Writer Andrey Makin was elected a member of the French Academy. Makin Andrey - French testament Makin writer

As the Chairman of the VKS Alexey Lobanov notes, “The time has come for the thirty-odd million Russian community abroad to know and realize the place that it now occupies in this world.Russian compatriots, who found themselves abroad due to historical and political vicissitudes and the unpredictability of human destinies, did not dissolve or get lost, despite the great difficulties that befell them in adjusting to new conditions. Along with maintaining a close spiritual connection with their historical homeland, they carry within themselves the high creative talents and qualities inherent in the Russian people from time immemorial. For many of them, active participation in the cultural life of their countries of residence serves as an expression of artistic talents that set them apart from the rest.”

According to the chairman of the VKS, “throughout the history of the Russian state, culture has educated and enriched, served as a source of spiritual experience for the nation, and the basis for the consolidation of our multinational people. It was Russian culture that largely ensured Russia’s authority and influence in the world and helped it become a great power. In this regard, we, compatriots, are faced with the full task of increasing international interest in the history of Russia, in traditions, in language, in cultural values.”

Our first story is about Russian compatriots in France - a country that occupies a special place in the destinies of the Russian diaspora.

The cultural and historical heritage of Russian compatriots in France is a unique phenomenon in its richness and diversity, as well as its significance for national, French and world culture. Over the past three centuries, Russian-French relations have developed under the sign of great mutual interest and sincere sympathy of the French and Russians for each other, and, as a result, intensive cultural and humanitarian exchanges.

From the middle of the 18th century. our compatriots came to France for work, study, recreation, treatment, purchasing real estate, and permanent residence. For many cultural and artistic figures from Russia, their stay in France served as a powerful source of inspiration. During the period of the XVIII - XIX centuries. Outstanding representatives of the Russian intellectual elite visited here: poets and writers - V. Tredyakovsky, D. Fonvizin, S. Pleshcheev, V. Zhukovsky, N. Nekrasov, N. Gogol, A. Fet, F. Tyutchev, F. Dostoevsky, M. Saltykov-Shchedrin, I. Turgenev, L. Tolstoy, I. Goncharov, A. Chekhov; philosophers - M. Bakunin, V. Belinsky, V. Solovyov, A. Herzen; artists - I. Repin, V. Vereshchagin, V. Polenov; scientists - S. Kovalevskaya, A. Korotnev, S. Metalnikov, D. Ryabushinsky and others.

At the beginning of the 20th century. the flourishing of science, culture and the arts in France and Russia, as well as the special nature of bilateral relations (military-political alliance) contributed to an increase in the influx of Russian compatriots to French soil. By this time, Russia had finally entered the European cultural space, and the Russian intelligentsia enjoyed great respect in Europe. The names of outstanding Russian representatives of the “Silver Age” are closely connected with France. Among them are writers and poets - N. Gumilev, A. Akhmatova, M. Tsvetaeva, Z. Gippius, Teffi (Nadezhda Lokhvitskaya), O. Mandelstam, M. Voloshin, A. Kuprin, I. Erenburg, A. Tolstoy; composers - A. Scriabin, N. Rimsky-Korsakov, S. Rachmaninov, A. Glazunov, I. Stravinsky; artists - V. Kandinsky, K. Malevich, M. Larionov, N. Goncharova, L. Bakst, A. Benois, D. Burlyuk, L. Popova, K. Korovin, M. Vrubel, M. Chagall, Z. Serebryakova.

The historical trials that befell Russia in the 20th century provoked several waves of mass emigration, each of which brought new generations of compatriots abroad, including to France.

The first wave of emigration dates back to the period of revolutionary upheavals in Russia at the beginning of the 20th century. After 1905, about 15 thousand people settled here, and in the subsequent period after the Civil War in Russia, over 400 thousand people moved to live in France.

This was precisely the reason for the high concentration on French soil of representatives of famous Russian noble families, whose history is closely intertwined with the history of Russia, as well as prominent artists, writers, publicists, and musicians.

A Parisian taxi driver, a former guards officer in the Russian army, reads the emigrant newspaper "Vozrozhdenie"

The second wave of emigration dates back to the period after the end of World War II. At least 40 thousand Russians from among the deportees, displaced persons and former prisoners of war remained to live in France.

The third wave took shape in the 70-80s. from citizens who left the Soviet Union - including representatives of the dissident movement. The fourth wave of emigration, which began in the 90s, attracted Russian contract workers and economic migrants. The appearance of two large categories of compatriots dates back to the same period - Russian women married to French citizens and children adopted by French adoptive parents.

The active integration of immigrants from Russia into French society did not prevent them and their descendants from maintaining a close spiritual and cultural connection with their historical homeland, finding successful application of their talents and skills in new conditions, and leaving a noticeable mark not only in French, but also in world history and culture.

Currently in France there are many places that preserve the memory of the Russian diaspora. Among them are the following: “Russian House” and “Russian Cemetery” in Sainte-Genevieve-des-Bois. At the beginning of the 20th century, the English subject Dorothea Paget purchased an old mansion on the territory of the city of Sainte-Genevieve-des-Bois and, on the initiative of Princess V.K. Meshcherskaya (1876-1949), provided it for the use of elderly Russian emigrants. The shelter founded by Princess Meshcherskaya still exists today under the name “Russian House”.

The inhabitants of this shelter were buried in the municipal cemetery upon their death. Around these graves, the first of which appeared in 1927, the “Russian Cemetery” was formed, where many representatives of the Russian intelligentsia and clergy, statesmen and public figures who went down in the history of Russian and world culture are buried. These are writers I.A. Bunin, B.K. Zaitsev, A.M. Remizov, artists K.A. Korovin, S.K. Makovsky, D.S. Steletsky, Z.E. Serebryakova, K.A. Somov , philosophers Father Sergius Bulgakov, N.N. Lossky, dancers V.A. Trefilova, S.M. Lifar, M. Kshesinskaya, O. Preobrazhenskaya and others. The cemetery also contains the graves of famous cultural figures - immigrants from the Soviet Union: A.A. Tarkovsky, A.A. Galich, V.P. Nekrasov, R. Nureyev.

At the entrance to the cemetery in 1939, the Holy Assumption Church was erected according to the design of the architect Albert Benois (brother of the artist A.N. Benois).

The Russia House houses paintings and other works of art from the former Tsar's embassy in Paris. There is a large archive consisting of both the “House’s” own materials from the moment of its founding, as well as personal documents, diaries, photographs, historical and family heirlooms of pensioners who lived within its walls.

Currently, on the basis of the “Russian House”, a memorial and research center of Russian emigration is being created with a permanent exhibition, a room for specialists to work with archives, a reading room, where various events dedicated to Russian history and culture could also be held.

Turgenev Library in Paris. In 1875, on the initiative of the revolutionary G. Lopatin, who lived in France, and with the support of I. Turgenev, a Russian library was opened in Paris for students and political emigrants from Russia. Turgenev was personally involved in collecting the library’s book collections, donated many books from his own library, and received the latest publications from Russian publishers. In 1883, the library was named after Turgenev.

In the fall of 1940, the library's holdings were taken by the Nazis to an unknown destination and lost during the war. Only a few books bearing the library's stamp were subsequently found and transferred for storage to the I. Turgenev Museum in Orel. In 1959, the library's book collections were restored and formed the basis of the new Turgenev Library, which has more than 35 thousand volumes.

Turgenev in the circle of French writers (Daudet, Flaubert, Zola, Turgenev). Engraving from a drawing. IRLI (Pushkin House)

Museum in Bougival. Dacha of Ivan Turgenev. In 1874, I. Turgenev bought the Yaseni estate in the Parisian suburb of Bougival, where he built himself a small house-dacha in the Russian style opposite the Villa Directory, where the family of the famous French singer Pauline Viardot settled, with whom the writer had many years of friendship. Turgenev would live here until his death on September 3, 1883.

