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PARTISAN REVIEW
freedom, you lost something else, something very important: the
awareness that you have shown courage, gone against the current,
risked something. No, now you won't be risking anything.
Neither your position , nor your Party card, nor your apartment,
nor a trip to Koktebel , nor even a kilogram of paper from the Lit–
erary Fund. Nothing! And it turns out that without this you 're
just not writing the same.
It turns out that we writers are very vain. It 's not enough
that you were lucky enough, let us suppose, to tell the world
about something still unknown . (The censor overlooked some–
thing, an editor friend helped.) No, you still need someone
to
take you aside and, looking around, to shake your hand: "Well
done, fellow! " You even recall the endless lectures with a certain
nostalgic longing. I remember after I gave my speech at Babi Yar
I had to meet with a dozen moronic pensioners all decorated out
with their military insignia. Of course, there were some former
prosecutors among them and Party figures as well. They just
wouldn't let up: "Why did you go there? Did you have to give a
speech? Who gave you the right?"
When midnight grew near, I couldn't take it anymore and
said: " You know what? Don't wear me out with questions. I'm
tired. Keep in mind that you and I are in different situations.
You're asking the questions, I'm answering. But someday there'll
come a time when I'll write about all of this. And about each of
you individually." They were a bit taken aback, but one of them
asked: "Where and when? Who will publish you?" "That's my
business, " I answered, and, as strange as it may seem, the inter–
rogation ended at that. They glanced at their watches-"It's al–
ready twelve o'clock!"-and left.
No, there's nothing of the kind here. And later I did write
about these decrepit old men, but I had already forgotten their
names; I hadn't written them down in time. So that I fired a blank
shot, so to speak. But at least I feel better about it.
Still, feeling better doesn ' t save me from having to answer
the question. What to write about? Whom to address?
I am answering it. For me . Just for me. I write about what
comes into my head. Not burdening myself with form, composi–
tion, or a preconceived plan . About something left unsaid, or
something suddenly remembered; about something you long for,
having parted with it forever, and that you'll never see again;
