign. No, comrades, it is not a campaign but the general line to keep to in our works in future!
The issue of our connection to life seems to be especially pressing in direct connection to it. We must admit that it is a common weak point, especially with young writers. To take a creative trip and visit one’s relatives has become the fashionable trend, but a month or two is not enough to fathim life; we need to get used to the labor atmosphere. Our young writers write good books on deeply emotional, experience-based facts, but what about further accumulation of contemporary routine material? I am greatly concerned with it.
Three new interprovincial departments of the Writers’ Union are being created now, but none of large-scale writers seem eager to stay in province centers at least for a limited period of time. I believe everyone who refuses to get closer to life to lose a lot by doing so.
The contemporary turn cannot be taken as a past theme ban. It does not except but also implies a depiction of whatever was historical and revolution about the life of each nation.
Moreover, the contemporary issue cannot be viewed as separate from high artistic quality, without taking into consideration the form-and-content unity. We cannot possibly perform the turn if the problem of contemporary reality is understood merely as a new subject clad in a negligently tailored gray suit. An abrupt turn towards our heroic today means a turn towards artistic skills. The quality of artistic works has often been hidden behind its bare theme and ignored in an unforgivable manner. The unlimited freedom of style and form offered by the socialist realism method should be widely employed to depict our reality. Speaking about contemporary problems, we speak of a highly intellectual message as well as a high artistic quality. What is our situation like? Far from favorable. Gray books are still being publish not only as a result to indulgence to young authors but also as something officially legalized. Heaps of books are overstocked to become waste paper. The situation is especially dire when it comes to poetry. Unfortunately, the general level requirements to poetry has dropped recently. We require little poetical appearance of poetry, we have ceased to require poets to keep to elementary poetic principles, such as clear composition and dramatic plot which gradually reaches a climax. Instead of it, sketch poems, that is, poetic sketches have appeared, the poetic nature of which is mostly defined by decent or lame rhyming. Things which would sound much better after certain corrections are printed straightaway. The poetical department of the Writers’ Union, just like other departments, is obviously undergoing a down period. We can provide a vivid example: Comrade D. Abilev had his poem The Haert of the Altay consisting of 4 thousand lines in 1953, which we received enthusiastically. In 1957, it turned into a poetic novel, the volume of which made as much as 5 thousand lines. Its continuation, Waves of Fire, consists of 2500 lines. When translated into Russian, the novel turned into a poem again to have 1300 lines. What does it mean? It means nothing but the fact that a lot of milk-and-water was lost by the translator.
On his way to the working class theme, Kh. Bekhozhin failed dramatically. I can imagine his sharp and painful reaction to the criticism which his poem Akhan Akhtayev has been receiving in our literary newspaper; however, we cannot but admit it to be well-grounded and just. Can we believe the lameness of the protagonist, Akhtayev, a final year student of a mining institute, to be logical? His father, a trade worker, has been wrongfully convicted of defalcations; he is expelled from the Komsomol by a Karash, who in fact is a frump with no support at the institute. The court can make a mistake, and one can be expelled from a school, but all of the facts must be explained to the reader and connected by means of the plot. This is what the poem lacks. The protagonist has seen his beloved girl walking arm in arm with Karash only once, which was enough for him to break up with her without saying goodbye and leave Almaty. Who will believe in a character’s technical inventions if they are only mentioned by the author, who makes no effort to practically persuade the reader? What we get is an awkwardly motivated slowdown love novel with a happy end. As for the true work life, that of industrial intelligentsia, they are presented in a shallow and unartistic manner; thus, the work is neither encouraging nor convincing.
The novelette Murat by T. Murtazin, which wanted serious corrections as well, cannot be called a success. What I mean is not even the author's failure to find the typical feature of Soviet science, which brings about the little convincing power of the events depicted, which makes the insufficiency of our practical knowledge too evident. There was another thing about the novelette which sickened me as something bespattering and distorting the image of Soviet intelligentsia. It is a certain suspicion between people, a secret distrust of people’s honesty, and a non-Soviet impurity of thought, some deceitful scheming.
I could mention quite a number of such works. Thus, I must remind you once again that the problem of mastering the contemporary theme is inextricably connected to the Party’s requirement for harmonious unity of form and content, that is, the message of a work and its masterful rendering. No work can exist without it. But the issues of artistic skills have been subject rather to theoretical interpretation; they have not become the practical means of measuring the artistic merits of works. The situation has to be changed drastically in the future.
We must never ever forget the fact that Kazakh literature is starting a competition with that of the whole world, acting as a constituent of socialist realism It is not merely a struggle for the new idea and rich contents but also a battle for great artistic mastery. Either we achieve the complete unity of form and content, in which case, and only in such case, we will win, or we refuse to fight openly or secretly. As I see it, a refusal to fight for a high ideological quality of our literature would in particular mean a refusal to adhere to the requirements of your party and your people, a refusal to adhere to the requirements of literature itself. It is self-evident that none of those who enjoy the honorable name of a Soviet writer can take a road like that.
Criticism is one of our most complicated literary problems. The reason why it is complicated is not onlt its being a large-scale scientific theoretical issue in itself but also its including the problem of literary workers’ unity based on the party’s principles. Unfortunately, what makes criticism even more complicated is the fact that is has not get rid of numerous unnecessary things, that is, “diplomacy”, which requires the special art of taking into account the situation, the weather, and what not when saying something. We still have not managed to turn the greatest, the most fruitful and important aspects of it which we have learnt from our own experience as well as from that of the entire Union into a tradition. On the contrary, unnecessary, harmful things, which are destructive to our economy, nerves, and creative energy, have multiplied. What is most important, the writer lacks the feeling of fellowship when it comes to criticism, though he and his friendly critic do the same literary work.
I believe the main thing about this issue to be the trust which writers should have in critics, in their selfless care and empathy. On the other hand, no critic should view writers as objects free to handle. Thus, what we mean is a communist cooperation during which criticism turns into friendly remarks which should not sting and show the perilous competitive ambition to be the one to score the most point off one’s comrade. It is no literary use to give a failing writer a sound rap over the knuckles in time. Obviously, what we mean is not mean ideological sabotage or general hostility but merely artistic failures.
Unfortunately, our criticism is not yet free of such relics of the past. Even the articles which have been printed in our newspaper in recent time, which I do appreciate for being well-reasoned and soberly written, have some evidence of the needle practice. It is only because the author does not believe his friendly critic to be honest and view him as an enemy that each critical article appearing causes a proper uproar. The most important thing which we have to do in this regard is create a new atmosphere, namely that of communist cooperation. It is the only atmosphere in which I would believe a normal and full-scale development of our literature to be possible.
Read the dedication to I. Dzhansugurov written by K. Bekkhozhin, the big poem Asleep by A. Tazhibayev, the poem In the Wounded Soul by the young poet B. Amanshin, and you will see how dire the situation with when it comes to fellowship in general, not to mention communist fellowship.
One of our mature poets, who has employed his gift many times to celebrate the achievements of his socialist Motherland, K. Bekkhozhin wrote his dedication to complain tearfully about the heavy atmosphere which we had been having for many years.
Another mature, talented, and enthusiastic anthem writer of his time A. Tazhibayev dreams of himself being secretly killed by his own comrades who then praise him standing by his grave.
I am not mentioning the harm which such things can do when published in local periodicals or as a part of a compilation, which has unfortunately been done; what I mean is that they have nothing to say for the communist fellowship. They depict the unsound atmosphere of our community, which they do not in an impaired manner but in the way they see it from the standpoint of their own relationships. Quite naturally, such attitude to one’s labor mates does not contribute to fellowship but ruins it.
The young poet B. Amanshin, who, as far as I know, has had little tragic experience within his short life, writes,
I have a wound in my soul, of which people do not know,
Fools have been hurting me, embittering it more and more.
What I am to blame for if a bush of songs
Grows in my garden out of the pain and blossoms.
I say, they have embittered my anguish so many times,
They have robbed my soul.
Maybe this is the reason why even innocent jokes of my friends
Sometimes seem to wound me like arrows.
Any comments would be unnecessary. One can easily imagine the poet’s state knowing that his songs were born to pain and that innocent jokes of his friends hurt him.
First of all, the whole thing is marked by an unsound attitude to criticism; it is not complaints about one’s daily bread or unjust requirements of the party. At the same time, the message is the same: the issue of fellowship in our community should be tackled in a new manner, which should be both exacting and lofty, communistic.
No one dares doubt that our criticism lacks a lot, first of all courage. It is the direct outcome of our poor contributions to its atmosphere. We have not learned to take criticism easy and often make scenes when critics are a little less delicate than usual about the flaws of our works. This is the reason why many critics who used to be very active chose the more peaceful field of literary studies to work with authors who could not make trouble.
We must clearly realize than a new stage of our criticism is coming. The latter must become sincere, helpful, a caring companion for our literature but not a nurse. It will be very bad if we deprive criticism of its independence and freedom on the pretext of fellowship; we would hug it to death. We still have numerous works in which bold and observant critics will find things to help the author about. It is absolutely clear that we cannot tolerate the practice of peaceful co-existence with messageless and inartistic works any more.
Nobody will forbid us to write numerous good books, god grant us the power to do so. But I think that the main slogan for the coming period should be Lenin’s “Less but better is better!”
I think I do not have to prove that it describes the primary objective of our critics, which is to fights for the high-principled and highly artistic work of art on contemporary subjects with great vigor and exactingness.
The new literary period is also a new period for criticism, which is a constituent of literature; it is facing the same tasks and problems as literature in general. In this respect, it is necessary to put a strong emphasis on another important fact. The best of what our critics have been doing till now is point at the flaws of works, while now it should try to answer the question – what is the right way to produce good works, how can one rectify a failure, which is a requirement to the theoretical knowledge and skills of our critics. When critics avoid mentioning the principal components of works of art, which are its composition, plot development, character-forming devices, the genre-specific standards, etc., they more often than not fail to meet the requirements set for them. In such cases, we have to look for reasons to turn it down, which mostly include certain considerations or its low quality.
Thinking of the highly principled work of art, our critics should also consider the issue or high quality of criticism, its adherence to party principles, and the major role which it plays.
Comrades, I could, or I rather should mention a lot of things which the Writers’ Union of Kazakhstan is obliged to do, that is, our publishing activities and the work of our creative departments and printed issues, work with literary youth, etc. These all are undoubtedly important issues. However, I would like you to focus your attention of the problems belonging to the period coming. It is the main link, by holding which we can get the others, as V. Lenin taught us.
Let me hope that members of the General Committee and Board of the Writers’ Union of Kazakhstan as well as heads of numerous creative departments and a large number of writers will fill the gaps in the Committee’s report, correcting its minor mistakes or false assertions.
Let me speak in the name of us all to express my confidence about the fact that Kazakhstani writers are entering the period of expansive communist building will a complete recognition of their noble duty and objectives and that they will make any reasonable effort to meet the requirements to the honorable title of active helpers of the Communist Party and the Soviet government!
1959
ON TRENDS IN OUR LITERARY DEVELOPMENT
The essential fact that the problem of contemporary reality is being tackled fully and in accordance with the requirements of the 20th and 21st conventions of the CPSU
by the whole of our multinational literature and nor by certain of its groups, is in itself an evidence of our maturity, and I think that we need new illustrations to add to the well-reasoned report by Comrade Alexey Surkov.
It is a doubtless evidence of the fact that we, Soviet writers, have among other achievements improved our professional skills and stopped to be shy in the face of the heroism of our epoch unparalleled in the course of history, the heroism of Soviet people’s peaceful labor to build the communist society.
The bold way in which the problem of our contemporary reality has been raised at all national republic meetings only emphasized the fact that each literature was approaching the new frontier being quite ready for it. The deep interest which we have in the problem of contemporary reality is an evidence of its future development.
The period between the two USSR writers’’ convention was as fruitful for national literatures and for Soviet people in general.
The national literature decades which have taken place in Moscow within the year have demonstrated the enormous success of the cultural revolution in our society in general and in national republics in particular. We can and we should be proud of the fact that we can raise any problems within our Soviet literary framework, including those of the contemporary reality, in the literatures of a number of backward nations.
The renowned French writer and our guest Andre Wurmser wrote about a year ago in his review on the French edition of my humble novelette A Soldier from Kazakhstan that if the 1917 October Revolution had taken place in France, it would have yielded luxurious fruits to Algeria, due to which France would have been greatly protected by Alrgerians during Hitler’s occupation.
Of course, my dear colleague Andrea Wurmser is right. What the October Revolution has given us cannot be put into figures. The liberated people’s spirit, which is manifesting itself more and more obviously in physical and non-physical values, has a single dimension, which is infinity.
I could give a detailed account of Kazakh literary accomplishments; I could mention the fact that over 120 titles of poetry, prose, and drama by our writers – our poets, prose writers, playwrights, and critics - were appreciated enough to be translated into Russian and published within 1958.
I would also like to tell the audience about the trends in our literary development and describe the great extent to which our writers have mastered major prose and poetry forms, which enriches and restores national forms and traditions under the new historical conditions.
Finally, nobody will accuse me of being too boastful if I enlarge upon the saga by Mukhtar Auezov which has been awarded a Lenin prize.
However, being a writer, I am concerned about certain general issues of our literatures, about the state of our drama, about the most complicated problems in respect of contemporary objectives which should be depicted on stage or on screen. Thus, I would like to share some of my thoughts is this respect. Is certainly not a novelty and not panicking, but the situation of our drama leaves much to be desired, not to call is alarming.
We will talk a lot on the state of drama, but, unfortunately, our remarks continue to be mere talks and are never practically implemented in today’s activities of the Writers’ Union and the Ministry of Culture. Strangely, the unheard-of theatre, cinema, and culture progress in respect of the Soviet reading public and audience has received no artistic depiction yet. The ideological and artistic quality of our drama is still alarming.
Soviet literature began its victorious march with the truly lofty revolutionary theme. However, it has largely lost the feature in recent years, showing unacceptable tolerance to those who contributed to the wasting of wonderful literary traditions by taking it utilitarianistically.
We presented the enormous period of socialist transformations in the country to the Soviet audience with no heroic or romantic pathos, in tiny everyday scenes. The earthbound approach to our heroic epoch still remains popular, provoking rightful dissatisfaction in the Soviet audience. To me, heroic and romantic pathos are one – heroism is always accompanied by romantic pathos. The great Gorky taught us that romanticism helps us glorify out character. Thus, to lose romanticism would be rather tragic to us.
That is the reason to which I attribute the large number of standard monotonous plays and screenplays traveling from on republic to another in air and on land.
I fully agree with Semen Kirsanov, who, as I see it, spoke about gray books with great anguish. But I want to add that it is time the Writers’ Union and the Ministry of Culture stopped the dirty avalanche!
We have spent a great deal of time chewing on the “conflictless theory”. I am certainly not intended to lament over that nonsense. None of the real writers has ever advocated the “theory”; it is only bunglers who have been feeding on it. We cannot but regret the fact that, being totally aware of the fact that the conflict is the core to any work of fiction, literary science is still not studying the nature of dramatic conflict and that of the conflict which appears under specifically Soviet conditions.
I fully agree that class controversy and international hostility have left our life forever. But it does not make Soviet people or nations similar to each other.
The report by Comrade Surkov reads as follows: “The nature of modern conflicts lies in the labor and social activity of people.” This is definitely true and has always been true.
But as soon as we turn to practice, we come to face countless standards and schemes of characters. A character’s labor and social activity often smothers his nature and personality. The drama is mostly going around one and the same plot: a husband wants to go to virgin soil works, and his wife is opposed to it, or vice versa – conflicts of the kind have been speculated upon on an annoyingly regular basis.
All the three sides of the old triangle, each of its angles, bisected or not, have been used by various nations for many times.
I agree with Comrade Surkov, who claims the triangle to be obsolete. But before we throw it away, we should think of possible things to substitute it with, that is, a quadrangle or a polygon, as drama was truly liberated when the development of realistic art abandoned the ancient trinity law. So we should think thoroughly about the new set which will act as a powerful lever to lift our drama.
Thus, our theoreticians have things to work on as long as they want to shed light on the ways of our further artistic development and progress.
First of all, we need to be merciless to playwrights and demand them to finally realize that drama is a depiction of reality in the language of art and not merely and arrangement of operating forces. We often violate the sacred requirement of literature, that is, the principle of unity between the message and its artistic form. No mercy is possible where the unity is missing!
Getting back to the character portraying problem, I would like to mention another fraudulent trick which is completely strange to our literature and our art. While we are speaking on sublime things here, at the high stand of this convention, dozens of one-character-fits-all plays and screenplays are traveling from province to province, from one republic to another. If the author calls his character Khodzhakev, he can make an Uzbek; if he is Khodzhibekov, he will get the character turned into an Azerbaijanian; and the name of Khodzhibayev will turn him into a Kazakh. How can an individual character possibly appear?
The problem is that socialist realism principles, which are absolutely true, are being trivialized and distorted, and nobody is trying to put an end to it! A thing which is absolutely unacceptable in any place is often rightfully denied in Moscow, however, there are some people who shove them onto us. I have a huge novel manuscript in my desk drawer which used to lie in the Writers’ Union of the USSR.
They could have easily said to the author that it was no novel at all, but for some reason I was the one to tell the ugly truth. I have another example. A screenplay has been to every republic which has a sea or a decent lake like our Aral Sea. It must have been born in the waves of Baikal, which, by the way, are quite uncommon in the still lake. Then it ran from pillar to post in Baku and finally became a Kazakh thing with the help of a very simple operation, that is, character renaming, after which it consumed a great deal of state funds at our film studio. The Ministry of Culture had refused to accept the work, however, some people sent it to us, and the screenplay turned into a Kazakh one.
It is a rather unpleasant and unseemly symptom, comrades. Our art is being tinkered at, which prevents it from progressing. The principles of socialist realism are being vulgarized in art.
We should be extremely exacting at every level of the Writers’ Union and the Ministry of Culture. That is what we have lacked. It is time we put an end to the diplomacy exercised at the coast of Soviet literature and art.
Moreover, I think it would be useful to analyses the theory of production as a background with greater care. I do not demand tractors to plough soil right on the stage or the audience to admire an oil fountain. But we cannot allow the man to be separated from his labor activities. In many plays, the only way to tell a workman is by looking at his clothes, and we do not see the way in which his personality reveals itself in the main aspect of life; we have not learned to tell it in the language of art yet.
The last issue which I would like to discuss in this respect is the problem of generalized images. In my opinion, a generalized image is the superior accomplishment, the happy outcome of the writer’s toilsome work. We do remember that M. Gorky spoke many times on what difficulties authors have to overcome to achieve it. However, it seems to me that we are thoughtlessly generous when we take each and every image for a generalized one; we forget what a deep artistic notion underlies the concept and what typicality is. A work in which we can find a generalized image cannot be a bad one. To accept an image as a generalized one, we have to ignore the author’s passport and examine the image all round. We need to see the way it acts, to study its brain, soul, and heart deeply.
Attributing this or that personality, this or that occupation to this or that character is often somehow standardized; intelligence and sensibility, activity and courage are ranged according to the character’s positions. Trade workers and clerks are given a smaller portion of merits than others.
If there is something for you to break, it must be the standard, which has harmed our literature greatly. The whole situation makes me turn to our theoreticians, encouraging them to intervene into the literary life instead of turning their blind eye to the flagrant unsoundness.
The present writers’ convention should mark the beginning of the new creative management style for the large-scale multination literature.
We agree unanimously that the previous form of management has become obsolete and has to be discarded.
The new management of the Writers’ Union of the USSR will have to discard at least two things.
1. National writers would be disaffected to be managed through advisors as it used to be.
The Union’s responsible people are the ones to have the control.
2. We would also be disaffected to know that the management judges a national literature by its translation and not by its original text. Thus, the administrative body, The Writers’ Union of the USSR, should be able to read not only in Russian (Applause).
The editorial offices of every printed issue within the Union, including its magazines and the Literaturnaya Gazeta have to be transformed radically so that they can truly act as multinational literature bodies. We have to say unequivocally that our printing offices are hardly concerned with our multinational literature.
I would like to add to what has already by said about the Literaturnaya Gazeta by Comrade Gonchar that all of our printing offices deal with the literary tops only instead of considering the major part of the mass; moreover, works are only dealt with when their translation appears, that is, 3-4 years after the initial publishing.
Such “care” for national literatures is definitely
The formal expansion of the editorial offices by means of including certain representatives of the national literatures would have no considerable positive effect. What we need is to rebuild the entire system. It is not disastrous to have several people out of the 150 Literaturnaya Gazeta workers read at least in the languages of our leading literatures.
Just as Petrus Brovka does, I insist upon creating an all-USSR central publishing office, the cultural significance of which is most obvious...
The topicality of such reorganization is substantially reasoned in printed articles by V. Latsis and M. Guseyn as well as in the reports of O. Gonchar, P. Brovka, and many others who have spoken at the meeting. I just join them, hoping that the congress will support us.
The writers of Kazakhstan have been focused on the turn towards the contemporary theme during this meeting. Each of the speakers has mentioned the depiction of the labor heroism of Soviet people as the noblest literary objective.
Let me assure the audience that the talented Kazakh army of writers has coped with the task triumphantly!
1959
THE GREAT WRITER
One of the leading Kazakh Soviet writers Sabit Mukanov is one of its founders. Following Saken Seyfullin, Beimbet Maylin, and Ilyas Dzhansugurov, he contributed greatly to the formation, development, and enrichment of the young Kazakh literature.
The merits and significance of Sabit Mukanov’s works can hardly be overestimated. His creative scope is extremely broad. He is famous as a poet who has published hundreds of poems, as a prose writer, the author of numerous novels, and as a playwright.
Sabit Mukanov has contributed greatly into the contemporary-themed proletarian literature trailbralizng. The fight for modernity has never been easy, and it surely was not at the beginning, when experienced writers supported bourgeois nationalist literature. Sabit Mukanov has followed the route worked out by the party during his entire career without hesitation.
Sabit Mukanov is also an influential public officer. He has always been one of the most active fighters for party and governmental measures aimed at the socialist transformation.
I wish further success in creating perfect and high-principled works to Sabit Mukanov, whose name is know all across the Union.
1960
TO UPGRADE ONES SKILLS
You read, then read again, and think it over. The absolute trust in the human creator, the new man whose labor is building communism, is astonishing. The new generation of such builders will live to see the triumph of the new life. This is the reason why it is so necessary and important for everything about our contemporary to be beautiful.
Soviet literature and art are meant to play an enormous role in the upbringing of those who will inhabit the new world.
Kazakh literature has been getting brighter and more significant in its artistic and ideological merits and closer to the contemporary heroic pathos in recent years. More and more convincing facts as an evidence of a fruitful completion of the formative period, which is hard for every literature, are being accumulated in it. While the 21st Convention of the CPSU saw only certain famous works of Kazakh literature, now that the 22nd Party Convention is about to take place, we can call all of its genres full-fledged. I would like to put an emphasis on the fact that it did not happen spontaneously; the reason was the thoughtful attitude of the republic’s writers to their duty to their nation fighting for the great communist ideals. It is the Party’s concern with literature what has led to such results. Our outstanding writer M. O. Auezov, whose life of artistic burning was cut by an untimely demise, gave us the first book of the saga which he was intending to write to depict the life
of socialism builders in Kazakhstan. Our outstanding masters S. Mukanov and I. Shukhov are currently working on large-scale works depicting the life of virgin soil conquerors. One of the leading novelists of Kazakhstan, G. Mustafin, who has been working successfully and continuously on the contemporary subject, has got his new novel After the Storm, which covers the turbulent period from the October to the agricultural collectivization on Soviet Kazakhstan, published. Virgin soil workers have found their images in the plays Heirs and As the Heart Commands by N. Anov and Saule by T. Akhtanov.
Post-war Kazakh literature has been enriched by a good army of talended prose writers, namely Kh. Yesenzhanov, A. Sarsenbayev, A. Nurpeisov, Z. Shashkin, T. Akhtanov, B. Momysh Uly, S. Shaymerdenov, Z. Kabdulov, and B. Sokpakbayev.
The two-volume novel The Yaik – The River of Life by Kh. Yesenzhanov, the novels The Long Awaited Day and Blood and Sweat by A. Nurpeisov, the novel Morning Has Come by Z. Shahskin, and especially the latter’s latest novel Temir Tau have deserved their popularity. The novel The Thundering Days by T. Akhtanov has already stepped out of the Soviet boundaries and has been translated into German, Czech, and Slovak. What is characteristic is the depiction of routine heroism, the life of working people – miners, fishers, oil workers, intelligentsia, and Soviet soldiers, which is popular with our writers. It is an evidence of the fact that the artistic interests fof our writers are getting not wider but also higher, which proves them to de ideologically prepared and literarily skillful.
It is not only a wide range of subjects but also an epic nature of the works created by the leading poets what is characteristic of Kazakh poetry, which possesses a wealth of poetic treasures like lyrical heroic epic poems by Abay, Dzhambul, S. Seyfullin, B. Maylin, and I. Dzhansugurov. I believe there is no national literature in which the transition to major forms is as massive as it has been in Kazakh. Our big poets, such as A. Tazhpbayev, T. Zharokov, A. Tokmagambetov, K. Bekkhozhin, Kh. Yergaliyev, ZH. Moldagaliyev, D. Abilev, and the post-war boom poets, such as G. Kairbekov, N. Shakenov, and others, are still working successfully within the framework. Just as it is with Kazakh prose, the major theme of their poems is the contemporary reality, the life of workers, animal breeders, and intellectual workers. However, not every poem becomes unmistakably successful; sometimes we encounter poorly written and blanch poems. But it brings about the necessity to demand our writers to constantly hone their artistic skills.
Out youth is especially promising. Reacting to the crucial events, the young poets Olzhas Suleymenov dedicated his poem to the heroic deed of the fist Soviet astronaut Yuriy Gagarin. Two novelettes by Akim Ashimov about the youth of Kazakhstan are about to appear. The young playwright Mukhamedzhan Duzenov has written a play, in which he exposes the vice of those who cheat on the state – window dressers.
The works present an evidence of the young author’s constant improvement of skills.
Works by young Russian Kazakhstani writers are also enjoyable.
Not without a sense of satisfaction, we mark the appearance of young Russian Kazakhstani writers’ works in Moscow journals and publishing offices. For instance, Oktyabr has published the novel Snowstorm by I. Shegolikhin, Nash Sovremennik – the novelette Near a Steep Sloped Ravine by N. Kuzmin; the Molodaya Gvardiya publishing house has published the novelette Three Farms by N. Korsunov, the short story compilation The First Target by S. Martyanov, etc.
Kazakhstani writers have a lot of work to do regarding the objectives set according to the CPSU Program project. They are to create an enthusiastically and brightly written story of the new, the truly communistic, of tomorrow’s green, and to castigate whatever prevents society from progressing.
Kazakh Soviet literature has completed a hard and challenging formation period and has now achieved the level of development at which it would be a shame to be indulgent to it. The subject of our contemporary reality is becoming dominant in our literature. Ноwever, the reader is demanding greater perfection, new findings, and new reflection. Our literature is ideologically firm. The most important thing now is to introduce severer requirements to the artistic quality of world. Friendly criticism should help every artist find the ways of cognition and depiction. Criticism has to be severe, for it is a well-known fact that praising a work too much can be ruinous to it.
At the same time, criticism should be well-intentioned.
We obviously have to change the old drama canons and put aside hackneyed phrases, which rob our works. They are the reason why the audience remains indifferent to many plays
To master the life material of today artistically is the most challenging aspect of art, which requires a certain boldness.
Thinking over the Party Program project, I found it necessary to contribute a suggestion, which is to add the following requirement to the chapter in literary and artistic development: stricter requirements for artistic skills.
1961
DREAM COMES TRUE
Each single day at which our dear Communist Party met at a convention gave provoked an emotional storm, a whirlpool of most magnificent and beautiful associations.
The peak of human dreams, that is, communist, is dazzling. Each of the ones who were lucky to participate in the historically significant meeting was entitled to decide on the way to approach the shining height.
It has been seven days since we, having accepted the great Program, started to live under the new law of human happiness, and our thoughts have been centered on one and the same thing, that is, what a great responsibility the Communist Party has assumed in the face of the country, of the entire mankind, which is not only theoretical but also practical.
If the party assumes a great responsibility, we, writers, beings its faithful assistants, will share it, taking into account the convention’s requirements. Our literature is not educative to us only. Writers of countries that have broken free from the yoke of colonialism and dependence or are doing so in Africa, Asia, and Latin America are looking for unmistakably right ways of accelerated development. They are being offered the “humane” principles of Catholicism, Islamism, Buddhism, and many more “isms” from the same old curiosity shop – colonialism. The leasing cultural workers of the countries have a good reason to be looking in the direction of the Soviet Union.
Having chosen the noble purpose of building a communist society, the party turns to us, writers, encouraging us to create works which could “be a source of joy and inspiration for millions of people, express their will, feelings, and thoughts, enrich them ideologically and be a part of their moral upbringing.”
The fight for ideologically motivated and artistically perfect works of literature and art in the highest, the most Leninist sense of the world, is becoming “the main link” in our country. It is self-obvious that the requirement primarily concerns the modern theme. Various “conflictless”, “distance”, and “positive character” theories have yet been defeated conversationally and not in books, lively plays, and magazines.
In the naïve early period of human development, idols were created everywhere, always. The highly organized communist society will not tolerate any idols. Only literature of noble ideas and decent artistic form can serve that society properly.
Indeed, there are many aspects about our literature and art which leave much to be desired. We have heard 1 114 Soviet plays to have been staged in our theaters only within the year! The number cannot but seem unsettling to those who are concerned about our literature. We are well aware of the fact that the entire world’s drama does not have as many works of true art. The figure is an evidence of a sadly endurable habit of heaping works over flaws to hide them. I think that it would be right to return to Lenin’s motto, “Less and better is better than more and worse!”
The entire Soviet nation welcomes the 44th anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution with the slogans of the new Program.
The sacred words shall burn in the heart of each Soviet man, shine like gold against the fiery banners, which will be carried across Krasnaya Square nearly indiscernible against the marble Mausoleum of VladimitIlyich Lenin – the most humane of all people in the world, on the 7th of November.
1961
SALEM, TURKMENIA!
Just a little while ago, as little as forty years ago, the Turkmen and the Kazakhs were nomadic nations of desert sands, separated from each other like solitary bushes of sexual parched by the scorching sun. Their life resembled a vague mirage. The two nations were wandering across the vast desert, having loaded their camels’ humps with their hopes and expectations. The merciless fate was driving them from the mountains to lakes and from the lakes to deserts – it was grave endless circle of hungry life and deprivation. The earth full of treasures was bering the nations’ grief silently and would not let a sound of hope escape. But even back then, in the dreary time, the name of Makhtumkuli could be heard on Mangyshlak, and Turkmen aul were fascinated by Abyl’s keys. Art and songs crossed boundaries, connecting the hearts and aspirations of the two brotherly nations. But everything was dark and empty, and sad were the minds.
The October dawn came. The wise party of Lenin led the people of tsarist Russia to the road of struggle and victory, showing them the sacred purpose of communism and providing them with the victorious weapons, that is, Marxism-Leninism.
The glorious forty years which have passed are full of difficulties and triumph. In the life of people, forty years is a short moment. However, it is equal to a geological period under our Soviet conditions. Two nations, which used to die of famine and diseases, who knew little of each other, are now entering the shiny palace of communist shoulder to shoulder like two giant brothers. The Communist Party and pure big brother, the Russian nation, have brought us from the bottom of a dismal abyss to the dazzling peak in a single powerful leap.
We not only participated in the socialist transformation of our Motherland but also witnessed the revival of our brother nations. When the First Secretary of the Central Committee Comrade B. Ovezov announced during the 22nd Meeting of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union that the republic’s industry had been increased twenty twofold and heavy industry nearly fortyfold in comparison to the pre-revolutionary 1913, the enormous hall burst into a storm of applause.
Such rapid development can be compared to the unrestrainable gallop of the famous Akhalektin horses, the ones who won every bayga. There is no Kazakh who does not wear clothes made of “white gold” grown by our Turkmen friends. We are sincerely happen and follow the example of selfless work demonstrated by our Turkmen brother at Chardzhou Superphosphate Factory, Ashkhabad Oil Machinery Factory, Gaurdak Sulphur Work, at oil fields, and at the colossal Kara Kum Canal construction.
Kazakhs read the wonderful works of Turkmen Soviet literature in their native language. You can find books by Turkmen writers in the Altay and in the Saryark Steppe, in Dzhetysu and on the banks of the Ural RiverSuch works as The Decisive Steppe and Aysoltan from the White Gold Land by the much admired Berdy Kerbabayev are very understandable for Kazakhs – we can see the clear mind of the Turkman nation in them, its struggle and its happiness, its passionate heart.
The ardent poetry by Kar Seytliyev and At Atadzhanov, Toushn Esenova and Zhara Ashirov, Khaldura Durdyyev, and Kurbandury Kurbansakhatov fascinate us. The entire Kazakhstan knows the name of the late N. Sarykhanov, a writer of a rare and enormous talent. The play Allan’s Family by Guseyn Mukhtarov was presented in Kazakh theatres for a long time.
I could mention numerous examples of the noble friendship and intimate relationship between our two nations in the sphere of literature and art. It is another evidence to prove the great truth embedded in the program for communist builders, which reads as follows: “Expansive communism building means a new stage in the development of national relations in the USSR, which is marked by further enhancement of the nation’s unity to turn them into one. The building of the physical and technical basis of communism shall lead to an even more intimate union between Soviet nations.”
Just as Turkman literature, that of the Kazakhs was born in the flames of the Great October Revolution. The Civil War was its cradle. If we thought back of the formation period of Kazakh literature, whose founders were Abay and Makhambet, the first names which we will mention will be those of Saken Seyfullin, Beimbet Maylin, and Ilyas Dzhansugurov. The powerful voices of those outstanding writers, innocent victims of the personality cult period, will be heard in the communist world, pleasing the readers.
Contemporary Kazakh prose originated with the memoir novel The Thorny Path by Saken Seybfullin and the wonderful lyrical novelette Shugi’s Memory by Beimbet Maylin. Our revolutionary drama can be traced back to The Red Falcons by S. Seyfullin. The image of Myrkymbay, who appears in the poetic cycle by the tireless worker B. Maylin dedicated to aul collectivization ranks with those of Aldar Kose and Khoja Nasreddin. We consider the epic poet Ilyas Dzhansugurov with his deep and vivid powerful poetry to be the second most important poet after Abay. We still cannot fully accept the fact that Mukhtar Auezov is not here with us. People who leave an ever-lasting heritage are always with their nations, fighting for their happiness.
Kazakh literature consists of three generations of writers who work fruitfully in evry genre and achieve proper creative success.
Just as we used to be delighted at the full-blooded works by Mukhtar Auezov, we enjoy the passionate burning and creative success of Sabit Mukanov, Gabiden Mustafin, Nikolay Anov, Sapargali Beganov, and Ivan Shukhov, who have been giving their energy of youth to the field of literature.
Let us study the memium generation of our writers, who are in the prime of their creative life. We are quite sure that they will take our literature to an even higher level by creating true scenes pf our life in their works. The generation, which is the core of our literature. Consists of , experienced and perfectly skilled authors, such as Askar Tokmagambayev, Abilda Tazhibayev, Khamid Yergaliyev, Khalizhan Bekkhozhin, Dikhan Abilev, Tair Zharokov, Gali Ormanov, Fedor Morgun, such prose writers as Khamza Yesenzhanov, Zein Shashkin, Seytzhan Omarov, Zhardem Tekov, such play writers as Alzhappar Abishev, Shakhmet Khusainov, and others.
Post-war young writers keep pace with their older pen mates. They are even better equipped ideologically and posses a wider range of knowledge. The poets Syrbay Maulenov, Zhuban Muldagaliyev, prose writers Safuan Shaymerdenov, Abidzhamil Nurpeisov, Taken Alimkulov, Takaui Akhtanov, Zeynolla Kabdolov, Ivan Shchegolikin, and playwrights like Kuandyk Shangitbayev and Kaltay Mukhametzhanov joined our ranks with great confidence.
After the 22nd Convention of the CPSU, a period of an abrupt turn towards a wider range of subjects and a more profound depiction of a working man has begun for Kazakh writers.
The principal trend of our life is a bold study of contemporary issues. Studying the characters of our contemporaries as well as having an intimate connection to life yield certain results. Numerous sketches and short stories about virgin soil reclamation, country and town workers, and Soviet intelligentsia have appeared.
The writer Zein Shashkin dedicated his latest novel Temirtau to our metal giant.
While Rakhmatulla Raimkulov celebrates people of today’s aul in his novelette The Green Screen, Khamza Yesenzhanov presents vivid scenes of the Civil War in West Kazakhstan in his dialog The Yaik – the River of Light. As for the much respected Sabit Mukanov, an aksakal among our writers, he has presented a virgin soil themed novel.
The full bloom of socialist culture is an unmistakable evidence of a communist triumph, the result of the constant implementation of Lenin’s national policy, and the Party’s daily care about each fo Soviet nations.
Having accepted the warmly presented invitation of Turkman writers, a number of Kazakhstani ones decided to arrive in Ashkhabad. They will see the happy life of their brotherly nation with their own eyes, meet their colleagues, discuss literary problems with the, and get familiar with the culture and art of Turkmenistan. We have no doubt that the friendly
Trip will be a great success and inspire us to create more, encourage us to spread our wings wider.
Salem, our dear Turkmen people!
1961
GOODBYE, MUKHTAR!
Today we are grieving desperately. Today is the day of sorrow and mourning for the multination Soviet literature, for the Kazakh nation, which has lost its most beloved son and its highest spiritual peak.
Today, every writer of the Soviet land is mourning. Their hearts are burning in the fire of loss which cannot be drowned in a river of tears.
The reason why we have gathered today is that we have to say goodbye to Muktar Omarkhanovich Auezov, our teacher, an outstanding public officer, a renowned writer, the soul of our entire culture, a man famous across the globe, the one whom we owe our international fame. It is a bitter feeling when you have to say goodbye to such a person, and it is a hard word to say. There is no other word in our language to hurt us as much. It is the word which no writer would like to say concerning Mukhtar Omarkhanovich. I know for sure that everyone present here thinks the same.
It is hard to realize that the mean disease has deprived us of Mukhtar, whose thoughts were immensely deep and whose style was perfect, right in the time of his creative prime. The big heart which was meant to love his nation and the labor of creation deeply has said goodbye to the people and to all of us, to everyone present here, and it said it too early. And we have to say the same.
After the great saga The Way of Abay was greatly honored by the Party and the Government and awarded the State and Lenin Prizes, the young writer dreamt of writing another saga, a saga depicting our contemporaries. Being an extraordinarily large-scale writer, a philosopher used to grasping the very essence of life, diverse as it is, Mukhtar Ormakhanovich has hos last two or three years traveling much around the republic, studying and reshaping in his heart the creative tension produced by the working class of town and rural communities. He would not part with his pen and paper till his very last hour came, and he was doing most strenuous intellectual work. To my deepest regret, an unexpected ailment has torn the promising pen, which was still sharp and keen, from his strong hands.
You will never see our dear Mukhtar, whom you loved with a most extraordinary love, among us again. He is not here any more.
Kazakh literature has been stricken by an unexpected disaster. Mukhtar Auezov used to be the best of us. Our pride, which every literature has, used to swell whenever we heard the name of Mukhtar. We did not need any other glorious name to feel that dignity. Now the wrier whose name used to be the source of our high-principled thoughts and feelings is not here any more. We will think of him many times with great sorrow, we will look for him, and I am sure that we will feel the effects of his absence in the living world, but we cannot possibly find a man like him.
A colt will replace a stallion. Unfortunately, the optimism of this ancient saying does not work when it comes to art. No writer can replace another writer. There is no substituting Mukhtar. He would not like us to do so. His last will for us was to live up to our noble duty of creating books at least nearly as perfect as his immortal creations which his successors will inherit.
I have to say the word which hurts like nothing else. Goodbye, Mukhtar! Goodbye to your childlike pure soul, goodbye to you, the judge as strict as fair as art itself. Goodbye, Big Brother! I know how miserable we will feel without your care and guidance.
We shall always have a picture of your face in our minds. We cannot possibly forget you, for you were the power and honor of our entire literature, our tower of strength, and the patron of all writers.
Kazakh writers will keep your sacred name in their hearts! They will love your dear heritage as deeply as they love you!
Goodbye, Mukhtar! Not only Kazakhstan, but also the peaks of Soviet nations will see your towering minaret. Your towering minaret – you works – is known all over the world. You famous work, which has made a way for itself, will be alive in people’s hearts.
Life is not a feast, and is we happened to upset and hurt you, we will think back of the time with deepest sorrow – whenever we remember such moments, we will pray beg your great spirit to forgive us. The words are bland, and the thoughts are too shallow to say goodbye to you, the wonderful master of the word. But we only incinerate your body, to which we are saying goodbye; your spirit will stay with us. It is the heritage which we will cherish like the apple of our eye, preventing every single flake of dust from landing upon it. Our greatest duty will be to preserve it. We will share the duty and spare nothing to fulfill it. We will try to compensate the loss which our entire culture has suffered at your departure from this world by means of deeds and not speeches. Our promises are as inviolable as an oath.
Goodbye, our dear brother, our renowned master of the word.
1961
TO THE GREAT LITERATURE AND ART OF THE FUTURE
Perusing the great Party Program adopted by the historical 22nd Convention of the CPSU, which has already been approved at the International Communist and Labor Party Forum, again and again, one can see the world in its tireless progress like a space panorama, one can see its clear and holistic image.
Our country has covered the heroic way from absolute monarchy to the complete triumph of socialism incredibly fast. Shoulder to shoulder, the nations of the Soviet Union have stood their hard but noble trial. The Rout, The Silent Don, V. I. Lenin, The Ordeal, Chapayev, Armored Train 14-69, The Baltic Deputy, Virgin Soil Upturned, The Young Guard, Vasili Tyorkin, and New Distance are outstanding works of literature an art, which depict each stage of the global historical struggle of the Soviet people.
The enormous socialist world, the best of the mankind are applauding to the accomplishments of the Soviet Union with joy and pride and watching closely to see us, Soviet people, created the physical and mental abundance of communism with double enthusiasm.
The 22nd Convention of the CPSU and the Program for Building the Communist Society entrust the noblest of objectives which are directly connected to the nature of our occupation to us, literature and art workers.
According to the CPSU Program, when a new man is being formed, literature and art play a major role. Celebrating the principles of communism and creative humanism, literature and art bring the Soviet man up to be a builder of the new world, serving the cause of artistic and moral human development. The party encourages all literary and art workers to tackle contemporarily-based subject with an innovative boldness.”
The man is like a book. Like a book, one can be well or poorly edited by the influence of society, the Party, literature, or art. It is needless to say how much a book can be improved when edited well.
Our great responsibility to the Party and to the entire mankind for proper fulfillment of the objectives which have been set to us lies with the fact of our being expected to create not only the image of the new man but also the man himself as literary workers. That is, we are expected to form one’s mind, promoting communist generosity, unfaltering patriotism and internationalism, and love of labor, that is, to make one inconceivably pure in one’s mind so that one can be a decent citizen of the world’s first communist country.
We have already entered the stage at which we “need to prepare people for living in a communist society” according to the greatest principle, “Contributing each according to his ability and receiving each according to his need.”
The second part of the great formula may seem to be easily understandable for people. Quite naturally, it is not. As I see it, the transition to need-based allotment will be accompanied by comic and tragic scenes of partying with the past, which will provide our writers with a wealth of Shakespeare and Gogol style material. However, our prime objective is, quite naturally, to help people understand the first part of the formula, to develop love of labor in people, meaning that the production rate must be much higher in the communist society than it has been so far. All of us will definitely have to work on the problem. The point I would like to state here is that it will be not the quantity but the quality of works what will define the productivity of art and literary workers.
The issue of a new, radical reshaping, both administrative and creative, is to be considered full-scale by every creative union. The essence of such reshaping must be to bring creative workers far closer to life and to contemporary problematic issues than they are. We all have to realize clearly that the following two decades will require greater effort than we have been making. We have to put an end to the abnormal situation, in which ninety percent of the time of many creative workers is devoured by meetings and conferences. In this regard, I find it useful to follow the recommendations given by N. Gribachyov at the 22nd Convention of the CPSU.
The period of proper discipline and concentration, the era of the high communist unity, high creative activity aimed at creating the great art and literature of communism has come. Any other attitude of literature and art workers to the objectives of the coming period must be regarded as quitting thr front line.
What real facilities enabling Kazakhstan to consider the great objectives faced by writers and artists to be achievable does the country possess? I will give a straightforward answer – the creative workers of Kazakhstan are fit to provoke envy in most of the neighboring countries, which should definitely be the nice and friendly kind of envy.
Firstly, three generations of artists are currently working in every genre of literature and in every field of art most enthusiastically.
The doubts which certain comrades have concerning the possibility of the creative contribution to be made by representatives of the older writer and artist generation are groundless. They have by no means run dry; on the contrary, they can very well challenge the youth. We used to admire the phenomenal artistic enthusiasm of M. O. Auezov, who is not present here with us today, we used to admire the eternally Bright talent of the renowned actress K. Bayseitova, the 90-year-old Dina, and the 100-year-old Zhambul. Do S. Mukanov, G. Mustafin, N. I. Anov, S. Begalin, and M. D. Zverev – in literature, K. Kyanyshpayev, S. Kozhamkulov, Ye. Omurzakov, K. Badyrov, S. P. Assuirov, and many others – in art – not serve as role models. No. Such doubts are both groundless and offensive.
As for the medium and younger artistic and literary generations, they are in the prime of their creative life and constitute the tower of strength, which is most relied upon in terms of the unthought-of progress of literature and art to come tomorrow. I have only one thing to wish to them kindly – more active life invasion, more industry and self-control. A. Tokmagambetov, T. Zharokov, A. Tazhibayev, G. Ormanov, D. Abilev, A. Sarsembayev, Kh. Yergaliyev, Kh. Bekkhozhin, Sh. Khusainov, K. Zhumaliyev, M. Karatayev, S. Omarov, Kh. Yesenzhanov, S. Mauloenov, Zh. Moldagaliyev, Z. Shashkin, K. Zharmagambetov, K. Toguzakov, and many others are the one who consistute the mature generation in our literature.
The post-war literary boom brought writers who were just as mature but better prepared in terms of theory into our literature. A. Nurpeisov, T. Akhtanov, S. Shaymerdenov, Z. Kabdoulov, B. Momyshuly, G. Alimkulov, K. Shangitbayev, G. Kairbekov, T. Moldagaliyev, T. Abdrakhmanova, and Ye. Ibragim were our newcomers who needed no apprenticeship. Their works rightfully embellish library walls and are ranslated into Russian like the works of their more experienced comrades. Besides, over forty young writers and poets have been accepted to the Union within the recent 3 years, and we have seen no case of disillusionment in terms of their creative infertility or moral carelessness yet.
The period after the 20th Convention of the CPSU in the activity of Kazakh and Russian writers residing in Kazakhstan has been marked by a decisive turn towards the depiction of our contemporary reality, of working people, to a wider range of subjects, and by a growth in the young literary talents.
During the post-war boom, a large group of talented young prose writers already familiar to the reader, such as N. Kuzmin, I. Shchegolikhin, A. Alimzhanov, A. Galiyev, F. Chirva, N. Korsunov, A. Ananyev,Yu. Ilyashenko, V. Novikov, A. Izmalkov, V. Antonov, M. Rogovoy, and gifted poers, such as A. Skvortsov, L. Skalkovskiy, A. Yelkov, O. Suleymenov, Evg. Bukin, Valeriy Antonov, A. Pryanikov, and others have joined the ranks of Russian-speaking writers of Kazakhstan, which now consist of more than forty authors.
Within the recent 5-6 years, over 150 books by Russian Kazakhstani writers have been published in Kazgoslitizdat. Over 20 books have been published in Moscow within the period of time. It must be the most convincing evidence of the improvement of skills achieved by the Russian writers and the topicality of the subjects they work on.
The novel The Snowstorm by Ivan Shchegolikhin, which was published in in Oktyabr magazine in 1960 and then published as a separate book by Kazgoslitizdat, is a nice book. As the critic A. Lozhechko claimed in Lteratura I Zhizn newspaper, “What makes the novel by Shchegolikhin modern is not only the fact that the author tells about virgin soil workers. What makes it modern is the celebration of the mental power and beauty of Soviet people.”
A novelette about people from a kolkhoz aul written by another young writer, Nikolay Korsunov, titled There Is a Village in Cisurals… it was published in Sovetskiy Kazakhstan magazine and then by the publishing office Molodaya Gvardiya. The young author has now finished his second novelette named The Springs depicting the life and labor of virgin soil workers. The novelette has been published in Prostor magazine.
Virgin soil has given birth too many heroes. This is the reason why the people’s struggle for the vast territories which used to stay barren for ages has become such an important literary subject. We must admit that Russian writers have outdone Kazakh ones in this respect. The plays At the Heart’s Command by N. Anov and Ya. Steyn, Heirs by N. Anov, the novelettes The Snow Novelette by I. Shukhov, The Autumn Equinox by Dm. Snegin, The Gray Field by I. Shchegolikhin, High Water by A. Kiyanitsa, and On Lidotchka, Vodyanoy, Vanya, Gypsy, and others by A. Galiyev present a convincing evidence.
S. Martyanov and S. Nikiting have been working seriously and fruitfully in the genre of short stories. Three books of stories by Martyanov has been published in recent years, two of which was issued by Kazgoslitizdat (The Fiftieth Parallel and Stranger Wind) and one, The First Target, was issued by Molodaya Gvardiya. Sergey Nikitin has had four books of short stories published, two of which appeared in Moscow.
The genre of sketches is represented by such successful authors as Anuar Alimzhanov, Aleksey Bragin, and Fedor Chirva. Books by gifted young short story writers, such as A. Izmalkov, M. Rogovoy, and V. Antonov have been published recently.
The young prose writer Chirva wrote a novelette on country builders named The Conscience two years ago. The book was received enthusiastically in printed media and is read by youth with great interest. His ne novel Time Is the Judge, which tells us about animal breeders, people of high dream and great perseverance, about the fruitful connection between science and practice, is currently being published by Kazgoslitizdat.
This year, the first book of poems by Olzhas Suleymenov titled Argamaks has been published. The extraordinary poetical vision of the young author, his fresh imagery and bright, catchy colors do claim attention. But, as the saying goes, one swallow does not make spring. Being fascinated by the start, everyone was waiting for the poet’s nest work. Soon, Olzhas Suleymenov brought his new poem titles Land, Bow to the Man!, which describes the issue of the succession of generations, of our contemporaries ready to tame rivers and conquer space, to the Writers’ Union. The poem was published and received enthusiastically. Now the poet has finished one more poem, and I definitely can say that an interesting poet has come to our literature without being afraid of praising too much.
Russian writers of the older generation are working fruitfully as well. Apart from the abovementioned plays, N. I. Anov has got his novels Wings of the Song and The Missing Brother published, and his Civil War novelette The Death of His Highness has been published in the Prostor magazine; apart from two sketch virgin soil themed books, The Steppe Routine and The Gold Mine, Ivan Shukhov has written the pamphlet book America’s Days and Nights. M. D. Zverev has got over 20 children’s book published.
They are the chief literary workers whom I mentioned in relation to our ability to fulfill the objectives set for culture workers by the 22nd Meeting of the Communist Party. As far as I know, the situation is the same or about the same with art.
Besides, we must not forget about the beautiful works of the renowned founders of Kazakh Soviet literature, that is, S. Seyfullin, B. Maylin, and I. Dzhansugurov. Works by these writers are still topical and massive today.
In fact, our modern prose originated with the unique memoir documentary The Trying Way by S. Seyfullin and the beautiful lyrical novelette Shugi’s Monument by B. Maylin. Our revolutionary drama originated with The Red Falcons by S. Seyfullin. His Express, Sovietstan, The Albatross, and Tjan Zaolin are as fresh today as they used to be when they were just created, and so they will remain tomorrow.
The demurest servant of the pen, tireless as he was, B. Maylin was the one to document the socialist transformation of Kazakhstan. His plays Taltanbay, Maydan, and Zhalbyr used to be the most topical of the topical. The Myrkymbay type, that is, that of a common person, has been established in our literature, just like those of Khodji Nasyr and Aldar Kose. It hurts to think of the lost Duraday libretto, which used to be highly appreciated by the literary public, as lost.
Personally I can think of no Kazakh poet who would be more famous than I. Szhansugurov behind Abay. While Abay has no poems, I. Dzhansugurov was an epic poet. I think that no writer will be offended if I say hat not every contemporary poet has achieved the great level of I. Dzhansugurov’s artistic talent.
I am sure that the audience will agree that both Saken Sejfullin, Beimbet Maylin, and Ilyas Dzhansugurov deserve a decent Almaty monument.
As the plenary meeting has been the united meeting of all Kazakhstani creative unions, I would like to dwell on certain problems which we are called sharing, the account of which I will make brief and largely conservative. What I mean is that is not only to talk about them but also to take certain practical steps aimed at a rapid and abrupt progress in the ideological literary and artistic level of a large multinational republic, which you can say about Kazakhstan.
Before turning to those problems, I would like to put an emphasis on the fact that the formerly backward Kazakhstan has made exceptional progress and come to be prosperous in the life-giving sunlight of Lenin’s national policy. If we have mentioned the state this or that part of the literary front, it is an evidence of the fact that our cultural level and aesthetical requirements of the people, to whom we serve, has been upgraded significantly. On the other hand, if we had a firm ground under out feet, the real power needed to rectify the situation, we would have no treason to discuss flaws.
We need to understand the reasons behind certain flaws in various areas of the culture front deeply and thoroughly and to be implacably demanding in terms of their eradication.
I explain the reason why flaws appear and what their types art.
Firstly, the unmistakably successful development of our literature, our young art that has more than once proven to the Soviet readers and audience how mature they were, instilling serenity, which is a heavy disease the possible aftereffects of which include losing one’s ability to work and growing idle. Labor discipline is the primary principle of, in confrontation to which neither literature nor art can exist. In this respect, we can work from the great pen workers like Gogol, Fedor, and Tolstoy.
The idea which has been true at every decade ad every jubilee, where more people are generally invited and where people prefer praise to saying sincere things about one’s flaws. Decades and jubilees do not always reflect the real situation in literature. One can often come across a scene which will be very different from the one presented ion holidays.
Secondly, the varnish used instead of the truthful criticism and instead of getting people eradicate this or that flaw concealed the flaws, giving them a wrong shade of color.
In this regard, I would like to draw your attention to the well-known saying by A. T. Tvardovsky made at the 22nd Convention of the CPSU.
“If I am not mistaken,” A. Tvardovsky said, “It was Suvorow who said that soldiers should be proud not only of their battle deeds but also of the deprivation he has been through.”
We often omit the deprivation and difficulties which the soldier has to put up with during his long campaign. Telling about the people’s labor heroism, we often forget to mention the deprivation and difficulties they have to tolerate. We hurt his pride of a man who has been fighting difficulties and heading to the highest of his objective.
After that, mentioning the writer’s duty to nourish the sense of pride, sturdiness, patience, and noble selflessness, A. Tvardovsky said, “The only way we can do it is by truly depicting our people’s life and heroic deeds, no varnish, no smoothing away the controversies.
As I see it, Tvardovky was extremely accurate when he expressed the opinion of Soviet writers and artistic. Everyone should follow his recommendations...!
Thirdly, quite a number of writers have no harmony between the form and message of their works – the idea may be true and topical, but the form is backwards and slightly primitive. I would like to put an emphasis of the fact that the artistic levels of numerous our books, plays, and staging’s, are dramatically law. The task is overcome the worst, the most perilous literary and art disease – an indifferent attitude to everything. I must admit that indifference towards the idelological and artistic merits of works result directly from the decrease in exactingness and intolerance of creative organization worker, their creative departments, theater directors, and office editors. The slogan “For high ideological and artistic merits of the Soviet Union” should be our most important slogan for the period.
Fourthly, like all of you, I can feel the sad phenomenon which I could call
a misbalance in levels. Its essence is as follows: the cultural level of the contemporary reader and viewer has increased greatly, while certain literary workers have shown no progress. This is what I call a misbalance. To compare the levels of readers of the 30s to the art and literature of the time, it will be clear that art and literature used to be much better developed than the audience. The situation is just the opposite today.
It is especially sad to see creative groups, which are in themselves quite fine and gifted, work up to the past requirements. Watch some old and new plays by Kazakh academic theaters – operas and dramas, the recent Kazakh films, and you will feel as if you has been transferred to the distant past. You will see a lot of amateur art but no real love of art. It is unclear why the republic’s Ministry of Culture does not ban such films and keeps funding trash. Our theatres are losing their reputation and their academic style.
You cannot find classics at our theatres any more. Once, staging Shakespeare and Gogl, Lope de Vega and Chekhov, Ostrovsky and Gorky was treated as an art lesson aimed achieving the all-Union level of theatrical development, stimulating them to compete with the outstanding performers of these or those roles in leading Moscow and Leningrad theatres. Strangely, neither the management of the Kazakh Academic Theatre nor the republic’s Ministry of Culture amend their theatre repertoire by including their Russian and world classics. However, we cannot tackle the issue of bold innovation in artistic depiction of the contemporary life full-scale without completely mastering the world culture tradition and employing it.
The reason why our theatrical development is backward is our lack of expert directors.
I believe the director of the Kazakh Academical Theater of Drama A. Mambetov to have a good understanding of the modern theater. However, he lacks experience and has not fully mastered the subtleties of his native language, and, what is more important, one director is not enough.
Finally, our theaters have lost their creative connection to the Writers’ Union. Once, the connection between writers and theaters used to be very intimate and promote mutual enrichment. It was with the help of writers that the art of theater made its first steps. For a long time, such writers as Zh. Shanin, B. Maylin, M. Auezov, Sh. Khusannov, and others headed literary departments in theaters. Now that art has acquired the institutional form, writers do not linger as theater workers and workers of cultural institutions. They must feel uncomfortable in the creative aspect. Sh. Khusainov, K. Toguzakov, and T. Akhtanov, being large-scale writers with a love of art, did not stay at any cinema production studio or in any other Mistry of Culture organization, including the Kazakh Academic Theater, for a long time.
The seemingly usual facts have two implications for me. Firstly, art seems to be the kind of human activity which in itself cannot be institutional. Secondly, is very wrong of us, writers, to treat art as a thing beyond our scope of interests.
The last issue on which I would like to dwell is the modern state of drama and cinema drama.
Over 40 dramatic works by Kazakh writers have been staged at the republic’s theaters within the time since the 20th Party Meeting, and over 15 films based on our screenplays have been produced. The quantity is large, but the quality of that production is not satisfactory at all. Firstly, only a half of the things staged and filmed deal with the burning issues of today. Secondly, a vast majority of them failed to stand the test of time.
As the people’s cultural level grows, the severe requirements of the modern audience for stage and screen works are becoming increasingly influential. However, the republic still has no plans to meet the increased spiritual demand of the people and to truly depict the contemporary reality. Our older playwrights, such as A. Abishev, A. Tazhibayev, Sh. Khusainov are working a lot, and they are working fruitfully. A young army of playwrights represented by S. Adambekov, Kh. Bekkhozhin, Z. Shashkin, K. Shangitbayev, K. Mukhamedzhanov, and T. Akhtanov has appeared, but unfortunately, we cannot tell the names of their characters which have become common names and common examples to follow.
The characters of many of our plays bustle around the stage, trying to solve problems which have already been solved by life; they reduce stick-in-the-muds whose inevitable death is obvious from the very beginning to ashes. However, the characters are not deprived of the ability to love. However, their love is strangely regulated by the standards of production success and failure.
We lack large-scale characters engaged into global activities and absorbed in global thoughts. Out plays still have little things which can be called true to life and plausible; their conflicts are exclusively literary and expressed verbally and not in the characters’ actions. It is no secrets that out theatres mostly take not plays but contemporary subjects to express an idea or a shade of idea from writers and then agonize in search of things to happen.
So what can be the reason of our cinema and drama backwardness?
The only thing to which we can attribute the fact of the shallow play parade showing a number of good and modern idea dead because of poor artistic expressions is artistic imperfections and the authors’ reluctance to “work much and for a long time.”
In this respect, I would like to say a few words concerning our slavish attitude to the old drama canons. As for me, I am developing an ever-growing suspicion that the old artistic standards are not always fit for the depiction of human relationships in the socialist society, not to mention communism.
What are the promising, innovative, and simply interesting things which have appeared in our drama within the recent period?
What I like about Oh, Girls by K. Shangitbayev and K. Beyseitov is the play’s livelihood and engaging action, the clear nature of its characters. The play The Wolfling by the young playwright K. Mukhamedhznov has a true-to-life image of a young, honest, and naive girl, which is quite typical for our time. Such a bilingual girl, who is open-minded unlike her parents, can be found in each and every house. In the play Saule by T. Akhtanov, in spite of its flaws, the author’s attempt to create characters to represent our contemporaries is most commendable. In the play People of the Same Purpose by the experienced playwright A. Abushev, the idea of no compatibility of envy and selfishness with our time is presented in a deeper manner than it was in his earlier works. Besides, the gradual plot discovery method which he uses seems to me very promising. The young playwright M. Duzenov has written a good incriminating play about those who deceive the government. When staged masterfully, that work, which is of great topicality for Kazakhstan, can sound as a weighty and politically thorny drama work.
If you analyze the facts of the contemporary drama practice, you will understand that real measures have been taken to create a serious theater-aimed literature in our republic.
My report must be a little too long. A couple of words on our critics and arrangements.
Our criticism is not a new genre; it was born and has been developing along with our literature and art. Such outstanding scientists as A. Zhubanov, M. Karatayev,Ye. Ismailov, B. Kenzhebayev, M. S. Silchenko, N. S. Smirnova, and the talented youth – M. Nazarbayev, K. Nurmakhanov, and many others are currently working in the sphere of literary and art studies.
But, as we have said many times, the true accomplishments of our critics belong to the literary studies sphere and not to their active, lively, and daily participation in literary life. It is our main concern with criticism. It is too diplomatically, too antiseptically when it comes to contemporary works. That is the reason why it still has not become a true friend and comrade for the writer to help him solve complex artistic and ideological problems, not to mention being the writer’s teacher, as was the most cherished dream of A. V. Lunacharskiy.
As for practical arrangements, I have two suggestions.
By creating a number of creative unions and institutions within the Ministry of Culture we have not only dissipated our strength but also failed to avoid parallelism in the organizations’ operations.
For example, the following organizations are dealing with theater and cinema repertoires:
— People’s Art House for people’s theater repertoire;
— Ministry of Culture and theaters for republic theaters;
— Ministry of Culture for regional and district theaters;
— cinema production studio s and the Cinema Workers’ Union for cinemas.
Eventually, the organizations cannot but deal with the Writers’ Union, but everybody is hogging the covers, and we cannot have joint subject and issue planning. Is it not an easier and more efficient solution to delegate the powers of creating theater and cinema repertoires to a single institution so that there is only one organization responsible for it?
Suggestion number two. I believe it to be pointless for fiction publishing to remain a part of the Ministry of Culture system. We have turned the publishing business into a “servant of two masters.” I think that the Writers’ Union of Kazakhstan could fight the flawed things which are still common in publishing industry more efficiently. To some extent, the creative departments of the Writers’ Union are to blame for the poor situation. However, it is the Ministry of Culture, certain employees who pressurize the publishing offices illegally, shove low-quality translations through, etc.
1962
ON CERTAIN PROBLEMS OF KAZAKH CINEMA ART
It is a well-known fact that cinema is the most wide-scale means of influencing the minds of millions of people ideologically and artistically. That is why the recent resolution of the CC of the CPSU emphasizes the great responsibility which cinema workers have for the high-principled content and artistic merits of our films.
Our central newspapers (Pravda, Izvestiya, Literaturnaya Gazeta, and others) have been criticizing the activities of central cinema production studio s and the quality of films produced by them severely in the recent years, especially in 1962, that is, last year. The state and problems of cinema were discussed at the All-Union Meeting of Cinmea Workers in Moscow in 1961. In the same year, a joint plenary meeting of Kazakhstani creative union took place to address the issues of the objectives to be fulfilled by cultural in relation to the resolutions of the 22nd Convention of the CPSU and the colossal resolutions contained in the Party Program.
Within the year which has passed since then, our republic’s cinema has been enriched with new works; several films have been created in which an attempt is made to depict the contemporary reality in a deeper and more complex manner, however, a number of films produced by Kazakh film strongly suggest that it has fulfilled the task most poorly.
At the end of the previous year, a joint plenary meeting of the Writers’ Union of Kazakhstan and the Managerial Office of the republic’s Cinema Workers’ Union took place. The most pressing issues of our cinema art were on the agenda again.
The participants’ speeches as well as the decisions taken contain an unbiased evaluation of the state of Kazakh cinema and certain recommendations aims at increasing the quality of films.
In this article, we will try to share certain thoughts expressed at the meeting in a brief manner.
So what should our initial position be if we truly want to understand the state of Kazakh cinema art?
The initial position which we should have is only one. It was explained at the 22nd Convention of the CPSU, in the new Party Program, and, finally, in the recent resolutions of the CC of the CPSU and the CC of the KCP on cinema in a most exhaustive and clear manner.
What do you think the state of Kazakh cinema art, which has the experience of twenty five years if you take into consideration the fact that the first cinema work, Amangeldy, was produced in 1938, is?
Several films created by our republican production studio are known all over the Union. Firstly, they were ideologically intense and large-scale like great artistic works; secondly, their artistic merits were considerable for the time. They include such films as Amangeldy, Abay, Dzhambul, Botagoz, etc., which were created before and immediately after the war. They also include three films created recently by our wonderful film production studio . They are The Dzhigit Girl by P. Bogoloubov, starring the astonishing actress L. Abdukarimova; His Time Will Come by M. Begalin, and Our Dear Doctor by Sh. Asmanov (if you do not take into consideration that insignificant trick devilry), and If Each of Us by S.Khodzhikov (if you do not consider the false tale of its contrived end).
Being very diverse in their themes and artistic solutions, the films were an evidence of the well thought-out ideological and artistic style of our production studio. Though they were far from being perfect, one could feel the realistic aspiration of the young art of cinema the right direction of creative search. It seemed that the effort of cinema workers was going to be aimed at wide- and large-scale, problem-oriented modern things.
However, the production studio did not hold the principal position. It began to be haunted by all kinds of failures, mostly when it came to contemporary-themed films. We think that the dreariest mistake of the management of the Cinema Workers’ Unity has been directing the creative energy of the group to shallow themes, to an artificially constructed contemporary reality, and sometimes even trifles.
In this respect, the criticism against the studio and the films recently produced by it, which has recently appeared in our newspapers, in particular Izvestiya, Sovetskaya Kultura, and such magazines as Kommunist and Sovetskiy Ekran, as well as republic-wide periodicals.
Kazakh film is planning few large-scale works and problem-oriented films. It arouses concerns. The difficulties which the studio is having with the financial plan are obviously forcing it to shoot films based on unimpressive or even good screenplays.
Within the recent three or four years, Kazakh film has produced a series of low-quality films, including Windflaw, Returning to the land, Silence, In a Neighborhood, The Call of the Song, Alloy, Your Friends, One Night, etc. The films provoke no feelings but disappointment. They have nothing to do with the art of socialist realism. Their authors have obviously forgotten that art is not fun and will not stand any tinkering; it is a business of great responsibility for the socialist society.
Literature and art play a major role in the formation of the new man. Thus, we, art and literary workers, are not only to create the image of the new man but also to form him, to free him from what has been sticking to him since the personality cult period and the distant past, make him noble and mentally pure, develop his sense of the artistic and the aesthetically pleasing, shortly speaking, as Comrade M. A. Suslov said, “the formation of thoughts and feelings of the Soviet man.” Unfortunately, most of the abovementioned films are far from meeting the requirements.
The world of art and literature is the oyster for young and talented people! However, the voices of young directors at our studio remain hardly audible during the discussions of general cinema problems as well as when films are being creating. And still they are the ones who are truly close to our contemporary reality, it is they who should be bold and daring! Ad the famous cinema director I. Pyryev once said, “The young and talented are already walking at our side, and sometimes even in advance It is not a casual phrase; it is a plea for boldness!
It is not only cinema workers but also writers who are to blame for the dramatic flaws of Kazakh cinema industry. It is a well-know play that films are based on screenplays. Without the basis, no secondary structure is possible. No building appears on bare ground. It is a widely recognized postulate that the screenplay is superior to the future film, being the basis of a building to appear.
The bland, unimpressive films produced by Kazakh film Studio are based on unimpressive drama, which is wholly attributable to writers. Our Kazakh drama on the whole and cinema drama in particular have produced nothing special to delight the audience and have not progressed even in comparison with the antebellum period.
55 screenplays were submitted to the screenplay department of Kazakh film Studion within the period from 1955 to 1962,, which was done under firm, pre-paid agreements, while the number of those to be shot is only 13.
This, 42 screenplays were found inapplicable, weak in the ideological and artistic aspect. But the thirteen screenplays accepted are not quite satisfactory. The films based on them are very unimpressive. The situation is which 75% of the manuscripts submitted are assisted squish is impossible in all other genres. But here, in the genre of cinema drama, squish dominates. The outrageous fact is an evidence of the playwright’s careless attitude to their creative objectives and to the requirements of high art.
The only right and efficient form of fighting against this evil is to sign contracts for works which have already been written, even if it is in its dough phase. To make up a plan of future production which would be relatively clear, the production studio needs a basis of screenplays.
Once, an unprecedented case claimed the attention of certain authors – the Artistic Council of the production studio rejected over 15 screenplays written mostly by Kazakhstani authors.
How did the screenplays appear and what were they like? Here are some examples.
The studio signed a contract for the screenplay Never Give Up by A. Bezuglov. The female protagonist, a young doctor named Saule, is busy searching for medicine to cure heart diseases. She works all alone, without any help or support from her team, which is quite implausible in itself. The heroine is cagey enough to cancel the fact of her being ill from her friends and colleagues. The entire plot of the screenplay and the heroine’s private “tragedy”, which the author presents as heroism, are based upon artificial complications. The concept is obviously inadequate; however, the studio management found the screenplay to be sound and paid the author 6397 rubles.
The reviews of the film by the Mosfilm Artistic Group and the editorial office of the Head Office for Feature Film Production of the Ministry of Culture of the USSR claims it to be no literature but tinkering; the author is said to be aware of the basic principles of plot construction by have nothing to do with drama.
We can analyze another screenplay – People of the East by the young author A. Satayev. It soes not resemble a screenplay at all.
The author did not bother to do any research and artistically rework the data. The plot is based on occasions of little significance. The absolute absence of taste in terms of wording as well as the author’s careless attitude to the narration and to his writer’s duty are shocking. When the author came to the studio for the first time, he brought his initial variant of a work about Kurmangazy to get every kind of consultation and financial assistance, but he never completed the project. This was the case with the other screenplay – he refused to work on it after getting the first dozen of remarks from the screenplay department.
The screenplay The Case of Argamakov by another young author, B. Amanshin, looks just as primitive.
There are many things for which a young author can be excused when making his first literary steps as long as you feel a tiny bud of extraordinary thinking about him, an original outlook. However, it is not the case with the abovementioned works.
We have to lay an even graver claim to the older generation of writers, to established literary workers.
The cinema studio rejected the screenplay The Sun’s Peers by the poet Kh. Bekkhozhin. The screenplay is his poem Akhan Aktayev remade, which has been staged for the Youth Theater. The author did not bother to meet the basic requirements of drama. The entire plot of the screenplay is based on endless device discussions — excavators, dumpers, and many other things which belong to yesterday. The people portrayed in the screenplay are primitive and anachronistic. The author’s delights make his poor knowledge of the reality he is trying to describe even more obvious. The cinema studio prolonged the contract with the author seven times, hoping to get work about our contemporaries, about the people of labor and production, but the author failed to produce one.
The situation of the screenplay Friendship Is Stronger than Anything by the playwright A. Abishev is the same. His screenplay is a remake of his plays based on the obsolete production conflict. The setting seems to be contemporary, but the events taking place must belong to the distant past. But the worst thing about the screenplay is the fact that interpersonal relations provoke neither sympathy nor disapproval. In this case, the author’s ability to center his plot on the acute character-based conflicts failed him.
The cinema studio rejected the screenplay I Will Have Grandchildren by the experienced playwright and novelist Z. Shishkin. It was quite logical to expect the author of Temirtau to produce a good screenplay on the same subject. The studio sent him to Moscow to attend a month’s seminar accompanied by an experienced advisor. However, no screenplay about Temirtau metal-makers appeared. Instead, the author presented a weakly shaped reading on a subject of little significance.
I could give more examples, but the abovementioned is enough to infer the following: our authors have a most careless attitude to cinema and to their job of creating screenplays.
All those screenplays, all that squish was generously subsidized, and it is the management of the cinema production studio, mostly Comrade Siranov, who is to blame. However, numerous young authors were absolutely groundlessly dissatisfied with the new studio management, who just happened to inherit a poor legacy.
The situation with screenplays for the films which have been ordered recently and which are expected to appear in 1962 and 1963 is just as sad. Much grumble can be heard about them even now. Being famished in terms of screenplays, the studio must have been in a hurry to sign contracts with certain authors.
For example, the screenplay The Ant by I. Zaytsev is another version of a partisan boy’s life, though it is most unlikely to appear as good as Ivan’s Childhood by A. Tarkovskiy.
If the studio undertakes to create a fundamental Patriotic War film, they should remember the fact that Kazakhstan occupies the third plays among the Union’s republics by the number of Heroes of the Soviet Union. Nurken Abdirov committed the same heroic deed as Gastello; Sultan Baymagambetov acted like Matrosov. Two Kazakh girls, M. Mametova and A. Moldagulova, belong to the group of Soviet East women who were honored to be awarded the title of a Hero of the Soviet Union.
The screenplay The Restless by D. Trukhin depicts international friendship. The solution is extremely primitive. A Kazakh girl marries a Russian man, and a Koren girl marries a Kazakj man. The subject of love is so awfully vulgarized and driven by a false intrigue that is merely provokes resentment.
The screenplay by B. Sokpakbayev and N. Zeleranskiy The Adventures of Kozhy the Black makes a better impression. If the main characters – parents, children, and school teachers – are portrayed in greater detail, we can expact it to make an interesting children’s film. However, the screenplay does not contain all things typical of the Kazakh family. In our opinion, the authors should have centered it on a natural conflict. Middle-aged and young people try to rear their children according to the more pedagogical instructions, while their grandparents have their archaic influence on them when looking after the children for the whole day. They are certainly driven by good intentions and love. However, the good intentions are where the conflict originates. The solution found by the authors is not quite right. The impression made by the screenplay variant is not as great as that of the novelette.
Other screenplays accepted by the studio within the period from 1962 till 1963 are also ideologically and artistically poor.
What we can infer is the fact that the problem of screenplays is most burning. We cannot save the studio from excessive accidental screenplays and films.
So what is the solution?
In our mind, the first thing we should do is alter the attitude of writers towards the genre of screenplays. They have to understand that screenplays is a literature as serious or even more serious than novels or poems, plays or novelettes. A good screenplay can be not only turned into a good film but also published as a work of literature.
Secondly, we have to give up the wrong idea of cinema and theaters being governmental agencies. Since the institutions belong to the system of the Ministry of Culture, we, writers, do not think about their needs, shifting the moral responsibility onto the Ministry. It is a wrong approach. A playwright cannot think of his work as independent from theaters. Now that cinema is conquering more and more of the artistic upbringing front line, the writer cannot stay within the limits of contact-based relations. The writer should go to the production studio as he goes home, while the studio should in its turn favor the writer. Unfortunately, it has not been true yet. However, it is a well-known fact that theaters and cinema studios cannot exist without playwrights, just like playwrights cannot exist without them. I do hope that we will find an efficient form of artistic cooperation with our production studio as well as with the republic’s theaters in the nearest future.
In the recent resolution adapted by the CC of the CPSU, as well as in the resolution adapted by the CC of the Communist Party of Kazakhstan, the screenplay basis of films is treated as a hinge of primary importance. The position of a chief editor at a cinema studio is introduced. Is the playwright not greatly honored to be the head of such a large-scale undertaking?
Screenplays must not be ignored by the public; they need to be discussed within the Writers’ Union as well as among cinema workers. Shortly speaking, writers and the production studio are going to break the obstacles of formal relations to get closer to each other.
The production studio should be ready for intense creative work. We hope that it will improve its direction art as well as the performance of the screenplay department; meet the needs of writers, and train professional actors.
The creative cooperation of the playwright and the director is becoming extremely significant. Just a year ago, we would scold directors for becoming co-authors of screenplays. However, the facts prove that a vast majority of directors had every reason to do so. In most cases, an inexperienced playwright brought a crude work to the studio; while the director had to do not less (maybe even more!) work to turn it into the dramatic basis of the future film. The situation is quite different when the playwright and the director tailor the play to fit the cinema techniques without considering its ideological and artistic content. In this case, we cannot justify either the author or the director. But we are speaking about an artist, who, according to a very precise saying by L. Leonov, can see the future tree with its foliage and branches and even the shadow it will cast in a small grain. The leading Soviet cinema workers are now in an especially desperate need for a creative cooperation of the playwright and the director, believing this method to be the most efficient one. It is right. The method will universally beneficial, especially to writers. It will give them the opportunity to develop a better understanding of cinema specific techniques to feel more confident about their screenplays and be more successful in this aspect due to their knowledge.
Writers and cinema workers should make a joint effort to upgrade the republic’s cinema art so that it can meet the requirements of our heroic time.
1962
ON THE DAYS OF HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE...
The plenary meeting of the CC of the CPSU, which has just finished and which addressed ideological issues, is undoubtedly of great historical significance for out country.
If you look back at the years of the multinational Soviet literature, you will see that they are unparalleled in history. Within several decades, our Soviet literature has become the most advanced, the most optimistic literature.
We are proud to know that numerous writers from our brotherly national republics, such as M. Auezov, M. Rylskiy, M. Tursunadze, E. Mezhelaytis, and others have been awarded the most honorable prize of our country – the Lenin prize, like outstanding Russian writers, such as M. Sholokhov and L. Leonov, whose creative heroism has been crowned by the people’s recognition. We are proud to known that writers of the medium and older generations, such as the wonderful Dagestani poet R. Gamzatov and the gusted Kyrgyz prose writer Ch. Aytmatov have been rewarded the same prize. We are proud at the fact of works by those and many other Soviet writers being widely known far beyond the boundaries of our Motherland. It is not only Russian literature, to which the great treasures created by the classical writers of the 19th century belong, but also the literatures of the nations who used to have no alphabet before the Great October Revolution that is progressing rapidly.
The only reason why I remind you of this is that I know that new, even more severe requirements of the Party and the people to our books, their ideological and artistic merits will be met with great confidence and courage by Soviet writers.
However, it would be inconsistent with the party spirit to overlook the negative trends of our multinational literature.
I mean writers who do not bother to create a harmony of ideological merits and artistic solutions in their works. It is no use concealing the fact that each dozen of good books means much more bland and immature ones.
Not every way by which a bland, somniferous book incapable of fighting against the hostile modernist art of the bourgeois West can get to the reader have ben blocked. Not every way by which professional and amateur tinkering can be promoted have been blocked. Now that we are talking about communist labor as the basis of the new man up ringing, we, writers, cannot but raise the issue of extremely severe requirements to our work.
I can give you two unpleasant examples. A very short while ago, one of our venerable writers told me that he was having his novel re-published when 20 printed sheets were out and 7 new ones had been added. The question is – how can you possibly make a printed book 20 printed sheets shorter? Does it mean that when it was initially published squish was subsidized?
Another writer brought me a screenplay of his, in which all Kazakh names of the characters were hand-written — the screenplay must have traveled around the country a great deal, so now the writer was asking me to force it through in the Kazakh film production studio. When I asked him what kind of national characters he had in his screenplay, he responded in a most intelligent manner, saying that people and conditions were the same all across the Soviet Union...
Such literary slackers have been discussed more than once at plenary meetings of writers’ unions and at conferences, but we have not built the dam to block the way for the muddy dull and humdrum.
I guess what can help us is a rearrangement of artistic unions. In this respect, I would like to introduce suggestions which I believe likely to be of a certain practical significance. As I see it, the progressive sense of union rearrangement will be defined by the fact that the joint union of the future will draw all sound literary and artistic workers together and truly become an artistic laboratory, in which manuscripts can be discussed before they are printed, plays and screenplays can be talked over before they are staged or screened, etc.
The Writers’ Union has not been dealing with the issues of accepting manuscripts for publishing and screenplays for screening. The fact has brought about a number of unwelcome accidents in terms of publishing planning, book copying, and translated literature publishing.
The errors we have made in the sphere of translating modern books by foreign authors are especially numerous. It is not always the best book what is translated. The enormous significance of publishing books by the progressive writers of Asian and Africa in the Soviet Union is often overlooked. Our publishing houses sometimes show a lack of taste in their selection of books to translate.
What book should be distributed at a larger scale and to what extent a manuscript is complete – these are definitely things to be judged upon by writers and not editors. That is the reason why I suggest that the operations of the future joint Union and those of fiction publishing offices are reasonably coordinated. To build a more reliable obstacle in the way of immature and unnecessary books, we should understand the extent to which the future union is responsible for the book it publishes.
I find it necessary to amend the criteria according to which one can be called a writer or an artist, to amend them from the point of vie of more severe requirements to the ideological and artistic quality of their works as well as to the public activities of the Union’s members.
The Plenary Meeting of the CP of the CPSU has reminded us how severe the requirements which the party and the people set to literature and art should be. The resolutions taken at the Plenary Meeting will help us translate the inspirational ideals of the communist society into the language of poetry, painting, screen, and stage.
1963
UNDER THE SKY OF AFRICA
As you remember, tis spring was rather chilly. However, the April heat in Africa was never less than 38-400C in the shade. You can imagine what the summer weather is like.
Though Nigeria and Sudan have nearly the same latitude, close to the equator, there is a great difference in their climates. The Sudanese heat is dry; the country has vests steppe and savannahs. Nigeria is a proper tropical country with a hot, smothering wet climate and unpassable woods.
I went tp Nigeria and Sudan as a representative of the Writers’ Union of the USSR to establish business contacts with the countries’ literary workers.
I was given a warm welcome.
Both the Chairman of the Writers’ Union of Sudan Abdalla Khamid ‘Amin ant the Head of the Nigerian Writers’ Association Bara Khart did whatever was possible so that my stay could be both enjoyable and useful. The assistance provided by Mr Yasin, the Head of the Sudan Ministry of Information and Labor, which is also responsible for literary and artistic issues in the country, was of great use as well.
I invited the writer Abdalla Khamid ‘Amin to be my guest in Kazakhstan. Unless the situation prevents him from coming, he will visit us in July.
The literary life of both countries is quite busy. While in Sudan it is more or less centered on the Writers’ Union, the situation in Nigeria is different. Apart from the newly founded All-Nigerian Association of Writers, there exist plenty of local literary institutions and clubs.
I met many writers in both countries, both formerly and in private; I also delivered a number of reports and spoke on radio and television. After each report, I was beset with question. A great interest for the materials of the meeting of Soviet writers and the Party management or the government was obvious. The questions on the subject were extremely diverse, and some were rather innuendo-laden.
Both in Nigeria and in Sudan, the principal trend in literary development is represented by prose. At least that is what O found to be true. Among Sudanese writers, besides the abovementioned Abdalla Khamid ‘Amin, who enjoys great influence among all kinds of public, I can also mention Salekh Ibragimov, Zarrukh, Abubakar Khalid, the female writers Fatima Akhmat Ibragim and Khadisha Safuat. A powerful aspiration for realism is obviously present.
However, what is officially cultivated is colorful rhetoric’s based on the traditions of old Arabian literature, legends and tales like The Arabian Nights. What attracts the writers is the contemporary reality, thousands of today’s issues (the situation is the same in Nigeria). Certainly, the only way to give creative answers to their questions is by working within the realistic framework. That is what makes the appeal of Russian classical and Soviet literature so enormous; African writers treat it as a set of patterns to follow.
It is not uninteresting that the intelligentsia of both countries demonstrates a strong interest for the Marxist-Leninist theory. It is no wonder. By winning their independence, numerous African countries, including Sudan and Nigeria, faced numerous burning questions. What do they do next? In what way should they develop their economy, nationhood, and culture? How do they stop to be backward?
What makes the problems even more pressing is the fact that they have to be solved under the conditions of constant lack of finance, economic dominance of imperialistic states, and constant scheming of those who prefer to fish in muddy waters.
The colonisators of both Sudan and Nigeria are still very powerful economically. Banks, industrial companies, export, import, and trade (especially oil trade) are controlled by the monopolists of the U.S., English, and FRG. However, the local bourgeoisie is gaining strength as well, especially in Nigeria, but its interests bind it tightly to the world capitalist market. In the meanwhile, the advanced public of Africa is trying to find new solutions to the problems haunting them in the Marxist-Leninist theory.
To sum up, I am satisfied by the journey; I think it will be of some use in terms of establishing creative and business contacts with our African colleagues. Personally I was greatly impressed by it. The African experiences may be somehow depicted in a new work of mine.
1968
ON FURTHER ENFORCEMENT OF LITERARY CONNECTIONS BETWEEN DIFFERENT NATIONS OF THE USSR
At the end of the previous year, the Front Office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR turned to republic-wide unions asking them to express their opinion on the ways to enforce the mutual connections between the nations of the USSR and control out work in the sphere by making it more pre-planned and systematic.
As a response to that, the republics produced numerous valuable, business-like, and to-the-point suggestions, which have been published in Literaturnaya Gazeta in a brief version. Discussions of the issues concerning the studies of brotherly literatures and improvement of the managerial and creative work aimed at making the mutual connections between the literatures of the nations of the USSR wider and deeper took place in the Writers’ Union, at the A. M. Gorky World Literature Institute, in such magazines as Druzhba Narodov and Voprosy Literatury as well as in Literaturnaya Gazeta.
Within the period since the Third All-Union Meeting of Writers of the USSR, the Soviet Union as a multinational whole has progressed considerably. Republic-wide writers’ organizations have become more powerful. Numerous valuable contemporary-themed works depicting the creative labor of communist builders, which the people truly need, have appeared. Representatives of many brotherly literatures have been honored with the supreme literary award – the Lenin prize.
What has made it possible is the constant concern about the future Development of literature and art in our country demonstrated by the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. One of the most impressive manifestations of that concern were the unforgettable meetings of party leaders and members of the government with literary and art workers. It has been a year since the unflattering conversation on the most burning issues of artistic development took place in the Lenin Mountains and in the Kremlin. The high-principled conversation inspired all writers who created our multinational literature. Then, the June Plenary Meeting of the CC of the CPSU on ideological matters took place to inspire us to make a global artistic and literary effort in the period of expansive communist building in our country.
The basic trend of our cultural development has been clearly and profoundly defined by the CPSU Program adopted at the 22nd Party Meeting. It reads, “The ideological unity of nations and ethnic groups is growing stronger, and their cultures are getting closer to each other… An international culture shared by all Soviet nations is developing.” We are witnessing the flourishing of our brotherly literatures, the period when the creative capabilities of each national culture can be put into force. The flourishing results in a great number of artistically fine works of international significance in our treasury. Under the circumstances, the resolution of the July Plenary Meeting of the CC of the CPSU encouraging us again and again “to enforce the brotherly friendship between the nations of the Soviet Union – the greatest accomplishment of socialism; to contribute actively to the mutual enrichment of the nations of the USSR…”
That was what the Front Office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR meant turning for the brotherly Unions for recommendations on new ways to enforce and develop the creative connections between our literary writers, between republic-wide writers’ organizations and periodicals, and between writers of different genres. Our today’s conversation, which will hopefully be active, business-like, and fruitful, covers that burning issue.
It is obvious to all of us how all of our literatures have matured in the artistic aspect, how much they have grown not only in terms of the number of writers but also in terms of ideological and artistic merits, in terms of full-blooded development of every genre, and the depth of their realistic life immersion. The fact that new forms of literary connections have to be found under the circumstances to meet the objectives of literary development at the current stage is just as obvious. , Those comrades who quite illogically infer from the fact of literary growth that the literatures do not need any control over their mutual connections and creative cooperation any more. On the contrary, we fully recognize the necessity of exchanging artistic experience between literatures, working our solutions to theoretical and practical problems, and providing a better organization of translation by means of joint effort now. Undoubtedly, tighter creative connections will introduce the high-quality all-Union ideological and artistic criteria into all spheres of put multination literature, of which our party reminds us. The topicality and significance of the very essence of the new requirements set to us, to the everyday work of our writers’ organizations is absolutely evident. It is only by working jointly with great perseverance and contributing as much as possible to the development of national literatures that we, writers, will be able to fully meet the party requirements. It would be appropriate to recite the rules of our Union, which says one of our most important objectives to be “…development and enforcement of the brotherly friendship of all literatures across the Soviet Union, creative experience exchange, and further improvement of the quality and quantity of fiction translations into Russian and other national languages of the Soviet Union without limitations.”
Please mind that all of the comrades who expressed their opinion in Literaturynaya Gazeta were concerned with this very issue and shared the idea.
The aim of our today’s discussion is to exchange our ideas concerning the matter and make a collective effort to define the starting points and give the recommendations which meet the requirements of today’s literary development and fit the artistic practice of our brotherly literatures.
Everybody knows that what is meant is not patronizing or limiting in respect of certain literatures. It is all about our common and mutual every days serious all-round collective studying the literary process both as a whole and in its national manifestation, studying the wealth of our periodical and book products. It is the only way by which what we need so much, that is, the generalization if our creative experience, mutual enrichment, and discovering new creative opportunities behind socialist realism can be achieved.
We have been searching for and trying most diverse forms of such work lately.
In particular, we find active participation of secretaries in charge representing republic-wide Unions in the operations of the Front Office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR to be an efficient method. Our experience proves that such comrades help the Frond Office both while raising and discussing the most essential artistic issues and while working out documents aimed at further development of the mutual connections between brotherly literatures.
So let us exchange our opinions, let us analyze what we have and think about what we might lack, so that everybody can participate in the great work for which our creative union was initially created.
We have a great economy, which need a complex analysis and clear, circumspect managerial effort. Sometimes we have good intentions but fail to consider everything while planning, which brings about a poorer result than what we could get if the arrangements were deeper, clearer, and more efficient.
I want to share with you, at least very briefly, some of my ideas concerning certain aspects of our managerial work and suggest one of the diverse possible solutions to help us arrange our everyday business-like activity aimed at further enforcement and development of the artistic connections of our literatures for discussion.
One of the new forms of mutual connections between brotherly literatures widely practiced by republic-wide writers’ organizations are interrepublican decades, weeks, and night of literature, the number of which has been quite large within the recent years. For instance, I can mention the fact of the Writers’ Union of Belarus having arranged Ukrainian and Lithuanian literary weeks. In turn, Ukrainian writers arranged for Belarussian, Kazakh, Tajik, and Moldavian writers to come and to speak to the public. The Writers’ Union of Uzbekistan arranged decades and weeks of Russian, Ukrainian, Kazakh, and Tajik literatures. Lithuanian writers hosted a group of Moscow writers and critics. A group of Kyrgyz and Kazakh writers stayed in Turkmenistan, while Kazakhstan hosted Ukrainian, Uzbek, Turkmenian, and Tatar writers. A Kazakh Literature Week took place in the Tatar land, due to which the literature was enriched with mutual translations and creative problem exchange.
The average number of interrepublican writers’ meeting contributing to a closer cooperation between writers of different nationalities, as a result of which writers from one republic learn the life of the working class of another republic, has been 13-14. Artistic conversations, arguments, reports, and excursions which took place at such meetings enrich the audience’s world, evoking an enthusiastic attitude to the life of the people of this or that country and their traditions. During the Russian Literature Decade held last autumn in Uzbekistan, for instance, 294 writers spoke, and it was attended by more than a hundred thousand listeners. The workers of Karaganda and Kazakhstani virgin soil workers were sincerely happy to meet the Uzbek, Turkmenian, and Tatar writers. The holidays would always turn into celebrations oft he fraternity and friendship existing between the nations of the entire great country .
It is very pleasing to know that we now visit each other much more than 10-15 years ago. Writers’ communication is the spiritual communication of nations.
However, our communication is not only a feast but primarily a work, a work which is most interesting and strenuous, which is accompanied by a wealth of fresh impressions and observations.
This is the reason why we cannot overlook the fact that there still are numerous grave mistakes about the arrangement of interrepublican literary decade and weeks. First of all, the practice is largely dominated by a monotonous form of poetic reading, during which the audience is offered some declamation and a tour around the republic.
We all know that the weeks arranged in some republics are too pompous. I do not mind festivity, as it is quite obvious that the events are met to celebrate the triumph of socialist cultures; what I mind is the pomp, the fact that the weeks are mostly too time- and space-consuming, overloaded with receptions because of which the time necessary for business and artistic discussions is lost.
As I have already said, every republic-wide writers’ organization sent letters containing some suggestions on the way in which our all-Union organization, the Qriters’ Union of the USSR, should improve its activities in the sphere of further enforcement of mutual connections between brotherly literatures. The authors of all the letters support the idea of literary decades, days, and nights enthusiastically, but at the same time they point at the flaws which must be eradicated by means of joint effort.
I should say that many heads of republican writers’ unions rightfully point at the drawbacks, at the lack of perseverance, the absence of a decade and week schedule created beforehand and clearly stated in their letters. They believe it necessary for the schedules to contain discussions on the most topical literary issues, new book reviews, editorial and publishing office meetings, etc., that is, more creative events besides the poetic declamations and republican tours.
It is absolutely clear that a wide-scale business-like creative discussion of the most pressing literary matters should be held during literary meetings and weeks. The subjects of such discussions may include works by some of the participants as well as the artistic problems which the entire Soviet literature is facing.
It would be useful to arrange thoroughly thought-out interrepublican meetings for writers who work in a certain genre or type of literature (like poets, playwrights, novella writers, critics, and literary scholars), or within a certain theme (like working class depiction). Naturally, such meetings and friendly discussions need previous mutual familiarization with the relevant aspects of the other national literature, which should be quite large-scale). But as long as the meetings are truly thought-out, they will be undoubtedly useful.
One of the specific results brought about by the interrepublican literary weeks and nights could be the establishment of direct creative contacts between writers of our brotherly republics aimed at creating group sketch works or films, as, for example, Ukrainians and Belarusians have been doing.
Special attention should be paid to arranging meetings of writers representing the republics the nations of which were prevented from having intimate relations in the past because of certain historic events. In this respect, literary decades and days between, for instance, Baltic republics and those of Central Asia and Kazakhstan seem to be of utter importance.
I think that our Writers’ Union of the USSR has to improve its managerial work in terms of interrepublican literary events and, what is the most important point, to study and generalize their experience, making every reasonable effort so that they can be both successful and fruitful.
Is the situation when certain republic-wide organizations which used to host weeks sometimes make insufficient effort to arrange for at least some very best works of the literature in question to be translated and distributed among the guests normal? However, one of the principal aims of the interrepublican meetings should be the broadest familiarization of working people with the works of other republic’s writers possible.
Republic-wide writers’ unions should arrange the whole thing in a way for local magazines, newspapers, radio, and TV to have introduced the works of the guest writers as well as with the best classical writers to the readers and listeners before the guest come by providing for the necessary materials to be recommended to the guests beforehand. Quite obviously, literary decades, weeks, and night cannot but be prearranged; contact must be established with central and local book trading organizations. We cannot operate separately from organizations publishing and selling books. The very essence of our writing activity is books.
From the moment the first dated Russian book appeared in 1654 and till the Great October came, that is, within 353 years, 520 thousand titles in every sphere of human knowledge, including fiction, were published in Russia.
Within the 46 years after the Revolution, over 1.5 million titles have been published in Russian, 183 589 of which are attributable to fiction: 106 412 titles in Russian and 54 860 in other national Soviet languages.
In the Kazakh Republic, which I represent, 1778 titles of fiction have been published within the period of Soviet government, including 1926, that is, 26 269 000 copies.
Are the briefly presented data not a vivid evidence of the Cultural Revolution which is happening in our country?
Nowadays, the exchange of creative accomplishments between the nations of the USSR has become one of the principal factors of socialist culture building as well as the mental development of Soviet people.
However, we cannot let the statistics entice us too much. Are we making every reasonable effort so that the cultural treasures created by writers in over 60 languages can become the property of the entire multinational reader mass? That is one of the book-related questions.
There is another question arising in this respect. Do republic-wide publishing houses have any communication while scheduling their editorial work as well as their publishing operations to prevent parallelism and be mutually enriched with worthy books; do writers take part in the activities; are issues concerning the formation of theme plans discussed at regional meetings of republic-wide publishing offices, and do writers again participate?
Are republic-wide publishing houses and book trade organizations aware of what national groups inhabit the territory of the republics in question, which would enable them to take the fact into account while working out their theme plans and defining the number of book copies to be published?
Book exchange between brotherly republics is ill-controlled; theme plans of republic-wide issues are not covered in the information reports of Soyuzknigtorg. It is safe to say that the whole book exchange business has been given loose reign, and the whole sphere is an open field of work.
49% of the USSR population lives in rural areas. However, the part which the books sold there make of the total state amount is just a little more than 26%. Thus, it can be inferred that the book does not reach the country population. People wait for the book in villages, auls, and kishlaks, but it is not coming. In the meanwhile, books are being accumulated in the storehouses of republic-wide publishing houses and book trading organizations to be recycled.
A significant qualitative change has taken place in the production of translated literature products within the decade since the 2nd All-Union Writers’ Convention (1954), which was largely focused on literary translation. Nowadays, translated literatures makes more than a half of the annual output in a number of republics, while its ration across the country is as high as 70%. We regard the translation process as a necessary element characteristic of the essence of the multinational Soviet literature, while translated literature itself is viewed as an intrinsic part of it. What is translated, how is it translated, and who does the translation are the questions about which the literary public is concerned; they were on the agenda of the regional-wide conferences which took place in a number of republics soon after the 22nd Convention of the CPSU; Literaturnaya Gazeta has been printing lots of articles on the subject.
Great shifts are taking place in the sphere of translated literature.
On the other hand, the literary public is reasonably concerned about the quality of translations into Russian as well as in all the rest of our country’s languages. Many books are published as low-quality translations; the practice of power prose translation does not seem to to lose ist ground, though it was severely criticized at the 2nd Writers’ Meeting.
I am both delighted and frustrated to see the lists of the books published within the recent years. While Russian translations have been provided for nearly all significant works of the national prose, poetry, and partially drama, the situation with our national publishing houses is quite different. Of course, we should not generalize too much, because each republic has special possibilities and particular features of its own. In Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Moldavia, and in the Ukraine, many books are translated, publishing schedule largely fir today’s conditions; the people try to put each newest work by a Russian author to the public domain. However, most of the books published in Central Asia, Kazakhstan, Armenia, Azerbaijan, and some autonomous national republics are youth-oriented books, works by pre-revolutionary classical writers, while contemporary-themed books are very few.
Our mutual translations are still poorly managed. The factual data of the recent five years show that there is no scheduling in that aspect. Can it be found normal that only two books by Belarussian, Kazakh, Estonian, and Moldavian writers have been translated into Azerbaijani within five years; as for Belarussian, only one Kyrgyz book, a Tadzhik one, and a Bashir one have been translated to it within the same period. Unfortunately, the situation is nearly the same in most of the republics. No Kyrgyz and Kazakh writers have been translated in Georgia and Armenia and recent years. It is the same with the Kyrgyzs and the Kazakhs, and it is totally unacceptable. We must join our efforts to rectify the situation.
The reprimands concerning insufficient attention paid to brotherly literatures addressed to central magazines has become frequent and monotonously traditional.
The situation has not changed within the two recent years either. To tell the truth, one can find the names of national writers in such magazines as Novyy Mir, Znamya, and Zvezda more often, but they are mostly represented with a couple of poems which do not allow us to get a complete idea of the writer and the nature of the national literature. Short stories by national writers are seldom published, while novels and novelettes are even less frequent. When you get more familiar with the brotherly literatures, you will understand that the selection of works is mostly accidental and fails to present the very best of what is created in the republic.
Many national writers rightfully bear a grudge against the magazine Yunost. The magazine has not become an all-Union periodical for young writers yet; its team of authors lacks writers from brotherly republics dreadfully.
When we speak about such magazines as Teatr and Voprosy Literatury, we can speak about a certain progress in terms of wider national limits. Teatr prints its annual 3-4 plays by national authors; many articles printed as Your Opinion and in other columns belong to writers from brotherly republics as well.
