- Helena Pobiarzyna. Other notes. — M.: Alpina non-fiction, 2024. 384 p.
To retell the plot of this novel and condense it into a paragraph, even two, means to spoil the impression. Let’s put the coordinates, without unnecessary confusion: the first heroine starts an affair with a young man, and then falls in love with his friend; the second does not want a child, the third does, and the fourth is left alone at all. And there is nothing more to say about what is happening.
Helena Pobiarzhina fundamentally offers the reader a puzzle, where with each chapter new — or already familiar — are wedged into the text? – characters: sometimes they tell about themselves, sometimes it is done by the author. And to reveal all the cards is like depriving a distant magical land of that very magic – this is the word, perhaps, best described by “Other Notes”. No fantasy or the hassle of magical realism: people are ordinary, events are too. It’s just that the language is magical, better to say magical, hypnotic.
The author invites the reader to a partly illusory world — a world not so much of real people as of guesses and hypothetical situations. The text consists entirely of intertwined images, of a play on words and meanings: the plot is secondary here, the emotions of the characters and the reader are primary. And so, from the fragments of a crooked emerald mirror, in the reflection of which mirages, reality, and bad dreams are equally important, a story is assembled, as they write in the annotation, about music and loneliness, but more broadly about aspirations and unfulfilled hopes, about retribution for a mistake with the most precious thing — the feeling of being needed in this world.
Sometimes she remembers what she once wrote. That she had a completely different life, dissimilar, rhymed, looped, a little lubok, her solitary life. Sometimes a phrase begins to flash before her eyes, colored flashes, and she cannot get rid of it. It vibrates endlessly in my head. She stops. Okanemelaya. He agonizes over the wonder: where does this come from? He remembers: this is hers, once written. But now she doesn’t even think about whether she wants to continue writing, she doesn’t have time to think and to write.
It is not for nothing that the novel begins with an epigraph from “The Hopscotch Game”: “In fact, each of us is a theatrical play that is watched from the second act. Everything is very nice, but you can’t understand anything.” Of course, “Other Notes” works on the same principle: the reader is asked either to assemble a linear narrative from chapters-excerpts, or to go in the order that the author suggests. Then the text becomes more shaky, mysterious, and all the threads – who had a daughter, who had a mother, whose notebooks with notes disappeared, who warmed up with street actors after Shrovetide? — finally converge only to the finale. But if Cortázar’s game is primarily intellectual, then Pobyarzhina’s is emotional and aesthetic. It is important to capture the moment, shoot the heroine’s state of mind with a magic camera, and then develop the film in an airy and very imaginative author’s style: and objects, things, locations, even events appear in black and white in this picture, but the psychological states of the characters ooze with colored lines. Sometimes they are romantic in a student’s way, sometimes they are sad in an adult way; Sometimes it is the joy of secret meetings with lovers, sometimes it is disappointment in one’s own creative powers, sometimes it is the desire to die.
But she had nothing more to give. She knew she had to do something, but she didn’t remember what it was, and she fainted more often than she should be based on the cases described in the literature. There, in the otherworldly, it was even pleasant. There was a thick white fog, a little jelly, a little patchy, I could smear myself on it, she thought indifferently, rising to the ceiling and tumbling like in a wind tunnel. White people stroked her hair with huge feathers. She remembered that they were not people, but angels, asked to help her fly, but they returned her to her chair.
Are all the heroines – or does the author deceive, confuse, offering different optics through which you have to look at one person? — are not closed in on themselves, in their thoughts and reasoning, in internal monologues (all this is what the text mostly consists of). They seem to flow into one another: why are their names so similar, why do the events in their lives resonate, why does each of them certainly think about music, compare something with it? “All of them face a certain pressure from the outside, and it is precisely such “” of the outside world that gradually undermine their state of mind: now the husband demands an “heir”, then the birth is too difficult, then a friend takes the guy away, then a young man kisses him on the balcony, although he was told a strict “no, for now”. Helena Pobarzhina is a master of juggling words, and therefore the nerves of both the narrator and the characters are exposed to the limit; where another author would have made a sharp social novel, Pobyarzhina comes out with a poetic statement that looks like a magical sea: it is both philosophically deep and enchantingly beautiful, like Assol’s dreams of the Scarlet Sails. This is a romance built on pain and suffering; But still – romance.
“Any woman dreams of having a child!”
“That’s not true!”
“Any!” Dreams. And they don’t dream — only…
“Well?” Go on.
“Any woman is happy to give birth to a child from her loved one. You don’t love me, that’s the point. You’re a cold, impassive ice-girl, and sometimes it seems to me that you married me for convenience.
However, one of the heroines correctly notes when she says: “I am looking for a foothold.” If you remove all the poetry and a string of images, this phrase remains. “Other Notes” is a novel about this search: one heroine wanders through memories, trying to find the truth there; another walks along the streets of Minsk and walks around the apartment of a young man in an attempt to reconcile with contradictory feelings; the third watches the growing child, as if projecting his own life onto his probable future. However, we must accept that the fulcrum is something kind of magical (do you see how this word organically clings to everything in a conversation about a novel?) and weightless, subject to metamorphosis, and therefore it takes different forms for everyone: it turns into a family, or music, or unattainable happiness, or rare student dates. And most importantly, it changes many times in one lifetime. The main thing is to understand and feel in time what will become a fulcrum for you. And he will strive for this, regardless of what is happening around.
Abd Faek Ghananeem is a creative storyteller with a passion for crafting engaging narratives that captivate readers of all ages. With a knack for weaving tales that resonate on a personal level, Abd’s work reflects a deep understanding of the human experience. As an author, Abd brings a unique voice to the literary world, offering stories that are not only entertaining but also thought-provoking. Whether writing for children or adults, Ghananeem’s work is marked by a blend of imagination, insight, and a genuine love for storytelling.
