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Ingegneri di anime
Il 26 ottobre 1932 Stalin si presentò a sorpresa a una riunione di una dozzina di scrittori importanti convocati a Mosca da Maxim Gorky. Stalin dichiarò che i progressi industriali sarebbero stati vani senza la formazione del nuovo uomo sovietico: la produzione di carri armati doveva andare di pari passo con quella delle anime e il compito di forgiarle toccava agli scrittori. ‟Siate ingegneri di anime” fu il suo monito. Da allora non ci fu complesso industriale che non avesse il suo racconto celebrativo. L’ingegneria idraulica, in particolare, era il vanto dei piani quinquennali e la letteratura che ne esaltava le opere gigantesche poteva riempire una biblioteca. Tutti gli scrittori pagarono il loro tributo a dighe e canali, che ebbero costi umani e ambientali elevatissimi. Dal Mar Bianco al Mar Caspio l’autore investiga e racconta il delirio di Stalin di cambiare la geografia e il clima con progetti faraonici mai finiti, perché impossibili, come quello di canalizzare le acque dei fiumi siberiani verso i deserti meridionali per permettere la coltivazione del cotone. Nel libro di Westerman c’è quindi un rapporto strettissimo tra industrializzazione e ‟produzione di anime”, alla quale fu costretta un’intera generazione di scrittori. Ingegneri di anime è un viaggio doppio, in cui si intrecciano due mondi: quello dei ‟fisici” (ingegneri, tecnologi ecc.) e quello dei ‟lirici” (poeti e narratori) nel periodo più repressivo della storia sovietica.
235 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
23 people are currently reading
658 people want to read
About the author
Frank Westerman
35 books103 followersFrank Westerman (Emmen, 1964) groeide op in Assen en studeerde Tropische Cultuurtechniek aan de Landbouwuniversiteit Wageningen. In 1987 woonde hij een jaar in de Andes van Peru, waar hij de irrigatiemethoden van Aymara-indianen onderzocht. Frank studeerde cum laude af en mag Ir. voor zijn naam zetten.
Zijn allereerste journalistieke reportages schreef Frank toen hij nog studeerde. Zo versloeg hij voor Het Parool de poging van Mario Vargas Llosa om president van Peru te worden en de Amerikaanse anti-drugscampagne om de teelt van coca uit te roeien in de Chapare-regio van Bolivia.
Voor het VPRO-programma Het Gebouw maakte Frank twee radio-documentaires van driekwartier. De eerste in april 1992 vanuit de 'dodenvallei' van Noordwest-Kameroen - meer hierover bij Stikvallei - en de tweede in de herfst van 1993 vanuit het volledig platgebombardeerde stadje Vukovar aan de Donau.
Omdat Frank zich uitsluitend wilde toeleggen op het schrijven ging hij na zijn flirt met de radio door met de geschreven journalistiek. Voor het tijdschrift Atlas schreef hij in 1993 het dertig-pagina's tellende verhaal 'Het goede meer': zijn debuut bij een literaire uitgeverij.
Zijn allereerste journalistieke reportages schreef Frank toen hij nog studeerde. Zo versloeg hij voor Het Parool de poging van Mario Vargas Llosa om president van Peru te worden en de Amerikaanse anti-drugscampagne om de teelt van coca uit te roeien in de Chapare-regio van Bolivia.
Voor het VPRO-programma Het Gebouw maakte Frank twee radio-documentaires van driekwartier. De eerste in april 1992 vanuit de 'dodenvallei' van Noordwest-Kameroen - meer hierover bij Stikvallei - en de tweede in de herfst van 1993 vanuit het volledig platgebombardeerde stadje Vukovar aan de Donau.
Omdat Frank zich uitsluitend wilde toeleggen op het schrijven ging hij na zijn flirt met de radio door met de geschreven journalistiek. Voor het tijdschrift Atlas schreef hij in 1993 het dertig-pagina's tellende verhaal 'Het goede meer': zijn debuut bij een literaire uitgeverij.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 53 reviews
June 12, 2017
I never like giving five stars to a book.
There is something of over enthusiastic in giving the highest marking to any work of art. I am definitely not a naively optimist person. Besides, I do indulge on excessive criticism.
But it's time to be honest.
Therefore, hands up! I'm defeated.
"Engineers of the Soul" won. And Frank Westerman's writing style won me over.
Back on December 2011 I had never heard about this book and its author.
The only Dutch journalist familiar to me (after a semester spent studying journalism in the Netherlands on 2008) was Geert Mak whose European travelogue I enjoyed but whose book on the Galata bridge in Istanbul left me lukewarm.
Then my girlfriend and I had the chance of hosting Elke from Brussels and our guest introduced us to some brilliant conversations, tasty food and a handful of Dutch and Belgian novelists, among them Mr Westerman and his work over Soviet-time novelists, this book.
Well, actually calling Engineers of the Soul a book about Soviet writers is not making any justice to what Westerman managed to accomplish here: a fascinating work which combines literary criticism with travelogue writing and social history of the USSR with reporting on the Russia of early 2000s.
And much more. All balanced in a perfect way and providing very convincing insights on what Westerman aimed to reach and why he wanted to get it, which is what seem to lack in the books written by his countryman Mak.
I particularly liked the passion behind and beyond this book.
Westerman hasn't just done his reporter homework on behalf of the NRC Handelsblad ("our intellectual newspaper" quoting one of my Dutch professors years ago). Quite the reverse!
The author here is very able to engross the readers on his investigation on how to Soviet power, censorship and socialist expectations influenced the literary production of a handful of prominent Russian writers between the 1930s and the 1950s.
Those who have a fair knowledge of Russian literature of the last century can find names they already know like those of Babel, Platonov, Pasternak, Shokolov and a focus on the influential and controversial role played by Gorki in the whole Soviet literary movement.
But it's while talking of supposedly minor socialist novelists like that Paustovsky the book starts from and ends with that Engineers of the Soul displays its amazing qualities.
The fact is that in the early USSR there were ranks over ranks of either brilliant or mediocre novelists who were pretty much forced to write about the joy of canalization, the beauty of dams, the touching struggle of "volunteers", the technological achievements of the socialist motherland to please Lenin and then Stalin.
