Ilya Ilf (1897–1937)

OK, now that was just plain old... fun.

A bit dated, sure. But it's very easy to see why it's become a classic; not only is it laugh-out-loud-in-public funny, but with some brilliant settings and character work too, all circling around a huckster character who'll sell people any get-rich-quick scheme or political/philosophical utopia with the same bravado. Almost as if there wasn't really a huge difference between appealing to Mammon or Lenin when it comes to getting people to think they're show more doing something for themselves while someone else profits. Huh. show less

More adventures with Ostap Bender, the protagonist of The Twelve Chairs and one of the great characters in Russian literature, resurrected here in The Golden Calf.

There is a lightness to this novel as it rollicks through Bender’s adventures, while at the same time satirizing the Soviet Union, religion, and stupidity in all forms. “I have developed very serious differences with the Soviet regime. The regime wants to build socialism, and I don’t,” says Ostap early on in the novel, to show more explain why he wants to get his hands on enough money to flee to Brazil. The con man comes to know of another con man who has amassed a hidden fortune while living the quiet and humble life of a clerk, and along with his cohorts, sets out to fleece him.

Ilf & Petrov write with intelligence, zaniness, and fun, particularly for their time. I loved the manager who has rubber stamps made to speed up how quickly he gets through notes that come across his desk, which start from things like “No objection” and “Make it happen”, progress to “Are they completely crazy?” and “Give me a break”, and finally a very large stamp with an all-purpose form letter. Something for everyone here.

Quotes:
On aspirations:
“Parallel to the big world inhabited by big people and big things, there’s a small world with small people and small things. In the big world, they invented the diesel engine, wrote the novel Dead Souls, built the Dnieper Hydroelectric Station, and flew around the globe. In the small world, they invented the blowout noisemaker, wrote the song Little Bricks, and built Soviet Ambassador-style pants. People in the big world aspire to improve the lives of all humanity. The small world is far from such high-mindedness. Its inhabitants have only one desire – to get by without going hungry.”

On communism:
“’The Soviet regime took everything from me,’ thought the former school district superintendent, ‘rank, medals, respect, bank account. It even took over my thoughts. But there’s one area that’s beyond the Bolshevik’s reach: the dreams given to man by God. Night will bring me peace. In my dreams, I will see something that I’d like to see.’
The very next night, God gave Fyodor Nikitich a terrible dream. He dreamt that he was sitting in an office corridor that was lit by a small kerosene lamp. He sat there with the knowledge that, at any moment, he was to be removed from the board. Suddenly a steel door opened, and his fellow office workers ran out shouting: ‘Khvorobyov needs to carry more weight!’ He wanted to run but couldn’t.
Fyodor Nikitich woke up in the middle of the night. He said a prayer to God, pointing out to Him that an unfortunate error had been made, and that the dream intended for an important person, maybe even a party member, had arrived at the wrong address. He, Khvorobyov, would like to see the Tsar’s ceremonial exit from the Cathedral of the Assumption, for starters.”

And:
“’In Soviet Russia, the only place where a normal person can live is an insane asylum,’ he said, draping himself in a blanket. ‘Everything else is super-bedlam. I cannot live with the Bolsheviks, no sir! I’d rather live here, among common lunatics. At least they aren’t building socialism. Plus, here they feed you, while out there, in bedlam, you need to work. And I have no interest of working for their socialism. Finally, I have my personal freedom here. Freedom of conscience, freedom of speech…’”

On laziness in marriage:
“Lokhankin brushed the crumbs off his beard, threw his wife a cautious, evasive glance, and quieted down on his couch. He really didn’t want to part with Barbara. Despite numerous shortcomings, Barbara had two very important merits: a large white bosom and a steady job. Basilius had never had a job. A job would have interfered with his reflections on the role of the Russian intelligentsia, the social group of which he considered himself a member. As a result, Lokhankin’s prolonged ruminations boiled down to pleasant and familiar themes: ‘Basilius Lokhankin and His Significance,’ ‘Lokhankin and the Tragedy of Russian Liberalism,’ ‘Lokhankin and His Role in the Russian Revolution.’”

On religion:
“The grand strategist didn’t care for Catholic priests. He held an equally negative opinion of rabbis, Dalai Lamas, Orthodox clergy, muezzins, shamans, and other purveyors of religion.
‘I’m into deception and blackmail myself,’ he said. ‘Right now, for example, I’m trying to extract a large amount of money from a certain intransigent individual. But I don’t accompany my questionable activities with choral singing, or the roar of the pipe organ, or silly incantations in Latin or Old Church Slavonic. I generally prefer to operate without incense or astral bells.’” show less

Wow, I loved this one. :) The premise is pretty simple: on her deathbed, Ippolit Matveyivich’s mother-in-law tells him of a fortune in jewels that she’s hidden in one of a set of twelve chairs to protect it at the time of the revolution. Unfortunately, the chairs have been dispersed all over Russia and must be tracked down, and on top of that it turns out that the secret has also been entrusted to Father Fyodor Vostrikov, who immediately sets aside his priestly obligations and acts in a show more decidedly non-holy manner. The race is on. Ippolit teams up with the unforgettable Ostap Bender, the ‘Smooth Operator’, a carefree crook who quickly becomes the master in the relationship, helping Ippolit with has crafty ways, but also using him and manipulating everyone he comes into contact with.

The book’s humor, fantastic moments, fun characters, and subtle pokes at post-Revolutionary Russia make it feel like a Bulgakov’s The Master and the Margarita, albeit not supernatural and a lighter read. There are lots of great moments, including a guy getting locked out of his apartment, naked, and soaped up from his shower, a chess tournament where Bender takes on 30 young chess enthusiasts, and Ippolit’s clumsy and drunken adventures with a lady. The minor characters are skillfully weaved in and out of the story line and the final chapters are excellent, but I won’t spoil it. Very enjoyable from beginning to end.

