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Manufacturer: "Scooter" Series: "Native Speech" Sergei Wolf's stories are funny and entertaining. And also instructive. In addition, the words in them are selected the most accurate and placed in the most correct places. In a word, passing by such a book is a big (maybe fatal) mistake. For primary and secondary school age. 3rd edition. ISBN:978-5-91759-097-4, 978-5-91759-231-2, 978-5-91759-292-3 Publisher: "Samokat" (2016) Format: 60x84/16, 136 pages.
In the mid-1960s. participated in the unofficial literary life of Leningrad, was close to the circle and enjoyed a certain fame as the author of ironic works, especially miniatures: Don't leave the tent, beauty, I beg you, don't come out. I'll give you chocolate for this And I’ll slightly break your virginity.At the same time, he began to act as a prose writer: Wolf’s stories had some circulation, gravitating towards an ascetic, following manner, which subsequently shifted towards a more absurdist worldview. At the same time, he published prose for teenagers and youth, as a children's writer he graduated; published 18 books, distinguished by subtle psychologism and stylistic refinement unusual for the bulk of Soviet children's literature. Return to the sea - This fish Which year is stubbornly waiting, When with an oblique angle of dawn The sad wolf will come And, leaning on the ancient bridge, On a cloud as heavy as mercury, Lightly taking her by the ponytail, Will take you out into the air to take a look.ProceedingsProse (mainly for young people):
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In the morning, dad and I go to work. He's off to work. I'm going to kindergarten. I take him by the hand to kindergarten, and then he goes on alone.
First we walk along the boulevard. There are flowers growing there that look like dill, trees, and for the second day a cat is meowing, which I can’t track down.
Then we drink coffee and eat puff pastries. There, on the boulevard, there is a glass house with pies, and next to it there is a long table under a canopy, at which everyone eats standing. No, mom feeds us, but the pies are very tasty! We always take ten pies and four coffees.
Here we are standing today, eating, drinking, and suddenly I saw a very strange picture: a sparrow accelerated through the air and somehow landed on a branch - and the branch began to sway with it. Back and forth, back and forth. And he sits, so important, fat, and turns up the heat. Swaying. Like on a swing. And then three more sat down next to him. They are swinging. Sami. I had never seen anything like this in my life and told my dad about it.
Is it true?! - said dad. - Interesting.
Someone says:
It is the wind that rocks them. Not otherwise.
Not true, I said. - They themselves.
Dad says:
Anything can happen.
Some who were eating the pies argued, but I watched the sparrows sway and didn’t even touch the coffee.
Suddenly I saw another sparrow. One. He sat, all alone on a thick branch and did not swing. All the sparrows had gray heads, I noticed, but this one was completely black with a mottled spot on the crown. Such a sad sparrow. I felt so sorry for him that I stepped aside and began to look again at those who were swaying. Quite a lot of people gathered to watch.
Someone said:
If there is no wind, then everything is wrong. They can't do it themselves.
But you see - they are swaying.
This means there is wind.
So where is he?
Everywhere, that's where!
Suddenly the auntie - the pie seller - screams:
Bird! Get out, you nasty bird!
Everyone looked at where she threw the fork, and I saw a sparrow with a black head. He sat on the edge of my glass and drank coffee.
I shouted to the entire boulevard:
Let be! Let him drink coffee! Do not touch him!
I screamed so loudly that I scared him. Because he immediately flew away to his tree.
Maybe give him some more black coffee, without milk, huh? - someone said.
One old lady says:
We had fish living with us. So we fed them cucumbers.
Did you notice that you wanted to drink a whole glass of coffee? The rest doesn't suit him.
How do you think he will drink the leftovers? He won’t fit into the glass crosswise, but he’s afraid to fit upside down.
You yourself are afraid!
Let’s go,” said dad. - It's time to go to work. Sorry, I ate your pies too.
To your health, I said. - Went. Hand on you. Hold on.
One morning I got up, did some exercises, inhaled and exhaled, brushed my teeth, washed, got dressed, had breakfast, broke my construction set, and then my mother said to me:
I need your help.
Isn't it dad's? - I was surprised.
