{"id":597,"date":"2023-07-18T10:59:05","date_gmt":"2023-07-18T17:59:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/live-usc-dornsife.pantheonsite.io\/alexander-zholkovsky\/?page_id=597"},"modified":"2023-07-18T10:59:16","modified_gmt":"2023-07-18T17:59:16","slug":"genealogy","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/dornsife.usc.edu\/alexander-zholkovsky\/genealogy\/","title":{"rendered":"A GENEALOGY"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n \n \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
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Alexander ZHOLKOVSKY<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As you will soon realize, the whole thing is\u00a0far from clear. Moreover, across the dense layering of\u00a0years the fragmentary testimony of\u00a0the participants is\u00a0hard to\u00a0separate from putative reconstructions. Yet the existence behind it\u00a0all of\u00a0a\u00a0real cluster of\u00a0stories is\u00a0for me\u00a0no\u00a0less evident than the certainty that hidden behind the verdure of\u00a0this park and the screams of\u00a0playing children is\u00a0an\u00a0equestrian statue of\u00a0Louis XIII, however little he\u00a0may have seemed worthy of\u00a0immortalization by\u00a0The Three Musketeers<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Let me\u00a0begin with the indisputable fact (albeit one that defies precise dating) that at\u00a0some point in\u00a0the seventies Lyusik and Eva were in\u00a0their Moscow apartment, waiting for an\u00a0Italian colleague. Dr. Orlando was due to\u00a0appear any minute with news from Boris, their old friend and idol, better known as\u00a0Gensex (at\u00a0a\u00a0time when General Secretaries were still in\u00a0vogue and parties capitalized). Boris had long ago emigrated to\u00a0France, but kept dutifully filling the ominous void with a\u00a0flow of\u00a0gifts and letters to\u00a0ensure that his orphaned acolytes might stay au\u00a0courant of\u00a0his successes. Indeed, judging by\u00a0Orlando\u2019s\u00a0call, they could expect a\u00a0further installment of\u00a0artefacts from the mysterious West.<\/p>\n

Boris did not earn his honorary title straightaway. At\u00a0school, they used to\u00a0call him Marcel for living with an\u00a0uncle fixated on\u00a0Proust. Once upon a\u00a0time, in\u00a0his remote childhood, his uncle had distinguished himself by\u00a0announcing (as\u00a0he\u00a0rushed into the courtyard where his younger brother was playing with the little girl they both liked), \u201cMarcel Proust is\u00a0dead!\u201d After a\u00a0while Proust published another sequel to\u00a0his saga. Asked why he\u00a0had lied, the future Marcel replied, \u201cYou two were so\u00a0absorbed in\u00a0each other I\u00a0just had to\u00a0overwhelm you with something.\u201d<\/p>\n

But that same year Proust did die, and the news transformed Boris\u2019s\u00a0uncle drastically. He\u00a0started studying French in\u00a0earnest and collecting Proust\u2019s\u00a0works and all that pertained to\u00a0him. Meanwhile, his brother married the girl from the courtyard, they had Boris, were both arrested, and disappeared forever. Boris was brought up\u00a0by\u00a0his uncle, who had remained a\u00a0bachelor and lived exclusively through Proust (he\u00a0ended up\u00a0developing asthma and dying at\u00a0the age of\u00a0fifty one). Boris never so\u00a0much as\u00a0opened Proust, considering him effete rubbish; he\u00a0made fun of\u00a0the uncle\u2019s\u00a0hobby (parading Andre Gide\u2019s\u00a0famous gaffe: \u201cToo many duchesses,\u201d to\u00a0which he\u00a0added: \u201c\u2026 and fairies\u201d), and if\u00a0he\u00a0did master French, it\u00a0was to\u00a0charm girls. He\u00a0also inherited from the uncle\u00a0\u2014 if\u00a0not from Proust\u00a0\u2014 certain literary talents.<\/p>\n

Left on\u00a0his own, he\u00a0went on\u00a0(behind his uncle\u2019s\u00a0front) making good money with technical translations from and into French and turned the centrally located Moscow flat he\u00a0acceded to\u00a0into a\u00a0sort of\u00a0sexual shooting gallery. He\u00a0owed his dashing sobriquet of\u00a0Gensex not only to\u00a0an\u00a0irrepressible libido, generously discharged onto individuals of\u00a0the feminine sex without any discrimination of\u00a0age, appearance, or\u00a0social class, but also to\u00a0a\u00a0narratorial endowment that made the legends of\u00a0his past escapades the path to\u00a0new conquests. If\u00a0the current object of\u00a0his attentions were for some reason unaware of\u00a0his record, he\u00a0would personally stop the gap, apparently in\u00a0no\u00a0hurry at\u00a0all to\u00a0proceed to\u00a0the amorous agenda proper. In\u00a0such cases, the affair tended to\u00a0last longer, and the more experienced contestants deliberately faked ecstasies of\u00a0naive ignorance. Of\u00a0children he\u00a0had none, legitimate at\u00a0least.<\/p>\n

Boris had once tried to\u00a0seduce Eva with the story of\u00a0a\u00a0youngish widow at\u00a0whose place they arranged for him to\u00a0stay while lecturing in\u00a0Budapest. On\u00a0learning that her guest was from Russia, she boasted of\u00a0Russian words, her husband had brought back from the snow-swept Eastern front.<\/p>\n

\u201cKhe-leb, ma-la-ko, yay-ka,\u201d she said, mouthing the usual soldier\u2019s\u00a0fare of\u00a0bread-milk-egg with foreign woodenness, \u201cand one very odd word he\u00a0never translated.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNamely?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShchi-KOHT-nah,\u201d the buxom Hungarian intoned meticulously, and for a\u00a0moment he\u00a0caught a\u00a0glimpse of\u00a0some giddy Riazan giggler of\u00a0times truly\u00a0des neiges d\u2019antan<\/em>. \u201cCould you possibly tell me\u00a0what it\u00a0means?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gensex demurred tantalizingly, and only after insistent and increasingly passionate coaxing on\u00a0the part of\u00a0the flushed hostess did he\u00a0agree to\u00a0demonstrate the circumstances under which the magic word is\u00a0uttered.<\/p>\n

Retelling this linguistic skit [charade] to\u00a0Eva, he\u00a0attempted to\u00a0stage it\u00a0there and then, out she declined the role assigned her, saying she knew perfectly well what \u2019tickling\u2019 meant. She was clearly gearing up\u00a0for a\u00a0prolonged siege. Shrewd provincial that she was, only just arrived in\u00a0Moscow (with, it\u00a0appears, a\u00a0child of\u00a0a\u00a0previous marriage), she had quickly learned to\u00a0profit from her acquaintances and did not conceal it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u00a0have many interesting friends,\u201d she said. \u201cFor example, one of\u00a0them can get me\u00a0theater tickets, another is\u00a0a\u2026 Frenchman and he\u00a0brings me\u00a0foreign records.\u201d (With the Frenchman she was, one has to\u00a0admit, stretching it\u00a0a\u00a0bit: he\u00a0was at\u00a0best an\u00a0Algerian, an\u00a0Arab, but he\u00a0was quite probably good for a\u00a0steady supply of\u00a0records). \u201cWhat can you offer?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u00a0know just how I\u00a0can be\u00a0of\u00a0use to\u00a0you: I\u00a0will awaken a\u00a0selfless love in\u00a0your heart.\u201d<\/p>\n

As if\u00a0to\u00a0confirm his emphasis on\u00a0higher values, Gensex told her about a\u00a0dinner at\u00a0an\u00a0ex-girlfriend\u2019s, where he\u00a0met two unofficial celebrities, the poet and the poetess. Even though he\u00a0sat at\u00a0the far end of\u00a0the table, he\u00a0could make out how the two exchanged poems, compliments and barbs, the poet, in\u00a0somewhat feminine tones, the poetess, with manly bluntness. The story worked, probably not so\u00a0much for its poetic overtones as\u00a0for its aura of\u00a0unattainable elitism.<\/p>\n

