Here's the thing: this book is fucking awesome. I'm a big fan of this theme - the whole "individual vs. the state" story. I think most of the books I've read in this vein were descended from "1984", but this is without doubt my favorite execution of the familiar thematic focus. This book was just so evocative for me; it did an incredible job of capturing the crushing force of living under a sociopolitical regime that cares not for the wants or needs of the individual. I found something incredibly uplifting about this tale of unrelenting downward pressure. It was simply...beautiful.

I've recommended it to i-don't-know-how-many people, and very few people I've ever met have read it, but this book is one of my top 3, no doubt. I've never even read any of Ayn Rand's other books, which I guess makes me weird, but if I had to choose one book to keep me company while I was tossed into some super maximum security prison in the depths of the belly of the beast, it would be this one.

С первых же страниц чувствуется, что книга написана очевидцем - флигранно выписанные детали буквально переносят в Петроград 20-ых. Далее на сцене появляются главные герои и тут начинается внутренняя борьба ума и сердца - аристократичный потомок адмирала, в которого влюбляется героиня, вызывает неприятие, а к вроде бы отрицательному работнику ГПУ наоборот проникаешься симпатией. Этот диссонанс мучает, но он, мне кажется, и является главной идеей книги - не столь важно в каком лагере человек оказался, а то насколько он внутренне порядочен. Сердце покажет правильный путь даже в тёмные времена! И это поднимет книгу на уровнь must read.
Концовка настолько зацепила, что не могла отложить книгу - читала аж до 3-х утра!
Всем советую, некоторые места поразительно созвучны настоящему времени.

n  «Voglio costruire perché desidero costruire.»n

Non condivido nulla della filosofia oggettivista di Ayn Rand, davvero nulla. Specialmente quando sfocia in mostruosità come l'anarco-capitalismo o l'idea che il “motore primo” dell'universo possa essere visto nel capitale. Mi spaventa. Ma può la filosofia di un'autrice impedirmi di amare un libro di tale portata? Assolutamente no.

"Noi vivi" è splendido sotto ogni aspetto: trama, riflessioni, personaggi e stile. Pur essendo ancora un'opera acerba sotto ogni aspetto, tanto che l'autrice arriverà spesso ad autocriticarsi e migliorare le proprie tesi, c'è però tutto quello che rende comprensibile il pensiero di fondo della scrittrice, la spietata critica all'Unione Sovietica e l'alternativa proposta. Tramite la protagonista, Kira Argunova, Ayn Rand è riuscita a catturarmi fin da subito; è vero che non condivido nulla della filosofia da lei fondata, ma proprio per questo è stata una lettura fantastica. Il senso della letteratura sta anche nell'esplorare e capire pensieri totalmente opposti ai nostri, idee che ci fanno tremare, dubitare. La letteratura deve infiammare, farci bruciare, deve farci porre domande assurde in grado di far tremare il cosmo. Di frasi Coelhiane, che si limitano a confortare in stile Bacio Perugina, non ne ho bisogno.

Attraverso gli occhi della protagonista viviamo gli orrori (non fisici, attenzione) dell'Unione Sovietica post-rivoluzionaria: paranoia, controlli folli, propaganda in ogni dove, indottrinamento, menzogne, limitazioni della libertà personale... La trama segue dunque le vicenda di una ragazza che in fin dei conti rappresenta non solo la filosofia di A. Rand, ma anche la personale concezione dell'oltreuomo nietzscheano (esaltazione dell'eroe individuo e del suo agire ma negazione di una relatività morale, ad esempio). Si è contro il collettivismo e si è estremamente a favore dell'individualismo estremo. Morale collettiva? Niente da fare, le libertà individuali sono al di sopra di tutto, anche per quanto riguarda l'economia. Il momento in cui Kira parla di voler studiare ingegneria è interessantissimo, emblematico e mette in evidenza le contraddizioni del regime, la fine dell'individuo, che non potrà mai e poi mai dar sfogo alle sue idee, e l'avversione nei confronti dei “doveri verso la società”.

