Rasputin's works are known and loved by many. Rasputin Valentin Grigorievich - Russian writer, one of the most well-known representatives « village prose" in literature. The sharpness and drama of ethical problems, the desire to find support in the world of peasant folk morality reflected in his stories and stories dedicated to his contemporary rural life. In this article, we will talk about the main works created by this talented writer.
"Money for Mary"
This story was written in 1967. It was from her that Rasputin (his photo is presented above) entered literature as an original writer. The story "Money for Mary" brought the author wide fame. In this work, the main themes of his further work were identified: being and life, man among people. Valentin Grigorievich considers such moral categories as cruelty and mercy, material and spiritual, good and evil.
Rasputin raises the question of how other people are touched by someone else's grief. Is anyone capable of refusing a person who is in trouble and leaving him to perish without supporting him financially? How can these people, after rejection, be able to calm their conscience? Maria, main character works, suffers not only from the discovered shortage, but, perhaps, to a greater extent from the indifference of people. After all, yesterday they were good friends.
The Tale of the Dying Old Woman
The main character of Rasputin's story " Deadline", established in 1970, - dying old woman Anna, who remembers her life. A woman feels that she is involved in the cycle of life. Anna experiences the mystery of death, feeling it as the main event in human life.
Four children are opposed to this heroine. They came to say goodbye to their mother, to see her off last way. Anna's children are forced to stay with her for 3 days. It was for this time that God delayed the departure of the old woman. The preoccupation of children with everyday worries, their vanity and fussiness are in sharp contrast to the spiritual work that takes place in the fading consciousness of the peasant woman. The narrative includes large layers of text, reflecting the experiences and thoughts of the characters in the work, and above all Anna.
Main themes
The topics that the author touches on are more multifaceted and deep than a cursory reading might seem. The attitude of children to parents, the relationship between various family members, old age, alcoholism, the concepts of honor and conscience - all these motives in the story "Deadline" are woven into a single whole. The main thing that interests the author is the problem of the meaning of human life.
The inner world of eighty-year-old Anna is filled with worries and worries about children. All of them have already parted for a long time and live separately from each other. The main character wants only last time see them. However, her children, already grown up, are busy and businesslike representatives of modern civilization. Each of them has their own family. They all think about many different things. They have enough time and energy for everything except their mother. For some reason, they almost never remember her. And Anna only lives with thoughts about them.
When a woman feels the approach of death, she is ready to endure a few more days, just to see her family. However, the children find time and attention for the old woman only for the sake of decency. Valentin Rasputin shows their lives as if they even live on earth for the sake of decency. Anna's sons are mired in drunkenness, while the daughters are completely absorbed in their "important" affairs. All of them are insincere and ridiculous in their desire to give a little time to their dying mother. The author shows us their moral decline, selfishness, heartlessness, callousness, which took possession of their souls and lives. similar people? Their existence is gloomy and soulless.
At first glance, it seems that the deadline - last days Anna. However, in reality this last chance for her children to fix something, to hold their mother with dignity. Unfortunately, they were unable to use this chance.
The Tale of the Deserter and His Wife
The work analyzed above is an elegiac prologue to the tragedy captured in the story called “Live and Remember”, created in 1974. If the old woman Anna and her children gather under their father's roof in the last days of her life, then Andrei Guskov, who deserted from the army, is cut off from the world.
Note that the events described in the story “Live and Remember” take place at the end of the Great Patriotic War. The symbol of Andrei Guskov's hopeless loneliness, his moral savagery is a wolf hole located on an island in the middle of the Angara River. The hero hides in it from people and authorities.
The tragedy of Nastena
The name of this hero's wife is Nastena. This woman secretly visits her husband. Every time she has to swim across the river to meet him. It is no coincidence that Nastena overcomes a water barrier, because in myths she separates two worlds from each other - the living and the dead. Wall is authentic tragic heroine. Valentin Grigoryevich Rasputin confronts this woman with a difficult choice between love for her husband (Nastena and Andrei are married in the church) and the need to live among people, in the world. The heroine cannot find support or sympathy in any person.
The surrounding village life is no longer an integral peasant cosmos, harmonious and closed within its limits. The symbol of this cosmos, by the way, is Anna's hut from the work "Deadline". Nastena commits suicide, taking with her into the river the child Andrei, whom she wanted so much and whom she conceived with her husband in his wolf den. Their death becomes an atonement for the deserter, but she is unable to return this hero to human form.
The story of the flood of the village
The themes of parting with whole generations of people who lived and worked on their land, the themes of farewell to the mother-ancestor are already heard in the "Deadline". In the story "Farewell to Matera", created in 1976, they are transformed into a myth about the death of the peasant world. This work tells about the flooding of a Siberian village located on an island, as a result of the creation of a "man-made sea". The island of Matera (from the word "mainland"), in contrast to the island depicted in "Live and Remember", is a symbol of the promised land. This is the last refuge for those who live in conscience, in harmony with nature and God.
The main characters of "Farewell to Matera"
Righteous Daria is at the head of the old women who live out their days here. These women refuse to leave the island, to move to a new village, symbolizing new world. The old women depicted by Valentin Grigoryevich Rasputin remain here until the very end, until the hour of death. They guard their shrines - the pagan Tree of Life (royal foliage) and a cemetery with crosses. Only one of the settlers (named Pavel) comes to visit Daria. He is driven by a vague hope to join the true meaning of being. This hero, in contrast to Nastya, floats into the world of the living from world of the dead, which is a mechanical civilization. However, the world of the living in the story "Farewell to Matera" dies. On the island at the end of the work, only its Owner remains - a mythical character. His desperate cry, which is heard in the dead void, completes the story of Rasputin.
"Fire"
In 1985, nine years after the creation of Farewell to Matera, Valentin Grigoryevich decided to write again about the death of the communal world. This time he does not die in water, but in a fire. The fire covers the trading warehouses located in the timber industry village. In the work, a fire breaks out at the site of a previously flooded village, which has symbolic meaning. People are not ready for a joint struggle with trouble. Instead, one by one, competing with each other, they begin to take away the good snatched from the fire.
The image of Ivan Petrovich
Ivan Petrovich is the main character of this work by Rasputin. It is from the point of view of this character, working as a driver, that the author describes everything that happens in the warehouses. Ivan Petrovich is no longer the righteous hero typical of Rasputin's work. He is in conflict with himself. Ivan Petrovich is looking for and cannot find "the simplicity of the meaning of life." Therefore, the author's vision of the world depicted by him is disharmonized and complicated. From this follows the aesthetic duality of the style of the work. In The Fire, the image of burning warehouses, captured by Rasputin in every detail, is adjacent to various symbolic and allegorical generalizations, as well as to journalistic sketches of the life of the timber industry.
Finally
We have considered only the main works of Rasputin. You can talk about the work of this author for a long time, but it still will not convey all the originality and artistic value his novels and short stories. Rasputin's works are definitely worth reading. They present the reader the whole world, full interesting discoveries. In addition to the works mentioned above, we recommend that you familiarize yourself with Rasputin's collection of stories "A Man from the Other World", published in 1965. The stories of Valentin Grigorievich are no less interesting than his stories.