Eva grew up\u00a0in\u00a0a\u00a0lowbrow family, but at\u00a0one point her mother worked as\u00a0the assistant manager of\u00a0an\u00a0Architects\u2019 Sanatorium on\u00a0the Baltic Coast. Fancily dressed up, the little girl mingled with the holiday makers, and stuck in\u00a0her memory forever would be\u00a0the colorful cottages, the garden populated by\u00a0flirting beaus and belles, and several faces, hairdos, and phrases that were to\u00a0acquire a\u00a0magic power over her tastes: an\u00a0agile young thing with a\u00a0doll-like face, wavy hair, and the exotic name Naomi that so\u00a0became her; her plump admirer with thick glasses, the scion of\u00a0a\u00a0prominent literary dynasty; and a\u00a0tall blonde with finely chiseled features and a\u00a0straight, longish nose, recently divorced, as\u00a0Eva eventually realized (as\u00a0she would wistfully recall the line from their amateur performance: \u201cIrene, formerly Beynard\u201d); the blonde was being courted by\u00a0the unappealing Rapha Reperovich (\u201cthe balding baby Raphael\u201d).<\/p>\n

The next year her mother was transferred to\u00a0the Urals but Eva continued to\u00a0visualize herself in\u00a0the arms of\u00a0Naomi, coyly using her as\u00a0a\u00a0young page to\u00a0fend off the passes of\u00a0her suitor, while Eva gazes after Irene walking down the alley in\u00a0a\u00a0long flowery dressing-gown, which shows a\u00a0bit of\u00a0a\u00a0naked leg above the knee, and she wants to\u00a0become\u00a0\u2014 or\u00a0is\u00a0it\u00a0to possess? somehow, but how?\u00a0\u2014 both of\u00a0them simultaneously. . .<\/p>\n

That is\u00a0how, by\u00a0chance rather than design (psychological subtleties not being his forte), Gensex\u2019s\u00a0prestigious story hit the mark, though the ambiguous sexual underpinnings of\u00a0the episode may have helped too. But having reaped the fruits of\u00a0his success, he\u00a0immediately, as\u00a0was his wont, lost all interest in\u00a0Eva. She was not ready for that. At\u00a0first, she simply could not understand where he\u00a0had gone to; then hurt pride reared its head, and, finally,\u00a0\u2014 a\u00a0refusal to\u00a0be\u00a0dislodged from the foothold she had gained\u2026 She pursued him in\u00a0person and over the phone, now invoking a\u00a0pregnancy and threatening \u201cnot to\u00a0leave it\u00a0at\u00a0that,\u201d now tenderly imploring him to\u00a0return. In\u00a0a\u00a0word, she totally lost her head.<\/p>\n

Gensex repelled her attacks with polite firmness, but one day his patience snapped and he\u00a0asked her tartly whether all this wasn\u2019t\u00a0a\u00a0symptom of\u00a0a\u00a0selfless love awakening, after all, in\u00a0her heart? She burst out laughing and in\u00a0a\u00a0matter of\u00a0weeks was married, with Gensex\u2019s\u00a0blessing, to\u00a0Lyusik, who hung on\u00a0his every word. What was funniest of\u00a0all was that everyone, including Lyusik, knew the yarn of\u00a0selfless love by\u00a0heart, but apparently he\u00a0was the only one who hadn\u2019t\u00a0grasped who was who and would gladly spin it\u00a0for the new believers in\u00a0Gensex.<\/p>\n

Lyusik was a\u00a0typical egghead who spent his whole life in\u00a0the company of\u00a0books, but, given the spirit of\u00a0the times, he\u00a0felt uneasy about being an\u00a0intellectual. One day, he\u00a0had some business with the editor of\u00a0a\u00a0literary magazine, a\u00a0man he\u00a0revered from afar, a\u00a0man who had spent ten years in\u00a0the camps. He\u00a0went to\u00a0see him in\u00a0his office and the problem was soon resolved to\u00a0their mutual satisfaction; but Lyusik was struck by\u00a0the incongruous sight of\u00a0the giant Georgian in\u00a0white shirt sleeves rolled up\u00a0over his powerful arms (a\u00a0gulag lumberjack!), his hands nimbly writing out useless letters.<\/p>\n