The magazine Voprosy Literatury pays plenty of attention to national literatures as well. Within the recent two years, the number of articles concerning national literatures has grown significantly; theoretical and critical works published in republics are nicely written reviews. In a number of latest articles, the issues of the development of the literature in question were addressed. However, the editorial staff of the magazine is still far from fulfilling the principal objective, that is, from a large-scale engagement of national writers.
The magazine Sovietskaya Literature, which is issued in foreign languages, is a valuable initiative in terms of promoting brotherly literatures abroad.
Literary magazines published in republics in Russian can contribute a lot to the promotion of brotherly literatures. They are the platform for Russian writers residing in republics. Such magazines exist in most of the Union’s republics and have a considerable experience. They include such monthly periodicals as Raduga in the Ukraine, Prostor in Kazakhstan, Zvezda Vostoka in Uzbekistan, Literaturnaya Gruziya and Literaturnaya Armeniya in TranscaucasusIn Belarussia, the magazine Neman is published once in two months; Literaturnyy Kirgizstan and Literaturnyy Azerbaijan appear four times a year.
However, a number of republics lack such periodicals. Since the beginning of 1963, no Russian magazines have been published in Moldavia, Tadzhikistan, and Turkmenia.
There are no Russian magazines in the Baltic republics. Sovietskaya Litva is an annual almanac; such almanac used to be published in Latvia and Estonia but have been abandoned.
Numerous issues concerning the publishing of Russian magazines in republics have become pressing. First of all, it is the matter of publishing magazines in areas where no magazines exist. Was it fair and right to close them? Secondly, it is the issue of literary quality of the magazines published. We have to put an end to provincialism and indiscriminateness which still linger in some areas. We should consider the possibility of distributing the periodicals at a larger scale out of the republic, as it is the only condition under which they can achieve their objective, that is, to promote the achievements of national literature. It would help increase the circulation. Central periodicals, first of all, Literaturnaya Gazeta and Literaturnaya Rossiya, must pay attention to Russian magazines in republics and write reviews on them.
National literatures have changed since 20-30 years before; thus, the working approach and the managerial style of the Front Office should be different. There is no need to “patronize” magazine any more if there has ever been one. What is clear to us is the fact as while national literatures grow more stable and firmer within the organizing structure, the interest of our Front Office for the literatures and their needs must not slacken. It concerns every periodical of ours with no exception and primarily the magazine Druzhba Narodov, which has made a number of valuable contribution into the development of brotherly literatures and which still lacks precision and quality.
Is it acceptable for two central newspapers, Literaturnaya Gazeta and Literaturnaya Rossiya, to hold fruitless mutual dispute on the art In Search of the New by Ye. Ismailov, in which the magazine Druzhba Narodov interfered as well, whilst totally unaware of what was going on. The Front Office, which is the administrative body of writers’ organizations, showed no interest in the “conflict.”
What surprised me was the volubility and shallowness of judgment with which the magazine Druzhba Narodov assumed the role of a mediator in the polemics between two newspapers.
I believe that the words with which the article by the magazine’s worker V. Chalmayev is rife, such as “indiscriminate, sweeping defamation of the artistic youth” and “the froth which is still abundant on the banks and the surface of the literary stream” are quite unfit to assist writers’ consolidation.
Pardon me, Vasiliy, but the frivolity is not becoming to a referee!
I have only dwelt on one fact. But how many facts of the kind can we discover about the life of writers’ organizations, the operations of their periodicals, which require some interference from the Front office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR?
The rapid growth of the literatures of USSR nations by no means excludes their peculiar features related to their origins and traditions. Not every literature originated with the realism which we call critical realism. Not every literature was founded by Abay or Akhundov, Turkey or Chavchavadze. There are literatures developing directly on the epic and folklore basis, which break their traditions while exchanging experience with literatures which are, in a manner of speaking, more professional; moreover, an absolutely novel and most interest process of national tradition and form replacement is taking place in more progressive literatures. The fact that one literature is dominated by prose and another by poetry is not accidental.
To direct such literatures, we need to have profound knowledge of their peculiar nature, their “roots and foliage”, their past and present, and study the entire process of their development. To do so, it is not sufficient to be familiar with certain works by certain writers from brotherly republics, which is unfortunately most of what we do.
In this respect, I would like to support Mustay Karim, who expressed his wish for the WU of the USSR not to forget about the literatures of RSFSR nations in Literaturnaya Gazeta.
Naturally, an individual or even a group of individuals cannot cope with the task. The entire operational structure of our Writers’ Union should be
connected with the dynamic progress of brotherly literatures, including their demand and needs.
The playwrights of brotherly republic have become more active recently. To tell the truth, I cannot name any accomplishment as significant as those made in the sphere of prose or poetry, but drama has also unmistakably progressed. A vast majority of plays deal with contemporary issues. The range of subjects has grown wider; an intense search for new forms of stage expressiveness is obviously efficient, and the genres have become more diverse.
The Writers’ Union of the USSR arranges annual seminars for playwrights from work on full-length as well as one-act plays. The seminars are of great use.
However, republic-wide writers’ unions sometimes show little responsibility in this regard. Sometimes people come to the seminars without any plausible reason to do so; they are sent there accidentally.
Another sphere in which the situation is grave is the preparation of pownies for the participants’ plays. Though the Drama Council has requested republic-wide Writers’ Unions to send the pownies in time more than once, there has been no effect yet.
The issue of national drama staging in large-scale Russian theaters is extremely grave. Why do heads of theaters of the capital ignore the best works of national dramas? Why do the agencies of the USSR Ministry of Culture responsible for theater stay indifferent to the problem?
In my opinion, such plays as Hick by Mirza by Seyfuddin Dagly, and the new play by Izzat Sultanov The Stranger do deserve the attention of large-scale theaters.
What an enormous promotion role drama works which depict the life of national republics could play! Such plays could be of special interests to countries which have has been liberated from the colonial dependence.
That is the reason why the role of Russian theatres in distribution of such plays is especially honorable and responsible.
An editorial group has been established in the Ministry of Culture of the USSR; new people have been chosen to manage theaters. The Drama Council has established business relations with them, and the situation will hopefully be rectified.
National drama issues should be discussed independently. It is good of the Drama Council to suggest that theaters, cinema, and television discuss them at an enlarged meeting. Now I cannot omit the fact that the great number of stages through which the author has to go with product is not always useful. What requires immediate action is the issue of a new screenplay contract project. The project which is being discussed deprives the writer of nearly every right. We have to pronounce on it before it is too late.
Annual republic-wide awards for literary and artistic merits have been introduced to most of the Union’s republics. They are given to the writers whole works have won the hearts of the public. We find it reasonable to introduce the practice to the countries in which it is not active yet.
Quite obviously, it is republic-wide directorial bodies that are empowered to introduce awards, but I think that the Front Office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR could provide an assistance for the positive solution to the question for the sake of future literary and artistic development in brotherly republics.
Writing their letters to the Front Office, republic-wide Unions, as well as a number of writers expressing their opinion in periodicals, suggest that a permanently active institution responsible for the literatures of USSR nations should be created in the Front Office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR.
There have been other suggestions, too. In particular, Irakliy Abashidze expressed his idea that cooperation with national literatures should be “the very essence of the entire Front Office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR.” Even though his article presented a positive campaign consisting of a set of truly good and necessary events, he never mentioned the level. What was the administrative aspect of its implementation?
For instance, I find it obvious that it is the entire Front Office who should study the process of USSR national literature’s’ development. However, it is just as sure that the Front Office must a highly professional, well-reputed, and permanently acting agency to address the issues of USS national literatures. The presence of a permanent secretary and a secretary in charge will, as we are strongly assured, provide specific group management and create a profound tradition of succession in literature.
Another suggestion has been contributed: why not appoint Front Office secretaries geographically? For instance, we could have one Front Office secretary responsible for Azerbaujan, Georigia, and Armenia, another one for the Baltic countries, one more for Central Asia, and another one for Ukraine, Belarussia, and Moldavia.
Let us study the advantages and disadvantages of the plan in greater detail. After the Writers’ Union of the RSFSR was founded, the “tension” in the Front Office of the WU of the USSR was relieved greatly; however, the latter’s interest in the literatures of the Union’s republic did not increase much. For some reason, none of the 27, later 29 Front Office secretaries of the WU of the USSR has deal directly with national literatures. Heads of republic-wide Unions, members of the Front Office who would come for 2 or 3 months, did a lot of good, but their shift work prevent the activities from being successive and, what is more important, it prevented the activities of secretaries in charge from being specific and complex. Some of the secretaries in charged faced certain difficulties in finding their, so to say, line of character. It should also be mentioned that advisors of the Front Office for brotherly literature were essentially deprived of a permanent proficient management. However our Front Officer advisors responsible for USSR national literatures are experienced people with an extensive knowledge of their literatures, high-principled and enthusiastic about their cultures. It would be unreasonable to leave them to themselves.
That is the reason why we bring up the suggestion of creating a collegiate authority for USSR national literatures consisting of one permanent Front Office secretary and secretaries for national literatures after considering all pros and cons. Let us discuss the name which we are going to give to it – Bureau, Committee, or Council, whatever.
A deputy chairman, an executive secretary, etc. will have to be appointed. The core of the body will consist of advisors for the Union’s republic who work permanently in the system as well as a number of friendly members responsible for USSR national literatures, including representatives of our brotherly republics. The staff will grow and an experience, directing every effort to daily assistance to the Front Office. That is, the body will be directly subordinated to the Front Office and operate according to the latter’s guidance.
As we see it, a collegiate authority of the kind can do whatever is possible to enhance and develop the existing connections between literatures and provide a more profound and compels research in the sphere of literary processes as well as to arrange significant artistic events.
That is, the collegiate authority will operate on a new basis in coordination and cooperation with the writers’ unions of brotherly republics and with genre councils; its staff and system will be approved by the Front Office; the most important all-Union creative events aimed at enhancing the mutual connections between literatures will be arranged by joint effort, as well as regional and other meetings; the authority must have a great interest in the dynamic process of national literary development.
What we have lacked in terms of brotherly literatures is specificity in approaches. Being a secretary, how many Estonian, Moldavian, and Belarussian novels have I read? Few, too few.
How many works by authors residing in other republics have other secretaries read? I guess not too many. To say the least, the only people who have been publishing articles on brotherly literatures and on books by their friends in the recent three years are Novichenko and Markov – I cannot think of anyone else. However, to work out an expertly judgment concerning the development of USSR national literatures, one has to study our literary fund in a most specific manner.
Unitizing an operative body possessing enough experience with a representative Front Office
and an extensive staff can serve as an important group measure contributing to our literatures’ further progress and to the enhancement of their business and artistic connections.
Under the circumstances, there is nobody to blame for the poor state of issues in terms of USSR national literatures.
I find the suggestion to appoint secretaries geographically or by literary groups unreasonable. The geographical approach can hardly be found to fit the world of fiction. We cannot but take into consideration the national and linguistic peculiarities which various literatures have. If we consider the Caucasian literary group, Azerbaijani literature is closer to Turkic literatures. As for linguistically related literatures of Central Asia and Kazakhstan, they have been facing a new difficulty after the alphabet was introduced – now we need a translation to read each others’ works.
To which group can Moldavia and Tadzhikistan belong?
Thus, if the USSR nationally literatures are handled geographically, it can rather dissociate literatures than unite them; the friendly members of the body as well as USSR national literature experts can feel alienated as well.
Those who support the idea of restoring the Committee for USSR National Literatures which used to exist as a structural part of the Writers’ Union of the USSR, believe the fact that we have a Foreign Committee to be an argument.
Indeed, we have our Foreign Committee headed by Aleksey Aleksandrovich Surkov, the operations of which concerning international connections are extremely important.
It is through the Committee that numerous Soviet writers can establish contacts with the vast East as well as with the West, which, by the way, was absolutely impossible ten years ago.
However, the Foreign Committee and our future new body will work in most different styles.
For instance, we cannot arrange decades for Kazakh literature in Rome or Beijing.
Besides, our internal relations cannot follow the pattern of our foreign connections!
Those are the diverse aspects of and arguments for creating a new collegiate authority.
It is the people, the personnel on what the extent to which it will success in terms of USSR national literatures depends. So, it is important to appoint people who admire and are knowledgeable in brotherly literatures, who have an executive talent and enough enthusiasm as well as brilliant reputation to manage it. The possibility of employing an advisory system should be considered as well. We should set greater requirements to them and focus the brotherly literature advisors’ effort on a profound and scientifically approached studying of brotherly literatures so that we can always have the necessary feedback on any of the literatures.
Our party and its Central Committee have taught us to raise specific questions and find solutions efficiently. The spirit of our time requires us to have extensive knowledge in our voluminous literary funds as well as to approach technical issues in a most proficient and business-like manner.
That might be the reason why the existing Front Office has provoked unusually intense interest in the literary public.
The issues for you to discuss are not unique; on the contrary, they are ordinary, down-to-earth, and worldly; to solve them is to meet the charter requirements of or Union, which, to tell the truth, has largely been overlooked by the Front Office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR.
That is the reason why what we need not a general but a very specific, enthusiastic, and unsophisticated discussion of our future living and of the ways to improve the Front Office’s performance in terms of brotherly literatures.
The Front Office of the WU of the USSR is addressing all writers of the country as well as journalists, encouraging them to make every effort to find efficient solutions to the problem of further expansion and enhancement of the mutual relations between USSR national literatures for the sake of the progress and development of our joint multinational Soviet literature.
1964
UKRAINIAN BAYTEREK
I wonder what my distant ancestor would dream and think about when shepherding his sheep in the parched steppe and craving water? I am quite sure that he would curse his fate and dream of what he did not have but what his happier descendants would get. What could he do in the steppe, which was as vast and deserted as the sky? Nothing but dream and hope! He dreamt in his songs written on a long summer day burnt to the ground, in a short echoing night, when he would watch the twinkling of distance stars. Our bird-winder imagination has taken us to every distance, for people dreamt of what they native land could not give them, of what they needed to much in their mirthless life. The land of my ancestors lacked too many things. Once their heated imagination produced a legend of a magic tree, which they called bayterek, to hide them away from the parching heat, give them spring water to drink and honey sweet fruits to eat.
What dreams, what hopes were associated with your «many-branched foliage, bayterek! The people needed you so much. And you did grow on the Kazakh land, tall and strong.
Nobody knows who planted the first tree in the Kazakh Steppe, which fed on the salty juice of the nomadic land to grow and become the enormous bayterek. Perhaps it was an old man from Akterek Aul, or the first colectivizators from Bostandyk Sovkhoz, which is situated at the very border of the Muyunkum Sands, or it might be the great son of Ukraine, Taras Shevchenko, who planted it in the Caspian Sea region to commemorate a Russian soldier who had fallen from tsarist rods. Whoever planted it, it was a wise kind-hearted man with a poetic soul.
Nobody knows when and where the legend of the mysterious bayterek tree was first told. However, it has come to us through many years. It is only the majestically severe and reservedly kind motherly steppe that could give its people that legend of astonishing kindness and generosity. It might be born in the Aral Steppe, in which the solitary “sacred tree”, to which steppe nomads would make pilgrimages and to which the sick, the miserable, and the orphaned would bring offerings to ask it for healing, protection, or mercy. Taking part in Butakov’s expedition in 1848, Shevchenko saw the tree. The rite in which people showed their hope for a better life impressed his greatly. There was something that stirred the poet’s mind about the barbarian superstition; in inspired him to create his poetically beautiful and most dramatic painting The Solitary Tree, which presents a most profound philosophy, as well as to depict it in his novelette The Twins, which was finished about that time.
The so-called Shevchenko tree, a rippled willow planted over a hundred years ago with Taras’s kind and pure hands, still grows in Mangyshlak. The tree represents the admirable wisdom and the reverently poetic mindset of the great son of Ukraine, the unforgettable friend of our nation Shevchenko.
It was not only the gift of drawing and painting but also the great gift of living and observing that Shevchenko possessed. It helped the Minstrel castigate evil in all forms mercilessly and portray the good, which is principally represented in the greatness of human spirit, with the love of humanism. He loved the man, the man who was free of humiliation and oppression; he was desperate to see people face the sun with their eyes glistening with joy instead of tears.
Being both a poet and a citizen of his country, he remained a poet even chained, wherever he was, free or imprisoned, he would sow the seeds of generosity so that they can yield welfare to the man. Their vast love for their people reflects their love for all nations inhabiting the world, for the entire mankind, for a true friend of people is international. So was Taras Shevchenko, the ingenious national poet of Ukraine.
Seeing the vast steppe, sand, and barkhan, whitish salt marshes, and solitary hills, over which rusty brown eagles were soaring, unaffected by the parching son, he felt even lonelier; he came to realize how cruel the tsarist regime which attempted to dry his soul of a poet out by means of such tortures, to put out the flame in his heart with the hot breathe of the desert, and to muffle his verse with the silence of the steppe, was. Indeed, the steppe was shocking to him, but it welcomed the poet like a son of its own. After the first years in exile, the Minstrel came to feel the warmth and coziness of that severe land. It was inhabited by nomads as miserable and deprived as the Ukrainian people, who were nevertheless rich due to their enormous generosity, their colorful pregnant imagination, and their heart, which is as kind and austere as their land is. The nation looked very much like the steppe it inhabited – it was hiding the treasures which nature had given to it deep in its enormous soul. Shevchenko wrote a great number of poems and sketches in the Kazakh Steppe within the ten years he spent in exile. Neither the degrading status of a convict soldier not the scorn of tsarist pen pushers could break his will and shake his faith.
The poet traveled a lot around the Kazakh land; he was in the South, where the majestic peaks of Karatau lie; he covered thousands of versts in the Muyunuum Sands and in the Aral Steppe. Instead of white huts smothered in green, he saw odd-looking yurts scattered around the steppe; instead of the majestic Dnieper, he could see the rippled sea of ghostly haze; instead of the radiant silent nights of Ukraine, he had a bottomless dark sky lit by the enormous song of the steppe, and the joyless life of the noda seemed even more unbearable, even more miserable to him. He was greatly impressed by the natural patience and vitality of the people, who were strong enough to live and create even under the rigid circumstances of water shortage, among sands and salt marshes. The nation lived and fought, which they taught Shevchenko as well. He started to study their lifestyle and customs, traditions and rites which originated in ancient times to listen to their songs and charming love legends, tall tales and tales of the heroism of the Kazakh people’s ancestors, and the astonished poet came to fathom the great mystery of spiritual culture, which was the strength and the unity of the nation scattered around the vast steppe.
Long before Shevchenko was exiled, he had some knowledge of our nation’s life. In his 1847 poem The Dream, he says, “The poor Kyrgyz people agonized in the Transurals.” Being exiled to that very region, he saw something which instilled even greater awe; he witnessed and then castigated the entire dirt and bestiality of the tsarist policy implemented in the east, which the first Russian intelligentsia could barely think of. One cannot read the lines from Shevchenko’s diary in which he castigates the hypocrisy of the tsar’s henchman in Orenburd Province, Governor General Perovsky, with merciless sarcasm and fury, and not feel outraged, “A cold, corrupted heart. The old debaucher takes advantage of the generous and favorable land. How short-sighted, or I had better say base the disgusting carol-singers are! A satrap robs the land he has been entrusted and presents his jadish lovers necklaces which cost dozens of thousands, while they glorify him as a generous and big-hearted man. Rascals!”
The poem The Satrap and the Dervish, which Shevchenko was going to create, was to deal with the same issues; however, some unknown reasons prevented the noble dream from coming true; however, the very fact sheds light on his thoughts, concerns, and creative plans. “I have another plan based on the events which took place in Orenburg Satrapy. Shall I add it to The Satrap and the Dervish as a colorful scene? I don’t know what to do to the women, though? Oriental women are wordless slaves, while in my poem they are to play the major roles; I have to make them silent, mindless triggers of the shameful inactivity, which is what they were.” Knowing that the issues related to women’s position in the East, to which the poet paid special attention, was only one of the “colorful scenes” of The Satrap and the Dervish, we can imagine how large-scale the poem was to be.
For a hundred years, poems, painting, sketches, articles, and diary notes by Shevchenko have been astonishing us with their high dramatist, the passion and optimism of a poetic orator, a poet who was a citizen as well.
Considering the political life of Taras Shevchenko, in which he essentially manifested his fighter spirit, each Kazakh think back of his heroic national poet, one of the leaders of the 1837 Kazakh rebellion, Makhambet Uteisov, whole passionate temper of a born national leader, whose enthusiasm in defending the deprived encouraged the oppressed and humiliated people to struggle against tsarism and the local bay sellouts. The lives of the two poet fighters were similar in every aspect: their peasant origin, their celebration of human freedom, their rage against the blood-thirsty satraps of the tsarist Russia, their songs, their untamable rebellious voice, which they gave to the people till their last breath, encouraging them to fight openly with weapons in their hands. Both Makhambet and Shevchenko committed the heroic deed without a shade of fear or anxiety in relation to their own lives. Their deed is alive in the people’s heart, and their songs are immortal legends passed from generation to generations.
In the agitated poetry of the contemporary Kazakh poets Abdildi Tazhibayev, Tapr Zharokov, Gali Ormanov, who was one of the first writers to translate Shevchenko, etc., we find a logical elaboration of the poetry of the Ukrainian democrat and that of the Kazakh storm bringing akyn Makhambet Utemisov.
Perhaps many Ukrainians are unaware of the fact that over a million Ukrainians who came to our steppe after the 1861 reform in search of a better living are now living and working in Kazakhstan. They came from nearly every region of Ukraine. The Kazakh land became their second home. Our people gave them land to plough, where the first settlements soon appeared, bearing such odd names as Olgovka, Isayevka, and Maryevka; the Kazakhs could see white huts with thatched tools, and the green of vegetable gardens framed with golden sunflowers could be seen on the steep slopes of lake banks. Not without curiosity, the nomads listened to the unfamiliar but euphonious Ukrainian speech, to their unusually soft and soulful songs marked by yearning for their dear Ukraine. Soon, the “faithless kafirs” turned into “tamyrs”, that is, our ancestors’ friends. Their friendship has become a nice custom. It has survived till now and has saved both nations many times.
Ukrainian melodies could be heard in our folk songs, and we hear Ukrainian notes in the best of the songs created by our ingenious poet and composer Abay. It has enriched and refreshed our music art. Even now you can hardly find a Ukrainian who does not speak Kazakh and a Kazakh who cannot speak Ukrainian fluently in an aul or a village. Now that virgin soil has been reclaimed, Ukrainian villages and Kazakh auls have merged to form a joint sovkhoz, and the shared labor has made their traditional friendship even more intimate.
The “bayterek tree” planted and grown by Shevcheno has spread its miraculous branches over the entire Kazakh land and turned into a huge garden of shadowy trees. A brand which Shecheka one cut off the bayterek to plant in Lvov Park has turned into a similar bayterek. They embellish the new Kazakh and Ukranian life, giving the people shadow and freshness, and symbolize our nation’s eternal commemoration of the Minstrel and the unshakable friendship between our nations.
1964
A SPEECH ON SAKEN
I would like to make an unsophisticated, simple speech on a proud man and poet, a heroic soldier of the revolution which marked a new era in the human history, - on Saken Seyfullin.
He had not turned twenty five when his name of a revolutionary turned into a legend. Nature hardly ever gives as many merits to one and the same man as it gave to Saken Seyfullin. Being a man of an astonishingly beautiful mind and absolutely honest, he was a true hero of the revolutionary epoch.
Saken would be seventy five now. However, he will always remain young in the memory of our nation, like Pushkin and Lermontov. He has become a symbol of enormous energy and titanesque deeds. He lives and creates among us.
It would most probably not be an exaggeration to say that his name will be one of the rest in the row of those who served selflessly to the working people, who headed the rebellious nation with weapons in their hands, who were our honor, conscience, and pride, in the chronicle of the Kazakh struggle for liberation
In the spring of 1916, having graduated form Omsk Teacher Seminary and obtained the title of a People’s Teacher, the young poet Saken Seyfullin returned to his home steppe. The early summer was unusually warm and sunny, a vast sea of feather grass was all around it; poor yurts stood by a quiet lake in the rippled haze. There seemed to be nothing to wake the steppe, its backwards and cowed people, and save them from their wretched existence.
Having come home, Saken Seyfullin saw that bays owned all of his land’s treasures, while the barefooted laborers, who were befuddle with their patriarchal traditions, robbed and stigmatized by the “fat self-conceited badgers,” were doomed to pasture their bays’ horses and sheep, making hay, and feeding the lazy but avaricious pack of “badgers”.
In the summer of 1916, the tsarist government adopted a resolution “On Kazakh Recruitment to the Labor Army”. It triggered the people’s rebellion. The tsarist government had been inciting discord between the Kazakhs and the Russians; it had given whatever treasures the Kazakh land possessed, that is, coal, oil, copper, gold, and silver, to foreign capitalists. The joint stock ventures and corporations exploiting the generous Kazakh interior were headed by the US president-to-be Hoover as well as the English Sharks Nelson Felle, Urquhart Lesley, the French President Carneau’s son, and others. The Kazakh people were suppressed by the triple burden of exploitation – that of their bays, that of tsarism, and that of the world’s capital. However, it encourages the people to grow class-consciousness.
Saken Seyfullin found himself in the very center of the events. Governor Masalskiy, a tsarist satrap, used his best troops armed with cannons and machine guns to fight against the rebellious people. For a year, the poor of Kazakhstan was being physically exterminated: they were robbing them of their possessions and cattle; cannons were blowing up miserable laborers’ huts; and machine guns were killing thousands and thousand of people. Being a true son of his people, Saken, unintimidated by possible adversities, joined in the national struggle. Seeing old people and mothers cry and hearing children scream, he could not remain indifferent to what was going on, he could not witness them passively to lament over the national grief hypocritically after it was all behind, as the nationalist bourgeois Alash Horde poets did to sow seeds of fear and anticipations of death in people’s hearts, encouraging the rebellious nation to give up and repent.
Lenin’s part was well aware of the events all across the enormous country. In spite of the toughest situation in which it found itself, the party provided great assistance to the rebellious nation. The best of Party members were sent to promote the ideas in Kazakhstan. They would open the people’s eyes to their real enemies and help them get weapons. That was how the national liberation movement developed to become the Socialist Revolution.
Aged 24, Saken became a member of the Communist Party. In 1918, he became one of the Soviet governmental leaders and an officer for people’s in Akmolinsk, presently Tselinograd.
During the last days of May, 1918, the Kolchak bandits headed by the bloody Ataman Annenkov, supported by bourgeois nationalist of the Alash Horde, subverted the government of Akmolinsk. Hundreds and hundreds of the nations’ and the Party’s most excellent sons became victims to the white terror. Many Soviet government offices, including Saken Seyfullin, were sent to a death camp near Petropavlovsk in chains. After long days of torture and humiliation, Saken Seyfullin within a group of bolshevists was put to Ataman Annenkov’s “death car”. The poet seemed to be doomed to death. However, Saken Seyfullin and his comrades, exhausted and famished, tortured, and ragged, undertook an escape. It was in January, when the temperature was forty below zero.
Aged twenty eight, Saken Seyfullin became the First Chairman of the Soviet People’s Commissariat of the Kazakh Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic.
When the white bandits had been exterminated and the Soviet government had been restored, a new stage of struggle, the ideological one, began in the steppe of Kazakhstan. Enemies of the Kazakh nations, advocates of Alash Horse, sneaked into every Soviet body and fought with great determination to win the key positions in the sphere of literature. It was learned people, sons of steppe feudal, whose fathers had provided a good education for them who created Kazakh nationalist literature. They would write works which were in discord with the people’s ideas, promote nationalism, and celebrate their feudalist past, trying to poison the people’s mind with the poison of pan-Slavism and pan-Turkism with great perseverance, though to no avail. In the bottom of their hearts, they hates the working people set free and treated the newly born culture with arrogance and contempt; they would defame the Soviet governments’ policy. The enemy was cunning and rather intelligent.
Saken Seyfullin undertook to fight against the pack of nationalist dogs. At the very beginning of his way, he was nearly alone in the literary world. However, his passionate conviction, extraordinary managerial gift, and deep faith which he had in the future strive of the young revolutionary Kazakh literature, as well as his reputation of a public officer and love for his people helped Saken get the young representatives of our literature consolidated around him. Saken Seyfullin and his penmates were triumphant, for they succeeded in standing the ground of the young Kazakh socialist literature.
Saken Seyfullin was the first poet to anthem the great leader of the world’s proletariat when Vladimir Lenin was still alive (Lenin,1923). His poems Day of Lament and Baleful Tidings, written in January, 1924, are deeply tragic, but we can feel the poet’s faith which he puts in the immortal power of Lenin’s ideas. He says, “People, stay true to Lenin’s colors, follow him!”
Such words by Seyfullin as Rise, Dzhigits, In the Steppe, My Tulpar, The Worker, and others, which were created in 1917 and after that date, are full of revolutionary pathos and sound like a passionate call to selfless strugglefor the sake of liberty and happiness.
In his short and long poems, such as The Express, Sovietstan, At a Textile Factory, The New Melody of the Steppe, and The Harvester and the Tractor, the people’s life and labor are depicted, as well as the stage of Soviet government formation, the new economic policy, collectivization, and industrialization Being a poetic innovator, Saken Seyfullin succeeded in finding s truly authentic and poetic devices which any reader could understand and appreciate. It was the poet’s firm belief that a great message needs a colorful form to match. S. Seyfullin gets off the beaten track of traditional Kazakh verse to make his poetry sound even more impressive. He was the first in Kazakhstan to elaborate on Mayakovskiy’s innovative ideas. His Express is a vivid example of that.
Being a passionate orator and the voice of his nation, which used to oppressed and humiliated, he joined in the laborers’ choir of the entire world as a communist poet and a journalist.
Being well aware of the enormous role which classical Russian and Soviet literature played in the development of national literatures, Saken Seyfullin was the first of us to promote works by Gorky, Mayakovsky, Demyan Bedny, Serafimovich, Gladkov, and others. He translated Mayakovsky and edited the Kazakh translation of Marx’s Youth by Galina Serebryakova.
He founded the first republic-wide party newspapers Enbekshi Kazakh, presently Sotsialistik Kazakhstan, in which he worked as an editor.
He has contributed much to the progress and prosperity of Kazakh national culture, being one of the first initiators of the first Kazakh drama theater as well as opera and ballet theater.
Apart from the amazing historical memoir novel Trying Way, Callenging Passage, his prose is represented by several novelettes and dozens of short stories, such as The Diggers, Our Life, Aysha, The Fruits, and Khamit Meets a Bandit. He wrote several plays, of which On the Wat to Happiness and Red Falcons are the most significant ones.
In 1936, the Party along with the government awarded Saken with an Order of the Red Banner of Labor for his outstanding merits to the state as well as in the sphere of Kazakh art development on the occasion of the twentieth anniversary of his artistic activities. Saken remains our contemporary. He will be contemporary to many generations. The immortal name of the enthusiastic bolshevist poet, a brave communist fighter, will live forever.
1964
HELLO, SAKEN!
An express train is running across the steppe. Its wheels are banging in their mad race. Telegraph poles rush by. Flocks of sheep are grazing in the distance. There is no modern city to look at, no factory smoke. The steppe... A handsome portly man is looking at its vastness thoughtfully as he stands by the window, and millions of our compatriots could recognize his face today, as they have seen it in book portraits, post stamps, and eon envelopes, souvenirs, and pottery.
Yes, it is he, Saken Seyfullin, peering at the vastness behind the train window. He is filled with concerns about his Motherlands’ future. He seems to see the future life of his people through years.
It is the beginning of the short film Saken Seyfullin created by a young director at Kazakhfilm production studio, an All-Union Cinema Institute graduate, Asyllbek Nugmanov (screenplay by A. Nugmanov and M. Portnoy). I should mention the fact that the information which the director possessed concerning his protagonist when taking to work was rather scarce. However, the tireless search which the young expert began turned out to be quite efficient. Using scattered archive data, he managed to create a considerable documentary basis to portray our dear revolutionary poet.
The film tells the entire story of the outstanding Soviet writer and public officer, poet and soldier of the Great Socialist Revolution, the founder of Kazakh Soviet literature. Pictures of the pre-revolutionary poverty of the land and the 1916 people’s rebellion are accompanied by verse by Saken addressing Kazakh youth:
The Red Banner is your power.
Follow the Red Banner, friends!
La Marselliaise of Kazakh Youth, which the poet wrote at the very dawn of his creative career, became the anthem of Kazakh workers in their victorious struggle against the enemies.
Soon, the author of the extremely popular poems joined the first troops of the steppe of Akmolinsk and became a member of the Communsit Party. In the creen, we can see the Red Army document of Seyfullin, which luckily survived the events. Then we are shown another historical document, which is just as interesting, for it proves that a young Leninist Kazakh was truly dreaded by enemies of the Revolution. It reads, “Saken (Sadvakas) is acknowledged to be dangerous for the state and the public and must be sent to Petropavlovsk Military Court of Inquiry.”
The year which Seyfullin spent locked in Akmolinsk, Petropavlovsk, Omsk, and in Ataman Annenkov’s dreary “death car” is worth a full-length film. But we think that, possessing such scattered data, the authors of the film succeeded in presenting the period in the character’s life, which was full of worries and danger, in an exhaustive and correct way. In this respect, Saken’s autobiography, which is being demonstrated at this stage, claims the viewer’s attention.
The portraits of Seyfullin as the head of Kazakh government, as a professor at Kazakh Pedagogical Institute, as a founder of the Kazakhstani Proletarian Writers’ Organization, show every aspect of the life and career of that son of toil.
Moscow, 1934. Representatives of the multinational Soviet literature have gathered at their first meeting.
Seeing Gorky alive in the sceen, each of us cannot but feel moved. Like children surround their teacher, writers of free Socialist nations are gathering around the great revolutionary storm bringer. Gorky is speaking. Among the others, Seyfullin is listening to his sonorous voice. Saken alive!
After the momentous 20th Meeting, the party restored the reputation of our Saken, brought his beautiful voice and his enthusiastic hearth back to the people. This may, the entire country celebrated their favorite poets’ 70th birthday. There are many shots presenting the celebrations arranged on the occasion in Almaty or in Saken’s native city, Zhanaark.
...I am concerned about the peace, the day to come,
My bolshevist brother.
Serve to your Motherland!
Serve not for fear.
Serve for honor.
Defeat whoever
Is hostile!
The film finished with the lines by the poet who was a citizen as well. The film is short – it only has two parts. But what it valuable about it is the fact that a group of the republic’s young cinema workers were brave enough to overcome whatever difficulties they had to face in their effort to bring all the tiny bits of information on our unforgettable Saken, son of the Party, our nation’s honor and jewel. We can see a living Saken on the screen, which is the most important things. I think we should thank the group sincerely for that.
1964
IN A BIG FAMILY
A tree which is sacred to us, a rippled willow planted by Shevchenko, which we call reverently “Shevchenko’s Tree”, grows in Mangyshlak.
Taras spent as much as ten years in exile in the land of Kazakhstan. The years influenced both the diverse creative aspirations of the poet and artist as well as the spiritual life of the Kazakh nation greatly… The immortal works of Taras Shevchenko, such as The Dream, The Solitary Tree, and Twins, which are deeply philosophical, were created in the Kazakh land. Unlike some of the travelers who occasionally came to us from the West, he was not interested in exoticism; instead, he would study the mirthless life of the Kazakhs in depth, encouraging them to fight autocracy and the rotten patriarchal order. Tsarists were intending to isolate the revolutionary democrat poet from the people, sentencing him to absolute solitude, but it was in the desert of Kazakhstan, among miserable people, that the great poet met numerous friends to inspire him.
The Kazakh nation did pay a tribute to the Minstrel, their patron. The name of Tarast Shevchenko has become legendary, and his works have been published in Russian many times.
Of course, we cannot attribute the popularity of the son of Ukraine to the mere fact that he had a connection to Kazakhstan. We share a lot of things with Ukraine. Thus, works by the rebellious poet Makhambet include numerous motives resembling those of the great Minstrel. How similar our vast steppes, out free folk songs are!
We are proud of Taras Shevchenko just as the Ukrainians are, because Shevchenko was a tireless revolutionary who fought against autocracy, serfdom, and slavery.
Nowadays, the truly international, global significance of Shevchenko is obvious, for all the nations of our Motherland are working hand in hand for the sake of the communist society. For instance, numerous young Ukrainian people, who prove their observance of the immortal principles of the Minstrel, who said:
It is up to hard-working minds
And hard-working hands
To upturn virgin soil.
Recently, Pravda published a correspondence telling about a Kazakh teacher who covered a thousand kilometer of foot to make a plan of the places where Taras Shevchenko used to wander. Of what love for the great Minstrel the fact is an evidence!
A short while ago, a branch was cut off Shevchenko’s Tree in Mangyshlak and planted in Lvov Park. Now the have a Shevchenko Tree of their own. Shevchenko’s branch was brought to the lovers of the Minstrel’s freedom-loving poetry to Canada, though it enraged obscurantists. But if a single branch related to Shevchenko can stir the conservatives, it is quite obvious that the poetry of Taras Shevchenko is extraordinarily powerful!
Shevchenko lives within the big multinational Soviet poetry and will remain in the memory of the generations to come. We, his grateful descendants, bow to the great son of Ukraine, the son of every nation within our Motherland – Taras Shevchenko.
1964
A SPEECH FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART
The reverberations born by the name of Russia in the Kazakh heart are as powerful as those which appear at the sound of one’s most sacred words —Motherland, mother, and happiness. The brotherhood of our nations can be traced back to ancient times. Russian chronicles contain the names of our folk singers. The Kazakh tale was part of Russian folklore, while nomadic auls listened to Russian tales; we shared the same dreams, and a deep basis for our future was built.
But could the ancient poet who created the legend about the magic carpet think that the beautiful dream would be fulfilled by his descendants in several centuries, and the Vostok spacecraft created by the powerful thought of poets and scientist would fly to the stars from the steppe of Baykonur, which used to be so ordinary?
Collecting data for his future poem, learning the Kazakh legend about Kozy Korpesh and Bayan Slu, could Pushkin think the sing of his Tatyana would be heard in Kazakh auls in several decades, and that Abay, a Kazakj poet whom he did not know, would translate his beautiful verse into his national language, and that girls of the steppe would cry the tears of Tatyana?
Could Borodin think that his opera Prince Igor would be staged at Kazakh Opera Theater in several decades when taking notes on Cuman melodies? Operas and symphonies by Glinka and Chaykovsky can be heard in our steppe as a broad sound of freedom, we have got used to them life to our favorite kuys by Kurmangazy; they are mostly enjoyable in aesthetical terms, and those listening to them are overfilled with joy at feeling close to the global musical treasury.
Could Officer Chokan Valikhanov think that his friendship with a soldier named Fyodor Dostoyesdky would symbolize the fraternity of two nations?
The histories of our nations have plenty of things in common.
Plenty in the past and everything in the present.
Starting with the first day of the new era, Soviet nations have been developing their common history.
During the Great Patriotic War, Soviet nations roved their brotherhood to be unshakable, and the friendship within our country to be eternal. The great victory which we won over fascist hordes showed the world that nations united by socialism were undefeatable!
Dear comrades and brothers, Russian writers and composers, stage and screen artists! You will be guests of honor most welcomed at our festive colorful dastarkhan. The ten days of Russian poetry, music, and theater will be a new colorful page in the history of our culture. You will be welcomed warmly by thousands of your admirers. You can hardly see a house with no books by Pushkin and Tolstoy, Lermontov and Dostoyevsky, Gorky and Mayakovsky, Sholokhov, Tvardovsky, and many more contemporary Russian writers in our country.
Russian painting, theater, and cinema are an enormous source of high-principled humanism meant to teach us art. They help one develop an understanding of the world’s beauty.
Our similar history as well as today’s labor in the name of communism has brought us and our cultures closer to each other. The best Kazakh novels, poems, and lays are translated into Russian to amuse the entire Soviet State; by means of the Russian language, they reach far beyond the borders of our Motherland.
Millions of international friends across the world watch our films. Our signers perform at the best Soviet stages as well as abroad.
A large group of Russian writers, composers, artists, and theater and cinema actors live and work in Kazakhstan.Their work is tightly connected to the life of our republic. They have created numerous novels and novelettes, opera and symphonic music works, a great number of good film depicting the life of the Kazakh nation. They, who have inherited the great international traditions of Russian art and literature, contribute greatly to the rapprochement of the two nations.
Dear friends!
Many of us have been connected with Kazakhstan by means of your creative undertakings for many times, while many have never been to our republic before. But all of you will be able to see the extent to which Kazakhstan has progressed within the recent years, what astonishing changes have taken lace in our land.
We do hope that you will come to love Almaty, the center of our national identity as culture, and that you will come to love Kazakhstan.
You will walk around the chilly high-ceilinged halls of the Academy of Science, get to the white astronomy domes, speak in university rooms and on construction grounds, in kolkhoz wineries and apple gardens; you will see the work of our animal breeders. Let the taste of Almaty apart apples and the heady smell of Kazakh kumis instill happiness in your heart.
You will learn something new about our industrial centers – Karaganda, Ust Kamnegorsky, and Chimkent. You will see the progress of socialist industry in our country, the rise of ferrous and non-ferrous metal production, its coal and ore mining industry. How can the Kazakhs forget the contribution of Russian working class and intelligentsia to their industrial development! Youth of every nationality moved to our industrial objects under construction from all across our enormous Motherland to create the first of Kazakhstani industry along with their Kazakh brothers.
You will visit our glorious Tselinograd, the sovkhozes and kolkhozes of the virgin soil city, which has just finished its tenth – milestone - harvest. We take pride in the virgin soil upturned, for it is the triumph of our Communist Party’s policy, its Central Committee based on the principles of Leninism. The reclamation of the virgin soil was truly a milestone in the life of Kazakh people.
You will see descendants of the ancient nomads riding horses of steel – tractors and harvesters. You will look into their faces, radiant with the joy of heroic labor, and realize how proud they are to be crop growers.
The old nomadic aul belongs to the past. Like an enormous plough, the revolution upturned the Kazakh Steppe and gave a new life to it. Those who used to wander about became industrial workers, innovators in various spheres of industry, transport, agriculture, politicians, public officers, scientists, doctors, engineers, technicians, writers, and art workers.
Come to a Kazakh aul and listen – or will hear a lot of Russian words in the guttural Kazakh speech; come to Cisural villages and those near the Irtysh River and in Shatusy – you will hear many Russian words interwoven with Kazkah ones. Our brotherhood is mutual and deep.
1964
WE ARE HAPPY TO HAVE YOU, RUSSIAN FRINEDS
Today is a day of joy – the opening of the Decade for Russian Literature and Art in Kazakhstan. The important meeting of representatives of both cultures is most exciting and glorious. I am at a loss for an example from the global history to illustrate a fruitful and complex impact of a nation’s culture on the cultural progress of other nations under the principles of fraternal assistance, care, and kindness. In my opinion, it is only the great progressive Russian culture that has been performing all the actions.
Without the deep influence of realist Russian culture, the appearance of Taras Shevchenko or Akhundov, Chavchavadze or Abay, Tokay or Ayni, as well as many other democrat and enlightener whites, who became the conscience and the hope of the nations inhabiting the former Russian Empire would have been hardly possible.
We owe much more to Russian culture, including our first school and the first book printed, the first plough furrow and the first factory chimney in Kazkahstan.
We, Kazakhs, easily got used to the sacred word comrade. It sounded was the sound of revolution, the sound of the epoch. The reason why we sang Tatyana’s song and knew poems by Pushkin before the revolution must be the fact that the lives of our nations were so tightly interwoven and dependent upon each other. The other reason is that the greatest of Russian writers, L. Tolstoy, wrote his I Cannot Be Silent to represent us as well, and another great poet, M. Lermontov, was insightful enough to state Russia’s progressive role in the economic and cultural life of Eastern nations in his Argument. But what we can feel about his voice is his pain and sorrow for tsarism-oppressed nations. Those were words by a Russian man against tsarism, words meant to protect us, the people of Russian outskirts.
Once, Kazakhstan was impoverished financially and mentally. Just as the Kazakh land is vast and enormous, its demand for technical devices, experts, scientific workers, and workmen was enormous. It seemed impossible to satisfy the needs of the vast steppe which had a wealth of resources and whatever a backward country needed to rise like a legendary hero over space and time. Less than fifty years had passed before Kazakhstan turned into a powerful industrial republic possessing a highly productive agricultural sector, cutting-edge technologies, and well-developed science and culture. The entire country helped Kazakhstan regain its footing.
Nowadays, Kazakhstan not only provides itself with all necessary things but also makes precious contributions to the greatly important prosperity of our enormous state, that is, lead and copper, gold and silver. It includes machines by the 20 Years of October Factory, which is not the biggest of our enterprises, which are sent to 25 foreign countries and 15 republics within the Union; it includes the products of Almaty Heavy Machinery Work, which 15 countries of various continents and all of our republics import. Finally, it includes our medical workers and teachers, scientists and engineers, factory and sovkhoz workers, kolkhoz laborers, writers, composers, and actors.
It is only faith and will, high discipline and labor, and the Leninist approach to completely harmonious social development and selfless brotherly solidarity what gave the fruits we can harvest now.
In the past, Kazakh literature gave its people wonderful writers and talented poets. Makhambet Utemisov, Abay Kunanbayev, Chokan Valikhanov, and Ibray Altynsarin, and after the Revolution – Sultanmakhmd Toraygyrov, Saken Seyfullin, Beimbet Maylin, Ilyas Dzhansuguriv, Mukhtar Auezov, and Sabit Mukanov. Those people showed the great Russian literature to the people. Being well aware of the great significance of Russian literatures, they were the ones to translate it. Abay translated poems by Pushkin, Lermontov, Bunin, and fables by Krylov; being a paedagogist, Altynsarin translated children’s short stories by L. Tolstoy and K. Ushynskiy; Seyfullin translated D. Bedny; Dzhansugurov translated Pushkin; Auezov translated plays by Gogol, Trenev, Afinogenov, and novels by Turgenev; Mukanov translated poems by D. Bedny and Mayakovsky as well as the unique work of Russian literature titled The Song of Prince Ifor… So it was due to the writers and poets that the Kazakh reader was able to come to know Russian classical literature.
The maturity and power of Kazakh literature cannot be attributed solely to the appearance of a plethora of talented writers and poets. The reason behind our prosaic, poetic, and dramatic progress is also the intimate collaboration with world literature, primarily Russian. Classical writers and the founders of Kazakh Soviet literature have connected their creative lives to Russian literature, that is, to its most outstanding representatives like Pushkin and Lermontov, Tolstoy and Chekhov, Gorky and Mayakovsky.
Contemporary Kazakh readers are people of great culture and high artistic taste. They speak Russian fluently, which gives them the possibility to read Russian literary works in the original and find minor and major flaws about translations.
It is safe to say that nearly all of poets and writers are at the same time translators. Abdilda Tazhibayev has translated Ruslan and Ludmila, The Captain’s Daughter, and The Stone Guest, Kasym Amanzholov – Poltava by Pushkin, The Masquerade by Lermontov, larger and smaller poems by Nekrasov, At the Top of My Voice by Mayakovsky, Vasiliy Tyrokin by Tvardovsky, and poems by Simonov; Gali Ormanov – poems by Pushkin, Lerontov, and Anna Karenina by Tolstoy. One can hardly find a poet or a writer not occupied with translation. Poetic translations by Abilev, Sain, Bekkhozhin, Akhtanov, Sagyndykov, Shangitbayev, Zharmagambetov, and Kairbekov have been greatly appreciated; our readers can read L. Tolstoy and Gorky, Sholkhov, Simonov, Leononv, Tvardovsky, Sobolev, Shukhov, Yesenin, Tikhonov, Surkov, Paustovsky, Marshak, Chukovsky, poems by R. Rozhdestvensky, Vanshenkin, Voznesensky, and Yevtushenko in the original.
Here in Kazakhstan, Russian literature is most widely spread. It is definitely one of the reasons behind our cultural progress and the flourishing state of the art of words in our country.
Back in early 30s, Russian Soviet writers helped us make the basis for our present literary achievements. N. Tikhonov, A. Fadeyev, P. Luknitskiy, P. Skosyrev, L. Sobolev, and B. Gorbatov not only watched the first steppes of our prose, drama, and criticism closely. They participated directly in the founding of our writers’ organizations, teaching us to be tight-knit in our struggle for ideological unity, for the socialist regime. Their reports, articles, and speeches on the most burning problems of our literature helped us get a clearer idea of the shortcomings which it had, look for the way to lead us to the truth, and perfect our skills.
Decades for Kazakh Art and Literature, which took place in Moscow, were not only a festive event but also lessons of realism and consistent struggle to fathom and depict the truth of our life, which is most complex. If we did master the art, we shall be deeply obliged to you for that, dear brothers. Such outstanding writers of Russia as Sholokhov, Fadeyev, Leonov, and others exercised unbiased judgment concerning numerous things and estimated the achievements of Kazakh literature as highly valuable. We feel grateful to the Russian reader, who has duly appreciated our literature. Our Russian penmates have contributed greatly into it. Whatever is good and large-scale about our literature becomes most widespread not only in our country but also far beyond our borders due to Russian language, which has become the promoter of the multinational Soviet literature.
The activities of Leonid Sobolev can be an example.
By means of the powerful and mighty Russian word, Leonid Sobolev managed to convey the unique nature of Mukhtar Auezov’s novel Abay so that it could reach the heart of the Russian writers; his translation became an evern greater celebration of the prominent Abay.
Sobolev’s translation into Russian helped readers from many countries learn something about our nation, its customs, traditions, and history, which were rendered in such a talented and special manner by one of the most important novelists of our time, Mukhtar Auezov. I should say that the greatest achievement of Auezov’s drama, that if, the tragedy Abay, was also created in cooperation with Leonid Sobolev.
A great writer and our compatriot, Ivan Shukhov has been living with Kazakh writers and working in collaboration with them. He is not only a Russian writer; we can also call him a Kazakh one. He was born and became a writer in our country, but his artistic activities have been connected tightly with Kazakhstan.
