Ken Elton Kizi.(English, September 17, 1935 - November 10, 2001) - American Writer. Known, in particular, as the author of the novel "Above the Cukushkina Nest" (the famous screen version is called "Flying over the cuckoo nest"). Kizi is considered one of the main writers of the bit-generation and generation of hippie, which had a great influence on the formation of these movements and their culture.

Born in the town of La Junta, Colorado, in the family of the owner of the Oblobyny. In 1946 he moved to Springfield (Oregon). Youth Kizi passed on the father's farm in Villamette Valley, where he grew and brought up in a respectable, pious American family. At school, and then in College Kizij was fond of sports and even became the state champion in the fight. After graduating from school, Ken runs away from the house with a classmate Fei Haxby. Subsequently, Fay will become an eternal faithful companion of the ideology of counterculture and give birth to four children.

In detail about the early years of Kizi's life narrates Chuck Cainender in the novel "Honeymoon" (2001).

In 1959, in Stanford University, to earn, Kizi went to work as an assistant psychiatrist to the Menlo Park veterans hospital, where voluntarily participated in the experiments on studying the impact on the body of LSD, Mescalin and other psychedelians.

In 1964, together with like-minded friends, he organized a hippov communion called "Funny Pumps" (Eng. Merry Pranksters). The commune arranged concerts-Heppenings called "Acid Tests" (Eng. Acid Tests) with distribution of LSDs to everyone. "Acid tests" were often accompanied by light effects (stroboscopes) and the music that the young group Grateful Dead was lived.

In 1959, Kizi wrote a "zoo", Novel about hipsters living in Nord-Beach (San Francisco), but it was never published. In 1960 he wrote "the end of autumn, about a young man who left his working family after receiving scholarships at the Ivy League school, also not published.

The idea of \u200b\u200b"flying over the cuckoo nest" came to Kizi during the work of the night Sanitar in the hospital of veterans in the Menlo-Park. Kizi often spent time in conversations with patients, sometimes under the influence of hallucinogen, which he accepted, participating in psychedelic experiments. Kizi did not believe that these patients were abnormal, rather a society rejected them, as they did not fit into conventional ideas about how a person should behave. Published in 1962, the novel had an immediate success; In 1963, he was reworked in the formation of Dale Wasserman's existence; In 1975, Milos Foreman shot the same film that received 5 Oscar awards (the best film, best director, the best actor and actress in high roles, the best adapted scenario), as well as 28 other awards and 11 nominations.

In 1964, after the publication of the novel "Sometimes the Great" novel (other options for transferring the name: "Sometimes I want to be unbearable," "times of happy insights"), Kizi invited to New York. Having bought the old school bus "INTERNESHNL HARVEST" 1939, "Pumps" painted it with bright fluorescent paints, called "Furthur" (modification of the word Further - Next, the transfer option to Russian - "Faller", that is, "on" without a soft sign) . And, inviting the driver's seat Nile Cassidy, went on a journey through America to Flashing (New York) to the international exhibition, which the most prominent publicist and the historian of the 20th century Jean Bodrieryar called "the most strange journey in the entire history of mankind, after a hike for the Golden Room Argonauts and a forty-year wasting of Moses in the desert. "

This period of life and activities of Ken Kizi and "Cheerful Darznikov" is captured in the documentary Roman Tom Vulf "Electric Textual Acid Test" (Eng. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test). The newspaper New York Times called this romance to the best book about Hippie.

When LSD was announced out of law in the United States, "funny pursules" moved to Mexico. But upon returning to the United States, Kizi was arrested for storing marijuana and convicted for 5 months.

Kizi was arrested for storing marijuana in 1965. Trying to mislead the police, he falsified suicide, asking friends to leave his truck on a sheer cliff on the seashore near Eureka, together with an intricate suicide note written by leisurers. Kesi escaped in Mexico in the trunk of the Machines of friends. Upon returning to the United States with eight months later, Kizi was arrested and sent to San Mateo County Prison in Redwood, California, for five months. By liberation, he returned to a family farm in Pleasant Hill, Villamett Valley, where he spent the rest of his life. Here he wrote many articles, books (mainly - collections essays) and stories.

