panguitch's Full Review: Vladimir Voinovich - Fur Hat
Decent People
(I realize my review title may cause undue expectations of homoeroticism. For that I apologize, because it’s “decent” people that figure in The Fur Hat, not homosexuals. Hopefully the intended humor will later be made clear.)
Yefim Semyonovich Rakhlin writes books about decent people. The kind that rise to the occasion. Their nobility shines through when their legs are broken and they urge their companions to abandon them. The ore-finding mission is more important. Or maybe they’re a ship’s doctor who, caught in a storm, must perform a self-appendectomy
These books have titles like Ore! and Operation!, and they never get him in trouble with the censors. Yefim has written eleven of them. He’s a best-seller. He’s been a member of the Writers’ Union for eighteen years. He’s a decorated veteran. So when the Union hands out fur hats according to the hierarchy of writers (reindeer fawn for foremost writers, muskrat for leading, marmot for outstanding, etc.) Yefim is confident he’ll rank above rabbit. Sure, it’s probable that reindeer fawn and muskrat won’t actually go to writers but to officials in the Union, but Yefim has written eleven books, eighteen years a member, a decorated veteran. What will the Union reward his efforts with? Domestic fluffy tomcat!
Yefim is used to being casually abused by his wife Kukusha. And many of his best friends don’t lie about hating his silly books. But he’s a writer! Eleven books, eighteen years, a veteran! Even his friend Kostya got rabbit, and he’s only written one book. Tomcat is unacceptable and Yefim sets out to rectify the error. Unfortunately, this proves complicated. Pushed to the edge of decency and sanity in struggling against a prototypical communist bureaucracy, Yefim soon finds himself being lauded in the foreign press as an important dissident. An uncomfortable position, and an unfamiliar one for someone who writes about decent people. But Yefim is a changed man. He’s on a quest.
Dramatis Personae
Yefim, the good-natured Jewish-Russian writer of books about decent people, doesn’t get the respect he deserves from his friends and family. And while he’s more than silly in his mannerisms and appearance, he’s portrayed in such a way that we love him. He has aspirations, simple but sincere ones. He’s kind and thoughtful to his family. And most of all, he’s an innocent everyman who finds himself confronted by a Kafkaesque bureaucracy. That’s enough to make anyone gnash their false teeth.
Kukusha, Yefim’s wife, is brash and domineering. She calls him Baldy, but in a familiar way. Her affairs with army generals have no reflection on her feelings toward Yefim, though she doesn’t hesitate to use her sex to manipulate him. She wants him to stand up for himself. After all, he’s her husband and she loves him.
Kostya, Fishkin, and the unnamed narrator are Yefim’s friends and fellow writers. Kostya makes no bones about Yefim’s work being trash, while the narrator hedges. Still, Yefim’s good nature holds no grudges. Fishkin writes fairy tales, and reworks “The Ugly Duckling” to fit Yefim’s dilemma.
Vaska is a paranoid anti-Semite. He sees the guiding hand of the Yid-mason conspiracy everywhere. The subplot involving him yields some of the most ridiculously funny passages of the novel. Especially when he becomes convinced he’s better off joining the Yid-masons than fighting them and tries to get Yefim to divulge the secret code for admission.
There are, of course, members of the opposition. These bureaucrats dutifully man their posts, making sure nobody gets more than what’s allotted them. Except their own friends and relatives for whom they call in favors. Voinovich’s depictions of Soviet bureaucrats are unsurpassed for clarity and humor.
Style
Voinovich’s talents are best shown off in a short (122 pages) novel like this. The sharpness of his wit and adroitness of his characterizations are breathtaking. He has a succulent sense for the absurd situation. There are no loose ends here, and not a wasted passage.
”So what do you think?” Yefim asked. “Will they like that kind of story in the West? . . . I can put in sex, too, if necessary. We had a woman cook on board . . . .”
“A man would be better,” I said. “In the West they prefer homosexual stuff.”
“Good point,” Yefim said gravely . . . . “Actually, we did have one homosexual. But it wasn’t the cook, it was the navigator. You won’t believe this, but he slept with the first mate.”
“And what would you call the first mate?”
“Boris,” he said, not understanding.
“I mean, you had two homosexuals, not one,” I said.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, staring at me.
Reactions and Recommendation
Even Susan Brownsberger’s translation of this little masterpiece is delightful. And I shudder at the difficulties she overcame. Comedy isn’t easy to translate, and the idioms and acronyms Voinovich loves must have posed a challenge. For instance, ‘the wits’ derisively use the acronym HORSEFART for the title Honored Servant of Fine Arts. I’d love to see the original Russian for that!
This is my favorite Voinovich and I don’t think there’s a person alive who wouldn’t enjoy it. He has an unassuming style and presents his satires with dryness. The situations are so silly it can be easy to give his work little thought after you’re done laughing. But that would be a mistake. The KGB didn’t make that mistake, and neither did whatever official finally decided to exile Voinovich in 1980 for defaming the motherland. Because it’s exactly these silly situations that best illustrate the way Soviet communism failed its people.
That’s not to say that his is a limited work, a relic of the Soviet era. His characters are eminently human, and much of the comedy results from universal foibles. Anyone who has struggled against an inane bureaucracy can identify with Voinovich’s protagonists. Personally, I turn to his books for solace anytime I find myself at odds with the phone company over their billing mistakes.
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