Suffering in Cycles: Ponomaryov in Yury Olesha’s “Liompa” (1928)
It must be a strange experience for a parent to look into their child’s eyes, only for the parent to recognize that one day their child will one day replace them. Does it ever cross their minds to question why they should have to leave this world first? How do ideas of individuality and mortality shape their experiences of death? These are some of the questions Yury Olesha addresses in his short story “Liompa.” Through the old man Ponomaryov’s gradual death, Olesha illustrates how approaching death can transform the world one knows into a foreign, unrecognizable space.
From the beginning, Ponomaryov is forced to accept his loss of control and identity in the face of death. Death’s finality forces him to acknowledge "the disappearance of things," which include the work and life he was so accustomed to, the world that gave him a sense of self, and the people and places he will never encounter (Olesha 28). Despite how “huge and varied the world of things [is],” Ponomaryov laments how few things remain in his control, as he has nothing but death to look forward to (27). The old man’s ineffectuality is also illustrated by the contrast of the lively kitchen and his empty room: the kitchen is alive, with "eggs [jumping] in boiling water," "pipes [speaking] in various voices," and "people [eating] sunflower seeds, singing.” Conversely, Ponomaryov lies alone in a separate room with only a weakly-burning candle and prescription bottle (27). Death literally confines him to the cold, sparsely decorated bedroom that is disconnected from the warm, lively kitchen. This contrast in setting not only represents a transition towards a sadder, lonelier existence, but also highlights how his impending death narrows the range of his existence to a single room.
Ponomaryov also begins to realize how his flawed perception of reality plays a role in his fear and uncertainty towards life after death, ultimately reshaping his understanding of the world. Before his dying days, he found comfort in a deterministic philosophy symbolized by an apple: "in [the] apple were hidden a multitude of causes capable of calling forth a still greater multitude of effects" (29). Yet now, even an apple has become foreign and abstract to Ponomaryov and only reminds him of his mortality; while there is a scientific explanation behind an apple falling from a tree or his organs failing him, there is no answer for what will become of his perception of the world once he dies. Therefore, his understanding of a rationally defined, scientific world fails to explain the fate of his mind and soul, leading him to question his philosophy as well as the world around him. The apple, which represents Ponomaryov’s view of the world, transforms from something tangible and controllable into something that will outlive him in meaning and memory. Ponomaryov may have labeled the apple “apple,” but his name and body will die first. Humans can categorize the world into neat, organized boxes and try to leave a mark on the world as much as they would like, but they will inevitably have to abandon their carefully constructed realities for death. The transition from an organized, structured reality to the uncertainty of death prevents Ponomaryov from fulling accepting his fate, and he continues to be tormented by the failure of his deterministic philosophy.
In addition, he feels betrayed by the external world's continuation after his death and beyond his (re)cognition: "I thought that the external world didn’t exist... that my eye and ear directed things… that the world would cease to exist when I ceased to exist" (29). Faced with death, Ponomaryov realizes that his grasp of life is flawed: since the external world exists independently from him, it is impossible for him to fit it into his narrow, individual understanding. Through this realization, he suffers because his understanding of the "external world” is inherently limited; not only do many natural phenomena reject straightforward, causal explanations and concrete names, but they also offer no comfort in the face of death. The knowledge structures and worldly abstractions that once gave Ponomaryov an illusion of control and identity have morphed into bitter sources of sorrow and betrayal. In his time of death, his philosophy exacerbates his suffering by highlighting the limits of his material knowledge and, by extension, his control of the world.
Rubber Boy (R. B.), the young child, Alexander, the adolescent boy, and Ponomaryov, the old man, also interact to illustrate the process and suffering of dying. While one could look at “Liompa”'s Alexander as another adversary in the timeless conflict between the old and young, there is a stronger case for intergenerational conflict between the R.B. against Alexander and Ponomaryov. Like Ponomaryov, Alexander relies on the rules and structure of the mechanical world: "the boy behaved in accordance with science. The model [airplane] was constructed according to a blueprint, calculations were made--the boy knew the laws" (28). In this respect, Alexander is merely a younger version of Ponomaryov, and his similar this-then-that approach towards life may fail him like it failed Ponomaryov. In contrast, R.B. is a blank canvas, unmarked by preconceived notions of the world and constantly touching, playing, and interacting with the world. Whether it is parquet floor tiles or a spider teasing him, things simply "[rush and struggle] to meet him" (30). This difference in R.B.'s and Ponomaryov's relationship with the world is a source of intergenerational tension, as the old man envies R.B.’s fascination and wonder with the world. R.B. is only beginning to understand the world and is not burdened by a need to rationalize and fit everything into his understanding. While R.B. freely engages with the world, Ponomaryov is stuck in his rigid ways of thinking and lashes out at the child: "'Listen. You know, when I die nothing will remain. Not the courtyard, not the tree, not Papa, not Mama. I will take everything with me'" (30). To Ponomaryov, R.B. is a threat to his existence, a reminder that the old man must die and turn over the reins to the next generation. Although cold, the old man’s threat and resentment are understandable, as they are in response to the painful, frustrating process of death; there are few things like death that force one to confront their inevitable obsolescence and imagine a world where they are not at the center.
Ponomaryov knows his philosophy of cause-and-effect has failed him, but that realization only fuels him to reject his coming death until the last moment. Despite his desperation, things (objects, realities, futures) "turn away from [him] while [he is] still alive," because he is fixated on categorizing and more importantly, naming things. In favor of freer spaces in the young boy's mind, the "vanishing things left the dying man only their names” (29). Again, there is tension and suffering at the root of Ponomaryov’s resentment towards the generations that will supersede him, as well as humanity in his fear of death, what lies beyond, and becoming obsolete. Seeing him cling to his failed philosophies in hopes of some structure and identity in the last moments of his life is tragic; there is nothing left for him to hold onto, and he calls out the rat’s name just before his death: “Liompa!' (30). The name “liompa” leads to his death because it symbolizes his transition from the physical reality to one of abstraction, as “liompa” has no meaning in the physical world. His final cry also highlights his need to organize the world, as even at his time of death he is compelled to name his experience of death. All Ponomaryov knows is the constructed world of names and categorized things he has lived with all his life, so as he begins to slip away, he does what he knows best: define death. However, because no individual can precisely define death, Ponomaryov must die and pass the torch onto the future generation that remains in the physical reality.
While Ponomaryov’s death is an extreme example of a mechanical, self-centered view of the world gone awry, his dependence on organizing the external world through scientific rationalization to feel in control -- a more familiar sentiment -- is less so. When we use rules and convention to compartmentalize things — people, place, ideas — into our minds, what else are we holding back? In exchange for organizing our minds, what is clouded from our vision? What potentially precious moments did Ponomaryov miss with his grandson? How much did Alexander understand of the old man who lived just next to the kitchen? What parts of the world that Ponomaryov threatened would disappear when he passed, truly disappeared?
Bibliography
Olesha, Yury. “Liompa.” Complete Short Stories & Three Fat Men. Translated by Aimee Anderson. Ardis, 1979, pp. 27–31.
