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ARTYKUŁY TŁUMACZONE NA JĘZYK ANGIELSKI

Katarzyna JAKUBOWSKA-KRAWCZYK[1]

University of Warsaw

ORCID 0000-0002-6281-7011

"Sometimes horror and shelling become the story of your child's birth…"[2]
The image of a child in the reportage by Yelizaveta Honcharova Somewhere Near the War.[3]

The war in eastern Ukraine is clearly reflected in the Ukrainian literary process. The related topics are addressed not only by poets and prose writers but also by others whose life experiences over recent years have changed so significantly that they decided to pick up a pen to share these experiences with others. Examples include texts by Dmytro Yakornov ATO, Yevhen Pologiy Ilovaisk, Roman Zinenko Ilovaisk Diary, Mariya Matios Private Diary. Maidan. War, Serhiy Loiko Airport, Iryna Shtogrina (ed.) AD 242: A Story of Courage, Brotherhood, and Sacrifice, Petro Soltys 370 Days in Camouflage: Notes of an Artilleryman, Valeriy Burlakov Life P.S., and dozens, if not hundreds, of others.[4] Jaroslav Polishchuk notes that literature in recent years has taken on not only a documentary function but often highlights important issues that the state needs to address. According to the researcher, it is not so much about returning to grand narratives but about the "effect of spiritual and cultural mobilization, critically important precisely in a state of information warfare." Furthermore, "social activity and the civic engagement of literature serve as a kind of compensation for the analogous passivity and disorientation of the state hierarchy, official ideological doctrine, or other cultural institutions."[5]
Among the works I have mentioned, and many others published in Ukraine, reportage on war themes is gaining increasing importance. This should come as no surprise, as reportage is regarded as a hybrid genre, particularly well-suited to describing complex, incomprehensible events that cannot be reduced to simple formulas. Combining seemingly two contradictory features—adherence to facts and subjectivity in their presentation—it offers ample space for the author's interpretation of the surrounding world.[6] Is it even possible to objectively narrate personal experiences of war and all its dimensions?
It is worth noting that Ukrainian journalism, documentary prose, and reportage have long remained underdeveloped. As Andriy Bondar points out, even "essay writing, as an attempt to show an alternative, yet real picture of the world, was long considered a dissident genre. This was the reason Ivan Dziuba suffered persecution in his time."[7] The situation with reportage was even more complicated, as it lacked "the memory of the genre."[8] In large part, the Ukrainian school of reportage was built on the experience of Polish reportage (Melchior Wańkowicz, Ryszard Kapuściński, Jacek Hugo-Bader, among others). The wider public paid more attention to it in 2015 when Svetlana Alexievich— a master of reportage—won the Nobel Prize in Literature for her "polyphonic writing, a monument to suffering and courage in our time."[9] Alexievich, who addresses themes close to the people of Ukraine, says: "The genre I write in, I call 'the novel of voices.I never take the right to judge or condemn. I try to understand. And I'm not interested in dry, bare history of facts or events: I write the history of feelings. You could also call it a 'filtered history. »"[10] This approach to literature has gained a wide following among Ukrainian publishers and readers. The development of reportage in recent years has also been supported by Ukraine's socio-political situation. It seems that revolutionary and war events, which were difficult to fit into the world of literary fiction, have significantly "accelerated" its development. The fact that, as Hanna Krall once said, "Why do I need fiction if real life is more interesting?"[11] is also relevant. Hayden White, a classic researcher of historical narrative, argues that any historical record (not just literary, even scientific text) is shaped by the narrative of its author, who is never free of influence and interpretation. In the face of the rise of the information society, the crisis of the novel, and increasingly developing processes of globalization, reportage is gaining more and more popularity,[12] as it combines the functions of literature and documentary. As Mateusz Zimnoch wrote: "Few people see the absolutely fundamental thing: reportage, in and of itself, is a part of reality—it expands it first, and only later tries to replicate it. It is a kind of variation on a given theme. After all, Jorge Luis Borges in his Fictions clearly wrote: 'We discovered (...) that mirrors and copulation are abominable, for they multiply the number of people. » And mirrors, as is well known, must be convex to capture the whole of reality—that is, they distort. They are also unable to both capture detail and make generalizations at the same time. [...] In liquid modernity, reportage stands in opposition to omnipresent simulation, not so much recreating reality as calling it into existence anew."[13]
The authors of Ukrainian reportages, such as the volume History Alive, are largely experienced journalists who create vivid depictions of the war world, showing its various shades, the ambiguity of choices, and the intense emotions that accompany each event. The development of Ukrainian factual literature is reflected in the emergence of publishing houses specializing in it, such as Tempora Publishing – reportage and non-fiction. Each year, more and more writers are turning to these genres in their literary work, including Oleh Kryshtopa, Natalka Humenyuk, Les Belej, Irena Rozdobudko, Yelizaveta Honcharova, Oleh Kotsarev, Oleksandr Havrosh, Kateryna Tsybenko, Denys Kazanskyi, Olesya Yaremchuk, and others.

A significant annual event that helps track the development of this genre in Ukraine is the Majk Johansen Literary Reportage Contest 'Самовидець.' Since 2012, it has become an important platform for promoting reportage in Ukraine. Each year, the winning texts are published in the volume Veni, vidi, scripsi, which often serves as an inspiration for further literary work and the publication of subsequent books, as was the case with Oleh Kryshtopa's Україна: масштаб 1:1 or Denys Kazansky's Чорна лихоманка: нелегальний видобуток вугілля на Донбасі, among others.

In 2016, the contest's theme was life in the face of war, and the winning reportage was The Day After Debaltseve by Yelizaveta Honcharova. The author comes from a family that had lived in Artemivsk (Bakhmut) for five generations, where she also spent most of her life. She graduated from Donetsk National University and worked as a teacher and journalist, including for Ukrainian Week, and engaged in social activities. Her writings are deeply rooted in the reality she describes, not only thoughtful but also lived. Yelizaveta Honcharova writes about the war that brutally entered her life. However, her texts do not reflect despair, complaint, or grief, but instead depict everyday life in war-torn areas. Often, these are symbolic attempts to maintain normality or defend against a reality that seeks to strip away humanity. The author does not describe great heroic deeds but instead focuses on slices of ordinary life, which is so different from what we consider normal.

The protagonists of the essays in Somewhere Nearby, There's War are people repeatedly tested by war. The writer observes their reactions to life's challenges, their fight for survival, family safety, and the struggle to maintain relatively normal living conditions. Yelizaveta Honcharova notes their confusion and doubt over which side of the conflict they should support. Without pathos or judgment, she illustrates the drama of political divisions and choices, where the line between being a patriot and a traitor is often blurred. She delves into the drama of broken families, internal conflicts, and despair. «This book is ambiguous and difficult, there's no black and white here. It became my written therapy, helping me make sense of myself”, [14] the author stated during one of her meetings with readers.
The chosen themes are filtered through the sensitivity and experience of the author and her family, who twice had to leave occupied territories. Her sensitivity to the themes of childhood is undoubtedly heightened by the fact that she is a mother herself. She often experienced fear for her son, forced to navigate a brutal world where new cracks and tensions appeared, such as the involvement of his parents in Ukrainian affairs and his teacher's family supporting the opposing political option. The fear of a mother, acutely aware of the consequences, permeates her work.

"The potential consequences of her son's honesty at school were reflected not only in family life but also in the author's writing. Her reportage is imbued with both engagement and authenticity. Thanks to her personal experiences, she not only carefully observes the reality around her but also sees deeper beneath the surface, gaining access to the everyday lives of the inhabitants of the occupied territories. She brings to light seemingly insignificant details, which under her pen, create a narrative of a seemingly ordinary world, yet one that deeply moves the reader with its nuanced and multi-layered storytelling.

In a comment about the writing of Svetlana Alexievich, Andrzej Stasiuk emphasized the author's 'feminine tenderness for the world, sensitivity, sometimes almost unbearable for the reader, attentiveness, tenderness, and also a non-literary quality. It is something more: it is writing that escapes literature, somewhere between literature and true reality,' said the author of Riding to Babadag. Many of these characteristics seem to describe female reportage, and they can also be seen in Honcharova's work. The words of the Nobel laureate herself resonate with the approach to reportage by the author we are analyzing. 'Any story bypasses the story of the soul; human passions remain outside history. My task is to pull them out of the darkness of oblivion. I deal with a double lie: the lie of totalitarianism and the lie of history as a science, which cleanses human life into dispassionate paragraphs in a history textbook. My desire is to humanize history,'[15] Svitlana Alexievich confessed.

In the essays collected in the volume Somewhere Nearby, There's War, we find a whole mosaic of human experiences, dilemmas, and doubts. The heroes are not only soldiers and war prisoners but also volunteers, children, and even animals. The focus is on the story and experience of the individual, which contributes to the overall picture, but often says more about the events taking place than a general narrative, helping to better understand the ongoing processes. Honcharova does not shy away from fighting generalizations and breaking stereotypes, especially those concerning the people of Donbas. As R. Kupidura and M. Dworak-Mróz point out, the adjective 'Donetsk' has long ceased to denote only regional identity. It has also become a carrier of stigmatization, signaling 'non-Ukrainianness,' separatist sentiments, and responsibility for the war and the thousands of lives lost to it. This stigmatization affects everyone who has left Donbas for other parts of Ukraine, regardless of social position or occupation, and writers are no exception."[16]

Blaming the residents of Donbas for the current political situation is exposed, as is the fear of the 'Banderites,' fueled to gain supporters for anti-Ukrainian political options. She neither idealizes nor embellishes the world she presents. The strength of her writing lies in immersing herself in its simplicity. Although the reports are written with a certain distance and perspective, they are full of pain but also an awareness of the good that still happens among people, even in such inhuman times. They serve as a kind of historical testimony, aiming to prevent future attempts at manipulating history. In this way, Honcharova gives her work a dimension that is both beyond the region and beyond time. As she explains herself: 'Why Somewhere Nearby, There's War? People even asked me at meetings: "How can it be – somewhere and nearby? Somewhere and nearby – these are concepts that shouldn't be placed together."[17] But you see, the war is close to everyone who lives in Ukraine, the war is close to everyone who lives in Europe, the war is close to everyone who lives in this world. But for each person, that 'somewhere' is different. For some, it is in their heart; for others, it's in the neighboring apartment, or in a nearby city, or in a neighboring country.'[18] By placing the human aspect above the political, Honcharova has created texts that could serve as a universal story of a person forced to face violence and injustice, trying to preserve their identity despite the war raging around them. Her depictions of childhood during war are filled with attention and sensitivity.

Honcharova portrays two aspects of childhood: addressing the experience of children who stayed in war zones and those who were forced or chose to relocate. On both sides, children live and confront the fate that war has imposed on them every day. 'In the summer of 2014, I was taking my daughter home from kindergarten in a minibus, and at an intersection, a BTR [armored vehicle] nearly shoved its barrel through our window. What could I do? Just cover her with my body, but how would that help? At that moment, I realized it was the limit, beyond which one should not tolerate anymore. Otherwise, the child would be scarred for life by the shelling, traumatized by the ruins, or brainwashed by a teacher spreading lies. These are irreversible changes because you can't "relive" childhood – it's forever.' said one of the protagonists of her reports.

It is estimated that around 230,000 children have left their homes, and many more are forced to confront the reality of war daily. As the writer subtly shows, this fact shapes the identity of young people who, in a few years, will become adult citizens of Ukraine, deciding its future. As Marcelina Jakimowicz wrote: „Individual identity is [in fact] closely linked to the identity of the groups. » Similarly, with the memory of history. The paradox of biographical memory is that while it relatively presents the experiences and emotions of an individual, these are intertwined with the discourse of memory prevalent in the group with which the person identifies. One's own retrospection merges with the memories of others, usually creating a common image of the past for a given group.[19] And what will be the memories of those whose childhood fell in recent years and is connected to Donbas? In answering these questions, Honcharova's writing is invaluable. She skillfully extracts elements of everyday life that reveal more about the human condition than many pages of other accounts. She uses metaphors such as dream toys to illustrate this.For example, she tells the story of a boy who dreamed for a long time of owning roller skates. When he finally got them, he had to leave them behind, as the war forced his family to flee from Donetsk to Lviv. Those longed-for roller skates, which he may never use again—even if he returns to his hometown and they are not destroyed in the war along with the apartment where they are left—will eventually become outgrown. These roller skates symbolize childhood disappointments, shattered dreams, and the loss of faith in a good, safe world.

The author presents a war that kills childhood. It irreversibly takes away dreams—both big and small. The war drama presented by the writer unfolds on many levels, the most important of which is perhaps family life. War tears apart the essential fabric of relationships for children. Through Honcharova's reports, the reader becomes aware of the range of problems young people must face. Family conflicts, often arising from differing parental views on which side to take and which decisions would ensure better survival, come to the forefront. Some make their decisions based on political or ideological convictions, disregarding the danger they pose to themselves and their children. These decisions often result in broken families or severed relationships between family members. 'Some are physically separated by the imaginary line of the border, while others build barricades in a two-room apartment. But the children... Imagine the hellish fire in their souls when they become the battleground. And there are no laws—neither state nor human—there are only tears and despair.'[20] Honcharova shows the helplessness of a young person watching their world fall apart.

The family divide often takes on a geographical dimension as well. Part of the family may move to a safer place than Donbas, whether agreed upon by all members or not. The greatest drama is captured in the scenes described by the writer, where the child is caught between conflicting parental decisions: a son who hasn’t seen his mother in two years, daughters deprived of a relationship with their father, etc. The small protagonists are accompanied by longing, tears, and a sense of confusion, with their pleas often going unheard. One of the mothers in the account confesses: “The child needs at least some rest—from the war, from the fear. But the father is adamant, saying it’s better that he die with me than live among those cursed Banderites.”[21] It is difficult to imagine a more poignant literary image than the deep longing of a mother and her fear for her son’s life. At the same time, the author exposes the stereotypes and ideologies that tear families apart, focused through the father's convictions. His hatred for the mythical Banderites is so great that he’s willing to sacrifice the safety, and perhaps even the life, of his own son.

One could attempt to interpret this scene in relation to the image of the mother in the linguistic worldview of Slavic nations. Jerzy Bartmiński highlights the high axiological position of the mother and her connection to family, national, and religious traditions. This aspect strongly resonates in Honcharova’s reports. The difficult contacts between a child and their mother take on not only the dimension of personal tragedy but also a broader social one. As a Polish researcher notes: “The mother is usually associated with key existential concepts such as home, family, land, nation,”[22] and she is intertwined with them. The absence of the mother changes the axiological character of all these groups or places. The writer uses this cultural aspect to bring the reality of the war in eastern Ukraine closer to the reader.

