ABSTRACT
In Russia, as everywhere, people tell lies; then they tell a kind of halflies – fantastical exaggerations of some elementary fact that challenge the credulous, and the Russians call these vranyo.1 While lies (lozh) are downright untruths, told in order to deceive, imputing persons with the skill of vranyo is to say something about their lively imagination and ability to tell a fanciful yarn: ‘You are having me on!’ the listener will say, half in admiration. Ronald Hingley calls vranyo Russia’s ‘national brand of leg-pulling, ribbing or blarney’.2 In Dostoyevsky’s essay, ‘Something About Lying’, the Russian art is shown at its most subtle:
Not long ago, I personally, while sitting in a railroad car, chanced to listen during two hours of the journey to a whole treatise on classical language. One man was speaking and all the others were listening. . . . [He] dropped his words weightily. It was obvious from his very first words that not only did he speak but probably, had thought about this theme, for the first time. So this was merely a brilliant improvisation.
