Wolves

There the groves are noisy, the violets are blue...
Heine

It's been going on for a week now. Almost every day they were rounded up and shot at. Dried up, with peeling sides, from under which ribs protruded angrily, with clouded eyes, like some kind of ghosts in the white, cold fields - they climbed indiscriminately and anywhere, as soon as they were raised from the bed, and senselessly rushed about and they all roamed the same area. And the hunters shot them confidently and accurately. During the day they lay heavily in more or less strong bushes, hiccupped from hunger and licked their wounds, and in the evening they gathered in groups of several and wandered in single file through the endless, empty fields. The dark evil sky hung over the white snow, and they sullenly trudged towards this sky, and it ceaselessly ran away from them and everything was just as distant and gloomy. It was hard and boring in the fields. And the wolves stopped, huddled together and began to howl; this howl of them, tired and sickly, crawled over the fields, faintly died away a mile or a half and did not have enough strength to fly high into the sky and shout from there about the cold, wounds and hunger. White snow in the fields he listened quietly and indifferently; sometimes the peasant horses in the wagon train trembled and snored at their song, while the peasants swore and whipped. At a half-station near the coal mines, a young lady-engineer sometimes heard them, walking from the house to the tavern at the turn, and it seemed to her that they were singing her a day off; then she bit her lip, quickly returned home, lay down in bed, put her head between the pillows and, gritting her teeth, repeated: "Damned, damned."

II

It was evening. An unpleasant wind was blowing, and it was cold. The snow was dressed in a hard, dry film that crackled a little every time a wolf's paw stepped on it, and a light cold snowball smoked in snakes over this crust and mockingly poured into the muzzles and shoulder blades of the wolves. But there was no snow from above, and it was not very dark: the moon was rising behind the clouds. As always, the wolves trudged along in single file: in front was a gray-haired, gloomy old man, limping from buckshot in his leg, the rest - gloomy and skinned - tried to more carefully get into the tracks of the front ones, so as not to strain their paws on the unpleasant, cutting crust. Shrubs crept past in dark spots, large pale fields, through which the wind blew freely and shamelessly - and each single bush seemed huge and terrible; it was not known whether he would suddenly jump up or run away, and the wolves backed away angrily, each had one thought: "Quickly get away, let them all disappear there, if only I could leave." And when in one place, making their way through some distant gardens, they suddenly stumbled upon a pole sticking out of the snow with a frosted rag desperately fluttering in the wind, all as one rushed through the lame old man into different sides, and only pieces of the crust rushed from under their feet and rustled through the snow. Then, when they had gathered, the tallest and thinnest, with a long muzzle and eyes twisted with horror, awkwardly and strangely sat down in the snow. "I won't go any further," he stuttered and snapped his teeth. "I won't go, white is all around... white is all around... snow." This is death. Death is. And he clung to the snow, as if listening. "Listen... he's talking!" The healthier and stronger ones, though also trembling, looked at him contemptuously and trudged on. And he kept sitting on the snow and repeating: “All around... white all around...” When they climbed the long, endless drag, the wind whistled even more piercingly in their ears: the wolves shivered and stopped. Behind the clouds, the moon rose into the sky, and in one place a yellow, inanimate spot grew cloudy on it, crawling towards the clouds; its reflection fell on the snows and fields, and there was something ghostly and painful in this liquid milky half-light. Below, under the slope, a village was visible; here and there lights shone, and the wolves angrily inhaled the smells of horses, pigs, and cows. The young people were worried. "Let's go there, let's go, anyway ... let's go." And they snapped their teeth and voluptuously moved their nostrils. But the lame old man did not allow. And they trudged along the hillock to the side, and then sideways through the hollow, towards the wind. The last two looked back at the timid lights and the village for a long time and bared their teeth. “Oooh, damned ones,” they growled, “ooh, damned ones!”

