The story "Sonya" made a strong impression on me. Firstly, because it is written in the third person, a completely outsider, an observer who looks from the side at everything that happens, without judging, simply conveys what he heard. Such a technique gives credibility to the entire narrative, thus affirming the truth of values based on the experience of a person who has lived for almost a century: we get to know Sonya from the words of an old woman, Ada Adolfovna, who talks about life before the war (Ada Adolfovna went through the war and blockade).
Secondly, you can immediately pay attention to the fact that the language of the story is saturated with tropes and figures of speech: metaphors (“the bouillon lake got cold”), comparisons (“I sat like an idol at the end of a long starched table”, “I fell in love so much that you just pull it off”) , unusual epithets (“an idle spoon lay”, “Sonya’s horse features”, “smartly immortal”), each new thought-sentence is based on inversion (“Did she have happiness?”, “Don’t interfere, fools!”), syntactic colloquial style constructions (“The year was about thirty-three”, “And wow - life suits such things!”). The story is built on an antithesis that manifests itself at different levels: spatial (sky - apartment), temporal: time in the story is organized very tightly and clearly (life before the war is opposed to military life). Even Sonya's appearance is contradictory: "The chest is sunken, the legs are so thick - as if from another human set"; delicate nature, but dressing gaudily: "the huge hanging bow of the blouse protrudes from the hard sashes of the suit, and the sleeves are always too long." The discrepancy between the appearance and personal qualities of both Sonya (unattractive in appearance, Sonya is endowed with a kind and complaisant character), and the heroes from the company (attractive scoundrels capable of meanness), Sonya is opposed to the whole company.
From the very first lines of the story, we understand that the story is sad, serious and even sad: “A man lived - and he is not. Only the name remains"
The author introduces us to a company of people who are generally considered pleasant, educated, intelligent. These people consider themselves intellectuals, there are both writers and authors of scientific monographs: “And how many really interesting, really meaningful people who left concert notes, books, monographs on art.” But the reader is alarmed by inconsistencies in the description of these people: Lev Adolfovich is “a scoundrel in essence, but the smartest person and in some ways a sweetheart”, Lev Adolfovich’s sister, Ada, “a woman is sharp, thin, snake-like elegant.” The names of the main characters are saying: Ada Adolfovna, Lev Adolfovich - a hint of predators, hell, fascists - all this fit into these people, and yet they are considered educated, smart, "cute"!
It is not known how Sonya got into this company, where she came from, but immediately became the object of ridicule of the “cutest” people: “And Ada said in a sweet voice: “But I am delighted with your sheep brains!” - "These are veal ones," Sonya did not understand, smiling. And everyone rejoiced: well, isn’t it lovely ?! Sonya is always at the center of the conflict, with ideas and thoughts that run counter to the public (her clothes, demeanor: “And at the wedding, Sonya’s toasts smelled of yesterday’s kutya with coffin marmalade”). With the help of reification, the author shows that the people surrounding Sonya “use” her for their own purposes, as a necessary thing, but at the same time make fun of her, believe that she is ugly (“the head is like a Przewalski’s horse”), stupid (“Sonya was a fool"), wears his shoes to the side and does not know how to dress. But Sonya reveals unusually useful qualities for society: she cooks well, you can leave her children and an apartment on her.
But we understand that she is a kind of reasoner from the classic drama. Sonya reveals the duplicity of the "dearest" people, with her lips, as if with the lips of a baby, "the truth speaks." And in the company where Sonya got into, it doesn’t even occur to people that you can be an honest, sincere person, this does not fit into their framework of “real life”. But time puts everything in its place. Where are they, these brilliant, witty intellectuals? They are not here. Sunk into oblivion Washed away by time. And Sonya is. Yes, and you can’t call her a fool, we learn that she works in a museum, therefore, she has an education, she understands art, history. The sentence “fool” is passed on to her due to the fact that she does not know how to be hypocritical and adapt to the people around her for the sake of their “moral standards”. Sonya, from their point of view, is a fool, because such a person, caring, childishly naive, decent (she did not take anything, but gave everything disinterestedly and lovingly: “she sent him her only decoration: a white enamel dove”) - meet very rarely. Therefore, her stupidity is pure - "crystal of Sonya's soul."
Despite being a naive and boring person, Sonia is "romantic and sublime in her own way". In this phrase, we see the author's attitude towards Sonya: she has both sympathy and irony at the same time. With the help of irony, the author, among other things, helps to understand the false burning through the life of the entire elite society (“What fates! You can talk about everyone endlessly”), their inner emptiness, opposed to Sonya’s extremely rare quality in this society - disinterested service to people. She, as a romantic hero should appear, appears from nowhere: “it is not known who her parents were, what she was like as a child, where she lived and what she did until the day when she emerged from uncertainty and sat down to wait for pepper in a sunny, elegant dining room ". In addition, Sonya, in her moral, personal qualities, is higher than the people around her: she knows how to love, is disinterested, and honest. But Sonya also has flaws - she does not have a strong character and self-confidence. The author shows his attitude towards Sonya through the attitude of children towards her: children, as you know, feel the soul of a person very subtly, they do not know how to lie. They love Sonya and are sincerely upset when Sonya is "transferred" to another family. It is the children who truly appreciate Sonya, and she is also happy with them.
Despite all her shortcomings, which Ada constantly reminded of, Sonya turns out to be a highly moral and deeply moral person. She was able to endure all the mockery of herself, without humiliating herself, she was able not to drop her dignity.
Ada Adolfovna could not find any use for her own abilities, but, finally, she found a way to annoy Sonya - she came up with love “by correspondence” (reminiscent of novels in the epistolary genre: “Garnet Bracelet” by Kuprin A.I.) Letters play a big role and have a certain value, at the end of the story, because of them, an argument even flares up. Sonya has a lover invented by Ada Adolfovna named Nikolai, "burdened with a family and three children and passionately in love with Sonya." “The correspondence was stormy on both sides. Sonya, the fool, pecked at once. I fell in love so much that you just pull it off. I had to slightly restrain her ardor: Nikolai wrote about one letter a month, slowing down Sonya. The heroine selflessly carried love through the entire war and blockade. “On a blockade winter day, despite weakness and cold, she wandered to Nikolai’s address (the address of Ada Adolfovna’s father), brought “him” a jar of pre-war tomato juice: “there was juice there for exactly one life.” She saved her loved one (fate decreed that Sonya saves Ada, who did not deserve a jar of tomato juice), giving him the last thing she had.
