Mikhail Zoshchenko (Russian: 袦懈褏邪懈谢 袟芯褖械薪泻芯) was born in Poltava, Ukraine, on 29th July, 1895. He studied law at the University of Petersburg, but did not graduate. During the First World War Zoshchenko served in the Russian Army. A supporter of the October Revolution, Zoshchenko joined the Red Army and fought against the Whites in the Civil War. In 1922 Zoshchenko joined the literary group, the Serapion Brothers. Inspired by the work of Yevgeni Zamyatin, the group took their name from the story by Ernst T. Hoffmann, the Serapion Brothers, about an individualist who vows to devote himself to a free, imaginative and non-conformist art. Other members included Nickolai Tikhonov, Mikhail Slonimski, Victor Shklovsky, Vsevolod Ivanov and Konstantin Fedin. Russia's most important writer of the period, Maxim Gorky, also sympathized with the group's views. Zoshchenko's early stories dealt with his experiences in the First World War and the Russian Civil War. He gradually developed a new style that relied heavily on humour. This was reflected in his stories that appeared in Tales (1923), Esteemed Citizens (1926), What the Nightingale Sang (1927) and Nervous People (1927). Zoshchenko satires were popular with the Russian people and he was one of the country's most widely read writers in the 1920s. Although Zoshchenko never directly attacked the Soviet system, he was not afraid to highlight the problems of bureaucracy, corruption, poor housing and food shortages. In the 1930s Zoshchenko came under increasing pressure to conform to the idea of socialist realism. As a satirist, Zoshchenko found this difficult, and attempts such as the Story of one Life were not successful. Zoshchenko increasing got into trouble with the Soviet authorities. His autobiographical, Before Sunrise, was banned in 1943 and three years later his literary career was brought to an end when he was expelled from the Soviet Writers' Union after the publication of The Adventures of a Monkey in the literary magazine, Zvezda. Mikhail Zoshchenko died in Leningrad on 22nd July, 1958.
Scenes From the Bathhouse - Over three dozen short-short stories and one novella collected here, all flowing from the pen of Mikhail Zoshchenko, one of the great 20th century satirists, the most widely read writer in Russia during his lifetime but a writer expelled from the Union of Soviet Writers and eventually banned from the Russian press. Also included in the volume is an excellent introductory essay by Sidney Monas providing biographical information and cultural and literary context for the author鈥檚 writing.
These tales of everyday life in Soviet Russia are very, very funny. Sure, as Sidney Monas is quick to point out, the more Zoshchenko one reads, the more pathos and depth one will unearth; however, first and foremost, it bears repeating, comrades, these brief sketches are simply hilarious. So, for the purposes of my review, I鈥檒l quickly move to a pair of stories as a way of trotting out a bit of Zoshchenko comedy and wit.
THE ACTOR Here鈥檚 my brief retelling of the way Vasia tells it. People crowd around him and ask: 鈥淰asia, where you an actor?鈥� Vasia lets them know he was indeed an actor and played around in the theater. But he goes on to say how it was simply nonsense; there鈥檚 nothing outstanding in being an actor 鈥� you go out on stage and your family and friends in the audience signal their encouragement from the cheap seats and you signal back all is under control and everything will be just fine. And that's that.
Once Vasia performed in Who Is To Blame?, a powerful play where in one act bandits rob a merchant in the middle of the stage, right there in plain sight of everyone sitting in the theater. But before one particular evening鈥檚 performance, the actor who played the merchant got blotto drunk. The bum couldn鈥檛 act; all he could do was go out on stage and kick the footlights.
Director Ivan Palych insisted Vasia take the part of merchant in the second act since, after all, the people in the audience are too dumb to know the difference. 鈥淚 can鈥檛,鈥� said Vasia, 鈥淚鈥檓 full. I just stuffed myself with two whole melons.鈥� Ivan Palych pleaded, 鈥淛ust for one scene. Please don鈥檛 tear down the world of cultural enlightenment.鈥� Vasia said, 鈥淥k, ok, I鈥檒l do it but just for one scene.鈥� So Vasia goes out on stage wearing his own shirt and pants and with a false beard but his family and friends in the audience recognize him on the spot. 鈥淗ey, Vasia, give us some good acting!鈥� Vasia lets them know he had to take over since the artiste playing the merchant is blotto.
