Book: Viktor Golyavkin “Amazing Children. Who is surprised Viktor Golyavkin. Real friendship
Current page: 1 (total book has 3 pages)
Font:
100% +
Viktor Golyavkin
Amazing kids
© Golyavkin V. V., heirs, text, drawings, 1972
© Design. JSC "Publishing House "Children's Literature", 2017
* * *
You come to us, come
Tale
Evening
Glittering lake.
The sun has gone behind the trees.
The reeds are calm.
The whole lake is in black lines. These are boats with fishermen in them.
Calves run to the road, stand in a row and look at us.
Two dogs sit and look at us.
Boys are running towards us.
Our truck picked up a lot of dust, and it settles gradually.
I see a village, a forest, a lake.
The owner comes out of the house with a beard, in an old marine cap.
- We wish the residents good health, - he says, - the evening is right, the fish is being caught, there is no wind, sniff the air, sniff ... - He sniffs the air loudly. Shaking our hands.
- There is a lot of dust, - says my mother, - an awful lot of dust!
“So this is your dust,” says the owner.
“Your road is dusty,” Mom says.
- And what air!
It's getting darker and darker.
Our house is the upper rooms.
Mom and I carry our things.
I walk up the stairs and sniff the air all the time.
“It’s a pity that my father wasn’t given a vacation,” my mother says.
Such air! I say.
Mom and I are standing in a new room.
“This is where we will live for the summer,” Mom says.
Morning
I washed under the stairs from the washstand, and the owner Matvey Savelich stood next to me:
- Lei, lei! There will be enough water for everyone, and if not enough - get out of the well, take it, what's the matter!
I poured with might and main.
- Well, how? Fine? Wash, wash! Water is good! I have a very good well. Roared myself. I dug myself. Only the Yamshchikovs have such a well, and mine. And for others, is it wells?
- What about others?
- And you look.
- I'm going to take a look...
- And go. And take your mother.
... And what a morning it was!
The sun was rising from behind the lake. And again the whole lake was in dashes. And in the middle of the lake is a silver stripe. From the sun. The trees swayed slightly, and the lane on the lake became winding. A pioneer horn played very close by.
“Who has water, and who has mud,” said Matvey Savelich.
I went out the gate.
Behind the gate
A baby was standing behind the gate and crying. And next to him was his grandmother.
The kid repeated:
- I want a scoop!
“I don’t have a scoop,” Grandma answered.
- Come on, scoop! the baby yelled.
- What kind of scoop is this? I asked.
The kid looked at me and said:
- Come on, scoop!
“Don’t you see, Mishenka, that he doesn’t have a scoop?” Grandma said.
He looked at me again.
I showed him my hands - here, they say, I don’t have a scoop.
He fell silent. Then he shouted:
- Come on, scoop!
“Lord,” Grandma sighed, “the light charged up a little. Take it once and tell him: "I'll buy you, Mishenka, a scoop, if you eat a chicken." And what kind of scoop is this and I myself do not know. She just told him to eat the chicken. It seems that in some fairy tale I read to him about this scoop. Well, he ate the chicken and immediately says: "Now let's get the scoop!" Where will I get it from? And what kind of opportunity is this, and what kind of curiosity is this, this same scoop ... And I show him the boats, and firewood, and cones, and whatever I show him, but he knows about the “scoop” repeats ...
I speak:
- Somewhere I saw a toy excavator being sold in a store. Six rubles, it seems, is worth it. I wish I could buy him such a dredge for eating a chicken ...
Grandmother was delighted and said:
- I need to tell my father to buy him a scoop, thank you very much, I don’t even know how to thank ...
- Why are you, - I say, - what nonsense, I just saw this scoop, if I'm not mistaken, on Liteiny Prospekt, in one window of some children's store; curious, I think the thing would be for kids. I myself have come out of this age ...
“I will certainly tell my father,” says my grandmother, “I will certainly report to my father about my salvation ... He will not regret his son, but he will save me from this uniform torment. Come to us, we are opposite, thank you, son ...
She left satisfied, and I began to think about who else I could meet. I would like to meet some boy. Now, I've met them...
Walked around the village.
Walked, walked, went home, had breakfast and again went out the gate.
On the lake
Shouted baby. Asked for a scoop.
If he asks for a scoop all the time like that, you can go crazy. How they endure! They would have bought him some kind of scoop, or they would not have promised him at all ...
I went down to the lake, and the baby was no longer heard.
The cows drank water.
I was bored.
Is this really how I will walk every day through the village and along the lake, and then what? Of course, I can swim, someone will take me for a ride in a boat, and please, catch fish for yourself as much as you want, it's all true. But after all, I must have some friends, buddies, I can’t do without them ...
But where can you get them?
I can’t take them like that, right away, and find them.
Suddenly I saw this boy and was terribly delighted. He stood in the reeds, and at first I did not understand why he was standing there, and then I understood: he was catching fish there.
His fishing rod was long, I first saw the fishing rod, and then him.
I sat down on the grass and watched. He caught two fish with me. At first I couldn’t understand where he put them, and then I realized: he puts them in his bosom!
He caught a third fish, and also - in the bosom. I immediately imagined how many of these fish he had in his bosom, how they jumped there and tickled his stomach.
That's why he kept squirming and squirming all the time!
I sat and waited for him to finish catching, come out of his reeds and show me the fish.
But he caught everything.
I called out to him.
No, he didn't hear me or he didn't want to hear me. He stood sideways to me, and I saw his protruding T-shirt with fishes, his kind of stern face with freckles, and again I became bored.
He was so busy with his fish!
He, probably, can stand in the water like this all day with his fishing rod, not seeing anything, not hearing ...
The guys ran with the ball.
I would run after them with pleasure, but what will they think if I suddenly run after them?
I wake up. Went along the coast.
And this one! Me too! Fisherman! I would never stuff fish in my bosom. Does a real fisherman stuff fish in his bosom? And still not answering!
In the forest
I turned into the forest.
