TEET KORSTEN ⟩ Manuscripts burn very poorly

Teet Korsten in his Tallinn apartment, where he is trying to rebuild the book collection that was destroyed in a fire. Photo: Madis Veltman

• The house had not been insured and housed almost all of my worldly possessions.
• Especially irreplaceable are the books with dedications.
• The past can be like a heavy metal ball attached to the leg, preventing one from moving forward.

Last spring, more precisely on Good Friday according to the Western Christian calendar, my house in Kohtla-Järve caught fire. I had already fallen asleep, but something woke me up – I reached the corridor and saw, half-sleep, that the whole wall was in flames, journalist Teet Korsten writes.

Newspapers later wrote that it was arson. Rushing ahead, I can say that the police got nowhere with their investigations. To put it more maliciously, they were as bad as the fire department – when the same house caught fire a second time in the same night, it was likely the result of half-baked work of the fire department. And then the fire department suggested that «it must have been arson».

Artist Tiina Tammetalu asked me if the house had been insured, and upon receiving a negative answer, said: «That's good, otherwise people would have assumed that you set fire to it yourself.» The house had not been insured and, in addition, housed almost all of my worldly possessions.

Over the years, I had accumulated a decent library, there were several paintings and prints in the house. Especially irreplaceable are the books with dedications, the restoration of which is no longer possible.

Where could I get, for example, the personal dedications of Jaan Kross, Ain Kaalep and Vahur Afanasjev to me, or my teacher Elmar Salumaa's more than a hundred-year-old ancient Greek language workbook, which features his name before Estonianization – Teppan? Of course, one may find manuscript documents of Salumaa and other great figures... But the pictures painted by several Röövel Ööbik men in their youth? I once boasted that I had perhaps the largest collection of this kind...

Actually, quite soon after the incident, I began to interpret it as an exercise with a Buddhist twist. Perhaps one won’t have to put on the orange monk's robes in this life anymore after going through something like this? The practical benefit was that I could take off and head to Tallinn, which I had been planning for quite some time.

I used to joke that the only things keeping me in East-Viru County were the cat and the house. The cat died with the house. Perhaps it took upon itself my life (read: death) and saved it – many religions talk about the self-sacrificing nature of domestic animals. But the house probably symbolized past ties that bound me. Not only symbolized, but did so energetically. The past can be energetically like a heavy metal ball attached to the leg, preventing one from moving forward.

Another topic is accumulating things, or in fancier terms, the hobby of collecting. When I try to analyze this side of myself, my aunt’s husband, my favorite relative by marriage, comes to mind. The man had been a Finnish Boy and later sang in the state academic male choir. The latter enabled him, unlike the average so-called Soviet person, to actually go abroad a lot.

Abroad was where we had to survive. Among other things, Lepik's collection also talked about this – I'm not talking about his poems, but about the book as a symbol.

I remember how I felt as a child looking at the shelf where he had, for example, Kalju Lepik's two-volume hardcover collection of poetry, with a dedication to my aunt’s husband – the two former Finnish Boys probably met in Sweden, where the collection was published and where Lepik lived during the time that his homeland was occupied.

In a sense, I grew up abroad – after all, the Soviet Union that occupied Estonia was not my homeland. Abroad was where we had to survive. Among other things, Lepik's collection also talked about this – I'm not talking about his poems, but about the book as a symbol.

As a child, no one told me that signed books are valuable – my greedy child's eyes understood that on their own. When I talk about past connections here, I understand that the cleansing continues. Images from the past should no longer hold energy when past traumas have been healed. But talking about the fire is easy – maybe the trauma wasn't deep, or was it trauma at all, if my thoughts about it being a Zen exercise are correct?

Anyway. Right now, I already have the seed of a new library. The first book is very beautiful. Silver. The design by Tiina looks very expensive – or uneconomic if you want the publication to be profitable.

The book is Mihkel Mutt’s collection of articles «Õhtumaa Eesti III» («Estonia of the Western World III»), in which the author has written: «To Teet Korsten colleagially and looking to the future Mihkel Mutt 29. IV 2023» I understand that Mihkel wanted to comfort me, gave me this book and promoted me to a colleague – well, I don’t think I have never aspired to be a writer.

