Toronto Slavic Annual No 1, 2003
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Contemporary Prose in Post)Soviet Russia
259
The situation on the current literary scene has also become affected more
than at any other time, perhaps, by the shift of generation. The past several
years have witnessed the passing of a number of well known and prolific Rus
sian prose writers whose names and works are closely connected with the Sovi
et era. Most prominent among them are the former editor of Novyi mir (New
World) Sergei Zalygin (19132000), the editor of Oktiabr' (October) Anatolii
Ananev (19252001), Viktor Astafev (19242001), I. Grekova (19072002), Iurii
Davydov (19242002), Petr Proskurin (19282001), Evgenii Nosov (19242002),
and Vladimir Kornilov (19282002).
In addition, many writers of the older generation, such as the representatives
of the former war prose, Iurii Bondarev and Gigorii Baklanov, are today close to
eighty and produce little of any literary significance. The former socalled so)
rokaletnie (fortyyearolds), which include writers such as Anatolii Kim, Ana
tolii Kurchatkin, and Bitov, are today in their late fifties and sixties. They are
split between old values and a new reality, and their slowly diminishing output
is in most instances in substance and spirit below the level of their earlier works.
Hence, most literature published today in Russia is written by those who are
today in their 30s50s, and have entered the literary scene in the years of per)
estroika and the immediate post Soviet era. Oleg Ermakov, Aleksandr Terekhov,
P'etsukh, Irina Piolianskaia, Aleksandr Kabakov, Tat'iana Tolstaia, Viktor Pelevin,
Vladimir Sorokin, Narbikova, Liudmila Ulitskaia, Aleksei Slapovskii, Mikhail Bu
tov, Sergei Kaledin, Aleksandr Ivanchenko, among others, have entered the liter
ary scene in the decade between 1985 and 1995. Most of them continue to be
active and publish regularly. Some, however, like Ivanchenko, Terekhov, Narbik
ova or Kaledin have published little of any literary substance in the second half
of the 1990s. Among the new names of the late 1990s it is necessary to single
out Oleg Pavlov, Andrei Volos, Ol'ga Slavnikova, Dmitrii Lipskerov, Andrei Utkin,
Sergei Gandlevskii, Andrei Dmitriev, Marina Vishnevetskaia, and Nikolai Konon
ov. The writers who have made their debut in print in the second half of the
1990s represent a wide range of thematic and artistic means. Their works ex
tend from Slavnikova's prose written in the language of traditional realism, Lip
skerov's narratives steeped in fantasy, to Kononov's poetic prose and his empha
sis on the psychological investigation into his characters.
It is possible to surmise that the appearance of a great number of new au
thors, whose creative personalities began taking shape in the postSoviet era,
has both a positive and negative effect on the artistic level of contemporary
Russian prose. On the one hand, the new author widens the thematic and artis
tic range of contemporary Russian literature, but, on the other, the lack of train
ing and professional guidance affects adversely the language and style of many
young authors. Moreover, it limits their ability to apply a variety of artistic de
vices, stripping often their texts from poignancy and depth. In current Russian
conditions, when creative freedom has no bounds and editorial guidance is at a
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N. N. Shneidman
premium, talent and especially selfdiscipline, which many young writers are
lacking, become of utmost importance.
The 1990s was, perhaps, the first decade in Russian literary history that did not
bring to the fore either a single name of a great new writer or a work of prose
which could be placed among the recognized classics. Today, the novel in Russia is
often no longer a carefully constructed artistic edifice, but rather an accidental
collage, written in most instances in poor Russian and inundated by slang and
foreign words. The structure of this novel is loose and there is no psychological
investigation of the reasons which motivate human action. Characterization is
shunned, and direct speech and Aesopian language are replaced in such novels
with the play of words and fragments of various styles. The modern hero is often
characterized by a sick imagination and morbid fantasy. Moreover, most novels
lack depth. Thus, for example, popular narratives, such as Chapaev i Pustota (Cha
paev and Void, 1998) and Generation “P” (1999), by Viktor Pelevin, are innova
tive, topical, and have some dramatic intensity, but no atmosphere, sincerity, or
deep ideas. Vladimir Makanin's most important recent work, Anderground, ili Geroi
nashego vremeni (Underground, or the Hero of Our Times, 1998) is written in
realistic and logical prose, but its structure is unconventional, and the accumula
tion of sketches of individuals, scenes and encounters creates a picture of gloom
and offers no solution to the problems posed. Iurii Buida's Ermo (Ermo, 1996),
written in elegant Russian and placed within a realistic facade, is no more than a
sophisticated play of words, events, and ideas. Similarly, Tat'iana Tolstaia's recent
novel Kys' (Kys', 2000) is a mixture of fantasy, mythological symbolism, elements
of science fiction, skaz, antiutopia and Russian folklore, but the only positive
feature of the novel is its figurative ornamental language.