Suddenly, a boy jumps out from behind a tree, grabs my sleeve and shouts:
At first I was a little scared: it's strange after all. And then - nothing, I see - he stands and breathes heavily, as if he had been running for a long time.
“What are you doing,” I say, “touching me?”
– And who are you? - speaks. "What, you can't be touched?"
- And who are you? I ask.
- Yes, who are you, crazy or what? - that's what he's telling me.
“It’s you,” I say, “crazy, it’s clear from everything: for no reason, he suddenly jumps out, touches ...
- Look what you are! - speaks. “But how am I going to rip off your shoulder straps?” Or have you already torn them off?
- What epaulettes? “If he really escaped from some lunatic asylum?” He will take and bite, but you never know what ...
And he yells:
- What, did you fall from the moon?
- Which of us fell from the moon, it is still unknown, most likely, it was you who fell from the moon ...
He clapped his hands, jumped up and yelled:
– Ha! Here is the fruit!
“Well, I don’t think so. Poured crazy! I see he has a leaf on his shoulders. A normal person, you understand, for no reason at all will not cling leaves to his shoulders ... How would you calmly get away from him? ..
“Tell me, have I stained you?” You won't say later that I didn't stain you?
- What? I say.
He clapped his hands again, jumped up and yelled:
– Ha! Here is the fruit!
I wanted to run away. I moved away from him all the time, and he moved towards me. I even got scared. Moreover, he repeated:
“Don’t say later that I didn’t stain you…”
I kept thinking about how to escape, but then suddenly a few more crazy people jump out, and this crazy one yells:
- Grab it, guys!
These new lunatics have stopped and one says:
- Yes, this is not ours, guys!
“It’s not enough,” I think, “to be“ yours ”! This was still missing! But at the same time, if they don’t recognize me as their own, you never know what will come to their minds ... They wanted to grab me ... ”
One says:
- That's just the point, it's not ours. Ours would be - so there would be no need to grab him!
I got scared and say:
I'm yours guys...
One of the crazy ones says:
- Look, guys, so that he doesn’t run away, he’s playing the fool like that ...
- And if you are ours, then why didn’t you immediately say?
“But you,” I say, “didn’t ask me, I didn’t say. I never say anything unless asked. I have a habit like this ... When they don’t ask me in class ...
One of them says:
- You throw us here about your class to tell, you better tell us, are you white or blue?
Another says:
- Why don’t you guys see, he’s not from our camp, he doesn’t even have shoulder straps!
That first madman says:
- How - not from ours? Are you out of camp?
- What camp?
- From the pioneer, - they say, - from what else!
It was only then that I guessed that this was a game they were playing and they mistook me for an opponent. They also realized that there was a misunderstanding, and we began to laugh.
My first friend says:
“I stained him, and he snaps. “What would it be,” I think, “he snaps, plays dishonestly? ..” But it turns out he doesn’t play at all ...
“I thought you were crazy,” I say.
They didn't like it, and they stopped laughing.
“Now I don’t think,” I say, “that was what I thought at first.
Again they began to laugh, to talk about this, what kind of crazy people can be, and so on, and my first acquaintance says:
“Excuse me, that’s how it happened. Let's get acquainted: my name is Sanka.
“Come on,” I say, “let’s get to know each other.” My name is Lyalka...
“Is this true or are you joking?”
“It’s a girl’s name, of course,” I say, “I know, and you know too, and everyone knows, but it’s not my fault that my parents call me Lyalka ...
They were all sympathetically silent and nodded their heads, as if some misfortune had happened to me, and I continued:
- My mother went and called me Ruslan, and when my father heard, he began to quarrel: he wanted to name me Sasha, in honor of his brother, the hero of the Civil War. “I will not tolerate,” he says, “that my son is called by that name! It’s still not enough to be called Rogdai ... ”Mom tells him that this is an old, epic name, so his father completely dispersed. “Some antediluvian names,” he says, “no modernity and far from the revolution; in this case, as we called him Lyalka, we will call him so.
Sanka says:
- Nonsense, you think! There's nothing wrong with that, I don't think so. Worse when you grow up. For example, you will become a marshal ... How can you be called Lyalka here - I’ll never know ...
“Yes, maybe I won’t be a marshal ...” I say. - And if I am a marshal, they will call Ruslan ...
“Don’t be upset,” the guys say, “don’t get on your nerves because of this.
One says:
- If everyone is a marshal, then we will have only marshals walking the streets ... It's not so easy ...
But, in general, they all treated me very sympathetically.
Only one, with such a long nose, says:
– It’s great he still talks, this kid! His tongue is like a windmill, he even managed to drag in his relative, the hero ...
At this time, the sounds of some kind of pipe were heard in the forest, and everyone ran to this sound, only Sanka remained.
- Yes, to hell with it, - he says, - this war! If there was a real war, otherwise the game ...
We walked slowly with him, and he said:
- Let me call you Valka. Drop two letters. And that's it. Let's put others in their place. It will be a completely different name. What is the meaning of some two letters!
I agreed that the two letters really didn't matter, and I was even glad that it all turned out that way. I always got some ridicule and trouble with my name. Everyone in the world needed to be told and explained how they called me by a girl's name. Here you are, please, they called me a “trapper” - for absolutely no reason at all! .. And how did no one guess before to call me Valka! All these enormous difficulties would disappear at once. There would be no need to explain anything to anyone. In total, after all, it was only necessary to take away the first two letters and add the other two ... What a wonderful head he still has, honestly!
Of course, I could have come up with this, and my parents, but neither I nor my parents came up with this!
We walked a little, Sanka laughed and said:
“There's a lot of nonsense going on with these names. I remember such a story. Oh and history! Imagine, in our yard there is a red-haired Sanka, I am Sanka and Kopylov. Three Sankas. And there is only one yard. For example, I call the red-haired Sanka, and Kopylov responds. Or Sanka the redhead calls me, but I think Kopylov's name is. Once I called Sanka the red-haired Red. So that he knows that his name is, and not another. So the red-haired Sanka was offended. And Kopylov cannot be called Kopylov. Offended too. “Why then,” he says, “I am Sanka? Not to be called Kopylov. And in order to call me Sanka ... "
- Well, what did you do? I ask.
