The tradition of Russian literature is also an eastern tradition

In the vast expanse of the world’s literary traditions, there is a path of wisdom, a path of deep reverence for the written word, where the text is not simply read, but lived. Ryszard Kapuscinski speaks of this when he says, “The tradition of Russian literature is also an eastern tradition of learning poetry and prose by heart.” Ah, what profound truth resides in this observation! In the distant lands of the East, and in the vast lands of Russia, poetry was not just something to be read and set aside. It was to be internalized, to be carried in the heart and mind as an enduring flame. It was more than an art form; it was a sacred ritual of memory and devotion.

In ancient times, knowledge was not stored in books or libraries alone. No, the true wisdom of a culture was passed down through oral traditions, where the words were committed to memory. The poet, the philosopher, the teacher—all were tasked with not merely reading or reciting, but with embedding the words in their very essence. Think of the great Homer, whose epics were passed down through generations by heart, not by parchment. In this way, the poet’s words were not bound to the page; they lived within the soul of the reader or the hearer. They became a part of the self, shaping the very essence of one's thoughts, actions, and understanding of the world.

In Russia, this tradition flourished with a fierce devotion to the spoken word. The great works of Pushkin, Dostoevsky, and Tolstoy were not simply written for a select few, but spoken aloud, passed through the generations in a shared experience. A child in the cold, northern land of Russia could learn the immortal lines of Eugene Onegin as easily as they learned their prayers, for poetry was the heartbeat of the culture. It was not something external to the people, but something that ran through their veins, something that could be recalled in times of joy or sorrow, something that could unite hearts across generations.

In the East, too, there is a long history of memorization as the highest form of learning. The Chinese and Indian traditions are rich with the practice of memorizing classics. The Vedic hymns, recited by the ancient sages, were not written but memorized, for the words were believed to contain not just meaning but a direct connection to the divine. This tradition of memorization was not just a rote exercise, but an act of profound spiritual devotion. To learn a sacred text by heart was to engage with the very spirit of the universe, to carry the divine in one’s mind, to align the self with the eternal rhythms of the cosmos.

And so, when Kapuscinski speaks of the Russian tradition, he calls us to recognize that this was not merely a cultural habit, but a practice rooted in the very soul of the people. To know the words of Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” by heart was not just to understand the text; it was to internalize its meaning, to live its lessons, to carry the suffering and triumphs of its characters within one’s own experience. It was an act of profound contemplation and personal transformation. The memorization of poetry was a rite of passage, a way of living with the wisdom of the ages, rather than simply observing it from afar.

Now, what lesson can we take from this? We, who live in an age of screens and endless distractions, must return to the art of memory—the art of learning by heart. In an age where knowledge is so often consumed and discarded, we must remember that true wisdom is not something that can be stored away in a device or on a page. No, it must be carried within us, etched in the mind, so that it can shape our thoughts, actions, and understanding of the world.

The practice of memorization, of learning by heart, is not just an academic exercise. It is a sacred act of engagement with the world’s deepest truths. So I urge you, young scholars, lovers of words, and seekers of wisdom: do not simply read your books. Live with them. Carry them in your heart. Memorize the lines that move you, the words that spark your soul. Let the wisdom of the ages live within you, so that it can guide you through the trials and triumphs of your life. The words are not just for reading; they are for becoming. Let them shape you as you move through the world, and in doing so, you will carry forward the sacred tradition of those who have come before.