However, not all the images presented by the author are this dramatic. She also depicts children who, despite being separated from loved ones by the war, maintain close, loving relationships with them. One striking example is a little girl who sends postcards from Odessa to her father still in Donbas, describing her everyday life. Despite the distance, she tries to preserve this important bond, which, we can assume, gave her personal role models and identities to relate to. However, the relationship between father and child, which Emmanuel Lévinas described as “a relationship with someone foreign, who, though entirely other, is me; it is a relationship of the self with itself, yet one that is foreign to the self,”[23] begins to deteriorate through no fault of those involved. The reader can observe the cracks in the relationship and the child’s growing lack of understanding of her father’s situation and, by extension, the family’s reality. As she describes her life to her father, she draws Ukrainian flags on the postcards, unknowingly putting him at risk. The patriotism for which a child would be praised in peacetime becomes a threat in war. The writer uses this motif to illustrate the collision of two realities. The image of a daughter living in a safe environment, unaware of her father’s situation, emphasizes the tragedy of the circumstances.

A similar tone is present in another reportage that describes a child whose mother, while fleeing home, finds a photo of the child with the Ukrainian flag spread across the Artemivsk stadium. This photo was among the most cherished items packed. How symbolic it is that instead of a toy, the girl—forced to leave her home—chose to take this photo, which could have caused trouble if it fell into the wrong hands. This photo serves as a connection to home and a reminder of a time of carefree, happy childhood. It becomes a symbolic gateway to return to the past. As Sławomir Sikora wrote, “Photography is treated as a record, a trace, or even a substitute for reality. The deictic language of photography makes it perceived as a closer, more tangible, and accessible reality.”[24] These reasons likely influenced the girl’s choice, as she wanted to “keep her Ukraine” close to her, serving as a substitute for her hometown, where peaceful life continued far from the war and political unrest.

Another image of a disrupted childhood presented by Honcharova shows a boy singing Christmas carols to his godmother over the phone. The author describes this scene in just a few sentences, but it’s rich in cultural symbolism related to family life and festive traditions. “Jean Maisonneuve (describing rituals) assigns them three important functions: control over change and fear, interaction with the supernatural or certain secret and ideal forms or values, and a communicative and regulatory function, realized by confirming and strengthening social bonds.”[25] In a way, we encounter all of these functions here. The Christmas rituals help the young person regain a sense of balance, demonstrating that despite the disintegration of the familiar world, certain values remain unchanged—especially spiritual ones related not only to religious sacrum but also to national identity. It is important to remember that in Ukrainian culture, the blending of both categories has deep historical roots. Moreover, festive rituals play a significant role, combining elements of archaic culture with modernity, acting as carriers of continuity for native traditions, which remained intact even during Soviet rule. As O. Borisov and Y. Osipchuk wrote, “By accumulating all that is valuable in society, the nation, or an ethnic group, the holiday serves as a mechanism for transmitting cultural traditions from generation to generation.”[26]

Thus, the distance from loved ones is especially hard for children during Christmas. This symbolic act of singing carols over the phone is meant to provide the boy with a fleeting sense of being close to his loved ones, separated by hundreds of kilometers. The author highlights the entire drama of displacement, often accompanied by trauma, deeply affecting the perception of one's identity: “There are people, and then there are us—the displaced.”[27]

With equal engagement, Honcharova portrays the fate of those who remained in war-affected areas. She observes the deeply ingrained sense of abandonment and being forgotten by the rest of the country’s inhabitants, which is evident even in the queues for humanitarian aid. She focuses on the mothers standing there with their children, their conversations, fears, and desires. She highlights the shortages they face in their daily lives, with diapers becoming a symbol of their struggle—one of the most sought-after goods. This expresses the parents' desire to provide even a semblance of normal life, to offer their children a little comfort on the most basic level. On the other hand, Honcharova shows that despite the war, children's dreams, in many respects, are not much different from those of their peers elsewhere.

The writer illustrates this through an evening gown found among items brought by volunteers—touching on the girls' dreams of a wonderful life, free from everyday worries. This allows the author to show the war-torn childhood from the perspective of parenthood. Even in such extreme conditions, the closest family (in this case, the mother) will go to any lengths to provide their children with a sense of normalcy and beautiful memories, such as those associated with a school prom. The seemingly useless object in wartime—a prom dress—fulfilled a far more important role than practical items, helping to preserve dignity.

Honcharova also presents poignant images of children’s wartime games. It is important to remember that play serves primarily to help children learn about the world and take on adult roles. By choosing the type of play, children stimulate their mental and social development. We must also remember the children’s folklore, which reflects the socio-political processes that children face.[28] Their games are created and transformed in response to events happening around them.

“These are anonymous creations since the child’s ‘self’ is not yet sufficiently independent to assert its own authorship; in fact, the child usually seeks to hide behind the collective ‘we,’ behind tradition, behind the invented. Somewhere by someone, even when it comes to their own innovations. This does not stop children from modifying and transmitting aspects of their own culture into the future,"[29] - emphasize journalists from Radio Svoboda.

Therefore, the depiction of children playing war in this volume should not come as a surprise, as this theme is often present in world literature. In this case, the boys play separatists and defend their checkpoints, and the details leave no doubt as to which war this is. It’s important to note that this play is not purely for fun; its broader functionality is closely tied to the society they live in and can even impact their chances of survival. In the scenario described by Honcharova, the boys practice shooting and killing enemies, as they deem this skill the most important in the process of growing up. Once again, this raises questions about the processes shaping young people and their impact on the fate of both individuals and communities.

The volume also includes a report on a football team created to give boys left to fend for themselves an opportunity to focus their free time on physical development instead of begging in the streets. Teenagers, for whom building relationships around shared interests and goals is crucial, found those things in this team. The football team gives them the strength of a group, personal role models stemming from the sport’s nature, with which they can identify, and a sense of purpose in their efforts. At the same time, they are presented with concrete role models. Engagement in sports helps young people survive difficult times. This is a way of demonstrating grassroots care for young people left to their own devices in the face of war, countering alienation and the destruction of childhood innocence.

In her collection of reports, Honcharova portrays various aspects of wartime childhood—from birth to adulthood. The texts cover topics such as births in a hospital under shelling, where mothers hide in basements and place their newborns in medicine boxes, evacuations to other cities in shelled buses, and bureaucratic difficulties in registering a child born in war zones, among others. In the volume, readers will find echoes of two key moments in human life: birth and death. While the latter is a frequent subject of reflection in literature related to the conflict in Eastern Ukraine (ATO), birth remains on the margins of these discussions. It is commendable that Honcharova does not overlook this subject and is open to new themes brought forth by the ongoing war.

Children and their parents are constantly "between" life and death, as we read on the pages of the book: "their story had everything: inhumanity and selfless help." What’s more, this will continue to be the case, for as the author writes, "the war will end when hatred is healed."[30]

"Honcharova’s volume is not, as in the case of Alexievich, a ‘story of voices,’ but rather a ‘story of events and objects,’ where no detail is without meaning. At the same time, these are very simple stories, devoid of pathos, avoiding the danger of mythologization or the imposition of new meanings by the author. Des’ poruch viyna (Somewhere Nearby, War) is a story about a war that changes the entire world around children (and not only children), even the vocabulary, with life divided into ‘before the war’ and ‘after the war.’[31]

Extreme experiences here form a temporal boundary that strongly influences the narrative. It is worth recalling Gadamer’s insight on the role that unexpected, sudden, and irreversible events play in experience. Such events can only be relived through words, so only expression remains. These are precisely the elements the writer attempts to gather and pass on to others. Yet, these experiences resist simple narration. ‘This cannot be described...,’ witnesses say, leaving even language powerless, too limited to fully convey the experience of the Anti-Terrorist Operation (ATO) in Eastern Ukraine. Something will always be missed, oversimplified, or misunderstood. The risk of chaos or selectivity is immense.

Honcharova thus collects the fragments of war reality, allowing them to speak for themselves. This approach gives her texts a new dimension, timelessness, and often reveals more about the human condition than about the war in Ukraine itself. They provoke reflection on human choices. The stories described could have taken place in many other war-torn countries. ‘I won’t go to shoot. Writing is the only thing I can do,’[32] the author states in one of her interviews.

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Rott D., Współczesne polskie reportaże literackie o Ukrainie. Rekonesans [w:] „Fìlologìčnij časopis”, vip. 2 (12), 2018, s. 119-126.

Zambrzycka M., Julia Wizowska, Grzegorz Szymanik, „Po północy w Doniecku”, Warszawa 2016, 200 s. [w:] „Studia Ucrainica Varsoviensia”, 6, 2018, s. 461-465.

Zimnoch, Reportaż w płynnej nowoczesności [w:] „Znak”, nr 682, 2012, http://www.miesiecznik.znak.com.pl/6822012mateusz-zimnochreportaz-w-plynnej-nowoczesnosci/[18.02.2019]

[1] Katarzyna Jakubowska-Krawczyk - literary scholar, Ph.D., assistant professor in the Department of Ukrainian Studies at the University of Warsaw.

[2] Ê. Gončarova, Desʹ poruč vìjna, Kyjiv 2012, p. 41

[3] The English version is a translation of the article published in Polish : Jakubowska- Krawczyk K., "Inkoly zhakh i obstrily – istoriieiu narodzhennia tvoiei dytyny..." Obraz dziecka w reportażach Jelizawety Honczarowej Десь поруч війна, [in:] Studia Ucrainica Varsoviensia 7 (2019), p. 61-75.

[4] Literature on this subject is being produced not only in Ukraine, but also in Poland, e.g. Krew i ziemia. O ukraińskiej rewolucji by Wojciech Mucha, Sezon na słoneczniki by Igor Miecia, Sotnie Wolności by Michał Kacewicz, Syci Polacy patrzą na Ukrainę by Łukasz Jasina, Niezwykli ludzie w niezwykłych czasach by Piotr Pogorzelski, Nazywam się Majdan by Wojciech Kubyba i in. Polish works dedicated to the Ukrainian socio-political situation in recent years have been written about by, among others, D. Rott, Współczesne polskie reportaże literackie o Ukrainie. Rekonesans [w:] „Fìlologìčnij časopis”, vip. 2 (12) / 2018, p. 119-126; K. Jakubowska-Krawczyk, Temat „Majdanu” i „ATO” w polskiej i ukraińskiej literaturze. Różnorodność gatunków, „Studia Ucrainica Posnaniensia”, t. V, 2017, p. 259-268; A. Nowacki, Dyskusje tożsamościowe w ukraińskiej publicystyce i literaturze pomajdanowej [w:] Tożsamość ukraińska wobec przemian XVII-XXI wieku, pod red. K. Jakubowskiej Krawczyk, A. Nowackiego, Lublin 2017, p. 249-271; K. Jakubowska-Krawczyk, Pošuki ukraïnsʹkoï ìdentičnostì povìsti Vojcêha Kudibi „Moê prìzviŝe – Majdan” [w:] „Lìteraturi svìtu: poetika, mentalʹnìstʹ ì duhovnìstʹ”, vip. 10 (2017), p. 188-195; M. Zambrzycka, Julia Wizowska, Grzegorz Szymanik,

„Po północy w Doniecku”, Warszawa 2016, 200 p. [w:] „Studia Ucrainica Varsoviensia”, t. 6, 2018, p. 461-465.

[5] Â. Polìŝuk, Gìbridna topografìâ. Mìscâ j ne-mìscâ v sučasnìj ukraïnsʹkìj lìteraturì, Černìvcì

2018, s. 7-8.

[6] For more in the context of Kyiv's Maydan read: K. Jakubowska-Krawczyk, Mìž lìteraturoû ta žurnalìstikoû. Tema Majdanu [in:] Dialog der Sprachen – Dialog der Kulturen.Die Ukraine aus globaler Sicht, red. Olena Novikova, Ulrich Schweier, Peter Hilkes, Monachium 2017, p. 842-850.

[7] H. Mališ, Andrìj Bondar pro reportažì z mordorsʹkogo sercâ, problemi z lìteraturoû ì knižki pro vìjnu na Shodì, https://life.pravda.com.ua/culture/2015/10/16/201886/, [20.03.2019].

[8] Ibidem.

[9] Swietłana Aleksijewicz laureatką literackiego Nobla, https://www.tvn24.pl/wiadomosci-ze--swiata,2/swietlana-aleksijewicz-z-literackim-noblem,584089.html, [20.03.2019].

[10] S. Aleksìêvič: „Čas nadìï zmìnivsâ časom strahu”, https://www.dw.com/uk/, https://www.dw.com/uk, [26.06.2019].

[11] Reporterka. Rozmowy z Hanną Krall. Wybór, oprac. J. Antczak, Warszawa 2007, p. 34.

[12] See: Por. M. Zimnoch, Reportaż w płynnej nowoczesności [w:] „Znak”, nr 682, 2012 http://www.miesiecznik.znak.com.pl/6822012mateusz-zimnochreportaz-w-plynnej-nowoczesnosci/ [18.02.2019]

[13] Ibidem, http://www.miesiecznik.znak.com.pl/6822012mateusz-zimnochreportaz-w-plynnejnowoczesnosci/,

[18.02.2019].

[14] O. Kutišenko, Donbas možna bulo začepiti liše vìjnoû, http://medialab.online/news/donbas-

-mozhna-bulo-zachepy-ty-ly-vijnoyu/, [20.06.2019].

[15] S. Aleksìêvič, „Čas nadìï zmìnivsâ časom strahu”, https://www.dw.com/uk/, [20.04.2019].

[16] R. Kupidura, M. Dworak-Mróz, Strategie artystyczne i narracyjne w projekcie Lii i Andrija Dostlievów „Rekonstrukcja pamięci” (przesiedlenia na Krymie i Donbasie) [w:] „Miscellanea Posttotalitariana Wratislaviensia”, 6, 2017, s. 148.

[17] Ê. Gončarova, Desʹ poruč vìjna, http://litakcent.com/2018/07/27/yelizaveta-goncharova-des-

-poruch-viyna-video-12/

[18] Ibidem, p. 31.

[19] Ibidem, s. 52. M. Jakimowicz, Kryzys tożsamosci na przykładzie narracji biografi cznych osób przesiedlonych

z Galicji Wschodniej na Dolny Sląsk [w:] „Naukovì zapiski Nacìonalʹnogo Unìversitetu ostrozʹka

akademìâ. Ser.: Kulʹturologìâ”, 12, 2013, s. 25.

[20] Ê. Gončarova, Desʹ poruč…, s. 51.

[21] Ibidem, s. 52.

[22] J. Bartmiński, Polski stereotyp „matki” [in:] „Postscriptum Polonistyczne”, nr 1, 2008, p. 33.

[23] E. Levinas, Czas i to co inne, Kraków 2006, p. 105-106.

[24] S. Sikora, Fotografia-pamięć – wyobraźnia [w:] „Konteksty: polska sztuka ludowa: antropologia

kultury” (1992), cyfrowaetnografia.pl [3.04.2019]

[25] see: M. Farnicka, H. Liberska, Wizja własnego życia i rytuały rodzinne wskazywane jako

życiowe źródła wsparcia [w:] „Rocznik Lubuski”, t. 39, cz. 2, 2013, p. 216.

