The story told by Chekhov in "Ionych" (1898) is built around two declarations of love, as, in fact, the plot was built in Pushkin's "Eugene Onegin". At first, he confesses his love to her and does not meet reciprocity. A few years later, she realized that the best person than he, in her life was not, tells him about her love and with the same negative result. All other events, descriptions are needed as a background, as material to explain why mutual love did not take place, the mutual happiness of two people did not work out.

Who is to blame (or what is to blame) for the fact that the young, full of strength and vitality, Dmitry Startsev, as we see him at the beginning of the story, turned into Ionych of the last chapter? How exceptional or, conversely, how ordinary is the story of his life? And how does Chekhov manage to fit entire human destinies and lifestyles into just a few pages of text?

As if on the surface lies the first explanation of why the hero degrades by the end of the story. The reason can be seen in the unfavorable, hostile environment of Startsev, in the philistine environment of the city of S. And in the absence on the part of the hero of the fight against this environment, protest against it. “Wednesday stuck” is a common explanation for such situations in life and in literature.

Is the environment to blame for Startsev's transformation into Ionych? No, that would be at least a one-sided explanation.

A hero opposed to the environment, sharply different from the environment - such was the typical conflict in classical literature, starting with "Woe from Wit". In "Ionych" there is a word directly taken from the description Famus Society(“hoarseness”), but it, perhaps, only more sharply sets off the difference between the two ratios: Chatsky - Famusovskaya Moscow and Startsev - the inhabitants of the city of S.

Actually, Chatsky was kept in an alien and hostile environment only by a love interest. He was initially sure of his superiority over this environment, denounced it in his monologues - the environment pushed him out like a foreign body. Slandered, insulted, but not broken, and only strengthened in his convictions, Chatsky left Famus' Moscow.

Dmitry Startsev, like Chatsky, falls in love with a girl from an environment alien to him (for Chatsky this separating barrier is spiritual, for Startsev it is material). As a person from the outside, he enters the “most talented” house of the city of S. He does not have any initial rejection of this environment, on the contrary, for the first time in the Turkins’ house everything seems pleasant to him, or at least amusing. And then, having learned that he is not loved, unlike Chatsky, he does not strive to “search around the world”, but remains to live in the same place where he lived, so to speak, by inertia.

Although not immediately, but at some point, he also felt irritation against those people among whom he has to live and with whom he has to communicate. There is nothing to talk about with them, their interests are limited to food and empty entertainment. Anything really new is alien to them, the ideas by which the rest of humanity lives are inaccessible to their understanding (for example, how can passports and the death penalty be abolished?).

Well, at first, Startsev also tried to protest, to convince, to preach (“in society, at dinner or tea, he talked about the need to work, that one cannot live without work”). These monologues of Startsev did not meet with a response in society. But, unlike the Famus society, which is aggressive towards a freethinker, the townsfolk of the city of S. simply continue to live as they lived, while they were completely indifferent to the dissident Startsev, passing protest and propaganda on deaf ears. True, they gave him a rather ridiculous nickname (“pompous Pole”), but this is still not a declaration of a person crazy. Moreover, when he began to live according to the laws of this environment and finally turned into Ionych, they themselves suffered from him.

So, one hero remained unbroken by the environment, the other was swallowed up by the environment and subordinated to its own laws. It would seem clear who of them deserves sympathy, who deserves condemnation. But the point is not at all that one of the heroes is nobler, higher, more positive than the other.

Organized differently in the two works artistic time. Just one day in the life of Chatsky - and the whole life of Startsev. Chekhov includes the passage of time in the “hero and environment” situation, and this allows us to evaluate what happened in a different way.

“Somehow in the winter ... in the spring, on a holiday - it was the Ascension ... more than a year passed ... began to visit the Turkins often, very often ... for three days things fell out of his hands ... he calmed down and he continued to live as before... experience taught him little by little... imperceptibly, little by little... four years passed... three days passed, a week passed... and he never visited the Turkins again... a few more years have passed...”

Chekhov introduces into the story the test of the hero herself ordinary thing- unhurried, but unstoppable course of time. Time tests any beliefs for strength, tests any feelings for strength; time calms, comforts, but time also draws in - “imperceptibly, little by little” reshaping a person. Chekhov does not write about the exceptional or extraordinary, but about what concerns every ordinary (“average”) person.

That clot of new ideas, protest, preaching, which Chatsky carries in himself, cannot be imagined stretched out like this - for weeks, months, years. The arrival and departure of Chatsky is like the passage of a meteor, a bright comet, a flash of fireworks. And Startsev is tested by what Chatsky was not tested by - the course of life, immersion in the course of time. What is revealed by such an approach?

For example, that it is not enough to have certain convictions, it is not enough to feel indignation against alien people and customs. Dmitry Startsev is by no means deprived of all this, like any normal young man. He knows how to experience contempt, he knows what to be indignant at (human stupidity, mediocrity, vulgarity, etc.). And Kotik, who reads a lot, knows what words should be used to denounce “this empty, useless life”, which has become “unbearable” for her.

No, Chekhov shows, against the passage of time, the Protestant fuse of youth cannot be sustained for a long time - and can even turn “imperceptibly, little by little” into its opposite. In the last chapter, Ionych already does not tolerate any judgments and objections from the side ("If you please, answer only questions! Do not talk!").

Moreover, a person can have not only a denial enthusiasm - he can also have a positive life program (“You need to work, you can’t live without work,” Startsev says, and Kotik is convinced: “A person should strive for a higher, brilliant goal ... I want to be an artist, I want fame, success, freedom...”). It may seem to him that he lives and acts in accordance with the correctly chosen goal. After all, Startsev does not just utter monologues in front of the townsfolk - he really works, and he receives more and more patients, both in the village hospital and in the city. But ... again, "imperceptibly, little by little" time made a disastrous substitution. By the end of the story, Ionych is working more and more, no longer for the sake of the sick or some kind of lofty goals. What used to be secondary - "papers obtained by practice", money - becomes the main content of life, its only goal.

In the face of time, invisible, but the main arbiter of destinies in Chekhov's world, any verbally formulated beliefs, beautiful-hearted programs seem fragile and insignificant. In youth, you can despise, splendid souls as much as you like - lo and behold, “imperceptibly, little by little” yesterday’s living person, open to all the impressions of life, has turned into Ionych.

The motive of transformation in the story is connected with the theme of time. The transformation occurs as a gradual transition from the living, not yet settled and unformed to the wound up, once and for all taking shape.

In the first three chapters, Dmitry Startsev is young, he has not quite definite, but good intentions and aspirations, he is carefree, full of energy, it costs him nothing to cover nine miles on foot after work (and then nine miles back), music constantly sounds in his soul; like any young man, he is waiting for love and happiness.

But a living person falls into the environment of mechanical clockwork puppets. At first, he doesn't realize it. Ivan Petrovich's witticisms, Vera Iosifovna's novels, Kotik's playing the piano, Pava's tragic pose for the first time seem to him quite original and direct, although observation tells him that these witticisms have been worked out by "long exercises in wit", that the novels say "about , which never happens in life”, that the young pianist’s performance is noticeably stubbornly monotonous and that Pava’s idiotic remark looks like an obligatory dessert for a regular program.

The author of the story resorts to the technique of repetition. The Turkins in the 1st chapter show the guests “their talents cheerfully, with cordial simplicity” - and in the 5th chapter Vera Iosifovna reads her novels to the guests “still willingly, with cordial simplicity”. Does not change the program of behavior (with all the changes in the repertoire of his jokes) Ivan Petrovich. Even more absurd in repeating his line is the grown-up Pava. Both talents and simplicity of heart are by no means the worst qualities that people can show. (Let's not forget that the Turkins in the city of S. are indeed the most interesting.) But their programmed, routine, endless repetition eventually causes melancholy and irritation in the observer.

The rest of the inhabitants of the city of S., who do not have the talents of the Turkins, also live according to a routine, according to a program about which there is nothing to say, except: “Day and night - a day goes by, life passes dimly, without impressions, without thoughts ... In the afternoon profit, and in the evening a club, a society of gamblers, alcoholics, wheezing...”

And by the last chapter, Startsev himself turned into something ossified, petrified (“not a man, but a pagan god”), moving and acting according to some forever established program. The chapter describes what Ionych (now everyone only calls him that) does every day, month after month, year after year. Somewhere weathered, evaporated all living things that worried him in his youth. There is no happiness, but there are surrogates, substitutes for happiness - the purchase of real estate, the pleasing and fearful respect of others. The Turkins have survived in their vulgarity - Startsev has degraded. Unable to keep even at the level of the Turkins, in his transformation he sank even lower, to the level of the “stupid and evil” layman, whom he had previously spoken of contempt for. And this is the result of his existence. "That's all there is to say about him."

What was the beginning of the transformation, rolling down the inclined plane? At what point in the action of the story can we talk about the guilt of the hero who did not make efforts to prevent this slide?

Maybe this is how failure in love worked, becoming a turning point in Startsev's life? Indeed, throughout his life, “love for Kotik was his only joy and, probably, his last.” A frivolous girlish joke - to make an appointment in a cemetery - gave him the opportunity for the first and only time in his life to see “a world unlike anything else, a world where the moonlight is so good and soft”, to touch the secret, “promising a quiet life, beautiful, eternal." A magical night in the old cemetery is the only thing in the story that does not bear the stamp of familiarity, repetition, routine. She alone remained in the life of the hero stunning and unique.

The next day there was a declaration of love and Kitty's refusal. The essence of Startsev's love confession was that there are no words that can convey the feeling that he feels, and that his love is limitless. Well, it can be said that the young man was not particularly eloquent and resourceful in explanation. But is it possible on this basis to consider that the whole point is Startsev's inability to have a genuine feeling, that he did not truly love, did not fight for his love, and therefore could not captivate Kotik?

That's the point, Chekhov shows, that Startsev's confession was doomed to failure, no matter how eloquent he was, no matter how hard he made to convince her of his love.

Kitty, like everyone else in the city of S., like everyone else in the Turkins' house, lives and acts according to some kind of pre-determined program (the puppet principle is noticeable in her) - a program made up of read books, fed by praises of her piano talents and age, as well as hereditary (from Vera Iosifovna) ignorance of life. She rejects Startsev because life in this city seems to her empty and useless, because she herself wants to strive for a higher, brilliant goal, and not at all become the wife of an ordinary, unremarkable person, and even with such a ridiculous name. Until life, the course of time, shows her the fallacy of this program, any words here will be powerless.

This is one of the most characteristic situations for Chekhov's world: people are divided, each of them lives with their own feelings, interests, programs, their own stereotypes of life behavior, their own truths; and at the moment when it is most necessary for someone to meet a response, understanding from the other person, that, the other, at this moment is absorbed by his own interest, program, etc.

Here, in Ionych, the feeling of falling in love that one person experiences does not meet with reciprocity due to the fact that the girl, the object of his love, is absorbed in her life program, the only one interesting for her at that moment. Then the townsfolk will not understand him, here the loved one does not understand.

After living for some time, drinking a few sips “from the cup of being”, Kotik seemed to understand that she had not lived like that (“Now all the young ladies play the piano, and I also played like everyone else, and there was nothing special about me; I the same pianist as my mother is a writer”). She now considers her main mistake in the past to be that she did not understand Startseva then. But does she really understand him now? Suffering, awareness of missed happiness make Ekaterina Ivanovna out of Kotik, a living, suffering person (now she has “sad, grateful, searching eyes”). At the first explanation, she is categorical, he is insecure, at their last meeting he is categorical, she is timid, timid, insecure. But, alas, there is only a change of programs, while programming, repetition remain. “What a joy it is to be a zemstvo doctor, to help the sufferers, to serve the people. What happiness!<...>When I thought about you in Moscow, you seemed to me so perfect, sublime ... ”- she says, and we see: yes, these are phrases directly from Vera Iosifovna’s novels, far-fetched writings that have nothing to do with real life. As if she again sees not a living person, but a mannequin hero from a novel written by her mother.

