Description
The book is structured as 11 compromise stories, each featuring an official newspaper article from Soviet Estonia followed by the true account of the absurd events that led to its writing. The author, a journalist, describes falsifications and absurdities in the newspaper office. One story details a frantic hunt for a suitable infant for an article about the “first New Year’s baby.”
In another, a colleague steals a bust of Pushkin. In one of the most cynical stories, the author must write about a leading worker who is simultaneously being arrested. The love lines are woven into the plot, as the narrator’s assignments are often accompanied by short, turbulent romances.
Browse the table of contents, check the quotes, read the first chapter, find out which famous book it is similar to, and buy “The Compromise” on Amazon directly from our page.
Not on the pages themselves, but beyond them.
A decent person is one who does nasty things without pleasure.
Let’s assume there really is no such thing as happiness, no such thing as peace, and no freedom either. But there are kind of attacks of senseless ecstasy. Can this be me?
Sooner or later everything will work out.
A minute has passed, and the end. The other will not.
N. S. DOVLATOVA — FOR ALL THE TORMENTS!
…And I was out of work. Maybe, I thought, I should become a tailor? I’ve noticed—tailors are always in a good mood…
I run into Loginov from television.
“Hi. So, how are things?”
“Well, I’m looking for a job.”
“There’s a vacancy. The newspaper ‘On Guard of the Motherland.’ Write down the name—Kashirin.”
“Is that the bald guy?”
“Kashirin is an experienced journalist. He’s a rather soft person…”
“Shit,” I say, “is also soft.”
“Do you know him or something?”
“No.”
“Then why say that… Write down the name.” I wrote it down.
“You should dress properly. My wife says, if only you dressed properly…”
By the way, his wife calls once… Stop! That opens up a wide, exciting topic. It would take us too far afield…
“I’ll earn some money, then I’ll dress up. I’ll buy myself a top hat…”
I pulled out my newspaper clippings. Selected the most worthwhile ones. I didn’t like Kashirin. A dull face, army humor. Looking at me, he said:
“You are, of course, non-Party?”
I nodded apologetically.
With some kind of idiotic simplicity, he added:
“About twenty people applied for the position. They talk to me… and then never show up again. At least leave your phone number.”
I gave him the number of a dry cleaner’s that had randomly stuck in my memory.
At home, I spread out my newspaper clippings. Reread some. Thought about it…
Yellowed sheets. Ten years of lies and pretense. And yet, some people stand behind this, some conversations, feelings, reality… Not in the sheets themselves, but out there, on the horizon…
The road from truth to authenticity is hard.
You cannot step into the same stream twice. But you can discern, through the thickness of the water, the bottom littered with tin cans. And behind the lush theatrical scenery, you can see a brick wall, ropes, a fire extinguisher, and tipsy workers. Everyone who has ever been backstage knows this…
Let’s start with a cheap newspaper report.
First Compromise
(“Soviet Estonia.” November, 1973)
“SCIENTIFIC CONFERENCE.
Scientists from eight countries arrived in Tallinn for the 7th Conference on Scandinavian and Finnish Studies. These are specialists from the USSR, Poland, Hungary, the GDR, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and the FRG. Six sections are working at the conference. More than 130 scientists: historians, archaeologists, linguists—will present papers and reports. The conference will last until November 16.”
The conference was held at the Polytechnic Institute. I drove there, had a talk. Five minutes later, the report was ready. I handed it to the secretariat. Editor Turonok appears, an unctuous, marzipan-like man. The type of a shy scoundrel. This time he’s agitated:
“You have committed a serious ideological error.”
“?”
“You listed the countries…”
“Is that not allowed?”
“It is allowed, and necessary. The problem is how you listed them. In what order. You have Hungary, the GDR, Denmark, then—Poland, the USSR, the FRG…”
“Naturally, alphabetically.”
“That is a non-class approach,” Turonok groaned, “there is a rigid order. Democratic countries—first! Then—neutral states. And finally—bloc participants…”
“Okay,” I say.
I rewrote the report, handed it to the secretariat. The next day, Turonok runs in:
“Are you mocking me?! Are you doing this deliberately?!”
“What is it?”
“You mixed up the countries of people’s democracy. You have the GDR after Hungary. Alphabetically again?! Forget that opportunist word! You are an employee of a Party newspaper. Hungary—in third place! They had a putsch there.”
“But there was a war with Germany.”
“Don’t argue! Why are you arguing?! That is a different Germany, a different one! I don’t understand who put you in charge?! Political short-sightedness! Moral infantilism! We will have to raise the question…”
I was paid two rubles for the report. I thought they would pay three…
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