Latvian man dies in Ireland motorcycle accident

A 20-year-old Latvian man is among the latest traffic fatalities in Ireland, the Garda Press Office reports. Ingus Zemgalis was killed in the early morning of Sept. 29.

Zemgalis died when the motorcycle he was riding collided with a pole in Schull in County Cork, which is Ireland’s southernmost county. No other vehicles were involved, Irish police said.

Gardai are appealing for witnesses. Anyone who may have been on the Colla Road in Schull between midnight and 00:30 hours Sept. 29 and may have witnessed the accident is asked to contact the Schull Garda Station at +353 028 28111.

Over the past several years, Latvian nationals have been involved in several traffic accidents in Ireland, some proving fatal. Particularly tragic were accidents in February 2006 in which four Latvians were killed near Buncrana in northwest Ireland and in June 2004 when three men from Latvia were killed in County Donegal, also in northwest Ireland.

In May of this year, 30-year-old Pavels Desjatnikovs of Latvia was jailed for four months after he caused a December 2004 accident that resulted in the death of a 22-year-old woman, according to a news report from Radio Telefís Éireann. Desjatnikovs pleaded guilty to dangerous driving and driving without insurance.

Through Sept. 24 a total of 242 persons had been killed in traffic accidents in Ireland this year, according to data collected by the Garda National Traffic Bureau.

Andris Straumanis is a special correspondent for and a co-founder of Latvians Online. From 2000–2012 he was editor of the website.

Minister calls for end to language barbarization

In a statement sure to raise the hackles of many older Latvian speakers in the diaspora, a government minister is calling for a stop to the barbarization of the Latvian language, saying there is no room for public use of such “anachronistic” symbols as ch, ō and ŗ.

Oskars Kastēns, the special assignments minister for social integration, took exception to a Sept. 3 poster announcing the opening of the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra’s season in Rīga. The poster included the “illegal” use of the long ō in words such as simfōnija (symphony) and mažōra (major), a letter not used in modern Latvian orthography. Kastēns applauded the State Language Center, which discovered the infraction and fined the orchestra, according to a Sept. 27 press release.

“Not in the Latvian alphabet nor in other documents is this symbol recognized as a letter in the Latvian language,” Kastēns said in the press release. “Spelling like this is a weed from the old orthography.”

Before World War II, Latvians were taught the language using standards established by linguist Jānis Endzelīns (1873-1961). His standards included use of symbols ch, which is distinct from k; ō, which is pronouned different than the o without a diacritical mark; and ŗ, the “soft r” found in words such as kaŗš (war) and Gaŗezers (Long Lake, the Latvian center in south-central Michigan). Use of these symbols has been the topic of debate for years, particularly between members of the Displaced Persons generation and Latvian speakers in the homeland.

Kastēns’ office noted the Endzelīns standards were adopted by the state in 1919, even though discussion continued about use of the “soft r.” Correct spelling and use of the language today is found in the Latviešu valodas pareizrakstības un pareizrunas vārdnīca, a dictionary published in 1995, according to the press release.

Use of non-standard orthography confuses native users of the language as well as foreigners, Kastēns said.

“For example, the artist Aivars Vilipsons in public often uses his surname as Vilipsōns, which gives non-Latvians a wrong impression about the spelling of surnames,” Kastēns said in the press release.

Kastēns urged the State Language Center to continue its diligence in punishing those who violate use of the proper orthography. He especially pointed to publications that with impunity use the old Endzelīns forms.

The Secretariat of the Special Assignments Minister for Social Integration did not immediately respond to a question about whether the minister’s pronouncement would have any effect on the secretariat’s work with diaspora organizations, especially those seeking funding from the Latvian government.

Andris Straumanis is a special correspondent for and a co-founder of Latvians Online. From 2000–2012 he was editor of the website.

Violent cyberthriller takes social protest to extremes

Headcrusher

Alexander Garros and Aleksei Evdokimov, two Russian journalists working in Latvia, wrote a “cyberthriller” that in 2003 won the Russian Literary National Bestseller Prize. Headcrusher, now translated into English, provides an unsettling and at times absurd entrance into Rīga’s underbelly and leaves me wondering what I dislike most: the human garbage depicted in the book, the book itself and its authors, or myself for at times sympathizing with the book’s anti-hero, Vadim Apletaev.

The premise of the book is simple. Twenty-six-year-old Apletaev works in the public relations department of REX International Commercial Bank, billed as the largest financial institution in Latvia. A former columnist for the Russian-language SM newspaper, Apletaev has gone over to the dark side—as journalists sometimes say of PR practitioners—and it’s about to get darker fast. Apletaev appears to suffer from the particular Eastern European ennui, which he nurses with emotionless sex and by playing a first-person-shooter computer game called Headcrusher.

And then one evening in the office, after his boss Andrei Vladlenovich Voronin (a.k.a. Four-Eyes) has discovered a violent anti-bourgeois diatribe on Apletaev’s computer, Apletaev smacks him on the head with a dinosaur statue.

That first murder leads to a series of other killings, as Apletaev sinks further and further into a private hell where the real world and its human filth comes to resemble the fantasy world of Headcrusher.

Other reviews have compared Headcrusher to a Quentin Tarantino film. It certainly has its similarities, what with the linguistic and physical violence. That may be enough to turn off some readers who have little stomach for such fare. And I cannot promise those who choose to engage the novel will come away any better.

Headcrusher has also been described as a work of social protest. In the context of a post-Soviet Latvia where dirty money, dirty politics and dirty crime were (and in some cases continue to be) an accepted condition, Vadim Apletaev takes things into his own hands, not unlike Danila Bagrov, the lead character in Russian director Aleksei Balabanov’s vigilante film Brat. Both are fed up with the way things are in the place they call home. However, Apletaev is so much more twisted.

Apletaev’s solution to what he sees around him is to kill. His killing at times may seem justified, but if you find yourself sympathizing with him, be sure to do a reality check and ask if killing another human being is ever justified. More unsettling is the abandon with which he kills, as if he were playing a computer game the perpetual goal of which is to make it to the next level, rather than encountering a real world in which there is no “restart” button.

When Headcrusher first appeared, it was hailed by some critics as the next big thing in Russian literature. That may say more about the state of contemporary Russian literature than about this book. It is strong stuff, but I’m still not convinced its over-the-top nature makes it worthy of the accolades. Is make-believe violence appropriate social protest, even if it is cathartic?

If you make it through Headcrusher, be prepared to ask yourself the same questions.

Details

Headcrusher

Alexander Garros and Aleksei Evdokimov

London:  Chatto & Windus,  2005

ISBN 0-701-17757-8

Where to buy

Purchase Headcrusher from Amazon.com.

Note: Latvians Online receives a commission on purchases.

Andris Straumanis is a special correspondent for and a co-founder of Latvians Online. From 2000–2012 he was editor of the website.