Dovlatov

For some reason the reviews department at Zvezda called. In fact it was the department head Dudko herself:

“Seryozha! Why don’t you call? Why don’t you stop by?! You must immediately pen a review for us. With your sharp wit. With your keen observations. With your brilliance!”

I stop in the next day at the editorial offices. A pretty, not quite young woman inquires darkly, “What, exactly, do you need?”

“Well, to write a review…”

“What are you, a critic?”

“No.”

“And you think that just anyone can write a review?”

Surprised, I went home.

Three days later she called again.

“Seryozha! Why haven’t you shown up?”

I drop in at the editorial offices. The dark question:

“What do you want?”

This scene was repeated seven times. I finally started to feel like I was losing my mind. So I dropped in at the prose department to see Titov. I asked what all this could mean?

“When have you been stopping by?” he asks. “At what time?”

“In the morning. Around 11.”

“Okay. And when does Dudko call you?”

“Around two. Why?”

“I completely get it. You show up when she’s hungover, which is why she’s so gloomy. But Dudko calls you after lunch. By which time she’s in fine form.”

I stopped in at two.

“Ah!” Dudko cried. “Who do I see! Write me a review right now. With your keen observations! With your sharp wit…”

I have now been working with Zvezda for ten years. Yet I never show up before two.

– Sergei Dovlatov, Solo on Underwood (1980)