We are proud to know that such a large army of Russian writers belonging to different generations, whose works are widely recognized all across the Union, work in our country. They are Nikolay Anov, Anatoliy Ananyev, Yuriy Gert, Sergey Martyanov, Nikolay Kuzmin, Leonid Krivoshyokov, Maskim Zverev, Ivan Shchegolikhin, and others. Uch masters of the Russian language as Zlobin, Sadovskiy, Gorbunov, Libedinskiy, Lugovskoy, Selvinsliy, Lukonin, Smelakov, Slutskiy, and many others have been translating works of our literature. Our Russian friends, that is, writers residing in Kazakhstan, also work constantly as translators.
The Decade for Russian Literature and Art of Kazakhstan is undoubtedly an event of great significance for our people. The miners of Karaganda, the metal workers of Chimkent and Ust Kamnegorsk, the crop grows of the Virgin Soil Land, sheep herders and fishers are waiting for our dear guests. They are waiting for masters of artistic wording, theater, cinema, painting, and music who tell the great truth of our heroic time, of our friendship, of the brotherhood due to which the greatest ideal of mankind, that is, communism, will be achieved.
1964
COMMAND OF THE TIME
It is safe to say that it has become some kind a tradition to say how wonderful and dynamic life is today. But the fact that we have got used to it is not the point. The point is that the great significance of our contemporary’s deeds is hundredfold a hundred times more beautiful than our heroic words. We can easily imagine the complicated problem which the writer has to face when undertaking to speak on the deeds and accomplishments of today, for the word of literature must be as noble as the heroism it depicts.
Thinking of this particular problem of the hard literary work, I turn to a great event in the life of my colleagues from the literary section, both communists and nonpartisans.
What I mean is the district party conference, which I was entrusted to attend. Writers and critics, poets and playwrights have always believed their primary duty to be not only observing life and its people but also helping them build the future by means of their labor. Thus, it is not inside an ivory tower where the writer belongs but in the heart of people’s life. Of course, I am not the first to discover it. However, I am not afraid of repeating the truth, which has become the only basis for the most advanced literature, that is, that of our Soviet literature.
A subject of great importance always wants a frank talk when treated open-heartedly, with a party like passion and full responsibility. I think that the conversation to be held at the Communist Forum in the Capital District will be truly frank. It cannot be otherwise. Honestly speaking, it is extremely reassuring to see and feel the high principles of Lenin manifested in us in major and minor forms.
That is the command of time. That is the command of our life. It will not tolerate any attempts at ignorant obscurantism. The only way you can progress is by fighting against what stands in your way, — the ways of life never look like well-trodden highways.
The writer is not a fortuneteller but one who possesses not only the secrets of art but also the dialectical method of cognition.
He is a party soldier, a son of his time, and it is his duty to feel the pulse and breathing of the time, for he will not be able to say a thing without it. He will fail to find the words his contemporaries, the builders of the most wonderful world, expect to hear from him.
We, writers, have a number of occupational problems. Some of them have to be solved within a short time. Some will take us more than weeks and years. True creativity has never been subject to schedules and plans. Thus, if I happened to speak at a party conference, I would not raise the question of the so called personal creative plans, neither those of my penmates nor mine. Naturally, I do not mean the general plans of our union but the utilitarian approach to writing which is exercised by counting percent ratios and setting output standards. But it is not about the “standards”; it is all about the word, passionate and lively as it is, the word which can give energy to our contemporary, an aspiration for transformational activities, the word as a warrior, “the commander of human power”, finally, it is all about the sharpened worls perception like the one Gorky had and its talented depiction, which is the most important thing.
Our contemporary’s life, thoughts, and deeds are the principal subject for the writer, his most important creative plan as long as the writer believes himself and his works to be purposeful and aimed at helping the epoch. Masters of fiction will give their ever-glowing hearts to our people only to become richer. They will always stay together atop the waves of time. They have a better view of the shore where they stand.
1964
IN ANTICIPATION OF A SIGNIFICANT CONVERSATION
I had not been to Tokyo for four years, so I was waiting to see it as if it was a friend of mine. But my old friend had changed a lot by the time I came – it had got younger and more prosperous. Thinking back of Tokyon once again, I plunge into the cleanness and orderliness that struck me so much again. I would not like to describe Tokyo in terms of economics and statistics. It is not even the fact that the Japanese are astonishingly industrious, polite, and cleanly, which is a common fact. What shocked me was the Japanese life spirit, which is that of deservedness, and a special arrogance, which never catches your eye like that of Europeans but becomes clear after you have been talking for a long time. Tokyo must be a unique white shirt city, which gives it a special atmosphere.
What struck me was a scene characteristic of the Japanese custom. We arrived during school holidays. Japan seemed to be a state of children, for they were so numerous! Once we happened to witness a beautiful scene: the banks of a splendid mountain lake were suddenly spangled with children like flowers. There were much more than a thousand of them, and they were going to have breakfast. After the colossal breakfast, there was no trace of them – no piece of paper, no single breadcrumb.
The Japanese cherish their jobs, their recreation, and their country. They always take the best things and know how to make use of them. They will duly appreciate a modern car and a beautiful voice of a singer. Japan’s cultural connections are extremely broad, and our country plays a major role in them. In particular, their interest for the culture of Soviet Union is enormous.
Last year, an ancient Russian art exhibition took place in Tokyo State Museum. It showed pieces of painting, jewelry, sewing, wood and bone carving from the Tretyakov Gallery, the Armory, the Ermitage, and the History Museum. The Icon of Christ of Edessa was looking at the Japanese visitors from ancient times, unknown to them. Within a moth, over two hundred seventy persons attended the exhibition. It was so popular that it had to be prolonged. At the same time, one could find delighted reviews of performances by Moscow Symphony Orchestra, which was having a tour around Japan.
Japanese organizations invite our best performers to come there. As the Japanese admitted, they found the playing of such pianists as Emil Gilels and Lev Oborin, the violinists David Oistrakh and Leonid Kogan enticing. The Japanese also listened to A. Sveshnikov’s choir, applauded to the actors of the Bolshoy Theater of the USSR as well as the Leningrad Opera and Ballet Theater, and to Moscow Art Theater, and I. Moiseyev’s Folk dance group. Such composers as A. Khachaturyan, D. Kabalevskiy, and such writers as L. Leonov, I. Erenburg, K. Simonov, and O. Gonchar visited Japan as well.
The cultural exchange was mutually beneficial. The renowned Kabukn Drama Theater had a tour around our country. We saw the Avadzi Puppet Theater, listened to the artists of Bleks Baks Youth Quartet, and, finally, received the wonderful Singing Voices of Japan Group headed by Akino Seki. Citizens of Moscow remember the moving children’s drawing exhibition presented at the Museum of Oriental Cultures.
Our delegation of the Writers’ Union was not the first in Japan. We stayed in the land of Japan for twenty days. I must say that, though it was my second time, the twenty days were as full of impressions and interesting communication as two years might have been. The sensation I had when departing was that of sincere warmth and excitement. We were invited to stay at somebody’s house many times, where we spent the evening in the coziness of the home, having a frank conversation which bore no trace of tension, innuendo, and misunderstanding.
We were constantly dealing with writers from New Japanese Literature o translators representing the Organization for Promotion of Translation and Publishing of Soviet Literature in Japan. By the way, the Japanese are well informed in terms of Soviet literature – certain books are published, and plays by Soviet playwrights are staged. For instance, one of us, Mikhail Stelmakh, also visited the Bungey Sunsu publishing office, which had published his book Blood Is Thicker than Water in Japanese. Besides, Stelmakh spent two days in the country, watching the life of Japanese peasants. The playwright Aleksey Arbuzov, who was the third member of our delegation, met the director and the actors who were playing in the thing based on his play The Story of Irkutsk.
The New Japanese Literature Society unites many talented writers who have won nation-wide recognition, such as Tomodzi Abe, Sigekharu Nakano, Ineko Sata, and Hiroshi Noma. It was founded in December, 1945, soon after World War II was over, in the state of dilapidation and unemployment. The progressive group of Japanese intelligentsia gathered in the half-burnt Tokyo to fight for the democratization of literature again. The society’s Declaration held that its main purpose was to create and promote national literature, which was tightly connected with labor masses of factories and villages and depicted its struggle.
The first formal meetings with writers exposed the most pressing problems. The meetings were of a friendly and business-like nature. The editor of the magazine New Japanese Literature I. Kharnu, the critic Kh. Sakaki, and the young prose writer Ynoue expressed their regrets concerning the fact that contemporary Japanese literature was poorly represented in the USSR.
The matter of translated literature selection also provoked a most lively, even controversial discussion. Our Japanese colleagues reprimanded us for allegedly translating works which were far from being the best, for being guided by the false subject principles instead of artistic merits.
The New Japanese Literature Society discussed and approved the Japanese participants of the symposium and expressed their concerns regarding the Soviet party, informed the latter of the subjects of the three reported to be delivered by them concerning the contemporary global, Japanese, and Soviet literature.
Our Japanese colleagues were especially concerned with the issue of free opinion exchange, free literary criticism, as well as the necessity of an international response to the symposium.
Our Japanese colleagues need not doubt that they will be welcomed warmly and get an opportunity to speak absolutely freely at the symposium, while we will be just as unbiased and candid.
I have realized that it is not formal meetings and general discussions what are the most efficient in terms of improvement of mutual understanding but private talks free from formal ceremonies. Let our Japanese colleagues be received as guests in our homes just as we were.
The Japanese often sang our songs at receptions and banquets. What I find astonishing is the fact that I could feel something familiar about their manner of performing them, though it seemed to be very different from the Russian nature. The renowned Japanese writer Akutagava was right
to depict Russia and the East as close to each other in a poem of his, in which the image representing a Russian man was “climbing a mountain path with great perseverance.”
A conversation of great importance is ahead of us. I think that we will be able to understand each other.
1965
POETRY MUST BE HEARD!
Citizens of Almaty do know and love the talented declamatory Ilya Dalskiy. His concerts are only an important event in the republic’s cultural life. The other day, we witnessed wonderful works by several generations of Kazakh poets, from Makhambet and Abay to our contemporaries, such as Abdilda Tazhibayev and Olzhas Suleymenov, recited by Ilya Dalskiy in Russian.
The program is not a full anthology, for the literary concert has certain time limits. The performer had to work meticulously to select what was the most characteristic of each poet. It was not only the artistic merits of the works what the artist judged by but also the quality of their translations and the extent to which they corresponded to the original.
Being refracted in the artist’s mind, classical poems by Kazakh writers acquire a contemporary-themed, topical meaning, due to which they not only are aesthetically enjoyable but also provide some food for thoughts.
Creating the images of the characters from works performed in the minds of his audience and preserving the authentic national charm of Kazak poetry with great proficiency, the artists finds the colors to emphasize the universally human significance of the philosophical ideas underlying the poetry.
Dalskiy has a profound and inspiring manner of declaring such major works by Abay as Poetry Is the Holder of Language, Learning Poorly I missed My Life, and Autumn Has Come for Me. His manner of reciting the wise poetry by Abay is full of bitterness and irony, philosophicity and tenderness, inner pain, and a deep faith in his people’s future.
Extracts from The Instructions sound very modern and topical. It feels as if Abay’s works were contemporary – they instill excitement in people’s heart and make them better and purer. Dalskiy declares poetry by Makhambet, who was not only a poet but also a warrior, a batyr, in a passionate and furious manner. He reads out the first lines in Kazakh to continue in Russian. How truly excited he recites the poem by Saken Seyfullin Those in Whom Energy is Pulsing.
The poem by Dzhambul My Children, Citizens of Leningrad was adopted by those who were defending the heroic city during the Siege of Leningrad. When the artist reminds the audience the fact that the fateful citizens of Leningrad gave one of the central streets in their city the name of Dzhambul, they burst into a storm of applause. We cannot but think of other lines by Dzhambul:
We have been relatives since ancient times.
Almaty is so close to Leningrad –
Closer than any sibling!
The literary and music composition based on the poem Kulager by the wonderful Kazakh Soviet poet Ilyas Dzhansugurov makes a truly strong impression. The tragic life of the national poet and composer Akhana Sere is rendered by the declamator with exceptional passion. A picturesque bayga scene is visualized by the audience: horses are galloping with the wind between their legs. When the artist reads the lines about Kulager’s death, the audience cannot but shed tears. Khan Tengri by Kasym Amanzholov is interesting to listen to. Dalskiy interprets Shaytan by Abdilda Tazhibayev in a severely satirical manner. His reciting of the tale by Beimbet Maylin An Award for Lying is sincerely humorous.
The way he performs poetry by Olzhas Suleymenov helps the audience fathom the imagery of the poet, who is hard to understand. The artist’s love for the works of that poet can be felt in each intonation. The Wild Field, Our Father’s Language, and The Wave near Saadi Stone sounded especially goo.
The people’s artist of USSR Khadisha Bukeyeva as well as the honored artist of USSR Askar Topkanov has done a great work in terms of directing. They helped the performer feel the spirit of the Kazakh nation,
understand the nationally unique nature of Kazakh literature. Kazakh writers, poets, composers, and critics edited the program.
The program Poets of Kazakhstan is delighted to present the poetry of the Kazakh nation.
Being enthusiastic about poetry promotion, Ilya Yakovlevich Dalskiy has initiated a most noble trend – Kazakh poems can be heard in Russian all across the country. We should hope that he will not stop searching for new works to include in his program, paying special attention to those by young authors.
I think there is no need to prove that a program like that has to be created in Kazakh. Poetry must be heard. I believe the preparation of such a concert to be a task to be immediately done by the republic’s concert organizations.
1965
OUR BI AGA
Sabit Mukanov retired from his post of the executive editor of the Enbekshi Kazakh newspaper to be substituted by Beimbet Maylin. I was studying at a workers’ faculty back then, working as a text writer for the same newspaper.
When I called at the editorial office after a lecture, I found out that Beimbet had gathered all heads of departments and text writers in his office. As I was making my way for a vacant chair, he gave a glance of dissatisfaction but said nothing. They were discussing the possible improvement of our newspaper’s language. The new executive editor had all issues published within that year placed in front of him and was reading out extracts from certain articles, which were written in a bland, wooden style, in hackneyed phrases, quite loudly.
He found especially many shortcomings in the critics and bibliography department’s contribution. Every article and review of the kind started with the statement, perhaps right but extremely monotonous, that we could not even think about making literaty progress as long as our criticism was backward. After that phrase, some kind of competition was obvious - everyone was trying to call the writer the worst names he or she could think of.
For instance, if the author was obviously learned and well-read, he was accused of being of a bay origin. If the author demonstrated a lack of education, they would called him an ignoramus straightaway.
By midnight, Bi Aga, as young journalists and writers called Beimbet to show their respect, had finally got to the translations of carious resolutions and orders published in our newspaper. I had done some of them; they cost each. However, it turned out that I did it without understanding the text, for the job was too tough for me. Having read out my work of art, Beimbet asked the audience, “Well, which of you understood what is meant? What can people in the aul understand?”
Indeed, the translation would take a Socrates to decipher. I sat quiet, hoping that the storm would be over soon. However, Beimber did nothing but say cheerfully, “Never ever entrust half-literature people with translations.”
At about 3 a.m., Beimbet finished the discussion and gave each text writer a thick folder of manuscripts.
“I want it ready and polished.”
On the evening appointed, I put the material reworked on Bi Aga’s table. The executive editor perused it. While reading, Beimbet was constantly curling his forelock with a finger of his right hand, sometimes whistling quietly. He had large gray eyes and a pitted dark face... Suddenly I hear a question I never expected him to ask, “Have you tried to write something of your own?”
“No.”
“Did you correct this thing on your own?”
“I did.”
“I guess you have a literary gift.”
...Each of the ten pages of which my free subject essay, which I wrote in Russian in Presnogorkovka Higher Primary School, consisted, contained at least 15 mistakes! Our young teacher Silviya Matveyevna gave me a five plus for that essay. She withstood a thirty minutes’ onslaught by other teachers, insisting, “He will be a writer!”
After several days, I gave Bi Aga something which consisted of as many as twenty one lines.
He gave it the title of Shashausha and had it printed in the newspaper, after which he said, “I only corrected four mistakes. Keep writing.”
I did not get a wink of sleep in the following four nights, as a result of which I produced the large story called In the Turbulent Waves. I brought it to Bi Aga three times, and each time I took it away without showing it to him. Finally, I submitted it for the faculty wall newspaper edited by Umut Balkashev. He appreciated the story.
Once, I lingered in the lecture room during the break. All of a sudden, a student rushed in to shout, “Oybay! Come one! Beimbet Maylin is reading your story down there!”
Covering two steps like one, I ran down to the ground
Indeed, Beimbet Maylin was reading the wall newspaper! He had his hands behind his back and was wearing a silk Russian shirt; the tassels of his black silk waist band were as low as his knees. He was slender and handsome, and every dress was becoming to him.
Having had our supper, we, four dzhigits sharing a room, were preparing for a seminar. All of a sudden, I heard somebody knock on the door, and Beimbet entered the room. We sprang to our feet to offer him a chair.
“It’s so smoky in here. Getting ready for your seminar?” he asked. He offered us cigarettes, asked a couple of questions, and suddenly turned his face to me, “Well, how’s it going, dzhigit? Haven’t you written anything else? I read your story in the wall newspaper. Not bad… Why didn’t you show it to me?”
Our young literature was just finding its feet back then. Many older writers were too lazy to help younger talented people. But the great writer Beimber would come on purpose to read the wall newspapers of the Soviet Party School, the Kazakh University, and the workers’ faculty, looking for gifted amateurs.
On that evening, Beimbet told us that he had come across a young poet, a hot-tempered young man named Tair. I remember his meeting the students who submitted their works to our wall newspaper –Amraly Yerzhanov, Birzhan Manikin, and others – the workers’ faculty alone yielded seven new Yenbekshi Kazakh workers… At 2 a.m., the crowd of us took Beimbet to his home. He invited us to have tea. But we were shy because of the late time and returned to the dormitory.
Soon after that, the newspaper’s editorial office moved to the republic’s new capital, Kzylorda, and I did not see Beimbet for as long as three years. But Sabit, who was the editor in chief at Kazizdat, left to study, and I was secretly appointed to take the position.
My first novelette In the Turbulent Waves had already been published. In a letter of his, Beimbet expressed his warm appreciation of it, “The novelette still has a number of crude episodes, but I am sincerely delighted to know you have taken your first step.” He met me at the railway station. Naturally, I was awfully happy, but I felt embarrassed as well.
Having arrived to Kazizdat on the following day, I found our that Beimbet was an ordinary editor. I hurried to the Regional Committee and said to the Head of the Department for Agitation and Propaganda Sadykbek Saparbekov, “I cannot be the head where Maylin works.”
Sadykbek never minced his words, “If you think you’re an aulie1, make Beimbet take the chief position! We’ve tried everything but a nose. No use.”
“Give me two days, and I’ll get him agree.”
“Go ahead!”
After a weak, Beimbet would not agree. I kept begging him, “Please do, I’ll be your assistant.”
“No, I’m going to do the hard work; you should be the editor in chief.”
Then I found out that Beimbet was deliberately coming late for all meetings, for he feared that they might appoint him a member of the General Committee. He avoided all superior positions by nature.
That was the time when Beimbet showed me the crisp rhyme and the astonishingly powerful imagery of Ilyas’s poetry, “That’s a wonderful poet! He knows how to make his verse sound furious and tragic, tender and lucid. He’s a poet of high thoughts!”
That was the time when the star of Tair Zharokov was in its ascendant; Askar Tokmagambayev was writing a lot as well. The opulent voices of Abdildy Tazhibayev and Gali Ormanov were getting more and more sonorous.
Back then, literary struggle turned into an unscrupulous squabble; pathetic individuals who believed themselves to have something to do with literature would make a dead-set at talented writers.
1An aulie is a saint.
Being unbelievably kind-hearted, Beimbet suffered greatly at seeing the radio “critics” scratching each other’s faces in their writing.
Bi Aga, who was never too tired to spend nights talking to his friends and never too lazy to write till morning, would soon get tired at meetings, where group arguments were always breaking out. As soon as one began, he mostly gave me a note with a single phrase in it, “Let’s go.” When I left the room, I found Bi Aga waiting for me in the shadow of trees...
From that summer of 1928 to the summer of 1937, Beimbet and I were each other’s companions, riding through life stirrup to stirrup. At the end of 1933, we left Kazizdat simultaneously; he chose a creative job, while I started to work in the Narkompros Art Sector to leave it for the newspaper Enbekshi Kazakh. As a result, another burden was placed on Beimbet’s shoulders. The thing is that we sometimes had to delay the proofs of works scheduled for the issue. There was going to be a gap on a page. Then, I would call Bi Aga even at night to ask, “Do you have about two hundred spare lines?”
“No. Do you really need them?”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, I’ll do something … We’ll see…”
After L. I. Mirzoyan came to Kazakhstan in 1933, most favorable conditions for a literary and cultural boom were created. Mirzoyan took a firm hold of the issue concerning the creation of the Kazakh Musical Theater straightaway. The art sector was subject to the People’s Commissar Temirbek Dzhurgenov, who was a glib, resolute, perseverant, and energetic man. Being the head of the sector, I was asked to open the theater within a year.
On the same day, Dzhurgenov asked to get all writers who happened to be in the city gathered and held a meeting. Beimbet promised to write a libretto based on Zhalbyr and Shugi’s Monument, Mukhat was willing to produce one based on Ayman Sholpan, and I chose Kyz Zhybek (it is worth mentioning that Beimbet did not feel like going too deep into history again – being a true artist, he had always been interested rather in the contemporary reality).
After less than a year, The Kazakh Music and Drama Theater was opened with a play based Ayman Sholpan. After the opening night, Beimbet said, “Mukhhar is our most large-scale playwright! I have written over ten plays, but I have never been satisfied with one. How many inconsistencies our Amangeldy has! I guess I should get back to it.”
During the first Decade for Kazakh Art and Literature in Moscow, which took place in 1936, the issue of reworking our play into a screenplay was tackled. At about 2 a.m., Beimbet knocked at the door of my hotel room in Moscow. He was agitated and began to talk about business straightaway, “I’ve just seen Mirzoyan… It’s about the screenplay. We need to enlist the service of some Russian writers…”
We thought of our compatriot Vsevolod Ivanov. I knew him. Beimbet and I went to his country house in the morning. Vsevolod welcomed us and got on with Beimbet right away.
Walking around the country settlement, we came across L. Fadeyev. As soon as Vs. Ivanov introduced us to each other, Fadeyev said in a slightly coarse voice, “You know, Vsevolod, the Kazakh song has charmed Moscow. If you want to know how talented the Kazakhs are, watch Kyz Zhybek; Kulash Meyseitova is a proper nightingale. But she’s only twenty four.
“These two Kazakhs offer me to write a screenplay about Amangeldy Imanov in cooperation with them,” Vsevolod said.
“Don’t hesitate to agree.”
Soon Beimbet and I left for the home town of our hero. We talked to more than eighty witnesses and participants of the rebellion. Beimbet needed 5 notebooks to put down all the information. Having returned from the trip, we set to the screenplay at once. In fall, Vsevolod arrived. Having worked with him for over a month, we completed our work. Lenfilm accepted it, and the journal Novyy Mir printed it in its twelfth book. At the end of 1938, the first Kazakh feature film appeared. But Beimbet could not see it…
In1937, Beimbet finishrd his novel titled Kzyl Zhalau. He read it out to us in Ilyas’s room. Apart from Ilyas, Saken was present and was listening with great interest; he was also the first to express his opinion, “That’s good, Bi Aga! Excellent, Bisakal!”
Kzyl Zhalau never reached its readers. But I still hope that somebody’s keen eye will find the treasure and bring the pages of Beimbet’s novel back to the people…
Beimbet’s works were the chronicle of our life, the life of the Soviet Kazakh Steppe.
1965
LESS IS BETTER THAN WORSE
Listening to the speeches made by participants of the latest Kazakhstani Communist Meeting, I thought of our literary issues more than once, just as it was while reading the draft Instructions, so I would like to share an idea today.
We, writers of the Soviet Union, are about to experience historical events of great significance: the XXrd Party Convention, the All-Union Writers’ Forum, and then the 50th anniversary of the Soviet government and the 100th anniversary of V. Lenin’s birth. We are well prepared for the celebrations. We have something to be proud of. The number of good works has grown, especially of those created by renowned masters. Literature has been renewed due to young contributors. It is quite natural. But it is not the point. The point is that we often do not speak or take too little time to speak about the extent to which the ratio of bland works has grown or dropped in our literature.
Nobody will deny the fact that by talking about the literature of this or that nation we actually talk about several authors and a dozen titles, but the number of books which the reader gets annually is not five or ten – it is hundred of books. So, the great figures which we use as an evidence of our progress, also include bland, unimpressive works.
When a kolkhoz farmer mentions tons of crops harvested on a hectare as the fruit of his labor, it is natural. However, the number of books published has nothing to do with the author’s performance. It is sad to see books with colorful titles but dull content occupy the greater part of publishing schedules. I think it is time that we cured the old disease and fought the dullness in the name of quality food. Our actions must not be limited to encouraging publishing office, editors, and editorial office to be more exacting; we have to demand and publish books of excellent ideological and artistic quality. We must never exercise the indifferent “could be published” approach; it must be replaced with a delighted and sincere “that must be published!”
The words of Lenin “Less Is Better Than Worse” must be the motto of writers.
1966
ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND PLANS
I am writing this in my study. It is as silent as the steppe used to be back in my childhood. On the other hand, the room seems to be buzzing with people. People are talking; they are agreeing with each other or arguing themselves hoarse... Listening to them talk, I think about our time, which gives us so many impressions, provokes so many thoughts, feelings, and memories, where the past is merged with the future, and sprouts of the future are quite discernible in the alloy.
I have been frequently thinking of Lenin’s words, which he uttered while talking to Kazakh representatives at the VII All-Russian Soviet Meeting, “Indeed, your land is vast, and so are your opportunities. We should advance the region. Undoubtedly, we will do so, and we will succeed.”
That was said over forty years ago, back when the Kazakh Steppe was facing great difficulties and crop failure was harassing us, especially in the north of the country. The words were not meant to be reassuring. Vladimir Ilyich had a perfect idea of the steppe’s future, he did know what power ay dormant in the people who had broke free from slavery and taken the road of liberty.
It sounds like a wise and well-intended guideline for many years... Now I imagine my Kazakhstan. How greatly it has changed within the life of one man. Silhouettes of industrial buildings as well as new cities and settlements are now an intrinsic part of the traditional steppe landscape;
For instance, I can hardly imagine of the banks of Lake Bakhash without the huge copper plant; we also have the pyramid-shaped piles of Karaganda miles, a set of works in the republic’s east called the Ore Altai. Or – you fly on a plane and see rectangles of ploughed fields though the window. And what about Baikonur – the first space port ever?..
It is not merely “a hurried change of decoration to get it smooth”, as I. G. Erenburg put it in a poem of his.
I am speaking about common facts, but indeed, you can choose any random point in the map of Kazakhstan and find evidence of wonderful changes in the city’s life, its mental development, its aspirations. An example?.. I can give you some, but you do not need them, for it is a well-known fact. It is something you have learned from your personal experience, from the scarce but eloquent figures provided by the Statistics Office, from the reports and speeches delivered at sessions of the Supreme Soviets and Party plenary meetings, and from the draft Instrustions of the XXIII Convention of the CPSU concerning the five-year plan for USSR national economy development, which presents a convincing forecast for the nest five years.
“Undoubtedly, we will advance the region”, said Vladimir Ilyich. Crops and oil, major chemical industry, ferrous and non-ferrous metal industry, mineral fertilizers, all kinds of agricultural products… It would be easier to list what the modern Kazakhstan does not produce than what it does.
But my speech must be controversial. I decided to give you no examples, for each of us can see them, and to elaborate on our life, on the events in which we have been participating most actively, instead.
The prophecy of Lenin, which I have mentioned above, has seemingly come true. However, life is constantly progressing, and what was an accomplishment yesterday is transferred to the category of ordinary things today, while new peaks to conquer.
That is the way I felt about the resolutions of the O1964 October Plenary Meeting of the CC of the CPSU. I felt the same last March and September, when the most pressing issues of our economic development were being addressed at plenary meetings. I think we still cannot fully imagine and estimate the role which the resolutions have played and will play in the life of our nation, our society, and in the life of each individual. What unites them is their ideological direction – they are aimed at improving and perfecting the management of the giant front of communism building.
According to the invariable historical pattern, the beginning of any new period is marked by an abrupt turn in the country’s social, political, and economic life, a jump in goods and nonmaterial benefit production. I think it is beyond any doubt that the resolutions of the three abovementioned plenary meetings define the broad prospect for the next years, clear the social atmosphere of the harmful husk, and bring about a new period on the life of each individual.
I will repeat myself and mention the October of 1964 once again. The CC plenary meeting brings about the restoration of the technical party agency management principles, which had been so awfully distorted during the previous period, which unfortunately was that of a subjective approach to the most important phenomena of our society, a period of ill-conceived and hasty decisions based on the notorious “maybe”, which muffled the mature scientific style of thinking.
However, it would have been insufficient to merely admit it. Sp, the March and then September of 1965 came. The two CC Plenary Meetings which took part in early spring and in fall last year were aimed at rectifying the mistakes made. The resolutions, which we all remember, were based on sober planning and on the dialectic approach to events which was most characteristic of the founder of the Party and the Soviet State V. Lenin. The plenary resolutions were supported enthusiastically by workers as well as agricultural laborers and the intelligentsia – that it, by the entire nation. The mere fact of unanimous approval is the best evidence of the colossal work which had been done by the Party within a year, the work done to restore the principles of Leninism in the country’s social and political life, to restore the economic laws of socialism, which happened to be violated in a number of their most important aspects. It is safe to say that everyone can feel a surge of energy now, an urge to work which feels like one is capable of moving mountains. There is no provision about the resolutions dealing directly with art and literature. At the same time, they deal with life, human relationships, and the mankind’s past and future. That is why the resolutions have a direct bearing on writers and artist, actors, and composers, who are to depict the people’s life as well as the most delicate changes which take place in it, people’s selfless labor and their confidence about the future.
We are talking about a realistic estimation of the possibilities of our sovkhoz and kolkhoz fields, about realism in terms of industrial scheduling. The concrete content of the concept of social realism has been restored.
But there have been dilettante intrusions into the sphere of art, authoritative estimations, free-and-easy judgments sending writers back to the stages of Soviet literature which had been left in the past, as well as subjectivist and voluntarism. It brought about an unnecessary tension in writing (I say writing, though it affected other spheres of art as well), preventing them from making maximum contributions.
The reason why I am thinking of it now is that people of creative occupations can work without fearing that they can be accused of contradicting arbitrarily interpreted principles of socialist realism. The tone of criticism has changes as well - apart from certain relapses, the tone can be polemical, abrupt, and even disputing, but the mandative didactic intonations of addressing the writer like a schoolboy in disgrace are gone.
The life of any society, any nation is a living history, which the artist must depict in his true-to-life realistic images and relations. Facing the world around us, we cannot say that our country is absolutely free of vestiges of the past and that “peace on earth and goodwill in the man” are real.
The truth of our reality is that socialist society is progressing steadily, destroying everything shallow and inconsistent with the principles of Marx’s and Lenin’s theories. It is because the struggle is the criterion against which we estimate our entire life that we cannot overlook the poison of anti-social phenomena as well as material and non-material speculation. Thus, the classic light-and-shade law is applicable to and is one of the principal laws in the literature and art of social realism. We should not forget that even fluffy white clouds drifting in the cerulean sky cast shadows.
The absolute unacceptability of sugar-covering real facts is caused by the tight connection which exists between art and literature and the life of people building communism, according to the assertion that art and literature play a major role in the upbringing of the man. It would be even insulting for out reality of highest significance, complex, heroic, and majestic as it is! It would be the same as to use cream to conceal scars on the face of a soldier who has taken part in many campaign and battles and won them!
Speculating on the contemporary subject with helpless expressive devices, false pathos, depicting walking righteousness instead of living people is unacceptable for our realistic literature, which has accumulated a wealth of experience in terms of revolutionary reality depiction, just as any kind of speculation. Moreover, the sugar-covering practice, artful as it may be, has never served the purpose of communist upbringing of the working mass. Sugar-covering has always been irreconcilably contradictory to realism, which Lenin and Gorky instructed Soviet writers to employ. For instance, Gorky talked about glorifying but not exaggerating. Lenin, who treated literature as a part of the common proletarian activity, saw its future as allegiance to its revolutionary duty by depicting the reality to the greatest extent possible, in a colorful manner to show every controversy, and as a clear position of the artist confident that the great communist aspiration would bring us victory.
I might be dwelling too long on the problems concerning the ideological position of the Soviet writer, his responsibility to the Party, the people, and the time. But I could not pay less attention to them.
Expecting 23rd Convention of the CPSU, we all – writers, workers, engineers, crop growers, scientists, and kolkhoz farmers – cannot but think of what role we have been in the society, what kind of a contribution we have been making and what we would like to change so that the contribution can be even more significant and weighty.
We, who have harnessed the art of writing to serve the great purposes and the great truth of our time, must bear it in our minds when we face a clean paper that it shall be the artistic and ideological meters of our books and not deviations from the principles of social realism but adherence to them what will guarantee us victory in the ideological war between two directly opposite systems and views.
I think there is no need to expand on the scheming of bourgeois theorists against social realism, on their claiming it to be “obsolete” for out rapidly advancing time, which they do only because it is fashionable, and their claiming nonsensical revelations of paranoiacs to be the greatest achievements of art, repeating obstinately that an “epoch of art deideologization” has come. They favor the attempts of surrealists, neoavant-gardists, and representatives of the “glance school” to create works with no human and no social environment. The destruction of content is accompanied by that of form.
It is a clever stroke, but not clever enough to remain undiscovered. The pseudo theoretical scheming is not just a game of world-weary minds. They are a symptom of activities exercised to deprive literature of its power which influences the development of social and class conscience.
The literature of social realism, the Soviet writers who create evidence of “time and themselves” are now confronting the abstraction literature.
Having re-read what I wrote, I thought that I might have deviated from the subject of our country’s accomplishments and plans, from the words said by Lenin concerning the advancing of Kazakhstan, which used to be a backward semicolon of the tsarist Russia.
I do not actually think so. For a writer, reflections on, say, technical progress, new ways of agricultural development, and methods of industrial management are inextricably connected with his literary activities and the way he can tell about the people who are to solve colossal problems, their moods and hopes, their tragedies and happiness, the victories they win on their way.
For instance, if I see a Mangyshlak dweller, I listen to him tell that over 15 million oil will be produced there within the next five years, which makes me think of a wonderful book filled with the spirit of courage, passion, tense conflicts, and remarkable stories which could be written about that godforsaken land, which has become necessary for the first time since it appeared.
Or those who are currently addressing issues connected with irrigation crop growing without too many words. They have to overcome various difficulties and disasters to make the ancient and ever-young land generous.
I am not encouraging you to create another series of “industrial” and “agricultural” novels. But a writer studying the man closely cannot but focus on the occupation of his character.
We all know a scientist who has been working in the sphere of agriculture for many years and deeply respect him for his fidelity to his citizenly principles, which he showed while trying to prove his scientific opinion, though that would have meant numerous personal problems for him if the October Plenary Meeting of the CC of the CPSU had not dispelled the clouds over his head.
Can a writer whose book is inhabited by such people from the real life choose not to tell what made the character sacrifice both his status and his welfare?
Let me mention the ordinary geologist, a very young man, who has to break through the protest of certain officials. He would stand his ground, proving that he was right about the necessity of developing a reserve, which seemed dubious at first – and skin-deep – sight.
Speaking of geologists, I cannot but mention the conditions under which the young Kanysh Satpayev had to work in Dzezkazgan, the pittance given him to explore the area, and the way he got what he wanted in spite of the protest of national skeptics and foreign experts. To show our life, complex and full as it is, without overlooking the difficulties which we face and have to overcome means to depict the accomplishments which we have won within nearly half a century since the Soviet Union was founded, that means to cast a glance into the future.
I would like to finish my article with the fact I have already mentioned, that is, the fact that everybody is currently experiencing a surge of energy, is eager to work, and feels capable of moving mountains…
This is how it is now that the 23rd Convention of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union is beginning in Moscow. “Undoubtedly, we will advance the area, and we will succeed.” The saying by Lenin is extremely topical today in respect of our objectives and problems, and so they shall sound tomorrow…
As an Oriental saying goes, the one who walks shall reach the destination. We do walk…
1966
A GLORIOUS SON OF THE NATIONS
A little more than thirty years ago, a previously unknown young man was first noticed in relation to the nascent modern Kazakh culture. He made his appearance demure and quiet, free of self-display and show-off.
Moreover, his appearance took place in the shadow of his brother – a large-scale up-and-coming scientist, the linguist Khudaybergen Zhubanov. However, the young man was highly noticeable even in the shadow. There obviously was little gray about him, if any.
The young man I am talking about was Zkhmet Kuanovich Zhubanov, or Akhan, whose 60th birthday and 40th anniversary of creative, pedagogical, scientific, and public activity we are celebrating today, the one honored by the entire scientific and music world of the Soviet Union.
Back then, the young man, who still is not old today, being a man of holistic and stubborn nature, a man of all-round talent, set to the virgin area of spiritual culture straightaway, being nearly the only activist – he promoted the rebirth of the stagnated folk music Kazakh culture as well as new ways of creating and studying new, modern music. I am thankful to the illiterate Mugalim Ashgaliyev who could feel that this student was gifted in respect of music and helped him develop his talent!
The reputation of Leningrad Conservatory, which gave us Akhment Zhubanov not only as a large-scale composer but also a music scholar, a good researcher of the musical heritage of the past, and the one who controlled and maintained the republic’s music life.
After less than two years since the creation of more or less satisfactory conditions for research activities, the Kazakh National Orchestra was created, rising like a phoenix from the ashes. I believe the founding of a numerous national orchestra to be nor only Akhmet Kuanovich’s achievement but also a historic one. It is a well known fact that the two main musical instruments, the dombre and the cubism which were invented in ancient times, had never been used at the same time harmoniously before the Great October Revolution. Those who remember the first Decade for Kazakh Art in Moscow remember the sincere delight expressed by Moscow citizens concerning our national orchestra as well as its founder and conductor Akhmet Zhubanov. Nowadays, our national orchestra has turned into an intrinsic artistic unit of the multinational Soviet music culture. The hero of our anniversary is undoubtedly the one who contributed most to it. I am absolutely sure that hundreds of national orchestras are playing works by their founder today.
The music studies by Akhmet Kuanovich conducted during the period of major discussions on the creation of the Kazakh Music Theater, later - the Opera, have also played a crucial role. Not everybody possessing the right to vote realized the importance of creating an opera theater, and not everyone possessing the right of vote has enough confidence and trust in the talent of those who suggested creating the theater. The modest contribution of the National Orchestra as well as the modest research by Akhmet Kuanovich served as a basis for the approval.
Thus, the problem to which the young music scholar set at the very beginning of his professional activity turned out to be extraordinarily large-scale and crucial to the introduction of the necessary minimum of music upbringing to people’s lives.
It appeared not only new but also complex under the circumstances of the period. First, we needed to put whatever had been created by national composers and signers within centuries together, to gather what had been lost and scattered across our vast nomadic country. What has been initiated by the late Zatayevich had to be finished. Akhmet Zhubanov started the toilsome work, that of heart and soul, in his music college, which was far from perfect, thirty years ago; he is finishing it as an honored aksakal of Kazakh music culture in the Academy of Science of Kazakhstan and the Kurmangazy Art Institute.
The greatly efficient activities of Akhmet Kaganovich, which includes collecting and classifying the music heritage of the past, especially the complete construction of of the truly great works by Kurmangazy, his followers and adherents, wonderful songs by Birzhan, Abay, Akhan, Zhayau Musy, Ibray, and many others, have been serving as a basis opera and symphonic works by Akhmet Kuanovich as well as his comrades-in-arms – Ye. Brusilovskiy, M. Tulebayev, L. Khamidi, and their students. The very appearance of our opera art would have most probably been impossible without that wealth of a heritage, for each building needs an unshakable basis more than anything.
It is a common fact that the art of opera made its first steps supported solely by folk music, but it is not limited to any more. The young Kazakh opera kept getting closer both to worlds’ classic music culture and to modern music. Kazakhstani composers, older as well as younger ones, have contributed greatly to it.
Every peak is conquered in a relay race. On the thorny paths which leads to the peaks of music culture, we can see footprints of many older and younger composers, from the experienced Zhubanov to the young Gaziza Zhubanova.
But it is the famous aria of Abay from the opera of the same title by A. Zhubanov and L. Khamidi is what seems to me most soaked in deep sadness, explicit hatred and rage, as well as whatever is noble and lofty, profound and perfect. I can see more ways of conquering peaks of music culture about the precious alloy of glorious sounds than in dozens of other works of opera.
The artistic way of Akhmet Kuanovich as well as that of science has been quite complicated. He has faced numerous obstacles and difficulties. But long live Akhan! His iron will and perseverance would not let him get off the road chosen!
After a couple of years had passed since he graduated from Leningrad Conservatory, he created the Kazakh National Orchestra and started to collect music heritage.
After 7 years, he created the opera Abay in cooperation with Khamidi.
After 13 years, Akhmet Zhumanov became one of the co-founders of the Academy of Science of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic.
He is one of those who always founds all kinds of musical and concert institutions in Kazakhstan, including the philharmony and the conservatory.
A reference book claims Akhmet Kuanovisch to be the author of over 300 music pieces, including opera and symphonic ones. It is a hard work to do!
Besides, Akhmet Kuanovish has published 11 research titles, while another two large-scale books are about to appear.
Akhmet Zhubanov, a member of the Academy of Science of Kazakhstan, is currently the one managing the republic’s entire art studies.
As a composer, A. Zhubanov is writing an opera titled Kurmangazy on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the Great October Revolution. Besides, he is creating the libretto on his own. It is another aspect of his versatile talent. Personally I put high hopes on the opera.
As you can see, it is hardly possible to tell about the creative activities of the great composer and scientist. The first reason is that Akhmet Kuanovich has told a lot himself. He has told it through his works, through the stage, through the screen, through the orchestra, theater, and books.
Secondly, the day of the creative person’s birthday is especially hard for him. It is not that easy to listen to standard praise, feeling their burden on one’s shoulders.
Acknowledgment of merits and public congratulations bring about the sense of responsibility to the people, to one’s time and to one’s gift, which might be occasionally abused, for every talent is a part of national wealth and never belongs to its carrier alone.
Thirdly, I am not a music scholar, not to speak of composing. My vocabulary includes as few as 2-3 musical terms, which I sometimes misuse.
So, it is quite natural that I am not going to make a single step towards an analysis of the merits and flaws of our hero’s works. I would like to apologize sincerely to our dear hero of the day as well as to you, those who are celebrating the occasion in a most noble way today, for that undoubtedly considerable gap in my speech. I did not enumerate our hero’s title — member of the Academy of Science, PhD, professor, art worker, member of numerous scientific and artistic councils, editorial offices, etc., I did not even mention his having worked as a city council deputy.
I had a different motivation to agree to say a couple of words about the noble work of the great composer and scientist.
In terms of music, I have a sole truth, which may be naïve but which I worship like a god. It is the assertion that a man who has a song on his lips can neither offend not hit a human being, not to mention killing. Not only a human being. Insulting a human being, hitting or killing a human being, one employs words but never music. I believe it to be beyond any doubt that a murderer cannot hit a child without accompanying his blow an insulting word, which is sometimes quire figurative and witty. What I infer is that musical upbringing is an issue of prime importance, one of the crucial factors which make human nature milder and instilling a harmony of noble manners in people’s minds. I have a special respect for composers, a special love of their work. It may be the only thing I would like to share with our hero, putting a special emphasis on the historical significance of his merits to the people and the time.
So, Dear Akha, you are 60! As you can see, the passage is not that awful. It is not a stone wall between the man and his life. It does not prevent one from reaching what has been loved and cherished – one’s piano or desk. Your hands do not tremble, and your heart and soul sing harmoniously. Your home is filled with music – nearly a half of the Conservatory! Your friends and colleagues are full of love and respect. The party and the people have duly appreciated your merits, which are most worthy of respect.
Within the latest years, a number of Plenary Meetings of the CC of the CPSU along with the23rd Convention have marked a new, favorable period in our lives, that of creative surges of energy, a period for an efficient artistic competition.
In my opinion, you, Akhmet Kuanovich, have started the competition by working on your new opera.
Dear friend, let me wish you a victory in the competition! By any means! A victory worth your friends’ envy!
It is not accidental that I mention your friends’ envy! Envy is a sister of competition, so it belongs to a good family! says Pushkin.
I would like everyone who somehow feels envious to compete, and only compete, with their rivals, without resorting to forbidden actions.
Akha, today we are celebrating your birthday, and you have great hair! Let me wish you dazzling white hair for many more celebrations!
1966
ON TAKESHI KAIKO
I was hesitant for a long time at a lost for words to start the foreword to a small novelette by a young Japanese writer... Go back to the roots, back to the works of Ikhary Saikhaku, who lived in the 17th century! Or shall I try to draw a firm line between true literature, to which the novelette The Kind with No Clothes definitely belongs, and the muddy stream of pulp literature created to distract the reader from the burning problems of our contemporary reality. But I should leave it to experts in literary studies. If I took my pen, the only purpose was to introduce a good friend of mine, the famous Japanese writer Takeshi Kaiako, to the readers of Prostor magazine.
It was in Almaty that I read his novelette, but Tokyon rose in my mind...
I was trying to inculcate a taste for art in children, an aspiration for self-cognition and outer research, along with the protagonist, an art teacher. It hurt me to find out that the noble undertaking was used by shameless moneymakers as flackery. However, I cannot say that the artist was defeated in the loosing battle – he was able to save the soul of a boy, the son of the paint maker who made use of the children’s’ drawing competition so artfully...
But it seems to me that I am about to do what I should not do in a foreword – that is, presenting a summary of the novel which the reader is to peruse and to define his or her attitude to the events and characters independently. I can only say that the novel is written in a very true-to-life and accurate manner.
Within the recent five years, I have visited the capital of Jaan twice, and I cannot but declare my love for Tokyo. I do not mean certain streets and bridges; what I mean is the whole of the city, which is both very modern and very old. At a hundred meter’s distance from a street cramped with multistory buildings, one can suddenly find oneself in the Middle Ages – in a settlement of craftsmen or sanctuary sellers, in a tiny workshop when time seems to have stopped.
Indeed, the city has underground and elevated roads, artificial mountain skis, and taxis with air conditioning. The architecture is very authentic, unmistakably Japanese. But the houses traditionally have no numbers, and the streets have no named. To find a publishing house, a magazine office, or an apartment where you have been invited, you have to get your tiny plan drawn on a cigarette pack or a business card many times a day. Anyway, the hosts are more likely to give you a lift to spare you the confusion.
We can find it odd, unusual, and inconvenient. However, they are not going to give numbers to their houses or, say, reform their alphabet – their most portable printing machine has at least two thousand hieroglyphs. It is another tradition, which nobody is going to break with.
Some changes are happening, anyway. For instance, I have seen Japanese women of fashion who were fearless enough to undertake a plastic surgery to alter their orientally shaped eyes. But it is quite a different thing – I have seen European fashionmongers who applied their make-up so that their eyes could look longer.
Thinking of the facts, I was not distracted from the novelette by Takeshi Kaiko. He was the one who brought my two Japanese journeys to my mind and made me imagine the life circumstances defined the focus of his novelette The King without Clothes.
He also made me think of things which are not mentioned in his book.
The 1961 Tokyo gathering attended by dozens of representatives from various countries all across the world. One of Japan’s greatest writers, Tatsuzo Ishikava, was speaking in most proud and excited words, saying that the democratic intelligentsia of his country had contributed to the subversion of the Kiem Cabinet, struggling courageously for the cancellation of the visit planned by the U.S. President Eisenhower.
I saw numerous photos depicting scenes of mass protest against the military agreement between Japan and the U.S.A. as sure documents in the corridors of the building hosting the staff of the most influential Japanese newspaper – Asakhi.
Those people, whom I did not know, obviously had a clear memory of those who dropped nuclear bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The courageous people kept blocking the parliament building, protesting against the awful decision!
Their comrades in the city of Osaka, which is, by the way, the home city of Takeshi Kaiko, welcomed us and said goodbye by singing The Internationale.
I did not find the abovementioned features of Japanese reality in the novelette which I have just finished. But the obviously sympathetic attention which Takeshi Kaiko focuses on the common man, his bitter dissatisfaction with the conditions under which the man has to exist, and contempt of large-scale business are a vivid evidence of the author’s preferences.
I see arguable things about it as well. But when our Japanese penmates were receiving us, Soviet writers, in a most honorable way, our discussions were always marked by respect of other people’s opinion, thought there were significant controversies in a number of literary and political problems.
A set of various social conditions, mature and immature, national and copied from the West, a difference in social power, and the patriarchal order preserved in a well-developed country are what make Japan as I see it so unique.
Of course, it cannot but be depicted in works by the best Japanese writers, Takeshi Kaiko’s novelette The Kind without Clothes in most accurate in psychological patterns; it shows in a delicate and unobtrusive what how a piece of art turns into a business object. I think there is so need to reprimand the author for the fact that his protagonist attacks concrete individuals within his struggle.
At the meetings of the editorial office of the magazine New Japanese Literature, the editor I. Khariu, the critic K. Sasaki, and the young prose writer Inoue expressed their regret concerning the scarce attention over modern Japanese literature in our country.
We had to admit our fault, though remarking that it was the same in terms of Soviet literature known among Japanese writers.
The novelette by Takeshi Kaiko offered to the reader will definitely make the gap smaller.
1966
UNITY AND RESPONSIBILITY
I have just returned from Cairo, but what I am currently writing is not travel notes in the traditional sense. I am not going to tell you about fan-shaped palm trees and scared crocodiles, about pyramids and archeologists searching for underpasses to access those previously unknown. I am not going to describe the Nile during sunset, when the wind suddenly brings the hot breathing of the Sahara Desert into the fresh coolness of the night.
The big group of Arabian, African, and Asian writers was too concerned to feast their eyes on the unique appearance of Cairo and undertake tours. On the other hand, being so close to ancient monuments could not but give a certain twist to my today’s contemplation.
It was said to think of the way fate had treated the people of the two greatest continents, Asia and Africa, which was essentially cruel. Throughout their history, the people had experienced flourishing science and arts, crafts, architecture, and philosophy… That was where the basis of human relationship was worked out, and that was where justice was admitted to be the greatest virtue. Justice was viewed as power; kindness was viewed as power; love was viewed as power!
