It is difficult to imagine that in Russia there were times when a talented person was not only not encouraged to engage in creativity, at least morally, and not just financially, but moreover, they were also kicked out of their own country, from the life to which he was accustomed. However, these times are not so distant, and there are, as it turns out, a great many people like this. Among them is the talented writer Sergei Dovlatov, whose popularity is only growing year by year.
The most important woman in the writer’s life was his second wife Elena. It was she who gave Sergei Dovlatov his first daughter Ekaterina, and a little later - already in American emigration - and his son Nikolai. The writer’s daughter Ekaterina is already 49 years old. She spent almost her entire adult life in the United States of America, where she emigrated with her mother at the age of 12. Then their father and grandmother came to visit them. Although before this, relationships in the family were very difficult, the parents even separated for some time and ceased to consider themselves a family, yet even during this period (which occurred while they were still living in Leningrad) they lived under the same roof.
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But the main thing is that we are shown live three women of his life - Asya Pekurovskaya, Tamara Zibunova and Alevtina Dobrysh. His wife Lena, with whom Dovlatov separated and reconciled, who called him to America, where he eventually went, who bore him a girl Katya and a boy Kolya, and who lived with him during the difficult American years, we will not see in the film, apparently , due to the presence of female competitors in it.
But three were enough for me to think about the role of women, “women” in Dovlatov’s life. The topic interested me back when we had a discussion about Sergei Donatovich with Solomon Volkov. Here is Solomon’s statement at that time: “Dovlatov, of course, was what is now called here as a “misogynist” (misogynist - I. Ch.). He said about his brother Boris that he strives to “fuck” everything that moves. In fact, he said this about himself too. Both he and Brodsky were “satirs” in their attitude towards women.
I protested against this definition, although I saw something strange in Dovlatov’s attitude towards women. On the one hand, he cannot live without them, as evidenced by his prose; on the other hand, he writes about them without lyrics, very ironically and evilly; his view of “heroines” is very sober, devoid of romanticism. That’s what I thought until just the other day I re-read the story “Branch” (1987), written three years before my death. But before we start talking about her, a few words about the fate of Dovlatov. Born in 1941 in Ufa, his mother is Armenian, his father is Jewish, his family is acting and literary, his parents are divorced.
He studied at the Faculty of Philology of Leningrad University, Finno-Ugric department. I didn’t attend classes, at the university I only remembered “the corridors,” and as a result I was expelled.
But he made friends who were philologists; his first love was also one of the philology students, the beautiful Asya Pekurovskaya.
Military service in the internal troops in the 1960s was so painful and catastrophic that it gave impetus to writing. Three years of service as a “supervisor” in the zone gave birth to the same eschatological, hopelessly terrible “Zone.”
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In the 1960-1970s, Dovlatov was not published in the USSR. In Estonia, where he went to escape hopelessness, his freshly printed book “Five Corners” was scattered on the orders of the KGB. Then there was work in the Pushkin Nature Reserve, a painful desire to change life - meaningless, drunken, giving no hope of either a turn in fate or the publication of written things.
The departure to America followed in 1978, by which time Sergei’s homeland had published one short story in the magazine “Youth”. In America, he published 12 books in 12 years. But something didn’t work out here either. The film contains his television interview in the year of his death. He says that he started a dacha, which is not at all typical of him, took up farming, started making something...
The camera still shows a strong, large, tall and handsome man, except perhaps with an “unnecessary” belly, with a bright oriental-type face, with large dark eyes. No, he couldn’t talk himself into a “dacha idyll”, he went on a black binge - and his heart couldn’t stand it. Let me remind you that the writer lived only 49 years.
Is it a lot or a little?
In the story “Branch”: “I’m such an age that every time I buy shoes, I think: “Are they going to bury me in these boots?” This is written in 45. Are you kidding? Is it being drawn? But here’s another thing, again from the same place: “I’m forty-five years old. All normal people shot themselves long ago or at least drank themselves to death.” No, he's not joking. Dovlatov takes everything seriously; in his prose he is surprisingly honest and sincere. Doesn't show up. Apparently, he understood that life would not be long, that it would somehow end unexpectedly.