No. Yours. Dad left early to pick mushrooms. Today is Saturday.
And he abandoned us? - I say.
No. He went very far, to where no man had gone before. You and I cannot endure such a road. Besides, today is my cleaning day. With these cleanings, you don’t know when you’ll start living.
Okay, I say. - What to help? You show.
Mom says:
Here's a small sports suitcase. There are pillowcases. Take them to the laundry. Here's the money. You know our address. Do you remember the last name? Understood?
Oh, my mother, my mother! - I screamed. -Are you sending me alone?
Yes, she said. - Study. It's time for school soon.
On the street we held hands and walked to the park. Near the gate to the park, my mother said:
Here is the main alley. Walk along it without turning anywhere. If you walk through the entire park, there will be a street. Don’t cross it alone, anyone can do it. You stand and wait, and when you see that the old lady is about to cross the road, go up to her, take her hand and lead her across, help her. On the other side there will be a laundry collection point, and you probably remember it yourself. Get used to it. On the way back - the same thing. Like crossing the road - wait for the old lady first. Or an old man. Well, run!
I know our large park well, the main alley, the alleys on the sides, and the playgrounds - that’s it. But now I was alone, without my mother, and I soon realized that I didn’t know anything in our park, I hadn’t been somewhere. I turned left and walked past the swing at random.
I walked for a long time, people stopped coming across me at all, and then I turned sideways and walked further just along the grass, among the trees. And suddenly I saw... a mushroom. Real! On a long leg! I threw my suitcase on the grass and rushed to the mushroom. I picked it off and started stroking it, looking at it and smelling it. Where should I put it? ABOUT! Into the suitcase! Where's my suitcase? There he is! What else is this?! Mushrooms?! More mushrooms?! There were a lot of mushrooms, about five of them. I ran between the trees and picked them and put them in my suitcase.
Soon I filled a whole suitcase with mushrooms, and they kept coming across me. Then I emptied all the mushrooms from the suitcase, took out the pillowcases, and put the mushrooms back - this left me with a lot of free space in the suitcase. But soon I filled my suitcase to capacity. What to do?! And then I decided to collect mushrooms in a pillowcase. In a pillowcase? Where is she? Where are all the pillowcases? I started looking for them. I looked for them for a long time, a long time. And suddenly he roared in a voice that was not his own and rushed headlong in an unknown direction, because he realized: I had lost the pillowcases and couldn’t find them, and time was passing, and my mother was worried, and also, I didn’t know the way to the main alley.
How long I searched for it and how I found it, I myself don’t remember. I flew out of the park gates and stopped at the street crossing to help some old lady, and I was terribly nervous. Suddenly someone grabbed my hand, I looked around - an old woman.
Faster! - she shouted. -Where have you gone?! - and dragged me across the road.
Who are you?! - I shouted myself.
She leaned towards me, took off her glasses, then put them back on...
Not the one,” she said. - Not that boy. And where is mine? Go! - and she lightly pushed me in the back of the head.
I rushed to our house. Mom stood pale near our front door.
Let’s go, mom,” I said and sobbed.
At home, I opened the suitcase, showed the mushrooms and told her everything.
These are boletus mushrooms, edible mushrooms,” she said. - You will need to buy pillowcases, but you won’t be allowed anywhere.
Until the evening she did not speak to me. Dad arrived in the evening. Several mushrooms were rolling around at the bottom of his large basket.
Butter,” he said. - We drove our factory car too far.
Your son picked up a suitcase of boletus mushrooms in our park,” said his mother.
Dad tapped himself on the nose and said:
There are still many things that are unclear in life. This is good!
“This is wonderful,” said my mother. - Go wash, the mushrooms are ready.
On a scooter along our house
After school, I will ride a scooter along our house from corner to corner.
I will see different people and talk to them about everything.
“Hello, Aunt Nyusha, janitor,” I’ll say. - How are you doing? Isn't there something that needs to be done?
We’re doing well,” Aunt Nyusha will say. - Something needs to be done. Early in the morning, the poet from the sixth floor threw a lot of leaves with poems out of the window, and I still haven’t been able to remove them.
And together we will remove these leaves.