III

The wolves were walking. The lifeless snows gazed at them with their pale eyes; you can’t run, but you need to stand still, dead and listen. And now it seemed to the wolves that the straggler comrade was right, that the white desert really hated them; hates because they are alive, running around, trampling, disturbing sleep; they felt that it would destroy them, that it would spread out, boundless, everywhere and would squeeze, bury them within itself. They were taken by despair. - Where are you taking us? they asked the old man. -- Do you know the way? Will you take it somewhere? The old man was silent. And when the youngest and stupidest little wolf began to especially pester him with this, he turned around, looked at him dully, and suddenly, angrily and somehow concentrated, instead of answering, bit him on the scruff of the neck. The little wolf squealed and jumped offendedly to the side, falling belly-deep into the snow, which was cold and loose under the crust. There were several other fights - cruel, unnecessary and unpleasant. Once the last two fell behind, and it seemed to them that it was best to lie down and die at once; they howled, as it seemed to them, before death, but when the front ones, now jogging sideways, turned into some kind of barely wavering black thread, which at times sank in the milky snow, it became so terrible and terrible alone under this sky, which began in flying snow. right overhead and going everywhere, in the whistling wind, that both at a gallop in a quarter of an hour overtook their comrades, although the comrades were toothy, hungry and irritated.

IV

It was an hour and a half before dawn. The wolves stood in a heap around the old man. Wherever he turned, he saw sharp muzzles, round, shining eyes, and felt that something gloomy, oppressive hung over him, and if he moved a little, it would crumble and crush him. -- Where are we? someone asked from behind in a low voice, choked with rage. - Well? When will we get somewhere? "Comrades," he said. old wolf, - fields around us; they are huge, and you can not immediately get out of them. Do you think that I will lead you and myself to destruction? The truth is, I don't know where we should go. But who knows? He trembled as he spoke, and looked around uneasily, and this trembling in the venerable, gray-haired old man was heavy and unpleasant. "You don't know, you don't know!" shouted the same wild, unremembering voice. -- Must know! And before the old man could open his mouth, he felt something burning and sharp below his throat, someone's yellow eyes, unseeing with rage, flashed an inch away from his face, and at once he realized that he was dead. Dozens of the same sharp and burning teeth, like one, dug into him, tore, turned inside out and tore off pieces of the skin; they all huddled together in one ball rolling on the ground, everyone squeezed their jaws to the point that they cracked their teeth. The lump growled, at times eyes sparkled in it, teeth flashed, bloodied muzzles. Anger and anguish crawling out of these skinned thin bodies, a suffocating cloud rose over this place, and even the wind could not disperse it. And the zametyushka sprinkled everything with small snowballs, whistled mockingly, rushed on and swept up plump snowdrifts. It was dark. It was all over in ten minutes. Peeled tatters lay on the snow, blood stains smoked a little, but very soon the snow covered everything, and only a head with a bared muzzle and a bitten tongue stuck out of the snow; dim dull eye froze and turned to ice. Tired wolves dispersed in different directions; they moved away from this place, stopped, looked around and quietly wandered on; they walked slowly, slowly, and none of them knew where or why they were going. But something terrible, impossible to come close to, lay over the stubs of their leader and pushed recklessly away into the cold darkness; darkness enveloped them, and covered their tracks with snow. The two young ones lay down in the snow about fifty paces apart and lay stupidly like logs; they did not suck on their bloodied mustaches, and the red drops on their mustaches froze into hard ice, snow blew into their muzzles, but they did not turn to calm. Others, too, lay in disorder and lay. And then they began to howl again, but now each howled alone, and if someone, while wandering, bumped into a comrade, then both turned in different directions. IN different places their song burst out of the snow, and the wind, which had now broken out and was now driving whole strips of snow to the side, angrily and mockingly shredded it, tore it and tossed it in different directions. Nothing could be seen in the darkness, and it seemed that the fields themselves were groaning. 1901

Boris Konstantinovich Zaitsev - prose writer (10.2. (29.1.) 1881 Eagle - 28.1.1972 Paris). Boris Konstantinovich was born in the family of a mining engineer, a nobleman. Since 1898, Zaitsev studied at the Moscow Higher Technical School, then at the Mining Institute in St. law faculty Moscow University; none graduated. In 1901, L. Andreev published Zaitsev's first lyric-impressionist story in the Moscow newspaper Courier " On the road"and introduced him to the literary circle "Wednesday", led by N. Teleshov.

