Shalami Sync Summary. The originality of the disclosure of the "camp" topic (for "Kolyma Stories" in

Consider the collection of Shalamov, over which he worked in the period from 1954 to 1962. We describe his brief content. Kolyma stories - a collection, the plot of the stories of which constitutes a description of the camp and imprisonment of the prisoners of the Gulag, their tragic fates, similar to the other in which the case rules. The focus of the author is constantly being hunger and saturation, painful dying and recovery, emotion, moral humiliation and degradation. About the problems raised by Shalamov, you will learn more, after reading the summary. Kolyma stories - a collection, which is an understanding of the experienced and seen by the author for 17 years, which he conducted in the conclusion (1929-1931) and Kolyma (from 1937 to 1951). Photo by the author is presented below.

Tombstone

The author recalls his comrades from the camps. We will not list their surnames because we make a summary. Kolyma stories - a collection in which artistic and documentality is intertwined. However, the real last name is given to all murderers in the stories.

Continuing the story, the author describes how prisoners died, which torment was survived, speaks of their hopes and behavior in "Auschwitz without stoves", like Shalamov called Kolyma camps. Survive was a few, but to survive and not be broken by morally - units.

"Life of Kypriyev engineer"

Let us dwell on the next curious story that we could not not describe by making up a summary. Kolyma stories - a collection in which the author who did not sell anyone and did not betray, says that for himself developed a formula for protecting its own existence. It is that a person can survive if he is ready at any time to death, it may end. But later, he realizes that only built a comfortable refuge for himself, as it is unknown, how will you become in a decisive moment if you have enough not only spiritual forces, but also physical.

Cypriaev, a physicist engineer, arrested in 1938, was not only able to withstand the interrogation with beating, but even pounced on the investigator, as a result of which he was put in the Cake. But still you are trying to achieve false testimony from him, threatening the spouse with arrest. Cyprix nevertheless continues to prove everyone that he is not a slave, like all prisoners, but a man. Thanks to the talent (he fixed the broken found a way to restore blurred light bulbs) This hero can avoid the hardest work, but not always. Only a miracle he remains alive, but the moral shock does not let him go.

"At the show"

Shalamov, who wrote "Kolyma stories", the brief content of which we are interested, indicates that the camp plant concerned in one degree or another. It was carried out in various forms. We describe in a few words another product from the collection "Kolyma stories" - "on the view". The short content of its plot is the following.

Two thoughts play cards. One loses and asks to play debt. Wow at some point, he orders unexpectedly concluded from the intellectuals, which turned out to be randomly among the audience, give a sweater. He refuses. His "cums" one of the thoughts, and the sweater goes to Bratula, anyway.

"At night"

Go to the description of another product from the collection "Kolyma stories" - "At night". A brief content of it, in our opinion, will also be interested in the reader.

Two prisoners steps to the grave. It was buried in the morning the body of their comrade. They remove underwear with a dead man in order to change on tobacco or bread tomorrow or sell. Woodiness to the delicious clothes is replaced by the thought that, perhaps, they will be able to smoke or eat a little more.

There are a lot of works in the collection "Kolyma stories". "Carpenters", the brief content of which we lowered, follows the story "Night". Get acquainted with him we offer yourself. The product is small. The format of one article, unfortunately, does not allow to describe all the stories. Also a very small work from the collection "Kolyma stories" - "berries". The summary of the main and most interesting, in our opinion, the stories are presented in this article.

"Single measurement"

The author-defined by the author as slave camp work is another form of plant. The prisoner, exhausted to them, cannot work out, work turns into torture and leads to slow kill. Dougaev, ZKK, more and more weaken because of the 16-hour working day. He is a raplet, Kaelit, takes. In the evening, the caretaker freezes made by him. The figure of 25%, called by the caretaker, seems very big to Dougaev. He is unbearable his hands, head, butt caviar. The prisoner does not even feel hunger. Later he is called to the investigator. He asks: "Name, surname, term, article." The soldiers will lead to a deaf place, surrounded by a fence with a barbed wire. At night, the noise of tractors comes from here. Dugayev is guessed about why he was delivered here, and understands that life is over. He regrets only about the fact that he walked in vain.

"Rain"

You can talk for a very long time about such a collection as "Kolyma stories." A summary of the heads of works is only an introductory nature. We bring to your attention the next story - "Rain".

"Sherry Brandy"

The poet-concluded, which was considered the first poet of the 20th century in our country, dies. He lies on the horses, in the depths of their lower row. Poet dies for a long time. Sometimes a soap comes to him, for example, that someone stole his bread from him, which the poet put himself under his head. He is ready to look, fight, swear ... However, there is no strength for it. When a daily soldering in his hand is put in his hand, he presses his mouth with all his might, sucks him, trying to gnaw and tear with tenting circular teeth. When the poet dies, he is not written off for another 2 days. The neighbors when distributing, it is possible to get bread on it as a living. They arrange so that he raises his hand like a puppet doll.

"Shock therapy"

Merzlyakov, one of the heroes of the Collamian stories collection, the brief content of which we consider, the alarm of a large physique, in common areas understands what hesitates. It falls, can not stand and refuses to take a log. First, he beaten his own, then escorns. It is delivered to the camp with rags in the lower back and a broken edge. After recovering Merzlyakov, it does not stop complaining and pretends that he could not raise. He does it in order to delay the discharge. It is directed to the surgical department of the central hospital, and then into the nervous to study. Merzlyakova appears a chance to be written off on the will of the disease. He hardly tries to not expose him. But Peter Ivanovich, the doctor, in the past, the former zack, exposes it. All human in it displaces professional. He spends the bulk of the time for the exposure of those who simulate. Peter Ivanovich anticipates the effect that will make a case with Merzlyak. The doctor first makes him anesthesia, during which it manages to break the body of Merzlyakov. After a week, the patient is prescribed a shock therapy, after which he asks for an extract itself.

"Typhoundic quarantine"

Andreev enters quarantine, sick tit. The patient's position in comparison with the works on the work gives him a chance to survive, for which he almost did not hope. Then Andreev decides to linger here as long as possible, and then, perhaps, they will not send it more into the golden fears, where death, beatings, hunger. Andreev does not respond to roll call before sending recovered on work. He manages to hide quite a long time. Gradually empties the transit, the queue finally, and to Andreeva. But it seems to him now that he won the battle for his life, and if now will be shipped, then only local, close business trips. But when the truck with a group of prisoners, who were given unexpectedly winter uniforms, moves the line separating the distant and neighboring business trips, Andreev understands that fate laughed at him.

In the photo below - on the house in Vologda, in which Shalamov lived.

Aortic aneurysm

In the stories of Shalamov, the disease and hospital - an indispensable attribute of the plot. Catherine Glovakskaya, prisoner, enters the hospital. This beauty immediately liked the Zaitsev, the duty officer. He knows that it is in relations with the Zekhivalov Zack, his acquaintances, who leads a local circle of artistic amateur activities, the doctor still decides to try his happiness. As usual, it begins with a medical examination of the patient, with listening to the heart. However, male interest is replaced by medical concern. In Glovakovka, he discovers this disease, in which every careless movement can provoke death. The leadership of the leadership, the leadership of the leader once sent a girl on a free female program. The head of the hospital after the report of the doctor about her illness is confident that this is the miscarriage of the beddow, who wants to delay his mistress. The girl is discharged, but when loading it dies, what a hare warned about.

"The last fight of Major Pugacheva"

The author suggests that after the Great Patriotic War, they began to arrive in the camp prisoners who fought and passed through captivity. People these other hardening: who know how to risk, bold. They believe only in weapons. The camp slavery did not clarify them, they were not yet exhausted before the loss of will and strength. Their "wines" was that these prisoners were in captivity or surrounded. One of them, Major Pugachev, it was clear that they were brought here to death. Then he collects strong and decisive, to become self-prisoners who are ready to die or become free. Escape prepare the whole winter. Pugachev understood that to run after the winter survived, only those who would succeed to Milk shared work can. One after another participants of the conspiracy are moving in service. One of them becomes a cook, another - cultory, the third reinstalling weapons for protection.

In one spring day, at 5 am, knocked on Watch. The duty officer is imparting a prisoner, which, as usual, came behind the keys from the pantry. The cook is scented, and the other prisoner is disguised in his form. With other duty, returned a little later, happens the same. Next, everything happens according to the Pugachev plan. The conspirators are broken into the guard and master weapons, shooting the duty officer. They are reserved by the province and put on a military uniform, holding suddenly awakened fighters under the sight. Going beyond the territory of the camp, they stop the truck on the track, the driver is planted and ride until gasoline ends. Then they go to Taiga. Pugachev, waking up at night after many months of captivity, recalls, as in 1944 he made escaped from the German camp, moved the front line, survived the interrogation in a special department, after which he was accused of espionage and sentenced to 25 years in prison. He also recalls, as Emissary General Vlasov came to the German camp, who recruited Russian, convincing that the soldiers who came to be captured for Soviet power are Motherland's traitors. Then Pugachev did not believe them, but soon he was convinced of this. He looks back with the love of his comrades sleeping nearby. A little bit later, hopeless battle with soldiers who surrounded the fugitives. Prisoners die almost everything, except for one, which is cured after severe injury in order to shoot. Only Pugachev managed to escape. He hid in Blood Blood, but he knows that he will find him too. He does not regret it. His last shot - in itself.

So, we considered the basic stories from the collection, the author of which is Vamlam Shalamov ("Kolyma stories"). Summary introduces the reader with basic events. You can read more about them on the pages of the work. For the first time, the collection published in 1966 Vamlam Shalamov. "Kolyma stories", the brief content of which you now know, appeared on the pages of the New York publication "New Journal".

In New York in 1966, only 4 stories were published. In the next, 1967, 26 stories of this author, mainly from the collection of interest to us, went out in German in Cologne. During his lifetime, I did not publish a collection of "Kolyma stories" Shalamov in the USSR. The summary of all chapters, unfortunately, is not included in the format of one article, since there are a lot of stories in the collection. Therefore, we recommend to familiarize yourself with the rest.

"Condensed milk"

In addition to those described above, we will tell another product from the collection "Kolyma stories" - a brief content of it.

Shestakov, familiar narrator, did not work on the world to slaughter, because he was an engineer-geologist, and he was taken to the office. He met with a storyteller and said that he wanted to take workers and go to the black keys to the sea. And although the latter understood that this is impracticable (the path to the sea is very long), he still agreed. The narrator aroused that shestaks probably wants to pass all those who will participate in it. But the promised condensed milk (to overcome the way, should have been reinforced) bribed it. Going to Shestakov, he ate two banks of this delicacy. And then suddenly reported that he had changed his mind. After a week, other workers fled. Two of them were killed, three in a month tried. And Shestakov was transferred to another mine.

We recommend reading in the original and other works. Shalmov "Kolyma stories" wrote very talented. Summary ("berries", "rain" and "children's pictures" We also recommend reading in the original) transmits only the plot. The author's syllable, artistic advantages to evaluate only becoming acquainted with the work itself.

Not included in the collection "Kolyma stories" "Saentenation". The summary of this story, we did not describe for this reason. However, this work is one of the most mysterious in the work of Shalamov. Fans of his talent will be interested in familiar with him.