At the same time, it is hard to imagine more dreary, tragic, and insulting pages of history than those which have been written here over the past fifty years. It is only the social and national liberation revolutions of the 20th century what has brought a relief to the long-suffering land. The man lifted his head with his shoulders up and broad – white shoulders, black shoulders, brown shoulders. We can hear the enticing tune of India all across the world. The African tam-tam appears to be not a set of primitive sounds, as the snobbish colonizers treated it, but an expression of a truly gifted soul.
It was not only the material basis of national life what was being devastated for the long years of colonial slavery in Asia and Africa. The devastation also affected hearts and minds, and the effect might have been even more tragic. The unnecessary straitjacket put on the man instills despair and hopelessness in him, killing his self-belief, and destroying his willpower with its dreary injustice. A friendly team spirit and a choir of affable voices are absolutely necessary for a man like that to regain his footing as soon as possible after being liberated, to get a lungful of fresh air and to see the sun.
The idea, extremely important is simple, was expressed by Indian writers. Back in 1956, they initiated the first writers' conference, which took place in Delhi. In became the starting point for uniting the group effort of Asian and African writers against colonialism. Writers from the two continents have spoken many times to protect peace, to support the idea of disarmament, and to protect Asian and African nations fighting for their independence.
The long-remembered Delhi Conference not only emphasized the significance of literature in the formation of national spiritual life. The sincere, friendly, and efficient exchange of opinions as well as arguments conducted with respect for the interlocutor, which brought about the appearance of the truth – they all contributed greatly to the establishment of mutual understanding, reciprocal enrichment, and further development of young, beginner, and ancient, highly traditional literatures.
The Writers’ Conference for Asia and Africa, which took place in Tashkent in 1958, played even a greater role. The history of the literary movement has never included such a large-scale representative event.
For the sake of laconism, the program of further actions, which was approved, was titled “Tashkent Spirit.” As soon as you said the two words, everybody understood what you were talking about. I am not talking about literature only. Taskent was the place where you could truly see how close literature was to people’s life and how powerful it was in terms of addressing political, economic, and cultural matters. You can pretend to mock at it, but you cannot ignore it.
An administrative center called the Permanent Office was created to manage the African-Asian movement. The name was capitalized so that its powers in terms of the diverse and complicated problems produced by life could be obvious.
Writers of Ceylon insisted on their capital, Colombo, being appointed the permanent residence of the center. Their suggestion was approved, thus giving the Cingalese the right to suggest the Secretary General of the Permanent Office. The journalist Senanayake took the position.
Eight years have passed since then. The colorful flags of freedom and independence have become more numerous on both of the continents. New complex problems requiring a careful approach and a profound solution have arisen.
So who is the one to trace the problems, who is the one to works out and suggest efficient measures to solve them?.. I do not think the question needs an answer. Of course, it is the Permanent Office and its Secretary General. However, the situation in the administrative center came to provoke more worries and suspicion with the passage of time.
The first considerable reason appeared four years ago, when Mr. Senanayake did not find it quite necessary to go to Cairo and report to our supreme body, that is, the 2nd Writers’ Conference for Asian and African Countries. He did not even take the toil to provide a written report on the work done within the period between the conferences of Tashkent and Cairo in 1962. It had to be hurriedly worked out on-the-spot, and, quite naturally, the report contained no profound analysis of the situation or well-grounded recommendations. That was the document, issued without the private of the Secretary General, which was read out by the Japanese writer Isio Hotta at the meeting, while the latter was by no means responsible for its content.
In the lobbies of the conference, in a hotel at a coffee table or sipping at a friendship cocktail, many people were expressing their bewilderment: How can the Secretary General, who was appointed to arrange, coordinate, and report on the experience of the two continents’ literary movement, how can he neglect his duties like a schoolboy? Those who were more familiar with him were shrugging their shoulders – Mr. Senanayake was not quite famous as a journalist but what rather notorious for his business acumen.
I refrained from expressing my opinion back then, for I believed that I had no right to mouth it – I knew too little of the Secretary General... But even I was puzzled by his brilliant absence at the conference. All in all, he just had to participate in the working-out of the recommendations, which he was to implement, not to mention the report.
Looking ahead, I should say that the plan approved at the Cairo conference was hardly ever implemented.
I do understand why certain writers’ delegations expressed their doubts concerning the advisability of the Permanent Office’s further residing in Colombo?
I do remember the high-keyed discussions, and it was the head of the Cingalese delegation, presently the Vice President of the Cingalese Writers’ Union and an International Lenin Prize honoree Saranankaara Thero rectified the situation. The delegates helped him, for they could see that the large-scale writer was truly eager to reanimate the Office’s work on the specific basis of the plan approved. However, Mr. Senanayake had his own understanding of the honor paid to the Cingalese writers by the participants of the Cairo Conference… Having crossed the dangerous passage on his comrades’ shoulders, he started an activity of his own at once, putting aside and pigeonholing all the important provisions of the Taskhent and Cairo Conferences.
The reason why I am retelling the situation in such great detail is that the situation in the Permanent Office as well as the way the Secretary General chose to act has taught us a good lesson, which we should remember as long as we have to preserve the globally crucial power of the union between African and Asian writers.
After as little as a year, Mr. Senanayake felt encouraged enough to prevent Abdollah Khamit El-Amin, the Chairman of the Sudanese Literary Organization from taking part in the Indonesian session of the Permanent Office. El-Amin was replaced by a dummy.
The practice of dividing people into acceptable and unwanted did not seem to be stopped. For instance, agents plenipotentiary of the Soviet Union and the United Arab Republic were prevented from taking part in the Front Office’s work on various pretexts even later. Senanayake was trying hard to turn the Permanent Office into a club of his personal friends, due to which in turned into a mint of intrigue and scandal.
In the complicated international situation, taking into account the increased responsibility of writers for what is happening in the world, we could not tolerate it any more, so we had to call a spade a spade.
A straightforward unflattering talk took place a very short while ago – during the extraordinary session of the Permanent Office of Asian and African Writers, which was held on June 19 and 20, this year. The resolution adapted by the session has the following stated in black and white, “He (Senanayake) has practically paralyzed the Office and has frequently abused his power by undertaking for which he has no power and which has not been approved by the Office.”
We, members of the Permanent Office and the Executive Committee, athered in Cairo to exchange our opinions on that matter and came to a conclusion that it would be a crime to make the disease look less blatant instead of fighting it. Cairo was appointed the Office’s permanent residence, while the responsibilities of the Secretary General were delegated to Egyptian writers. That was the only way in which the tendency which eventually led the movement of African and American writers to a blind end could be altered.
I can give you quite a number of examples. It is a well-known fact that the 1962 Cairo Conference obliged the Permanent Office to create committees for literary connections of African and Asian writers in countries where none are present yet as well as to take any reasonable effort to enforce the existing ones. It also obliges the Office to control the committees’ activities, to integrate their experience and to provide for continuous exchange of literary works.
The Cairo Conference recommended to “gather the Office at least twice a year”, just as it did in 1962. The point emphasized the necessity of finding a group solution to the most crucial problems as well as collective responsibility But that was the very thing which Senanayake dreaded and tried to avoid. The Office has never met over the past three years, and we have had no opportunity to discuss the topical issues concerning the movement.
That is the reason why the fake resolution allegedly adapted by the Office, to which only two or three of its members contributed and the message of which was that an extraordinary conference on solidarity with the struggling Vietnam should be gathered in Beijing was the last straw that broke the camel’s back!
I should say that Beijing is not a perfect place for a free and friendly exchange of opinions. They could have presupposed that certain countries were unlikely to send their delegations there.
But the resolution is illegal in itself, not to mention other aspects, as is only the Executive Committee that can adapt a resolution on extraordinary meetings, for which the Permanent Office is not empowered. However, Senanayake is used to doing only things he wants to do, so the Beijing conference took place. By the way, the Secretary General did not appear there.
He must have been too busy. He had to attend to business in Colombo – Senanayake had been found to have squanders thirty thousand rupees of public funds to create a club for his friends, the owner of which he was going to become. His “business acumen”, which was widely discussed back in Cairo in 1962, was showing! Anyway, the Cingalese writers had already appointed Martin Mikromosing to be the head, while Senanayake was removed.
When a corrupt man gets to manage a large-scale and noble project, he definitely casts a slur on the project. The connections between Asian and African writers have been neither enhanced nor expanded.
Many of them have been abandoned. The resolution adapted by the latest extraordinary Cairo session, which in particular states the following, “The performance of the present Secretary General is extremely poor, as well as the Cingalese center’s neglect of its pressing problems as well as arbitrary and illegal actions have provoked a sense of disillusionment in many writers, undermining their faith in the organization” has been published.
So it actually was, and we have to take much effort now to restore the trust. The words by the Vice President of the Organization in Colombo said in Cairo sounded extremely reassuring, “Our new joint Cingalese Writers’ Union supports us in every respect.” It was really delightful to hear it from Saranankaar, who had been brave enough to admit his previous mistake and declare it in public.
The very fact of African and Asian writers gathering in Cairo this July is an evidence of a difference in individual manifestations of disillusionment. Some feel like giving the whole thing up, while others feel an urge to act. They needed not only to discuss the situation in Colombo but also to find ways of reanimating the organization’s activity aimed at contributing to the struggle against colonialism and imperialism, for national liberty and independence by means of art.
That was the origin of the request to the Writers’ Association of the United Arab Republic – to assume the responsibility for calling an extraordinary session of the Permanent Office. It was quite reasonable and even symbolic that Egyptian writers were engaged, for we could restore the broken principles of collective responsibility and cooperation, which had been declared in the same city of Cairo four years before.
Out of ten members of the Permanent Office, six were present in Cairo – Cameroon, Sudan, UAR, India, Ceylon, and the Soviet Union. Each country was represented by a fully legitimate literary organization, writers, and true writers.
I find it necessary to emphasize the fact to absolutely deny the false information by the Sinhua agency claiming that we did not scruple to share a table with the anti-democratical Indonesian representatives in Cairo. The Sinhua is used to twisting facts, but the truth is that the agent for Indonesia did speak to all members of the Permanent Office in Cairo, showing great determination to take part in the work of the session; he was trying to prove that the Head of the Indonesian Literature League Sitor Sitomorang had given him the power. However, the requirement of the agent was never met.
We, members of the Permanent Office, made a firm agreement in Cairo, deciding upon limiting the literary movement of Asian and Africa to literary workers exclusively.
Now that the extraordinary session is left behind, I can say that its calling was a truly necessary and urgent thing to do. We have all regretted showing insufficient firmness concerning the Secretary General back in 1962. You can re-write a chapter of you book which you are not satisfied with. Unfortunately, there is no way we can re-live the four years.
However, there are things to rectify. The participants of the session decided unanimously upon appointing Cairo and not Colombo to be the residence of the Permanent Office. The renowned writer and public office of the UAR Yusef El-Siban became the Sercreatry General. It is safe to say that writers of Asia and Africa will feel friendly solicitude related to their literary progress after a few years. Literary booklets of poetic compilations by Algerian, Vietnamese, and Suez writers have already been distributed; a monthly almanac is about to start being published along with a weekly literary magazine.
Numerous issues which require collective solutions have arisen recently. That is the reason why the Administrative Committee for the Ordinary Conference of Asian and African writers has been founded in Cairo. The Committee includes representatives of the UAR, Ceylon, India, and Sudan.
... I guess that everybody reading the notes will understand why I did not mention palm trees, crocodiles, and pyramids…
What we did in Cairo was work. Now we need to unite the effort of all writers so that the work can be efficient.
1966
GOOD BYE TILL WE MEET HAPPILY AGAIN!
It is a common fact that various nations did not come to undertake the historical mission of creating two world culture, physical and spiritual values at the same time. Some were awaken early. It is not only the geographical conditions what influenced the process. The small Armenia belongs to such countries. In the earliest times, when India, Iran, Mesopotamia, Greece, and the Byzantine Empire were at the peak of their development, Armenia maintained constant contacts with them.
Armenia has contributed great to international relations in terms of rapprochement of different nations. The Armenian people were always mounted to ride their horses along the famous Silk Route. When West nations did not know the way to the “Golden Hindustan”, the people of the small country had traveled all across it.
We know that the Armenians have had numerous rough periods when their courage and endurance were tested. But they did stand the dreary battles. Inhabiting a mountainous land, they knew how to find their way in rocks and cloves, and so they always found the right way when in came to the thorny path of global confrontations. Enemies, who were always surrounding the nation, were everywhere, but they failed to destroy the holistic spirit of the Armenian nation. It did experience better defeats. It has fallen to rise again, regaining its strength in no time, enforcing its borders tirelessly, and guarding its spiritual treasures with great care. Nowadays, the talented Armenian music and song, poetry and painting are known all over the words, on every continent.
In 1967, the Armenian theater celebrated its 2000th anniversary. The national history can be traced back to ancient times. If you take into account the fact that songs, melodies, and verse mostly appear in advance of theater, you can imagine the deep roots of the authentic brotherly culture. The readers are well familiar with the literature, art, and science of the Soviet Armenia. Nevertheless, I would like to draw your attention to the characteristic features of Armenian architecture and poetry. They present a high creative accomplishment and a robust manifestation of the national mentality.
It is not what you take from mankind but what you give it what makes up the treasury of world culture. Each kind of art should have colors of its own, a heart of its own, and a voice of its own. You are deeply indebted to people for your education and for what world culture has given you.
The Armenian nation is both little and talented. In this respect, they are a most decent role model.
The Armenians are always passionate, enthusiastic, and active. Last March, I visited Lebanon, accompanied by the First Secreted of the Writers’ Union of the fraternal republic Eduard Topchan. I found out that ten daily newspapers were issued in Armenian in Beirut. Though their copies were, there were as many as ten newspapers!
The Lebanese capital has 65 Armenian secondary schools, in which the native Armenian language as well as French and English are compulsive. Besides, there are courses for preparation of secnondary school leavers for high school entering. Nevertheless, when we were talking to representatives of the Armenian nation, their phrases bore a clear trace of homesickness, for their hearts miss their dear Ayastan.
The Great October brought the Kazakh nation and the Armenians together and tied them with friendly ties to make a big family. Our wonderful nightingales, Goar and Kulash, were most intimate friends, The Armenian Ambartsumyan unveiled the mysteries of our Galazy, while the Kazakh Satpayev discovered the secrets of the earth interior. The friendship between our writers is old and large-scale. Hundreds of Armenian experts work efficiently at Kazakhstani non-ferrous metal works and oil refineries.
The Kazakh nation bears the glorious son of the Armenian nation Levon Mirzoyan in its heart with deepest love. Being the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the republic’s Communist Party, he proved to be a talented organization man as well as an enthusiastic Bolshevist in rough times. The play by Alzhappar Abishev portraying L. Mirzoyan has been translated into Armenian.
At the Decade, the best representatives of the fraternal art and literature have brought us their songs and dances, paintings and books – all their spiritual values, which are so numerous in Armenia. We are divided by thousands of kilometers, but being blood brothers, we remain the people of the same great Soviet Country, whose hears beat together. Our capital – our miners and metal industry workers, our crop growers and animal breeders – welcomed the representatives of Aystan. You could hear the cordial greeting, “Welcome, Armenian brothers!” everywhere.
That is why today, on the last day of the Decade, we are saying, “Goodbye, our dear, till we happily meet again! Rakhmet for the great joy which you have given us through youth radiant ever-young art!”
1968
WE LOVE HIM
The national written Kazakh literature started its creative activity from the very beginning. It had to overcome the canonical obstacles, to commit the heroic action of discovering its own approaches to style and form without breaking the authentic language of the nation, preserving each of its peculiarities with great care, enriching, expanding, and enforcing the power of the Word. However, the problem was not limited to that. The pioneers of Kazakh fiction and poetry were facing a far more complex one. The beginning of the increase in creative self-awareness in Kazakh artists coincided, or rather was shaped by the revolutionary transformations, which shook the very order and basis of life, which used to be isolated even from the most unimposing cradles of civilization.
The reviviscent wind of October change was brought to the Kazakh Steppe from the North. That is why revolutionary writers such as Saken Seyfullin, Ilyas Dzhansugurov, and masters of the generation which is presently called the older one turned primarily to the experience accumulated by the great Russian literature, which had never hauled down their progressive colors or given up its high humanist ideals. Abay, who gave the nation songs by Pushkin and whose instruction was to love the democratic Russian ideas, and Chokan Valikhanov, whose friendship with the genius of world literature Fyodor Dostoyevsky was a case of extreme cordiality, initiated the tradition for studying whatever new, democratic, and revolutionary appeared deep at the bottom of the Russian nation’s heart, that of the people to whom Belinskiy, Chernyshevskiy, Herzen, and Dobrolubov belonged. The people whose heart, whose flesh and blood had been the cradle to one of the most impressive talents ever known, that of Ivan Turgenev. The appeal of his powerful gift is beyond every definition.
One of my close friends, whose temper I would not call mild at all, a former soldier, admitted that each time he read Turgenev, a feeling of exciting novelty would not leave him.
“I would be astonished and… cry,” he said, “unashamed of the tears of delight in the face of the triumphant eternally beautiful love.”
I can well understand my friend. Turgenev has always celebrated love, pure and selfless, which might give it the sad tang, but always calling you passionately to pursue the happiness of kindness, the only happiness which a man of a proud and just heart can live up to.
The deeply national writer has always been atop of the universal idea of kindness and love.
There is no need to mention the literary heritage of the great artist of words. It is known, and it accompanies people in their maturing. The author has an unobtrusive and informal manner of teaching, which a brilliant master is expected to have, and he could see the beauty of nature, of the human soul, of all things on what we live, and even more – what we are.
Being a man of a humanist nature, Ivan Turgenev still could use his pen to defeat whatever he understood as cruelty, faint-heartedness, and peacockery, that is, whatever was evil to him.
Let us think of him Mumu, which is both an elegy of fury and despair, generosity and kindness, and, paradoxically, a pamphlet satirizing the stupid snobbishness of the fat ignorance.
There is one thing which I find striking: Turgenev, being a moderate liberalist, so to say, in his private life, always supported progressive revolutionary ideas directly and through his creative works. He did know and truly feel the people’s manner of speaking. The Russian dictionary was enriched with words he discovered. It was another aspect in which he proved to be astonishingly diverse. The cold nihilist and the most tender Russian word, (shurshit), the Russian for he, she, or it rustles, chirrs, or whispers) were “made up” and found by him among the people and for the people.
Being a master of style who created a taut, unfettered phrase, a poet of most cordial lyricism, he loved the earth with people on it in the way in which only the great can love. At the same time, Ivan Turgenev was primarily a son of his Motherland.
I doubt whether I have a person who would be closer to me than he is, for he is rather a person than a writer. His books have been translated into Kazakh. The Kazakh reader enjoys them greatly. Working on the translation, we upgraded our skills greatly. Being 150 years old, I. Turgenev still helps us fathom and decipher secrets of beauty. What I have just said on the great master of the Great Russian literature is my tribute to him as a living person, an active participant of our life, and a friend and a brother of the entire humankind.
1968
YEARS AND THE STEPPE
I read the book with special enthusiasm, for I have known its author for nearly forty years, and we both belong to the generation, which started their literary activity in late 20s and early 30s.
Another reason why I was especially enthusiastic about Motherland and Outland was the fact that I know from my own experience that each new book by a writer, each new meeting with one’s readers is a tiny part of the writer’s life, which can never be restored, of his soul, it such an old-fashioned word is acceptable.
What I felt most unmistakably about the new book by Ivan Shukhov was his attempt to make it a documentary. It is neither a craze nor a tribute paid to fashion.
Fifteen years ago, Ivan Shukhov was one of the first to go to the virgin land, when the soil was just beginning to be reclaimed. To him, it was a “creative business trip” in the direct meaning of the word, an “outing for topical material”. Having been born in North Kazakhstan, he studied what was going on in relation to the virgin soil, comparing what he saw with the distant and not so distant past of his hometown. That is why the entire chapter of the book titled Motherland (apart from two things, which are memories connected to A. M. Gorky) can be treated as an imaginative and emotional chronicle of North Kazakhstan.
Being a chronicle, it naturally deals with an extensive period of time. We witness the appearance of the first Kazakh stanitsa villages near Kazakh auls and sympathize with the first migrants who have to face numerous problems and challenges; we feel outraged to know that Stolypin’s henchmen are trying to prove in their ostentatious formal feat of enthusiasm that most of peasant households in Russian have become more economically viable by the beginning of World War I. Along with the renowned Cossack family of Maksim Zhigalov (A Winter Novelette) we can feel the complexity of the revolutionary events to later witness the period of collectivization, during which “it was equally hard in stanitsas, in migrant settlements, quiet after the storm, and in petrified Kazakh auls, which have sent their previous rulers and managers away – they hardly managed to establish initial order under unusual circumstances, with unusual custom, and according to unusual principles.”
The writer does not make anything too simple. Ivan Shukhov, being a traveling correspondent of such newspapers as Bednota and Batrak, who was sent on a business trip to a remote Kostanai village to investigate to the murder of the highly active village correspondent Aleksey Strunnikov and the young teacher, who was also a member of the Komsomol, Lena Ganchenko, witnessed a fire which reduced the village to ashed and the slaughter through which the peasants took avenge on those who set the houses to fire.
As I re-read the pages, I recall what I was through in the same place and in the same period of time. However, it does not mean that only a reader of my generation can appreciate Shukhov’s prose. Younger and very young readers will also treat it as a living testimony to the years long past, which were so important to the history of our state and to people’s lives.
In some time, critics will come to judge on a phenomenon which I find characteristic of the literature of the second half of our century. I would call it reduced genre conventionalism. Indeed, what genre could one put on the title page of Motherland and Outerland, talking into account the fact that the book contains short stories as well as sketches, memoirs, travel notes, and poems…
They do not seem to have anything in common, but being brought together, they look holistic. As I have already mentioned the book’s being a documentary one, I should say that I can feel the same true-to-life atmosphere about the short story titled The Winter Snowstorm, in which we meet a person at the very moment when he is about to take a decision which may imply considerable changes to his life.
In my opinion, it was a bold and rightful decision to place My Poem in that chapter. It is quite natural that we can find it among sketches and short stories, which it both explains and somehow adds new information. For instance, the only information about the kulak arsonists who managed to run away from the meeting which was to decide upon their further lives and who then took their avenge by setting the village on fire is their names. In My Poem, the realist writer, being obliged to be omniscient, motivates their deeds. He is not afraid to look behind the tightly closed blinders on the windows of five-wall houses:
...Isn’t it time you took your gun
With your sleeves rolled up,
Slaughter man?!
Is not it time you had
Your cruelly disposed group of bandits
Numb with fear
Do the secret work?
After many years, the writer depicts the time when “the storm of ruination hit the boyars of the steppe” in his own name and in the name of his generation.
The other what, the Great Patriotic War, also made a chapter of the steppe novelette, which is titles Smoke of Motherland – the letters addressed to Siberian Cossacks were written during the war, and it was a right decision not to re-writer them. He could have lost the tone, but now the letters are a living echo of those years.
Sharing my impressions of the book Motherland and Outerland, I spoke most on Motherland. Moreover, as I have already said, I am well familiar with the places and people described by I. Skhukhov, so they start an avalanche of memories and make me share the author’s attitude towards the events depicted in the book.
The second chapter of the book is Outerland. The material is very different from that of the first chapter. Indeed, you could try to throw a bridge across the ocean from the steppe of North Kazakhstan to the United States of America, which I. Shukhov visited with a group of Soviet writers and journalists.
Being quite an experienced traveler, I do know how hard it may be to study other people’s lifestyle and get used to it, to understand other people’s worries, joy, sadness, and hopes if they are not close to you psychologically.
Shukhov has largely succeeded. The things for which the United States are notorious across the globe cannot escape his eye. However, he does not overlook what we find attractive about common Americans – their diligence, business talent, and their attitude to Soviet people, which is friendly in spite of the official American propaganda.
I was not going to give a long and detailed summary in my review of the new book by Ivan Shukhov Motherland and Outerland; instead, I wanted to reflect on its message in general, trying to judge the author according to the laws he chose for his work.
So, the book has been published and reached the reader, but it belongs to the author’s past… He has new ideas and insights.
Generally, writers are quite reluctant to discuss their plans for the future – the plans do not always come true, but if you share them with somebody, you feel like giving a promise on which you cannot go back.
But a short while ago, when I saw Shukhov, he told me that he was working on an autobiographical novelette. The same steppe and the same period – childhood, youth, and adulthood, meeting interesting people, who have been numerous…
There are writers whose name on a book cover makes you want what is written beneath it. To me, Ivan Shukhov is one of the category, and I will be looking forward to reading his new book.
1969
A SPEECH TO MY HUNGARIAN FRIENDS
Writers, scientists, and cultural workers, your comrades-in-arms who have been building a free socialist life with you are greeting you.
The ancient Kazakh land, which has now been turned into a golden bread basket, the land in which our ancestors lived over two thousand years ago, on both of the fertile banks of the Irtysh, the Yesil, the Turgay, and the Tobol, are greeting you. Former soldiers of Kazakhstan, who liberated the land of Hungary from Hitlers’ occupants and rose the colors of your freedom and independence over Budapest twenty five years ago are greeting you most cordially.
Kazakhstan was waiting for the Secade for Hungarian Culture as for a large-scale and enjoyable celebration. It is not about some vague historical memories but about the sense of fraternity between builders of a new life, builders of communism.
Those who have at least a slight idea of your history, your many centuries’ struggle for freedom, your reformations and counterreformations, the true heroes of the Hungarian nation, such as Dozsa Gyorgy, Francis Rákóczi, and Kossuth Lajos, of such poets as Balassi Bálint and Zrínyi Miklós, of the revolutionary democratic poetry by the great Petőfi Sándor and his adherent Arany János cannot be indifferent to the spiritual self-expression of your nation, which has created masterpieces in many genres of literature and art.
The Hungarian language has been suppressed by the assimilation policy many times, due to which the whole nation was in danger of assimilation. However, fighters for the independence and freedom of the Hungarian nation, among whom the leading poets played a major role, succeeded in defending the independence of their national culture.
The leader of the 1848 revolution Petőfi Sándor, whom I believe to have played not only a special role but also the most important one among the revolutionary democratic poets of the 19th century Europe, wrote:
I am prepared to obtain love by dying.
I will sacrifice you to freedom, Love!
The verse by the great poet, who seemed to have made a whip of fire from sunlight, which are well known across our country, are not ambiguous at all.
Bela Illes, Antal Hidas, and Máté Zalka, who celebrated the Hungarian Socialist Revolution of 1919, have become such an intrinsic part to the multinational Soviet literature that not all Soviet readers remember to which nation they belong.
Hungarian literature, especially poetry, is concordant to our literature, which is national in its form and socialist in its content. Moreover, it is generally concordant to progressive world literature. It bears no trace of nation-based narrow-mindedness, limited subjects, and obsolete traditions. This is what makes your literature not only understandable but also close to our readers.
Our contemporary reader understand the meaning of poetry the same way as Petőfi did:
Do not sing for fun, which is empty,
To please the earthly world!
When taking your sacred lyre,
You should be ready for a heroic deed.
If you only want to celebrate
Your own suffering and joy,
Do not desecrate the strings –
What is the use of your creation?
Hungarian poetry and music as well as dance are extremely popular with our people. Some of the best Soviet poets, such as Tikhonov and Marshak, Martynov and Isakovsky, Chukovsky and Inber have translated your poetry. Works of Hungarian vocal and instrumental art occupy an important place in the repertoire of Soviet performers.
Dear friends, you have come to your fraternal republic, with which you share the same spirit, the same ideological and artistic approach to mental values.
Let me express my deepest confidence that your Decade will be welcomed decently all across Kazkhstan, and that everybody will look forward to seeing you again after saying goodbye to you.
1969
HE WAS A POET
It is not easy to highlight the key points concerning my memories of the astonishing man, a communist, a soldier of the Revolution, a writer, and a public official. He was beautiful in every aspect — his face, figure, and clothes, which were always decorous and elegant, were beautiful.
His large eyes had an expression of active thinking, while his voice and manner of speaking showed the passion of a publicist, an irrepressible party orator. This image of him is alive in my memory.
We, three students of the workers’ faculty in Orenburg, were lucky to be present at a gala night dedicated to the third anniversary of the Kazakh Autonomous Republic. We were young and desperate for knowledge. The new principles underlying the new lifestyle, which the October had brought to our native steppe, were so enticing to us. The best sons of the Kazakh and Russian nations dreamt of a better future for it. Shortly speaking, we, who had just entered life, were being atop of a wave of highest aspirations.
It was during that period, which I believe tp have been crucial to my coursemates, and me that I heard him. We were a little late and came on just when he said, leaning forward to get closer to the audience, “In the fire of our revolution, La Marseillaise has been melt into the glorious hymn of communism The International!”
It was a proud expression, and it had a warm appearance, so you knew it came from the bottom of his heart. He was crystallized in it, with his untamable temper, trust and love for people, as a fighter for justice.
It was the Chairman of the Soviet People’s Commissariat of the young, newly born republic, Saken Seyfullin who was speaking.
Now that many years have passed, it is easier to estimate the enormous contribution into the development of Kazkahstani national culture of his creative work. He did so much for out home to have all the necessary things for further increase in its welfare under the sky of freedom!
It was just the beginning of the campaign. Everything seemed unusual and, in a manner of speaking, lofty and solemn.
The speaker was excited. The meeting was energetic. I could even feel some alertness about the audience’s behavior. They have gathered. Celebrating the day. A holiday. Right. What then? What was to come then was not universally anticipated as naturally positive. Saken is about to address those who were apprehensive furiously. He is looking for them, and he will succeed, and his voice will not falter at sentencing whatever the revolution must crush in its broad way.
Seyfullin did not have a previously composed text. Improvised speaking was a conventional means of addressing the audience. Seyfullin was also adhered to Lenin’s principle of conversations which sounded private. The speaker’s style (he was speaking in Russian) was not brilliantly elegant. The words he picked were sometimes crude, and his phrases often sounded awkward. And still one could not listen to the speaker without feeling an exciting tension and fascination. What was persuasive about his manner of speaking were the specificity of his expressions. He was speaking on the principal and very important issue which was equally significant for everybody, including friends and enemies, for the latter were still there back then and were trying to act in ambushes. It was to them that he snapped in a firm and hostile tone, “It is not someone who accompanied the Revolution till the middle of its wat but those who joined it – not necessarily in the very beginning – to march under its colors till the very end, till the victory is fully won who is important in terms of the Revolution. Those looking for warmer places for their own sake are digging, trying to dig a grave for out common goal!
The first rows produced exclamations of approval and applause. The rest of the public joined them.
“Companions”, as they were called then, companions from February to October, those who did not approve or were simply frightened by the principal position of the Preliminary Soviet People’s Commissariat, were grinning sarcastically. But they obviously felt uncomfortable. All of a sudden, Seyfullin gave up the formal tone. His voice was high-strung.
“I don’t want you to blabber about culture,” he glanced at someone he needed, “You aren’t the one to blabber. You, the so called bay intelligentsia, spent five hundred heads of cattle, which the famished Povolzhye needed to badly, for kalym, that is, to buy and sell women.
The audiences was buzzing with indignation. Those whom he was addressing were averting their eyes to hide their bodies in perfectly ironed castor suits from the disapproving eyes. Saken was beating them, throwing his fury and contempt them in the face, “You have no idea of the universal people’s culture, the culture of the communist society, of spiritual re-creation of the man, of creating the man not of clay but of light, intelligence, conscience, justice, beauty, and harmonious kindness. You cannot have any, for your mind is limited to the boundaries of your class.”
Seyfullin stopped as suddenly as he had started his devastating attack. He frowned, dropping his head a little; he even seemed to grimace, as if disapproving of his own hot temper. And continued to speak. Now he was speaking circumstantially, selecting expressions with great austerity. Aspect by aspect, he was describing what the Soviet government was giving to laborers. He was speaking on its worries, on universal education, on the resolution signed by Lenin which initiated the founding of the communist university.
“The university will not be an ordinary school. We see it as a high school to bring up people in accordance with communist moral and ideals.”
Having finished expounding on his idea, he went on with a sad intonation after a short pause, “I spent half a month traveling across Ural Governorate, Zhymbitinsk Uyezd. What did I find there? Just imagine that no Kazakh child had been sent to senior school in Uralsk. Instead, hundreds of children were learning from ignorant mullahs in dark and shabby dugouts. Only by applying my reputation and authority of the Chairman of the Soviet People’s Commissariat,” he gave a tiny smile, “I could force the local authorities to send three Kazakh girls, who had manifested their eagerness to study the previous year, to the Ural Soviet Party School. Their parents would not let them go, and the Uyezd management would not “hurt” the parents. But the three of them were sold – sold since they were in their cradles. Those who were expected to fight for their happiness were feasting at weddings, which were as large-scale as the kalym! Those are the most important culture problems which we must solve. They are extremely complex. Enlightment!” he raise his voice. “That’s what will eradicate all the evil. Enlightment in the broadest and deepest sense of the word. Now,” he said as he was about to go back to his seat, “after a small pause, we will watch a play. It is based on a play by the Russian writer Annenkova. It is a drama depicting the heroic struggle of a Kazakh batyr against tsarism for the freedom of his people. The name of the play is Beket, which is the name of the hero. For those showing off on their pretext on their allegedly being keepers of the national culture, I will say in conclusion: It is not right for us to refuse to maintain contacts with true friends in spite of their nationality. The tireless collector of Kazakh melodies Zatayevich is present here among us. He has collected and written down a thousand songs by our people. Let me mention Kazakh lyrical and heroic epic poetry, which is extremely diverse. With some minor exceptions, is it not such Russian scientists as Bartold, Berezin, Divayev, and others, who have collected and published it?
It was not a speech but simply a conversation concerning something, which was very important and necessary. Seyfulling smiled. His eyes, which looked warmer now, were sparkling with joy. And still is was a logical conclusion to his speech. He seemed to be looking for the denominator of the ideas expressed. He defined it the following way, «International friendship and fraternity of nations under the crimson banner of the October.”
Saken repeated his phrase on La Marseillaise, which the Revolution had turned into The International.
United by their shared aspiration, the people rose to their feet to sing the hymn of freedom, light, and reason. Saken joined the singers.
I have a clear memory of that as if it has happened yesterday. However, many years have passed!
The play left a lasting impression. We admired the actors greatly. We even remember their names. Maslov was playing Beket. Biranskaya was acting as his wife. The author of the play was acting as Beket’s mother.
Being inebriated with the extraordinary excitement, having a feeling of, dare I say it, being part of the heroism, we came back to the dormitory. We did not even regret giving our thread socks cards as an entrance fee. It had been well worth the cards.
We would not stop talking about it.
After three days, we came across Saken Seyfullin again. At that time, it happened in the newspaper Enbekshi Kazakh, where his review of the play was published. He could not overlook what helped us build the new life, gave people joy, and opened the door to the new school. That was his nature – a poet and an economist who had so many things to do and always looked for more. The reason why he was eager to work was that he did love and trust in the radiant future.
The time of Seyfullin was the hard morning of Kazakhstan’s today, when millions of rubles were invested daily in the building of communism. But Saken belongs to us, and he lives and will keep living here with us, as he used to do during the rough time when his motherland was being transformed.
The time of Seyfullin was that of ruin and famine. It was the time when Ilyich sent the five hundred pheasants that Kzylorda hunters had sent to him to an orphanage, giving a firm instruction to give each of them to the children.
The time of Seyfullin was the time when ignorance, poverty, spiritual and financial deprivation lived nearly in each Kazakh home.
But it was the time of great national daring to create the future happiness.
Saken lived with his people and fought whatever the Soviet government had inherited from the past. He treated young beginner writers with a moving concernment, was deeply interested in art, science, and the progress of people’s education. His life was made up of the human pain and joy. He was honest-to-goodness, gentle-hearted to the good, and implacable to the evil regardless of their appearance.
He must have foreseen our today, for he started to build it. The reason why he saw it might be his being romantic and capable of being. He was a poet.
1969
TRAVEL BROODINGS
Silence in my study and a pristine piece of paper of my desk by no means indicate loneliness. I am thinking of the life in my parts, seeing people whom I used to know, and, as Pushkin’s chronicler once said, I can see the past march before my eyes…
What has set me in the mood is my thinking on the great event in the life of my republic, that is, its 5-th anniversary. Time is fleeting. So many changes have been witnessed by my generation that I sometimes look at the calendar suspiciously – can it have been half a century? So little time seems to have passed since we, students of the Presnogorkovka School, discussed Lenin’s resolution dated as of August, 26 and titled “On Founding the Autonomous Kyrgyz (Kazakh) Socialist Soviet Republic” vigorously. A short while ago, I saw the newspaper again - the paper was yellow. But back then, in 1920, it had a pungent smell of fresh printer’s ink.
To people of my generation, the events and changes I have mentioned are not a page of a textbook to be learned and memorized but pages of life, pages of their biography.
Nowadays, we just cannot imagine the traditional steppe landscape without noticing silhouettes of new cities and settlements as well as enormous industrial systems, which for harmoniously into the scene. The slopes of the artificial hills close to Presnogorkovka, where I grew up, are already covered in green. The hills were growing while the Sokolovsko-Sarbayskiy Iron Ore Plant was producing more and more ore. What about the pyramidal piles of Karaganda mines? What about the numerous lights which break the taiga gloom in the Ore Altay? What about Baikonur – the planet’s first space port?
You can choose any random place on the map of Kazakhstan, and you will find astonishing changes which have been introduced to the people’s life, spiritual development, and aspirations, everywhere. Each of us can think of some based on his or her experience on the reality around us. Crops and oil, major chemical industry, ferrous and non-ferrous metal industry, mineral fertilizers, all kinds of agricultural products… It would be easier to list what the modern Kazakhstan does not produce than what it does.
But my speech must be controversial. I decided to give you no examples, for each of us can see them, and to elaborate on our life, on the events in which we have been participating most actively, instead.
For the writer, time and its accomplishments as well as characteristic features are most noticeable when illustrated with people’s life stories. I have always seen the chain of events in many generations as a whole. In my opinion, turning to the past, without which there would be no today, is not escaping the reality. The writer cannot escape his time.
Thus, I found it necessary to tell about the new ways which indigenous nomads used to find in tsarist times and how they became workers at copper ore and coil plants in the region thickly overgrown with caragana pea shrubs, which gave it the name of Karaganda. Their complicated lives and the new understanding of the place under the sun made up the basis of the novel The Land Awakened. A short time ago, when I was collecting facts for a short story on the famous telegram by Lenin addressed to Aral Sea fishers, I happened to brood on the historical destinations of the nation scattered across a vast territory – from the Caspian shore to the celestial mountains in the country’s east. It is a well-know fact that the telegram encouraged the fishers to help the famished population of Povolzhye. The fishers would repeat Lenin’s words, words which were simple and easy to understand and sounded like one addressing one’s neighbor on a rough day… For so little tile had passed since a common aul administrator treated them like dirt, not to mention the distant tsar. But there it was, the letter addressing them like relatives, like friends, like comrades-in-arms.
That request by Lenin made people think of what they were, feel their strength, their significance. Later, when they came to know about Lenin’s instruction to find a solution to the issue of providing the necessary equipment to Aral Sea fishers within forty five years, they also thought differently of life...
Throughout their history, the Kazakhs used to live not by days or months, they measured time in centuries, and centuries passed in their land without leaving any noticeable trace. That is the reason why the forty years which have passed since my nation was given a possibility to build its state seemed to us, contemporary people, to have been so extremely loaded with significant historic events.
“Undoubtedly, we will advance the region, and we will succeed.” Vladimir Ilyich had a perfect idea of the steppe’s future, he did know what power lay dormant in the people who had broken free from slavery and taken the road of liberty.
I look around the vast Kazakhstan in my mind…I join a tractor operator, who is ploughing the soil which was virgin so little time ago, in his cab. Along with a young engineer, I celebrate the new bore within a newly opened oil areas in Mangyshlak. Accompanied by an old sheepherder, I think of the time when the steppe seemed the same, and the sky with its stars was the same… But the people have changed beyond recognition; their attitude to life, to their role in it has changed. I release another portion of melt with a metal maker from Temirtau and drive a locomotive along the new Beyneu-Kungrad road with an engine driver…
The reason why I am telling you this is that the writer follows every social, economic, political, and cultural shift in people’s life, which he does mainly by observing certain people. To him, reflections, say, on the technical progress, on new ways of agricultural development, and on industry management methods are inseparable from the people who are to solve colossal problems, from their morale, hopes, concern and pleasures, and victories they win on their way.
The writer who studies a person closely and shares life with him or her cannot overlook the character’s occupation. For instance, if it is a boring expert, the author will definitely know his thoughts before bringing a well into production, for he must be apprehensive of possible kick-offs and accidents.
At the same time, we cannot imagine the writer as a bookworm permanently walking around with a notebook, in which he is always putting down notes on his interlocutor’s features, the landscape, or technical detail. No way! What one needs is to live among people and to know them as well as one knows his close friends.
I belong to the generation of people who can do not abstract but experience-based comparison. Thus, I cannot resist remembering things, and I cannot resist thinking about time. Our memory is a great gift given to us by nature. Everything we see, hear, guess, fathom, and feel turns into we conventionally call life.
Memories of 1930 are brought to my mind… It is rather strange, as it has been forty years since then, but I can see my Almaty so clearly, and it is so different from what is looks now, and still it is so precious to me, as youth is always precious to the man. In a quiet uncobbled street, there is a building which looks like a palace among the old squat houses. It is the KazPI, the Kazakh Pedagogical Institute, an isolated spot where the national culture was represented and in which creative ideas were being formed, where a more or less well-educated person used to provoke surprise and respect a short while before. Representatives of the nation, summoned up by the Revolution, gathered therein, working our plans for the future, yet just dreaming of what we have today.
I can see them alive. I do not have to strain my ears to hear their voices, to feel the warmth of their smile. In a manner of speaking, I continue what they initiated, though I have not completed all of what I would like to do. Saken Seyfullin, Beimbet Maylin, Ilyas Dzhansugurov, Zhumat Shanin, Oraz Zhandosov, Kalibek Kuanyshbayev, and Kulash Bayseitova are present here… I knew them all. I knew them not only because I read their books and saw them acting. It seems to me I can guess how they would talk to me today, on the great day of the anniversary of our republic, for which each of us has done a lot.
But then... Back then, the great campaign to the country of enormous social transformations only began. The whole life was before us – the unmeasurable accomplishments, the great challenges, and the war against fascist occupants, which was extraordinarily large-scale and ruinous. Indeed, it was not in the past as it is now; it was where our destination lay.
I can easily imagine the sincere joy of Saken, Ilyas, and Beimbeet, whose writing used to awake the native steppe for a new life, whose work was aimed at truly significant socialist transformation in the Kazakh land, which was both ancient and ever young.
Having left the KazPI building, I would take them to Lenin Avenue. Of course, they would be delighted by the architectural verve. They would proudly read out the names of research institutes within the impressive complex of the Academy of Science to each other. They would bow to Abay in the avenue named after him, after the poet and enlightener, who dreamt of a happy future for his nation in the past, which is not distant.
Travel brooding... Traveling is joy, for it makes one experience what one has been through again and leads to the future. Indeed, we used to dream of having a city like this – a city with many children and many schools for them, which would be full of life; with many plants and factories producing things which people needed; comfortable domestic buildings, iridescent fountains, sports grounds, and stores…
I can hear the voice of Saken, “Amazing!”
He was an emotional person and would not conceal the feelings which would certainly come upon him at seeing the Almaty of today and our *Kazakhstan in general.
At the beginning of the article, I gave the reader an opportunity to add his or her experience to fill the gaps in the evidence to our constant progress. But, speaking of large-scale building, new dams, electrical power stations, ore and coal mines, beautiful cities in the desert, improved roads and irrigation ditches, and of the virgin soil transformed, we need to bear in our mind the man thing – the purpose for which it has been created.
I travel abroad. I have been to Japan several times. They do some building as well – they do a lot of it, and it is of good quality. The only problem is that a man of labor in capitalist countries is an abstract concept; he or she just occupies some place at a machine, in a field, or at a desk. His life, his hopes and expectations, and he himself are of no social interest.
I have found the word “employment”, which has the same meaning in all languages but implies different attitudes, to be differently interpreted as well. “To be employed”, “to stay unemployed” ... Millions of people who are by no means lapped in luxury use the words to describe their constant worries. In our country, employment provides vast and radiant horizons for creative work of highest purpose, during which lofty objectives are set.
It would be unacceptably careless to claim that our country is a picture of wealth in pink light. But we are truly proud to know that the October Revolution, the Communist Party, and the multinational Soviet people living as a united family have committed an unprecedented heroic deed by creating a society of free and equal people and maintain a highly humanistic principle, which is the following, “Man is a friend and brother to a man.”
We apply the principle to all people with whom we share the planet; we are always eager to support them in their struggle for freedom and happiness.
My book A Soldier from Kazakhstan was once translated into Vietnamese. To me it was given a new life. Writers often feel this way when his characters are to undertake a distant journey and talk to people from a different country in their native language.
Kairgaliy Sartaleyev, a soldier from Kazakhstan, heads for Vietnam, which is fighting proudly, to our brothers, who are the living examples of revolutionary firmness, courage, and determination in their righteous struggle against the aggressive force, which is a hundred times as large. Being a common young man from a Kazakh aul in the Caspian Sea region, he became a soldier. He could not have acted differently when his Motherland was in danger of being destroyed. I hope that now, after twenty five years, Kairgaliy will tell Vietnam about the enormous price which the Soviet people had to pay for the hard-won victory over rabid fascism.
To me, the novelette A Soldier from Kazkahstan was the most expansive work on the enormous and complex contemporary subject. After the book had been finished and published, I happened to see the man who was the prototype of the protagonist and the narrator. His real name is the same as it is in the book – Kairgaliy, or shortly Kayrush. His real surname is Smagulove. The truly existing Kayrush survived the war till the last shot and returned home. He lives in Guryevo, and his occupation is most peaceful – he is responsible for occupational and technical training of teenagers, preparing them to be working class employees.
Having found out that A Soldier from Kazakhstan was about to meet the heroic Vietnam, Kayrush was as excited as I was and asked me to greet our Vietnamese friends and wish them good luck in their victorious march in their foreword, which I was about to write. Besides, he said, “We started battles thinking – win or die! If someone thinks that he or she can bring people to their knees by means of weapon, he or she has no idea of the words. No matter how hard the struggle is, truth will always win!
I cannot but agree with his words. Besides, I would like to add that whenever I think of time, I cannot but think back of my peers, the room of the Kazakh Pedagogical Institute, in which wise and passionate people, founders of the national culture used to meet. You can find them all across the republic today. They are marching around the country, and the world can hear their voices...
Once I happened to tell a lot about Abay, whose Abay saga has been traveling across the globe, in Cairo, where African and Asian countries gathered. I did not conceal the pride I took in the fact of our being recognized and of people’s reading books, which could serve as an example to follow.
To show our life, dicers and complex as it is without overlooking the difficulties which we face as pioneers and which we have to overcome is to depict the great accomplishments of the Soviet State and the Soviet Kazakhstan, which is a part of it currently celebrating its 50th anniversary.
“Undoubtedly, we will advance the area, and we will succeed.” The saying by Lenin is extremely topical today in respect of our objectives and problems, and so they shall sound tomorrow...
Cooperation and mutual help of nations, their trust in the radiant future is a real power, which will let us overcome any obstacles on our way to the peak we want to climb.
We are on the road…
1970
THE NATION'S SPIRITUAL RENAISSANCE
Only a fortnight is separating us from the wonderful day on which we will celebrate the birthday of our native republic, the jubilee of Kazakhstan’s existence within the great army of the commonwealth of social states, nations, and ethnical groups of the Soviet Union.
The unshakable basis of the free Republic of Kazakhstan was laid like a granite monolith with the momentous decree dated as of August 26, 1920, which was signed by the great transformer of human society and, consequently, the entire world V. Lenin.
For the first time, the Kazakh proverb “Yelu zhylda yel zhana!”, which used to be merely a dream of the nation’s most progressive thinkers for centuries, has come true. Nowadays, the colossal transformations and accomplishments of the Soviet Kazakhstan which have taken place within the 50 high-strung and fitful years, have been truly rapid enough to meet the criteria of the epoch of Leninism.
Being driven by the peaceful and efficient impulse of the ever-growing accumulation of its tangible and spiritual culture, the free Kazakhstan has made a bold step towards progress, keeping pace with the universally rapid historical development of the century. You and I are living witnesses to the magic increase in the spiritual energy of our nation, society, and humanity, to constant complaints and moaning about national, personal, and social degradation, technical domination, and people is becoming nothing more than technical redundancy in the capitalist world!
Our history of the past is written with horses’ hooves across the vastness of the great Kazakh land, and two twin sisters, Poetry and Music, have been preserving its content carefully for the generations to come.
It is one of the aspects in which literature and art are historically significant – the saddest and the most important things about individual and social life are most meticulously and directly estimated and generalized as cultural values.
Everyone will understand the reason why I call the Kazakh land a great land as we get closer to the end of the 20th century and the beginning of the 12st century, when our Mother Earth will have to feed not three and a half billion people but 7 to 8 billiard!
Certainly, it was not before the fire of the October Revolution broke out that the truly spiritual revival of the Kazakh nation began. Kazakh workers turned out to be capable of reacting efficiently to the proletarian revolution ideas. At revolutionary fronts, from the west boundaries of the former Russian Empire to the most remote east boundaries, hundreds of sons of the Kazakh nations whose names are known and thousands of nameless ones took active participation in the events.
Eventually, the first poems and songs, short stories and plays were born atop of the revolutionary wave to define the ideological and artistic trend in the development of the new Kazakh literature and culture.
It was not before the Revolution that the profound meaning behind Abay’s saying “The Russians see the world!” became clear. It was not before the Revolution that we started to maintain a broad network of contacts with Russian classical and revolutionary literature, and through them, with the entire progressive world literature. The crucial fact helped us, Kazakh literary and cultural workers, to master the many centuries’ experience of progress and find the shortest ways to reach the destination as soon as possible.
Literature, journalism, and music are the first spheres to enter the social stage to be later joined by theater, cinema, painting, sculpture, and architecture, which currently make up an enormous ideological front, at which a numerous army of cultural workers acts. Nowadays, representatives of each of the types of art, especially literature, have produced outstanding masters – People’s Artists of the Soviet Union and Kazakhstan, holders of the Lenin Prize and the USSR State Prize, the Republican Prize, and a number of international rewards.
