by Alex Falk
Who do you trust? You might trust a best friend, your mother, your siblings. But do you trust them to stay out of trouble? Do you trust them to associate only with those who YOU trust? Only with those who also stay out of trouble? By extending trust to one person, you have extended your trust to everyone. In the USSR, trust was a dangerous game with no winners, only losers. A distant friend’s indictment meant that you were now on a list. A list that could get you and those you trust killed. A list that creates lists that creates lists. Now, you’re expected to work a normal job and live as though you weren’t being mentioned and followed. As though your days were not being counted by a man sitting behind a desk looking at a file. These concepts are explored in “The Keeper of Antiquities” by Yury Dombrovsky.
The main character, whose name we do not learn, is a historian and archaeologist at a local museum in Almaty, Kazakhstan during Soviet times.
His role in the museum is to catalog artifacts and create exhibits under the creative direction of the USSR government. He wants nothing more in life than to live outside the scope of history, looking at artifacts and creating exhibits that are interesting to him. However, he cannot detach himself from history or the Soviet government without being deemed an enemy of the people.
The book is a mix of the main character’s musings and his current life at the museum. His exhibits are scrutinized by the massovichka of the museum, whose job it is to ensure that the museum properly exhibits anti-religious propaganda.
“[The massovichka] is a propagandist and you’re a scientist. You will write her material and she will interpret it to the masses, understand?” -The director of the museum
This makes clear the divisions of life in Soviet times: what is actually true and what the government wants you to know to be true. For the main character, this is a constant struggle. He wants his work to be important and precise, but this cannot exist within the current societal framework.
The director of the museum, a former red-army officer, is sympathetic to this struggle of his but can do little to help. He, an anti-religion propagandist himself, is aware of the censorship of his motherland and so treats the protagonist with patience, knowing that he is only doing as best as he is able.
The plot thickens with the introduction of a loose boa constrictor and an archaeological dig site which further ties the historian into Soviet affairs. These stories bother and worry the historian, leading him into uncertainty of himself and uncertainty from the state.
“The Keeper of Antiquities” is a dive into the psyche of an average Soviet citizen during the peak of the cold war. Every aspect of life is affected. The main character cannot move without his motives being questioned, without being directed the right way to do something. If he promotes a historical figure with anti-soviet values, that choice is reflected back onto his character. If he speaks out of turn in front of the wrong people, who may be strangers, coworkers, or even friends, he may face extreme consequences. To live like this is to live alone. Trusting no one. Keeping your thoughts to yourself. The only power that might provide you security is the state itself, however, as explored in the book, even this commitment might still land you in trouble.
This life of uncertainty and fear seems impossible to escape. A few characters, such as the massovichka, accept this fear as a part of their lives. They shoot before being shot. They go out of their way to prove their dedication to the Soviet cause. They accept the state’s truths as their own truths. Others live on the borders, such as the protagonist. These individuals acknowledge the truths of the state but do not agree with them. They understand what needs to be done to survive but cannot bring themselves to betray themselves in the process.
Dombrovsky conveys life in the USSR through the regular, mundane actions of his characters. It is made clear that the line between the mundane and the extreme in the USSR was blurred. Doing one’s job, such as hanging a portrait of a historical figure, if not well thought out, could easily be the cause of immense suspicion and thus imprisonment or death. Mentions of illegal topics, straying from the collective consciousness of the state, could return the same punishment. Ultimately, the description of Soviet life by Dombrovsky leads to a more powerful understanding of the era than a textbook or a Wikipedia article could do justice.