After the liberation of Kizi, he moved to the Pleasant Hill, Oregon to devote himself to the family. He began to conduct a measured, secluded life, took up agriculture, but continued to write.

In the 90s, when the fashion and idols of the 60s were revived, Kizi again began to appear in public. In 1995, "Pumps" again gathered together to say goodbye to Timothy Liri cancer. Having found on the swordist pasture, the rusted bus "Fall", they again decorated it and went to the Hog Farm Pig-Nick festival. In 1997, during the execution of the song "Climbing Colonel Forsbina" at the concert of the Phish group, Kizi last time went on stage along with the "rollers".

Experience with psychoactive substances in the hospital of veterans, Kizi was used when writing the first book "Flying over the cuckoo nest" (Eng. One Flew Over The Cuckoo "s Nest). The novel had a huge success of critics and readers. Kizi managed to create a work, paradoxical Combining a clearly built realistic storyline and a unique, a ghostly fantastic narrative form. Roman is distinguished by the People's Ovukava humor. According to him, Milos Forman in 1975 put the same film. Kizi remained very displeased with shielding. In particular, due to the fact that in the film The leader of the mop "moved" to the background, while in the novel this is one of the main characters, on behalf of which is a story.

After the success of this novel, in 1962 Kizi bought the land in La Honda, California. Here he wrote a new book "Sometimes the Great" (English. Sometimes a Great Notion) (1964), telling about the family of lumberjacks with a variety of, complex characters, in which there is a conflict between the individualism of the West Coast of the United States and intellectualism of the East. The second novel also gets wide recognition.

The film "Pordly Great" took place in 1971. Paul Newman and Henry Fund played the main characters, and the film was nominated for two awards of the film academy.

Later, in the Pleasant Hill, Kizi wrote his third novel "Sailor Song" (English Sailor Song), which is published only in 1992 and does not have much success.

Kizi wrote many essays and stories. Among which the Eccentric Collection "Garage Sale of Ken Kizi" (1972). The central place in the book is occupied by the fiction "on the other side of the border", collectively created by Kizi, Paul Foster, Kati Wagner and Kenna Bebbs. As well as "daemon Maxwell" (1986), "Caves" (1990) and books for children, a satirical play "Deceiver" (1994), written on the motives of the "Wizard from Oz" L. Frank Bauma.

Last years Kizi had a lot of sick. He had diabetes, liver cancer, he also survived the stroke. He was operated, but after 2 weeks the writer's condition deteriorated sharply. Ken Kizi died on November 10, 2001 in Sacred Heart Hospital in Eugene, Oregon, aged 66 years.

In the extent of its work in judicial bodies, one case is remembered. The administration of the psychoneurological dispensary was requested before the court on the change in the hospital type in relation to one of its patient: they asked to change the general type hospital (forced treatment without intensive observation) to a special type hospital (forced treatment with intensive observation for patients who represent a special danger to themselves and others) . According to the administration of the dispensary, this patient was problematic - pinched other patients to the shoots, fought, cursed by mat, conflicted with the medical staff.

At the meeting, two huge Sanitars, barely squeezing at the door, introduced into the hall of the ordinary guy (of the patient) rising approximately 180 cm, the normal physique; Weed in a white T-shirt, pajama pants and slippers, with a funny hat on the head (oddity, for which you can hardly bother in a mental hospital). During the process, this guy quite adequately answered questions, read the documents that were given to him for familiarization, clearly understood their meaning and meaning, signed them, and in general behaved like an ordinary person. No matter what a richness of speech was not at all.

When the judge retired to the accommodation room for making a decision, the doctor who monitors the patient was standing, hanging over my table, and almost clapping his hands and without bouncing, said: "He will be sent in the city of Orhel, there is a special type hospital! There are such buoy shockers beat !!! Haha! ". The same doctor, by the way, approached my colleague from the back and whispered in the ear: "I'll bite you now ...". Perhaps this is all, you need to know about a person who treats human souls.

The court eventually satisfied the petition of the dispensary, and the guy even at the time of the closure of the bracelets on the wrist did not show any signs of violence.

And all because the court does not possess sufficient knowledge to determine the degree of change, and there is no reason not to trust and doubt the medical conclusion, signed by this most "doctor" and its colleagues.