In 1906-11. six collections of short stories by Boris Zaitsev were published; by 1919 there were already seven. According to the author himself, the most expressive of everything that he wrote before 1922 is the story " Blue Star"(1918). In 1921, Boris Konstantinovich Zaitsev worked in the Moscow Book Store of Writers; in the same year he was elected chairman of the All-Russian Union of Writers.

In June 1922 (after his arrest) he received permission to travel abroad; lived first in Germany and Italy, and from 1924 in Paris. In Berlin, he managed - by way of an honorable exception - to publish a collected works in 7 volumes (1922-23). In Paris, Boris Zaitsev wrote novels and biographical works to a ripe old age, gaining more and more fame as the last link with the literature of the early 20th century, " silver age Russian Literature". In the Soviet Union, Zaitsev, as an emigrant, was subject to a censorship ban. In 1987, perestroika made it possible for O. Mikhailov to introduce his name into Russian literature in his homeland.

Almost all of Boris Zaitsev's works are set in Russia; some are in Italy. Novel " golden pattern"(1926) covers the period before Bolshevik coup And civil war. "House in Passy"(1935) in a typical impressionist manner for Zaitsev introduces the reader to everyday life first emigration to France. Most great work this author - a four-volume autobiography of the writer " Gleb's journey"-begins with a novel" Dawn"(1937) and ends with a novel" tree of life"(1953). Some of Zaitsev's works, for example, a life" Reverend Sergius Radonezh"(1925) and" Athos"(1928) - notes on the pilgrimage - are completely devoted to the religious theme and testify to his understanding of the personal responsibility of a Christian. A special place in the work of this author is occupied by biographies of writers: I. Turgenev, A. Chekhov, F. Tyutchev and V. Zhukovsky. To the most significant achievements in the work of Zaitsev undoubtedly belongs to his translation of "Hell" from " Divine Comedy» Dante, where he tried to achieve maximum approximation to the original in prose. The translation was started by him back in Russia, revised abroad and published in 1961.

Little-known representatives of the Silver Age

The Silver Age is a phenomenon that has yet to be comprehended. Concepture does not set itself the task of a detailed analysis, but only of highlighting the life and work of some little-known representatives of the literature of this period as part of the next mini-course. This article will focus on Boris Zaitsev.

Characteristics of the literary process of the Silver Age

The end of the 19th - the beginning of the 20th centuries is a rather short, but very intense and very important period in the history of Russian literature, independent in its significance. The new generation of writers born at the turn of the century was vitally connected with the creators of domestic classics, but for a number of objective reasons, it laid its own, special artistic way. Of course, it did not stop with the historical turning point in October 1917, but was brilliantly continued for decades.

However, Russian culture has undergone a tragic cataclysm. The country was destroyed to the depths, the intelligentsia was split, most of it ended up in exile. For everyone: those who remained at home or those who left its borders, a completely different and differently difficult period of creativity has come. literary era the beginning of the century, according to M. Gorky, they began to call it “motley”. It truly struck with the diversity of realism, which entered into controversy with it (and among themselves) with the currents of modernism and the abundance of other “intermediate” forms of creativity.

If a person so sharply strains upwards, so subdues the variegation of his line of God, he is subject to ebb, and decline, fatigue. God is strength, the devil is weakness. God is convex, devil is concave.

In the literature of that time, the hero almost disappeared - the bearer of the author's ideal, and all the writer's attention was focused around the dark, subconscious elements of the human soul. However, not all (albeit a minority) representatives of the literature of the Silver Age were infected with the decadence that reigned everywhere at that time. Boris Zaitsev can rightly be classified as one of those few. His work carried in itself the spiritual values ​​and quests of classical culture that have come from the century.

Seeking bright soul

Zaitsev is one of the most gifted and original writers who appeared in the early years of the twentieth century. This - typical representative the latest, so-called "young" literature. It reflected all its features and its main searches in the field of both ideas and form. To a large extent, he has a tendency to philosophize, characteristic of young literature - to clarify life in the light of moral problems. He is not interested in the concrete appearance of things, not in their appearance, and the inner essence; their attitude to the fundamental questions of being and their mutual connection. Hence the dissatisfaction with the old art forms and an inspired search for new, more relevant content of the pressing issues of his time.

