Remembering Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

[Scheherazade]

http://img114.imageshack.us/img114/6586/solzhenitsynke7.jpg

Nobel Prize winner Russian author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn has passed away.

To honour this great author, the Book Club will read One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich .

Please post your thoughts and questions this book in this thread.

[lugdunum]

:flare:

can you believe that NONE of the bookshops around here sell ANY book by Solzhenitsyn. Not even in Spanish...

and when I asked the shop keepers they'd just blank stare at me like I'm speaking a foreign language...one of them even giggled like I was making a joke. :brickwall

...and the public library's closed during summer...

:crash:

[bazarov]

Closed during summer? St.James is Newcastle?

Well, book is really nothing special, in my opinion it gained glory because of description of camps and Cold war, not because of some quality.

[Etienne]

I personally thought it was a very good book, actually.

[HerGuardian]

I got my PDF copy. Hope I can catch up with you since I have 2 books to finish.

[Virgil]

To be honest I'm not finding it anything special either. The details of the experience is interesting. But so far, and I'm about a third of the way in, the main character Shukov is not all that interesting and there is no development of the other characters. Actually I don't even sense a story line. Just details of being in the camp.

[Etienne]

Well it is not meant to be a lyrical experience nor an exercise in style, and I think that the relatively bare and simple development is the right stylistic approach to convey the feeling o the story.

The story is one day, like another, out of 3653, of a man whose definition of a good day is a second ration of soup, and a "good" day at forced labors. And all the while I did not feel bored at all, so I think that, in this sense, the book does very well what it wants to do.

It is not just a "documentary" about the camps, and I could not see the narrative being in other way, honestly however good would be a discussion on the sublime, exalted sentiments, or a description of eternal beauty it would be completely wrong in the context of the book.

[bazarov]

Book is interesting from historical aspect, but literally is very bad. It's just a description of one day, like some documentary book, almost like newspapers.

[Etienne]

And so we disagree. "Just" a description of one day, yes, and the choice is good to convey the right feeling to the reader. Everyday is the same, he describes one, and this gives vertigo as to what the inmates go through.

[Virgil]

Well it is not meant to be a lyrical experience nor an exercise in style, and I think that the relatively bare and simple development is the right stylistic approach to convey the feeling o the story.

The story is one day, like another, out of 3653, of a man whose definition of a good day is a second ration of soup, and a "good" day at forced labors. And all the while I did not feel bored at all, so I think that, in this sense, the book does very well what it wants to do.

It is not just a "documentary" about the camps, and I could not see the narrative being in other way, honestly however good would be a discussion on the sublime, exalted sentiments, or a description of eternal beauty it would be completely wrong in the context of the book.

I see what you're saying, but ok the style might be appropriate, but where are the interesting characters? I'm sure there were tons of interesting people in the real camp, both guards and prisoners. And what's so interesting about Shukov? Why couldn't anyone at the camps have written this? What justifies a nobel prize? In fact now that you mention it, it does seem like a documentary.

[Etienne]

Well as to justify a Nobel Prize, I will agree that it was not awarded on purely literary grounds, the same novel written today by someone who has not actually been in the concentration camp would never have been awarded a Nobel prize. But enough with the Nobel prize discussion, I do not care about it, I don't think I would have awarded a literary prize to it either, but the Nobel Prizes, admittedly do not give prizes based only on literary merits (then again what is literary merit, style, character development, vocabulary and so on are not the only vectors, at least in my opinion).

I respect your divergence of opinion though, but I would like to get some feedback when the book is finished as well.

Maybe the fact that you are a poet and that while I enjoy poetry, am more a non-fiction than a poet kind of guy, tells a lot here.

[Virgil]

I respect your divergence of opinion though, but I would like to get some feedback when the book is finished as well.

Oh absolutely. Just trying to make discussion as we go. I should have prefaced my comments with a "so far". The novel is not bad, just underwhelming. I guess I expected Tolstoy. ;)


Maybe the fact that you are a poet and that while I enjoy poetry, am more a non-fiction than a poet kind of guy, tells a lot here.
Well, thank you. I don't quite consider myself a poet, but I do write poetry. But I also write short stories. And I do not consider myself a writer. I just try in my spare time. I'll share one with you later. ;)

[mickitaz]

I find the style of writing to be....different (?) Whereas other writers will describe emotions and the landscape...motives that drive them to certain actions, this book seems to be devoid of this. Granted, I am only 80 or so pages in.