Well, yes and do not care, this guy is not the first and not the last * sarcasm, if that *

A cheerful doctor and sanitation, exhausted difficult labor, retired ravis.

The story is one-in-one, as in the book.

First, big doubts are the greater psycho doctor or patient.

Secondly, why treat a disadvantageous patient (if it really is such) if you can get rid of it?

Thirdly, the system will always allow to get rid of unwanted: it rule the lazy and self-made. They come up with the rules, install the framework of the permitted and push them around them. If someone is not suitable for dimensions - nothing terrible, they will cut out too much.

"She sits in the very center of these wiring and dreams that they sweep the whole world, acting clearly and efficiently, as if pocket watches with a glass back wall, about such a place where the mode and chart of indestructible, and all patients who are not external, obedient Its radiation, they are all chronicles in chairs on wheels with tubes of catheter, which get out of each panta to drain the excess fluid directly to the floor. "

A typical representative of American protest youth, a fierce hipster and a hippie ideologist, he carried this commitment and worship freedom from moral oblivion through a lifetime.

Buntar from the Wildest

Ken Kizi was born on October 17, 1935 in the town called La Honda Colorado. His father was a farmer, owned ancoal. The Kizi family was a very devout and respectable family with typical American values.

In 1946, the family moved to Springfield, Oregon. Here in the Villamet Valley, the young years were held. He was fond of sports, but even then dreamed of becoming a writer.

After the prom in school, he runs out of the house along with his first and only love and classmate Fei Haxby. They will be able to carry their love and loyalty throughout life. Fay will become not only a devoteed companion and like-minded Ken Kizi, but also the mother of four of his children.

Having finished in 1957 the Faculty of Journalism and publishing several literary essays, Kizi receives the literary scholarship of Woodrow Wilson. This allows him to become a listener on writing courses at Stanford University.

On the one hand, material difficulties, and with another passionate desire to come in touch with something unknown, unusual, pushed a young man in 1959 to get a job in the hospital of veterans night Sanitar. He learned that an experiment was carried out in the hospital on the impact on the body of psychotropic drugs, including LSD.

Roman Century

Communication with patients suffering from mental disabilities and quite often under the influences of hallucinogens, pushed kizi to the idea of \u200b\u200bwriting about this book. So the novel "Flying over the nest of the cuckoo", which was published in 1962. The main idea that the writer has invested in his work - the Society denies, excludes those who do not fit into the generally accepted framework from its lists.

The work was a deafening success and already in 1963 on Broadway there was a performance on this novel. In 1975, Milos Foreman will remove the film with the same name, which immediately will receive Oscar in 5 nominations. The success of the novel brought not only fame, but also relative well-being.

Kizi acquires land in California and continues writing activities. Two years later, the novel "Porda Blog Great" appears. This is a work about the eternal confrontation and conflict of intellectuals and the Eastern coast of the Eastern coast with rebar and the Individuals of the Western. The book received recognition and success. It was shielded in 1971.

The third novel Kizi "Sun Sail" was published only in 1992 and did not have much success.

Ideologist, teacher and inspirer hippie

Together with his like-minded people, Kizi creates a hippi commune in 1964 with the cheerful name of "funny ledging". Under the living music of young musicians-hipsters there is an active propaganda of drugs, which is called acid tests. Kizi and his friends from the commune are invited to New York.

"Pumps" acquire the old bus, paint it with luminous paints, give him the name "far" and with the Cassadi Nili in the role of the driver go to the strangest journey, which ever performed the Americans. About this period of life Kizi The famous American writer Tom Wolfe wrote a documentary novel "Electro-cool acid test", which contemporaries consider the best book about hippies.

"Pumps" had to move to Mexico after the ban in the USA, LSD. Kizi even imitated death from an accident to avoid prison sentence, but it did not help. In 1965 he was arrested for storing marijuana, and he served a sentence in California Prison Redwood. After Liberation, he came back with his family to the father's farm in the state of Oregon and lived there until death.

last years of life

In the 90s of the last century, a snow surge occurred on Hippie and Kizi again turned out to be in the spotlight. Even the famous bus "Dalle" was found on the landfill and renovated. In 1997, Ken Kizi for the last time he took a journey with the surviving participants of the "Pumps". The last years of his life was overshadowed by a variety of diseases - diabetes, stroke, liver cancer.