These novelists were controlled, checked, somehow tyrannized by a system and a network of informers whose could not accept supposedly decadent, romantic, foreign-like novels coming out from the pens of its most known writers.
To put it straight: "Boy meets tractor" was properly Soviet, "Boy meets girl" was surely capitalist while "Boy meets girl, they meet tractor" could have been alright but also a Trotzkyist plot.
The girl coming before the tractor? Come on, tovarisch! That looks a little suspectful. Besides, who could have said whether the girl was a foreign agent therefore ready to weaken and corrupt the boy while sabotaging the tractor?
And because the stress of any given novel had to be put on a very specific range of topics, many writers started to flirt with hydrography, metallurgy, engineering. Novelists, poets and journalists were invited to collective literary expeditions with the goal to embellish the construction of the nth canal or dam built to accomplish ambitious and unrealistic plans.
Words like "cement", "dam", "steel", "turbine" and - of course - "tractor" found their way on the titles of thousand of ideological bestsellers published in the USSR before and after World War II.
This book tries to understand why this happened on such a wide scale and who among the socialist-friendly novelists tried to escape from the industrial cliche, quite often losing fame, reputation, a nice dacha and - accidentally - his own life or mental sanity in the process.
Westerman mentions banned poets and novelists of the period like Akhmatova or Mandelstam (but not Bulgakov!) and doesn't forget a famous ex-pat like Solzhenitsyn but does prefer to tell the stories of other people.
The so-called "engineers of the soul" are the authors who joined (sometimes despite themselves) the socialist club before falling into sudden disgrace. Hence we have plenty of poignant pages dedicated to the misfortunes of Platonov, Pasternak, Babel and the book-hero, the controversial Konstantin Paustovsky.
Just don't look at this book as a mere history of the Soviet literature, because Westerman travels through the country on his own looking for the documents he needs and the places portrayed by those socialist novelists. It's these visits to Stalingrad/Volgograd dams system, to the Russian Film Institute or to the forgotten White Sea Canal that I appreciated the most.
The nadir of the whole book is the long literary trip taken by its author on the footsteps of Paustovsky as far as Turkmenistan during the heydays of former communist politician (and electrical engineer) creative dictator Saparmurat Atayevich Niyazov.
There on the salty desert shores of the mysterious bay of Kara Bogaz, Westerman finds many of the answers he looks for while new questions arise.
This book has a rare gift: it's magic - a magical and sour realism - and it will always keep a special place on any future bookshelves of mine.
There is something of over enthusiastic in giving the highest marking to any work of art. I am definitely not a naively optimist person. Besides, I do indulge on excessive criticism.
But it's time to be honest.
Therefore, hands up! I'm defeated.
"Engineers of the Soul" won. And Frank Westerman's writing style won me over.
Back on December 2011 I had never heard about this book and its author.
The only Dutch journalist familiar to me (after a semester spent studying journalism in the Netherlands on 2008) was Geert Mak whose European travelogue I enjoyed but whose book on the Galata bridge in Istanbul left me lukewarm.
Then my girlfriend and I had the chance of hosting Elke from Brussels and our guest introduced us to some brilliant conversations, tasty food and a handful of Dutch and Belgian novelists, among them Mr Westerman and his work over Soviet-time novelists, this book.
Well, actually calling Engineers of the Soul a book about Soviet writers is not making any justice to what Westerman managed to accomplish here: a fascinating work which combines literary criticism with travelogue writing and social history of the USSR with reporting on the Russia of early 2000s.
And much more. All balanced in a perfect way and providing very convincing insights on what Westerman aimed to reach and why he wanted to get it, which is what seem to lack in the books written by his countryman Mak.
I particularly liked the passion behind and beyond this book.
Westerman hasn't just done his reporter homework on behalf of the NRC Handelsblad ("our intellectual newspaper" quoting one of my Dutch professors years ago). Quite the reverse!
The author here is very able to engross the readers on his investigation on how to Soviet power, censorship and socialist expectations influenced the literary production of a handful of prominent Russian writers between the 1930s and the 1950s.
Those who have a fair knowledge of Russian literature of the last century can find names they already know like those of Babel, Platonov, Pasternak, Shokolov and a focus on the influential and controversial role played by Gorki in the whole Soviet literary movement.
But it's while talking of supposedly minor socialist novelists like that Paustovsky the book starts from and ends with that Engineers of the Soul displays its amazing qualities.
The fact is that in the early USSR there were ranks over ranks of either brilliant or mediocre novelists who were pretty much forced to write about the joy of canalization, the beauty of dams, the touching struggle of "volunteers", the technological achievements of the socialist motherland to please Lenin and then Stalin.
These novelists were controlled, checked, somehow tyrannized by a system and a network of informers whose could not accept supposedly decadent, romantic, foreign-like novels coming out from the pens of its most known writers.
To put it straight: "Boy meets tractor" was properly Soviet, "Boy meets girl" was surely capitalist while "Boy meets girl, they meet tractor" could have been alright but also a Trotzkyist plot.
The girl coming before the tractor? Come on, tovarisch! That looks a little suspectful. Besides, who could have said whether the girl was a foreign agent therefore ready to weaken and corrupt the boy while sabotaging the tractor?
And because the stress of any given novel had to be put on a very specific range of topics, many writers started to flirt with hydrography, metallurgy, engineering. Novelists, poets and journalists were invited to collective literary expeditions with the goal to embellish the construction of the nth canal or dam built to accomplish ambitious and unrealistic plans.
Words like "cement", "dam", "steel", "turbine" and - of course - "tractor" found their way on the titles of thousand of ideological bestsellers published in the USSR before and after World War II.
This book tries to understand why this happened on such a wide scale and who among the socialist-friendly novelists tried to escape from the industrial cliche, quite often losing fame, reputation, a nice dacha and - accidentally - his own life or mental sanity in the process.
Westerman mentions banned poets and novelists of the period like Akhmatova or Mandelstam (but not Bulgakov!) and doesn't forget a famous ex-pat like Solzhenitsyn but does prefer to tell the stories of other people.