“But they didn’t do anything,” says Sanka, “they lived like that ...
stumps
“We have only recently arrived,” Sanka said on the way, “so we don’t know everyone yet, so I caught you ...
I was glad that he caught me, after all, he still found a friend for himself, and that he scared me at first is not important.
“It’s good that I caught it,” I say.
We went with him to the gates of the camp, and he gave me a little push, so that I, therefore, would not be shy. Before that, he told me that the head of the camp was “at war”, and the senior pioneer leader too, so there was nothing to be afraid of.
I wanted to go through the gate, but the sentries with their sticks, at the ends of which there were flags, blocked the way.
Sanka screams at them:
- Yes, you didn’t recognize your own? Why did they put you here - I don't understand!
They just threw up their hands and stepped aside.
Here is Sanka! Deftly found, do not say anything!
“I told you,” Sanka said, “that no one here really knows each other yet. So you can be calm about this. In two days, of course, things will be more difficult. And now…” he whistled, “follow me!”
- And you can have dinner, no one will know? I asked.
“It’s more complicated here,” he said, “but you want to eat, or what?”
- Not really. I'm just so...
“Come on, stop being shy, follow me!”
I assured him that I had eaten recently, but he did not want to listen to me.
I stayed near the kitchen, and he went straight to the kitchen. He comes out with the cook, and in his hand he has a cabbage stalk.
- Gnaw, - he says, - so as not to go hungry.
“I’m not hungry at all,” I say.
- Yes, you gnaw, what are you breaking. - And he shoves this stump at me. Yes, I really didn't want it.
- Gnaw, gnaw, - says the cook, - but it won't be enough, come for a new stalk.
Sanka happily says:
- They have stumps there - apparently, invisible!
And he addresses the chef:
“The new one, you know, just arrived, a little late, but the child wants to eat,” and he blinks at me to keep me quiet.
- Look you! the chef says. - Maybe you can take out a cutlet?
The cook went for a cutlet, and I shouted after him that I didn’t need any cutlets, but he nevertheless brought me bread with a cutlet and left, because his porridge could burn.
- Familiar? I asked.
- But how! Familiar! He gave me a cutlet. Give me half.
I wanted to give him everything, but he took half, took a bite and said:
- Delicious cutlet!
I also began to eat, and I also liked the cutlet.
He stuffed his mouth full with a cutlet and said:
- You can’t eat ... let’s go ... we’ll ask for another cutlet ... there are two of us, let’s say, but they gave us one cutlet ... Do you know what proverb I came up with? "He who eats a lot will never go to the next world."
- Come on, I don’t need any meatballs!
- How is it not necessary? Two people eat one cutlet - this is a uniform disgrace!
I did not even have time to look back, as he dragged another cutlet. I didn’t want to take half of it from him, so he just forcibly handed it to me and kept repeating his proverb.
“And you can always come for the stalks,” said Sanka, chewing on the cutlet.
“I don’t need stumps,” I said. “I can’t stand these stumps!”
“Well, it’s not necessary, it’s not necessary,” said Sanka. He sighed. - You know, I never know when I'm full, I eat, eat, until my stomach, like a ball, puffs up.
The cook came out with a bucket of stalks.
- Maybe you guys are shy, so you guys, please don't be shy, take it, take the stalks!
I stepped back and said:
No, no, we are not shy...
“You call the guys there, let them come for the stumps,” he said.
- The war will end, - said Sanka, - they will take it away.
“I wish it would end soon,” said the cook, “otherwise the stalks are wasted here.”
He left with his stumps, and we went around the camp. Sanka, as the owner, wanted to show me the whole camp.
- If you need stumps, then you can always come for them, - said Sanka.
“I don't like them very much,” I said.
“I love them,” said Sanka.
- Why didn’t you eat the whole bucket of him?
How can I eat so much?
“But I would never go to the next world,” I said.
“I won’t go anyway,” he said.
In the camp
We walked around the camp, and Sanka said:
- I know how to talk to people. I have a talent for this, everyone tells me that I have a talent for talking with people. And you apparently don’t have this talent, so you better shut up when I talk to people.
He was really good at talking to people.
- ... Our camp is good, in vain you still live privately ...
“My parents made it all up,” I said.
- What, you don't have a word? He would have taken it and said: they say, so and so, send me, they say, to a pioneer camp, I don’t want, they say, I live privately, but I want with the team ... They would have sent you with pleasure, you must have bothered them with your stuff...
- What kind of things?
- How do I know which ones? Every child does different things, don't you do anything?
I didn't know what to say to him because I was really up to something.
“It’s good for your parents, and it’s good for you too.
“If it’s so good, then why didn’t they send me?”
- Don't you see what's good?
- You have to have a head.
- What, my parents have no head?
- Don't touch your parents! - he said. Why are you touching your parents? It's your parents!
“You are touching, not me!”
He jumped up, clapped his hands and yelled:
– Ha! Here is the fruit!
- Why are you talking to me like that? I say.
“You talk to me like that, you don’t know how to talk to people!”
I remembered how cool he was with people, and it seemed to me that it was all my fault.
“Come on, Valka,” he said, “you have a new name now, there’s nothing to wag your nerves now, and there’s nothing to argue with me on this topic either, since I have a real talent for this ...
“You just don’t know my father,” I said, “he has a wonderful head!”
“But I don’t have a father,” Sanka said suddenly.
- And the mother?
- Also no.
Who do you live with then?
“I live with my aunt,” he said.
I somehow felt embarrassed that I started this whole conversation about my father and mother, especially since he probably had my head in mind, and not my father's.
