All her life she kept both the offprint and the envelope in which it was sent to her.
Another review, by Harbin poet Vasilii Loginov (1891–1946), criticized her poetry for "unusual, perhaps excessive, grammatical correctness" and argued that some sentences did not sound quite Russian. Further shortcomings, in his opinion, were "the youthful insignificance of the majority of poems," "the almost complete absence of sexuality," and "almost no lyrics and erotica." On the other hand, Loginov praised an "almost Levitan-like feeling for landscape" and "the great significance and force" of some poems. His conclusion was that "a certain poetic and artistic taste (…) was apparently formed by such perfect masters as Blok and Gumilev, who stretched a blessing hand over all Vezey's poems."[16] Not knowing English, neither Nesmelov, nor Loginov mentioned the English poems and translations.
The collection was welcomed in Claremont; a reviewer particularly noted that "one poem is entitled 'Claremont/ though it is in Russian, a tantalizing combination which was a great disappointment to everyone who wanted to read it." The translation of the poem (poem 28) into English by Professor Dietrich Neufield of Pomona College and Linda Schroeder, completed the review.[17]
At the end of the 1920s and beginning of the 1930s, Mary Vezey turned to translating Russian emigre poetry. Responding to her translations of his poems, a Paris poet Lazar' Kel'berin wrote: "You translate with surprising precision, retaining naivete, meaning and style; you are very talented. Moreover, you are doing a valuable cultural work by translating Russian poets who write in foreign lands and introducing them to English readers." The praise was combined with advice: "That's why, Miss Mary, 1 believe that it is better to give English readers samples of true and great poetry, that of Blok and Gumilev; add O. Mandel'shtam, A. Akhmatova, N. Otsup, G. Adamovich, Vladislav Khodasevich, but not us, the young ones, the beginners, who might give uninitiated readers a false impression of Russian poetry. Of course, what young poet would not be flattered to be published, translated! But one cannot publish Blok and, for example, me together. Under one cover one should publish poetry of an approximately equal value. If you like, send me a few translations of Blok and Gumilev."[18] Another Paris poet, Vladimir Smolensk», wrote that although he did not know English, "people who know English tell me that the translations were done very well. Therefore, I ask you to accept my most sincere gratitude. As for including my poems in the collection which you want to publish, of course I shall be very glad and I give you my full permission."[19] Both Kel'berin and Smolenskiy asked the same question: "Do you write poetry in Russian?"
By the end of 1920s, the political situation in northeast China (called Manchuria by the foreigners) had changed. Since 1924, the Chinese Eastern Railway had been operated jointly by the USSR and the Chinese Republic, but their relations steadily worsened. In 1929, a serious conflict led to military action on the west border, easily won by the USSR. In autumn 1931-winter 1932, Japan occupied the three northeast provinces of China and in March 1932 established the puppet state of Manchukuo. Two years later, Manchukuo was transformed into the Great Manchu Empire with the puppet emperor Pu Yi on the throne. The USSR was forced to sell its share of the Chinese Eastern Railway to Japan in 1935 and pull out of the area.
Henry Vezey's newspaper Harbin Daily News closed in 1932, and in 1933 the Vezey family moved to Shanghai, as many Harbin Russians did in the 1930s. Shanghai was too international to allow for the creation of the Russian atmosphere typical of Harbin, but nevertheless there was some Russian cultural and literary life, including publication of books, newspapers, and journals. In Shanghai, Mary Vezey worked for foreign firms and continued to write poetry and some short stories, the latter published under a pseudonym of A. Raevskaia.[20]
Her second collection of poetry came in 1936. Entitled as simply as the first one, Slikholvoreniia (Poems), but numbered II, it contained 52 poems, all in Russian. Most copies of this collection were allegedly "eaten by rats" during the 1937 Japanese attack on Shanghai, as Mary Vezey was later informed by the publishers V.P. Kamkin and Kh.V. Popov,[21] Like the first collection, it became a bibliographical rarity.
Reviewing the second collection, Harbin poet Natalia Reznikova wrote that in Vezey's poetry "the influences of A. Blok and Anna Akhmatova are organically intertwined. (…) However, Blok's motifs provide relief from the concrete, earthly, sensual "Akhmatova style" and impart transparency, detachment, and a seraphic quality to her current poems. M. Vezey's own independence is felt in precisely this combination of almost incompatible elements. (…) It's true that the metre is not always strictly observed, and some poems are technically weak, but this lack of technique in Vezey's poetry does not irritate. There is something of wildflowers, of unmowed meadows, in these inconsistent lines, broken like intakes of breath."[22] An anonymous reviewer admired "the purest lyricism" and "the melancholic mood of the author," while in another unsigned review it was pointed out that "her main inspiration is Blok and Gumilev" and she was praised for her "poetic competence," "lines impeccable in their rhythm and metre" and "noble simplicity."[23]
The collection was noticed in Europe. In 1937, the Shanghai-Paris journal Russkie zapiski (Russian Notes) reviewed several books published in Shanghai. The reviewer, concealed under the initials I.F., commented on Mary Vezey's poetry: "in the first collection, the Russian poems seemed like a translation from English, and the English poems a translation from Russian." This second collection, he continued, shows hard work, but new poems "lack independence. One feels the influence of Blok, of the lyrical poetry of Gumilev, and most of all of Akhmatova. These are real 'women’s' poems. Most of them are sad love lyrics."[24]
At the end of the 1930s, the Si no-Japanese War was raging in China, and the Second World War was about to engulf the world. In 1939, the Vezey family left China for San Francisco, a city favoured by many Russians from China. Mary Vezey's father, who had fallen seriously ill in Shanghai, died soon after their arrival in 1939; her mother in 1950. In September 1940, Mary Vezey married Evgenii Fedorovich Tourkoff (1908–1981), a Harbin Russian, a graduate of the Harbin Polytechnic Institute, an engineer, and soon they had a daughter Olga. In the 1960s, Mary Vezey worked as an assistant secretary to Professor Edwin B. Boldrey, a prominent neurosurgeon and Chairman of Neurological Surgery at the University of California Medical Center.
She continued to write and translate, and her poems appeared in emigre periodicals in the USA and Europe. Eight poems were included in Sodruzhestvo (Concord) (Washington, 1966), a significant collection representing the work of 75 living Emigre poets. In the 1960s, she offered a collection of her translations of the emigre poets Dmitrii Klenovskii and Vladimir Smolenskii to the Wesleyan University Press, Connecticut, explaining in the proposal: "Klenovsky (now living in Germany) is regarded as the most important of the Russian emigre poets. (…) He is quite unknown in English, although represented in an anthology published by Edinburgh University, as well as in an important German anthology. Smolensky, who died in Paris in 1961, was another Emigre who attained lasting fame among readers of Russian poetry. Both men will be read and admired long after Evtushenko and Voznesensky are forgotten."[25] At the time, however, there was not much interest in emigre poets, and no publisher was found.