Nadezhda Yakovlevna Mandelshtam

People arose from non-essential - one by one. An unfamiliar man went down next door to me on Nara, fell at night to my bony shoulder, giving his warmth - heat droplets - and getting my way in return. There were nights when there was no heat before me through the scraps of the Bushlata, the tag, and in the morning I looked at the neighbor, as a dead man, and a little bit wondered that the dead was alive, rises in the okhika, dressed and fulfill the command. I had little warmth. Not much meat remained on my bones. This meat was enough for anger - the last of human feelings. Not indifference, and anger was the last human feeling - the one that closers to the bones. A man who arose of non-existence disappeared during the day - there were many sections at coal intelligence - and disappeared forever. I do not know people who slept next to me. I never asked them questions, and not because I followed the Arab proverb: Do not ask - and you will not lie. I still had - I will lie to me or will not, I was out of truth, out of lies. Blessed on this subject is a tough, bright, rude saying, permeated by deep contempt for a given question: do not believe - acceptance for a fairy tale. I did not ask and did not listen to fairy tales.

What remained with me to the end? Evil. And keeping this malice, I expected to die. But death, so close quite recently, it became gradually moving away. It was not a life of death substituted, but half a score, the existence that there is no formula and which cannot be called life. Every day, each sunrise brought the danger of a new, deadly push. But there was no shock. I worked as a boiler - the lightest of all works, it is easier to be a guard, but I did not have time to seize firewood for Titan, the boiler "Titan" system. I could drive me - but where? Taiga is far away, our village, "Traveling" in Kolymsky, is like an island in the Taiga world. I barely laughed my legs, the distance in two hundred meters from the tent to work it seemed to me endlessly, and I didn't stay relaxed once again. I now remember all potholes, all the pits, all the pivots on this mortal trail; The stream in front of which I went to the stomach and lacqual cold, delicious, healing water. Two-handed saw, which I dragged on my shoulder, then the wolf, holding one handle, seemed to me the cargo of incredible gravity.

I could never boil the water in time, to achieve Titan to boil to dinner.

But none of the workers from the freesties, all of them were yesterday's prisoners - did not pay attention, whether water was boiling or not. Kolyma taught us all the drinking water only by temperature. Hot, cold, not boiled and raw.

We were not affected by a dialectical jump of the transition of quantity in quality. We were not philosophers. We were workers, and our hot drinking water of these important scrap whales had no jump.

I ate, indifferently trying to eat everything that came across, - trimming, wreckage of edible, last year's berries in the swamp. Yesterday or marriage Soup from the "free" boiler. No, yesterday's soup did not have left.

In our tent there were two guns, two shotgun. Partridges were not afraid of people, and first time bird beat straight from the threshold of the tent. Mining was baked entirely in the ashes of the fire or was cooked, when it was plotting carefully. Poo-feather - on the pillow, also commerce, loyal money - the acquisition of the free owners of rifles and taiga birds. Scotched, plug-in partridges were cooked in tin cans - three-liter, suspended to fires. From these mysterious birds, I never found no residues. Hungry freezers crushed, smaloli, excosal all bird bones without a residue. It was also one of the wonders of Taiga.

I never tried a piece from these partridges. My - was berries, herb roots, soldering. And I was not dying. I became more and more indifferent, without malice, look at the cold red sun, on the mountains, goltsy, where everything: rocks, turns of the stream, larch, poplar - was angular and unfriendly. In the evenings, a cold fog rose from the river - and there was no hour in Taiga day, when I would be warm.

The frostbitten fingers and legs weave, buzzed from pain. The bright pink leather of the fingers remained pink, easily vulnerable. The fingers were forever climbed into some dirty rags, protecting your hand from a new wound, from pain, but not from infection. Of the thumbs on both legs, the pus was frozen, and there was no end of the end.

I was brought by a blow to the rail. A blow to the rail was removed from work. After a meal, I immediately lay down on Nara, not undressing, of course, and fell. The tent, in which I slept and lived, saw me how through the fog - people moved somewhere, there was a loud Maternaya Brand, there were fights, there were instantaneous silence before a dangerous blow. The fights quickly faded - by themselves, no one kept, did not dispel, simply blahled the motors of the fight - and there was a night cold silence with a pale high sky through holes of the tarpaulin ceiling, with snoring, wheezing, moans, cough and an imparcelly swearing.

One night I felt that I hear these moans and wheezing. The feeling was sudden as an insight, and did not please me. Later, remembering this minute of surprise, I realized that the need of sleep, forgotten, fearlessness became less - I slept, as Moses said Moses, our blacksmith, clever from the smarts.

There was persistent pain in the muscles. What I really had the muscles - I don't know, but the pain in them was, angry me, did not give me to distract from the body. Then I had something different than anger or anger, existing with anger. There were indifference - fearless. I realized that I would still be to beat me or not, will give lunch and soldering - or not. And although in the intelligence, on an infinite business trip, I did not beat me - they only hit on the forecast, - I, remembering the mine, measured my courage to the schism. This is indifferent, this fearlessness was gone to some kind of death. Consciousness that they will not beat here, do not beat and will not beat, gave birth to new forces, new feelings.

Fear has come for indifference - not very strong fear - fear of losing this saving time, this saving work of a boiler, a high cold sky and a hatching pain in worn muscles. I realized that I'm afraid to leave here on the mine. I'm afraid, and that's it. I never sought the best from the good for all my life. Meat on my bones day of day grew. Envy - this is what was called the next feeling that returned to me. I envied the dead to my comrades - people who died at the thirty-eighth year. I envied the living neighbors who chew something, the neighbors who snatch something. I did not envy the boss, foreman, the brigadier was another world.

Love has not returned to me. Oh, as far away love from envy, from fear, from anger. How little you need love to people. Love comes when all human feelings have already returned. Love comes last, returns the last, and whether it returns? But not only indifference, envy and fear witnessed my return to life. Pity for animals returned earlier than pity for people.

As the weakest in this world of shurts and exploration canvas, I worked with a topographer - dragged the rail to the topograph and theodolite. It happened that for the velocity of movement, the topographer was adjusted the belts of the theodolite for his back, and I only got the limestly, painted rake numbers. The topographer was from prisoners. With you for courage, this summer there were a lot of fugitives in the taiga - the topographer tested a small-caliber rifle, scoring the weapon from the bosses. But the rifle only interfered with us. And not only because there was an extra thing in our difficult journey. We sat down to relax in the glade, and the topographer, playing a small-caliber rifle, aimed at the Krasnogrudoy Bullfigue, the fallen to consider the danger, to lead to the side. If necessary - to sacrifice the life. Snagir's fellow sat somewhere on eggs - only this was explained by the insane bird courage. The topographer raged the rifle, and I took the trunk to the side.

Remove a gun!
- Yes, what are you? You are crazy?
- Leave the bird, and that's it.
- I share the boss.
- Damn with you and with your boss.

But the topographer did not want to quarrel and did not say anything to the boss. I understood: something important returned to me.

For more than one year, I have not seen newspapers and books and long learned myself, I do not regret this loss. All fifty of my neighbors on a tent, on a tarp tan tent, felt the same way - in our barrack there was not a single newspaper, not a single book. Higher bosses - foreman, head of intelligence, declines - descended into our world without books.

My tongue, a rude rude language, was poor, as the poor were feelings still living near the bones. Lifting, divorce work, lunch, end of work, hugging, citizen boss, allow you to turn, shovel, shurt, hear, bur, kylo, outdoor cold, rain, cold soup, soup hot, bread, soldering, leave to smoke - two dozen I did not care about the first year. Half of these words was rugs. I existed in my youth, in childhood anecdote, as a Russian managed in a story about the journey abroad with just one word in different intonation combinations. The richness of Russian swearing, her inexhaustible insulting revealed before me not in childhood and not in his youth. Anecdote with a croution looked here as a language of any institution. But I did not seek other words. I was happy that I should not look for some other words. Do these other words exist, I did not know. I did not know how to answer this question.

I was scared, stunned when in my brain, here - here I clearly remember - the word was born under the right darkest bone, the word was born, at all for the taiga, the word I did not understand, not only my comrades. I shouted this word, putting on the Nara, turning to the sky, to infinity:

- Centralization! Maxim!

And walked.

Maxim! - I screamed right in the northern sky, in a double dawn, I screamed, without realizing the meanings of this word born in me. And if this word returned, gained again the better, the better! Great joy overwhelmed all my creature.

- Centralization!
- Here is a psycho!
- Psycho and there! Are you a foreigner, or what? - Zvronsky asked the Mountain Engineer Vronsky, the very chronic. "Three tobacco".
- Vronsky, give a smoke.
- No, I do not have.
- Well, at least three tobacco.
- Three tobacco? You are welcome.

From the paint, complete Machorka, was removed with a dirty nail of three tobacco.

- Alien? - The question translated our fate into the world of provocations and denunciations, consequences and periods of the term.

But I was not affected by provocative question of Vronsky. Nakhodka was too huge.

- Centralization!
- Psycho and there.

The feeling of anger is the last feeling with which the man went into oblivion, in the dead world. Dead? Even the stone did not seem dead to me, not to mention the grass, trees, river. The river was not only the incarnation of life, not only a symbol of life, but also his life itself. Her eternal movement, the roar of the unpleasant, his own conversation, its business that causes water to run downstream through the counter wind, breaking through through the rocks, crossing the steppe, meadow. The river, which changed the sun-dried, nude channel and a little bit of a water wounded somewhere in the stones, obeying the eternal debt, a stream, who lost hope for helping the sky - on the saving rain. The first thunderstorm, the first shower - and the water changed the shore, broke the rocks, threw up trees and flew fucked down the same eternal expensive ...

Maxim! I myself did not believe myself, I was afraid, falling asleep that in the night it would disappear that returned to me. But the word did not disappear.

Maxim. Let us rename the river on which our village was standing, our travel "Rio Rita". What is it better "maxi"? The bad taste of the owner of the Earth - Cartographer introduced on world maps Rio Rita. And it is impossible to fix it.

Centralization is something Roman, solid, Latin was in this word. Ancient Rome for my childhood was the history of political struggle, the struggle of people, and ancient Greece was the kingdom of art. Although there were politicians and murderers in ancient Greece, and there were a lot of art people in ancient Rome. But my childhood exacerbated, simplified, narrowed and divided the two of these very different world. Meeting - Roman word. For a week I did not understand what the word "Centralization" means. I whispered this word, shouting, scared and laughed with this word neighbors. I demanded from the world, the sky has a solution, explanations, translation. And in a week I understood - and shuddered from fear and joy. Fear - because they scared the return to the world, where I was not a refund. Joy - because I saw that life returns to me besides my own will.

Many days have passed until I learned to cause new and new words from the brain depth, one after another. Every one came with difficulty, each arose suddenly and separately. Thoughts and words were not returned by the stream. Each returned one by one, without the convoy of other familiar words, and arose before in the language, and then in the brain.

And then came the day when everything, all fifty workers threw the job and ran to the village, to the river, choosing from their shurps, a ditch, throwing the eased trees, unsolved soup in the boiler. Everyone felt faster me, but I downed on time, helping myself in this run from the mountain with my hands.

From Magadan came the boss. The day was clear, hot, dry. On a huge larch stump, that at the entrance to the tent, there was a pattephone. The pattephone played, overcoming the needle hiss, played some kind of symphonic music.

And everyone stood around - killers and konokrads, thieves and freer, foremen and workers. And the boss stood near. And his expression he had such as if he wrote this music himself for us, for our deaf taiga business trip. The Shellaic Plate was spinning and hiped, the stump itself, headed for all her three hundred circles, as a tight spring, twisted for the whole three hundred years ...

Shalamov V.T. Collected works in four volumes. T.1. - M.: Fiction, Vagribus, 1998. - P. 357 - 364

The story of the stories of V. Shalamov is a painful description of the prison and camp life of the prisoners of the Soviet Gulag, their similar to another tragic destinies, in which the case, merciless or gracious, assistant or killer, arbitrariness of chiefs and thieves. Hunger and its convulsive saturation, soda, painful dying, slow and almost as painful recovery, moral humiliation and moral degradation - that's what is constantly in the spotlight of the writer.