We went into the pioneer room, and Sanka showed me the detachment's diary, where he wrote:
“Our wonderful life in the camp began on the tenth day. We waited a long time for this wonderful life to begin, and now they brought us in buses, and it began. Hooray! That day has come!”
He took me around and showed me everything.
In the "Skillful Hands" circle there were yachts, dinghies, toys made by the guys. Different embroideries made by girls, different shelves cut with a jigsaw. There were many wonderful drawings. And there was a round ball made of wood. Sanka said that this ball was carved from a huge piece of wood, and this is what makes it interesting. The hardest thing was probably making this ball. So smooth, round, but no one knows that it is from such a huge piece of wood. If Sanka had not told me, I would not have known about it. They would have nailed some board next to the ball, and on the board they wrote that this ball was carved from a huge piece of wood ...
There were: chisels, jigsaws, drills, pincers, saws - all these tools were attached to large shields, and under each tool there was a name plate. My eyes went wide looking at these instruments.
There were many other outlandish things there, even puppet theater puppets. These dolls, it turned out, were also made by the guys themselves.
- Why they didn’t send me to the camp - I can’t understand! - I said.
And I was immediately afraid that he would again begin to spread about my head, that my head was to blame for everything, and I said:
“I didn’t know, but they didn’t send…
- Where was your head? Sanka says.
“Nowhere,” I say, “I haven’t been, what’s your business!”
He laughed and did not begin to spread more about my head.
We went to the club with him. He climbed onto the stage and shouted:
- The show is about to begin! - And he began to grimace, jump and make such faces that I even clapped. He raised a lot of dust, but he continued to dance and make faces until he was tired, and then he jumped down and said:
“Maybe I’ll be an artist after all…”
We took to the air.
"Troops" entered the camp. The drum beat. And ahead carried the banner.
Someone shouted:
– Look! Hehe! Chatterbox has turned up in our camp!
And I saw a long-nosed one. Who there, in the forest, said that my tongue flutters like a windmill ...
Everyone ran around the camp, and this boy ran up to me.
“Chatterbox,” he says, “here again!”
Without thinking twice, I grabbed him by the shirt, and he grabbed my shirt. And we rolled on the grass together.
Sanka rushed to separate us, but we tightly clutched each other's shirts.
Somehow we were separated.
And here we are standing in front of each other in our torn shirts, and almost the entire camp is around us.
Some girl says:
- Whose child is this?
Everyone is silent.
It turns out that I'm completely nobody here, and then she shouts:
How could this boy get here?
Everyone is silent again, and then she says more quietly:
How is this child here?
My friend Sanka, who has a talent for talking to people, comes forward and says:
- Comrade senior pioneer leader! This is Valka. It was I who brought him to our camp. What is it here?
- How - what is it? - the counselor is indignant. "Do you think there's nothing like that here?" Came from the street and still fighting?!
Sanka (it's great he still knows how to talk to people!) calmly answers her:
“I don't think there is anything like that. The more he was teased.
“Maybe he has an infection?” - says the counselor.
“He doesn’t have an infection,” says Sanka.
How can you know if he has an infection or not?
“I see,” says Sanka.
“You don’t see anything,” the counselor says. “Any stranger can have an infection!”
Then I said:
I don't have any infection!
- That is still unknown!
“And you,” the leader said to Sanka, “are just a resting pioneer, and you behave as if you were the head of the camp.”
And then Sanka, who is so good at talking to people, suddenly burst into tears.
The head of the camp appeared. He looked at my appearance, took my hand and, without saying a word, only frowning, led me out of the gate.
Don't let strangers in here! he said to the guards.
The main characters of Viktor Golyavkin's story "To whom is it surprising" are a boy, on behalf of whom the story is being told, and a girl named Tanya. The hero of the story did his best to surprise Tanya, but it was very difficult to do. Tanya was never surprised by anything.
The boy jumped over puddles that no one could jump over, shot from a slingshot, whistled, climbed trees and walked in winter without a hat. But Tanya was not surprised by anything.
But when the hero of the story decided to go out into the yard and just read a book on a bench, without even thinking to surprise Tanya, for some reason she was very surprised. Tanya said that she could not imagine that the main character of the story was reading.
This is the summary of the story.
The main idea of Golyavkin's story "To whom is it surprising" is that all people are different; and what seems surprising to one is not at all surprising to another. The hero of the story made great efforts to surprise Tanya, but it turned out that he just had to read a book.
The story teaches to be attentive to people in order to understand what they are interested in and what is not.
In the story, I liked the main character, who was very persistent in trying to surprise Tanya. And at the end of the story, he, albeit by accident, managed to achieve his goal. The girl Tanya is also interesting, who, as it turned out, could be surprised by a good, useful activity - reading. Tanya understands that a person who is fond of books is an inquisitive, interesting person.
What proverbs are suitable for Golyavkin's story "To whom is it surprising"?
You can't surprise people, even if you kill yourself.
Whatever he undertakes, he will achieve it.
Reading is the best activity!
Everything good in me I owe to books.
Amazing kids
The counselor Viktor Alexandrovich told me in parting that I could very well appear in the camp from time to time. Only that's why from time to time - it was not clear to me. And in general it was not clear what it meant - from time to time? Now, for example, can I appear there or not? Can I do it tomorrow? And if today and tomorrow I can’t, then when can I? In the end, if I went camping with them, then I can go to the camp ...
And I climbed over the fence, because it is still unknown how the sentries will react to this reasoning of mine.
My nerves were tense. For as long as I can remember, I always walked around this camp territory with tense nerves.
And with such tense nerves I meet Sanka near the kitchen. As soon as he saw me, he immediately began to poke me a cutlet, you might think that he only does that he eats these cutlets. I was just thinking about that, that not only he can dance, sing and all that ... And there is nothing difficult to show how a steam locomotive puffs and heavy machine guns fire ...
Take away, - I say, - your cutlet.
He immediately put it in his mouth. Chewing and smiling.
Ate a cutlet and says:
To fruit! He doesn't want a cutlet.