The main theme of Zaitsev's books can be defined as follows: human soul as part of the cosmos and its reflection. The most suitable methods, at first, seemed to him partly the so-called "impressionism", partly symbolism, and then more and more inclination towards a new - in-depth and refined - realism is manifested in him. Zaitsev is a great subjectivist, but his subjectivity does not give the impression of crude frankness: on the contrary, it gives his work an imprint of intimate nobility.

Lyricism is the main feature of his stories. There is not one among them who would not be typically Zaitsev. The question of the meaning of life and the rebellious, painful moods associated with it were reflected in Zaitsev's psychology in a very complex way. They collided with his spiritual organization, not at all prone to storms and not suffering from dissonances, with his soul bright, peaceful and contemplative in Chekhov's way, dutifully accepting life.

But it happens that it takes as much courage to live as it does to die.

The hero of Zaitsev is turned to himself, his own inner world, recognizes in him either terrible deviations from conscience, or the ripening grains of God's truth. His hero, even during the period of wars and revolutions, when a person was most exposed to countless external influences, retained the desire to eternal values, claimed their victory over momentary vain desires. Boris Zaitsev, being in exile, said: “Everything makes sense. Suffering, misfortune, death only seem inexplicable. The whimsical patterns and zigzags of life, upon closer contemplation, can be revealed as useful.

"Only the highest values ​​give rest"

Zaitsev was strongly influenced by the religious philosophy of Solovyov and Berdyaev, who, according to his later testimonies, broke through the "pantheistic attire of youth" and gave a strong "impetus to faith." The “hagiographic portraits” painted by him in the 1920s (Aleksey god man, Venerable Sergius of Radonezh, both 1925) and essays on wanderings to holy places (Athos, 1928, Valaam, 1936). Summarizing the experience of Russian emigration in an article dedicated to the 25th anniversary of his departure from Moscow, Zaitsev expressed the main theme of everything he created after he left his homeland: “We are a drop of Russia ... no matter how poor and powerless we are, never anyone we will not yield to the highest values, which are the values ​​of the spirit. This motive dominates in his journalism.

As for him fiction, the most noticeable influence of Russian religious philosophy is manifested in Zaitsev's desire to penetrate into the unknown. But this unknown, in contrast to the general orientation of the poets and writers of the Silver Age, is not infernal, but spiritual. As Zaitsev himself said: “only highest values give you some respite." The turn of the century was characterized by the fact that people for many years, allotted to them for earthly happiness, were in the grip of unclean inclinations. The writer's gaze was presented to a carnivorous, devastated, cruel world, where all innate weaknesses are outrageously reinforced. But unlike many of his contemporaries, Zaitsev rejected the spirit of pessimism and nihilism. He was sure that for "those who have passed through sorrow and darkness, God's soul begins to shine." In general, religious feeling determines a lot in Zaitsev's work. The eternal wisdom of the Bible guides the search and insights of its heroes.

haunts me Lately a rhyme, a long time ago, back in Russia, jumped in:

Life, he said, stopping

Among the verdant graves,

Metaphysical connection

transcendental premises.

I don't understand the last lines. But they make me want to cry.

It is customary to talk about Boris Zaitsev as the last significant writer of the 20th century in the Russian diaspora. He died in Paris in 1972, having lived two weeks to ninety-one years (recall that the life expectancy of his decadent contemporaries was much shorter). Zaitsev wrote relatively few works, nevertheless he left a rich mark on Russian literature.

The writer drank the bitter cup of exile to the dregs, but retained his inner freedom. And then, when he was forced to leave Russia, and then, when, together with Bunin, he ended up in occupation after the capture of France by the Nazis.

1. Y. Aikhenvald - "Boris Zaitsev".

2. L. Arinina - “ Christian motives in the work of Zaitsev.

Lesson Objectives:

• acquaintance of the children with one of the milestone works of B. Zaitsev's creativity;
• revealing some features of the literature of the early twentieth century.

Lesson objectives:

• consolidate skills holistic analysis artwork;
• deepen the concept of the structure of a literary text (title, epigraph, conflict, pathos, problem, theme);
• identify the problem of the continuity of universal values;
• to help comprehend the features of the life process at the turn of two centuries (1995 - 2000).

