The recent news about the outbreak of the Israel-Palestine war and the ongoing Russia-Ukraine war and the Armenia-Azerbaijan war makes me really sad. This news put me back to the reflection on how social scholars should write in the age of multiplication of conflicts, crises and catastrophes.

I finish The urban life of workers in post-Soviet Russia – to be out just in three months – with the suggestion to invent alternative genres of writing about social reality, society and ordinary people who suffer most from wars, crises and catastrophes. My book ends with a ready-made: ‘Toward the bright future of emergent genres!’ A ready-made is an avant-garde piece of text or art made of already existing objects, images or phrases, etc. which gain new meanings being placed into a new context (read more here).

The final sentence of my book starts with the phrase usually associated with Vladimir Lenin’s slogan ‘Toward the bright future’. On the one hand, it refers to the residualised form of expression, while the residual is always alternative to the dominant, according to Raymond Williams.On the other hand, it performatively calls for novatory action aimed to engage the creativity and imagination of a reader. Thus, it produces the possibility or hope for the emergence of genres different from the dominant ones.

When it is hard to express feelings and thoughts with prose, especially in the ages of wars and catastrophes, people often resort to poetry building on the symbolic, imaginative and rhythmic use of language. At this point, the reader may wonder what poetical can be about the book written in the genre of academic non-fiction.

While writing the book, I integrated some poetic forms in my discursive strategy aimed to represent workers alternatively to their negative, stigmatising representations reproduced in the mainstream academic and media discourses. The avant-garde poetry of the 1920s and the romantic poetry of the late 18th century inspired my academic non-fiction. Below, I shed light on the poetics of The urban life of workers in post-Soviet Russia.

The book opens with my ready-made poem signed with ‘the author’:

– A ready-made poem by the author

This poem invites the reader to think about the meaning of the future and calls for action to make society better right now, at least at the level of everyday life. The poem also explains that the future can be viewed as the possibility for new forms of living, creating, writing, etc. The use of three different punctuation marks and upper and lower cases in the three-line poem helps me keep it rhythmic, performative and concise.

I crafted this poem out of booklet and magazine clippings. I cut sentences out first and then glued them on the notepad page already filled with my handwritten notes about ready-made (found) poetry as arts-based research method.

Another example of how I used poetry in academic non-fiction is citing a poem by futurist poet Vladimir Mayakovsky. I included his All hail to subbotniki! in the book to illustrate the meanings of subbotnik, a collective clean of the neighbourhood or the workplace in a day off. (You can read more about this practice here). As far as I did not find an English translation of this poem written in Russian, I translated some of its parts for Chapter 7 covering the theme of the creative forms of everyday resistance.

All hail to subbotniki!

Rosta No. 611. November 1920

The poem written in the avant-garde genre one hundred years ago performs several functions in my academic non-fiction about contemporaneity. It provides the reader with the example of the ideological meaning of early-Soviet subbotnik and helps me to show how the meaning of this practice evolved by the 2020s. Apart from this, Mayakovsky’s poem exemplifies performativity calling for action in the avant-garde poetic form which partly inspires (but not pre-determines) my discursive strategy. In this case, the poem by another author illustrates my ethnographic writting about a particular research theme.

The final example which I would like to give is about integration of poetic forms in the skeleton of academic non-fiction. One of the reasons why you may like or not like The urban life of workers in post-Soviet Russia is that the romantic poetry inspired its table of contents and framed its structural composition. The book consists of three parts, Part I: Theoretical sketches, Part Il: Ways of life and Part III: Ways of struggle, which reminiscent of the titles of poetry collections by William Blake, Poetical Sketches (1783) and two parts of his Songs of Innocence and Experience: Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience (1789–1794).

You may ask: ‘What is William Blake doing in non-fiction about Russia’s workers?’ First of all, I integrated some elements of Blake’s poetry because the romantic poets made a discursive revolution in English literature breaking with the Shakespearian tradition without denying it. One can criticise Blake for being ‘mystic’, the Lake Poets for being ‘arrogant’ and the romantic poetesses for being too focused on their feelings, but their forms of expression helped me figure out my writing strategy about workers aimed not to romanticise them but represent them as they are through the alternative (to the dominant) stylistic means.

If you would like to know more about how these poetic genres allowed me to convey the dominant feelings of the age and creatively tell the story about working-class people, you can pre-order The urbanl life of workers in post-Soviet Russia via your University library or recommend it to your librarian.