You know what, - I say, - I can throw out different things just as well as you, different dances there, different songs there ...
So what? - speaks.
And then, - I say, - that I can dance no worse than you!
He, imagine, was delighted.
Are you serious? Why didn't you tell me about this before?
I suddenly felt uncomfortable, like I envy him.
Well, in your opinion, I should go and report to everyone, right?
Why everyone? Could you tell your friend? Why hide your abilities from your friends! Here is the fruit!
I'm tired of his smiles and various antics there!
If you call me this fruit again, - I say, - I won’t talk to you ...
So this is my habit!
He jumped up, clapped his hands and yelled:
Here is the fruit!
I did not even know whether to be offended by him or not, and decided not to be offended. Moreover, he also found a habit with me, I won’t say which one.
After all these conversations, we went to compete with him. Who sleeps the longest.
I thought we would go to the club stage, but we went to the bathhouse. There is no dust, he says, and the floor is wooden. Calm and quiet. Dance to yourself as much as you like. Still, he found a suitable place for the competition. I would never have such an idea about a bath, came to mind. No, he is, of course, a capable person, what can I say! In vain, after all, I climbed to compete with him ... And why did it pull me to boast that I can dance! I just can't dance. I will sleep as best I can. The main thing is to press on the breath in order to dance it. After all, he is not some famous dancer from the Georgian Republic...
We came to the bath, and there it is heated. But he did not notice, or something, he says:
Well, let's get started!
It's hot, - I say, - what! How can we dance here?
But there is no dust, he says.
It's stuffy, I say.
While we are talking here, it will be even more stuffy, let's start.
What about breathing?
Let's get started and we'll see.
Well, no, I say, I won’t dance here, you can die!
Yeah, he says, you can't breathe! Scared!
Not at all, I'm just hot here.
Am I not hot? You and I, in my opinion, are in the same conditions. Let's jump and leave. Let's get started before it gets even hotter, there's nothing to do with empty talk! You're just, I see, dodging, that's all!
I got really angry and said:
Come on, let's get started!
We stood side by side, looked sideways at each other, did not know how to start, and then he shouted:
And we danced. I slipped twice, the floor was wet, but I quickly jumped up, as if I had not fallen. Especially since he slipped too. It turned out that it’s not so difficult to compete with him, you just had to start, and there it went, and when he shouted “Oops!”, I also shouted “Oops!”, there was nothing so difficult about it.
He did not stop, and I did not stop either, why should I stop if he does not stop. I only looked sideways at him all the time, so as not to let him out of sight.
We were dancing with might and main when the door opened and the head of the camp entered.
What's that knock? What's happening?
When he entered, we did not see, only when he asked, we heard. He said it loudly, at the top of his voice. And so we did not notice it at all.
We stopped. Sanka says:
We are rehearsing.
He asks in surprise:
What are you rehearsing?
Amateur art, - says Sanka.
What are you, in your mind?
In our own, - says Sanka, - we compete with him. The head of the camp put his hand on his head and says:
And there is no dust here, - says Sanka.
No dust? - says the boss. - What kind of dust?
No dust and everything! Sanka says.
Then the head of the camp calmly, quietly says:
You guys tell me this: here, now, did you dance or not?
They danced, - says Sanka.
After all, it’s impossible to stand here, let alone dance ...
Why is it impossible, - says Sanka, - you are standing.
The head of the camp spread his hands and says:
Amazing kids!
He stepped aside, and Sanka and I went out.
He didn't even recognize me, that's amazing!
Didn't sleep all night
It’s great that you danced in the bath then, - said Sanka, - I was so surprised that I didn’t sleep all night.
Viktor Golyavkin's stories are funny and interesting stories from the lives of children that happened to them at school and at home.
Stories to read in elementary school.
Viktor Golyavkin. Reluctance to walk all the time
It's hard to walk all the time.
I hitched the back of the truck and food. Here is the school around the corner. All of a sudden, the truck started moving faster. As if on purpose, so that I do not cry. School has already passed. My hands are tired of holding on. And my legs were completely numb. What if he runs like that for an hour?
I had to get into the box. And in the back of the chalk was some kind of poured. I fell into this chalk. Such dust rose that I almost suffocated. I sit on my haunches. I keep my hands on the side of the car. It's shaking all over! I'm afraid the driver will notice me - after all, there is a window in the back of the cab. But then I realized: he will not see me - in such dust it is difficult to see me.
We have already left the city, where new houses are being built. Here the car stopped. I immediately jumped out and ran.
I still wanted to be in time for school, despite such an unexpected turn of affairs.
Everyone on the street was looking at me. They even pointed with the finger. Because I was all white. One boy said:
- That's great! I understand it!
And one little girl asked:
Are you a real boy?
Then the dog almost bit me...
I don't remember how long I walked. As soon as I got to school, everyone was already leaving the school.
Viktor Golyavkin. Habit
We didn’t have time to arrive at the pioneer camp, and it’s already a quiet hour! If a person doesn’t want to sleep, then no, sleep, whether you like it or not! As if it is not enough to sleep at night - sleep during the day. I would like to go swimming in the sea - no, lie down, and even close your eyes. You can't even read the book. I began to hum a little audibly. He sang and sang and fell asleep. At dinner, I think: “Yeah, that's it: to fall asleep, you need to sing something. Otherwise, you won't be able to sleep."
The next day, as soon as I lay down, I immediately sang softly. I didn’t even notice myself how I began to sing so loudly that our counselor Vitya came running.
What kind of singer is this?
I answer him:
“I can’t sleep otherwise, that’s why I sing.
He says:
- And if everyone sings, then what will happen?
“Nothing,” I say, “will not happen.
- Then there will be continuous singing, and not a dream.
“Maybe then everyone will fall asleep?”
“Don’t invent nonsense, but close your eyes and sleep.
- I can’t sleep without a song, my eyes won’t close without it.
- They will close, - he says, - you'll see.
- No, they won't close, I know myself.
