Morality as Style: KOBA THE DREAD; LAUGHTER AND THE TWENTY MILLION by Martin Amis
In: Dissent: a journal devoted to radical ideas and the values of socialism and democracy, Band 50, Heft 1, S. 95
ISSN: 0012-3846
Yet Amis isn't only a stylist; he is also a moralist. And to him these are one and the same. As he says in his memoir, Experience, 'Style is morality: morality detailed, configured, intensified.' We can see, then, why it might have especially appealed to him to begin Koba the Dread (Koba was Stalin's nickname) with a quote from Robert Conquest's book on Soviet forced collectivization and the resulting famine: 'in the actions here recorded about twenty human lives were lost for, not every word, but every letter, in this book.' Amis goes on to comment: 'The book is 411 pages long.' Such a book fulfills, in the blackest possible way, the novelist's dream--of a language almost unbearably thick with human significance. Who could ignore a book in which, as Amis writes, 'guileless prepositions like at and to represent the murder of six or seven large families'? Koba the Dread has not been generously received, and you can see why. These days, a denunciation of Stalin seems almost apolitical, like coming out against cancer. Moreover, the book contains no original research (the historian Orlando Figes has even shown that Amis gets a few facts wrong); it forgets the embattled decency of left oppositionists; it treats differing analyses as loose 'talk' rather than arguments; and it collapses into bathos when--many reviewers seized on this--Amis likens the cries of his infant daughter to those that must have been heard in 'the deepest cellars of the Butrkyi Prison in Moscow during the Great Terror.' It might also be added that its anti-utopianism is taunting and crude. After his right turn, Kingsley Amis could still concede that 'The ideal of ... the Just City, is one that cannot be discarded without lifelong feelings of disappointment and loss.' To Martin this sentence 'has no meaning--indeed, no content.' (That would make it the opposite of Conquest's language.) 'Just what is this Just City? What would it look like? What would its citizens be saying and doing all day?' Such words and deeds are indeed difficult to predict, since a just city would also be a free one. But if it is a totalitarian paradox to prescribe in advance the uses of freedom, it should not be beyond us, or Amis, to conceive of conditions of greater liberty than most workers and citizens enjoy, or to realize that speech and action become more circumscribed as jobs become more repetitive and exhausting, political choices fewer, and forms of culture more homogeneous. STILL, MARTIN AMIS has produced a useful book. It offers such a quick, pained, and vivid account of Stalin's psychopathic career that Amis and his intelligently marshaled sources can't help but induce that pity and disgust that segments of the Western left for many years failed to feel. (For myself, I was made freshly ashamed of certain casual ideas about the Soviet Union I'd had as an undergraduate, and glad to have left no record of them.) The astronomical quantum of suffering endured by Stalin's victims 'will not'--as Pasternak said, and Amis quotes--'fit within the bounds of consciousness,' but the mind's best approximation has got to be in shuttling back and forth between the anecdote and the statistic, and this Amis does with a skill made brisk by anger. Besides, in many instances Amis's language is furiously apt, as when he refers to the 'ideological debauchery' of Stalin's remark that 'together with the Germans we would have been invincible,' or when he notes the killing irony 'that a ruling order predicated on human perfectibility should reward, glorify, encourage and indeed necessitate all that is humanly base.'.