I read “Branch” and laughed out loud, it’s impossible not to laugh, despite the fact that the writer tells us his stories with a simple-minded expression. But such is his style that after the first phrase a “reprise” inevitably follows - sharp, punning, ironic, making you laugh. And it happens that, like in Gogol or Pushkin, laughter is contained in one phrase-characteristic: “looks like a student at a law or dental school” (cf. In Gogol, “she either got married or broke her leg”). I read, I laugh, and I myself think about this: Dovlatov was not a cheerful person, although many remembered him as such.
- Book “When S. D. and I Happened to Sing” (2001) (html 1.9 mb; pdf 12 mb) — December 2006, July 2021 — prepared by David Titievsky
The book by Sergei Dovlatov’s first wife, Asya Pekurovskaya, will be of interest not only to fans of the writer’s work, but also to all lovers of little-known but fascinating details from the life of writers of the “sixties” generation. The author's assessment of the actions of the book's characters, many facts and events, can sometimes seem extremely subjective. But at the same time, the reader has the opportunity to get a first-hand idea of the “recipes” of literary cuisine, according to which Dovlatov’s masterpieces were created. (Publisher's abstract)
Excerpts from the book:
He knew how to lift a chair by one leg at arm's length, while convincing those present that no one in the world had been able to repeat this experiment. When Lenya Mak, who will be discussed below, easily repeated his experiment in a more complicated version, the legend had already established itself behind Seryozha, and it was too late to change anything. The good thing about the present is that it is ahead of the past. And if we then knew that four years before Seryozha’s birth, the Soviet government shot a man who was capable of lifting with one hand not only a chair, but also a human being sitting on it, the question of Seryozha’s supermanship could have acquired a different color. After all, this man was none other than Marshal Tukhachevsky, nicknamed the Red Napoleon for his military valor.
* * *
Seryozha came to the concept of literary taste and the previous reputation of a person with literary taste, of course, through his own prayers, but not without the help of the regulars of the branch on Rubinshteina Street. First of all, we should talk about the now forgotten, and at one time not very popular, prose writer Fyodor Chirskov, who was later awarded the Dahl Prize in Paris, which did not add to his popularity or success in the publishing houses of his fatherland. It is possible that in Fedya’s failures Seryozha played a role inversely proportional to the influence that Fedya had on the success of Seryozha’s ascent. It is well known that Seryozha did not advertise Fedya’s talent, not due to the fact that he did not take into account his presence, but for very, very mysterious reasons, the unraveling of which is hardly relevant anymore after the death of both, although fate still prepared several unpleasant moments for Seryozha, related to reading one of Fedya’s publications. “As for Fedya,” Seryozha wrote, apparently in response to a directly posed question, in a letter to Yulia Gubareva, “I read his story in the anthology “Circle”, in one of the characters, a vulgar and a big asshole, with satisfaction I recognized myself."
* * *
Serezha liked to tell two stories about Volodya Maramzin, a native of the “Eastern” restaurant. I’ll start with the one that came to mind through the efforts of my youth friend Zhenya Safonova, which will be discussed below. Maramzin, who worked as a small fry in the field of Lenfilm, turned out to be involved in its inner life. In particular, he was aware of one weakness of Lenfilm director Kiselyov, which remotely related to the female sex. For example, when criticizing the director of the film for overspending on the budget, Kiselev liked to say this: “Any Zina Rasperdyaeva would have managed the money better.” When dissatisfied with the actors’ performance, he expressed himself in the same vein: “Any Zina Rasperdyaeva would have made this role more interesting.” One day, Minister of Culture Furtseva, arriving at Lenfilm, wanted to take a closer look at his work. Kiselyov began the next meeting with a slight criticism of the repertoire and, relaxing, began to speak in his favorite manner: “Any Zina...” - but, stopping short on the word “Rasperdyaeva,” he instantly made a substitution: “Any Zina Koroleva could have chosen a better repertoire.” At that moment, a question came from the back rows in which the voice of Volodya Maramzin was recognized: “What, did Zina Rasperdyaeva get married?”
