For generations, gay men and lesbians as well as other sexual minorities in Russia and the Soviet Union have received little scholarly attention. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, and especially since the 1993 repeal of Article 121, the law against sodomy in the USSR, both scholarly and popular attention have increased. The two books reviewed here will permit even a non Russophile to acquire an understanding of the environment of our Russian counterparts.
David Tuller, a journalist based in San Francisco, in Cracks in the Iron Closet, combined his Russian heritage with his gay identity. I recommend this to non-specialists, who with Tuller's smooth writing will see not only Russian gay and lesbian life, but a mirror reflecting one American's gay identity as well.
Like most works in the travel genre, this one follows the author's coming to terms with Russia and how this reflects his American experiences. Interestingly, many women people this narrative. Tuller's "dacha life" (a dacha is similar to a summer cottage), which played a central role in the narrative, consisted of Ksyusha, Lena and Sveta, all women, and Vitya, who considered himself a lesbian in a man's body. As the book progresses, this work delves deeply into Ksyusha and Tuller's relationship. Tuller eventually overcame the rigidity of his own gay identity and tested the waters of romance with her, but by the end of the book, Kevin Gardner, Tuller's American roommate in Moscow, says it best: "Hey, Dave, have you two gotten this over with and slept with each other yet?"
While Tuller hoped the work would be used by sociologists, his reliance on "national characteristics" will make it problematic for scholars. Tuller should be commended, however, for his bibliography, which includes (in English only) both general works and specific works, such as those of Simon Karlinsky, the intellectual father of the study of gay and lesbian Russia in the United States.
Professor Karlinsky played a large role in Out of the Blue, in which he not only wrote a concise and thorough review of Russian gay literature, but also translated many pieces. The title refers to the word "goluboi", blue, which is used in Russian as slang for "gay man." Unlike Tuller's work, this work consists solely of work about men who have sex with men, although some of the characters, like "Misha the Beautiful", do not consider themselves gay at all. Some of the works included in the anthology were written by "gay friendly" authors like Pushkin and are presented to illustrate attitudes toward gay men in nineteenth-century Russia. In addition to prose, poetry and a play, there are a few pieces of literary criticism as well as illustrations and photographs.
This anthology beautifully brings its readers directly into the world inhabited by the authors. Some of the people mentioned in Tuller's work can be found in Out of the Blue, speaking for themselves. Also included are emigres, one of whom moved through China before coming to rest in Brazil. The insight here is diffierent, for most of these works were written for a reader within the Russian cultural sphere. Diaries offer particularly poignant witness to the lives these men led.
One of these diaries is among the most lyrical of the prose pieces: "Selections from [Ryurik] Ivnev's Diaries." His description of a couple meeting as a "patch of human happiness" and a longer description of a man getting picked up at two am on a (then) Leningrad street corner will be recognizable to urban Americans and powerful in its familiarity despite the difference in time -- the piece was written in 1931 -- and place. The quiet beauty of this selection should be experienced by anyone who appreciates writing which conveys powerful emotions without abundant trappings, and for its insight it will hopefully be added to Russian literature courses everywhere.
For those who desire access to the Russian gay press, but don't know Russian, Kevin Moss has adeptly translated "Letters to the Editor" of two gay periodicals, Tema and 1/10, capturing their hopes, pride and anxieties, including tales of discovering one's sexual side. Even those looking for delightfully written soft-core porn will find it in the later works, like "The Bench."
However, this is not a text with which the poorly read will have an easy time. While some of the works are heavily footnoted, others are not explained at all. One footnote, very catily gives "Notes for the clueless" (p. 341): explaining "ghazel" (normally spelled "ghazal") and "fakir", noted as a "wonder worker." Given the incorrect English spelling and the incorrect definition -- a fakir means "poor" in Arabic, and has many meanings in Islamicate languages, including "commoner", "poor man", or "mystic" -- I find it incomprehensible that the note's author -- the author? the editor? the translators? Okay, I'm clueless! -- would be so disdainful. The note's author, instead of giving spurious "Arabic" translations, could have explained just the Russian, where the spelling "gazel'" is correct and "fakir" is a synonym for "dervish," commonly misunderstood as "miracle worker."
In the end, whether you are interested in being an armchair traveler or entering into Russian gay male intellectual life, you can indulge your curiosity in these two works. Both are well worth the investment of time and money, providing dividends in cultural understanding of our old Cold War enemy.
Reviewed by Vika Gardner.