Contemporary Russian prose defies classification. Neither the thematic, nor
generic, artistic, or generational approaches could cover the whole range of
literature under discussion in a coherent manner. In the Soviet days there was a
clear divide between different thematic literary streams such as, for example,
city prose, youth prose, village prose, war prose, the labour and historical themes,
and the writers' community was also divided along similar lines. Today authors
write on similar subjects, but the demarcation lines are no longer there, and
there is a thematic and stylistic overlapping in many contemporary novels. More
over, when one compares the current prose with that of the Soviet period it
becomes clear that despite thematic similarity the recent political, economic,
and social changes in the country have also affected the essence of the subjects
discussed. While the old themes are still here, the methods and substance of
portrayal have evolved to concur with the new reality. Thus, for example, the
former Second World War theme in Soviet literature initially evolved into novels
and stories about the war in Afghanistan, by writers such as Ermakov and
Prokhanov. More recently the war theme has shifted to the portrayal of the Rus
sian military debacle in Chechnia.
Contemporary Prose in Post)Soviet Russia
261
Russian “village prose,” as it was defined in the Brezhnev era, is also no long
er in existence. Belov and Rasputin still occasionally write about life in the Rus
sian countryside, but the Russian village described in their works of the 1960s
and 1970s has changed beyond recognition. Mass migration, transformation of
the means and methods of agricultural production, and the natural demise of
the generation of the Darias and Matrenas has created a new reality in the Rus
sian village. Hence, the emphasis in most works by former “village prose” writers
is no longer on the psychology, the habits, and way of life of the peasants, but
rather on the negative ramifications of the political and economic changes which
have taken place in Russia in the last two decades. These writers are critical of
the current situation in Russia, and are nostalgic for the Soviet past. They criti
cize and idealize Soviet reality, at the same time. In any event, if one wants to get
a more truthful and objective picture of the current situation in the Russian
agricultural communities, rather than reading the recent works of Belov and
Rasputin, one is advised to become familiar with the prose of Boris Ekimov, in
particular his novella “Pinochet” (Pinochet).
3
The former Soviet youth prose, the main objective of which was ideological
education and indoctrination, ceased to exist together with the disappearance
of its main sponsors the Soviet government and the Young Communist League.
The substance of the former historical novel has also changed. Before, there was
uniformity in the interpretation of the historical past. Today, there is a variety of
interpretations of the same events, and the current assessment of the historical
past often tells the reader more about the convictions of the author than about
the actual historical state of affairs. The former Soviet labour and production
themes faded away with the privatization of state property and the changes in
the means and methods of production. The Soviet worker, the hero of socialist
labour, has been replaced today by the successful entrepreneur, businessman or
bureaucrat who knows how to manipulate the system and become rich by ex
ploiting and abusing simple people.
The Russian city did not vanish, and city life is still an important subject of
contemporary prose, but the emphasis in this prose has changed from the old
Soviet days as well. Before, city prose concentrated on the portrayal of the so
called city byt, or daily life of the urban middle class, and the investigation of
intricate family relationships of the city intelligentsia. Today, the composition
of the middle class has changed drastically, along with its interests and prob
lems. Contemporary prose set in Russian urban centres concentrates primarily
on the investigation of the effects of the recent political, economic, and social
changes in Russia on the lives of the simple city inhabitants, and along with
personal and family problems it treats issues such as corruption, crime, housing,
and living standards. Thus, for example, in the novel Nedvizhimost' (Real Estate,
2001), Volos discusses the complicated procedures of real estate transactions in
the privatized housing market in Moscow, and the new accommodation prob
262
N. N. Shneidman
lems faced by the residents of the capital. On the other hand Slavnikova, in her
novel Odin v zerkale (Alone in the Mirror, 1999), delves into the eternal prob
lems of love, marriage, and infidelity, which become extremely complicated in
the new conditions of postSoviet city and business life.