Neither the operation or modern methods of treatment did not help. On November 10, 2001, the famous "pursuit", the eternal hippie and the rebellion did not. He was only 66 years old.

Perhaps about Kizi's life, you can say with the words of Kurt Wanneguta - "he was ashamed of telling about his life, but nice."

Above the cuckoo nest

Vika Lovellu,

who told me

that dragons do not happen

and then led to their lair.

... who is home to the house, who over the cuckoo nest.

Black in white suits, got up earlier, they will cope with sex in the corridor and will be reported while I did not cover them.

They raise when I go out of the bedroom: Three, sullen, evil on everything - in the morning, on this house, on those who work. When evil, they do not get on the eyes. I make my way around the wall in the canvas shoes, quietly, like a mouse, but their special equipment flows my fear: Raise your heads, all three times, eyes burn on black faces, like lamps in the old receiver.

Won he, the leader. Chief leader guys. Movab leader. Look, bids.

I stick to me a rag, show where today wash, and I go. One dear from behind on my feet with a brush: stuck.

Hit, ran. Such a long, apple from my head my teeth can take, and listens like a child.

Laugh, then I hear, whispering with my back, my heads. Black cars are buzzing, buzzing hatred, death, other hospital secrets. When I am next to, still do not bother to speak trick about my evil secrets - I think, I am deaf down. And everyone thinks so. Although there was enough tricks to fool them. If what helped me in this dirty life, half of Indian blood, it helped to be cunning, all the years helped.

My floor in front of the door of the department, the key is inserted outside, and I understand that this is the older sister: gently, quickly, obediently gives away the key lock; It has long been wielding these keys. With a wave of cold air, she slips into the corridor, locks behind him, and I see how soon her fingers along ground steel - nails of the same color that lips. Orange straight. Like a sore soldering iron. Hot color or cold, do not even understand when they touch you.

She has a wicker bag like those whom the AMPKA tribe is traded at the hot August highway, the form looks like a tool box, with a hen-pen hand. How many years I am here, so much of her bag. Weaving is rare, I see that inside: neither lipstick, nor faders, no female junk, only wheels, gears, gears polished to shine, tiny pills whites, as if porcelain, needles, tweezers, hourly plugs, copper wires.

Going past me, nods. I drag out after the mop to the wall, I smile and, in order to deceive her equipment, hiding the eye - when the eyes are closed, it is harder to figure it out.

In the darkness, she goes past me, I hear how its rubber heels are knocking on a tile and bodies in a good bag at every step. Steps wooden. When I open my eyes, she wraps in the glass sister post in the depths of the corridor - it will sit there all day at the table, eight hours will look through the window and write down what is happening in the day chamber. She has a calm and satisfied before this business.

But only she began to rake in these sliding hands of black Sanitars, and they gave her shvubr handles with her handles, as patients come out of bedrooms to see what the market was behind the bazaar, and she takes the former look so as not to see her in a natural terriber. While patients are rubbed their eyes, while somehow spotted asleep, because of what the noise in front of them again, just an older sister, as always calm, restrained, and with a smile said medics, it is not necessary to gather a bunch and chat, as of today Monday, The first morning of the working week, so many cases ...

- ... You see, Monday, Morning ...

Yes, Miss Gnussen ...

- ... And we have so many appointments on this morning ... so if you do not have a special need to stand here together and talk ...

Yes, Miss Gnussen ...

Walked, nodded the sick, who gathered around and watch red, swollen eyes with her eyes. Nodded to everyone separately. Clear, automatic motion. Her face is smooth, verified, accurate developing, like an expensive doll, - skin like an enamel of corporal color, white and cream, clear blue eyes, a short spout with small pink nostrils, all in the way, except for the color of the lips and nails and even chest size . Somewhere made a mistake when assembling, they put such large female breasts to the device perfect in the rest, and it can be seen how she was saddened.

