Challenging Russia’s materialist worldview

Eugene Vodolazkin’s Laurus was a finalist for WORLD’s 2015-2016 Book of the Year for fiction. It is a long, sprawling novel, translated from the Russian by Lisa Hayden. Russians have given Laurus literary honors because, among other things, it challenges the materialist worldview of Stalin and Putin.

The big novel’s main character, Arseny—born in 1440 in rural Russia, orphaned at a young age by the plague, and raised by his folk-healer grandfather—radiates otherworldliness. He bears the weight of two dead souls and is on a lifelong pilgrimage of redemption that brings him to a variety of Russian locales and eventually—suffering and meditating—all the way to Jerusalem and back.

The author and his translator burrow into a worldview so intrinsically and pervasively seeped into the Russian soul that decades of Soviet propaganda and miseducation could not erase it. Vodolazkin and Hayden meld past, present, and future, deliberately folding in antiquated language, anachronisms, contemporary jargon (plus some vulgarities and obscenities), and several sexual references.

That jumble leaves Laurus not for everyone, but its emphasis on self-sacrifice makes it stand out amid the worship of self-realization that dominates much of today’s fiction. Set largely in medieval times, Laurus doesn’t portray humans as animals or machines. Back then the distinction between Christianity and superstition was often unclear, but people knew that humans have souls that never die.

Here, with permission of its publisher, Oneworld Publications, is an excerpt. —Marvin Olasky

In a year of great hunger, the young woman Anastasia came to Laurus after losing her virginity. She prostrated herself before Laurus, weeping, and said:

I feel that I am carrying a baby in my womb but I cannot bear the baby without a husband. For when the child is born, it will be called the fruit of my sin.

What do you want, woman? Laurus asked.

You know yourself, O Laurus, what I want, but I am afraid to say it to you.

I do know, woman. Just as you know how I will answer you. So do tell me, why did you come to me?

Because if I go to the wise woman in Rukina Quarter, everyone will find out about my sin. But you can simply pray and then the fruit of my sin will leave me the same way it entered.

Laurus’s gaze rose along the tops of the pine trees and got lost in the leaden skies. Snowflakes froze on his eyelashes. The first snow had covered the glade.

I cannot pray for that. Prayer should carry the force of conviction, otherwise it is not effective. And you are asking me to pray for murder.

Anastasia slowly rose from her knees. She sat on a fallen tree and held up her cheeks with her fists.

I am an orphan and now is a time of hunger and I cannot feed the child enough. How can you not understand?

Keep the child and everything will turn out fine. Simply believe me, I know this.

You are killing both me and the baby.

Laurus sat on the tree alongside Anastasia. He stroked her head.

I beseech you.

Anastasia turned away. Laurus sank to his knees and pressed his head against Anastasia’s feet.

I will pray for you and the baby every hour. May he become a child born in my old age.

Are you refusing me because you are afraid of destroying your soul? asked Anastasia.

I am afraid I have already destroyed it, Laurus said quietly.

Anastasia looked back at Laurus as she left, and he was weeping. And she felt pity for him.

* * *

In the spring it became clear that the hunger would not end in this newly arrived year, either. A very hard frost struck at the end of May, when grasses and grains had come out from under the soil and fruit trees had just finished blooming. It came amid warm days and raged for only one night. Everything that was capable of sprouting and blooming died that night.

All sorts of misfortunes occurred in Rukina Quarter, but nobody could remember a frost like that in May. The quarter’s miller likened it to the Devil’s breath, which ices up everything it touches. That comparison opened many people’s eyes to the true nature of events and provided direction for the drawing of inferences. It was clear that things like this did not happen by chance.

The search for causes was brief. Despite her baggy medieval clothing, by spring it was no secret to anyone that the orphan Anastasia was with child. When the trouble occurred, they asked her who the father of her child was but she refused to answer. And they asked no more because the answer was already obvious to everyone in Rukina Quarter. The father of the child was the one whose icy breath had destroyed all the grasses and grains and the fruits of every tree. And there was only one way out and nobody uttered what that way out was, for everyone already knew what had to be done.