In "Ash" Turgenev wrote his last novel "New" and "Poems in Prose". In 1876, the writer completed the Russian translation of “The Temptation of Saint Anthony” by Gustave Flaubert, whom Turgenev considered his best friend among the French writers who were part of the so-called famous “Group of Five” (Flaubert, Turgenev, Daudet, Zola, Goncourt). Turgenev hosted Guy de Maupassant and Henry James, Russian writers Sologub and Saltykov-Shchedrin, artist Vereshchagin and other prominent representatives of literature and art in Bougival. Famous composers Camille Saint-Saens and Gabriel Fauré visited the writer.

In 1983, a museum was opened in the writer’s house, created by the Association “Friends of Ivan Turgenev, Pauline Viardot and Maria Malibran,” headed by A.Ya. Zvigilsky.

On the ground floor of the museum there is a permanent exhibition telling about the life of the writer in Russia and France, as well as about his immediate circle - the Viardot family, composers, artists and writers. The office and bedroom have been recreated on the second floor.

Museum of His Majesty's Life Guards Cossack Regiment. The museum was founded in the Parisian suburb of Courbevoie by Major General I.N. Oprits, the author of the fundamental work “His Majesty’s Life Guards Cossack Regiment during the Revolution and Civil War. 1917-1920,” collected in his funds relics of the regiment, samples of uniforms and equipment, dishes, battalion paintings, officer’s household items, etc. The museum preserves unique military-patriotic material telling about the military history of Russia.

Created by Empress Catherine II in 1775 in St. Petersburg, the museum was evacuated to Turkey after the 1917 revolution, then to Serbia, and in 1929 it was transported to Paris.

Today the museum is a unique cultural and historical institution of its kind. Not a single regiment of the Russian tsarist army managed to preserve such a complete, integral collection of objects and documents related to its history. The museum has become a spiritual unifying center for former officers of the Life Guards Cossack Regiment and their descendants, who created an association of the same name, through whose efforts the functioning of the museum is supported.

Conservatory named after S. Rachmaninov. In 1923-1924 A group of emigrant teachers from the Imperial Conservatories of Russia created the Russian Conservatory in Paris. Among its founders and honorary members were F. Chaliapin, A. Glazunov, A. Grechaninov, S. Rachmaninov. In 1932, the conservatory came under the tutelage of the newly created Russian Musical Society.

In addition to music education, the conservatory organizes concerts, creative conferences, and other cultural events, still remaining an island of Russian culture in France. The conservatory is headed by the chairman of the Russian Musical Society, Count P.P. Sheremetev.

In brief information, we can mention only a small part of Russian compatriots who lived and worked in France, who contributed to French, Russian, and world culture.

Countess Sophia de Segur, née Rostopchina, daughter of the Moscow mayor F. Rostopchina, moved to France in 1817 with her father. Here she became a famous children's writer, on whose books more than one generation of French children grew up.

Sergei Diaghilev - at the beginning of the 20th century. brought Russian culture and art to the world level. In 1906 he organized an exhibition of Russian artists in Paris, in 1907 - a music salon, in 1908 - an exhibition of decorative arts, and from 1910 - the ballet “Russian Seasons”. Thanks to S. Diaghilev, first in France and then throughout the world, the names of Russian artists A. Benois, L. Bakst, M. Vrubel, D. Burliuk, M. Larionov, N. Goncharova, A. Yavlensky, composers N. Rimsky-Korsakov, S. Rachmaninov, A. Glazunov, I. Stravinsky, singer F. Chaliapin, outstanding ballet dancers V. Nijinsky, S. Lifar, A. Pavlova, T. Karsavina, I. Rubinstein.

Matilda Kshessinskaya - an outstanding ballerina, in 1926. founded the school of Russian ballet in Paris and was its permanent director for more than twenty years.

Igor Stravinsky is a composer who created his best works in Paris. One of the squares in Paris is named after him.

Fyodor Chaliapin is a world famous Russian singer who performed in the opera houses of Paris.

Konstantin Korovin is an artist, creator of sketches of costumes and scenery for dramatic productions, as well as opera and ballet performances. Participated in the design of the Russian pavilion at the World Exhibition in Paris in 1900. He was awarded the Order of the Legion of Honor.

Marc Chagall is an outstanding artist who painted the dome of the Opera Garnier in Paris.

Ivan Bunin is a classic of Russian literature, Nobel Prize laureate.

Wassily Kandinsky, one of the founders of the new avant-garde movement in painting, lived and worked in France from 1933 to 1944.

Rudolf Nureyev is a ballet soloist and director of the ballet troupe of the Opera Garnier.

Andrei Tarkovsky is a world-famous film director, the author of many works included in the “golden fund” of cinema.

Russian emigrants fought in the ranks of the French Resistance. Among them are Elizaveta Yurievna Kuzmina-Karavaeva (mother Maria, executed by the Nazis), T.A. Volkonskaya, Princess Z. Shakhovskaya (awarded the Order of the Legion of Honor for her activities during the war), S.B. Dolgova (organized a safehouse for the emigrant anti-fascist organization "Union of Russian Patriots"), A. Scriabin (by her husband Sarah Knuth, posthumously awarded the Military Cross and the Resistance Medal) and many others. Russians played a huge role in the anti-fascist movement in France, often acting as organizers of underground work, taking on the most difficult and responsible tasks.

Among their ranks was Princess Vera Obolenskaya, the daughter of the Baku vice-governor, state councilor Apollo Makarov, who came to France at the age of nine in 1920 with her parents. In 1937, she married Prince Nikolai Alexandrovich Obolensky, the son of the former mayor of Petrograd.

From the very beginning of the occupation of France by the Nazis, V. Obolenskaya became a member of the Resistance movement, was the general secretary of the French underground “Civil and Military Organization”, the founder of the anti-Nazi organization “Union of Russian Patriots”, helped Soviet and British prisoners of war in collaboration with the Free French partisans.

In December 1943 she was arrested by the Gestapo. She was subjected to numerous interrogations and torture for nine months. Without revealing any of the secrets of the underground and without betraying any of her comrades, she was executed on August 4, 1944.

In 1958, V. Obolenskaya was posthumously awarded by the French government the Military Cross, the Order of the Legion of Honor, and the Resistance Medal. In 1965 she was awarded the Soviet Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree.

In November 2000, Russian President Vladimir Putin visited the Russian cemetery in Sainte-Genevieve-des-Bois near Paris. There he laid wreaths at the graves of the Russian heroine of the Resistance movement against the Nazi occupiers, Vika Obolenskaya, and the great Russian writer Ivan Bunin. The President stopped in front of the graves of those who were called White Guards, and then said: “We are children of one mother - Russia, and the time has come for us to unite.”

In November 2000, Russian President Vladimir Putin visited the Russian cemetery in Sainte-Genevieve-des-Bois near Paris.

Among the compatriots who left a noticeable mark on the history of France, the following can also be noted.

Zinovy ​​Peshkov - the elder brother of the Bolshevik Ya. Sverdlov, the adopted son of M. Gorky (Peshkov), took part in the First World War in the ranks of the Foreign Legion of the French Army. In 1915 he was seriously wounded and suffered amputation of his right arm. In 1916 he returned to the ranks of the Legion. He took part in many French military operations and was awarded military orders. He rose to the rank of general, was the personal secretary of Charles de Gaulle during the Second World War, and after the war - the ambassador of France.

Maurice Druon is a writer, member of the French Resistance movement, French Minister of Culture, Member of Parliament, Life Secretary of the French Academy, recipient of numerous French and foreign state awards, winner of prestigious literary prizes. Maurice Druon - “the most Russian of French writers” - said that he is an example of Franco-Russian kinship and is happy about it, and cannot imagine himself without France and without Russia. Our compatriot Anna Marley created, together with Maurice Druon, the famous “Song of the Partisans”.

