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■■■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■■■■■
■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ Utopia
as a World Model The Boundaries and
Borderlands of a Literary Phenomenon
1st Edition Maxim Shadurski
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OPUSCULA SLAVICA SEDLCENSIA
Tom XII
i
Redakcja serii
ii
Uniwersytet Przyrodniczo-Humanistyczny
w Siedlcach
Instytut Neofilologii i Badań Interdyscyplinarnych
Tom XII
Maxim Shadurski
Wydawnictwo IKR[i]BL
Siedlce 2016
iii
Recenzenci:
Korekta autorska
ISBN 978-83-64884-57-3
iv
Моим родителям – Ивану и Анастасии,
моим родным – Сергею, Наталье, Кристине и Никите –
и моим самым близким друзьям –
Алексею, Наталии, Марку, Майклу,
Виталию, Наталии и Маргарите –
я посвящаю эту книгу
v
vi
СОДЕРЖАНИЕ
Заключение……………………………………………………….…………….124
Библиография………………………………………………………………….127
Именной указатель………………………………….……………………….143
Streszczenie…………………………………………………………..…………..146
vii
CONTENTS
Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………124
Bibliography………………………………………………………………………127
Index…………………………………………………………….………………….143
Streszczenie……………………………………………………………………….146
viii
PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Our ability to glance beyond the limits of the present moment and
dream of alternative possibilities has been increasingly foreclosed
by the imaginaries of either short-term fixes or global catastrophe.
This growing failure to imagine things otherwise relates directly to
the image of the world in which we live. That image is fragmented
and never holistic, even though we continue hearing about the
global economy and the interdependencies within it. We also know
of the notorious one percent who own nearly all of the planet’s
natural and financial resources, we are aware of the neoliberal
leanings of most of our governments co-opted to the service of said
one percent, we have been sensitized to the disgraceful doings of
world politicians thanks to WikiLeaks, and yet. Have we run up
against the limits of our power, when our imagination also
abdicates?
Even though these lines were written before the Arab Spring and
the emergence of the Occupy movement – events that showed mo-
mentary reversals of apathy, as well as providing new opportuni-
ties for the utopian imagination, they largely describe our present-
day condition. The 2016 referendum on Brexit hardly sought to
mobilize fundamental reforms concerning the distribution of
wealth and regulation of labour in the EU. Rather, that referendum
has marked the UK’s retreat into the illusion of a prosperous exist-
ence unhampered by common responsibilities. Without affecting
pervasive economic inequities, the British political elites have
pledged to steer the country out of the immigration crisis allegedly
caused by the UK’s membership of the EU, which has been putting
an enormous strain on the social welfare system. The outcome has
been an extortionate rise in hate crimes towards people of non-
British origin residing in the UK. The recent electoral gains of
right-wing parties across Europe equally point up a growing ten-
dency towards self-entrenchment mostly at the level of public rhe-
toric and fear mongering, less so – at the level of substantial re-
forms. Such examples confirm the lack of alternative action among
most politicians who stand at the service of the economic status
quo; the fact that this lack begins to weigh heavily on our imagina-
tion is even more disturbing.
Whereas Jacoby seeks to tap into wider political contexts
that have diminished the utopian impulse, John Gray reverses that
logic, blaming utopia for all the major upheavals that have taken
place over the past two centuries. In Black Mass: Apocalyptic Reli-
2Russell Jacoby, The End of Utopia: Politics and Culture in an Age of Apathy
(New York: Basic Books, 1999), xi-xii.
x
PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
3 John Gray, Black Mass: Apocalyptic Religion and the Death of Utopia (London:
Allen Lane, 2007), 2.
4 Ibid., 3.
5 Ibid., 209.
xi
PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
and Eurocentric History (New York: The Guilford Press, 1993), 18, 25.
xiii
PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
13 Michael D. Gordin, Helen Tilley and Gyan Prakash, ‘Utopia and Dystopia
beyond Space and Time’, in Utopia/Dystopia: Conditions of Historical Possibi-
lity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2010), 4.
xv
PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
850.
