The Kindness of Strangers
Забавный отрывок из мемуаров Теннесси Уильямса - о Евтушенко, капиталистических свиньях и проблеме гомосексуализма в России:
On Sunday I had lunch with the “great” Russian poet Yevtushenko. He came to me at “The Victorian Suite” about an hour late and was accompanied by a very fat, silent man whom he said he brought along as interpreter - which seemed extraordinary since he has full command of English.
He had gone as my guest, the evening before, to see my play Small Craft Warnings and he immediately launched an attack upon the play.
“You put only about thirty per cent of your talent into it, and that's not just my opinion but that of people seated around me.”
I was distressed but I kept my composure.
“I'm very happy to know,” I said, with the cool of Southern lady, “that I still have so much of my talent left.”
He went on and on, he's very voluble as well as personable young man, till it was past closing time at the restaurant in my hotel.
I don't know whether it was he or I who suggested that we go to the Plaza, which is in walking distance.
He told me, as we arrived and were seated in the Oak Room, that he was a connoisseur of wines. He proved it immediately by summoning the wine steward with that arrogance that characterizes his behavior in the States. He ordered two bottles of Château Lafite-Rothschild (they are about eighty bucks a bottle at the Plaza), and then a supplementary bottle of Margaux. Then he called over the Captain to place his order for lunch. He wanted (and got) a great bowl of beluga caviar with its appropriate trimmings, the best pâté and the most expensive steaks for himself and his equally voracious “interpreter.”
I was now a bit put out. I called him a “capitalist pig” - the remark applied with a veneer of humor. Then I launched a counterassault.
“Being a homosexual,” I told him, “I am very concerned over your [Russia’s] treatment of my kind in your country.”
“Absolute nonsense. In Russia we have no homosexual problem.”
“Oh, is that so! How about, say, Diaghilev, Nijinsky or some of the other artists who have left the Soviet Union to avoid imprisonment for being one of my kind?”
“We have absolutely no homosexual problem,” he still insisted.
The wine was excellent. Of course, and our humors improved under its influence. He told me that I was a millionaire in Russia from the accrued royalties of my plays there and that I should come over and live off them like a king.
I said, “Be that as it may, I’d rather stay out of Russia.”
The lunch continued till closing time in the Oak Room and then came the bill and it was so big it required three pages for itemization…
He presented me with his most recent collection of verse, inscribing it to me with great flourish and expression of esteem and affection.
During our controversy over whether there was, or was not, any homosexual problem in the Soviet Union, I said to him, “I hope you don’t think I’ve brought the subject up because I plan to seduce you.”
I believe he thinks I’m quite mad, and I believe I have the same opinion of him, as well as “esteem and affection.”
On Sunday I had lunch with the “great” Russian poet Yevtushenko. He came to me at “The Victorian Suite” about an hour late and was accompanied by a very fat, silent man whom he said he brought along as interpreter - which seemed extraordinary since he has full command of English.
He had gone as my guest, the evening before, to see my play Small Craft Warnings and he immediately launched an attack upon the play.
“You put only about thirty per cent of your talent into it, and that's not just my opinion but that of people seated around me.”
I was distressed but I kept my composure.
“I'm very happy to know,” I said, with the cool of Southern lady, “that I still have so much of my talent left.”
He went on and on, he's very voluble as well as personable young man, till it was past closing time at the restaurant in my hotel.
I don't know whether it was he or I who suggested that we go to the Plaza, which is in walking distance.
He told me, as we arrived and were seated in the Oak Room, that he was a connoisseur of wines. He proved it immediately by summoning the wine steward with that arrogance that characterizes his behavior in the States. He ordered two bottles of Château Lafite-Rothschild (they are about eighty bucks a bottle at the Plaza), and then a supplementary bottle of Margaux. Then he called over the Captain to place his order for lunch. He wanted (and got) a great bowl of beluga caviar with its appropriate trimmings, the best pâté and the most expensive steaks for himself and his equally voracious “interpreter.”
I was now a bit put out. I called him a “capitalist pig” - the remark applied with a veneer of humor. Then I launched a counterassault.
“Being a homosexual,” I told him, “I am very concerned over your [Russia’s] treatment of my kind in your country.”
“Absolute nonsense. In Russia we have no homosexual problem.”
“Oh, is that so! How about, say, Diaghilev, Nijinsky or some of the other artists who have left the Soviet Union to avoid imprisonment for being one of my kind?”
“We have absolutely no homosexual problem,” he still insisted.
The wine was excellent. Of course, and our humors improved under its influence. He told me that I was a millionaire in Russia from the accrued royalties of my plays there and that I should come over and live off them like a king.
I said, “Be that as it may, I’d rather stay out of Russia.”
The lunch continued till closing time in the Oak Room and then came the bill and it was so big it required three pages for itemization…
He presented me with his most recent collection of verse, inscribing it to me with great flourish and expression of esteem and affection.
During our controversy over whether there was, or was not, any homosexual problem in the Soviet Union, I said to him, “I hope you don’t think I’ve brought the subject up because I plan to seduce you.”
I believe he thinks I’m quite mad, and I believe I have the same opinion of him, as well as “esteem and affection.”