Patients still stand, they want to know, because of what she attacked the Sanitars; Then she remembers that he saw me, and says:

Since today is Monday, let's first of all to disperse pobreem poor Mr. Bromdena and so, perhaps, escape the ordinary ... uh ... disorder - in fact, after breakfast in the room for shaving, we will be a pandemonium.

While they turn around to me, I dive back to a closer for rags, slam the daughter, stop breathing. It is no worse when you shave to breakfast. If you managed to chew, you are not so weak and not so sleepy, and these gadas that work in the plant is difficult to get to you from some of your cars. But if the breakfast shave - and she sat down, - in half the seventh, in a room with white walls and white sinks, with long luminescent tubes in the ceiling so that there were no shadows, and the face is shouting everywhere around you, locked behind the mirrors - what Can you then against their cars?

I hung up in a cloth for rags, I listen, my heart knocks in the dark, and I try not to get frightened, I try to drive my thoughts away from here, think and remember something about our village and the Greater River Columbia, I remember how that once, oh, we, with dad I hunted on birds in the cedarry under Dalllz ... But whenever I try to drive my thoughts into the past, to hide there, a close fear still seeps through the memories. I feel that there is a small black sanitary in the corridor, sniffing towards my fear. He inflates the nostrils with black funnels, turns the big head back and here, sniffs, pulls the fear from the whole office. I hung me, I hear his assumption. Does not know where I hide, but he sehes, silently looks. Farming ...

(Dad tells me: Zamre; says that the dog hurt the bird, somewhere near. We lent Pointera from one person in Dalls-Citi. Our village dogs are useless krats, says Dad, fishing robus eat, low class; and this Dogs - she has instinct! I'm not saying anything, but I already see in the cedar teen birds - cringed with a gray lump of feathers. The dog runs at the bottom of the circles - the smell everywhere, not to understand wherever. Bird froze, and as long as she faces nothing. She holds steadfast, but the dog circles and sniffs, everything is louder and closer. And here the bird rose, placing feathers, and flies out of the cedar right on daddy fraction.)

I did not have time to run off and ten steps, like a small sanitary and one of the big catch me and the fiber into the shave room. I'm not noisy, do not resist. Short down - you are worse. I restrain the cry. I restrain while they do not get to the temples. Until now, I did not know, maybe it really is a razor, and not some of their submenimal machines, but when they got to the temples, I can no longer stop. What will the will, when they got to the temples. Here ... the button was pressed: air alarm! Air alarm! - And she turns me on this volume that there is no sound already, everyone yells on me because of a glass wall, shut down the ears, faces in a valid inclusion, but no sound. My noise absorbs all noises. Again, turn on the foggy car, and it snows on me cold and white, like a shot of milk, so thick, that he could hide in it, if they were not kept. In the fog I do not see for ten centimeters and through howler I only hear the older sister, how she with a hiking leament on the corridor, squeezing from the road with a wicker bag. I hear her tread, but I can't cut the cry. Shouting until she came up. Two keep me, and she drove me in his mouth a wicker bag with all the kind and spoke deeper by the twist knob.

(Hound bakes in the fog, she lost and rushing in fright, because he did not see. On earth there are no traces, except for her own, she leads a red rubber nose, but there are no smells, but it smells only by her fear that she scraars her nutro .) And I will see me as well, and I will finally tell about everything about the hospital, about her, about these people ... and about McMurphy. I so long silent that I will break up like a dam in the flood, and you will think that a person telling this carries Ahinea, think that such a bummy does not happen in life, such horrors cannot be true. But I ask you. It is still difficult for me to collect my thoughts when I think about it. But everything is true, even if it did not happen.

When the fog diverges and I begin to see, I sit in the day room. This time I was not taken to the shock shalman. I remember how I was pulled out from a cheerful and locked to an insulator. I do not remember, gave breakfast or not. Probably, not. I can remember such a morning in the insulator when the Sanitars dragged breakfast smashes - as if for me, and eat themselves - they are breakfast, and I am lying on a mattress and look like a egg on a plate with roasted bread. It smells like larch, crushes bread in their teeth. And another time they will bring a cold porridge and make it, without salt even.

