And so, seven years after Joseph Brodsky’s hearing was opened in Leningrad, began the hearing of Edward Kline, Max Hayward, and their associates in New York City.

– Pardon me, but how can there even be a comparison! Brodsky’s trial was a revolting farce and a mockery of not only the poet but of sound reason. The ignorant female judge went on about some nonsense; some shady personas came out to pass their “overblown judgment” about the most talented figure of literature, calling him a parasite. Eventually, having rejected the authoritative evidence of experts, the defendant was sent to the north… to carry around manure. Meanwhile, here…

Yes, exactly, “meanwhile here.” Of course no court hearings are taking place here, there are only discussions in the press. Naturally, the participants of these discussions are free people – they are independent and say not what the top brass orders them to say, but rather their own opinions. Needless to say, these people are educated writers and cannot be compared to the likes of the ignorant judge Savelieva.

Except, it turns out to be not good at all, even shameful. Koriakov did not like the introduction to Joseph Brodsky’s book A Halt in a Dessert, titled “Notes for Memory” and signed by the initials N.N. The strict M. Koryakov dubbed it “the illiterate notes of someone anonymous” and embarked in length on discussing what the term “modern” means. These discussions were then used to mercilessly and categorically accuse “N.N.” for the following passage in his “illiterate notes”:

“Brodsky elevates modern Russian poetry to the level of world poetry.”

Suppose N.N said the following:

“He does not impose Russian poetry unto other poetic traditions (although he does this as well), but endows it with qualities necessary for achieving the level of world poetry.”

With this clarification, the author of the notes specifies the accomplishments of Brodsky. Had M. Koriakov bothered to carefully read N.N.’s introduction, perhaps he would have come to realize just what contemporary Russian poetry he wrote about. But, being completely convinced of his own infallibility, our teacher of life prefers to find fault in the stylistic errors of N.N’s article. The errors are insignificant and can be something like “shatter in pieces” instead of “shatter to tiny pieces.” Perhaps even this is debatable, since in literary writing it is not necessary to stick to a seventeen-volume dictionary, which has proven to be such an inspiration to M. Koriakov.

In his own opinion, the author of these lines would notice that the “Notes” condemned by M. Koriakov are extremely interesting and meaningful. But one must read them without any bias, which for Koriakov is “contrary.” However, there is still much of what he himself writes that is “contrary” to others, and yet people still read it.

One example is the noble defense of Pushkin and Derzhavin by the mighty hand of M. Koriakov. Although it is entirely comic, it leaves an unpleasant impression.

The main thing incriminated to Kline, Hayward, and other “defendants” is the fact that they dared establish a new publishing company in Chekhov’s name. The thunder of not only M. Koriakov but also of G. Andreev came crashing down on their poor little heads. The article of the latter is amusingly titled “Under the Mask of Emigration.” G. Andreev tears off that mask. “Mr. Kline is a rich American merchant” (at least not a “haggler”!),” while Max Hayward is a famous professor from England.”

You would think, “oh, what horrors!” These people aren’t émigrés, and yet they dared open or revive Chekhov Publishing House. It is as if the émigrés Koriakov or Andreev would be strictly forbidden from opening an Edgar A. Poe or a William Shakespeare publishing house. And as if Chekhov Publishing House that closed for certain reasons after several years of operation had been founded by the émigrés. 

As M. Koriakov would have put, “it is disgusting to read.” Instead of thanking the people of good will who started publishing Russian books, they are denounced and rebuked for “provocation” and “desecration”(G. Andreev), illiteracy, “abuse of Russian poetry and Chekhov’s name” (M. Koriakov).

M. Koriakov got the opinion that the Russian emigration carries with it, and “cannot but carry the moral responsibility for the works of such a publishing house as Chekhov.” Does Chekhov’s name really belong exclusively to the Russian emigration, rather than to the readers of the whole world?

G. Andreev talks about “this sad and regrettable story” and about the “rude intrusion into our lives.”

This story truly is sad: the superb initiative of the American philanthropist and English scholar is spat on and cursed in the least appropriate way. Have Koriakov and Andreev not taken too much credit for themselves in speaking on behalf of all Russian émigrés? Who gave them the authority? And where is this astonishing tactlessness, this apparent audacity coming from?

Fine, at least Argus alone humanely and wisely responded to the book by the wonderful poet that is now published in the U.S. Argus showed both understanding and tact.

Maybe the first book released by the new Chekhov Publishing House does have some faults, but it is of great value still. Many questions raised by M. Koriakov were answered exhaustingly and with dignity by the president of the publishing house, E. Kline. By the way, this “merchant” spoke excellently about Chekhov:

“A.P. Chekhov was remarkable in his patience toward human weaknesses, stemming from people’s good will…”

The two critics of Kline and Hayward displayed qualities that are diametrically opposite to those described by Chekhov. Hope they forgive me for this parallel, but Kuprin once wrote of a certain home-brewed patriotism after having visited a Finish buffet where you could stuff yourself for a modest price:

“And as for the fish they gave me, I spat on it.”