In 1884, on the initiative of the Russian zoologist Alexei Korotnev, the “Franco-Russian Zoological Station” was created in Villefranche-sur-Mer to study marine flora and fauna. Scientific cooperation in this area between the two countries continued until 1932, when the laboratory was transferred to the hands of the French state. Today the station is run by the Parisian Institute Pierre and Marie Curie. One of the vessels of the National Center for Scientific Research is named after Korotnev.

Of the contemporary cultural figures living in France who come from Russia or have Russian roots, the following should be noted: Oscar Rabin, Eric Bulatov, Oleg Tselkov, Mikhail Shemyakin - artists; Anatoly Gladilin, Andrey Makin - writers; Robert Hossein - actor, director, screenwriter, playwright. Hossein has starred in dozens of films in France, and is the author of numerous theatrical productions and film scripts. Commander of the Legion of Honor.

Hélène Carrère d'Encausse is a historian, life secretary of the French Academy, author of numerous books and publications on the history of Russia. She was awarded the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor, the national Order of Merit, and numerous foreign awards.

Prince Alexander Alexandrovich Trubetskoy was born on March 14, 1947 in Paris, into a family of Russian emigrants. Father - Prince Trubetskoy Alexander Evgenievich (1892-1968). Mother - Princess Golitsyna Alexandra Mikhailovna (1900-1991). Prince Alexander Trubetskoy always openly says that he is a patriot of Russia. And she does everything she can to help preserve its historical past, cultural and spiritual heritage.

On the occasion of the 120th anniversary of the liberation of Bulgaria during the Russian-Turkish War of 1877-1878, it was planned to publish a book by V.A. Zolotarev, head of the Institute of Military History of the Ministry of Defense of the Russian Federation. To prepare this book, Prince A.A. Trubetskoy handed over unpublished material - the memoirs of an officer of the Life Guards Horse Grenadier Regiment who participated in this war.

During the celebration of the 200th anniversary of the transition of A.V. The prince led Suvorov through the Alps along the path of the great Russian commander to members of the Russian youth organization “Vityazi” living in Paris. In addition, thanks to the sponsorship of A.A. Trubetskoy, the Military Historical Institute of Switzerland organized the Suvorov Congress to celebrate the 200th anniversary: ​​and also in the fall of 2000, the book “Under the Russian St. Andrew’s Flag” was published, dedicated to the 200th anniversary of the completion of the Mediterranean campaign of Ushakov’s squadron. Prince A.A. Trubetskoy supported the team of the Russian yacht "Maxiclass", which participated in races in the Mediterranean Sea and around Europe. Alexander Trubetskoy helped organize the exhibition and publish the album of the artist Kadol. This military artist, a former officer of Napoleonic army, created a series of wonderful watercolors of views of Moscow in 1820. Nowadays the watercolors belong to the Institute of the History of the French Army and were brought to Moscow in 1999 for an exhibition at the Moscow Museum.

A significant role in the preservation of Russian culture among emigrants was played by their careful attitude to their native language. With the increase in recent years in the number of our compatriots in France, including the number of mixed families and bilingual children, private schools of additional education (SSE) are being actively created, with the goal of teaching children the Russian language.

Schools, as a rule, operate on the basis of associations of compatriots. In large cities of France, SDOs have taken shape as independent structures, where classes with Russian-speaking children are the main activity; in smaller cities, these are clubs or creative workshops under cultural associations of a broader profile.

Currently in France there are 50 kindergartens and children's centers, which are regularly attended by about 2,000 children. There are also two parochial schools in Paris, where about 150 children study.

According to estimates by the Coordination Council of Compatriots, SDOs cover about 30% of Russian-speaking children. As a rule, training begins at 3 years of age. After 12-13 years of age, the most motivated children attend Russian language lessons. However, the trend in recent years is that the number of older students in schools is constantly growing. Classes are held on Wednesdays and Saturdays. As a rule, children come to classes for 3-4 hours one day a week.

In all schools, classes are taught exclusively by native Russian speakers. In large schools these are professionals with diplomas from Russian universities. However, in general there is a shortage of certified early childhood education specialists and primary school teachers. Most often, among the candidates for the post of teacher there are philologists or teachers of English/French languages.

Dmitry Borisovich Koshko is a member of the World Coordination Council of Russian Compatriots Living Abroad, Chairman of the Coordination Council of Russian Compatriots in France, President of the France-Urals Association. Philologist, journalist, teacher, public figure. In 1993 he organized the “France-Ural” society, one of the publishers in Paris of the newspaper “Lettres d’Oural” (1993-1998). Organized the collection of charitable assistance in favor of hospitals in Kamensk-Uralsky and a number of Ural social institutions. Makes documentary journalistic films. Co-founder of the Union of Russophones of France (2006). He was a member of the National Organization of Knights (NOV).

Dmitry Borisovich is the great-grandson of A.F. Koshko (born in 1867 in the Minsk province, died in 1928 in Paris) - a Russian criminologist, head of the Moscow detective police, later in charge of the entire criminal investigation of the Russian Empire, and an exiled memoirist. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Arkady Koshko was a legendary person. It was he who created the first uniquely accurate criminal file in Russia and developed a special personal identification system, which was then adopted by Scotland Yard.

Thank youDepartment for work with compatriots of the Russian Foreign Ministryfor the materials provided

A mixture of French and Krasnoyarsk

Today Andrei Makin is one of the most famous writers in the West.
Inexhaustible Russian literature continues to regularly and generously feed its French sister with fresh blood. Another Russian name has firmly entered the cultural history of France.
Andrey Makin was born in Krasnoyarsk in 1957. He graduated from the philological department of Moscow University, taught at the Pedagogical Institute in Novgorod and collaborated with the magazine “Modern Foreign Literature”. He began his writing career during perestroika, when he moved to live from the USSR to France. He speaks excellent French - he was taught it by his grandmother, who came to Russia before the 1917 revolution.
At first, in Paris, he found himself homeless and even lived for some time in a crypt in the Père Lachaise cemetery. He made money by teaching Russian and writing novels - directly in French. The publishers caused him considerable mental anguish, sending letters full of irony refusing to print manuscripts that they did not even deign to leaf through. Confident in their impeccable professional experience, they believed that with a Russian name it was impossible to write well in French. To guide them, Andrei began to write on the title page: “Translation from Russian by Andre Lemonnier.” “I did everything to get published,” Makin later recalled. “I sent out the same manuscript under different pseudonyms, changed the names of novels, rewrote the first pages...” Finally, he managed to publish his first books - “The Daughter of a Hero of the Soviet Union” and "Time of the Amur River".
In 1995, Andrei Makin received the Goncourt Prize for his book The French Testament (an imaginary biography of a French woman who lived her entire life in Russia). For the first time in the history of French literature, this prize was awarded to a Russian writer. “I was amazed,” said Edmond Charles-Roux, president of the Goncourt Academy at the time. “This is great literature.” Overnight, Andrei turned into a European celebrity. “Like all Russians,” Makin later said, “I am a fatalist. I was one before receiving the Goncourt Prize, and I remain so now. I think I deserve it.” Also in 1995, the book received another prestigious Medici Award, and then a whole wreath of other prizes, including the Italian “Premium des Prizes”, which is awarded to the best book that received literary awards that year. Since then, The French Testament has been translated into 35 languages. And the total circulation of the book was 2.5 million copies.
Immediately after the prize, Makin received French citizenship: this looked like recognition of his undeniable services to French literature. Soon at the Sorbonne he defended his doctoral dissertation “The Poetics of Nostalgia in Bunin’s Prose.” Not long ago, the writer became one of three contenders for the Prince Pierre of Monaco Prize.
In total, more than a dozen works came from his pen, including: “Confession of a demoted standard-bearer” (1992), “The Crime of Olga Arbelina” (about the fate of a Russian princess who lives with her son in a town that gave shelter to Russian emigration, 1998) , "Requiem for the East" (a novel about the life of three generations of a Russian family, which suffered the most difficult trials of the past century - revolution, civil war, collectivization, the Great Patriotic War, 2000), "Earth and Sky by Jacques Dorme. Chronicle of Love" ( 2002).
Makin is almost unknown in Russia. And in France he is being hunted by criticism; he is a guest on the most respected television show, “Broth of Culture.” And yet sometimes, on the part of French writers, a certain arrogant and unjustified condescension is felt towards Makin: they say, look, he is almost the same as us... However, from some of Makin’s confessions one can judge that he too he himself does not consider that he is creating in the traditions of French literature; rather, he is transforming it, despite the obvious “resistance of the material.”
One way or another, Makin is surprised by the low level of French literature. “90 percent is consumer goods,” he says. According to him, if a Russian writer wants to publish his novel in the West, “he needs to write a caricature - about Russian dirt, drunkards, in a word, about chernukha. And it will do. You will bring harm to Russia and Russian literature, but you will be successful. I But from this blackness I catch some moments of spirit, beauty, human resistance.”
When asked how he managed not to break down in a foreign country, Makin replies: “What saved me was that I received good Soviet training. It helps us a lot, and we don’t need to throw away this experience. By the way, I hate the word “scoop” and stop talking "with a person who uses this bitter term, invented by slaves. So, the Soviet experience came in handy for me - endurance, the ability to be content with little. After all, behind everything is the willingness to neglect the material and strive for the spiritual."
Andrey Mikhailov