Here, it seems ones focus is mainly on the weather and the monotony of life in the camp. There are no emotions described here. Just the means of preserving ones physical life. Even when Shuknov and Tsezar stand next to each other while Tsezar is smoking... no conversation actually existed. You have Fetyukov speak to Tsezar, begging him for the last drag.. but no lyrical response from Tsezar.

The only "descriptions" as it were, seem to be those of actions to maintain warmth and maintaining food substances. But even there, there is no passion.

[lugdunum]

Managed to get a copy after all thx to a fellow litnet member :)
I'm about halfway through the book and so far, am neither impressed nor disappointed.

So far (cautious preface ;))I tend to agree with Etienne on this point:

Well it is not meant to be a lyrical experience nor an exercise in style, and I think that the relatively bare and simple development is the right stylistic approach to convey the feeling o the story.

The story is one day, like another, out of 3653, of a man whose definition of a good day is a second ration of soup, and a "good" day at forced labors. And all the while I did not feel bored at all, so I think that, in this sense, the book does very well what it wants to do.

Unlike some of youI don't see it as a documentary, even though it might have been (more) interesting if, there had been maybe someone else's perspective, like a fellow prisoner or even a guard. But I'm finding it interesting as it is too.

Interesting comment about the lack of "passion" Mickitaz, do you think this was done on purpose?
I mean there seems to be a complete absence of "extreme" feelings such as hate or passion within the camp (at least exterioratedones). So far, the only character I've seen reacting is the ex- marine captain when he gets upset and tells the guards they are acting like "communists".
If I'm not mistaken, he is said to be quite new to the camp. Could that be that at the beginning prisoners are still ready to fight and then after a while they just know that it's useless or are too exhausted to do so?

What I am having troubles with are the names, I constantly have to go back to remember who's who. They all sound the same to me :p

[mickitaz]

Interesting comment about the lack of "passion" Mickitaz, do you think this was done on purpose?
I mean there seems to be a complete absence of "extreme" feelings such as hate or passion within the camp (at least exterioratedones). So far, the only character I've seen reacting is the ex- marine captain when he gets upset and tells the guards they are acting like "communists".
If I'm not mistaken, he is said to be quite new to the camp. Could that be that at the beginning prisoners are still ready to fight and then after a while they just know that it's useless or are too exhausted to do so?

That very well could be. However, I haven't gotten that far as to determine how long he has been there. That is what I meant by "passion", that is the lack of extreems. The tone of the book seems to be somewhat "grey". Surviving from moment to moment; if an event shows itself to benefit the individual, great! If not, then life goes on. There is no anticipation, no disappointment (when they can't rest, or get closer to the fire). Just existance.



What I am having troubles with are the names, I constantly have to go back to remember who's who. They all sound the same to me :p

Hehe.. I am having the same problem. I thought French names were difficult to remember. Not to mention I think Shukhov and Ivan are one in the same people... way to confuse someone ;)

[Virgil]

There is definitely something missing from the novel. There is nothing to engage with. It's more or less a listing of Ivan's events from that day.

[lugdunum]

Not to mention I think Shukhov and Ivan are one in the same people... way to confuse someone ;)

:lol:

[mickitaz]

There is definitely something missing from the novel. There is nothing to engage with. It's more or less a listing of Ivan's events from that day.

I think that is part of the point. Russia during that time, especially people who served in the work camps were NOT connected to the outside world. The tone of life in the camp itself is merely "dog eat dog" as Shukhov mentions more than once. My perception is that it is detached because that is how people were-detached.

I find it interesting that while Shukhov was loathing the work aspect, and finally moving; once he was doing the job-he was totally into it. In fact, he took pride in the work that he did. I realize that engrossing one in work makes the time go faster, but look at the attitude that Fetyukov took. And he was outcasted because of it. Makes me wonder if it was the job itself (the fact the building was intended for "them") or just because of the task at hand.

[Virgil]

I think that is part of the point. Russia during that time, especially people who served in the work camps were NOT connected to the outside world. The tone of life in the camp itself is merely "dog eat dog" as Shukhov mentions more than once. My perception is that it is detached because that is how people were-detached.

