[From the Philadelphia Inquirer, Aug. 6, 2003, this article details the St. Petersburg Summer Literary Seminar founded by Mikhail Iossel,
writer in residence at Union College.]
A city of writers that still inspires
By Carlin Romano
Philadelphia Inquirer Book Critic
ST.
PETERSBURG, Russia – The designer tour of this city's hip
literary cafes – offered one-time-only to sign-ups from Mikhail Iossel's month-long Summer Literary Seminars (SLS) – is
about to get rolling on a hot July afternoon.
Dmitry Golynko-Volfson, 33, the multi-tasker
local poet and culture critic who cooked up the idea, gathers his would-be
cappuccino-crawlers around him at the first stop: an enormous building on Liteiny Prospekt, surveillance
cameras perched at each end, on a main road choked with truck traffic.
No cafe in sight.
But his charges are no
tour-bus ninnies, waiting to be chaperoned to the nearest rest rooms. Robert Coover, the politically shrewd American novelist who's
leading SLS sessions on hypertext lit, gets the point. So does Lady Gabriella
Windsor – known hereabouts as “Ella” – the friendly
29th-in-line-for-the-British-throne beauty who's taking courses like any other
22-year-old who, uh, happened to be voted England's second most “datable siren”
last year – after Gwyneth Paltrow.
It's a very big
building indeed. Dubbed “Bolshoi Dom”
(“Big House”) by locals, it starred as KGB headquarters in the bad
old days.
“As you
know,” Golynko-Volfson remarks in a deadpan
tone, explaining his wry launching pad, “many poets and writers were
confined in the basement. Sometimes the militia would arrest writers at Saigon ],
and take them to the basement for three or four hours, or three or four days,
or three or four years – it depended.”
Now in its fifth year,
SLS, founded by Russian emigre poet and novelist
Mikhail Iossel, 48, occupies a singular place among
the hundreds of literary conferences and workshops that compete each summer to
draw ambitious writers hot for feedback and established pros seeking
supplementary summer work – and peak experiences.
The mansion where
Vladimir Nabokov grew up, the small flat where
beguiling Russian poet Anna Akhmatova endured the
indignities of Soviet rule, the sweeping avenues where the independently minded
nose of Nikolai Gogol's beloved story took a walk,
the endless plaques that announce Ivan Turgenev lived
here and Leo Tolstoy crashed over there: St. Petersburg constantly reminds
visitors that it's also a “city of immortal writers” with no European
rival except London or Paris.
“Petersburg exists almost as much in language as it does in object and
artifact and structure,” remarks Coover over
lunch on Mayala Konyushennaya,
the cobbled walkway in central Petersburg dominated by a statue of Gogol
looking off to his side, deep in thought. “The way the city was built,
instantly, by one man's ambition [Peter the Great ordered it built ASAP on a
marsh in 1703], is a kind of novel-writing of its own. It's not a city that
organically developed. You can't write about Paris in the way that you write about St. Petersburg.”
“There's a special
literary aura,” agrees Iossel, who left here in
1986 and has been writer-in-residence for seven years at Union College in Schenectady, N.Y. Some of Iossel's small staff,
such as program coordinator Natalie Mykysey, 27, a
Slavic languages Ph.D. student at Ohio State who first visited seven years ago, sound
positively serotonin-boosted by the place, comparing it to a certain literary
town on the Delaware.
“I remember
thinking, 'I really like this city because it reminds me of Philadelphia,'
” says Mykysey, who grew up at Fourth and
Girard, and attended Bodine High School for Foreign
Affairs at Fourth and George.
Sitting in SLS's modest Herzen University office awaiting the next student who needs a menu
translated, the fluent-in-Russian “ombudswoman” appreciates that the
two former national capitals are both blessed with few skyscrapers. She thinks
walking Nevsky Prospekt,
the city's chief promenade, is like doing Center City from “Front Street on”: “It has as much history as Philadelphia does, and it's a good walking city… .
There's so much character and soul.”