* * *
Once Seryozha was detained by a ticket inspector for traveling without a ticket. Serezha did not have the necessary ticket or documents proving his identity, and therefore there was a threat of being taken to the police. And then a miracle happened. Seryozha offered the government representative a contract based on precise knowledge of the laws of common sense common to himself, Seryozha Dovlatov, and the workshop of controllers, and was forgiven. The story was proudly included by Seryozha in the annals of his myth-making. “I am Altshuller Lazar Samuilovich. I work in Lenknigotorg, Sadovaya, six. I live on Marata Street, 14, apartment 9″. This was all a complete lie. But the controller immediately believed me. And my calculation was absolutely simple. I calculated in advance the controller’s reaction to my words. He clearly thought: “A person can invent anything.” But voluntarily become Altshuller - excuse me! "
* * *
“Young Shemyakin was released from a psychiatric clinic. Misha was walking home and suddenly met his own father... A retired colonel asks: “Where are you from, son, and where to?” “Home,” Misha answers, “from the psychiatric clinic.” The colonel said: “Well done.” And added: “And where have we, the Shemyakins, not been?” And in battle, and at a feast, and in a madhouse!
Page created December 28, 2006. Last updated July 3, 2019.
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At his very core he was a sad, not to say tragic, man. To the woman who sheltered him in Estonia, Tamara Zibunova, having already left her and his daughter Sasha, he writes from America: “Apparently, I am destined to step over the line of human despair.”
And here’s another from a letter from 1978: “How did I turn from a fat, timid boy, and then a young man romantically in love, into an alcoholic and a hooligan?” I don't think there was anything fun about this transformation. It is clear that he complained to Tamara, wanted her to regret - to forgive his departure, his non-participation in his daughter’s life.
On the other hand, today Tamara Zibunova is not inclined to romanticize her relationship with Dovlatov. From the screen she says that Sergei was not her “hero”, “fell” on her unexpectedly, and she had to choose between calling the police or having an affair with this semi-familiar man who called her from the station and then occupied her apartment. Yes, when he was on a roll, he was an incomparable storyteller and could hypnotize. But what kind of woman would like it when someone living nearby “from time to time falls into heavy, hopeless drunkenness”?!
Here’s more about Dovlatov: he “wanted to be prosperous,” he experienced “a feeling of inferiority.” Was it not childhood memories of his parents’ divorce and living alone with his mother that left this feeling in the boy’s soul? And subsequently it could have intensified due to the fatal “bad luck” with the publication of his stories and novellas. It seems that the Soviet publishing system seemed impenetrable to him, and the ranks of Soviet writers, to whom they did not want to rank him, seemed like a special caste chosen by God.
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In America, although his books began to be translated into English and published in good publishing houses, there was still no happiness.
Joseph Brodsky helped him get published in the prestigious New Yorker magazine - but this did not bring complete satisfaction.
Solomon Volkov sees the reason for Dovlatov’s dissatisfaction in the fact that he was not accepted by the American reader, who expected a “bestseller” from him, and in addition, he was not sympathized with by the university elite, which creates intellectual authorities.
It seems to me that the reason is different. The American audience could not fully understand Dovlatov, his peculiar language, his humor, his “catastrophic nature.” He needed readers in Russia, but they didn’t know him there. The writer's fame in his homeland began almost immediately after his death, when Suitcase (1991, Moscow Worker) was published.
The woman from whose house the writer was taken to the hospital with a heart attack was named Alevtina Dobrysh. Simple, now not at all young - two years older than Sergei.
Dovlatov, according to her, hid with her during a drinking binge. His wife Lena did not keep him at home in this state; he sought refuge with a friend. On the day of Dovlatov’s death, Alevtina brought him a chamomile infusion from a friend – he had a severe stomach ache.