Prose fiction is often nurtured by autobiographical and confessional materi
al, but in the last decade memoir literature has made a special mark. Many au
thors publish their notes, diaries, observations, and reminiscences in loosely ar
ranged narratives, without any chronological sequence and without trying even
to cover up, under the guise of fiction, their past. Many such works by Gan
dlevskii, Evtushenko, Nina Gorlanova, and Andrei Sergeev elicit public interest,
and one such narrative, Al'bom dlia marok (Stamp Album, 1995), by Sergeev was
awarded even the 1996 Booker Russian Novel Prize.
The prose of Russian classical writers may teach, inspire, or heal. Today, in
stead, most authors are indifferent, if not heartless, observers of the difficult life
in contemporary Russia. That is particularly true of most liberal authors, be
cause those belonging to the “patriotic” camp are committed to their conserva
tive cause, and they defend their dogmatic rightwing positions and attack their
opponents with frantic determination. As in the Soviet days, ideology continues
to be the main prerogative of their art. Most writers of the conservative camp
follow in the traditions of Russian conventional realism and seldom innovate or
experiment with genre, style, or language. Their prose may be thematically dis
tinct, but their criticism of the current Russian system of government is une
quivocal. And yet, this literature is boring, because it is repetitious and offers
nothing new. The prose of liberal writers, instead, may be of low artistic quality,
but it is more interesting because it is thematically and stylistically innovative,
and it may surprise, astound, and puzzle the reader.
In order to make up for the artistic shortcomings in current prose, public taste
is manipulated by publishers and booksellers. With the help of advertisement,
promotions, and business acumen they attempt to dictate public demand, and
writers are forced most often to comply. For a manuscript to be accepted for
publication a liberal writers is required today to produce a gripping story in which
there is an inventive and fascinating plot, a mixture of politics, sex, scandal, shock,
and some mystery. Most contemporary novels and novellas rarely appeal to the
reader's emotions, and many writers have turned today from creators of works of
art into skilled professional scribblers. That is not to say that there are no talented
authors in Russia today. Indeed, writers such as Butov, Dmitriev, or Utkin exhibit a
lot of promise, but it remains to be seen whether they will not succumb to the
pressures of the market as many others have already done.
In the first half of the 1990s the writers of the liberal camp could be subdi
vided into three distinct streams. To one group belonged those who followed in
the traditions of Russian conventional realism. Another group was composed of
those who identified with Russian postmodernism. To the third group belonged
Contemporary Prose in Post)Soviet Russia
263
those who combined in their works traditional realistic narrative modes with a
variety of elements of postmodernism. Some literary scholars today make an
attempt to analyse contemporary literature within the context of the evolution
of different literary genres and artistic trends.
4
However, the theoretical sub
stantiation of literary terms, in particular ones such as Russian postmodernism,
is so vague and contradictory that it is often difficult to determine whether a
writer is a realist, a postmodernist, an adherent of the avantgarde, of concep
tualism, or of all the above mixed together.
It is well known that in postmodernist art there is always a fusion of form
and a confusion of realms a combination of fact and fiction, with emphasis on
improvisation, play, and abstraction. Form is not conjunctive but disjunctive,
and the world described is not hierarchical but fragmented and in a state of
anarchy. Postmodernism does not aspire towards accuracy of knowledge. It
denies the very ideas of reality and truth, and it elevates relativism into an end
in itself. This literature destroys affinities, and it aims at the marginal and the
impersonal. It is characterized by a high degree of reflexivity, intertextuality,
scepticism, irony, and parody, which often evolves into straight plagiarism. In
view of the multitude of traits, ascribed to postmodernism, one may wonder
about the number of postmodernist characteristics which are requisite for a
work of art in order to be included in this category.
Thus, for example, I.S. Skoropanova
5
includes Bitov, Evgenii Popov, Vladimir
Sorokin, Liudmila Petrushevskaia, Buida, Pelevin, and P'etsukh in her list of con
temporary Russian postmodernist prose writers. M.N. Leiderman and M.N.
Lipovetskii, on the other hand, do not include Petrushevskaia in their list of
postmodernist authors. Instead, she is classified together with Makanin as a
postrealist, a new designation intended to unite those who allegedly combine
determinism with the irrational in their works, and the study of the sociophil
osophical essence of humans with the metaphysical elements in their nature.
6
As if to replace Petrushevskaia in their list of postmodernist writers, Leiderman
and Lipovetskii include, without much justification, Tat'iana Tolstaia among their
postmodernist authors. Another scholar, Roza Glintershchik, includes even
Makanin in her list of postmodernist authors.