And again they are absorbed by each of their own, they speak different languages. She is in love, idealizes Startsev, longs for a reciprocal feeling. With him, however, the transformation is almost completed, he is already hopelessly sucked into narrow-minded life, he thinks about the pleasure of “paper”. Having flared up for a short time, “the light in the soul went out.” From misunderstanding, loneliness, a person, alienated from others, closes in his shell. So who is to blame for Startsev's failure in life, for his degradation? Of course, it is not difficult to blame him or the society around him, but this will not be a complete and accurate answer. The environment, the environment, determines only the forms in which Ionych's life will proceed, what values ​​he will accept, what surrogates of happiness he will console himself with. But they gave impetus to the fall of the hero, other forces and circumstances led him to rebirth.

How to resist time, which creates the work of transformation “imperceptibly, little by little”? People are led to misfortune by their eternal disunity, self-absorption, the impossibility of mutual understanding at the most responsible, decisive moments of life. And how can a person guess the moment that decides his entire future fate? And only when it is too late to change anything, it turns out that only one bright, unforgettable night is released to a person in his entire life.

Such sobriety, even cruelty in depicting the tragedy of human existence, seemed to many in Chekhov's works excessive. Critics believed that Chekhov thus "killed human hopes." Indeed, "Ionych" may seem like a mockery of many bright hopes. Need to work! You can't live without hard work! A person should strive for a higher, brilliant goal! To help the sufferers, to serve the people - what happiness! Writers both before and after Chekhov very often made such and similar ideas central in their works, proclaiming them through the mouths of their heroes. Chekhov shows how life, the passage of time, devalue and render meaningless any beautiful-hearted ideas. All these are common (albeit indisputable) places, which cost absolutely nothing to pronounce and write. The graphomaniac Vera Iosifovna, who writes “about what never happens in life,” can fill her novels with them. Startsev would never have become the hero of Vera Iosifovna's novel: what happened to him is what happens in life.

“Ionych” is a story about how incredibly difficult it is to remain a person, even knowing what one should be. A story about the relationship between illusions and real (terrible in its everyday life) life. About the real, not illusory difficulties of being.

Well, does Chekhov really look at the fate of man in the world so hopelessly and leave no hope?

Yes, Dmitry Startsev is inevitably moving towards becoming Ionych, and in his fate Chekhov shows what can happen to anyone. But if Chekhov shows the inevitability of the degradation of an initially good, normal person with the imperceptible passage of time, the inevitability of the rejection of dreams and ideas proclaimed in youth, then he really kills hopes and calls to leave them at the threshold of life? And he states, together with the hero: “How, in essence, mother nature is joking badly with a person, how insulting it is to realize this!”? So you can understand the meaning of the story only with inattentive reading, without reading the text to the end, without thinking about it.

Can't you see in the last chapter how everything that happened to Ionych is called by its proper name, sharply, directly? Greed has overcome. Throat swollen with fat. He is lonely, he is bored. There are no joys in life and there will be no more. That's all that can be said about him.

How much contempt lies in these words! It is obvious that the writer, throughout the entire story, carefully tracing the spiritual evolution of the hero, making it possible to understand him, here refuses to justify, does not forgive the degradation leading to such an end.

The meaning of the story told to us, therefore, can be understood at the junction of two principles. Mother nature really plays a bad joke on a person, a person is often deceived by life, time, and it is difficult to understand the degree of his personal guilt. But it is so disgusting what a person who has been given everything for a normal, useful life can turn into, that there can be only one conclusion: everyone must fight the transformation into Ionych, even if there is almost no hope for success in this struggle.

Gogol in a lyrical digression included in the chapter on Plyushkin (and the evolution of Ionych is somewhat reminiscent of the changes that have occurred with this Gogol's hero), appeals to his young readers with an appeal to keep with all their might the best that is given to everyone in their youth. Chekhov does not make such special lyrical digressions in his story. To resist degradation in an almost hopeless situation, he calls on his entire text.

Amazing stuff - a classic! Rereading the works of the masters of the word at a new stage in your life, you never cease to be surprised at what is re-discovered in the process of reading. An example would be Chekhov's stories. They make it possible to evaluate the present time, the criteria that determine vital interests, actions, when material values ​​take precedence over spirituality, when a person does not even spare himself for the sake of profit. Particularly interesting in this regard is the story "Ionych". It was written in the 90s of the XIX century. In this decade, the motives of movement and change are more and more audible in Chekhov's work.

Chekhov's heroes are tested by their involvement in life, by their ability to hear the time, to understand the issues of the time, they are determined by the quality of the dream and the ways of its realization. But these are all problems of our time. Therefore, approaches to the study of the story - Ionych, understanding the essence of the protagonist can be different. If each work of fiction we evaluate from the standpoint of the unity of content and form, then, speaking of content, we can set the following goal: to trace how a person, climbing the steps up the ladder of material well-being, slides down to moral devastation even faster; see how his attitude towards people changes; to see pictures of the fall of man, so as not to repeat his mistakes.

The events are presented in chronological order, they are separated by insignificant periods, but during these short periods of time great changes take place in the life and appearance of the hero. The plot develops all the faster because the background (the city of S. and the Turkin family), on which the action unfolds, remains completely motionless from beginning to end. Time runs, and life in the Turkins' house stands as if bewitched, as if time had passed them by.

Already in the first chapter, the author's remark about the main character that he gives in to a common hobby, appreciating the skill of Kotik, is alarming. It seems that nothing yet portends a collapse, but this word involuntarily attracts attention, like other remarks of the author: he did not yet have his own horses; “When I have not yet drunk tears from the cup of being ...” (lines from a romance). There will be horses, moreover, a troika with bells, and a coachman in a velvet waistcoat, and there will be tears. But that's later. In the meantime, he is young, healthy, he has interesting job, the noble goal is to help the sufferers, to serve the people. He is full of hope, expectation of happiness, does not feel tired. This is what is called the fragrance of youth. Although the epigraph throughout the story is best suited to the words of Ionych himself: “How are we doing here? No way. We grow old, we grow fat, we fall.

The hero will say them a little later, when he has not yet lost the ability to give an honest assessment of his actions. In Chekhov's stories, interesting characteristics of life are often found: sleepy, short, wingless, colorless. It seems that all of them accurately express the process that took place with the young doctor. If in chapter 1, which can be called an exposition, only a hint is given, then in the second he is already a victim, although he is still far from death. The scene of the failed date in the cemetery makes it clear that the illusion is over. “I’m tired,” he says, and the reader feels sad, offended and sorry for Startsev, who returned home smiling so recently. We do not want to forgive him for either his prudence or his solidity, and it becomes annoying that he has lost his former freshness and spontaneity.

Chapter 3 is a new and turning point in the doctor’s life: the beginning of the decline of his youth and the emerging commercialism, when he thinks not about his beloved, but about dowry, when he betrays his youthful dream and the idea embodied in his profession (“Besides, if you marry her< … >then her relatives will force you to quit the Zemstvo service and live in the city ... Well, what then? In the city, so in the city). The author also draws attention to how Startsev was dressed (“ Dressed in someone else’s tailcoat and a white stiff tie, which somehow kept bristling and wanted to slide off his collar, he was sitting in a club at midnight ...”), The author does not spare Startsev, because that he no longer loves his hero, who has entered a new phase of his life. His words of love, spoken to Kotik, did not at all agree with the thoughts about the dowry that were spinning in his head when he paid a visit to the Turkins to propose.

Startsev suffered after Kotik's refusal for only three days: "His heart stopped beating restlessly and, apparently, forever." The next four years (four in all!) brought Startsev a lot of practice, a trio of horses with bells. He does not walk among people, but drives past them. In Panteleimon, as in a mirror, Startsev is vaguely reflected: the more (Panteleimon) grew in width, the sadder he sighed - didn’t the same thing happen with Startsev?

Only Startsev was silent, did not sigh and did not complain - there was no one to complain to and even just to talk to. Away "Startsev avoided talking, but only had a snack and played vint, and when he found him in some house family celebration and he was invited to eat, then he sat down and ate in silence, looking at the plate; and everything that was said at that time was uninteresting, unfair, stupid. He felt annoyed, worried, but was silent.

What are his new entertainments, if he shied away from the theater, concerts? The strongest, besides cards, was the entertainment into which he imperceptibly got involved, this is - in the evenings, taking out pieces of paper obtained by practice from his pockets. Seven lines - and what a picture moral decline man! And what is the smell of money! Here is grief, and suffering, and tears, and anxieties, and hopes, and death. He saves money, not impressions from life. He does not read the pages of human destinies in them, he counts them. This is a complete alienation from people. And it's scary. What is still left of the former Startsev?

Undoubtedly, the mind that distinguishes him from the ranks of the inhabitants; convictions remained, but he buried them in the depths of his soul; industriousness remained, but it was now stimulated not by noble aspirations, but by the interests of profit, about which he himself says this: "In the afternoon, profit, and in the evening the club." The treatment of rural patients has become secondary, here he hastily received, and most importantly - urban patients who pay in cash. There was energy left, but she turned her into a fuss in pursuit of profit (he left every morning and returned home late at night). The ability to enjoy remains. But what? In his youth - nature, conversations with Kotik, love for her, later - conveniences, and now vices: playing cards and money-grubbing.

Does Startsev understand what is happening to him? Does he give an account of his actions? Perhaps yes. When Kotik, returning from Moscow, began to say that she was a loser, that she lived in illusions, and that he had a real job, a noble goal in life, that she remembers how he loved to talk about his hospital, that it was happiness to be a zemstvo doctor, to help sufferers, to serve the people, he remembered the papers that he took out of his pockets in the evenings with such pleasure, and the light in his soul went out. Now it's definitely forever.

In the last chapter, the author shows us how much Startsev has changed not only externally, but also internally. He has lost all respect for people, he is unceremonious when he walks around the house assigned to the auction, when he shouts at patients and knocks on the floor with a stick. Tenth graders understand well why he bought two houses and is looking at the third one.

But not everyone can answer the question of whether the work of a doctor and commerce in the form shown through Ionych are compatible, since today's children do not see any disadvantages in such an alliance. And Chekhov, back in the 90s of the XIX century, made people think about an active civic position, about the responsibility of a person for his work, profession, place in life and society. Gorky understood this well and wrote to Chekhov: “You are doing a great job with your little stories - arousing in people an aversion to this sleepy, half-dead life ...” The story “Ionych” is relevant in all respects. The work of a doctor and profit are incompatible concepts.

This is how it should be, although our current life provides many examples of the opposite. Hence the indifference, reaching to callousness, callousness - to cruelty, rudeness to rudeness. In the era of current changes, you can see everything, and the task of the teacher is to ensure that the students understand and appreciate not only the hero, not only his principles, but also correlate with what is encountered more and more often in life.

But when comprehending the story "Ionych", one can think of another aspect related to its artistic originality, building a conversation on the study of time. The category of time can even be singled out as the main one. If the student understands the movement of time, then everything that happens to Startsev, he will also understand.

So, the story uses a time of 10 years. On the surface, one can clearly see what seems to be a progressive movement: a young hero - maturation - old age. And in the depths there is a reverse movement: from living reactions to deadness, loss of normal human feelings.

And the title anticipates the ending. The story is told in chapter V, the last one, in the present tense, and in the chapters
I-IV - in the past. This compositional construction is also interesting, since it is in chapter V that the temporal center of the narrative is. Here the attitude of the author to the hero is most clearly expressed. In chapters I-IV - an excursion into the past, where the situation of life and
the internal resources of Dr. Startsev, which led him to Ionych.

