When he wants to think of my compromise, my shortcomings, when he wants to underline for himself the outrage of my existence, W. compares me in his head to Shostakovich.
To Shostakovich essentially alone, essentially defenceless before a system that was destroying him (W.: 'You essentially in company, with all the others, worse than all the others, leading them into ruin …'); Shostakovich with raw, exposed nerves, with his terror of officials (W.: 'You craven, you kneeling before the officials, asking them what they want');
Shostakovich pale, emaciated, his physique undermined by constant cold and hunger, by tuberculosis of the lymphatic system, a bandage always round his neck (W.: 'You full of rude good health, free of illness except for occasional coughs and colds');
Shostakovich whose genius will ring through the centuries (W.: 'You whose non-genius should likewise be legendary, whose stupidity should likewise be remembered'); Shostakovich who wrote his music in full score, straight away, with the greatest intensity and speed, never needing to try things out on piano (W.: 'You who write nothing, who will do anything to avoid writing');
Shostakovich pacing up and down the room, writing his music down while standing up; 'Not a day', he said 'without writing a line' (W.: 'You at your desk, playing Tetris on your mobile phone'); Shostakovich keeping back his chamber music, his string quartets (W.: 'You not keeping back anything; you lacking all sense, all discretion');
Shostakovich with his amazing and original pianism, his fast tempi, his fantastic octaves despite his small non-pianistic hands (W.: 'You who listen to Jandek plink-plonking; you whose spade-like hands are incapable of any delicacy');
Shostakovich with his self-possession, his capacity to work, to just get on with it, never succumbing to fads (W.: 'You reading the latest thinker just translated French, you reading the latest stupid secondary commentary about the latest thinker just translated from French');
Shostakovich oblivious of his surroundings and to any form of comfort, demanding only an unlimited supply of the strongest bitterest tea (W.: 'You only wanting to be well fed, drunk, and in the brown light of the pub');
Shostakovich whose work like all great Russian artists carried a moral charge (W.: 'Your work shows no moral charge, no ethics, no goodness');
Shostakovich carrying a packed suitcase with him at all times, waiting to be taken away (W.: 'You who I wish were taken away'); Shostakovich sitting out on the landing so the Secret Police wouldn't disturb his family when they came (W: 'You who would volunteer to be taken away, who would hold out his hands to be handcuffed. Arrest him!, you would say, pointing at me. Arrest of all them!, you would say, pointing to all your friends');
Shostakovich forced to join the Party against his will – 'I am a whore', he cried (W.: 'You who would have joined any Party that would have you, you who are the whore of all whores, the whore of Babylon');
Shostakovich lost in the complex labyrinth of Party bureaucracy … (W.: 'You willingly losing yourself in the labyrinth, plunging into it …'); Shostakovich playing the role of an obedient Party member (W.: 'You playing no role; you absolutely yourself');
Shostakovich weeping out loud in front of his pupils - 'They have been hounding me, they have been pursuing me' (W.: 'You who want only to be hounded, to be pursued. You who cry "chase me, chase me" to the audit team, swimming away through seas of paper'); Shostakovich hysterical, his teeth chattering (W.: 'You dry-eyed and composed amidst the catastrophe');
Shostakovich weeping uncontrollably as he composed his 8th Quartet (W.: 'You never weeping, and knowing nothing of weeping'); Shostakovich weepingly telling his friend of the sleeping pills he'd bought to kill himself (W.: 'You who above all should kill himself, not killing himself, you who drive other people to want to kill themselves, not killing himself');
Shostakovich accused by functionaries by the Ministry of Culture of sinning against 'Soviet reality' (W.: 'You who want to belong more than anyone else to what is called reality'); Shostakovich denounced by his colleagues, his fellow composers (W.: 'You who are first to attack yourself, first to attack him, to whom I should be closest. You always on the verge of betraying him, and betraying everyone. Of betraying yourself');
Shostakovich harried, hassled; subject to scrutiny by the most stupid Party officials (W: 'You harrying and harassing yourself to work and harrying and hassling yourself at work'); Shostakovich dismissed from one Conservatoire, then another (W.: 'You somehow undismissed from your job, from one job and then another');
Shostakovich due to be arrested and taken away, called in to be arrested and taken away, saved only as the person arresting him was arrested and taken away, and when he turned up, there was another official there who had no idea who he was (W.: 'You wanting to be arrested, presenting yourself to be arrested, but with no one to arrest you');
Shostakovich always on the verge of becoming an enemy of the people – always in danger of being taken away for re-education (W.: 'You volunteering for re-education, wanting to be acquainted with the latest change in regulations');