One bright June night, Anastasia’s decrepit cottage burnt on all four sides. Nobody extinguished the fire, though nobody from Rukina Quarter was sleeping. Many wept and prayed because they felt sorry for Anastasia despite her relations with the forces of evil. To many people, it seemed that if this girl living without parents had become easy prey for the Devil, then fault lay not just with her but also with the circumstances. And all that bound these people together in their characteristic kindliness was their concern for saving Rukina Quarter from hunger. They surrounded Anastasia’s cottage so she could not escape and covered their ears with their palms so as not to hear her dying screams. They did not hear them through the noise of the flames anyway.

When the cottage had burned down, the bravest ventured to rum-mage in the ashes, to pierce what was left of Anastasia with an aspen pole. After finding no traces whatsoever of the burned girl, the quarter’s residents were even more certain of her guilt since at least something should be left of a nonguilty person. And they were all convinced Anastasia had disappeared, like as the smoke vanisheth, and died, as wax melteth before the fire, from those who love God, and those who mark themselves with the sign of the cross.

But Anastasia had not disappeared. She understood where this was all going, so had secretly fled Rukina Quarter the night of the fire. Nausea and dizziness complicated her flight but the main thing was her heavy belly, where her child tossed and turned. The main complication, however, consisted of having nowhere to flee. The only person she had on earth was the elder Laurus, who had predicted a happy outcome of events. And his prediction (Anastasia smeared the tears on her cheeks as she walked) seemed not to be coming true.

With branches snapping back and scratching at her face and hands, Anastasia cursed the elder for his refusal to help her and nearly called him the perpetrator of her troubles. When she neared Laurus’s cave shortly after midnight, wrath had left her heart and strength had left her body. She no longer had either reproach or even tears. Breathing heavily, Anastasia sank to the ground and called Laurus. She vomited.

Laurus came out of the cave with a saucer of water in his hands. He cleansed Anastasia’s face and hands.

They tried to burn me, whispered Anastasia. They think what is in my womb is of the Devil.

Laurus silently looked at Anastasia. His eyes were filled with tears.

Why are you silent? Anastasia shouted.

Laurus placed a hand on her forehead and Anastasia felt its coolness.

* * *

Laurus divides his cave in half. He and Anastasia collect branches and construct an inner wall in the cave by tying the branches together using cords made of vines. They cut an entrance in the outer wall for Anastasia to use. Against the entrance they lean a door made of branches, with ferns woven in. They try to make the second entrance to the cave unnoticeable.

On sunny days, Anastasia goes for walks behind the cave and Laurus stands on the path that people take from Rukina Quarter to come see him. He receives patients in the glade in front of the cave and signals to Anastasia when they have gone.

It is better for them not to see her, Laurus tells Ustina. You never know what is on those people’s minds: there is still so much ignorance in their heads, my love.

Talk with me, Anastasia asks of Laurus. I cannot take it when people are quiet all the time.

Fine, I will talk with you, Laurus responds.

Patients are again bringing Laurus food but far less now than before because there is hunger in the surrounding villages. Moreover, they are used to Laurus refusing compensation. But now Laurus is not refusing. He treats patients and gratefully accepts what they bring. Patients are surprised. They say that in the previous years of plenty, Laurus did not take anything from them but now, in a time of hunger, he takes anything and everything, including meat. Patients sadly note that hardship does not even change ascetics for the better. They are slightly annoyed but do not let it show. Laurus returns their health and life, and food is useless without those.

Laurus does not explain anything to them. He knows Anastasia needs to eat well and he takes care that she does.

I have never eaten so well, says Anastasia.

It is not only you eating now, but your little boy, too, Laurus answers.

How do you know it is a boy?

Laurus takes a long look at Anastasia.

That is how it seems to me.

One day, Laurus says to Ustina:

Perhaps, my love, I will teach her reading and writing as I once—remember?—taught you. Maybe later she will happen to read what they would never teach her in Rukina Quarter.

Laurus begins teaching Anastasia to read and write. Surprisingly enough, reading and writing comes easily for Anastasia. Laurus has no books but he has birch bark, on which he writes what Anastasia reads. Most often, though, he writes on the ground with a stick. To write something new, he brushes away the old. Sometimes he does not.