In the story, the words are constantly repeated: yet, already, before, now, situations, actions, movements and thoughts are repeated. For example, time leaves its mark on the appearance of Vera Iosifovna; Ivan Petrovich does not change at all, he froze both physically and spiritually. Kotik's relationship with time turned out to be more complicated: both her appearance and inner world are changing, there has been a reassessment of values. She was able to understand her ordinaryness, but her attitude towards Startsev was the same: the desired is taken for real.

Why is it subjected to the greatest test of time the protagonist? Startsev does not stand the test of time,
withstands tests for resistance to the case environment, although he believes that he does not look like ordinary people (Chapter IV: “Startsev has been to different houses and met many people, but did not get close to anyone. The townsfolk irritated him with their conversations, views on life, and even their appearance. And at the end of chapter IV, about the Turkin family: “All this annoyed Startsev. Sitting in a carriage and looking at the dark house and garden, which were so dear to him! and the roads once, he remembered everything at once - and the novels of Vera Iosifovna, and the noisy game of Kotik, and the wit of Ivan Petrovich, and the tragic poses of Pava, and thought that if the most talented people in the whole city are so mediocre, what a city should be).

Did he have the right to such an opinion in chapter 1? Yes. In Chapter 1, the author's attitude to what is happening coincides with Startsev's attitude. He does not experience ecstasy in relation to the Turkins. He has his own ideals, dreams. But in Chapter IV, Startsev loses this right, he distinguishes himself only by inertia. He sees no change in himself. He freezes in time, like Ivan Petrovich's puns. It was during this period of life that Startsev was tested for love. Of the entire flow of time allotted for the life of Startsev (10 years), the author singles out two days, pages from chapters 2-3, where he talks about the love of the hero.

It was during these two days that those properties of nature appeared that could lead him out of the environment of the inhabitants, and those that could not resist ("I have not seen you for a whole week,< … >and if you knew what suffering it is!< … >I haven't heard from you in such a long time." I crave, I long for your voice." “She delighted him with her freshness, the naive expression of her eyes and cheeks ... she seemed to him very smart ... With her he could talk about literature, about art, about anything ... ". And in the same chapter a little further: "... Does it suit him, a zemstvo doctor, an intelligent, respectable person, to sigh ... to do stupid things ...

Where will this novel lead? What will the comrades say when they find out?”). When a person begins to ask such questions, it means that something is not right in the relationship, as it should be, if it is love. And the ending of chapter 2 is not surprising: “I'm tired ... Oh, you shouldn't get fat!”, The chapter is small, but how succinctly it is said about the changes in Dr. Startsev, about the contradictions that have emerged. In chapters 2-3, the author carefully examines the climax associated with the hero's love, because for Chekhov's heroes it is love that often becomes a test of strength, of the title of personality. Love is a way out into the world, because in love a person becomes more attentive to life in general. So the enamored Startsev begins to worry about philosophical questions, the state of the soul. He not only opens the world, but is himself accessible to the world. But the flame goes out.

Who is to blame for the fact that a piece of reason extinguished this light? Ekaterina Ivanovna? Startsev? No. The reason for this is the depletion of feelings. Next to his enthusiastic state are prosaic questions. This prepares the reader for the fact that there will be no harmony. And the repeatability of situations when the characters change roles is also interesting: Startsev - Kotik, Kotik - Startsev. This helps to understand the illusory nature of dreams and reality. Ten years contained the story. And a whole life. If life can be contained in a story, then what is it worth? Now even Ivan Petrovich looks more alive and capable of expressing feelings than Dr. Startsev.

" A.P. Chekhov gave a detailed picture of provincial life, dominated by vulgarity, boredom and hopeless longing. Critics also note that the writer showed a huge discrepancy between ideals and real life.

2. History of creation. With the subtitle "Anton's Tale", the work was first published in Monthly Literary Supplements to the Niva Magazine (No. 9, 1898).

3. The meaning of the name. "Ionych" is the patronymic of the protagonist, Dr. Dmitry Startsev. Such familiar treatment he deserved for several years of medical practice in the city. It ironically alludes to the collapse of the former youthful ideals of the young Startsev.

4. Genre. Story.

5. Theme. main topic works - the victory of the bourgeois way of life over the unrealizable dreams of a young man.

6. Issues. The most educated and talented family in the city turns out to be incredibly boring and annoying in reality. The first love of Dmitry Startsev is rudely trampled on by a spoiled girl who dreams of a career as a great artist. The lofty ideas of Ionych about his work gradually turn into a simple craving for the accumulation of wealth.

7. Heroes. Dmitry Ionych Startsev, the Turkin family (Ivan Petrovich, Vera Iosifovna, Ekaterina Ivanovna).

8. Plot and composition. Dmitry Ionych Startsev was appointed by a zemstvo doctor to a village located not far from a small provincial town. He was immediately advised free time visit the Turkin family, where intelligent people gather. Startsev took the advice. He spent a very pleasant evening. The head of the family joked very witty and told funny stories. His wife was reading a fragment of her novel, and his daughter showed her mastery of the piano.

For about a year, Startsev was swamped with work, and then he received an invitation from Vera Iosifovna. From that time on, he began to visit the Turkin family regularly. Dmitry Ionych realized that he had fallen in love with Ekaterina Ivanovna, who was affectionately called Kotik in the family. Once he managed to retire with her. However, the girl avoided talking and handed Startsev a note, inviting him to the cemetery at midnight.

The main character guessed that this was just a joke. But love made him come at night to the appointed place, where, of course, there was no one. The next day, Startsev proposed to Kotik. The girl thanked her lover, but said that the province did not suit her. She dreams of achieving fame and success, which will prevent family life. Dmitry Ionych was very worried for several days, but after Kotik left for Moscow, he calmed down and stopped visiting the Turkins.

Four years have passed. Startsev became a famous and popular doctor in the city. His income increased, and his circle of interests narrowed to a minimum, consisting mainly in a card game for money. Once he was again invited by the Turkins. Learning that Ekaterina Ivanovna had also arrived, Startsev accepted the invitation. In a private conversation, Kitty admitted that her dreams were stupid.

In the soul of Ionych, the former hopes briefly flared up. But when Ekaterina Ivanovna spoke again about the sublime, he withdrew into himself. The host's jokes and his wife's affair had not changed at all in four years and caused irritation. Startsev left and never visited the Turkins again. Over the years, Startsev gained great prestige in the city. They began to call him Ionych. The doctor had no interests left, except for further enrichment. The Turkins led former life, being considered a talented family, consisting in reality of three mediocrity.

9. What does the author teach? Chekhov shows how dangerous even for an active young man the sucking "petty-bourgeois swamp" can be. Cultural life The Turkins are just a kind of philistinism. Ionych and Kotik part with their ideals, as they have no other choice.

Stories by A.P. Chekhov, despite their brevity, show us the characters so convexly and brightly that they seem quite animated, even familiar to some extent. The main problem of the story "Ionych" is the interaction of personality and environment, society.

And the question is acute. Who will change whom: young Dmitry Startsev - the society in which he fell, or is it his? This is the problem of the story "Ionych".

From the history of literature

This question interested many of our writers. M. Yu. Lermontov, I. A. Goncharov, A. S. Griboyedov, I. S. Turgenev, one way or another, closely studied this topic, which now confronts us as the problematic of the story "Ionych". Is a person capable of changing society, or will its deadening atmosphere absorb all the best that is in a person, and he will come to terms with the inevitable degradation?

First meeting with the Turkins

The novice doctor received an appointment from a zemstvo doctor a few miles from the city of S. in Dyalizh. He worked and did not think about entertainment, but everyone advised him to make acquaintance with the talented Turkin family. One winter he was introduced to the head of the family, but Startsev postponed his visit. And in the spring, on Ascension, on a holiday, having received the sick, Startsev on foot, since he had no horses, went to the city, singing a romance. And then it occurred to him to visit this friendly hospitable family. In parallel with the analysis of the problems posed in the story, we will analyze the story of A.P. Chekhov "Ionych". The owner greeted him with jokes and introduced his wife and daughter. Under the aromas of the upcoming dinner, the hostess began to read her novel about something that never happens in life, but everyone did it calmly and well.

Then the daughter played a tedious but difficult passage on the piano, and Dmitry Ionovich listened with pleasure to the noisy but cultured sounds. At dinner, the host joked a lot, and when it was time for Startsev to return, he went to his place in Dyalizh and hummed another song and did not feel tired. What is this episode about? Only that for the first time the “refined” Turkin family did not seem like a stagnant swamp to the young doctor. The first stage, which touches upon the problems of the story "Ionych", has been successfully passed by the hero: he still loves his work, but is already able to feel comfortable in a house dominated by vulgarity.

In a year

The sexton's son did not visit the Turkins very often. He has already begun to change. He started a couple of horses, a carriage and a coachman, and unexpectedly fell in love with the Turkins' daughter, although in his mind he was already wondering what kind of dowry they would give her. So there is a degradation of the doctor, who is not yet called easily - Ionych. The problematic of the story this case lies in the fact that the doctor has not yet lost his human feelings, but he is already on the verge of losing them. Startsev can still go to the cemetery at night for a date. But he has already embarked on the path from which it is impossible to turn: loving and suffering from unrequited love, he wonders where all this will lead. What will people say if they find out that the respectable man he has become is doing stupid things like a high school student? In addition, outwardly, Startsev began to turn into Ionych: he began to gain weight, but so far this still worries him. So balancing between youth and maturity Ionych. The problematic of the story lies in the metamorphoses that take place with the doctor.

Marriage proposal and rejection

Painfully, but for a short time, only three days, Startsev experiences when the girl refused to become his wife. She went to Moscow, and all love was forgotten instantly. What is the problematic of Chekhov's story? Ionych, like all residents of the city of S., is no longer capable of deep feelings. The romances that he sang when he came here are also forgotten. Poetry leaves his life.

External changes

Four years later, Dr. Startsev acquired a large practice both in Dyalizh and in the city. He has changed outwardly. The doctor became fat, he developed shortness of breath, and he no longer walked.

Now Dimitri Ionovich is the owner of a triple with bells. His coachman has also changed. He, like his master, became fat. The doctor liked to play cards. Entertainment such as theater or concerts ceased to interest him.

Internal changes

Close Startsev did not communicate with anyone. Even the liberal inhabitants of the town annoyed him with their stupidity and viciousness. They listened with irritation to Startsev's talk about the progress of mankind, and objected. And the doctor's words that every person should work were taken as a personal reproach and began to get angry. Therefore, Dmitry Ionovich stopped talking, but only sullenly remained silent, and if he sat down at the table, he ate silently, looking at his plate. So society gradually destroyed Startsev's desire not only to speak, but also to think about progress.

New entertainment

Again at the Turkins

One morning, a letter arrived at the hospital in which Dmitry Ionych Turkins invited him to the mistress's birthday party. The letter had a postscript that the daughter joins the invitation. Startsev thought and went. He found the owner very old. The daughter he was in love with has also changed. There was no former freshness in her, and there was something guilty in her manners. He liked her and didn't like her, and when he remembered his love for her, he felt embarrassed. At the Turkins', the evening went on as usual. The mistress of the house read her new novel, and he annoyed Startsev with his mediocrity. The daughter played the piano noisily and for a long time, and then she herself invited Startsev to go out into the garden for a walk. They sat down on the very bench where he once tried to declare his love, and he remembered all the details, and he became sad, and a light lit up in his soul. He sadly told how dimly passes life. During the day, profit, and in the evening a club with gamblers and alcoholics.

