A Woman’s World
Acknowledgments
We wish to express our gratitude to friends and colleagues who have helped shape and facilitate this project at various stages: Jonathan Bolton, Marina Grishakova, Mark Lipovetsky, Mikhail Lotman, William Mills Todd III, B. A. Uspensky as well as our two anonymous peer reviewers.
Thanks are also due to the supportive editorial team at Academic Studies Press, who have encouraged this project at every stage, including Jenna Colozza, Oleh Kotsyuba, Igor Nemirkovsky, Kira Nemirovsky, Faith Stein, and Ekaterina Yanduganova.
We are grateful to the Yuri Lotman Estate, Estonian Semiotics Repository Foundation (Eesti Semiootikavaramu) for the right to translate the texts included in this volume.
A Note on the Text
Lotman’s original notes are reproduced here as endnotes referenced by Arabic numerals. We used footnotes, referenced by Roman numerals, for our editorial comments. Each article is introduced by a brief paragraph in italics explaining its source and significance, as well as placing it in a larger critical context.
The articles included in this collection reflect various scholarly styles, including some pieces that were initially presented as television programs and that accordingly present a more conversational style, with lighter referencing. Our translation has aimed to retain these inflections of tone and style.
A Note on Transliteration
This volume uses two different transliteration systems. For proper names occurring within the text, we have either used well-established English equivalents or applied simplified and anglicized spelling, writing, for example, Veselovsky instead of Veselovskii and Alexander instead of Aleksandr. In bibliographic references, we have consistently used the Library of Congress transliteration, even for proper names.
Introduction
ANDREAS SCHÖNLE
Yuri Lotman (1922–1993) is one of the most prominent and influential Russian scholars of the twentieth century.1 A cofounder of the so-called Tartu-Moscow school of semiotics, he applied his mind to a wide array of disciplines, from aesthetics to literary and cultural history, narrative theory to intellectual history, cinema to mythology, not to speak of cybernetics. He advanced highly sustained theories on structural poetics, culture, and artificial intelligence, as well as the relationship between semiotics and neurology;2 he proposed sweeping typological generalizations, such as his opposition between Russian and Western cultures; and he excavated layer after layer of Russian literary, cultural, and intellectual history. His interests ranged from how causal connections work in a semiotic series to the role of dolls in a system of culture. He touched on Freud, Charlie Chaplin, and Lenin. His semiotic analyses of Russian culture included studies of dueling, card-playing, and the theatricality of polite society. Considered groundbreaking in the context of Soviet disdain for the nobility, his thick description of aristocratic culture devoted appreciable attention to the situation of women and their contributions to culture (his long description of “A Woman’s World” is translated in this volume for the first time). Along with numerous studies of Russian high literature from the Middle Ages to the twentieth century, he investigated the semiotics of St. Petersburg, the role of architecture in culture, and the symbolic construction of space. In a path-breaking interdisciplinary vein, he studied the interrelationship among various kinds of art, be it the impact of theater on painting or of landscape design on poetry. Perhaps his most influential ideas concerned the interpenetration of the arts and everyday life: along with several other articles, his biography of Alexander Pushkin, which demonstrated how the poet designed his social behavior as a work of art (Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin: A Writer’s Biography) and his article on the ways in which the Decembrists plotted their lives according to codes derived from drama (“The Decembrist in Daily Life”) spawned a series of studies on various cases of theatricality and “life-creation” [zhiznetvorchestvo] by Russian and American scholars of all stripes.3 This conception took hold not the least because it resonated with Russian culture’s recurrent valorization of art as an existential project, the notion that art formulates not only aesthetic values, but also desirable ways of living.
Lotman was both a theorist and a historian. His uncanny command of Russian print culture not only enabled him to introduce substantial revisions to Russia’s historiographic paradigms, transforming the ways in which his readers thought of Russia’s identity, but also stoked one of his most endearing talents—his knack for pointing to unexpected, poorly known facts of Russian and, sometimes, world culture in support of a theoretical position. Indeed, perhaps his greatest asset was the ability to underpin history with theory and substantiate theory with history, casting a new light on everything he touched. He was a daring and imaginative thinker. He did not shy away from speculation and sometimes was prone to confusing his erudition with a license to conjecture. His skill at finding patterns and subtexts, honed on the practice of literary analysis, served him less well when applied to social behavior: some of his last historiographic ventures (for example, his richly contextual biography of Nikolay Karamzin) smack of overreading. Yet, his theoretical investigation of the role of chance and unpredictability in history and culture, which he presented in his last theoretical book, Culture and Explosion [Kul′tura i vzryv], tempered this penchant for overdetermination. He died before he could consider how this new premise would transform his interpretations of distinct episodes of Russian literature and culture.
In many ways his career offered a palimpsest of his times. After serving six years in the army, including four in combat during World War II, Lotman came back a decorated soldier, one of an estimated five percent of the enlisted men born in 1922 to survive the war.4 He enrolled in Leningrad State University to finish his undergraduate studies, but despite his brilliant performance and glowing recommendation from the army, he could not be admitted to graduate school on account of his Jewish background.5 For the same reason, he experienced difficulties finding a job, until he landed a position as teacher of Russian literature in a two-year pedagogical institute in Tartu, Estonia. Annexed in 1940, the fifteenth Soviet republic needed russification, and local authorities did not deem Lotman’s ethnicity a liability. Becoming a resident of Estonia proved to be a blessing in disguise. Lotman quickly began to teach classes in the Department of Russian Literature at Tartu University. In 1952, he finally was able to defend his dissertation at Leningrad University. By 1954, he was a regular faculty member at Tartu University. While ostensibly marginalized by this displacement from the two capitals, Lotman took advantage of the comparatively more relaxed atmosphere of Estonian intellectual life and progressively built the Department of Russian Literature into a pioneering theoretical and historical powerhouse.
In the 1950s Lotman worked on a reconceptualization of late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century intellectual and literary history. Inspired by the emergence of structuralism in Moscow, he began publishing on theoretical issues in 1962 and the following year made contacts with Moscow colleagues.6 The institution of biannual summer schools on “secondary modeling systems”7 near Tartu helped establish intellectual and personal links with Moscow scholars, which enabled the Tartu-Moscow school of semiotics to coalesce.8 In the 1950s and 1960s, Lotman’s scholarship was first published in scientific journals at Tartu University, although Lotman was never completely barred from mainstream publication in Moscow or Leningrad. Despite small runs and poor distribution, his articles on semiotics drew the attention of elite intellectual circles in Moscow and Leningrad, and, subsequently, abroad. Starting in 1964, translations
