Path: bloom-picayune.mit.edu!snorkelwacker.mit.edu!americast.com!americast.com!americast-post Newsgroups: americast.latimes.misc From: americast-post@AmeriCast.Com Organization: American Cybercasting Approved: americast-post@AmeriCast.com Subject: History, Take Two THE PORCUPINE, By Julian Barnes (Alfred A. Knopf: $17; 139 Date: Mon, 9 Nov 92 07:02:32 EST Message-ID: HEADLINE: History, Take Two THE PORCUPINE, By Julian Barnes (Alfred A. Knopf: $17; 139 Publication Date: Sunday November 8, 1992 BYLINE: RICHARD EDER The Cold War was over and we'd won, President Bush told us at the beginning of the year. Earlier, even before the last chunks of the Berlin Wall moved through the gift shops, Francis Fukuyama had announced the end of history. But what exactly had we won? And why is it that history still chugs around, for example, on the heights over Sarajevo, in knife checks at big-city junior highs, and in the new Central Asia trade routes (fissionable material instead of silk) that wind from the remains of the Soviet Union into the bazaars of the Third World? What is briefly at an end is the conceptual arsenal of historians. Meanwhile, journalists on the spot still do the rough first drafts of history's next chapter. And Julian Barnes, the wonderfully agile British novelist, whose fictions range from Flaubert to London's poisoned social comedy to life-states after death to the woodworms in Noah's Ark, has written a rough and provoking second draft. The provocations are as numerous as the title indicates. The porcupine in question is the longtime dictator of an Eastern European country that in some ways, but not all, suggests Bulgaria. Like Todor Zhivkov, the fictional Stoya Petkanov is on trial by the shaky new democracy. It is to be a judgment on the communist era; an airing-out for the new day. But things are not so simple. For one thing, days are not all that bright, particularly in Eastern Europe, what with clouds and smog; and nights are not entirely dark. More important--the book's central provocation--if night gives way to day, what does day give way to? Here is a scene, the opening one: Petkanov is standing by a window, under guard. A low-wattage bulb burns; his suit jacket is of good quality but corrugated at the back. Barnes knows his Balkan murk, and the disarray of an old man stripped of power and servants. Outside, there is a candle-lit protest march by women banging pots. For a moment we think it is one more of the anti-Petkanov demonstrations that helped bring the regime down. So why is the prisoner smiling? Because the women are protesting a new democracy that seems to mean that there is to be no food in the stores. A second scene: It is one of many confrontations between the tough, wily Petkanov and the young, much less assured prosecutor general in charge of the case that is to confirm the new era. A prickly familiarity has developed between the prisoner and prosecutor Peter Solinsky, whose appointment as a law professor Petkanov had once approved. "You know," the old man says, "the priest in my village--and he probably was shot, I'm afraid, there were so many criminal elements around at the time, it could easily have happened--the priest in my village used to say, 'You don't get to Heaven at the first jump.' " "Exactly," says Solinsky, hoping that Petkanov is making a rare concession after mocking the new regime's disorganization. "No, Peter, you misunderstand me. Actually, I am not talking about you. You and your sort have had many jumps already. Many centuries and many jumps. Jump, jump, jump. I am talking about us ; we have had only one jump so far." Petkanov's clothes may be wrinkled, and he is not free of weakness--when a crowd attacks his car he soils himself humiliatingly--but essentially he is uncowed. Given the ration tickets that the new economy has imposed on the country, he orders up a week's worth of food and consumes it at one sitting. He is entitled to "Socialist rations," he mockingly tells the befuddled prison commandant. "If Solinsky wants me to eat washing powder for the rest of the week he personally will bear the consequences." Barnes makes a joyfully rich character out of his mean and obdurate peasant tyrant. His portrait of Solinsky is fuzzier; the problem is not that he is indecisive but that the author has not taken enough pains to pull together an indecisive character . A chorus of four students who observe Petkanov's trial on television is only half-realized; on the other hand, Barnes has invented a marvelously Dada underground group that surfaces from time to time and may have the book's last word. Petkanov's patronizing assurance toward Solinsky is not merely the ideological conviction that his side will have another jump and a better one. It comes from the fact that after 40 years, there are very few people in the country who have not compromised themselves with the regime. Peter's father was once on the Politburo and now raises bees, having been purged for dogmatism. After some early disadvantages, Peter did well. Not only did Petkanov approve his professorship, he also allowed him to go to a legal conference in Italy. At the trial, Petkanov will disclose that Solinsky used part of his currency allowance to buy an Italian suit and spend the night with an Italian woman. Clear judgment may be too costly in such a situation. The charges against Petkanov are ludicrously trivial: misuse of royalties and poor administration. The bigger crimes of the regime may have ramifications that the new authorities cannot risk tracing. The evidence, after all, is in the hands of the security police, and their purging has only been cosmetic. Ganin, their chief, was named to the job because of his ostensibly progressive reputation. In fact, it was based on his ability to trim earlier than most of his colleagues. Ganin is the occasion for the satire's deepest thrust. For their own reasons, the security forces want Petkanov convicted of grave crimes. Ganin brings Solinsky "evidence" that Petkanov was responsible for a number of murders and, at least indirectly, for that of his own daughter. At first Solinsky resists. But Petkanov's claim that the Communist constitution gave legality to his acts is maddeningly impregnable. "If something illegal was done you did not know about it. And if you did know about it then automatically it was legal," Solinsky rages. Petkanov complacently agrees. And so, Solinsky presents Ganin's dossiers. After all, he tells his indignant wife, Petkanov must have authorized the killings in some fashion. "The document is true even if it is a forgery. Even if it is not true it is necessary." The decision, which ironically has no particular effect, brings us back to the Communist show trials. Barnes has bent history as progress into history as a circle. He does it lightly, ironically. Still, the thought occurs: Isn't this a bit like writing "1984"--in a way, it is "1984" backward--at the time of the 19th-Century liberal uprisings in Russia? Is it a premature parable or a preventive one? It is early days for a judgment about the uncertainties in Eastern Europe, and perhaps Barnes could be accused of being unfair. But he is not writing a judgment so much as a caution; one that is witty and telling and that, furthermore, may not be outracing events by a great deal. In a recent New Yorker piece, he wrote of a post-publication book tour in Bulgaria where he found himself a celebrity. Zhivkov had just been convicted on modest charges and sentenced to a modest seven years. He was appealing. And the state prosecutor congratulated the author and said he envied Solinsky his suit as well as his Italian one-night stand. This article is copyright 1992 The Los Angeles Times Home Edition. Redistribution to other sites is not permitted except by arrangement with American Cybercasting Corporation. For more information, send-email to usa@AmeriCast.COM