On March 14, the day before his 78th birthday, a remarkable Russian writer passed away, public figure, Human broad soul And good heart- Valentin Grigorievich Rasputin.
Valentin Grigorievich was born in the village of Ust-Uda, East Siberian Region, in peasant family. After graduating from the local primary school, he was forced to leave alone for fifty kilometers from the house where the secondary school was located (this period will later be created famous story). After school, he entered the Faculty of History and Philology of the Irkutsk State University.
Worked on the editorial board of the book series " Literary monuments Siberia". In the 1980s, he was a member of the editorial board of the Roman-gazeta magazine. During perestroika, he was active civil position, had a negative attitude towards liberalism and perestroika reforms. In 1989-1990 he was a People's Deputy of the USSR. The winged formula of counterperestroika was the one quoted by Rasputin in his speech at the First Congress people's deputies USSR phrase P. A. Stolypin: “You need great shocks. We need a great country." He took the collapse of the USSR as a personal tragedy. In the 2000s he was a member Patriarchal Council by culture. In Irkutsk, he contributed to the opening of the Orthodox female gymnasium, was one of the publishers of the Orthodox-patriotic newspaper Literary Irkutsk.
Some famous works Valentin Rasputin have been filmed since 1969. In particular, these are such stories and novels as “Rudolfio” (1969), “French Lessons” (1978), “Bear Skin for Sale” (1980), “Farewell to Matera” (1981), “Vasily and Vasilisa” “1981 ”, and, finally,“ Live and Remember ”(2008).
Valentin Grigorievich devoted his whole life to one great cause: he taught people good things. And he succeeded. Almost all of the writer's works were read Soviet people. Such different stories, such different characters, such a different message of each story or story, but they have one thing in common: the desire to help the reader become kinder, more merciful, more sympathetic and attentive to others.
Consider the work of Valentin Grigorievich on the example of some specific works.
Thus, the autobiographical story, which we reviewed a week before the writer's death, teaches readers compassion, mercy and human dignity. Main character Volodya is leaving native village, to study in high school, but in the harsh post-war years, he barely makes ends meet, falls ill with anemia. There are not enough funds even for the milk necessary for anemia. The young teacher delves into the problems of the student and tries to help him in every possible way, but the boy refuses, because it is beneath his dignity to accept help. The teacher comes up with gambling and deliberately loses money to the boy, for which he is dismissed as the director of the school, leaves for the Kuban, but continues to send parcels to Volodya.
This is not just "French Lessons", these are lessons of kindness, solidarity and dignity. In some ways, this is a reproach to some modern teachers who care only about working hours, wages, and completely forget to help their students, because teachers play a huge role in educating the younger generation - the future of our country.
in the story "Bear skin for sale" the plot is pretty simple. Hunter Vasily in the taiga easily deals with the inhabitants of the wild, especially bears. "He was a great bear cub." One day, after killing a bear, he realizes that his life has turned into hell: the bear begins to pursue him and even attack him, trying to avenge the murder of his bear wife. The main character is forced to kill the bear with a gun, but this does not make Vasily's life easier: his conscience begins to torment him, he thinks about the right of people to intervene, to invade the fate of the inhabitants of the taiga world.
Conscience and care for nature is the main message this work. The reader involuntarily takes the place of the protagonist and begins to talk in sync with Vasily about the dangers of interfering in the lives of bears and other animals. The work also encourages the reader to think about the place and role of each element in the living system of the world, about the awareness of the concept of the measure of responsibility, as a consequence of the free will of choice, about meeting with the awareness " side effects» ideas about their own superiority or omnipotence.
Story "Vasily and Vasilisa" tells about a simple village family: about husband Vasily, wife Vasilisa, their children and their neighbors. Everything went on as usual, until Vasily became addicted to alcohol and, in a drunken state, beat his pregnant wife, who, as a result, had a miscarriage. After that, the protagonist is tormented by conscience for what he did, but in old age he receives forgiveness from his wife. The story serves as an example of the strongest anti-alcohol propaganda, which is so lacking in our lives today.
And, finally, consider the message of the filmed tragedy of the writer - "Farewell to Matera". A story about the resettlement of villagers to a new place in connection with the flooding of the village for the construction of a hydroelectric power station. The deepest emotional experiences and sufferings of all the heroes of the story are shown. The villagers perceive the resettlement very painfully, because here are the graves of their ancestors, which they wish to take with them to a new place ... The essence of this work is to demonstrate true love to the Motherland. Not only to the little one, as in the story, but also to big motherland, after all, a person grows into his native land with roots.
The main characters of the works of Valentin Grigorievich Rasputin are very different people, but they are united by such qualities as conscientiousness, sympathy, disinterestedness, love for the Motherland, rejection of vices, correction of their own mistakes. All the works of the great Russian writer teach us to be worthy, responsible and sober people.
Current page: 1 (total book has 91 pages) [available reading excerpt: 51 pages]
Abstract
Valentin Grigorievich Rasputin - Russian prose writer, whose works have become classics domestic literature, a writer of rare artistic gift. His language is a living, precise and bright, precious instrument with which Rasputin creates music. native land and his people, endowing his best heroes with the ability to feel the "endless, furious grace" of the universe, "all the radiance and all the movement of the world, all its inexplicable beauty and passion ...".
Novels and stories
MONEY FOR MARY
DEADLINE
LIVE AND REMEMBER
FAREWELL TO MOTHER
IVAN'S DAUGHTER, IVAN'S MOTHER
Part one
Part two
Part three
stories
MOM IS GONE SOMEWHERE
RUDOLFIO
VASILY AND VASILISSA
DOWN AND UP DOWN
FRENCH LESSONS
WHAT TO GIVE TO THE CROW?
CENTURY LIVE - CENTURY LOVE
"I CAN'T-U..."
Aunt Julita
IN THE HOSPITAL
TO THE SAME EARTH
WOMEN'S TALK
SUDDENLY-UNexpectedly
NEW PROFESSION
AT THE HOMELAND
IN WEATHER
Novels and stories
Rasputin Valentin
Tale
MONEY FOR MARY
Kuzma woke up because the car on the turn blinded the windows with headlights and it became completely light in the room.
The light, swaying, felt the ceiling, went down the wall, turned to the right and disappeared. A minute later the car stopped, too, it became dark and quiet again, and now, in complete darkness and silence, it seemed that it was some kind of secret sign.
Kuzma got up and lit a cigarette. He was sitting on a stool by the window, looking through the glass at the street and puffing on a cigarette, as if he himself was signaling to someone. While puffing, he saw in the window his tired, haggard face of recent days, which then immediately disappeared, and there was nothing but infinitely deep darkness - not a single light or sound. Kuzma thought about the snow: probably by morning he would pack up and go, go, go - like grace.
Then he lay down again next to Mary and fell asleep. He dreamed that he was driving the same car that woke him up. The headlights don't shine, and the car drives in total darkness. But then they suddenly flash and light up the house, near which the car stops. Kuzma gets out of the cab and knocks on the window.