[26] O. Borisov, Û. Osìpčuk, Duhovno-obrâdovì svâta âk zasìb moralʹnogo vihovannâ dìtej staršogo

doškìlʹnogo vìku [v:] „Gumanìtarnij vìsnik Deržavnogo viŝogo navčalʹnogo zakladu”Pereâslav Hmelʹnicʹkij deržavnij pedagogìčnij unìversitet ìmenì G. S. Skovorodi”. Pedagogìka. Psihologìâ. Fìlosofìâ”, nr 28, 2013, p. 43-48.

[27] Ê. Gončarova, Desʹ poruč…, s. 44.

[28] See: B. Muchacka, Zabawa w poznawczym rozwoju dziecka [w:] „Pedagogika Przedszkolna i Wczesnoszkolna”, vol. 2 1, (3), 2014, s. 7–18.

[29] Kulʹtura, âku tvorâtʹ dìti, ì kulʹtura, âku tvorâtʹ dìtâm, https://www.radiosvoboda.org/a/1114491.html, [7.04.2019].

[30] Ê. Gončarova, Desʹ poruč…, s. 43.

[31] Ibidem, s. 33.

[32] O. Âremčuk, Êlìzaveta Gončarova: „V uzagalʹnennâh žive brehnâ”, http://litakcent.

com/2016/07/05/jelizaveta-honcharova-v-uzahalnennjah-zhyve-najbilsha-brehnja/, [5.03.2019].

Marta ZAMBRZYCKA

University of Warsaw

Historical Motifs in Valeriy Shevchuk's Prose.

The Tradition of Ukrainian Baroque

The subject of the article is the category of the past/history in the prose of Valery Shevchuk. In the work of this author, history is associated with the categories of freedom and the search for the spiritual and moral path of man, as well as the postulate of historical memory and national consciousness. Writing about the fates of individuals, Valery Shevchuk creates a panorama of the life of the Ukrainian nation[1] and, by placing his work in a historical and cultural context, refers to native traditions. The author uses historical motifs both in the content and in the structure, as well as in the style and symbolism of his works. Shevchuk refers to historical events and figures, weaves fragments of Baroque texts, poems and treatises into the plots of his works, tries to recreate the religious and philosophical worldview characteristic of the era and its proper form of expression. The author quotes, paraphrases and interprets historical texts, cites events, recreates the worldview, analyses philosophical and religious concepts. All this makes his prose an expression of great erudition, a multi-level, complex puzzle. However, Valery Shevchuk is not the author of historical novels, he does not try to recreate the details of his past life in detail, he writes philosophical novels, raises universal problems, this makes the historical background not so much a field of social conflicts as a plane of contact of various ideas and worldviews[2].

Mykola Ryabchuk emphasizes that Shevchuk is, above all, a thinker, and his prose is a philosophical reflection: „[Шевчук] - передусім філософ, мислитель і лише потім белетрист; уся його проза, по суті, про пошук сенсу життя, про осягання душевної гармонії, життєвої рівноваги в хисткому і незатишному, а втім, прекрасному світі”[3]

The interest in history is, on the one hand, the result of the scientific fascinations of Valery Shervchuk, an expert in the Ukrainian past, especially the Baroque period, but on the other hand it fits into the broader context of the creative postulates of the literary generation of the 1960s. Diverse in terms of artistic expression and the means of expression used, the "sixties" created a kind of front, united by the common idea of creative freedom, a sense of national self-awareness and a desire to synthesize innovation with tradition.[4] Kateryna Djuzheva notes that the category of historical memory, closely linked to national consciousness, was crucial for the work of this generation, which is clearly visible in the examples of Valery Shevchuk and Lina Kostenko.[5]

The enormous role of historical themes, especially references to the Ukrainian Baroque era in Shevchuk's prose, is emphasized by, among others, Natalia Horodniuk, Ludmiła Tarnaszyńska and Anna Horniatko-Szumyłowych.[6] In their opinion, it is the Ukrainian Baroque that is the author's primary source of inspiration, which is expressed both on the aesthetic plane (Baroque plot solutions), philosophical (Hryhoriy Skovoroda's thought), as well as through direct weaving into the fictional plot network of real historical figures and events that actually took place in the past. By synthesizing fiction with history, weaving the past into the structure of the present, Shevchuk creates an extremely complex artistic quality, the full understanding of which requires not only sensitivity but also, and perhaps above all, excellent orientation in the area of Ukrainian history, culture and thought. The author creates a specific neo-Baroque code, in which each figure, fact or event takes on a two-dimensional meaning, being both an element of literary fiction and a sign/reference to the complex philosophical and aesthetic system of the Baroque past.[7]

Historical motifs in Valery Shevchuk's works are primarily references to the 17th and 18th century history, philosophy, art and ideology, but there are also references to earlier periods of history – as in the case of the novel На полі смиренному (which the author himself describes as a travesty).[8]

Valery Shevchuk is not the first Ukrainian writer to refer in his work to the aesthetics and philosophical concepts of the Ukrainian Baroque. On the contrary, the tradition of synthesizing contemporary themes with 17th and 18th century motifs has quite a long history in Ukrainian literature. It is enough to mention, for example, the work of the generation of the 1920s, whose philosophical and aesthetic foundations are sought by researchers in the 17th-18th century concepts, defining the specificity of the works of Tychyna, Khvylowy or Kulish as a type of neo-Baroque imagery characteristic of Ukrainian literature.[9] Baroque (or neo-Baroque) is defined by researchers not so much by a specific style or aesthetic and historical references, but by a specific ideological and worldview stance, providing the basis for drawing parallels between the Baroque era and the works of the 20th century and enabling the creation of the concept of the so-called "Neo-Baroque man".[10] According to Yuri Lavrinenko, the tradition of the 17th and 18th centuries is the foundation of contemporary Ukrainian literature, and references to Baroque culture and thought can be found in many innovative literary concepts of the 20th century..[11] The author defines baroque as: „один із фундаментальних стилів, що являють собою цілий культурно-історичний тип і повторяються змінними хвилями в […] історії.”[12]

What is characteristic of this aesthetic-worldview-philosophical system, fundamental for the development of Ukrainian literary tradition? Dmytro Chizhevsky emphasizes that the basis of the Baroque imagery and understanding of the world was the pursuit of a broadly understood synthesis. This is also mentioned by Natalia Horodniuk:

„Барокова формула discordia concors (узгодження неузгоджуваного) виражає особливу форму гармонії, що була оцінена дослідниками як ясність неясного […], неканонічний канон […] дисгармонійна гармонія, асиметрична симетрія.”[13]

Baroque is therefore the art of combining aesthetic, historical, and philosophical contradictions. It is a synthesis of mythology, antiquity and Christianity, religion and secular life, love and joy of life with terror, fear of death and suffering. It strives to reconcile beauty with ugliness, simplicity with exquisite ornamentation, it is a deeply mystical philosophy, striving for contact with God and at the same time secular, frivolous.

The Ukrainian Baroque, like Romanticism later, is an era that was characterized not only by the adaptation of new elements, but also by the rediscovery and reinterpretation of tradition. It was in this era that numerous translations of medieval literature appeared. Tradition, the past, reference to the ideas of predecessors were therefore an integral component of the Baroque worldview. This combination of tradition and innovation in the Ukrainian Baroque is emphasized by Dmytro Chizhevsky and other literary scholars who point out the existence of a clear aesthetic and ideological continuity between the Baroque and previous periods. Mykhailo Nayenko tries to define the relations between the Baroque, the Renaissance and the ancient tradition, which is important insofar as it shows the tendency to synthesize the new with the old:

„В основі своїй стиль бароко спадок ренесансу сприйняв, тобто, орієнтації на античність не відкидав; щоправда, бароко сприймає античність по-іншому, намагаючись поєднати античну спадщину з христянством […] Антична міфологія також постачає письменникам свої образи та символи. Гротеск представляє рідкісне переплетення христянських уявлень із античними […]”[14]

Interpreting the Ukrainian Baroque as a worldview striving for the broadest possible synthesis, it is easy to see numerous parallels between the culture of the 17th and 18th centuries and the artistic and philosophical concepts of the 20th century. Both the creators of the Executed Renaissance and the generation of the 1960s, including Valery Shevchuk, adopted the assumption of returning to the sources of culture as their programmatic assumption, and the postulate of reviving tradition and inscribing it in the context of the latest artistic achievements was their aesthetic and worldview framework. At this point, it is worth mentioning the concept of the "Baroque man", which, according to researchers, is a kind of individual expression of the philosophical concepts of the Baroque. The category of the "Baroque man" will find continuation in the life attitudes and artistic postulates of the most important creators of the 20th century,[15] including in the work of Shevchuk. Who is this "baroque man" and what attitude determines his uniqueness explains Dmytro Czyżewski. Starting from the definition of the baroque as a trend striving for a synthesis of tradition and innovation, the researcher emphasizes that the "baroqueness" of an individual is expressed precisely in the pursuit of originality and the search for novelty while maintaining deep respect for tradition. Let us quote a fragment of the work of this outstanding literary scholar:

„Таке органічне сполучення старого й нового, синтеза радикально-нових ідей з прастарою спадщиною в межах культури бароко можлива тому, що людина бароко посідає певні духові засновки, що таке сполучення уможливлюють. Людина бароко не лише прагне нового, зміни […] вона не має страху перед новим. Але поруч з цим людині бароко питома глибока пошана, повага до старовини, до традиції, в якій бароко вбачає та шукає вічне […] пошана, що мусить вести до збереження старого.”[16]

So, the Baroque man is both an innovator and a traditionalist, being open to the world but full of respect for the native tradition. He is also, as Mykhailo Nayenko emphasizes, a wanderer[17], and this feature allows for drawing a parallel between the researchers' concepts and their implementation in the work of Valery Shevchuk. Roman Korohodsky in the monograph У пошуках внутрішньої людини notes that almost all the heroes of the Ukrainian author are wanderers, the researcher distinguishes several basic figures-motifs that organize the plot layer of the works and constitute the basis for the characterization of the heroes. These are primarily: the topos of the path, understood as the spiritual journey of the hero, seeking truth, wisdom and inner harmony. The path here is a figure of human life (path of life), closely related to the categories of searching, suffering, sacrifice, loneliness, escape and return. The second motif, closely related to the figure of the "path of life" is the issue of the "journey into the depths". Into the depths of oneself and into the depths of history, and thus the issue of returning "to the sources" in order to find (or save) one's own identity. Another motif analyzed by the researcher is the figure of the "garden of the heart" derived from the concept of cordocentrism - the idea of finding and cultivating moral values in one's own interior, and thus the postulate of self-improvement and self-awareness.[18] It is worth emphasizing that the symbolic figure of the heart or, in Roman Korohodsky’s term, the “garden of the heart” becomes a link between the categories of macro and microcosm, and thus, according to the concept of the Ukrainian philosopher Hryhoriy Skovoroda, between the universe and the human being, who is its reflection. It is therefore clear that the category of the “baroque man” described by Dmytro Chizhevsky is realized in Shevchuk’s prose as a philosophy of the individual derived from Skovoroda’s reflection.

Before I discuss selected historical motifs in the work of the author of The House on the Hill, I will briefly try to answer the question - why did the Baroque become a point of reference for so many Ukrainian literary artists, including Valery Shevchuk? Why do literary scholars see the Baroque as the foundation of Ukrainian 20th century artistic and philosophical development? The political context is no small matter. The turn of the 17th and 18th centuries was - as Natalia Yakovenko notes - the time of the birth of Ukrainian national consciousness:

Na skutek krwawej zawieruchy wojennej pierwsze kiełki ukraińskości, pretendującej jedynie do równego prawa głosu we wspólnocie Rzeczpospolitej, przeistoczyły się w świadomość prawa narodu kozackiego do dumy ze swojej ojczyzny […] W ten oto sposób na mapie Europy pojawia się jeszcze jedna kultura narodowa”.[19]

The new national consciousness required the creation of a culture that would correspond to the ambitions and aspirations of the young elites. Dmytro Chizhevsky emphasizes that it is the Baroque era that constitutes the period of the most complete, most comprehensive development of Ukrainian culture and literature before the period of Romanticism:

„Не треба зменшати значення епохи барокко для України. Це був новий розквіт […] мистецтва та культури загалом. В історії народів епохи розквіту мають не лише суто історичне значення; вони накладають певний відбиток на всю дальшу історію народу, формуючи національний тип або залишаючи на довгий час певні риси в духовій фізіономії народу. Так, здається, було і з епохою барокко на Україні. Барокко залишило тут багато конструктивних елементів, які ще збільшив вплив романтики, що в багатьох рисах спорідднена з барокко […] Культура барокко немало спричинилася до сформування української історичної долі. [20]

The synthesis of tradition and formal innovation, respect for the past while striving for originality, openness to foreign influences (the role of Latin in Ukrainian literature of the Baroque era) and an increased sense of one’s own distinctiveness, in addition to outstanding achievements in poetry (the enormous role of the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy) and philosophy (Hryhoriy Skovoroda) – all this makes Ukrainian literature, art and thought of the 17th and 18th centuries not only a living source of creative inspiration, but also proof of the historical continuity, richness and originality of Ukrainian culture. The role of the Baroque era in the development of Ukrainian culture and national and cultural awareness is also emphasized by Lyudmila Tarnashinska. Analyzing the relations between the cultures of Ukraine and Europe, the researcher writes:

„І все ж можемо говорити про те, що в цей період Україна не набуває, а таки продовжує традицію своєї комунікабельності, екстравертності, оскільки її культура від самого початку складалася як система відкрита, здатна до синтезу та оновлення. Бароковий спадок України ХVII століття, коли, власне було завершено укладення фундаменту української національної культури – найбільше свідчення цієї екстравертної здатності української культури та її величезної духовної потенції.”[21]

Finally, let me quote the statement of Marek Pavlyshyn, who, like the researchers quoted above, emphasizes the enormous role of the Baroque era in the development of philosophical and cultural thought in Ukraine:

„Віднайдення бароко для української національної свідомости мало велике символічне значення. Бароковий період17-го та 18-го століть був останнім в якому Україна мала самостійну […] культуру. Її діяпазон охоплював культуру і аристократичну і народну, вона […] проявлялася в широкому спектрі мистецтв, зокрема в музиці, архітектурі й літературі […] вона мала визначних інтелектуальних провідників серед […] вчених у Київській Академії. Період бароко також збігався з останнім періодом української політичної автономії напередодні закінчення процесу асиміляції України в Російську імперію до останньой чверти 18 го століття.”[22]

By synthesizing the Ukrainian philosophical and aesthetic tradition with the achievements of Western European thought, drawing inspiration from the writings of Hryhory Skovoroda and referring to the trends of existentialist philosophy, as well as combining Slavic folklore and demonology with the aesthetics of realism, Valery Shevchuk fits into the convention of neo-Baroque imagery. Baroque can therefore be defined as the creator's basic artistic assumption, defined by Marek Pavlyshyn as the adaptation of old discourses and their use on the basis of innovative literary and philosophical concepts. Anna Horniatko-Shumylovych also mentions the synthesis of tradition and innovation in the work of the Ukrainian author: „З одного боку – це продовження художніх традицій, що визріли й передавались з покоління на покоління, з іншого – активні пошуки письменником нового художнього мислення.”[23] However, according to Ludmiła Tarnaszyńska, the "baroque" nature of Shevchuk's works reaches somewhat deeper, and it should be sought not only in the plane of stylistic synthesis, but above all in the plane of fundamental aesthetic and philosophical concepts. The researcher emphasizes that Valery Shevchuk, being an outstanding expert in 17th and 18th century literature, refers in his work to baroque artistic strategies that determine the way of understanding and presenting reality. The influence of Szewczuk’s research interests on his writing strategies is also mentioned by Natalia Horodniuk, who emphasizes that understanding the writer’s work is impossible without thoroughly knowing his literary interests:

