A History of the Island
- Monastic chroniclers painstakingly record events on the Island where
the royal couple of Parfeny and Ksenia, both age 347, offer a running
commentary on the text which spans the years stretching from the
medieval to our modern day. Since there are a number of fine reviews of
this well-crafted, eloquent novel here on Goodreads and elsewhere, I'll
make an immediate shift to philosophic observations relating to several
direct quotes.
“With Christianization, we heard the word of the
Holy Scripture, though previously we heard only one another's shabby old
words. Those words crumbled to dust, for only that which is written is
preserved and we have no written language before Christianization.”
Eugene
Vodolazkin frames his tale thusly: Christianity is the only religion on
this island. There are no Jews nor are there any Muslims. And, perhaps
predictably, the pre-Christian island gods are judged mere wooden idols
served by a few misguided sorcerers. Even extending into the modern day,
there isn't a word relating to the enlightenment and wisdom traditions
of Buddhism, Taoism or yoga. I was wondering as I read the novel: Is
this the Christian dream, an entire world where Christianity is the one
and only religion?
“People suppose that the chronicles' first
chapter are the work of Father Nifont the Historian. In the entire
history of its existence the manuscript never once left the walls of
Island Monastery of the Savior. That was most strictly forbidden. In the
chroniclers' opinion, when a history was located within a sacred space,
it was protected from forgery. People handle a history more freely now;
anyone at all, in any place, writes history. Might the reasons for
numerous falsifications lie there?”
We can appreciate the
Island's medieval monks only wanting the history of the Island to be
their history, but would you prefer to live in a world where what's
recorded as history is under strict control? Perhaps I'm betraying a
modern perspective, but I gasp at such a prospect which has an eerie
echo of the iron fist of the Soviet Union. I wonder if at any time, even
modern times, those on the island had access to Herodotus or Livy - or
Josephus.
“Saint Agafon dictated his principal prophecy in the
literal sense, into the ear of chronicler Prokopy the Nasal. Agafon, who
by then had reached the age of one hundred and twenty, had very
strictly forbidden the one writing to loosen his tongue. For Agafon's
part, that of a person who was (if it be expressed this way) of mature
age, this was a joke to some degree (after all, nobody prohibited saints
from joking) since Prokopy's tongue was cut off for using foul language
back in the years of his youth. One did not need to worry about asking
him to hold his tongue.”
Ouch! Cutting out the tongue of a young boy – cruelty and barbarity reminding me of many episodes in the author's Laurus.
And considering all the violations of humanity documented in the
chronicle of the Island, one thing is certain: I'm glad I never was born
an Island resident.
“Those who exited their homes in order to
understand the nature of those sounds were struck by flaming arrows. And
the arrows continued to rain down during the day too, sent by heavenly
horsemen who remained unseen. Only their horses' white-hot hooves were
visible.”
Many are the instances of the fabulous in Eugene
Vodolazkin's novel (in addition to Parfeny & Ksenia being 347 years
old!). How would a modern historian handle such happenings? Does this
speak to each age having its own ways of including and excluding what
constitutes history? Actually, how we write about and judge history and
historical events is an abiding theme manifest on nearly every page.
“Morals
on the Island improved so much that some began to fear that
childbearing would cease here when all was said and done. Or that it
would be fulfilled in a less sinful manner, such a budding.”
Budding?
How exactly would that take place? Unfortunately, no further words are
offered on the subject. One thing that has always perplexed me: Why is sex judged a sin? Is this idea of sin (and subsequent guilt)
connected to the difficulties women and men experience when approaching
intimacy?
Parfeny reflects: “History in that distant epoch (the
medieval period) was, to a great extent, history because it looked at
things with less bias. Contemporary historical thought, though is
formulated by circumstances that are distant from the events described.
It depends on political expediency, which turns historical writing into a
tool for a fight. This is why, to some extent, the modern-day historian
participates in events with a sideways view. A medieval historian
though, looked from above.”
Is this accurate? Any historians in
the crowd? Did Tacitus or Edward Gibbon write history with a sideways
view? If so, how is this limiting? When Marx observed workers are
alienated from the end of production (simply performing a job for a
paycheck – the plight of millions in today's work world), in what way is
this limited or incomplete?
“Well then, uttered His Brightest Futurity, then we shall portray our friend Markel sitting on a pony because in art we value realism above all.
Does
this have a familiar ring, comrades? When the chronicle covers the
twentieth century, many Soviet Union-like aspects on the Island are
portrayed in their grotesque detail, a reality for the poor islanders so
ridiculous and twisted, it almost becomes comical.
Again, I have only touched on a few highlights. To gain a much more complete insight of Eugene Vodolazkin's A History of the Island, I highly recommend you give the novel a good, careful read.
Russian author Eugene Vodolazkin, born 1964
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