Lesson layout:

• portrait of B. Zaitsev,
• illustration to the text of the story, A.K. Savrasov "Country Road",
• I.I. Levitan "Vladimirka" - copies of paintings.

Vocabulary for the lesson:

• subject,
• problem,
• conflict,
• pathos,
• humanism,
• animalism,
• motive.

Music: D. Shostakovich. Symphony No. 12 in D Minor, Op. 112 "1917". Part 2. Allegro Adagio spill.

Posters:

1. "World, where are you?"
   - I'm always with you
   You carry me.
   Days run after years, years after days, from one misty abyss to another. These days we live. (B. Zaitsev).

1. True Russia is a country of mercy, not hatred. (B. Zaitsev).
2. Nothing in the world is done in vain
   Everything makes sense.
   Suffering, misfortune, death only seem inexplicable.
   Day and night, joy and sorrow,
   Achievements and failures always teach. There is no meaningless. (B. Zaitsev).
3. It has long been noted that Zaitsev is not a "household dweller", that he created his own "world" ... Zaitsev's people have always been a bit of "emigrants", wanderers on earth. (M. Tsetlin).

Printout of poetic lines (texts taken from the book “Sonnet of the Silver Age” - M., “Pravda”, 1990. - 767s.)

I don't know where is holiness, where is vice,
And I do not judge anyone, I do not measure.
I only tremble before the eternal loss:
Whom God does not own, Rock owns

Z. Gippius. 1907

Neither beg nor cry incapable,
I locked the door and cursed our days.

V. Bryusov. 1895

And this dim heat, and the mountains in a muddy haze,
And the smell of stuffy herbs, and mercury reflection of stones,
And the evil cry of cicadas, and the scream of birds of prey
Muted consciousness. And the heat trembles with a cry
And there - in the hollows of the shining eye sockets
A huge look of a trampled face.

M. Voloshin. 1907

Nobody died. Nobody is done with life.
But in the ringing silence they wandered and converged.
Here they are approaching, they are swimming - the features have been determined
They suddenly moved away - and they can not be distinguished.
There - in the dark depths - the same languor
The same poor souls and ugly bodies:
Harmony is a joyless limit.

A. Blok. 1903

Everything is messed up,
And I can't make out
Now who is the beast, who is the man,
And how long to wait for the execution.
And only lush flowers,
And the ringing of the censer, and traces
Somewhere to nowhere

A. Akhmatova. 1939

Alexander Lukyanov "Two Epochs" - (write the poem on the blackboard).

When the golden dawn shines,
The life-giving thought will freeze in impotence,
The human spirit then becomes shallow again.
And perishes in the bustle of tedious worries
Then animal fear leads the crowd severely,
Despair, vice in her hearts grows,
And with deaf horror, full of evil impotence;
Without a goal and a path, she wanders in the darkness.
Then the world grows old, sadly changed,
And he brings bitterness to the enslaved crowd,
There is no light on earth, no power and miracles...
Life blows with the cold of a frozen movement,
And death stands in the crowd, like a terrible ghost of decay,
How the inevitable retribution of heaven!

teacher's word

We live in difficult and interesting times. Literature opens up new names. Today in the lesson we will get acquainted with one page of the great book, which is called: “Boris Zaitsev's Artistic Prose”. It all radiates a quiet light of goodness, simple moral principles reign in it, each creature is perceived as a particle of the common cosmos.

“Man does not belong to himself alone,” wrote B. Zaitsev. And indeed in his artistic picture of the world great importance have relationships between the living and the inanimate, the beautiful and the ugly, the past and the present. We will get acquainted with the story, which is recalled by the founder of the famous literary circle "Wednesday" N.D. Teleshov:

“Once Andreev brought a newcomer to us. Just as Gorky had brought him to us in his time, so now he himself brought to Wednesday a young student in a gray uniform jacket with gilded buttons. The young man is talented, he published in "Career" although only two stories, but it is clear that he will be useful. Everyone liked the young man - and they also liked his story "Wolves", and from that evening he became a member of "Wednesday" and its visitor. Soon a writer developed from him - Boris Zaitsev. Thus, the story "Wolves" is a test of the pen and an application of one's "I".