- What do you need? they ask him from the inside.
“Money for Mary,” he replies.
The money is taken out to him, and the car goes on, again in complete darkness. But as soon as she comes across a house in which there is money, some device unknown to him works, and the headlights light up. He knocks on the window again and is asked again:
- What do you need?
- Money for Mary.
He wakes up for the second time.
Darkness. It is still night, there is still no light and no sound around, and in the midst of this darkness and silence it is hard to believe that nothing will happen, and dawn will come in due time, and morning will come.
Kuzma lies and thinks, there is no more sleep. From somewhere above, like unexpected rain, the whistling sounds of a jet plane fall and immediately subside, moving away after the plane. Silence again, but now it seems deceptive, as if something is about to happen. And this feeling of anxiety does not go away immediately.
Kuzma thinks: to go or not to go? He thought about it both yesterday and the day before yesterday, but then there was still time for reflection, and he could not decide anything definitively, now there is no more time. If you don't go in the morning, it will be too late. We must now say to ourselves: yes or no? We must, of course, go. Drive. Stop suffering. Here he has no one else to ask. In the morning he gets up and immediately goes to the bus. He closes his eyes - now you can sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep ... Kuzma tries to cover himself with sleep, like a blanket, to go into it with his head, but nothing happens. It seems to him that he is sleeping by the fire: if you turn on one side, it is cold on the other. He sleeps and does not sleep, he again dreams of a car, but he understands that it doesn’t cost him anything to open his eyes now and finally wake up. He turns to the other side - still the night, which no night shifts can tame.
Morning. Kuzma gets up and looks out the window: there is no snow, but it is overcast, it could fall at any moment. Muddy unkind dawn spills reluctantly, as if through force. Lowering its head, a dog ran in front of the windows and turned into an alley. People are not visible. A gust of wind suddenly hits the wall from the north side and immediately subsides. A minute later another blow, then another.
Kuzma goes into the kitchen and says to Maria, who is busy by the stove:
"Get me something to take with me, I'll go."
- In town? Maria is worried.
- In town.
Maria wipes her hands on her apron and sits down in front of the stove, squinting at the heat on her face.
“He won’t,” she says.
– Do you know where the envelope with the address is? Kuzma asks.
- Somewhere in the upper room, if alive. The guys are sleeping. Kuzma finds the envelope and returns to the kitchen.
“He won’t,” Maria repeats.
Kuzma sits down at the table and eats silently. He himself does not know, no one knows whether he will give or not. It's getting hot in the kitchen. A cat rubs against Kuzma's legs, and he pushes it away.
- Will you come back yourself? Maria asks.
He puts his plate away from him and thinks. The cat, arching its back, sharpens its claws in the corner, then again comes up to Kuzma and clings to his feet. He gets up and, after a pause, not finding what to say goodbye, goes to the door.
He dresses and hears Mary crying. It's time for him to leave - the bus leaves early. And let Mary cry, if she cannot do otherwise.
Outside the wind - everything sways, groans, rattles.
The wind blows the bus in the forehead, through the cracks in the windows penetrates inside. The bus turns sideways to the wind, and the windows immediately begin to tinkle, they are hit by leaves raised from the ground and small, like sand, invisible pebbles. Cold. It can be seen that this wind will bring with it frosts, snow, and there it is not far to winter, already the end of October.
Kuzma is sitting on the last seat by the window. There are few people on the bus, there are empty seats in front, but he does not want to get up and cross. He drew his head into his shoulders and, puffed up, looked out the window. There, outside the window, twenty kilometers in a row, the same thing: wind, wind, wind - wind in the forest, wind in the field, wind in the village.
People on the bus are silent - bad weather has made them gloomy and taciturn. If someone throws a word, then in an undertone, do not understand. I don't even want to think. Everyone sits and only grabs the backs of the front seats, when they throw up, they make themselves comfortable - everyone is busy only with what they are driving.
On the rise, Kuzma tries to distinguish between the howl of the wind and the howl of the engine, but they have merged into one thing - only the howl, and that's it. The village begins immediately after the ascent. The bus stops near the collective farm office, but there are no passengers, no one enters. Through Kuzma's window, a long empty street is visible, along which the wind rushes like a pipe.
The bus starts moving again. The driver, still a young lad, glances over his shoulder at the passengers and reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. Kuzma recollects himself gleefully: he has completely forgotten about cigarettes. A minute later, blue patchy smoke floats through the bus.
Again a village. The driver stops the bus near the cafeteria and gets up. “Break,” he says. - Who will have breakfast, let's go, otherwise we'll go and go.
Kuzma does not want to eat, and he goes out to stretch himself. Next to the dining room shop, exactly the same as they have in the village. Kuzma climbs the high porch and opens the door. Everything is the same as theirs: on one side - food, on the other - manufactured goods. At the counter, three women are chatting about something, the saleswoman, with her arms crossed over her chest, listens lazily to them. She is younger than Maria, and she seems to be doing well: she is calm.
Kuzma goes up to the hot stove and stretches out his arms over it. From here it will be visible through the window when the driver leaves the dining room, and Kuzma will have time to run. The wind slams the shutters, the saleswoman and the women turn around and look at Kuzma. He wants to go up to the saleswoman and tell her that they have exactly the same store in the village and that his Maria also stood behind the counter for a year and a half. But he doesn't move. The wind slams the shutters again, and the women again turn around and look at Kuzma.
Kuzma is well aware that the wind has risen only to-day, and that even at night, when he got up, it was calm, and yet he cannot rid himself of the feeling that the wind has been blowing for a long time, all these days.
Five days ago, a man of about forty years or a little more came, in appearance not urban or rural, in a light raincoat, in tarpaulin boots and a cap. Mary was not at home. The man ordered her not to open the store tomorrow, he came to do the accounting.
The revision began the next day. At lunchtime, when Kuzma looked into the store, it was full of hustle and bustle. Maria and the auditor pulled all the cans, boxes and packs onto the counter, counted them ten times and counted them, large scales were brought here from the warehouse and heaped bags of sugar, salt and cereals on them, collected butter from wrapping paper with a knife, rattled empty bottles, dragging them from one corner to another, they picked out the remains of sticky candies from the box. The inspector, with a pencil behind his ear, briskly ran between the mountains of jars and boxes, counted them aloud, almost without looking, touched the knuckles with almost all five fingers on the abacus, called some numbers and, in order to write them down, shaking his head, deftly dropped them into his hand pencil. It was evident that he knew his business well.
Maria came home late, looking exhausted.
– How are you? Kuzma asked cautiously.
- Yes, as of yet. There are still manufactured goods left for tomorrow. Tomorrow will be somehow.