Tombstone

The author recalls the names of his camps. After causing a sorrowful martyrologist in mind, he says who died and how he died, who was hoping, who was hoping for who and how he had led himself in this Auschwitz without stoves, as Kolyami camps called. Few who managed to survive, few people managed to stand and remain morally intact.

Life engineer Kypeev

I did not betray anyone and not selling, the author said that she had developed a formula for himself to actively protect his existence: a person only can consider himself to consider himself a man and stand up if at any moment he was ready to commit suicide. However, later he understands that he only built a comfortable asylum, because it is unknown what you will be in a decisive moment, whether you have enough physical forces, and not just spiritual. Arrested in 1938, the physicist-physicist of the Cypriaev did not only endured the beating at the interrogation, but even rushed to the investigator, after which he was planted in the Cake. However, it still achieves signatures under false testimony, blowing his wife's arrest. Nevertheless, Cypriaev continued to prove himself and others that he is a person, not a slave, which are all prisoners. Thanks to his talent (he invented a way to restore blown light bulbs, fixed the X-ray machine), he manage to avoid the greatest work, but not always. He miraculously remains alive, but moral shock remains in it forever.

At the show

The camp plant is evidenced by Shalamov, to a greater or lesser extent concerned everyone and happened in a variety of forms. Two thoughts playing cards. One of them is played in the Pooh and asks to play a "show", that is, in debt. At some point, a raised game, he unexpectedly orders the usual concluded from intellectuals, accidentally produced among the audience their games, give a woolen sweater. He refuses, and then one of his thoughts "cums" him, and the sweater still goes to Bratula.

At night

Two prisoners steps to the grave, where the body of their deceased comrade was buried in the morning, and take the lingerie from the dead men to sell or change to bread or tobacco. The initial dishes to the removed clothing is replaced by a pleasant thought that tomorrow they may be able to eat a little more and even smoke.

Single frozen

The camp work, uniquely determined by Shalamov as slave, for the writer - the form of the same plant. The procedured-prisoner is not able to give the percentage rate, so work becomes torture and slow kidding. The alarm of Dugaev gradually weakens, without holding a sixteen-hour working day. He takes, Kaelit, Rajlets, again takes and again Kaelit, and in the evening there is a caretaker and freezes the tape measure made by Dougaev. The named digit is 25 percent - it seems to Dougaev very big, he has a hatch of caviar, the hands, shoulders, head, he even lost his feeling of hunger. A little later, he is called to the investigator who asks the usual questions: the name, surname, article, term. And in the day of the soldiers, Dugayev will lead to a deaf place, a fenced high fence with barbed wire, from where at night the dragonment of tractors is coming. Dugayev is guessing, why did he come here and that his life is over. And he regrets only that in vain woven the last day.

Rain

Sherry Brandy

The prisoner-poet, whom he called the first Russian poet of the twentieth century. It lies in the dark depth of the lower row of solid two-storey nar. He dies long. Sometimes some thought comes - for example, that he was stolen by bread, which he put under his head, and it is so scary that he is ready to swear, fight, seek ... But he has no strength for this, and he has no idea about Bread is also weakening. When a daily soldering in his hand is put in his hand, he presses her mouth to his mouth, sucks him, trying to tear and nibble with quinted stressful teeth. When he dies, he is not written off two days later, and inventive neighbors manage to receive bread on a dead man as a living: they do that the one like a puppet doll raises his hand.

Shock therapy

The prisoner of Merzlyakov, a man of a large physique, being in common works, feels that he gradually surrender. Once he falls, it cannot immediately get up and refuses to drag a log. He first beaten his own, then an escorter, he is brought to the camp - he has broken ribs and back pain. And although the pains quickly passed, and the rib has grown, Merzlyak continues to complain and pretends that he could not raise, seeking at any cost to delay the record of work. He is sent to the Central Hospital, to the surgical department, and from there for research into the nervous. He has a chance to be actured, that is, written off on illness to the will. Recalling the braischi, a cheeky cold, a bowl of an empty soup, which he drank, not even using a spoon, he concentrates his whole will, so as not to be outreached in deception and sent to the penalty area. However, the doctor Peter Ivanovich himself, in the past, the prisoner, caught not slip. Professional displaces human in it. Most of his time he spends on exposing the simulants. This is a tessist of his pride: he is an excellent specialist and is proud to keep his qualifications, despite the year of common work. He immediately understands that Merzlyak is a simulant, and anticipate the theater effect of a new exposure. At first, the doctor makes him Rauch-anesthesia, during which the body of Merzlyakov managed to disperse, and after another week the procedure for the so-called shock therapy, the action of which is like a rustling of violent madness or an epileptic seizure. After her, the prisoner asks for an extract.

Typhoid quarantine

Prisoner Andreev, sick tithes, enters quarantine. Compared with the general works on the fores, the patient's position gives a chance to survive, for which the hero was almost no longer hoping. And then he decides with all the truths and inconsistencies as long as possible to stay here, in the transit, and there, perhaps, it will not be sent to the golden slaughter, where hunger, beatings and death. At the rollback before the next shipment to the works of those who are considered recovered, Andreev does not respond, and thus he is long been able to hide. The transit gradually empties, the queue finally reaches Andreev. But now it seems to him that he won his battle for the life that now the Taiga was saturated and if they were sent, then only the closest, local business trips. However, when a truck with a selected group of prisoners, which unexpectedly gave rise to winter uniforms, will be minusing the line separating neighboring travel from distant, he with an internal shudder understands that fate brutally laughed at him.

Aneurysm Aorti

Disease (and the exhausted state of the prisoners - "downturn" is quite equivalent to severe illness, although it was officially not considered as such) and the hospital - in the stories of Shalamov an indispensable attribute of stories. The hospital gets the prisoner Ekaterina Glovakskaya. Beauty, she immediately liked the duty officer Zaitsev, and although he knows that she is in close relationship with his familiar, enclosed beft, the head of the mug of amateur amateur, (the "serfdom", how to joke the hospital chief), nothing prevents him in turn try your luck. He starts, as usual, with a medical examination of the Glovakovka, with listening to the heart, but his male interest is rapidly replaced by a purely medical concern. He finds aortic aortic aneurysm to the Glovakian aneurysm - a disease in which any careless movement can cause a fatal outcome. The bosses, which took the unprinted rule, separated lovers, was once sent a globatkaya on a penalty of women's field. And now, after the report of the doctor about the dangerous illness, the head of the hospital is confident that this is nothing more than the mistake of all the same beds trying to delay the mistress. Globatskaya is discharged, but when loading in the car happens, what Dr. Zaitsev warned, - she dies.

The last fight of Major Pugacheva

Among the heroes of Shalamov's prose there are those who do not just seek to survive at any cost, but also able to intervene in the course of circumstances, to stand up for themselves, even risking life. According to the author's testimony, after the war 1941-1945. In the northeastern camps began to arrive prisoners who fought and past German captivity. These are people of different hardening, "with courage, the ability to risk, believed only in weapons. Commanders and soldiers, pilots and scouts ... ". But the main thing, they possessed the instinct of freedom, which awakened the war in them. They shed their blood, sacrificed their lives, saw the death face to face. They were not corrupted by camp slavery and were not still exhausted before the loss of forces and will. "Wines" were the fact that they were surrounded or captive. And Major Pugachev, one of these, not yet broken people, is clear: "They were brought to death - to change these living dead", which they met in Soviet camps. Then the former major collects as decisive and strong, for himself to become concluded, ready to either die or become free. In their group - pilots, scout, paramedic, tanker. They realized that they were immune to death and that there was nothing to lose. All winter prepare escape. Pugachev understood that only those who would have passed common work can go through the winter and after that. And the participants of the conspiracy, one by one, are moving to the service: someone becomes a cook, someone cultivorg, who reinforces the weapon in the guard. But spring comes, and with it and the day of day.

At five o'clock in the morning they knocked on the watch. The duty officer admits the camp chef-concluded, which came, as usual, behind the keys from the pantry. A minute, the duty officer turns out to be strangled, and one of the prisoners is disguised in his form. The same happens with the other, who returned a little later on duty. Further everything goes according to Plan Pugachev. The conspirators break into the premises of the guard and, shooting the duty officer, take advantage of weapons. Holding under the sight of suddenly awakened fighters, they dress up in a military shape and reserved by the province. Going beyond the camp, they stop the truck on the track, planted the chaffeur and continue the path already on the car until gasoline ends. After that, they go to Taiga. At night - the first night on freedom after a long month of captivity - Pugachev, waking up, recalls his escape from the German camp in 1944, the transition through the front line, interrogation in a special department, accusation of espionage and sentence - twenty-five years in prison. Remembering and recreation in the German camp of the Emissarians General Vlasov, who recruited Russian soldiers, convincing them in the fact that for the Soviet power, they were all captured, traitors of the Motherland. Pugachev did not believe them, while he could not verify himself. With love, he looks around sleeping comrades who believed in him and stretching hands to freedom, he knows that they are "better than all worthy of all." A little later, the fight is tied, the last hopeless battle between the fugitives and surrounding their soldiers. Almost all of the fugitives die, except for one, seriously wounded, which is cured to then shoot. Only Major Pugachev managed to leave, but he knows, hanged in a bearish berry, that they will still find him. He does not regret the made. The last shot of his shot.

Repeated

First reading of "Kolyma Story" V. Shalamov

Talk about the prose of Varlam Shalamov - it means to talk about the artistic and philosophical sense of nonsense. About death as a composite basis of the work. About the aesthetics of decay, decomposition, infuriation ... It would seem that new: and before, before Shalamov, death, her threat, waiting and the approach was often the main motor power of the plot, and the fact of death served as a junction ... but in "Kolymy Stories "- Otherwise. No threats, no waiting! Here, death, non-existence is the artistic world in which the plot is familiar. The fact of death preceded by The beginning of the plot. The line between life and death is forever passed by the characters even until we revealed the book and, the discontinuity, thereby launched the clock counting the artistic time. Self-artistic time here is the time of non-existence, and this feature is hardly the main in the writer's manner of Shalamov ...

But here they immediately dare: if we have the right to understand precisely in the artistic manner of the writer, whose works are read now, first of all, as a historical document? Is there any of the blasphemy indifference to the real destiny of real people? And about the reality of the fate and situations, Shalamov said repeatedly about the documentary population of "Kolyma stories". Yes, and would not say - the documentary basis and so obvious.

So it is not necessary to remind the sufferings of the prisoners of Stalinist camps, about the crimes of executioners, other of them are still, sounding, are alive, - and the victims appear to the let's notch ... We are going to the Shalamov texts - with the analysis, going to interpret the creative manner, about art discoveries. And, let's just say, not only about discoveries, but also about some aesthetic and moral problems of literature ... It is on this, Shalamovsky, camp that is still bleeding material - do you have the right? Is it possible to analyze the fraternal grave?

But he himself was not inclined to consider his stories by the document, indifferent to artistic form. The brilliant artist, he, apparently, was not satisfied with the ways they understood contemporaries, and wrote a number of texts explaining the artistic principles of "Kolyma stories". "New prose" called them.

"In order for prose or poetry to exist, it's all the same," art requires constant novelty "

He wrote, and comprehend the essence of this novelty and there is a task that is the literary.

Let's say more. If the "Kolyma stories" is a great document of the era, then we never understand what he informs if we do not comprehend, what is his artistic novelty.

"The artist's case is exactly the form, for the rest of the reader, and the artist himself, can turn to the economist, to the historian, to a philosopher, and not to another artist, to surpass, defeat, to overtake the master, it is a teacher," said Shalamov .