I think that the point is not whether the person she loved was real or not, the point is that she could love - this is real happiness! And I'm sorry that in Sonya's life there was no person who appreciated her. Thus, the main idea of this story is love, capable of a feat.
I think Tatyana Tolstaya also raises the problem of a small person.
The author reveals to us the human images and characters of ordinary people who are trying to live life as best as possible, more fun. But our life is inherently beautiful, it does not need to be embellished or repainted. You don't have to pretend to be human, you have to be. Our life is a priceless gift, and only those values that we create ourselves, with our own hands and our souls are true in it: love, family, children, home, work. All this is the meaning of human existence. The story about Sonya's life ends in the same way as it began: "A man lived - and he is not" - this is a ring composition - as if reminding us that nothing lasts forever and no one is eternal, and that everything returns to normal. Paradoxically, it is the boring, ugly, uninteresting Sonya who, over time, is recognized as the happiest person: “Something, but she had happiness.” Sonya was the happiest because she believed in love. Life hid the vulgar truth from her, and she died at peace. T. Tolstaya tells us that this is the true, eternal value of human existence: "After all, fire does not take doves."
A man lived - and he is not. Only the name remained - Sonya. "Remember, Sonya said ..." "The dress is similar, like Sonya's ..." "You blow your nose, you blow your nose endlessly, like Sonya ..." Then those who spoke like that also died, only a trace of a voice, incorporeal, remained in my head , as if coming from the black mouth of the handset. Or suddenly, as if in the air, a sunny room will open with a bright photograph - laughter around the laid table, and like hyacinths in a glass vase on the tablecloth, also bent in curly pink smiles. Look quickly before it goes out! Who is it here? Is there one among them who you need? But the bright room trembles and fades, and the backs of those sitting are already translucent with gauze, and with terrible speed, disintegrating, their laughter is carried away into the distance - catch up. No, wait, let us; consider! Sit as you sat, and name yourself in order! But in vain are attempts to seize memories with rough bodily hands, a cheerful laughing figure turns into a large, roughly painted rag doll, falls from a chair if you do not tuck it in from the side; glue from a bast wig streaks on a senseless forehead, and blue glass eyes are connected inside an empty skull by an iron shackle with a lead ball of a counterweight. Here's the damn chit!
But she pretended to be alive and loved! And the laughing company fluttered away and, having corrected the tight laws of space and time, chirps to itself again in some inaccessible corner of the world, forever imperishable, elegantly immortal, and, perhaps, will appear again at one of the turns of the path - at the most inopportune moment and of course without warning.
Well, if you are like that - live as you want. Chasing you is like catching butterflies with a shovel. But I would like to know more about Sonya.
One thing is clear - Sonya was a fool. No one has ever disputed this quality of hers, and now there is no one. Invited for the first time to dinner - in the distant, yellowish haze shrouded in the thirtieth year - she sat like an idol at the end of a long starched table, in front of a cone of a napkin folded, as was customary - a house. The bouillon lake was cold. There was an empty spoon. The dignity of all the English queens taken together froze Sonya's horse features.
And you, Sonya, - said to her (the middle name must have been added, but now it is already hopelessly lost), - and you, Sonya, why don’t you eat?
I’m waiting for the pepper,” she answered sternly with her icy upper lip.
However, after some time, when it became clear that Sonina was indispensable in the kitchen in the pre-holiday bustle, and sewing virtues, and her willingness to take a walk with other people's children and even guard their sleep, if everyone is going to some urgent company with a noisy
amusement, - after some time, the crystal of Sonya's stupidity sparkled with other facets, delightful in their unpredictability. A sensitive instrument, Sonya's soul apparently caught the tone of the mood of the society that warmed her yesterday, but, gaping, did not have time to reorganize for today. So, if at the wake Sonya cheerfully cried out: "Drink to the bottom!" - it was clear that recent name days were still alive in her, and at the wedding Sonya's toasts smelled of yesterday's kutya with coffin marmalades.
"I saw you at the Philharmonic with some beautiful lady: I wonder who it is?" - Sonya asked her bewildered husband, bending over his dead wife. At such moments, the mocker Lev Adolfovich, stretching his lips like a tube, raising his shaggy eyebrows high, shook his head, shone with small glasses: "If a person is dead, then this is for a long time, if he is stupid, then this is forever!" Well, the way it is, time has only confirmed his words.
Lev Adolfovich's sister, Ada, a sharp, thin woman, elegant like a snake, who also once got into an awkward position because of Sonya's idiocy, dreamed of punishing her. Well, of course, a little - so that both ourselves laugh, and the fool delivers a little entertainment. And they were whispering in the corner - Lion and Ada - thinking up something more witty.
So, Sonya sewed ... And how did she dress herself? Ugly, my friends, ugly! Something blue, striped, to such an extent not going to her! Well, imagine: the head is like that of a Przewalski's horse (Lev Adolfovich noted), under the jaw a huge hanging bow of a blouse sticks out of the solid sashes of the suit, and the sleeves are always too long. The chest is hollow, the legs are so thick - as if from another human set, and clubfoot feet. Shoes worn out to the side. Well, breasts, legs are not clothes ... Also clothes, my dear, this also counts as clothes! With such data, one must especially think about what can be worn, what can not! .. She had a brooch - an enamel dove. She wore it on the lapel of a jacket, did not part. And when she changed into another dress, she also always attached this dove.
Sonya was a good cook. The cakes were amazing. Then this, you know, tripe, kidneys, udders, brains - they are so easy to spoil, but it turned out - you lick your fingers. So it was always assigned to her. Delicious, and gave rise to jokes. Lev Adolfovich, stretching out his lips, shouted across the table: "Sonechka, your udder simply amazes me today!" and she happily nodded in response. And Ada said in a sweet voice: "But I'm delighted with your sheep's brains!" - "These are veal ones," Sonya did not understand, smiling. And everyone rejoiced: well, isn’t it lovely ?!