She yelled at the guys who had done something, and immediately lay down. Kuzma went out into the street. Somewhere they burned a pig carcass, and strong, nice smell spread throughout the village. The suffering is over, the potatoes have been dug up, and now people are preparing for the holiday, waiting for the winter. The troublesome, hot time is left behind, the off-season has come, when you can take a walk, look around, and think. So far it’s quiet, but in a week the village will leap, people will remember all the holidays, old and new, they will go, embracing, from house to house, shout, sing, they will again remember the war and forgive each other all their insults at the table.
The inspector was silent.
- So tell me, where so many? A thousand, right?
“A thousand,” the auditor confirmed.
– New?
- Now there are no old accounts.
"But that's crazy money," Kuzma said thoughtfully. “I didn’t have that much in my hands. We took a loan on the collective farm seven hundred rubles for a house, when we put it on, and that was a lot, until today we have not paid off. And here is a thousand. I understand, you can make a mistake, thirty, forty, well, let it be a hundred rubles, but where does a thousand come from? You, you see, have been at this job for a long time, you should know how it turns out.
“I don’t know,” the auditor shook his head.
- Couldn't the Selpovskies with the texture heat it up?
- Don't know. Everything could be. I see she has little education.
- What kind of education is there - a literate! With such an education, only count the pay, and not government money. How many times I told her: don't get into your sleigh. There was just no one to work, and she was persuaded. And then everything seemed to go well.
Did she always receive the goods herself or not? the auditor asked.
- No. Who will go, with that and ordered.
- Too bad. You can not do it this way.
- Here you go…
- And most importantly: whole year there was no account. They fell silent, and in the silence that followed, Maria could be heard still sobbing in the bedroom. Somewhere a song burst out of the open door into the street, boomed like a flying bumblebee, and died away - after it, Maria's sobs seemed loud and gurgled like stones breaking into the water.
- What will happen now? asked Kuzma, addressing it incomprehensibly to himself or to the inspector.
The auditor glanced at the guys.
- Get out of here! Kuzma yelled at them, and they scurried off in single file to their room.
"I'm going on tomorrow," the inspector began in a low voice, moving closer to Kuzma. - I will have to do accounting in two more stores. This is about five days of work. And five days later…” He hesitated. - In a word, if you deposit money during this time ... Do you understand me?
"Why don't you understand," Kuzma replied.
- I see: children, - said the auditor. - Well, they will condemn her, give her a term ...
Kuzma looked at him with a pathetic, twitching smile.
“Just understand: no one needs to know about this. I have no right to do so. I take risks myself.
- I see, I understand.
- Collect money, and we will try to hush up this matter.
"A thousand roubles," said Kuzma.
- I see, a thousand rubles, one thousand. We will collect. You can't judge her. I have been living with her for many years, the kids are with us.
The inspector got up.
"Thank you," said Kuzma, and, nodding, shook hands with the inspector. He left. In the yard behind him the gate creaked, footsteps sounded and died away in front of the windows.
Kuzma was left alone. He went to the kitchen, sat down in front of the stove, which had not been heated since yesterday, and, with his head down, sat for such a long, long time. He did not think about anything - he no longer had the strength for this, he froze, and only his head sank lower and lower. An hour passed, then a second, night fell.
Kuzma slowly raised his head. Vitka stood in front of him - barefoot, in a T-shirt.
- What do you want?
“Daddy, are we going to be all right?” Kuzma nodded. But Vitka did not leave, he needed his father to say this in words.
- But how! Kuzma answered. - We will turn the whole earth upside down, but we will not give up our mother. We are five men, we can do it.
- Can I tell the guys that everything will be all right with us?
“Say so: we’ll turn the whole earth upside down, but we won’t give up our mother.”
Vitka, believing, left.
Maria did not get up in the morning. Kuzma got up, woke up the older children for school, poured them yesterday's milk. Maria lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and did not move. She never undressed, lay in the dress in which she came from the store, her face was noticeably swollen. Before leaving, Kuzma stood over her and said:
- Step back a little, get up. Nothing, it will cost, people will help. You shouldn't die prematurely because of this.
He went to the office to warn him that he would not come to work.
The chairman was alone in his office. He got up, gave Kuzma his hand, and, looking intently at him, sighed.
- What? Kuzma didn't understand.
“I heard about Maria,” the chairman replied. “Now the whole village, I suppose, knows.
- All the same, you can’t hide it - let it be, - Kuzma waved his hand in a lost way.
- What will you do? asked the chairman.
- Don't know. I don't know where to go.
- Something must be done.
“You see for yourself, I can’t give you a loan now,” said the chairman. - The reporting year is just around the corner. The reporting year will end, then we will consult, maybe we will give. Let's give - what is there! In the meantime, borrow on a loan, everything will be easier, not under empty place you ask.
- Thank you.
I need your "thank you"! How is Maria?
- You go tell her.
- Need to say. - At the door Kuzma remembered: - I'm not going to work today.
- Go, go. What kind of worker are you now! Found something to talk about!
Maria was still lying. Kuzma sat down beside her on the bed and squeezed her shoulder, but she did not respond, did not flinch, as if she had not felt anything.
- The chairman says that after the reporting meeting he will give a loan, - said Kuzma.
She stirred slightly and froze again.
– Do you hear? - he asked.
Something suddenly happened to Maria: she jumped up, threw her arms around Kuzma's neck and threw him onto the bed.
- Kuzma! she whispered breathlessly. - Kuzma, save me, do something, Kuzma!
He tried to break free, but he couldn't. She fell on him, squeezed his neck, covered his face with her face.
- My dear! she whispered furiously. - Save me, Kuzma, don't give me to them!
He finally broke free.
“Stupid woman,” he croaked. – Are you out of your mind?
- Kuzma! she called weakly.
- What are you thinking of? There will be a loan, everything will be fine, but you are like a fool.
- Kuzma!
- Here am I.
He kicked off his boots and lay down next to her. Maria was trembling, her shoulders twitching and bouncing. He put his arm around her and ran his broad hand over her shoulder, back and forth, back and forth. She pressed closer to him. He kept driving and running his hand over her shoulder until she calmed down. He lay still next to her, then got up. She slept.
Kuzma thought: you can sell a cow and hay, but then the kids will be left without milk.
There was nothing more to sell from the farm. The cow must also be left for the last time, when there is no way out. It means that you don’t have a penny of your own money, everything will have to be borrowed. He did not know how to borrow a thousand rubles, this amount seemed to him so huge that he kept confusing it with old money, and then he caught himself and, growing cold, cut himself off. He admitted that such money exists, as there are millions and billions, but the fact that they can be related to one person, and even more so to him, seemed to Kuzma some kind of terrible mistake, which - if he just started looking for money - it would no longer be possible. to correct. And he did not move for a long time - it seemed that he was waiting for a miracle when someone would come and say that they had played a trick on him and that the whole story with the shortage did not concern him or Mary. How many people were around him, whom she really did not touch!
It’s good that the driver drove the bus to the station itself and Kuzma didn’t have to get to it in the wind, which, as soon as it began to blow from the house, did not stop. Here, at the station, sheet iron rattles on the roofs, paper and cigarette butts sweep across the street, and people mince in such a way that it is not clear whether they are carried by the wind, or they still cope with it and run where they need to, on their own. The voice of the announcer announcing the arrival and departure of trains is torn to pieces, crumpled, and it is impossible to make out. The whistles of shunting locomotives, the shrill whistles of electric locomotives seem alarming, like signals of danger that must be expected any minute.