Thanks to the preserved invoice, I know that the first book I bought after the fire was Boriss Akunin's «Kolmesilmse seitse päeva» («Sennight of the Three-Eyed»). I remember that as soon as I had made this purchase on May 1, I regretted it – «even though economically, their life is on a smoking pile of ashes, a person is still buying so-called trash fiction, which could be borrowed from the library a few days later». I probably wouldn't have mentioned this emotional purchase if there hadn't been a sequel to this story, but that will come at the end of this tale.

The first foreign-language book in the budding collection was Viktor Shenderovich's collection of short forms «Дневник иностранного ажента» («Diary of a Foreign Agent»). Nobody has translated Viktor into Estonian as much as I have and he gave me his new book when I went to interview him at a hotel before his performance in Tallinn on May 15 last year. Since I've spent so many hours in his world when translating Viktor, it's only natural that he's somehow in my field. Even after Zen practice.

When I asked Garry for an autograph during a break in the congress, I started to explain how to write my name in Cyrillic, but he looked at me like I was stupid.

There was miraculous salvation, so to say, when it comes to Mihhail Lotman's collection of essays on Brodsky, «Pistriku talvekarje» («The Winter Scream of a Falcon»), which the author had given me on July 25, 2020 (the professor's handwriting is such that I read it first as February, because the date is written in numbers and the handwriting is like that of a pharmacist, as they say, but the author gifted the book in connection with our interview, which was published in Postimees in early August 2020).

I was sure that this book fell victim to the fire along with the rest of the library, but I was very surprised when I found it intact at my daughter’s place. I had given it to Mirjam to read in the hope of introducing her to a delicious journey of thought. It turns out that books can not only be lent out, but such migration can even save them!

A hardcover book containing my interview with Urmas Reinsalu was also published soon – this book is titled «Noateral. Ukraina sõja aasta Eestis ja maailmas. Välisministri vaade» («On the Knife’s Edge. A Year of the War in Ukraine in Estonia and the World. The Foreign Minister’s View.»). Urmas has humorously written «To the co-author» in it, but just one interview does not make someone a co-author.

Since Urmas is a likable politician, his book is significant in the collection. Speaking of politicians' books – in March this year, I acquired Jaak Valge's collection of articles, «Teisiti mõtleja märkmeid» («Notes of a Dissenter»). When I went to the Riigikogu to collect the book, my friend Juku-Kalle Raid, who is Jaak's colleague in the parliament, shared my opinion that Jaak must be the brightest mind in EKRE. Not anymore, because Jaak is no longer in this party.

In March, Marju Lauristin gifted me her hardcover book «Punane ja sinine» («Red and Blue»), published in 2010 – this title goes well with Valge’s name – when I went to interview her at her home. Marju's worldview is foreign to me, but as a person she is lovely and undoubtedly very charismatic. Therefore, her book can be in my small collection – especially since the newborn Marju lived in the same house as I do now. Marju thought that this building had been destroyed in the March 1944 bombing, but heard from me that it is still there.

Last year, a congress of the Russian opposition took place in Tallinn, one of the leaders of which is world chess champion Garry Kasparov. Since I knew that I would see Garry, I attempted to quickly find his book «How Life Imitates Chess» («Male kui edu mudel») translated into Estonian. I had read this book before – I dare to recommend it to you – but I didn't own it myself. I also didn't have Garry's autograph before the fire, even though I had interviewed him and knew him.

When I asked Garry for an autograph during a break in the congress, I started to explain how to write my name in Cyrillic, but he looked at me like I was stupid and wrote in the book in English – although we have always communicated in Russian. Although people say language is not to blame, conclusions are made.

I also now have Akunin's autograph and dedication in English. When Akunin was declared not just a foreign agent, but a terrorist in Russia, my friend Peeter Sauter suggested trying to interview him again – I had already done it once. Akunin agreed to the interview and justified the agreement by the fact that he has so many readers in Estonia, but his numerous posts on Facebook are only in Russian.

After the interview, I spontaneously mentioned the destruction of my home to him, and I could honestly tell him that his was the first book I bought after the destruction. Soon I received a strip of paper tucked between a Christmas card in the mail, which read: «Dear Teet, What's really precious doesn't burn.»

I remembered that I had told Akunin that when we die, we can only take experience with us. In response, Akunin said enigmatically: «I'm not sure.» However, he likely paraphrased both the New Testament and Bulgakov in the dedication – who also likely paraphrased scripture.

But in terms of collecting, I dare not deny that the person to have it right might be Jüri Mõis, who once boasted that he did not have any books at home. Very Zen!