She loved children, that's clear, and it was possible to go on vacation, even to Kislovodsk, and leave the children and the apartment to her - stay with us for a while, Sonya, okay? - and, upon returning, to find everything in excellent order: the dust was wiped off, and the children were ruddy, well-fed, walked every day and even went on an excursion to the museum, where Sonya served as some kind of scientific curator, or something; boring life for these museum curators, they are all old maids. Children managed to become attached to her and were upset when she had to be transferred to another family. But you can’t be selfish and use Sonya alone: others could also need it. In general, they managed, established some kind of reasonable queue.
Well, what else can be said about her? Yes, that's probably all! Who now remembers some details? Yes, for fifty years almost no one has survived, what are you! And there were so many really interesting, really meaningful people who left concert recordings, books, monographs on art. What fates! One can talk endlessly about each. The same Lev Adolfovich, a scoundrel in essence, but the smartest person and in some ways sweetheart. One could ask Ada Adolfovna, but she seems to be close to ninety, and - you yourself understand ... There was some kind of incident with her during the blockade. By the way, connected with Sonya. No, I don't remember well. Some glass, some letters, some joke.
How old was Sonya? In the forty-first year - there her traces break off - she was supposed to be forty. Yes, it seems so. Then it’s easy to calculate when she was born and all that, but what does it matter if it’s not known who her parents were, what she was like as a child, where she lived, what she did and with whom she was friends until the day she was born out of uncertainty and sat down to wait for pepper in the sunny, smart dining room.
However, one must think that she was romantic and sublime in her own way. In the end, these bows of hers, and the enamel dove, and alien, always sentimental verses, torn from her lips at the wrong time, as if spit out by a long upper lip, which revealed long, bone-colored teeth, and love for children - and for any, - - all this characterizes her quite unambiguously. romantic creature. Was she happy? Oh yeah! It's true! something, but she had happiness.
And here it is necessary - life suits such things! - she owed this happiness entirely to this snake Ada Adolfovna. (It is a pity that you did not know her in your youth. An interesting woman.)
They got together in a big company - Ada, Lev, also Valerian, Seryozha, it seems, and Kotik, and someone else - and developed a hilarious plan (since the idea was Adina, Lev called it "a hellish plan"), they succeeded perfectly. The year was something like thirty-three. Ada was in her best shape, although no longer a girl, a lovely figure, a swarthy face with a dark pink blush, she was the first in tennis, the first in a kayak, everyone looked into her mouth. Ada was even embarrassed that she had so many admirers, while Sonya had none. (Oh, scream! Sonya has fans?!) And she offered to come up with a mysterious admirer for the poor thing, madly in love, but for some reason unable to meet her in person. Great idea! The phantom was immediately created, named Nikolai, burdened with a wife and three children, lodged for correspondence in Adya's father's apartment - then voices of protest were heard: what if Sonya finds out, if she turns up at this address? -- but the argument was rejected as untenable: firstly, Sonya
fool, that's the whole point; and secondly, she must have a conscience - Nikolai has a family, will she really undertake to destroy it? Here, he clearly writes to her - Nikolai, that is, - dear, your unforgettable appearance is forever imprinted in my wounded heart (no need for "wounded", otherwise she will literally understand that she is disabled), but we will never, never destined to be there, because it is a duty to children ... and so on, but the feeling, - Nikolai writes further, - no, it’s better: a true feeling - it will warm his cold members (“That is, how is it, Adochka? - "Do not interfere, fools!") A guiding star and every lush rose there. Such is the letter. Let him see her, let's say, at the Philharmonic, admire her thin profile (here Valerian just fell off the sofa from laughter) and now he wants such a sublime correspondence to arise. He barely got her address. Begging for a photo. And why can’t he come on a date, then the children won’t interfere? And he has a sense of duty. But for some reason it does not interfere with his correspondence? Well then let him be paralyzed. To the waist. Hence the cold members. Listen, don't be stupid! It will be necessary - we will paralyze him later. Ada sprinkled "Ship-rum" on the postal paper, Kotik took out a dried forget-me-not, pink from old age, from the children's herbarium, put it in an envelope. Life was fun!
Correspondence was stormy on both sides. Sonya, the fool, pecked at once. I fell in love so much that you just pull it off. I had to slightly restrain her ardor: Nikolai wrote about one letter a month, slowing down Sonya with her raging cupid.
Nicholas excelled in poetry: Valerian had to sweat. There were just pearls, who understands - Nikolai compared Sonya with a lily, liana and gazelle, himself with a nightingale and goitered gazelle, and at the same time. Ada wrote a prose text and exercised general guidance, stopping her frolicking friends who gave advice to Valerian: "You write to her that she is a wildebeest. In the sense of an antelope. My divine wildebeest, I'm going to the bottom without you!" No, Ada was at her best: she trembled with Nikolaev tenderness and opened up the depths of his lonely restless spirit, insisted on the need to maintain the platonic purity of relations and at the same time let in a hint of destructive passion, the time for which, for some reason, had not yet ripened. Of course, in the evenings, Nikolai and Sonya had to raise their eyes to the same star at the appointed hour. Nothing without this. If the participants in the epistolary novel were nearby at that moment, they tried to prevent Sonya from opening the curtains and stealthily glancing at the starry heights, calling her into the corridor: "Sonya, come here for a minute ... Sonya, what's the matter ...", enjoying her confusion: the cherished moment was approaching, and Nikolaev's eyes risked blurting out in vain in the vicinity of some Sirius or something like him - in general, one had to look in the direction of Pulkovo.