- All the guys close, but why don’t they close yours?
Because I'm so used to it.
- And you try not to sing out loud, but to yourself. Then you will fall asleep more quickly and you will not wake up your comrades.
I began to sing to myself, sang various songs, and imperceptibly fell asleep.
The next day we went to the sea. Swimming, playing different games. Then they worked in the vineyard. And I forgot to sing a song before going to bed. Somehow he fell asleep. Quite suddenly. Quite unexpected.
Wow!
Viktor Golyavkin. How I wrote poetry
I'm walking around the pioneer camp and humming anything to the beat. I notice - it turns out in rhyme. Here is the news!
My talent was revealed. I ran to the editor of the wall newspaper.
Zhenya the editor was delighted.
It's great that you've become a poet! Write and don't be arrogant.
I wrote a poem about the sun:
The sun is pouring down
On my head.
Eh, okay
My head!
“It has been raining since morning,” Zhenya said, “and you write about the sun. There will be laughter and all that. Write about rain. Like, it doesn't matter that it's raining, we're still cheerful and all that.
I began to write about the rain. True, it did not work for a long time, but finally it worked:
It's raining
On my head.
Eh, okay
My head!
“You’re out of luck,” Zhenya says, “the rain has stopped—that’s the trouble!” And the sun has not yet appeared.
I sat down to write about the average weather. It didn't work right away either, but then it did:
Nothing is pouring
On my head.
Eh, okay
My head!
Zhenya the editor says to me: “Look, there the sun has come up again.
Then I immediately understood what was the matter, and the next day I brought this poem:
The sun is pouring down
On my head
It's raining
On my head
Nothing is pouring
On my head.
Oh well my head!
Viktor Golyavkin. Skates bought not in vain
I couldn't skate. And they were in the attic. And probably rusty.
I really wanted to learn how to ride. Everyone in our yard knows how to ride. Even little Shurik can do it. I was ashamed to go out with skates. Everyone will laugh. Let the skates rust!
One day my dad said to me:
- I bought you skates in vain!
And it was fair. I took my skates, put them on and went out into the yard. The rink was full. Someone laughed.
"Begins!" I thought.
But nothing started. I haven't been noticed yet. I went out on the ice and fell on my back.
“Now it starts,” I thought.
He got up with difficulty. It was difficult for me to stand on the ice. I didn't move. But the most amazing thing was that no one, absolutely no one laughed, did not point a finger at me, but, on the contrary, Masha Koshkina ran up to me and said:
- Give me a hand!
And although I fell two more times, I was still satisfied. And I said to Masha Koshkina:
Thanks, Masha! You taught me to ride.
And she said:
“Oh, what are you, what are you, I only held your hand.
Viktor Golyavkin. In the closet
Before class, I climbed into the closet. I wanted to meow from the closet. They'll think it's a cat, but it's me.
I sat in the closet, waited for the start of the lesson and did not notice myself how I fell asleep.
I wake up - the class is quiet. I look through the crack - no one is there. He pushed the door, and it was closed. So I slept through the whole lesson. Everyone went home, and they locked me in the closet.
Stuffy in the closet and dark as night. I was scared, I started screaming:
— Eee! I'm in the closet! Help! Listened - silence all around. Me again:
- ABOUT! Comrades! I'm in the closet! I hear someone's steps. Someone is coming.
- Who's yelling here?
I immediately recognized Aunt Nyusha, the cleaner. I rejoiced, I shout:
- Aunt Nyusha, I'm here!
- Where are you, dear?
- I'm in the closet! In the closet!
“How did you get there, honey?”
- I'm in the closet, grandma!
“I can hear that you are in the closet. So what do you want?
- They locked me in a closet. Oh, grandma!
Aunt Nyusha left. Silence again. She must have gone for the key.
Pal Palych tapped on the cabinet with his finger.
“There is no one there,” said Pal Palych.
- How not. Yes, said Aunt Nyusha.
- Well, where is he? - said Pal Palych and knocked again on the cabinet.
I was afraid that everyone would leave, I would stay in the closet, and I shouted with all my might:
- I'm here!
- Who are you? Pal Palych asked.
— I... Tsypkin...
"Why did you get in there, Tsypkin?"
- They locked me up... I didn't get in...
— Hm... He was locked up! But he didn't get in! Did you see? What wizards in our school! They do not climb into the closet while they are locked in the closet. Miracles don't happen, do you hear, Tsypkin?
- I hear...
- How long have you been sitting there? Pal Palych asked.
- Don't know...
“Find the key,” said Pal Palych. - Fast.
Aunt Nyusha went for the key, but Pal Palych remained. He sat down on a chair nearby and waited. I saw his face through the crack. He was very angry. He lit up and said:
- Well! That's where the prank comes in. Tell me honestly: why are you in the closet?
I really wanted to disappear from the closet. They open the closet, but I'm not there. As if I had never been there. They will ask me: “Were you in the closet?” I'll say, "I didn't." They will say to me: “Who was there?” I'll say, "I don't know."
But that only happens in fairy tales! Surely tomorrow mom will be called ... Your son, they will say, climbed into the closet, slept there all the lessons, and all that ... as if it’s comfortable for me to sleep here! My legs hurt, my back hurts. One pain! What was my answer?
I was silent.
Are you alive there? Pal Palych asked.
- Alive...
- Well, sit down, they will open soon ...
- I am sitting...
"Yes..." said Pal Palych. “So you tell me why you climbed into this closet?”
- Who? Tsypkin? In the closet? Why?
I wanted to disappear again.
The director asked:
Tsypkin, is that you?
I sighed heavily. I just couldn't answer anymore.
Aunt Nyusha said:
The class president took the key.
"Break down the door," the director said.
I felt the door being broken, the closet shook, I hit my forehead painfully. I was afraid that the cabinet would fall, and I cried. I rested my hands on the walls of the closet, and when the door gave way and opened, I continued to stand in the same way.
“Come on out,” the director said. And tell us what that means.