fr.wikipedia
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Nikolay Bokov, 02/13/2015
The split of heroes, or what should we call them now?
Suddenly it turns out that Andrei Makin is also “Gabriel Osmond”. He has published "half a dozen novels," according to the Gabriel Osmonde website, which includes a photograph of a man publicly identified as "Andrei Makin."
The convergence of pseudonyms occurred in 2009 in the newspaper Le Figaro, and confirmation of Makin himself took place in 2011 in the same newspaper, in a note by journalist Astrid de Larmina.
"Osmond-Makin" wrote such novels as "The Journey of a Woman Who Was No Longer Afraid of Growing Old" (Albin Michel, 2001), "20,000 Women in a Man's Life" (Albin Michel, 2004) and others.

To come to France from Russia at the age of thirty, eight years later to become a laureate of the prestigious Goncourt Prize, and twenty years later to be elected a member of the French Academy - this is the amazing life path of the writer Andrei Makin.

In 1995, the jury of the most prestigious literary prize in France, the Goncourt, broke with unspoken tradition and awarded the award for the first time to a foreigner writing in French. And on March 3, 2016, he became “immortal,” as academicians are called in France.

Chair number five, which Andrei Makin will occupy at the French Academy, has many famous predecessors. Perhaps now it is appropriate to remember one of them - Jean Baptiste Joseph Fourier, who came from a poor family with fifteen children, and became a famous mathematician, physicist, Egyptologist and at the same time a baron.

So the example of academicians occupying chair number five perfectly demonstrates that France in all centuries has been able to appreciate the best, writes a journalist from France.

Yesterday, the fantastically modest and intelligent Andrei Makin was elected a member of the French Academy, and I reread an old interview that we recorded with him eight years ago. What then seemed to me an exaggeration is now perceived as simply a statement.

“For catharsis to happen to the reader, it must first happen to the writer himself.”

In 1995, the jury of the most prestigious literary prize in France, the Goncourt, broke with unspoken tradition and awarded the award for the first time to a foreigner writing in French.

The Russian received the prize Andrey Makin for the novel "The French Testament". For more than a hundred years of the existence of this prize, only two writers of Russian origin received it - Henri Troyat (Lev Tarasov) and Romain Gary (Roman Katsev). Now Andrei Makin, winner of various European literary awards, has received French citizenship at the request of Jacques Chirac himself.

Andrei does not like to talk about his life, repeating that everything about him can be understood from his books. And there are already thirteen of them. From the philosophical “Requiem for the East” to the poignant “The Life and Crime of Olga Arbenina”; from the sad “The Woman Who Waited” to the existential “Music of Life”.

From aesthetic writers you can sometimes hear the following expression: “we live not in a country, but in a language.” Do you agree with this statement? Or do you consider it just an intellectual play on words?

This is a fairly well-known aphorism. By the way, the French are very fond of aphorisms. When you read, for example, La Rochefoucauld or La Bruyère, you can see how they always try to reduce a thought to a very precise formula. At first it seems - how great! However, all, even the best, aphorisms are lame. I believe that we live not only “in a language”, but also in a country.

No one can lock himself in an ivory tower and not be part of the country in which he is located. Of course, writers exist a little differently, they form their own “continent”, their own reality, in which they retire. But they are always part of the reality around them. I can love or hate this reality, but I live in it.

- What does French reality mean to you? Do you love her?

Of course, there are some constants of the national spirit that cannot but be felt. How many years have you been living in France?

- Ten.

During this time, you, perhaps without even realizing it, “Frenchized”, since you began our conversation with an aphorism. This is a purely French approach. In Russia, on the contrary, they like to start with some complicated, thoughtful idea. The Frenchwoman would do the same as you, that is, she would try to reduce long arguments to a short formula.

Since, in your opinion, I have begun to turn into a Frenchwoman, I immediately want to ask: who are the French? Of course, not for a tourist who came here for a week, but for you, a person who has lived in this country for more than twenty years.

When talking about national characteristics, they often mean some aspects that lie on the surface. The French themselves call them “foam days”. This “foam of days” is constantly transforming, and France at the beginning of the third millennium is not at all like the country we imagined it to be from the French films of our childhood. Everything has changed: both nationally and ethnically. People live differently, they have different habits. But the basic concepts on which this or that civilization is based remain. If these concepts are affected, the constant of the national spirit will disappear. In this case, some kind of Arab-French civilization will appear. Why not? There was already a Spanish-Arab civilization in history.

Until this happens, I will say that France, among other features, has always been and is distinguished by a certain intellectual discipline. When you write in French, you need to be very “disciplined.” In Russia, you can put an object at the beginning of a sentence and end with a verb - or vice versa. Russian grammar and morphology suggest a little anarchy. Or, better said, will, a free attitude towards language.

Look at how Dostoevsky wrote, for example. He could string four or five adjectives, one after another, and all these adjectives carried a similar meaning. The French don't tolerate this at all. Any editor will immediately tell their author: “Sorry, but you’ve already made that point.” The British are much more tolerant of repetition.

Wow, I always thought that it was the British who did not like unnecessary “beauties”, unlike the Russians or the French. Writing in English is like slicing cheese thinly; in Russian - how to mix a cocktail. What is it like to write in French?

Grammatically, the English are simply forced to repeat the same words often, especially verbs. That is why they are quite normal about repetitions. The French are completely intolerant of this. Of course, those who write poorly in French repeat themselves, but this is absolutely unacceptable for writers. For example, when I write, I know that I cannot use the same word on the same page, unless, of course, it is related to the plot. Russian and English languages ​​are much more free from this point of view. Especially Russian, where you can write quite well in some vague concepts.

So we can say that this kind of “intellectual discipline” is one of the characteristics of the French mentality?

Yes, such a discipline of intellectual thought has existed in France for quite a long time. In addition to this, the French mentality has always been distinguished by the idea of ​​freedom of speech in all its manifestations. Now you can notice that both the first and the second disappear.