Then the idea began to bother: as much as possible, especially since absolutely nothing could be pulled out of the languid Sonya, no secrets; she did not allow anyone to be her confidante and generally pretended that nothing was happening - it was necessary
but she turned out to be secretive, and in her letters she burned with an unquenchable flame of high feeling, promised Nikolai eternal fidelity and announced everything about herself: what she was dreaming about, and what kind of bird chirped somewhere there. She sent carriages of dried flowers in envelopes, and on one of Nikolaev's birthdays she sent him, unhooking from her terrible jacket, her only decoration: a white enamel dove. "Sonya, where is your dove?" “Flew away,” she said, baring her bony horse teeth, and nothing could be read in her eyes. Ada was going to kill, finally, Nicholas, who burdened her, but, having received the dove, she shuddered slightly and postponed the murder until better times. In a letter attached to the dove, Sonya swore by all means to give her life for Nikolai or to follow him, if necessary, to the ends of the world.
The whole conceivable harvest of laughter had already been harvested, the damned Nikolai was tangled under his feet like a convict ball, but to leave Sonya alone, on the road, without a dove, without a lover, would be inhumane. And the years went by; Valerian, Kotik and, it seems, Seryozha, for various reasons, dropped out of participating in the game, and Ada courageously, sullenly, alone carried her epistolary burden, baking with hatred, like an automaton, monthly hot postal kisses. She herself had already become a little Nikolai, and sometimes in the mirror, in the evening light, she imagined a mustache on her swarthy-pink face. And two women at the two ends of Leningrad, one with malice, the other with love, scribbled letters to each other about someone who never existed.
When the war began, neither one nor the other had time to evacuate. Ada was digging ditches, thinking about her son, who had been taken away from the kindergarten. There was no time for love. She ate everything she could, boiled leather shoes, drank hot broth from wallpaper - there was still a little paste in it. December came and it was all over. Ada took her father, then Lev Adolfovich, to the mass grave on a sled, lit the stove with Dickens, and with stiff fingers wrote Sonya a farewell letter to Nikolaev. She wrote that everything was a lie, that she hated everyone, that Sonya was an old fool and a horse, that nothing had happened, and that all of you would be damned. Neither Ada nor Nikolai wanted to live further. She unlocked the doors of her father's large apartment to make it easier for the funeral crew to enter, and lay down on the couch, pulling on her father's and brother's coats.
It is unclear what happened next. Firstly, few people were interested in this, and secondly, Ada Adolfovna is not very talkative, and, besides, as already mentioned, time! Time has eaten everything. Let us add to this that it is difficult to read in someone else's soul: it is dark, and not given to everyone. Vague conjectures, attempts at conjectures - nothing more.
It is unlikely, I believe, Sonya received the grave news for Nikolaev. Letters did not pass through that black December, or they went for months. Let us think that, having raised her eyes, half-blind from hunger, to the evening star over the broken Pulkovo, on that day she did not feel the magnetic gaze of her lover and realized that his hour had struck. A loving heart - say what you like - feels such things, you cannot deceive it. And, guessing that it was time, ready to incinerate herself for the sake of saving her only one, Sonya took everything she had - a jar of pre-war tomato juice saved for such a death case - and wandered through all of Leningrad to the apartment of the dying Nikolai. Juice there was exactly one life.
Nikolai was lying under a mountain of coats, in an earflap, with a black, terrible face, with parched lips, but clean-shaven. Sonya knelt down, pressed her eyes to his swollen hand with broken nails, and wept a little. Then she gave him juice from a spoon to drink, threw books into the stove, blessed her happy fate and left with a bucket for water, never to return again - they bombed heavily that day.
That, in fact, is all that can be said about Sonya. A man lived - and he is not. One name remains.
Ada Adolfovna, give me Sonya's letters.
Ada Adolfovna drives out of the bedroom into the dining room, turning the large wheels of the wheelchair with her hands. Her wrinkled face trembles slightly. The black dress covers her lifeless legs to the toes. A large cameo is pinned at the throat. On the cameo, someone is killing someone: shields, spears, the enemy gracefully fell.
Letters?
Letters, letters, give me Sonya's letters
I can not hear!
The word "give back" she always hears badly, the wife of her grandson irritably hisses, looking askance at the cameo.
Isn't it time for lunch? mutters Ada Adolfovna.
What big dark cupboards, what heavy silverware in them, and vases, and all sorts of supplies: tea, jams, cereals, pasta. Sideboards, sideboards, wardrobes, cupboards are also visible from other rooms - with linen, with books, with all sorts of things. Where does she keep her bundle of Sonya's letters, a shabby packet tied with twine, crackling with dry flowers, yellowish and transparent, like dragonfly wings? Don't remember or don't want to talk? And what's the point of pestering a shaking, paralyzed old woman! Did she herself have had many difficult days in her life? Most likely, she threw this pack into the fire, standing on her swollen knees in that icy winter, in a flashing circle of minute light, and, perhaps, timidly preoccupied at first, then quickly blackening from the corners, and, finally, rising up in a column of humming flame, the letters warmed , at least for a short | moment, her twisted, stiff fingers. Let it be. That's just a white dove, I think she had to take out of there. After all, fire does not take doves.
She sent carriages of dried flowers in envelopes, and on one of Nikolaev's birthdays she sent him, unhooking from her terrible jacket, her only decoration: a white enamel dove. “Sonya, where is your dove?” "Flew away," she said, baring her bony horse teeth, and nothing could be read in her eyes. Ada was going to kill, finally, Nicholas, who burdened her, but, having received the dove, she shuddered slightly and postponed the murder until better times. In a letter attached to the dove, Sonya swore by all means to give her life for Nikolai or to follow him, if necessary, to the ends of the world. The whole conceivable harvest of laughter had already been harvested, the damned Nikolai was tangled under his feet like a convict ball, but to leave Sonya alone, on the road, without a dove, without a lover, would be inhumane.
Do we need people like Sonya in our time? (according to the story of T. Tolstoy "sleepy")
I fell in love so much that you just pull it off. I had to slightly restrain her ardor: Nikolai wrote about one letter a month, slowing down Sonya with her raging cupid. Nicholas excelled in poetry: Valerian had to sweat. There were just pearls, who understands, Nikolai compared Sonya with a lily, a liana and a gazelle, himself with a nightingale and a gazelle, and at the same time.
