I can’t quite recall when I first heard (or read) the name of Hodja Nasreddin. However, I can definitely say that his most famous mention is the parable of the talking donkey. In this story, Hodja Nasreddin promises a padishah that he will teach his donkey to speak like a human in 20, 30, or even 40 years (the timeline varies depending on the version). He then points out that within such a timeframe, either the donkey, Hodja Nasreddin himself, or even the padishah might die, making the whole process of teaching the donkey unnecessary.
Where did I first encounter all this? I honestly don’t remember! But the name of this witty and resourceful wanderer from the East has become universally known. So, I finally decided to read the most famous literary work about him, translated into numerous languages worldwide—Leonid Solovyov’s two-part series, The Tale of Hodja Nasreddin.
But first, let’s start with the figure of Hodja Nasreddin himself. To this day, it’s uncertain whether such a person truly existed, but parables and anecdotes about this character began appearing around the 13th century. They spread across Central Asia and the Middle East and became part of the folklore in some Caucasian, Balkan, and Mediterranean countries. There are even several places claimed to be Hodja Nasreddin’s burial site, the most famous of which is a tomb in the city of Akşehir, Turkey.
In every story, Hodja Nasreddin is portrayed as a folk hero who combats injustice with his words, using clever tricks or eloquent arguments to emerge victorious from almost any situation. Shahs constantly try to capture him; many boast of having caught and executed him, yet he reappears time and again in different parts of the East, inspiring hope among the poor and fear among rulers.
Leonid Solovyov was born in 1906 in Tripoli, now part of Lebanon, which at the time was part of the Ottoman Empire. However, little Lenya probably didn’t have much time to immerse himself in the local culture, as his family moved back to the Russian Empire when he was three. Nevertheless, history has its way, and after the Revolution, in 1921, his family relocated to Kokand, a city in the Ferghana region of what is now Uzbekistan. This move gave young Leonid Solovyov the opportunity to study the region’s rich folklore. It was there that he began his career, first as a journalist and later as a writer.
An interesting fact: Solovyov’s first book was Lenin in the Works of Eastern Peoples, a collection supposedly featuring translated folk songs about the proletarian leader. However, other writers close to Solovyov later claimed that he had composed all these songs himself—which I can easily believe.
Afterward, he published several other books, but in 1940, his novel The Disturber of the Peace was released—the first of Solovyov’s works about Hodja Nasreddin. While based on the folklore surrounding this character, it became a standalone literary masterpiece, gaining widespread popularity and translations into numerous languages.
The novel recounts the adventures of a relatively young Hodja Nasreddin as he returns to his childhood city of Bukhara. Here, the rulers and greedy nobles are no fans of his, but Hodja can’t resist helping the poor while simultaneously making a mockery of the shah and his sycophants—and even finding the love of his life.
Given the glowing reviews, I expected more from the book, but it’s still a very good read. However, as I read, I kept experiencing déjà vu, wondering if I had somehow read this book before. Then it dawned on me—I had listened to an audio play of the same name, based on Leonid Filatov’s adaptation. This is one of those rare cases where the play not only captures the spirit of the original but, in my opinion, even surpasses it in many ways. After all, Leonid Filatov wasn’t just a talented actor but also a brilliant storyteller. There’s even a rather unique televised version of the play featuring excellent actors and a distinctive visual style: the teleplay The Disturber of the Peace.
But The Tale of Hodja Nasreddin consists of two novels, and the story behind the creation of the second one is rather tragic. Shortly after the war, in 1946, Leonid Solovyov was arrested on charges of “preparing a terrorist act.” I can’t understand why he wasn’t executed under such an accusation and instead was “only” sentenced to 10 years in a labor camp. Moreover, he was allowed to engage in literary work during his free time at the camp. It was there that he wrote the second novel about Hodja Nasreddin, based on the screenplay The Adventures of Nasreddin, which Solovyov co-wrote with Viktor Vitkovich shortly before his arrest.
The novel The Enchanted Prince was completed by the end of 1950 but was only published in 1954, the year Solovyov was released. In this book, Hodja is no longer young. His beloved from the first novel has become a loud, plump woman who has borne him a multitude of children. They live happily, having finally settled in one place. But something gnaws at Hodja—the memories of past adventures keep pulling him elsewhere. And there comes that familiar question, often arising at this stage of life: the meaning of existence and our purpose.
Even the tone of this book is different. The lightheartedness and cheerfulness of Hodja are gone. However, his ability to vanquish injustice with words and his selfless desire to help the poor remain intact. Moreover, in this novel, Hodja gains a loyal companion (besides his ever-present donkey, of course—a human one this time): the renowned Baghdad Thief. The thief seeks redemption for his sinful life and sees assisting Hodja in his fight against injustice as the path to turning away from his life of crime.
The entire book, and all of Hodja’s actions, are imbued with the sense that this is his final mission—one that must be completed before his time on Earth ends. It feels as though through Hodja’s character, Leonid Solovyov was reflecting on his own situation, writing this novel from within the confines of the labor camp. After his release and the publication of the novel, Solovyov lived only six more years, passing away in 1962 at the age of 55.
Given my previous impressions of Hodja Nasreddin from various short and humorous stories, I expected something similar from both books. But they turned out to be quite different. They are full of wit but can hardly be called lighthearted, especially the second novel. Nonetheless, they immerse the reader in the world of the East, a world that still seems somewhat distinct and separate from Europe. It’s a kind, occasionally somber tale of a great trickster who never used his skills for selfish gain but only to help those in need.
P.S. In the USSR, there were several adaptations based on Solovyov’s books, most using his own screenplays. In 1959, the film Nasreddin in Khodjent, or The Enchanted Prince was released, with the role of the Baghdad Thief played by Tajik actor and director Marat Aripov. In 1982, the same Marat Aripov directed a three-part film, Look More Cheerful, inspired by The Enchanted Prince. In this adaptation, he himself played the role of the now-older Hodja Nasreddin. Thus, he managed to embody two characters from the same story.
My rating: 4/5