Then it turned out that the pain was caused by a heart attack. I don’t know if we can talk about love in this case, rather about pity on the one hand and gratitude on the other.
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Sergey Dovlatov
I don’t know about other eras, but that the femme fatale of our generation, that is, of the sixties, was Asya Pekurovskaya, the first wife of Sergei Dovlatov, this is unconditional
Author: Valery Popov
Femme fatales, as you know, are not interested in family. So what? This is easy to show using the example of the family of the femme fatale and Sergei Dovlatov. Such nonsense as, for example, quiet family happiness did not interest them at all. Only glory! Was Asya a femme fatale? It certainly was. And she certainly had to, at least temporarily, connect her life with a genius - who else can “solder” into the amber of eternity? But to imagine the magnificent Asya as affectionate, gentle, connected with someone with a loving aura and not seeing anyone around? With all due respect to Asya, I just can’t. I noticed something similar in prominent politicians, for example, Sobchak - excellent command of the audience and complete confusion with the person close to him: somehow the focus is not established, the contact is not established. Asya could communicate, but better - in public.
Having met Asya in the dim depths of the then fashionable cafe "North" with her faithful "page", the fashionable lawyer Fima Koisman, behind her, I was immediately struck by her southern beauty, the delicate matteness of her skin, the radiance of her huge, intelligent, cheerful eyes, her luxurious forms under red expensive dress. But the main thing that delighted me was the smart, mocking, friendly speech that immediately somehow brought people together. However, - I was also not bad then and was already looming in literary unofficial circles - Asya did not waste her charm on just anyone. Dovlatov was not next to her (I don’t remember - either “yet” or “already”), and we began to intersect with her, chat, competing in wit, in the most famous places at that time - in “Vostochny”, in “European”, in Astoria. Several times the company around us suddenly dispersed, and I accompanied her to her parents’ house - on the Fourth, it seems, Sovetskaya... And not once, next to this luxurious and famous woman, did I have a desire to somehow cuddle, cling (although in general such I had inclinations) ... or even say something so gentle. I understood that you would immediately run into ridicule. A dimly lit staircase, with only cats and cats as witnesses, “wasn’t her format,” as they say today. And having said goodbye to her in a friendly manner, I ran, I remember, to a seamstress I knew, with whom, I must admit, I had never been in company, but she was wonderfully suitable in the dark... but to “shine up” for the whole world - here only Asya was suitable. And I must say, here she was incomparable, she loved what she loved, and entered the game with fire, intelligence and passion, she was fired up with fun.
I remember how she and I, having fun and exclusively appreciating each other, wandered around the then “Passage”, being delighted with the ridiculous phrase we came up with: “Please tell me, do you have good quality scarves?” - and, getting ahead of each other and even recklessly rubbing the other with their shoulders, they hastened to puzzle the seller. “Tell me...”, “I’m listening...”, “Do you have good quality scarves?” - one of us asked, ahead of the other, and, without waiting for the seller’s answer, we, happy, like mischievous children, rushed to another department. No, in what she liked, Asya was not stingy and prudent, talent, intelligence and fun were in full swing! But gradually her main task began to emerge: to line everyone up! And here liberties and mistakes were unacceptable.
Let's listen to Asya...
“Being a shy person with a touch of arrogance, by the end of the third semester at Leningrad University, that is, by December 1959, I had not made a single acquaintance, with the exception, perhaps, of a certain visual image of a giant walking up the stairs of the university lobby... Probably the picture is like this stuck in my imagination that when I heard a question clearly addressed to me: “Girl, don’t you need a fox terrier of pure blood?” - and I saw Seryozha’s sympathetic face, I willingly and hastily responded: “I already have a fox terrier, but I really need three rubles.”
I see them now as they were then: beautiful, smart, passionate, self-confident, with still unclear dreams of an unfailingly bright destiny. And it came true for them. But - each individually. They started… Read more
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But there was love in Dovlatov’s life, I would call it the first and last, because it seems to have exhausted his emotional strength.
