Yury Nikolaevich (Nasonovich) Tynyanov (Russian: Юрий Николаевич (Насонович) Тынянов; October 18, 1894 - December 20, 1943) was a famous Soviet/Russian writer, literary critic, translator, scholar and screenwriter. Yury Tynyanov was born in Rezhitsa, present day Rēzekne, Latvia, Russian Empire. He was a brother-in-law of Veniamin Kaverin, another well-known Russian author. He graduated from Petrograd University in 1918 and published his first works in 1921. Tynyanov was an authority on Pushkin and an important member of the Russian Formalist school. In 1928, together with the linguist Roman Jakobson, he published a famous work titled Theses on Language, a predecessor to structuralism (but see Ferdinand de Saussure).
Two satires set in 1700s Russia, short slaps at the madness of plutocrats. The serene absurdism of Gogol is evoked in the tale of a nonexistent lieutenant who is magicked to life through a bureaucratic error, while a living lieutenant recorded as dead brings headaches up the chain of command.
The better known of these two novellas is Lieutenant Kije, because it became a film with a soundtrack by Prokofiev, which Prokofiev later adapted into the Lieutenant Kije Suite, a piece of classical music that has a very hummable melody. I enjoyed Lieutenant Kije, but ultimately Young Vitushishnikov is the better story.
Both novellas were very Gogolian. The bureaucratic snafus and the errors in gossipy communication were reminiscent of the Inspector General and Dead Souls. Poor Sinukhayev wandering alone through St. Petersburg in Lieutenant Kije after being pronounced dead on account of a typo reminded me of Akaky Akakievich. And like Gogol, Tynyanov uses the technique of the omniscient narrator denying knowledge of information for humorous effect and estrangement. Tynyanov also uses Gogol's (and Dickens') trick of small asides about characters, who add little or nothing to the plot, but who add to the richness of the story and always bring a smile to my face.
But Tynyanov is not so Gogolian in his mockery of the tsar. Gogol would never have made fun of the little father tsar, nor would he have attacked high officials by name. It wouldn't have gotten past the tsarist censors, but beyond that, Gogol was deeply conservative. He might make fun of the foibles of bureaucracy and the weaknesses of the Russian character, but he was a supporter of the tsarist motto: "Autocracy, orthodoxy and nationality." Of course once the Bolsheviks came to power in Tynyanov's time, the old tsarist government was fair game. The portrayals of the dim-witted martinet tsars obsessed with order, the incompetent bureaucrats, the needless arrests, the pardoning of the guilty so as to facilitate the persecution of the innocent and the confabulation of stories about popular heroes to serve the purposes of corrupt officials are of course all thinly disguised satires of Soviet rule, so I am surprised that Tynyanov got away with it.
He sido conocedor de este breve relato a través de 'El complejo de Caín' de Marta Rebón. No he podido evitar acercarme dado lo delirante de su argumento y no decepciona. No hay mejor resumen que la propia descripción que hace Marta en su obra. Yuri Tiniánov en El subteniente Talfin (1928), ambientada en el reinado de Pablo I (1796-1801), y cuya adaptación cinematográfica contó con banda sonora de Serguéi Prokófiev, originario del sureste de Ucrania. En ella, un inexperto administrativo militar se equivoca al redactar una lista de ascensos y decesos que debe firmar el zar: un teniente es dado por muerto erróneamente, y de otra errata surge el ficticio subteniente Talfin. Una vez rubricada por la máxima autoridad, antes que reconocer el error, los subordinados actúan como si lo que estuviera escrito fuera una verdad inapelable. Así, por mucho que el primer militar trate de restablecer su condición de vivo, todos sus esfuerzos serán infructuosos y acabará vagando como alma en pena por el Imperio, mientras que el virtual subteniente Talfin, por su parte, hará carrera militar y finalmente recibirá sepultura con todos los honores en un ataúd vacío.
why are these "novellas" when i've read "short stories" two or three times as long? whatever. both stories are absurd and pretty funny at times, but they're also scattered and not exactly the most satisfying pieces of literature. i guess the fact that they're short limits their impact, but honestly if they were any longer i don't think i would have liked them at all. i liked "lieutenant kije" more than i did "young vitushishnikov."
Disturbing but entertaining stories that flow from the absolute power wielded by less than perfect Russian Tsars. Witty, funny, sarcastic, tragic. The author set these two stories in the Russian past but, according to the introduction, was also commenting on his Soviet era present without saying so.