And suddenly Startsev remembered the money, which he counted with pleasure in the evenings, and everything changed in his soul, tenderness disappeared and the thought appeared how good it was that he remained a bachelor. They returned to the house, where everything began to annoy the doctor. A thought flashed through the mediocrity of this very best family in the city, and he did not come to the Turkins again.

Deeper Changes by Dr. Startsev

A few years later, Startsev was no longer just fat. He became obese, began to breathe heavily and walk with his head thrown back. His practice in the city is not just big, it's huge. With the sick, he behaves rudely, and they all endure. He acquired an estate, bought two houses in the city and looked after the third. When he went to inspect a house intended for sale, he behaved in it completely unceremoniously, or, more precisely, in a boorish way.

He entered the house, knocked on the door with a stick and, without saying hello, easily entered the rooms where frightened women and children huddled. This is how the once pure Dr. Startsev became: gloomy and dissatisfied with everything. His changes under the influence of the environment, internal weakness, lack of an ennobling beginning and loss of intelligence are the problems of the story "Ionych". Chekhov mean, but expressive means shows how a person is sucked in by a close society. Startsev is completely alone.

He is always bored, he is not interested in anything. In the evenings he plays cards and dine at the club. There is nothing more to say about him.

Chekhov's work "Ionych" is very bitter and honest. It, like an x-ray, enlightened Dr. Startsev's whole life and diagnosed him as terminally ill. And this disease is contagious. If you live in a shell and only with money, if you do not open yourself to the wide world, then it can amaze anyone.

Prologue

In what year - count

In what land - guess

On the pillar path

Seven men got together...

Seven not at all attached,

In that area abandoned,

Long Abandoned District,

Villages of Nepahano,

From adjacent villages:

Likvidovo, Banditovo,

Driven, Driven,

Kidalovo, Brosalovo,

Omitted too.

They agreed, as of old, - they argued ... -

From the older generation

That one, the Soviet one,

Although from the countryside, -

It has been read...

Read and Nekrasov

Light Nikolay Lyakseecha...

And, as they agreed, they argued

At least take out the saints:

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia?

Roman said: to the farmer,

Now he is for the landowner ...

Yes, to the Duma deputy, -

Demyan said without hesitation,

Luke said - ass,

No, the stupid manager! -

Gubin brothers said

Ivan and Mitrodor.

Well, Pakhom strained

In a tablet beaten looking:

Yes to the fat oligarch

to the lop-eared minister,

Mahmoud said: to the king!

To each his own

The lanes are wandering around:

He went to the car service

Get the piston for the tractor,

And he walked to the track

So that his ancient "Niva"

Already the second day stalled

Taken in tow.

And the third with linden honey

To the gypsy dealer

And two brothers Gubina

In Kidalovo coven,

Pahom - so homeless ...

Mahmoud - he is a clear matter:

Got away from friends

Uzbek countrymen,

Found a Russian wife

And quickly became obsessed

And beget children...

They go to be bold,

Yell - do not calm down,

Like on TV

Gathered on the talk show...

They didn't notice the controversy

How the dark night fell

Still dew combustible,

Yes, the knocker knocked ...

But experienced men

Don't lose heart, dear

They lit a fire, formed,

Two ran for vodka ...

No ent pokedov

You can't, don't ask...

Ate and ate

They drank - but argued:

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia!

Roman yells that the farmer -

Now he is for the landowner!

Yes, to the Duma deputy, -

Demyan screams without rest,

Luke is buzzing - ass,

No, stupid manager! -

The Gubin brothers got stuck,

Ivan and Mitrodor.

Well, Pahom is swaggering,

The tablet is no longer looking:

Yes to the fat oligarch

to the lop-eared minister,

Mahmud yells: to the king!

And the night, the terrible night,

At least gouge out the last eye -

Grabbed in hand-to-hand -

The dark forest hummed!

And no, in a warm office

Sitting at the computer

And Google quietly rummaged

And everything was calmly found out:

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia?

But since antiquity it has been verified

Grandfathers established -

Plenty of cones stuffed! -

What is the truth-womb clean

The Internet doesn't!

It could, of course,

On-line catch and farmer

And to the Duma deputy

Write in email

And to the fat manager

Go to the site with a question

Ass in contact to calculate

And even in the oligarch

With clever hackers

Organize a ministerial...

But there's no chance here

What can unsubscribe!

King? At the press conference

For all Russia it is allowed

Ask your questions...

And we are silent about the answer!

Having waved at a difficult matter,

To this virtual

Not at all masculine

Men decided:

As it used to be in the old days

Walk, take a walk

Where by hitchhiking, by train,

And where is the peshkodalchik

For Mother Russia!

And the tablecloth is samobranochka ...

As in a fairy tale - we do not need!

What kind of fairy tales...

Until fairy tales now ...

You go from mountain to hill -

You will find both a house and a crust,

And drinks and snacks

And this is my God!

alcohol, solvents,

various dyes,

rocket launchers,

Where's the cologne...

And how is it, at Nekrasov's

Everything is beautifully painted

Painted, painted:

What, they say, a pood of bread,

Yes, a bucket of vodka

Yes, in the morning - cucumbers,

Yes, at noon would be on a jug

cold kvass,

And in the evening by the teapot,

Such as Sukhov's ...

Reading - drooling -

Pour and serve:

Oh what fun it was

Feel free in Russia!

That life was a collective farm,

That life was Soviet,

Soviet "stagnant" -

With wide feasts -

Here are self-assemblies of the century!

You a hole from the lamb -

We wound up self-made

They stole ... the land was sold

And they rented it out!

They fought with the urks,

Then the Chinese with the Turks

Not rye will be sown with buckwheat

(And there's nothing to eat here...)

And not oats with wheat,

And rice with beans, yes with soy,

Or maybe hemp...

And then on arable land

Godfathers came in large numbers -

cottage villages,

Forests, fields, lakes

They put up a fence!

And the rest of the men

Hired as guards

And a homeless brother

Chasing from the gate...

Still on arable land

factories built,

Foreign iron

Free to collect.

Their factories are broken

Long since razed to the ground

And from other people's profits

Sailing across the ocean!

But - work places,

They are very eager

For just three pennies

There are men out there...

And what would be for the Fatherland -

Yes, there is nothing right:

Yes, only smoke and slag! -

Tajik is there like a donkey ...

But it's south... north

Where the field is full of clover

The river of milk flowed,

Yes, sour ... and now

Not heard in the plowman's field,

The fields are not plowed at all:

All the youth have gone

Let the men sleep.

Forests standing in the fields,

Harvesters are like lizards

Rust to the south,

As in the ancient Yura.

So we are without self-branching ...

Already we are on restructuring

endured this,

What God forbid!

Let's fix the old Niva

And we'll sit down the old fashioned way,

And let's get in all the way!

They said they got down to business:

Jets in the carburetor

Blowed out, poured oil -

In the box - vegetable oil,

And the tar is in the salen block.

Yes, the valves have been debugged,

You look - and earned,

grunted, snorted,

She blew black smoke...

Everyone exhaled, grunted

And the whole company got in ...

She is twice as much

Known inside...

And got in... and went

And they go to Russia ...

Gasoline sometimes runs out -

Get birch sap

Moonshine will be added...

And if downhill -

That is without gasoline at all -

Roads are free

In abundance in Russia!

Everywhere the Niva is old,

Battered and rusty

Passes - oh-oh-oh!

And if it happens somewhere

There is a Mirgorod puddle,

Which wide

And the goldeneye is rare, really,

Will fly again...

In which pikes are found,

Whales are sometimes born

And then - enemy submarines

They pop up at night...

They give gas - and with a walker ...

And if they sit in a puddle,

That's seven men -

Harnessed to the tow...

Or just taken out by handles,

Put on the path

And... rolling again.

Chapter 1

About the peasant's share

Spoken and sung

And more - drunk ...

Why should we ask the peasants:

Baffle, bewilder,

Throw questions,

Care, mow...

Not yet at work

I don’t want to tell tales,

Although in my soul I leave,

And yet not for him...

No days off at the construction site

Works for seven

And seven of us in the trailer

Construction site lives...

And there they chew and wash,

Erase, pray to God,

So that they are laid off

Do not accidentally fall

Since the competition

The mouth hangs over them.

In our wagons

twelve millionaires

(And how many in the cellars

The same illegals!)

Live freely, have fun

On Mother Russia.

Gave them an apartment

Or at least a communal apartment

Soviet power...

Yes, even before the revolution

Rented work room

In the basement, but with the family!

And the population multiplied...

As now - it didn’t cuddle ...

And then he could not -

Went with children and wives

And different icons

And others to the king...

And the then king, father,

Son-in-law to the German kings

Bang from rifles, -

Thank you for that! -

So that the kids do not go

With icons to the king!

They asked for a little:

So-and-so on trifles

And a day, no more

Well, ten o'clock...

Now even more

They work. humbly

They sit in their wagons

And to where - no, no!

And so that, as in the Soviet

Epoch - seven hours...

Forgotten about it

And filled with cement

Silence about this

And hooked teeth...

Who else should we ask

Men laughed...

Clearly, not a serviceman

Soldier not shy

Who serves the Motherland,

And remember tomorrow!

Politics - squalor:

Hot spots - many

And it's good if mothers

Two hundred cargo will be brought ...

And not to the black miner

Ile mountain hard worker,

Or just, brothers, to the welder -

What is there - I'm silent!

They are mired in inertia...

Yes, what is there, even in space, -

For no money

I won't fly myself! -

Live, is it fun

Free in the sky?..

Not to ask them, of course.

About happiness in Russia.

That's how they roll

Sing, sin and repent,

In general, they philosophize

As usual:

Our paths are right

We have endless work

And stray from the cause of the right

Never destined...

Yes, here you shave with an awl,

And maybe you hope

And where are you going

From this track!

Is it uphill or downhill -

One way we go

And all around...

As long as they argued

Look: the car is new

Stuck in a rut...

In the car of this father

The surrounding village...

Trusting in God

Got in a Mercedes...

And here in our area

UAZ is needed, it means ...

UAZ God will not give out,

UAZ pig will not eat!

Kruchin's father is sitting,

And the tractors don't seem...

Gone somewhere in the past

Especially - Belarus ....

Here the men came -

They hooked it up at once, pulled it

And they pulled out the father

Entirely mud!

And as it should

Nekrasov is written

It's been planned in my heart for a long time

They asked the question:

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia?

After all, we fought here,

Take out the saints...

Roman considers: a farmer,

He seems to be for the landowner ...

Demyan, that the deputy

Luka again - ass,

No, the stupid manager! -

Gubin brothers interpret,

Ivan and Mitrodor.

Well, Pakhom with a tablet, -

He with his plot:

Like, a fat oligarch,

to the lop-eared minister,

Mahmud repeats: to the king!

Respond to us with mercy

Respond to us honestly

And if anything - I'm sorry:

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia?

What is happiness according to you?

Peace, wealth, honor...

At the rural father's

Do not count everything...

Although anything happens

Others and with "chambers",

They take without "knowing honor"...

My Soul Hurts? - So we know...

Listen to confession...

Such soul-destruction

overseas series...

And then they will come and "donate"

Cursed bandits:

Don't take it, but take it!

As long as the temple is rebuilt -

What you can't burn.

And how do you build, build,

Here is the translation

In Kidalovo, Brosalovo,

Where is this people...

Where to rebuild everything again -

And so - what year!

And with a grandmother's penny

There will be no turn...

And a mature man,

Well, like you, robbers,

Walking around God's temple...

So how can you be saved

And we interrupt

And between two rush

Distant shores:

Old women and thieves?..

To be saved is the right thing, -

The Gubin brothers said, -

Let's move around

Here is this ancient Niva

For a new Mercedes!