7
It is obvious that since there is
no uniformity in the practical application of theoretical literary terms, it is dif
ficult not only to classify contemporary Russian authors according to genre,
style, or artistic inclination, but also to analyse and compare their recent crea
tive output in a meaningful fashion. At this point it is worth noting that by the
late 1990s many Russian writers and critics cast away their initial postSoviet
fascination with postmodernism and returned to conventional realism.
The 1990s are marked by the emergence on the literary scene of a significant
number of new women writers. In addition to the appearance in the late 1980s
of Tolstaia and Petrushevskaia, the early 1990s brought to the fore the names of
Gorlanova, Narbikova, Svetlana Vasilenko, Ulitskaia, and Polianskaia. In the sec
264
N. N. Shneidman
ond half of the 1990s Vishnevetskaia and Slavnikova made their appearance in
print, the latter both as a writer and critic. Thematically the prose of contempo
rary Russian women writers is little different from that of their male counter
parts. It is, however, more introspective, emotional, and occasionally sentimen
tal. It provides also a female view of how recent changes in Russia have affected
women's fate, and a glimpse into the predicament and social status of Russian
women on the threshold of the new millennium. The better known Russian
women writers are today rarely involved in issues which concern representa
tives of Western ideological feminism. Instead, they concentrate on the investi
gation of the female character, and on the problems that Russian women face in
their daily lives. Single motherhood, sexuality, infidelity, and loneliness, as well
as the economic conditions of Russian women in the postSoviet era are at the
core of their works.
It is also worthwhile to note that the second half of the 1990s is the period of
the rapid development of the Russian mystery and detective novel, and the names
of writers such as Boris Akunin, Aleksandra Marinina, Polina Dashkova, or Dar'ia
Dontsova have become household names in contemporary Russian society. Most
authors of detective novels combine in their narratives mystery with contempo
rary Russian byt, while Akunin sets his novels in the Russian historical past.
The evolution of the literary process in Russia in the second half of the 1990s
can be characterized by the expansion of literary sites on the Internet, and the
appearance of a number of literary clubs and salons in which groups of writers,
poets, and critics assemble from time to time to read their works and exchange
opinions on a variety of literary and cultural subjects. In addition, this period is
marked by the proliferation of numerous literary prizes established and spon
sored by various banks, financial institutions, organizations, and individuals. In
general, since most professional authors have a hard time in making ends meet,
the many generous prizes, awarded to contemporary Russian writers are of great
financial significance, the more so since publication royalties are low, and many
private publishers refuse to pay royalties at all, claiming, rightly or not, that the
sale of a given book has not covered the original publication costs incurred.
It is necessary to note, however, that the award of literary prizes does not re
flect, in any way, the current state and artistic level of Russian literature. In the
Soviet days literary prizes were awarded on the basis of the ideological reliability
of a work of art. Today, most members of juries are guided by personal biases, as
well as by the requirements of commercial, ideological, or political considerations
established by the sponsors. Thus, the standards of most prizes are seldom deter
mined by pure artistic quality, and an award can often surprise the reading public
and baffle even the author himself. The establishment of so many literary prizes
has influenced, to a degree, the formation of literary taste, and even fostered a
new phenomenon whereby many authors write with the apparent objective of
satisfying the expectations of sponsors and jurors, hoping thus to be nominated
Contemporary Prose in Post)Soviet Russia
265
for, and perhaps awarded, the coveted prize. The most prestigious prize is the
Booker Russian Novel Prize. Along with the major Booker Prize there is also a
parallel smaller award, the socalled “Little Booker,” awarded annually for differ
ent literary accomplishments as designated each year. The Academy of Russian
Literature presents annually a prize for short fiction, named after Apollon Grigor'ev.
There is also a prize named after Andrei Belyi; an antiestablishment prize, the so
called antiBooker; a prize for the national bestseller; a “Triumph” prize estab
lished by a Russian independent charity foundation; a prize established and spon
sored by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn; a prize for the best literary debut; numerous
prizes sponsored by the conservative “patriotic” writers community, as well as
prizes established by literary journals and the regional administrations in provin
cial Russia. It is obvious that the abundance of literary prizes provides writers
with publicity and financial support, but it also confuses the reading public and
erodes the criteria established for good literature.
The transition to a market economy in postSoviet Russia has had a mostly
negative effect on the former Soviet intelligentsia, the disappearing Soviet mid
dle class, and the former elite. These were previously the social strata that were
mainly interested in the development of culture, literature and the arts. Today,
more than a third of all Russians read no books altogether. There is currently a
glut of publications, but fewer readers than a decade ago. There is an over
abundance of information in the daily press, weekly magazines, and television,
and literature has turned from an educational and inspirational artistic medium
into a source of excitement, hype, and entertainment, as well as a means of psy
chological escapism from the dreary conditions of life in contemporary Russia.
