A novel in which Pushkin becomes an entry point into Russian history, its obsessions and hidden plots All Pushkin scholars agree that there was one secret love in Pushkin's life, unchanged since early youth, hidden from everyone. So, we found it....
And at the same time understood why he was always interested in the fates of women disguised as men: hussar maidens, Pope Joan… We explained the hidden reasons for the events of 1848, 1861, and 1917. We uncovered traces of the missing Bestuzhev-Marlinsky and traced the fate of Griboedov, whose play «Cyrano de Bergerac» is still attributed to Rostand. This novel could be called «The Second Life of Vazir-Mukhtar», but it's better this way. Because Pushkin is the black, African river of Russian destiny, connecting it to the ocean of world culture. And it is about him that we think as the main illumination in the black-red blot of Russian history. Or perhaps it is all just a hallucination of a mortally wounded man. And it is unclear to whom this fatal February wound was dealt — whether to Pushkin or to all of us.
A novel in which Pushkin becomes an entry point into Russian history, its obsessions and hidden plots
All Pushkin scholars agree that there was one secret love in Pushkin's life, unchanged since early youth, hidden from everyone. So, we found it. And at the same time understood why he was always interested in the fates of women disguised as men: hussar maidens, Pope Joan… We explained the hidden reasons for the events of 1848, 1861, and 1917. We uncovered traces of the missing Bestuzhev-Marlinsky and traced the fate of Griboedov, whose play «Cyrano de Bergerac» is still attributed to Rostand. This novel could be called «The Second Life of Vazir-Mukhtar», but it's better this way. Because Pushkin is the black, African river of Russian destiny, connecting it to the ocean of world culture. And it is about him that we think as the main illumination in the black-red blot of Russian history.
Or perhaps it is all just a hallucination of a mortally wounded man. And it is unclear to whom this fatal February wound was dealt — whether to Pushkin or to all of us.
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