This morning I do not remember at all. I hung in me as many of these pieces that they call pills that did not understand anything until heard the door to the department opened. The door opened - it means that the time eight or the ninth, it means that I could have gotten in an insulator of an hour and a half, the technicians could come and establish anything on the orders of the older sister, and I don't even know what!

I hear the noise at the entrance door, at the beginning of the corridor, it is not visible from here. This door is started to open at eight, open-closed at a hundred times per day, Tyt-tyr, click. Every morning, after breakfast, we are clearing along two walls in the day room, we fold the puzzle pictures, listen, will not click whether the castle will click, waiting for it. More and do nothing more. Sometimes one of the young doctors living in the hospital comes early to look at us before taking medicines - they are called the DPL. Sometimes a wife visits someone, at high heels, hooking a handbag to the stomach. Sometimes this fool in public relations leads primary school teachers; He always seals sweaty palms and says he is happily because of the hospital for the presumptuous cruel, "What a spiritual situation, agree!" The teachers were shot in a bunch for safety, and he wakes around, bother with his palms: "No, when I remember former times, dirt, bad food and that sin to hide, cruel appeal, I understand, ladies: We have achieved big shifts!" Whoever entered the door, it is always not the one who would like to see, but hope always remains, and only clicks the castle, all heads rises at once, as on the ropes.

Today, the locks are wonderful, this is not an ordinary visitor. The voice of the accompanying, irritated and impatient: "New patient, go to sleep." And black fit.

New. Everyone cease to play cards and "monopoly", turn to the door to the corridor. On the other day, I would now make a chalk corridor and saw whom they accept, but today, I explained to you already, the older sister turned one hundred kilograms in me, and I could not break away from the stool. On another day, I would be the first to see a new one, I would see how it was going on the door, sneaks through the wall, it is afraid of the Sanitars will not issue a reception; Then they will lead him to the shower, we will leave, leave, trembling, in front of the door open, and they themselves run along the corridors, looking for Vazelin. "We need Vaseline," they will say the older sister, - for the thermometer. " And she looks at one to one, then to another: "I have no doubt that I needed," and it will take it to the bank almost in half, "just watch not going there all together." Then I see in the soul of two, and then all three, together with the new, they smear the thermometer with a layer almost in a finger of thickness, delivered: "Oh, from, mom, about so from", - then slam the door and include all souls So that nothing has been heard, except for an evil hissing of water beating in green tiles. Most often I see everything in the corridor.

But today I sit on a chair and only hear how it leads. And although I don't see anything, I feel that this is not an ordinary new one. I do not hear it to frighten through the wall, and when he is talking about the soul, it does not obey with timid, quiet "yes", and immediately corresponds to a snitch bold voice that he is so pretty clean, thank you, damn.

In the morning I was smeared in court and in prison last night. And in a taxi, it would be rinsed here to holes, by God, if souls found there. Oh, guys, how to cross me somewhere, so they dreamed and before, and after, and during delivery. Before that I got that I hear the water - I immediately rush to collect things. Yes, they dug with your thermometer, Sam, let me look at the new apartment. Srod was not at the Institute of Psychology.

Patients are puzzled at each other and again on the door, where the voice comes from. And why says so loud - after all, the black guys are near? The voice is as if he is over them and says down, as if he wrapped in twenty meters above the ground and shouts to those who are below. Strongly says. I hear how it goes on the corridor, and goes hard, so it does not make your ways; He has iron on heels and knocks on the floor as horse horseshoes. It appears in the doorway, stops, shoves the thumbs in the pockets, put the legs and stands, and the patients look at him.

With good morning guys.

Above his head hanging on the twenty paper bat - from the day of all saints; It raises his hand and clicks it clicking.

What is a pleasant autumn day.

He reminds dad, voice loud and mischievous; But the dad itself does not look like: Dad was purebred Colombian Indian, the leader is solid and glossy, like a rifle butt. And this redhead, with long red tanks and unwitted, long-not cut curls, knocking out from under the cap, and all of it is the same wide as Dad was high: the jaw is wide, and shoulders, and chest, and a wide tooth smile, - and The hardness in it is different than the dad, the hardness of the baseball ball under the shapper skin. Across the nose and through his whisk he has a scar - someone tugged him well in a fight, - and the seams have not yet been removed. He stands and waits, but no one even thought to respond him, and then he begins to laugh. All the uncommon, why he laughs: nothing funny happened. And not like this, according to public relations, is loudly laughing freely, cheerfully cheered up, and laughter is diverged with circles, wider, wider, throughout the separation, splashes into the wall. Not a cotton laughter for public relations. I suddenly realized that I hear laughter for the first time in many years.

