Thursday, March 31, 2005
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BOOK REVIEW
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CORRESPONDENCE. Volume 2. LETTERS TO GOURGEN MAHARI AND ANTRANIK ANTREASSIAN. By Shahan Shahnour. Collected, edited, and annotated by Krikor Keusseyan. 227 pages. Boston: Mayreni Publishing (50 Watertown St., Watertown, MA 01472). 2005.
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In his preface, Krikor Keusseyan writes: “The CORRESPONDENCE is a mosaic of opinions and judgments on art, literature and politics.” What makes these opinions eminently readable is their objectivity. Obviously, they were not meant for publication. If they have been published it’s because of Krikor Keusseyan’s steadfast admiration of Shahan Shahnour. But let the author speak for himself.
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On Siamanto: “A plagiarist who translated Maeterlinck’s verse word by word and passed it on the unsuspecting reader as his own. No one is aware of this, and it was by pure chance that I stumbled on it.”
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On Simon Simonian: “There is about him the odor of the shopkeeper.”
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On Arshak Chobanian: “He is an untrustworthy, self-centered careerist.”
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On Hagop Oshagan: “He is incapable of writing an accessible, clear sentence.”
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On his fellow Armenians: “I will not comment on my adversaries. As for my so-called friends: if you only knew the acts of stupidity, cowardice, and duplicity that I have witnessed.”
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On Gostan Zarian: “He describes nature well. The problem is, the principal subject of literature is not nature but man.”
I disagree with Shahnour here. Zarian’s portrait of Charents in his BANCOOP AND THE BONES OF THE MAMMOTH has Dostoevskian penetration. There are, moreover, unforgettable portraits and sketches in all his works – Martiros Saryan in THE TRAVELLER AND HIS ROAD, Zabel Yessayan in the WEST, Lawrence Durrell in THE ISLAND AND A MAN are three that come readily to mind.
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Shahnour was born in Istanbul but spent most of his life in French hospitals, sanatoria, and retirement homes. In a letter to Mahari he has this to say about his fellow French-Armenians: “They are all well off now, but they can no longer be said to be Armenians. Which is why all that talk of repatriation in the Yerevan press strikes me as so much empty verbiage.”
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At one point in his career, Shahnour adopted the pseudonym Armen Lubin and published several critically acclaimed volumes of prose and verse in French. In another letter to Mahari he writes: “I have heard it said that I write in French to make a little money. What nonsense! Writing poetry has at no time been a source of income to anyone, be it in France or anywhere else for that matter.”
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About himself: “I have committed many thoughtless acts in my life, or so they tell me, but no one can testify that these acts have been to the detriment of the nation, only to myself and my reputation, both of which are of no consequence to anyone else but me.”
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On our dime-a-dozen pundits: “Shopkeepers drop in on me out of nowhere and take it upon themselves to deliver lectures. What do they know about conditions of life in France? What do they know about literature? To learn and to know are two different things. They have learned some things but they lack intuitive knowledge. What am I supposed to do with them? Tell them to shut up? But that’s against my temperament.”
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Friday, April 01, 2005
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BOOK REVIEW
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LA VIE COMME ELLE EST (Life as it is): Short stories. By Krikor Zohrab. Translated into French by Mireille Besnilian. 110 pages. Marseilles. Editions Parentheses. 2005.
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A highly respected lawyer, politician, editor, and author, Krikor Zohrab (1861-1915) is remembered today as one of our ablest short story writers. Writes Hagop Oshagan: “Zohrab is one of those rare individuals who do the work and live the lives of eight or ten men and excel in each. He is the most brilliant, accomplished and enduring figure in the Realistic movement of our literature.”
According to Mesrob Janashian: “Zohrab viewed conservatives as hidebound obscurantists. He attacked the Armenian establishment of Constantinople – the Church as well as the bosses. He constantly urged the youth to adopt progressive Western ideas. Even when he went to extremes, he at no time passed the bounds of reason and common sense.”
In American terms he might best be imagined as a hybrid of President Kennedy (Zohrab was likewise assassinated at the height of his powers), and Hemingway – though as a short story writer he is more like Guy de Maupassant in his subtle depiction of feminine psychology, and Anton Chekhov in his sympathetic treatment of the lower classes.
The collection under review contains some of his most widely admired stories. Their translation is so elegantly executed that they read as though they were originally conceived and written in French.
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The recent study of Armenian women writers by the Canadian academic Victoria Rowe, and now this translation by Mireille (not an Armenian) Besnilian, may suggest that odars are more interested in our literature than our academics and pundits from the Middle East, most of whom happen to be fluent in half-a-dozen languages (or so they tell us), who are, it seems, too busy with far more important projects to have any time left for translating our writers, a great deal of whose works remain terra incognita not only to odars but also to the overwhelming majority of Armenians in the Diaspora who cannot read Armenian.
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Saturday, April 02, 2005
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QUOTATIONS FROM
SHAHAN SHAHNOUR’S
CORRESPONDENCE, VOLUME II.
Collected, edited, and annotated by Krikor Keusseyan.
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On Vazken Shoushanian:
“I have read only one book by him, an epistolary novel, which is a definite failure because it happens to be a youthful work. Has he written anything better? I asked this question to an associate of his, Nartuni, who answered: “He is a worthless man. He will write nothing of any value.”
I don’t accept this verdict at face value because these two Tashnaks can’t stand each other.”
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On Antranik Zaroukian:
“When he was young, he was a fanatic Tashnak. And more. He confused swearing with reasoning. He is wrong if he thinks I hold a grudge against him. No, never! Even if he had remained an obstinate partisan I could not have harbored vengeful thoughts in his direction, only pity and scorn.”
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About the shenanigans of the Jerusalem Monastery:
“Among other thing, Nartuni told me all about the wheeling-and-dealing in Jerusalem and the scandalous conduct of our Holy Fathers there – their alcoholism, contrabandism, womanizing, gambling, thievery…He knows them well having spent some time in their company. He tells me these high-ranking ecclesiastics are themselves former orphans [survivors of the massacres] gathered from the desert. Alas!”
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On our press:
“In order for our press to play a useful role in our social and political life, there must be such things as public opinion and collective memory, in whose absence blunders will be forgotten and incompetent leaders glorified.”
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On the literary scene in the Diaspora:
“Our literary market place is now in the hands of senior citizens – Vratsian, Chobanian, Oshagan – individuals who don’t have to work for a living and they have all the time in the world to write and write…Let them write so long as they don’t give us a headache with their endless arguments and senile problems.”
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In my recent review of this book I neglected to mention that half of it consists of endnotes, that can be read as a brief introduction to 20th-century Armenian history and culture. In addition to being a dedicated fan of Shahnour, Krikor Keusseyan is a meticulous scholar whose comments are as informative as Shahnour’s observations and insights.
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