Let's take literature, for example. Read novels from the 30s. Even the simplest of them, which were called boulevards, are built in a certain way.

It would seem that these are novels without any intellectual pretensions, but they are still “constructed.” Now you won't find anything like this.

If we talk about freedom of speech, it is increasingly being replaced by political correctness. I think the French initially suffered greatly from this. The majority of Americans were Protestants, and therefore, by virtue of their religion, were already accustomed to certain restrictions, which is why they “entered” political correctness quite simply. But for the French, this process turned into a conflict of the soul. How is it that we have always lived with complete freedom of speech, saying what we think, but now? The scope of freedom of speech in France has become very narrow. She became just an empty phrase.

There are clichés here that are imposed at every opportunity. In various interviews they are constantly trying to push me to criticize Putin. It turns out to be “media slavery”. I just hate it when it is initially assumed that my attitude to certain issues should be completely definite.

For example, in a recent conversation on French radio, the journalist felt how unpleasant his attempts to impose his opinion were on me. It turned out to be a somewhat menacing conversation, and at the end the journalist joked: an interview is when two people talk, one of whom says what he thinks, and the other tries to push him towards what seems more true to him. We laughed and then parted amicably.

What was he trying to push you to do? To the fact that in the free world you write freely, but in Russia you would be deprived of this?

Like that. The French journalist, in particular, said that the Russian elections are worthless. To this I answered him that in Russia democracy in its current form was established only twenty years ago, and in your country - two centuries ago, and they constantly talk about its imperfection. And the war in Iraq was started not by Russia, but by democratic America. One can talk about such examples for hours, but they are not interested in doing so. When they feel that the conversation is not going as planned, it means that this person needs to be returned to the fold of accepted dogma.

We used to say that there is great Russian literature, great French literature and great English literature. Perhaps the latter remained, but what happened to Russian and French literature? They can hardly be called great now.

And now it is impossible to draw any conclusions at all. Remember what they said about Balzac during his lifetime. I assure you, these were simply terrible things. One day we had lunch with one of the members of the Goncourt Prize jury, who had studied Balzac professionally. So, he said the following: “If even a thousandth of the nasty things that Balzac received were written about me, I would just hang myself right away.”

Let me give you an example: Balzac published one of his novels in parts in the newspaper. After some time, he receives a letter informing him that because of his texts, the newspaper has stopped selling, and now it has been decided to start publishing the novel by Alexandre Dumas. But this was only three years before Balzac’s death, that is, he was already a “monument” and a living classic.

And how much was said about Tolstoy! When War and Peace came out, one critic wrote: “We would damn him if he had even an ounce of talent.” But all this is forgotten. Tolstoy found more than a thousand mistakes in this novel alone. Although some “mistakes” later turned out to be brilliant psychological insights.

For example, in the famous scene on the eve of the Battle of Borodino, Prince Andrei comes to Kutuzov, who is sitting and reading a French novel by a certain Madame de Genlis.

Tolstoy's critics were extremely outraged by this. How can one read such cheap literature before a fateful battle? And only much later they found the archives, which contained a book by this same Madame de Genlis, signed by Kutuzov’s hand. And there he himself wrote that he often read the novels of this writer. Just to unwind. True, not before, but after the Battle of Borodino. And Tolstoy, with his amazing intuition, realized that in the most difficult moments one can read books that are easy to understand.

Or let's remember Chekhov. Have you read it in Russia? We read it, but much less than Ms. Charskaya. Almost all premieres of Chekhov's plays ended in complete failure.

People simply left The Cherry Orchard because they didn’t understand why they were always saying strange monologues and there were no normal dialogues. And now Chekhov's plays are among the most played in the world. So it is simply impossible to judge what is happening at the moment.

- Then the question immediately arises: were you scolded or were you just always praised and rewarded?

Everything was said about me: some compared me to Tolstoy, Proust and Chekhov, while others said that I absolutely could not write. Therefore, now the criticism does not really hurt me, since I have already heard everything about myself. There was a whole range. You should try to treat all this with irony. Time will put everything in its place.

Have you learned not to react painfully to criticism, but perhaps you have also learned not to put your whole soul into your books?

When you write a book, many purely technical issues arise, and you can get used to them. As for the creation process itself, it is always torment. You experience everything in yourself a hundred times, because in order for the reader to experience catharsis, it must first happen to the writer himself. And frankly, this is a very “pathogenic” process; it is no coincidence that there are a huge number of suicides among writers. Even if outwardly we do not cry over the manuscript, then internally everything needs to be “cryed out.”

According to the memoirs of contemporaries, Dostoevsky was also completely immersed in the world of his books when he wrote them, but then quickly switched to something else. Once, for example, he re-read “The Humiliated and Insulted” with interest, because he had completely forgotten the plot. Can you be so abstract from your books?

Writers are truly different creatures, and writing a book is a special way of life. But I still don’t forget my books. Dostoevsky simply wrote very quickly. He loved to play cards, often did all sorts of things, and when then, at the last moment, he had to submit a text, since his novels were often published in parts, from issue to issue, he had to compose quickly. That is why some Ivan Ivanovich died in one part, and then suddenly appeared again. What to do? It was necessary to invent that he was ill, but did not die. This has happened, and critics love to write about it. Dostoevsky composed, his wife rewrote it, and immediately the peddler ran to convey it all to the magazine.

-You don’t have that kind of pressure?

No and never have been. I have always considered writing books to be such a special and metaphysically rare activity that one should try to allocate all the time possible for it. Otherwise, you need to do what the authors of pulp novels do, who live much better than the so-called serious writers.

- But they are not given the Goncourt Prizes and their compatriots are not so proud of them.

I’m not sure if they are proud... Everything that was said about me in Russia was quite negative. I personally did not receive a single pleasant reaction. This is, in principle, clear to me. This is precisely our attitude towards our neighbor. Russians have gone through so many centuries of hostility - both class and ethnic - that we have developed the habit of speaking badly about others.

Perhaps I am speaking biasedly, since none of my novels have yet been translated into Russian, but, unfortunately, I am not particularly proud of either receiving the Goncourt Prize or the fact that my novels have been published in forty other languages. haven't experienced it.

- How do you get nominated for the Goncourt Prize?

To a certain extent, this premium can be calculated. Typically, a novel must be published six months before it is awarded so that there is time to “talk” about it. In my case, this did not happen, since the book appeared only four days before the closing of the lists of applicants. In May 1995, I brought the text to the publishing house. By the way, it was accepted with difficulty. I liked the text itself, but it was alarming how a Russian could suddenly write in French. That is, my “Russianness” bothered everyone. Then the publisher said that we need to think about when to publish the novel: in September or December. I replied that I didn’t care at all, maybe in September. If they had been published in December, then I simply would not have had the opportunity to get on the list of candidates for the Goncourt Prize, although, of course, I did not think about it at all then. The novel was an immediate success, and, as a rule, the award committee takes notice. They won't award a book that doesn't sell at all.

For “The French Testament” you received the Medici Prize, the Goncourt Prize, many international awards, including the Finnish one...

Yes, the book was also translated into Finnish. Then I was awarded the Eva Joenpelto Prize, a classic of Finnish literature. She is ninety years old, yet she personally came to the award ceremony. But at that time I was already writing another novel, so “The French Testament” was a passed stage.

Many writers dream of their books being filmed or plays based on them in the theater. The last thing you published was the play “The World According to Gabriel.” Why did you decide to do the play?

I've always been very interested in trying to write a play because my novels have very little dialogue. It seems to me that in a novel the dialogue itself is always false. What are we saying? We say some general, banal things. Karl Jaspers noted very well: “The truth can only be told by whispering in the ear.” As soon as we start talking loudly, as I do now, gesticulating and trying to explain something, then some doctrinaire behavior already appears. I am trying to build some dogmas and influence you.

