Ermolaev is one of the most competent specialists in the history of the Don region and the Don Cossacks, and he is obviously one of the best Western experts on M. A. Soloxov and F. D. Krjukov. This of course makes his remarks and conjectures especially valuable [see excerpt above].

However, not all of Ermolaev's observations are equally convincing. He agrees with me, for example, that the novel Podnjataja celina (Virgin Soil Upturned) is incomparably weaker as a work of art than Tixij Don (The Quiet Don). The level of volume 2 of Virgin Soil Upturned (1960) is especially low in quality, as are the chapters published at the end of the war and the still unfinished novel Oni srazaliś za rodinu (They Fought for Their Homeland, 1943–44). "However," Ermolaev notes, "even in the works written after The Quiet Don one finds incomparable descriptions of the Don countryside which could belong only to the creator of The Quiet Don. Who else could have written the opening of volumes 1 and 2 of Virgin Soil Upturned and in particular the first two pages of chapter 34 in volume 1?" (p. 104)

This is a weak argument. In Virgin Soil Upturned one can of course encounter four or five incomparable descriptions of Don nature and the Don village reminiscent of analogous pages in The Quiet Don. But it is precisely the fact that there are so few of these sketches that causes one to wonder. One may assume, as Ermolaev does, that growing political demands on literature … interfered with the flowering of the dramatic talent which had manifested itself so strongly in the first volumes of The Quiet Don…. But what ideological pressures can possibly explain the obvious impoverishment of Soloxov the painter, who drew such stirring pictures of nature and life in the Don lands? We encounter such pictures in practically every chapter of The Quiet Don, but we have to leaf through hundreds of pages to find them in Virgin Soil Upturned. Could it be that the source of these valuable deposits was exhausted by 1932? (pp. 104-05)

Individual stories from Donskie rasskazy (Tales of the Don) and many pages of other short stories reveal indubitable talent and originality on the part of their author, although they do not testify to his educational preparation. This essentially contradictory characteristic of the young coauthor [following the theory that Soloxov was, indeed, coauthor] would surely be reflected in his editing of any practically prepared text. The young coauthor's talent would have made a fair text even more powerful and more artistically impressive. But his lack of formal education or haste would cause ungrammatical turns and phrases which would not usually be noticed by a reader excitedly following an otherwise masterful narration.

Ermolaev is absolutely correct in saying that "infelicities of this sort are more likely to have come from the pen of the half-educated, though extremely talented Soloxov than from that of Krujkov, a graduate of the Petersburg Institute of History and Philology and an experienced pedagogue."… But this argument still does not prove that the "poorly educated, but extremely talented Soloxov" … could not, on the strength of the right combination of circumstances, become a coauthor with a much better educated but artistically less talented writer, Fedor Krjukov. Thus, Ermolaev has not disproved the "Author-Coauthor" hypothesis itself. (p. 106)

In my book Riddles of the Creative Biography of M. Soloxov, or Who Wrote The Quiet Don? I examine the "Author-Coauthor" hypothesis to a large extent from a different point of view. I reach the conclusion that the hypothesis is by no means unpromising, even though the general picture of how The Quiet Don was created is far more complex than … [others] have assumed…. [As Ermolaev concludes,] I did not have the White émigré sources available to me when I wrote my book…. With the exception of a few of the especially "initiated," however, no one has had access to these dossiers….

It is even more difficult to gather materials in the Don region about Krjukov, his literary and public life in the Civil War years. Soloxov himself answered a written query from a Moscow journalist in his usual fashion, with a bold and brief note: "I do not know and have never read the writer F. D. Krjukov. M. Soloxov."

Nor does anyone even know anything about the Moscow archival material relating to Soloxov's life and activity. Where can one find the proceedings of the meetings of the commission which in 1929 deliberated the question of plagiarism? What materials did Soloxov present for the deliberation of this commission?