I'm talking about Asa Pekurovskaya. She was first the lover of a second-year student, then his wife, immediately after the marriage she left him for Vasily Aksenov, in 1973 she emigrated to the USA and now she has been living with her German husband for more than 30 years and writing books for her granddaughters who do not speak English. -Russian. It is believed that her daughter Masha’s father is Dovlatov, but the girl never knew until Sergei’s death that her dad lived in America.
In “Branch,” whose plot is based, as in all other stories by Dovlatov, on real impressions, the hero-author, a journalist sent to a conference of Slavists, encounters his past. Namely, with Tasya, as he called her in the story. “Suddenly I noticed that my hands were shaking. And they don’t tremble, but rather shake. Until the sound of a teaspoon in a glass.” This hero has a presentiment that something is about to happen. And it happens. His first love comes to his room. Love, which in his youth he felt as “destruction.”
The phases of this love are described successively. Having met Tasya, the hero sits on his bed at home for an hour, feeling deeply unhappy. The evening in Pavlovsk is told using the technique of “defamiliarization,” when all objects seem unreal and unfamiliar. Here the hero and Tasya enter the bus: “The woman was dozing by the window. On her chest hung spools of pink and yellow tickets.” Older people will understand that this is a bus conductor selling tickets. But the hero, bewitched by Tasya, does not understand anything, he sees it as if for the first time. A night of love follows. “It was the best day of my life. Or rather, night. We arrived in the city in the morning."
Those who met them - real ones - at that time on Nevsky say that they were a fantastically beautiful couple, as if from another planet. Apparently, this is how love transforms.
Fatal passion: the story of Sergei Dovlatov and his first wife Asya Pekurovskaya
This Leningrad beauty, driving men crazy with just one look, became Sergei Dovlatov’s first great love. She was also the first for the writer in many ways: both the first wife and the mother of his first child. But Asya Pekurovskaya left, and Dovlatov could not come to terms with it.
First beauty
She was known as the main beauty of the Leningrad University. Like Muscovite Bella Akhmadullina, Asya Pekurovskaya had a bright, slightly exotic appearance - scattered eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes with arrows, a mop of dark hair. Such a Leningrad Anouk Eme. Many people looked after her. “At that time we were besieging the same short-haired, pretty fortress,” recalled future Nobel laureate Joseph Brodsky. “I soon had to lift this siege and leave for Central Asia. When I returned two months later, I found that the fortress had fallen."
Yes, the fortress fell under the pressure of Dovlatov. He was not handsome, but he was also a star at Leningrad State University - huge (meter ninety-four!), with a velvety voice and attentive eyes. Incredibly charming (they talked less about his talent than about this very charm), the soul of a company, especially one where you can drink. How did she and Asya get along? Not easy. It was the attraction of opposites: when they were next to each other, they did not flirt, did not flirt, but exchanged endless barbs.
I was jealous of everything about Leningrad
Pekurovskaya called Dovlatov “a paralyzed gorilla who is kept in the zoo out of pity.” He did not remain in debt, being jealous of all of Leningrad. “I was afraid of losing her,” wrote Sergei Dovlatov in “Branch,” “If everything was good, it didn’t suit me either. I became arrogant and rude. I was humbled by the joy I gave her.”
He, of course, wanted to tame her. But taming Asya was not easy - one might even say impossible. Dovlatov fell into debt, spending all his savings on flowers, gifts and restaurants (“He was seriously planning a robbery of a jewelry store,” he wrote in Suitcase). Then he asked me to get married. Pekurovskaya refused. He did not give up, and offered a bet - you have to drink a bottle of vodka from your throat. If Asya couldn’t (and he was sure that she couldn’t), she would go to the registry office like a pretty girl and become “citizen Dovlatova.”
Asya drank that damn vodka. She drank, turned pale, and fainted. According to the terms of the dispute, she was free - but for some reason she still married Dovlatov. In 1960.