„Культурні знаки прози Валерія Шевчука можуть бути прочитані і усвідомлені лише в контексті його літературознавчих, історичних та культурологічних студій, більшу частину яких присвячено бароковому пласту української культури. Писменник широко відомий як упорядник численних збірок барокових творів […] як перекладач творів І. Вишенського, П. Могили, Г. Сковороди, С. Величка.”^[24]

Ludmiła Tarnaszyńska considers the concept of universalizing the world presented as one of the most important strategies used by the writer.[25] According to the researcher, the category of universalization implies the use formulas of parable[26], allegory, and morality tale,[27] i.e. genres characterized by symbolic imagery and subtextuality [28] and the presentation of universal truths through the poetics of the fragment.[29] The author writes: „Творення художньої мікрогалактики Валерія Шевчука, […] відбувається за допомогою застосування компонентів універсальної картини світу, на якій постала література українського Бароко.”[30] According to Ludmiła Tarnaszyńska, the principle of pars pro toto is the most important structural element on which the author builds his "universal image of the world"[31]. Shevchuk subordinates both the time-space structures and the symbolism of the characters to the principle of universalization. The limited, closed space in which events most often take place becomes a synonym for the universe in his novels and stories, and the inscription of the characters' fates in the cosmic cycle of repetitions gives them a dimension as universal as possible. This type of representation of space can be found, for example, in the novel Птахи з невидимого острова, in which the closed area of the fortress surrounded by a wall is a literary image of hell and a metaphor for the totalitarian system. A closely guarded space, whose borders cannot be crossed, hides many cruel secrets, and the community living in it are ghost people, living corpses subject to the absolute power of the ruling prince. The condition of a slave falls to everyone who finds themselves in this demonic space, attempts to escape are subject to the harshest punishments, the individual man is reduced to the role of a servant, a slave blindly subordinate to the ruler and forced to renounce his own subjectivity. The principle of universalization is also characteristic of the novel Mop, in which the plague-ridden city is a metaphor for the dying and reborn universe. The fates of individual characters are inscribed in the space of the city-world, which is not so much a story about individual fates as a symbolic story of the struggle between the forces of good and evil. The characters, reduced to symbols, recreate the cosmic cycle of death and birth, repeating at the same time the universal motif of the triumph of light over darkness, life over death, good over evil. A similar identification of the characters with the elements and thus giving individual fates a dimension of the highest degree of universality can be found in the novel Дім на горі. Creating the characters of this novel, which contains countless folklore references, Valery Shevchuk clearly refers to the mythological and folk symbolism of the male and female elements, as well as to the concept of dividing the world into male and female elements. The author clearly refers to the complex connecting the man with the sky, the sun, the causative, active and positive force. The male characters of the novel are the embodiment of the principle of activity, as wanderers, seekers, thinkers they stand in clear opposition to the passive and passive female characters. In the presentation of female characters, the author refers to the symbolism of the earth, as well as water and the moon, which is expressed in the identification of the woman with the aquatic-chthonic symbolic complex.[32]

The principle of universalization also applies to the space in the novel The Vision of the Dead House. The dark vision of the ghost house, devouring the lives of its inhabitants, can be interpreted on many levels of generalization. An interesting reading is proposed by Petro Bilous in the text Allegorical discourse of The Vision of the Dead House. Referring to the concept of allegory, the author interprets the figure of the house on four levels: as a space of life stories, as a figure of the house-city, house-planet and house-eternity. The latter implies a synthesis of the concepts of life and death, good and evil, transient and eternal. The titular house, which is a space of negative events, a space of meanness, death, pettiness and misery, remains unmoved, unchanging. The events taking place in it reflect variability, the present, transience. However, the house itself as a space remains static and this forces reflection on eternity, on what is invisible, hidden under a layer of events. The world of everyday, human affairs is shown in a universal perspective, as a story leading to the Apocalypse.[33] This combination of the mundane and the universal, the banal and the deeply philosophical, once again refers to the baroque poetics of paradox. By recounting stories about the lives of uninteresting, "small" and most often vile people, the author inscribes them into the biblical story of the end of the world. The catastrophe of the house predicted in the vision of one of the residents is an image of the Apocalypse, the end of earthly existence.

When composing her micro galaxy, Szewczuk also refers to the complex symbolism of the elements, fairy tale, mythological and folk motifs. She blends the poetics of the fairy tale into the stream of a realistic story, making a specific synthesis of styles. The mystical tradition is also important - the poetics of vision, revelation, an unusual state of consciousness, a dream. Tarnaszyńska writes about the "baroque" prose of the author of House of the hill in the following way:

„Проза Валерія Шевчука розвиває […] барокові традиції. Це особливо виявляється як у застосуванні матриці універсальной картини світу, творчо трансформованої писменником і синтезованої з набутками світового писменства, так і в звертанні до ірраціональних, містичних візій та станів свідомості, що з часом виявилося і в розлогих, ускладнених барокових мовних конструкціях.”[34]

One of the basic stylistic tricks characteristic of Baroque poetics is the principle of combining opposites – heaven and earth, high and low, funny and tragic.[35] This synthesis of contradictions can also be found in Shevchuk's work, as mentioned by Anna Horniatko-Shumylovych, among others. Analyzing the works of the Ukrainian writer in the context of the poetics of chimerical prose, the author draws attention to the truly baroque polyphony characteristic of Shevchuk's novels and short stories. So, the folk culture of laughter and high, ornamental style, grotesque and philosophical considerations on the essence of good and evil, the researcher characterizes the writer's work in the following way:

„Синтез стильових прийомів реалізується, між іншим, зміщенням елементів естетики бароко й романтизму […] В. Шевчук, один з найнаполегливіших на сьогодні дослідників давньої української літератури, виявив свою близкість передусім до доби бароко і до так званого барокового письма тобто стилю, якому чи не в найвищому ступені притаманні різноголосся, багатотонність.”[36]

The synthesis of the high and the low, the physical and the spiritual, the tragic and the comic is realized both in the content and in the structure and style of many novels. An example of this is the work Срібне молоко, built according to the principles of baroque tragicomedy, in which - according to the words of Alla Bondarenko: „ виявляється контамінація дискурсів прозового та драматичного твору, взаємопроникнення канонів творів доби Відродження и форм сучасних художніх текстів.”[37] In this work, prose parts are interwoven with verse, philosophical and religious reflections are interrupted by decidedly down-to-earth, erotic adventures of the hero – a wandering, 17th-century deacon. A huge role in the novel is played by the tradition of folk culture of laughter, tightly woven into the system of existential considerations about the fate of the individual and combined with the universal image of man – a lonely wanderer. The novel Темна музика сосон is also based on paradox and the play of meanings, the action of which takes place in the second half of the 17th century, and the historical backdrop is the war of the Uniate Order of Basil the Great against Metropolitan Zhokhovsky. The issues of sin, holiness, striving for spiritual perfection are inextricably linked in this novel with the love story of a hermit monk and an aging prostitute. According to Ludmiła Tarnaszyńska, the principle of combining opposites is most fully expressed in Shevchuk's prose in the form of individual representations, i.e. through the characterization of the protagonist, his psyche and place in the world.[38] The author emphasizes that Szewczuk's heroes exist in a state of suspension between heaven and earth, the real and the surreal, between hell and paradise, and the fight between good and evil takes place not so much in the real world as in the hero's soul, making it an allegory of the universe.[39] With the metaphysical sensitivity characteristic of the Baroque era, the heroes of the novels and short stories of the Ukrainian writer experience reality as a kind of mystery in which the sacred meets the profane, and the real becomes a kind of symbol/sign of the surreal:

„Закоріненість екзистенціальної природи Шевчукових героїв виразно барокова: таке містичне світовідчуття було притаманне людині Бароко – з її екзистенційним переживанням містичного, інобуттевого як іманентної властивості людської сутності.”[40]

According to Tarnaszyńska, the Baroque provenance is also the definition of the human condition in the world. Aware of his insignificance and weakness, helpless in the face of the vastness of the universe, man is at the same time the embodiment of the Skovorodian idea of the microcosm:

„Оте барокове усвідомлення людиною своєї малості й безпорадності в огромі всесвіту, космізм світовідчуття, перейнятість трагічною неспівмірністю безмежності вселенського макрокосму й незбагненності мікрокосму людської душі знайоме більшості героїв Валерія Шевчука.”[41]

This definition of the human condition is expressed in the novel Сповідь, which is based around the folkloric motif of a man turning into a werewolf. The characters in the novel are confronted with forces that far exceed the average man, the folk story of werewolfism becomes a parable about the struggle of an individual with cosmic forces, struggling with one's own weakness, maintaining dignity and humanity. Shevchuk's novel presents an image of man as a lonely "reed in the wind", an insignificant individual left to the forces of heaven and earth. Characterizing the philosophical background of the Baroque culture, Andrzej Borkowski emphasizes that the key role in it was played by the issue of fear of infinity and the feeling of insignificance of the human being. The researcher describes the Baroque man as suspended in a bottomless abyss and "deprived of the close and familiar shell of the firmament"[42] The Baroque man stands naked and defenseless against infinity. Valery Shevchuk, characterizing his werewolf hero, uses the concepts of the "shell of the firmament" and the "abyss" into which the man is thrown:

„Людина не повинна вириватися зі своєї шкарлупини. Тільки в ній її єдиний спокій і криївка, бо глибоко беззахисна вона перед небом. Хай не втручається у віковічну боротьбу неба і землі, хай не стає на прю – не зможе вона розібрати де воїни неба а де землі. Хай знає свої маленькі клопоти, свій світець, здобуває собі їжу і чубиться з такими ж, як сам.”[43]

Powołując się na ustalenia Natalii Horodniuk, można stwierdzić, iż charakterystyczna dla Szewczuka strategia wykorzystania elementów kultury baroku polega przede wszystkim na próbie odtworzenia specyfiki światopoglądowej, charakterystycznej dla XVIII-wieku. Autor stara się odtworzyć swoisty kod barokowej kultury, poprzez postacie swych bohaterów dąży do rekonstrukcji „barokowego sposobu percepcji rzeczywistości”[44] Thus, historical motifs are realized in Valery Shevchuk's prose primarily in the plan of the general artistic and philosophical concept, and in the plane of imagery, stylistics and poetics of works. But not only. History, especially the history of 17th-18th century Ukraine, enters the pages of the author's novels and short stories also in the form of quotes, allusions and direct references to real facts and characters. In the form of a broadly understood quote, the author uses elements of the culture of the Ukrainian Baroque[45], citing texts by baroque authors or using fragments of biographies of outstanding activists of the era.[46] The plot of many of Shevchuk's novels is a kind of creative transformation of either a historical motif or a baroque work, an example of which are the novels На полі смиренному or Розповідь про Ісакія, до якого Христос приходив[47] The historical context of time and space organizes works such as У пащу дракона, Темна музика сосон, or novel Сповідь[48] The novels that make up the triptych are built on the basis of historical material. Три листки за вікном.[49] Since the vast majority of Shevchuk's works are based to a greater or lesser extent on historical material, it would not make sense to list all the titles within the framework of this text. According to Halyna Kosarewa, the strategy of giving titles to works, which, like an 18th-century emblem, constitute a word-image with rich semantics, also has a Baroque provenance. The author gives the example of the novel На полі смиренному, and analyzes the semantic connotations associated with the figure of the field and its meaning in Skovoroda's system of thought. She also notes that other titles of Shevchuk's works also serve the function of a word-symbol, such as: Розсічене коло, Око Прірви, У пащу Дракона.[50]

Finally, it is worth mentioning another way in which history (mainly the Baroque period) permeates the pages of Shevchuk's novels – namely, the author's use of historical figures as heroes of the novel. Real characters, such as Ilya Turchinovsky, Mykhailo Zhuravnytskyi, or – most importantly – Hryhoriy Skovoroda, find their artistic embodiment on the pages of Shevchuk's novels and dramas. The 18th century philosopher appears in person in the collection of historical tales У череві апокаліпитчного звіра and in the drama Сад. Daria Lukyanenko notes that in the latter, the author not only paints a portrait of the wandering sage, but also uses extensive fragments of Skorovoroda's texts in his own translation.[51] Although the figure of the Ukrainian philosopher appears only in some of the works, the spirit of his ideas permeates all of Shevchuk's work. The writer refers to Skovoroda's thoughts and works through quotes and paraphrases, but also uses symbolic images characteristic of the Ukrainian philosopher, such as a book or a garden. The meaning of these symbolic figures is written about by, among others, Halyna Kosareva, analyzing the symbol of the book and the garden in the novels На полі смиренному and Три листки за вікном.[52] The author of the monograph У пошуках внутрішньої людини, Roman Korohodsky, sees the enormous role of Hryhoriy Skovoroda's thought in the development of Shevchuk's moral and artistic concepts, especially in the sphere of ethical considerations. Skovoroda's thought and the tradition of the "philosophy of the heart" determine, according to Korohodsky, Shevchuk's proper understanding of the world and the role of the individual. The author states:

„Варто докладніше зупинитися на фундаментальній світоглядній основі всіх Шевчукових творів – це Сковорода. Існує […] спорідненність їхніх життевих і есетичних зазад.”[53] Czy w innym miejscu: „Певно варто почати зі Сковородди, головноїцитаделі духу наближення до якої сприяло виробленню морально-етичних і естетичних поглядів писменника.”[54]

In conclusion to the considerations on the role and place of historical motifs in Valery Shevchuk's works, it is worth referring again to the findings of Natalia Horodniuk, who in her monograph Знаки необарокової культури Валерiя Шевчука: компаративні аспекти emphasizes that the basic function that the author assigns to history is the role of a link between the past and the present, and that the author's aspiration is to reconstruct cultural continuity, which conditions the sense of rootedness and enables cultural and national identification. The researcher states: „У своїй же художній прозі митець прагне заповнити лакуни, що утворилися, відновити цілісність структури української культурної ідентичності, подаючи власний варіант інтерпретації необхідних структурних ланок.”[55] Valery Shevchuk reconstructs the continuity of Ukrainian culture not only in his prose but also through his scientific, literary and cultural studies activities. The result of research on old Ukrainian poetry is several volumes of anthologies published in the 1980s and 1990s. (Аполлонова лютня, 1982, Пісні Купідіона. Любовна поезія на Україні в XVI – поч. XIX ст, 1984, Антологія української поезії XI-XVIII ст., 1984, Марсове поле. Героїчна поезія на Україні в X – поч. XIX ст., 1988-89) Another very important item is the two-volume anthology of baroque poetry, Муза Роксоланська: Українська література 16th-18 ст., published in 2004-2004, which presents the works of many almost completely unknown and forgotten creators of the early and late baroque era.