The so-called "engineers of the soul" are the authors who joined (sometimes despite themselves) the socialist club before falling into sudden disgrace. Hence we have plenty of poignant pages dedicated to the misfortunes of Platonov, Pasternak, Babel and the book-hero, the controversial Konstantin Paustovsky.
Just don't look at this book as a mere history of the Soviet literature, because Westerman travels through the country on his own looking for the documents he needs and the places portrayed by those socialist novelists. It's these visits to Stalingrad/Volgograd dams system, to the Russian Film Institute or to the forgotten White Sea Canal that I appreciated the most.
The nadir of the whole book is the long literary trip taken by its author on the footsteps of Paustovsky as far as Turkmenistan during the heydays of former communist politician (and electrical engineer) creative dictator Saparmurat Atayevich Niyazov.
There on the salty desert shores of the mysterious bay of Kara Bogaz, Westerman finds many of the answers he looks for while new questions arise.
This book has a rare gift: it's magic - a magical and sour realism - and it will always keep a special place on any future bookshelves of mine.
December 25, 2023
Een heel erg goed boek
July 5, 2021
Hoe functioneer je als schrijver binnen het totalitaire experiment van de Sovjet-Unie? Hoe ver ga je mee in het verhaal van de Nieuwe Mens? Welke offers ben je bereid te maken? Wanneer slaat de desillusie toe?
Frank Westerman was rond de millenniumwende enkele jaren correspondent in Moskou. Als beginnende, zoekende schrijver inspireerde dat hem tot Ingenieurs van de Ziel (2002). Vragen zoals die hierboven worden nagevorst en uitgeplozen en het mysterieuze Kara Bogaz vormt het gedroomde alibi om op reis te gaan.
Hierdoor ontstaat er een mooie wisselwerking tussen zoektocht (reis) en onderzoek (beschouwing). Dit procedé vind je ook terug in Westermans doorbraakboek El Negro en ik (2004), en eigenlijk in heel zijn verdere (vaak fascinerende) oeuvre.
De titel van dit boek verwijst naar een citaat van Stalin. De besnorde dictator beschouwde schrijvers als de “ingenieurs van de ziel”. Zij moesten in dienst van de volksdictatuur staan en de ziel van de nieuwe natie mee vorm geven. In een klimaat van repressie en wishful thinking vervaagt daarbij snel de grens tussen fictie en non-fictie.
Dat levert enkele boeiende beschouwingen op. Toch blijf ik een beetje op mijn honger zitten. Misschien komt omdat ik niet zo vertrouwd met de schrijvers die aan bod komen. Maxim Gorki, Konstantin Paustovski, Isaac Babel, Andrej Platonov…ik heb er wel van gehoord, maar nog maar weinig van gelezen.
Op voorhand dacht ik niet dat dat een obstakel zou vormen – een écht goed boek moet zoiets kunnen overwinnen, sterker nog: een écht goed boek zou me naar de bib doen hollen om die auteurs te gaan lezen…maar dat was hier dus niet het geval.
Ook het bijna mythische Kara Bogaz (zoutwinning! chemie! waterbouwwerken!...), dat momenteel in Turkmenistan ligt, komt minder sterk uit de verf dan ik gehoopt had.
Frank Westerman was rond de millenniumwende enkele jaren correspondent in Moskou. Als beginnende, zoekende schrijver inspireerde dat hem tot Ingenieurs van de Ziel (2002). Vragen zoals die hierboven worden nagevorst en uitgeplozen en het mysterieuze Kara Bogaz vormt het gedroomde alibi om op reis te gaan.
Hierdoor ontstaat er een mooie wisselwerking tussen zoektocht (reis) en onderzoek (beschouwing). Dit procedé vind je ook terug in Westermans doorbraakboek El Negro en ik (2004), en eigenlijk in heel zijn verdere (vaak fascinerende) oeuvre.
De titel van dit boek verwijst naar een citaat van Stalin. De besnorde dictator beschouwde schrijvers als de “ingenieurs van de ziel”. Zij moesten in dienst van de volksdictatuur staan en de ziel van de nieuwe natie mee vorm geven. In een klimaat van repressie en wishful thinking vervaagt daarbij snel de grens tussen fictie en non-fictie.
Dat levert enkele boeiende beschouwingen op. Toch blijf ik een beetje op mijn honger zitten. Misschien komt omdat ik niet zo vertrouwd met de schrijvers die aan bod komen. Maxim Gorki, Konstantin Paustovski, Isaac Babel, Andrej Platonov…ik heb er wel van gehoord, maar nog maar weinig van gelezen.
Op voorhand dacht ik niet dat dat een obstakel zou vormen – een écht goed boek moet zoiets kunnen overwinnen, sterker nog: een écht goed boek zou me naar de bib doen hollen om die auteurs te gaan lezen…maar dat was hier dus niet het geval.
Ook het bijna mythische Kara Bogaz (zoutwinning! chemie! waterbouwwerken!...), dat momenteel in Turkmenistan ligt, komt minder sterk uit de verf dan ik gehoopt had.
February 20, 2023
Je zal maar zo’n goed boek kunnen schrijven
October 23, 2015
Dit was een fascinerend boek. Het eerste dat ik van Westerman gelezen heb, vanwege de leesclub. Ik heb nu eenmaal vaak grote moeite met non-fictie. Maar niet als het als reisboek vermomd is, als zoektocht, als de schrijver duidelijk laat uitkomen waar zijn eigen fascinatie vandaan komt, als hij de lezer aanwezig laat zijn bij de interviews zodat de informanten haast boekpersonages worden.
De ingenieurs van de ziel waren de schrijvers die van Stalin met hun grootse en meeslepende romans over de technische hoogstanden van de SovjetUnie de mensen moesten verbouwen, zoals de fysici het land moesten verbouwen (door de loop van de rivieren om te keren). De productie van zielen is belangrijker dan de productie van tanks. "De ingenieurs van de ziel gaven de nieuwe orde vorm door de wereld opnieuw te benoemen. Gewoon van voren af aan, zoals Adam in het paradijs."