In a word, we need to understand not only and not so much Shalamov-Zeka, but above all the Shalamov artist. It is necessary to understand the soul of the artist. After all, he said: "I am the chronicle of his own soul. No more". And, without understanding the soul of the artist, how to understand the person the essence and meaning of history, the essence, and the meaning of what happens to himself? Where are these meanings and meaning, as not in the great works of literature!

But analyze the prose of Shalamov because it is difficult that it is really new and fundamentally unlike everything that was in world literature so far. Therefore, some previous methods of literary analysis are not suitable here. For example, retelling - the usual reception of literary criticism when analyzing prose - here is far from always enough. We have a lot to quote, as it happens when it comes to poetry ...

So, at first, let's talk about death as the basis of the art composition.

The story "Meeting" is one of the most mysterious works of Varlam Shalamov. The will of the author himself was put by the latest in the building of the book "Left Bank", which, in turn, generally completes the trilogy of "Kolyma stories". This story, in fact, the final, and, as it happens in Symphony or the novel, where only the final finally harmonizes the entire previous text, and here only the last story gives the final harmonic meaning to the entire thousandthly narration ...

The reader, who is already familiar with the world of "Kolyma stories", the first lines of the "Centralization" do not promise anything unusual. As in many other cases, the author already at the very beginning puts the reader to the land of the bottomless depths of the other world, and from these depths there are characters, and the plot, and the laws of the development of the plot. The story begins vigorously and paradoxically:

"People arose from non-existence - one by one. An unfamiliar man went down next door to me on Nara, fell at night to my bony shoulder ... "

The main thing is that of non-existence. Non-existence, death - synonyms. People arose from death? But we are already accustomed to these Shalamovsky paradoxes.

Taking into the hands of "Kolyma stories", we quickly cease to be surprised at the fuzziness or even the complete absence of boundaries between life and not enough. We get used to the fact that the characters arise from death and leave there, where came from. There are no living here. Here are prisoners. The line between life and death disappeared for them at the time of the arrest ... yes no, and the word itself arrest - Inaccurate, inappropriate here. Arrest - from the living legal lexicon, but what is happening has nothing to do with the right, to harmony and the logic of law. Logic broke up. Man did not arrest his have taken. They took quite arbitrarily: almost by chance - they could not take it - a neighbor ... There are no sensible logical justifications. A wild random destroys the logical harmony of being. They took, seized from life, from the list of tenants, from the family, fascinated the family, and the emptiness remaining after the seizure, left the ugly toy ... Everything, no man. Was or not - no. Alive - disappeared, killed ... And in the story story it is already unknown from where the dead has taken. He forgot everything. After they dragged him through the inferting and nonsense of all these meaningless actions committed on him in the first weeks and called the interrogation, a consequence, the verdict was finally in another in a friend, an unknown, the surreal world - and realized that forever . He might think that everything was over and that there was no return, if I remembered, it was over and where there is no refund. But no, he does not remember. None of his wife remembers nor God's words nor oneself. What was - moved forever. Its further circle on the barracks, forwarding, "hospitals", camp "business trips" - all this is already otherwise ...

The right, in understanding that in the story story (and, in particular, in the plot of "Centogen") people enter from death, There is nothing that would contradict the general meaning of the Shalama texts. People arise from non-existence, and it seems to show some signs of life, but still it turns out that their condition will be clearer to the reader, if we talk about them, as about the dead:

"An unfamiliar man went down next door to me on Nara, fell at night to my bony shoulder, giving his warmth - heat drops, and getting my way in return. There were nights, when there was no heat before me through the scraps of the Bushlata, the tag ray, and in the morning I looked at the neighbor as a dead man, and a little bit wondered that the dead was alive, it rises in the okhika, dressed and fulfilling the team. "

So, without leaving no heat, nor the human image in memory, they disappear from the view of the narrator, from the story of the story:

"A man arising from non-existence disappeared during the day - there were many sections at coal intelligence - and disappeared forever."

The hero itself - the narrator is also the dead. At least the story begins with the fact that we get acquainted with the dead. How else to understand the condition in which the body does not contain heat, and the soul not only does not distinguish between where the truth, where a lie, but also this difference is not interested in:

"I do not know people who slept next to me. I never asked them questions, and not because I followed the Arab proverb: "Do not ask, and you will not lie." I still have been - I will lie to me or will not, I was out of truth, out of lies. "

At first glance, the plot and the theme of the story is simple and quite traditional. (The story has long been seen criticism: see. For example: M. Geller. Concentration world and modern literature. Opi, London. 1974, p. 281-299.) It seems that this is a story about how a person comes life when a person comes The conditions of its camp life are improved. The speech seems to be about the resurrection: from moral nonsense, from the collapse of the person to high moral self-consciousness, to think the ability to think - step by step, event for the event, an act for the act, the idea of \u200b\u200bthe thought - from death to life ... But what are the extreme Points of this movement? What is in understanding the author there is death and what is life?

About its existence, the narrator's hero speaks no longer with the language of ethics or psychology, - this language can not explain anything here - but using the vocabulary of the simplest descriptions of physiological processes:

"I had little warmth. Not much meat remained on my bones. This meat was enough for anger - the last of human feelings ...

And, keeping this malice, I expected to die. But death, so close quite recently, it became gradually moving away. Without life was death substituted, but a half-knowledge, the existence that there is no formula and which cannot be called life. "

Everything is shifted in the artistic world of "Kolyma Story". The usual meanings of the words are not suitable here: of them are not compiled so well-known logical formulas Life. Easy readers of Shakespeare, they know what it means be So what - not to be, know, between what and what chooses the hero, and empathize to him, and choose with him. But Shalamov has - what is life? What is evil? What is death? What happens when today a person is less than yesterday, "well, at least cease to beat daily, and therefore - only therefore! - Death is moved away and he goes into a different existence that no formulas?

Resurrection? But so resurrect? Acquisition of the hero of the ability to perceive the surrounding life seems to be repeated by the development of the organic world: from the perception of a flat worm to ordinary human emotions ... Fear appears that the delay of death suddenly turns out to be short; envy and to the dead that already Died in 1938, and to the living neighbors - the referring. Pity for animals, but not yet pity for people ...

And finally, the mind awakens after the feelings. The ability to distinguish a person from the world around him is awakened: the ability to call words from memory storage and with the help of words to give names, subjects, events, phenomena - the first step to in the end to find logical formulas Life:

"I was afraid, stunned when in my brain, here it is here - I remember it - the word was born under the right darkest bone, the word was born at all, the word I did not understand, not only my comrades. I shouted this word, putting on the Nara, turning to the sky, to infinity:

- Centralization! Maxim!

And walked ...

- Centralization! - I screamed right in the northern sky, in a double dawn, I screamed, without realizing the meanings of this word born in me. And if this word returned, gained again - the better, the better! Great joy overwhelmed all my creature ...

For a week I did not understand what the word "maxim" means. I whispered this word, shouting, scared and laughed with this word neighbors. I demanded from the world, the sky has a rapid, explanations, translation ... and in a week I understood - and shuddered from fear and joy. Fear - because they scared the return to the world, where I was not a refund. Joy - because I saw that life returns to me besides my own will.

Many days have passed until I learned to call all new words from the brain depth, one after another ... "

Risen? Returned from non-existence? Found freedom? But is it possible to return, go back all this way - with arrest, interrogations, beatings, not once experienced death - and resurrect? Get out of the other world? Be free about

And what is released? Acquisition of a newly ability with the help of words to compile logical formulas? Using logical formulas to describe the world? Return itself to this world, obeying the laws of logic?

On the gray background of the Kolyma landscape What fiery word will be saved for subsequent generations? Will it be an omnipotent word denoting the order of this world, - logic!

But no, "Centogen" is not a concept of a vocabulary of a cry reality. Life does not know logic. Logical formulas cannot be explained by what is happening. The absurd case is the name of the local destiny.

What is the sense in the logic of life and death, if, sliding on the list, it was on your last name that the finger of someone else's, unfamiliar (or, on the contrary, familiar and hateing) of the uniform - and everything, no you, got to a disastrous business trip and a few days later Your body, coarse frost, abandoned with stones on the camp cemetery; Or accidentally it turns out that local Kolyma "Organs" themselves invented themselves and revealed a certain "conspiracy of lawyers" (or agronomists, or historians), and suddenly recall that you have a legal entity (agricultural or historical) education - and here's your name already in a shot list; Or without any lists, I accidentally got the look of the loser in the maps of the criminal - and your life becomes a bet of someone else's game - and everything, no you.

What is the resurrection, what kind of release: if this absurdity you do not just behind, but also ahead - always, forever! However, it is necessary to immediately understand: not a fatal chance interests the writer. And not even a study of the fantastic world, entirely consisting of weave wild randoms, which could pass the artist with the temperament of Edgar by or Ambroaza Birs. No, Shalamov - a writer of the Russian psychological school, brought up on the Great Prose of the XIX century, and in the wild chance of randoms, it is just some kind of laws. But these patterns are outside the logical, causal series. This is not formal logical, but artistic laws.

Death and eternity cannot be described by logical formulas. They are simply not amenable to such a description. And if the reader perceives the final Shalami text as a major psychological etude and in accordance with the logic usual for the modern Soviet person, it is waiting that the hero will return to normal life, and, loose, get a suitable suitable formulasAnd he will rise before the crimes of the "crimes of Stalinism", if the reader perceives the story so much (and with him all the "Kolyma stories" as a whole), then disappointment is waiting for him, because nothing happens (and cannot happen from Shalamov!). And the whole thing ends is very mysterious ... music.

Not at all an accusatory maxim, not a call for obstacles, not the wording of the historical meaning of the terrible horror ends the tragedy of "Kolyma stories", but random music, a random patefone on a huge larch stump, a gramophone, which

"... played, overcoming the hiss of the needle, played some kind of symphonic music.

And everyone stood around - killers and konokrads, thieves and freer, foremen and workers. And the boss stood near. And his expression he had such as if he wrote this music himself for us, for our deaf taiga business trip. The shellaic plate spisled and spiked, the stump itself, headed for all her three hundred circles, as a tight spring, twisted for the whole three hundred years ... "

And that's all! Here you and the final. Pattern and logic are not synonyms at all. Here the lack of logic itself is natural. And one of the main, most important patterns is manifested in the fact that there is no return from the other, irrational world. In principle ... Shalamov repeatedly stated that it was impossible to rise:

"... who would then figure out, a minute or day, or a year, or the century it was necessary for us to return to the oldest of their own body - we didn't count on my own soul to go back. And they did not return, of course. Nobody returned. "

Nobody returned to the world, which could be explained with the help of logical formulas ... But then what then the story "Centralization", which occupies such an important place in the general building of the Shalamian texts? What is the music? How and why does her divine harmony arise in the ugly world of death and decay? What mystery reveals to us by this story? What key is given to understand the entire multi-page Tom "Kolyma Story"?

And further. As close as the concept logics Life I. harmony Peace? Apparently, it is for these questions that we have to seek a response to understand the texts of Shalamov, and with them, maybe many events and phenomena both in history and in our lives.

"The world of Barakov was composed of a close mountain gorge. Limited by heaven and stone ... "- so begins one of the stories of Shalamov, but we could start our notes about the artistic space in the" Kolyma stories. " The low sky here seems to be a carriage ceiling - also limits the freedom, just presses ... everyone is to get out of here himself. Or die.

Where are all those fenced spaces and closed areas that the reader finds in Shalamovskaya prose? Where is there or there existed that hopeless world in which the deaf non-free of each is due to the full non-free of all?