Ada wrote the prose text and exercised general direction, stopping her frolicking friends who gave advice to Valerian: “You write to her that she is a wildebeest. I mean antelope. My divine wildebeest, I'm going to the bottom without you! No, Ada was at her best: she trembled with Nikolaev tenderness and opened up the depths of his lonely restless spirit, insisted on the need to maintain the platonic purity of relations and at the same time let in a hint of destructive passion, the time for which, for some reason, had not yet ripened.
Analysis of the story of T. Tolstoy "sleepy"
Attention
And everyone rejoiced: well, isn’t it lovely ?! Sonya is always at the center of the conflict, with ideas and thoughts that run counter to the public (her clothes, demeanor: “And at the wedding, Sonya’s toasts smelled of yesterday’s kutya with coffin marmalade”). With the help of reification, the author shows that the people surrounding Sonya “use” her for their own purposes, as a necessary thing, but at the same time make fun of her, believe that she is ugly (“the head is like a Przewalski’s horse”), stupid (“Sonya was a fool"), wears his shoes to the side and does not know how to dress. But Sonya reveals unusually useful qualities for society: she cooks well, you can leave her children and an apartment on her.
But we understand that she is a kind of reasoner from the classic drama. Sonya reveals the duplicity of the "dearest" people, with her lips, as if with the lips of a baby, "the truth speaks."
Arguments from the literature in the direction of "man and society"
Important
Ada took her father, then Lev Adolfovich, to the mass grave on a sled, lit the stove with Dickens, and with stiff fingers wrote Sonya a farewell letter to Nikolaev. She wrote that everything was a lie, that she hated everyone, that Sonya was an old fool and a horse, that nothing had happened, and that all of you would be damned. Neither Ada nor Nikolai wanted to live further. She unlocked the doors of her father's large apartment to make it easier for the funeral crew to enter, and lay down on the couch, pulling on her father's and brother's coats.
.
It is unclear what happened next. Firstly, few people were interested in this, and secondly, Ada Adolfovna is not very talkative, and, besides, as already mentioned, time! Time has eaten everything. Let us add to this that it is difficult to read in someone else's soul: it is dark, and not given to everyone. Vague conjectures, attempts at conjectures no more. It is unlikely, I believe, Sonya received the grave news for Nikolaev.
Analysis of the story l. n. thick "sleepy"
No, wait, let us; consider! Sit as you sat, and name yourself in order! But in vain are attempts to seize memories with rough bodily hands, a cheerful laughing figure turns into a large, roughly painted rag doll, falls from a chair if you do not tuck it in from the side; glue from a bast wig streaks on a senseless forehead, and blue glass eyes are connected inside an empty skull by an iron shackle with a lead ball of a counterweight. Here's the damn chit! But she pretended to be alive and loved! And the laughing company fluttered away and, having corrected the tight laws of space and time, chirps to itself again in some inaccessible corner of the world, forever imperishable, elegantly immortal, and, perhaps, will appear again at one of the turns of the path at the most inopportune moment and, of course , without warning. Well, if you're like that, live the way you want.
Tatyana is fat. dormouse (story)
How did she dress herself? Ugly, my friends, ugly! Something blue, striped, to such an extent not going to her! Well, imagine: the head is like that of a Przewalski's horse (Lev Adolfovich noted), under the jaw a huge hanging bow of a blouse sticks out of the solid sashes of the suit, and the sleeves are always too long. The chest is sunken, the legs are so thick as if from another human set, and the feet are clumsy. Shoes worn out to the side. Well, chest, legs are not clothes ...
Also clothing, my dear, this also counts as clothing! With such data, one must especially think about what can be worn, what can not! .. Her brooch was an enamel dove. She wore it on the lapel of a jacket, did not part. And when she changed into another dress, she also always attached this dove.
Sonya was a good cook. The cakes were amazing.
Lesson + presentation "everyone chooses for himself" (according to the story of T. Tolstoy "sleepy")
The author presents a group of “artists” as caustic and insidious, knowing himself firsthand about him. And in the end, this very society, with endless attacks and harassment, forces the Master to destroy his beautiful creation and brings him to a madhouse. He is no longer a part of this nasty gathering, and his beloved Margarita becomes his entire society, and the soul finds eternal peace.
- Any society must develop.
In comedy A.S. Griboyedov's "Woe from Wit" demonstrates the ossified Famus society - a gathering of noble people, miserable and ignorant. Famusov's guests, like exaggerated Westerners, go dumb with delight when Frenchmen from Bordeaux, Parisian milliners and rootless foreign crooks call in. Chatsky is opposed to them, denouncing their pernicious worship of the Western world and rejection of their own path.
But society, mired in poverty and sins, also played a significant role in the student's decision. Raskolnikov himself was choked by lousy poverty, and he, susceptible to other people's suffering, went to a terrible crime. Nothing else makes sense in a society where money, simple pieces of paper have become the main value, and everyone has long forgotten about high morality.
A simple girl Sonya Marmeladova takes the path of a prostitute in order to earn money for her family. And her father, without thinking about his relatives, drinks everything in taverns that stink of rotten human souls, while weighty moneybags revel in their wealth earned on the lives of ordinary people.
Argument man and society t fat dormouse
The story is built on an antithesis that manifests itself at different levels: spatial (sky - apartment), temporal: time in the story is organized very tightly and clearly (life before the war is opposed to military life). Even Sonya's appearance is contradictory: "The chest is sunken, the legs are so thick - as if from another human set"; delicate nature, but dressing gaudily: "the huge hanging bow of the blouse protrudes from the hard sashes of the suit, and the sleeves are always too long." The discrepancy between the appearance and personal qualities of both Sonya (unattractive in appearance, Sonya is endowed with a kind and complaisant character), and the heroes from the company (attractive scoundrels capable of meanness), Sonya is opposed to the whole company.
From the very first lines of the story, we understand that the story is sad, serious and even sad: “A man lived - and he is not.