De nieuwe romans moeten aansluiten bij het volk, het proletariaat komt immers het monopolie van de smaak toe. Zo'n zinnetje dat treft: gaan wij nu die kant ook niet uit? Met Halbe Zijlstra die meent dat wat het gros mooi vindt, maatgevend is voor waar het geld aan besteed moet worden? Weg met de elite?
Koran, bijbel en Dostojevski worden verboden – is de glorixpipo ook geen voorstander?
Tijdens zijn studie in Wageningen hoort Westerman van een docent de stelling dat irrigatie tot tirannie leidt. "Hoe kolossaler de waterwerken die een staatsmacht ter hand neemt, des te despotischer haar heersers." Geen twijfel mogelijk als het over Rusland gaat, of over Egypte (het waren Russen bij de Assoeandam, hebben zij ook die farao's opgehesen?) – maar denk eens aan de Hooverdam? De Deltawerken? Gaat de stelling alleen op voor oosterse despoten? Weer een voorbeeld van iets dat tot nadenken stemt.
En meteen ook de rode (blauwe) draad in het boek: de reis die Westerman onderneemt om met eigen ogen te zien wat er is geworden van de Baai van Kara Bogaz.
Uit mezelf was ik dit boek nooit gaan lezen – had er nooit van gehoord – maar nu heb ik het gevoel dat ik zoveel meer weet van zoveel meer! Mijn kennis van de Russische literatuur reikte niet verder dan Anna Karenina, Dokter Zhivago, en een dame met een hondje en een monoloog van een grootinquisiteur. Nu heb ik het gevoel dat ik met Westerman door land en tijd gereisd ben. Blijkt ook uit hoe goed hij schrijft: zintuiglijk, en van zo dichtbij mogelijk. En springerig, zodat je geen tijd krijgt om weg te suffen.
De ingenieurs van de ziel waren de schrijvers die van Stalin met hun grootse en meeslepende romans over de technische hoogstanden van de SovjetUnie de mensen moesten verbouwen, zoals de fysici het land moesten verbouwen (door de loop van de rivieren om te keren). De productie van zielen is belangrijker dan de productie van tanks. "De ingenieurs van de ziel gaven de nieuwe orde vorm door de wereld opnieuw te benoemen. Gewoon van voren af aan, zoals Adam in het paradijs."
De nieuwe romans moeten aansluiten bij het volk, het proletariaat komt immers het monopolie van de smaak toe. Zo'n zinnetje dat treft: gaan wij nu die kant ook niet uit? Met Halbe Zijlstra die meent dat wat het gros mooi vindt, maatgevend is voor waar het geld aan besteed moet worden? Weg met de elite?
Koran, bijbel en Dostojevski worden verboden – is de glorixpipo ook geen voorstander?
Tijdens zijn studie in Wageningen hoort Westerman van een docent de stelling dat irrigatie tot tirannie leidt. "Hoe kolossaler de waterwerken die een staatsmacht ter hand neemt, des te despotischer haar heersers." Geen twijfel mogelijk als het over Rusland gaat, of over Egypte (het waren Russen bij de Assoeandam, hebben zij ook die farao's opgehesen?) – maar denk eens aan de Hooverdam? De Deltawerken? Gaat de stelling alleen op voor oosterse despoten? Weer een voorbeeld van iets dat tot nadenken stemt.
En meteen ook de rode (blauwe) draad in het boek: de reis die Westerman onderneemt om met eigen ogen te zien wat er is geworden van de Baai van Kara Bogaz.
Uit mezelf was ik dit boek nooit gaan lezen – had er nooit van gehoord – maar nu heb ik het gevoel dat ik zoveel meer weet van zoveel meer! Mijn kennis van de Russische literatuur reikte niet verder dan Anna Karenina, Dokter Zhivago, en een dame met een hondje en een monoloog van een grootinquisiteur. Nu heb ik het gevoel dat ik met Westerman door land en tijd gereisd ben. Blijkt ook uit hoe goed hij schrijft: zintuiglijk, en van zo dichtbij mogelijk. En springerig, zodat je geen tijd krijgt om weg te suffen.
September 27, 2024
Da grande amante della letteratura di viaggio ho apprezzato molto le digressioni sullo stato delle cose nell’Unione Sovietica degli anni trenta-quaranta-cinquanta, ma purtroppo non posso dire di essere riuscito ad apprezzare fino in fondo questo libro, che parte in un modo e poi vira su tutt’altra direzione, sebbene comunque si tratti di un titolo che mi ha comunque intrattenuto.
Sicuramente uno spunto molto interessante è la correlazione tra le opere idrauliche e l’autoritarismo, elemento ricorrente e alla cui luce vengono considerate le varie imprese idrauliche realizzate dai sovietici negli anni dell’URSS.
Tutto sommato carino, ma non andrei oltre.
Sicuramente uno spunto molto interessante è la correlazione tra le opere idrauliche e l’autoritarismo, elemento ricorrente e alla cui luce vengono considerate le varie imprese idrauliche realizzate dai sovietici negli anni dell’URSS.
Tutto sommato carino, ma non andrei oltre.
September 26, 2024
Un viaggio alla scoperta di un lato nascosto della complessa struttura che rappresentò l’URSS.
La vicenda personale alla base funge da filo conduttore in quello che è il grande racconto della Storia, il quale tocca tante personalità diverse, chi sommergendole e chi salvandole.
Un libro piuttosto malinconico, come spesso sono le storie che parlano dell’esperienza sovietica, un’esperienza fatta di veri ideali, persone vere e altrettanto veri tradimenti e delusioni.
La vicenda personale alla base funge da filo conduttore in quello che è il grande racconto della Storia, il quale tocca tante personalità diverse, chi sommergendole e chi salvandole.
Un libro piuttosto malinconico, come spesso sono le storie che parlano dell’esperienza sovietica, un’esperienza fatta di veri ideali, persone vere e altrettanto veri tradimenti e delusioni.