“Hello, Lenochka,” I will say to two-year-old Lenochka from apartment thirty. - How are you doing?
“Okay,” Lenochka will say.
What is your name? - I’ll ask.
Nenya, she will say.
Well done, I’ll say. “Live in good health,” and I’ll add it to my grandmother: The child is growing well.
Hey, policeman! - I will say. - I'm not breaking the rules, go ahead. I wish you all the best.
It turned out stupid somehow
I met that girl and her brother back in September, in a snowstorm. There was a blizzard - it's hard to imagine. Some kind of ridiculous atmospheric phenomenon. Suddenly it began to snow, falling in broad daylight, everyone on the street was confused, waving their hands.
Indeed, the snow was terrible.
Everyone, however, was confused, but I was probably the only one who was happy. Selfishness, of course, but what can I do: I love winter.
And suddenly... it started: it started to rain. It's always like this. All the snow turned into rain, into a terrible rain, but the blizzard did not end - what a rainy blizzard it turned out to be. The rain was rushing down the street like crazy.
I immediately got completely wet and ran into the gateway. This is the weather, I think, and it’s all because of this brush. In class we were told to make a drawing like this - our school in a hundred years. Well, as we imagine it. I realized that I couldn’t do without paints here, so I went for paints. I bought paints, but there were no brushes in the store - I had to go to Nevsky. I bought it, of course, and then there was this blizzard and rain.
I think the weather is killer. And suddenly I see: two more people jump into the gateway, they are the wettest of all, they are completely wet. She is ten years old and he is eight years old. Just chicks, laughter! Thank God, I’ve already turned eleven, and I’m already twelfth a long time ago.
She was completely wet, through and through, but he was not, although he was also great. He was wearing a sports jacket, waterproof. And suddenly he took off this jacket and put it on her. She started getting angry and wouldn’t take the jacket, but he got angry and forced her to put it on.
I suddenly felt sorry for them, I even wanted to take off my sweater, but I didn’t: it was still wet, and under it was a T-shirt and nothing else. And then I took and put my cap on him, it was still warmer.
What are you doing?! - he shouted. - Leave me alone!
Okay, okay, I say. - Don't yell. You'll get a cold in your head.
She suddenly said “thank you” to me and told him to tell him. He said and blushed. And I suddenly felt that I myself was blushing stupidly somehow, I don’t even know why, and then I put my hands in my pockets and whistled, puffing out my cheeks.
Isn't it raining very hard? - she said.
Oh yeah! - I answered. - I don’t remember anything else like this in the last month. Although, if you think about it, there were stronger ones.
“I once saw such lightning,” he said, “from here to there.” I'll fail if I'm lying.
“I won’t lie either,” I say. - But I once saw ball lightning. This is a phenomenon, I'll tell you. Round, like a ball, it glows and destroys everything in its path. I saw this in Crimea, I won’t lie in vain.
Have you been to Crimea? - she asked.
Of course, I say. - Twice.
And did you swim in the sea with a mask?
That's a laugh, I say. - Yes, all day! From morning to evening! Fins, mask and snorkel.
And you weren't out of breath? - he asked.
Well, why choke here, I say. - Why is there any suffocation here! Put a mask on your face, a snorkel in your mouth, you breathe only through your mouth, you can’t breathe through your nose, otherwise the mask will fog up - and you float.
“You float,” he said. - Yeees…
And did you see the fish? - she asked. - Really and fish?
These are comedians, I say. - Yes, there are a dime a dozen of them there, thousands, if not more.
They looked at me with their mouths open, and then I lied: it was simply impossible not to lie - that’s how they looked at me.
“Or else you’ll grab a gun,” I said, and hunt a little… until you get tired of it. I once spanked such a greenfinch, you won’t believe it - as big as the palm of my hand. What about the palm of your hand, probably twice as much.
Look! - someone suddenly said loudly. - The rain has stopped.
We looked outside - there was no rain, only a little dripping from the roofs. And everything was so rainy, wet and gray that I was even surprised: was I really on the Black Sea just two weeks ago?
“You know,” she said, “would you like us to show you the cat?” He lives in our yard, not far from here.