Speaking of them, I would like to put special emphasis on the outstanding role of M. Auezov, who departed from this life so early and who pioneered various genres and kinds not only of literature but also of art. It was he who forced us to progress, demanding ideologically and artistically full-blooded, that is, and masterfully written works.
Besides, I would like to specially emphasize another positive phenomenon in the sphere of literature and art, that is, the fact that our older generation is slow when it comes to getting old and quite productive when it comes to working, while the younger generation gets mature much faster than it used to be twenty five years ago. In my opinion, both facts are equally delightful.
So in my opinion, the post-war youth boom in literature as well as in art is the dominant, central core to all of our creative organizations. Works by them are deservedly recognized not only within the republic but also within all across the Soviet Union and beyond its borders.
Having read two short stories by Korolenko which still lacked maturity, A. Chekhov said that he would be happy not only to accompany but also to follow him. Thus, having read the latest book by young prose writers and poets, I can say what Chekhov said to Korolenko to some of them. Masters of finest art and psychological analysis and synthesis can be seen behind their works, which are nearly the first ones in their career.
As Kazakhstan is the most international republic in terms of its population, a large army of renowned representative of Russian, Ukrainian, Uigur, Korean, and other Soviet cultures and literatures work here. Whatever has been said above is equally applicable to all of them. I should say that the fact makes the condition extremely favorable for constant experience exchange and, what is more important, creative competition. Those who have the noble ambitions of improving their skills cannot look up to their fathers and brothers only.
This all makes a firm basis for the assumption that we can talk about mature Kazakhstani literature and art.
Thus, we have the objectives characteristic of the maturity period.
It is widely known that there is no limit to perfection in literature as well as art. I find it quite logical that our paragon indicators, those of the ideological and artistic level of a work are terribly obsolete. We need to be more exacting to works of literature, to criticism, to the atmosphere of cooperation, and especially to the creative activities of our Unions.
The well-known party slogan “Criticism and self-criticism” has been translated inaccurately into Kazakh; in fact, it has been twisted, especially its second part. The way in which the word “self-criticism” is translated – “oz ara syn” literally means “inter-personal criticism”… The reason why I mention it that even we, people of creative occupations, sometimes neglect the true meaning behind the sacred phrase and fail to meet the requirements of the modern art.
Is the fact that no theater of the capital, not to mention others, could stage a new play on our today, on our people and labor accomplishments laudable? I should say the same but it a more emotional manner when it comes to the most cutting-edge type of art, that is, cinema. But in both cases, we, playwrights, and the Writers’ and Cinema Workers’ Unions are largely guilty of failing to summon their human resource in due time and in a business-like manner.
I do hope that heads of creative unions will give us a clear account of their specific accomplishments as well as their objectives and problems currently addressed during this joint plenary meeting.
The reason why our Joint Plenary Meeting of Kazakhstani Creative Unions has been summoned is not only the anniversary celebration but also the 24th Convention of the CPSU.
The entire population of the Soviet Union is willing to show high labor enthusiasm to the participants of the Meeting. The colors of socialist competition are even higher. Undoubtedly, agricultural, industrial, scientific, and cultural workers of Kazakhstan will welcome the event with great labor energy.
Like all of you, I am well aware of the creative intentions of our Unions as well as certain artists and writes, but I know nothing of the results of their implementation. High-principled works on our glorious contemporaries, of people who give the country coal and oil, metal and bread, that is, active life immersion, is what today’s artists are focused on.
But when it comes to depicting the heroic labor life of Kazakhstan, there are certain problems, some of which are connected directly with preparations for the Meeting.
They are to some extent solvable, mostly by means of short stories, sketches, photographic sketches, and journalism. Special business trips for writers and cultural workers must be organized for the period before the meeting, all kinds of travel activities must be used to depict the face of our labor republic as fully as possible.
I hope that the heads of our creative unions will tell the Meeting about their concrete undertakings in relation to the highly significant 14th CPSU Convention.
1970
WHAT HAVE I DONE?
It dawns rapidly in the steppe. A moment ago, the hills were covered in darkness, which was enveloping the lowland, and the steppe was imperturbable and alert; and now there is light over the horizon. At first, it is cold greenish spots, but then it is a colorful feast which takes your breath away. And here it is – the crystal morning, pristine in its quietness, young and broad.
On the wonderful days when our nation and the Communist Party of Kazkahstan are celebrating their holiday, accompanied by the entire giant, prosperous country, one has a special manner of, in a manner of speaking, looking inside oneself to ask a straightforward question. “What have I done?” What has been done by all of us?” One does not have to consult reports; if one’s eyes are open to see the life, one can see the colossal transformations performed by the Soviet man and our socialist society. I mean the financial, economic aspect. But there are things to which standard measures do not apply. Of course, the republic’s Academy of Science, universities, institutes, colleges, schools, as well as famous district and academic theaters and the republic’s large army of writers speak for themselves. But the truly colossal aspects of the national culture’s formation and blossom, exuberant and majestic, though it would be more accurate to call the culture of today international, cannot be possibly embraced and analyzed on one’s own in the silence of one’s study. No. It is only the collective will what is capable of it.
We had to start with elementary things. We had to develop our theater and drama from the level of rickety stages in shabby barns till they became what they are now. Mukhtar Auezov staged his plays in double yurts – the stage was placed in one part, which the audience sat in the other. The writer and member of the Academy of Science Sabit Mukanov was illiterate till the age of seventeen, but now his books are known all across the world.
The great used his powerful mind to look into the future. Thinking of the future of his native steppe, he instructed the Kazakhs to maintain friendship with the Russian people. “They see the world,” he said. Back in the 90s, he naturally could not expect Russia, its proletariat, the impoverished peasantry, and the national provinces of the former autocratic empire to rouse a fire of the Great Socialist Revolution to illuminate the human mind after as little as thirteen years after his death.
In his activities, the renowned enlightened of the steppe Ibray Altynsarin adhered to Ushynskiy’s progressive pedagogical ideas. In his Kyrgyz Reader, Altynsarin expressed the opinion of his teacher in an extremely clear way. Besides, that is what Kazakh prose fiction originated with. However, the formation of the written realist Kazakh literature is closely connected to the name of Abay Kunanbayev, but it was the peak, to which Altynsarin has treaded paths. He translated I. Krylov, L. Tolstoy, and V. Dal.
We would not have achieved a thousandth of what we have done together if we had been alone, far from the friendly family of our people. This is what makes us blood brothers. Working and fighting for out Soviet Motherland, and then again taking pleasure in creative labor, we brought our hearts and should closer to each other, and our minds grew stronger, for we did believe that the policy of Lenin’s Party was the sole right policy, meeting the requirements of Soviet people in spite of their nationality.
I am employing general concepts in my speech. I have been abroad, including capitalist countries. I am not going to contrast the life of any of them to our ideas. I cannot even imagine it, for it would be like uniting the world with the anti-world.
But you feel like you are lost when abroad. You are absolutely unwanted. You are floating with the waves of fate, but where are they going to take you? Who cares...
We are not used to it. And we cannot be. The very order of Soviet co-existence excludes the jungle morals, if you pardon my using the word. The humanistic ideals we employ are belligerently opposed to the bourgeois concept of “liberty”. The individual is not an abstract or extra class concept. One who deals in big money is an individual, as well as unemployed one. But to see them as the same kind would mean to imagine them covered with fid leaves of equality, which we find to be shameless sacrilege. We are well aware of its true price, too.
No, we do not overlook our burning problems, which trouble us. We merely prefer to celebrate the best of what we have instead of digging into “everyday trifles”.
Within fifty years, Kazakh literature, our national culture have risen to such a shiny peak of which Abay, whom another renowned son of his nation, Mukhtar Auezov, glorified in such a wonderful manner, could not dream. The saga The Way of Abay is known all over the world, and the author is recognized by many billions of readers. The book was globally distributed in Russian. Anna Nikolskaya and Leonid Sobolev worked hard to prepare the translation. As I see it, it corresponds to the beautiful tradition of friendship recommened to us by such great sons of our nation as Ibray Altynsarin, Chokan Valikhanov, and Abay Kunanbayev.
The October gave the Kazakh people independence, as it was with all of formerly oppressed colonial nations of the tsarist Russia. The youth of the 70th is its immediate heir. It is to march under its crimson banner tomorrow to march the future, which we are building today.
Our spiritual aspirations rest on a powerful material basis. We have publishing offices and art journals. For instance, Zhuldyz is published in about 160, 000 copies! Books by our writers are read by millions of people both in Kazakhstan, in our country, and beyond its borders. Playwrights bring their plays to theaters of highly developed stage culture.
But standing on the peak where we are now, we can see a vast space. The nation’s creative will is working out new plans for truly radiant ascensions. To depict the beauty of the national spirit and the man who is the owner of his life… What a wonderful task it if for every Soviet artist!
These are my thoughts on pre-festive days. The days of great elation, days on which I think, “Have you done everything possible? Could you do more?”
1970
SEVERAL WORDS OF TRADITION AND INNOVATION
As I was thinking over my speech, which I was to deliver here in Delhi, in front of my penmates, I found it necessary to share my opinion on the problem which writers of many African and Asian countries have been facing, to share my experience accumulated by Soviet national literatures.
Quite logically, the victory of the social and nation liberation revolution in African and Asian countries brings about the situation in which the best thinkers of the nation’s look for the shortest and most efficient ways of development as well as literary and cultural progress. It is just as natural that they face a number of controversial problems, which have to be solved immediately so that there is a free choice of ways, at a certain stage. I think that the time we are living in makes the issue of tradition and innovation more pressing than ever, while tradition and innovation are inextricably connected with the issue of the national and international in literature and culture in general.
This is what I would like to talk about.
The revolution has won its victory, and social transformations and changes are taking place; the turning point has come. Each nation cannot but cast a glance at its past, which is necessary to have a clearer idea of the future and to redefine our moral standards and cultural values.
Though it sounds different in different languages, mother is the first word each baby utters… Mother is the one who feeds it, takes care of it, caresses it, and brings it up. Thus, a grown man who has broken the chains of oppression will think of his Motherland, of his nation, and of the national characteristic features – all the things, which used to be oppressed and humiliated. While working, every writer feels the same!
But time is fleeting, and the earth rotates, so there is no bringing the past back. Those who prefer not to notice it are in great danger... Too much attention paid to the national features, only to the national ones, easily turns into nationalism, which appears to be limited in time and space straightaway, leading to snobbishness, self-isolation, and, eventually, to inevitable suicide. The noble striving to return the cultural values violently withdrawn by colonialism to one’s nation and the tendency to get oneself locked within the tight limits of national isolation have nothing in common. To say more, they are mutually exclusive.
I am a national Kazakh writer. In my life, I have experienced many things, and I have come to know many things of what has prevented our literature from progressing and stipulated its development both from my own experience and from those of my comrades. Please not that when I am speaking of literature, I mean culture in general. I believe myself to be entitled to refer to that experience of mine to say that not every national feature characteristic of literature and culture as well as people’s lifestyle and deeds can be in advance of its epoch at every stage of development.
I would not like you to find the two examples, which I am going to give you odd. I find them very convincing, though they deal with most ordinary everyday phenomena. My distant ancestors, nomads of the wild Asian steppe, once invented objects that turned out to be quite useful in everyday life – the round felt yurt and the piece of clothing names pants. Leather pants were necessary for horse riding during long-distance wandering, raids, and military retreats, while the yurt became the best accommodation for the nomadic cattle-breeder.
Well… Nowadays, I would not suggest the yurt as the basis for city planning in Kazakhstan, even though I am delighted to replace my city apartment with a sheep or horse herder’s yurt when going to the steppe in summer.
Pants, which I am prepared to call trousers for the sake of euphony, have been developing differently. With some rare exceptions like the Scots, trousers have totally conquered the male population across the globe. Moreover, if you cast your glance from Delhi to Paris via Almaty and Moscow, you will see that trousers are getting increasingly popular with the female population of our planets. The all-mighty rulers are gone, the kingdoms are ruined, but trousers remain.
I am not afraid to be accused of carelessness when comparing the two phenomena to infer that the situation is largely the same when it comes to national features about culture and literature. Marx said that Achilles could not exist in the epoch of gunpowder. The Empire of Zulu ruled by Shaka as well as the empire of Genghis is unthinkable today both in its content and their form.
The literature of Asian and African countries differs in its development nowadays and, quite logical, has unequal experience and diverse traditions. Our primary objective, which I believe to be the purpose of our gathering, is to assist this or that literature in passing through the inevitable stages that other literatures have already left behind due to being better-developed. It brings about the necessity of multilateral cultural exchange. Please mind that I mean not immature imitation but mastering the experience of progressive literatures.
I am sure that it is the only way in which national writers will obtain their truly national traditions and be able to create full-blooded books worth reading, books meant for people building a new life of freedom and equal rights. None of great 19th century’s writers was ashamed to admit learning from his outstanding contemporaries. (As you remember, Dostoyevsky said that we all came out of Gogol’s Overcoat).
Thinking of the way covered by Kazakh literature, I do not find it disgraceful to admit that its prose appeared under the favorable influence of Tolstoy and Chekhov, Balzac and Flaubert, Gogol and Gorky, Tagor, Lu Sin… I could give a longer list of glorious names.
However, we should not forget that each baby born has, cannot but have features and peculiarities of its own. Mechanical transition of other people’s brilliant achievements into different ground, which lacks creativity, is nothing but heavy-footed imitation, which can not only hamper the normal development of this or that literature but also even absolutely depersonalize it. In such case, the global culture would experience certain danger as well, for it would be deprived of certain aspects of its national diversity. The danger sometimes arises, and it has to be foreseen so that the downplaying impact of the vulgar pseudo-avant-garde modernization can be prevented.
The other reason why I have to remind you such things is that the process of intense standardization, unification, and leveling of minds process is currently taking place in our complicated world. We must fully realize the fact that what is useful in the sphere of industry, city and road construction can be perilous in terms of the contemporary man’s spiritual life. To level human personalities is to kill people’s will, kill the spirit of freedom, and force people to cave in forever. This is what neocolonialism is fighting for with great determination. Being forced to leave its former dominion, neocolonialism is trying to leave there its gods, its role models.
As I see it, the writer’s objective is to struggle tirelessly for the unique nature of each human being, each nation, for unique creative thinking. It is the only way nations can make a decent contribution into the global culture.
THE LAND AWAKENED
I spent my childhood in the world of folk heroic epic poems. I was always eager to listen to some and could recite large pieces.
I enjoyed watching the sky, “fortunetelling” by clouds – they would give me wonderful white racehorses, crimson baby camels, and curly lambs.
I also saw migrants from Central Russia moving to our steppe. I saw them die of starvation; I saw shepherds, often famished, help Russian and Ukrainian families; I saw animal breeders go to Karaganda mines after dreary murrains. It is their similar lives and interests, which make Old Shilo, descendant from a renowned miner family, and the hero Bulanbay, characters of my novel The Land Awakened, close to each other. They became “tamyrs”. Great proletarian friendship originated in Karaganda mines.
Working on the second volume of The Land Awakened, I went to Karaganda and other industrial cities of North Kazakhstan many times. I have been meeting the prototypes of my characters. Many of them are dead; many are now enjoying their well-deserved rest. Their children and grandchildren are now running things in the new industrial Karaganda. They work in a city, which is constantly developing. What an enormous step into the future Karaganda made within the eighth five-year plan! New enterprises have appeared, and Irtysh water is running to Karaganda down the canal under construction. The draft Resolutions on the new five-year plan mention Karaganda many times – a metallurgic coal enrichment factory is to be built; the construction of the metallurgical complex is to be largely finished; new cement production plants are to be commissioned at the Novokaragandinskiy Cement Plant; the construction of the rubber goods factory is to be completed…
The draft Resolutions of the 24th Convention of the CPSU claims that the republic’s industrial output will grow by 57-60% within the five years’ period and that further development of the electrical industry, non-ferrous and ferrous metallurgy, fuel, chemical, food, and consumer good industry, as well as machine building will be provided… It is only the Soviet government who could introduce such abrupt changes to my nation’s many years’ way!
I looked back, into the past, to keep on going forwards, towards my new books about new heroes of the new time.
1971
THE GENEROSITY OF THE GREAT HERITAGE
It is not every artist who has to fulfill a historically significant mission of his time, a mission to deny an entire system of views and convictions, norms and standards, which have been withstanding the challenge of many decades and even centuries.
Not every artist possesses a perfect sense of the life’s pulse in his mother’s womb, a sense of the turning point from the obsolete to the unknown, which is yet to be born, for to deny what exists, not to mention cutting new ways towards new horizons requires the artist to posses colossal spiritual power and dynamic energy as well as to make enormous effort of will and mind.
Quite naturally, different artists perceive the call of time as the messenger of the changes coming, which seems to sound similarly to everyone but them falls into numerous hues and colors of sound and word differently. One needs keen hearing and a deep mental vision, which is characteristic of highly talented people. The great Kazakh thinker and poet, the history’s high fidelity barometer who truly mouthed his nation’s hopes and expectations Abay Kunanbayev, whose 125th anniversary our entire multinational Soviet country has just celebrated, was just that kind of person.
Marx mentioned the ordinary extraordinarily of the poetic soul. Poets living next door to you, virtually in the same street, often find their harmony with the present in the distant past. I did not mean it to sound like a reproach. Hundreds and thousands of folk works, world classic fables and tales, contain the biggest library of human memory, thought, wisdom, and aspiration for a better living ever. That is why the great playwright Shakespeare often turned to events which had happened 17-20 centuries before he was born, due to which his works are still fully alive in the global world of literature. The poet finds himself in trouble only in case he glorifies the past as a pattern to follow in the present, not to speak of the future.
Fortunately, one is unlikely do so. The poet can see totally unnoticed features of the future in the present. The past, the present, and the future make an in dissociable entity to him, like links within the chain of social development and individual maturing.
He views his mission as denying whatever has been enchaining the deeds and poisoning the mind of the society and people contemporary to him. He eradicates whatever smothers and muffles any spiritual novelty to bury it mercilessly. He becomes a fighter in the broadest meaning of the word.
The great poet and enlighten Abay Kunanbayev was a rugged fighter in the most complicated sphere of consciousness, in the losing battle for human soul and heart, that is, for the pith and marrow of that kind.
However, we should not forget the famous warning by Marx, “History acts in a fundamental manner!” There are some things, which a lonely fighter cannot cope with. It is hares to understand Abay if you do not take into consideration the essence of his time, the epoch of stagnated feudalism, the state of the Kazakh nation’s accumulated mental energy and cultural values.
It is a well-known fact that the Kazakh nation has always inhabited a vast territory – from the Caspian Sea to the Altay, from the Urals to the Alatau Mountains. It had large lakes which are historically called seas, boundaryless camping land in the green valleys of its numerous affluent rivers. Tribes and clans would meet many times a year in such camps to celebrate their seeing each other and parting for many days in a row, when horseback competitions, freestyle wrestling, archery competitions, and those of signers and poets of both sexes were held. That was how the genre of poetic competition (the aytys) as well as the rich Kazakh lyrical epic poetry were originated.
The Kazakh steppe has suffered many raids by Asian invaders, which brought about ruination and death. The Kazakh nation has heroically withstood numerous attacks to win back its freedom and Motherland. Its rich heroic epic literature was created on the basis of those real events. I must say without false modesty that the Kazakh nation occupies one of the first places among all nations across the globe in terms of richness of its lyrical and heroic epic poetry.
That was the powerful national poetic home front of 19th century Kazakh poets, including Abay Kunanbayev.
Back in the time of Abay Kunanbayev, works by the great classic authors, such as Central Asian and Arab Eastern poets, were quite popular. Along with religious scholasticism and mysticism, Kazan and Tashkent used to publish nearly all of their major works in Turkic-Chagatai and Turkic-Tatar based on the conventional Arab alphabet on a large scale. Moreover, the spelling of printed works was not that unintelligible back then, and all Turkic-speaking nations could easily read and understand each other’s original works. It was neither infrequent nor accidental for a steppe dweller to buy a couple of books, of course in verse, on his way back from the market or a fair. We, people born at the beginning of the century, can give our testimony to the fact that each bookworm of the steppe necessarily had a little library of poetic works, mostly Kazakh lyrical and heroic epic things and those by outstanding Central Asian poets. Abay and many of his contemporaries occupied with poetry has their trunks full of books.
The young poet Abay Kunanbayev, about to put his very first poem down, chooses not God, as many poets did, to ask for a blessing, but his great teachers, poets of affined Oriental nations:
Fuduli, Shamsi, Saykhaln,
Navoi, Saasi, Firdousi,
Khoja Hafiz — you all,
Help me pour my heart out
In verse.
By the time Abay Kunanbayev entered his period of maturity, that is, by the last quarter of the 19th century, Russian printed issues had started to be widely established in Kazakh towns and villages. Abay Kunanbayev was frequenting the library of Semipalatinsk. We have a most rare evidence to the unique fact providedby an accidental visitor of the library, a traveler, the American journalist J. Cannan, who reported Abay Kunanbayev to be diligent in European philosophy, which he studied in Russian translations, according to the information given by the librarian Leontyev, who had spent as long as an evening discussing Draper’s History of the Intellectual Development of Europe.
The mass exile of representatives of the progressive democratic Russian thinking, the so-called Sixtiers, among which Abay Kunanbayev found dozens of friends and like-minded people, to “distant prison”, that is, to Kazakhstan, coincided with that period.
It was the most important period in the writer’s life, for the door to science and realistic poetry as well as new trends in the worlds’ social thinking were open to him owing to Russian printed issues.
It is beyond doubt that the modest Semipalatinsk Library and the contacts with progressive democratic thinkers served as a high school to Abay Kunanbayev, helping him find his vocation, find not only the principal focus of his poetry but also his intended role – that of a poet and a citizen in the life of people and society.
World cognition through science, introducing his nation to culture in the broadest sense of the world, and struggle against feudalist stagnation, ignorance, and backwardness were the lifetime framework worked out by the poet before he took his pen again.
“The Russians see the world!” he utters his famous saying, encouraging his people to maintain friendship with the Great Russian nation. Please mind that it took place under the circumstances of the national liberation struggle of the Kazakhs and other nations against Russian tsarism, which was constantly subsiding to flare up again.
Abay Kunanbayev was a unique phenomenon not only for his time and for century when it came to foreseeing the further events and the prospects of self-protection as well as the normal development of the nations oppressed by the tsarist Russia. He worked out a solution for everybody oppressed as well as the answer to Shakespeare’s question “To be or not to be?” His promotion of friendship with the second Russia was the solution and the answer.
I would like to give another important example from the poet’s private life in this respect. He sent his two sons, Abrakhman and Magaviya, to officer schools in Petersburg, while his brother Halil Kunanbayev graduated from the military school and Mikhail Artillery School.
That was a brief account of the prehistory of Abay Kunanbayev’s poetic life, his national poetic front, and his schools and universities, which he finished successfully and on his own, just as A. Gorky.
The great creator and transformer of the Kazakh literary language Abay Kunanbayev did not truly belong to poetry until he was quite mature - 35—40 years old. He entered the sphere filled with realization of his civil duty as a poet, though unaware of the historical mission he was entrusted by the time, and the history of his nation. He came as the new time’s voice and sober reason, sweeping away whatever was obsolete in form and content furiously.
Everything marked by religion and scholasticism, everything primitive and cheap, traditionally stereotyped, produced by lack of reflection and dull intelligence was drowning in the future torrent of Abay’s poetry, in the green whir of the new spring till it was gone. For the first time ever, the oral poetic and bookish scholastic works accumulated in the steppe were combed thoroughly. Abay cleared the sky, the air, and the soil for the nascent new poetry, science, and art.
He severely disapproved and castigated his poetic predecessors and contemporaries mercilessly for empty contents as well as stereotyped and patchwork-like form. Abay demanded all constituents of poetry to be united harmoniously. He disapproved of desperation and doomed feelings, lament for what could not be brought back, which was characteristic of many poets of his time, for even contemporaries can have watches, which indicate different time. But the wise Abay Kunanbayev was well aware of the great truth, “Everything is in a state of flux; nothing is constant.”
However, it would be unjust to omit the fact that a sad shadow of memories of youth sometimes passed across the poets face, and he felt as if the vastness of the steppe, the choir of nomadic camps, hunt, the austere beauty of winter, and the charm of spring were calling for him. But disillusionment was inevitable. He experienced the “benefits” of being part of the steppe aristocracy, the degrading power of unlimited authority and high status in the quiet steppe. He knew how powerful slavish worship and inevitable treachery had.
With his powerful mind and charisma, Abay Kunanbayev could have become a top man of the governorate, though under the aegis of the governor. However, he turned his back to it to plunge into poetry forever. Nevertheless, Abay’s concentration of poetry bore no trace of escapism; on the contrary, it was the meaningless life of the upper class that he escaped for the lively and dynamic world of poetry, which substituted radio and television as well as theater and cinema, propaganda and press back then. Paradoxically, Abay entrusted the burden of social, educational, and progressive ideas and information to poetry. Bot coincidentally, each line of his verse is full of thoughts exercising an active complex influence of human heart and mind. That was the manifestation of not only the poet’s civil courage but also his wisdom in terms of reappraisal of values.
Twenty years had passed since the young Abay sought the blessing of great Oriental poets before he became the mature man who was called Abay Aga and took his goose quill with a completely review opinion on his poetic mission. I guess there is something symbolical about the fact that Abay Aga started his career with a goose quill and finished his immortal works with a steel pen.
All the poetically beautiful, insightful, humane, exacting, and austere things, which make up the great poet’s legacy originated at the realism-oriented turning point.
The poetic life of Abay Aga was too short – it made about a quarter century. However, he managed to do the work, which has taken us fifty years to study – not completely! – Within the period. He altered the conventional concept of the essence and mission of poetry in social life. Being a great transformer and reformer of the poetic word, Abay Aga dedicated his whole life to meticulous work so that literature could become a means of bringing up the social human being. Certainly, he set the highest premium on poetry.
Abay Aga worked tirelessly to make poetry perfect by introducing new forms of verse, developing the eurhythmy and figurability, the precision and imaginative power of the literary language. His principal requirement to literary language was that the rules of harmonious unity of form and content should be mastered and adhered to. His innovations are so accurate and simple that no contemporary, even highly talented poet has managed to excel him at is. The poetry of the innovative Abay Aga is not based on seemingly new formalist tricks; he did not employ inversion or alliteration. Each of his new forms is astonishingly simple and natural. Being a truly great poet representing his native land and ground, Abay aga was free of eclecticism and imitation. When Abay Aga shouted his major poem Poetry is the Queen of Words! To the world, he was definitely manifesting this kind of poetry.
Literary scholars and writers from Kazakhstan and Moscow have done a lot in terms of collecting and reconstructing texts by Abay as well as publishing his complete works with commentary, a glossary of Abay’s poetic language, etc. However, I think that the ideological basis underlying Abay’s innovations and reforms has not been clearly interpreted yet. The main obstacle must be the prismatical mutual reflecting of the words form and reform, because of which certain scholars continue to study the new forms of Abay’s verse in an overweighed way, paying no attention to its connection to the message.
However, Abay’s reforms were aimed not at ornamentation but at orchestration of verse, which, as I have already stated before, included the harmonious unity of all poetic constituents. His reforms were a set of smooth modulations, swelling dynamic rhythm and logical stress, and tones, that is, it is the unity of poetic activity, figurability, and smoothness, in which the rhyme is totally incapable of muffling the message and merges with the content. This is the power and essence of the reforms of Baya, who initiated drastic changes in poetic language perfection.
Quite obviously, to bring any national language to perfection requires regular work of many generations of poets, writers, linguistic scholars, and scientists of other spheres. But the founded of the Kazakh literary language had to work all alone; however, his experience helped him set the right direction for further research.
I have already mentioned Abay Aga’s returning to poetry as an adult, during the period of his large-scale research in the sphere of world literature and philosophy, and eventually ethics, by means of the Russian language. He has been aware of Socrates’, Aristotle’s, Plato’s, and Abu Ali ibn ‘Sina’s approach to literary and art, in particular the trinity theory due to the highly popular Turkic works before he started his inquiry. Abay states it in his Socrates’ Dialogue with His Disciple Aristodemus; his notes on certain ideas of the 14th century philosopher Dauani present more evidence.
Personally, I find it to be beyond any doubt that belles letters and its various trends was the poet’s principal focus during that period. The poet studied poetry by Pushkin, Lermontov, and Krylov, major prose by Tolstoy, Gogol, Saltykov-Shchedrin, Turgenev, and many others most profoundly at that time. He satirized the ignorance of his contemporaries, who were not familiar with works by Tolstoy and Saltykov-Shchedrin. Due to Russian translations, the poet became largely familiar with English and German poetry as well as major French prose, which was constantly retold in Abay’s literary environment.
In all times, large-scale poets study throughout their lives and take whatever they learn with a grain of salt. The well-educated Abay Aga would sit at a low table, take a goose quill, and start writing in the wake of Russian realist poetry, the poetry of Pushkin and Lermontov. Since that period, he never turned to great Oriental poets any more, and his further works do not bear a trace of their influence.
He appreciated works by the great poets Firdousi, Nizami, Navoi, Saadi, and others, greatly, and still admired them, but the time demanded new songs, songs of realism. It is only infelicitous translations of Abay’s works which sometimes turn him into one of those who upheld the tradition of Oriental medieval classics. Rendering my enormous and sincere gratitude to all translators and promoters of Abay’s works, I cannot my express my discontent in this regard.
Abay was deeply charmed by Pushkin’s and Lermontov’s verse. Somehow, to convey the power of the charm, seriously, I would like to address the readers with a question. What do you do to your favorite book by an author you admire? I would expect to find it on your table, under your pillow, in front of you when you are talking abstractedly on the phone, that is, I would expect it to accompany you everywhere...
Till the end of his life, Abay would not part with works by Pushkin and Lermontov, they were cordial friends, and he conveyed the great friendship in his verse. He was a decent member of the Poets’ Union proclaimed by Pushkin.
Not incidentally, Abay produced numerous translations of works by Pushkin and Lermontov, which he did with great care – they became part of Kazakh poetry to remain there like authentic Kazakh works, having become one with Abay’s poems.
Abay was the first poet across the vast East to translate the masterpiece by Pushkin Eugene Onegin into Kazakh, which he did excellently and… free of charge.
Abay was not a slave but a rival to the poets he translated, including Pushkin and Lermontov. He could embrace the very spirit of works, their poetic structure and that of the author’s thoughts, see the mind of each character, and he did his best to prevent the works he translated within the friendly competition from remaining foreign objects and to guarantee their harmonious merging with the national poetic treasury to enrich it.
For instance, it was not incidental that Tatyana’s songs by Pushkin, Lermontov’s Argument and Gifts of the Terek, and Goethe’s Mountain Peaks could be heard across our country just as works by Abay long before the Revolution. Nor is the fact that Eugene Onegin has been translated into Kazakh by our contemporary poets, even large-scale ones, many times, but Abay’s translation still remains superior in many aspects, incidental. The unbiased judge, the time, still gives Abay the highest award.
Translating works by Pushkin and Lermontov, Abay also studied the ideological and artistic basis of the progressive realistic poetry, the theoretical contributions of Belinsky and Chernyshevsky, because of which he established himself unshakably on the ground of revolutionary democratic philosophy, which was a novelty back then. The holistic nature of his social attitudes and the very atmosphere of his poetry are a testimony to it.
That was what prevented his from taking the medieval classical beaten track and imitating. They are inorganic to the great poet’s nature and way of thinking. Great talents cannot possibly play the part of imitators. Let me quote the brilliant saying by Heinrich Heine, “A great genius is created with the help of another great genius and by friction rather than by assimilation. A diamond polishes another diamond!”
Thus, the diamond of the progressive democratic Russian ideology and poetry polished the diamond of the great Kazakh poet’s ideology and poetry. However, he remains a national poet with an international heart and by no means an imitator. When we say that we all, contemporary poets and writers, cane out of him, we mean the inexhaustible precious source of his national poetic palette, which has been so generous in feeding every genre and types of modern literature and art.
The 19th century was a significant period in the life of the Kazakh nation, a period of fullest self-actualization in various spheres of spiritual culture. The first half of the century was marked by powerful and wild music – kyuis by Kurmangazy and the tribal song by the poets and fighter against tsarism and khanate order Makhambet Utemisov. The middle of the century is known due to the famous scientist and writer Chokan Valikhanov, whom his Russian friends called Lermontov of the Steppe. The second half of the century was marked by the enlightening pedagogue Ibray Altynsarin, Ushinskiy’s student and adherent, as well as such poets and singers as Birzhan, Akhan Sere, and dozens of other high-talented people in the sphere of poetry and music. In accordance to the power of his talent, each of them rendered the hopes and expectations of his nation, its aspiration for light, adding new words never uttered before to each other’s texts. However, there were neither artistic unions nor scientific centers to take care of them by coordinating their activities back in the time when darkness and ignorance ruled. Each of them was haunted by painful solitude, and what they saw behind their door was impenetrable darkness.
However, the solitary artists scattered across the vast territory shared the same purpose of enlightment and national cultural progress, to which they were to find the shortest and the most reasonable ways. They were trying to preserve the holistic nature of Kazakh nation, its language, its diverse music and poetry, and its unique spiritual outlook, in doing which they succeeded.
Finally, the last quarter of the century gave us the great poet and thinker Abay, who was the origin to us all, his descendants, and the giant of national poetry Dzhambul.
The reason why I have been speaking so much on it is that literature and culture workers have always expressed their nation’s true aspiration, and the momentous saying by Abay expressed the total of positive aspirations of the Kazakh nation, “The Russians see the world. If you know their language, your eyes will open to see the world!”
Deep problems of social development of greatest significance were the basis for Abay’s encouragement to maintain friendship between the Kazakh nation and the Russians. His sensitive heart of a poet felt that the soil was well prepared to grow the seeds of new ideas, which were coming from Russia. I should say that the people, whose piety was not fanatic, who were not yet corrupted by capitalism and the spirit of speculation, came up to the expectations of their poets. They came up to Lenin’s expectations during the October Revolution and the Civil War. They came up to the Party’s expectations during the period of collectivization and industrialization; it came up to the expectations of its great Motherland during the Great Patriotic War, and it came up to the country’s expectations whole creating an economically powerful republic well-developed culture.
I doubt that even the great poet’s pregnant imagination could picture the image of his native land the way it was half a century after his search, its economic power and culture growing magically, its free and independent state, and its people – scientists, writers, artists, and cultural workers. Being used to see the parasitic officers and administrators of his time, he could not imagine Kazakhs of Lenin’s generation to turn into modest and intelligent public officers, co-regents of the world’s greatest socialist state.
Even certain Kazakhstanis communists of the 20s and the 30s could not imagine such cultural and economic growth of their republic.
In his report delivered at the 8th Convention of the Communist Party of Kazakhstan, in his speech at the 24th Convention of the CPSU, the member of the Political Bureau of the CPSU, the First Secretary of the CC of the Communist Party of Kazakhstan Kunayev employed data concerning the cultural and economic growth of Kazakhstan which were too impressive for the capitalist world to merely dream of.
He mentioned incontrovertible facts and figures as a testimony to the colossal industrial and agricultural output growth and accomplishments of cultural building, which were not less impressive, thus stating that Kazakhstan rightfully occupied one of the first places among the republics of the Soviet Union.
Abay did not imagine the scientific and cultural progress of his nation to be of the modern scale. There was nobody to tell him that the Kazakh Drama Theater was created after 5 years since the Soviet government was established, and the Opera and Ballet Theater was established after 14 years, that after a quarter century, the Academy of Science along with dozens of higher educational establishments was founded, etc. There was nobody to tell him that his own works and songs by Dzhambul, just as works by his contemporary descendants, would be translated into dozens of national languages of the Soviet Union and others. There was nobody to tell him that there would be 16,000 libraries, 45 higher educational establishments, 10,000 schools in Kazakhstan, and that books in Kazakhs would be published in over 16,000,000 copies.
Naturaly, Abay’s poetry stirred up his admirers’ minds and hearts, but it was beyond it to shake the stagnated world of patriarchy even to a limited extent. It was the Great October Revolution what shook the world. In its avant-garde, we can see the revolutionary poet Saken Seyfullin holding the red banner of Freedom, Equality, and Fraternity. He was the one who first said, “Viva the Revolution!” “Viva Lenin!” He, Saken Seyfullin, was the beginning to modern Kazakh literature, which is national in its form and socialist in its content and adheres to the spirit of revolutionary transformation of the world.
In the flames of the Revoluton, the first scream of its baby – the new Kazakh literature was heard. The first songs and poems, short stories and plays, which defined the ideological and artistic development of Kazakh Soviet literature, were created in the revolutionary forefront.
Large-scale and independent creative unions of writers, composers, artists, architects, journalists, and stage and screen workers were created within the half century of Soviet life.
The globally famous figure of the second Abay, the Abay of our time, Mukhtar Omarkhanovich Auezov, entered the sphere of literature.
He was rewarded for his saga Abay twice – at first, he obtained a USSR State Prize, and then a Lenin Prize.
He was the one who created the fundamental image of the great poet; he was the one who reconstructed the true-to-life history of his nation within an entire epoch. He was the one to draw up the curtain of the first Kazakh Theater; he was the one to open the first page in a number of literary and artistic genres; he was the one to cut the first path towards literary studies, including Abay studies.
The major contemporary Kazakh literature has been created by a large group of writers and poets, critics and literary scholars, which includes over thirty names now. I would like to emphasize the fact that many of them are widely known not only within the republic but also far beyond the country’s borders.
Writers of the older generation, Saken Seyfullin’s comrades-in-arms, such as Sabit Mukanov, Gabiden Mustafin, Nikolay Anov, Askar Tokmagambetov, Iven Shukhov, Abdilda Tazhibayev, Gali Ormanov, Khamza Yesenzhanov, Khalizhan Bekkhozhin, Alzhappar Abishev, Shakhmet Khusainov, Dikhan Abilev, and many others are still creatively active.
However, post-war boom writers are becoming increasingly dominant in our literature. They are filling the lacunas and rectifying the mistakes of their older penmates, naturally being the link to connect the younger and the older generations in the relay race.
Speaking of the central link, prose by I. Yesenberlin, T. Akhtanov, T. Alimkulov, A. Nurpeisov, D. Onegin, Z. Kabdolop, and S. Shaymerdenov, as well as poetry by Kh. Yergaliyev, S. Maulenov, Dzh. Muldagaliyev, G. Kairbekov, and others is notably and enviably successful.
Most of them have been honored with the republic’s State Prize, and their works have confidently crossed the borders of their country.
A plethora of young authors has been even more efficient in climbing the mountain path of literary work.
They introduce the bold spirit of youth, the high poetic thinking, succinct forms and ideas, and fresh imagery to literature.
This is the way I see works by Anuar Alimzhanov, Olzhas Suleymenov, Sadyr Murzaliyev, Sain Muratbekov, Zhaysanbek Moldagaliyev, Askar Suleymenov, Abish Kekilbayev, Akim Tarazi, and about a dozen more authors.
The names of the first two of them, that is, A. Alimzhanov and O. Suleymenov are extremely well known beyond the country’s boundaries; they have won numerous republic-wide awards; A. Alimzhanov has even been awarded a Neru Prize. They are part of the global literary avant-garde.
I have given a brief account of the situation with literary workers and literature itself.
At their recent 6th meeting, Kazakhstani writers demonstrated their adherence to Lenin’s ideals once again and promised to take active participation in the building of communist society. The multinational Soviet literature has not just been the world’s most advanced literature; it has also possessed a global attraction force for the best thinkers of the humankind.
The poet and thinker Abay had large-scale dreams, but he could not imagine the rapid pace of historical development in Lenin’s epoch. He was an honest laborer. He fought ignorance, fought for large-scale education for his people, which was historically significant back then, but he had to face stupid resistance and indifference, mostly those of his backward nation. He shouted violently to the world:
From mountain peaks
I shouted to the world,
And echo was my return.
I wandered about the face of the earth,
Searching for someone to give a response
But ages have passed,
And I can see nothing but peaks
And hear nothing but the hollow echo.
I cannot think of a better way to render once anguish and bitterness.
The government was persecuting him even more severely. In the grip of double oppression, the people failed to respond to his summons with enthusiasm. Death was haunting his family. One by one, his two beloved sons, who were his hope and supporters in his struggle, died. The world of poetry was ruined and was replaced by lament of mothers and wives. That broke the author’s will.
I was proud in my disdain of ignorance and darkness,
I believed the stupid to deserve only scorn.
I wanted to transform the world all alone,
But I overestimated my intelligence and enthusiasm!
This is his second poem, which undoubtedly sounds in tune with the first one.
But the poet did not overestimate his energy and enthusiasm; he left a deep imprint on the heart of his nation. One could hear his songs all cross the Kazakh Steppe, and his ideas traveled along with the songs.
The great poet and thinker gave us a generous legacy – his immortal poetry. At the same time, we have to make an effort to finish what he initiated, with which we seem to have been coping quite well.
A genius’s physical death is not his department.
Abay was born 125 years ago; he lived and worked in the 19th century, but he is still here with us in the 20th century, and I am strongly assured that he will live after we have gone; he will continue to live not only as a great Kazakh poet but also as a global-scale poet, that of the entire humanity.
1971
THE POWER OF HUMAN GENIUS
The power of human genius, who created books which will never be outdated, and the conviction that the writer and literature were meant fro a high mission are the reasons why we have gathered here on this autumn evening to celebrate the 150th anniversary of Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s birthday and pay tribute to him.
The name needs no yeasty epithets, being one of the names which make you think of an entire epoch of Russian, and not only Russian but also global literature straightaway. I guess it would hard or even impossible for us to imagine the time when Poor People, The Idiot, and The Brothers Karamazov did not exist.
Let us try and over a hundred years back, to the time when Belinsky, as if intending it for us to recite on celebrations, said the following about Dostoyevsky, “Numerous talents will appear in his field, and they will be contrasted to him, but they will be eventually forgotten at the very moment when he has achieved the peak of his glory.”
We can confirm that it was what eventually happened. Nowadays, Dostoyevsky is read all over the world. Certainly, his works are interpreted in various ways, and sometimes ideas and feelings which he never actually had are attributed to him.
However, he will always remain the one who wrote the short and meaningful phrase, “Life is good, and we have to make sure than everyone on earth can agree with it.”
The note is dated as of 1876 or 1877. But Dostoyevsky never gave up the idea.
It motivated him to sacrifice his well-being of a young military engineer to enter the unstable sphere of writing, which he believed to be the most useful and the noblest occupation as a young man. It motivated him to take active participation in the activities of the revolutionary Petrashevsky Circle, for he did not want to be limited to literature.
Even after he had given up revolutionary struggle, which happened later, he still stood for the people’s rights and admitted the requirements of socialism and communism to be correct.
Dostoyevsky was a phenomenon that people have been trying to embrace and that they will keep studying. In my opinion, the attempts are an evidence to the fact that scientific and technical progress cannot fill the existence of our contemporaries and descendants alone, being inseparable from the life of the human spirit, as people used to put it in ancient times.
I have already mentioned the fact, but I should say again that our Kazakh land was not a foreign land to Dostoyevsky, who did military service in Semipalatinsk after the period of exile. Later, he thought back of the time, of the steppe sun shining over him and of his joy at seeing the spring and being free.
He always demonstrated great interest for the human being, so he noticed our compatriot, Chokan Valikahnov, to be not like the rest, and he could see the future of the miserable steppe nation in him.
...Today, we have gathered in this hall for Fyodor Dostoyevsky, for literature, and for the writer without whom the entire world literature would be hardly possible.
1971
FACE TO FACE WITH DOSTOYEVSKY
Even if I try hard, I cannot remember the first time I met Fyodor Dpstoyevsky. But even though I do not know the date, the astonishing, powerful impression of his books remains.
Talking about great artists of the past, we sometimes mention their failure to notice or understand something about the world, which was contemporary to them. In contrast to that, I always think of V. Lenin, who called Tolstoy the mirror of the Russian Revolution and said that a great artist “was obliged to depict at least some of the most significant aspects of the Revolution in his works.”
Now that half a century has passed since Dostoyevsky was born, I prefer to think not about his failures and not about our controversial issues (for instance, that of purification through suffering). I am think about the power of the human spirit, which even time cannot affect. He believed Pushkin’s poetry to be a prophecy, which we now can say in relation to him.
Staying face-to-face Dostoyevsky, I think that he was one of the first to show the perilous nation of the helpless and malicious assertion that nothing is forbidden, for instance, by telling the stories of Raskolniko and Ivan Karamazov.
I also think that the Kazakh land was not strange to him. Though he was a soldier of lower rank, deprived of all kinds of rights, his service in Semipalatinsk was beyond comparison with the labor camp. It was here that he started to read the books published within the period of his forced absence in the well-educated world with great avarice. It was here that he got to know simple human pleasures, which even a poet can enjoy.
It was here that he fell in love. It was here that he met people who demonstrated their appreciation and admired him, viewing him as Russia’s hope and glory. A am happy to know that my compatriot Chokan Valihkanov was one of the people who influenced the author’s life.
We know the names of the writers without which the nation would have a very different spiritual image.
Among such names, that of Dostoyevsky is important and unforgettable to me. He is not one of the writers who need celebrations and anniversaries, dead or alive. But now that the entire world is celebrating his 150th anniversary, I felt like saying a couple of words about him.
1971
BELLS OF LIFE
“I find your writing quite skillful, your phrases are simple and clear, and each of the words you use is where it belongs, so they do not prevent the reader from understanding and even visualizing what you depict.” I believe the warm words by the great proletarian writer M. Gorky addressed to Ivan Shukhov to be a kindly instruction for the young writer, our compatriot, Kazakhstani by birth and by his creative biography.
From The Crossing of Roads and In the Village of Olkhovka, his first literary works, Ivan Shukhov turned to the highway of The Bitter Line and Hatred, novels filled with the spirit of civil mission, which address the most burning problems of our heroic and revolutionary contemporary reality.
Besides, the writer was productive in the dynamic genre of journalism, which has definitely been beneficial to him. His book The Goldmine, which is a set of sixteen sketches on the republic’s life, on its natural resources and beauty, on its people, who have been transforming the life of their native land by means of labor.
I think there is no need to give a list of the author’s minor and major works. Books by Ivan Shukhov do not have to suffer a lack of occupation in libraries. Readers have been reading them with great interest and will continue to do so, as they help us discover something new, unique, because there is a poetry of thoughts and feelings in them.
Now the mature and greatly experienced master has finished another work – the novelette The Bell, which the Writers’ Union of Kazakhstan has selected to take part in the competition for the Abay State Prize of the Kazakh SSR.
I think that the novelette The Bell generally summarizes the author’s accomplishments of a certain period. At the same time, I believe it to elaborate logically on the issues raised in The Goldmine, which defined the artist’s career as that of genre depiction of everyday life and celebrating common people’s life. In my opinion, it is one of the greatest advantages of Ivan Shukhov’s works.
The protagonist of The Bell is time. Or a period of time. The author studies and depicts it through the perception of a human being who has just entered the complicated world of life. The events happening are not witness. They are presented through his memory’s inner vision, as flashbacks. It might be the reason why certain episodes, especially those dealing with everyday life traditions and folk customs, that is, those of Cossacks, are marked by noticeable glorification, which is nevertheless not too pronounced.
The novelette has a high-sounding title – The Bell. There is a calling note to it. I do not find it strange, not to speak of its being immoderate. As I have already said, the protagonist of the novelette os the time, which cannot be viewed without the dialectical interconnection of phenomena with their controversy, their swinging, and unexpected starts, with the aspiration for new, better forms of human existence. It is crucial to prevent it from moving backwards.
“You need distance to see big things.” It is true. But the point of view is also important.
It easier to understand the controversial events of the tumultuous year 1918 to us now. Those who took part in the events back then did not have the experience we possess. They acted. Some defended the Revolution furiously, feeling confident about their class interests. They were people. Not abstract people but laborers – it is absolutely clear. Others fought cruelly for the right to keep living as they were used to live. Gorged, warm, and privileged by the autocratic regime.
The feeling of being a very special core supporting the entire Russian state was not even rubbed in, it was drummed into Cossack minds. The Cossack aristocracy even called common Russian citizens foreigners. The indigenous
Kazakh population of the steppe was called even worse - outlanders. That was the social order that the tsarist regime inculcated with great perseverance, especially at the empire’s periphery. The Revolution aimed a hard blow at the system. That was the time when it came out that the whole system was up in the air. Life had its own ways – poor people and day laborers, Russian or Kazakh, outlanders or dog poor Kazakhs belonged to the same group, the same “bone”. Their vital interests were essentially the same. What was extremely important is that the man of labor came to understand and realize that the “bone” to which he belonged was stuck in the throat of those for whom he used to sweat. The idea is presented in The Bell.
That is the deep message, the implication of the novelette. I would say that the novelette describes the dawn of people’s consciousness, the first sprouts of the new life. I believe it to be the main principal merit of the novelette The Bell.
I still would like to return to an extract from the letter by M. Gorky, “You have written a very good book (In this case, it is The Bitter Line – G. M.), which makes an impression of the author’s being a gifted person who treats his occupation quite seriously – being a Cossack, he is bold and free-minded enough to depict Cossacks with the merciless and true-to-life severity which they fully desrve...”
I think that the “bold and free mind” noticed by Gorky would not out of place in The Bell; instead, they could have enhanced the work’s social and artistic significance.
Glorification is not disagreeable in literature. But it demands great accuracy and precision in highlights. Ivan Shukhov, being deeply in love with his Presnovka village and forever bound with his motherland, had both artistic and common human difficulties in coldly refraining from somehow sentimentalizing what he cherishes as memories of his childhood and youth and what he has experienced. That is why the landscape deviations in his books are so warm and poetic.
He created the Shukhov steppe with its hills, its “mirror lakes”, neat birch woods, with its people. Like Feshka Surova or Yelizar Dybin. They are true-to-life characters depicted with the help of powerful devices. The Bell is a novelette narrated by the time. Sometimew its sounds like an elegy, which is reasonable, and its style, traditional for Shukhov in its inartificial appearance and meaningfulness, is charmingly candid and cordial. However, polishing it, as the work aimed at great artistic accomplishments has obviously just started, the author should adhere to Gorky’s idea of the bold and free mind, which the artist needs to depict life in its sophisticated transformations. Faithful representation, severe and even merciless as it may be, but clearly defined by the writer’s artistic vision, is the only way to get the results wanted.
