Author: Daniil Kharms
Genre: fiction, short stories, drama, essays
Publication info: Serpent's Tail, 2006 (first published in 1993)
Pages: 240
I've fallen a little behind again. Three books, to be exact. I would like to blame it on school again, but if I did I would have to ask myself why I've been reading for fun anyway. The semester got pretty hectic toward the end, but still I found myself reading books just for fun. Perhaps it's not the wisest thing to do, but I guess I just can't help myself. And although I'm behind in my reviews for this blog, I intend to catch up with them. I've gotten to the point where I almost feel guilty if I finish a book but don't write about it here. I have my fan to please, after all!
So, Incidences. You've probably never heard of this book. I certainly hadn't until a good friend gave it to me for a wedding gift. He's a fan of Russian literature, and he told me this book blew his mind. Being somewhat of a fan of Russian literature myself (well, at least of Dostoevsky), I was interested. These short pieces by Daniil Kharms (whose real name was Daniil Ivanovich Iuvachov) were never published during his lifetime because such writing was illegal during the Soviet era. In fact, Kharms's writing got him thrown in jail. So you know it must be interesting. And since he uses the short-short story form, you know it must be weird.
And weird it is, much weirder even than I expected it to be. These are some of the most bizarre stories I have ever read. The first, and by far the longest, story of the book, "The Old Woman," tells of a young man struggling to find a way to dispose the body of an old woman that just came into his apartment and died. Most of the stories are much shorter, including the numbered sequence of thirty "incidents." "The Plummeting Old Women" is just what it sounds like—old women plummeting out of an open window one by one. And lest you think all the stories are about old women, consider "Pushkin and Gogol," a story in the form of a play that portrays Pushkin and Gogol repeatedly tripping over each other and expressing their astonishment about it. These are just a taste of the supreme strangeness of this book.
One theme that really stands out in this book is violence. Absurd violence. People suddenly get furious with each other and brutally beat each other up. An argument about whether 7 comes before 8 is interrupted by a boy falling off a bench and breaking both jaw-bones. I don't know what it all means, but Kharms certainly seemed to have a fascination with bizarre death and spontaneous violence. It got a little tiring after a while, to tell you the truth, but I kept reading because a part of me wanted to figure out what was going on in the author's head.
In the end, though, I had to give up on that. I have no idea what point the guy was trying to make, or if he was trying to make a point at all. Even the allegedly non-fictional essays toward the end of the book make Kharms seem like a caricature. I guess you can't fully appreciate what is going on here without some understanding of what life was like in Soviet Russia, of which I have very little.
Did I enjoy this book? Yes and no. Anyone that reads this blog knows that I have something of a penchant for weird literature. Sometimes I enjoy when a story is weird without any apparent reason. But I also wished I could appreciate the meaning better. And, as I mentioned earlier, I did get tired of the outrageous violence. Sometimes it was absurd enough to be funny, but sometimes it was just disgusting. And speaking of disgusting, there is a section of the book titled "Erotica" that I entirely skipped over.
I can't say that I would recommend this book to anyone, unless you also like really weird stuff, or you are really interested in Russia. That said, I'm thankful to my friend for giving me this book. I feel like, if anything, my eyes have been opened a little bit more.