Non c'è quindi da stupirsi che la russa sia la fondatrice della filosofia oggettivista:

n  «Chiamatelo fato o ironia, ma sono nata, tra tutti i Paesi della Terra, in quello meno adeguato per una sostenitrice dell'individualismo.»n

Tutto questo disprezzo per la Russia post 1917, unito allo stile descrittivo dei paesaggi e del mondo occupato dal regime, mi ha ovviamente ricordato Vladimir Nabokov, in particolare quello de n  Il donon. Più che di critica infatti, in alcuni punti si può parlare di vera e propria derisione; persone pagate una miseria che si sentono però ricche, importanti, tanto da aver quasi paura d'esser troppo “borghesi”. Il fallimento del sistema comunista è quindi ben evidenziato, e ciò viene messo in risalto da dialoghi e situazioni che confermano quanto gli ideali iniziali siano stati traditi. Ancora più devastante il fatto che a dire certe cose siano uomini di partito, un affronto fantastico:

n  «Soltanto vi sono delle questioni, delle questioni alle quali è necessario rispondere, e come si può rispondere se esse non possono neppure venire espresse? Perché dobbiamo aver timore di rispondere se lo possiamo fare? Ma se non possiamo? Se non possiamo...»n

C'è poi una considerazione sicuramente minore ma interessante: leggendolo mi domandavo se "Noi vivi" sia da considerare un classico russo o americano. Lo stile è infatti un incrocio tra due modi di scrivere molto diversi (meraviglioso il modo in cui viene raccontato l'incontro (e quelli successivi) tra Kira e Lev Sergeevič Kovalenskij, momenti che richiamano la penna di Dostoevskij), che oltre ad amalgamarsi benissimo, rendono ancora più concreto il conflitto della protagonista, oltre a marcare la personalità dell'autrice, che nonostante sia fuggita dal regime ed abbia tentanto in tutti i modi di allontanarsi da quel mondo, dimostra, secondo me in modo piacevolmente orgoglioso, di saper scrivere come una vera russa d'altri tempi.

Pur non condividendone la filosofia, si tratta comunque di un libro che aiuta a pensare, a riflettere, ad approfondire, a confrontarsi con le proprie convinzioni (esistono?) e quelle di altri. Tutto accompagnato da una trama che non può lasciare indifferenti anche davanti a personaggi come quelli di Andrej Taganov e Pavel Syerov. Considerarlo solo un libro di denuncia sarebbe un errore enorme, oltre che riduttivo, perché alla fin fine, il grande tema è la vita intesa come un qualcosa che va oltre tutto: oltre lo stato, oltre il partito, oltre il divino. "Noi vivi" ci ricorda quanto sia importante essere liberi di vivere seguendo ognuno il percorso che preferisce. Oggettivisti o meno.

n  «L'individuo può cadere, ma la collettività vive per sempre.»n

Nota dall'edizione da me posseduta (Baldini & Castoldi, 1942).
Interessante come il romanzo sia privo di censure e non abbia subito i colpi del regime fascista, salvo in due occasioni:

Nelle ultime righe della prefazione scritta dalla traduttrice Giuseppina Ripamonti Perego si legge:

«[...] regime distruggitore di quanto vi è di più bello e di elevato nella vita umana: la Religione, la Patria, la Famiglia.»

- In tutto il libro, non viene mai, e dico mai, detta la parola compagno. Probabilmente, per passare la censura, si è preferito tradurre comrade in camerata; giusta a livello linguistico ma sicuramente meno adatta al contesto sovietico. Che storia!

Πρωτογνώρισα τη Rand από αυτό το βιβλίο και συνέχισα και με τα υπόλοιπα που έχουν εκδοθεί στην Ελλάδα.
Γραμμένο εκεί στα 1936 , έρχεται να επιβεβαιώσει πως τα καλά λογοτεχνικά βιβλία δεν έχουν χρονολογία λήξης.
Για όσους πιστεύουν πως θα πρέπει να προχωρούμε μόνο με τη σύγχρονη λογοτεχνία, το παράδειγμα της λάθος εκτίμησής τους - εκτός των μεγάλων κλασσικών - βρίσκεται εδώ !

Life's to short for Ayn Rand; please don't pick this. Please. I'm saying this as a fellow human being, and out of respect for your personhood I am strongly disourageing to pick up anything that nasty, batty bitch ever created. Note that I'm not useing hyperbole.