She is miserable -

This ignition:

Will it fade, will it fade

Not how much we ride

How much we drag ...

And your crossover

They would travel all over Russia at once, -

Don't slow down here -

And instantly recognized, recognized

Who is having fun.

Feel free in Russia...

And what about me, dear ones,

My arrival is not small,

There, here I wander,

And then they will call to the lord,

So, go to the city!

And you are on our Nivushka.

It is soul-saving

And everywhere passing...

And the priest is ruling

Does he recognize me?

Lord have mercy on you

The Lord recognizes the meek...

The Lord is high

And sponsoring deputies

Can't see far...

On the Niva you will roll up to them, -

So total lapel

From the very gates...

What's from the crossserver window,

Even if you cut two axles,

You don't know, you don't see

What is there, in Russia!

Well, it didn't happen anyway.

That car, Soviet

to the new German

Change guys...

Yet they bowed

And kissed the pen,

And everyone is blessed

Keep the path far

Since a foreign car

By Craft as a gift ...

After all, neither Nissan nor Lexia,

Neither complete set

Can't cancel

Holy grace...

Yarmonka

Well, how can we do without a fair,

Well, how about without a party

In the village of the great Prahovo

The men are walking...

There are girls with laughter

Some with fur, some with holes,

Yes, half the world has gathered here:

Walk, so walk.

Well, right here we find out

That's right, let's try

Well, for sure - let's get to the bottom -

Who do not ask:

Who's having fun

Feel free in Russia!

They go to the market

They go to the main square -

How many are traded here

Nothing to trade! -

And how many are dabbling here

Appreciate and pout...

Ride, kiss

And they dance - do not appease ...

"Tatarga-matatarga -

daring fair

With frisky dancers,

Mostly sober…”

Yes, sober only until the time -

Get rid of the burden

Pocket coppers...

Our habit is Russian,

The path is narrow

Yes, we are talking about that

Let's not help...

Everything is well described there.

Our Nekrasov! -

All the marketplace is a disgrace,

Everything is a shambles...

All roam-lu-li!

And dancers with harmonies -

Not a little came in large numbers,

Already Indo from America

Walking with a harmonica:

Good-bye, my dear girl, good-bye!

I go to Alabama...

And my love story have the end

Goodbye dear

I'm off to Alabama!

Might be the last time

On you taram-there-there.

I was in Oklahoma

I stenciled the container.

Oklahoma jumped -

I didn't even notice...

I found my wife

On the New Floundland Peninsula...

This is and this is

Glory to you Lord!

We are New York girls

We are nayanki!

We won't disappear anywhere

Not at any party!

We are the Chicago boys

We are hedgehog guys!

If someone touches Chicago -

Shiny knives.

Our banjo played

I put a cent for twenty-five:

Come out to the octagon, -

Ours will endure again!

The banjo rang loudly:

I'll give you twenty-five cents.

Our little gang

Hooted again.

Living in Washington is not bad

Not life, but simply paradise!

Tired of kerosene, -

Prick and sunbathe!

Oh, my mother-in-law

Give me a hangover!

Your plastic cat

So it doesn't move!

Oh, son-in-law you, my son-in-law,

Something I can't believe:

Under Kansas Man

Everyone moves!

Past mother-in-law's blog

I don't go without jokes

Then I’ll drop something in the email,

I'll show you in touch!

And the local harmonists,

Russian harmonists

Of course, they respond

Try to keep:

You are a man, you are a man

Rusty car...

I thought to jump for a century -

The spring broke...

Perestroika passed,

The shootout has begun...

To conduct a roll call -

There is not a shish left!

mortgage, mortgage,

What have you done!

Impotent man

Done instantly!

Raise, bastards, minimum wage,

And people keep dying and dying...

What are you raising?

And you are not allowed to eat!

Harmonist, harmonist,

Purple erysipelas:

Oh, trouble, trouble, trouble -

Only because of Etova!

The ditties rang for a long time

And with pictures like this:

Earned a half

And they drank to the penny.

So the old beggar woman

There is nothing left to drop:

Druzhka from the friend removed the shavings -

It made my heart feel better...

Yes, how is it with Nekrasov,

At Nikolai Lyakseich, -

We have strayed from the truth

And lost the thread...

Write poems, it's -

Plow and harrow:

“It’s not the violent winds that blow,

Not mother earth sways -

Noises, sings, swears,

sways, rolls,

Fighting and kissing

The people are on holiday!”

Two centuries have passed

What has changed...

The people are noticeably at a loss

And drinks for the missing...

And for a long time they called:

"who are happy,

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia!

But everyone around was laughing:

“Who, they say, have read,

Burnt, what have you got ...

Who do not ask here -

Laugh without measure fun

Freely in Russia! .. "

Farmer

There is an old KAMAZ

The man in the shoulders is not small

Potatoes and beets

Thinking of trading...

His trade is brisk

He himself flies in threes,

The very one that

Where are you flying, they say, Russia?

Came - not dusty

Come and bow down

Seven burly men.

He knocked on his knees

He shook a little

And the crown of the head itched

(Let's write better - temyachko)

That farmer...

In an apron, in a robe,

With hidden "traumatic"

Yes, you can barely grab -

When there are seven

Fit randomly.

Ten he is not timid,

He is not fragile,

But there were so many

Can't describe in verse

And do not rhyme -

Since only "mother" ...

But the men bowed

And hats off

And then shared

History is simple:

We ourselves, - apparently read, -

Agreed, - so God counted, -

And here we carry our cross -

Seven completely restless,

From the realm of the Forsaken

Long Abandoned District,

Villages of Nepahano,

From adjacent villages:

Likvidovo, Banditovo,

Driven, Driven,

Kidalovo, Brosalovo,

Omitted too.

Agreed, as of old, - argued -

Well, just like Nekrasov

Light Nikolay Lyakseecha...

Agreed and argued

At least take out the saints:

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia?

Roman considers: a farmer,

You're like a landlord...

Demyan, that the deputy

Luke insists - ass,

No, the stupid manager! -

Gubin brothers interpret,

Ivan and Mitrodor.

Well, Pahom is forgetful

A little mumbling inconsistently:

Like, a fat oligarch,

to the lop-eared minister,

Mahmud his: to the king!

Answer us according to your conscience ... -

After all, there is no sadder story -

What to ask, inquire:

I don't want to tempt fate

No matter how you squint your eyes ... -

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia?

Let me be the landowner

But you look at things

And judge for yourself

Do I have fun

Feel free in Russia!

I'll start from a long time ago

And I will tell you

About the family tree -

Whatever there is...

My great-grandfather is in the local parish

Walked properly in the elders ...

That was under the landowners,

That was under the kings...

At the master's clerk,

Epic, storyteller

And at the parish was listed

Psalmist, reader...

Pious breed...

And after the king gave freedom, -

He is a milling business

For eight suppliers

Started here. Nekrasov himself

Came here...

I won't lie - maybe

I wrote off Yermila from him,

Or maybe not from him.

And my grandfather said by the way

(Is he telling a fairy tale!)

What was in the Mazai family ...

Like rivers flowing into the sea

Smoke rises to the sky...

Revolutions broke out

Reamers, resolutions,

Citizen - God save! -

Russia moved from the axis ...

And here we almost healed

Feel free in Russia...

The land was rich

There is no order, no way ...

And so collective farms

We changed the combo...

But the enemy of the native hut

He came and robs, burns ...

"The earth, you see, is rich ..." -

And the terrible "ordung" awaits!

Through all the steppes and tracts

Growing up - so-so-so!

Father left the tractor

And moved to the tank.

For Russia, for Stalin they shouted

Near Leningrad and Moscow

“The tanks rumbled across the field,

The soldiers went to the last battle ...

A blank hit the armor,

Farewell dear crew ... "

And what will remain of the tank -

You won't give a penny on market day!

And what will happen from the tanker ...

But man is stronger than armor...

And so they converged in a clean field

They and us, we and them...

Father burned four times

"It burned, it burned, but it didn't burn!"

And death, fascist infection,

I've taken aim many times...

Changed drives and tracks

And they sang, looking at the dawn:

“They say, in the next attack

I will definitely burn…”

But apparently the ancestors prayed -

And a flour miller and a grain grower, -

Grinded, grinded

And Hitler was driven into a coffin ...

Why all this song?

Think and ask...

Riding home in wagons

Legless cripples,

But they breathed fun

Feel free in Russia...

Oh, how fun it was to breathe

Feel free in Russia!

Father of the call of the first

Came from the war with medals

For courage with medals,

But without a hand...

Him to us on a lorry

Brought with respect...

Was elected chairman

Worked with mother

She is then a milkmaid,

The girl was...

Stoves with pipes stuck out

And into these pipes are rough

At night the wind sang...

They broke, hunched,

The village was raised - to the city

Support that village!

Legless - wagons,

Fed by echelons,

Who robbed - the one from the pay and ...

And our dad is without a hand

Plowed for four ...

But what would be bitter to try -

No-no, no-no, no-no!

Although I went to the chiefs,

And mother in silence -

Cans for handles and

Loaded milk...

Bottomless cans

Forty liters each ... tons

Doi, drain, drag,

Yes, just do not crack!

And gave birth to six of us -

That's it, ordered the Motherland!

And yet, who ordered it?

The Russian soul asked

Our plain is sad,

Where the lark sang...

I was born last...

The latter is not a freak ...

That year with the Father of Nations

Farewell to all the people ...

And our collective farm is under the father,

Everything else was an example -

By that time it was listed as:

Kolkhoz-millionaire!

Yes, it was under the Union and

Have you planted corn?

They poisoned the pesticide...

But still, still, still

Still not bad lived

Not bad in Russia

Lord save us all!

And now, according to the restructuring

Thirty years have passed

Our order is in threes

Gone... and hello!

The earth is the same

There is no order, how not!

Yes, brothers, in the nineties,

When the brothers are hungry, -

Well, right, as in the Civil, -

Well, almost with clippings,

I walked through the fields...

And that's not how we were robbed,

How do these loans

The bankers are ripping us off...

The lads are now in the collectors -

The collector is pretty cool!

From that and instead of Burushka, -

We cut them long ago! -

Australian horse meat

Now they are being taken to Russia ...

Yes, here's the left sausage

From soy, palm oil,

And also GMOs.

And there is no meat

And there is no hearing

But here - a hundred varieties -

For a hundred hungry mouths!

Why did this happen?

Since capital

Invisible poison

Soaked all souls...

And what is going on in the state -

Not what is needed

For the Russian peasant

And what to the young lady ...

Let everyone die of cancer -

The bourgeois would not gasp -

For them, Mother Russia -

Raw material...

Population

Goes downsizing

Around one "pragmatics"

And there is no love for people ...

On this one on "pragmatics"

According to the market "mathematics"

The village was just abandoned

The industry has been demolished!

Again comes illiteracy

Orphanhood, unemployment,

Just like before the revolution

But here's the problem:

Then - the ancient era! -

Needed a village

The grain was exported

And wait - they pump gas!

That's why with "pragmatics"

According to market dogma

A man like a worker

No one needs...

And to cover up the case -

To our Soviet system

They pour such a tub,

So, hemorrhoids...

Like, half the country was sitting,

And the floor, they say, in the guards ...

Although, in fact

Sitting even less

Under those leaders...

And what exactly, brothers -

I won't surprise you

Swear, so swear -

That's why I love Russia!

Now half the country is trading,

And half the country is stealing

And the same - in the watchmen

Under the current leaders!

Yes, let it be with the Tatars,

Under the prince under any,

Although under Ivan the Terrible,

When building a fortress ...

What about the collective farm ... The main thing is

It would be a nice job!

And then they took it, threw it away,

And the general good...

