Russian literature:Quote of the day

Anatoly Rybakov, Krosh on Vacation

Nora and Igor quit high school, because they wanted to “gain work experience”, but in reality they are just slackers. Nora models around the neighborhood in her black stockings, and Igor slouches around ‘Mosfilm’, shooting in crowd scenes, but tell me, what kind of work experience is that?

We were driving along the Garden Ring. The passengers were staring at us out of trolleybuses. VN had the appeal of a young professor: temples, tinged with grey, white shirt with sleeves rolled up, tight pants, and black shoes. Nora was sitting next to him, like a duchess. Kostya’s got the stone face of a boxer. If you punch him in the face, he wouldn’t even close his eyes. Igor was bragging about his brother planning on giving him his car. And I was just sitting.

VN is a critic. I loathe critics, they never let you enjoy the music, jumping in with their comments right in the middle of the piece. And when some man is babbling something, I can neither read nor study… “Frederick entered the living-room and said… Laura shook her head sadly… Oh, Frederick…” Crap! But VN mastered in fine arts, and it’s a whole different animal. Fine art critics don’t meddle when you are listening to music. Besides, VN collects different art objects. Of course, I’d only met him occasionally in the street – he didn’t seem like a star to me. Igor and Kostya had run some errands for him, and in doing it, they would put on such mysterious faces which would make my head literally blow up with curiosity. I knew many sides of life, but this one I still had to learn.

We turned the corner of Gorky Street. VN turned back and gave Kostya and Igor a look. They left the car without a word. Then he looked at me and smiled. His smile meant I was supposed to stay. And so I did.

We were sitting in silence: me, VN, and Nora. Nora and VN only exchanged a couple phrases. They were speaking in low voices, so I didn’t catch them.

When Nora was in the ninth grade, some actor had a crush on her. It was a scandal in the school. Nora’s grandma, an honored social activist, summoned the committee of the school’s Komsomol unit, and I was one of them. We didn’t want to go at first, but then we changed our minds, as we considered Grandma’s age and her many merits. We were standing in front of Grandma like a bunch of village dorks. Nora was sitting on the couch, smoking and shaking the ash off into a flower pot. “If someone strays off the path of righteousness,” Grandma proclaimed, “it is all because of the unhealthy environment at school. You’ve overlooked her.” When grandma was young, the situation, of course, was different… Now all we’ve got is poor discipline, and that’s why we overlooked Nora.

Translated by Ekaterina Shubnaya, RT