Oh, I expected to get something out of this but my god, it's pure masturbation from a woman who thinks too much of herself and her opinions. And it's just really poorly written. One dimensional characters, wooden dialogue, preaching-to-the-choir didacticism...I do hope I don't come out of this hating women, as I did with both Margaret Atwood and Thea Astley in high school.

I'll try to finish it though. With frequent side trips into comfort literature.

Nope. I gave up on this. It's just not very enjoyable.

Where to start? How to explain why I like it so very much?

I like Ayn Rand's style of writing. Her language is strong, clear and not in the least subtle. I think I could recognize it in the future. The reader observes what the characters do. Very little introspection. The plot fits the language and the behavior of the characters. Strong, determined people - no not people, just one character, but she is the central character. Kira is her name. This book is autobiographical, but only in the sense that it speaks of the author's life philosophy. The characters and the plot are all fictional. How Kira thinks is how Ayn Rand thinks....and if that doesn't appeal to you, well then the whole novel may not appeal to you. Do strong, determined people appeal to you?

This is a book that describes the Bolshevik era. It is set in Petrograd / St. Petersburg / Leningrad, predominantly the 1920s. It is a book about how Bolshevism destroyed people. It is also a love story.

The ending! It ends perfectly. Ayn Rand's writing, her description of places and events is so sharp and clear. The ending dazzles. You see it and you feel it and it moves you. The events fit the language. You want to know what will happen. You say, "Get to the end! Tell me! Tell me!" But at the same time you know you have to wait because Kira's path takes time too. That is what I mean when I say the words reflect the events.

Is the book realistic? Yes, I think so.

Mary Woods narrates the audiobook. She changes the speed with which she reads the story. Dialogs are read slowly so you can listen and think about what each is saying. Past events are read in a speedy blur. I have never run into such a technique before, but it is effective. I came to recognize the different characters by the different tones used.

Such a great idea. Beautiful writing, the plot, the drama! I have to praise the author for depicting the ugly reality of that period (the years following the revolution and the civil war) in Russian history so well.
Andrei Taganov, his character growth, all the changes he’s gone through were amazing. If ONLY I could sympathize more with the tragic, self destructive, bitter, stinking mess of a male protagonist, Leo Kovalensky and the preachy, stone cold bitch of a heroine, Kira Argunova.

Part VIII of a multi-part review series.

Anti-communists in early Soviet Russia very astonishingly come to bad end.

Introduced by Peikoff, who claims that Rand’s first novel was, instead of this one, almost “set in an airship orbiting the earth” (v) which would’ve been kinda cool, except now we have Against the Day, which likely would’ve embarrassed Rand’s hypothetical effort as much as Solzhenitsyn humiliates this one.

Rand’s own forward contains the normal cacogogic posturing. For instance:

“Writers are made, not born. To be exact, writers are self-made” (xiii);

Neo-spenglerianism: “The rapid epistemological degeneration of our present age” (xiv);

“The Naturalist school of writing consists of substituting statistics for one’s standard of value” (id.);

A nice admission regarding the maturity of her ideas: “I am still a little astonished at times, that too many adult Americans do not understand the nature of the fight against Communism as clearly as I understood it at the age of twelve: they continue to believe that only Communist methods are evil, while Communist ideals are noble” (xv);

To support her juvenile contention that the soviet system is unable to produce anything, she answers Sputnik and the Soviet nuclear program with “Read the story of ‘Project X’ in Atlas Shrugged“ (xvi). So, even here, in her first novel, we do not escape the constant refrain of spurious John Galt glossings.

She concludes the forward with “The specific events of [protagonist’s] life were not mine; her ideas, her convictions, her values were and are” (xvii). This statement is stunning in two respects: the first discredits any and all “events” recorded in the novel--I was initially willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, as a Russian ex-pat, that some of the events described may have a factual basis. But she has thrown the “events” of the novel under the train. It accordingly lacks credibility as a document reflecting historicity.

