"Because art, unlike a tyrant, does not accept mercy, but only gives mercy", writes Kadare in "When rulers quarrel", and these powerful words include not only the course of the novel and the crown of his career, but also the purpose, as well as he sees it, of art in general
"Art is never finished", as Paul Valéry says, it can only be abandoned. In the digital age, musicians and film directors are the ones who have most repeatedly proved this statement of the French poet with remixes, arrangements and often with reissues. But it is far less common for authors (other than Walt Whitman) to revise or significantly change work that has been abandoned at the publisher, although some dubious revisions are likely in recent times due to public pressure and editorial irresponsibility. Writers regularly follow their work into further divisions, however, transporting a story or character to another time or place. In 2019, Margaret Atwood, lured by real-life events (and possibly TV contracts), returned to Gilead in The Testaments, a sequel to her 1985 classic The Handmaid's Tale. And most recently, in March 2023, Minority Report by Mary Gaitskill brought back the protagonist of her 1988 story, Secretary, recontextualizing the events of that earlier book in light of evolving cultural norms. (Gaitskill carefully explored her reasoning in both places, The New Yorker, where she published the new story, and her personal Substack).
Albania's Ismail Kadare returned for the first time to the earlier work, the 2003 novel "Pasardhesi", a sequel to "The Daughter of Agamemnon", written in 1985, although it would not be published until 2003. A novel the earliest, depicting the horrific banal dehumanization of life after nearly four decades of Enver Hoxha's Stalinist regime, was one of the few unavailable writings that Kadare disguised as translations of German novels and sent out of Albania in the mid- 80 with the help of the French publisher, Claude Durand, who hid them in a bank in Paris. In 1990, five years after the death of Enver Hoxha and shortly before the overthrow of the communist government of Albania, Kadare sought and was granted asylum in France. From there in 2002, he turned the mythological insinuations and metaphors of "Agamemnon's Daughter" into the wild satire, "The Aftermath." The English translations of both novels were done by David Bellos, who worked on the French versions, a pattern that was repeated with several of Kadare's novels. The excellent continuity revisits the pivotal event of the first novel from the narrow perspective associated with Hoxha's rule, directly targeting the leader as a paranoid who speaks behind the "extraordinaryness of blind eyes" as he defeats "enemies" in the circle of his tight.
In his late eighties, Kadare wrote When Dictators Quarrel (published in English under the title A Dictator Calls) another novel that retraces his earlier activity and his past. Although it is not a complete sequel , this latest work is in direct line with his earlier novel Twilight of the Steppe Gods (1978), based on his time spent in Moscow from 1958 to 1960. The new book, in translation John Hodgson's extraordinary English, also considers Kadare's legacy and the legacies of those forced to labor under the shadow of a political system that seeks to control their voice and determine their destiny. There are truly brilliant moments in When the Rulers. ..", but in general it lacks the stable climaxes and dramatic rhythm of Kadare's other works, such as "Pasardhesi" and "E penguara: Requiem per Linda B." (2009). Part of this inconsistency is also the fact that the novel seems unable to quite decide what it is trying to present, moving between deep introspection, literary theory, autobiography and historical investigation. Most of the novel's literary examples are taken from the pantheon of great Russian writers, which it has revisited more than ever since the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. And while "When Rulers Quarrel" is in keeping with the current momentum in the appreciation of these writers and in the discussion about the importance of controlling an individual's personal narrative against tyranny, it is by no means a contemporary critique, without recalling particularities of current attitudes. Still, it's a fitting conclusion to a remarkable career, and given the subject matter, it could pave the way for Kadare to receive the "Nobel" for literature, an important prize he has never received.
When Rulers Quarrel relies on a number of separate moving parts to discuss much larger ideas, thus making it a bit difficult to discuss due to some problems of getting things wrong. On the surface, the novel's titular dictator is Soviet chief Joseph Stalin, and the person he invokes is Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago, published in Italy in 1957. More than half of When Rulers Quarrel is spent analyzing 13 various versions of a three-minute phone call between Stalin and Pasternak that took place on June 23, 1934. These versions are taken from (allegedly) primary sources such as KGB tapes, as well as the memoirs of those who may have overheard the conversation or that was shown to them after the event. Some of these witnesses heard about the call from Pasternak himself, while others were simply repeating rumors around town. Kadare is fully aware that this effort is probably futile, pointing out that "two [versions] would be enough to create confusion". After the appearance of the fourth version, he even addresses the readers by writing: "You are driving us crazy with all these versions! There is a limit to everything! Enough! However...”