Latin American passions
Officially, their marriage lasted eight years, in reality - only a few days. Asya left Sergei for Vasily Aksenov - a handsome man, a dude, and also a star. They say that their affair with Aksenov began even before the wedding. Dovlatov, of course, could not come to terms with this. He, like the hero of some Latin American opera, tried to kill himself, or at least shoot his Desdemona - and with a hunting rifle. He completely abandoned his studies and turned to drink. He was expelled from the institute, and Dovlatov imposed penance on himself - he joined the army, getting a job as a guard for prisoners in a special purpose camp (the “Zone” was written about this, but that’s a completely different story).
This, however, does not mean that the story of Asya and Sergei is over.
Unexpected turn
They met more than once - and one of these meetings had an unexpected continuation. Pekurovskaya became pregnant two years after the official divorce from Dovlatov, almost ten years after their breakup. “I remember that I had a cold and was sitting at home. Sergei came to visit me. That’s when everything happened,” she recalled.
When Dovlatov found out about this, he decided that he could still hold Asya, finally tie her up. “If you come back to me, I will recognize the child,” he said. “If you don’t come back, I won’t recognize you.” Pekurovskaya had no intention of returning.
Masha (the girl received this name at birth) met her father only at the funeral. Moreover, she didn’t even know that her dad was “the same” Sergei Dovlatov. Pekurovskaya and her daughter emigrated to America, Sergei remained in Russia, and everyone had their own life - especially since by that time Dovlatov had a new muse, and even a new daughter from a new muse...
The house in the village of Berezino, where Sergei Dovlatov lived. wikimedia
...For the writer, Asya Pekurovskaya remained an unfaithful and cruel femme fatale, a femme fatale who “ruined” his life, which he repeatedly wrote about and told everyone about. For his former lover, Sergei remained an “artistic slob,” a brilliant “mistake of his youth.” “It’s easy to offend Dovlatov, but it’s not so easy to love him,” she wrote in her book. Nevertheless, it was she, Asya Pekurovskaya, “Leningrad Anouk Eme,” who was his first love, first wife, first muse – and much more. Without her, Dovlatov might not have been such a misanthrope and cynic - but weren’t these qualities what made him a genius?
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Then Tasya ruined the hero’s life, because he could not live without her, and she slipped away; he was jealous, and she was looking for adventure. An image somewhat similar to Manon Lescaut arose in my mind.
And Dovlatov, therefore, got the role of the Chevalier de Grieux. True, he did not play it to the end. He broke out. Gone. But many years later she caught up with him: “I can’t figure out what happened. Twenty years ago we separated. We haven't seen each other for fifteen years. I have a wife and children. Everything is fine. And suddenly…". But about the heroine: “Taska doesn’t change. She’s still the same – wayward, absurd and immoral, like a child.” If “like a child” were not present here, one could consider this a “negative characteristic.” But “like a child” changes sign. And here’s another: “This is my past: a woman who abuses cosmetics, impudent and helpless.”
And again, the word “helpless” casts doubt on the first two characteristics.
And finally, it would seem, a complete discredit of the heroine: “What bad have I done to this woman - deceitful, ruthless and unfaithful?”
Let us pay attention to the word “infidel”; it is key here. And we will return to it later. But first, I will quote the paragraph following this phrase: “Now Taska will ask: “Don’t go,” and I will stay. And then I thought with horror that this would be forever... Until the very, as they say, grave. Or, how can I put it more gracefully, to the point of death.”
Do you recognize Dovlatov? Me not.
I don’t recognize someone like that who says “to the point of doom.” “Until the fatal point” the Chevalier des Grieux was with his Manon.
He went for her, a convict, to distant America, and was with her at the hour of her death. Dovlatov’s Manon slipped away, didn’t say: “Don’t go,” she left on her own. At the very end, the hero sees Tasya, who is led by the arm of a “rather gloomy Turk.” I think it was no accident that the Turk appeared here. Dovlatov is angry and jealous. The Turk here, it seems, is a symbol of the author’s jealousy...
