Eugene Vodolazkin is the author of the novel "Solovyov and Larionov" (a finalist for the Big Book and Andrei Bely Prize), the essay collection "The Instrument of Language," and other books.
A philologist and specialist in Old Russian literature, he dislikes historical novels, their "intrusive ethnographism – kokoshniks, kerchiefs, porty, zipuns" and other dreary stylizations. Using the intonations of Old Russian texts, Vodolazkin whimsically blends different eras and linguistic elements, offering the reader not a herbarium, but a living bouquet.
The protagonist of his new novel "Laurus" is a medieval doctor. Possessing the gift of healing, he is nonetheless unable to save his beloved and decides to walk his earthly path in her stead. Thus, a life turns into a hagiography. He tends to the plague-stricken and the wounded, the wretched and the infirm, and the more he sacrifices himself, the more his gift evidently strengthens. But is it possible to save a person's soul through love and sacrifice when one has failed to protect their earthly vessel?
There are things that are easier to discuss within an Old Russian context. God, for instance. It seems to me that connections with Him were more direct in the past. The mere fact that they existed at all is significant. Today, the question of these connections occupies very few, which is baffling. Have we really learned something so radically new since the Middle Ages that allows us to relax?