Information regarding Soloxov's education is likewise extremely vague. In the very first autobiographical note to Tales of the Don Soloxov informed his readers that he "studied two to three years in a Moscow gymnasium." Moscow gymnasia were not very numerous in those years, and the question naturally arises: in which Moscow school should a commemorative plate be hung today, and in which should a small Soloxov museum be built? (p. 107)

It is paradoxical, but a fact, that in our country, where Soloxov has for so long been regarded as a classic of Soviet literature, there are no biographies in existence. There are only brief notes, often totally inconsistent with each other, based on limited data provided occasionally and in various circumstances by Soloxov himself. That is why it is not surprising that not only in my book, but also in Ermolaev's article we encounter quite important inaccuracies. (p. 108)

Ermolaev's argument is weakened … by the circumstance that it was precisely in 1924–25 that Soloxov wrote most of his short stories and tales, and there is no trace in these works of the influence of a conservative and anti-Soviet milieu. In their tendency these works are undoubtedly the stories of a member of the Komsomol, and criticism of the time judged them precisely as such.

And is it really so probable that, as Ermolaev maintains, Soloxov "never joined the Komsomol" …? A whole generation of Soviet schoolchildren could have read [that he did] in their tenth-class standard textbook…. (p. 109)

Of course, one can adduce many examples, even in Soviet literature, where biographies of various venerable writers, poets, and journalists were later "made," and which differed in certain respects from factual biographies. Some facts are ignored and others exaggerated (and sometimes even fabricated). But if this applies also to Soloxov, if it can be proved that he really never was a member of the Komsomol, that in 1924–25 he was already under the influence of a conservative and anti-Soviet Cossack element, then Ermolaev has added yet another curious riddle to the long list of riddles relating to Soloxov's creative biography. (p. 110)

[We] do not at all mean to say that Tales of the Don is no more than a collection of Bolshevik literary agitki. There are stories written here with talent, distinguished by unquestionable impartiality and objectivity…. And really, few could fail to be moved by the story of the old Cossack thinking with pain and grief about his only son killed in a retreat, and still believing in his son's return while disbelieving the rumors of his death. And by this Cossack and his wife who hide a wounded young soldier of a food supply detachment, care for him, grow attached to him as if he were their own son, call him Petr after the dead boy…. The objectivity of the author of Tales of the Don, however, is decidedly one-sided. It is impossible to imagine a plot in one of these tales where a Red Cossack family whose son has died at the hands of the Whites would hide and care for a young White officer wounded in battle. The objectivity of the author of The Quiet Don is something quite different. When Soloxov read fragments from part 6 of his novel at a workers evening in 1930 many listeners wiped away their tears during the reading of the chapter on the funeral of the White officer Petr Melexov who died at the hands of the Bolshevik Misa Kosevoj.

Ermolaev singles out separate phrases and whole passages of The Quiet Don which he believes that only a Communist author could have written…. Ermolaev himself admits that these phrases could have been inserted later into an already prepared text. For one of the riddles of The Quiet Don consists of just this: there are even more phrases in the novel (particularly in the first journal variant) which no Communist author could have in any way written.

Ermolaev agrees with me that after the completion of The Quiet Don in 1937–38, Soloxov's literary output for the next forty years has been extremely meager, mediocre in quality, and, if one speaks about his political and publicistic pronouncements, extremely reactionary to boot. Ermolaev is inclined to explain such creative impoverishment by citing the political conditions of our country in the years which made it impossible for a powerful and original artist to manifest his talent…. One can agree only partially with this. Soloxov could not, of course, portray the famine and destruction [and other situations]…. But during World War II and in the first postwar years, opportunities were opened up to writers for a truthful depiction of reality. Soloxov, however, could no longer use them. From 1942 through 1947 a number of novels, books, and tales were written and published in our country which became solid Russian classics…. But Soloxov, who at the beginning of the war had not even reached the age of forty, wrote several weak sketches, quickly fell silent, and then wrote almost nothing until 1956. (pp. 110-11)

According to the testimony of Soloxov's close friends, there was a sudden change in his character right after the terrible experience of his arrest, his dramatic flight to Moscow, and his lengthy conversation with Stalin which took place soon after. This happened in the summer of 1938…. The long conversation, about which Soloxov has kept silent to this very day, was brought to an end with another no less significant phrase [according to those who were present]: "Good working conditions must be created for the great Russian writer Soloxov." Maksim Gor'kij had already died by this time and Stalin was in great need of a properly obedient Russian literary great. But from 1939 on Soloxov was psychologically and morally broken…. He was confident at the end of the 1920's that he would create many more works on the level of The Quiet Don and thereby silence the rumors and gossip that hurt him so much. But as years passed nothing has been forthcoming; nothing is forthcoming now; and apparently nothing will ever be forthcoming. (pp. 111-12)

Even if we could prove that Soloxov is not the principal author of this remarkable novel, it does not at all follow that Krjukov would have to be an author….

