Zoshchenko meeting summary All our dignity lies in thought. It is not space or time, which we cannot fill, that elevates us, but it is she, our thought. Let us learn to think well: this is the basic principle of morality. Mikhail Mikhailovich Zoshchenko was the son of a hereditary nobleman, artist Mikhail Ivanovich Zoshchenko and Elena Iosifovna, who was fond of acting and literature before marriage. The future writer and satirist was born on August 10, 1894 in St. Petersburg. From an early age, the boy, echoing his mother, became interested in literature. The first "tests of the pen", as Zoshchenko himself recalls, were made at the age of seven, and the first story "Coat" appeared already in 1907. Zoshchenko meeting summary After graduating from high school in 1913, Mikhail Mikhailovich enters the law faculty of St. Petersburg University, but, without even finishing his first year, volunteers for the front. During World War I, Zoshchenko commanded a battalion, became a knight of the St. George Order, was wounded, and also poisoned by enemy gases, which led to a serious heart disease. Returning to St. Petersburg, Zoshchenko will write a number of stories (“Petty bourgeois”, “Marusya”, “Neighbour”, etc.) After the revolution, Mikhail Mikhailovich took the side of the Bolsheviks. The beginning of the 1920s was the most difficult period for the writer in his life. Injuries and heart disease made themselves felt. Poor health was exacerbated by the constant search for earnings. During this period, Zoshchenko changed several specialties, ranging from a shoemaker and an actor to a policeman. Nevertheless, his literary life during this period "is in full swing". In 1919, Zoshchenko attends creative lectures conducted by K.I. Chukovsky. During the same period, he wrote the first published stories: "War", "Female Fish", "Love", etc. After their release, Zoshchenko gained immense popularity among Soviet citizens. His stories were read at work, at home, he was quoted, turning some of his lines into "catch phrases". Having received thousands of letters from fans, Zoshchenko came up with the idea to combine all these letters into one book, in which, as it seemed to him, he could show the true “living” country, with its various thoughts and experiences. But the book, published in 1929, did not evoke any emotions in the readers, except for disappointment, as they once again expected something funny and interesting from Zoshchenko. In the 30s, the writer travels around the Soviet Union, sees how prisoners are treated in camps, which leaves a strong imprint on Zoshchenko's vulnerable psyche. Zoshchenko meeting summary In order to get rid of the oppressive feeling, Mikhail Mikhailovich writes "Returned Youth", hang, after which he publishes the work "The Blue Book" in 1935. The last work causes a storm of negative reviews in the highest circles, which is why the writer is given to understand that he should not go beyond the permitted limits. Since that time, Zoshchenko's work has been expressed only by publications in the children's publications "Hedgehog" and "Chizh". After the government decree of 1946, Zoshchenko, like many other of his talented contemporaries, began to be poisoned in every possible way, which led to an exacerbation of mental illness, which prevented Mikhail Mikhailovich from working normally. The beloved satirist of Soviet citizens died in July 1958. Zoshchenko meeting summary Let a person have no benefit in lying - this does not mean that he is telling the truth: they lie simply in the name of lies.
Zoshchenko's story "Meeting" was published in 1928 in the book "Days of Our Life", published in the library of the Begemot magazine.
Literary direction and genre
Mikhail Zoshchenko is a realist writer. His tiny stories reveal the characters of simple, unsophisticated Soviet people, to whom the writer treats very warmly. In this story, the hero-narrator is subjected to satirical ridicule: he is greedy and cowardly, does not believe in the best human qualities. Of course, criticism is directed not at the "little man", but at the system that cripples souls. On the other hand, using the example of a fellow traveler, the writer shows that a person cannot be spoiled if he himself does not want it.
Issues
In the story "Meeting" Zoshchenko raises the problem of human disinterestedness. His hero doubts the existence of such, but the author himself does not doubt. For the author, the problem is that others are suspected of bad qualities by those who themselves have them.
In the story, Zoshchenko explores the nature of the appearance of complexes in "little people", tries to understand why bad and good people "turn out", how positive and negative qualities are formed.
Heroes of the story
The narrator in this work is not identical to the author. Moreover, the author does not sympathize with his hero. The personality of the narrator was supposed to cause disgust and indignation in the reader. But the author awakens this feeling gradually.
The narrator's first statement about love for people was supposed to endear him to the reader. The claim that the narrator did not see unselfish people is debatable and requires proof. At the beginning of the story, the narrator behaves naturally: he admires the Crimean beauties, languishes from the heat.