That's why I don't use a lot of dialogue or monologues in my novels, I just hate doing it. In the play, I tried to build everything on dialogues. The fate of this play is rather atypical, although many famous people adore it, for example Sophie Marceau. But at the same time, everyone is afraid to stage this play because it is not politically correct. I write politically incorrect things now, and I really like it. In particular, I recently wrote the book “France, which we forgot how to love.” Nobody talked about it in the press, but everyone reads it.

When I was in Poitiers at a meeting with readers, I saw for the first time what samizdat is in French. There were about two hundred people in the hall; many were unable to purchase this book, although it was published in quite a large circulation, and people made photocopiers for themselves. Likewise, there is a lot of talk about the play “The World According to Gabriel,” although it has not been staged anywhere. A striking thing: an article about her appeared in Spain, although it has not yet been translated into Spanish. This is a rare case.

- Or maybe we shouldn’t expect mercy from politically correct Europe and try to stage it in Russia?

Why not? Moreover, it is not at all necessary that it be some famous theater. I would be happy if it was played in some Siberian theater, just to see if it has an impact on the viewer. It seems to me that it should be relevant to everyone with its metaphysical meaning. The play begins with a reminder that the average person lives twenty thousand days. When I ask others how long they think someone who has reached sixty years of age will live, I hear: “A million. Five million days." No, only twenty thousand! And the meaning of this play lies precisely in this - how a person spends the days allotted to him by God. And how to live on when a huge part of your life has already been lived and you realize that there are only a few thousand days left.

- What do you want to spend your remaining thousand days on?

In all my books I try to prove that we are eternal, that we all have a piece of eternity in us. All languages ​​on earth are very primitive compared to the concepts they express. “Man”, “woman”, “engineer”, “writer” - we reduce all the diversity, all the complexity of life to some general concepts, as if we are cutting a person into pieces. With such functionalism, in imperfect human language, how can we express the deepest thought that there is a particle of eternity in us and it is immortal? This is my task, or rather, my super task.

Material prepared by Elena Eremenko

Andrey Makin born in Krasnoyarsk, grew up in Penza. The grandson of a French emigrant who lived in Russia since the 1917 revolution, who taught him French. He graduated from the Faculty of Philology of Moscow State University and taught at the Department of French at the Novgorod Pedagogical Institute. In 1988, during a trip to France on a teacher exchange program, he asked for political asylum, which was granted to him. After that, he visited Russia only once - in 2001, accompanying French President Jacques Chirac.

In France, Makin earned money by teaching Russian and in his free time wrote novels in French. For some time he lived in a crypt in the Parisian cemetery of Père Lachaise.

Convinced that publishers were skeptical about the prose of the Russian emigrant, he began to present his first two novels (“Daughter of the Hero of the Soviet Union” and “The Time of the Amur River”) as translations from Russian. The third novel, “The French Testament” (1995), went to the head of a famous publishing house and was published in a significant number of copies.

He received the prestigious Prix Goncourt, as well as the Prix Goncourt and the Prix Medici, awarded by lyceum students. The novel was translated into 35 languages, including Russian, and made the author famous. In the same year, the writer was granted French citizenship. At the Sorbonne, Makin defended his dissertation “The Poetics of Nostalgia in Bunin’s Prose.”

In one of his interviews, Makin noted: “What saved me was that I received good Soviet training... endurance, the ability to be content with little. After all, behind everything is the readiness to neglect the material and strive for the spiritual.” He considers himself a French writer, in one of his interviews he said this: “There is such a nationality - an emigrant. This is when the Russian roots are strong, but the influence of France is enormous.”

He noted that he puts Sergei Dovlatov “above A.P. Chekhov.” Makin considers himself a marginalized writer. In his own words: “I am writing so that a person will rise and look at the sky.”

The constant leitmotif of Makin’s works is an attempt to escape reality, notes Professor D. Gillespie. Almost all of Makin's novels take place in the USSR.

Biography

In France, Makin earned money by teaching Russian and in his free time wrote novels in French. Convinced that publishers were skeptical about the prose of the Russian emigrant, he began to present his first two novels (“Daughter of the Hero of the Soviet Union” and “The Time of the Amur River”) as translations from Russian. The third novel, “The French Testament” (), went to the head of a famous publishing house and was published in a significant number of copies.

In one of his interviews, Makin noted: “What saved me was that I received good Soviet training... endurance, the ability to be content with little. After all, behind everything is the readiness to neglect the material and strive for the spiritual.” He considers himself a French writer, in one of his interviews he said this: “There is such a nationality - an emigrant. This is when the Russian roots are strong, but the influence of France is enormous.”

The constant leitmotif of Makin’s works is an attempt to evade reality, notes Professor D. Gillespie. Almost all of Makin's novels take place in the USSR.

Confession

• 1995, “The French Testament”: Prix Goncourt, Prix Medici, Prix Goncourt Lyceum students
• 1998, "The French Testament": Finnish Eva Joenpelto Literary Prize
• 2001, “Music of Life”: literary prize of the television company RTL and the magazine “Lire” (Lear)
• 2005: Prize of the Prince Pierre of Monaco Foundation for his contribution to literature

Bibliography

• La fille d'un héros de l'Union soviétique, 1990, Robert Laffont (ISBN 1-55970-687-2)
• Confession d'un porte-drapeau dechu, 1992, Belfond (ISBN 1-55970-529-9)
• Au temps du fleuve Amour, 1994, Editions du Félin (ISBN 1-55970-438-1)
• Le Testament franchise, 1995, Mercure de France (ISBN 1-55970-383-0)
• Le Crime d'Olga Arbelina, 1998, Mercure de France (ISBN 1-55970-494-2)
• Requiem pour l'Est, 2000, Mercure de France (ISBN 1-55970-571-X)
• La music d'une vie, 2001, Éditions du Seuil (ISBN 1-55970-637-6)
• La Terre et le ciel de Jacques Dorme, 2003, Mercure de France (ISBN 1-55970-739-9)
• La femme qui attendait, 2004, Éditions du Seuil (ISBN 1-55970-774-7)
• L'Amour Humain, 2006, Éditions du Seuil (ISBN 0-340-93677-0)
• "Le Monde selon Gabriel", 2007, Éditions du Rocher
• La Vie d'un homme inconnu, 2009, Editions du Seuil
• Une femme aimée, 2013, Editions du Seuil

Research

• www.unn.ru/pages/issues/vestnik/99999999_West_2009_6(2)/19.pdf
• Yotova, Reni. Image for France and Russia in France's will for Andrey Makin. - In: Ezitsi and culture in dialogue: Traditions, continuity, innovation. The conference is dedicated to the 120th anniversary of history taught in classical and modern philology at Sofia University “St. Kliment Ohridski. Sofia, UI, 2010.
• www.lihachev.ru/pic/site/files/lihcht/2012_Sbornik/2012_Dokladi/2012_plen/015_2012_plen.pdf

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Excerpt characterizing Makin, Andrey