The second respect is that, even while distancing herself from the events described, she adopts protagonist’s ideology. Protagonist goes on to record the following observations, which should be considered as incorporated by reference in extenso to author’s ideology:

Defining the relevant class position: protagonist’s family once owned a textile factory, which was nationalized (21), and protagonist once lived in a “vast mansion” and “had an English governess” (45);

“From somewhere in the aristocratic Middle Ages, [protagonist] had inherited the conviction that labor and effort were ignoble” (49);

Regarding the Russian Revolution: protagonist did depose and state that “It is an old and ugly fact that the masses exist and make their existence felt. This is a time when they make it felt with particular ugliness” (58) (my only question is how the Evil Bolsheviks held off on shooting her until page 460?);

Affirmed that protagonist believes in “miracles” (61);

Regarding the “Internationale”: “She tried not to listen to the words. The words spoke of the damned, the hungry, the slaves, of those who had been nothing and shall be all; in the magnificent goblet of the music, the words were not intoxicating as wine; they were not terrifying as blood; they were gray as dish water” (73);

Protagonist adopts Rand’s comment from the preface regarding the distinction between methods and ideals: “I loathe your ideals” (89), said to a GPU agent, which inexplicably does not get her shot in this Evil Empire tale;

Reveals herself to be a real peach: “Can you sacrifice the few? When those few are the best? Deny the best its right to the top--and you have no best left. What are your masses but millions of dull, shriveled, stagnant souls that have no thoughts of their own, no dreams of their own, no will of their own, who eat and sleep and chew helplessly the words others put into their brains? And for those who would sacrifice the few who know life, who are life? I loathe your ideals because I know no worse injustice than the giving of the undeserved. Because men are not equal in ability and one can’t treat them as if they were. And because I loathe most of them” (90)--we should compare Mussolini’s comments from a 1922 article (anthologized in Italian Fascisms From Pareto to Gentile): “The sun of the Russian myth has already set. Light is no longer shining from the East, where terrible news of death and famine is coming out of Russia; we are receiving desperate appeals by socialists and anarchists in Petrograd against Lenin's reactionary policies. Professor Ulianov is now a Tsar scrupulously following the internal and external policies of the Romanovs. The former Basle professor did not perhaps imagine that he would end up as a reactionary; but obviously governments have to suit themselves to those they govern and the enormous human army of Russians--patient, resigned, fatalistic and oriental--is incapable of living in freedom; they need a tyrant; now more than ever, they, like every other people in fact, even those in the West, are anxiously looking for something solid in their institutions, ideas, and men, havens where they can cast anchor for a while and rest their souls, tired out with much wandering.” Coupled with Mussolini’s concept that fascism is managed inequality, with rule by the elite, the triumph of the few over quantity, it is readily apparent that Rand’s politics are one-part fascistic, at least in their assumptions, if not in their overall policy preferences. She may rant about individualism, whereas fascism specifically opposes individualism, but conceptually the misanthropy is substantially identical, as is the basis for the opposition to left economics;

In the midst of world historical occurrences, protagonist laments the lack of compliments for “her new dress” (98), obsesses over “lipstick and silk stockings” (119), and files a civil case over some converted home furnishings (180), which case is lost;

She resents “novels by foreign authors in which a poor, honest worker was always sent to jail for stealing a loaf of bread to feed the starving mother of his pretty young wife who had been raped by a capitalist and committed suicide thereafter, for which the all-powerful capitalist fired her husband from the factory, so that their child had to beg on the streets and was run over by the capitalist’s limousine with sparkling fenders and a chauffeur in uniform” (136-37) (does that book actually exist?);

She is very proud of herself “that she was actually corrupting a stern Communist. She regretted that the corruption could go no further” (157);

And on and on. There’re egregiously annoying bits on protagonist throughout, but do I need to report any more? Safe to conclude, rather , that she’s horrible (and that conclusion has nothing to do with maintaining two separate sexual relationships simultaneously), and that her ideas and convictions are author’s ideas and convictions, as stated in the forward, the misanthropic ideas and fascistic convictions. Good job!

Novel otherwise has a number of amusing defects:

The NEP is noted to be a “temporary compromise,” which appears to me to misstate the relationship between so-called war communism and the new economic policy (32) (and again at 308-09);

Predicts with hope the fascist invasion of Russia: “Do you think Europe is blind? Watch Europe. She hasn’t said her last word yet. The day will come--soon--when these bloody assassins, these foul scoundrels, that Communist scum” (38);

It is asserted that “Czar Alexander II had magnanimously freed” the Russian serfs (48);

And so on. There’s plenty to criticize, and I lack the energy. Suffice it to say that the criticism of left policy here is less about its proper function (as alleged in Atlas Shrugged) and more about the deviation from policy, as noted in a “breach of party discipline” (104) and in a litany of abuses of non-doctrinal nature (321-22), and again in communist apparatchik conspiracy with aristocrat boyfriend later (394 ff.);