The reader is even ready to forgive the narrator for not wanting to meet a passerby on a deserted road. And yet there is already something unattractive in this fact: the narrator is somehow overly cautious. First of all, he thinks: “You never know what happens. I will tempt you a lot." It seems that the narrator himself is afraid of being tempted. In the future, he shows cowardice, running away from a lonely person. The narrator stops from exhaustion, and not at all because he hears a word that a robber would hardly have used: “Stop! Comrade!"
The second hero of the story is really an altruist, a disinterested person. The reader does not doubt this, unlike the hero-narrator. The reader sees the companion through the eyes of the narrator. This man is not richly dressed, he has sandals on his feet, and "instead of a shirt, a mesh." Later it turns out that the narrator's interlocutor is a "food worker", that is, he works in the food industry. Obviously, he is local, which is why he uses the mesh as clothing. He contrasts himself with tourists who "always get confused here."
The only benefit that the “food worker” gets, catching up with the narrator along the hot highway, is a cigarette. There is also an intangible benefit - it's more fun to go together.
Both of these benefits are obviously not considered by the disinterested fellow traveler, a food worker who runs after a stranger only because it is “hard to watch” how he goes the wrong way.
But the narrator is able to evaluate a person only in terms of benefits. After all, the runner suffered a loss, not to mention the fact that he was going the wrong way: he ran, suffocated, ruffled his sandals.
The main character has not yet seen a disinterested person, so this thought torments him even later, when he returns to Leningrad.
Both heroes are simple people, “little people”, as evidenced by their speech, equally incorrect, full of vernacular: the dog knows him, the bastard, got attached, instead, shashe (highway), forever, whole, shoot a cigarette. But the narrator treats the fellow traveler with some disdain. He already knows the word "highway" and other clever words - "panorama", "sympathy".
The narrator's speech is poor, there are not enough words even to describe the Crimean nature: the blue sea, damn mountains, eagles fly, ships sail, unearthly beauty.
Plot and composition
The story describes one event in the hero's life - a meeting with the only, from his point of view, disinterested person, a "bright person". About a third of the short story is devoted to reflections on this meeting.
The story begins with the narrator's statement: "I'll tell you frankly: I love people very much." The reader assumes that the narrator is an open and sincere person. But all subsequent narrative contradicts this assumption. Some researchers even believe that the voice of the author himself sounds in the first sentence.
The narrator, who is resting in the Crimea, meets a passer-by on the way from Yalta to Alupka. He runs away, afraid to run into a stranger in a desert area. A passerby relentlessly pursues the narrator with the sole purpose of reporting a shorter and shadier road.
The story ends, as it began, with arguments about unselfishness, in which the narrator does not fully believe.
Artistic originality
In a tiny story, the hero managed to fit three voices at once - the author, the narrator and the fellow traveler. Each of them is recognizable. The author represents the highest justice, he is a questioning voice, looking for disinterested people. The narrator struggles to be good, as he understands it. But his aspirations seem insincere. So, the beautiful landscape quickly ceases to interest him. The narrator discovers fears and doubts that torment him and destroy spiritual harmony. More harmonious "food worker". Despite poverty and illiteracy, he is internally free. This is Zoshchenko's favorite type of people who retain nobility and remain "bright personalities" despite the circumstances.
The work of Mikhail Mikhailovich Zoshchenko is original. He acted as the creator of the original comic novel, continuing the traditions of Gogol, Leskov, and early Chekhov in new historical conditions. Zoshchenko created his own, completely unique artistic style. The heyday of the writer's talent falls on the twenties. The basis of Zoshchenko's creativity of the twenties is a humorous description of everyday life. The author writes about drunkenness, about housing affairs, about losers offended by fate. The motive of discord, worldly absurdity, some tragicomic inconsistency of the hero with the tempo, rhythm and spirit of the time predominates.
In the story "Meeting" the hero talks about himself, about the incident that he remembers. In the foreground, a man very pleased with himself: "I'll tell you frankly: I really love people." But he immediately declares that he “has not seen disinterested people”, thereby refuting what has just been said.
The story is told in a conversational style. It is characterized by short sentences, often dissected, incomplete: “And I went, you know, from Yalta to Alupka. On foot. On the highway"; “Got another mile. Got tired. Sat down on the road. Sitting. Resting". A characteristic feature of the conversational style are introductory words and sentences: “do you know”, “you know”, “you can say”, “say”, “I think”, “maybe”. Dialogue is also an integral part of this style.