Oh, scream! Does Sonya have fans?!) And she offered to come up with a mysterious admirer for the poor thing, madly in love, but for some reason unable to meet her in person. Great idea! The phantom was immediately created, named Nikolai, burdened with a wife and three children, lodged for correspondence in the apartment of Adya's father, then there were voices of protest: what if Sonya finds out, if she turns up at this address? but the argument was rejected as untenable: firstly, Sonya is a fool, that's the whole point; and secondly, she must have a conscience in Nikolai's family, will she really undertake to destroy it? Here, he clearly writes to her, Nikolai, that is, dear, your unforgettable appearance is forever imprinted in my wounded heart (no need for “wounded”, otherwise she will literally understand that she is disabled), but we are never, never destined to be near, as a duty to children ...
LITERARY STUDIES
N. P. Benevolenskaya
THE STORY OF TATYANA TOLSTOY "SONIA":
ILLUSION OF MORAL-DESCRIPTIVE CONTRAST
As you know, postmodernism, in whose coordinate system the world is perceived as a text, as an endless game and recoding of signs, implies, first of all, a fundamental rejection of attempts to postulate some kind of universal and rationally comprehensible truth. Postmodernism identifies such a postulation with the dangers of utopianism and totalitarianism. Any hierarchy of values is removed, denied in the name of the coexistence of different cultural models and canons, self-valuable, self-sufficient and irreducible to each other.
Accordingly, the mere existence of any clear and rigid positive program in the analyzed text (not to mention attempts to impose it on the reader) is fundamentally incompatible with the essence of postmodernity. An author who preaches any values and ideals can call himself a postmodernist as much as he wants, but in fact he has nothing to do with postmodernity.
Of course, the foregoing needs a significant reservation, which is fundamentally important for understanding the artistic philosophy of postmodernity. Yes, a true postmodernist rejects a hierarchical worldview and will not introduce into the reader's consciousness any doctrines that claim to be universal and true, will not impose his own ideals on anyone. However, the postmodern worldview cannot be reduced to indifference at all, and in the text, as a rule, there are elements of this kind of "introduction" and "imposition" - only it has a special character. The postmodernist author has the right to expand any sermon if later, within the framework of the same text, it is completely disavowed. Every pro postmodernist must neutralize with a corresponding contra.
And in this regard, attention is drawn to the important role in the coordinate system of postmodernism as an original cultural formation and psycho-ideological formation played by the principle of oxymoron. Postmodern logic as a whole can be defined as oxymoronic. The absence of both positive concepts and accusatory beginnings, characteristic of postmodern texts, cannot be explained by some special indifference, indifference of their authors to the life around them. Even a superficial acquaintance with these texts convinces: postmodern is a world of strong emotions and great passions. A postmodernist, as a rule, does not skimp on positive and negative assessments of what is depicted. The paradox, however, is that the same object is subjected to both apology and debunking at the same time. Postmodern text most often © N. P. Benevolenskaya, 2009
go is based on an oxymoron - a debunking apology (or apologetic debunking). The affirmation here does not contradict the negation, destruction contributes to creation, white means the same as black, death is identical to life. Of course, this is not about a deliberate game according to certain rules, not about a writing technique that everyone can master, but about an organic worldview.
In all serious and authoritative scientific studies and university textbooks devoted to the modern literary process, Tatyana Tolstaya invariably appears among the postmodernist writers, in connection with which contradictions and inconsistencies often arise, because the repetition of the thesis of Tolstoy's postmodernism does not prevent critics from interpreting her works in the spirit of educational moralism. In this regard, the story “Sonya” turned out to be beyond competition, in which, according to the majority of interpreters, the element of unambiguously defined and completed author's assessments and judgments certainly dominates. If critics are to be believed, there is not a hint of any postmodern ambivalence in The Dream.
The plot is based on the story of how the main character, Sonya, a naive, pure and romantic creature, became the victim of a prank conceived and carried out by the evil and ruthless Ada Adolfovna. Ada and her closest friends, for the sake of entertainment, begin to write letters to Sonya with declarations of love on behalf of the non-existent Nikolai. The passion of this mythical admirer can be realized exclusively in correspondence, since, according to the plan of the hoaxers, he is burdened with a wife and three children. Sonya, without the slightest hesitation, reciprocates Nikolai, and soon swears to her virtual lover that she will give her life for him. The correspondence continues for ten years, but the denouement comes in the terrible winter of the blockade in 1941, when Sonya saves Ada, who is dying of hunger, lying unconscious, whom she takes for Nikolai, a jar of pre-war tomato juice, and she herself soon dies.
The text of the story is really striking in its descriptive clarity and the ultimate unambiguity of the main characteristics. This applies in particular to the “snake-like elegant”1 Ada Adolfovna and her entourage. The infernal connotations of the name and patronymic of the heroine-schemer are noted by almost all interpreters, and her brother, Lev Adolfovich (by the way, unambiguously and directly, without any equivocals, called “scoundrel” in the text2) characterizes her sister’s plan as a “hellish planner”3. The plan developed and implemented by Ada with the direct participation of his brother and friends, indeed, is distinguished by frank, undisguised cynicism.
Ada herself, not accidentally called a “snake”4, appears as a prudent egoist, a prosperous and prosperous predator in everything, accustomed to manipulating people: “she is the first in tennis, the first in a kayak, everyone looked into her mouth”5. The negative aura surrounding the heroine becomes especially evident in the finale, when Ada Adolfovna appears before the reader as a ninety-year-old old woman. Undoubtedly, symbolic, clearly characterizing the aggressiveness and cruelty, under the sign of which Ada's whole long life passed, is the image on the expensive cameo that adorns her throat: “on the cameo someone is killing someone: shields, spears, the enemy gracefully fell »6. The whole atmosphere of the huge apartment, filled to overflowing with food and things, in which Ada Adolfovna lives, testifies to material well-being, to which the heroine, apparently, always aspired in the first place: “What big dark cupboards, what heavy silverware in them , and vases, and all sorts of supplies: tea, jam, cereals, pasta. Sideboards, wardrobes, cupboards are also visible from other rooms - with linen, with books, with all sorts of things. Elderly Ada defiantly
ignores the narrator’s request to give away Sonya’s letters, followed by an irritated explanation from a relative: “She always doesn’t hear the word ‘give back’”8. Yes, that's right: this "notorious egoist" all her life sought only to take, without giving anything in return.