From then on, Lyusik did his best to\u00a0cultivate the beast in\u00a0himself, contending (thus echoing Gensex, who, in\u00a0turn, referred to\u00a0some sultry mountain-climber of\u00a0the fifties) that a\u00a0real man must be\u00a0gloomy, fierce, hairy\u00a0\u2014 and stink, and generally modeling himself after his legendary friend (whose entire body, incidentally, was covered, back and belly included, with curly fur). In\u00a0particular, he\u00a0would bubble over repeating Boris\u2019s\u00a0favorite argument against anal sex: \u201cI\u00a0too suffer from constipation, but I\u00a0only enjoy it\u00a0when I\u00a0get rid of\u00a0it, just like the masochist who loved hitting his dick with a\u00a0hammer, but only when he\u00a0missed.\u201d For all that, Lyusik remained a\u00a0humble husband and loyal member of\u00a0the museum staff; his only window on\u00a0the big wide world was Gensex. With the latter\u2019s\u00a0departure, that world had become wider still, but had retreated accordingly into a\u00a0semi-abstract distance.<\/p>\n

The information from out there was somewhat contradictory. On\u00a0the one hand, Gensex apparently continued to\u00a0make it\u00a0big. In\u00a0one of\u00a0his early releases (to\u00a0beat the odds of\u00a0post-office censorship and assure mass circulation of\u00a0his missives, he\u00a0mailed numbered xerox copies, keeping the originals), he\u00a0described the accidental encounter in\u00a0Notre-Dame with a\u00a0married couple who had owed him a\u00a0substantial sum since their Moscow days; thus with one stroke he\u00a0shored up\u00a0his initially somewhat shaky financial situation, secured a\u00a0Paris roof over his head, and reconfirmed, this time in\u00a0the international arena, the basis for the noble title of\u00a0Gensex.<\/p>\n

Gradually, however, rumors began trickling in, rumors to\u00a0the effect that more and more often women had the cheek to\u00a0snub him\u00a0\u2014 some, for moral reasons, others, disappointed with his ars amatoria, still others, preferring younger partners and, on\u00a0occasion, partneresses\u00a0\u2014 but all somehow failing to\u00a0see the point of\u00a0sleeping with him. To\u00a0be\u00a0sure, his letters gave no\u00a0ground for such suspicions, replete as\u00a0they were with jubilant reports of\u00a0encounters with Danish, French, and Japanese women, to\u00a0say nothing of\u00a0a\u00a0native speaker of\u00a0Guarani. Eva, Lyusik, and the others held steadfastly to\u00a0their belief in\u00a0Boris as\u00a0their sexual plenipotentiary; yet, even as\u00a0they refuted, letters in\u00a0hand, the blasphemous innuendoes, they could not help wondering about their persistence. Dr. Orlando might shed light on\u00a0the matter.<\/p>\n

