Vladimir Yakovlev, the son of the prominent journalist of the Perestroika years, Yegor Yakovlev, sees no future for himself and his peers in Russia. His advice is sauve qui peut: if you can leave, just do it. Stanislav Belkovsky recommends self-improvement and quiet perseverance. No one will admit to salutary hopes and great expectations. Sergey Dovlatov wrote this around 1970:
There was a conference in Tbilisi: “The optimism of Soviet literature.”
Among others, the poet Narovchatov was speaking. He talked about the boundless optimism of Soviet literature. Then a Georgian writer, Kemoklidze, took the pulpit:
“A question to the previous speaker.”
“Yes?” replied Narovchatov.
“I want to ask about Byron. Was he young?”
“Yes,” Narovchatov was surprised. “Byron died a relatively young man. But why? Why are you asking about it?”
“One more question about Byron. Was he handsome?”
“Yes, Byron had a striking appearance. It’s well known…”
“And one more question about the same Byron. Was he well off?”
“Well of course. He was a lord. He had a castle… Goodness, what weird questions…”
“And the last question about Byron. Was he talented?”
“Byron is England’s greatest poet! What’s the matter – I don’t understand!”
“You will, just wait. Now look at Byron. He was young, handsome, well off, and talented. And he was a pessimist. And you’re old, ugly, dirt poor, and talentless. And you’re an optimist!”