This is a book about love, which is stronger than death: once again about Sorokin's last novel

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This is a book about love, which is stronger than death: once again about Sorokin's last novel
This is a book about love, which is stronger than death: once again about Sorokin's last novel
2 August 2021, 13:16Culture
It would seem that this topic is nothing new, but in the novel "Doctor Garin" everything is new, because it was written by Vladimir Sorokin.

Novye Izvestia has already published a review of the new novel of the only unconditional classic of modern Russian literature, Vladimir Sorokin, "Doctor Garin" - Sorokin's colleague in the writing department, Alina Vitukhnovskaya, mentioned him in her next column. However, for her, the new novel served only as a starting point for cultural discourse. But the Kiev journalist Yulia Pyatetskaya wrote about Sorokin and his book:

“In general, I categorically, irreconcilably, unconditionally love Sorokin from the moment when I first read his story-teller“ Session of the factory committee ”, it was a revolution in consciousness, a head off and other delight. I have read, apparently, all of it, except for "Telluria", and for me it is the rarest case when no criticism is possible in principle, so I cannot - and everyone who says even one bad word about him will be forever cursed and banned. Although not all of him directly admires me, there are frankly transient things - like the "Sugar Kremlin", but he is beyond criticism, for the genius and titan of modern Russian literature, no one was close. Everything grows from his heart, from the thick of life, and his intellect, wisdom, gift of speech and creative freedom are the essence of his incomprehensible phenomenon, do not even argue.

Sorokin also never invents anything (for which I value it separately), and this also distinguishes him from writers who would only have to write. He has no concepts, ideas, visions, trends, discourses, paradigms, mainstreams, established conventions, he does not hear other people's voices, but only his own, his metaphorical and imagery, style, intonation, all his amazing prosody have nothing to do with inventing flowery nonsense, which is often passed off as innovation, the author's view and position. Sorokin is not for these matters, he writes fiction, and his metaphor is one of his gifts of God.

So, "Doctor Garin". This is a book about love, which is stronger than death. Nothing new, if we talk about the topic (well, sho, have you read about love, which is stronger than death?), And everything is new, because this is Sorokin, because everything depends on the ability to tell. This is a book about the end of times, which will never come, because the end of times is from creation, and we move from end to end, never ceasing to be surprised, go crazy, change an awl for soap, degenerate and take new peaks that are no worse old, everything was already, only in profile, and still will be, only through the ass, and only love is stronger than death and all this obscenity. There is still a sharp plot, a lot of funny and sad satire, recognizable political faces and realities, leaden abominations, quite obvious prophecies, Bobruisk melancholy (my figure of speech), but this is the whole point, this is not the point. It's not even that Garina was saved by a paper book, or rather, its last sheet, which he could not tear out and burn in order to warm his hands in the dead forest. It makes sense to be saved for some reason, for the sake of something and someone, and Garina saved the book so that he could find his Masha again. And I burst into tears for the first time over Sorokin, when they found each other, this is a spoiler, so you need it.

"And SHE, black, flexible, incredibly thin, appeared in front of him, blocked the alley with a lantern, and fell to her only knee, and grabbed her with her only hand, and pressed herself, instantly recognizing her Garin in this shaking, wet and smelly monster.

There were no words, no names.

Two were on two knees with three arms.

Rare passers-by walked around them.

Snow was falling.

A tram crept past..."

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