Kernerenko’s Second Advent
Completely erased from Jewish popular memory, Kernerenko was resurrected again in the 1990s as one of the curious figures in the utopian discourse on Ukrainian-Jewish encounter, rather than as a solitary Ukrainian poet of Jewish descent.
More precisely, Kernerenko emerged as a paramount Jewish supporter of the Ukrainian anarchist movement in David Markish’s Russian-language novel Poliushko-pole (1991). Markish’s novel betrays the author’s unrestricted sympathy for, and support of, the anarchist Ukrainian movement led by the warlord Makhno. Out of three Jews, the Veselovskii brothers, who in the wake of the civil war joined correspondingly the White Guards, the Red Army, and the anarchists, only Semen, the last one, manages to survive and preserve the strong ethical principles of a democratic-minded Ukrainian patriot and a good Jew.71For Markish, Makhno was no murderer, no reckless politician, and no antisemitic popular leader. On the contrary, assisted by such Jews as Liova Zadov, his “minister” of counterintelligence, Makhno emerges as a key figure of Ukrai- nian-Jewish rapprochement. Born in the midst of the Ukrainian peasantry, Makhno imagines his utopian community of workers and peasants as a Ukrainian version of the Degania kibbutz in Palestine. Chased from Ukraine, Makhno addresses his adept Semen Veselovskii with a Zionist final blessing. The leader of Ukrainian anarchism argues that despite the failure in Ukraine, Semen should go and try to find Degania, a Jewish settlement that throughout the novel serves for Makhno as an essential Ukrainian socialist utopia.72
Thus, Markish places Kernerenko in the benign context of Ukrainian-Jew- ish interaction. Semen Veselovskii, eager to join the Ukrainian anarchists, arrives in Huliai-pole, Makhno’s headquarters. While approaching the village, he talks to his companion, the anarchist Terentii, learns about the village’s rich men who “readily” share with people, and casts doubt on Terentii’s answer.
—Readily? Seems improbable!—
—Why not!—exclaimed Terentii, as if he was offended for his rich fellow countrymen.—What about Kernerenko Hryts’ko?—He looked at Semen: does he know who this Hryts’ko is?
—Who is he?—Semen did not know.
—Our poet, he writes songs!—explained Terentii.—There has been nobody in Huliai-pole richer than the Kernerenkos: they own a factory, and steam mill, and a store, and some five hundred acres of land. It was Semeniuta himself, about ten years ago, who hinted: so, Hryts’ko—ι,ooo rubles on the table for the world revolution! And Hryts’ko gave him 500, he did not have more at that time.
—And what about that poet?—asked Semen.—About Hryts’ko?
—He lives here,—informed Terentii.—And in general, he is no Kerne- renko.
—How come?
—So.—Ternetii glanced somewhat suspiciously at Semen.—He is Kerner Grigorii Borisovich. His dad sits in our synagogue, in the first row.
“Hersch Borukhovich,”—Semen noted to himself and immediately felt shame for his untimely joy. What difference does it make who gave money first for the anarchist movement, a Jew or not a Jew? But a pleasing feeling remained despite his attempt to suppress it.
—Are they friendly?—Semen asked somewhat hesitantly.—Nestor Ivanovich [Makhno— TP5] and the poet?
—What’s the friendship between a horse and a rider?—Terentii smiled.— The rider rides, the horse carries and composes songs: “Black banner, red fire.” “Poemhorse,”—Semen thought with sympathy for the writer.—“Poor Jewish Hershversemaker [Gersheplet].73
Some details, such as the brief inventory of Kerner’s ownership, the expropriated ³,000 rubles of which only 500 were given back, and the Ukrainophile stance of the poet, as well as the name of the anarchist Semeniuta, suggest that David Markish was quite familiar with Anatol Hak’s memoir on Kernerenko, discussed earlier.
Perhaps the late Shimon Markish (1932-2004), a renowned Geneva-based professor of Russian literature, another son of Perets Markish and David’s brother, introduced David Markish to Hak’s important memoir.
If this assumption holds, then it is clear that the novelist closely follows the memoirist but alters the way the town dwellers perceived Kernerenko. For them, Kernerenko is a populist poet; he “writes songs,” a preeminent genre of Ukrainian folklore; he is referred to as “our” poet; he praises the revolution; and he “readily” helps the peasant rebellion. In a word, Markish creates for Kernerenko a welcoming atmosphere of respect and admiration about which the poet could only dream—a mutually beneficial Ukrainian-Jewish literary, economic, and political interaction. It also seems that Markish attempted to recast Kernerenko in the mold of a Ukrainian-Jewish Alexander Blok, who had morphed from symbolist lyrics to the revolutionary epic The Twelve.Recently Ukrainian literary critics have made an overt attempt to revive Kernerenko and overcome Jewish-Ukrainian animosity. First, the Zaporizh- zhia-based Ukrainian poet Petro Rebro published an enthusiastic essay on Kernerenko, in which he attempted to solve what he considered a puzzle: can a Jew be a Ukrainian poet? If yes, is it possible to consider as genuine his feelings toward Ukraine? Rebro analyzed some of Kernerenko’s poetic writings and emphasized that his “open-minded yet sometimes naive” poetry was imbued with a profound empathy toward Ukraine. Considering the relation of Kernerenko to Ukraine and paraphrasing Kernerenko’s famous lines, Rebro stated that Kernerenko was “Ukraine’s son, not a stepson” and called for reprinting his best works, commemorating him as the Huliai-pole poet and researching his later fate.74
Following Rebro, Kushnirenko and Zhylins’kyi, two Ukrainian “local historians,” picked up Rebro’s question and answered it in a short essay on Kerne- renko included in their representative anthology Literatura Huliaipil'shchyny (The Huliai-pole Region Literature). Curiously enough, the editors spent most of their essay defending Kernerenko against Hrabovs’ky’s invectives. The authors emphasized that Hrabovs’kyi was wrong: he did not see a single line written by Kernerenko and he used Kernerenko to convey his own literary mottoes. They dubbed Hrabovs’kyi a “hurray” critic and summed up by saying, “we feel bitter and embarrassed for Hrabovs’kyi.” This was a bold step by the editors, given Hrabovs’kyi’s reputation as a staunch democrat and a martyr of the tsar- dom. Significantly, the editors selected eight poems from the legacy of the Huliai-pole poet (one of them, Frug’s “The Sand and the Stars,” is erroneously attributed to Kernerenko), pointing to the predominance of Ukrainian and Jewish themes in his writings.75