An hour before the train, Kuzma gets in line for tickets. The cash register hasn't been opened yet, and people are standing suspiciously watching everyone who comes forward. The minute hand on the round electric clock above the cash register window jumps from division to division with a ringing sound, and every time people lift their heads and suffer.
Finally, the box office is opened. The queue shrinks and freezes. The first head pokes its way through the cashier's window; two, three, four minutes pass, and the queue does not move.
- What is there - they are traded, or what? someone shouts from behind.
The head crawls back out, and the woman who was first in line turns around: “It turns out there are no tickets.
- Citizens, there are no tickets for general and reserved seat cars! the cashier screams.
The queue crumples, but does not diverge.
“They don’t know how to lure out money,” the fat woman, with a red face and in a red scarf, is indignant. - We made soft wagons - who needs them? What a plane, and then all the tickets in it are equally worth.
- In airplanes and fly, - the cashier replies without malice.
- And let's fly! - Aunt boils. - Here again, throw out two such tricks, and not a single person will come to you. You have no conscience.
- Fly to your health - do not cry!
- You will cry, my dear, you will cry when you are left without work.
Kuzma moves away from the cash register. Now it's five hours before the next train, no less. Or maybe still take it soft? Damn him! It is not yet known whether they will be on that train simple places or not - maybe, too, some are soft? You'll wait in vain. “When you take off your head, you don’t cry for your hair,” Kuzma recalls for some reason. In fact, an extra five will not do the weather now. A thousand is needed - why cry now for five.
Kuzma returns to the checkout. The line has parted, and in front of the cashier lies an open book.
“I have to go to the city,” Kuzma tells her.
“Tickets only for a soft car,” the cashier seems to be reading, without looking up from her book.
- Let's go somewhere.
She marks what she read with a ruler, pulls out a ticket from somewhere on the side and puts it under the composter.
Now Kuzma listens when his train is called. The train will come, he will sit in a soft car and with all the amenities will reach the city. In the morning there will be a city. He will go to his brother and take from him the money that is not enough to a thousand. Probably, the brother will remove them from the book. Before leaving, they will sit down, drink a bottle of vodka goodbye, and then Kuzma will go back in order to be in time for the inspector's return. And everything will go right with her and Maria again, they will live like all people. When this trouble ends and Maria leaves, they will continue to raise the children, go to the cinema with them - after all, their own collective farm: five men and a mother. All of them still live and live. In the evenings, going to bed, he, Kuzma, will, as before, flirt with Maria, spank her in a soft place, and she will swear, but not evil, pretend, because she herself loves when he fools around. Do they need a lot to be good? Kuzma comes to his senses. A lot, oh a lot - a thousand rubles. But now it’s not a thousand, more than half of a thousand, he got it with a sin in half. He walked around humiliated himself, made promises where necessary and not necessary, reminded him of a loan, fearing that they would not give him, and then, ashamed, he took pieces of paper that burned his hands and which were still not enough.
To the first, he, like, probably, any other in the village, went to Evgeny Nikolaevich.
“Ah, Kuzma,” Evgeny Nikolaevich met him, opening the door. - Come in, come in. Have a seat. And I already thought that you were angry with me - do not come in.
“Why should I be angry with you, Yevgeny Nikolaevich?
- I do not know. Not everyone talks about resentment. Yes, you sit down. How is life?
- Nothing.
- Well, well, take care. IN new house moved and nothing?
Yes, we have been in a new house for a year. Why brag now?
- I do not know. You don't come in, you don't tell.
Evgeny Nikolaevich cleared the table open books without closing, moved them to the shelf. He is younger than Kuzma, but everyone in the village calls him, even the old people, because for fifteen years now he has been the headmaster of a school, first a seven-year-old, then an eight-year-old. Yevgeny Nikolaevich was born and raised here and, having graduated from the institute, he did not forget the peasant business: he mows, carpenters, keeps a large farm, when he has time, goes hunting and fishing with the peasants. Kuzma immediately went to Yevgeny Nikolaevich because he knew he had money. He lives alone with his wife - she is also his teacher - they have a good salary, but there is especially nowhere to spend it, everything is their own - and a garden, and milk, and meat.
Seeing that Yevgeny Nikolaevich was collecting books, Kuzma got up.
Maybe I'm out of time?
- Sit, sit, it's not the right time! Yevgeny Nikolaevich held him back. - There is time. When we are not at work, we have our own time, not official. So, we should spend it as we please, right?
- As if.
Why "as if"? Speak the truth. There is time. Here you can put tea.
"We don't need tea," Kuzma refused. - Don't want. Drinking recently.
- Well look. They say that a well-fed guest is easier to regale. Is it true?
- Is it true.
Kuzma shifted in his chair and made up his mind:
“I, Evgeny Nikolaevich, came to you here one by one on business.
- On business? - Evgeny Nikolaevich, alert, sat down at the table. - Well, let's talk. A matter is a matter, it must be solved. As they say, strike while the iron is hot.
"I don't know how to begin," Kuzma hesitated.
- Say Say.
- Yes, it's like this: I came to ask you for money.
- How much do you need? Yevgeny Nikolaevich yawned.
- I need a lot. How much will you give.
- Well, how many - ten, twenty, thirty?
"No," Kuzma shook his head. - I need a lot. I'll tell you why, so it's clear. The lack of my Mary turned out to be big - maybe you know?
- I do not know anything.
- Yesterday they finished the audit - and now they presented it, that means.
Yevgeny Nikolayevich drummed on the table with his knuckles.
“What a nuisance,” he said.
- Trouble, I say, what. How did she do it?
- That's it.
They fell silent. I could hear an alarm clock ticking somewhere; Kuzma looked for him with his eyes, but did not find him. The alarm clock rang, almost choking. Yevgeny Nikolaevich again drummed on the table with his fingers. Kuzma glanced at him—he winced slightly.
“They can judge,” said Evgeny Nikolaevich.
- That's why I'm looking for money, so that they don't judge.
They can still judge. A waste is a waste.
- No, they can't. She didn't take it from there, I know.
– What are you telling me? Evgeny Nikolaevich was offended. - I'm not a judge. You tell them. I say this to the fact that you need to be careful: otherwise you will deposit money, and they will be judged.
- No. Kuzma suddenly felt that he himself was afraid of this, and said more to himself than to him. - Now they look, so that it is not in vain. We did not use this money, we do not need it. After all, she has this shortage because she is semi-literate, and not somehow.
“They don’t understand this,” Yevgeny Nikolaevich waved his hand.
Kuzma remembered the loan and, not having time to calm down, said plaintively and pleadingly, so that he felt disgusted himself:
“I’m borrowing from you for a while, Evgeny Nikolaevich. For two, three months. The chairman promised me a loan after the reporting meeting.
- And now he doesn't?
