My Life as a Russian Novel by Emmanuel Carrère

Author:Emmanuel Carrère
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Random House

THE FSB IS on the corner of Karl Marx and October streets, in the same building as the Kotelnichnyi Vestnik newspaper, and when I run into the reporter with the multipocket vest, I see him flinch a little, since he had said that he didn’t know Sasha Kamorkin, on whom we’re now dropping in. In an office decorated with a large portrait of Felix Dzerzhinsky, founder of the Cheka, Sasha shows no sign of surprise as he welcomes us cordially, but he makes sure that the camera lens is capped. I introduce him to Philippe and Lyudmila and tell him about the death of Alain, news he seems truly sad to hear. In a year and a half, he has aged considerably. He still holds himself like a hero of the Soviet Union, but his face is puffier, his eyes bloodshot. He assumes the calculating, superior air of someone who sits tight and waits for people to come to him, but I sense that our return intrigues him. He, more than anyone—it is his job after all—must suspect we have some hidden agenda, one connected with Morodikovo. Following what he surely sees as a particularly convoluted strategy, I don’t mention the place, I simply ask him for permission to film the railway station and the trains—he’ll see what he can do—and take the opportunity to ask about his friend Anya, the one who spoke French. Not having seen her around, I wonder whether she’s left town, found work somewhere as an interpreter, but no: they are still together, they have a child, she’s currently with her mother in Vyatka but will return soon when their new apartment is ready. At the end of the meeting, which is brief, he asks to speak in private to Sasha, who rejoins us in the street and gleefully informs us of the new rule governing relations with our friend in the FSB: the new rule is—that there is no FSB. Our friend now works for the protection of the environment. Voilà.

But that’s absurd.

Absurd, cackles Sasha, but that’s how it is.

Since we now have a house with a kitchen, we head for the market to stock up. As soon as Philippe aims his camera at the vendors and customers, most of them indicate that they don’t want to be filmed. A butcher leaves his stall, buzzing with flies, to flat out threaten us. One old guy with enormous hands who used to work at the local sawmill before it closed is afraid of being arrested if he appears on TV and won’t listen when we tell him that people aren’t arrested for that anymore and besides, our film will be seen only in France, not in Russia. It’s the same old story: We live like dogs while you, you live in paradise, you’re real bastards to come film us. We beat a hasty retreat.

Over dinner, prepared by Lyudmila, we draw up a list of possible characters for our project. Philippe is rooting for Kristina, whose parents he has already contacted about filming her at home.

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