I didn't move. I was scared.
Why is he standing? the director asked.
They took me out of the closet.
I was silent all the time.
I didn't know what to say.
I just wanted to meow. But how would I put it...
Viktor Golyavkin. New shirt
Although it was freezing and snowing outside, I unbuttoned my coat with all the buttons and put my hands behind my back.
Let everyone see my shirt, which I bought today!
I walked up and down the yard, looking at the windows.
My older brother was walking home from work.
“Oh,” he said, “how lovely! Just be careful not to catch a cold.
He took my hand, brought me home and put my shirt on over my coat.
“Now walk,” he said. - How lovely!
Viktor Golyavkin. Everyone goes somewhere
After the summer, everyone gathered in the yard.
Petya said: - I'm going to the first class. Vova said:
- I'm going to second grade.
Masha said:
- I'm going to third grade.
- And I? asked little Boba. "So I'm not going anywhere?" - And he cried.
But then Mom called Bob. And he stopped crying.
- I'm going to my mother! Boba said.
And he went to his mother.
Biography
Creation
A feature of the writer's stories is their brevity along with benevolent. This is an infrequent feature - brevity. Such a capacious short style requires special writing skills, which Golyavkin possessed like no other. The heroes of his stories are always funny, but active and charming. Long stories are rare. Some of the shortest are stories such as "Drawing", "Four Colors", "Friends", "Sick", for example, the story "Drawing":
Alyosha drew trees, flowers, grass, mushrooms, the sky, the sun and even a hare with colored pencils.
What is missing here? he asked dad. "There's enough of everything here," said Dad. - What is not enough here? he asked his brother. "That's enough," said the brother.
Then Alyosha turned the drawing over and wrote on the back in such big letters:
AND BIRDS STILL SINGING - Now, - he said, - there is enough of everything!
Such short stories are often found in the writer.
The second volley of "Aurora"
In December 1981, Soviet society was preparing to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the head of state. Every year at this time, respectively, in the last years of the established tradition, the country also reported to the leader about the next success in construction.
In the anniversary issue 12 of the magazine "" for 1981 and it was on the 75th page that Viktor Golyavkin's story "Jubilee Speech" was published. In terms of volume, the story occupied exactly one page in the "Humor" section. In itself, a rather innocent and funny content, retelling a feast eulogy addressed to an unnamed hero of the day.
Moreover, on the second page of the cover was placed a color portrait of the hero of the day - L. I. Brezhnev, the work of the artist, accompanied by the caption: "Dedicated to the 75th anniversary of L. I. Brezhnev." In accordance with the old Russian literary tradition, the placement of the story on a page that coincided with the number of years of the “culprit” of the anniversary did not raise any doubts about who exactly this story was dedicated to. The very content of the “anniversary speech” was ambiguous, clearly demonstrating the lack of respect for the “anniversary hero” who had long been bored by everyone.
| It is hard to imagine that this wonderful writer is alive. I can't believe he's walking the streets with us. It seems like he died. After all, he wrote so many books! Anyone who has written so many books would have been in the grave long ago. But this one is truly inhuman! He lives and does not think of dying, to everyone's surprise. Most believe that he died long ago - so great is the admiration for this talent. After all, Balzac, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy have long been in the other world, like other great classics. His place is there, next to them. He deserved this honor! He sits in front of me, red-cheeked and fat, and it's hard to believe that he's going to die. And he probably doesn't believe it himself. But he will certainly die, how to drink to give. A huge monument will be erected to him, and the hippodrome will be named after him, he loved horses so much. His grave will be fenced. So he doesn't have to worry. We will see his bas-relief on the grate.
The day before yesterday I heard that he had passed away. The message was made by my daughter, who loved to joke. I will not hide that I felt joy and pride for our friend and comrade. - Finally! I exclaimed, “he will take his place in literature!” The joy was premature. But I don't think we'll have to wait long. He will not disappoint us. We all believe in him. We wish him to complete the work that he has not yet completed, and to please us as soon as possible. |
The story gave rise to quite unambiguous.
The appearance of this story in the Soviet stagnant and thoroughly censored world of mass media had the effect of an exploding bomb. In literary and reader circles, he received the name "Second volley of Aurora" (in association with the first volley in October 1917). The issue of the magazine was withdrawn from sale and from the central libraries, and the editor-in-chief of the magazine, Gleb Goryshyn, and the executive secretary, Magda Alekseeva, were fired. As Magda Alekseeva later wrote, “we were not just fired from work, but forced to “voluntarily” leave the editorial office of our own free will.” The circulation of the magazine has been reduced to a minimum.
Later, a rumor was circulated that the story was written by Viktor Golyavkin much earlier - fifteen years before the events described. And, of course, for a completely different reason and has nothing to do with Brezhnev. “We - the editors and Golyavkin - were not at all heroes who wished to accomplish a civil feat. Everything really happened, albeit tragicomically, but by chance,” M. Alekseeva explained.
Books
- Notebooks in the rain. L., 1959.
- My good dad: A story. - L .: Children's literature, 1964. - 96 p.
- Hello birds. - L., 1969. - 96 p. Stories.
- Stripes on windows. - L .: Children's literature, 1972. - 96 p.
- Amazing kids. - M. Children's literature., 1972 - 192 p., L. Children's literature., 1979 - 253 p.
- Harp and Boxing: A Novel. - L .: Soviet writer, 1969; 1979. - 288; 256 p.
- I'm always waiting for you with interest: Stories. - M.: Sovremennik, 1980. - 272 p.
- High Speeds: A Novel, Short Stories. - L.: Soviet writer, 1988. - 512 p.
- Favorites. - L .: Children's literature, 1989. - 511 p. ill. rice. author
- Love and the Mirror: Stories. - L.: LIO "Editor", 1991. - 272 p.
- Allow me to pass. L., 1992.
- Talkers. M., 1999.
- Everything will be fine. - St. Petersburg: Petersburg Writer, 2000. - 304 p.
