#two crocodiles

[solori]

Morning hugs 🤗

[arkiven]

Recension av Two Crocodiles av Fyodor Dostoyevsky och Felisberto Hernández

Odeon Suite III by William Scott, 1966

Something completely absurd has happened in Dostoyevsky's The Crocodile - not only has a man (and a civil servant at that!) been swallowed whole by the side show beast, he's also still alive and well inside of it - but it clearly isn't insane enough to pop the personal bubbles of the characters experiencing it. Hardly anyone manages to look at the situation without drawing up a narrative that fits their own opinions. No one takes it at face value, and their reactions are mismatched with reality. Both the incident and the suggested solutions are twisted into tools of propaganda, personal and political, and some are so skilled at this that the thought of a man living in the stomach of a crocodile earns no more reaction from them than perhaps a raised eyebrow - it's even predictable, really, inevitable. Objective reality is put aside: after all, what good is reality if it doesn't serve a cause? And so, the story of Ivan Matveitch being devoured by a crocodile turns into a debate on how it could benefit the economy, how it's proof that Russian culture and values are obsolete, and whatever else people care about. What does this crocodile and the man inside of it mean for Russia? Through this, Dostoyevsky wrestles with a problem that has survived in Russia for centuries: is the Russian identity Western, eastern, or just uniquely Russian? Dostoyevsky fought the perceived influence of Western ideas in the 1860's, and we still see a similar ideological fight play out in the Russia of today. In The Crocodile, nearly everybody's out to convert the country into something new and "civilized", whether the focus lies on economy or culture. Many of the characters seem to long for being acknowledged by the West, to join "the European", somewhat reminiscent of the more recent identity crises befalling many former Soviet Republics after the fall of communist rule. There's an idea of the west and Europe as sophisticated and successful, as well as a sometimes conflicted wish to belong. Dostoyevsky appears more than fed up with public opinion on how Russia should become more cosmopolitan, more European, and even more patriotic characters wish for Russia to adopt Western capitalism. The characters are absolutely wonderful, but we all already knew they would be, seeing as this is Dostoyevsky. It's fun in that dry, deadpan way, and the narrator is wonderfully detached. Blows are distributed to greed, vanity, and pride. 

Felisberto Hernández

Even though Dostoyevsky's crocodile takes up most of the pages in this slim edition, it's not the only one there. As a matter of fact, it's not even the best one of the two short stories paired up by New Directions into Two Crocodiles. In the last twenty pages, a very different story unfold. An artist tries crying in public on a whim, and soon discovers the merits of false tears. This Crocodile belongs to Felisberto Hernández, an author I'd heard of but never read, and it is very, very good. The atmosphere is meticulously crafted, and Hernández manages to give us a lot by telling very little, a talent he shares with with many South American authors of his time. The reader does nearly as much work as the author here: we get small, half-remembered details, and get to glue them together however we see fit. It's beautiful, the way a vivid painting is, and while you could certainly read it for the imagery alone, it also explores the idea of emotions as an act of violence. The artist wants to somehow prove to the world that he is "capable of great violence", and it is violent, forcing the strangers around him to take part in a situation that is otherwise private and almost shameful, to confront them with a man crying. It made me want to cry in front of strangers too, just to force my existence on them. While both of these stories are great, I have a hard time finding a reason for them to be combined like this. Dostoyevsky's Crocodile is a political caricature, and Hernández's Crocodile feels a lot more intimate and quiet. The edition itself had several issues with editing, and the quality of the paperback isn't too good. On their own however, these stories are amazing. 

Utgåvan jag läste var översatt till engelska av Constance Garnett och Esther Allen och släpptes 2013 av New Directions. Recensionen ligger sedan 2016 ute på mitt Goodreadskonto.