Laughter, I said. - What's wrong with it?
She's colorful. It has twenty different colors.
As if such things exist? - I said.
It’s very close here,” she said. - You'll see for yourself.
Okay, I say. - Went. Let's take a look at this phenomenon.
They both laughed and we went into their yard. Somewhere to the right and to the left and, it seems, to the right again - I don’t remember. We entered the courtyard and it was empty. Completely empty.
“Oh,” she suddenly told me. - You walked without a cap. Give me your cap quickly,” she added to her brother.
He blushed again, and I said:
Nothing. What nonsense. There have been worse things. Where is your cat?
“Kysa-kysa-kysa-kysa,” she called.
I turned my head, but saw nothing in the empty yard. Then someone pushed me in the leg, I turned around and only then saw this cat. She butted my head. The three of us sat down and began to stroke her.
Do you see, do you see? - they both said. - Black - one, white - two, gray - three, red - four, brown - five, black-red - six, blue - seven... As many as seven colors! Like?!
Nothing, I said. - Bright.
They brought her to us,” he said and looked at his sister.
She looked at me and asked:
Would you like to visit us? Shall we come in? We live in this front door. Very close. I know one game.
Well, let's go, I said. - But not for long. I still need to do this school in a hundred years.
They clapped their hands and led me towards them along the dark front door.
Who are you to each other? - I asked.
Brother and sister,” she said.
That's what I thought.
“I guessed it,” I said. - I will not lie. If you want, call me first name,” I added.
They both laughed in the dark.
What's your name? - she asked. - That is, you? What about you?
I answered and asked how they were, and they answered too.
We climbed somewhere to the very top, entered the apartment, and then into the room. The brother turned on the light and put the cat on the table.
I said that they needed to change clothes, otherwise it was wet and cold, but they shouted: “No, no, we’ll play!” And then I asked: “What?” And she said: “Maybe to the store?” And I said: “Well, here’s another one!” And the brother suddenly shouted:
Invented! Invented! Spearfishing! And the cat will be our fish! That's who!
Exactly! - I shouted. - Idea! You lie down here, you lie down here, and I’ll lie down on the sofa.
It was terribly funny.
Amazing.
We all lay down in different places and swam and began to hunt. I taught them how to row with their feet, how to row with their hands, how to load a gun, how to breathe when diving... We all squawked - “kys-kys-kys”, and whoever this colorful cat came closer to made a “fucking”, as if a harpoon was flying , and killed her.
Then suddenly our fish crawled under the bed, and we called it for a long time - kys-kys-kys! - but she didn’t get out.
“We have to dive,” I said in a whisper. - She's in a deep grotto.
We went down to the floor and crawled under the bed, but she wasn’t there. Then we finally saw her and chased after her, and I screamed loudly, catching up with her, and suddenly we heard:
What's going on here?
We crawled out from under the bed, and I saw a tall man with a newspaper in his hand. He didn’t close the door, he stood in the middle of the room and looked at us. Then, pointing at me, he asked:
Who is this?
We were silent. He put the newspaper on the table, sat down on the sofa and saw a colorful cat coming out of the room into the corridor.
Whose cat is this? - he asked. - Eh, Varya?
Stranger, dad,” she said.
Who is he? - he asked and pointed at me again.
Boy... well... - and she fell silent.
“I’ll go,” I said. - I have to go, you know...
Wait,” he said. - How did you end up here?
I shrugged my shoulders and began to look at the ceiling.
What could I tell him? Now, if, for example, I helped them carry potatoes or saved one of them in Fontanka, I would say so. And so... what could I say?
“I’ll go,” I said. - I still need to draw the school.
But where did you come from? - he asked again.
“Goodbye,” I said. - Best wishes.
Why are you silent? - he asked them.
We played,” said the brother.
That's not what I'm asking.
We played,” she said.
... But I heard this already in the corridor. I opened the door and found myself on the stairs. The cat jumped out after me and immediately hid somewhere.
The wind blew as strong as before, and the rain was the same.
The rain was terrible.
