The Notebooks, Diaries, and Letters of DANIIL KHARMS Cultural Revolutions: Russia in the Twentieth Century Editorial Board: Anthony Anemone (The New School) Robert Bird (The University of Chicago) Eliot Borenstein (New York University) Angela Brintlinger (The Ohio State University) Karen Evans-Romaine (Ohio University) Jochen Hellbeck (Rutgers University) Lilya Kaganovsky (University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign) Christina Kiaer (Northwestern University) Alaina Lemon (University of Michigan) Simon Morrison (Princeton University) Eric Naiman (University of California, Berkeley) Joan Neuberger (University of Texas, Austin) Ludmila Parts (McGill University) Ethan Pollock (Brown University) Cathy Popkin (Columbia University) Stephanie Sandler (Harvard University) Boris Wolfson (Amherst College), Series Editor The Notebooks, Diaries, and Letters of DANIIL KHARMS Selected, Translated and Edited by Anthony Anemone and Peter Scotto Boston 2013 The publication of this book is supported by the Mikhail Prokhorov Foundation (translation program TRANSCRIPT). Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data: A catalog record for this title is available from the Library of Congress. Copyright 2013 Academic Studies Press All rights reserved ISBN 978-1-936235-96-4 (cloth) ISBN 978-1-61811-146-3 (electronic) Cover design by Sasha Pyle Published by Academic Studies Press in 2013 28 Montfern Avenue Brighton, MA 02135, USA [email protected] www.academicstudiespress.com For our fathers. “Translations that are more than transmissions of subject matter come into being when in the course of its survival a work has reached the age of its fame.” −Walter Benjamin Contents Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 About this translation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Preliminaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 1924–1925 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 1926 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 1927 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .115 1928 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 1929 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 1930 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 1931 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260 Arrest by OGPU. December 1931 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291 1932 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Diary 1932-1933 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 336 1933 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 352 1934 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 428 1935 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 451 1936 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 463 The Blue Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 477 1937 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 485 1938 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 497 1939 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 500 1940 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 502 1941 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 516 Unknown years . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 517 Epilogue and Finale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 521 Chronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 535 Selected Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 541 Commentary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 543 Glossary of Names, Places, Institutions and Concepts . . . . . . . 565 Acknowledgements E very work of scholarship rests on the work of others in the fi eld. What we have done here would not have been possible without the dedication and hard work of those scholars who rescued Kharms and his artistic legacy from decades of oblivion. When Mikhail Meilakh, Vladimir Earl, Aleksandr Aleksandrov, and Vladimir Glotser started studying Kharms’s life and work in the late 1960s, he was almost completely unknown. Thanks to their multiple editions, scholarly articles, and books, today Kharms’s works are acknowledged classics of twentieth-century Russian literature. Another generation of Russian scholars and researchers, including Aleksandr Kobrinsky, Andrei Ustinov, Aleksei Dmitrenko, Anna Gerasimova, Andrei Krusanov, Evgenia Stroganova, and Valery Shubinsky, has continued the recovery of Kharms, contributing immeasurably to our understanding of his life and work, and maintaining the high standards set by their predecessors. We owe a special debt of gratitude to Valery Sazhin of the Russian National Library in Saint Petersburg and Jean-Phillipe Jaccard of the University of Geneva for their invaluable publication of the full corpus of Kharms’s notebooks and diaries in Russian. We would also like to thank: Andrei Ustinov for his meticulous reading and constructive criticism of a long and complicated manuscript and his generous sharing of photographs from his private collection; Dr. Gabriel Griffi n for help identifying some of Kharms’s maladies, imagined or otherwise; Eugene Hill of Mount Holyoke College for his encouragement and careful reading of early drafts of this work; Bella Ginzbursky Blum of The College of William and Mary, Boris Wolfson of Amherst College for their helping untangle some especially tricky passages in the Russian; F. F. Morton of South Hadley for his gentle instruction in the art of translation; Marietta Turian of Saint Petersburg for her support and inspiration over the years; Mikhail Vorobyov of Saint Petersburg for sharing family memories and photographs of some of the people in this book; Anaida Bestavashvili and Vladimir Livshits of Moscow for their enthusiasm and support of the project; Dmitry Sokolenko of Saint Petersburg for his enthusiasm for all 7 AAcckknnoowwlleeddggeemmeennttss things OBERIU; Susan Downing for her help compiling the Glossary; Stanley Rabinowitz, director of the Amherst College Center for Russian Culture, for allowing us access to rare items in the ACRC collection; Mike Blum of the College of William and Mary, for (always) much-needed technical assistance; Alexandra Pyle for her cover design; Val Vinokur of the New School for good advice and even better friendship; Robert Pyle, Elisabeth Pyle, and Robinson Pyle for their help explaining the fi ner points of mathematics and music; Shoshana Lucich and Michaela Beals of Stanford University for last-minute research assistance; and our editor at Academic Studies Press, Sharona Vedol. We are also grateful to Mount Holyoke College for a 2011-2012 sabbatical award; to the Mount Holyoke Faculty Grants Committee for providing material support for this research; to the New School for Public Engagement for supporting this research with a sabbatical award in 2011- 1012; to the Interlibrary Loan Departments at Mount Holyoke College, the New School, and Bobst Library of New York University. Finally, we would like to thank our patient and long-suffering mothers, without whom none of this would have been possible. Last, and most of all, we thank Vivian Pyle and Amy Gershenfeld Donnella for their unfl agging love and unfailing support. A.A. and P.S. Introduction O n February 2, 1942, Daniil Kharms died in the psychiatric section of an NKVD prison hospital in Leningrad. He was barely 36 at the time, a year or so younger than Aleksandr Pushkin was when he had died 105 years earlier, almost to the day, of a gunshot wound to the stomach in a better part of town.1 Given the desperate conditions in Leningrad during the fi rst winter of what would drag on to be a 900-day siege by the Wehrmacht, it is assumed that as the city slowly starved to death around him, Kharms did too. Like Pushkin, Kharms got it in the stomach. During his lifetime, Kharms was known as a failed avant-garde poet and dramatist who had some notable, if brief, success writing poems and stories for children. However, for more than two decades following his death, his name and his works were consigned to an enforced oblivion. Today, after a heroic recovery operation mounted by dedicated friends, family members, scholars, and critics over the course of decades, he is read and remembered as a major voice of twentieth-century Russian literature. Russians now know Kharms not only as the author of classic children’s verse, but also as a central fi gure in a vibrant post-revolutionary avant- garde that was the contemporary of Dada and surrealism and anticipated the “Theater of the Absurd”; as the author of poems that built upon the linguistic innovations of Russian Futurism; as the creator of a genre of mini- stories beneath whose disjointed and darkly comic surfaces the violence of the Stalinist world shimmers; as one more victim of a state whose tolerance for deviation of any kind was strictly limited, and whose carnivorous appetite is only too well-known. His posthumous glory is such that editions of his works, both scholarly and popular, have been published in print runs numbering into the thousands and tens of thousands2 and, with the advent of the internet, there are now dozens of websites dedicated to preserving and promulgating his legacy. Kharms’s recovery is all the more remarkable when one considers that during his lifetime, he managed to publish only two of his works “for adults.”3 The rest had to wait for better days. 9