After all, not everyone has a kulak

There is a gut.

And our land was sold -

Look for her, fist!

And here we sit at the Motherland,

How fistulas are on the navel!

All the youth have gone

Yes, the old man slept -

Russia covered with holes

And now everything is a draw!

We need a chairman

And the Stalinist collective farm ...

And Borka ... he is a traitor

Threw everyone down the drain...

And behold, they are in trouble all around,

They steal, drink and burn...

They burned my first tractor...

What kind of "zer gut" is there!

...........................

And me with my sausage

Ran into the market...

Well, well, amused by a fairy tale,

Well, served!

And then they bowed:

Have mercy and save!

We have seen all this

Feel free in Russia!

peasant woman

But even though it was not listed -

Babye! - in the beginning list,

But as you, right, remember -

After all, they are men! -

Not everything is between men... -

Roman said thoughtfully...

Find a happy

Demyan continued affectionately,

And the Gubins finished:

Let's touch the grandmother!

As thought, so said

As said, so done

But the question is who?...

And really, who to ask...

Not a dilapidated switch,

Which with coiled

Checkbox here on the step

Meets trains...

We're rolling in a car

She's in a hutch

Shed her age.

The barrier goes down -

Walks to bargain:

The salary is not great

And the kids in the city...

Comes with radishes in spring

And with onions, and with salad,

Then with a garden berry,

Then comes the mushrooms.

Chanterelles, milk mushrooms, mushrooms,

Oily, boletus,

And then a boletus!

There are few buyers...

Where are the helpers...

And I can't see my husband...

In winter, waving a crowbar

Ice breaks at the crossing and

With a whisk, with a shovel

In your seclusion

The age of women will live ...

The frenzied train rushed by

And in the windows everything is blocky ... -

But this song is sung...

Let's talk about this...

The barrier rises:

Bye Bye,

We drove...

We drove, we drove -

Here is the regional city

Spread over the hills

Arched along the river

With extinct factories

With great trumpets

In which there is not a haze!

During the Batev era

He is glorified,

In the age of John

And in the Troubled Ages.

Here the ancestors partisans

And even the Bonaparte

They were not taken prisoner by a miracle ...

And partisan again

In recent times

And the iron Wehrmacht

Broken back here.

Well, the factories are glorious,

Built under Stalin

Known all over Russia -

What to talk about...

Well, in general, the name of the city,

You can drop it here.

And what happened to him, glorious, ...

Again Batu marched

Ile Hitler with the Bonaparte

Made a parade...

No, what is it -

They would be uncovered instantly

And turned into smoke!

There's something a little harsher here.

Tunguska meteorite

Or an ancient plague...

City, famous in chronicles

miraculous transformation

Turned around nonetheless

In a continuous flea market -

People poke each other

Last sell...

Inflate, steal, snatch...

And yet our wanderers -

Until the women are now eager, -

Question to ask, of course -

No more...

To recognize and find out

To reveal the truth to the world:

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia!

They look - a beauty rides

And become staunch slender,

Like in a fairy tale - high chest,

And the hair is dyed... -

Well, I don't know what.

It's just a white swan

Millionaire's wife

Escaped from the guards

Decided to walk...

And so they dared

Laugh, get angry:

Forgive me, - they shout, - beauty,

Wait, wait!

We bow down to you,

And we ask: no offense

Our difficult dilemma

The problem is reckless

Take it and decide! -

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia!

The girl stumbled

Turned on them

Confused, confused

And her gaze faded...

And sat down on a bench

Sat down in front of a bar...

And it's pasted on the pole

And on the pole it says:

"Luba, Nadia, Vera,

cottage, sauna, love,

Twenty four hours,

Natasha, Masha, Dasha

And Sonya Marmeladova ... "

All pillars are marked

On all the pillars,

And, in general, there is nothing to do -

The men were silent:

They are a seasoned people

But so what! - out of hand...

Well, what will I answer you

By honor and conscience,

That there is no sadder story -

In order not to divorce you -

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia...

I also ran to school

Haven't known trouble yet

I played with the boys

At the dance and then...

I'm addicted to smoking

And I learned to drink

And after the first drink

Pulled onto the mattress...

Oh, one more time

Many, many more times...

Better forty times a time

Than once - forty times ...

How did you finish school

I do not remember. Like a doctor

I cleaned up for the third time.

And I hear: "Never!"

And I wanted love

I wanted a baby

Without a husband, even a child -

It's not my will...

Then I cried for a long time

I wanted to run away to my grandmother

Village forever.

Yes, my grandmother is dead

Deserted village

And you're not going anywhere

From the word: "Never!"

My friend Lyubochka -

So miserable -

Moved to Moscow a long time ago

Dispel sadness-longing:

To Moscow, to Moscow, to Moscow...

And there provincial women -

Natalkam and Tamarochkam:

Panel, panel. Panel...

And there she is a good fellow

Arranged a trip

And took out the red girl

In a sky-high brothel...

I'm here at least with a passport,

I work in my homeland

I cry to the procuress

Yes to the local cop...

And there she got

Remained a slave

And the third year from Lyubochka -

At least SMS!

I'm alive now - I don't know

In what country - I do not know

Or maybe there is no Lyubochka -

Save her Lord!

And there was little vodka, -

After all, soberly try

Lie down on a mattress...

Oh, one more time

Many, many more times...

Better forty times a time

Than once - forty times ...

...................................

And I started smoking

And there is money - tingle,

And what will they give - to sniff,

But they won't give it - so - so ...

And there was a time before

In our green city

And they were, as in Ivanovo,

We are the city of brides!

But our factory was sold,

But it's all ruined

They destroyed our whole life -

What is there to say...

Laughed: "Komsomol"!

In a short tee...

Well, now they're gone...

Around the constitution

freedom of prostitution

Unemployment everywhere

And the poor - just darkness -

Take care of them all

Both zone and prison.

Our constitution

Rowing not according to the instructions:

All options and features

Offshore, restitution

(all the same - prostitution!)

They damage us.

Our constitution

Since the bourgeois revolution ...

And tears are flowing and...

And money - for cordon!

And here it is glued around:

Love love love,

Cottage, love and sauna

And even barbecue!

But kebabs and stuff -

After all, this is not about us:

We have a strict diet.

They give us doping.

Where to go - to the marketplace?

A cashier at a supermarket?

The last cleaner?

So it's already busy

Tajik, Uzbek,

And also a man!

Where is this seen:

The man at the checkout clicks...

Pinned the man!

And I want to eat, I want to eat...

And the output is on the panel ...

I'm standing at the restaurant:

Oh don't sing, don't sing, don't sing!

Marry late, die early,

Goodbye dear!

But there would be a factory,

Yes, I would work there!

winder, knitter,

Yes, even in OTC ...

I would be a Komsomol, -

What an anguish! -

Yes, I'm sure I'd marry

My man was not from the "roof"

And let him beat and drink,

But only would be, was!

And the pioneer kids

We would play rackets

But this story is amazing.

It hardly comes back ... -

Listen to the poor thing

Well, give it a puff... -

And the men fumbled

And mint Belomorina

She pulls ten hands ...

Since the Gubin brothers,

Pomeranian consent -

Don't smoke, for the life of me!

I'll ask you boys

Where does it all go

Why did it all give up

Did you succeed according to Daless? ..

And how is Dimidushka

Pig, Mad Mammon

Fed - I don’t know mail! -

Stupid grandfather?!

Yes, I know, I know - a sinner,

Burn me in hell, fry,

I pray to God fervently

When I'm not drunk!..

Yes, I know - do not lather:

"Cottage, love and sauna" -

There are no washcloths!

But who lives vile,

Where I had no choice...

Where by force, where by vodka

They dragged me onto the mattress...

Oh, one more time

Many, many more times...

Better forty times a time

Than once - forty times ...

.......................

So who's vile life

Built all this around

"Freedom" cursed,

Like a millstone

Tied around your neck?

And now I'm diagnosed

Remained unemployed.

And at twenty-eight

I sit and wait for the end...

Well, why are you sad?

Well, they hung their noses

Now you see for yourself -

Lord save you all! -

How am I having fun...

And who is fun to live with

Feel free in Russia! -

Here the men are downcast

They threw off their hats in front of her:

Sorry for the demand, my dear,

Don't blame us fools! -

Scored that there are little things -

She hasn't accepted yet.

Didn't take any...

Well, here's another, started:

It's not about women

Happy looking.

Do you remember Nekrasov,

Our school program, -

What did the woman say to them...

You need to know the program:

"I'm not trampled with my feet,

Not tied with ropes

Not pierced with needles...

What else do you want?

And I'm trampled in every way -

Not the first night to the master,

A thousand and one!

And knitted and crucified

And how the veins are stabbed -

Come and have a look!

........................

Go to the farmer

(Let him go for the landowner!)

Yes, to the Duma deputy,

Yes, even to the priest,

Let the stupid manager

Or to the fat oligarch,

to the lop-eared minister,

Or maybe the king!

That's what you need to ask them -

Even bite your elbow, -

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia!..

Tsar

And here's the last chapter

Last, cherished

Now we find out

We'll get to the truth...

Let's get to the bottom and find out

According to Father Nekrasov,

According to Gogol, according to Gorky,

According to Fyodor Mikhailych,

Yesenin, Platonov,

According to Sholokhov, well ...

According to Shukshin, Vampilov,

Vysotsky, Rubtsov,

Or with your mind...

Let's find out and calculate

And we'll understand everything about everything

No more arguing

Didn't argue, didn't argue

And every person

I would have learned for a century:

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia!

Even if you fall off the shelf at midnight,

So ask right now

That would be clearly minted -

Don't shake your throat

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia!

So that in the alley with a knife -

Oh, God save! -

And here we would not hesitate,

"Who lives happily,

Feel free in Russia!

And I'll remind you the version

Pokedova one:

Roman yelped there: to the farmer,

Like, a farmer for a landowner ...

Yes, to the Duma deputy, -

Demyan said without hesitation,

Luke said - ass,

No, stupid manager! -

Gubin brothers said

Ivan and Mitrodor.

Well, Pakhom strained

Pointing at the tablet with his hands:

Yes to the fat oligarch

to the lop-eared minister,

Mahmoud said: to the king!

Our dear king, father,

Doesn't know the truth...

And he knew, dear,

Just like sleeping...

And the men went

Leaving the Niva old

In the bushes behind the roundabout,

In order not to get to the traffic cops,

That is, to the gibedeshniks, -

Have no insurance...

Nothing on the paw

Give the kids...

They went, as usual,

On foot, supposedly

Entered the Mother See

Under the May chime ...

And then they died...

Here their traces are lost,

Well, just like Ivanovich

Cheerful person:

"A man came out of the house

With a rope and a bag ... "

And then seven of them went

And not even on foot.

........................

To the Abandoned Province

Long Abandoned District,

Villages of Nepahano,

To these villages:

Likvidovo, Banditovo,

Driven, Driven,

Kidalovo, Brosalovo,

Omitted the same

Nobody comes back...

Nobody to catch up

Catch-catch

And make no noise.

One Andrei Vadimovich

Didn't compose, didn't invent -

Looked with one eye

And briefly wrote...

“What I didn’t see, I don’t know,

I didn’t hear - I don’t print ...

What's in the line

Don't take that! -

This is how it was written

Fell off the pen

Who has fun

Feel free in Russia!

And pity the men

Remembering their labors, -

Let's all be well...

And yet, what they did not see -

Let's keep quiet, let's not lie ...

Maybe they didn't die

The sinners did not disappear ...

It wasn't like that,

For the man to disappear!

Were there such rati,

Such a plutocracy

And even - democracy -

He outsmarted everyone!