16 Samuel Butler, Erewhon. Erewhon Revisited (London: Dent & Sons, 1942), 25.
17 John Robert Seeley, The Expansion of England: Two Courses of Lectures
This book would not have seen the light of day without the
efforts of Roman Mnich and Andrzej Borkowski, the Directors of
the Institute of Modern Languages and Interdisciplinary Research
at Siedlce University. An earlier version of this book was submitted
as a kandidatskaia dissertatsiia at the Belarusian State University;
I am therefore grateful to the Department of World Literature and
my supervisor Viktor Khalipov for making the completion of that
work possible under what happened to be varied circumstances. I
would like to thank my official reviewers, this time kind and identi-
fiable: Tatsiana Autukhovich for her scrupulous attention to detail,
critical insight and valuable advice, and Natalia Kovtun for agree-
ing to take up review at the eleventh hour and offering constructive
feedback. I owe much gratitude to my teachers, whose (institu-
tionalized and informal) lessons have been formative and very im-
portant: Tamara Platsitsyna, Alexander Garbalev, Elena Koroste-
leva-Polglase, Randall Stevenson, Anna Vaninskaya, Jonathan
Wild, Alex Thomson, Tom Moylan and Simon J. James. Some of
my students have played a key role in shaping the ideas contained
in this book; I am particularly thankful to Varun Swarup and Will
Robinson from the University of Edinburgh, as well as Michał
Goławski and Piotr Kolasiuk from Siedlce University. My special
thanks go to my long-term friends and colleagues for their gene-
rous support and stimulating conversations: Brian Mooney, Mark
Anderson, Simon Buss, Thomas Meese, Elodie Mignard, Katya
Ivanova, Nina Engelhardt, Simon Grimble, Katarzyna Karpowicz,
Maria Gul (Lebedeva), Dzmitry Valadzko, Volha Kolas, Fons Van
Lier, Natia Nadiradze, Effendi Maidin, Natallia Liauchuk, Olga
Washburn, Hanna Valkova, Hanna Markieton, Žydronė Kolevin-
skienė, Oksana Blashkiv, Vitaliy Baran, Joanna Siepietowska, and
Natalia Sanżarewska-Chmiel. My biggest debts are recorded in the
dedication.
Maxim Shadurski
Siedlce
October – November 2016
xx
КРАТКИЙ ЭКСКУРС В ИСТОРИЮ УТОПИОЛОГИИ
ВВЕДЕНИЕ.
КРАТКИЙ ЭКСКУРС В ИСТОРИЮ УТОПИОЛОГИИ
2
КРАТКИЙ ЭКСКУРС В ИСТОРИЮ УТОПИОЛОГИИ
1 Более подробно см. Maxim Shadurski, Demand the Impossible: Science Fiction
and the Utopian Imagination, by Tom Moylan, The Wellsian: The Journal of the
H. G. Wells Society 38 (2015): 121-4.
3
ВВЕДЕНИЕ
2Более подробно см. Карл Поппер, Открытое общество и его враги, в 2 т.,
пер. с англ. В. Н. Садовского (Москва: Феникс; Культурная инициатива,
1992).
4
КРАТКИЙ ЭКСКУРС В ИСТОРИЮ УТОПИОЛОГИИ
8
КРАТКИЙ ЭКСКУРС В ИСТОРИЮ УТОПИОЛОГИИ
14 Ibid., 213.
9
ВВЕДЕНИЕ
15 Tom Moylan, Demand the Impossible: Science Fiction and the Utopian
Imagination, ed. Raffaella Baccolini (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2014), xiii.
16 Ibid., 26.
10
КРАТКИЙ ЭКСКУРС В ИСТОРИЮ УТОПИОЛОГИИ
17 Ruth Levitas, The Concept of Utopia (London: Philip Allan, 1990), 181.
11
ВВЕДЕНИЕ
15
ВВЕДЕНИЕ
ГЛАВА 1.
ГЕНЕЗИС УТОПИИ КАК ЖАНРА И МОДЕЛИ МИРА
2005), 67.
9 Т. В. Топорова, Семантическая структура древнегерманской модели
1969), 158.
22
ГЕНЕЗИС УТОПИИ КАК ЖАНРА И МОДЕЛИ МИРА
512, 703.
18 Mircea Eliade, ‘Paradise and Utopia: Mythical Geography and Eschatology’, in
Frank E. Manuel, ed., Utopias and Utopian Thought (London: Souvenir Press,
1973), 261.
24
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beating the air with their heads. We had instinctively drawn back
before the grim and loathsome guardians of the secrets of Kamt, but
obviously hesitation was death. Already the reptiles were creeping
up the granite steps towards us; in the thin streak of light we could
see their forked tongues glistening like tiny darts of silver. Hugh had
quickly torn the burnous from off his shoulders; I had done likewise.
“Swiftly does it, Mark,” he said.
“I’ll tackle the left one, Girlie, you the right,” I replied, “and let us
hope to God there are no more of them below.”
As Hugh had said, it was a case of “Swiftly does it!” Our
burnouses were large and heavy, fortunately, and violently we threw
them right over the venomous reptiles and smothered their hisses in
the ample folds of the draperies: then, without looking behind us, we
fled down the steps.
Soon the staircase began to widen, and from below a strange blue
light reached upwards. We could distinguish the walls on either side
of us, of black, polished granite, like the steps, on which our feet
slipped as we flew. We were evidently nearing the bottom, for we
could see a wide archway before us, which seemed to frame in a
flood of weird, blue light, and presently we found ourselves on a
circular landing, supported all round by enormous, massive columns
of the same black granite, smooth and funereal-looking, without a
trace of carving or ornamentation of any kind.
Each side of the stairway we could dimly distinguish the
monstrous feet and legs of some huge figures, the bodies of which
were lost above us in the gloom. In the centre stood a massive tripod
of bronze, supporting a bowl of the same dark metal from which
issued a blue flame, that flickered weird and ghostlike over the
polished stone, leaving dark, impenetrable shadows behind the
pillars, and making the air oppressive with the penetrating fumes of
incense and burning herbs.
At the farther end of this hall a curtain made of some dull black
stuff hung in heavy folds, and beyond it we could faintly hear the
murmur of a distant chant, accompanied by some stringed
instruments and drums.
“There is nothing for it, Mark, but to go straight on,” said Hugh;
“the burning incense and the pillars suggest to me the rear of some
temple through which probably the condemned criminals have to
pass on their last journey. We must trust to our good luck that we are
not discovered in the very place where we have the least right to be.”
We crossed the great black hall, and Hugh pushed aside the
curtain!…
It seemed like the sudden bursting of golden dawn after a dark
night. Behind and all round us, black granite, dull bronze, dense
shadows, the atmosphere of a threshold to the grave; before us, a
glittering radiance of gorgeous colours, a vista of marble columns
and golden pillars, a vision of splendours in enamels and gems such
as we, in our sober, Western civilisation, have never even dreamed
of.
Immediately in front of us, occupying the centre of an inner
sanctuary, there towered upon a pedestal of burnished copper and
gold a mammoth figure carved in rose-coloured spotless marble. As
we were behind the figure we could only see high above us, half lost
in a hovering cloud of incense, the gigantic head crowned with a
tiara which literally blazed with gems. A flight of steps covered with
sheets of polished copper led up to the statue of the god, and on
each step an immense bronze candelabrum stood, supporting great
bowls, from which a flickering blue flame emerged, throwing fantastic
and ghostly lights on the dull red of the copper, the purity of the
marble, the jewels on the head of the god.
The roof above us was lost in the clouds of incense and burning
herbs, but from it somewhere high above our heads there hung on
metal chains innumerable lamps of exquisite design and
workmanship. A solemn peace reigned in the majestic vastness of
the temple, only from somewhere, not very far, a sweet, monotonous
chant reached our ears, sung by many young, high-pitched voices,
and accompanied by occasional touches on stringed instruments
and beating of muffled drums.
Cautiously we advanced round the pedestal of the god and looked
straight before us. The inner sanctuary was divided from the main
body of the temple by a gossamer veil of silver tissue, which looked
almost like a tall cloud of incense, rising up to the invisible roof and
floating backwards and forwards with a gentle, sighing sound when it
was fanned by a sudden current of air. Through it we could only
vaguely see row upon row of massive marble pillars of the same
rose-hued marble, stretching out before us in seemingly interminable
lengths, and here and there great tripods of bronze, with bowls filled
with many-coloured lights, which flickered on the granite floor and on
the columns, bringing at times into bold relief bits of delicate tracery
or quaint designs in bright-coloured enamels. The picture, low in
tone, delicately harmonious, in a blending of blue and green and
purple, was a perfect feast to the eye.
