Andrey Bely's influence on modern Russian literature is twofold. As a Symbolist poet, a friend, rival and, in time, critic of Aleksandr Blok, he was active at the heart of Moscow's literary and intellectual circles; and as the author of Petersburg, the novel that led Nabokov to place him alongside Joyce, Proust and Kafka, Bely has been assured of literary immortality. Published in sections between 1913 and 14, and as a complete work in 1916, Petersburg is an urban epic. Though not on the scale of Ulysses and taking place over several days as opposed to one, it is nevertheless the first great city novel, as committed to the search for that city's identity as Ulysses would be with Dublin on its publication in 1922.
Just as the statue of the Bronze Horseman, depicting Peter the Great founder of modern Russia, haunts the novel, eventually emerging as its most perceptive character, Petersburg itself overshadows all of Bely's work, including The Silver Dove, his first novel, which was published in 1909. Bely - who was born Boris Nikolayevich Bugayev in Moscow in 1880 - began his career as a published writer in 1902 while still a student. He changed his name to spare his father, an internationally renowned mathematician, possible embarrassment through his connection with the as-yet-maverick Symbolists. Following the publication of four short prose pieces referred to by him as "Symphonies", The Silver Dove was published. It was intended as the first part of a trilogy to be entitled "East or West". Indeed when he first began work on what would become Petersburg, he referred to the manuscript as "the second part of The Silver Dove".
The trilogy was never completed. Bely set off on an extensive period of travel, returning home to try (in vain) to stimulate a Symbolist revival. He settled in Moscow and certainly retained his influence, though he was published only in minor journals. There were five subsequent novels; his last, Masks, appeared two years before his death. Bely died in 1934 at the relatively early age of 54, leaving volumes of memoirs and critical writings as well as his creative work.
Bely wrote two important novels which re-define Russian fiction. Between them they address questions which have long preoccupied Russians: the issue of national identity and, even more intriguingly, the dilemma of a Russia torn between its rural self and the cosmopolitan allure of Westernised culture and, with it, the issue of the secular versus the religious. Above all, The Silver Dove and Petersburg link the 19th-century novels of Gogol and Dostoyevsky with the increasingly surreal 20th-century fiction of Bulgakov, Platonov and Venedikt Yerofeev.
The Silver Dove, though more whimsical than Petersburg and lacking the precision of the later novel, is a curiously prophetic book. Set in a vividly described rural countryside of small villages and homesteads, it follows the misadventures of Daryalsky, a poet and something of a stock romantic hero. Weary of life as a city intellectual, he decides to join up with The Silver Doves, a mystic sect led by Kudeyarov, a carpenter who seems to have a great deal in common with Rasputin. Bely himself later made this connection as the evil priest exploited his influence upon the Imperial family.
The first English translation of The Silver Dove appeared in 1974. John Elsworth's new version brings the novel closer than ever to Bely's original intention. Implicit in the narrative's at times gossipy voice is an irony suggesting the knowing narrator is well aware of the madness afoot. "Daryalsky - surely you notice something about my hero's name? Look here, it's Daryalsky - you know the same Daryalsky who two summers running rented Fyodorov's cottage with his friend. Wounded by a maiden's heart, two summers running he sought the surest means of meeting the young lady he loved here . . ".
Despite the novel's darker purpose, its lightness of touch, its tone and mood shifts, lead the reader to suspect Bely is writing a comedy. But the comedy is intended to deflect. Bely's style is more traditional than it would be in Petersburg, the humour is often earthy, and there is an air of defiance. Physical descriptions are generously detailed and characters are introduced to us as if they were being led on to a stage. Katya is the hero's beloved. "Look at her: there she is imprinted, leaning against the piano, in a slightly short, blue dress, tight-fitting at the waist, leaning slightly forward, a little hunched - and she seems to be just a little girl. Her face is strained; blue rings are clearly visible under her eyes, her thoughts have flown away to him, her lord and master."
But beyond the gags, the melodrama and the parody, there is the sinister plotting of the sect leader. Kundeyarov's apparent indulgence of his woman's romance with the poet is quickly exposed for what it is. The entire novel offers a portrait of a society not so much on the verge of collapse as of facing total transformation. From 1905 until the revolution of 1917 Russian intellectuals were dispirited. Bely was no different and joined an anthroposophical community in Switzerland.
Though arranged in six long chapters, the narrative is far more episodic, consisting of short scenes with several hilarious set pieces. The dialogue is offbeat, with the characters often discussing their favourite obsession, the business of being Russian and what exactly this means. In ways, The Silver Dove as a rural intrigue is the opposite of Petersburg. But Bely's achievement is greater than that. The Silver Dove if not quite the masterpiece Petersburg is, is considerable. Fresh, black, original and profound, it balances its echoes of Gogol with Bely's vision of a future built on fear and change. This 91-year-old Russian novel, well served by Elsworth's sure-footed translation, remains lively, modern and odd. It also gives most recent novels more than a run for their money.
Eileen Battersby is the Literary Correspondent of The Irish Times