Of course, on Kolyma, those bloody events that were forced by the writer Shalamov, who survived them and the miracle of the survivors, to create the world of their stories. Events occurred in the famous georghafical area and unfolded in a certain historical Time ... But the artist, contrary to a common prejudice, - from which, however, he himself is not always free, "neither real events or the more" real "space and time will not recreate. If we want to understand the stories of Shalamov as an artistic fact (and without such an understanding, they do not comprehend them at all - do not comprehend any document, nor as a psychological phenomenon or philosophical acquisition of the world - at all in any way), so if we want to at least understand something in Shalamov Texts, first of all it is necessary to see what the meaning of these "as if physical" categories - time and space - in the poetics of "Kolyma stories".

We will be attentive, here nothing can be missed ... Here, let's say, at the very beginning of the story "At the show" with the designation of the "place of action", it was necessary to the author to all the obvious allusion: "Played cards from Konogon Naumova"? What is this appeal to Pushkin? Just only the irony, stringing the grim flavor of one of the last circles of the camp hell? Partial attempt to "reduce" the tragedy pathos "Peak Lady", jealously opposing her ... No, not even a tragedy, but something outside of every tragedy, outside the mind of the human and, maybe something at all outside the art? ..

The initial phrase of Pushkin Story is a sign of easy freedom of characters, freedom in space and in time:

"Once he played in the map at the Connog Guard Narimov. Long winter night passed unnoticed; I sat down to dinner in the fifth hour of the morning ... ".

They sat down to dinner in the fifth, and could - in the third or in the sixth. The winter night passed imperceptibly, but the summer night could also pass ... and in general, the master could be not a member guard of varosims - in the draft sketches of the prose is not at all so strict:

"4 years ago gathered us in<етер> B.<урге> Several young people associated between no circumstances. We learned the life is quite erratic. Andrie had dinner without appetite, drank without fun, drove to<офье> BUT<стафьевне> Bribe the poor old woman with preliminary election. The day was killed somehow, and in the evening they gathered each other. "

It is known that Shalaov had absolute memory for literary texts. The intonational relationship of his prose prose Pushkinskaya cannot be random. Here is the calculated reception. If the text of Pushkin is open space, the free flow of time and the free movement of life, then Shalamov - the space is closed, the time as it should stop and no longer the laws of life, but death determines the behavior of the characters. Death is not like an event but as a name the world, in which we turn out to, open a book ...

"Played cards at Konogon Naumova. The duty officers never looked into Barak Konogonov, rightly believing their main service in observing convicted fifty-eighth article. Horses, as a rule, did not trust the counter revolutionaries. True, the Practitioner-Practitioners were grumbling: they were deprived of the best, caring workers, but the instructions for this followers were defined and strict. In short, Konogonov was all safer, and every night there were threatening for their card fights.

In the right corner of the barrack on the lower naughters there were multi-colored cotton blankets. A burning "lamb" was screwed to the corner post - a homemade light bulb on a gasoline pair. Three-four open copper tubes were charged into the cansaw lid - that's all the device. In order for this lamp to light, hot coal lay on the cover, the gasoline warmed up, the steam climbed on the tubes, and the gasoline gas burned lit by the match.

On the blankets lay a dirty fluff pillow, and on both sides of her, prying in Buryat's legs, the "partners" were sitting - a classic pose of a prison battle. On the pillow lay a new deck of cards. It was not ordinary cards: it was a prison homemade deck, which is made by the masters of this case at the speed of unusual ...

Today's cards were just cut out of Tomika Viktor Hugo - the book was someone forgotten yesterday in the office ...

I and Garkunov, a former textile engineer, sawed for Naumovsky Barack Firewood ... "

There is a clear designation of space in each of the Shalamovsky Novel, and always - always without exception! - This space is deaf closed. You can even say that the grave closure of space is a constant and persistent motive of the writer's creativity.

Here are the initial lines entering the reader in the text of only several stories:

"A white fog was stood by a white fog such a dense that there were no man in two steps. However, walking far alone and did not have to go. Few directions - dining room, hospital, watch - guessed unknown as an acquired instinct, akin to the feeling of direction that animals fully possess and which in the appropriate conditions wakes up in man. "

"The heat in the prison cell was such that there was no one flies. Huge windows with iron lattices were wide open, but it did not give relief - the rocky asphalt of the courtyard sent the hot air waves, and there was even cool in the chamber than on the street. All the clothes were dropped, and hundreds of bare bodies, breathing heavy wet heat, stunned, expired later, on the floor - it was too hot on the horses. "

"A two-dimensional huge door revealed, and a distributor entered the rearrum. He stood in a wide stripe of morning light, reflected by blue snow. Two thousand pairs of eyes looked at him from everywhere: from the bottom - from under Nar, straight, on the side, from above - from the height of four-story Nar, where those who still retained the power were climbing. "

"" Small zone "is a shipment," big zone "- a mountain control camp - endless squat barracks, the artantic streets, a triple fence from barbed wire, guarding towers, in winter similar to the trial. In the "small zone" there are even more tips, locks and ticks ... ".

It would seem that there really is special: if a person writes about the camp yes about prison, then where to take him at least something unlocked! Everything is so ... But before us is not a camp in itself. We have only text about the camp. And here is not from the protection, but only the author depends on how it will be organized "artistic space". What will be the philosophy of space, as the author will force the reader to perceive his height and the length, how often will make it difficult to remember the towers, constipation and lumps and other things, and other things.

The history of literature knows enough examples when, by the will of the author, life, it seems to be completely closed, closed (at least in the same camp zone) easily communicates with the life current differently. That is, there are some ways from a special camp, where Solzhenitsinsky Ivan Shukhov was sitting, to his native Swhukhovsky Tegenevo. It is nothing that these ways are even for Shukhov himself - only mentally passable. One way or another, having passed all these paths (let's say, remembering the letters received with the hero), we will find out about the life of the Ivanovo family, and about the cases in the collective farm, and in general about the country outside the zone.

And Ivan Denisovich himself, although he tries not to think about the future life, - in today's it would survive, - but still with her, the future, though rare letters, but is connected and cannot be dedicated from the temptation to think about the tempting case, which It would be worthwhile to get out of liberation - to smooth the carpets on the stencil. Solzhenitsyna has a person and in the camp is not alone, he lives according to the boster with contemporaries, in the same country, next door to humanity, according to the laws of mankind, - in a word, albeit in the deaf captivity, but people alive in the world.

Otherwise, Shalamov. The abyss separates man and from everything that is familiar to the word "modernity". This is where the letter comes, it is only for a drunk laughter of the warden to be destroyed before reading, - after death, letters do not receive. Digging! In the otherworldly world, everything takes on otherworldly. And the letter does not connect, but - unprecedented - further disconnects people. Yes what competes about letters, even if the sky (as we have already remembered) does not expand the horizons, but limits his. Even the door or gate, although they will be open, will not open spaces, but only emphasize his hopeless limitations. Here you seem forever fenced off from the rest of the world and hopelessly alone. There is no continent, nor family or free taiga. Even on the horses, you do not care with a man - with the dead. Even a beast will not stay with you for a long time, and the dog, to which he managed to be attached, traveling will shoot a guard ... stretch at least a berry growing out of This closed space - and immediately fall killed, the convoir will not miss:

"... ahead there were bumps with rosehip berries, and blueberries, and lingonberries ... We saw these nodes for a long time ...

Fishermen showed a jar, not yet complete, and the sun descending to the horizon and slowly began to approach fascinated berries.

Sukho clutched a shot, and the fishermen fell between the bodies face down. SEROSHAKA, waving a rifle, shouted:

- Leave on the spot, do not fit!

Seroshapka divered the shutter and shot again. We knew what this second shot. He knew this and Seroshapka. Shots should be two - the first is warning.

Fishermen lay between the bumps unexpectedly small. The sky, the mountains, the river were huge, and the god of the news - how many people can be put in these mountains on the trails between the bumps.

Rybakova's jar rolled back far, I managed to pick her up and hide in my pocket. Maybe I will give bread for these berries ... ".

But then the sky, and the mountains, and the river open up. And only for the one who fell, bolding down by the face between the taped bodies. Freed! For another, surviving, the sky still does not differ from other realities of the camp life: barbed wire, the walls of a barrack or a camera, at best, the hard beds of the camp hospital, but more often - Nara, Nara, Nara, is the real cosmos of Shalamovsky Novel.

And here is space, such and shone:

"The dull electric sun, muggy and champed with a round lattice, was attached high above the ceiling."

(However, the Sun - how it occurs in the text of "Kolyma stories" - could be the subject of a separate, very volumetric study, and we will still have the opportunity to touch this topic.)

Everything is deaf and closed, and it is not given to anyone, and there is no place to run. Even the desperate who is solved on the escape - and runs! - It is possible for incredible efforts only to stretch the borders of the grave world, but never and anyone managed to break them altogether or open.

In "Kolyma Stories" there is a whole cycle of Novel about shoots from the camp, combined with one title: "Green Prosecutor". And all these stories about unsuccessful shoots. Successful - not that no: they can not be in principle. And those who fled - even fled away, somewhere in Yakutsk, Irkutsk or even Mariupol - Anyway, as if it was some kind of demonic obsession, like running in a dream, always stay within the grave world, and running everything lasts, lasts , it lasts and sooner or later comes the moment when the borders, far from stretched, again instantly tightened, are tightened into the loop, and the person who believed himself in freedom wakes up in the close walls of the camp karzer ...

No, there is no just a dead space, a barbed wire or the walls of a barrack or vests in a taiga, - the space in which some kind of doomed, but outside which people are more successful live according to other laws. In that and the monstrous truth, that all that it seems existing outside This space, on the actually involved, is drawn into the same abyss.

It seems that everything is doomed - all in general in the country, and maybe even in the world. There is some kind of monstrous funnel, equal to the delaying, suction of righteous and thieves, healers and leisure, Russians, Germans, Jews, men and women, victims and executioners - all, all without exception! German pastors, Dutch communists, Hungarian peasants ... Among the characters Chalam is not even mentioned - none - none! - About whom it could be said that he is certainly out of these limits - and safe ...

The person no longer belongs to the epoch, modernity - but only one death. Age loses any meaning, and the author sometimes recognizes that he himself does not know how old the character is, - and what's the difference! Any time of the prospect is lost, and this is another, the most important, constantly repeating motive of Shalamov's stories:

"Time when he was a doctor, it seemed very distant. Yes, and was it time? Too often, the world around the corner, after the seas seemed to him somehow sleeping, fiction. Real was a minute, an hour, day from the lift to the penalty - he did not go down, did not find his strength to make up. As everybody".

Like everyone ... There is no hope even for time - it will not save! In general, the time here is special: it is, but it is impossible to determine the usual words - the past, the present, the future: tomorrow, they say, we will be better, we will not be there and not those that were yesterday ... No, here today is today's today - at all Not an intermediate point between "yesterday" and "tomorrow". "Today" is a very indefinable large part of what is called the word always. Or more correctly say never...

Brutal Writer Shalamov. Where did he get the reader? Does it know how to get out of here? However, himself, apparently, knows: his own creative imagination has learned, and, it means, and overcome Conducted closure of space. After all, it says that he claims in his notes "On Prose":

"Kolyma stories - an attempt to deliver and solve some kind of moral issues of time, questions that simply cannot be resolved on another material.

The question of the meeting of the person and the world, the struggle of a person with the state car, the truth of this struggle, the struggle for itself, inside itself - and beside himself. Is an active influence on their fate, grinding the state vehicle, the teeth of evil. Illusory and severity of hope. The ability to rely on other forces than hope. "

Perhaps ... Opportunity ... Yes, indeed, whether it exists where, say, the possibility of the scaffolding is to pull out the corpse from a shallow grave, barely abandoned stones, pull the pants from him and idle shirt - revered for a big luck: Lingerie can be sold , Remove on bread, maybe even get a little tobacco? ("At night ").

He, in the grave, is the dead. But were those that in the night over his grave, or those in the zone, in the barrack, on the babes, are they not the dead? Is there a man without moral principles, without memory, without will - not the dead?

