The Vexation of Nikolai

My visitor seemed unable to contain his annoyance.

“I wish people would get into their thick skull, he was saying, “that my surname is not Google, nor Googol, but Gogol. Nikolai Gogol.”

I understood and sympathised with his frustration as I had similarly been addressed, over time, by many mangled patronymics like Pargamo, Lugano, Podgorni, etc., instead of Pagano. 

He regained his good humour and smiled when he realised that I had not transgressed but had correctly welcomed him.

“Pleased to have met you at last, Mr. Gogol, it is an honour and a privilege.”

It was indeed a special occasion to be visited by the founder of the ``, in spirit if not in body. 

It was debatable whether it was the best of times or the worst of times, as his contemporary, Charles Dickens, would have described his arrival.

I've had several spectral visitations before, so I suspected the reason for the current one.

The spirits of dead authors monitor the work published on the internet by would-be writers like me and judge the quality of the input.

Should they think that it is sub-standard, they may offer some tutoring.

I had been lazier and bereft of ideas due to the dreaded writer's block, and my contribution had been leaner of late. A negative verdict was on the cards.

While I waited for it, I engaged him in idle conversation.

“Six months ago, Fyodor told me that you were on your way, so what took you so long?” I asked.

“Technology, that's what,” he replied.

Then went on to explain.

“In the past, I could materialise and enter this country without being spotted. This time, a surveillance radar detected my presence.”

This was followed by a chuckle.

“I was under suspicion for being an illegal immigrant or a Russian spy. I was interrogated by the Home Office and MI6, but I was able to establish my Ukrainian ethnicity and was allowed through.”

I was in awe of this individual's resourcefulness.

“Now let's get down to brass tacks, he continued. “I noticed that a few of your co-authors write mordant satires to ridicule the folly of most politicians, but you seem to sit on the fence and produce wishy-washy pieces and even children's nursery rhymes.”

I had read that in his lifetime, his views on political and religious matters had been highly controversial because they lambasted the hypocrisy and corruption of bureaucracy and the social system.

Whilst agreeing with those opinions, I felt that I had to defend my writing style.

“You are absolutely right, Nikolai.  I don't have it in me to deliver such hefty punches, but I don't like kicking a man when he's down. I prefer to rebuke him, when it's warranted, in a more moderate way.”

I think he saw my point of view. He had not converted me to changing my style but had persuaded me that I needed a bit more spark.

He promised to keep in touch and provide hints and ideas to create polished pieces of prose or verse.

 
© Luigi Pagano 2025