Klyukva is like a crooked mirror of Russia; a projection of Western repression (which manifests itself in quasi-colonial wet dreams and nightmares) onto the Central Russian Upland and beyond. It’s a state of mind, a worldview, a belief, an idea. Thus, one can fight it but no one can destroy it. Moreover, I don’t want to uproot this ‘plant’. Although I would like to have it on the Red List.
De Custine wrote:
«…these are men [i.e. Russians] lost for the savage state and deficient for civilization, and the terrible words of Voltaire or of Diderot, forgotten in France, come back to my mind: “The Russians have rotted before they are ripe.”».
I’m not sure about the taste of (un)ripe Russians (yuk!) but what I do know is that ‘the West’ has been addicted to mind-altering tart klyukva juice since day one. It is still the number one appetizer in the Western geopolitical cuisine of nowadays.
“Waiter, one bloody klyukva, please!..”