The people who come to Laurus see these writings but do not guess who they were made for. They simply try not to step on them. They do not know what, exactly, is written on the ground but they are aware that Slavonic letters are sacred, for they are able to represent sacred notions. They have not seen non-Slavonic letters. They move around the inscriptions on tiptoe and make exaggeratedly large strides. This was inquired of Aristides the righteous: how many yeares is it good for a man to live? And Aristides answerd: untill he does understonde death is better than lyfe. People leave without reading the conversations with Aristides. They bow to Laurus and wish him many more yeares.

God forbid, Laurus answers them soundlessly.

Before bed, Anastasia asks him to tell her a story. Laurus wants to tell about his journey to Jerusalem but cannot remember it. He thinks for a long time and recalls the Alexander Romance. Evening after evening, Laurus tells Anastasia of the Macedonian king’s wanderings, of the savage people he saw, and of his battle with the Persian king Darius. Anastasia regards the events of Alexander’s life sympathetically. They push aside the events of Anastasia’s own life; she can calmly fall asleep. And Alexander is lying on the iron earth under a sky of ivory. He is miserable. He does not understand the purpose of all his wanderings. Or the purpose of all the conquering. And he does not yet know that his empire will crumble in an instant.

Opening her eyes without waking up, Anastasia utters:

What a strange life Alexander had. What was the historical goal of his life?

Laurus looks steadily into Anastasia’s eyes and reads his own questions in them. Bending over the sleeping girl’s ear, Laurus whispers:

Life has no historical goal. Or that is not the main goal. I think Alexander only grasped that right before his death.

The clamor of voices awakens them early in the morning. Laurus goes outside the cave and sees men from Rukina Quarter. They have pitchforks and stakes in their hands. Laurus silently looks at them. They are silent for a time, too. Their faces are covered with large beads of sweat and their hair clings to their foreheads. They have hurried here. They are still breathing heavily.

The blacksmith Averky says:

You know, O elder, that there was hunger last year. And the reason for that was the wench Anastasia’s relations with the Devil.

Laurus is looking straight ahead but it is unclear if he sees anyone.

We burned Anastasia, continues blacksmith Averky, but the hunger has not lessened. What does that speak of, O elder?

Laurus shifts his eyes to the blacksmith.

It speaks of there being ignorance in your heads.

You, O elder, are incorrect. It speaks of our not having burned her.

We did not even find her bones, sighs the miller Tikhon.

Laurus takes a few steps in Tikhon’s direction.

Is your wife healthy, O Tikhon?

With God’s blessing, yes, answers the miller.

He notices traces of flour on the hem of his shirt and begins brushing them off.

People have seen Anastasia here, says blacksmith Averky. They have seen her go inside your cell… We know, O elder, that she is here.

The visitors are looking at blacksmith Averky and are not looking at Laurus.

I forbid you to go inside my cell, resounds Laurus’s voice.

Forgive me, O elder, but our families stand behind us, blacksmith Averky says quietly. And we will go inside your cell.

He walks slowly toward the cave and disappears inside. A shriek resounds from the cave. Blacksmith Averky comes outside a moment later. He is holding Anastasia by the hair: it is wound around his red fist like strands of flax. Anastasia shrieks and tries to bite Averky on the thigh. Averky smashes her face against his knee. Anastasia quietens and hangs on Averky’s arm. Her large belly sways. To those standing there, it seems as if that belly will separate from Anastasia any minute and out will come the one who should not be looked at.

The Devil has possessed her, shriek those standing there.

They liven themselves up a bit with those shrieks because they cannot resolve themselves to approach Anastasia. They are stunned by the courage of the blacksmith who is holding her.

The Devil possessed you, says Laurus, gasping, for it is you who are committing a mortal sin.

Excerpted from Laurus by Eugene Vodolazkin, translated by Lisa Hayden. Originally published in Russian, copyright © 2012 by Eugene Vodolazkin. English translation copyright © 2015 by Lisa Hayden. Published by Oneworld Publications.