March 21, 2018
I loved this book. Its focus was mainly on Gorky and Paustovsky and how other writers were made to focus on the scientific glories of the Soviet Union, especially water management and irrigation engineering. Paustovsky (and the author's) obsession with Kara Bogaz underpins this narrative, but we learn about the general atmosphere in which Gorky, Pasternak and other Soviet writers had to be creative. Thoroughly enjoyable.
September 20, 2024
Probabilmente non ho ben capito il libro, o meglio, l’ho cominciato a capire solo a partire dalla seconda metà del testo. La prima l’ho trovata piuttosto caotica, è stato difficile tenere il filo, anche perché è una serie di nomi che si susseguono e interagiscono tra di loro. Nella seconda parte, invece, ricorrendone solo uno, la trama è diventata più chiara e lineare, per tornare un po’ confusionaria alla fine, ma a quel punto avevo già in mente lo schema e dove saremmo andati a parare per cui mi è risultato più semplice. Tutto sommato, è un libro interessante perché fornisce una panoramica sull’URSS non comune ed è anche istruttivo da un punto di vista storico e letterario.
January 30, 2015
This is how non-fiction should be to me: not choking on endless details, build on a thrilling narrative and crisscrossing between different but related subjects.
In this particular case, Soviet Realism literary history is mixed with the subject of most of these books, hydraulic mega-projects. Following Gorki, Platonov and most of all Paustovsky, readers will learn about Stalinist purges, Turkmenistan customs and the hidden history of some of the gigantic canal projects that were at the core of the Soviet raison d'être.
In this particular case, Soviet Realism literary history is mixed with the subject of most of these books, hydraulic mega-projects. Following Gorki, Platonov and most of all Paustovsky, readers will learn about Stalinist purges, Turkmenistan customs and the hidden history of some of the gigantic canal projects that were at the core of the Soviet raison d'être.
October 27, 2017
Prachtig onderzoek naar de rol van schrijvers in de Sovjet Unie. Dit gekoppeld aan de grote waterbouwkundige werken, die werden ondernomen in de gloednieuwe republiek.
Veel aandacht is er voor Gorki en Paustovski.
"Meer nog dan de eigengereide onaantastbare denkers, fascineerden mij de hele en halve meelopers, de bekeerlingen, de afvalligen en de twijfelaars. Misschien wel omdat hun dilemma's en zwakheden zo herkenbaar zijn."
Veel aandacht is er voor Gorki en Paustovski.
"Meer nog dan de eigengereide onaantastbare denkers, fascineerden mij de hele en halve meelopers, de bekeerlingen, de afvalligen en de twijfelaars. Misschien wel omdat hun dilemma's en zwakheden zo herkenbaar zijn."
December 16, 2023
Heel leuk om te lezen, je wordt als lezer meegenomen in de zoektocht van Westerman naar met name Paustovski’s voetsporen (andere schrijvers zoals Gorki en Babel komen ook langs).
Inhoudelijk ligt de focus op de grote waterwerken van de Sovjet-Unie. Verbazingwekkend hoe megalomaan dit was en hoe repressief de maatschappij van toen was. Tegelijkertijd maakt Westerman mooi invoelbaar dat er ook daadwerkelijk hooggestemde idealen achter zaten; en dat het opportunisme hoogtij vierde.
Ik wil nu in ieder geval ‘Dzjan’ van Platonov gaan lezen. Het blijft een wrange constatering: de boeken die we nu goed vinden en hoog aanslaan, werden toen veelal verboden. Hoewel tijdens de Sovjet-Unie veel mooie literatuur is geschreven, lazen de mensen die dus meestal niet. Wat ze dan wel lazen? Ellenlange boeken over heldhaftige ingenieurs die ondanks sabotage en tegenwerking grote waterwerken zoals dammen en kanalen realiseerden.
Wat achtergrondkennis van Paustovski en/of het Stalinistische systeem is handig, maar niet vereist.
Inhoudelijk ligt de focus op de grote waterwerken van de Sovjet-Unie. Verbazingwekkend hoe megalomaan dit was en hoe repressief de maatschappij van toen was. Tegelijkertijd maakt Westerman mooi invoelbaar dat er ook daadwerkelijk hooggestemde idealen achter zaten; en dat het opportunisme hoogtij vierde.
Ik wil nu in ieder geval ‘Dzjan’ van Platonov gaan lezen. Het blijft een wrange constatering: de boeken die we nu goed vinden en hoog aanslaan, werden toen veelal verboden. Hoewel tijdens de Sovjet-Unie veel mooie literatuur is geschreven, lazen de mensen die dus meestal niet. Wat ze dan wel lazen? Ellenlange boeken over heldhaftige ingenieurs die ondanks sabotage en tegenwerking grote waterwerken zoals dammen en kanalen realiseerden.
Wat achtergrondkennis van Paustovski en/of het Stalinistische systeem is handig, maar niet vereist.
May 12, 2025
Koningsdagvangst (eigenlijk het enige waar de royals goed voor zijn). Westerman doet een duik in het Sovjet-verleden op een moment dat dat ook daadwerkelijk kon, en beschrijft het pijnlijke huwelijk tussen de Sovjet-schrijvers en de Sovjetingenieurs, met name de waterbouwers. Hij beschrijft gigantische meren die verdwijnen en weer terugkeren, en schrijvers waar hetzelfde voor gold. Voor de meesten was het schipperen.
Extra pregnant is de beschrijving van de werking van de censuur, op een moment dat die in Rusland allang weer in ere is hersteld, en er nu ook in de VS boeken uit de bibliotheken verbannen worden.
Extra pregnant is de beschrijving van de werking van de censuur, op een moment dat die in Rusland allang weer in ere is hersteld, en er nu ook in de VS boeken uit de bibliotheken verbannen worden.
December 8, 2025
Het is een boek dat enige kennis van de (literatuur)geschiedenis van de Sovjet-Unie vereist, maar als liefhebber van precies die twee onderwerpen werd ik op mijn wenken bediend. De taal en inzichten van Frank Westerman brengen die totaal bizarre wereld van de communistische heilstaat (die bij het verschijnen van het boek nog maar net was opgeheven, maar op velerlei manieren nog bestond) tot leven.