- A Familiar Face: Stories. - St. Petersburg: Azbuka-Klassika, 2000. - 384 p. Comp. E. Peremyshlev.
- Favorites. - M.: Ast, Astrel, 2002. Compiled by L. Bubnova.
- Favorites. - M.: Zebra E, 2004. - 565 p.
To the cinema
- - (film based on the story of the same name)
- - Boba and the Elephant
- - (a TV movie based on the story “You come to us, come ...”)
Literature
- Shushkovskaya F. Victor Golyavkin. Essay on creativity. // On literature for children, no. 23. L., 1979
- Goryshin G. Viktor Golyavkin writes a story... // Golyavkin V. I am always waiting for you with interest. M., 1980
- Ludmila Bubnova. Arrow Golyavkin // "October", 2002, No. 10.
- Nikolay Kuznetsov. “Oh, it’s good for my head! ..” About Viktor Golyavkin // Neva, 1997, No. 9.
- Peremyshlev E. If you follow my example, then you need to start with boxing. Something like an interview with Viktor Golyavkin. // Golyavkin V. A familiar face. St. Petersburg, 2000
- Svetlana Ivanova. “I thought I was the only one ...” // “Znamya”, 2001, No. 8. Review of the collection “A Familiar Face”.
Notes
Links
- Viktor Golyavkin on site
- Mich. Belomlinsky. Anniversary Speech by Viktor Golyavkin. - Russian Bazaar No. 19(629) 8-14.05.2008
Categories:
- Personalities in alphabetical order
- Writers alphabetically
- August 31
- Born in 1929
- Baku-born
- Deceased July 24
- Deceased in 2001
- The dead in St. Petersburg
- Children's writers alphabetically
- Children's writers of the USSR
- Children's writers of Russia
- Russian writers of the XX century
- Artists of the USSR
- Writers of St. Petersburg
Other books on similar topics:
| Author | Book | Description | Year | Price | book type |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| M. Zoshchenko, L. Panteleev, V. Dragunsky | This collection is not one, but three books at once, compiled from stories about the children of M. Zoshchenko, L. Panteleev, V. Dragunsky. Entertaining biographical articles about writers will expand ... - @Onyx, @ (format: 70x90/16, 640 pp.) @ Fat book. Teacher recommends @ @ | 2011 | 244 | paper book | |
| Viktor Golyavkin | Amazing Children (compilation) | Funny and good-natured short stories about mischievous and restless boys: “Notebooks in the rain”, “I sewed a button for myself!”, “Yandreev”, “How I sat under the desk”, “I didn’t eat any mustard” ... - @ Publishing house " Children's Literature, @(format: 84x108/32, 640 pages) @ @ e-book @ | 1972 | 160 | eBook |
| Vilmont E.N. | Ekaterina Vilmont is the author of numerous popular love novels and children's detective stories. Wide recognition from readers deservedly puts the name of Ekaterina Vilmont in the top five of the most famous ... - @AST, @ (format: 84x108 / 32, 640 pages) @ @ @ | 2018 | 112 | paper book | |
| Vilmont Ekaterina Nikolaevna | Children of the Galaxy, or Nonsense in Vegetable Oil | Ekaterina Vilmont is the author of numerous popular love novels and children's detective stories. Wide recognition from readers deservedly puts the name of Ekaterina Vilmont in the top five most famous ... - @AST, @ (format: 70x90 / 32, 256 pages) @ About life and about love. Ekaterina Vilmont @ @ | 2016 | 82 | paper book |
| Andrey Simonov | Amazing and unusual adventures of Lada and the little fairy of goodness and justice | This children's story describes the amazing and unusual adventures in the city and village of an ordinary schoolgirl girl Lada and a little fairy of goodness and justice. Thanks to the little fairy, everyone… - @Accent Graphics communications, @(format: 70x90/32, 256 pages) @ Lada reveals the meaning and secrets of our existence@ eBook @ | 2017 | 60 | eBook |
| Gilbert Delae | The Amazing Adventures of Marusya (compilation) | The Adventures of Marusya series is a unique publishing project that became a bestseller first in France, and then in more than 50 countries around the world! The total circulation of books is more than 100 million copies. About… - @AST Publishing, @(format: 84x108/32, 640 pages) @ @ e-book @ | 249 | eBook | |
| Vern J. | The Children of Captain Grant | Jules Verne, a wonderful writer, creator of the science fiction novel, is one of the most wonderfully read French authors in the world. This edition presents one of the best novels ... - @Azbuka, @ (format: 84x108 / 16, 24 pages) @ world classic @ @ | 2018 | 122 | paper book |
| Caroline Cherry | Children of darkness | In a merciless battle, space explorers confront each other: earthlings and reguls - greedy merchants who have subjugated many worlds. Faithfully serving the enemy are mysterious mri, harsh warriors ... - @North-West, @ (format: 84x104 / 32, 448 pages) @Science Fiction @ @ | 1997 | 350 | paper book |
| Jules Verne | The Children of Captain Grant | Jules Verne, a wonderful writer, creator of the science fiction novel, is one of the most widely read French authors in the world. Since childhood, we have been accompanied by his extraordinary works ... - @Azbuka, ABC-Atticus, @ (format: 84x108 / 32, 640 pages) @ world classic @ @ | 2012 | 92 | paper book |
| Vern J. | The Children of Captain Grant | Jules Verne, a wonderful writer, creator of the science fiction novel, is one of the most widely read French authors in the world. Since childhood, we have been accompanied by his extraordinary works ... - @Azbuka, @ (format: 70x90 / 32, 256 pages) @ More than a book @ @ | 2018 | 885 | paper book |
| Jules Verne | The Children of Captain Grant | Jules Verne, a wonderful writer, creator of the science fiction novel, is one of the most widely read French authors in the world. Since childhood we have been accompanied by his extraordinary works… - @AZBUKA, @(format: 84x108/32, 640 pages) @ world classic @ @ |