Hugh had left the protection of the great pedestal and had just
stepped forward with a view to exploring further the beautiful building
into which Fate had so kindly led us, when the chant we had heard
all along suddenly sounded dangerously near, and hastily we both
retreated up the copper flight of stairs, and each found shelter
immediately behind the huge marble tibias of the presiding god.
In spite of danger and risks of discovery, I could not resist the
temptation of craning my neck to try and catch sight at last of the
inhabitants of this strange and mystic land, and I could see that
Hugh’s dark head also emerged out of his safe hiding-place.
Beyond the filmy, gossamer veil something seemed to have
detached itself from the gloom and the massive pillars and was
slowly coming towards us. I almost held my breath, wondering what
my first impression would be of the great people we had come so far
to find.
They advanced in single file, and gradually the outline of the most
forward became clearer and more distinct. They were young girls
draped in clinging folds of something soft and low-toned in colour;
they walked very slowly towards the inner sanctuary—straight
towards us, as I thought. Some held quaint, crescent-shaped harps,
from which their fingers drew low, monotonous chords. Others beat
the sistrum or a small drum, and all were chanting with sweet, young
voices the same invocation or prayer, which had been the first sound
of life that had greeted us from beyond the gates of Kamt. There
were a hundred or more of these fair daughters of the mysterious
land, and fascinated, I gazed upon them and listened to their song,
heedless of the danger we were running should we be discovered.
They looked to me as if they had been carved out of an old piece of
ivory; their skins looked matt and smooth, and their eyes—
abnormally large and dark—stared straight before them as they
approached.
The foremost one I thought must be looking absolutely at me, and
I, as if enthralled, did not attempt to move; and then I saw that those
eyes, so brilliant and so dark, stared unseeing, sightless before
them.
The first songstress had passed and turned, still leaving the
gossamer veil between us; the second followed, and then another
and another. They all filed past us, walking slowly and beating their
instruments, and grouped themselves on the steps of the sanctuary,
some crouching, others standing, and each as she turned and
passed stared straight before her towards the god, with the same
lifeless, sightless gaze.
I shuddered and looked towards Hugh. He too had noticed the
vacant look of the young girls; he too stared at them, pale and
appalled, and I guessed that he too wondered whether Nature had
smitten all these young beings in the same remorseless way, or
whether the same hands that cast out their fellow-creatures from
their homes and doomed them to slow starvation in the wilderness
had taken this terrible precaution to further guard the mysteries of
the land of Kamt.
But we had no leisure to dwell for any length of time upon a single
train of thought. The picture, full of animation and gorgeousness,
changed incessantly before our eyes, like a glittering pageant and
ever-moving, brilliant kaleidoscope. Now it was a group of men in
flowing yellow robes, tall and gaunt, with sharp features, and heads
shorn of every hair, till their crowns looked like a number of ivory
balls; now a procession of grotesque masks representing heads of
beasts—crocodiles, rams, or cows, with the full moon between their
horns; now a number of women with gigantic plaited wigs, which
gave their bodies a grotesque and distorted appearance; and now
stately figures carrying tall, golden wands headed with sundry
devices wrought in enamel and gems. And among them all there
towered one great, imposing, central figure, who, after he had stood
for awhile with arms stretched upwards facing the mammoth god,
now turned towards the multitude of priests and priestesses, and in a
loud voice pronounced over them an invocation or a blessing. He
was an old man, for his face was a mass of wrinkles, but his eyes,
dark and narrow, shone with a wonderful air of mastery and
domination. His crown was shaved, as was also his face, but on his
chin there was a short tuft of curly hair standing straight out—an
emblem of power in ancient Egypt. Over his white flowing robes he
wore a leopard’s skin, the head of which hung over his chest, with
eyes formed of a pair of solitary rubies.
Fortunately the gossamer veil still hung between us and the group
of priests. The sanctuary itself was more dimly lighted than the main
body of the temple; we therefore had not yet been discovered, and if
no one pushed aside the protecting curtain we were evidently safe
for the moment.
Suddenly a terrific fanfare of silver trumpets and beating of metal
gongs, accompanied by prolonged shouting from thousands of
throats, prepared us for another tableau in the picturesque series.
CHAPTER VII.
THE TEMPLE OF RA
CHAPTER VIII.
THE IDOL OF THE PEOPLE