"I have long gave the floor that if I hit me, it will be the end of my life. I hit the chief, and shoot me. Alas, I was a naive boy. When I weakened, weakened and my will, my mind. I easily persuaded myself to endure yourself and did not find in myself the power of a mental impact on a retaliatory blow, for suicide, to protest. I was the most ordinary reasonable and lived according to the laws of the psyche.

What "moral issues" can be solved, describing this closed gravestone, it is forever stopped time: telling about the beatings that change the gait of a person, his plastic; about hunger, about dystrophy, about cold, depriving mind; About people who forgot not what the name of the wife, but completely lost their own past; And again about beatings, bullying, about the shootings, which are referred to as liberation - the earlier, the better.

Why do we know all this? Do not remember the words of Shalamov himself:

"Andreev was the representative of the Dead. And his knowledge, knowledge of the dead man, could not be alive, come in handy. "

Brutal artist Vamlam Shalamov. Instead of immediately indicate the reader direct answers, straight, happy exits from the abyss of evil, Shalamov is deeper and deeper place in this closed otherworldly world, in this deathAnd not only does not promise soon liberation, but it seems, and in general, it does not seek to give - at least in the text.

But we are no longer life without a relapse. We are seriously drawn into this hopeless space. There are no conversations about the documentary, and therefore the temporary passing of stories. Let there are no Stalin and Beria and orders changed on Kolyma ... But the stories, so they live. And we live in them with the characters. Who will say that the issues of "war and the world" have now been removed - for the remoteness of the events of 1812? Who will postpone the Tenzin dank due to the fact that, they say, their documentary population has long lost its relevance?

Humanity cannot exist otherwise as soon as the great riddles of great artists. And we do not understand your own life, as it seems far from the Kolyma reality, - do not understand without solving the mystery of the Shalamian texts.

I will not delay halfdowed.

It seems that we have a single chance of breaking out of the abyss of the Shalammous world - one-only, but faithful and well-learned by the literary criticism of the reception: to go beyond the limits of a literary fact and turn to the facts of history, sociology, politics. The very opportunity, which was suggested by the Russian literary criticism of Vissarion Belinsky, and which since then has fed not one generation of literary critics and critics: the ability to name the literary work of the "Encyclopedia" of any life and thus secure the right to interpret it one way or another Depending on how we understand the "life" itself and the historical "phase" of its development, in which the critic places us along with the author.

This opportunity seduces all the more so that here and Shalamov himself in one of his self-commentaries speaks about the state car, in the other, it comes in connection with the "kolyas stories" the historical events of the pore - war, revolution, fires of Hiroshima ... maybe if Will the Kolyma reality in a historic context, will it make it easier for us to find the solo chalm world? Like, there was a time: revolutions, war, fires - the woods are cut, sicks fly. After all, as it may, we analyze the text written following For real events, not the fiction of the author, not fiction. Even an artistic exaggeration. It is worth remembering once again: there is nothing in the book that I would not find documentary confirmation. Where did you find Werelam Shalaov so closed world? After all, there are other authors who wrote about Kolyma to reliably inform us about the normal, natural, or, as scientists say, "adequate" reactions of prisoners for historical events, which occurred simultaneously with the terrible events of Kolyma life. No one stopped being a man of his time. The Kolyma from the world was not torn off:

"- Germans! Fascists! The border moved ...

- Receive our ...

- Can not be! How many years did they say: "I will not give five of your land!"

The ellgenic barracks do not sleep until the morning ...

No, we are not pins now, do not spit from the Baby, do not nanniki from a detkinat. In the extraordinary brightness suddenly remembered, "who is who" ... arguing to hoarseness. We try to catch perspective. Not your own, but common. People, crowded, exteructed by four years of suffering, we suddenly see themselves by citizens of their country. For her, for our homeland, we shook now, her rejected children. Something already got the paper and the stamp of the pencil displays: "I ask me to direct me to the most dangerous section of the front. I am a member of the Communist Party from sixteen-year-old "..."

(E. Ginzburg. Cool route. N.-Y. 1985, KN. 2, p. 17)

Alas, let's say right away, Shalamov leaves us and this last chance. Well, yes, he recalls historical events ... But how!

"It seems to me that the person of the second half of the twentieth century, a man who survived wars, revolutions, Hiroshima fires, an atomic bomb, betrayal, and the most important thing crowded everything (italics mine.- L.T.) - Shame Kolyma and Obtes Auschwitz, a person ...- And every relative died or in war, or in a camp - a man who survived the scientific revolution, simply cannot but approach otherwise the matter than before. "

Of course, the author of "Kolyma stories", and his heroes did not cease to be people of their time, of course, there are Chalam and the Revolution in the texts, and the war, and the story of the "victorious" May 1945 ... But in all cases all the historical Events - both great, and small - turn out to be only a minor everyday episode in a number of other events, the most important - camp.

"" - Listen, "said Stepytsky," the Germans bombed Sevastopol, Kiev, Odessa.

Andreev listened politely. The message sounded like the news of war in Paraguay or Bolivia. What is the case andreva? Sootfit is full, he is a decompress man - here it is interested in such things as a war.

Grisha Greek came up, thief.

- What are the machines?

- I do not know. It seems like machine guns, probably.

"The knife is worse than any bullet," Grisha said instructively.

"Right," said Boris Ivanovich, a surgeon from prisoners, "the knife in the stomach is a faithful infection, always the danger of peritonite. Gunshot wound better, cleaner ...

"The best nail," said Grisha Greek.

- Becoming-and-sm!

Built in the ranks, went from the mine to the camp ... "

So talked about the war. What is in it a lap? .. And the case is not in some kind of biographical resentment of the author, due to the judicial mistake of modernity detonated from participation in the main event, - no, the fact is that the author is convinced: just the witness of the main events made his tragic fate. Wars, revolution, even an atomic bomb - only private evils of history - the grandiose invisible in the centuries and millennia spilling evil.

No matter how strong is the prejudice! - The habit of Russian social consciousness to operate in categories of dialectics, here they are powerless. Kolyma plots do not want to scattered into the overall fabric of "historical development". No political mistakes and abuses, no deviations from the historic path to explain to a comprehensive death victory over life. On the scale of this phenomenon, all sorts of Stalins, Beria and Others are only figures, no more. Leninsky's larger here ...

No, the reality of the Shalammous world is not the "reality of the historical process," they say, yesterday it was, tomorrow it will be different ... Nothing changes "over time," from here, nothing disappears, nothing goes into oblivion, because The world of "Kolyma stories" is self non-existence. And that is why he is simply wider than any ideaful historical reality and cannot be created by the "historical process". From this non-existence there is nowhere to return, nothing to resurrect. The idyllic final, it seems like in "War and the World", here is unthinkable. Hope that somewhere there is a different life, there is no left. Everything here, everything is drawn into dark depths. And the "historical process" himself with all his "phasees" slowly circling in the funnel of the camp, prison world.

In order to make any excursion to the newest story, the author and his heroes can not be striving beyond the limits of the camp fence or prison lattice. The whole story is near. And the fate of each loop or the ceamer - her crown, her main event.

"Arrestants are held around themselves with arrest. Felt distrust of some - a very difficult matter. Improving, day after day they get used to their fate, begin to understand something.

Alekseev was another warehouse. As if he was silent for many years - and now the arrest, the prison chamber returned to him the gift of speech. He found here the opportunity to understand the most important, guess the course of time, guess his own destiny and understand why. Find the answer to that huge, hung over his entire life and fate, and not only about life and his fate, but hundreds of thousands of others, a huge, gigantic "why". "

The opportunity to find an answer because it appears that the "time of time" ceased, fate is completed as it should - death. On the terrible court, the revolution, executions, executions, and only comparison with non-existence, clarify their true meaning with eternity, clarifies. From this point, the story has a reverse perspective. There is no non-existence in general and there is a final answer - the only, terrible answer, which we only can extract from the entire course of the "historical process," - a response that leads in despair of sootimy, deceived by loophole agitators, and makes deeply thinking of those who Not yet lost this ability:

"... Alekseev suddenly broke out, jumped into the windowsill, clung to both hands into the prison lattice and shaking it, shaking, swearing and drunk. Black Body Alekseeva hung on the grid as a huge black cross. The arrestants left the fingers of Alekseev from the lattice, the broken his palms, hurried, because the clock on the tower had already noticed from the open window.

And then Alexander Grigorievich Andreev, Secretary General of the Society of Society Polcotorzhan, said, showing the body to the black, sliding with the lattice:

Shalamovsky reality - the artistic fact of a special kind. The writer himself has repeatedly stated that she strives for a new prose, to the prose of the future, which will not speak not on behalf of the reader, but on behalf of the material itself - "stone, fish and clouds", in the material language. (The artist is not an observer studying events, but their participant, their witness - In the Christian meaning of this word, which is synonymous with the word martyr). The artist - "Pluto, rose from hell, and not Orpheus, descending into hell" ("About prose") and the point is not that the master was not the master who could cope with such a creative task, but that was not Even on the ground "The most important, worsted all evil. And only now, when the evil swallowed all the former slander hopes for the final victory of the human mind in his historical development, the artist was able to declare fully:

There is no reasonable foundation for life - this is what proves our time. "

But the lack of reasonable (in other words, logically explained) the foundation in life does not mean the absence of what we, in fact, are preferred - the truths in the texts of the artist. This truth is, apparently, not where we are accustomed to search: not in rational theories, "explaining" life, and not even in the moral maxim, so familiarly interpreting that there is good and that there is evil. How much still close to another concept logics Life I. harmony Peace? Perhaps not the earthly word "logic" will reach the background of the Kolyma Night, and the Divine - Logos?

According to Mikhail Geller, who fulfilled the most complete edition of "Kolyma stories", simultaneously with Slam texts in Samizdat, a letter of Frida Vigdorova Shalamov went:

"I read your stories. They are the most cruel of all that I had to read. The most bitter and merciless. There are people without the past, without a biography, without memories. It says that trouble does not unite people. What is there a man thinks only about himself, to survive. But why do you cover the manuscript with faith in honor, good, human dignity? This is mysterious, I can't explain this, I do not know how it turns out, but it is so. "

Remember the mysterious circle of the shellated plate and music in the final of the Story "Meeting"? Where does it come from? The sacrament, to which shalms comes to us, and there is art. And the rights were Wigdor: comprehend This sacrament is not given to anyone. But the reader is given other: coming to the sacrament, strive to understand himself. And this is possible, since not only the events of history, but all of us are alive, dead, and not yet born, all the characters of the stories of Shalamov, the inhabitants of his mysterious world. We look at the same ones. Where are we there? Where is our place there? Observing an ordinary person of his I am in the radiance of art is similar to the materialization of sunlight ...

"A bunch of red sunlight shared by the binding of the prison lattice into several smaller beams; Somewhere in the middle of the chamber, the light bundles re-merged into a solid stream, red-gold. In this light stream, dust Golden Golden. Flies that have fallen in a lane, they themselves became gold like the sun. The rays of the sunset beat directly to the door counted with gray glossy gland.

Little castle - the sound that in the prison chamber hears any arrestant, awake and sleep, hears at any time. There is no conversation chamber that could drown this sound, no in a sleep chamber, which is distracted from this sound. There is no thought in the chamber that could ... No one can focus on something to miss this sound, do not hear it. Everyone freezes the heart when he hears the sound of the castle, a knock of fate in the door of the camera, in the soul, in the heart, in minds. Each of this sound fills the alarm. And it is impossible to confuse him with any other sound.

