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Whatever Happened to Dudinstev?
Dudintsev, Vladimir Dmitrievich Born on 29 July 1918 (16 July, Old Style) in Kupyansk, Kharkov oblast, Ukraine. His father was a member of the gentry and served as a White officer. He was, naturally, executed by the Bolsheviks.

Despite his unfortunate class background, Dudintsev managed to gain admissioin to the Moscow Law Institute, from which he graduated in 1940. He fought as a soldier in World War II and became a company commander. After being wounded near Leningrad, he was demobilized and served out the rest of the war working in the military prosecutor's office in Siberia. His first work was published in 1933.

Whatever happened to the Russian novelist Dudinstev? Way back in the fifties his name was on everyone's lips.

His title, 'Not by Bread Alone’ together with Soltzenitzen's, 'Gulag Archipelago' represented the first green shoots of literary opposition to the monstrosity of Soviet totalitarianism.


THE PLOT IN SHORT

An inventor named Lopatkin struggles against entrenched bureaucracy and self-servers in an attempt to help the Soviet pipe industry. He wins his personal battle, but the "invisible empire" of the bureaucracy remains intact and Lopatkin knows that a long struggle still lies ahead.

     Dudinstev's voice was the first subversive whisper to suggest that maybe the Communist emperor had no clothes. His was the first murmuring criticism of the creaking, stultifying, negativity of the Soviet bureaucratic machine. It was a work, which rang bells with the Russian public and faithfully mirrored the growing frustration of the ordinary citizen in his or her relationship with the lazy, intransigent, brain-dead officialdom that made life so difficult. Any assessment of the various factors, which led to the disintegration of the regime, must include the loathing felt by the populace towards the over-centralised, inflexible, bone-headed administration, which impeded, delayed, and generally screwed up the aspirations and hopes of the people.


     If I was seriously interested I suppose I would order a copy of the book from my local library and re-read it to check its actual publication date, and discover whether it was officially produced in Russia itself, or printed secretly on an ancient 'Roneo' machine as a Samizdat or 'self-published' piece and then passed from hand to hand as was often the case. On the other hand, maybe the manuscript was smuggled out to the west and was published illegally. Who knows? It’s not important anyway - it’s all history now and the whole rotten framework of the communist bureaucracy has crumbled away - or has it?


     The inept Soviet Russian civil service was modelled on the equally anomalous Czarist model of officialdom that it replaced, and he'd no reason to suspect that the dead hands of the aparatchiks have been prized from the levers of power. Doubtless the same corruption takes place, although nowadays administrative shortcuts are obtained by rouble-billionaires with hard black-market cash, rather than the old system of reciprocal favours, or by the simple fact of demanding perks by pulling Communist Party rank - but that's another story!


I simply got to wonder what happened to Dudinstev that is all. Did he ever write anything else?

The man just seemed to sink without trace. Did he end up in a camp? Did he flee to the west?


     The book 'Not by Bread Alone' told the story of an inventor - I forget the protagonist's name - who invented a device - I forget what exactly - in fact come to think of it, I don't think we were actually ever told in the story what the contrivance was - except that it had the potential of making savings for Soviet industry of millions of roubles.

The inventor presents himself at the relevant office with his prototype wrapped up in a brown paper parcel, as all inventors seem to do. Perhaps it was a factory, or perhaps it was the Patent Office I can’t recollect.

After sitting all day in a dingy waiting-room alongside a lot of other weary men with mysterious brown paper parcels, he's informed that the chief has an important luncheon appointment that will extend for the rest of the day, and he's told to return the next day. The story goes on and on concerning his long delays and thwarted attempts to get to see the chief and explain the potential of his great money-saver. Eventually he succeeds in getting an audience, only to be told that he's in the wrong office. They tell him to go somewhere else. After delays that are more interminable and frustrations he makes it to the next office and is told to go somewhere else.


The rest of the story is a tragi-comedic account of his journey along the arcane byways of the Soviet administration, as he's passed on from one group of bureaucratic fools to another.

In the end - Yes! You've guessed it! He's given the address of another office to go to which is the location of the first office that he visited!

In its portrayal of the absurdities of some aspects of Russian society it's redolent of Gogol’s Dead Souls, and sometimes reminds one of the better jokes and snipes at 'the system' that used to appear from time to time in the contemporary satirical magazine Krokodil


     As I said, I doubt if things have changed much in the new entrepreneurial Russia. For that matter, having a private enterprise society doesn't guarantee that inventors are going to be treated with the efficiency and respect that they deserve, or that venture capitalists are going to fall over themselves in the rush to finance and market good ideas. Most British innovators and inventors are forced to look abroad for support - as I well know from experience. That is another story!

In the words of the author, "The fight against evil is inevitably accompanied with great losses. With my book I wanted to call people to be more energetic."

Late news just in off the net - He died on 23 July 1998.