The Bell obviously indicates a big step forward on Ivan Shukhov’s way of artistic discoveries. The best evidence to it is the fact that the book has been selected to compete for the Abay Literary State Prize of the Kazakh SSR.
1972
MATURATION
Thirty four years... 1938—1972... This is the long way covered by the Kazakh art of feature films.
My cinema biography is as follows: In 1938, the writers Vsevolod Ivanov and Beimbet Maylin and I wrote the screenplay Amangeldy. The film starring Kazakh actors produced by Lenfilm studio was the first fruit of our feature film art.
Our cinema industry did not appear from scratch. Since the very first day of its existence, Kazakh cinema has been tightly connected with literature, music, and visual arts, which in turn originated from the treasures of folk art. Our great traditions, the works by such great enlightens as Abay Kunanbayev and Chokan Valikhanov, who fought for personal emancipation, progress, and social justice, have also played a major role.
In the first years after the Soviet government was established, the oldest of Kazakh writers Ilyas Dzhansugurov promoted active preparations and measures to accelerate the appearance and development of Kazakh cinema in his articles and speeches.
Besides, Ilyas Dzhansugurov played bit parts and acted as an extra in the first films dealing with the Kazakh nation.
I cannot but mention Mukhtar Auezov, an outstanding writer, the author of the screenplays for the films Raykhan and Songs by Abay...
Theater art has also played a major role in the formation of our cinema. The first Kazakh national theater, which was founded in 1926, nurtured a plethora of excellent actors, many of whom are still working in the sphere of cinema. They are Kalibek Kuanyshpayev, Serke Kozhamkulov, Yelubay Umurzakov, Kurmanber Dzhandarbekov, and others.
I shared my memories of the very first of our feature films created at Lenfilm studio and of our cooperation with Russian colleagues at the beginning of the articles. How enormous the contribution of such outstanding Soviet directors as S. Eisenstein, V. Pudovkin, Brothers Vasilyev, and I. Pyryev has been! They all were working in Almaty during the Great Patriotic War.
In the post-war period, Grigoriy Roshal dedicated his film to the classical representative of Kazakh literature Abay Kunanbayev by shooting Songs by Abay based Mukhtar Auezov’s screenplay.
In 1953, Yefim Dzigan directed the first color Kazakh film Dzhambul, in which Shekan Aymanov made himself known as a talented actor.
Kazakh cinema owes much to the talented artist. Shaken Aymanov came to the sphere of cinema from theater, where he had played over a hundred roles – heroic, comic, tragic, and grotesque. His cinema work was just as tireless and youthful. He tried his hand at comedy, psychological drama, epic films, and action. The films are of different artistic merits, but all of them have definitely influenced Kazakh cinema. He shot films on virgin soil reclamation We Live Here), on agricultural restructuring (In a Neighborhood), lyrical comedies (Our Dear Doctor and The Song is Calling), and directed the interesting film loaded with philosophical reflection Our Fathers’ Land.
Aymanov’s last film, The End of an Ataman, in which the author demonstrated his skills of a mature, intelligent, and delicate master, was a great success.
It is a based on real facts, but the authors did not merely state facts but also provided a large-scale view of the events of that period.
Our cinema art often deals with the most tragic periods in the life our country, which are marked by the highly poetic national heroism.
In the film A Tale of the Mother (directed by A. Karpov), which was a success within the Soviet Union as well as abroad, the strong will, selflessness, and mental beauty of Soviet people is celebrated. The People’s Artists Amina Umurzakova played the role of Mother perfectly. The film is set in Kazakhstan during the war. In his last film, the director Mazhit Begalin also resorted to the subject of the rough period and told the story of those who contested every inch of their ground at the front. The films are Moscow Is Behind Us, which celebrates the heroic deed of Panfilov’s soldiers, and The Song of Manshuk. The last film by Begalin, which has truly become a song about the glorious daughter of the Kazakh nation, the Hero of the Soviet Union Manshuk Mametova, is very special to me. It is an impressive dramatic film full of love for the young heroine, which told the story of the generation who went up the line in the unforgettable year 1941 in a most wonderful manner. The film is austerely tragic but at the same time radiant and filled with pride for the glorious people.
In the films Moscow Is behind Us and The Song of Manshuk, as in many Kazakh contemporary-themed and historical revolutionary films (Our Fathers’ Land and others), the subject of international friendship and fraternity of Soviet people, which is traditional in our cinema industry, was represented profoundly. Representatives of every nation inhabiting our country spilled their blood in battles of the Great Patriotic War, shaping the future of our common socialist Motherland.
Mazhit Begalin is one of our leading directors, who obtained a wonderful education in the All-Union State Institute of Cinema in S. Gerasimov’s studio.
I guess that nearly everyone currently working at Kazakhfilm has somehow dealt with the art of Russian cinema experts and those from our brotherly republics. Sultan Khodzhikov, who is widely known due to his films We Come from Zhetysu and If Each of Us, was taught by the wonderful director Aleksandr Dovzhenko. Many of our young screenplay writers, directors, camera operators, and artists are also All-Union State Institute of Cinema graduates.
A short while ago, I had an opportunity to act as a screenplay writer once again. The director S. Khodzhikov directed the film Kyz Zhybek based on my screenplay, which is a remake of one of the most popular Kazakh legends, at Kazakhfilm studio.
To stage the film was rather difficult, and the team I met there demonstrated the progress that Kazakhfilm has recently made.
Kazakh cinema has acquired a wider range of subjects and genres and has been enriched with new expressive devices. There are many positive aspects about what has been done at Kazakhfilm by now. But how my I would love to mention films on our contemporary reality and our contemporary fellows today! Kazakh documentalists have an interesting manner in this respect. Their observant and efficient camera shows us factories, metallutgy giants, steppe sovkhozes, mountain pastures, and virgin soil land. We cannot but think of Oraz Abishev and his films, which deal with a broad range of subjects! Poetic generalization, romantic loftiness, and public spirit are always present in his films.
I am sure that both experts and young workers of the studio who work in the sphere of feature films will provide for a wider representation of the contemporary subject. It is hard. It is a challenge. But what can give one more joy than to see a work embracing all typical features of our time and rendering its beauty? Our studio is ready to make the major step forward.
Thirty four years are left behind. The time of maturation has come.
1972
PRECIOUS SPIKES OF CROPS
...The time of meetings is coming again.
But I do not have to pack my travel suitcase and fly over high mountain ranges and vaste oceans. This fall, my city of Almaty will be inscribed in the history of the Afro-Asian Writhers’ Movement like Delhi, Tashkent, Cairo, and Beirut.
The time of meetings and inspiring words from the bottom of our hearts is coming. For writers, words are extremely important. In all times, true literature has always been rooted in our reality. Thus, the writer, who by occupation deals with the man, his hopes and frustration, passions and beliefs, cannot witness what is happening in the world indifferently as long as he is really a true writer. So, to unite the writers of the two large continents has turned into a pressing necessity.
My memory is ready to bring me back to the time about fifteen years ago. Though I have already said it, I should repeat that the Delhi Conference not only manifested the great significance of literature in the formation on the spiritual life of nations suffering to over some the consequences of capitalism. The friendly and efficient opinion exchange as well as arguments held in the atmosphere of mutual respect played an enormous role in the establishment of mutual understanding, reciprocal experience enrichment, and further development of literatures, young and unexperienced as well as possessing a treasury of ancient traditions.
That was what I thought back then, and this is what I think now. It was in Delhi and in Taskhent after two years that the principles of unity and collective responsibility, which were not new but undoubtedly eternal, were stated. We have no right to act like an ostrich hiding its head and being absolutely sure that it will spare it any trouble. It would be unjustifiably naïve and careless to overlook the blatant injustice of the events happening on our planet. Writers have never put up with it. They protested against the Vietnam War and spreading the aggression to Indochina; they demanded the Middle East conflict to be set peacefully, and supported the idea of disarmament enthusiastically, disapproving of the unwise attempts at using violence as a solution to controversial problems.
Speaking of it all – the close attention to the detail of the fleeing life, the influence in the sphere of political and cultural life, I never forget about the essence of the Association of African and Asian Writers, about all the conferences in which I have been lucky enough to participate.
Once, Maksim Gorky called the book one of the greatest man-made miracles. In my opinion, his words are still correct nowadays, when the man has disintegrated the atom and started to study the antimatter, when he has entered the space, when television makes every corner of the arch accessible to him, allowing him to witness events taking place in his absence.
Even in the abovementioned situation, a book is still a book. A Japanese Art teacher, who was concerned with his pupils’ morals and tried to overcome indifference and injustice, depicted in the novelette The Emperor with No Clothes by Takeshi Kaiko enters the pages of the Almaty magazine Prostor, and dozens of thousands readers follow his struggle, his success and failures with sympathy…
Our great and unforgettable Abay, whose tough life Mukhat Auezov depicted brilliantly in his saga has started an endless journey around many countries. People who have never been to our steppe from all kinds of places can rightfully claim themselves that they have lived in a previous century Kazakh aul, that it was they who were in love with the beautiful Togzhan and experienced the hopeless feeling of loss, that they witness the poets’ verse appear to make him immortal…
For the same reason, I can claim to have lived in Egypt before the revolution of July 23, 1952, and “asked for courage power to last 10 days” at an unusual shop selling moral virtues… Since that moment, a number of extraordinary events took place so that “the expectations of noble and kind-hearted people’ could come true. Indeed, I have been there, because I have read the novel The Land of Hypocricy by the outstanding Egyptian writer Yusef as-Sibai.
I am not the only one.... “Once a visitor from Pakistan,” Yusef as-Sibai writes in the little foreword to the novel, “came to me and said that he had translated my book into the Urdu language and got it published in his country. The translator told me that he found the book to be not a story of a specific society but that of an entire stage in the life of many nations suffering colonial oppression. After the translation was published, the Pakistani government concluded that the translator was the author of the book, in which he had allegedly depicted the Pakistani society.
It was only by showing an Arab version of the book to the government, thus proving it to have been translated from the Arab language after being published in Egypt, that the translator avoided going to prison.
The examples illustrate the deep and delicate immersion into people’s life, into the characteristic features of the epoch, into the very essence of things that each reader continues according to his own preferences.
But I am going to make a reservation, though I do understand that I can sound somehow old-fashioned. I guess one who has crossed the threshold of seventy years can be excused for it.
Two drawings that I have seen on the cover of a Kurier Yunesko issue have been haunting my mind. On the first page, the Polish artist Toman Cieslewicz copied the famous Gioconda with an addition missed by Leonardo da Vinci – the young Italian woman’s beautiful eyes were shedding tears, to which there seemed to be no end.
At first, I failed to understand the reason why the great masterpiece had been treated so frivolously. However, on the last page of the cover I found a picture of a rose crying sew by the Cuban artist Alfredo Goptaard.
It turned out that the reason why the young woman and the beautiful flower were so desperate was the humiliation that realistic art and painting, music, theater, and literature are suffering today.
Though I might gain the reputation of a backward man, I still must confess that I cannot fathom the intention of the author publishing three hundred pages with no punctuation mark or capital letter, with incoherent words sometimes following each other. What does it add to his idea? What observations on life and sentiments does it render? Honestly speaking, I do not know.
Obviously, the writer should approach stylistic devices with care, trying to achieve an impressive effect. Maksim Gorky, whom I have already mentioned, said that the purpose of the artist’s life is to perfect his style and form. It still has nothing to do with shameless author’s abuse of text.
I am not going to make my thoughts sound as complete as a resolution; I am just sharing the convictions, which I have worked out during more than half a century of my literary career. I have always been interested in the actual living man in the actual living situation, staying indifferent to various tricks.
The good old realism has been successful in defending itself against all furious attacks on it. It has been done not through loud-spoken declarations but through high quality, full-blooded works created in all kinds of language.
Of course, it has by no means grown rigid; on the contrary, it is constantly enriched and acquires new radiance like a clean diamond when handled by a skillful expert.
Socialist realism became the wat to cognize the reality in its constant revolutionary development for the Soviet writer. It appeared, matured; it has been developed as a direct consequence of the enormous transformations, which had taken place not only in our country but also in the entire world.
I am no literary scholar or critic, so what I am speaking about is merely observations of a writer reflecting on the nature of creativity within his occupational framework. In my opinion, an honest progressive writer who loves his people and knows them, studies life close, will eventually end up as a realist, which is exercised to various extents, for realism helps him study the deep of social order, providing free choice in terms of stylistic solutions.
I think we will discuss it all – the right of choice and the responsibility which the writer has to his time and to people who trust him with our penmates during the Almaty Conference. We should not overlook the difficulties which we have faced during the period in which African and Asian writers have been progressing or the thresholds we have manage to cross due to demonstrating our goodwill and listening our comrades out without any bias.
The creation of the magazine named after a beautiful Indian flower – Lotos (English: a lotos) has contributed greatly to the multilateral dialogue. By choosing the title, we payed our voluntary tribute to Indian writers, who were the first ones to initiate the creation of the movements we have today.
The appearance of Lotos is far more significant than the usual appearance of another periodical. Various works by various writers, diverse not only in their citizenship but also in their opinions, taste, style, religion, and points of view, a presented and will be presented in the magazine. (I guess the only exception will be those who advocate anti-human ideas and fratricidal war, thus dooming the man to disgrace and ruin. Such people also exist, though I cannot call them writers).
The appearance of Lotos, which on its pages unites writers of different nations and countries, is meant to show that people scattered across all continents by nature and history have more common things than differences… To live in today’s world, we have to know each other better. The truth is old, but it does not make it less efficient... We cannot stop the activities encouraging such mutual familiarization. That is why the buoyancy of the publishing industry at the market, which took place before the 5th Almaty Conference of African and Asian Writers both of the Soviet Union and in the many countries who belong to our association deserves praise.
...Almaty is meeting guests and conference speakers in autumn, in the golden autumn. Autumn is the kind and generous harvesting season. So let us try to prevent ourselves from losing a single spike of crops during our meetings?
1973
UNITY IS OUR POWER
As you get old, you start to feel that time is fleeting. It seems to have been a short while ago that you said, “A year and a half remains before we welcome our African and Asian writers in Almaty…
Then, months and weeks were counted. Finally, the day and the exciting moment came for the ceremonial opening of the 5th Conference of Asian and African writers, which to be held in Lenin Palace on Abay Square. We are receiving participants and guest from socialist countries. We are receiving representatives of Western progressive members of intelligentsia. People who share LOVE for the word, love for literature – true literature has always been inseparable from the actual life and national history – will gather here. The writer carries the burned of responsibility not only for his character but also for many people living so close to him in today’s world.
We have discussed it with our penmates many times within the period of fifteen years at conferences in Tashkent, Cairo, Beirut, and Delhi. But firstly, the great truth is never tarnished when repeated many times. Secondly, time constantly generates new challenges, which require detailed discussions, and new problems to solve.
One of the principles of truth is as follows: To enjoy an efficient dialogue, we have to know each other better. Within our preparations for the meeting, numerous books depicting the common life of common people, the struggle of Afro-Asian nations for a better living, and the way in which the dreary consequences of colonialism and neocolonialism could be overcome, were published in millions of copies, the total of pages in which amounted to many thousands.
My memory is picking some randomly… Short stories by Filipino writers published by the Almaty publishing office Zhazushy. A youth novel by the Singapore writer Go Bo Sen, which the magazine Prostor is beginning to publish. The novel by Yusef es-Sibai The Land of Hypocricy in one of the summer issues of Inostrannya Literatura. Vitkor Rid, the setting of whose works is Africa, can now be read in Turkmenian. Khaldun Taner from Turkey has undertaken a journey to Turkey with his book of compilation, which includes his most significant works. The famous South African writer Alex La Guma is now accessible for Moldavian readers.
Feeling as insiders, we find ourselves in African village huts or angling with Filipino fishers, with whom we are sharing the boat; we defend the peace of Vietnam, which was so hard-won, in our military strategies. We demand justice and a peaceful settlement of the Middle East problems. It is sheer delight to know that our writers’ conference in Almaty is gathering under the circumstances now that the planet’s political climate has started to unmistakably indicate the long-awaited warming.
The success obtained due to the peaceful and forward-looking policy of the Soviet Union with adherence to Lenin’s principles brings hope and security to the hearts of millions people.
It is true. However, it would be careless beyond any excuse to miss or overlook the fact that certain social circles, both in the West and in the East, are still indulging in their dream to use force to solve international problems with a bomb up their sleeves, trying to impose their will on other nations, which can have their own opinion on the ways in which their countries should develop.
I think that the writers taking part in our 5th conference will not be able to overlook the problems at the meeting. In my opinion, art for the sake of art, literature for the sake of literature have never existed as natural phenomena, as no writer can create a line being isolated from the buzzing actual reality. All attempts to escape it, like thick novels written with no punctuation mark or capital letter, have never yielded success. Tolstoy, Rabindranat Tagor, Gorky, and Lu Sin had a unique way of describing all kinds of things without violating the school syntax and punctuation rules.
Being brought up in accordance to the good old realistic tradition, I have never felt an urge to alter my attitude to the method of cognition and the ways of depicting reality. Hemingway, who could tell a good text when he saw it, said that there was no occupation harder than writing simple prose about a human being.
Unwillingly, I have returned to works created in the old tried and true realistic manner… I remember so many situations in which hotheads denounced the end of the novel… Or claimed that the painful search for the word to fit in, strict and accurate detail selection in writing were outdated.
I have already mentioned the impression, which two drawings in a Kurier Yunesko issue made, on me. A crying Mona Lisa and a rose in bloom with a dewdrop running down its petal. The polish artist and the Cuban one expressed their attitude to the injustice of the furious attacks on realistic painting and literature independently from each other.
The day before I meet my penmates from all kinds of countries, I want to say once again that socialist realism has become the perfect method for the Soviet writer as a method of cognizing the diverse reality in its revolutionary progress. It is not just declaration... The evidence to it is the many years’ experience of the multinational Soviet literature and the long list of its best works, which are known all over the globe.
Today, the day before the Almaty writers’ meetings, I want to mention the responsibility for people’s lives, for the peaceful rest of each old worker, and for all Romeos and Juliettes which each writer assumes so that everybody can earn his bread and rear his children without looking into the sky, from where death has been coming too often lately, with apprehension.
I do hope that we will have a sincere and intimate conversation on peace, on kind mutual understanding of nations regardless of their skin color, religion, and social order in Almaty during the conference.
Many participants of the Afro-Asian Writers’ Union have a clear memory of the beautiful houses in the streets of Delhi, which looked like marble in the moonlight, and the hospitable noisy Tashkent, where the principles of unity and collective responsibility got their further development, and the magnificent Cairo – being so close to the eternal Nile and eternal pyramids, we could not help feeling solemn, and we looked into the future confidently, and the cedars of Lebanon petrified in the heat of Beirut...
Now my city is being written on a new page of history... Looking ahead, I would like to express my dearest hope: let the expression “the spirit of Almaty” be interpreted as kindness, justice, mutual understanding and more mutual understanding, and friendship – the things without which one cannot live in today’s world after our today’s conference.
1973
THE RIPE SPIKE OF VIRGIN LAND
The big harvest has already touched upon the Kazakh land. With each day, the pulse of summer harvest time is getting more and more frequent.
A short while ago, I visited my compatriots in North Kazakhstan, in a sovkhoz named after the writer Sabit Mukanov; I stayed with those who grow crops, who create new pages in the history of virgin soil workers’ heroism by doing what they do.
The journey helped me see the deep nature of field workers once again. They are dutiful, they can hear the soil speak, they are well familiar with agricultural devices, and they can harness the changeable weather. Sometimes I was shocked: Can you really tell that the first period of warm rain will start when the sprouting begins? What are the ways to save the fragile green from the scorching sunshine so that they can grow to be a weighty spike? If you do some research, you will find out that there is nothing surprising about it. It is not “luck” and “intuition” what today’s crop grower relies on. They are not quite trustworthy. What excellent yield can be attributed to be knowledge enriched with experienced.
It proved to be rather hard to develop the skill. Life has not been exclusively gracious to crop growers. For instance, early sowing, which is quite typical in other areas, would die here. They would get burned by the hot wind of July, which meant that a more favorable period had to be found. It was not about merely reworking the schedule but about transforming people’s mentality, which is much more.
...Scorching wind heated in desert sands was blowing over the fields of Sorochinskiy sovkhoz in Kostanai Province. People felt apprehensive about the crops. Will the dust storms, which used to be quite frequent in the past, come again to take the most fertile layer of soil as well as the sprouts away? But the “field batyr” has a reliable shield now — the new virgin soil protective system of crop growing.
It was not only dwellers of Kostanai Province who managed to win their harvest away from the hot wind but also the crop growers of Turgai and the Ishim areas. While drought was the primary concern with virgin soil, the West of the country, that is, Ural and Aktobe Provinces suffered from endless rain. No doubt, the harvesting conditions are far from being perfect. They dictate their strategy to the crop grower. It is very, very important to win one’s crops away from weather disasters. To harvest everything to the last grain, one has to be aware of all peculiarities of the soil, to manage technical devices in such complicated situations is top expertise. Each harvester operator is an expert…
We, people of Kazakhstan, are sincerely delighted at the records of Rostov harvesting experts, whose heroism has brought them our Motherland’s high awards. The recent success of our comrades from Volgograd Oblast has inspired all crop growers across the country, including my compatriots, to struggle for greater accomplishments. In some time, we will know the names of another virgin soil harvest – harvester and tractor operators, drivers and say thanks to them for their enthusiasm and hard but honorable labor in the name of the entire population.
1974
WE OWN THE FUTURE
For thousands of years, the humankind was unable to fly, but its eyes were always turned to the stars. The first ideas of height, as weighty as stone instruments, appeared in the dark of caves. It was a dream. We inherited it from our distant ancestors. But we backed it up with the knowledge of the law according to which the new world is built. They are mentioned the communist Internationale.
Vladimit Lenin was a dreamer and responded with a smile when somebody called him a person of fancies. He did now that turbines of Volkhovstroy, the first element of the country’s electrification process, were about to start their buzzing.
Being a Kazakh writer, a witness and, to some extent, a participant of the events which were the beginning of Soviet government in Kazakhstan, I think of a single lamp in Volkhov, an Ilyich lamp, shedding light on my desk, at which I am beginning to discover the mystery of the appearance of the literary art.
We have lived in adherence to the revolutionary law. We were to bring songs by Abay back to the nation. They were not forgotten, but we had to collect them to put them in the Kazakh literary domain. After the school founded by the great enlightener and democrat Ibray Altynsarin, which was a tiny two-window wattle house, we ascended the high steps of the Kazakh Academy of Science.
My generation was to fulfill a double task: to learn themselves and to teach their people, who were nearly totally illiterate.
The Kazakh steppe was the light of the October. The old land seemed to be young again. Our minds mastered the ideas worked out by the science of Marxism. The words of Lenin were heard and taken as guidance by us.
Is it easy to make a single steppe from one epoch to another? But we did know where self-confidence could come from. The great meaning behind the concept of international fraternity was revealed to us.
Nobody encouraged us to give up the nation and spiritual peculiarities of our nation. The party was trying to wake self-consciousness among those who used to belong to the so-called public minorities before the Revolution. The Revolution made the measures of interpersonal attitude class-based. A Russian crop grower working at Ridder mines and a Kazakh digger or a bay’s laborer had no bone to pick. Instead, they were to build the same society – that of equal and free people, for which they were to transform their native land bedewed by the blood of those who had fought for the Soviet government. As it is not, it was the unity of nations that has been giving us the energy and brought us to the star height of Baikonur, a million tons’ harvest of virgin soul crops, and a revivification in tangible and intangible culture, which were truly socialist in their meaning.
Dozens, hundreds of higher educational establishments, schools which look like palaces, health resorts, workers’ vacation retreats, sports centers, an unheard-of efflorescence of amateur art of national spirit, theaters, and national cinema production offices – there is no way you can lost it all – have been given to people and belong to it.
We say “a Soviet man”. What is behind the honorable name? In my artistic career, I have been trying to give an answer to the question throughout my life. It is complicated, just as the philosophy of life is. But at the same time it is simple. There is no paradox about it. Pavel Korchagin is a literary character. He is a generalized image representing the Komsomol of the 20s as well as those who are laying the Baikal-Amur Mailine within the all-Union youth building framework. When I say youth, I do not mean age at all. What I want to say is that the world’s youth is doing some creative work. Peace for the sake of peace, progress, and humanism. This is what I wanted to add. It is true and correct in the highest sense of it. There is nothing better than to dedicate one’s life to it. I say, Motherland, thank you for everything. Thank you for the right to be called a Soviet man that you have given me.
Those have been my thoughts in the days before the celebration. I have been thinking back of our campaign, which began at a nearly zero level, feeling excited at imagining what is yet to come. Our possibilities are essentially unlimited today. What a speed we are moving at! I say to myself, time, be a relay race of an ever-growing speed. We own the future.
1974
A SPEECH ON BEIMBET MAYLIN
When Beimbet Maylin was alive, he was too extraordinarily demure to interpret each piece of his manuscript to be a new colorful page in the history of his nation’s new literature, which he would add to the book daily, every single hour. Now the name of Beimbet Maylin belongs to the names of the highly talented and gifted people who search for the place where belong in respect of building the new culture, socialist in its content and national form, in which they succeed due to their being fully aware of their duty and vocation.
Indeed, it was an admirable generation of writers, who made up a truly “powerful group of people”, who shed light on the road for others and influenced the further development of the new life positively, knowing that they belonged to the new time.
When we use the word “constellation” to speak of people of artistic occupations, we do not mean that they blend their light mechanically for a more intense radiation.
No, the word “constellation” used to denote literary and art workers should be interpreted as a felicitous coincidence in time of many or at least several starts, which illuminate people’s life in their own ways, from various heights and directions and then chance to produce simultaneous flashes, invariably preserving the power of their poetic inspiration.
Listing the names of Saken Seyfullin, Meimbet Maylin, Ilyas Dzhansugurov, Mukhtar Auezov, and Sabit Mukanov in such order, we should by no means underestimate their individual artistic significance.
Mechanical name blending is unacceptable when it comes to literature and art. The reason why it is unacceptable is that such an approach can make them dimmer in the face of history and for the reader by making the extents to which they influence people’s spiritual development seem less than it actually is. Being holistic in its body and collective in terms of results, literature is created individually.
It is in relation to the characteristic features of Beimbet Maylin’s works and personality that I took the liberty to remind you of the well-known fact.
Being a man of extraordinary simplicity, extremely demure and industrious, he occupies a special, unique place in the history of our literature. Before he entered the sphere of literature, he had thought much about the writer’s role and responsibility to people, so he entered it as a master of realism, which is who he remained till the end of his life.
Realism and professionalism in the true meaning of the words is more associated with the name of Maylin than with anything in our prose. He was our first artistic prose writer, for he was both an unparalleled short story author and a wonderful major prose writer. We all came out of Shugi’s Monument, which was created 60 years ago.
But Maylin was a realistic artist not only in prose. He also founded the realistic trend in drama. He started his career in a traditional ways, that is, as a poet, but his best works belong to prose fiction and drama.
Maylin’s contemporaries always marveled at his commitment and working efficiency. He gave us a voluminous and enormously significant artistic legacy. 20 years of persistent labor of extraordinarily efficiency and 15 books of immortal works are the total of what the unique talented person achieved during his creative career. Among all Kazakh writers of the older generation, Maylin was nearly the only one who did not resort to historical subjects, focusing all of his attention on the contemporary reality.
In this respect, we can rightfully call his work a chronicle of the first twenty years of Soviet reality in the Kazakh land. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the reader can find information on any matter related to the period in his works.
I cannot but pay special attention to another peculiar feature of Maylin’s creative activity, which I greatly admire – his role and significance as a teacher and instructor. Being an all-round master of words possessing a wonderful style, he taught young people the art of fiction with greatest care. He knew how to find new talents. I guess all of us, his contemporaries, had Beibmet Maylin’s finger in their pie, that is, none of us failed to experience the miraculous effect of his pen.
Maylin was the first journalist among Kazakh writers, the trailblazer of the genre, which is especially demanding and dynamic. The two trends in his creative work, that is, prose journalism, did not blend but developed independently, finding their natural ways to perfection.
Being an outstanding writer of socialist realism, Beimbet Maylin gave us a big artistic legacy, which I hope to be widely known among today’s readers.
But I would like to specially emphasize his precious gift to his penmates – modesty, clearness of heart and hands, and diligence multiplied by talent.
To sum my little foreword up, I would like to return to the idea of the role and significance of each writer in the sphere of literature. Once I said that the Kazakh proverb “At tyagyn tay basar”, which can be translated as “A colt will come to replace a dead horse) has nothing to do with literature. I still believe it to be true. Invitation cards are not given to writers, and the latter never take their places in accordance to a scheme previously worked out. It is equally true that no vacuum appears in the place of a deceased writer. I am strongly assured that the idea is not controversial to the consistency law and our concept of tradition and innovation. Gogol was right and right when he said, “There is no world in the literary world, and the dead participate in what we do and act along with us like the living.”
Belinsky was also right when he said that “Pushkin belongs to the phenomena which are always alive and in motion, which never stop where death finds them, continuing to develop in people’s mind instead.
We have a good reason to use the oracular saying to speak of our wonderful writer Beimbet Maylin, the unforgettable friend, brother, and teacher Bi Aga, whose talent, which appeared on the fertile virgin soil of Kostanai, yielded an enormous harvest in the field of the entire Soviet literature.
1974
A SPEECH ON SHOLOKHOV
On those May days, following the enormous celebration of the glorious 30th anniversary of the great historical victory, the victory won by defeating the ominous spectra of fascism, a global disaster, against the backdrop of the colossal preparations to finish last year if a five-year plan, the entire country is paying tribute to an outstanding writer. A writer of clear conscience and high party principles, a writer who symbolizes the spirit of revolution and the humanistic nature of our entire multinational literature, Mikhail Sholokhov.
We have gathered here today to celebrate the 70th birthday of our great contemporary, our first-magnitude literary star, the word wizard, our living classic, and writer number one in the modern Soviet, which also means global progressive, literature. This is why the entire socialist camp, the whole of the progressive world is honoring him.
It is beyond all doubt that Mikhail Sholokhov established himself as the highest shiny peak of Soviet literature, the light of which illuminates many decades of the future in the very beginning of his career, following Maksim Gorky. It would be hard to exaggerate the significance of the writer’s works, the magic appearance of which we witnessed before they became parts of the global literary treasury, which many generations will definitely take pride in.
Each of us feels proud to realize that it was our literature where the flood of The Silent Don, which is a unique phenomenon of Soviet literature, one of the unparalleled books of the literature of realism started its journey across countries and continents along the channel of global fame.
The Silent Don is widely recognized to belong to such works of world literature, which grow to be higher than the time of their origin like majestic mountain peaks.
The Silent Don has deserved its enormous fame and the right to represent our turbulent century in the mainstream of human artistic development.
Behind The Silent Don, we can see the vastness of Virgin Soil Upturned, which offers a unique wealth of characters and depicts scenes of the everyday battle of those who fought for their Motherland, reconstructing a most unusual life story.
Of course, Sholokhov was not the one who witnessed and participated in such historical events and social earthquakes as the Great October Revolution, the collectivization period, and the Great Patriotic War. Our multinational literature does not lack talents either. So what has made Sholkohov what he actually is?
Reflecting on this issue, which is by no means frivolous, suggests us, literary workers, the idea of the deep meaning behind the formula of the author’s connection to people’s life and of the inextricable ties between the writer’s interests and the contemporary reality, which the party has been repeating again and again.
Firm adherence to party principles, which has its roots deep in the mass and in the folk nature, and the pronounced proletarian class character multiplied by Sholokhov’s powerful talent make up the paragon standard for Soviet writers.
Many outstanding contemporaries of Sholokhov mentioned his enormous significance of a new type artist. At the very outset, his talent was recognized by the great Gorky.
Such outstanding Russian Soviet masters and exacting literary experts as Aleksandr Serafimovich, Anatoliy Lunacharskiy, Aleksey Tolstoy, Aleksandr Fadeyev, Leonid Leonov, and Konstantin Fedin spoke of him with admiration and gratitude. Romain Rolland and Martin Andersen Nexe, Lion Feuchtwanger and Herbert Wells, Willi Bredel and Pablo Nerude would bow to him; such outstanding progressive cultural activists as Anna Segers and James Aldridge, Mulk Raj Anand and martti Larni, Jack Lindsay and Charles Snow, Todor Pavlov and Jorge Amadu, and many, many others still admire his works greatly.
Joining the unanimous choir, we are proud to be celebrating the glorious birthday of our Kazakh, Kazakhstani Sholokhov today!
The last phrase is not accidental. Sholokhov is familiar with works by Abay, Dzhambul, M. Auezov, S. Mukanov, G. Mustafin, and many other Kazakhstani poets and writers. Being our brother, he watches the normal development of our literature.
Once, as Sholkohov saw us, a group of Kazakh writers, at Moscow Restaurant, he literally jumped at us, shouting, “Kazakhs, my Kazakhs!” I wrote a short story about that.
Sholokhov has found a nook in West Kazakhstan, which he likes, enough not only to spend his vacations there for over thirty years but, as witnessed by those who saw it, also to create the best pieces of his immortal works in the Kazakh land.
Sholokhov has a profound knowledge of the history behind the good neighborly life of Kazakh and Russian, Ukrainian people.
Unfortunately, next to nothing has been written on the friendship of our nations in the distant past. There was tsarism, there was cruel colonization, but there also was the triumphant human life. The fathers of our writers Ivan Shukhov (North Kazakhstan) and Dmitriy Onegin (Almaty) spoke Kazakh as fluently as any Kazakh man. In 1916, as Kazakh dzhigits were mobilized to do home front work, an Ural Kazakh expressed his sympathy with his friend Dzholamap in the following Kazakh quatrain:
Sen zhylama, Dzholamayka,
Zhylady ma men sogan?
Patsha ony shakyrady —
Kyzmet kyluga ogan!
Was it a coincidence? No, it was not. It was not accidental that at our writers’ convention in 1954 Sholokhov called the Kazakh nation a great nation.
It is quite reasonable. To preserve one’s national language, poetry and music, one’s peaceful and decent image was surely a hard thing to do for a population, which was not as large as several millions but scattered across a vast territory equal to Europe without England.
Thus, I think that we are can rightfully call Sholokhov a Kazakhstani writer!
The most precious and valuable thing about the hero of the day to us is the fact that he with his work, with his very being, his manner of living and creating is an example of how to live the life of one’s nation and how to created truly eternal artistic values in a creative cognition of such life, which we can see daily and hourly.
So, today, on the day of the great Soviet writer Mikhail Sholokhov glorious birthday, we wish him good health, many happy returns, and new creative accomplishments with all our heart.
1975
CONTEMPLATION
This time I chose to go by train deliberately… Flying from one airport to another, far higher than birds fly, one can cease to have an idea of our transformed land’s modern appearance. Besides, any slant is harmful to writers.
I have been thinking that the appearance of the ground can suggest what the people holding it is like, that the identity of the two phenomena is what makes this or that thing unique, and that one thing cannot exist with the other. Apart from the inconvenience, old age offers an undoubted benefit, which is the possibility to compare things not imaginatively but on the firm basis of what you have seen, witnessed, what you thought and felt at different moments in your life.
That is why, being so old that I remember harvesting six pood of crops per hectare in North Kazakhstan, I would like to say my own sincere and delighted couple of words on the yield of the first year of the tenth five-year plan, the yield which has never been counted in the yellow wheat fields by the autumn wind and an impartial accountant before.
I am thinking of it now; but when I was on my trip to the steppe of Karagandy and farther to the north, in Kokshetau, North Kazakhstan, and Kostanai Provinces, crops and herbs seemed to be competing against each other, growing rapidly, thick and sturdy. There seemed to be no button, no ear unfilled. The more I approached the North of the country, the vaster fields and hay land were growing, presenting a blithesome scene of nature’s wild lavishness as well as the power and might of the Soviet man. The green sea was so close to my window, and I could see its ways near the rails...
I stood by the window watching the sunrise and dewdrops shine like sparks of gemstones in the first rays of sunlight, and the iridescent, blowing with such delicacy, as it was afraid of spilling them. I thought that each single spike of the Kazakhstani billiard was marked by the radiance!
Before sunset, the fields looked different – the wind, which was now stronger, was making thick waves roll and roll, and the billion did not look like shiny ears of crops but rather like a whole thing, a vast ocean that had acquired a dark green color by the evening. Promising to yield a billion, we thought hopefully, we will keep our promise, and the elevators will have been filled to the brim by the fall…
I watched the changing scene with a particular and exacting approach, and I could not do it any other way, for it was my native land, and I said to myself, I guess the woods grew much thinner in the years of scarcity, when animals did not have enough food, and horses and cows were eating the trees round… The forest was exuberant again. The railway was surrounded with a protective wooded area, and the typical local scenery detail, snow shields, were missing in many places.
In my summer reflection on the future billion, happy, exacting, and demanding as they were, I could not but pay attention to the great number of barriers on each side of the rails. In their open position, they looked like well shadows, which I saw when I was young. Now dozens of car radiators were nearly touching them, waiting humbly till the train had passed. I doubt if a cutting-edge electrical machine can count the time lost in this way. Since the railway was laid to connect Petropavlovsk (Kzylzhar) and Karaganda, the number of kolkhozes and neighborhoods has increased greatly, the car flow had grown as well, and I am not white sure as for what is cheaper – building crossovers or tunnels on passages (I am not an engineer, so I am not too knowledgeable in it) or keeping the striped barriers restricting the freight traffic flow artificially. Besides, I felt sorry for the drivers, who must have called our train all kinds of names for blocking their way.
I have another thing to share, though it has nothing to do with crops. Looking at the endless small woods, which grew thicker while getting closer to Petropavlovsk and which we call kolkis, I thought that minor, so to say, mechanization was still necessary in our time of enormous technical capacity. Not to sound too scientific, I will tell you that I thought of hay makers. Nowadays, they have a wide cut – a hundred arms. This is what prevents them from accessing the little and large meadows which are hidden in the woods like small isles. Such meadows and ravines covered with broom remain virgin, the grass gets dry and withered at the root. I thought that a small tractor or a narrow cut hay maker would be useful as an addition to a К-700... It would not be too much of a challenge for Kazakhstan, which produces agricultural machines, while the benefit is obvious.
...The train kept running. It was approaching Petropavlovsk.
Later, when the yield had been measured, it turned out that North Kazakhstan Province had grown the greatest amount of crops per hectare, which filled me with pride, for I was born there.
But the information was no wonder to me, as I had traveled across six districts and seen sovkhoz fields in summer. The crops were so thick that it seemed impossible for a mouse to squeeze between the stalks... My eyes of a Siberian Agricultural Academy graduate noticed the clean and neat state of the crops – weeds, which are always trying to catch after rain, had been eradicated by the diligent farmer.
Out way brought us to the sovkhoz Zhana Zhol, which had appeared where my aul used to be. It was not before last year that the sovkhoz turned into an independent household.
Since old times, people of the Siban and Samay, Kapsyt and Balykbay clans have lived here. The border between North Kazakhstan and Kostanai Provinces is nearly wasteland; it has never been treated as an agriculturally significant piece of land, so the auls have changed their address seven or eight times within the recent years. Certainly, cattle have been bred and crops have been grown here like in any other place, but no sphere of specialization has been chosen. The settlement has been growing, and when the three of us, Aleksey Belaninov, Gafu Kairbekov, and me, came here last year, the Zhana Zhol department, which consisted of a hundred households, could offer us no apartment, so we were staying in a field truck.
Many local people once obtained high education, as in any other place, but less than a tenth of them came home, though the total number was as many as one hundred fifty. There was no secondary school, so many parents sent their children to other sovkhozes and other areas to that they could continue pursuing an education after eight years.
I shared it with the Political Bureau with the CC of the CPSU. The problem was solved immediately. The First Secretary of the North Kazakhstan District Party Committee Vasiliy Demidenko came in, and the decision was made to create a sovkhoz, an independent Zhana Zhol sovkhoz, and to provide it both with land and with technical devices…
Party resolutions of the recent years often emphasize that words and actions must not differ; as words can be both spoken and writte, paper must turn into action as well…
That was the case with Zhana Zhol. Business-minded, well-educated people of high principles, such as the Director, Zholmagambet Aykenov, the Party Committee Secretary, Shugaip Kucherbayev, and the Chief Agriculturist Iskander Yelesuizov, who had no time for getting started, were sent there. They are young people and, what I like most about their generation, they are not susceptible to the notorious
“Kazakh chic”, which is a remnant of patriarchal the past. They seemed to be very exacting, first of all to themselves, which means that they are morally entitled to be demanding towards others. I felt happy to see no idle man on the street at, say, seven o’clock in the morning, as I had seen lots of them before… I could also feel that dwellers of my village, farm machinery operators, animal breeders, and teachers, had acquired a more business-like manner of speaking. Even the youngest schoolchildren were aware of the fact that they had a sovkhoz of their own…
To find out whether my impressions were right, I had a conversation with the First Secretary of the District Party Committee Marken Akhmetbekov — the sovkhoz belongs to Dzhambul District of North Kazakhstan Province - and he confirmed that people had started to work more efficiently, as they felt more self-confident. Let me give you a simple example. It is a well-known fact that new sovkhozes enjoy fee and hand-in Decurion for five years… The administration of Zhana Zhol had never used the benefit. It had been unnecessary. It is preferable to get used to working efficiently straighaway, no indulgency. Last spring, the sovkhoz Zhana Zhol was helping older households with established order.
Historically, girls from our aul used to keep away from technical devices. By spring, ten sovkhoz girls had finished their education and became tractor operators. Six girls made hay and stacked it. They also did the harvesting. They have an over girl, pretty and sharp – the kind that will get whatever she wants from the chief engineer or the director when it comes from business. At a literary party in Zhana Zhol, I mentioned the girls – how interesting it was to talk to them, to find out their opinion on life, on the work they did. I wished them best of luck then, which I would luck to do now!
I was walking around the settlement a lot — within as little as a year, the sovkhoz had built five houses, one or two apartments in each. I came in time for housewarming – I had been entrusted with five keys to give to five-equipment operator’s families.
Naturally, we mentioned the fact that it was only the beginning, so there were some difficulties in terms of cultural and educational activities, the club had to sit cooped up in an old shabby building, and there was no secondary school. However, Comrade Kunayev has recently helped the citizens of Zhana Zhol in this respect as well; the walls of a new school building are already being erected.
What I found surprising during the trip was a memory of mine. The dwellers of Zhana Zhol would often complain about plough land and hay meadow scarcity before, when the amount of cattle was not that big and the crops grown did not take up so much space. But now there seems to be enough land, so the territory has not been increased. It is attributable not only to nature’s grace but to also to what is called “the Party’s agricultural policy at the present stage” in party documents as well as in a more progressive approach to crop growing and cattle breeding.
...We were traveling around fields.
Pieces of land that were not pleasant to look at claimed my attention. Say, this spurge smothered square – the crops are obviously uncomfortable here.
“Are you expecting to get sixteen centers here too?” I aimed a blow at the vanity of Zholmagambet Aykenov, the director.
I appreciate the fact that the young man was obviously not too enthusiastic about the sovkhoz accomplishments but also was not excessively terrifies at seeing the flaws, as he knew how to rectify the situation.
“Unfortunately, we have such fields…” he admitted calmly, “They are going to yield too little, but the high-yielding patches will compensate for it. You should come next year – we aren’t going to put up with such fields anymore.”
Youthful conceit? Confidence about one’s power, knowledge, and opportunities? It must be the second thing.
I see the Kazakhstani billion as a mountain range, which has appeared in the steppe in spite of the traditional geographical concerns. Each peak of the range, be it a mountain, a hill, or a hummock, has a name of its own. It is nice that there is a Zhana Zhol among them. Back on the first of October, the young sovkhoz reported to have fulfilled the responsibilities assumed.
This year, Kazakhstan is grateful to its land. The soil has responded with generosity and kindness to the care, which helped it accumulate strength, overcome draught, and turn a billiard pood of crops into the starting line in our way to high yield.
“You should come here next year,” the young director of the sovkhoz told me.
Well, I will have to go.
1976
THE BALLAD OF LIFE
On these days, my memory has been bringing me many years back, to the early thirties, before the first writers’ convention, when I met Nikolay Tikhonov...
Back then, he was already well known for his taut-sounding verse, in which the unique rhythm of time appeared, word by word, line by line; his name belonged to the group of those who were the first to discover revolutionary poetry, fathom its soul, and become its voice.
In the twenties, Tikhonov’s poetic experiments were supported by Aleksey Gorky, who used his authority to encourage the literary youth trying to depict their time, their life, and themselves in a brief, frank, and figurative manner.
The young Soviet literature was making a loud statement, showing the great transformations performed for the sake of high-principled and noble purposes, such as liberty, fraternity, and equality of the world’s working people. Nikolay Tiknohov did not appear in the literature unfledged; he was a mature man who had been through wars, both the world war and the civil war; he had covered hundreds of verstas along their roads in his cavalry saddle. In spite of his young age, he had things worth remembering and reflecting on while polishing verse of his ballads in the unheated Petrograd room. What made his poems outstanding were both his talent and his severe exactingness to himself, which did not fit his age. (He was writing a lot of poems back then, like now, like every time).
I have memories of Tikhonov of various periods – within our lives, our life and literary ways would often coincide. But the impression which I would call decisive and most important was that of his craving for knowledge on people of events, which could not be tamed, and his versatile artistic interest towards the reality surrounding him, as well as his trying to fathom the most sacred and the deepest of its processes.
Later, the information would definitely be presented as an artistically perfect review in his books, verse and poems – in books without which one could not possibly imagine Soviet literature during extensive stage of its development. I remember how enthusiastic Nikolay Semyonovich was about Dzhambul, whose name had just become known to the multinational Soviet reader due to Pravda.
I remember his friendly curiosity – how is it going? – when Beimbet Maylin and I were writing the screenplay of the first Kazakh feature film Amangeldy in cooperation with Tikhonov’s friends from his literary youth period – Vsevolod Ivanov.
Tikhonov started his career with ballads – the things he had seen and experienced required a plot clad in verse... But the ballad of his life would be incomplete if we omitted his large-scale public work, which Nikolay Semyonovich still does. Anyway, it would be hard if not impossible to separate his literature from his civil duty.
He has been upholding Gorky’s tradition of taking care of a new generation of writers to come, fostering literary progress; he has constantly been a member of the Writers’ Union management for decades. Many authors from Central Asia, Kazakhstan, Caucasian and Transcaucasian countries know how much he has contributed into their literatures’ development, which is a manifestation of his true internationalism.
Nikolay Tikhonow was one of the first to pay attention to the global popular movement which we call struggle against colonialism and neocolonialism, and the pain of a distant Chinese kuli became that of the Russian Soviet poet; he believed the hardships of the Afghani and Indian people to be his personal problems to solve, and the struggle was coming out in lines of poetry and suffering.
His being involved in whatever was going on our planet had made Nikolay Tikhonov one of the defenders of peace, and his voice could be heard each time when the enemy’s scheme had to be discovered. It is not accidental that there was his signature under the first Stockholm Appeal, which addressed all people of goodwill, their reason and strength.
There are many more things, which I could tell about Nikolay Tikhonov, and still that would not be enough…
He is eighty today. But there is no end to life like to a worthy ballad.
Today we are celebrating the 80th birthday of one of the founders of Soviet literature, the outstanding Soviet poet, public officer, and Chairman of the Soviet Committee for Peace Protection Nikolay Tikhonov.
The way of that young citizen of Saint Petersburg, a son of common workers, which brought him to the summit of world art, was rough. He had to break free from the dull and monotonous artisan neighborhood, where people only had minor worries and great respect of family and church traditions. His passion for the colorful and noisy Orient, for India, must have been a specific reaction to that dullness. “I had never thought that I would ever see what I had read so much about with my own eyes. When I was walking along the noisy Indian streets, standing by the Bay of Bengal, when I saw the famous jungle and the historical monuments to the former greatness, I could not but think back for my distant childhood,” Tikhonov writes in his autobiography.
He has seen many things, for he has chanced to witness a beautiful epoch of fury. He was a World War I soldier and carried our cavalry attacks; he survived the battles of the Civil War. He fought for ninety days in the besieged Leningrad.
The Soviet poet Vladimir Lugovskoy defined the origin and the unique nature of Tikhonov’s poetry with wonderfully appropriate words, “The courageous and at the same time reserved and tender muse of Tikhonov has experienced the white nights of the magic-looking and tragic city on the Neva, the singing of cavalry swords near Riga, the Civil War and Yudenich’s defeat, the deserts of Central Asia, the beauty of Kakhetian valleys, the intimidating and dark prewar Europe, the colorful beauty of distant countries in the south and in the east, and the greatness of Asia… It was an authoritative kind of poetry, new poetry, born to war and revolution.”
Nikolay Tikhonov made a statement straightaway, the world is festive, beautiful, cruel, and tragic, it will never be dull, bland, and gray, wherever you go, you see a magic country, which is not that of fairies and sophisticated allegory but that of courageous, brave, and severe people. His position was formed by the hammer of the world war, that of the October Revolution.
“It was not yesterday that the smith tempered my soul; it took him long to cool it on ice,” said the poet. That is the reason why his intonations are always reserved and austere. Tikhonov’s ballad make a completely independent area in Soviet poetry, it is the poetry of dynamic and resolute people who never give up.
Life taught me with an ore and a rifle,
It whipped my shoulders
With heave wind
To make me calm and clever,
As simple as iron nails.
The austere no-failure rhythm was the voice of the new century; they are still as fresh as on the first day of their life. The power and daring greatness of the new world make the golden thread of the poet’s works, granitic and triumphant.
Tikhonov’s works present an extraordinary blend of prophetic imagination and actual reality. In his poems The Afghan Ballad, India in Moscow, and The Indian Dream, the author speaks of countries, which he has not yet been to, but he seems to have participated in each of the events, to see and hear the innermost things. When later, in the 50s, Tikhonov was traveling around AAfghanistan, India, and Pakistan, he wrote about them as if he had known them for ages. It is very peculiar to Tikhonov and also admirable.
The outstanding poet has always been attracted by the Orient. The fantastic mirror of Tikhnovo’s poetry, novelettes, and short stories has been reflecting the eternal feud between Ormuzd and Akhriman – the good and the avid of the ancient East. He wrote about Vamberi, a heroic intelligence officer, Enverpasha, murderers of twenty six commissars, and Sun Yat-sen. Throughout his life, he has sensed the strong and passionate heart of the Orient. It was his chief motivation in choosing the noble subject of international friendship, which was elaborated on in the poetic cycle Two Torrents, in Pakistani Stories, The Stories of the Mountain Land, in the novelette The White Miracle, and in other works.