He stands, looks at us, throwing out on the heels, and laughs, poured. His thumbs are in his pockets, and the rest he looked out on his stomach. I see that his hands are big and visited many alterations. And patients and staff - all in the department are shaken by his appearance, his laughter. No one thought to stop him or say something. Mowing plenty, he enters the day room. Now he is not laughing, but laughter still trembles around him, as the sound continues to tremble in just a big bell than justly, he is in his eyes, in a smile, in a banging gait, in his voice.

My name is McMurphy, guys, R. P. McMurfy, and I am weak to the pictures. "He winks, sees:" ... and it's worth a deck to see me, I'm a money on the table with a sword ... "And again laughs.

Then comes to some company of gamblers, a thick rough finger touches the cards from one sharp, looks at them, quit, and shakes his head.

Yeah, for this, I arrived in your establishment - entertain and hanging you, eccentrics, at the cottage table. In the pendleton correctional farm, there was no one to brighten my days, and I demanded a translation, understandable? Ho-ho, you look at how this goose keeps cards - all the barrack is visible. I cut you, guys like sheep.

Chesvik shifts his cards. Redhead gives him a hand.

Great, friend, what is playing? In "Thousand"? That you are not trying to hide cards. You do not have a normal deck here? Then we went - I captured myself just in case, in it not simple pictures ... Yes, you check them, eh? All different. Fifty-two positions.

Chesvika and so painted eyes, and from what he saw now, it was better not to be.

Lightly, not Musol; We have a lot of time, I play a widow. Why do I like to play my deck - no less than a week passes while other players will seem to be seen.

On it camp pants and shirt, burned to the color of the filmed milk. Person, neck and hands in his dark raspberry from a long work in the field. In the hair, a motorcycle hat was confused, similar to a black caps, a leather jacket was deployed through the hand, on the legs of the shoes, gray, dusty and so heavy that one pinom can reverse the person in half. He moves away from Chesvik, pulls off his cap and knocks it from his hip a whole dust storm. One chantar goes around him with a thermometer, but you will not catch it: only the Negro aimed, as he climbs into a bunch of sharp and begins to make his hands in turn. Talking him, winking, loud voice, an important gait - All this reminds me of a car vendor, or a cattle auctioner, or such a fair merchant - his product, maybe, and not the main thing, it is on the side, but behind him flags and shirt on it It is striped, and buttons are yellow, and all individuals turn to it as magnetized.

You see what story: I went out, in truth to say, there are several warm conversations on a correctional farm, and the court ruled that I am a psychopath. What am I - will I argue with the court? Yes, God forbid. At least a psychopath name, at least a mad dog, at least Vurdalak, just remove me from the pea fields, because I agree not to hug with their hoe to death. So they tell me: a psychopath is who too much holds and too much ... Khe ... They are not right, what do you think? Where does this mean so that a person has a bust in part of women? Great, how do you like? I am McMurphy and argue on two dollars that you do not know how many points you have in your hands now, - Do not look! Two dollars, well? Damn it, Sam! Can you at least half a minute not to poke your fool's thermometer?

Ken Kizi was born in the village of La Junta, which is located in the American state of Colorado. His father Frederick Kizi was owned by an oven, and the mother of Geneva Smith led a household. Education in the Kizi family was religious and devout.

When Kenu was 11 years old, the family moves to the state of Origero, in Villamett Valley, which is the end of the city of Springfield. There was a farm that previously belonged to her grandfather along the father's line.

Ken visited church-parish, and then a senior mid-educational school. In the latter, he became interested in strength sports and even became a state champion. Studying at the local college, the young man repeated this achievement and even entered the expanded list of participants in the Olympic team, but the unexpected shoulder injury interrupted his sports career.