- It's not possible now. We still hadn't paid for the old one when we put up the house. And so he goes towards, the other would not agree.
Again the rapid chime of the alarm clock burst out from somewhere, rattling loudly and anxiously, but Kuzma did not find it this time either. The alarm clock could have been either behind a window curtain or on a bookshelf, but the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere above. Kuzma could not stand it and looked at the ceiling, and then scolded himself for his stupidity.
- Have you visited anyone yet? Evgeny Nikolaevich asked.
No, you first.
- What to do - you have to give! - Evgeny Nikolaevich said suddenly inspired. - If you do not give, you will say: here Evgeny Nikolayevich regretted not giving it. And people will be happy.
“Why should I talk about you, Yevgeny Nikolaevich?
- I do not know. I'm not talking about you, of course, - in general. Every people. Only I have money in the passbook in the area. I deliberately keep them away so as not to pull them out for nothing. You have to go there. There is no time right now. He winced again. - I'll have to go. The thing is. I have a hundred there and there - I'll take it off. That's right: we should help each other.
Kuzma, suddenly suddenly exhausted, was silent.
“That’s why we and people are to be together,” said Evgeny Nikolaevich. “They talk all sorts of things about me in the village, but I have never refused help to anyone. They often come to me: either five, or give ten. Another time I give the last. True, I like to be returned, for a great life you are also reluctant to work.
"I'll give it back," said Kuzma.
- Yes, I'm not talking about you, I know that you will give. Generally speaking. You have a conscience, I know. And some don't - that's how they live. Yes, you know what to say! Every people.
Yevgeny Nikolaevich kept talking and talking, and Kuzma's head ached. He is tired. When he finally went out into the street, the last fog that had lasted until dinner had dissipated, and the sun was shining. The air was transparent and brittle - as always in the last fine days. late autumn. The forest outside the village seemed close, and it did not stand as a solid wall, but was divided into trees, already bare and brightened.
Kuzma felt better in the air. He walked, and it was pleasant for him to walk, but somewhere inside, like an abscess, the pain still itched. He knew it was for a long time.
Maria still got up, but Komarikha was sitting at the table next to her. Kuzma immediately understood what was the matter.
- You already ran. He was ready to throw Komarikha out the door. - I heard it. Like a crow on carrion.
“I didn’t come to you, and you don’t drive me away,” Komarikha chattered. - I've come to Mary, on business.
“I know what you came for.
- For what it is necessary, for this I came.
- Exactly.
Maria, who had been sitting motionless, turned around.
- You, Kuzma, do not interfere in our affairs. If you don't like it, go to another room or somewhere else. Don't be afraid, Komarikha, let's move on.
- I'm not afraid. - Komarikha took out cards from somewhere from under her skirt, squinting at Kuzma, and began to lay them out. - Go, I'm not stealing - what should I be afraid of. And if you pay attention to everyone, there will not be enough nerves.
“Now she’s going to bewitch you!” Kuzma smiled.
- And as the cards show, I’ll say so, I won’t lie.
- Where is there - lay out the whole truth! Maria turned her head, said with hidden pain:
- Go away, Kuzma!
Kuzma restrained himself, fell silent. He went to the kitchen, but even here they could hear Komarikha spitting on her fingers, forcing Maria to draw three cards from the deck, muttering:
- And the state house did not fall out to you, girl, thank the Lord. I won't lie, but no. Here it is, the map. Will you long road- here it is, the road, and tambourine interest.
- Yeah, the order in Moscow will be called to receive, - Kuzma could not stand it.
“And you will have troubles, big troubles – not small ones. Here they are. You need up to three times. – Apparently, Komarikha has collected cards. - Take it off, girl. No, wait, you can't shoot. It is necessary that there was a stranger who does not tell fortunes. Do you have kids at home?
- Oh, trouble!
“Let’s take a picture,” Maria said.
- No, you can’t, another card will do. Hey Kuzma! Komarikha sang affectionately. Come join us here for a minute. Don't be angry with us sinners. You have your faith, we have ours. Take off our hat, my friend, from the deck.
- Bite you! - Kuzma came up and pushed the cards from above.
- Like this. My son-in-law also did not believe, he was a party member - how! - and as in the forty-eighth he was put on trial, that same evening he ran to me for prayer.
She laid the cards face down, continued:
– It’s because for the time being they don’t believe, while life is calm. And if trouble happened, but not so much as just trouble, but trouble with grief - they immediately remember about God and about his servants, who spit in the eyes.
"Run, run, Komarikha," Kuzma shrugged wearily.
- I don't grind. I speak as I know. So you think you don't believe even in this divination? It just seems to you that you do not believe. And if there is a war tomorrow, do you think it will not be interesting for you to bewitch, will they kill you or not kill you?
- Yes, you reveal your cards, - Maria hurried.
Komarikha stepped aside from Kuzma and again dragged on about tambourine interests and the troubles of the cross. Kuzma listened: the government building did not fall out this time either.
After Komarikha, they stayed at home alone. Maria still sat at the table, with her back to Kuzma, and looked out the window. Kuzma smoked.
Maria didn't move. Kuzma got up behind her and looked where she was looking, but saw nothing. He was afraid to speak to her, he was afraid that if he said even a word, something bad would happen that would not be corrected later. Silence was also unbearable. His head ached again, and sharp, thumping blows hit his temple, making him wait for them and be afraid.
Maria was silent. He watched her little by little, but he might not have followed, because if she moved, he would immediately hear her every rustle in the silence. He waited.
At last she stirred, and he shuddered.
“Kuzma,” she said, still looking out the window.
He saw her looking out the window and lowered his eyes.
Suddenly she laughed. He looked at the floor and couldn't believe it was her laughing.
Valentin Grigorievich Rasputin is one of the few Russian writers for whom Russia is not just a geographical place where he was born, but the Motherland in the highest and most fulfilling sense of the word. He is also called the "singer of the village", the cradle and soul of Rus'.
Childhood and youth
The future prose writer was born in the Siberian outback - the village of Ust-Uda. Here, on the taiga coast of the mighty Angara, Valentin Rasputin grew up and matured. When the son was 2 years old, his parents moved to live in the village of Atalanka.
Here, in the picturesque Angara region, is located family nest father. The beauty of Siberian nature, seen by Valentin in the first years of his life, impressed him so much that it became an integral part of every work of Rasputin.
The boy grew up surprisingly smart and inquisitive. He read everything that came into his hands: scraps of newspapers, magazines, books that could be obtained in the library or in the homes of fellow villagers.
After returning from the front of the father in the life of the family, as it seemed, everything was fine. Mom worked in a savings bank, father, a hero-front-line soldier, became the head of the post office. The trouble came from where no one expected it.
Grigory Rasputin's bag with government money was stolen from him on the ship. The manager was tried and sent to serve his term in Kolyma. Three children were left in the care of their mother. Harsh, half-starved years began for the family.
Valentin Rasputin had to study in the village of Ust-Uda, fifty kilometers from the village where he lived. In Atalanca, there was only a primary school. In the future, the writer displayed his life of this difficult period in wonderful and amazing true story"French lessons".