In addition to the general feeling of alienation from all people, Natasha at this time experienced a special feeling of alienation from her family. All her own: father, mother, Sonya, were so close to her, familiar, so everyday that all their words and feelings seemed to her an insult to the world in which she had lived lately, and she was not only indifferent, but looked at them with hostility . She heard Dunyasha’s words about Pyotr Ilyich, about misfortune, but did not understand them.
“What kind of misfortune do they have there, what kind of misfortune can there be? Everything they have is old, familiar and calm,” Natasha mentally said to herself.
When she entered the hall, the father was quickly leaving the countess's room. His face was wrinkled and wet with tears. He apparently ran out of that room to give vent to the sobs that were crushing him. Seeing Natasha, he desperately waved his hands and burst into painful, convulsive sobs that distorted his round, soft face.
- Pe... Petya... Come, come, she... she... is calling... - And he, sobbing like a child, quickly mincing with weakened legs, walked up to the chair and fell almost on it, covering his face with his hands.
Suddenly, like an electric current ran through Natasha’s entire being. Something hit her terribly painfully in the heart. She felt terrible pain; It seemed to her that something was being torn away from her and that she was dying. But following the pain, she felt an instant release from the ban on life that lay on her. Seeing her father and hearing her mother’s terrible, rude cry from behind the door, she instantly forgot herself and her grief. She ran up to her father, but he, helplessly waving his hand, pointed to her mother’s door. Princess Marya, pale, with a trembling lower jaw, came out of the door and took Natasha by the hand, saying something to her. Natasha didn’t see or hear her. She entered the door with quick steps, stopped for a moment, as if in a struggle with herself, and ran up to her mother.
The Countess lay on an armchair, stretching out strangely awkwardly, and banging her head against the wall. Sonya and the girls held her hands.
“Natasha, Natasha!..” shouted the countess. - It’s not true, it’s not true... He’s lying... Natasha! – she screamed, pushing those around her away. - Go away, everyone, it’s not true! Killed!.. ha ha ha ha!.. not true!
Natasha knelt on the chair, bent over her mother, hugged her, lifted her with unexpected strength, turned her face towards her and pressed herself against her.
- Mama!.. darling!.. I’m here, my friend. “Mama,” she whispered to her, without stopping for a second.
She did not let her mother go, gently struggled with her, demanded a pillow, water, unbuttoned and tore her mother’s dress.
“My friend, my dear... mamma, darling,” she whispered incessantly, kissing her head, hands, face and feeling how uncontrollably her tears flowed in streams, tickling her nose and cheeks.
The Countess squeezed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes and fell silent for a moment. Suddenly she stood up with unusual speed, looked around senselessly and, seeing Natasha, began squeezing her head with all her might. Then she turned her face, wrinkled in pain, towards her and peered at it for a long time.
“Natasha, you love me,” she said in a quiet, trusting whisper. - Natasha, won’t you deceive me? Will you tell me the whole truth?
Natasha looked at her with tear-filled eyes, and in her face there was only a plea for forgiveness and love.
“My friend, mamma,” she repeated, straining all the strength of her love in order to somehow relieve her of the excess grief that was oppressing her.
And again, in a powerless struggle with reality, the mother, refusing to believe that she could live when her beloved boy, blooming with life, was killed, fled from reality in a world of madness.
Natasha did not remember how that day, that night, the next day, the next night went. She did not sleep and did not leave her mother. Natasha’s love, persistent, patient, not as an explanation, not as a consolation, but as a call to life, every second seemed to embrace the countess from all sides. On the third night, the Countess fell silent for a few minutes, and Natasha closed her eyes, resting her head on the arm of the chair. The bed creaked. Natasha opened her eyes. The Countess sat on the bed and spoke quietly.
– I’m so glad you came. Are you tired, do you want some tea? – Natasha approached her. “You have become prettier and more mature,” the countess continued, taking her daughter by the hand.
- Mama, what are you saying!..
- Natasha, he’s gone, no more! “And, hugging her daughter, the countess began to cry for the first time.

Princess Marya postponed her departure. Sonya and the Count tried to replace Natasha, but they could not. They saw that she alone could keep her mother from insane despair. For three weeks Natasha lived hopelessly with her mother, slept on an armchair in her room, gave her water, fed her and talked to her incessantly - she talked because her gentle, caressing voice alone calmed the countess.
The mother's mental wound could not be healed. Petya's death took away half of her life. A month after the news of Petya’s death, which found her a fresh and cheerful fifty-year-old woman, she left her room half-dead and not taking part in life - an old woman. But the same wound that half killed the countess, this new wound brought Natasha to life.
A mental wound that comes from a rupture of the spiritual body, just like a physical wound, no matter how strange it may seem, after a deep wound has healed and seems to have come together at its edges, a mental wound, like a physical one, heals only from the inside with the bulging force of life.
Natasha’s wound healed in the same way. She thought her life was over. But suddenly love for her mother showed her that the essence of her life - love - was still alive in her. Love woke up and life woke up.

Lady Luck found Andrei Makin in the servants' room where he lived, that is, wrote novels, and generously rewarded him. Last November, the unknown writer received two awards in a row for his fourth book, including the most prestigious - the Goncourt Prize, which immediately attracted the attention of the press and readers (most likely, not for long). Among the friendly praises, as usual, there was also a lonely voice of a skeptic, recalling the numerous mistakes of the Goncourt jury and once again repeating what everyone knows (except the general public), namely: that the outcome of the competition does not depend at all on the talent of the applicants, but from the behind-the-scenes struggle of the three largest publishing houses, economically interested in the Goncourt Prize, which guarantees high circulations and, therefore, profits.

However, even if everyone knows this, it is customary not to notice this kind of low truth; the awards holiday has its own unbreakable rules. And “The French Testament” was destined to become a sensation, not only in France, but also here, in Russia, also for special reasons. In our case, because the author of the “best French novel” of the year turned out to be a Russian, who left the Soviet Union only eight years ago. (In some responses one could clearly hear something like “know ours!”) For them, because this Russian writes in “impeccable, classic” French and loves France the way they love their homeland – or the country of their dreams. Such an unusual declaration of love for everything French could not help but bribe the French. Although the country created by the Russian boy Alyosha - that’s the hero’s name - from the stories of his grandmother, Frenchwoman Charlotte (who, by chance, was stuck in the Russian outback), from old newspaper clippings stored in his grandmother’s suitcase, and, of course, from French literature, has long ago sunk into history I'm flying. No wonder Makin constantly calls it Atlantis. Despite the authenticity of historical details and everyday touches, it has little in common with real France. What the hero (the author's alter ego) is convinced of after becoming a defector. (“It was in France that I almost completely forgot Charlotte France.”)

Any other writer would have extracted from this clash of dreams and reality another version of lost illusions. In The French Testament, this traditional and ever-new dramatic motif, as soon as it arises, fades away. As if in defiance of the plot and fate, which drives the hero into loneliness and poverty, in defiance of the very death that overtook Charlotte at the moment when he was preparing to meet her in Paris, Makin wrote not about the crash, but about the triumph of dreams, illusions, imagination, in other words - literature, above the rough shell of existence, which we call life. And the decision of the Goncourt Academy imparted unexpected credibility to this romantic credo, crowning it - beyond the text - with a spectacular happy ending.

But Russian readers will probably be disappointed by Makin's book.

"The French Testament" is something between a family chronicle and a novel of education. The history of the family (from the beginning of the century to the era of “stagnation”) is told, or rather, retold by Alyosha, mainly from the words of Charlotte, who is the main character of the book. “The messenger of Atlantis, consumed by time,” the friend and only affection of her grandson, she plays a decisive role in the formation of his unusual character. It was she, this Frenchwoman, whose language had become his native language since childhood, who, with her colorful stories about distant France, captivated Alyosha into the ghostly world of dreams and “locked” him in the past, from where he “cast absent-minded glances at real life.” Sitting on the balcony of his grandmother’s house, looking out into the steppe, the boy listened in fascination to bizarre family legends and daydreamed: in the distance of the steppe, “Atlantis” appeared with the obviousness of a mirage, gradually filling with people and events. Alyosha saw little Charlotte looking out of the window at flooded Paris, deputies traveling in boats to parliamentary meetings; a crazy Austrian skydiving from the Eiffel Tower; a young elegant gentleman named Marcel Proust casually ordering a glass of water and a bunch of grapes in a restaurant; President of the Republic Felix Faure, dying in the Elysee Palace in the arms of his mistress... The boy in his dreams visited France with the Russian imperial couple, Nicholas and Alexandra: ceremonial meetings, the delight of the crowd, the shine of gold and luxurious toilets, banquets, speeches, ovations. And what dinner they were served, what wine they were treated to! How delightful the names of unknown dishes sound: “Bartavelles et ortolans” (the full menu is given)! From now on, these bartavels and ortolans will become a kind of password for Alyosha and his sister, allowing them into another world, far removed from the squabbles of this one. The author enthusiastically takes us through his personal collection, showing off his favorite exhibits and curiosities with simple-minded pride, and we yawn, languish and wonder: why was he so enchanted by all this renix? Unlike our lives? The sound and rhythm of French speech? However, do they really love you for something? Try to explain why the curve of Grushenka’s back drove poor Mitya crazy, why des Grieux forever fell in love with the unlucky Manon...