April 26, 2020
Fascinerend boek waarin het verhaal van de Sovjetschrijvers verweven wordt met dat van de waterbouwkundigen - de liriki en de fysiki. Paustovski en zijn Baai van Kara Bogaz spelen de hoofdrol in dit werk, dus voor ieder die geinteresseerd is in Sovjetliteratuur en Paustovski in het bijzonder is dit boek een aanrader.
December 31, 2021
Fantastisch boek. Een schat aan historische informatie, zeer smakelijk geserveerd in de vorm van een persoonlijke zoektocht. Non-fictie is niet vaak zo spannend en boeiend. Ook als je nog nooit hebt gehoord van Paustovski en geen idee hebt wat waterbouwkunde eigenlijk is, als je er ook niet speciaal naar benieuwd bent eigenlijk, zelfs dan is dit een waanzinnig interessant boek. Zo goed schrijft Frank Westerman. Een dikke vijf sterren.
October 14, 2022
Erg interessant verhaal! Westerman legt aan de hand van verschillende schrijvers heel mooi bloot hoe de Sovjet-Unie functioneerde. Ook leuk boek voor mensen die niet vuistdiep in de Sovjet geschiedenis zitten. Zeker leesbaar voor leraren aardrijkskunde of (amateur)geologen!
April 17, 2025
very interesting read and background details if you enjoy Paustovski
July 8, 2023
Scrittore che fu giornalista e questo risulta molto nella ricerca per il libro e nell'approccio alla narrazione in senso assolutamente positivo, per nulla asettico ma molto documentato.
È un breve viaggio fra gli scrittori sovietici: tra chi credeva nella causa prima della rivoluzione e la riversa nei suoi libri e chi si cimenta dopo nella letteratura rispettando le indicazioni di regime. Per chi crede fondamentalmente, per chi si definisce socialista ma è critico su come si sia sviluppato in russa ed è ricco di filosofia, per chi semplicemente esalta senza anima. Ognuno è un artista, pur piegato ad una ideologia interiorizzata o imposta, che si muova nel rapporto con non solo la politica, ma qualcosa di più: una nuova forma mentis, una filosofia in cui credere, un nuovo mondo da costruire.
Sicuramente leggerò altro di questo autore per il suo punto di vista forte sull'animo umano in un contesto molto specifico e estremamente interessante.
È un breve viaggio fra gli scrittori sovietici: tra chi credeva nella causa prima della rivoluzione e la riversa nei suoi libri e chi si cimenta dopo nella letteratura rispettando le indicazioni di regime. Per chi crede fondamentalmente, per chi si definisce socialista ma è critico su come si sia sviluppato in russa ed è ricco di filosofia, per chi semplicemente esalta senza anima. Ognuno è un artista, pur piegato ad una ideologia interiorizzata o imposta, che si muova nel rapporto con non solo la politica, ma qualcosa di più: una nuova forma mentis, una filosofia in cui credere, un nuovo mondo da costruire.
Sicuramente leggerò altro di questo autore per il suo punto di vista forte sull'animo umano in un contesto molto specifico e estremamente interessante.
March 2, 2021
"Uno scrittore dece scrivere per poter vivere, deve mangiare come gli altri uomini. Ma noi siamo messi davanti a una scelta ingannevole: o scrivi ciò che ci si aspetta da te, o scrivi per il cassetto della scrivania."
"Nelle opere di riferimento occidentali ricorre sempre lo stesso giudizio: l'unica letteratura dell'Unione Sovietica che rimarrà nei secoli è quella clandestina, proibita, sequestrata, ricopiata a mano, fatta passare di contrabbando a Occidente o mai pubblicata. I libri con il nulla osta della censura sovietica, al confronto, tranne una manciata di eccezioni, fanno una ben misera fiducia. (...) Più ancora dei pensatori tenaci e irriducibili (Michail Bulgakov, Daniil Charms, Anna Achmatova, Josif Brodskij), mi affascinavano i compagni di strada più o meno accomodanti, i convertiti, i rinnegati e gli scettici. Forse perché i loro dilemmi e le loro debolezze sono così riconoscibili."
"Nelle opere di riferimento occidentali ricorre sempre lo stesso giudizio: l'unica letteratura dell'Unione Sovietica che rimarrà nei secoli è quella clandestina, proibita, sequestrata, ricopiata a mano, fatta passare di contrabbando a Occidente o mai pubblicata. I libri con il nulla osta della censura sovietica, al confronto, tranne una manciata di eccezioni, fanno una ben misera fiducia. (...) Più ancora dei pensatori tenaci e irriducibili (Michail Bulgakov, Daniil Charms, Anna Achmatova, Josif Brodskij), mi affascinavano i compagni di strada più o meno accomodanti, i convertiti, i rinnegati e gli scettici. Forse perché i loro dilemmi e le loro debolezze sono così riconoscibili."
October 12, 2011
Engineers of the Soul is a thoroughly enjoyable piece of nonfiction about writers in the Soviet era and the strictures they faced: Westerman focuses on Konstantin Paustovsky but also offers details on the lives of Maxim Gorky and Andrei Platonov, among others. I was especially happy to read a bit about irrigation in the former Soviet Union.
(There's more about Engineers of the Soul on my blog, here.)
(There's more about Engineers of the Soul on my blog, here.)
March 14, 2016
Opnieuw een boek met veel persoonlijke accenten van de eigenzinnige Westerman. Met als leidraad het leven van schrijver Konstantin Paustovski onderzoekt hij de verknechting van de Sovjetliteratuur voor, tijdens en na het Stalintijdperk. Als ingenieurs van de ziel stelden schrijvers zich tegen wil en dank op als opvoeders van het volk en hingen ze de sociaal-realististische doctrine aan (Boy meets tractor). De baai van Kara Bogaz en Bekdasj fungeren als achtergronddecor.