Despite the difficulties, the guy studied well. He received a certificate with honors and easily entered Irkutsk University, choosing the Faculty of Philology. There, Valentin Rasputin got carried away, and.
Student years were surprisingly rich and difficult. The guy tried not only to study brilliantly, but also to help his family, his mother. He worked wherever he could. It was then that Rasputin began to write. At first it was notes in a youth newspaper.
Creation
To the state Irkutsk newspaper The "Soviet Youth" accepted the novice journalist even before defending his diploma. This is where it started creative biography Valentina Rasputin. And although the genre of journalism did not really correspond to classical literature, it helped to gain the necessary life experience and “get a hand” in writing.
And in 1962, Valentin Grigorievich moved to Krasnoyarsk. His authority and journalistic skills have grown so much that now he was trusted to write about such large-scale events as the construction of the Krasnoyarsk and Sayano-Shushenskaya hydroelectric power plants, the strategically important Abakan-Taishet railway line.
But the scope of newspaper publications has become too narrow to describe the impressions and events received on numerous business trips in Siberia. So the story "I forgot to ask Leshka" appeared. It was literary debut of a young prose writer, although somewhat imperfect in form, but surprisingly sincere and poignant in essence.
Soon, the first literary essays of the young prose writer began to be published in the Angara almanac. Later they were included in Rasputin's first book, The Land Near the Sky.
Among the first stories of the writer - "Vasily and Vasilisa", "Rudolfio" and "Meeting". With these works, he went to Chita, to a meeting of young writers. Among the leaders there were such talented prose writers as Antonina Koptyaeva and Vladimir Chivilikhin.
It was he, Vladimir Alekseevich Chivilikhin, who became the "godfather" of the beginning writer. With his light hand Stories by Valentin Rasputin appeared in Ogonyok and Komsomolskaya Pravda. These first works of the then little-known prose writer from Siberia were read by millions of Soviet readers.
Rasputin's name becomes recognizable. He has a lot of admirers of talent who are looking forward to new creations from the Siberian nugget.
In 1967, in the popular weekly " Literary Russia" Rasputin's story "Vasily and Vasilisa" appeared. This early work the prose writer can be called the tuning fork of his further work. Here the “Rasputin” style was already visible, his ability to concisely and at the same time surprisingly deeply reveal the character of the characters.
Appears here the most important detail and the constant "hero" of all the works of Valentin Grigorievich is nature. But the main thing in all his writings - both early and late - is the strength of the Russian spirit, Slavic character.
In the same turning point in 1967, Rasputin's first story "Money for Mary" was published, after the publication of which he was accepted into the Writers' Union. Fame and fame came immediately. Everyone started talking about the new talented and original author. An extremely demanding prose writer puts an end to journalism and from that moment devotes himself to writing.
In 1970, the popular "thick" magazine "Our Contemporary" published the second story by Valentin Rasputin "The Deadline", which brought him worldwide fame and has been translated into dozens of languages. Many called this work "a bonfire near which you can warm your soul."
A story about a mother, about humanity, about the frailty of many phenomena that seem to be the main thing in the life of a modern urban person. About the origins to which it is necessary to return in order not to lose the human essence.
After 6 years, a fundamental story was published, which many consider calling card prose writer. This is the work "Farewell to Matera". It tells about a village that will soon be flooded with water due to the construction of a large hydroelectric power station.
Valentin Rasputin tells about the piercing grief and inescapable longing experienced by the indigenous people, the old people, saying goodbye to the land and the dilapidated village, where every bump, every log in the hut is familiar and painfully dear. There is no accusation, lamentations and angry calls here. Just the quiet bitterness of people who wanted to live out their lives where their umbilical cord was buried.
Colleagues of the prose writer and readers find in the works of Valentin Rasputin a continuation of the best traditions of Russian classics. About all the writer's works can be said in one phrase of the poet: "Here is the Russian spirit, here it smells of Russia." The main phenomena that he denounces with all his might and uncompromisingness are the separation from the roots of "Ivans who do not remember kinship."
The year 1977 turned out to be a landmark for the writer. For the story "Live and Remember" he was awarded the State Prize of the USSR. This is a work about humanity and the tragedy that the Great Patriotic War brought to the country. About broken lives and the strength of the Russian character, about love and suffering.
Valentin Rasputin dared to talk about things that many of his colleagues tried to carefully avoid. For example, the main character of the story "Live and Remember" Nastya, like everyone else Soviet women, accompanied her beloved husband to the front. After the third wound, he barely survived.
To survive, he survived, but broke down and deserted, realizing that he was unlikely to live until the end of the war if he again got to the front line. The unfolding drama, skillfully described by Rasputin, is amazing. The writer makes you think that life is not black and white, it has millions of shades.
The years of perestroika and timelessness Valentin Grigorievich is experiencing extremely hard. He is alien to the new "liberal values", which lead to a break with the roots and the destruction of everything that is so dear to his heart. About this his story "In the hospital" and "Fire".
“Going to power,” as Rasputin calls his election to parliament and work as part of the Presidential Council, in his words, “ended in nothing” and was in vain. After the election, no one thought to listen to him.
Valentin Rasputin spent a lot of time and effort protecting Baikal, fought against the liberals he hated. In the summer of 2010, he was elected a member of the Patriarchal Council for Culture from the Russian Orthodox Church.
And in 2012, Valentin Grigorievich advocated the criminal prosecution of feminists from and spoke sharply about colleagues and cultural figures who spoke out in support of the "dirty ritual crime."
In the spring of 2014, the famous writer put his signature under the appeal of the Writers' Union of Russia, addressed to the President and the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation, which expresses support for Russia's actions in relation to Crimea and Ukraine.
Personal life
For many decades next to the Master was his faithful muse - his wife Svetlana. She is the daughter of the writer Ivan Molchanov-Sibirsky, she was a real comrade-in-arms and like-minded person of her talented husband. The personal life of Valentin Rasputin with this wonderful woman has developed happily.
This happiness lasted until the summer of 2006, when their daughter Maria, a teacher at the Moscow Conservatory, a musicologist and a talented organist, died in an airbus crash at the Irkutsk airport. The couple endured this grief together, which could not but affect their health.
Svetlana Rasputina died in 2012. From that moment on, the writer was kept in the world by his son Sergei and granddaughter Antonina.
Death
Valentin Grigorievich survived his wife by only 3 years. A few days before his death, he was in a coma. March 14, 2015. According to Moscow time, he did not live to see his 78th birthday for 4 hours.
But according to the time of the place where he was born, death came on the day of his birth, which in Siberia is considered the real day of the death of a great countryman.
The writer was buried on the territory of the Irkutsk Znamensky Monastery. More than 15 thousand fellow countrymen came to say goodbye to him. On the eve of the funeral of Valentin Rasputin in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior performed.