So, it would seem that everything is extremely clear: before us is an image, the unequivocal negativity of which does not cause the slightest doubt.
However, in reality this is not entirely true. Doubts in the attentive reader of the story involuntarily arise and they are connected with the military, or rather the blockade, period of the life of such a repulsive heroine; it was this period that became the culmination and at the same time the denouement in the long history of the paradoxical friendship-enmity of Ada and Sonya.
By the whole logic of the narrative, the reader is prepared for the fact that even during the war years, the cynical and prudent egoist Ada Adolfovna will be able to surround herself with well-being and comfort somewhere in the deep and safe rear with the usual snake dexterity. It is well known that such people, using connections and money, left doomed Leningrad in time, even before the blockade ring was closed. However, even under blockade conditions, predators like Ada were by no means in poverty, but enjoyed an abundance of food and other benefits. Moreover, many of them managed to successfully enrich themselves on the people's grief.
It is on such a turn of the plot that the whole seemingly unambiguous course of the story sets the reader up. The more unexpected is the laconic description of how the heroine's life actually developed in the autumn and winter of 1941: “Ada dug ditches, thinking about her son, who was taken away with kindergarten<... >She ate everything she could, boiled leather shoes, drank hot broth from wallpaper - there was still a little paste. December came and it was all over. Ada took her father, then Lev Adolfovich, on a sledge to the mass grave, and lit the stove with Dickens<. . . >Neither Ada nor Nikolai wanted to live any longer. She unlocked the doors of her father's large apartment to make it easier for the funeral team to enter, and lay down on the sofa, piling up her father's and brother's coats.
Everything that we know from the extensive historical and memoir literature devoted to the blockade time allows us to confidently assert: prudent prosperous cynics with extensive nomenclature connections are predators (namely, such a person, at first glance, appears in the story of Ada Adolfovna) under various pretexts ( for example, by buying or obtaining fake medical certificates) avoided both military service and any public works. Meanwhile, Ada is digging tank ditches, while constantly thinking not about her beloved, which would be natural for a complete egoist, but about her son. And then the heroine demonstrates by no means pragmatism and commercialism, not selfish pathetic hysteria, but fortitude and courage. Ada does not speculate in the markets, does not build her well-being on someone else's misfortune, as one might expect from her, but, like hundreds of thousands of Leningraders, she cooks soup from wallpaper and shoes. When the father of the heroine and her brother died, she, half-dead from hunger, took them on a sleigh to a mass grave, without resorting to the services of a funeral team. Having exhausted all human strength and capabilities, the heroine decides to die and behaves in this situation with the same courage and nobility.
Of course, you can simply ignore the blockade stage of the heroine's life (and it is undoubtedly the most important element of the plot), as many interpreters have done, but in this case there can be no question of any objective analysis of the story. Obviously, it is necessary to recognize that the feeling of moralizing straightforwardness that arises upon first acquaintance with the text is deceptive and illusory.
lusciously; in fact, the confrontation between Sonya and Ada is much more complex and controversial than it seems at first glance.
And in this regard, the beginning of Sony attracts attention, where the narrator (more precisely, of course, the narrator) talks about the impossibility of any adequate literary reflection of reality, especially when it comes to bygone times: the desire to “grab” faces and circumstances and transfer to paper inevitably leads to their deformation, in particular, to the transformation of living people into rag dolls: “But attempts to grab memories with rough bodily hands are in vain. A cheerful, laughing figure turns into a large, roughly painted rag doll, falls out of a chair if you do not tuck it in from the side; on a senseless forehead there are streaks of glue from a bast wig, and blue glassy eyes are connected inside an empty skull with an iron shackle with a lead ball of a counterweight. Here's the damn chit! But she pretended to be alive and loved!”10. The narrator recognizes the limitations of her creative abilities, as a result of which the complex natures of living people simply elude her imperfect visual tools, being replaced by simplified schemes: “Well, since you are like that, live as you want. Chasing you is like catching butterflies with a shovel.”11
Immediately after these curious discussions, the story of Sonia and Hell begins, the images of which seem so straightforward and unambiguous. A reasonable assumption arises that the role of the beginning is precisely to set the reader in a skeptical mood in relation to any characteristics and assessments that claim to be final and immutable, because the empirical reality of a living human personality always eludes categorical definitions, like a butterfly eludes unlucky catcher, armed not with a net, but with a shovel.
In general, the figure of the narrator and the narrative manner she uses deserve the closest attention. Before us is a narrator who literally flaunts his “unreliability”, constantly admitting to extremely insufficient information, the reason for which is the regrettable absence of witnesses and eyewitnesses of ancient events, as well as defects in his own memory. Here is one of the many complaints of this kind: “Well, what else can be said about her? Yes, that's probably all! Who now remembers some details? Yes, for fifty years almost no one has survived, what are you!<... >There was some incident with her during the blockade. By the way, connected with Sonya. No, I don't remember well. Some kind of glass, some letters, some kind of joke. The narrator does not hide at all that he builds his story on the basis of vague rumors, replacing irreplaceable facts with his own conjectures and fantasies: “It is not clear what happened next. First, few people were interested<... >Well, besides, as already mentioned, time! Time has eaten everything. Let us add to this that it is difficult to read in someone else's soul: it is dark and not given to everyone. Vague conjectures, attempts at conjectures - no more.
The narrator imitates innocence, demonstrates a readiness to uncritically perceive and relay other people's opinions and assessments, however, almost all the evaluative characteristics voiced by him, supposedly naive-innocent, are actually crafty and shrouded in thin threads of irony. In addition, the story repeats in different ways the idea of the fundamental inferiority and inauthenticity of any description: “attempts to grasp memories with rough bodily hands are in vain”; "read in someone else's soul
difficult: dark, etc. In such a context, all judgments claiming to be true
begin to be perceived as inconclusive or simply false.