The language of the characters is saturated with vernacular, “reduced” vocabulary, there are many grammatical errors in the speech: “I am thinking about him”, “through this heat, even beauty does not come to mind”; “Here, I think, hell, I got attached”, “got tired”, “pressed”, “forever”, “alive”.
Speech can say a lot about a person. From the conversation of the hero, we understand that in front of us is a person who is narrow-minded and not very literate. He wants to appear superior in the eyes of others and his own. To do this, he uses "beautiful" words: "bright personality"; “with all his love for people”, “beauty, one might say, unearthly”; “turning away from the pa-norama”, “merci”, “very noble of him”, “heart tells”. All these expressions are stamps, there is nothing behind them. Has a person already become a bright personality by showing a short road to Alupka? This, it turns out, is "very noble of him." And all the charms of the “unearthly beauty” that the hero allegedly admires are also just empty words for him. And he thinks about something else: the heat, the deserted road, on which, God forbid, to meet a stranger. Our hero is cowardly, he runs away from the boy: "If only, I think, to reach Alupka alive."
The hero's speech is empty, devoid of content. He calls a short meeting with a fellow traveler friendship. According to him, the boy "turned out to be a very nice person." But he adds: "Pishchevik." As if that's what makes a person attractive. The word "food worker" is repeated: "All evening I have been thinking about this food worker."
The language betrays the true essence of the hero, reveals his true face. In fact, he does not trust anyone, even a "bright personality" - "- a fellow traveler: "Who knows - what thoughts he had when he did his selfless deed." He thinks about this all the time. He repeats : "Who knows - or maybe he really wanted to smoke? Maybe he wanted to shoot a cigarette from me? So he ran. Or maybe he was bored walking - he was looking for a fellow traveler?" The hero does not even have confidence in himself: “I can’t decide what he was thinking then.”
Zoshchenko's hero wants to keep up with progress, he hastily assimilates modern trends, hence the predilection for fashionable names and political terminology, hence the desire to assert his "proletarian" insides through bravado with rudeness, ignorance, rudeness. Behind funny words, incorrect grammatical phrases, we see the gestures of the characters, and the tone of the voice, and his psychological state, and the author's attitude to what is being told. With the manner of a tale, a short, extremely concise phrase, M. Zoshchenko achieved what others achieved by introducing additional artistic details.
Time goes by, but people often exchange their lives for trifles, value empty things, live in petty interests, and do not trust anyone. The author calls to abandon the petty evil that disfigures and cripples life.
I'll tell you frankly: I love people very much. Others, you know, waste their sympathies on dogs. They bathe them and lead them on chains. And somehow the person is nicer to me.
However, I cannot lie: with all my ardent love, I have not seen disinterested people.
One was a boy with a bright personality flashed in my life. And even now I am in deep thought about it. I can't decide what he was thinking then. The dog knows him - what thoughts he had when he did his disinterested work.
And I went, you know, from Yalta to Alupka. On foot. On the highway.
I was in Crimea this year. In a rest home. So I walk. I admire the Crimean nature. To the left, of course, is the blue sea. The ships are floating. To the right are the damn mountains. Eagles flutter. Beauty, one might say, unearthly.
One bad thing - it's impossible to hot. Through this heat, even beauty does not come to mind. You turn away from the panorama.
And the dust on the teeth creaks.
He walked seven miles and stuck out his tongue.
And to Alupka still the devil knows how much. Maybe ten miles. Not exactly happy that he left.
Went another mile. Worn out. Sat down on the road. Sitting. Resting. And I see a man walking behind me. Steps, maybe five hundred.
And of course it's empty all around. Not a soul. Eagles are flying.
I didn't think anything bad then. But still, with all my love for people, I do not like to meet them in a deserted place. Few things happen. I tempt a lot.
I got up and went. I walked a little, turned around - a man was following me.
Then I went faster, - he seemed to push too.
I go, I don’t look at the Crimean nature. If only, I think, we could reach Alupka alive.
I turn around. I look - he waves his hand to me. I also waved to him. Say, leave me alone, do me a favor.
I hear something screaming.
Here, I think, bastard, attached!
Hodko went ahead. I hear it screaming again. And runs behind me.
Despite being tired, I also ran.
I ran a little - I'm suffocating.
I hear screaming:
- Stop! Stop! Comrade!
I leaned against the rock. I stand.
A poorly dressed man runs up to me. In sandals. And instead of a shirt - a grid.