Slavophile philosopher proclaims at one point that Russia “has lost [its future] in materialistic pursuits. Russia’s destiny has ever been of the spirit. Holy Russia has lost her God and her Soul” (154);

Protagonist’s boyfriend tells her other boyfriend that “I’m studying philosophy […] because it’s a science that the proletariat of the RSFSR does not need at the moment” (155);

A fairly dismissive attitude toward human suffering: “Petrograd had known sweeping epidemics of cholera; it had known epidemics of typhus, which were worse; the worst of its epidemics was that of ‘John Gray,’” which is apparently some form of popular dance (id.)—I’d’ve thought that the human suffering should be the point of an anti-communist writing;

One of protagonist’s boyfriends alleges “the essential immutability of human nature,” a comical conceit (302);

Has communists expressing their “idealism” (309), which is not a Marxist doctrine, of course (we could be charitable and assume that the commies doing the expressing are incorrect doctrinally, I suppose—but then that weakens the Atlas Shrugged critique that the failures of communism arise from its correct implementation);

Novel misunderstands or misrepresents the Leninist theory of democratic centralism in such comments as “why do you think you are entitled to your own thoughts? Against those of the majority of your collective?” (311)—leninist centralism is not necessarily something that I’d endorse, but this is a bogus caricature;

Protagonist’s second boyfriend crumbles ideologically for no apparent reason, just up and throws in the towel, presumably after pre-reading Atlas Shrugged, considering that he has adopted part of Galt’s rant: “We were to raise men to our own level. But they don’t rise, the men we’re ruling, they don’t grow [this, merely in 1925!], they’re shrinking. They’re shrinking to a level no human creatures ever reached before [!!!]. And we’re sliding slowly down into their ranks. We’re crumbling, like a wall, one by one. Kira, I’ve never been afraid. I’m afraid, now. It’s a strange feeling. I’m afraid to think. Because…because I think, at times, that perhaps our ideals have had no other result” (334), which is a line of revelation not earned by any preparatory work in the novel whatsoever. Didn’t Rand state that she abhors the undeserved? This character reversal and recantation is one of the most undeserved that I can recall.

Anyway: a more or less dull, tendentious, below average novel, made horrible by author’s marginal contributions. Full of laments from dispossessed Russian aristocrats, which we are apparently to take seriously--protagonist’s primary boyfriend is a dispossessed aristocrat. Presentations of Soviet propaganda items falls flat, insofar as they are not typically manifestly insane, but sound in the same register as any other state’s propaganda, which normally ranges from boringly true (“Just Say No to Drugs!”) to blatantly self-serving and thus readily identifiable and disregardable (“The Leader is Good!”). Problem is that the tendentious anti-communist conclusion is not well supported by the facts of the novel, which records deviations from communist party discipline and reinforces the communist propaganda that saboteurs, traitors, and speculators were fucking up the economy. That kind of inconsistency is less than persuasive.

Recommended for those who miss their priceless pieces of antique porcelain, readers who smuggle human flesh out of this wolf trap, and Sir Galahads of the blackmail sword.

Stupendous. This was a classic Ayn Rand until the previously exalted human spirit, will, and ingenuity became no more. It is a accusation of a world no more, a tribute to ideals conceived to the blood of millions, and a eulogy to the uncompromising souls. It is a peerless requiem to the mortality of immortal virtues. The characters are perhaps the most carnal in the heights their ideals have reached, and most noble in the vices the system created.

If you liked Ayn Rand’s other books, you’d like this one too.

If you like her politics and enjoy her writing, then this is a must-read because it’s practically an autobiography.

If none of the above applies, then this would be an unpleasant experience.

Moved to https://covers2covers.wordpress.com/2...

Айн Ранд рисува градежа на Съветска Русия сред ледените страници на “Ние, живите”
http://www.knigolandia.info/2010/03/b...

Преди време написах хубави думи за другите два романа на Ранд – “Изворът” и “Атлас изправи рамене”. И за миг не съм мислел, че първият й роман ще ги надмине, но това е факт – “Ние, живите” е най-силната й книга и залагам главата си за това твърдение.