Working with the class

1. You have read the story "Wolves". Would you like to name the story differently. Let's set ourselves that goal. (Students give their titles. For example, “People”, “Fight”, etc.).

Zaitsev refers to the image of flagged, cornered wolves. The characters in this story are wolves. The text tells about the general foundations of their existence, their life, which is especially complicated in winter, during the period of lack of food, warmth and rest. We have determined the theme of the story, it is her author who puts it in the title. Now let's try to define the problem of the work (why does the author turn to the image of wolves, what does he want to say?).

2. Let's turn to the scheme of analysis, which is written on the board.

We face a problem: what two worlds collide in the work? Who represents them? What is characteristic of each of them? What are the values ​​of each world? Its features? Let's work with parts 1 and 2 of the story and draw up a comparative diagram.

(Guys work in notebooks and with text, the teacher is on the blackboard).

	Human world	world of wolves
Who are they? Their actions		like ghosts - howling and running cold, hunger, wounds
by color	twinkling lights are shining	the moon is an inanimate spot, a liquid milky half-light
By sounds	sing the waste	howl, tired and sickly
What are they?	damn	damn
On the move	from the house to the tavern at the turn	wandered senselessly through the same area

If in a word damn put another stress, we get " damn". So both people and wolves are damned together.

• Who opposes the living, searching world? (Students find living characteristics of the sky, snow, snow, etc.). There is a dark, evil sky that constantly runs away from people and wolves. This is what the tallest and thinnest wolf feels: “I won’t go, white is all around ... Hear ... he says ...”. Snow is endowed with pale eyes, he spoke, the snow hissed poisonously. Inanimate nature is endowed with spiritual characteristics, and living wolves become incorporeal ghosts.
• What do natural forces know and what does the high wolf see: “That no one can run anywhere, that it’s impossible to run, but you need to stand still, dead and listen.”
• What to listen? (Students name the sound range of the work).

Listen to the waste of the whole living world. Their path is meaningless and lonely. Nature hates wolves and people, it will destroy them, squeeze them and bury them - indeed, this is the finale of the work. Then the horror of the young, lagging behind the pack, is understandable. Somewhat scary. All together they are a flock, comrades.

3. What hierarchy reigns in the pack? Let's try to sketch it. (Guys in notebooks, teacher on the blackboard; work with text).

• Let's try to describe each of them. What social group human society they represent? ( The guys select the characteristics, work with the details artistic description. The teacher summarizes. The leader is an old, wise old man who has experienced victories and losses (buckshot). Which with its paws paves the way for the whole flock, laid siege to the wolf in time and prevented a general fight. He is honest, he leads the pack until the general anger crushed the other feelings of the wolves. The leader is honest in the last moment of his life. These are the wise and honest old men of human society.
• Who provokes the whole flock to deal with the leader? Wolf with a wild unremembering voice- this is a wolf that can betray, because it does not remember anything. It's scary if such people come to power, then they deal with heritage and wisdom easily and furiously. This wolf is waiting for a quick resolution of the problem, he refuses the old, he wants to build a new one, albeit on blood.
• Who is this wolf? (Guys answer: rebel, traitor, revolutionary, etc.). He is looking for a revolutionary way out of the problem.
• Are the wolves happy when they pick up the old man? Are they full and calm? No. Let's remember Dostoevsky: "The world cannot be built even on one tear of a child." Is happiness possible on someone else's blood?
• What gives the pack the death of the leader? Now they are completely broken. There is strength in their unity, one by one they are only ready to die. The young wolf could not understand and foresee this.
• What is he? What social group does he represent? (Students answer: young, stupid, inexperienced, offended when they teach life; this the youth packs, curious and inexperienced forces of society).Young wolf- this is a maximalist because of his youth, which is why the old smart wolf teaches him so cruelly. He knows so little.
• Who knew the truth? (The guys answer: the tallest and thinnest wolf).This wolf is a philosopher. He behaves paradoxically: on the one hand, he remains to die so as not to burden the flock with himself, on the other hand, he surrenders to fatal forces. Human society often encounters theorists who get to the truth with their brilliant intellect (or instinct), but cannot put their ideas into practice.
• And finally, who represents the main forces of the pack? (Students answer: young wolves). They are healthy, strong, but without a leader and his wisdom, they are nobody. Everyone on their own - there is no flock. What the last two are afraid of is to die alone. After all, "in the world and death is red."
• What are they left with? (Students answer: they die one by one, ashamed and sad, they are afraid of each other and howl). Remember, they dream: “Hurry away, let them all disappear there, if only I could leave.” These young and healthy wolves are selfish (like most of any society). No leader - no pack. "There is safety in numbers". Thus, the wolf pack is a projection on human society(comrade wolves). We move from problem to conflict.

