Gripped with the poignancy of the moment, Solzhenitsyn prophetically transformed this insignificant incident so that the characters became archetypes of the future, turning the Easter procession at Peredelkino into a parable: “These millions we have bred and reared—what will become of them? Where have the enlightened efforts and the inspiring visions of great thinkers led us? What good can we expect of our future generations? The truth is that one day they will turn and trample on us all. And as for those who urged them on to this, they will trample on them too.”3 Back in his creative hideaway, Solzhenitsyn wrote the essay describing the vision he had just witnessed. Having done so, he returned to work on the final chapters of Cancer Ward, completing a preliminary draft a few weeks later. As soon as it was ready, he dispatched the novel to Novy Mir, where it was discussed at the editorial meeting on June 18. Opinions were divided, as they had been during the earlier discussion on The First Circle, some being strongly in favor of its publication and others as strongly opposed. At first, Tvardovsky spoke vehemently in the novel’s defense, declaring that “art does not exist in this world to be a weapon in the class struggle”. Furthermore, it was “topical in that it presents a moral reckoning on behalf of a newly awakened people”. He assured Solzhenitsyn that he wanted to publish and that “we will launch it and fight for it to the limit of our powers”.4
Although initially encouraged by this positive response, Solzhenitsyn soon became irritated by what seemed to be a change of heart, or mind, on Tvardovsky’s part. Novy Mir’s editor appeared to be less enthusiastic, demanded many cuts and alterations, and started to equivocate over his plans for publication. Angered by the straitjacket of censorship with which Tvardovsky was now attempting to constrain him, and frustrated by the uncertainty surrounding prospects for publication, Solzhenitsyn decided to allow Cancer Ward to circulate in samizdat. He still recalled with pain and bitterness the farcical failure of Novy Mir to publish The First Circle, and he was determined that the same fate should not meet his latest offering. Tvardovsky was furious when he learned that copies of the novel were circulating in samizdat, and the ensuing disagreement led to a temporary parting of the ways between Solzhenitsyn and Novy Mir.
Determined to do everything in his power to get Cancer Ward published, Solzhenitsyn managed to arrange a discussion of his novel at a meeting of the Central Writers’ Club in Moscow on November 17, 1966. News of the debate spread rapidly in literary circles, and tickets for the event soon became hard to come by. The attendance was far higher than normal for meetings of the club, with fifty-two writers present. Debate was largely sympathetic and constructive, though it became heated when Zoya Kedrina stood up to address the meeting. Kedrina had gained notoriety during the recent show trial of the dissident writers Andrei Sinyavsky and Yuli Daniel for her role as “social accuser” on behalf of the Soviet prosecutors. During her speech to the meeting, she was heckled angrily, and some sections of the audience staged a walk-out in protest. Overall, however, Solzhenitsyn’s novel was praised by his peers and compared favorably with several key works of Russian literature, most notably Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich. At the meeting’s conclusion, Solzhenitsyn expressed his gratitude for the hearing he had been given and must have been delighted by the passing of a resolution that the club would take steps to bring about the publication of Cancer Ward. As the first step, it was proposed by Lev Kopelev that a transcript of their discussion be sent to Zvesda and Prostor, two reviews to which Solzhenitsyn had submitted the manuscript of Cancer Ward following its formal rejection by Novy Mir. The meeting had been a personal and practical triumph for Solzhenitsyn, ending on an appropriately optimistic note as the poet Bella Akhmadulina rushed up to the platform and, turning to Solzhenitsyn, shouted: “Wonderful man! Let us pray to God to grant good health to Alexander Solzhenitsyn!”5
Encouraged by his success at this meeting, Solzhenitsyn began a tactical war of nerves with the Soviet authorities. Contrary to all regulations, he granted an interview in November 1966 to a Japanese news correspondent, in the course of which he mentioned the existence ofThe First Circle, stated that its publication had been blocked, and referred to his two unpublished plays, The Love Girl and the Innocent and Candle in the Wind. As the world was gripped in the clutches of the Cold War, it was common for interviewers to ask writers to offer their views on “the writer’s duties in defense of peace”. Solzhenitsyn, however, did not offer the Japanese journalist the usual trite response:
I shall broaden the scope of this question. The fight for peace is only part of the writer’s duties to society. Not one little bit less important is the fight for social justice and for the strengthening of spiritual values in his contemporaries. This, and nowhere else, is where the effective defence of peace must begin—with the defence of spiritual values in the soul of every human being. I was brought up in the traditions of Russian literature, and I cannot imagine myself working as a writer without such aims.6
Within days of his unauthorized interview with the Japanese journalist, Solzhenitsyn accepted an invitation to speak at the Kurchatov Institute of Physics in Moscow. Six hundred people were present, and his readings from Cancer Ward, Candle in the Wind, and the ostensibly “forbidden” The First Circle were received with warmth and enthusiasm. News of his appearance spread quickly, and he was inundated with similar invitations from all over Moscow. He accepted as many as he could, nine in all, but at the last moment each lecture was mysteriously canceled. At the Karpov Institute, Solzhenitsyn actually arrived in the car that had been sent for him only to find a notice pinned to the door: “Cancelled owing to the author’s indisposition”.7 The reason for these cancellations soon became apparent. The Moscow City Party Committee had telephoned the organizers of each of the meetings, threatening reprisals if they went ahead. In spite of this, Solzhenitsyn was invited to speak at the Lazarev Institute of Oriental Studies on November 30, although whether this was in open defiance of the Party’s ban or merely because the less than omniscient Party had failed to detect that one particular meeting is not clear.
Five hundred people listened intently as Solzhenitsyn read two chapters from Cancer Ward, but they were not prepared for the open show of defiance that followed. In response to a question from the audience, Solzhenitsyn openly declared war on the power of the Party, boldly testing its alleged omnipotence. “I must explain why, although I used to refuse to talk to reporters or make public appearances, I have now started giving interviews and am standing here before you.” Explaining that circumstances had dictated the necessity that he defend himself, he launched into an outright attack on the KGB: