JAMILA (Jamilá)
by Chingiz Aitmatov, 1959

Called "the most beautiful love story in the world" by the French writer Louis Aragon, the short story "Jamila" was the first celebrated foray into the Russian literary world by the Kirghiz author Chingiz Aitmatov. The story appeared in the literary journal Novyi Mir (New World) in August 1958, when it was still under the stewardship of Aleksandr Tvardovsky, famous for having published Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. This was not Aitmatov's first published work. Earlier stories had appeared in local Kirghiz periodicals, but "Jamila" was the first sensation in what would prove to be a succession of works from Aitmatov that skirted the limits of the permissible in the regulated world of Soviet literature. "Jamila" launched the hitherto unknown Central Asian author from literary obscurity onto not only the Soviet but also the world literary scene.

The story begins with the musings of an artist over his favorite picture, that of a couple trekking across the Kirghiz steppe: "If the travelers were to take another step they would seemingly walk off the canvas" "Jamila" is the story of the eponymous protagonist and her lover, the wounded soldier Daniyar, who are the travelers in the picture. The story takes place during World War II and is set, as are almost all of Aitmatov's works, in the author's native Kirghizstan. The story is related through the eyes of a 15-year-old narrator, Seit, stepbrother-in-law to Jamila.

Jamila's husband is at the front, and she is an object of desire of the few men who remain in the village and of those who return from the front. The heroine, however, is a proud young woman, and she roughly snubs all advances. Daniyar's arrival and assignment to work with Seit and Jamila change little at first. The slightly built and lame recluse does not cut the figure of one who will sweep a woman off her feet, let alone the beautiful Jamila, but he does not try. A starry ride home one evening spurs Jamila to song, and her demand that Daniyar also sing uncovers his exceptional voice and spirit. Daniyar's songs prove the spark that fuels Jamila's love and finally leads to her flight with him from the society that will not accept what she will not deny, her love for a man other than her husband. The power of music is so strong in the story that the title was originally to have been "Obon," Kirghiz for "melody," before the Russian translator changed it.

The songs also have their effect on the young narrator, stirring feelings that subtly parallel the mature emotions of the central characters: "His singing made me want to fall to the ground and kiss it, as a son to a mother, grateful that someone could love it so keenly. For the first time in my life something new awoke within me, something irresistible … a need to express myself." In an attempt to satisfy this need Seit returns to painting, a hobby abandoned in early childhood, and puts into a picture of Daniyar and Jamila what he cannot express in words. Though reproached by his family, the boy refuses to forsake the couple, as they had refused to forsake their love, and like them he pursues his passion to become an artist.

Compositionally, the conclusion brings the story full circle, for "Jamila" begins and ends with a picture of the couple. Like the boy and his picture, Aitmatov has carefully framed his story. This sort of attention to literary form, especially the symmetry of the framed tale, attests to the strong influence of classical Russian literature on Aitmatov, particularly that of Aleksandr Pushkin. The character Jamila herself can be seen as the product of a long heritage of strong women in Russian literature and of Aitmatov's upbringing in a fatherless family. His father fell victim to Stalin's purges in 1937, before the boy was 10, and he grew up surrounded by women forced to make the best of horrible circumstances. The liberation of women, an important theme in many of Aitmatov's stories, originates in Jamila, but she has a long list of Russian literary predecessors, including Pushkin's Zemfira (in "Aleko") and Lermontov's Bela (A Hero of Our Time). The perspective of a boy recalls Turgenev's "First Love," and the description of the power of music evokes scenes from that author's A Sportsman's Sketches. Aitmatov's story is steeped in the classic Russian literary tradition, which it combines with authentic Kirghiz settings, characters, and conflicts.

The broad vistas of the story's Kirghiz setting provides a background that underscores the isolation of the lovers. The setting also highlights the universality of their plight by revealing that the dilemmas of love are the same be they in the center of an elite Moscow or on the expanses of a traditional Central Asia. The child narrator, who is found in a number of Aitmatov's stories, allows the author to present Jamila's decision to abandon her husband nonjudgmentally, even positively, despite society's proscriptions. Though the narrator's insights sometimes seem too sophisticated for a boy of 15 years, the perspective offers a fresh view on the timeless dilemma of personal love versus the demands of society, and the reader cannot help but sympathize with the heroine.

This short work spawned a 1969 film version of the same name, with the screenplay by Aitmatov, and a 1970 opera, with a score by Raukhverger and the libretto by Aitmatov and Bogomazov. By virtue of its artistic merit and the strength of its message, "Jamila" is a work of lasting worth not only in Kirghiz and Russian letters but in world literature as well.

—Nathan Longan