The long-awaited visit, however, posed more riddles than it\u00a0solved. To\u00a0begin with his looks\u00a0\u2014 the perm, the false purple eyelashes, the layered pink mantles, Hindu style. The hosts exchanged surprised glances, differing (for the time being, mentally) as\u00a0to\u00a0gender. Lyusik took their guest to\u00a0be\u00a0a\u00a0man, Eva, a\u00a0woman. The first name, Dominique, was of\u00a0no\u00a0help either. The answer was probably there in\u00a0black and white in\u00a0Boris\u2019s\u00a0note, but they were both so\u00a0disconcerted they could not bring themselves to\u00a0open it\u00a0in\u00a0the presence of\u00a0the bearer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As a\u00a0result, the conversation took a\u00a0rather bland course, focusing on\u00a0the comparative etymology of\u00a0the names of\u00a0the gifts remitted: dzhin, \u201cgin,\u201d and dzhinsy, \u201c[blue] jeans.\u201d Lyusik, immediately burying himself in\u00a0dictionaries, announced that gin was a\u00a0contraction of\u00a0geneva, of\u00a0course, not in\u00a0the sense of\u00a0the Swiss city but of\u00a0the Dutch liquor, genever, pronounced khe-NEH-fer and made of\u00a0juniper berries, juniperus in\u00a0Latin. Contrary to\u00a0all expectation, it\u00a0had nothing to\u00a0do\u00a0with the bottled Oriental dzhinn \u201cjinn (jinni, jinnee),\u201d despite that jinni\u2019s\u00a0kinship with two different roots for \u201cspirit\u201d: Arabic djinni and English genie. The latter, a\u00a0borrowing from the French genie, went back to\u00a0the Latin genius, \u201cspirit, genius,\u201d via which it\u00a0was related to\u00a0the entire lexical cluster of\u00a0genesis, generation, gender, genre, etc.\u00a0\u2014 all the way to\u00a0the latest genes. The interest in\u00a0lexicographic intricacies soon flagged and might have waned altogether were it\u00a0not for the timely punning bridge back to\u00a0Boris timely thrown up\u00a0by\u00a0Dr. Orlando:<\/p>\n

\u201cIn\u00a0that case, your friend is\u00a0sending you, through me, his blue genes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u00a0wouldn\u2019t\u00a0mind exchanging a\u00a0couple of\u00a0words with the good doctor in\u00a0the genetic code, unless, as\u00a0I\u00a0fear, his genitals are of\u00a0the wrong genre,\u201d said Lyusik punningly to\u00a0himself, but aloud he\u00a0said:<\/p>\n

\u201cDzhinsy\u201d jeans\u201ccome from Genoese, referring to\u00a0the origins of\u00a0the strong, twilled cotton they are made of. You wouldn\u2019t\u00a0by\u00a0any chance come from Genoa, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, nor from Geneva. Sorry, but I\u00a0must be\u00a0on\u00a0my\u00a0way. It\u00a0was nice meeting you, and I\u2019d\u00a0be\u00a0happy to\u00a0see both of\u00a0you again.\u201d<\/p>\n