Beaten by serfs,

Peter twisted into ropes,

Not killed in Grazhdanka,

Past collective farm...

They fused the fascists

They melted down the Reichstag

And they were sent into space:

Let's go, no problem!

What are they going to do now

And each of us hopes

What does this glomerulus have

Tail untangled...

And what disappeared?

So it's a disguise

How creepy those roads are

In which now ...

There's a clever trick

The enemy is always waiting...

Or maybe Putin

Who knows in advance! -

stuck in the office

And they drink tea in a bite

And they talk about life...

Who's having fun

So he and get off!

Epilogue

I don't judge without time

Departed Nekrasov,

He lived like Raskolnikov

On the top floor...

Loved Mother Russia

And I carried the pain in my soul ...

"Come out to the Volga,

Whose groan is heard

Over the great Russian river?

We call this moan a song ...

That barge haulers wander towed ... "

To Russia unwashed

He looked like a prison...

"To whom, to whom?" - inquired...

He replied: "No one!"

I also came up with Grishenka,

Which song is new

Over Rusya composed ...

He is happy in the end

Walked over the Volga ...

Its central Vladimirsky

Waiting with this song...

Let me not live as a monk,

Didn't make a single stake...

But I would not write again

Everything that Nicholas ...

What has changed...

Yes, in general - nothing!

We dreamed of the commune...

But now she's not there...

Trading souls again

And Chichikov the scoundrel...

Again around bureaucrats

Strangled new growth...

What else would you add...

Already accepted the cross - carry:

Since then, life is fun

Feel free in Russia...

It's so fun to live

Laugh, well, to tears ...

And these ... if released -

Send them to Davos:

That's where they find out

Answers to the question...

Payment instructions (opens in a new window) Yandex.Money donation form:

Other ways to help

Comments 43

Comments

43. Lucia : Reply to 35., Silvio63:
2018-01-14 at 15:02

That's better, have a laugh

You won't surprise anyone with madness in Russia. But if someone can be surprised by something in Russia, then this is a new degree of insanity. This in Russia never ceases to amaze.

Russian life, at least Russian life of the 20th century, was created by lunatics for lunatics. Created well. Created strong. Created for a long time. The crazy people who created it are no longer there. There are no those crazy people for whom it was created. But the madness remains.

I seem to have done a lot of good for Russia; I unraveled the code of madness that encoded Russian life. I am not a populist. In vain I will not fool the Russian people, exhausted by madness. I didn't crack the code of madness. But I found the point from which madness radiates in all directions, atoms, cells and millimeters of Russian life.

This point is Russian literary criticism.

It all started with Belinsky. Belinsky is our all Russian madness. For some reason, it is believed that our everything is Pushkin. But this is not true. This untruth was invented by those who wanted to hide the truth about Belinsky and about the point of insanity.

Belinsky was accidentally released from the lunatic asylum. It happened on December 14, 1825. Security went to the defense Winter Palace from the Decembrists. Therefore, on that day, the lunatic asylum was guarded random people. They did not know who Belinsky was. That he had crazy parents. That he is crazy from birth. That the madhouse is his homeland. That he was born and raised in a madhouse. That under no circumstances should he be let out of the lunatic asylum. Therefore, they believed Belinsky when he said that he would only leave the lunatic asylum for half an hour. Stroll along the Moika embankment. And then immediately back to the lunatic asylum.

He has not returned back.

The Rotoseevs, who released Belinsky from the lunatic asylum, were beaten with gauntlets. Then they were hanged together with the Decembrists. Then they were exiled to life hard labor in Siberia. And Belinsky, while he was being caught, managed to write several “Reviews state of the art Russian literature” and become a literary critic.

Belinsky was tormented by demons all his life. They went inside Belinsky at his birth. Demons are feminine. One demon was called Morality. The other is Spirituality. The third is the Natural School. Fourth - The need to overthrow the monarchy in Russia. The demons haunted Belinsky day and night. Belinsky himself was not happy with these demons and wanted to get rid of them. But there was no exorcist. Belinsky had only one way to get rid of his demons - to transfer them to someone else. For example, Russian writers.

Belinsky agreed with Pushkin to transfer his demons to him. Almost already passed. But Pushkin caught himself in time, wrote the poem “God forbid I go crazy” and, in order not to accept his demons from Belinsky, died in a duel. Then Belinsky agreed with Lermontov. But Lermontov also managed to die in a duel and get away from the demons of Belinsky. Then Belinsky agreed with Dostoevsky. But Dostoevsky was also afraid to take his demons from Belinsky. Therefore, Dostoevsky, in order to be as far away from Belinsky and his demons as possible, went to exile in Kazakh steppes. Only Gogol was not afraid to take demons from Belinsky. Gogol was generally the most courageous man among Russian writers. But then Gogol got scared too. Belinsky could not forgive Gogol for this, he wrote a frankly unfair "Letter to Gogol" and gave all of himself to be torn to pieces by his demons.

Dobrolyubov had fewer demons than Belinsky. There were only two of them. And they were male. One demon was called Real Day. The other is a Ray of Light. Dobrolyubov, his demons also interfered with his life. But Dobrolyubov did not give up. He wrote articles about demons "A ray of light in dark kingdom” and “When will the real day come”, so that the demons through the articles come out of it. The Ray of Light has indeed come out. But True Day still didn't come out. The real day remained with Dobrolyubov inside.

I don't know what happened to Pisarev. Pisarev himself did not know this either. Pisarev had no demons. But Pisarev had a voice. Apparently, Pisarev was struck by lightning at birth. Therefore, Pisarev was haunted all his life by a voice that told him that boots were higher than Pushkin. In the end, my mother revealed to Pisarev his secret. There was lightning at the birth of Pisarev. But she did not hit Pisarev. She got into the portrait of Pushkin. The portrait hung in the hallway of the Pisarevs just above the boots of the obstetrician, who was taking delivery from Pisarev's mother. After a lightning strike, Pushkin's portrait fell under his boots. So the boots turned out to be higher than Pushkin. But Pisarev did not believe his mother. It seemed to Pisarev that lightning had hit him after all.

With Chernyshevsky everything was standard for a Russian critic. There are no voices there. Only demons. Two, neuter. Impatience and Democracy. But Chernyshevsky defeated his demons. The demons constantly tormented Chernyshevsky with the question “What to do? What to do?”, and Chernyshevsky mimicked them with the question “Who is to blame? Who is guilty?". The demon Impatience could not stand such a mockery and left Chernyshevsky. But the demon Democracy remained in Chernyshevsky. Then Chernyshevsky imitated the preparation of the revolution. Chernyshevsky was sentenced to life imprisonment in Siberia. Chernyshevsky calculated everything correctly. In Siberia, the demon Democracy could not stand the Siberian cold and there, inside at Chernyshevsky, he froze. Then Chernyshevsky lived quietly - without demons.

Until 1917, demons remained in Russian criticism. They were either more or less. But under Soviet rule, there were no more demons inside the critics. Soviet critics had only voices. All demons from the inner world of Soviet critics were knocked out by the Soviet authorities.

However, there was one demon. The demon's name was Gap. The demon climbed inside to Tynyanov. The demon constantly whispered to Tynyanov that all modern literature is not Eternity. Not real. Not Pushkin. Not that. Everything is not right. Mandelstam is not. Kharms is also not the same. It's just a gap. And Eternity, the present, and that was before. When was Pushkin. And Tynyanov wanted to contemporary literature. But the demon Gap did not let him go there.

Tynyanov's demon was the last demon in the Soviet literary criticism. Then there were only voices. They were almost affectionate. They whispered something about generations. About rural prose. On the search for a social hero. Critics of the voices were not afraid, they listened to them willingly and trusted them in everything.

The demons returned under Gorbachev. Under Yeltsin, they began to flourish. Along with the voices. Under Putin, they finally blossomed.

There were a lot of demons. They all got mixed up. They are now both feminine, masculine, and neuter at the same time. The main demons are Glamor, Pasternak, Booker, Detective, Format, Circulation, Bourgeoisness, Soviet Empire, Orthodox Faith, Liberal Value. There is also the demon Feminism. And the demon Russian Patriot. And the demon Stability. There are many others. Can't count them all. They don't just sit inside anymore. They now sound like voices outside.

After the madness of Russian criticism, Russian literature could no longer come close and often to madness. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the demons inside her and the voices around her.

But I have shown the point from which madness spreads to all aspects of Russian life. Despite the fear. Now let Russia do whatever it wants with its crazy point. Let her heal for a long time. Let him operate quickly without anesthesia. Let him declare it a museum of Russian madness. Let it expand its boundaries. Let him leave – as Russia basically does – everything unchanged as it is.
http://www.ng.ru/sty...-30/24_insanity.html

42. Lucia : Reply to 35., Silvio63:
2018-01-14 at 15:01

But these are not vile stishats Lucia In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet, Fat, crouching, red as copper, A contractor is going along the line on a holiday, Going to see his work. : "Okay ... something ... well done! .. well done! .. With God, now go home - congratulations! (Hats off - if I say!) I expose a barrel of wine to workers And - I give arrears! .. "Someone- then "hooray" shouted. They picked it up Louder, friendlier, longer ... Look: With a song, the foremen rolled a barrel ... Here even the lazy could not resist! .."

Their artistic value, of course, is very small. The poor fellow generally traveled for citizenship. No poet.
He is partly excused by the fact that all this stupid public simply did not foresee. what their howl might lead to. Then, after the 17th, all these smart people like them ran around like scalded cockroaches.

41. Descendant of subjects of Emperor Nicholas II : Reply to 27., Lucia:
2018-01-14 at 13:28

So they don’t need Snow White, but they need Red.

How stale, in a plebeian (but natural) way, it turns out to be syronized by a literary person who has settled on from the Shelter of graphomaniacs.
A complete lack of literary flair, not to mention basic good taste.
After all, it would have been said not "Red Lady", but "Little Red Riding Hood", - it would have been both deep and elegant, and, in fact, incomparably more caustic, if our "noblewoman" wanted to show her Nordic wit.

And this one is taken to judge other people's poems.

40. Abaza : Answer to 39., water:
2018-01-14 at 07:21

Did you get your thirty pieces of silver? You, Abazinsky, definitely got it, since the damned USSR collapsed by you and by you personally. Yes, by the way, it seems that Mr. “comrade” Sobchak was one of the first to shout in Moscow about the so-called occupation of the Baltic states, apparently they threw off a directive from the Washington regional committee - it's time for the Baltics, as the most "occupied by Soviet invaders" and "the most suffering" in the USSR, to "liberate themselves." I remember when the Union began to collapse from the Baltic states, the Russians there stood in the same chain with the local natives for secession from the USSR ..

With the local anti-Soviet natives, who were not finished off in the local forests, there were the same dense anti-Soviet people, supposedly Russians, like you, Abazinsky.

Ek got hooked! So it hit the mark.
I knew about the moods of the Latvians and the Baltic states back in the early 1970s. And the fact that they openly called us Russian occupiers, and the fact that every Friday they showed "forest brothers" on TV and listed their "exploits". He also knew the mood of the Russians living there, "almost Europe!" So don't worry. While you were playing with dolls, I paid my debt to the Fatherland for three years. And I did not run around Europe in search of a culturally good life. Like some "advisers".

39. water :
2018-01-14 at 01:51

Got your thirty pieces of silver?

.

You, Abazinsky, definitely got it, since the damned USSR collapsed by you and by you personally.

Yes, by the way, it seems that Mr. "Comrade" Sobchak was one of the first to shout in Moscow about the so-called occupation of the Baltic states, apparently they threw off a directive from the Washington regional committee - it's time for the Baltic states, as the most "occupied by Soviet invaders" and "the most suffering" in the USSR " be released."

