Олег Федотов
We traveled to Poltava with books and toward books. And, of course, toward people — those who give birth to texts, publish them, preserve them, and carry them forward.
Or, more precisely, toward the memories of people and of entire generations — sometimes more than one.
The newly printed books of Volodymyr Shovkoshytnyi, scorched after a recent strike on Kyiv, speak directly to this. And no matter which direction one walked around the regional youth center where the book fair was held, the smell of burned paper drifted alongside in a thin thread — a reminder and a warning.
This is also what the two books I brought with me to Lviv are about: Vasinka and Lidochka by Marina Fedorova, where memories of a grandmother and grandfather and their far-from-easy lives are kept alive; and Photopoetic Etudes by Galina Vovchenko, where the beauty of word and image is so tightly interwoven that it becomes impossible to tell which came first. These are not only engaging and compelling works, but also publications of exceptional quality — beautifully, even lovingly produced.
I bought two postcards in which Poltava lives from the artist’s mother, one year after her daughter’s death.
Maria Panchenko — remember this name. Look up her work. It is beautiful.
Long-lasting memory is also what Usi Svoi (“All Our Own”) is about: Valentyna Matviiv, Oksana Nabiehova, Oleh Fedotov. Posters and illustrations spoke about those dearest to us; their works were read aloud. And also about Ruslan Davydovych, Nazar Myalykuliev, Serhii Skalda, Viktor Makalish, Artem Dovhopolyi, Yevhen Rolduhin, Andrii Hudyma, Alla Pushkaruk, Maksym Petrenko…
This list is deeply painful — and deeply important. Because their works remain unfinished. And we must do everything so that what was created by the force of their thought, feeling, talent, and thirst for life does not remain unread.
Fragments of my childhood impressions and memories — which at times felt almost unreal, as if taken from a book — came together into a complete picture of my family line: similar to others, and yet unique.
Nearly a hundred years have passed, yet the war against books continues. And this is a war aimed at destroying the identity of the Ukrainian people — the destruction of Ukraine’s literary heritage and Ukrainian culture itself.
When the enemy cannot win on the battlefield, it tries to wage war against books.