So the scene starts. Hey, wait a minute! It appears one of the actors is going through Vasia鈥檚 pockets for real. Vasia isn鈥檛 about to be robbed for real and gives the actors playing the bandits each a punch in the chops. 鈥淕et away from me, you swine,鈥� hollers Vasia 鈥淚 ask you as a true gentleman.鈥� But the bandit actors don鈥檛 hold back 鈥� they take Vasia鈥檚 wallet and reach for his watch. Valia cries out, 鈥淗elp, Help, citizens! These guys are robbing me for real!鈥� The audience loves every second of the drama and goes wild with cheers and applauds. Valia lashes out again, gives one of the bandits a bloody nose. From offstage, Ivan Palych shouts encouragement: 鈥淲ay to go, Vasia! Keep it up!"
Vasia understands yelling and punching will do no good. He gets down on his knees right there on stage; 鈥淚鈥檝e had it, brothers. Drop the curtain. They鈥檝e stolen my last penny. For real.鈥� The prompter can see Vasia鈥檚 lines are not the lines from the play and comes up on the stage: 鈥淚t looks like those bandits really did rob him, for real.鈥� The curtain drops. They bring poor Vasia some water. Between panting breaths, he says: 鈥淲hat the hell is going on? Those guys really did steal my wallet.鈥�
All the actors playing the bandits were searched as well as the entire theater 鈥� they found Vasia鈥檚 empty wallet but the money was never recovered. So Vasia tells his friends he knows all about art and acting and theater. Never again!
THE BATHHOUSE This story is told by an unnamed first-person narrator I鈥檒l call Zosh and retell the story in compressed form. Here goes: Zosh says bathhouses are not so bad 鈥� you can wash yourself, no problem. Only there is this problem with the tickets. Case in point: Last Saturday he went to the bathhouse and they gave him two tickets, one for his shirt, pants, shoes and socks and one for his hat and coat. But where, Zosh wonders, is a naked man going to put tickets? Damn! A naked man is all bare stomach and legs. And you certainly can鈥檛 tie them to your beard. Oh, well. Zosh took string and tied a ticket to each leg so he wouldn鈥檛 lose both at once.
So the tickets are flapping around on Zosh鈥檚 legs but Zosh walks on to look for a bucket to wash himself. He spots one citizen washing himself with three buckets 鈥� standing in one, washing his head with the second and holding a third so someone else can't take it away. Zoch pulls at the guy鈥檚 third bucket but the guy refuses to let go and tells him: 鈥淗ey, what are you up to, trying to steal my bucket?鈥� Zoch again pulls at the bucket and the guy yells: 鈥淚鈥檒l give you a bucket between the eyes and you won鈥檛 be so damn happy.鈥� Zosh replies: 鈥淭his isn鈥檛 the tsarist regime. You can鈥檛 go around hitting people with buckets. After all, other people have to wash too. You鈥檙e not in the theater.鈥� But the guy turns his back and continues washing. Zosh moves along.
An hour later Zosh sees some old joker gaping about, looking for soap and Zosh quickly makes off with the geezer鈥檚 bucket. All right, now that he has his bucket, he looks for a place to sit down. Damn! There isn't one empty bench where he can plop his ass; he鈥檒l have to wash standing up. But double damn! Everyone is splattering dirty water all over the place 鈥� no sooner do you wash yourself then you鈥檙e dirty. 鈥淭o hell with you all,鈥� Zoch cries out, 鈥淚鈥檒l finish washing at home.鈥� Zoch goes back to the locker room, presents his ticket and gets a pair of pants with a hole in the left leg. He tells them they鈥檝e given him the wrong pants; his pants have a hole in the right leg not the left. The attendant replies: 鈥淲e aren鈥檛 here just to watch for your holes. You鈥檙e not in the theater.鈥�
All right, all right, Zoch thinks and puts on the pants. He then goes over for his coat. They want to see his ticket. Damn! He has to take his pants off to get to the ticket but then he discovers: no ticket. Zoch tries to give the attendant the string but the attendant doesn鈥檛 want the string and tells Zach he鈥檒l just have to wait until everyone leaves and he can have the one coat remaining. Zoch says this isn鈥檛 the theater and explains how that鈥檚 hardly fair and goes on to describe his own coat in detail. Finally, they handed him his own coat.
Zoch walks out but then remembers: he forgot his soap! He returns to the bathhouse but they won鈥檛 let him in wearing a coat. 鈥淯ndress,鈥� they order. Zoch replies: 鈥淗ey, this isn鈥檛 the theater. At least give me what my soap costs.鈥� 鈥淣othing doing, brother!鈥� 鈥淎ll right, all right, I鈥檒l go without my soap.鈥�
I chortle and ask, "Hey Zosh. What kind of bathhouse are we talking about here? Zoch answers: 鈥淭he usual kind. Where it costs ten kopecks to get in.鈥�
Photo of Russian author Mikhail Zoshchenko, 1894-1958