Accordingly, in the second half of the 1990s, the circulation of the most impor
tant literary journals in Russian continued to drop. In October 1994 48,750 copies
of Znamia appeared in print, in December 2001 only 8,300 copies were pub
lished. The circulation of Novyi mir dropped from 29,000 in November 1994 to
12,350 in December 2001, and the circulation of Oktiabr' dropped from 38,200 in
November 1994 to 5,920 in December 2001. The circulation of Literaturnaia gazeta
dropped from 310,0000 in December 1994 to 78,000 in December 2001.
The exposure of the reading public to good literary texts is further complicat
ed by the changing tastes of the readers and by the perverse publication and mar
keting business practices of most major Russian publishing houses. Artistic and
educational quality is no longer the determining factor of publication policy. Pri
vate publishing houses are in the business of making a profit rather than educat
ing or entertaining. In 2001 12,484 books and pamphlets, in the category of artis
tic literature, with the total edition of 115,600,000 copies were published in Rus
sia. Close to 60 per cent of the above were thrillers, detective novels, and other
pulp narratives. The question “What kind of books do you read most often?” was
posed in a public poll, conducted in 1998 among 2,401 respondents from differ
ent sociodemographic groups. 32 per cent of the participants replied that they
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N. N. Shneidman
read predominantly detective novels, and only 6 per cent read contemporary Rus
sian prose. 35 per cent declared that they read nothing altogether.
8
More than a third of all titles published in 2001 appeared in small editions of
less than 500 copies each; close to 10 per cent in editions from 501 to 1,000
copies, and 21 per cent in editions from 1,001 to 5,000 copies. Only 0.7 per cent
of all books published in 2001 appeared in editions of over 100,000 copies. The
average number of copies published per title dropped from 11,628 in 1996 to
7,710 in 2001.
9
Since there are many authors who cannot find a publisher will
ing to accept their manuscripts, selfpublication has become the choice of many
writers. In 1988 the state publishing houses were given permission by the gov
ernment to accept publication orders from private citizens, and in the decade
between 1988 and 1998 more than 7,000 books were published at the authors'
expense.
10
It is necessary, however, to point out that selfpublishing is an expen
sive endeavour, and that few Russian citizens can afford it, the more so since the
author has usually little possibility of recovering some of the expenses incurred
by distributing and selling the privately produced books. However, not every
thing is as negative as it might appear from first sight. A multitude of new small
publishing houses are active, and numerous new journals and almanacs of lim
ited circulation, in particular in the provinces, are being published regularly.
Despite the many problems which complicate the situation on the current
Russian literary scene, literary activity in Russia today is still vibrant. The future
development of Russian literature, however, will largely depend on the general
economic, political, and social situation in the country. Besides, there is still
hope that among the many new writers appearing daily on the current Russian
literary scene a new genius, who will set new standards and will serve as an
example for the young generation, may emerge.
Notes
1 Literaturnaia gazeta, April 1016, 2002, 11.
2 Ibid., March 2026, 2002, 8.
3 Novyi mir, 1999, no. 4, 343.
4 N. L. Leiderman and M. N. Lipovetskii, Sovremennaia russkaia literatura.
Kniga 3: V kontse verka (1986)1990)e gody), Moscow, 1999.
5 Russkaia postmodernistskaia literatura, Moscow, 1999.
6 Leiderman and Lipovetskii, 99.
7 Roza Glintershchik, Sovremennye russkie pisateli)postmodernisty, Kaunas,
200, 21959.
8 Literaturnaia gazeta, September 16, 1998, 10.
9 Knizhnoe obozrenie, March, 11 2002, 12/PRO4.
10 Literaturnaia gazeta, August 12, 1998, 9.
© Sergei Zavialov, 2003
Сергей Завьялов
Кто они эти люди в черных плащах?
Русская поэзия в начале ХХI века
Эпохальные события эпохальны вовсе не своим романтическим фле
ром, удачно оттеняющим крепко сколоченные слова, вроде пассажа Мая
ковского о трамваях, переезжающих через Троицкий мост из капитализма
в социализм, а тем, что они, даже лишенные напрочь какой бы то ни было
риторики, действительно эпохальны для каждого трамвайного пассажира.