HISTORY IN THE PROSE OF VALERY SHEVCHUK. BAROQUE MOTIVES.

The subject of the article is history in the prose of Valery Shevchuk. History in Shevchuk’s novels is associated with such categories as freedom, historical memory and national consciousness. Valery Shevchuk creates a panorama of Ukrainian people lives and writes in historical and cultural context. The most important historical period for Shevchuk is the time of XVII and XVIII centuries, especially according to the culture of baroque.

Key words: baroque, prose of Valery Shevchuk, national consciousness, history

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Павлишин Марко, Відлиги, література та національне питання: проза Валерія Шевчука, в:, Канон та іконостас, Київ, 1997 [Pavlišin Marko, Vìdligi, lìteratura ta nacìonalʹne pitannâ: proza Valerìâ Ševčuka, [v:], Kanon ta ìkon та іконостас, Київ 1997]

Рябчук Микола, Книга добра і зла за Валерієм Шевчуком [w]: „Вітчизна”,№ 2, 1988, c. 176–179 [Râbčuk Mikola, Kniga dobra ì zla za Valerìêm Ševčukom [w]:
„Vìtčizna” ,№ 2, 1988, c. 176–179].

Тарнашинська Людмила, Художня галактика Валерія Шевчука Київ 2001 [Tarnašinsʹka Lûdmila, Hudožnâ galaktika Valerìâ
Ševčuka Kiïv 2001]

Чижевський Дмитро, Історія української літератури. Від початків до доби реалізму, Нью-Йорк, 1956 [Čiževsʹkij Dmitro, Ìstorìâ ukraïnsʹkoï lìteraturi. Vìd počatkìv do dobi realìzmu, Nʹû-Jork1956]

Шевчук Валерій, Сповідь, том Мор, Львів, 2004 [Ševčuk Valerìj, Spovìdʹ,
tom Mor, Lʹvìv 2004]

[1] L. T a r n a s z y ń s k a, Художня галактика Валерія Шевчука, Київ 2001, c. 195.

[2] Н. Б о р и с е н к о, Роман Три листки за вікном Валерія Шевчука як об’єкт літературознавчого осмислення, [w]: „Рідний край”. №2 (27) 2012, c. 135–141.

[3] М. Р я б ч у к, Книга добра і зла за Валерієм Шевчуком [w]:”Вітчизна”,№ 2, 1988, c. 176–179.

[4] Л. Т а р н а ш и н с ь к а, Валерій Шевчук. Мав дерзновення бути самим собою, Київ, 2002, c. 4.

[5] К. Д ю ж е в а, Проблемно-стилістична поліваріантність історичних творів шістдесятників (на прикладі Валерія Шевчука та Ліни Костенко), [w]: „Волинь-Житомирщина. Історико-філологічний збірник з регіональних проблем”, Житомир, 2010, c. 72-81.

[6] A także: Р. М о в ч а н., Барокові тенденції в романі Валерія Шевчука Дім на горі в: „Українська мова і література в школі”, 1999, № 31 (143), c. 7-9; О. Со л е ц ь к и й, Барокова емблема як компонент внутрішньої організації текстів Валерія Шевчука, в: „Волинь-Житомирщина: історико – філол. зб. з регіональних проблем.” Вип. 12 – Житомир, 2004, c. 118-125; В. С о б о л ь, Необароковий театр прози пізнього Шевчука, в: „Slavia Orientalis”, Tom LIV, Nr 4, 2005, c. 561-570.

[7] Н. Г о р о д н ю к, Знаки необарокової культури Валерія Шевчука: компаративні аспекти, Київ, 2006, c. 10.

[8] С. Г е р а с и м ч у к, Алегорія у творі Валерія Шевчука На полі смиренному, [w]: „Волинь-Житомирщина. Історико-філологічний збірник з регіональних проблем”, Житомир, 2010, c. 55.

[9] Ю. Л а в р і н е н к о, Розстрілане Відродження. Антологія 1917-1933. поезія-проза-драма-есей, Київ, 2004, c. 959/960.

[10] Ibidem, c. 960/961.

[11] Ibidem, c. 960.

[12] Ibidem, c. 960.

[13] Н. Г о р о д н ю к, Знаки необарокової культури Валерія Шевчука: компаративні аспекти, Київ, 2006, c. 35.

[14] М. Н а є н к о, Художня література України, Київ, 2005, c. 193.

[15] Ю. Л а в р і н е н к о, Розстрілане Відродження. Антологія 1917-1933. Поезія-проза-драма-есей, Київ, 2004, c. 961.

[16] Д. Ч и ж е в с ь к и й, Сімнадцяте сторіччя в духовій історії України, в: „Арка”, Мюнхен, 1948, ч. 3-4 c. 9.

[17] М. Н а є н к о, Художня література України, Київ, 2005, c. 197/198.

[18] Р. К о р о г о д с ь к и й, У пошуках внутрішньої людини, Київ 2002, c. 50.

[19] N. J a k o w e n k o, Historia Ukrainy, tłum. Ola Hnatiuk i Katarzyna Kotyńska, Lublin 2000, s. 303.

[20] Д. Ч и ж е в с ь к и й, Історія української літератури. Від початків до доби реалізму, Нью-Йорк, 1956, c. 241.

[21] Л. Т а р н а ш и н с ь к а, Художня галактика Валерія Шевчука Київ 2001, c. 20.

[22] М. П а в л и ш и н, Відлиги, література та національне питання: проза Валерія Шевчука, в: Марко Павлишин, Канон та іконостас, Київ, 1997, s. 113-131., c. 117-118.

[23] А. Г о р н я т к о-Ш у м и л о в и ч, Проза Валерія Шевчука традийійне і новаторське, Szczecin, 2001, c. 7.

[24] Н. Г о р о д н ю к, Знаки необарокової культури Валерія Шевчука: компаративні аспекти, Київ, 2006, с. 7/8.

[25] Л. Т а р н а ш и н с ь к а, Художня галактика Валерія Шевчука Київ 2001, c. 99.

[26] А. Г о р н я т к о-Ш у м и л о в и ч, Проза Валерія Шевчука традийійне і новаторське, Szczecin, 2001, c. 39.

[27] Л. Т а р н а ш и н с ь к а, Художня галактика Валерія Шевчука Київ 2001, c. 112/113.

[28] Ibidem, c. 112/113.

[29] Ibidem, c. 100.

[30] Ibidem, c. 198.

[31] Ibidem, c. 100.

[32] W. K o p a l i ń s k i, Słownik symboli, Warszawa, 1990, s. 147,148; Andrzej Szyjewski, Etnologia religii, Kraków, 2008, s. 454, 464, 465, 466.

[33] П. Б і л о у с, Алегоричний дискурс повісті Привид мертвого дому, [w]: „Волинь-Житомирщина. Історико-філологічний збірник з регіональних проблем”, Житомир, 2010, c. 34.

[34]. Л. Т а р н а ш и н с ь к а, Художня галактика Валерія Шевчука Київ 2001, c. 195

[35] Ibidem, c. 102.

[36] А. Г о р н я т к о-Ш у м и л о в и ч, Проза Валерія Шевчука традийійне і новаторське, Szczecin, 2001, c. 74.

[37] А. Б о н д а р е н к о, Інтерсеміотичні грані дискурсивного простору роману Валерія Шевчука Срібне молоко, [w]: „Волинь-Житомирщина. Історико-філологічний збірник з регіональних проблем”, Житомир, 2010, c. 36.

[38] А. Г о р н я т к о-Ш у м и л о в и ч, Проза Валерія Шевчука традийійне і новаторське, Szczecin, 2001, c. 102.

[39] Л. Т а р н а ш и н с ь к а, Художня галактика Валерія Шевчука Київ 2001, c. 102/106/107.

[40] Ibidem, c. 199.

[41] Ibidem, c. 106.

[42] A. B o r o w s k i, Barok, [w]: Okresy literackie, red. Jan Majda, Warszawa, 1990, s. 113.

[43] В. Ш е в ч у к, Сповідь, том Мор, Львів, 2004, c. 142.

[44] Н. Г о р о д н ю к, Знаки необарокової культури Валерія Шевчука: компаративні аспекти, Київ, 2006, c. 53.

[45] Ibidem, c. 52.

[46] Ibidem, c. 52.

[47] А. Г о р н я т к о-Ш у м и л о в и ч, Проза Валерія Шевчука традийійне і новаторське, Szczecin, 2001, c.69.

[48] Ibidem, c. 71.

[49] Ibidem, c. 70.

[50] Г. К о с а р є в а, Барокова емблема заголовка як актуалізація герменевтичного коду твору (на матеріалі роману Валерія Шевчука На полі смиренному,// http://www.nbuv.gov.ua/Portal//Soc_Gum/Nvmdu/Fil/2012_10/23.htm, dostęp: [25-03-2015].

[51] Д. Л у к ь я н е н к о, Валерій Шевчук: художній спосіб освоєння феномену Григорія Сковороди, [w]: Волинь-Житомирщина. Історико-філологічний збірник з регіональних проблем, Житомир, 2010, c. 115.

[52] Г. К о с а р е в а, Сакральні виміри прози Валерія Шевчука (на матеріалі романів На полі смиренному, Три листки за вікном, [w]: „Наукові праці. Філологія, літературознавство”, tom 244, № 212, 2013) c. 45-49.

[53] Р. К о р о г о д с ь к и й, У пошуках внутрішньої людини, Київ 2002, c. 80.

[54] Ibidem, c. 120.

[55] Н. Г о р о д н ю к, Знаки необарокової культури Валерія Шевчука: компаративні аспекти, Київ, 2006, c. 8.

Svitlana Romaniuk

University of Warsaw

Nadiya Trach, "Together We Are Strong!": The Rhetoric of Ukrainian Resistance. Sociolinguistic Essays, Kyiv 2015, 141 pages.

The revolutionary period in Ukraine during 2013-2014 influenced not only political changes in the country, the civic stance of Ukrainians, and the development of the unique culture of Maidan, but especially their linguistic creativity. I do not mean the appearance of numerous literary works that emerged almost simultaneously with the tragic events, and also after the end of the confrontation. What I primarily refer to is the creativity of ordinary people—not poets or writers—but rather the spontaneous creation of living language, which was often born outside of those with artistic talent.

This living language of protest, preserved in interesting forms—slogans and songs—was skillfully analyzed by a researcher from the National University of "Kyiv-Mohyla Academy," who is also an author of studies on the language of mass media, language policy, the connection between language and identity, legal terminology, and more.

The text fully corresponds to the stated approach: the author emphasizes that the research has a scientific-journalistic nature. Nadiya Trach's essays are not only for specialists interested in modern sociolinguistic research but are also primarily a collection of sharp slogans that reflected the strength of Ukrainian resistance, known and remembered by most participants and observers of the Revolution of Dignity. The first of these slogans appears in the title of the publication: "Together We Are Strong!" The list of 824 slogans makes up Appendix No. 1 to the main text, which is based on a thorough analysis of them.

The monograph, dedicated to those who died during Maidan and all those involved in the events in Ukraine during that period, was published in Kyiv in 2015, a post-revolutionary time, allowing for reflection on what, in the author's apt words, were the "words that changed us" (p. 17). The work contains seven essays thematically related to slogans that unite them, an introduction, explanations of the research method, two appendices (slogans and songs of Ukrainian resistance), a bibliography, and sources. Additionally, the book is well-illustrated, with the illustrations placed in a somewhat unconventional manner, appearing immediately after the introduction. This helps the reader quickly "immerse" themselves in the world of the described events, witness their authenticity, and see true evidence of the slogans used during the protests. This is aided by photos from Maidan, copies of posters, leaflets, stickers, mini-posters, graffiti, and children's drawings (the latter, however, relate to the conflict in eastern Ukraine, which is not given a separate chapter, although slogans referring to later events in Ukraine are reflected in the mentioned appendix).

In the essays, Nadiya Trach uses sociolinguistic methods to analyze the collected material, as well as discourse analysis. She addresses issues of identity and values, which are the subjects of discursive research, as the analysis of protest language must take into account the social, cultural, and political contexts. The comparative aspect of the study includes comparisons between the Revolution of Dignity and previous protests in Ukraine, such as the Student Revolution on Granite (1990), the "Ukraine Without Kuchma" movement (2001), the Orange Revolution (2004), and the Tax Maidan (2010). The author also compares similar social movements in other countries, such as in Egypt, Thailand, the USA, France, the UK, Russia, Romania, or Poland (the Solidarity movement of the 1980s) (see, for example, pp. 99-105). The slogans are analyzed in terms of their social functions (uniting and mobilizing participants—pp. 50-51, 92-95; forming identity—pp. 40-41; transmitting values, primarily European ones—pp. 42-45) and linguistic functions (communicative, expressive, poetic—pp. 71-80). The author also looks at grammatical analysis, describing the role of pronouns (we, you, they—pp. 51-54) and the use of the imperative mood (pp. 50-51), as well as the syntactic structure of the slogans (the question-answer structure, p. 51). These functions are described in a separate essay: "Glory to Ukraine!" and "I Am a Drop in the Ocean: Social and Linguistic Functions of Slogans" (pp. 58-71).

The author's conviction that "revolution begins with words" (p. 17) is successfully confirmed by examples. For instance, slogans based on the imperative mood were quickly picked up by protesters: "Come out to Maidan," "Don't buy from a regionalist," "Add your drop," "Pack your things and go to Kyiv!" and others (p. 50). The study records terms that are uniquely associated with the period, such as "Heavenly Hundred," or later, "cyborgs," as well as neologisms that emerged or spread first among the participants and later entered general use: "Maidaners," "titushky" (and derivatives), "vatniks," "embroidery lovers," "colorado beetles," "dill," "Banderlogs," "aquafreshes," and others (pp. 18-19, 25; pp. 26-27).

In the context of analyzing the formation of a certain Ukrainian identity during the period of confrontation, the author concludes that "revolutionary slogans became expressions of various types of identity: European, gender, regional, social, national, and others" (p. 35). Examples include "Ukraine is Europe!," "Ukrainian women against a slave future!," "Kolomyia is Europe!," and "Scientists against violence," among others.

The researcher also addresses slogans in languages other than Ukrainian, primarily English and Russian (examples are analyzed on pp. 46-47). Nadiya Trach notes that anti-Russian rhetoric was conveyed through slogans written in Russian (p. 46), while those in English aimed to attract the attention of the European and global community to the events in Ukraine (p. 47).

The analysis of songs created by participants in the Revolution of Dignity is presented in the essay "I Breathe Freely" and "Ты можешь их победить" (You Can Defeat Them): Maidan Values Through the Lens of Grammar (pp. 56-57). Although not deeply detailed, as this section deals with the grammatical and syntactic features of slogans, Appendix No. 2 at the end of the publication includes songs that emerged during that period and were performed by demonstrators. It would be interesting to read about the special form of revolutionary songs, based on the Hutsul "kolomyika," which the author mentions in the context of the variability of Ukrainian poetic genres (p. 67), but unfortunately, no examples are provided.