After a\u00a0confident good-bye peck, Western style, Dominique took his leave. Lyusik and Eva were even quite glad to\u00a0see him go, because they could at\u00a0last share their impressions and read Gensex\u2019s\u00a0note. It\u00a0turned out to\u00a0be\u00a0brief: Domi Orlando was a\u00a0run-of-the-mill scholar but a\u00a0pal, quirks or\u00a0no\u00a0quirks. That unfortunately left the gender issue moot, since in\u00a0Gensex\u2019s\u00a0vocabulary a\u00a0\u201cpal\u201d could be\u00a0anybody whatsoever. There was, however, a\u00a0promising reference to\u00a0Missive No.\u00a0\u2014 . The three-year-old xerox was promptly retrieved and resolved the argument in\u00a0Eva\u2019s\u00a0favor; the letter was a\u00a0love story casting Dominique in\u00a0the role of\u00a0a\u00a0stunning brunette taking Gensex\u2019s\u00a0course at\u00a0the International Summer School in\u00a0Bellagio.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo\u00a0to\u00a0szczesciarz z\u00a0niego!\u201d<\/em>\u00a0said Lyusik and Eva in\u00a0unison, spontaneously declaiming the punch line of\u00a0another Gensex story, this one about how in\u00a0Zakopane, his first time ever in\u00a0an\u00a0all-night bar, he\u00a0and a\u00a0Polish friend kept trying to\u00a0decide whether the two skiers next to\u00a0them were a\u00a0man and a\u00a0woman or\u00a0a\u00a0man and a\u00a0scary virago. But then Andrzej came upon the problematic creature exiting from the ladies\u2019, and, back at\u00a0the table, pronounced the boyfriend a\u00a0lucky one. But Domi was of\u00a0course no\u00a0virago, each thought, mentally surveying the opportunities the new information offered them respectively. Both had racked their brains over the Bellagio episode and were now reviewing it\u00a0with new interest, trying it\u00a0out on\u00a0their recent guest variation after variation.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018\u2026 She was built somewhat disproportionately, not very tall, but with a\u00a0large head. She had huge blue eyes, shining out from under a\u00a0low brow, and succulent deep-purple lips\u2026 \u2019 As\u00a0usual, Gensex lays the colors on\u00a0thick, assuming we\u2019d\u00a0never see the original,\u201d Lyusik ventured gingerly, trying to\u00a0conceal his excitement.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWell, the original has been painted over too\u00a0\u2014 and more than once,\u201d Eva retorted. \u201cBut the purple motif is\u00a0well done.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018\u2026 I\u00a0eyed her for several days; she stared back, unfriendly or\u00a0at\u00a0least puzzled. One day after lunch I\u00a0chanced upon her in\u00a0an\u00a0alley. I\u00a0suggested a\u00a0walk, she accepted. I\u00a0treated her to\u00a0the choicest morsels in\u00a0my\u00a0repertory. My\u00a0only reward was a\u00a0tense silence. \u2019You don\u2019t\u00a0seem to\u00a0like my\u00a0stories?\u2019\u00a0\u2014 \u2019We\u00a0don\u2019t\u00a0discuss these things. \u2019 I\u00a0drew her to\u00a0myself, and drowned completely in\u00a0her studiously passionate, endless, succulent kiss. . . \u2019 The \u2019studiously passionate\u2019 business is\u00a0not so\u00a0bad, but when it\u00a0comes to\u00a0the \u2019endless succulence,\u2019 I\u00a0don\u2019t\u00a0think Uncle Marcel would have stood for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCut the bravado, will you. You wouldn\u2019t\u00a0mind drowning either. Go\u00a0back to\u00a0the text.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018She preferred her place\u2026\u2019\u201d (\u201cThat\u2019s\u00a0what they say in\u00a0the West,\u201d the well-read Lyusik couldn\u2019t\u00a0help inserting: \u2019\u201cYour place or\u00a0mine?\u2019) \u201e\u2019\u2026 and insisted on\u00a0total darkness. In\u00a0a\u00a0businesslike manner we\u00a0established that each had a\u00a0five o\u2019clock class, but we\u00a0almost missed dinner. To\u00a0keep the censors from seizing this letter as\u00a0porn, I\u00a0omit the peripeties of\u00a0our record-shattering match, though it\u00a0may be\u00a0of\u00a0ethnographic interest for you that Italian hotels, especially converted palazzi, are known for the fanatic narrowness of\u00a0their beds and the marmoreal coldness of\u00a0their floors. The latter, incidentally, was quite welcome, given the unbearable heat, but, when, proud of\u00a0how well my\u00a0Italian was holding up, I\u00a0whispered into her ear that it\u00a0would be\u00a0cooler at\u00a0night, she, without relaxing for a\u00a0second the tempo of\u00a0osculations\u2026\u2019 This must be\u00a0an\u00a0allusion to\u00a0Pushkin\u2019s\u00a0\u201eWith a\u00a0rush of\u00a0fiery caresses and the sting of\u00a0her osculations\/ She hastens the moment of\u00a0final convulsions!\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cOr, more likely, to\u00a0bona fide convulsions, which Gensex is\u00a0much better at\u00a0than at\u00a0Pushkin. Unlike certain others, who need all the help they can get with their convulsions.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018\u2026 she said:\u00a0\u2019Non ce\u00a0l\u2019abbiamola notte,\u2019<\/em>\u00a0and to\u00a0all my\u00a0baffled queries about why we\u00a0shouldn\u2019t\u00a0resume at\u00a0night she kept restating there were simply no\u00a0nocturnal activities in\u00a0the cards. I\u00a0knew it\u00a0meant losing face, but still I\u00a0risked nothing, in\u00a0a\u00a0semi-exploratory mode, that, after all, things seemed to\u00a0be\u00a0going as\u00a0they should, didn\u2019t\u00a0they?!\u00a0\u2019Si, si,\u2019<\/em>\u00a0she acquiesced,\u00a0\u2019ma\u00a0lo\u00a0voglio unico!\u2019<\/em>\u00a0And I\u00a0couldn\u2019t\u00a0get another word out of\u00a0her\u2026 The stupid bitch!\u201c shouted Lyusik the hypocrite, mentally settling for\u00a0an\u00a0unico<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201eI\u2019m\u00a0not so\u00a0sure, not so\u00a0sure,\u201c said Eva, her tone suddenly pensive.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018\u2026 My\u00a0overtures on\u00a0subsequent days were equally futile, and this morning, as\u00a0I\u00a0was sitting down to\u00a0this letter, she announced publicly she was leaving because her fiance had come for her. I\u00a0even had the opportunity to\u00a0shake his honest hand and wish them\u00a0a\u00a0buon viaggio.<\/em>\u00a0I\u00a0felt a\u00a0total idiot, if\u00a0not worse, say, a\u00a0jilted mistress. But that\u2019s\u00a0the way they are\u00a0\u2014\u00a0cosi fan tutte.<\/em>\u00a0In\u00a0Rome do\u00a0as\u00a0the Romans do\u2026 \u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Trying not to\u00a0look each other in\u00a0the face, Lyusik and Eva started going on\u00a0about cultural relativity, which still eluded Boris, despite his prolonged exposure to\u00a0the West. As\u00a0they did so, Lyusik probably wiped his glasses in\u00a0a\u00a0pointedly detached manner, but then dropped them on\u00a0the floor, while Eva, overcome by\u00a0vindictive solidarity with Dominique and something else, obscure, but agreeable, started, say, clearing the table and broke a\u00a0plate\u2026<\/p>\n