Valentin Grigorievich Rasputin (1937-2015) - Russian writer, laureate of numerous state awards of the USSR, publicist and public figure. He was born on March 15, 1937 in the village of Ust-Uda, East Siberian (Irkutsk) region of the Russian Federation. He has the title of Hero of Socialist Labor. The writer was often called the "singer of the village", in his works he glorified Rus'.
Difficult childhood
Valentine's parents were ordinary peasants. Shortly after the birth of their son, the family moved to the village of Atalanka. Subsequently, this area was flooded after construction Bratsk HPP. The father of the future prose writer participated in the Great Patriotic War, after demobilization he got a job as a postmaster. Once, during a business trip, a bag of public money was taken away from him.
After this situation, Gregory was arrested, for the next seven years he worked in the mines of Magadan. Rasputin was released only after Stalin's death, so his wife, a simple savings bank employee, had to raise three children alone. Future Writer since childhood, he admired the beauty of Siberian nature, he repeatedly described it in his stories. The boy loved to read, the neighbors generously shared books and magazines with him.
Prose writer's education
Rasputin studied at primary school villages of Atalanca. To finish high school, he had to travel 50 kilometers from home. Later, the young man described this period of life in his story "French Lessons". After leaving school, he decided to enter the Faculty of Philology Irkutsk University. Thanks to an excellent certificate, the young man easily managed to become a student.
Valentin from childhood realized how difficult it was for his mother. He sought to help her in everything, earned money and sent money. In the student period of his life, Rasputin begins to write small notes for a youth newspaper. His work was influenced by the passion for the works of Remarque, Proust and Hemingway. From 1957 to 1958 the guy becomes a freelance correspondent for the publication "Soviet Youth". In 1959, Rasputin was accepted into the staff, in the same year he defended his diploma.
Life after University
For some time after graduation, the prose writer works at a television studio and in an Irkutsk newspaper. The editor of the newspaper paid special attention to the story called "I forgot to ask Lyoshka." Later, in 1961, this essay was published in the Angara anthology.
In 1962, the young man moved to Krasnoyarsk and received a position as a literary worker in the Krasnoyarsk Rabochiy newspaper. He often visited the construction sites of the local hydroelectric power station and the Abakan-Taishet highway. The writer drew inspiration even from such seemingly unsightly landscapes. Stories about the construction were later included in the collections "The Land Near the Sky" and "Campfires of New Cities".
From 1963 to 1966 Valentin works as a special correspondent for the Krasnoyarsky Komsomolets newspaper. In 1965, he participated in the Chita seminar together with other novice writers. There, the young man is noticed by the writer Vladimir Chivilikhin, later it was he who helped publish Valentine's works in the publication " TVNZ».
The first serious publication of the prose writer was the story "The wind is looking for you." After some time, the essay "Stofato's Departure" was published, it was published in the magazine "Spark". Rasputin had his first admirers, and soon more than a million Soviet residents read him. In 1966, the first collection of the writer was published in Irkutsk under the title "The Land Near the Sky". It includes old and new works written in different periods life.
A year later, a second book of stories was published in Krasnoyarsk, it was called "A Man from This World." At the same time, the Angara almanac publishes the story of Valentin Grigorievich "Money for Mary". A little later, this work was published as a separate book. After publication, the prose writer becomes a member of the Writers' Union and finally stops doing journalism. He decided to devote his future life exclusively to creativity.
In 1967, the weekly "Literaturnaya Rossiya" published the following essay by Rasputin under the title "Vasily and Vasilisa". In this story, you can already track original style writer. He was able to reveal the characters of the characters with very concise phrases, and story line always supplemented by descriptions of landscapes. All the characters in the prose writer's works were strong in spirit.
Creativity Peak
In 1970, the story "Deadline" was published. It is this work that is considered one of the key in the author's work, people all over the world read the book with pleasure. It was translated into 10 languages, critics called this work "a fire near which you can warm your soul." The prose writer emphasized simple human values that everyone should remember. He raised questions in his books that his colleagues did not dare to speak about.
Valentin Grigoryevich did not dwell on this, in 1974 his story “Live and Remember” was published, and in 1976 - “Farewell to Matyora”. After these two works, Rasputin was recognized as one of the best contemporary writers. In 1977 he receives State Prize THE USSR. In 1979, Valentin became a member of the editorial board of the Literary Monuments of Siberia series.
In 1981, the stories “Live for a century - love a century”, “Natasha” and “What to convey to a crow” were published. In 1985, the writer published the story "Fire", which touched readers to the core thanks to the sharp and contemporary issues. Over the following years, the essays "Unexpectedly, Unexpectedly", "Down the Lena River" and "Father's Limits" were published. In 1986, the prose writer was elected secretary of the board of the Writers' Union, later he managed to become co-chairman.
last years of life
Most Rasputin spent his life in Irkutsk. In 2004, the prose writer presented his book Ivan's Daughter, Ivan's Mother. Two years later, the third edition of the collection "Siberia, Siberia" appeared on sale.
Valentin Grigorievich was the owner of many prestigious awards. He was awarded the title of Hero of Socialist Labor. The prose writer was a holder of the Orders of Lenin and the Red Banner of Labor. In 2008 he received an award for his contribution to Russian literature. In 2010, the writer was nominated for Nobel Prize on literature. At the same time, his stories are included in the school curriculum for extracurricular reading.
IN adulthood Rasputin began to actively participate in journalistic and social activities. The prose writer had a negative attitude towards the period of perestroika, he did not perceive liberal values, remaining with his conservative views. The writer fully supported the position of Stalin, considered it the only true one, did not recognize other options for the worldview.
From 1989 to 1990 he was a member of the Presidential Council during the reign of Mikhail Gorbachev, but colleagues did not listen to the opinion of Valentin. Later, the writer stated that he considered politics too dirty, he reluctantly recalled this period of his life. In the summer of 2010, Rasputin was elected a member of the Patriarchal Council for Culture, he represents Orthodox Church.
July 30, 2012 the writer joins the ranks of the persecutors of the feminist group Pussy Riot. He calls for capital punishment for girls, and also criticizes everyone who supported them. Rasputin published his statement under the title "Conscience does not allow silence."
In 2013, a joint book by Rasputin and Viktor Kozhemyako entitled "These Twenty Killing Years" appeared on store shelves. In this work, the authors criticize any changes, deny progress, arguing that for last years people are degraded. In the spring of 2014, the prose writer became one of the residents of Russia who supported the annexation of Crimea.
Personal life and family
Valentine was married to Svetlana Ivanovna Rasputina. The woman was the daughter of the writer Ivan Molchanov-Sibirsky, she always supported her husband. The prose writer repeatedly called his wife his muse and like-minded person, they had an excellent relationship.
The couple had two children: in 1961, a son, Sergei, was born, and a daughter was born ten years later. On July 9, 2006, she died in a plane crash. At that time, Maria was only 35 years old, she successfully studied music, played the organ. The tragedy crippled the health of the writer and his wife. Svetlana Ivanovna died on May 1, 2012 at the age of 72. The writer's death came three years later. On March 14, 2015, he died in Moscow, a few hours before his birthday.