At one point, Kadare writes that he has "often thought that Pasternak's three minutes was one of his obsessions", but he does not believe this. A little later, in a passage that shows Hodgson's translation skills, we have the proof: “[...] we who know something about the matter must bear witness to it, even those aspects that are impossible to confirm . Moment by moment, second by second... As he and all our artistic compatriots testified to him, without anyone being known and without supporting anyone. Because art, unlike a tyrant, does not accept mercy, but only gives mercy".
These powerful words encompass not only the course of the novel and the crowning achievement of Kadare's career, but also the purpose, as he sees it, of art in general.
In the first few pages of the novel, before the Stalin/Pasternak call is introduced, Kadare details another phone call, which is almost fictional, between him and Enver Hoxha, during which the Albanian leader tells Kadare about a poem published in newspaper. Hodgson's use of the word uncertainty in the English title certainly leaves open the possibility of more than one ruler being relevant, but I prefer the endless question proposed by the Albanian title, which prepares readers to think about what happens when the heads of of the state confront their subjects, express their opinions – which are usually unpleasant – or argue with those who tend to disagree with them. During the short call between Kadare and Hoxha, all Kadare manages to say is 'thank you', which he repeats three times. An editor who hears the call tells Kadare that it's a sin not to answer him properly and wonders why he didn't say anything logical in return. Kadare managed to publish several works in Albania during Hoxha's rule, but his work was always balanced within the boundaries of what was politically acceptable. Since the poem in question is not specified, it is impossible to determine whether this call actually occurred, but it seems pointless. Rather, this is a way in which Kadare relates himself to Pasternak, who also could not respond in a way that suited either him or Stalin.
While it is not clear why Stalin called Pasternak, he certainly did not call him to praise him. A few weeks ago, the Russian poet Osip Mandelstam was arrested and taken to the Lubyanka, where he was tortured and had a testimony taken from him about a poem written a year earlier. Although it was not written down, Mandelstam is said to have recited the line several times to his friends. The poem, translated by WS Merwin and Clarence Brown, refers to Stalin as a "Kremlin malok" with "ten worms as thick as his fingers, [...] with smiling cockroaches as moustaches", before also mocking his followers him and his poor leadership skills. Stalin felt that the poem, known today as the "Stalinian Epigram", should be erased from history; "these were words that should never have been thought or said", as Kadare writes. When Stalin summoned Pasternak, he asked him about Mandelstam, and according to KGB archives, Pasternak denied knowing his friend, before probing: "So I have nothing to say about Mandelstam." Stalin replies: "While I can tell that you are a weak comrade, Comrade Pasternak," then hangs up. Most versions of this phone call agree on these key points – that is, that Stalin had called; that Pasternak, like Judas, denies his friend; and that Stalin insults Pasternak so badly.
But first, why did Stalin seek Pasternak's opinion in the first place? What did he expect from this call? Did he want to trap her? So what is the relationship between rulers and artists, who are usually feared by the former? These are some of the issues that keep Kadare occupied in part of the novel, but his interest in Pasternak began with the events that are treated in "Twilight of the Steppe Gods", published in Albanian in 1978, in French in 1981 and in Bello's English translation from the French in 2014. Kadare was 22 years old when in 1958 he was sent to the Gorky Institute in Moscow to learn, along with the brightest figures of Soviet literature, how to write according to the dictates of realism socialist. To end his stay and fascination with the young women of Moscow, he returned in 1960 after Hoxha, a dogmatic Stalinist until his last day, began to touch ties with the Soviet Union, because according to Enver Hoxha, Nikita Khrushchev was leaving, along with many of Stalin's principles. (Enver Hoxha completed the process of isolating Albania from the rest of the world when he withdrew from the Warsaw Pact in 1968, following the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, and severed ties with China early of the 1970s, after leaving the true path of communism).
During Kadare's first year in Moscow, Pasternak was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature. This honor was seen as a "poisoned gift of the international bourgeoisie", as one character in "Twilight of the Steppe Gods" calls it, bringing the weight of the entire Soviet system to strike him with terrible force. The reaction was so strong that Pasternak ended up refusing the award. In the new book, Kadare explains that as far as Albania was concerned, the problem was not that the Soviets had attacked Pasternak, but that they had not done so harshly enough. The "obvious" solution, which he imagines that Enver Hoxha's government would do, was the "bullet in the head". It is a feeling that would not have been possible to display, even jokingly (if there was one such a concept under Enver Hoxha's regime), in the 1970s. Kadare shows a deep empathy with Pasternak in "When the rulers quarrel", which is impossible in "Twilight...", writing that the noise he heard in Moscow included “a strange and completely different element. If it wasn't just for [Pasternak], but for someone else, maybe even for myself." He presents the atmosphere as follows: "Imagine standing alone in front of your country, being cursed and howled with hatred and love at the same time." This is an expression that recalls his different feelings from 45 years ago in "Twilight of the Gods...". At that time, criticism of the Soviets was allowed, but not empathy for the objects of their attacks. In When Rulers Quarrel, Kadare is free to write what he wants, and if the parallels between his past and the attack on Pasternak are not yet clear, he adds: "It is the same unstoppable clamor in Moscow as is heard in Tirana".
The first chapter of "When the rulers..." describes Kadare's return to Albania from Moscow and the period before the attempt to publish "Twilight of the Steppe Gods". While reading it, I could imagine that the two novels are mixed in a single volume, as Milan Kundera would have written, where Kadare will interrupt the narration of "Twilight..." with the comments of the first subject of "When the rulers. ..”. I would like to see this approach, especially in the short part of the novel, which begins with the arrival in Paris in 2015 of Irina Emelyanova, the daughter of Pasternak's lover and a critical character in "Twilight..." (where the name hers is transliterated as Ira Emelianova). Kadare writes that Irina is with his wife for lunch, but then he begins to draw parallels between the lives of Mandelstam and Pasternak and does not return to Irina. Stulpans, a Latvian who is Kadare's best friend in "Twilight...", is used very well. His story in "When the rulers..." is one of the few points that should not be told without reading the book.
The reason I wanted Irina to be more vocal in "When the Rulers..." is because Kadare points out that women, "the sweetest and rarest exponents of the impossible," have remained "most of the time remarkably silent." complete” since the time of Helen of Troy. Most of the documentation of the call between Stalin and Pasternak comes from women, but they are not, according to Kadare, reliable as witnesses because of the stereotypes associated with the character of the mistress/wife. I admit that, after several readings, I'm still not entirely clear on what Kadare is getting at with regards to women as observers of history. Another aspect that does not seem to be true in "When the rulers..." is in a consideration of the double standard that guides the behavior of artists and politicians: "The power of glory overthrows political idols, but it has no power against artists. And instead of harming them, it often makes them even more attractive. [...]” While this was not questioned in the past, I don't think that, at least in the United States, they would say that this is true today.
While "When the Rulers" often refers to details, in "Twilight of the Steppe Gods" only one sentence appears in both novels, a critical afterword from a letter that Kadare's lover sends to Moscow after they part. In "Twilight...", it is written: "During the whole day yesterday the radio was talking non-stop about a writer who had betrayed the country, and I was thinking about you". In "When the rulers...", Hodgson translates it like this: "All day yesterday the radio was talking non-stop about a writer who was a traitor, and it reminded me of you." When Kadare, reflecting on "When the rulers..." remembers this phrase, his heart stops. It's just one word – traitor – but that's the kind of feeling that gets writers killed. It is also a fear that he may never have discussed in his earlier work. "When the rulers quarrel" goes on to highlight several attempts at censorship, including some that focus on a single word - in Albania, the word "lady", used by children at school, because it has the connotation of the word "mother"; and in XNUMXth-century Russia, the name of Tsar Alexander is mentioned once in a poem by Pushkin. The latter brought chaos to Pushkin's apartment, another example of the petty fear of the powerful.
Kadare asks how he would have reacted if Enver Hoxha, in the alleged phone call, had asked him about another Albanian writer? Or for himself. "Would he like to have had the opportunity to prove his loyalty?" "Or did he feel he did enough with his work?" Perhaps the answer, his answer, to the second question and to history comes in the 13th version of the call between Stalin and Pasternak. Unlike every other version in the novel, this one is not attributed to a specific source and does not convey the phone call. Instead, Kadare says archival sources "have not helped establish a reliable version of the conversation." In this 13th version, only Kadare has the last word and it is decisive: Mandelstam and others like him, forced to witness history, are not alone, and their memory and voice will continue to exist.
Taken from the Los Angeles Review of Books. Translated by: Enis Bytyqi