I walked down the street and thought how stupid it all turned out, I didn’t even notice where I was going, and I was surprised when I realized where I was. And then I was surprised again, because I realized that I didn’t remember at all where I came from, what the name of their street was, or what their house number was. I forgot everything. Clean.
So I never saw them again. Somehow everything didn’t work out that way, it’s not even clear how. And why.
The promising series of the publishing house "Samokat" "Native Speech", which, according to the compiler's plan, should include the works of the "new classics", that is, the best children's writers of the second half of the 20th century, begins with representatives of the Leningrad school. Sergei Volf, who has gone through an amazing, undulating creative path, belongs to it. He was a bright and important participant in the unofficial St. Petersburg cultural life in the sixties, in the seventies he went into censored children's and youth (including fantasy) prose, which he replenished with a significant number of novellas and short stories, and in the eighties he unexpectedly found himself, according to Oleg Yuryev, "young Leningrad poet", - with his poems joining the new underground generation.
The most important thing that needs to be said about Sergei Wolf's children's stories is that they are real good prose, written in a clear and lively language. Their plots are based on simple random events, the essence of which is always a little larger than themselves. The general structure and tone of Leningrad life flickers subtly and unobtrusively in the details. And as soon as you start reading, already in the very first story a persistent, strange feeling appears - you want to call it “about the window.” This joyful feeling is a feeling of spaciousness. Although, like all piercing experiences, with an admixture of something else, painful - emptiness, sadness, loneliness. Complex and ambiguous. There is one exact image to describe it: as if you were sitting on a windowsill in a room without light and looking out the window. Just sitting on the windowsill, just floating on the windowsill, not cheerful, not sad, not special, not idle, just thoughtful or just catching sounds, silence, changing light. Such a deep feeling.
Wolf's window really does appear - in the most exciting texts. A girl sits and waits near an open window in the story “Here’s a glass of water for you” ( "and the wind moves the sails of her ships"). The boy from “From There, From Afar” looks out the dark window and remembers another time and another place. From the school window, the hero of “An Incident in the Sands” accidentally sees the incredible: a disgusting teacher who gave a bad mark is petting and feeding a street horse! How so? He gives a bad mark, but loves horses?! Something doesn't fit. Since he loves horses, how could he be wrong? AND:
“Let me treat you to sugar,” he said.
“I’m not a horse,” I said.
“I’m sure of it,” he said.
And that’s exactly how everything falls into place.
Horses, yes, there are a lot of them in the book. Those that should be donated to the school and placed next to the horse projectile in the gym. Those on which the brave knights - Alyoshka and Timka - need to ride. And besides them, there are also models of ships and frigates, loud singing, fish - the latter can be caught in the river (to catch one - the greatest, "from here to school", "big like a horse"), or you can watch them - in the summer - with fins, a mask and a snorkel. However, spearfishing doesn’t stop even in winter: who said you can’t look at the fish while swimming in the bath? And in a snowstorm, even a cat on the carpet is an excellent prey fish. All of them - horses, fish - are wonderful fixed ideas, symbols of children's consciousness, flowing from Wolf's story to story. They do not form plots, they are milestones on which the thin fabric of his children's prose is attached. This is the general, archetypally childish thing that he chose and placed in the subconscious of his expressive childish world. His ten-twelve-year-old heroes communicate in the language of these essences and aspirations, they live by it. Wolf knows this language, he writes in it. And any children’s reader, it seems, should immediately understand, recognize and love such a narrator - as one of his own, as someone who speaks clearly and to the point.
Sergei Wolf's stories are funny and entertaining. And also instructive. In addition, the words in them are selected the most accurate and placed in the most correct places. In a word, passing by such a book is a big (maybe fatal) mistake.
For primary and secondary school age.
3rd edition.
Characteristics
| Author | Sergey Wolf |
| Illustrator | Ekaterina Tolstaya |
| Genre | Art books |
| Publishing house | Scooter |
| Publication date | 2016 |
| Number of pages | 136 |
| Circulation | 3000 |
| ISBN | 978-5-91759-292-3 |
| Page Format | 18 |
| Age | |
| Series | Native speech |
| Binding | 7 |
| Format | 60x84/16 |
| Weight | 260 g |
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