In a year in which many
writing-abroad programs contracted because of the Iraq war, the bad economy and fears of flying, SLS drew roughly
the same number of students as last year – 65 – along with such eminent writers
as poets William Meredith and Nobel-Prize-winner Seamus Heaney, and
critically praised young talents like California novelist Aimee Bender.
SLS divides into two
two-week sessions from mid-June to mid-July, though students can opt for a
whole month since teachers and workshops rotate. Most participants stay in the Herzen Inn, the guest house of nearby Herzen University. While a handful specialize in Russian or come with a
special linguistic or cultural connection, most are united only by that
familiar workshopper's love of writing.
Credit for maintaining
the enrollment numbers goes to Iossel and program
director Jeff Parker, an Ohio-based writer active in hypertext fiction. Two
years ago, Parker, 29, pulled in Coover, a big fish
who generally shuns the writing-conference circuit. Running one of the few
writing conferences without a university affiliation, Iossel
and Parker remain free to make SLS fun as well as edifying.
While the writers
attend workshops every Monday, Wednesday and Friday in areas of their choice –
poetry, fiction, translation, Internet writing, arts criticism, nonfiction, and
playwriting – Iossel and Parker jam other time slots
with a full schedule of optional events, both serious and quirky.
Former student and
writer James Boober, who's working on a Petersburg novel, leads a detailed, incisive Dostoyevsky tour.
Publishing sorts – this summer, Dalkey Archive
editors John O'Brien and Martin Riker – discuss their houses. Regular readings
feature visiting eminences, prestigious avant-garde Russian writers like Arkadii Dragomoshchenko (in
Russian, with translation), and student winners of SLS's
annual writing contest in fiction and poetry. This year the contest received
more than 900 applications, and provided top winners with free SLS attendance
and publication in highly respected Tin House magazine. Many finalists got 25-
to 30-percent discounts on the cost of attending SLS.
But Iossel
and Parker also scheduled a trek to the site where Russia's greatest poet, Alexander Pushkin,
was shot to death in a duel. They sprang for multiple midnight boat trips along the city's waterways. (During its
celebrated mid-summer “White Nights,” Petersburg hardly darkens between midnight and 6 a.m.) Evenings at Brodyachaya Sobaka, “The Stray Dog,” where Russia's Silver Age poets once met, allowed participants to
imagine the greats who once argued in those same small rooms. And weekend
outings headed to both the city's fabled suburban palaces and the Baltika beer brewery.
To be sure, as Iossel says, “It does take a certain amount of
adventurousness to come here. By and large, Russia's reputation is still something unknown and fairly rough
and new.” Two years ago, a trio of local toughs mugged Coover.
(It didn't sour him on the place.) A handful of students this summer learned
about the pickpockets who work Nevsky Prospekt.
But this year's session
also offered moments of counter-cliche serendipity.
In a country often depicted as hostile to people of color, it was not Lady
Gabriella, but Caroline Okienya, a striking young
writer from Kenya, who found herself greeted on the street with a gallant
Russian gesture: a bouquet of flowers from a Russian admirer.
Coover thinks SLS's strategy of
sponsoring a writing contest with Tin House draws talents capable of being
moved by a face-to-face experience with a place widely celebrated for stoking
literary genius.
“All writing
conferences are an unlikely place to get a lot of writing done,” muses Coover. What Petersburg offers, he notes, is the opportunity to help writers grow
by “actually getting them involved in literature in a living way,”
possibly introducing them to the admixture of suffering so central to local
work.
He could have been talking
about Joyce Frauenholz, a 49-year-old writer and
English teacher at Community College of Allegheny County. Reflecting on the
experience in a Herzen Inn lounge, Frauenholz began to cry as she acknowledged being
“disturbed by the poverty,” and “in awe of what these people
here have been through.”
“I get worked up
over it,” she admitted, her red eyes making that plain. “The
old women who stand in the street selling a pathetic piece of lace. Is
it not enough – World War I and II, the revolution, the siege of Leningrad, and everything else – and now they have this abject
poverty to deal with? It's just incredible.”
It sounded like something she might write about.
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