Other forms of linguistic creativity aimed at concealing or camouflaging, or as the author puts it, simply reflecting the linguistic diversity of social dialects, normative and non-normative registers, and the overall structure of Maidan (p. 71), are described in the chapter addressing euphemization and dysphemization (pp. 71-79). This section includes, for example, the linguistic incompetence of Ukrainian politicians (such as the unique speech of former Prime Minister Mykola Azarov, which was termed "Azarivka," p. 75), and notes that such linguistic practices reflected two opposing tendencies: verbal aggression modeled by protesters, and on the other hand, linguistic softening (p. 79).

Overall, Nadiya Trach's monograph successfully illustrates the conclusion presented at the end, namely: the socio-political protest in Ukraine in 2013-2014 sparked an "explosion of creativity—both visual and linguistic" (p. 106), as demonstrated in this reviewed publication.

Finally, it is worth noting that selected political slogans, though slightly modified, have recently begun to appear on the streets of Polish cities, so one can trace their origins back to the Kyiv Maidan. Therefore, we hope that the book, whether in the original or in a Polish translation, will eventually find its way to Poland. The publication deserves attention and time, not only for specialists but also as a documented glimpse into modern Ukrainian history—a reflection and reminder of the past, not only for participants of the Revolution of Dignity but also for a wider audience. This scholarly work will undoubtedly find a broad readership and leave no one indifferent after reading it.

Marta ZAMBRZYCKA[1]

University of Warsaw

ORCID https://orcid.org/0000-0002-2123-8531

Paulina OLECHOWSKA[2]

University of Warsaw

ORCID https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1375-8921

Eastern Ukraine as a Symbolic Space in the Prose of Serhiy Zhadan

Based on the Novel Voroshilovgrad and Mesopotamia

INTRODUCTION

The subject of the article is the analysis of the space of Eastern Ukraine, especially the city of Kharkiv and the Donbas region in the prose of Serhiy Zhadan. The analysis will be conducted on the basis of two novels: Mesopotamia (2014) and Voroshilovgrad (2010). In the novels, the space of Eastern Ukraine goes beyond geographical, and even geopolitical or geocultural categories, and is identical with the area of the most important values that shape a person's personality and influence their self-identification. Space is also a "place of memory", an area of experiences accumulated over generations, the presence of which does not remain indifferent to current events. Apart from the historical and axiological dimension, the imaginative aspect of space as a literary category essential to Zhadan's prose is also important. By the imaginative aspect, we mean the method used by the author, which consists in showing not so much a real place, but rather the ideas or even stereotypes functioning about it. The space presented in this way functions as a kind of simulacrum, which says more about the role of social perception in shaping the image of reality than about the processes actually taking place in a given territory.

When speaking about the space of values and the space of ideas, it is impossible to ignore the concept of humanistic geography, which has been developing since the 1970s, as well as the nuances in the understanding of the concepts of "space" and "place" that have been established in the reflections of this trend. As Anna Marta Dworak writes, humanistic geography emphasizes the role that "experience plays in establishing a place.”[3] Experience is identical to a kind of "rootedness" in a given space, which in turn is connected with a sense of identity and connections between the personality and the inhabited territory. A classic example of analysis in the humanistic geography trend is Yi-Fu Tuan's book Space and Place. The author, who is one of the creators of this concept of geography, emphasizes the difference between the concepts of space and place, claiming that "what is initially space becomes place as it is learned and given value”[4].

There is no doubt that the east of Ukraine, and especially Kharkiv, where Serhiy Zhadan lives, and Donbas, from which he comes, constitute an emotionally charged space that is close to the writer not only as the author of the stories set in the east, but also in his private life. It is therefore – according to humanistic geography – a “place” that is axiologically charged, “domesticated”, providing a sense of security and rootedness. It is also a place associated with the experience of an individual and their memory. Despite the differences between the concepts of “place” and “space” emphasized in theoretical literature, in the rest of the text we use them interchangeably, understanding both as a specific geographical area, axiologically and emotionally charged, connected with experience and crucial in identity processes. In an interview with Agnieszka Matusiak, Zhadan emphasized his far from indifferent attitude to the areas of eastern Ukraine, especially to Donbas. He calls this territory his homeland and defines his feelings for it as love. The writer claims that: "there are certain things that a man loves unconsciously, simply because he cannot help but love them. He loves because it is his Fatherland."[5] The feeling for the homeland (in this case, "small", "local") is unconditional and not motivated by any objective factors. Not only in interviews, but also in essays, Zhadan emphasized a very personal attitude to the eastern regions of his country. In the essay Road Atlas of Ukraine, the author-narrator writes that he feels connected to the described space, which is the place of his upbringing. The sentiment left over from his childhood years influences the imaging and valuation of space: "From all this, a very strange image was created for me - my Eastern Ukraine with disproportionately bent pines along the route, with incredibly sunny cities and unspeakably hot asphalt."[6] The sentiment left over from his childhood years is combined in Żadan's work with a rather uncompromising diagnosis of the condition of this region after the fall of the USSR. The author calls it "dead industrial"[7], emphasizing the omnipresent ruin and lack of prospects. The dualism of feelings towards this small homeland, as well as attempts to define its specificity, constitute the basis of Żadan's prose. The subject of the further part of the article are analyses of three closely related dimensions of space-place, namely: the space of values, the space of memory, the space of imagination, described on the basis of the two novels mentioned above.

Value Space

In Serhiy Zhadan's novel Voroshilovgrad [8] The axiologically marked space is Donbas, with the titular Voroshilovgrad (i.e. Luhansk). On the road out of the city there is a petrol station, which is the spatial centre of the text. Both the aforementioned object and the entire space of the city and its surroundings initially give the impression of a kind of "end of the world", a deserted province devoid of prospects, from which anyone with any ambitions should flee as soon as possible. The main character Herman, who comes to his hometown from Kharkov to quickly settle professional matters related to the petrol station abandoned by his brother and return to his rather barren but "big city" life, is confronted with images of ruin and hopelessness from the very first moments: "I passed a wrecked Moskvich with burnt wheels, some pile of scrap metal, aircraft parts, refrigerators and gas stoves and went out [...] to the gas pumps. [...] The station itself did not look the best [...] behind the trailer there was a storage facility for wrecked machines [...]"[9]. Not only is the area in a state of decay, the described area is also dangerous: "[...] the next place where there was petrol was about seventy kilometres to the north, and the route ran through suspicious places, where there were no authorities and no population as such. There was even no signal to the north, it seems."[10]

At first glance, Donbas is more of a "territory" than a "place" in the novel, but it quickly turns out that this barren and dangerous wasteland also becomes a space for the protagonist's identity transformation. [11], who in his hometown not only finds memories and a sense of rootedness, but also matures as a personality, developing a sense of community and solidarity with his fellow residents, as well as responsibility for the fate of his native space and the people who inhabit it. This awakening of consciousness, which is also a metaphor for spiritual initiation, or the transition of an individual from a semi-childlike condition to full maturity, is determined in the novel by a specific place. It is here, in his hometown, in the hardships of fighting the local mafia, in the resistance that the hero begins to put up against the corrupt reality, that his new identity is born. The hero's identity transformation is inextricably linked to the category of memory "rooted" in a specific geographical and cultural space.Nacechowana aksjologicznie przestrzeń jest „bohaterem” również innych powieści Żadana, w tym Mezopotamii [12].

As Żadan emphasizes in an interview for "Gazeta Wyborcza", this song is a tribute to his beloved city - Kharkiv, where he spent 25 years of his life[13]. Mesopotamia is a story about love and death, about the specific spirit of Kharkov, about Kharkov as real, intimate, romantic and phantasmagoric. In the piece we have real places - as Zhadan says, located primarily in old Kharkov, an extremely atmospheric part of the city. The hospital that Jura ends up in is real, or the yard where the wake for Marat is held [14], but also phantasmagoric visions of the transport of slaves, madmen, lepers and alchemists [15]. There is room for friendship, love, robberies and the mafia. Żadan explains the poetics of the piece as follows: "I wanted my stories to be, on the one hand, as realistic and everyday as possible, and on the other - to see their symbolic and universal dimension in what is ordinary. I wanted to write about my neighbors from my staircase as if they were ancient heroes and gods."[16] We can talk about values in the context of the Kharkov space primarily using the example of the first story of Mesopotamia. It is the story of Marat, which tells about the friendship of several boys from neighboring Kharkov yards, boys from the neighborhood, about the sense of community. In this story, the author describes real spaces without phantasmagoric elements, the story seems to take the form of a memory:

"We lived in old tenement houses that hung over the river, we grew up in divided and rebuilt apartments, we ran out of damp staircases in the morning, we returned in the evening under precarious, leaky roofs that needed to be patched up. From above we could see the entire city, in the courtyards we could feel that the stones on which all this was built were lying beneath us."[17]

This is a space experienced in early youth - close, familiar and safe, "where everything was at hand - maternity ward, kindergarten, music school, military recruitment command, shops, pharmacies, hospitals, cemeteries"[18]. The next image is the area around the courtyard – the architecture characteristic of the city: the boulevard and the bridge, the black factory buildings, construction sites, the ubiquitous Kharkiv single-family houses, churches"[19]. The yard where the family and friends met 40 days after Mart's death is also a characteristic fragment of the Kharkiv space: on both sides pre-revolutionary two-story buildings, half deserted and neglected, in the middle of the yard flower beds and gardens, behind them apple trees and a black brick wall of a building that had an exit to the neighboring yard, no grass, clay, stones and sand [20]. Marat, a Chechen by birth, was shot in unclear circumstances, he was a boxer, a wasted talent, a womanizer, an uncompromising man. That's how his friends knew him, but the ceremony required a specific convention of remembering a friend. His colleagues spoke of him as the sports hope of the Kharkiv region, a great competitor, a fervent Muslim, someone who always stood up for the weaker, risking his life, a sacrificial son, an exemplary husband. These are the rules of friendship: "No one minded a drink, no one minded true male friendship."[21]

Marat's life was not a series of successes, there was a lot of blood and pain in it, a wasted career opportunity, a sense of unfulfillment, addiction. However, his life plans were different and the narrator returns to these plans with the Kharkov space in the background at the end of the story. He recalls a situation when, together with Marat, at the end of primary school, he agreed to a night pigeon hunt in the attic of the tenement house where he lived. Both boys watched the area in the moonlight from the roof of the tenement house. And again, characteristic attributes of the Kharkov space appear, a specific color scheme appears, as well as the protagonist's fascination and delight in it:

"Right below us, the area where we grew up shone with dark silver, the heavy clusters of houses, the crowns of trees. Empty courtyards shone, where darkness stood like water in sunken tankers. Windows and balconies shone, antennas and particles. Gates and staircases shone, lanterns and billboards shone. Bricks and sheet metal, grass and stone, clay and night earth shone. The spider's web shone, filling the air with thin threads. Further on, the buildings descended to the river and there, closer to its bed, the roofs of warehouses and car workshops shone, the cold mercury of the river, the misty chimney of the old mill on the other bank, the lights of single-family houses, the white smoke of boiler rooms and factories. Further on, the silver merged the earth and sky. And one could only guess who lived there and what was happening there. Marat looked ahead as if enchanted."

Both in Voroshilovgrad and in Mesopotamia, the heroes' native spaces are places with axiological significance - places where the heroes mature and a system of values is shaped, and they are also areas of the most important memories and the strongest interpersonal bonds.

Space of Imagination

Tadeusz Iwański writes that Voroshilovgrad can be read as a description of the realities of post-Soviet Ukraine or a voice "in the discussion about the place of Ukraine, [...] on the cultural and identity map of Europe."[22] Małgorzata Nocuń also claims that in the novel Voroshilovgrad Zhadan masterfully shows the pathologies of the Ukrainian east, or the Ukrainian state in general: crime, the connection of business with the world of politics, alcoholism, bribery, the criminalization of society, and others. According to the aforementioned author, his novel also presents an image of eastern Ukraine as a place "forgotten in the discourse on Ukrainian identity."[23] Treating Serhiy Zhadan's prose as a source of knowledge about contemporary Donbas - which, according to Ryszard Kupidura, is a not uncommon practice - seems to be only partially justified, or in any case appropriate for journalistic perception, not literary studies.

The latter is presented by Tamara Hundorova, who very accurately diagnoses the geocultural topography of the novel Voroshilovgrad in terms of the space of "imagined realities", a kind of simulacrum or worldview cliché. Indeed, the author shows us not so much the real image of eastern Ukraine as he filters it through the ideas about it that dominate both in popular consciousness and in intellectual discourses. In most political and intellectual narratives characteristic of independent Ukraine, the entire East and Donbas in particular are transformed into a kind of "reserve of foreignness"[24], a place that is “different”, excluded, a habitat for that which does not fit into patriotic and national concepts and identity narratives. As Marta Studenna-Skrukwa writes, the degradation of Donbas’ image has been noticeable since the establishment of an independent state:

„The professional degradation of miners led to a change in the perception of the entire region […] In the general Ukrainian perception after 1991, Donbas clearly embodies the center of social pathologies: crime […], corruption, alcoholism, aggression and boorishness. The inhabitants of Donbas are also imputed a general lack of refinement, ignorance and reluctance to associate with high culture.”^{^[25]}

The way Serhiy Zhadan presents this region in the novel Voroshilovgrad is a kind of commentary on the aforementioned, prevailing ideas about this region. Phantasmagoria, grotesque, daring, often paradoxical combination of contradictory elements and black humor of the highest kind create a place that resembles in terms of the convention of imagery rather the films about the Balkans by Emir Kusturica than a reportage, realistic portrait of the real Donbas. Of course, the phenomena described by the author, such as criminalization, crime, alcoholism, lack of prospects, etc. are part of the reality of eastern Ukraine, but the author hyperbolizes them, showing us a world sometimes exaggerated to the point of absurdity. An example is the description of the life of one of the characters in the novel, Kocha, sparkling with humor:

“Kocha […] belonged to the promising youth, he grew up without parents, he had problems with law enforcement agencies already at school, gradually becoming the terror of the estate. The estate was only being built in the seventies, so Kocha’s turbulent youth coincided with the intensive development of municipal infrastructure – he robbed new grocery stores, robbed newly opened newsstands […] in general, he kept up with the times. […] He served in a construction battalion near Zhytomyr, but returned home with the tattoos of airborne troops. […] He walked around the district with shoulder straps and beat up anyone who didn’t recognize him. We, the guys, admired Kocha, he was a bad example to us. The Komsomol made one last pathetic attempt to fight for his soul and gave him a two-room apartment […] Kocha moved in and set up a den of debauchery in his house. […] he drank more and more and the country’s collapse escaped his notice. In the late 1980s, when a serial killer appeared in the city, the authorities and law enforcement suspected Kocza. However, they did not dare to arrest him because they were simply afraid of him. The neighbors were also convinced that it was Kocza […] who raped the dairy workers, then ripped them open with a sharp metal object. Men respected him for that, women liked him.”[26]

The quoted text is worth supplementing with the comment that Kocha is an extremely likeable character who does not arouse any negative emotions in the reader. The Donbas criminal world (full of pathetic, yet dangerous losers) is described in a similarly grotesque convention, as well as local gypsy communities, combining in a truly custard style a colourful eclecticism of beliefs and customs with criminal activity. The Western (or rather "Eastern") motif of the heroic defence of a petrol station against the local mafia, and especially the final scene of the fight for this object, also does not allow us to treat the reality presented in the novel in terms of realism, it is rather an ironic play with the stereotypes of the "bandit Donbas" that function in society.