4. How do we determine conflict of this work? Dramatic or tragic? (Students' attention to the blackboard). dramatic conflict. It feels a special tension, which is realized in the leading motives.

5. Which hosts motives you found in the work? (Students answer: the motive of battle, loneliness, evil, doomsday).

6. What is pathos works? What mood is created by these motifs?

The mood of general anger and restlessness gives rise to a special drama - tragic. I am dying and I realize my death - a terrible feeling.

7. When are the questions of the frailty of existence, the worthlessness of the path and the tragic separation from the world especially acute for a person? (Music sounds). Read the suggested (see printout of verses) poetic lines, determine the feelings that the authors own? (The guys call: loneliness, anger, longing, sadness, bitterness, etc.).

Especially acute is the question of the meaning of life before a person in crucial moment his existence. Such a turning point is the turn of two centuries. Please listen to A. Lukyanov's poem, which is called “Two Epochs”. (Music sounds. The teacher reads a poem).

8. What do you already know about the peculiarities of the literature of the two eras? (Students answer according to the introductory lecture to the 11th grade course).

I will supplement your knowledge, talk about the theme of nature in the literature of the early 20th century. At the turn of the 19th and 20th century, in literature, as in other forms of art, an active revision of ideas about man and his place in the world began. A special time of the “crisis of humanism” is coming, about which A. Blok wrote: “... the shaggy chest of the rooter hung over us and heavy hooves are ready to fall.” Literature is interested in the bestial, uncivilized beginning of life because civilization comes to a dead end. Animals are attracted by mystery, alienation from human ideas about the world. An image of predators appears, which lie in wait for a person and prophesy his death (damned). Nature does not forgive the crimes of man, and fate itself takes on the appearance of a beast.

The peculiarity of the literature of the early 20th century is not the humanization of the images of animals, but the “animalization” of the image of animals, which reveals in itself a dark, reckless “fatal heritage”.

Why does the writer choose wolves? The wolf is a wild predatory dog, traditionally a “low” despised animal, symbolizing the extreme rejection of man from his own kind (Bulgakov’s “Heart of a Dog”).

The conflict of man with himself (mind-soul) is also realized in relation to the rest of the living part of nature: reverence and love for animals is combined with wild extermination (neat and systematic).

"Everything is in me and I am in everything" (F.I. Tyutchev)

The image of a person receives a new capacity due to the awareness of participation in many other existences. Where are we all going together? What awaits all life on Earth in the new century, and will it be? The story embodies the motif of the end of the world, the general cooling, both in nature and in feelings. Where is the exit?

9. In what part of the story is the idea of ​​a person's path to universal harmony embodied? (The guys answer: the epigraph - there the groves are noisy, the violets are blue ... Heine).

The epigraph realizes the idea of ​​a person about a happy place that will protect a person from fatal forces, from the tragic perception of the frailty of existence. It is there that wolves roam, where mankind has been striving for 20 centuries.

10. Experiencing someone else's experience at the level of comprehension, we feel protected from fatal forces. This protection is given to us by works of literature, since human experience is realized in them, because it is not in vain that “manuscripts do not burn,” the word exists outside of time and space. Through the art of the word, we comprehend this world and its laws, trying to find answers to eternal and fatal questions.

Homework.

Written answer (The story "Wolves" in modern reading).

• What was revealed to me in this world after reading the story?
• What did the story make you think?
• For what can I say Thank you writer of the past generation B. Zaitsev.