Little castle, the door opened, and the flow of the rays escaped from the chamber. In the open door it became clear how the rays crossed the corridor, rushed into the Corridor window, the prison yard were fleamed and crashed on the window windows of another prison case. All this managed to see all sixty-inhabitants of the camera at that short time, while the door was open. The door slammed with a melodious ringing, similar to the ringing of old chests, when the lid slam down. And immediately all the arrestants, greedily watching the cast of the light flux, for the movement of the beam, as if it was a living being, their brother and comrade, "they realized that the sun was locked again with them.

And only then everyone saw that the door, taking the stream of gold tax rays on his wide black breast, is a man, squinting from sharp light. "

We assumed to talk about the sun in the stories of Shalamov. Now this time has come.

The Sun of "Kolyma Story", no matter how bright and hot, it is at times, always the sun is dead. And there are always other shining with him, much more important:

"There are few spectacles, just as expressive, as set nearby with alcohol from alcohol, crushed, cargo, referring from fat figures of the camp bosses in brilliant, like a sun (here and then italics mine. - L.T.), new, smelly sheepskin coats ...

Fedorov went through a caution, asked something, and our brigadier, respectfully bent, reported something. Fedorov yawned, and his golden, well-hot teeth reflected sun rays. The sun was already high ... ".

When this is the helpful sun of the warders, or covers his rain autumnal torture, or an impenetrable frost fog will rise, only familiar to us already "dull electric sun, ridden by flies and chained with a round lattice ..."

It would be possible to say that the lack of sunlight is a purely geographical feature of the Kolyma region. But we already found out that geography could not explain to us in the stories of Shalamov. The point is not in seasonal changes in the time of sunrise and sunset. The point is not that in this world there is not enough heat and light, the fact is that there is no movement From darkness to light or back. There is no light of truth, and nowhere to find it. There are no reasonable reasons, and there is no logical consequences. There is no justice. In contrast, let's say, from Dentis of Hell, the souls imprisoned here do not carry reasonable punishments, they do not know the wives, and therefore neither repentance, neither hope ever, hurt the guilt, change their position ...

"The deceased Aligiery would create from this tenth circle of hell," said Anna Akhmatova. And it's not the only prone to relate to the Russian reality of the 20th century with the pictures of dotted horrors. But with this ratio, whenever it became obvious that the horrors are the last, camp - more accurately those seemed extremely Possible the greatest artist of the century XIV, - and nine circles do not cover. And, apparently, understanding this, Akhmatova is not looking for anything similar in literary texts already created, but causes the genius of Dante, brings it, makes it a recently left contemporary, calling "the deceased Aligiery," and, it seems, only such a contemporary can be understood everything recently Heavy mankind.

The case, of course, is not to follow the rational, even numerical order in which we are nine circles of hell, then seven - purgotation, then nine paradise heavens ... It is the rational ideas about the world, revealed by the text "Divine Comedy", The structure of this text is questioned, and even at all are refuted by the experience of the 20th century. And in this sense, the globility of Varlam Shalamov is a direct negation of the philosophical representations of Dante Aligiery.

Recall, in the ordinary world of the "Divine Comedy" Sun is an important metaphor. And the "carnal" sun, in the depths of which are shining, radiating light, pouring a flame of silence of philosophers and theologian (King Solomon, Thomas Akvinsky, Francis Assisi), and the "Angels Sun", which is the Lord. Anyway the sun, light, mind - poetic synonyms.

But if in the poetic consciousness of Dante the sun is never fading (even in hell, when there is a dense darkness), if the path from hell is the way to the luminas and, after going to them, the hero will not forget to notice the hero, as in which direction his shadow falls In the artistic world of Shalamov, there is no light, no shadow, there is no familiar and conventional border between them. Here, for the most part, dense dead twilight - twilight without hope and without truth. In general, without any light source - it is lost forever (and was it?). And there is no shadow, because there is no sunlight - in the usual understanding of these words. Prison sun, the camp sun "Kolyma stories" - not exactly the same thing that just the sun. It is present here not as a natural source of light and life. for all, but as a kind of minor inventory, if not belonging to death, he has no relation to life.

No, after all, the moment comes - rarely, but still happens - when bright, and sometimes the hot sun makes his way into the world of Kolyansky zack. However, it never shines to everyone. From the deaf twilight of the camp world, as if a strong beam, directed from somewhere from the outside, it always snatches someone's one figure (let's say, who already familiar to us "First Chekist" Alekseeva) or someone else, reflected in the eyes of one person. And always - always! - This is a figure or face, or the eyes of finally doomed.

"... I was completely calm. And I was nowhere to hurry. The sun was too hot - he burned her cheeks, distinguished from bright light, from fresh air. I sat down to the tree. It was nice to sit on the street, inhale the elastic wonderful air, the smell of a blooming rosehip. My head turned ...

I was confident in the severity of the sentence - to kill the tradition of those years. "

Although we twice quoted here the same story, yet the sun, which illuminates the face of the doomed zack, is not at all the same thing as many pages were reflected in the guard cookers and in the golden teeth of the warders. This distant, as if of the Light, falling on the face of a man, ready to die, is familiar to us for other stories. There is some kind of confusion in it, maybe a sign of reconciliation with eternity:

"The fugitive has lived in the bath of the village for as many as three days, and finally, the tonsured, shaved, washed, full, he was enclosed by" RAM "for a consequence, the outcome of which could only be a shot. The fugitive himself about it, of course, knew, but it was a crash, indifferent, who had long overlapped the line of life in conclusion, when each person becomes a fatalist and lives "for course." Convoirs, "fighters of protection" were near him all the time, did not give him anyone. Every evening he was sitting on the porch bath and looked at the cherry sunset. The fire of the Evening Sun rolled into his eyes, and the eyes of the fugitive seemed burning - a very beautiful sight. "

Of course, we could turn to the Christian poetic tradition and say that this directional Light of Love meets the soul, coming from this world ... But no, we remember the statement of Shalamov: "God died ..." And more:

"I lost my faith in God for a long time, six years old ... and I am proud that from six years old and until sixty I did not resort to His help or in Vologda, nor in Moscow or Kolyma.

And yet, despite these statements, the absence of God in the artistic picture potworthhone The Kolymsky world is not a simple and self-evident fact. With its contradictions, this topic is constantly disturbing the author, again and again attracts attention. God is no ... But there are believers in God and it turns out that these are the most worthy people from those with whom I had to meet in Kolyma:

"That selflessness in which I lived a conscious life, I did not make me a Christian. But more worthy of people than religiosters, in the camps I did not see. The plant covered the souls of everyone, and only religiosters kept. So it was fifteen, and five years ago. "

But at the same time, saying about the spiritual resistance of "religiosters", Shalamov, as it were, it goes by, without showing special attention to the nature of this resistance, as if he (and, it is necessary to assume, the reader) everything is clear and this way "hold" it is not interested in . ("Is it from human tragedies only religious?" - asks the hero narrator in the story "ignorant").

Moreover, the shalms as it were, as it were, the traditional ideas about God and religion from its artistic system. It is this purpose that the story "Cross" is the story about the old blind priest, although there is no living on Kolyma and not even in the camp, but everything is in the same Soviet conditions of constant deprivation, humiliation, direct bullying. Left from the same as he himself, the old and sick wife completely without funds, the priest breaks, destroys for sale a charming golden cross for sale. But not because it has lost faith, but because "God is not in this." Neither the point of action, nor the plot seems to do not belong to the "Kolyma Studies", but by subtle artistic calculation is included by the author to the general building and it turns out to be extremely important in the composition of Tom. At the entrance to the other world, it is as a ban sign for any traditional humanistic values, including a Christian sense. When it says that in this life there is no reasonable reason, it is also meant to the divine mind too - or even such a mind first!

But at the same time, here is a completely different turn of the topic: one of the lyrical heroes of Shalamov, undoubted alter ego, carries the name of Crist. If the author is looking for a "non-religious output", then what exactly is it going to the son of human? Is there any thoughts about the redemptive victim? And if there is, whose sacrifice is - the author, hero, all those who died on Kolyma? And what sins are attended? Isn't it still from Datovsky times (or even more long ago - from the times of St. Augustine, or even from Platonovsky, Doharistian times?) Seduzn to build a fair global order - for human understanding fair - temptation, which turned "shame of Kolyma and Auschwitz stoves" ?

And if we are talking about atonement, then "whose name"? Whose, if God is not in the art system of Varlam Shalamov?

We are not talking about a simple person, not about the religious views of one of the thousands of Kolyan, finding out whoever it was easier to stand in camps - "religious" or atheist. No, we are interested in the creative method of the artist, the author of "Kolyma stories".

He wrote Shalamov, as if objection to the doubters or those who failed to see this celebration. But if good tries, what is it, is it good? It is not science to stick a width on the Kolyma frost! ..

Shalamov deliberately rejects a literary tradition with all fundamental values. If in the center of the art world Dante Aligiery - the Light of the Divine Mind, and this world works intelligently, logical, in justice, and the mind triumphs, then in the center of the artistic system Shalamov ... Yes, however, is there anything at least something that could be called center, system-forming start? Shalamov, as it were, discarded everything that offers to him as such started Literary tradition: the concept of God, the idea of \u200b\u200ba reasonable device of the world, dreams of social justice, the logic of legal law ... What remains a person when he does not have anything? What remains artistWhen the tragic experience of the century lived forever buried the worldview foundations of traditional art? What new prose Will he offer the reader - is obliged to offer?!

"Why am I, a professional writing from childhood, printed since the beginning of the thirties, who has been thinking over prose, can't make anything new in the story of Chekhov, Platonova, Babel and Zoshchenko? - wrote Shalamov, setting the same questions as we suffer now. - Russian prose did not stop on the tolstoy and on the Bunin. The last great Russian novel is "Petersburg" White. But "Petersburg", whatever enormous influence on the Russian prose of the twenties, on the prose of Pilnyak, jamming, cheerful, is also only a stage, only the head of the history of literature. And nowadays the reader is disappointed in Russian classical literature. The collapse of her humanistic ideas, a historical crime, which led to Stalin's camps, to the furnaces of Auschwitz, proved that art and literature - zero. In a collision with real life, this is the main motive, the main question of time. The scientific and technical revolution does not respond to this question. She can't answer. The probabilistic aspect and the training give multilateral, multivalued answers, while the reader-a person needs the answer "yes" or "no", using the same double-digit system that cybernetics wants to be applied to study all mankind in his past, present and future.

There is no reasonable foundation in life - this is what proves our time. The fact that the "Favorites" Chernyshevsky is sold for five kopecks, saving from the Auschwitz of the waste paper, is symbolic to the highest degree. Chernyshevsky ended when the centenary of the era discredited himself completely. We do not know what is behind God - for faith, but we are clearly visible for wormless - everyone in the world - what is worth it. Therefore, such a thrust for religion, amazing for me, the heir began to be completely different. "

There is a deep meaning in reproach, which throws Shalmov literature of humanistic ideas. And this prefabricated this deserved not only Russian literature of the XIX century, but also the whole European - sometimes Christian on external signs (as, after all, it is said: Love your neighbor, like yourself), but seductive in essence, the traditions of dreams that have always boiled down to one : take away the human creation of history in the hands of God. Everything for a person, all for the good of man! It is these dreams - through the utopian ideas of Dante, Campellalla, Fourier and Owen, through the "Communist Manifesto", through the dreams of Vera Pavlovna, "Personal" Lenin's soul, and led to Kolyma and Auschwitz ... this sinful tradition - with all possible consequences Sin - I saw more Dostoevsky. No wonder at the very beginning of parables about the great inquisitor, as if by chance, the name of Dante is mentioned ...

But art is not a school of philosophy and politics. Or at least not only or not even so much school. And the "late Aligiery" still soon created the tenth circle of hell than the political party program.