- What do you want, I say?
- Nothing, he says, is not necessary. I see you are not going there. Are you in Alupka?
- Alupka.
“Then, he says, you don’t need a check.” You give a huge hook for a check. Tourists are always confused here. And here you have to follow the path. Verst four benefits. And a lot of shadows.
— No, I say, merci-thank you. I'll take the highway.
Well, he says whatever you want. And I'm on the path. Turned around and walked back. After says:
— Is there a cigarette, comrade? Smoke hunting.
I gave him a cigarette. And right away we got to know each other and became friends. And they went together. Along the path.
He turned out to be a very nice person. Pischevik. He laughed at me the whole way.
- Directly, he says, it was hard to look at you. It doesn't go there. Give, I think, I will tell. And you run. Why were you running?
- Yes, I say, why not run.
Imperceptibly, along a shady path, we came to Alupka and said goodbye here.
I spent the whole evening thinking about this food worker.
The man was running, panting, ruffling his sandals. And for what? To tell me where to go. It was very noble of him.
And now, having returned to Leningrad, I think: the dog knows him, or maybe he really wanted to smoke? Maybe he wanted to shoot a cigarette from me. Here he ran. Or maybe he was bored walking - he was looking for a companion. So I don't know.
I'll tell you frankly: I love people very much.
Others, you know, waste their sympathies on dogs. They bathe them and lead them on chains. And somehow the person is nicer to me.
However, I cannot lie: with all my ardent love, I have not seen disinterested people.
One, it was, a boy with a bright personality flashed through my life. And even now I am in deep thought about it. I can't decide what he was thinking then. The dog knows him - what thoughts he had when he did his disinterested work.
And I went, you know, from Yalta to Alupka. On foot. On the highway. I was in Crimea this year. In a rest home.
So I walk. I admire the Crimean nature. To the left, of course, is the blue sea. The ships are floating. To the right are the damn mountains. Eagles flutter. Beauty, one might say, unearthly.
One bad thing - it's impossible to hot. Through this heat, even beauty does not come to mind. You turn away from the panorama. And the dust on the teeth creaks.
He walked seven miles and stuck out his tongue. And the devil knows how long to Alupka. Maybe ten miles. Not exactly happy that he left.
Went another mile. Worn out. Sat down on the road. Sitting. Resting. And I see a man walking behind me. Steps, maybe five hundred.
And of course it's empty all around. Not a soul. Eagles are flying.
I didn't think anything bad then. But still, with all my love for people, I do not like to meet them in a deserted place. Few things happen. I tempt a lot.
I got up and went. I walked a little, turned around - a man was following me. Then I went faster, - he seemed to push too.
I go, I don’t look at the Crimean nature. If only, I think, we could reach Alupka alive. I turn around. I look - he waves his hand to me. I also waved to him. Say, leave me alone, do me a favor.
I hear something screaming. Here, I think, bastard, attached! Hodko went ahead. I hear screaming again. And runs behind me.
Despite being tired, I also ran. I ran a little - I'm suffocating.
I hear screaming:
- Stop! Stop! Comrade!
I leaned against the rock. I stand.
A poorly dressed man runs up to me. In sandals. And instead of a shirt - a grid.
- What do you want, I say?
“Nothing,” he says, “no need. I see you are not going there. Are you in Alupka?
- Alupka.
“Then,” he says, “you don’t need a check.” You give a huge hook for a check. Tourists are always confused here. And here you have to go along the path. Verst four benefits. And a lot of shadows.
“No, no,” I say, “merci-thank you.” I'll take the highway.
“Well,” he says, “as you wish. And I'm on the path.
Turned around and walked back. After says:
— Is there a cigarette, comrade? Smoke hunting.
I gave him a cigarette. And right away we got to know each other and became friends. And they went together. Along the path.
He turned out to be a very nice person. Pischevik. He laughed at me the whole way.
“Directly,” he says, “it was hard to look at you. It doesn't go there. Give, I think, I will tell. And you run. Why were you running?
- Yes, - I say, - why not run.
Imperceptibly, along a shady path, we came to Alupka and said goodbye here.
I spent the whole evening thinking about this food worker.
The man was running, panting, ruffling his sandals. And for what? To tell me where I need to go. It was very noble of him.
Now, having returned to Leningrad, I think: the dog knows him, or maybe he really wanted to smoke? Maybe he wanted to shoot a cigarette from me. Here he ran. Or maybe it was boring for him to go - he was looking for a companion.