Comparisons were made early on between Zoshchenko and Gogol. Zoshchenko had studied not only the works but also the biography of Gogol, in which he found much in common with his own life as a writer: the same lack of understanding from critics and readers who wanted only “a good laugh” ; the same difficulties with the censors; the same desire to “improve the morals” of society through satire. Both writers ended their lives in madness. But there was little in common between them in their daily lives, because conditions had changed so much. Zoshchenko could not, like Gogol, escape to Italy from the Russia which had become unbearable to him. Left face to face with his hero, the modern “little man,” who unexpectedly for the intellectuals had taken charge, Zoshchenko regarded him all the more closely, and that gradually led to a tragic closing of the gap between the writer and his prose characters. As Kaverin stated about Zoshchenko, “He was particularly interested in insignificant, unnoticeable people, with a broken spirit…. And in life he tended to socialize with people who were mediocre, dullish, and ordinary.”74
It is interesting to follow this process in Zoshchenko’s letters, which with time came to resemble fragments from his stylized works. And the same thing happened to him in his contact with others: Zoshchenko began speaking in the abbreviated, clumsy language of his protagonists. The author himself confirmed that he had consciously stylized not only his literary manner but his behavior as well. “I was born into a family of the intelligentsia. I was not essentially a new man or a new writer. And my innovation in literature was totally my invention…. the language that I took and that, at first, seemed funny and intentionally distorted to the critics was, in fact, extremely simple and natural.”
This acceptance of the moronic language of the masses as “simple and natural” was an important step for Zoshchenko, and not only for him. Many Petersburg intellectuals, young Shostakovich among them, began to stylize their everyday speech to match that misapplied bureaucratese that came to be known as “Zoshchenkoese.” Psychologically it eased the burdens of daily life in an often hostile environment that was, unfortunately, dominant. At the same time pretending to buy into the new ideology sent an almost subversive message in a superficially acceptable political packaging.
This duality becomes particularly clear in the attitude of Zoshchenko and his followers to the Petersburg mythos. On the one hand, their work and behavior could be regarded as a last ditch attack on that mythos, as it had developed in the prerevolutionary era, that should have satisfied the new regime. On the other hand, the attack was launched in such an open and absurd manner that it cast doubt on the sincerity of the “new nihilists” and discredited the revolutionary idea behind them. In fact, the mythos mocked in such an eccentric way became only stronger.
The literary and life mask created by Zoshchenko was the result of virtuoso craftsmanship and careful stylistic polish. Shostakovich appreciated that. Throughout his life he considered Zoshchenko a great writer, could recite pages of his work by heart, and sought opportunities to work with him. After Zoshchenko’s death, he made a pilgrimage to his grave near Leningrad. Zoshchenko used to say that Shostakovich’s understanding of his writing was “very correct, even faultlessly so. His opinion was always dearer to me than the opinion of a professional critic.”
Zoshchenko’s characterization of Shostakovich is very perceptive. “Hard, caustic, extremely smart, probably strong, despotic, and not quite kind…. He is made up of enormous contradictions. One cancels out the other in him. This is conflict in the highest degree. It is almost a catastrophe.”75
In adopting Zoshchenko’s style as a tool for everyday communication, Shostakovich (and some of his friends) were making a gesture of accommodation but not capitulation to the regime. Zoshchenko could announce, “I am temporarily representing the proletarian writer.” But the very awkwardness and naïveté of that statement was, of course, parodic. There was a game on, in which the border between political engagement and mocking that engagement became blurred. Life under the Communists was accompanied by constant, ironic self-commentary. This simultaneously made life easier and also made it unbearable. Very few people could take that tension, and Zoshchenko broke completely toward the end. Shostakovich had greater endurance.