Tamara Hundorova’s view of treating geocultural topography in the novel Voroshilovgrad as a space of “imagined realities” or a worldview cliché also applies to the images and realities of the Kharkov space in Mesopotamia. In the story Romeo, the city is shown from the perspective of a guest and a resident. These are two contrasting visions, two different ways of experiencing the city. The twenty-year-old protagonist comes to Kharkov to study and to search for his place in life. The image of the city correlates with the inner state of the characters: the first impression of the Kharkov space in May was positive, as was the protagonist’s positive attitude to life:

"I liked the city: the quiet courtyards near the station, overgrown with grass and planted with apricots, the outbuildings and dilapidated buildings from which pensioners emerged as sluggish as chameleons – everything suited me. The smell of sugar and chocolate near the confectionery factory, the buildings of empty enterprises around the bazaar, the gates, shops and medical clinics – everything was for me. It turned out that there were bridges here. That's good, I thought, a city that lies on a river is safer and calmer, life in such a city is maintained within its own borders and has its own order. Later I learned that this was not the only river. The city lay on the hills between them, as if on an island, shining with all its white and red buildings, surrounded by hot May greenery."[27]

Indeed, life in this city had its own order, but completely different from what the hero imagined upon arrival. The guide through the world of Kharkov was Dasha, a young lawyer with whom the hero fell in love and whose affection, however, he failed to win. Dasha creates her own vision of the street, the city, her own personal Kharkov.[28], she adapts to his rules. Her first story scared the boy. This is an ironic narrative at times, stylized as a "terrible" story "taken from life". Looking together at what is outside the window, it turns out that the young man is next to a school where "strange things" are happening, a beauty salon where girls with long, crow-like fingernails work, a "dodgy restaurant" where every morning the owner goes out in a pink kimono to talk to someone on a women's cell phone, a sports pub often visited by Arabs, a Vietnamese dive (where they themselves do not eat), a brothel converted into a sauna, an empty building - in the summer inhabited by a den of gamblers, artists' studios (it is important that the hero does not confuse them with a den of gamblers), a tuberculosis clinic, a publishing house to which paper bags are brought in the evenings, and corpses wrapped in Chinese carpets are carried out at dawn, an old cottage where the lovers of the city fathers have moved into their old age, several grocery stores that are always closed, which young women enter and disappear into.[29] It is a diverse space, but also mysterious, dangerous, and strange.

Dasha often told the boy about the city. She believed her incredible stories about the fortification systems and underground passages, the war animals that hide in the sandy burrows around the reservoir, the secret laboratories of the polytechnic, the scientific schools where they produce the elixir of immortality, the bladed weapons produced in the old factories, the witches, drowned people and hanged people who improve the overall demographic situation in the city, the moon outside the window made of clay and grass, the fact that shooting has started in the streets again and that no one is going to surrender, that everything will last as long as we love.[30] Roman, in love with a woman, listened to stories, but the city mattered to him as long as Dasha mattered and as long as he saw a chance for a mutual relationship. He was ready to settle in, accept its rules. However, after unsuccessful attempts to win the woman's affection, he gave up and decided to leave the city. Kharkov remained a space of unfulfilled desires and, in a sense, fairy-tale visions: Roman's - relationship with Dasha, Dasha's - relationship with life, with love.

Space of Memory

The fact that the novel Voroshilovgrad is primarily a text about memory is said by both literary scholars [31] as well as the author himself, who states in one of the interviews: „Це роман про пам'ять, про важливість пам'яті, про безперервність пам'яті, про те, що потрібно пам'ятати все, що з тобою було, і це тобі дозволяє якось формувати своє майбутнє.”[32] The need to preserve memory concerns primarily the individual, because a person deprived of memories and connections with their own past functions in a state of uprooting. Herman, who declares his desire to leave Luhansk, hears from his interlocutor: "- I think you're running away so quickly because you've forgotten everything that happened to you. When you remember, it won't be so easy to leave."[33] Gradually, with the return of memories, the hero finds a sense of connection with his native territory, transforming it in his own consciousness into a "place", "home". Both the hometown and, more broadly, the region become a space marked by axiology, inextricably linked to the experience and life history of the hero.

The postulate of remembering in the novel goes beyond the individual dimension, taking the form of "memory of the region". Żadan refers here to the tradition of Sloboda Ukraine, or the great steppe, settled over the centuries by various immigrant groups. Marta Studenna-Skrukwa characterizes the specificity of the formation of Donbas in the following way:

"Donbas as a region with all its specificity was created by resettlers. Long before the discovery of hard coal deposits, this territory was part of the so-called Wild Fields [...] From the earliest times to the end of the European Middle Ages, the territory of present-day Donbas was part of the great Eurasian steppe dominated by successive waves of nomadic peoples. [...] The interpenetration of Slavic and Turkic influences in this area gave rise to the phenomenon of the Cossacks. [...] In the 17th century, [...] the Ukrainian-Cossack autonomous territorial structure of Sloboda Ukraine was formed. [...] [Here] runaway peasants and unregistered Cossacks settled [...]"[34]

Serhiy Zhadan refers to this past of resettlement and nomadic migration of the region primarily through the phantasmagoric hallucination of the main character, who, under the influence of drugs, sees hordes of strange figures, men, women, children, animals and semi-mythical monsters, roaming the suburban wastelands. These figures emerge from the fog and dissolve back into the fog, so they are immanent to nature, the memory of them is “rooted” in the earth and the surrounding nature. This image shows the importance of the history of a given region more accurately than scientifically justified argumentation, so we will quote a fragment of Herman’s vision:

“The voices grew louder, the footsteps became quite distinct, and suddenly, right in front of us, figures began to emerge from the mist, quickly approaching over the thick, hot grass. […] Men who were hiding clots of mist in their lungs. They were tall, had long, uncombed hair tied back or gathered in mohawks, their dark faces were scarred, some had strange signs and letters painted on their foreheads, some had earrings in their ears and noses, others had their faces covered with scarves. […] someone carried a cross, others sacks of grain, many had drums. They were dressed carelessly and colorfully, some were in officer’s jackets, others had thrown sheepskins over their shoulders, many were wearing long, simple robes. […] Women walked behind the men […] Their hair was tied up high, many wore dreadlocks, although some were completely bald. […] They had bracelets and braided headbands on their legs. […] When they passed from the fog, dark figures began to emerge, not resembling anything at all […].”[35]

Kharkov in Mesopotamia also becomes a space of memory, inextricably linked to the experiences of the characters. It determines the choices of the inhabitants and visitors. Oleh from the story Ivan [36] he is a newcomer, he works in construction. He comes to Kharkov for the wedding of his ex-girlfriend – Sonia, he is not invited. It is not known whether he is driven by love, desperation or a desire for revenge for Sonia rejecting him. Oleh's journey to the city is one of the two main motives of the story. Getting there on time requires determination from him, it is a kind of act of desperation.[37] The city conceals the story of Sonia and Oleh's passion. The story ends with an interesting vision of the city, which, like in the case of Donbas, contains a specific memory of the region. It crowns the imaginations of the characters from the previous stories. There is room in it for: trucks full of goods leaving at dawn, tankers with milk and stolen petrol, tracks on which camps with fish and timber rolled, barges with coal, workers' houses in the valley and their children's schools, hospitals, prisons, factory buildings producing tractors and tanks, non-canonical churches that were forbidden to be built in the upper city, an airport, poppy fields of nunneries, bakeries, meat plants, gallows where witches were hanged, a construction hypermarket, red-brick buildings hung with satellite dishes, estates of single-family houses, Stalinist buildings, allotment gardens and cemeteries, Red Cross barracks built by the bus station, workers' hotels, fortified walls along the right bank, banks, shops, 24-hour tobacco kiosks and 24-hour pharmacies with potions, restaurants, cafes and cheap eateries for students, theatres, palaces, town hall, monuments to poets and founders of universities.[38]

This space, diverse in terms of landscape and hierarchical in terms of architecture, is inhabited by: slaves, sleepy passengers, lepers, bazaar and train station workers, Jewish children, trams stuffed with workers, peasants and couriers, fishermen, beggars and prostitutes, businessmen and city fathers, and saints.[39] The medieval city is superimposed on Kharkov in the 1920s, Kharkov in the Soviet era and the most contemporary. The space of the city is shown in many aspects, in many dimensions, there are different time planes, it is a kind of matrix where everything and everyone in space and time are somehow connected, but also limited. There is room in this vision for dreams of Sonia's slaves and fantasies about Dasha's moon. Kharkov becomes a universal space. As Zhadan writes:

"I wanted to create an image of Kharkov in Mesopotamia as an ideal medieval city with a tangle of mysterious alleys. One of the characters, returning to the city, sees the silhouette of a medieval fortress on the horizon. I have the impression that my characters live a bit like typical representatives of medieval society and their entire world is limited by the fortress wall, and what happens beyond its borders does not concern them. Only one of the characters sets off on a journey across the sea. But this is not a journey in search of a new land. Rather, it is an expedition to the land of the dead, as in ancient myths."[40]

The area of eastern Ukraine plays a key role in the analyzed novels by Serhiy Zhadan, as well as in his earlier works and in texts written after 2014. The war that has been going on since 2014 verifies many of the diagnoses formulated by the author and requires answers to constantly new questions. Serhiy Zhadan's prose, like many other authors, tries to suggest these answers, the writer himself remains strongly involved in political events, and he also claims that "the war radically changed the perspective and most of the things he wrote about so far have irrevocably disappeared into the past and today it is impossible to return to them."[41] In the latest novel entitled Internat, new issues appear, closely related to the situation of the inhabitants of the region and showing it as a dramatic space of conflict. The author describes the tragedy of war in close connection with the analysis of the space in which combat operations take place. The hero again becomes the place - Donbas, which is both a home, a temporary boarding school and a no man's land, brought to ruin by the parties to the conflict.

The eastern part of Ukraine is undoubtedly a region with very difficult self-identification, as evidenced by, among other things, its current situation. The sense of national, ethnic and cultural belonging of the majority of the population living in these areas can be described as undefined and, in any case, rather weakly connected with Ukrainian identity, which is connected with a sense of loyalty to the state. Nevertheless, for a fairly large group of Ukrainian (and Ukrainian-speaking) authors, eastern Ukraine is not only a small homeland with its specificity and a whole arsenal of peculiarities typical of "small homelands", but also a starting point for identity considerations of a decidedly supra-local nature and a place of rooting, which does not exclude attachment to what is local with a civic, conscious attitude. In the text, we tried to show the multidimensionality of the space of Eastern Ukraine in two selected novels by Serhiy Zhadan, emphasizing at the same time that spatial categories (axiologically, symbolically and historically marked) are an important component of other texts by this author as well. Describing "its" region - Donbas, as well as "its" cities - Kharkiv, Luhansk, Zhadan, refers to the category of memory that determines both the individual's value system and is an indispensable component of supra-individual, national consciousness.

LITERATURE

Babenko A., Urbanìstičnij prostìr âk dekonstrukcìâ lûdânostì u knizì Sergìâ Žadana "Mesopotamìâ", Naukovij vìsnik Mikolaïvsʹkogo nacìonalʹnogo unìversitetu ìmenì V. O. Suhomlinsʹkogo 2016, № 1, c. 20-26.

Donbas-moja miłość. Serhij Żadan, Władimir Rafiejenko i Jurij Wołodarski w rozmowie z Agnieszką Matusiak i Anną Ursulenko opowiadają za co i dlaczego kochają wschód, [w:] „Miscellanea Posttotalitariana Wratislaviensia” 4/2016, s. 145-143.

Dworak A. M., Europa miejsc i Europa przestrzeni – o mapie wyobrażonej Starego Kontynentu w twórczości polskich pisarzy doby międzypowstaniowej, [w:] „Tematy i konteksty”, 8 (18)/2018, s. 455-475.

Gundorova T., Tranzitna kulʹtura. Simptomi postkolonìalʹnoï travmi, Kiïv 2013.

Iwański T., Kraina Donbas. Recenzja powieści Serhija Żadana Woroszyłowgrad, [w:] „Nowa Europa Wschodnia”, 2013/3-4, s. 157-159.

Kupidura Ryszard, Postkolonialna analiza twórczości Ołeksija Czupy, [w:] „Studia Ukrainica Posnaniensia” 4/2016, s. 229-237.

Majer A., Miasto osobiste, [w:] „Acta Universitatis Lodziensis Folia Sociologica”, 36/2011, s.17-34.

Nocuń M., Zanurzenie w Ukrainie, [w:] „Tygodnik powszechny”, https://www.tygodnikpowszechny.pl/zanurzenie-w-ukrainie-19838 [dostęp: 22-01-2019].

Olechowska P., Ukraina w esejach Tarasa Prochaśki, Jurija Andruchowycza, Serhija Żadana, [w:] „Studia Ucrainica Varsoviensia”, pod red. dr hab. I. Mytnik, nr 3/2015, s. 325-330.

Piekarska M., Nagroda Angelus 2015 dla Serhija Żadana. "Mój Charków jako idealne średniowieczne miasto" [w:] https://wyborcza.pl/1,75410,19043552,nagroda-angelus-2015-dla-serhija-zadana-moj-charkow-jako-idealne.html,[dostęp: 22-01-2019].

Poliszczuk J., Ukraińskie rozstaje. Studia, Białystok 2015.

Studenna-Skrukwa M., Ukraiński Donbas, Poznań 2014.

Šulʹga D., Sergìj Žadan:«Vorošilovgrad» ne pripade do dušì tim, hto upodobav «Depeš mod» [w:] http://kirovograd.rks.kr.ua/daily/kirovograd/2010/9/23/zhadan-voroshylovgrad/ [dostęp: 22-01-2019].

Tuan Yi-Fu, Przestrzeń i miejsce, przeł. A. Morawińska, Warszawa 1987.

Żadan S., Woroszyłowgrad, tłum. Michał Petryk, Wołowiec 2013.

Żadan S., Mezopotamia, przeł. M. Petryk, Wołowiec 2014.