Поэтому проводить границы исторических периодов относительно про
сто: вот первое советское правительство конфискует у людей всякую соб
ственность вообще, вот мужчин мобилизуют для того, чтобы убить на фрон
те, вот выживших в лагерях выпускают оттуда со справкой о реабилитации,
вот первое несоветское правительство конфискует накопившуюся за совет
ское время собственность с помощью инфляции и приватизации.
С литературной историей в такие игры не сыграешь. Ее нервная приро
да как труднораспознаваемая болезнь: ктото слышит симптомы — ктото
нет, ведь медицина не наука, а искусство.
Среди всегда наблюдаемого эстетического многоязычия литературы (в
случае нашего разговора — поэзии), в редкие времена (думаю не чаще раза
двух в столетие), некоторый диагностик, вдруг вынужден констатировать
резко повысившуюся смертность этих языков. Можем ли мы ему доверить
ся? Какие аргументы он приведет? И найдем ли мы в своем эстетическом
опыте инструментарий для работы с тем, что будет объявлено юным и на
бирающим силу?
Всегда легче иметь дело с чемто работающем по существующим прави
лам и на доступном для обозрения или просто удобно расположенном поле.
Совершенно очевидно, что, скажем, в 20е годы был легко предсказуем ус
пех продолжающих говорить на гумилевском языке Тихонова по эту сто
рону фронта или Несмелова по ту. (Другое дело, что влиятельность слова
по разные стороны этого самого фронта была несопоставимой). И, конеч
но, в этом случае самым важным становится вопрос: где завершается твор
ческое развитие и где начинается эпигонство?
268
Сергей Завьялов
Так же очевидно и то, что в те же 20е годы читатель столкнулся с ради
кально новыми явлениями в поэзии, требующими расстаться с привычны
ми понятиями о том, что такое автор, лирический герой, персонаж. Это с
одной стороны — Вагинов и Заболоцкий (вообщето еще и Егунов, Обол
дуев, Введенский, но это за рамками тогдашних публикаций), а с другой —
Прокофьев, Сельвинский.
Одни из этих явлений оказались либо малоперспективными, либо не
достаточно глубоко вскрытыми, другие — продолжают переживаться и во
семьдесят лет спустя как актуальное искусство.
Тогда это были первые звуки отходной Серебряному веку, но в 30е годы,
в силу политических обстоятельств, процесс эстетического обновления
остановился, и одряхлевший Серебряный век породил свое последнее мон
струозное дитя, Большой советский стиль.
Так называемый Бронзовый век, охватывающий неподцензурную лите
ратуру 50х — 80х, который завершается на наших глазах, возникший как
противодействие сначала Большому, а затем Суровому советскому стилю
(60е годы, поэтыфронтовики) — тоже во многом наследие Серебряного,
так что, как говорили футуристы, сейчас происходит не «смена вех», а то
тальная «мена всех».
Итак, сегодня, в начале нового века, поэтическое пространство, в отли
чие от начала предыдущего десятилетия, оказалось довольно жестко струк
турированным. Это, прежде всего, несколько книжных серий, непопада
ние в которые практически лишает поэта какой бы то ни было возможно
сти быть услышанным дальше компании собственных друзей. Вопервых,
петербургская мейнстримная серия «Пушкинский фонд» (36 авторов, 70
книг), вовторых, московская, скажем так, «светская», серия «Проект ОГИ»
(38 авторов 41 книг), в третьих, набирающие силу издательские проекты
«Нового литературного обозрения», за одним из которых, в частности, сто
ит жюри авторитетнейшей Премии Андрея Белого (26 авторов, 27 книг).
Поскольку многие авторы пересекаются, всего получается 138 книг 86 ав
торов.
Для проверки репрезентативности обратимся к интернету. Единствен
ный профессиональный сайт, посвященный интересующей нас тематике, —
www.vavilon.ru Дмитрия Кузьмина. Там представлены 109 авторов, цифры,
в сущности, сопоставимые. 57 авторов (из 86) совпадают, и наоборот, если
составить общий список, число игроков на актуальном для когото поле
увеличится до 138 человек.
Не слишком отличную картину даст нам и прошлогодняя провокация
Вячеслава Курицына под названием «Рейтинг поэтов»: 73 поэта получили
тогда по 4 голоса и более, 97 — по 3 и более, 133 — по 2 и более (один
голос изза возможного произвола опрашиваемых нерепрезентативен). 43
фамилии совпадают во всех трех выборках. Все это свидетельствует о том,