This edition was published in 1961 in the hey-day of the Cold War, and I found this quote in the introduction interesting given the context: “It has long been my considered opinion that strains in Russo-American relations are inevitable as long as the average American persists in picturing the Russian as a gloomy, moody, unpredictable individual, and the average Russian in seeing the American as childish, cheerful and, on the whole, rather primitive.” Friedberg’s point was that The Twelve Chairs would help show the playful side of the Russian character, which was otherwise hidden behind the Iron Curtain and whose more serious or brooding sides were more visible via the more popular works of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. He was right.

Quotes; these are not necessarily representative but just snippets I liked:
On beauty, as Ellochka tries on a blouse, which makes her look like a goddess:
“More simply, the emotions could have been expressed by the following: men will become excited when they see me like this. They will tremble. They will follow me to the edge of the world, hiccupping with love. But I shall be cold. Are you really worthy of me? I am still the prettiest girl of all. No one in the world has such an elegant blouse as this.”

On life:
“Life, gentlemen of the jury, is a complex affair, but, gentlemen of the jury, a complex affair which can be managed as simply as opening a box. All you have to do is to know how to open it. Those who don’t – have had it.”

On passion, love this one:
“’A passionate woman,’ said Ostap, ‘is a poet’s dream.’”

And:
“’Does your head ache?’
‘Yes, slightly. I have worries, you know. The lack of a woman’s affection has an effect on one’s tenor of life.’”

On vegetarianism, in this case, a bit more out of economic necessity, but a spirited debate:
“’Try to understand,’ said Nicky, ‘a pork chop takes away a week of a man’s life.’
‘Let it,’ said Liza. ‘Phony rabbit takes away six months. Yesterday when we were eating that carrot entrée I felt I was going to die. Only I didn’t want to tell you.’
‘Why didn’t you want to tell me?’
‘I hadn’t the strength. I was afraid of crying.’
‘And aren’t you afraid now?’
‘Now I don’t care.’ Liza began sobbing.
‘Leo Tolstoy,’ said Nicky in a quavering voice, ‘didn’t eat meat either.’
‘No,’ retorted Liza, hiccupping through her tears, ‘the count ate asparagus.’
‘Asparagus isn’t meat.’
‘But when he was writing War and Peace he did eat meat. He did! He did! And when he was writing Anna Karenina he stuffed himself and stuffed himself.’
‘Do shut up!’
‘Stuffed himself! Stuffed himself!’
‘And I suppose while he was writing The Kreutzer Sonata he also stuffed himself?’ asked Nicky venomously.
‘The Kreutzer Sonata is short. Just imagine him trying to write War and Peace on vegetarian sausages!’”

Lastly, I liked the hominess of these jokes told by passengers on a train:
“An old Jew lay dying. Around him were his wife and children. ‘Is Monya here?’ asks the old Jew with difficulty. ‘Yes, she’s here.’ ‘Has Auntie Brana come?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And where’s Grandma? I don’t see her.’ ‘She’s over here.’ ‘And Isaac?’ ‘He’s here, too.’ ‘What about the children?’ ‘They’re all here.’ ‘Then who’s left in the store?’”

And this one:
“A Jew comes home and gets into bed beside his wife. Suddenly he hears a scratching noise under the bed. The Jew reaches with his hand underneath the bed and asks: ‘Is that you, Fido?’ And Fido licks his hand and says: ‘Yes, it’s me.’” show less

I very much enjoyed this rollicking, absurd satire until the end, where it was like hitting a wall. Set in the 1920’s Soviet Union, the story follows former nobleman-turned-provincial clerk Ippolit Matveyevich Vorobyaninov, searching for the family jewels of his recently dead mother-in-law, and Ostap Bender, an inventive con man. Bender’s nonstop schemes were extremely amusing and the secondary characters and ridiculous situations were fun as well. The authors make fun of various types, show more presenting a satiric portrait of Soviet society at the time. I probably didn’t get all the allusions or satire, but it was still funny anyway. Vorobyaninov could be annoying at time – the amoral anarchy of Bender is much more appealing. Unfortunately, the ending is unhappy for the pair, but also a pat Soviet morality conclusion, with a much different tone from the rest of the novel. It felt tacked on. The rest of the ride was good fun though.

Vorobyaninov has been leading a dull life in a provincial backwater until his mother-in-law Claudia Ivanovna dies, revealing shortly before that she hid her jewels in twelve chairs that they formerly owned. He goes back to their old home in Stargorod and fortuitously meets Bender, who he confides in and who decides to join up in the search. But before she died, Claudia Ivanovna also told the secret to Father Fyodor. He has also come to look for the chairs, and there are several brawls between him and the pair. The chairs eventually get split up and Bender and Vorobyaninov have to go chasing them all over the Soviet Union. Along their trip – which takes them from Stargorod to Moscow to even further afield – the pair encounters a number of people. They form a fake secret resistance and meet unhappy vegetarians, stubborn bureaucrats, too-busy newspapermen, an engineer who gets locked out his flat while naked, an empty-headed woman who has a quixotic quest to compete with the Vanderbilt daughter, and a backwater chess club. Vorobyaninov and Bender are Soviet outcasts – Vorobyaninov as a former nobleman and Bender as a dishonest, apolitical swindler, so unfortunately, they have to come to a bad end. Father Fyodor’s final scene isn’t happy either, but it is wonderfully absurd. show less