This is Tatiana Ivanovna Bervina, a young, very talented but badly struggling writer whom I met in the St. Petersburg subway (they call it Metro). She got on at Vladimirskaya station, closest to the "Elite Supermarket" at 20 Lomosova Street where she works as a cashier, to go home (getting off at Pionerskaya) but had to change lines at Spasskaya. Tanya was tired of being a cashier, tired of sending her short stories to magazines and publishers, tired of never hearing back from them but she was never tired of writing; she told me that writing is like brushing your teeth: you must do it every day no matter how tired you are!
She shared a story, and as she spoke, the look on face gradually confirmed the identity of the main character:
An aspiring young poetess, after reading a few poems at the monthly literary forum housed by the Secondary School #311, on Belgradskaya Street, was approached by a tall handsome young guy who showered her with compliments and praise. He turned out to be Vasiliy Vsevolod, one of the assistant editors at Nasha Literatura who offered his enthusiastic help and unlimited support. She was so happy, practically beside herself, giggling uncontrollably. They left together at about nine-thirty when Vasiliy asked if she would tell him more of her body of work at a nearby pub. They talked about their heroes, she: Akhmatova, he Brodsky, both: Yesenin. It was getting late and he called a cab. When the taxi arrived Vasiliy, gave the driver his address, put his arm around her shoulders and tried to steer her into the car. She pulled back and kicked him viciously in the shin under the sudden realization that he was interested in her body, not body of work. Three things came to a sudden stop: a pleasant evening, the hope of quitting "Elite Supermarket" soon and any hope of ever publishing at Nasha Literatura.
When Tanya finished her story her eyes were even more tired. I looked at her and said in my best Vysotsky imitation: "Dasvidaniya Tanya"
An aspiring young poetess, after reading a few poems at the monthly literary forum housed by the Secondary School #311, on Belgradskaya Street, was approached by a tall handsome young guy who showered her with compliments and praise. He turned out to be Vasiliy Vsevolod, one of the assistant editors at Nasha Literatura who offered his enthusiastic help and unlimited support. She was so happy, practically beside herself, giggling uncontrollably. They left together at about nine-thirty when Vasiliy asked if she would tell him more of her body of work at a nearby pub. They talked about their heroes, she: Akhmatova, he Brodsky, both: Yesenin. It was getting late and he called a cab. When the taxi arrived Vasiliy, gave the driver his address, put his arm around her shoulders and tried to steer her into the car. She pulled back and kicked him viciously in the shin under the sudden realization that he was interested in her body, not body of work. Three things came to a sudden stop: a pleasant evening, the hope of quitting "Elite Supermarket" soon and any hope of ever publishing at Nasha Literatura.
When Tanya finished her story her eyes were even more tired. I looked at her and said in my best Vysotsky imitation: "Dasvidaniya Tanya"
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