Shostakovich criticised for formalism, for pessimism – 'What we want is an optimistic Shostakovich' – for musical degeneracy (W.: 'You uncriticised and unadmonished, you still surprised he can get away with anything, all the time wanting to be disciplined and told off; you who want to get away with nothing'); Shostakovich obediently writing patriotic cantatas and programmatic symphonic works (W: 'You wanting only to write what you're told, but lacking anyone to tell him');
Shostakovich sent as part of the delegation to the Cultural and Scientific Congress of World Peace in New York, hands twisting the tips off his cigarettes, his face twitching, his face disturbed; Shostakovich wanting only to be left alone, joining other speakers to read, in a nervous, shaky voice, standard Agitprop speeches (W.: 'You sitting like an ape in the midst of committees, keenly taking notes, nodding your head, wanting only to be with others and speaking officialese like the others');
Shostakovich having to admit that the Party was right to find flaws in his art, that he was even grateful for the party for helping him to recognise his flaws and mistakes – Yes, yes, yes, I've been wrong. Of course I'll write an operetta which the People will easily understand' (W.: 'You only looking for someone to tell you about the flaws in your work, you who want only to set you right');
Shostakovich constantly having to submit written justifications for his every creative work (W.: 'You who should have to submit such justifications, who should be made to apologise to the world, to stand trial, to be shot against a wall');
Shostakovich whose Fifth Symphony was tagged 'A Soviet's artist's reply to just criticism' … (W: 'You whose every work deserves criticism'); Shostakovich who had to write an apology for his tenth symphony – explaining it had been written in too much of a hurry, that the first movement was too long, the second movement was too short, etc., (W: 'You who have never apologised for your work, never taken it back');
Shostakovich having to make a speech of self-criticism at the Union of Composer's Congress – 'Music Against the People' (W.: 'You who should only make speeches of self-criticism, should only write auto-critique');
Shostakovich having to set words by officially approved poets – (W.: 'You who want only official approval'); Shostakovich writing socialist-realist works of all kinds, patriotic works, songs of the people, programmatic cantatas and symphonic works, but also works for the bottom drawer, having no hope for their performance (W: 'but for you there is no bottom drawer, you have no need for a bottom drawer, no conception of a bottom drawer');
Shostakovich sobbing in his hotel room after the premier of his Song of the Forests, hiding his face in the pillow (W: 'You never sobbing after giving one of your presentations, never hiding your face'); Shostakovich head bent in despair (W: 'You who do not know the meaning of despair; you who he has being trying to teach despair, to teach integrity');
Shostakovich accused of 'anti-people sentiments'; Shostakovich whose music was no longer performed or printed (W.: 'You whose work shouldn't be presented or printed'); Shostakovich in ill health, visibly lame (W.: 'You in rude health, visibly robust');
Shostakovich calculatingly giving the Party what they wanted (Glory to the Wise Stalin, The Sun Shines on Our Motherland); (W.: 'You who uncalculatingly give the managers more than they want, more than anyone could want'); Shostakovich rendering to Caesar things unto Caesar (W: 'You who only believe in Caesar and doing things on your knees for Caesar');
Shostakovich full of fear, desperate, and not just for himself, for his family, his friends and colleagues. Fear for his country. Fear for the persecuted in his country, for the Jews of his country. (W.: 'You fear for yourself, and only for yourself …'); Shostakovich who said, 'When I think about my life I realise I have been a coward', he said. 'Unfortunately I have been a coward' (W: 'What do you feel when you think about your life?');
Shostakovich in public: mouth drooping, lips trembling, stuttering, knees knocking, hands fidgeting, eyes frightened, chain-smoking, chewing his nails and fingers versus Shostakovich in private: calm and concentrated, sardonic, satirical, hypersensitive to cruelty of all kinds, desperately compassionate (W.: 'You in public: an idiot; you in private, an idiot. You in public: stuttering; you in private: stuttering. You in public: twitching; you in private: twitching. You both public and private: indifferent to cruelty (your cruelty), entirely without compassion');
Shostakovich lamenting the murder of Jews; Shostakovich the victims of the Terror; Shostakovich suspicious of the medals pinned on his chest after his rehabilitation; of being declared the supreme Soviet artist (W.: 'You rejoicing at all attention, at any attention; You winning Bad Writing awards and Idiot awards' (W.'s own Idiot awards));
Shostakovich, master of satire, writing satirically, composing satirically (W.: 'You unwittingly satirising himself'); Shostakovich, master of irony, of saying one thing and meaning another (W.: 'You who say one thing and have no idea what you mean; you who, by what you say, declare nothing to have meaning, that meaning is nothing, and we're all staring into the same abyss').
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