Dead Souls：A Poem

'Rus!Russ!...Everythingwithinyouisopen,desolate,andflat;yoursquattownsbarelyprotrudeabovethelevelofyourwideplains,markingthemlikelittledots,likespecks;hereisnothingtoenticeandfascinatetheonlooker'sgaze.Yetwhencethisunfathomable,uncannyforcethatdrawsmetoyou?'AlthoughDeadSouls(1842)waslargelycomposedbyGogolduringself-imposedexileinItalyinthelate1830s,hislastworkremainstothisdaythemostessentiallyRussianofallthegreatnovelsinRussianliterature.AswefollowitsheroChichikov,adismissedcivilservantturnedunscrupulousconfidenceman,abouttheRussiancountrysideinpursuitofhisshadyenterprise,thereunfoldsbeforeusagalleryofcharactersworthyincomicrangeofChaucer,Rabelais,FieldingandSterne.Withitsrichandebullientlanguage,ironictwistsandstartlingjuxtapositions,DeadSoulsstandsasoneofthemostdazzlingandpoeticmasterpiecesofthenineteenthcentury.ThisbrilliantnewtranslationbyChristopherEnglishiscomplementedbyasuperbintroductoryessaybythepre-eminentGogolscholar,RobertMaguire.