Evening star., 1930-11-30

lished, it may be recommended by
the party to libraries and the author
will earn good royalties (good from the
viewpoint of Russian standards); for
the libraries are the chief book buyers
in Russia and the party's "recommen-
dation" is an order. A talented but
socially Indifferent work may fail
Hence there are writer's who have fully
transformed themselves into the bureau
Gratis of communism and who are per-
fectly happy.
But there are other writers, too.
Some Of the talented "barbarians" have
learned a great deal In these years
They seldom complaint is no fun to
be dubbed a spiritual emigre." They
even may feign british cockSureneSS
and optimistic pro-Sovietism. But
they fully realize what hopeless absurd
ity ''proletarian landscapes" 'produc-
ton novels" and generally, all this COM
pulSory Lenimism are. And they suffer.
Many Writers Quit.
Some give up writing entirely. Such
is the case of Anna Akhmatova, for
instance; not single poem by her has
appeared in these years. Some others,
like Alexey Tolstoy, pass from subjects
OF current life to biographies, historical
or fantastic novels; in such works the
''proletarian line" is enforced less Sc
verely. But few can do it. Commu-
nists accept such works unwillingly.
Withal, the atmosphere in the literary
Moscow is oppressive, heavy. A few
months ago A. Kamensky, noted play
wright and fiction writer, fed from Rus
sia. Arriving in Paris, he wrote Tin the
French and Russian papers of that city,
that while crossing the frontier he felt
as though he were jumping over a
prison wall. Terrorized by the fear of
"deviating from the proletarian line" +"
he came to such nervous condition
that he could not do creative writing
at ALL" There were days." he says,
when literally cried"
Suffocating in this atmosphere, some
writer's lose their practice-and TRACE
dies follow. Typical Is the case of Boris
Ptlnyak, perhaps the most original and
interesting of the young novelists of
Moscow. Last year he wrote a novel,
"The Red Tree" in which there occur
paragraphs containing a bitter (al-
though a. cautiously worded) cry Of
despair" against the Soyiets,, and, de-
flying the Soviet censorship, he had 1t
published In Berlin. To arrest him for
this crime" would have been an awk-
ward move; he was too famous. Hence
a subtler punishment was meted out to
him. On the novels publication a real
storm broke out Con the order of the
Communist party, of course) in the
Soviet press; for months every paper in
the country bounded him as a "scoun-
dFel," traitor" and "capitalistic ally"
Apparently he understood what fatal
thing he had done; he apologized; he
volunteered to go to an industrial
front" but it was too late. A year has
passed, but every critic and writer still
shrinks from Pilnyak as from q leper;
although living in Russia, he Is literally
ostracized. In that atmosphere of
hatred how can a writer work? This
talented mans literary career appar-
! emily is finished. Indeed. Communists
know how to quell "rebelltons."
Suicide Provides Escape.
Sometimes tragedies far more seri-
Gus than this take place. Two years
ago Soviet papers were alarmed by vio-
lent drinking in Bohemian quarters and
| by suicides, which became quite fire.
quent.
/ A day came when they found Serge
! YesSenin, the peasant poet" hanging
in his room on his suspenders, with
empty vodka bottles lying around. They
! were unable to uncipher a slip on which
he had written something in his blood.
But his friend, A. Marienhof, told the
| story of his death.
Not long before his suicide Yessenin
was on q trip to Europe and America.
| He left Russia as an ardent pro-Soviet-
| ist. But after having breathed the free
air Of the West, after having grasped
| the spirit of real culture, he lived
| through heavy disillusionment; he be-
| came aware of the miserable obscuran-
| tism reigning in Russia and, to GER
tain extent, in his own revolutionary
work He tried to drown his despair in
wine, in drunken scandals (already, In
| the night clubs Of Berlin, he had Gre
ated a sensation by breaking bottles on
I, his neighbors' heads. :. But that did
not work. And so he tied his sus-
penders TO a peg in his room.
| Soon afterward A. Sobol, q talented
prose writer. took his life. A few young
beginners followed his example.
But the greatest shock came only q
few months ago. Who, 1t seemed, was
more at home in the Soviet surround
ingg that the merry, aggressive troglo-
dyte, Vladimir Mayakovsky? Yet re-
turning once with a young actress from
an all-night orgy, he, too, shot himself
through the heart Soviet spokes-
men explained 1t by an unfortunate
love affair" But many doubt this ex-
PLANTATION. It is known but too well
| that in the year preceding his suicide
Mayakovsky, too, suffocated, found nC
place for himself, felt that the quality
Of his writings was steadily declining.
Indeed, not all is 30 well in the lit
erary quarters Of Moscow as foreigner
waiting the marry Ar Club mieht think