Word: evtushenkos
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With Moscow's cultural commissars still smarting from his poetic onslaught on Soviet anti-Semitism (TIME, Nov. 3), Russia's indomitable Evgeny Evtushenko, 28, stirred up a new hullaballoo by rebuffing the lionization of the young intelligentiki and flatly denying that his outspokenness made him "a brave man." Wrote Evtushenko in Russia's Literaturnaya Gazeta (Kiev edition only...
Main target of Sholokhov's scorn was plainly Evgeny Evtushenko, 28, the current idol of serious poetry lovers and the young intelligentiki. A shaggy, twice-married Angry Young Muscovite who sports jazzy French suits and boasts a modern, two-room apartment, Evtushenko looks, and at times sounds, rather like a beat Keats. Though he produces periodic Party paeans on such acceptable themes as the Communist worker, Evtushenko is celebrated for vividly erotic lyrics ("Coursing regally, your whole body feels you are a queen") that have drawn down official ire for their "scandalous and somewhat noisy notoriety." One poem that...
...Pygmy Cosmopolitan." Moscow's biggest literary furor in months was prompted by another Evtushenko poem, Bdbiy Yar, named for a ravine near Kiev where the Nazis massacred 52,000 Jews. In a moving lament that was also a call to resist the anti-Semitism of Khrushchev's Russia, Poet Evtushenko-who is not Jewish-mourned...
...retaliation for this "insult" to the Soviet people, Evtushenko was berated as a "pygmy cosmopolitan." Last month, more than 5,000 young Muscovites showed their feeling by packing around the statue of Poet Vladimir Mayakovsky. chanting: "We want Evtushenko." Their hero mounted to an improvised platform and read a poem, You Can Call Me a Communist, but which pointedly declares: "I will remain firm to the end and never become an unctuous bootlicker...
...young writers, censure in such ossified Party organs as Life and Literature can be as big a boost as being banned in Boston. Since Evtushenko and the few other desk-drawer poets lucky enough to achieve publication are seldom permitted editions of more than a few thousand, their works are mostly transmitted verbally or copied from furtive, short-lived poetry magazines with names such as Cocktail and Boomerang. In Moscow and Leningrad, there are hundreds of unpublishable poets who advertise their calling by aping scruffy U.S. beatniks down to dirty dungarees, unkempt beards, and unfathomable doggerel...