Dominique did in\u00a0fact phone and invite them to\u00a0drop in\u00a0at\u00a0the Europe. In\u00a0those times, hotel visits to\u00a0foreigners were still ticklish, but the temptation was too much for them and they went. From that moment on, the story is\u00a0clouded in\u00a0especially dense fog; I\u00a0am\u00a0only relating what little I\u00a0managed to\u00a0pry out of\u00a0Eva (Lyusik proved absolutely unapproachable).<\/p>\n

Was it\u00a0Dominique who sent word through the doorman asking them to\u00a0come up\u00a0in\u00a0turns, or\u00a0the doorman himself who told them only one guest at\u00a0a\u00a0time was allowed? Or\u00a0maybe they brought their child along and one of\u00a0them had to\u00a0mind it\u00a0in\u00a0the lobby. In\u00a0any event, both were so\u00a0dazed that they complied. The first to\u00a0go\u00a0up\u00a0was Lyusik; Eva went as\u00a0soon as\u00a0he\u00a0came back. Neither has said a\u00a0thing about what happened in\u00a0the room. But both are known to\u00a0have asked Dominique the same question: What was the matter that time in\u00a0Bellagio? They received different answers.<\/p>\n

Lyusik was told she was searching for a\u00a0feminist identity and was obsessed with erotically manipulating men\u00a0(uom\u2019oggetto)<\/em>, so\u00a0no\u00a0matter how Gensex may have gratified her, she had to\u00a0replace him immediately with others, no\u00a0less unique. Lyusik dutifully relayed this to\u00a0Eva, who compared it\u00a0with what she had heard herself, namely, that since childhood Dominique had had the mixed feelings of\u00a0love-hate-envy for men and had even contemplated a\u00a0transsexual operation. Hence the macho treatment of\u00a0Gensex and (though this is\u00a0my\u00a0own conjecture) the invisibility requirement.<\/p>\n

