What should the new Soviet person strive to see? This person should not dwell on the dark or perverse sides of human nature. Those are “survivals,” relics, reality not in its “revolutionary development” but reality stuck motionless somewhere far back on the path. Access to the “truthful, historically concrete representation of reality” depends on one’s Party-disciplined eye picking out the proper details on which to focus, and ascertaining where, on the ladderto the future, they belong. Truth in this context might be compared to an energy field surrounding and infusing the subject; immersed in the proper class or collective milieu, any person could become “conscious” and begin to see. Under the new regime, literature was no longer primarily a record of self-expression, and not even “a form of passive ideological reflection, but an active, ‘healthy,’ controlled ideological instrument, not a mirror any more but a weapon.”7 History could be hastened along by attitude alone, an energy resource that never runs out -even when a population is devastated by every conceivable type of war, famine, economic collapse, personal loss, and grief.
Four socialist realist principles eventually governed what a conscious subject, inside and outside the fictional text, is privileged to see.8
cultural diversity (within, of course, a framework of ideological uniformity). In practice this meant that folk songs, legends, colorful costumes and superstitions, local peasant and tribal rituals were allowed their own expression, even their own national language, and could coexist alongside the more “consciously” proletarian plots of hydroelectric dams, cement factories, and metros.But likehistorical factsinsideapatriotichistoryplayduring theRoman-tic era, “authenticity” here was ornamental, sentimental, pre-packaged, and essentially powerless.
The third principle in this quartet, class-mindedness, became less important after 1936, when the new Soviet Constitution declared that the USSR had become a classless society and thus all class antagonism was officially ended. Such conflictlessness made it difficult for fiction writers to find, from within the domestic population, villains, rogues, or any negative principles out of which to construct plots. A new genre appeared: the “optimistic tragedy.” This manic optimism affected writers personally as well as creatively. Mikhail Zoshchenko (1895–1958), perhaps the greatest prose satirist of the 1920s and like so many comics and clowns a clinical depressive, wondered why, if reality could be manipulated and human bodies and natures reforged through attitude alone, he was such a failure at it. In the 1930s, Zoshchenko began writing deeply auto-therapeutic texts, such as