Solzhenitsyn endows his protatgonist, Denisovich, with the instincts of everyman, pits this reality against the unreality of life in a Russian prison camp.
Shukhov knew how to manage anything.
Work was like a stick. It had two ends. When you worked for the knowing, you gave them quality; when you worked for a fool you simply gave him eyewash.
(…) Shukhov wiped the floorboards with a damp rag so that no dry patches remained, tossed the rag behind the stove without wringing it out, pulled on his valenki near the door, threw out the rest of the water onto the path used by the camp authorities, and, taking short cuts, made a dash past the bathhouse and the dark, cold club to the mess hall. (p. 26)
Human nature; the secret delight taken in getting away with something, with knowing how to fool somebody who himself is a fool–but has the upper hand. This is how we get by sometimes, calling upon a passive aggressiveness where boldness would be dangerous. Throwing the water–the dirty water–on the path, hoping perhaps that an officer will slip and fall on the resulting frozen slickness?
The human spirit can take a beating, but there is always that flicker left to flame up for a brief moment of glory and power, and hope.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology