Bill

[ara baliozian]

SAROYAN

*********************

It is the dream of every living Armenian writer

to be another Saroyan – to write about Armenians,

to brag about his Armenian identity

(unlike Michael Arlen who de-Armenianized himself)

and to be famous among odars.

Saroyan may have populated his stories

with Armenian character but

did he really write about Armenians?

What do his Armenian characters share

with the Armenians, say, in Baronian, Odian,

Zohrab, Zarian and Massikian?

The obvious answer is, nothing.

Only the -ian ending of their surnames.

Saroyan’s fictional Armenians are

cute, harmless, lovable.

How many such Armenians has anyone met?

Speaking for myself, none.

The authentic Armenian is full of vinegar and venom --

especially when he rises in defense

of his political party, church, village and chickens.

Saroyan had nothing but contempt for these things.

Writes John Leggett in his recent biography of Saroyan:

"He found political oratory false,

social events a disgusting waste of time,

and communities of prayer blasphemous…

He could see no virtue in militant patriotism…."

He didn’t even hate Turks.

A red-blooded Armenians hates not only Turks

but also any Armenian

who does not share his hatred for them.

By contrast, Saroyan felt sorry for the Turks.

Why sorry? Because they had behaved like animals

and refused to admit it – probably

driven by their own brand

of "militant patriotism."

*

Last time I was at a community center

(was it three or four years ago?)

I was approached by a fellow Armenian who said:

"I have an eleven-year old son.

He wants to be a writer.

I think he has talent. Should I encourage him?"

My first reaction was to say:

"Are you insane? Don’t you know by now that

being an Armenian writer is

one of the most contemptible things in the world?

Encourage him if you want

but only if you hate him."

Instead I heard myself saying:

"No need to encourage him.

If he really wants to be a writer

he will need no one’s encouragement."

*

When a friend of mine once sent

the manuscript of a novel to Saroyan

in the hope that he will find him a publisher,

Saroyan commented: "We are friends.

Why do you want to spoil things?"

or words to that effect.

Shortly before he died,

this friend sent the same manuscript to me.

I had not yet begun reading it

when I read his obituary.

The manuscript remains unread to this day.