I find it interesting that while Shukhov was loathing the work aspect, and finally moving; once he was doing the job-he was totally into it. In fact, he took pride in the work that he did. I realize that engrossing one in work makes the time go faster, but look at the attitude that Fetyukov took. And he was outcasted because of it. Makes me wonder if it was the job itself (the fact the building was intended for "them") or just because of the task at hand.

That has crossed my mind too Micki. But I still find it hard to believe that under such circumstances people did not make human connections. You would think the prisoners would bond in some fashion. Frankly, though I'm only approaching half way, I can't help but feel it's Solzhenitsyn's lack of skill more than a conscious authorial decision to do this. Of course that's only my opinion.

[mickitaz]

That has crossed my mind too Micki. But I still find it hard to believe that under such circumstances people did not make human connections. You would think the prisoners would bond in some fashion. Frankly, though I'm only approaching half way, I can't help but feel it's Solzhenitsyn's lack of skill more than a conscious authorial decision to do this. Of course that's only my opinion.

Hey Virgil... yes, at the halfway point there is no connections. However, having just finished the book... there is a little hope. You see the zeks converse and most of all you experience Shukhov holding conversations with some of his other hut mates. However, the bottom line is, relationships are built on "loaners". One does not perform an action, kind or mean, without expecting to be repaid in some fashion. The baptist brothers seem to be different from the norm. But Shukhov frowns on their behavior.

While I can understand the "survival of the fittest" issue, I tend to agree that humanity is vacant here. There is no helping each other out for the sake of a good deed. Then again, this is a work camp.

[mickitaz]

Hey guys. I know this discussion is over with. However, in my Saturday "newspaper" readings.. I came across this artical on Solzhenitsyn and his style of writing. I was deeply impressed with the author's insight and analysis, but considering he used "A Day in the Life of Ivan Densovich" as an example; I thought this would help.

http://my.earthlink.net/article/ent?guid=20080830/48ba1740_2ded_1175720080831-925083041

Happy Saturday and enjoy!

[Virgil]

Well, I finally finished. I have to admit the novel did get better as it went along. I still maintain that it was more of a documentary than a work of art, but I did become engaged with Ivan. I did care what happened to him. This was not your typical work of condemnation of a brutal system, say like a halocaust survivor's memoir. I can't quite say that Shukov altogether objects, though it is clear he doesn't support it. We never see outrage from him, just survival and adaptation.

I always like to highlight a particular passage that is noteworthy. Here's one, perhaps the climax of the novel. It's dinner time after a long day of work in the cold Siberia.


Shukov took off his cap and put it on his knees. He checked one bowl, then another, with his spoon. Not too bad, there was even a bit of fish. The skilly is always a lot thinner in the evening than in the morning: a zek had to be fed in the morning so that he could work, but in the evening he'd sleep, hungry or not, and wouldn't croak overnight.

He began eating. First he just drank the juice, spoon after spoon. The warmth spread through his body, his insides greeted that skilly with a joyful fluttering. This was it! This was good! This was the breif moment for which a zek lives.

For a while Shukov forgot his grievances, forgot that his sentence was long, that once again there would be no Sunday. For the moment he had only one thought: We shall survive. We shall survive it all. God willing, we'll see the end of it.
Here's another nice section:


He lit up just inside the door and went out on the porch. "Wolf's sunshine" was what they jokingly called the moonlight where Shukov came from.

The moon had risen very high. As far again and it would be at it's highest. Sky white with a greenish tinge, stars bright but far between. Snow sparkling white. camp lights might as well not be there.

A crowd of black jackets was growing thicker outside the next hut. They were coming out to line up. And outside that other one. From hut to hut the buzz of conversation was almost drowned out by the runch of snow under boots.

Five men went down the steps and lined up facing the door. Three others followed them. Shukov took his place in the second rank with those three. After a munch of bread and with a cig in his mouth, it wasn't too bad standing there. The Latvian hadn't cheated him--it was really good tobacco, heady and sweet smelling.

Men gradually trickled through the door, and by now there were two or three more ranks of five behind Shukov. Those already out were in foul temper. What did the lousy bastards think they were doing, hanging around in the corridor instead of coming outside? Leaving us to freeze.

Such nicely written passages seemed rare though. I don't know how it was in the original Russian, but I did not find this translation to be particularly lyrical. I suspect the original isn't either.