The hero's romance with the Beautiful Lady, France, develops according to all the rules of the amorous genre. Tides of ardent passion and burning interest in the subject of passion (binge reading of French literature) alternate with cooling, quarrels and breakups. He even runs on secret dates with Her: in that big and boring Volga city where Alyosha lives with his parents, there is one place that in the evening, in cloudy or rainy weather, somehow reminds him of Paris, and now, as soon as it gets dark, he hurries to his “Parisian” crossroads and has fun there until late at night.

The sudden death of his mother and then his father interrupt this obsession. Fifteen-year-old Alyosha finally discovers the real world and, having renounced the French mirages, tries to settle down in his native land, even to become like everyone else. For the hero, the “Russian period” begins: “Russia, like a bear after a long winter, woke up in me.” But, really, it would be better if I didn’t wake up!... Makin’s Russia seems to have a stamp on it: “Made abroad.” True, it doesn’t come down to spreading cranberries; after all, the author lived in our country until he was thirty, but the fake is obvious. Before us is typical kitsch, moreover, presented without a shadow of irony, with a meaningful mien and pathetic aspiration. A simple combination of familiar stereotypes, like this signature bear, exotic local flavor, vulgar platitudes and pseudo-revelations creates a “similar” image that only foreigners can take at face value. However, it was these that the author was guided by, and this can be felt from the very beginning by the insistence with which he highlights everything that can amaze the European eye: endless open spaces, grain fields growing “from the Black Sea to the Pacific Ocean,” steppe, steppe , steppe and snow without end and edge, in which, of course, something mysteriously attractive lurks. “The snow planet never let go of souls bewitched by the immensity of its spaces.” Let me explain: we are talking about the hero’s great-grandmother, the Frenchwoman Albertine, who, after the death of her husband, who brought her to Siberia, was never able to return to France, enchanted either by the above-mentioned open spaces, or by the “intoxicating poison” of the dark Russian life that penetrated her blood ( seems to be referring to morphine, to which the poor thing is addicted)...

But I was distracted from Alyosha, and meanwhile the bear that has awakened in him, that is, Russia, quickly takes possession of his soul. The hero somehow suddenly “cured” from France and fell in love with his unthinkable homeland with its cruelty, tenderness, drunkenness, anarchy, obediently accepted slavery, unexpected sophistication, etc., fell in love “for its monstrosity and absurdity” and discovered in it “the highest meaning, inaccessible to logical judgment." However, he truly felt Russian and comprehended the secrets of the Russian soul thanks to... Beria. The story about the dirty adventures of the all-powerful “satrap”, who lay in wait on the streets of Moscow and kidnapped the women he liked, makes a stunning impression on a teenager who has just entered the painful period of puberty. His fevered imagination endlessly draws pictures of “hunting,” violence, copulation, exciting and exhausting Alyosha. These painful fantasies become the basis for far-reaching conclusions about the national character: “... if Russia conquers me, it is because she knows no limits - neither in good nor in evil. Especially in evil. She allows me to envy this hunter of female flesh . And to hate myself for it. And to suffer together with this tormented woman... And to strive to die with her, because it is impossible to live with a double who admires Beria... Yes, I was Russian. Now I understood, albeit still vaguely, what does this mean... It’s very everyday to live on the edge of an abyss. Yes, this is Russia."

From these “Dostoevsky” abysses, the author pulls the hero out of the proven Soviet recipe - war games and barracks life in a school camp awaken patriotic feelings and enthusiastic collectivism in Alyosha. The rapid re-education of an outcast individualist brings to mind the naive propaganda of the Stalin era, and the idea of ​​the psychology of a Soviet young man is quite consistent with common Western stereotypes: “Live in the blissful simplicity of the prescribed gestures: shoot, march in formation... Surrender to the collective movement, controlled by others. Those who know the highest goal. Who generously removes the burden of responsibility from us... And this goal is also simple and unambiguous: defense of the homeland. I was in a hurry to merge with this great goal, to dissolve in the mass, among my wonderfully irresponsible comrades. Happy. Blessed. Healthy." Beautiful France is betrayed, moreover, it arouses in the hero, like the West in general, “innate” Russian suspicion. With a feeling of “never experienced pride,” Alyosha thinks about the power of our tanks, which can “crush the entire globe.”

But enough quotes. It seems that there is more than enough “evidence”, and the conclusion suggests itself. Meanwhile, everything is not as simple as it may seem, and it is too early to draw the line. For there is in Makin’s novel, despite its obvious weaknesses and vulgarity of commonplaces, a certain hidden, almost magical power to which we gradually and involuntarily succumb. True, for the most part it remains hidden, but when it comes to the surface, the conventional world built by the author magically transforms and comes to life for a moment or two. Thus, three beauties of bygone times come to life, emerging from a newspaper photograph, and, as if drawn by Alyosha’s gaze, smiling, they walk towards him along the rustling autumn alley... With a piercing, unchildish sadness, the boy suddenly realizes that the pale newspaper print is the only material trace left of the lovely, once full of life women, and with a desperate effort of will tries to hold on to their melting shadows. This fleeting episode contains the key to the secret of the “French Testament”. Before our eyes, the hero (author) discovers in himself an amazing ability - with the power of imagination, to bring back to life a moment that has sunk into oblivion, to rob death of its prey, in other words, he discovers a poetic gift. At its core is that eternal human sadness before the host of those who are leaving, that impossibility of coming to terms with the tracelessness of disappearance and rebellion against non-existence, which lie in the background of all creativity. But Makin’s artistic range is obviously limited.

He knows how to convey convincing authenticity to the fantasies and ghosts that inhabit his inner world, to live with the feelings of non-existent people, but casts only absent-minded glances at real life, does not notice those close to him and his loved ones, and masks his lack of observation with cliches when it comes to depicting reality. Only Charlotte, seen through the eyes of love, is an exception to the rule - precisely because she gave Alyosha a universe that exists only in her imagination. But... Years later, when, homeless, sick and absolutely alone, he is dying in Paris, Charlotte Atlantis will save him.

Walking aimlessly through the streets, Alyosha accidentally discovers her trace - a memorial plaque with the inscription: "Flood. January 1910." These words that appeared “as if by magic,” confirming the reality of the dream world, return the hero to life, and with it, to memories. Bright fragments of what he saw and experienced emerge before him, clinging to each other - “eternal moments”, whose “mysterious consonance” Atlantis revealed to him in childhood. Now, when she suddenly calls out to him, he finally realizes his calling and makes one of those heroic decisions that few people carry out: “I will have no other life except these moments, reborn on a piece of paper.” The rest is known (see beginning).

True literature, Makin argues, is “magic that, in one word, one stanza, one verse, transports us to a moment of eternal beauty.” And if it is true that the writer must be judged according to the laws that he has recognized over himself, then The French Testament should still be classified as real literature. It is also true that Makin tailored the law to his own standards - he has a short poetic breath. In any case, several dozen truly beautiful moments are lost among three hundred pages, during which the half-conventional hero rushes between dreamed-up France and fake Russia.