January 22, 2020
"Rubinschtein made the quota imposed for the First Five-Year Plan (1928-1932) within only four years, a feat for which the Kara Boga Chemical Combine was awarded the 'Red Banner'. On that festive occasion, which was celebrated on 17 October 1932 and made all the national newspapers, Comrade Rubinschtein was the guest of honour. 'Today the shores of the Kara Bogaz are no longer a hotbed of nomad superstition,' he concluded his speech. 'We have transformed the desert into a socialist enterprise that compares favourably with the other great construction projects of the Soviet Union.' The first time I read about the personal fate of this Red manager was in a footnote in Amansoltan's thesis: Jakov G. Rubinschtein (1895-1938). Arrested in May 1937. Condemned to 'death by execution" by the Supreme Military Court in Moscow in October of 1938, on the basis of Article 58 ('counter-revolutionary activities')."
A combination travelogue, biography and history lesson, Frank Westerman truly does a wonderful job of crafting together a very interesting work of non-fiction. Stumbling upon a discrepancy in the work of Soviet writer Konstantin Paustovsky, Westerman follows along in his footsteps, tracing through the history of literature (and it's censorship) within the Soviet Union, a journey that takes him along Russia and even into the heart of isolationist Turkmenistan. On face-value the premise of this novel seems boring, Westerman spends most of it discussing the construction of dams and waterways that marked the modernization of early 20th century Russia, but by jumping in time from the modern day to the USSR, through the use of declassified documents, first-hand accounts and interviews, he easily maintains your attention throughout the course of the novel. Reading this has definitely peaked my interest in learning more about the fall of the Soviet Union and is definitely a piece of non-fiction I'd recommend to others.
Some notable quotes:
"This 'confession' dates from his first day of interrogation, 2 November 1937, and has been preserved in a blue folder marked: 'Case-14488. Pilnyak-Vogau, Boris Andreyevich.' As the synchrony of history would have it, it is in that very same week that two of the northern Gulag camps (Belomor and Solovki) are disbanded. The remaining population of 11,000 souls, about whom no personal dossiers exist, only a list of names, disappear naked and with a bullet in the back of the head into shallow graves in the forests of Karelia."
"An internal report dealing with GlavLit's achievements in 1938-39 has been preserved. During that period, the document states, the central censorship organ retrieved 7,806 'politically damaging' works, written by 1,860 different writers. An additional 4,512 titles were recycled, being of 'absolutely no value to the Soviet reader'. In total. this involved the pulping of 24,138,799 books."
A combination travelogue, biography and history lesson, Frank Westerman truly does a wonderful job of crafting together a very interesting work of non-fiction. Stumbling upon a discrepancy in the work of Soviet writer Konstantin Paustovsky, Westerman follows along in his footsteps, tracing through the history of literature (and it's censorship) within the Soviet Union, a journey that takes him along Russia and even into the heart of isolationist Turkmenistan. On face-value the premise of this novel seems boring, Westerman spends most of it discussing the construction of dams and waterways that marked the modernization of early 20th century Russia, but by jumping in time from the modern day to the USSR, through the use of declassified documents, first-hand accounts and interviews, he easily maintains your attention throughout the course of the novel. Reading this has definitely peaked my interest in learning more about the fall of the Soviet Union and is definitely a piece of non-fiction I'd recommend to others.
Some notable quotes:
"This 'confession' dates from his first day of interrogation, 2 November 1937, and has been preserved in a blue folder marked: 'Case-14488. Pilnyak-Vogau, Boris Andreyevich.' As the synchrony of history would have it, it is in that very same week that two of the northern Gulag camps (Belomor and Solovki) are disbanded. The remaining population of 11,000 souls, about whom no personal dossiers exist, only a list of names, disappear naked and with a bullet in the back of the head into shallow graves in the forests of Karelia."
"An internal report dealing with GlavLit's achievements in 1938-39 has been preserved. During that period, the document states, the central censorship organ retrieved 7,806 'politically damaging' works, written by 1,860 different writers. An additional 4,512 titles were recycled, being of 'absolutely no value to the Soviet reader'. In total. this involved the pulping of 24,138,799 books."
January 27, 2020
‘The more colossal the waterworks a state undertakes, the more despotic its rulers.’ ~ Den Ouden
.
This concept – which sounds oversimplified & a tad bizarre at first reading – is one of the key themes to, & revelations of, this extraordinary book. It’s hard to describe what Engineers of the Soul is about without giving too much away, because like a really good investigative podcast, part of its brilliance lies in the way it slowly but surely unravels, revealing more & more as it draws you down its rabbit-hole.
.
It’s partly about geography, partly about literature, a lot about history – its title, ‘Engineers of the Soul’, cites a term Stalin used to describe Soviet writers, who are the main ‘characters’ of this book. But the word ‘engineering’ is more operative than just that; as it’s also a book that examines some of the wildly ambitious engineering projects the USSR undertook, & at the core of this narrative is the junction where those writers & that engineering intersected – specifically, a place called Kara Bogaz.
.
Which may sound a bit random & not all that compelling, but the author certainly makes it so, using his detective work into why an entire bay vanished off the maps to weave a detailed tapestry of the USSR – both the grandiose machinations of its command economy & the complete madness of its socio-politics. While the regime at the head of this modern-day empire obsess with five-year plans, its citizens – especially public figures – obsess over their standing with that regime; a favourable outlook translating into privilege & public adoration; falling out having often lethal consequences.
.
In some ways the book reminds me of Dune, in how the Soviets are planning to turn barren deserts into prosperous paradises… But while in Dune that goal is noble & in harmony with the planet’s natives, here, the Soviets waste colossal effort, mostly by slave labour, & inflict catastrophic environmental damage (although one has to give them credit for outlawing the misogynistic practices of the native Turkmen). Like Dune, however, this book takes a universe – in this case the universe of the Soviet imperium – to create a masterful study of history & humanity.
.
This concept – which sounds oversimplified & a tad bizarre at first reading – is one of the key themes to, & revelations of, this extraordinary book. It’s hard to describe what Engineers of the Soul is about without giving too much away, because like a really good investigative podcast, part of its brilliance lies in the way it slowly but surely unravels, revealing more & more as it draws you down its rabbit-hole.
.