Eastern Ukraine as a Symbolic Space in Serhiy Zhan's Prose Based on the Novels Voroshilovgrad and Mesopotamia

The subject of the article is an analysis of the three aspects of depicting urban space of Eastern Ukraine, focusing specifically on the Donbass region and the city of Kharkov as depicted in the novels Voroshilovgrad (2010) and Mesopotamia (2014) by Serhiy Zhadan. The urban space of Eastern Ukraine overlaps with the most important values that shape a person's personality and affect her or his self-identification. The city space is also a "place of memory” and experiences of generations that influence current events. In addition to the historical and axiological dimension, the imaginative aspect of space is also important. This approach is used by the author to describe the urban space as a functioning imagination or stereotypes associated with it as opposed to its realistic depiction.

Keywords: Donbass, Kharkov, values, historical awareness, stereotypes

[1]Marta Zambrzycka – literaturoznawca, kulturoznawca, dr, adiunkt w Katedrze Ukrainistyki Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego, m.e.zambrzycka@uw.edu.pl

[2] Paulina Olechowska – literaturoznawca, dr, adiunkt w grupie pracowników dydaktycznych w Katedrze Ukrainistyki Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego, p.olechowska@uw.edu.pl

[3] A. M. Dworak, Europa miejsc i Europa przestrzeni – o mapie wyobrażonej Starego Kontynentu w twórczości polskich pisarzy doby międzypowstaniowej [w:] „Tematy i konteksty”, 8 (18)/2018, s. 457.

[4] Y. F. Tuan, Przestrzeń i miejsce, przeł. A. Morawińska, Warszawa 1987, s. 16.

[5] Donbas-moja miłość. Serhij Żadan, Władimir Rafiejenko i Jurij Wołodarski w rozmowie z Agnieszką Matusiak i Anną Ursulenko opowiadają za co i dlaczego kochają wschód [w:] „Miscellanea Posttotalitariana Wratislaviensia 4/2016, s. 145.

[6] Por. P. Olechowska, Ukraina w esejach Tarasa Prochaśki, Jurija Andruchowycza, Serhija Żadana [w:] „Studia Ucrainica Varsoviensia”, pod red. dr hab. I. Mytnik, nr 3/2015, s. 325-330.

[7] Por. o koncepcji martwego industrialu w: J. Poliszczuk, Ukraińskie rozstaje. Studia, Białystok 2015, s. 132-139.

[8] Powieść Woroszyłowgrad ukazała się w 2010 roku i zdobyła nagrodę książki roku BBC Ukraine, w 2018 roku doczekała się ekranizacji (film zatytułowany Dzikie pole), która, w związku z tym, że zrealizowano ją już po wybuchu wojny zawiera liczne aluzje do obecnej sytuacji konfliktu zbrojnego.

[9] S. Żadan, Woroszyłowgrad, tłum. Michał Petryk, Wołowiec 2013, s. 33/34.

[10] Ibidem.

[11] T. Gundorova, Tranzitna kulʹtura. Simptomi postkolonìalʹnoï travmi, Kiïv 2013, c. 211.

[12] Zob. A. Babenko, Urbanìstičnij prostìr âk dekonstrukcìâ lûdânostì u knizì Sergìâ Žadana "Mesopotamìâ", Naukovij vìsnik Mikolaïvsʹkogo nacìonalʹnogo unìversitetu ìmenì V. O. Suhomlinsʹkogo 2016, № 1, c. 20-26.

[13] Zob. wywiad przeprowadzony przez Magdę Piekarską, „Gazeta wyborcza”, 19 października 2015. https://wyborcza.pl/1,75410,19043552,nagroda-angelus-2015-dla-serhija-zadana-moj-charkow-jako-idealne.html, [dostęp: 22-01-2019].

[14] Ibidem.

[15] S. Żadan, Mezopotamia, przeł. M. Petryk, Wołowiec 2014, s. 80, 108.

[16] Zob. wywiad przeprowadzony przez Magdę Piekarską, Gazeta wyborcza, Op. cit.

[17]S. Żadan, Mezopotamia, Op. cit., s.1.

[18] Ibidem.

[19] Ibidem.

[20] Ibidem, s. 12.

[21] Ibidem, s. 24.

[22] T. Iwański, Kraina Donbas. Recenzja powieści Serhija Żadana Woroszyłowgrad [w:] „Nowa Europa Wschodnia”, 2013/3-4, s. 157-159.

[23] M. Nocuń, Zanurzenie w Ukrainie [w:] „Tygodnik powszechny”, https://www.tygodnikpowszechny.pl/zanurzenie-w-ukrainie-19838 [dostęp: 22-01-2019].

[24] Tamara Gundorova, Op. cit., s. 218.

[25] M. Studenna-Skrukwa, Ukraiński Donbas, Poznań 2014, s. 218.

[26] S. Żadan, Woroszyłowgrad, Op. cit., s. 36/37.

[27] S. Żadan, Mezopotamia, Op. cit., s. 47.

[28] Por. A. Majer, Miasto osobiste [w:] „Acta Universitatis Lodziensis Folia Sociologica”, 36/2011, s. 19, 23.

[29] S. Żadan, Mezopotamia, Op. cit., s. 57-58.

[30] Ibidem, 79-80.

[31]T. Gundorova, Op. cit., s. 211.

[32] D. Šulʹga, Sergìj Žadan:«Vorošilovgrad» ne pripade do dušì tim, hto upodobav «Depeš mod» [v:] http://kirovograd.rks.kr.ua/daily/kirovograd/2010/9/23/zhadan-voroshylovgrad/, [dostęp: 22-01-2019].

[33] S. Żadan, Woroszyłowgrad, Op. cit., s. 27.

[34] M. Studenna-Skrukwa, Op. cit., s. 97.

[35] S. Żadan, Op. cit., s. 55.

[36] S. Żadan, Mezopotamia, Op. cit., s. 81-112.

[37] Wesele Soni łączy dwa opowiadania Romeo i Iwan.

[38] S. Żadan, Mezopotamia, Op. cit., s.108-112.

[39] Ibidem.

[40] M. Piekarska, Nagroda Angelus 2015 dla Serhija Żadana. "Mój Charków jako idealne średniowieczne miasto" [w:] https://wyborcza.pl/1,75410,19043552,nagroda-angelus-2015-dla-serhija-zadana-moj-charkow-jako-idealne.html, [dostęp: 22-01-2019].

[41] R. Kupidura, Op. cit., s. 229.

Iryna Kononenko

TATIANA A. KOSMEDA, TARAS SHEVCHENKO'S EGO AND ALTER EGO IN THE COMMUNICATIVE SPACE OF DIARY DISCOURSE, DROHOBYCH 2012, 372 P.

ТЕТЯНА А. КОСМЕДА, EGO І ALTER EGO ТАРАСА ШЕВЧЕНКА В КОМУНІКАТИВНОМУ ПРОСТОРІ ЩОДЕННИКОВОГО ДИСКУРСУ, ДРОГОБИЧ 2012, 372 С.

Problems of anthropocentric linguistics attract the attention of linguists, starting with the works of V. von Humboldt, J. Baudouin de Courtenay, O. Potebni, etc. at the same time, the concept of linguistic personality appeared in scientific research relatively recently - since the 80s of the twentieth century.during this time, issues related to the characteristics of a native speaker based on his written or oral speech have moved to the center of linguistics Studios. Especially important from the standpoint of so-called linguopersonology are studies devoted to outstanding masters of the artistic word, who played a key role in the formation of national culture and national consciousness. Undoubtedly, Taras Shevchenko became the basic figure for Ukrainians.

However, the analysis of the originality of this phenomenal personality on the basis of the linguistic study of his works was not the subject of thorough works until recently. In this regard, scientists are particularly interested in the monograph by T. A. Kosmedia "Ego and Alter Ego of Taras Shevchenko in the communicative space of diary discourse", which examines the linguistic personality of the Ukrainian Genius based on the material of the Diary of a writer who wrote it in a non-native Russian language. The choice of such material indicates the researcher's appeal to the complex, ambiguous problem of the relationship between the concepts of "national – non-native". At the same time, Professor T. A. Kosmeda considers the psychotype of T. Shevchenko through the prism of the internal dialogue of his "I" and "i1".

The monograph has a clear, logical structure. In the first chapter, the author addresses the current problems of linguopersonology. It is noted that speech ability, speech and communicative competence are the main components of the formation of a speech personality. T. A. Kosmeda raises particularly important issues for Ukraine of the functioning of the linguistic personality in the conditions of intercultural communication, bilingualism, and the use of surzhik. The researcher calls on scientists, teachers of higher and secondary educational institutions not only to be deeply aware of the concept of language consciousness, language ability, etc., but also to direct activities to improve the communicative competence of each language personality (P.37-38).

In the same section, T. A. Kosmeda considers various classifications of types of language personality, in particular from the standpoint of deviative behavior, gender and age indicators, professional activity, communicative competence, etc. However, the author does not fully distinguish between the concepts of "strong language personality" and "elite language personality", "living language" and "living speech", which is obviously associated with a high degree of abstraction of the proposed terms.

Analyzing the parameter "emotional competence" as a measurement of the level of communicative competence (P.49-55), T. A. Kosmeda defines the increased emotionality of Ukrainians as one of the features of the national character. Reasoned conclusions are drawn that an elitist language personality, even experiencing negative feelings, excludes profanity from its vocabulary.

In the second chapter, devoted to the dialogue "I" and "i1", the researcher reflects on the complex concepts of representation of T. Shevchenko's autocommunication in his poetic speech. Understanding such complex psychological and philosophical issues, the author relies primarily on the theories of C. Jung and Z. Freud (Freud). The analysis of O. Zabuzhko's ideas about the duplicity of Shevchenko's Russian prose in relation to "Kobzar" (pp. 83-85) deserves attention. Varieties of communication and auto-communication as types (models) of speech activity are highlighted. According to the author, text (discourse) is the highest dynamic system of language, the unity of semantic, semantic and pragmatic components (P.95).

Although the main material of the monograph is Shevchenko's diaries, it is logical that T. A. Kosmeda could not avoid the issue of Kobzar's auto-presentation in his poetic texts. In particular, a thorough analysis of images-concepts thought, Duma, soul, which are the embodiment of Shevchenko's Alter Ego and, at the same time, are, in the author's opinion, "the main cultural concepts of Ukrainian culture" (P.109) was carried out on numerous examples (we note along the way the obvious stylistic error of the author).

The third chapter describes the genre of the diary and its status in humanitarian research. The reader will find here a description of views on the diary genre from the standpoint of literary studies and Linguistics, primarily Psycholinguistics. The author offers his vision of the answer to the question: Why do they write diaries? This section exhaustively analyzes the current research of the diary text in linguistics. The section concludes with conclusions that there are grounds to single out a scientific discipline – deviariumology. It is proposed to distinguish such aspects of deviarumological research as the history of formation and stages of development of this direction in linguistics, methodology of analysis, diary genology (typology of genres / subgenres); diary discursive practice taking into account the types of diarists, taking into account their belonging to the sociotype, ethnotype, psychotype, nature of diary activity (P.173).

In the fourth chapter, the assessment of T. Shevchenko's diary by modern researchers is considered in detail. At the same time, the author deliberately restricts the review of linguistic Shevchenko, focusing on the critical analysis and actualization of the provisions of the concepts of N. Momot and T. Radzievskaya, who studied in detail The Diary activities of T. Shevchenko. We note the convincing argument of T. A. Kosmedi when interpreting the problematic issues of analyzing Kobzar's Diaries (pp. 197-225), confirmed by extensive examples. It was shown how the conceptual dichotomy "friend – foe "is verbalized in Taras Shevchenko's diary (P.225).

Readers should be particularly interested in a comprehensive, comprehensive analysis of the problem: why the Russian language was chosen as the language of Shevchenko's diary activity; how his contemporaries evaluated and his researchers evaluate Russian language and communicative competence. The author deliberately put the phrase "contradictory arguments" in the title of the subsection, since any unambiguous statements when discussing this problem are impossible, they remain only a hypothesis. It is known that Taras Shevchenko did not explain why he made such a choice of the language of the diary either in his letters, or in documented conversations with friends, or directly in the diary itself. According to T. A. Kosmeda, this choice is explained by the fact that "firstly, the language itself should embody the alienated environment of the emigrant author, and, secondly, it was necessary to radically distance the environment, experiences, even the biographical "I" into the world of language (P.229). Parallels between T. Shevchenko's command of Ukrainian and Russian and N. Gogol's language competence become appropriate in this section.

In the fifth and final section of the monograph, the author addresses the key fragments of the concept sphere of T. Shevchenko's diary and its intercontextuality. Questions are raised about the relationship of internal words and concept words with the lexicon and conceptosphere of the linguistic personality. The author offers his understanding of the main terms of this area of research: "the internal, or keyword, word-concept is a conditional nomination of the described situation; from this symbolic nomination, we should move on to the definition of meanings in specific statements." Obviously, this approach to understanding the essence of concepts is not axiomatic, but in his book T. A. Kosmeda repeatedly emphasizes the possibility of discussion of the issues raised, which is understandable given the scale of Taras Shevchenko's personality and work.

Questions of pragmatic fullness and intercontextuality of proper names in Shevchenko's diaries are raised. The researcher enriches our knowledge about the numb concept sphere of the writer, in particular about the pragmatic significance of na –ko surnames. The author examines in detail both the reflection of the concept of Russian city in the linguistic consciousness of Shevchenko, and the meaning of such proper names as Moscow, St. Petersburg, Ukraine, Vladimir Dahl in the concept sphere of Kobzar. The article demonstrates the specifics of using and understanding Russian cultural concepts of gatherings, samovars, and tea in T. Shevchenko's Diaries. A detailed study of the texts of diaries with these tokens leads the author to believe that the concept of tea in Shevchenko's mind can have both positive and negative associations, but gatherings and samovars are recorded rather as negatively colored (pp. 301-302).

The peer-reviewed work consistently considers the process of conceptualization of individual author's ocasionalisms and ukrainisms. It is this approach in the analysis of these groups of vocabulary that indicates the author's research talent. The main type of author's neologization is highlighted – these are words formed by word composition. I would like to note along the way that the creation of individual juxtapositions most vividly characterizes the poetic heritage of Kobzar, which, as you know, is almost all represented in the Ukrainian language. Interestingly, the use of ukrainisms in Shevchenko's Diaries is limited. Obviously, this demonstrates the poet's conscious avoidance of interference, and, consequently, indicates his linguistic, ethno-cultural competence.

This section comprehensively presents explicit and implicit intercontextual elements, primarily phraseological, including paremiological, the foundation of Taras Shevchenko's diary text. It is noted that "T. Shevchenko is not only well acquainted with the Russian paremia fund, but also skillfully transforms paremia, phraseological units" (p.328).

The presented serious monographic study is completed by the results and an extensive bibliography. The undoubted value of T. A. Kosmedi's work lies in the wide range of problems raised, in new approaches to the legacy of T. Shevchenko, and in the fact that theoretical considerations have been confirmed in numerous examples. We hope that the presented publication will not only become an impetus for the emergence of new developments in the field of Shevchenko studies, but will also contribute to the desire of readers to once again turn to the works of the great Kobzar, whose 200th anniversary is celebrated by the entire world community.

Iryna Kononenko, linguist, habilitated doctor, Department of Ukrainian Studies, University of Warsaw

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