The way Jewish Odessans speak is something I find incredibly charming—at least, how it’s portrayed, as I’ve never been to Odessa to see for myself. So, I love what I read in jokes or see in films. Two series have stood out to me for capturing the life of Odessa’s courtyards in such a delightful way.
Liquidation, directed by Sergey Ursulyak and starring Vladimir Mashkov as David Gotsman, is an excellent post-war detective story. Even more memorable than the main character is his friend Fima, brilliantly played by Sergey Makovetsky. Lines like, “Return the stolen goods to the calloused hands! You still have to eat off them!” are unforgettable.
The second series is the lighter The Life and Adventures of Mishka Yaponchik, which also plays as a musical, featuring outstanding musical numbers inspired by the songs of the American Barry Sisters. We know that much of what we know about the legendary Odessa gangster Mishka Yaponchik comes thanks to Isaac Babel, who based his character Benya Krik, the “King,” on him. The series builds on Odessa Stories by Babel, though here Benya is called by his real-life inspiration’s name—Mishka Yaponchik.
Isaac Babel’s character Benya Krik first appeared earlier on screen. In 1989, the USSR produced not one, but two films based on Odessa Stories—The Coachman and the King and The Art of Living in Odessa. I remember these films vaguely, but I’ve always known they were based on Babel’s work. That’s why I finally decided to read the original.
Let’s start with the author himself. Babel’s fate as a writer was marked by both fascination and tragedy. Maxim Gorky recognized his talent early on but initially advised him to gain life experience, to “go among the people,” so to speak, before returning to write. Later, Gorky published Babel’s stories in his magazine. Some fellow writers considered Babel’s work exceptional, possibly a new voice in literature, while others held a strictly opposite view. Babel himself always aimed for larger forms but understood that short stories suited him better.
He wrote about his hometown, a semi-fictional biography, and life in Saint Petersburg / Petrograd. He worked with the Cheka, marched with Budyonny’s army, and wrote the Red Cavalry series, which did not sit well with Stalin. In the end, Babel perished during the purges as an enemy of the people, and many of his works weren’t widely published until much later.
The first volume of his collected works covers his earlier period: the Odessa Stories, life in Petrograd, pseudo-biographical tales, as well as a play based on Odessa Stories, and two screenplays for silent films of the era—the first about Benya Krik and the second based on Wandering Stars by Jewish literary classic Sholem Aleichem.
And now for my impressions. In short—a huge disappointment. An incredible one, from the first pages. I’ll skip the fact that the collection sometimes includes multiple versions of essentially the same story—early drafts can differ significantly from final versions.
But the much-anticipated Odessa Stories? Just a fizzle. Only the story The King stands out and reflects the imagery I was hoping to find in this book. And there are only four stories—not exactly an impressive cycle.
I don’t understand why Babel was so widely published. His so-called stories often feel like streams of pseudo-vibrant phrases with no clear purpose, more like sketches of “I call it as I see it.” Many “stories” lack a clear idea or plot. At least some give a sense of daily life from that era, like most of The Petersburg Journal. But even these often feel more like reports than stories (such as The Establishment).
These everyday sketches aren’t always reliable either, as critics note that supposedly autobiographical tales are full of fiction and even contradict real events in Babel’s life.
And the repetitions—over and over. The same few stories about Benya get recycled through different angles—a play, a screenplay. Even Babel himself noted that these productions were poorly done. Having read them, I don’t know why I’d want to watch this play or film.
But there is a notable difference in Wandering Stars, where Babel worked from another writer’s material. The screenplay was commissioned by the Jewish community and did not come easily to Babel (perhaps because it was adapted from another work). But it has at least a somewhat coherent and complete story. By today’s standards, it might seem simple and unpolished, but that was typical for silent films with exaggerated scenes. I can easily imagine it as a silent film. But there’s very little left of the original novel, which I’ve also read.
Moreover, Sholem Aleichem’s works have inspired much stronger adaptations—take, for example, Grigory Gorin’s brilliant play Memorial Prayer.
I practically forced myself to finish the book, waiting to finally encounter the “Babel” I had heard so much about. He never appeared in this volume. Now, I’m not even sure if I have the motivation to read Red Cavalry if it consists of similar “stories” as in the first volume.
It’s a shame when expectations are so utterly unmet.
My rating: 2/5