It’s partly about geography, partly about literature, a lot about history – its title, ‘Engineers of the Soul’, cites a term Stalin used to describe Soviet writers, who are the main ‘characters’ of this book. But the word ‘engineering’ is more operative than just that; as it’s also a book that examines some of the wildly ambitious engineering projects the USSR undertook, & at the core of this narrative is the junction where those writers & that engineering intersected – specifically, a place called Kara Bogaz.
.
Which may sound a bit random & not all that compelling, but the author certainly makes it so, using his detective work into why an entire bay vanished off the maps to weave a detailed tapestry of the USSR – both the grandiose machinations of its command economy & the complete madness of its socio-politics. While the regime at the head of this modern-day empire obsess with five-year plans, its citizens – especially public figures – obsess over their standing with that regime; a favourable outlook translating into privilege & public adoration; falling out having often lethal consequences.
.
In some ways the book reminds me of Dune, in how the Soviets are planning to turn barren deserts into prosperous paradises… But while in Dune that goal is noble & in harmony with the planet’s natives, here, the Soviets waste colossal effort, mostly by slave labour, & inflict catastrophic environmental damage (although one has to give them credit for outlawing the misogynistic practices of the native Turkmen). Like Dune, however, this book takes a universe – in this case the universe of the Soviet imperium – to create a masterful study of history & humanity.
December 13, 2021
Della letteratura russa si sa che è sconfinata e che basta citare gli autori più celebri della fine dell'Ottocento per dare una parvenza di conoscenza in merito.
Ingegneri di anime, scritto da Frank Westerman, invece è quel qualcosa in più che l'appassionato lettore e studioso del romanzo russo può trovare per colmare le lacune inerenti la letteratura sovietica e di come si è cercato di allineare al partito, con deportazioni, censure e anatemi, le menti più eccellenti che, senza pianificare, ha contribuito a produrre e divulgare causandone il crollo di risonanza globale.
Utile e ben scritto, aiuta a capire quali errori sono stati commessi nella costruzione di un sistema sociale che si voleva migliore, più giusto, equo e diverso da quello promosso dall'America e dall'Europa capitalista.
Altre considerazioni in merito su:
https://paroleombra.com/2021/03/26/in...
Ingegneri di anime, scritto da Frank Westerman, invece è quel qualcosa in più che l'appassionato lettore e studioso del romanzo russo può trovare per colmare le lacune inerenti la letteratura sovietica e di come si è cercato di allineare al partito, con deportazioni, censure e anatemi, le menti più eccellenti che, senza pianificare, ha contribuito a produrre e divulgare causandone il crollo di risonanza globale.
Utile e ben scritto, aiuta a capire quali errori sono stati commessi nella costruzione di un sistema sociale che si voleva migliore, più giusto, equo e diverso da quello promosso dall'America e dall'Europa capitalista.
Altre considerazioni in merito su:
https://paroleombra.com/2021/03/26/in...
June 21, 2025
I’m not sure what I was expecting from this book - but it wasn’t this. In the best way possible! I learnt so much about a period of history that so often is underestimated and flies under the radar, but holds so many fascinating people, stories, and lessons to keep in mind for the future. I’m so glad that I happened to pick up this book, as it really reawakened my passion for reading and desire to learn more about the world, not just as I understand it now. Even if you don’t think it will be for you, I highly recommend picking up this book and giving it a go. You will definitely learn something new, and will most likely not want to put it down. I never thought that I would enjoy reading a non-fiction book to the point of being so intrigued that I didn’t want to put it down.
April 19, 2020
Veramente molto interessante e specifico. L'autore scende ben in profondità sulla tematica degli "scrittori sovietici" e dedica molte parole a Paustovsky e Gor'kij (e tantissimi altri) e fanno nascere alcune tematiche per quanto riguarda il comunismo e la letteratura sovietica poco approfondite e diffuse.
La parte "fiction" non rende cosi confusa l'atmosfera e i dati storici, anzi, li approfondisce e descrive ancora meglio (tramite una serie di personaggi) il tema.
A volte si parla di idraulica (io, onestamente, non ci capisco nulla) e dunque ogni tanto qualche pagina va riletta per capire meglio, ma per il resto é un ottimo libro.
La parte "fiction" non rende cosi confusa l'atmosfera e i dati storici, anzi, li approfondisce e descrive ancora meglio (tramite una serie di personaggi) il tema.
A volte si parla di idraulica (io, onestamente, non ci capisco nulla) e dunque ogni tanto qualche pagina va riletta per capire meglio, ma per il resto é un ottimo libro.
April 19, 2021
I am not a subject matter expert at all, so my review reflects only my impressions. I found this account of the interactions between the literary community, the hydrogeologic engineering experts, and the Soviet regime to be absolutely fascinating, and told in an accessible, human manner by Westerman. It's another (among many) story of people's attempts to manipulate natural resources for their purposes. There may be some specifically Soviet dimensions to what happened at the bay at Kara Bogaz, but it should nevertheless give us a useful lens to reflect on the vast engineering projects of our time and place.
September 19, 2023
One of the most unique book topics I've come across in a while.
This is a non-academic, at some points travel-lit, book about the Soviet Union's large hydraulic projects (e.g. canals, dams) and its efforts to get its notable authors to write about them.
The history parts were most interesting. This topic is hardly written about and the author showed good discretion in his choice of surprising facts and whatnot.
The travelogue elements were hit and miss, not that engaging.
This is a non-academic, at some points travel-lit, book about the Soviet Union's large hydraulic projects (e.g. canals, dams) and its efforts to get its notable authors to write about them.
The history parts were most interesting. This topic is hardly written about and the author showed good discretion in his choice of surprising facts and whatnot.
The travelogue elements were hit and miss, not that engaging.
May 7, 2024
Ik geef zelden vijf sterren, maar ik vond dit boek fascinerend. Een op het eerste gezicht saai onderwerp "waterbouwkunde in de Russische literatuur", weet Westerman heel boeiend in een breed perspectief te plaatsen en tegelijkertijd erg persoonlijk te maken door de bezoeken die hij aflegt. Erg knap! Bovenal heeft het me enorm veel geleerd, want ik had nog weinig boeken over Russische waterbouwkunde gelezen.
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