I remember when the Union began to collapse from the Baltic states, the Russians there stood in the same chain with the local natives for secession from the USSR.

.

With the local anti-Soviet natives, who were not finished off in the local forests, there were the same dense anti-Soviet people, supposedly Russians, like you, Abazinsky.

I know from the stories of my friends, among whom there are both Latvians and relatives who were declared pro-Soviet Latvians as traitors, and Russians, and not only Russian occupiers.

I was then in Hungary, where the ashes of the murdered in 1958 Nagy Imre (Imre Nogy), chairman of the Hungarian Council of Ministers in October 1956, were solemnly and pathetically reburied.

1956 - the year of the "great" TsERUSH revolution.

Imre Nod was executed, of course, “by order of the bloodthirsty USSR,” as it “unexpectedly turned out” only by 1989.

And then B.N. came to Hungary. Yeltsin, came to the Hungarian parliament and, almost on his knees, asked to forgive all ... Russians for not letting the Hungarians "breathe the American air of freedom" in 1956.

38. Kiram : Answer to 36., Abazinsky:
2018-01-14 at 00:24

Quite right! Nowadays, Russian "non-citizens" suffer for a reason. This is payback for what you mentioned. The vast majority of Russians wished to live separately in Baltic Europe. And then they were shown the door. The same story with the independence of Ukraine. Look at the statistics of voting for independence by regions of Ukraine. After 25 years, it fired.

37. Abaza : Reply to 34., Lucia:
2018-01-13 at 23:52

vile verses. I don't know what this post means...

Only one thing, on the eve of the elections, the muddy wave of leftist revenge is gaining strength. The rhymes are really ... not very good, but such is the structure of this dregs.

36. Abaza : Answer to 32., water:
2018-01-13 at 23:50

Dunka, who is eager to go to "Europe" - Turkey, pretends to be an "angel in white felt boots." Only the nomenklatura Dunka, who escaped to "Europe" - Hungary, has the right to pose as an "angel in white boots". Do not bury yourself, water. Lukia-Chernova was mistaken! The Baltic states, which, because of you - the Vlasovites, ended up in Europe, and then in the European Union. In Russia, no one was waiting for us and is not waiting, yet.

I remember when the Union began to collapse from the Baltic states, the Russians there stood in the same chain with the local natives for secession from the USSR. Got your thirty pieces of silver?

35. Silvio63 : Reply to 34., Lucia:
2018-01-13 at 23:32

vile verses. I don't know what this post means...

But these are not vile verses Lucia

In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Fat, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is walking along the line on a holiday,
He goes to see his work.
The idle people make way decorously...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo pictorially:
"Okay ... something ... well done! .. well done! ..
With God, now home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to workers
And - I give arrears! ..“
Someone cheered. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Look:
With a song, the foremen rolled a barrel ...
Here even the lazy could not resist!
Unharnessed the people of the horses - and the merchant
With a cry of "Hurrah!" I rushed along the road ...
Seems hard to cheer up the picture
Draw, general? .. "

34. Lucia :
2018-01-13 at 20:45

I clearly don’t understand something, Dear editors ...... I went with my children and wives And various icons And others to the king ... And the then king, father, To the German kings, my son-in-law Bang out of rifles, - Thank you for that! -So that kids don’t go with icons to the king! ((((((((((((((((((((Yes, and about rural priests somehow .... mercilessly.

vile verses. I don't know what this post means...

To pretend to be an "angel in white felt boots"
Only the nomenklatura Dunka, who broke into "Europe" - Hungary, has the right.

Don't bury yourself, water.

30. M. Yablokov : Answer to 23., Alexander Vaskin, Russian priest, officer of the Soviet Army:
2018-01-13 at 16:17

I don't do charity work. Especially in regards to schismatics and renegades. It's clear?

29. Oleg V : answer 18, Lucia:
2018-01-13 at 15:56

Do not be offended, gnome. Who else would you be if you thought I was Snow White.

What are you, baby? Well, this is not fortune-telling on a camomile - offended, not offended, loves, does not love, ...
To whom in Russia it is good to live is a block, snow-whites cannot afford to be allowed. Don't even bother. Only you will be exhausted and your children, dear gnomes, God forbid, you will leave them orphans.
And there will be poor, miserable Snow White, alone with unwashed, dirty, pro-Soviet peasant Russia. And then came the answer: "I sent you."

.

Russophobia, Urengoy you are a "girl", this is in your story about the bride's bouquet.

Russophobia is when Dunka, who is rushing to "Europe" - Turkey, pretends to be an "angel in white boots."

That's right, don't write!

In difficult times, in especially difficult times, you need to write only light. The rest, if you can not write - do not write. If you can't stop writing, write, but don't show it to anyone. 'Cause when the daylight comes you'll be dirty

.

And if you write, then don’t show it to anyone, and even better, as Yablukov advises all “aristocrats” - wipe the children’s snot, if you shout louder than everyone else about your having many children.

Or is that also just a lie?

"And to cover up the case -
On our Soviet system- And you, dwarf, also love slander against the Tsar-martyr? Maybe you respect Matilda? Eco, how hooked you are, baby! Everything is as written: according to your liking. In your fairy-tale kingdom, you call your ideological comrades-in-arms "gnomes", and I, as there was nothing to share before, remains the same to this day. It is not royal dignity to run away from the people, no matter how rebellious it is. As you know, "the courage of the city takes." But distributing aid to the families of the dead, which might not have been, is a property of aristocratic weakness. Who was there, right to blame - God alone now knows. Martyrdom, before the so-called revolt of 1905, and after the revolutions of 1917, are two different things. Everything could be different in the fate of Russia from one correct decision. History, however, does not know the subjunctive mood, and therefore we are Russian

Do not be offended, gnome. Who else would you be if you thought I was Snow White.

15. Oleg V : answer 12, Rodelena:
2018-01-13 at 00:19

Agree. These are two meters of excellent, ... let's say ... snickering. In general, this is the most elegant of all the elegant Russophobias I have read recently. Ridicule is not God's work, but vice versa. The devil is a misanthrope. Sometimes he giggles behind his back, and sometimes he makes people look ridiculous. Parodists know this well when they parody someone's lines or compose epigrams for people. The MAIN difference is that PERSONAL mockery is a small evil, and IMPERSONAL, indiscriminate, is already a mockery of the people. Whatever he was, but laughing at people is a sin. Especially in such a difficult time. When the parody is impersonal, it is acrimony. The author is also in trouble. In difficult times, in especially difficult times, you need to write only light. The rest, if you can not write - do not write. If you can't stop writing, write, but don't show it to anyone. Because when the daylight comes, you'll be dirty.

Lena, as soon as you moved to Turkey, you became so white and fluffy that an oriental marshmallow is in chocolate. With Russia now you are clearly not on your way, you will only stain your bright clothes on the gloomy humor of Russians about themselves.
Write your ornately "bright" about Russia in the spirit of oriental wise criticism for subsequent generations of Janissaries. You look, they will believe you that silent silver is more precious than talking gold.

13. Oleg V : answer 9, Lucia:
2018-01-12 at 23:40

And you, gnome, also love slander against the Tsar-martyr? Do you respect Matilda?

Eco, how you got hooked, baby! Everything is as written: according to your liking.
In your fairy-tale kingdom, you call your ideological comrades-in-arms "gnomes", and I, as there was nothing to share before, remains the same to this day.
It is not royal dignity to run away from the people, no matter how rebellious it is. As you know, "the courage of the city takes." But distributing aid to the families of the dead, which might not have been, is a property of aristocratic weakness.
Who was there, right to blame - God alone now knows. Martyrdom, before the so-called revolt of 1905, and after the revolutions of 1917, are two different things. Everything could have been different in the fate of Russia from one right decision. History, however, does not know the subjunctive mood, and therefore we are Russian

12. : Reply to 7., Lucia:
2018-01-12 at 22:50

What an abomination. Either slander against the tsar-martyr, then against Father Gleb Grozovsky.

Agree. These are two meters of excellent, ... let's say ... snickering. In general, this is the most elegant of all the elegant Russophobias I have read recently. Ridicule is not God's work, but vice versa. The devil is a misanthrope. Sometimes he giggles behind his back, and sometimes he makes people look ridiculous. Parodists know this well when they parody someone's lines or compose epigrams for people. The MAIN difference is that PERSONAL mockery is a small evil, and IMPERSONAL, indiscriminate, is already a mockery of the people. Whatever he was, but laughing at people is a sin. Especially in such a difficult time. When the parody is impersonal, it is acrimony. The author is also in trouble.
In difficult times, in especially difficult times, you need to write only light. The rest, if you can not write - do not write. If you can't stop writing, write, but don't show it to anyone. Because when the daylight comes, you'll be dirty.

Elena Rodchenkova

10. Kiram : Answer to 3., Leonid-K:
2018-01-12 at 21:47

I clearly don’t understand something, Dear editors ...... I went with my children and wives And various icons And others to the king ... And the then king, father, To the German kings, my son-in-law Bang out of rifles, - Thank you for that! -So that the kids don’t go with icons to the king! apparently, young and at school, the history of Russia was given to you very truncated.Type in the Internet search (Yandex, Google) the line:

The essence of the issue is not in the text of the petition, but in the fact that "the tsar fired rifles so that kids with icons would not go to the tsar."
To you, baby, everything that is not to your liking is an abomination. The Fathers of the Church teach: "as is the nature, such is morality." This is for you, mother of all morality they say. Start with yourself, then the abomination of others, you Snow White, will seem like holiness.

6. Oleg V : answer 4, Leonid-K:
2018-01-12 at 19:03

The patriotic poets are alive, not extinct in Russia, and with them brilliant poetry, in the spirit of Nekrasov's love for Russia and its people. Kudos to the author and full respect ..

5. Oleg V : answer 3, Leonid-K:
2018-01-12 at 18:52

Dear Xenia, you are apparently young and at school you were given a very truncated history of Russia. Type in the Internet search (Yandex, Google) the line:
"Petition of workers and residents of St. Petersburg on January 9, 1905"
and understand what the author wrote in this poem.

Well no. This priest was offended by the editors that they have abolished censorship for all kinds of "sedition". According to modern mothers, she, the editors, would somehow combine the current liberal-church razmamaism with strict Soviet censorship, then you see, everyone in Russia would live well and heal, and first of all, the builders of developed capitalism.

4. Leonid-K : A wonderful poem, quite worthy of the memory of Nekrsasov
2018-01-12 at 18:08

Such that the peasants saw in search of the one who “Who lives well in Russia”, and Nekrasov did not see. The author very vividly described who and how lives today in Russia. Marvel at the skill of the author. The outline of the poem is Nekrasov's, and life is ours. Poetry is alive in Russia!

3. Leonid-K : Answer to 2., Ksenia Balakina:
2018-01-12 at 17:47

I clearly don’t understand something, Dear editors ...... I went with my children and wives And various icons And others to the king ... And the then king, father, To the German kings, my son-in-law Bang out of rifles, - Thank you for that! -So that kids don’t go with icons to the king! ((((((((((((((((((((Yes, and about rural priests somehow .... mercilessly.

Dear Xenia, you are apparently young and at school you were given a very truncated history of Russia. Type in the Internet search (Yandex, Google) the line:
"Petition of workers and residents of St. Petersburg on January 9, 1905"
and understand what the author wrote in this poem.

2. Ksenia Balakina : Re: Whom in Russia to live well...
2016-05-15 at 19:17

I clearly don’t understand something, dear editorial...

Went with children and wives
And different icons
And others to the king...
And the then king, father,
Son-in-law to the German kings
Bang from rifles, -
Thank you for that! -
So that the kids do not go
With icons to the king!

Yes, and about rural priests somehow .... mercilessly.