What do you think?
Rate this book
Life Without: Selected Poetry & Prose 1992-2003
Tatiana Shcherbina has been described as ‘one of the most significant figures in contemporary Russian poetry’ (Kommersant’). In her recent work the elegant and ironic narrator meditates on love, disappointment and loss against the backdrop of Russia’s social collapse. Sometimes her poems take the form of overtly political statements (‘Dictatorship, democracy’), sometimes new capitalist Russia is reflected merely in the emotional plane – in a poem on lost love she claims she has paid the highest cash. Whilst her themes are timeless, Shcherbina’s settings are distinctly contemporary. She writes about sitting at a computer gazing into the Microsoft Windows; her poems are full of supermarkets, printing cartridges, TV, the environment; she considers applying make-up, drinking alone, falling asleep to the sounds of films in the next room. Tatiana Shcherbina is one of a generation of Russians who have been to travel frequently in Europe. She has lived in France – and sometimes writes in French – and her Russian poetry is filled with an awareness of other ‘European’ culture. She has even been criticised for a supposedly anti-Russian stance, yet she understands absolutely what is happening in Russia and is in no way an outsider. Hers is also the stance of a woman challenging Russia’s patriarchal and chauvinist society. However, Tatiana Shcherbina’s poetry is not primarily political, but literary, and she shows great versatility in different forms and genres. Her playfully meditative essays form the perfect counterpoint to her sophisticated and self-aware poetry. Russian-English dual language edition.
139 pages, Paperback
First published December 1, 2004
4 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
December 20, 2023
An observation of life in 90s Russia — filled with humour, despair, and wonder. The poems are worth reading in the original as a lot of native character is lost in translation.
‘In the seventies there was the concept of “netlenka” (the “incorruptible” or “eternal”), which quickly became ironic — it meant everything that was done not for wage earning, but for “eternity”: books written “under the table”, films made “for the shelf” and pictures which could never be shown.’ p.103
‘If you imagine the general style of our Moscow flats, it is, above all, an overload of objects: furniture, books, vases, trays, tea services, knick-knacks, Grandma's trunks, and everything else you can't bring yourself to throw away. The home used to be a warren where not just the important things were taken, but everything that might be of possible use to your grandchildren. So here the grandchildren are, and they've chucked out all the old tat, because the price of property is much higher than the price of the objects in it.’ p.107
‘In outward feelings acquisition prevails, in inward feelings loss does.’ p.113
‘Everyone is delighted with my endless acquisitions — the fax, for example: “At last! At last we can write to each other quickly, more often, more easily!” But we write exactly as much as we did before.’ p.113
‘…as if in each person there were flowerbeds which had to be sown with something, this year carrots, next year roses — there's a game of chance here, too — whatever comes to hand is planted. “I wanted to buy seedlings or little strawberry plants, but nothing to wrap them in...so got the dill seeds instead...” It's said that one old friend is better than several new ones. I like old friends best — vintage, seasoned, with a taste of oak barrels. Not an immature sour-green.’ p.116
‘But I like hotels. Living in a space which is no one's. It's like flying into open space. You leave the unwieldy part of you on the ground and limit yourself strictly to the simple body, the functioning soul. Novelty excites, as if one was brand new to the world. At home I have also introduced novelties. I have achieved my ideal bathroom. So now I can claim boldly, as Flaubert did, “The bathroom is me!" In the age of computers this is how handwriting manifests itself — the hand picking objects and placing them around the home.’ p.123
‘In the seventies there was the concept of “netlenka” (the “incorruptible” or “eternal”), which quickly became ironic — it meant everything that was done not for wage earning, but for “eternity”: books written “under the table”, films made “for the shelf” and pictures which could never be shown.’ p.103
‘If you imagine the general style of our Moscow flats, it is, above all, an overload of objects: furniture, books, vases, trays, tea services, knick-knacks, Grandma's trunks, and everything else you can't bring yourself to throw away. The home used to be a warren where not just the important things were taken, but everything that might be of possible use to your grandchildren. So here the grandchildren are, and they've chucked out all the old tat, because the price of property is much higher than the price of the objects in it.’ p.107
‘In outward feelings acquisition prevails, in inward feelings loss does.’ p.113
‘Everyone is delighted with my endless acquisitions — the fax, for example: “At last! At last we can write to each other quickly, more often, more easily!” But we write exactly as much as we did before.’ p.113
‘…as if in each person there were flowerbeds which had to be sown with something, this year carrots, next year roses — there's a game of chance here, too — whatever comes to hand is planted. “I wanted to buy seedlings or little strawberry plants, but nothing to wrap them in...so got the dill seeds instead...” It's said that one old friend is better than several new ones. I like old friends best — vintage, seasoned, with a taste of oak barrels. Not an immature sour-green.’ p.116
‘But I like hotels. Living in a space which is no one's. It's like flying into open space. You leave the unwieldy part of you on the ground and limit yourself strictly to the simple body, the functioning soul. Novelty excites, as if one was brand new to the world. At home I have also introduced novelties. I have achieved my ideal bathroom. So now I can claim boldly, as Flaubert did, “The bathroom is me!" In the age of computers this is how handwriting manifests itself — the hand picking objects and placing them around the home.’ p.123
Displaying 1 of 1 review