By Yuri Olesha, Ken Kafuls, Marian Schwartz
A brand new York assessment Books Original
One of the delights of Russian literature, a journey de strength that has been in comparison to the easiest of Nabokov and Bulgakov, Yuri Olesha’s novella Envy brings jointly slicing social satire, slapstick humor, and a wild visionary streak. Andrei is a version Soviet citizen, a swaggeringly self-satisfied rich person of the nutrition who intends to revolutionize glossy existence with heavily produced sausage. Nikolai is a loser. discovering him inebriated within the gutter, Andrei offers him a mattress for the evening and a task as a gofer. Nikolai takes what he can, yet that doesn’t suggest he’s thankful. Griping, sulking, grovelingly abject, he despises every thing Andrei believes in, whether he envies him his each breath.
Producer and sponger, insider and outcast, grasp and guy struggle from side to side within the pages of Olesha’s anarchic comedy. it's a contest of wills during which not anything is bound other than the incorrigible human center.
Marian Schwartz’s new English translation of Envy brilliantly captures the strength of Olesha’s masterpiece.
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Additional info for Envy
He walks around under my windows, too. He likes walking around under windows. I know him … What? Huh? Crying? All night? There’s nothing to be crying all night about … Going crazy? Then it’s off to Kanatchikov … Ophelia? What Ophelia? Ah … Phooey. Ophelia—that’s his raving … As you like. But I’m telling you, you’re doing the wrong thing … Yes, yes … What? A pillow? ” A chuckle. “I can imagine … What’s that? What’s that? The one you used to sleep on? Imagine … What? What makes that pillow better than the one you’re sleeping on now?
I had a dark blue blanket on it that I’d bought in Kharkov, at the Blagoveshchensk fair, in a bad year. A woman was selling pies. They were covered with a blanket. Cooling, still not ready to give up the heat of life, they were virtually murmuring under the blanket, squirming like puppies. At the time I was living as badly as everyone else, and this picture breathed such well-being, hominess, and warmth that I made a firm decision that day to buy myself the very same kind of blanket. My dream came true.
Ever see it? ” In the room where I lived before I moved here there’s a terrifying bed. I feared it like a ghost. It’s as stiff as a barrel. It makes your bones rattle. I had a dark blue blanket on it that I’d bought in Kharkov, at the Blagoveshchensk fair, in a bad year. A woman was selling pies. They were covered with a blanket. Cooling, still not ready to give up the heat of life, they were virtually murmuring under the blanket, squirming like puppies. At the time I was living as badly as everyone else, and this picture breathed such well-being, hominess, and warmth that I made a firm decision that day to buy myself the very same kind of blanket.