Then Ken Kizi returns to his education and enters the University of Oregon, where he studies journalism and seriously fond of literature. After this university, thanks to the received grant and national scholarship of Woodrow Wilson, it is immediately trained in Stanford University in the direction of "Writing Mastery". But the young man paid to the grant was lacked, so he settled on the Hospital of Veterans Menlo Park, where he served as Sanitar, and was also a participant in experiments on the body of various psychotropic drugs, including LSD.

In 1964, having gathered several close buddies, Ken organizes a hippie-communu, which "funny ledging" calls. Their main goal was to organize musical parties, which played the beginning of the Grateful Dead group, to have fun and offer everyone to pass the "acid test", that is, practically free to try LSD or any other psychotropic drug.

Also, "Pumps" was his own used School bus "International Harvest", which they painted with fluorescent paints in bright colors and made several travels in America, including the famous trip to New York at the international exhibition.

Later, the US police became interested in Ken Kizi, presenting him an accusation of storage and the use of illegal narcotic substances. Kizi tried to hide in Mexico, while his own suicide was drawn, but on returning after 8 months it was immediately arrested and sentenced to 5 months in prison.

Books

The first literary breakdown of the pen for Ken Kizi became the novel "Zoo" about the Commune of Hipsters and Hippie, which he wrote in 1959, but did not publish. A year later, he writes the story "End of Autumn", which argues about growing up. This story also had some autobiographic and was also not published.

While working in the hospital for veterans, the idea of \u200b\u200bthe novel about the patients of the psychiatric hospital, which is actually quite healthy, but the traditional society for various reasons rejects them. In 1962, the novel called "Flying over the nest of the cuckoo" saw the light, but at first did not bring the author of great success. A year later, the performance of the book comes out the play of Dale Wasserman and then the writer is increasing popularity.

The next large book of Kizi became the novel "Pordia Great", in which the writer uses realism as a foundation for a real literary experiment. This work was ambiguous criticism, but subsequently was called one of the most important American books on the 2nd half of the 20th century.

After that, the writer focused on journal publications, novels and essays. In the publishing houses over the next 20 years, there were only collections of the "Garage Sale" stories of 1973 and "When Angels" 1986 were. Also in 1990, the Piez Ken Kizi "Further Investigation" was put.

The third full-length novel "The Sailor's Song" appeared only in 1992 and was a new experiment, since the plot of the books are quite random and ambiguous. In 1994, the last novel Ken Kizi "The Last Check-in" was released, which he wrote together with his old friend from the "learn" Ken Babbs, and a play "Deceiver".

Then again published in periodicals. A collection of "Prison Journal" Stories, which saw the world in 2003, was published in the press, after the death of the writer.

Personal life

After graduating from the school Ken Kizi escaped from the house of parents with his classmate Fei Haxby. This pair will pass throughout life together, although because of his views on the life of official marriage, they did not conclude.

In this civil marriage, Ken and Fay had three children - the sons of Jed, Zayn and the daughter of Shannon. Also, Ken had a daughter of Sunshine Kizi from one of the participants of the "cheerful learn" Carolin Adams. Moreover, Fei Haxby gave consent to these relationships.

Death

After leaving the prison, where he was sitting for the storage of marijuana, Ken Kizi went to his farm Pleasant Hill in Villamett Valley. Here the writer lived until the end of his life. He was engaged in agriculture, led secluded and quiet life.

I left the family farm kizi only twice in the 90s, for the sake of meeting with former comrades on the Commune "Merry Pumps". The last time Ken Kizi seemed in public in 1997. The writer was already very sick. He developed sugar diabetes, later was discovered liver cancer. And in 2001, Kizie survived the stroke. A successful operation was carried out, an improvement was made, but after 2 weeks the state of health has deteriorated again, and on November 10, 2001, on the 67th year of life, Ken Kizi died in the Hospital "Sacred Heart".

Bibliography

• 1962 - fluttering over the cuckoo nest
• 1964 - Pordly the Great
• 1973 - Garage Sale
• 1986 - When the angels appeared
• 1990 - Further investigation
• 1992 - Sailor's Song
• 1994 - the last check-in
• 1994 - deceiver
• 2003 - Prison Journal