In our East, in Central Asia and in the Caucasus region, he has found inexterminable colors and power of life, which dictate to him poems about people, about plowmen and frontier guards, desert workers, water searchers, and constructors.
There is a deep and engaging humanist tone about his fancy poems, which seem nearly ornamental. Ikhnovo’s motto is as follows: People, people, people must be talked about. Without thinking about yourself.
Forget yourself and fight for them,
Take uncountable days of normalizing
To realize that youth has come
One sleepless night near a dried well.
But we know not only the outstanding Soviet poet Nikolay Tikhonov. We also know Tikhonov as a translator who fosters cooperation between Soviet literatures.
True discovery of the multinational literary culture’s treasures started in the thirties, and Tikhnonov is rightfully believed to have been one of its pioneers. The well-arranged and systematic process of translating the best representatives of classic and modern national Soviet literatures into Russian has been continuous since then. It was initiated by outstanding Russian poets and prose writers, who moved to brotherly republics in groups before the First All-Union Writers’ Convention, following the recommendation of Maksim Gorky. Tikhonov’s translation experience is essentially and universally important to everybody who is eager to hear the poetic words of another nation in his or her mother tongue. His face is distorted at seeing a twisted original or the latter reworked to fit the translation. “That’s mean,” he says. Tikhnovo has found the way to win the hearts of other nations; the essence of his work is the noble tradition of Russian poetry, its versatile nature, a deep respect for other nations and disdain of chauvinism, and the poet’s admirable ability to react to the songs of any nation, any country, and any time.
Let us recall the noble and excited response of Nikolai Tikhonov to the appeal of Dzhambul titled My Children, Citizens of Leningrad. Let us recall the enviable profoundness, awareness, and brotherly affection with which he wrote about us, about our dear Mukhtar Auezov on the day when the Decade for Kazakh Literature and Art was started in December 1958. Here are some extracts from his article Hello, My Dear Friends. “Come up to a map of Kazakhstan. It is as huge as a continent, and, just like a continent, it has all kinds of things – high mountain ranges, vast steppes, woods, riparian areas, which are as good as seas; its treasures are beyond any measure. The people who inhabit the advanced Soviet republic work tirelessly to develop its natural treasures. Its virgin land has yielded the gold of bread, it has coal, non-ferrous metal, and oil of its own, the amount of which is constantly growing. But the progress of the population of this magic land is even more astonishing. Do you want to know everything about them? Do you want to know where they came from to awaken the steppe? What is their history like? Who was their beacon in the dark? Get some books by Kazakh writers. The first one should be the wonderful large and colorful saga by Mukhtar Auezov, which tells about the enlightener of the Kazakh people Abay. You can follow the history of the Kazakh nation, accompanying the people in their nomadic life; you can live in auls and meet the characters of the book, whose life has been so rough and sad. Auezov’s talent of being broad and picturesque has given us an opportunity to see so many scenes of the steppe and aul life, which nobody described in such a way before Auezov came; it has introduced us to the life, concerns, hopes, and thoughts of Abay with so much care that Abay has occupied an important place in our memory, which nobody can take from him.”
In this short article, Nikolay Tikhonov managed to characterize a number of works by the writers who were young back then and make the chief labor force of our literature now briefly and accurately.
This article by Nikolay Tikhonov was f great principal significance to us, for is made us feel confident about our power and believe that we had taken the right way. We will always remember his candid words full of care, “We love your talents, your aspirations, your accomplishments, and the vastness of your Motherland as well as that of your inspirations!”
“We pay tribute to Nikolay Tikhonov not only as an outstanding poet and cultural worker but also as a key figure in today’s public activity. He is the Chairman of the Soviet Committee for Peace Defense and a member of the World Peace Council. He has been awarded the multinational Lenin Prize “For International Peace Enforcement”. “Fighting for peace, I can tell people who have never experienced the grief of war how dreadful they are – abroad, where people have no idea of what Soviet people have been through and what courage they showed to save the entire mankind from the fascist yoke.
Tikhonov does large-sale and systematic cultural work as the Chairman of the Committee for Lenin and State Prizes in the Sphere of Literature, Art, and Architecture.
Not all writers preserve a firm gait till an old age. But not every hand trembles when holding the pen. N. Tikhonov is an example to illustrate that. His poetry of courage has won the hearts of many post-October generations. However, he is approaching his 80th birthday.
Gray-haired as a legend
And young as a song.
1976
WORDS OF FAREWELL
It is a hard and bitter feeling to know that we will never see Ivan Shukhov, an outstanding Soviet writer and a person of great cordiality and generous talent, again.
He celebrated the Siberian Cossacks at the turning point of their history by giving a fascinating and true-to-life account of the past and present of the Kazakh Steppe, without which he could not imagine himself and his life. “In the gloomy woods and rocks of the distant Karelia, under the fiery sky of the unsubdued Stalingrad, surrounded by the pristine grander of the ancient Caucasian Mountains,” he wrote, “I see you, my glorious compatriots, in the battle smoke of gun powder, I see you everywhere, every time…”
Shukhov’s first novels, The Bitter Line and Hatred, in which he depicted the progress of revolutionary awareness in Kazakh people and showed the social stratification of the Russian Cossacks and Kazakh aul dwellers, made him one of the most famous Soviet writers and were highly appreciated by Maksim Gorky. “You have a very good revolutionary gift” you should make it broader and deeper”, A. Gorky wrote in one of his letters addressing Shukhov.
The set of his works is a holistic story of the Siberian Cossacks, their way to the revolution, the collectivization period in Cossack villages, the fight against kulak peasants, and the way in which honest men of labor came to participate in the building of the new world.
The virgin soil sketches by I. Shukhov tell us about the colossal changes, which took place in his Motherland. They present correct and accurately described features of the reclamation time. Shukhov shows the life of people who embellish the steppe with their labor with love and great artistic efficiency.
Whatever has been created by the master’s pen is marked by his exacting and demanding attitude to his work. He had the same attitude to his colleagues. Shukhov never gave up his enormous love for his Motherland and its people. Which influenced his works greatly. “You can serve your people without being aware of their everyday needs and worries, their labor accomplishments and ideas of life,” Shukhov said at the 6th Kazakhstani Writers’ Convention. “But the thoughts and accomplishments are enormous and beautiful, as everything expected and created in the deep of people’s life is. We are not afraid of our duty of honor, for there is no happiness higher than to have at least a line or a smart and true word which your country needs.”
The smart and true word by Ivan Shukhov will remain in our literary gold reserve.
1977
MAY EVERYTHING COME TRUE
I read the text of the last Constitution of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic as a document of great historical importance, a total of our experience in the sphere of cocoalist building in our country, the experience of great revolutionary transformations in every sphere of our social life.
I see that the document has a specific way of analyzing what has been achieved by the multinational Soviet people and is philosophically voluminous it its dialectic dynamism. It addresses each of us as an action plan. It is an inspiring example to follow for all revolutionary forces of the world socialist system, the international labor movement, and fighters for national and social liberation of people.
I do not have to strain my imagination to picture it to myself. I have been to nearly all continents and to many countries. I have met kinds of people.
I have met both friends, and enemies, and those who wanted to learn something about us to understand the life of the Soviet man and fathom his aspirations and ideas.
I see the Fundamental Law of the country of developed socialism as an exhaustive answer to all questions, how, by what, and in the name of what we live, what our aspirations are. The laconic and to-the-point articles of our draft Constitution define our purposes and the methods by which we achieve them, out faith and its origin.
I am a writer. I have paid special attention to the part of the report of the draft USSR Constitution that states, “The Constitution has an enormous creative potential. It should be used creatively.”
The work of a Soviet writer is impossible without a deep understanding of people’s life and sympathizing with them when it comes to the key aspects of their lives in the past as well as in the future. Without it, one cannot see the image of our contemporary in its greatness and simplicity, discover and depict the diversity of his spiritual, moral, and civil essence, and fathom his nature. In this respect, I see the new Constitution as a kind of guide. The writer is not merely a recorder or phenomena. He is an explorer; thus, he needs a compass to be part of his creative equipment. Having done the exploration, he needs to study what he has found in the back area of his “work front”. Finally, being an artist, he needs to create a picture of life as it is. Truth is the criteria. His outlook is the scale.
I can merely generate a simplistic scheme of the creative process. The scheme may be different, but the process is shaped by the complicated metamorphoses. All artistic trends within Soviet literature that of socialist realism, are somehow connected with the all-encompassing process. The process is what the new Constitution is focus on and what it presents in a most vivid way from the clear Leninist party point of view. Due to it, “it will be even more obvious to people how broad and diverse the civil rights and freedoms of the socialist society are,” meaning the people whom the word of the Soviet writer addresses (otherwise it will not be efficient). This is what I mean when saying all this.
When writing A Soldier of Kazakhstan, I did not try to avoid bitter facts. However, I could not overlook the people’s heroism and noble spirit, which called them to serve their Motherland. . Thirty five years have passed since then. What kind of years they were! The years are represented in the progress of the Constitution and make us think of the time of drastic changes, the time to depict which at least to some tiny part and the duty and pride of every Soviet writer, in a special way.
Just a couple of days before, Kazakh literature, the interest in which has been increasing daily not only in our country but also beyond its borders, was discussed at a meeting summoned by the administration of the Writers’ Union. An intensification of our writers’ creative contribution was mentioned. Reading the draft Constitution, I, having lived a long life and seen many things of all kinds, I feel content and free of envy to those who are coming to replace me and think of how happily they must be entering the world that we have built in the process of labor and struggle and what beautiful future they have. The best sons of my nation dreamt of what I can see today. The new Constitution of the country of developed socialism defines the way into the future of my country. So I say, “Indeed, everything for the sake of which the colors of revolution were raised, the colors with which Soviet people is approaching the historical date, the 60th anniversary of the Great October, along with the countries of the socialist commonwealth, will come true.”
1977
GREATNESS OF THE WRITER AND GREATNESS OF LITERATURE
On those days, as we are celebrating the 80th anniversary of Mukhtar Auezov’s birthday, my memory brings me back to the past, and I think of the miracle, which the birth of a writer always is.
...His youth coincided with the major socialist transformations in the Kazakh steppe. The new time required new forms of expression, and Mukhtar Auezov rightfully obtained the central position in the “powerful group” of the founders of Kazakh Soviet literature, whose works shaped its ideological and artistic trends for many years. It would not be an exaggeration to say that all representatives of the older generation of our writers progressed under direct influence of their penmates, whose names and works have become a part of the multinational Soviet literary treasure.
It is not only to pay tribute to them why I am saying this. Those who raised the colors of revolution, the colors of internationalism, remain our contemporaries forever. How young they were back then, in the very beginning!.. Saken Seyfullin, Beimbet Maylin, Ilyas Dzhnsugurov were of the same age of twenty three. Mukhtar was twenty. Sabit Mukanov seventeen. They made the beginning, but it takes years to create art and literature...
To imagine the way covered by the writer Mukhtar Auezov, we will perhaps have to cast a glance at the aul where he grew up – the aul of Abay, where what we would now call creative environment surrounded little Mukhar since his first step. Akyns would compose their poems, seeking the approval of the poetic aksakal. The best dombrists would demonstrate their skills. Renowned wits would contest each other...
Books were read in the aul – Navoi, Nizami, Omar Khayaam, and Firdousi were interlocutors to match Abay’s contemporaries. Mukhtar’s grandfather, Auez, lived in the nearby regardless of the season. He was a learned man as for hiss time; one could come across some books by Al-Farabi, Yasavi, Ibn- Sina, and Abulgazy Bakhadurkhan in his house. The curious boy was attracted to the books at an early age, and his grandfather taught him to read and write.
We know that the first time poems by Abay were published was after his death, in Kazan in 1905. But even before it happened, Mukhtar had learned them by heart. He could recite his translations of Pushkin, Lermontov, and Krylov. He remembered Abay, an elderly man with sad eyes, who was famous for his wisdom, justice, and friendly attitudes, for the rest of his life.
Auezov obtained higher education afterwards; he studies in Leningrad and in Tashkent, but it is safe to say that his first high school was there, in the eastern part of what is presently Kazakhstan, in Abay’s aul. There he became a writer before he had written a single line.
The latter came later, when he turned twenty… His tragedy Yenlik – Kebek was the first work by the young author which was published. It was staged in the aul, the year when the Great October Socialist Revolution took place, and it has been continuously played ever since. Yenlik – Kebek was the beginning to the professional Kazakh drama theater, which was created in the 1920s. By the same token, Auezov’s Ayman – Sholpan was the beginning of the music theater.
Speaking of Auezov as a playwright, we cannot just list the plays he wrote, which are numerous. His relations with the stage, with Kazakh drama remind me of the relations with the Maly Theater. Indeed, Mukhtar Omarkhanovich was dealing closely with the issues of repertoire for ten years starting from 1923, and I would call the period the most significant in the history of our theater. Shakespeare, Schiller, Moliere, Lope de Vega, Goldoni, Gogol, Ostrovskiy, and Gorky were introduced to the theater… Shakespeare and Gogol he translated himself – Othello, The Taming of the Shrew, and The Inspector General. Auezov the writer employed the help of Auezov the expert in national and world literature. Of course it is not accidental that the Kazakh Academic Drama Theater was named after M. Auezov.
Speaking of him on these days, I started with drama, but Auezov’s work and creative activities are truly inexhaustible; many generations will still have to discover new and new depths and conquer the peaks to which he led us through his books. The saga The Way of Abay marked the greatness of the writer and that of literature — it was the artist’s lifetime work, his contribution to global literary development.
The Kazakh steppe came to live its life on the pages of his book, colorful and diverse as it is, presenting the various patterns of interpersonal relationships, and that was the image of the steppe, which millions of Soviet readers still bear in their mind! The effect was not limited to our country... On my trips abroad, I have come across much evidence to the fact that Mukhtar Auezov helped Abay undertake a truly distant journey across continents and countries.
Once, A. Gorky said that he believed the book to be one of the most astonishing man-made wonders ever. The Way of Abay was one of such books. The writer had spent his entire life preparing for it, polishing his skills, studying the revolutionary patterns of social progress, and each of his short stories or novelettes brought him closer to the main book.
His legacy is quite voluminous — twenty volumes of works by M. Auezov are about to appear, including novels, novelettes, short stories, plays, screenplays, and scientific works. I wonder how he managed to do so many things... I have already mentioned his dramatic and prosaic contribution. But he also did a lot to foster the development of Kazakh cinema. Being a man of all-round education, Mukhar Omarkhanovich was a brilliant lecturer at the Kazakh University and taught lecture cycles at the University of Moscow.
We celebrate his birthday in the year of the 60th anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution, which was the beginning of our era. The literature of socialist realism tells us about the great transformations, which took place in the Soviet land. M. Auezov was one of its most renowned representatives. Was?.. No, we cannot use the past tense speaking of a writer of such grade. We call Auezov an outstanding writer, for he succeeded in creating an image of his nation, in telling its story in an impressive ways, and describing its innermost thoughts, hopes, worries, and delights.
The writer departed from the world in the prime of wisdom and creative potential. We may hate to have no possibility to read, say, his contemporary-themed novels, ideas of which he developed and was even going to implement. But we are happy to be familiar with his books, which will live forever.
1977
THE SPRING OF CONTEMPLATION
The coming of spring is invariably associated with crop concerns. The peasant has many names: sower, breadwinner, ploughmen, and crop grower, all of which are true in their highest meaning, for his labor shapes the life of mankind.
In the south of our country, ploughmen have already started to sow seeds, while the virgin land and the Nonchernozem Belt as well as the Altai land are undergoing the final stage of preparation for the sowing campaign. On these spring days, the workers of my dear Kazakhstan as well as other republics of our country are discussing the drafts of their republic’s new Constitutios. My heart is filled with happiness and pride at realizing what unheard-of success my compatriots have achieved when I think of the manifest of happiness, which the Kazakh people will soon approve. I cannot but recall the prediction of some self-invited “prophets”, who foresaw a complete extinction of the Kazakh nation sixty years ago. Ah, prophets!
I wish they could see the way in which the Kazakh nation lives and works now. Each households enjoys abundance; my compatriots as well as the Ukrainians and the Armenians, the Latvians and the Kyrgyzs, the Moldavians and the Estonians, enjoy their Constitution-enforced right of work, rest, education, and housing!.. They have the right, which is most important – they have every right to be happy!
...Powerful machines are entering the vast fields of Kazakhstan at the moment. There is nothing more precious to me that the smell and color of the North Kazakhstan land, where the transformation of virgin soil, which used to be infertile, started as long as twenty five years ago.
The Kazakh have been the symbol of the virgin soil reclaimed since long ago. For two years in a row, 1972 and 1973, the republic filled the state garners with a billion pood grain yearly, and in 1976, Kazakhstan had a record harvest of one billion 150 million puds. However, the way to bread is never easy. Droughts, downpours, and dark storms – we remember it, the wind-beaten steppe parched by the sun scorching mercilessly…
It was not only new technology and new devices what appeared in the virgin soil land; a new type of ploughman appeared, who mastered all modern devices and had a fine sense of soil. I know the Shortandy foreman Stanislv Gavriluk. He has been recording the history of each of their team’s 16 fields in a specially designed accountant book, entering weather conditions data as well as chart to illustrate the yield dynamics and crop rotation...
My compatriots will have to conquer a steep mountain next years. At the Kazakhstani Agricultural Workers’ Meeting, which has just finished, it was mentioned that the party and the country were expecting the Kazakhstani people to produce a great amount of crops this year.
Indeed, we have survived a number of years, which were tough in terms of weather conditions. This is why we are making every effort to guarantee rapid agricultural development. Now we will have to get at least 220 million tons of grain from the entire country as well as improve its quality. Group growers can always feel the government’s significant assistance; for instance, the Resolution by the Central Committee of the CPSU and the Council of Ministers of the USSR have recently adopted the resolution “On additional measures of preparation and arrangement of fieldwork in 1978.” The document defines a whole sister of measures to provide for the satisfaction of our kolkhozs’ and sovkhozs’ material and technical needs as well as enhanced financial motivation of crop growers.
At the end of January, the All-Union Writers’ Creative Conference that dealt with the major and important subject, “Heroes of the outstanding lines of our time and Soviet literature” took place in Tumen. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to arrange an all-Union writers’ conference in one of the country’s largest household, so that we could reflect on the lifestyle of the contemporary ploughman in Soviet literature and discuss the essential problems of rustic prose as well as city-and-village connections.
...The sower enters the field. Let the grain he throws turn into thick fields!
1978
MY DEAR COMPATRIOT AND FRIEND
There is a short ring of the doorbell. Who can come so early? I open to see, not quite unexpectedly, Shukhov.
“Gabit, I’m dying to smoke, and I’ve run out of matches. For god’s sake, give me one.”
The request is no great deal, but I am in no hurry. Looking concerned, I go to the room, make noise for some time, and return empty-handed.
“No matches, Ivan.”
“No a single on? How come? Come on, I can see it from your eyes that you have some.”
“Well, you don’t have any.”
“Well, I’ve been out for sour milk. I’ll have to drag myself back to the damn shop... All right, at least I will remember it.
He moans with frustration in the entry way and slams the door closed.
In a minute, I take the matches (which I naturally had) and ring at his door, which is opposite to mine.
He is happy.
“How sly are you! Playing tricks. Aright, come in and have some tea.”
So we sit there, content and unburdened, sipping at the teas –Shukhov was an expert in tea brewing, talking of nothing like lofty matters – don’t neighbors have any other things to discuss?
That was the way we would visit each other on various pretexts (sometimes without any), living door to door for about fifteen years. Figurally speaking, our living door to door counted much more, about fifty years, starting with the time of our distant, dawn (that’s the way Ivan Petrovich put it) youth. Actually, we were born close to each other – he appeared in Presnovka, while I started my life not far from another Cossack village, Presnogorkovka. As children, we saw the same space, the same clear lakes and birch woods, breathed the air of North Kazakhstan filled with the aroma of free herbs of the steppe. Ivan Petrovich has an admirably poetic description of it in his childhood-themed novelette with a Chekhov style simple and lyrical title of Gras in the Middle of Nowhere.
Even though we loved the corner of the earth where we had seen the light of the world and made our first steps, the roads of our lives brought us far away, to noisy cities, to books and education, just to make us meet again, matured, experienced, and proud of certain literary accomplishments. At least Shukhov was already the author of the novels The Bitter Line and Hatred, which Gorky appreciated and which had been republished over a dozen times in a total of nearly a million copies within two years.
The first time I met him personally was at that period. To tell the truth, the circumstances were not, so to say, favorable and dated back to either 1934 or 1925. Shukhov and Beimbet Maylin signed a contract with Lenfilm concerning the screenplay for Amangeldy. The celebration of the 15th anniversary of Soviet Kazakhstan came soon. It was a truly festive event attended by Mikhail Kalinin. A Kazakh delegation, which consisted of such outstanding party and state activists of the republic as L. Mirzoyan, U. Isayev, A. Dzhangildin, and many others, was sent to Moscow.
During the Cremlin reception, I. Stalin suddenly asked if they had seen the film Chapayev, which had just appeared but was a pronounced success. Having been given a positive answer, Iosif Vissarionovich grew thoughtful, after which he said, “Comrades, you have a Chapayev of your own… It is Amangeldy…”
One year later, during the First Decade for Kazakh Literature and Art in Moscow, I. Stalin asked for some report on the film about the “Kazakh Chapayev”, for he did remember the previous conversation when talking to the republic’s delegate. To tell the truth, there was nothing to report – the screenplay had not even been started, though Maylin was eager to get to work and was waiting for his colleague, while Shukhov, who was obviously engaged in artistic ideas of his own, had been constantly postponing his visit. He did not come to Moscow for the Decade either. That is why Maylin and I were told to find another co-author to replace Ivan Petrovich.
We decided to turn to Vsevolod Ivanov and went to his dacha near Moscow. At first, our request embarrasses VsevolodVyacheslavovich. He said that he was somehow apart from Kazakhstan and he did not know what to do... Talking and walking in the forest near writers’ country houses, we ran into the writer Fadeyev. Tall, trim, and smiley, he spread his powerful arms in a wide gesture of greeting, “Oh, Kazakhs! The heroes of Moscow! Congratulations! Kylyash Bayseitova… 24 years old… Unparalleled success! She’ll be a People’s Artist of the USSR in no time!”
Quite naturally, we all felt an elation. In spite of it, we still had curtains concerns. Finally, Vsevolod Ivanov agreed to work in cooperation upon the condition of our gathering the screenplay material before we started working together.
Right after the decade, the agreement had to be re-issued, and our comradeship imposed the duty of showing my friendly attitude – at least of catching Ivan Petrovich’s eyes, so that I could have clear conscience. I felt like seeing him in private and settling the matter in a friendly manner.
At first we headed to the setting of the future film – to the Steppe of Turgay, Amangeldy’s native land. We gathered the factual material necessary and, having sent a telegram addressed to Sukhov to Presnovka from somewhere like Batpakkara, which read, “Going to you. Meet us,” embarked on a north course. The modern-sounding phrase “embark on a course” has a slightly ironic appearance, for we traveled dark.
Finally, we reached the capital, but Shukhov was not there. There was no house by the lake in which he lived afterwards, and Ivan Petrovich used to stay in a dacha area in summer; it was a beautiful birch wood at a distance of about eight kilometer from Presnovka. The woods, or kolki, as the locals call them, feather grass steppes and clear lakes reflecting the sky make the land, the love of which I share with Ivan Petrovich, both authentic and charming.
Maylin and I were shocked to see a common Kazakh yurt on a forest fringe and near it… our unsavvy “companion” as we had come to a wonderful wood radiant with birches with a guide from Presnovka. He was happy, and so were we, for out many days’ ordeal was over; he offered us some water to wash our faces and then invited us to his summer residence.
It was a hot day, so, having had a rest, the whole crowd of us went to the nearest lake. We had enough swimming in its clear, salty, and refreshing water and went back. When we arrived, we saw two more yurts near that of Shukhov. It turned out that we did not go unnoticed in Presnovka, so the local government took care of us as well as of Ivan Petrovich.
Several nights and days of little care went unnoticed. I say days because we were staying up late sitting by a big samovar, reading short stories, singing, or reciting poetry nearly till dawn. We all were young, debonair, and head over heels in love with poetry, Kazakh and Cossack folklore, so we were constantly sharing the spiritual treasures, which we found astonishing with others. But the most noteworthy fact is that none of us mentioned the contract and the screenplay – we somehow became intimate friends straightaway, and friends do not need words to understand each other…
But time came for us to part. We parted in a most cordial, wholehearted way, exchanging kindly jocular instructions for the future.
The next time I saw Ivan Shukhov was in Almaty after his trip to Moscow. He told me about Aleksandr Fadeyev as a true man and writer with great admiration, mentioning his charm and generosity. By the way, they met after a year again, had a long conversation, and Fadeyev suggested that Ivan Petrovich should move to Moscow. The Secretary of the Writers’ Union of the RSFSR Leonid Sobolev gave him similar recommendations. Even though it was in Moscow that Shukhov became famous as a writer, he eventually decided on connecting his life to Kazakhstan forever. Nevertheless, bothMoscow, Leningrad, Omsk, the Baltic states, the ancient Central Russian towns, and, of course, his native town of Presnovka did occupy a sacred place in his generous open heart...
In short, we could always trace whatever happened in each other’s lives. There are many things to remember. Our creative literary friendship was always cordial, artless, and, in a manner of speaking, not ostentatious but intimate. We even had a special jargon, which only we understood to talk to each other, so that a stranger would often fail to guess if we were arguing or admitting each other. We would always tease, egg each other on, but there has never been a controversy between us in serious matters.
Once, I had a conversation with the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Kazakhstan Comrade D. Kunayev. Dinmukhamed Akhmedovich was somehow interested in who might be called outstanding among the republic’s writers. I named I. Shukhov without hesitation. To be substantive, I said, “Dimash Akhmedovich, you are a learned person, a reader. Just compare Novyy Mir with Tvardovsky and Prostor with Shukhov. On the other hand, compare what the magazine Druzhba Narodov was before Baruzdin and what it turned into then. They are proper editors. By using the defining word, an editor, I meant a lot of things, primarily brilliant literary reputation, and an honest approach to literature, to one’s civil and artistic duty.
Indeed, if speaking of Ivan Shukhov, we should mention that he did not resort to any narrow-minded bias or irrelevant consideration in appraising a work of literature. He served selflessly and bravely to the sacred literary purposes. I think that many Russian Kazakhstani writers are indebted to Shukhov, who introduced them to the world of literature.
As for me, I must admit that it would be insufficient to say I have been close to Ivan Petrovich in my heart and in terms of my artistic career for the period of over forty years for which I have been a member of the Writers’ Union. What I should say is that he brought, archaically speaking, the divine spirit of friendship, pure, noble, free of envy and selfish scheming, to our life due to his honesty, kindness, and extraordinarily. That is why it was always easy to breathe and work close to him. I know it from my own experience, from the experience of my cooperation with Shukhov to create full-length documentaries about the Soviet Kazakhstan, which were mostly shot in the 1940s and 1950s on the basis of our screenplays and in cooperation with Kazakhstani cinema experts by such famous Moscow cinema directors as Roman Karmen, Lidiya Stepanova, and Leonid Kristi.
I think that Shukhov as a writer and as a person is best characterized by his books The Bitter Line and Presnov Pages. They present his unique talent and his mental world in the fullest what possible. Mentioning the fact that he translated many things by Kazakh writers into Russian, which he did efficiently, I should say, not to reprimand but to praise Ivan Petrovish, that it was not translation but his own, original works what was his natural literary environment. He was what they call a writer to the bone and has a God-granted talent, thus being happily capable of thinking in his own way and expressing the thoughts in his own, Shukhov’s way only.
He was part of the big literary world, to which he truly belonged, for over fifty years; being a member of the Front Office of the Writers’ Union of the USSR and just a curious life-thirsty artist needing constant accumulation of new impressions, he would regularly go to Moscow and see his old friends – Fadeyev, Sobolev, Erenburg, Tikhonob, Sholokhov, and other outstanding pen masters. Shortly speaking, he had names to drop but never did that.
We happened to be staying in the capital together during significant all-Union literary events. We would be happy to find out that our hotel rooms were situated next to each other as our apartments were. I remember that we were lucky during a Writers’ Plenary Meeting of 1959, when we were staying on the same floor of our favorite cozy hotel Moscow. Sabit Mukanov was staying at the same place.
Once we got down to the restaurant late at night for the modest wish if quenching our thirst with borjomi. The establishment was about to close, and the halls were empty. But then we look and see Sholokhov appearing from nowhere, accompanied by the Pravda worker Kirill Potapov. Mikhail Aleksandrovich was in an elated mood, and exclaimed cordially at seeing us, nearly in the same manner as Fadeyev had once done, “My Kazakhs, my Kazakhs!” We beamed as well, and I noticed how happy Shukhov was to have encountered him, for I knew that he admired the “Cossack” greatly and had a religious attitude to whatever was written by his hand, so the first thing he would do at arriving in Moscow was go around in search of him.
In the meanwhile, the surprise was not the only one that evening. Hardly had we got sited at a table and ordered something to our acquaintance, a waiter capable of complete understanding, when a big group of slightly excited people approached us from the far end of the restaurant room which had already been closed with affable smiles. Of course, they were our bother writers, and what kind of writers! Mirzo Tursunadze, Gafir Gulam, Sameg Vurgun... Our company was too big for an ordinary table, so we took a long one. What a wonderful, friendly feast and what fun we were having till midnight! Witty remarks were made that we were a “little presidium” having a meeting. Indeed, nearly the entire presidium of the Writers’ Plenary Meeting was present!
I was sitting tight between the two “Cossacks”, as they called each other, Sholokhov and Shukhov, so I heard someone ask Mikhail Aleksandrovich about the state of his artistic affairs, to which he responded by pointing at Ivan Petrovich, “You’d better ask him – he’s in the prime of his writing career…”
Indeed, Shukhov was in the ascendant; his wonderful virgin sketches were being published in Pravda, Selskaya Zhyzhn, and other central periodicals.
We did not want to part at all, so Sholokhov, Potapov, and I went upstairs to Ivan Petrovich’s room, and we all left it to taken Mikhaul Aleksandrovish home along the unusually silent familiar Moscow streets illuminated by lights and snow...
I have so many memories concerning Ivan Petrovich, our meetings, trips, and literary cooperation, serious and jocular conversations, and mutual friendly practical jokes. But it is not easy to speak of someone who is truly dear and irreplaceable to you in the past tense. He will always be alive in my memory, my dear compatriot and friend, my dear restless neighbor…
1979
THE TIME OF MAJOR CHANGES
The passage of time is not steady. It can roll; smooth and barely noticeable like a quiet deep river, or run rapidly like a noisy mountain Totten. It depends on the events as well as on the rate of social development.
I would like to compare two momentous dates. Next year, we will celebrate the 250th anniversary of the voluntary incorporation in Kazakhstan by Russia; today we are celebrating the 60th anniversary of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic. Two different timespans on the endless scale of history. However, I find two centuries of Kazakh life before the revolution to have been far shorter than the following sixty years of the post-revolutionary period. Let us recall the fact that only as few as 2 Kazakhs out of ten could read and wright before the Revolution. Officials of the Russian Department of Education concluded that to exterminate the Kazakh population would take several centuries in 1913. They could not even imagine that the never-setting sun of socialism would rise over Kazakhstan to drive the ancient clouds away forever, while the cowed and oppressed nation would make a step towards the peaks of progress. I would like to emphasize the fact that the way covered by the Kazakh nation within the six Soviet decades is still beyond the comprehension of many of our contemporaries from other countries whom I have met. How come, they ask, the nomads who used to have no alphabet have become one of the most civilized nation within the lifespan of a single generation by overcoming the heavy burden of the ancient custom and traditions and breaking free from their clan, patriarchal, and religious chains?
We Soviet people are well aware of the source of the miracle – it has been done by the talented and industrial people, to whom the Great October has opened unlimited opportunities and prospects. The nation which has become very intimate with the brotherly nations of the Socialist state, the nation guided by Lenin’s party and inspired by the immortal ideas of communism.
Being nearly as old as the twentieth century, I am happy to realize that I have witnessed transformations unheard-of in the human history and chanced to play the honorable role of a participant and chronicler of the most significant social, cultural, and economic transformations. Looking back from today’s high point, I am most impressed by the pace. A little more than two decades passed from the creation of the Kazakh alphabet to the founding of the republic’s Academy of Science. The industry of Kazakhstan requires only half a day to produce an output equal to that of 1920, while the annual amount is five as big as the total of pre-war five-year plans. In 1913, 13 books were published in Kazakhstan, and the number of copies was 4000; nowadays, over two thousand titles in Kazakh, Russian, Uigur, and other languages annually in several billion copies. Are the facts not astonishing?
I gave one of my novels the title Paradise Awakened. Indeed, the pre-war Kazakhstan can be compared to a sleeping batyr unaware of his own strength. In a manner of speaking, the Soviet government helped my people re-discover their ancestor’s land, see and admire its truly magic treasures. The multi-volume Geography of Russia published before I was born characterized our area in the following way, “Richest in salt.”
Does the evaluation make you laugh? The republic’s depth is abundant in non-ferrous metal and coal, iron ore, and phosporites. Figuratively speaking, that wealth has become the basis on which the grand building of Kazakhstani industry was built and has been growing ever since. Children and grandchildren of the illiterate nomadic animal breeders, whose outlook was limited to the dome of their yurt, are the true owners of that wealth…
We have a wise saying, “Objects tell more and better than the people who have created them.” To have a deeper understanding of the greatness of the victories won, one has to study some of the objects created by Kazakhs. I mean the Temirtau blast furnaces, the Pavlodar tractors, the magnificent palaces of Almaty, and the Ust Kamnegorsk titanium slabs, the phosphorus of Zhambul, the Mangyshlak atomic reactor, the Baikonur space port, and thousands of other objects which are an evidence to the technical and scientific progress, without which we cannot imagine our today’s republic. I also mean the vast fields of virgin soil, the steppe giants of elevators full of highest-quality grains, the herds of fat sheep, and the gardens bent under the weight of red apples. The group of symbolic objects also includes operas creates by Kazakh composers, films by our cinema workers, paintings, and book volumes. I would like to turn to my friends, intimate of not, saying, Study the brilliant fruit of the human labor in detail, compare them to what you used to have in the Kazakh land sixty years ago, and you will rightfully take pride in people who are so talented in embellishing their own land, and you will share their joy.
All Soviet spacecraft get started in Kazakshtan; it must be the reason why the heights huts conquered by the republic are often compared to space trips. To elaborate on the poetic image, I should say that international friendship has always been the primary driving force, which gave the initial start. It originated in the ancient times when Kazakh poor men were learning crop growing from Russian migrants and at the same time acquiring certain class solidarity. The friendship was tempered in the flames of the Civil War; it grew stronger and more powerful in the end of the five-year plans. The entire country was building the legendary Turksib. Azerbaijani oil workers were generously sharing their experience with their Emba comrades, while Ukrainian metalworkers and miners were helping those of Karaganda. Thousands of representatives of different nations were working shoulder to shoulder at the construction of the Balkhash Copper and Chimkent Lead Plants as well as the Ashchisay and Leninogorsk Polymetallic Plants. Many of those who came to help the brotherly Kazakh nation decided on connecting their lives with our republic forever. Kazakhstan became home not only for them but also for their children and grandchildren.
The territory boundaries were getting much broader for my compatriots as well. “Now looking at the palaces of Leningrad, at the full-flowing Neva, at the thick woods of the North, at the shiny Black Sea, and at the buffets of the Far East, a Kazakh can rightfully say, “It is my land, it is my Motherland. Whatever is mine is yours; whatever is yours is mine.” The exciting quotation appeared in a letter by Kazakhstani people to battle-front soldiers, which was published in Pravda on February 6, 1943. The republic sent over a million of its songs and daughters to protect the socialist Motherland on the days on the mortal battle against fascism, and many of them won victory which couls never be forgotten – just think of the heroic deed of Parfenov’s soldiers. At their home front, the Kazakhs were also working industriously, supplying the state defense industry with meat, wool, and other products. Writers contributed greatly to the struggle against the enemy by inspiring their compatriots to do heroic deeds. Everybody heard the voice of the oldest of the akyns, Dzhambul; whose poem People of Leningrad, My Children! was characterized by Vsevolod Vishnevskiy as something which was as valuable as the strong backup approach.
Another colorful page of international friendship is the heroic saga of virgin land.
People say that the entire country can be studied geographically with the help of a virgin land map. Such sovkhozes as Moscovskiy, Kiyevskiy, Leningradskiy, Dnepropetrovskiy, Minskiy, and Odesskiy are present there. Kazakh, Russia, Ukrainian, Belarussian, and Moldvian languages can be heard in virgin land settlements, while little kindergarten attenders speak several languages fluently. The virgin soil has become a great school of internationalism, while today Kazakh billion pood loaves are the best evidence to the efficiency of our friendship, which nobody can disturb.
I was born and grew up in the territory of what is presently North Kazakhstan Province, which was the setting of the first battle for the big Kazakhstani bread.
I have traveled a great deal. However, I have never had the sinking feeling which I had back then on the steppe paths where I once made my first step. My memory offers me colorful scenes of the past: a shabby dug-out with “black” heating used to be not far from here; our family of seventeen people lived cooped up in it. This is the river by which I used to pasture bays’ cattle barefoot... But the distant visions grow pale and fade away in a moment, out shadowed by the buzz of powerful Kirovets tractors, the rustle of the sea of golden spikes, and silvery singing of the young. In the land where hopeless deprivation ruled six decades ago, magic agricultural towns and animal breeding centers have appeared, and wealth and abundance have been established in each peasant house. North Kazakhstan Province produces as much crops as the whole of Kazakhstan used to produce before the virgin soil was reclaimed annually.
My native land has changes, but the people have changed even more. I often meet common people of labor – farm machinery operators, animal breeders, and workers. Whenever I talk to them, I am astonished by their knowledge and open-mindedness – their political, literary, and art judgments are no less competent than those of well-educated experts are. It is no wonder. For instance, even sheepherders on remote highland pasturing land have transistor radios, portable TVs, and our buzzing world full of information of every kind show daily all across the republic. There is another thing, which I admire – the endless optimism with which my compatriots look into the future. Each of them is strongly assured that peaceful foreign policy of the party will guarantee our Motherland peaceful skies for a long term. Not long ago, I happened to witness a spontaneous aytys, that is, a competition of improvising singers. Accompanying to themselves with dombras, young people sang about how happy they was to be living and working for the sake of their Motherland, picturing radiant scenes of the future.
I knew that they were not merely dreaming but sharing their plans, which were quite realistic.
Today the ancient land of Kazakhstan is having a big and happy holiday – people are celebrating the 60th anniversary of the Kazakh SSR and the republic’s Communist Party. The Kazakhstani have come to celebrate the occasion in the prime of their life, determined to win new triumphs by competing in arranging a decent celebration of the 26th Convention of the CPSU as well as by fighting for further progress of our beloved multinational Motherland.
1980
TWO MUKHTARS
Young... I am thinking about young writers... till what time are they referred to as young ones? How many books published can help them grow older in the literary sense? What if the young bring four or five books when joining the Writers’ Union? Will we see a writer generally called young have grizzling hair? It is a common fact that some writers in their late forties present a selection of works making up two or three books on the occasion of their jubilee. The rite does exist. After that, you only see them among older generation writers. Such facts actually happen in our life.
I think we should challenge the stereotype. The works of some six-year-old writers have no trace of fresh thinking, while some twenty-five-year-olds are pen masters, each line by who is carved on the reader’s heart. Can we forget the life and work of Sattar, Kasym, Baubek, Mukagali, and Tulegen? Many writers of the older generation might still regret failing to support the young talented writers in due time. Such things have happened. To my great embarrassment, we have not cured the dangerous ailment yet. If someone of the older generation claims to feel no pangs of sick conscience and remorse in relation to the writers who died young, he has no right to belong to the older generation. Such “old generation writers” are good for nothing. Needless to say, the five of them were men of extraordinary talent. Some failed to understand them fully, some felt apprehensive, but there was some frantic praising as well. They were totally unaffected by the “rat race”, which had nothing to do with their poetic nature.
All of us who are alive must be haunted by the same question, what did they feel when departing, and how do we compensate for the enormous loss? What about Kazakh literature, which has to drink the cup of bitter poison? What about the literature?!
The depressive reflection makes me think that we should know young people better, not in terms of their names but in terms of knowing their specific features, knowing and cherishing them.
To put it in Chekhov’s manner, do we have young people not only to march side to side with but also to follow? We do! Both young men and young women. However, we still have a vague feeling of belated regret. Of course, the eyes are not to blame, and no glasses can help. Our indifference and carelessness are to blame. I believe it to be my duty, though I came to it a little bit too late, to say a couple of words on two writers who are quite mature and have certain literary achievements but are somehow treated as representatives of the young group.
They have the same name – Mukhtar. One of them is Mukhtar Magauin, and the second is Mukhtar Shakhanov.
How great it is that they are Mukhtar Auezov’s namesakes. What I will say below may be the answer to the question what Mukhtar Auezov would find noteworthy about his namesakes. On the other hand, did I think of what my great penmate ones said about my Kozy Korpesh and my early prosaic works? I guess both.
So, let us start with the prose writer Mukhtar Magauin. I should declare straightaway that he has not belonged to young writers for several years. Our critics must have noticed it in due time, while I have been a little too slow. It turned out that Magauin manifested himself as a writer of a subject of his own, each word by who is marked by a special inner-and-outer ornament and a diversity of meanings through his short stories and novelettes written back in the 1960s and 1970s. I believe that, having read his short stories The Love of a Woman and The Encounter and the novelette The Swarthy Girl, his colleagues, friends, and readers were sincerely delighted at M. Magauin’s success. Deep inside, I regret failing to share his first joy.
Since he made his first literary step, Mukhtar Magauin has proved to be capable of using the enormous treasury of his mother tongue, its flexible, rare, meaningful, and at the same time radiant and gentle colors and hues. His contribution to the development and enrichment of the Kazakh language is also precious. What a sincere but unfathomable fear we have when following the life of young people, who overcome with their head upturned, unshakable and confident. Along with true dzhigit nights, like Salken and Soshim from The Encounter, faithful in love, sturdy in life, and gentle-hearted with women like Aygul in The Swarthy Girl, Magauin presents people of different times — bourgeois vulgars like Sharip, Tulymkhan, and Gulzhykhan. Even such people often mentioned in scientific and literary works as Instructor Bekseit, whose dream is easy-won fame and shoveling as much money as possible instead of true scientific discoveries, just as the pseudo poet Wakas, who would call himself an unparalleled master of poetry, are depicted in a true-to-life and profound manner by Magauin.
Magauin is an expert when it comes to plot structuring. He never employs the “method” of forcing artificial collisions into the plot. The development of events is one with the reason and consequences. If you study one of the characters closely, you will see that all of them look both familiar and unfamiliar.
The fact that many of his works deal with the post-war contemporary reality belongs to Magauin’s special merits. Works by Magauin are densely populated with the author’s contemporaries.
As I see it, the abovementioned allows me to presuppose that Mukhtar Magauin has been part of the glorious plethora of outstanding Kazakh writers for about ten or fifteen years by now. His historical dilogy novel Spring Snowm is more evidence to it. Nowadays, M. Magauin occupies an important place among significant Kazakhstani writers. A large-scale work demands an analysis de profundis, which is quite natural. Unwilling to interfere with literary studies and criticism, I would like to sum up my own thoughts is a brief manner. The novel Spring Snow has become another work of which the Kazakh Soviet prose is proud. It does not fit it the standard “good thing” framework. The treasury was born to the golden pen of a sober, exacting, and permanently searching writer, who has mastered the entire treasury of his mother tongue.
Mukhtar Magauin feels natural in every work of his. He never goes for minor subjects; they truly fit the requirements of time. M. Magauin answers the questions of the modern age through his books. Profound and meticulous approach to research work. Undoubtedly, Mukhtar Magauinis a large-scale talent.
The second Mukhtar is the poet Shakhanov, who is widely renowned across our multinational country. I think it is not accidental that the young Mukhtar is favored by some of our renowned literary activists (if I can call them so), like Rasul Gamzatov, Yevgeniy Yevtushenko, and Chingiz Aytmatov. His talent is recognized. His power of honesty is recognized. The poet’s cordiality and poetic power are recognized. Each work by the poet touches us to the quick. Each line by him is food for thinking. You are reading Mukhtar’s verse fascinatedly… but then, all of a sudden, you frown with disappointment as you find out Shakhanov’s rhythm to be somehow imperfect. Is it going to be the end to your exploration of Mukhtar’s spiritual world? Of course, it is not. It is not easy to explore Mukhtar Shakhanov! Even when you are merely flipping through his book of poems, you cannot help feeling some kind of anxiety. To get rid of the haunting embarrassment and worry, you will have to turn to Shakhanov’s poetry again. If you do, you will see that yesterday is harmoniously interwoven with today in his verse. The Elegy of Otrar, Seykhundariya, and The Father’s Word are especially noteworthy in this respect. Other works by the poet might seem less understandable. Nevertheless, I do not recommend you to read his poetry at tea, on a bus, or before you go to sleep. M. Shakhanov requires serious, close reading.
In his poem The Mutual Understanding Theorem, the poet Mukhtar Shakhanov wrote,
There are three measures of life - height,
depth,
and space.
Not to understand them is to be deaf in darkness.
The poet made the two dimensions, the two rules his guiding poetic idea. It must be the origin of his courage and deep faith. Who will believe me if I say that a poet with such a program has been referred to as a young poet?
The inexpugnable walls of Otrar fell after six days of storming after the enemy had been rejected with courage and sturdiness for half a year. The wise and noble ruler of Otrar Kairkhan is standing in front of Genghis Khan with his ears and nose cut off, waiting for his death to come. The young traitor who opened the gates of Otrar for the enemy is standing not far away from them. Genghis Khan gives Kairkhan a sword, “Take it and kill the traitor yourself. One who has betrayed his city will betray us too. We don’t need the snake. Come on! What a shame!”
Suddenly, the traitor’s father comes in. “How can I look the people in the eyes! I do not want to live as a traitor’s father! Cut off my head!” the honest father says. And so the three of them are dead...
Now we see another traitor showing off what he has earned - a fur coat with golden embroidery given to him by Sultan Baymagambet for Makhambet’s death, to his father. Having listened his base son out, the noble father says,
You have inflicted shame on the world
And hurt your father more
Than can be rectified,
and kills his son.
The two poems are not a tribute to History of memory; they carry a versatile message, dealing with the scared duty to the Motherland, which each of us has, the clearness of conscience, and the iron will of people. Celebrating the “days long past”, Shakhanov brings the concepts of yesterday, today, and tomorrow together to form a unity.
There is another message of primary importance rendered by Mukhtar’s tireless lire. It is friendship. I should say that the idea of true friendship is characteristic of nearly all works by the poet.
Oh blessed childhood, you shall bear no trace of reproach...
The most sonorous echo was echoed in the mountains,
And Aksu crushed the wave against the chilled stones.
We fell down so that the water could fill our mouth,
And unknown dreams were there
The three of us, regardless of where we went, were friends to Tanakoz,
And our childhood was like a heavy wind...
The author expressed his attitude to friendship in these beautiful lines. What flawless loyalty, what crystal purity, what a lofty dream – and what a severe sentence is waiting for those who “break the law of the steppe”. “I find it to be my happy duty to glorify friendship,” Mukhtar noted in the same poet. “What does the poet rite about?” a skeptic may ask. What can we answer? If true poetry moves society towards progress, it is the breathing of the future. The notion of dreaming was born when the Human If the dream that has been accompanying the Human for ages was deprived of wings, unrealistic, and vague, it would have withered in the very beginning of its existence. , No, there can be no impossible dream in the future of classless society. However, it will take long ages instead of days. We should not avoid radiant thoughts and lofty purposes; we should fight for the sake of a reasonable future together. What has been omitted in the upbringing of the new Man? We have been working closely on the matter. Let us not doubt that the man of the future will uphold the sacred feelings of friendship, love, humanism, poetry, and artistry. There is no need to conceal the fact that bourgeois ideology and philosophy are the shame of our days. The base human vice is preventing the society from progressing.
One of M. Shakhanov’s poems is titled Tanakoz and deals with friendship. Since young age, the poet and his peer Murat have been friends with a girl (Tanakoz). Years have passed rapidly. Once the poet could not resist kissing Tanakoz. Unwillingly seeing what happened, Murat galloped back to the aul. Tanakoz shows that the poet insults her. The poet was unaware of the love between Murat and Tanakoz. The events develop into a proper tragedy. Murat leaves his native aul to marry a woman he does not love, for he believes the happiness of his friend the poet to be prior to his personal happiness. But the poet goes to town, and Tanakoz is left alone in sadness.
Soon, a fatal tragedy happens to Murat. He gets run over by a tractor and loses both of his legs.His mother-in-law, a wayward and cruel woman, takes her daughter away, living the disabled Murat alone. Having learned about his friend’s misfortune, the poet rushes to the aul. What he sees is the legless Murat reading a book and at his side,…there is Tanakoz at his side, and she looks happy! The beautiful Tanakoz and the legless Murat! Shocked by the sight and happy to see his friends happy, the poet writes,
Oh high friendship, not everybody enjoys the gift!
Be high enough to be a good support!
Oh great friendship, I am forever indebted to you.
I believe it to be my happy duty to glorify friendship...
Mukhtar Shakhanov is a large-scale poet. His poetry has all the three dimensions, which he mentioned, that is, height, depth, and space. Speaking of the past, of courage and betrayal, of spiritual beauty and love, of the wisdom of our ancestors, of friendship, and of honor, he also foresees the future.
Snapping at the critics’ heels, I will describe an inaccuracy by the poet in an unsophisticated manner. The Mutual Understanding Theorem has the following lines,
Lack of understanding betrays and kills,
It tortures us in silent darkness.
The fire of Giordano is behind you,
And you are the trial of Galileo.
Is it necessary to prove the idea to be false nowadays? Nevertheless, such occasional mistakes cannot overshadow Mukhtar’s poetry, which is the poetry of benevolence.
1984