I do not maintain, but only suggest, that Krjukov was far more likely than Soloxov to have been a first-hand observer of the most important events described in The Quiet Don…. (p. 112)

I still think that most of volume 1 and certain parts of volumes 2 and 3 were not written by Soloxov, although I cannot prove this with absolute certainty. Most of volumes 2, 3, and 4 (much more than I assumed before I read Ermolaev's work) was undoubtedly written by Soloxov. I am certain even now that The Quiet Don has both an author and a coauthor. The only matter for discussion is who, by the degree of his participation in creating the novel, is the author, and who the coauthor.

From an essentially philological point of view, Ermolaev considers similarities and differences in literary technique, style, and the use of various epithets, similes, and nature scenes in both Krjukov's works and The Quiet Don, as well as in Tales of the Don and Virgin Soil Upturned. He admits that in a number of details and in literary technique the style of The Quiet Don is similar to the style of Krjukov's short stories and tales…. Nevertheless, the differences are still greater than the similarities. Krjukov's language is always smoother and more literary, and there are no unexpected dialectisms and unpronounceable words. The language of The Quiet Don is always more coarse and more energetic, more economical, and filled not only with words in common usage but also with rare dialectal forms. And although the differences in literary language and style between The Quiet Don and Tales of the Don are also significant, the similarities are, according to Ermolaev, greater than those between The Quiet Don and Krjukov's short stories and tales.

I shall not polemicize here on this subject with Ermolaev. In my book I too pointed out the serious differences between the literary styles of Krjukov's stories and The Quiet Don. Moreover, I am not a specialist in language and literary technique, and I did not have available to me the machine technology—a computer—which Ermolaev indicates helped him to obtain his findings.

Ermolaev explains, for example, that one can find in The Quiet Don, Tales of the Don, and Virgin Soil Upturned hundreds of identical or similar figures of speech, and also, what is even more important, a multitude of similar grammatical, semantic, and stylistic errors. (p. 115)

It would be incorrect, of course, to ignore [Ermolaev's grammatical] computations, for they are quite convincing. Nevertheless, they do not fully refute the "Author-Coauthor" hypothesis, for they do not eliminate the basic riddles of The Quiet Don, and in fact add new ones. The countless stylistic errors of The Quiet Don should be referenced according to parts and chapters of the novel in which they occur. Are they encountered often in the first and second books? And what picture would emerge from a comparison of volume 1 with volume 4, of volume 1 with Tales of the Don? Ermolaev does not offer a differential analysis of stylistic peculiarities, and this diminishes the value of his conclusions. After all, much can be explained here by the supposition that Soloxov did not simply transcribe texts, but edited them in his own fashion. He could have worked with the texts the way a poet-translator works with an interlinear translation. In this way a partial explanation can be offered for the gaps in the novel—when after such brilliant chapters as, for example, chapter 11 of part 3, one meets such feebly and clumsily written chapters as chapter 23 of the same part. When Soloxov had an interlinear translation at hand—a sketch of a picture—he did not as a rule weaken, but rather improved the picture, and his young talent was superimposed on the experience and knowledge of a more mature, but less talented author. When there was no interlinear translation, the result was gray and boring.

Ermolaev considers Soloxov the sole author of The Quiet Don, although he does admit that he has reason to pause for doubt now. He makes skillful use of those features of the novel which are in correspondence with his hypothesis. But nevertheless, he has not examined, or has only touched on, the important features of The Quiet Don which can best be explained with the help of the "Author-Coauthor" scheme. But of course, the whole complex of questions raised in this discussion demands further study. I would be very pleased by the appearance of other works as serious and competent as [Professor Ermolaev's]…. (pp. 115-16)

R. A. Medvedev, "The Riddles Grow: A Propos Two Review Articles," translated by George Gutsche, in Slavic and East European Journal (© 1977 by AATSEEL of the U.S., Inc.), Vol. 21, No. 1, March, 1977, pp. 104-16.