"Dante Poets are peculiar to all types of energy, famous for modern science," wrote Osip Mandelshtam, a sensitive explorer "Divine Comedy" - the unity of light, sound and matter is its inner nature. The reading of the Dante is primarily infinite work, as it successfully gives us from the goal. If the first reading causes only shortness of breath and healthy fatigue, then in stock for the next couple of replicated Swiss shoes with nails. I am not a joke on the question of how many submits, how many oily soles, how many sandals extended Aligierey during our poetic work, traveling for Goat trails Italy. "

Logical formulas and political, religious, etc. The doctrines are the result of only the "first reading" of literary works, only the first acquaintance with the art. The actual art begins - not the formula, but the music ... shocked by the dependence of the Kolyma reality from the texts, with her, it seems to be in no bound, realizing that "shame of Kolyma" - the derivative of these texts, Shalamov creates a "new prose", which from the very The start does not contain any doctrines and formulas - nothing that could be easy to grasp with "first reading." He, as it, removes the very possibility of "first reading" - there is no healthy shortness of breath, no satisfaction. On the contrary, the first reading leaves only bewilderment: what is he? What is the music? Is the shellah record in the story "Centralization" and there is a system-forming metaphor of "Kolyma stories"? Not the sun, not mind, not justice he puts to the center of his art world, but just a hoarse shellary record with some symphonic music?

Masters of the "first readings", we do not immediately see the relationship of the "late Aligiery" and the deceased Shalamov. Hear the relationship and the unity of their music.

"If we learned to hear Dante," wrote Mandelshtam, "we would hear the ripening of clarinet and trombone, we would hear the transformation of the viola into the violin and elongation of the valve valve. And we would be listeners of how the misty core of the future homophone three-part orchestra is formed around the lute and the theores.

"There are thousands of truth in the world (and true truths, and true justice) and there is only one truth of talent. Similarly, as there is one kind of immortality - art. "

Having finished the analysis, we now have to put our work seriously doubt or even overcall it at all ... The fact is that the text of the Kolyma Story, the text of those publications, to which we treated in our work. Not that someone was not confident, whether those or other stories wrote for Varlam Shalamov, - this, thank God, undoubtedly. But what genre is the whole collection of his "Kolyma" works, how great is his text, where its beginning and where the end is what the composition is not only not clearing over time, but also, even if it becomes more and more incomprehensible.

We already referred to the nine specialist of the Parisian publication of "Kolyma Story". Tom opens in itself by the cycle "Kolyma stories", here called "First Death". This cycle is a harsh acquaintance with the artistic world of Shalamov. It is here that we first find and deafly closed space, and stopped time - non-existence - Kolyma camp "reality". (It is here for the first time a deathly indifference says, about the spiritual redemption, which comes after torturing hunger, cold, beat.) This cycle is a guide to the Kolyma non-existencewhere the events of the following books will unfold.

Guide and souls in the inhabitants of this hell - prisoners. It is here that you understand that to survive (stay alive, save life - and teach the reader, how to survive) - not at all there is a task of the author, which he decides with his "lyrical hero" ... at least because none of the characters already I did not survive - everything (and the reader together with everyone) are immersed in Kolyma Neva.

This cycle - as it were, the "exposition" of the artistic principles of the author, well, like "hell" in the "Divine Comedy". And if we are talking about six known cycles of stories as a single work - namely, all those who interpreted about the compositional principles of Shalamov are inclined, - it is impossible to imagine a different start of all the grand epic, as soon as the cycle entitled in the Paris Tome (and What, by the way, is subject to additional discussion) "First Death".

But in Moscow, in Moscow, the Tom Story Shalamov "Left Bank" (Contemporanik, 1989) ... and without the first cycle! Worse do not come up with. Why did the publishers guided? No explanation ...

In the same year, but in another publishing, another book of Shalamovsky stories is "Resurrection of larch". Thank God, it begins with the first cycle, with the actual "Kolyma stories", but further (again there is no place worse!) Strongly and completely arbitrarily cut, half and more, "artist shovel" and "left bank". And here they changed places and compared to the Paris publication, and compared with the "Left Bank" compared to the collection. Why, on what principle?

But no, only at first glance it seems unclear why all these manipulations are made. It is easy to understand: different sequence of stories is a different artistic impression. Shalamov is stiguously customized under the traditional (and repeatedly with such force and definite refuted by him) The principle of the Russian humanistic school: "From darkness to the light" ... but it's enough to look back for several dozen rows back to see that this principle, according to Shalamov himself , there is something strongly incompatible with his "new prose."

I. Sirotinskaya itself, the publisher of both books, seems to be expressed by faithful thoughts: "Stories V.T. Shalamov is connected by inseparable unity: it is fate, soul, the thoughts of the author himself. These are the branches of a single tree, streams of a single creative stream - the epic about the Kolyma. The plot of one story grows into another story, some heroes are manifested and operate under the same or different names. Andreev, Golubev, Crysta is the hypostasis of the author himself. There is no fiction in this tragic epic. The author believed that the story about this foreman was incompatible with fiction and should be written in other languages. But not the language of psychological prose of the XIX century, the inadequate world of the century XX, century Hiroshima and concentration camps. "

It's like that! But the art language is not only, and often not so much words as rhythm, harmony, composition of artistic text. How, understand that "the plot of one story develops into another story," do not understand that the plot of one cycle develops into another! It is impossible to arbitrarily cut and rearrange in places. Moreover, what is the writer himself sketched order The location of the stories and cycles - they used the Paris publishers.

With respect and love, thinking about Shalamov, we transfer our respect and on those whom the will of the artist will be celebrated to be his degrees. Their rights are unshakable ... But to dispose of the text of the genius artist is an unbearable task for one person. The work of qualified specialists should be the preparation of the publication of the scientific publication of "Kolyma Story" - in full compliance with the creative principles of V. Shalamov, so clearly set forth in the newly published (for which the low bow to I.P. Sirotinskaya) letters and notes ...

Now, when, it seems, there is no censorship interference, God forbid us, contemporaries, insult the memory of the artist by considerations of political or commercial conjuncture. Life and creativity V.T. Shalamov - a redemptive victim for our common sins. His books are the spiritual treasure of Russia. This should be the attitude towards them.

M. "October". 1991, №3, p. 182-195

Notes

• 1. "New World, 1989, №12, p. 60
• 2. Ibid, p. 61
• 3. Ibid, p. 64
• 4. Shalamov V. Resurrection of larch. "Thermometer Grisk Logun"
• 5. Shalamov V. Resurrection of larch. "Brave eyes"
• 6. A.S. Pushkin. PSS, t. VIII (I), p. 227.
• 7. In the same place, t. VIII (II), p. 334.
• 8. Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. "Carpenters"
• 9. Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. "Tatar Mullah and Clean Air"
• 10. Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. "Bread"
• 11. Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. "Taiga Golden"
• 12. Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. "Berries"
• 13. Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. "Sherry Brandy"
• 14. Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. "At night"
• 15. Shalamov V. "About prose"
• 16. Shalamov V. Resurrection of larch "Two meetings"
• 17. Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. "Typhoundic quarantine"
• 18. "New World", 1989, №12, p. 60
• 19. Shalamov V. Artist shovel. "June"
• 20. Shalamov V.
• 21. Shalamov V. Artist shovel. "First Chekist"
• 22. "New World", 1989. №12, p. 61
• 23. By the time of publication of the article - approx. Shalamov.ru.
• 24. In KN. V. Shalamov "Kolyma stories" Preface M. Geller, 3-ed., P.13. YMCA - Press, Paris, 1985
• 25. Shalamov V. Artist shovel. "First Chekist"
• 26. Shalamov V. Left Coast. "My process"
• 27. See L. Chukovskaya. The workshop of human resurrection ... "Referendum." Journal of independent opinions. M. April 1990. №35. p. 19.
• 28. Shalamov V. Left Coast. "My process"
• 29. Shalamov V. Artist shovel. "Green Prosecutor"
• 30. "Fourth Vologda" - Our Heritage, 1988, No. 4, p. 102
• 31. Shalamov V. Artist shovel. "Courses"
• 32. At the base of the story of the story - the events of the life of the father of the writer, the so-called. Shalamov.
• 33. "New World", 1989, № 2, p. 61
• 34. In KN. O. Mandelshtam. Word and culture. - M. Soviet writer 1987, p. 112
• 35. Ibid, p. 114
• 36. "New World", 1989, № 12, p. 80
• 37. I. Sirotinskaya. About the author. In KN. V. Shalamov "Left Bank" .- M., Contemper, 1989, p. 557.
• 38. We are talking about edition: Shalamov V. Kolyma stories. Preported. M.Geller. - Paris: YMKA-Press, 1985.

Varlam Shalamov

Maxim

Nadezhda Yakovlevna Mandelshtam

People arose from non-essential - one by one. An unfamiliar man went down next door to me on Nara, fell at night to my bony shoulder, giving his warmth - heat droplets - and getting my way in return. There were nights when there was no heat before me through the scraps of the Bushlata, the tag, and in the morning I looked at the neighbor, as a dead man, and a little bit wondered that the dead was alive, rises in the okhika, dressed and fulfill the command. I had little warmth. Not much meat remained on my bones. This meat was enough for anger - the last of human feelings. Not indifference, and anger was the last human feeling - the one that closers to the bones. A man who arose of non-existence disappeared during the day - there were many sections at coal intelligence - and disappeared forever. I do not know people who slept next to me. I never asked them questions, and not because I followed the Arab proverb: Do not ask - and you will not lie. I still had - I will lie to me or will not, I was out of truth, out of lies. Blessed on this subject is a tough, bright, rude saying, permeated by deep contempt for a given question: do not believe - acceptance for a fairy tale. I did not ask and did not listen to fairy tales.

What remained with me to the end? Evil. And keeping this malice, I expected to die. But death, so close quite recently, it became gradually moving away. It was not a life of death substituted, but half a score, the existence that there is no formula and which cannot be called life. Every day, each sunrise brought the danger of a new, deadly push. But there was no shock. I worked as a boiler - the lightest of all works, it is easier to be a guard, but I did not have time to seize firewood for Titan, the boiler "Titan" system. I could drive me - but where? Taiga is far away, our village, "Traveling" in Kolymsky, is like an island in the Taiga world. I barely laughed my legs, the distance in two hundred meters from the tent to work it seemed to me endlessly, and I didn't stay relaxed once again. I now remember all potholes, all the pits, all the pivots on this mortal trail; The stream in front of which I went to the stomach and lacqual cold, delicious, healing water. Two-handed saw, which I dragged on my shoulder, then the wolf, holding one handle, seemed to me the cargo of incredible gravity.

I could never boil the water in time, to achieve Titan to boil to dinner.

But none of the workers from the freesties, all of them were yesterday's prisoners - did not pay attention, whether water was boiling or not. Kolyma taught us all the drinking water only by temperature. Hot, cold, not boiled and raw.

We were not affected by a dialectical jump of the transition of quantity in quality. We were not philosophers. We were workers, and our hot drinking water of these important scrap whales had no jump.

I ate, indifferently trying to eat everything that came across, - trimming, wreckage of edible, last year's berries in the swamp. Yesterday or marriage Soup from the "free" boiler. No, yesterday's soup did not have left.

In our tent there were two guns, two shotgun. Partridges were not afraid of people, and first time bird beat straight from the threshold of the tent. Mining was baked entirely in the ashes of the fire or was cooked, when it was plotting carefully. Poo-feather - on the pillow, also commerce, loyal money - the acquisition of the free owners of rifles and taiga birds. Scotched, drencakes were cooked in tin cans of three-liter, suspended to fires. From these mysterious birds, I never found no residues. Hungry freezers crushed, smaloli, excosal all bird bones without a residue. It was also one of the wonders of Taiga.

End of a familiarization fragment.

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