By the way, I\u00a0don\u2019t\u00a0consider the mystery of\u00a0what transpired in\u00a0Europe in\u00a0the least impenetrable. I\u00a0can clearly see Lyusik emerging from the lift, knocking on\u00a0the door, and finding himself-flustered, overwhelmed, happy-in a\u00a0pitch black room in\u00a0Orlando\u2019s\u00a0aromatic arms, where, under their new friend\u2019s\u00a0tender guidance, he\u00a0receives, without realizing it, his first and only lesson in\u00a0male possession. Then comes Eva\u2019s\u00a0turn. Sensing something, though far from everything, she explores the docile body with her caresses, then gives her own up\u00a0to\u00a0it, but all of\u00a0a\u00a0sudden and in\u00a0the most unexpected place she is\u00a0pierced by\u00a0a\u00a0powerful male assault, and instantly melts, as\u00a0if\u00a0finally relieved of\u00a0a\u00a0lifelong burden. Then they lie there together, gossiping about Lyusik and Gensex and fondling each other languidly, and Dominique makes her a\u00a0gift of\u00a0her battery-powered plastic Dutch jinnee.<\/p>\n

When it\u00a0is\u00a0time to\u00a0go, they descend to\u00a0the lobby, to\u00a0Lyusik, and this I\u00a0see with the sharpest clarity. They are all three of\u00a0them standing with their arms around one another, Dominique in\u00a0the middle, between my\u00a0poor dear parents (alas! alas!), who seem to\u00a0be\u00a0both clinging to\u00a0and shying away from her and casting apprehensive glances at\u00a0me, while the grinning Domi says something along the lines of\u00a0O. K., that\u2019s\u00a0cool, no\u00a0problem, what if\u00a0she does remember this, I\u00a0wonder how she\u2019ll\u00a0turn out.<\/p>\n

Even on\u00a0her deathbed, my\u00a0mother claimed that I\u00a0was too small at\u00a0the time, that she couldn\u2019t\u00a0have taken me\u00a0to\u00a0Europe that day. Be\u00a0that as\u00a0it\u00a0may, I\u00a0understand Dominique much better than our, yours and mine, Russian forebears. I\u00a0now live partly in\u00a0Moscow, partly in\u00a0Paris, partly in\u00a0New York, but I\u00a0feel as\u00a0comfortable in\u00a0Riazan, Bellagio, and Bloomsbury. All I\u00a0have to\u00a0do\u00a0is\u00a0take a\u00a0train, check into a\u00a0hotel and go\u00a0near a\u00a0place that has associations for me. My\u00a0girlfriend says I\u00a0would feel most at\u00a0home in\u00a0Combray.<\/p>\n

I am\u00a0putting this down for you, my\u00a0future tot, should I\u00a0fail to\u00a0survive labor. With organisms such as\u00a0mine the statistics of\u00a0artificial insemination statistics are not encouraging. I\u00a0am\u00a0writing at\u00a0a\u00a0sidewalk cafe in\u00a0the Place des Vosges; I\u00a0can hear children playing in\u00a0the park. A\u00a0mother and daughter are passing by. The girl inspects me\u00a0with curiosity, nudges her mother, and whispers something. Her mother scowls at\u00a0me\u00a0and says:\u00a0\u201cQui? Ce\u00a0pede a\u00a0l\u2019air\u2026 normal?<\/em>\u00a0(You mean that\u2026 garden-variety queer?).\u201d But the girl, who reminds me\u00a0of\u00a0Gensex\u2019s\u00a0childhood pictures, turns for a\u00a0last look. She has apparently appreciated the involuntary irony of\u00a0her mother\u2019s\u00a0remark, and we\u00a0exchange a\u00a0wink.<\/p>\n

P. S.<\/strong>\u00a0Thoughts of\u00a0the horrible epidemic raging all around continue to\u00a0torment me. I\u00a0fear for you more than for myself. Thank God there is\u00a0still time to\u00a0change my\u00a0mind, seek out that little girl and readdress this letter to\u00a0her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/div>\n\n\n <\/div><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":355,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-597","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nA GENEALOGY - Alexander Zholkovsky<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/dornsife.usc.edu\/alexander-zholkovsky\/genealogy\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"A GENEALOGY - Alexander Zholkovsky\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/dornsife.usc.edu\/alexander-zholkovsky\/genealogy\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Alexander Zholkovsky\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2023-07-18T17:59:16+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/dornsife.usc.edu\/alexander-zholkovsky\/genealogy\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/dornsife.usc.edu\/alexander-zholkovsky\/genealogy\/\",\"name\":\"A GENEALOGY - 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