That’s from Elif Batuman’s book The Possessed: Adventures with Russian Books and the People Who Read Them, regarding her thorny devotion to Russian literature.
After spending most of my weekend thus far with her book, I am major crushing on Elif Batuman. I have not seen a picture of her but I bet she has an awkward, bemused-looking beauty. Everything she tells you is interesting – from tangled, bizarre histories of Russian writers, to her own often-surreal experiences in grad school or traveling.
(My favorite anecdote thus far is when Batuman drives the writer Babel’s daughter to a conference. The woman, ancient and severe, seems disgusted by a McDonald’s Happy Meal toy on the rearview mirror: a stuffed Eeyore dressed in a tiger suit.
“‘It’s not my donkey,’ I said. ‘It’s my friend’s donkey.’
‘What did she say?’ Priozhkova [the daughter] asked Lidiya. … Lidiya rolled her eyes. ‘She said that the donkey put on the tiger suit in order to look stronger in front of the other donkeys.’
There was a silence. ‘I don’t think she said that,’ said Pirozhkova.”)
The passage I quoted at first, I like especially now, as my love for English grows ever more anguished. The less I’m understood, and the more frustrated I get with my terrible resources and students who know virtually nothing, the more I lust for English. I even read the opening passages of Beowulf to my students in Old English. I don’t even know how to read Old English. Not that they could tell. Everything I ever say to them must sound like “Jabberwocky” anyway.
It’s like I have a lover who must remain a secret, and miscommunications and powers we can’t control are keeping us apart. When I read our textbooks that so vilely abuse English, I feel like some grotesque beast is sleeping with my lover.
Am now trying to write what is turning into a (for lack of a better word) retarded skit for English Week. “Olga” ridicules “Petro” for reading books, only to discover a party full of book characters who teach them the GLORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The climax, I know, must somehow involve Lord Voldemort nearly thwarting their fun. But then they all end up dancing.
Remind me again, why am I wasting my hot years in this country?
P.S. So I was right, and I am insanely attracted to Elif Batuman IRL. This picture is like porn to me (especially b/c of sexy accoutrements, cat and books).
Oh, my. I wish I could see this skit. Do you need a director? I could throw the script down and knock my chair over and shout "NO, NO, NO!" after each rehearsal, if you want!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely! I could really see you as our irascible, high-maintenance director. I would even bring lattes to your trailer.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I just mailed you a letter yesterday. I hope you get it soon!