Toast
Boris MILOVIDOV
ODE TO FICTION BIBLIOGRAPHY
Now that computers and printing equipment have become more
accessible, the work of a bibliographer, having been simplified, has not been made easier. Yes, dis-
chets instead of card indexes and thematic printouts instead of mechanical
someone sorting through cards. Yes, not running, often blind cars -
handwritten lines, and a good copier after a good printer. This
great, but that's not the main thing.
There are science fiction fans who, as a rule, read what they like.
turns, or whatever comes along.
There are fans who want to read everything and know everything.
And there are bibliographers who are forced to read EVERYTHING in order to
winter array of literary production to isolate what has some
a passion for science fiction. And these are stacks of books, magazine files,
ki, piles of newspapers. And all this needs to be worked out. There is a category
people who imagine themselves to be great bibliographers and even convince others
to consider them as such, whose work does not go further more or less
thorough copying of data from the "Book Chronicle" and "Chronicles
book" and "newspaper articles". Well, acquaintances still have some information
they will give us a lift. Both tireless and comfortable. But it’s fantastic
something is not always “labeled”. And the bibliography is not dull
rewriting rather than searching. And you rummage through this pile, leafing through
production novels (what ifinvented something wrong), shoved-
you stare at the lines of agricultural epics (what if
they raised you wrong), you make a face, but you read spy-police-
Chinese opuses (what if this foreign monster reads the information
telepathically and just as telepathically drives her straight to the CIA).And pe-
you turn page after page until your back ache, until
eyes will not stab you to the point of unbearability, until your fingers begin to
die. And you run to the smoking room (if you’re sitting in Public), nervously laughing
you pour out several cigarettes one after another and at the same time let down
result: I worked through so many books from the list of the most likely ones,
so many magazines for so many years, so many files
newspapers... So what? I read Ivanov’s novel, now at least I copied it MYSELF
data on his journal publication. Petrov guessed about the story -
Xia, but now I’ve read it myself and the information about it has been recorded
shaft But Sidorov’s story, although called fantastic, has
I have the same connection to science fiction as I do to the election of the Pope.
th. But I ordered that old collection for a reason, right away
two things that, as far as I remember, are not mentioned in any of the ones known to me
no bibliographies were mentioned. This is already a discovery. MY DISCOVERY.
True, here is that vague little story, from English... The author is there
It seems like it shouldn’t be Jones, but Jeans... And the name is different...
Okay, I’ll look at it at home when I get the card: I’ll get into the English language -new card index, the name of the original must still be indicated.
And sometimes these translators and editors make such gags!
And you smoke one more cigarette, in reserve, and think: well,
a dozen new positions, two dozen proven ones, plus
how many were crossed out, required verification and turned out to be not fan-
tastic... Good day, fruitful. You throw a cigarette, and those...
I’m already being drawn, like a magnet, to the table on which there are some un-
reviewed materials. And so - until the library closes, day after day
day, year after year, for decades. And I didn’t pay any money for it -
They don’t pay at all, or they pay little and rarely (unless you are in the state of some
some reputable office, where this is exactly what is included in your circle
responsibilities - but this is really an option, alas, anti-scientific-utopian
cue), and no one is forcing you to do this research. Yes, work
heavy, tedious, sometimes purely mechanical, and open
your grains are not always gold. But such is your plan,
your bibliographer's cross. And it’s addictive, it’s more addictive than nar-
cat... Even though you are angry, and having fought your way through adventures
Marquise N. in Monte Carlo and the mental torment of the sweet and decent
peasant girl Parasha, seduced and abandoned by a handsome
com-scoundrel Count R., having finally stumbled upon something dear and
familiar, like a ghost moaning and homeless, like a madman
professor shining his raysdeath against all humanity,
against the tyrant gentleman for whom the yard "Kulibin" built a hut-heli-
years, or even for a charming Komsomol girl, sold into a harem and not
slowly starting a planetary feminist revolution there,
even if you wince, even if you mutter irritably: “Lord, what-
they printed some crap back then, almost like they do now!”, but it’s true...
You fix something new, and in your heart you are still satisfied. FOUND
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