It is no coincidence that the main part of the work, following immediately after the beginning, begins with an evaluative characteristic, which is an example of demonstrative peremptory unambiguity: “One thing is clear - Sonya was a fool. No one has ever disputed this quality of hers, and now there is no one else either. There is not the slightest doubt that this characterization of the main character, as if claiming to be true, is infinitely far from the truth. The text is constructed in such a way that gradually this unequivocal assessment turns out to be completely disavowed: the reader is imbued with respect and love for the selfless idealist Sonya, realizing that she is no more stupid than Don Quixote or Prince Myshkin. The debunking of the “fool” turns into an apology, but, by the way, a specific apology, of course, postmodern: the ambivalent aura of the story prevents a monologically unambiguous perception of anything.
However, isn't the same principle of gradual disavowal of the original, unambiguously straightforward, evaluative characteristic used by Tolstoy when creating the image of Ada Adolfovna? From the very beginning, the apparently excessive amount of details and details that discredit this heroine in the eyes of the reader, to the point that the infernal connotations of her name are carefully duplicated in her patronymic, are alarming. Before us is some kind of monster of vice, an evil fury. The obvious absence of any serious reasons for a cynical hoax attracts attention: one gets the impression that the sophisticated bullying of the lonely and unrequited Sonya is due solely to Ada's sadistic inclinations, her irrational demonism. The author of the story seemed to use only black paint for the image of Ada Adolfovna, replacing (obviously for educational and moralizing purposes) a living person with a painted rag doll.
A careful and unbiased reading of the text helps to understand that the author's goals associated with the image of Ada are infinitely far from banal moralizing. As in the case of Sonya's persistently emphasized "stupidity", Adina's "infernality" turns out to be a typical manifestation of reductionism, the replacement of a living and infinitely complex human personality with a wretched scheme.
The epistolary hoax was originally conceived as an entertaining game, but gradually all the participants of the action, having enjoyed themselves to their heart's content, lost all interest in the prank. Ada alone continues to write letters, and she does this without the former aggressively mocking courage. The action started for entertainment has long been weighing on her, but the heroine stubbornly continues the correspondence. Why? Let us turn to the text: “The entire conceivable harvest of laughter has already been harvested, the damned Nikolai was tangled under his feet like a convict core, but to leave Sonya alone, on the road, without a dove, without a lover, would be inhumane. And the years went by; Valerian, Kotik and, it seems, Seryozha, for various reasons, dropped out of participating in the game, and Ada courageously, sullenly, alone carried her epistolary burden, baking with hatred, like an automaton, monthly hot postal kisses. She herself had already become a little Nikolai, and sometimes in the mirror, in the evening light, she imagined a mustache on her swarthy-pink face. And two women at the two ends of Leningrad, one with malice, the other with love, scribbled letters to each other about someone who had never existed.
Can it be argued that we are still in front of an intriguer who seeks to have fun, amuse her friends and hurt the unfortunate romantic ugly girl? Of course no. Obviously, Ada unwittingly became a hostage of the situation. She cannot stop the hateful correspondence, because leaving poor Sonya without her lover "would be inhumane." That is how the main regulator of behavior
The cynical intriguer turns out to be nothing but humanity, for taking away Sonya's beautiful dream would mean smashing her whole life to smithereens. It is possible that Ada Adolfovna's persistently exposed and therefore well-known (and no one questioned) "infernality" is nothing more than a mask under which the heroine hides her true deep properties from those around her. It is possible that at the same time she is angry not so much with Sonya as with herself. It is hardly possible to fully explain Ada's behavior only by moral considerations and a sense of duty. In order to truly organically enter the role of the mythical Sonya admirer and feel like a sensitive-sentimental Nikolai, it was necessary to initially possess some properties inherent in this virtual character. It is no coincidence that a powerful spiritual and psychological connection eventually arose between the two participants in the correspondence, which was felt not only by Sonya, but also by Ada.
One way or another, but the central collision of the work, connected with the paradoxical relationship between Sonya and Ada, does not fit into the narrow framework of moralistic contrast. In one of the digressions, the narrator declares that Sonya owes her happiness entirely to Ada: “Did she have happiness? Oh yeah! It's true! Something, but she had happiness.
And here it is necessary - life suits such things! - she owes this happiness entirely to this snake Ada Adolfovna. With all the paradoxicality, this idea is fair in its own way.
Sonya is a "romantic being"18, an apologist and a knight of a beautiful dream. The basis of the story is the situation of conflict between dream and reality, which is invariant for Tolstoy's work. What distinguishes Sonya from the many other dreamy characters from the works of Tatiana Tolstaya? In all of Tolstoy's texts, the characters who reject vulgar reality for the sake of sweet dreams invariably experience bitter and painful disappointment and, as a result, having watered the fragments of their dreams with tears, accept reality as it is. Sonya is the only heroine of Tolstoy who remained faithful to her dream, did not betray her, was not disappointed, she passes away, sacrificing herself for the sake of a virtual ghost, a mythical lover who never existed. Yes, we can agree that she really had happiness. In addition, self-sacrifice for the sake of a ghost turned out to be not at all meaningless - trying to save the virtual Nikolai, Sonya saved the life of the real Ada.
Of course, we have before us a vivid example of precisely postmodern culture, which has nothing in common with traditional moralizing monologism. Creating, within the framework of the game with the reader, the illusion of moralistic contrast, Tolstaya remains faithful to the principles of polyphony and dialogue.
1 Tolstaya T. Women's Day: A Collection of Stories. M., 2006. S. 85.
2 Ibid. S. 86.
3 Ibid. S. 87.
6 Ibid. S. 92.
9 Ibid. pp. 90-91.
10 Ibid. pp. 83-84.
11 Ibid. S. 84.
12 Ibid. pp. 86-87.
13 Ibid. S. 91.
14 It should be noted that some reviewers felt from the outset that the story's moralistic clarity was deceptive. So, for example, Y. Rytkheu in the afterword to the publication of Sony very perceptively noted that the author hides his true face behind various narrative masks: “The author plays with us, jokes and hides, trying on one mask, then another. From the beginning to the very end, it is not clear to us where he is driving, what he wants to tell, what the narration is actually about” (Rytkheu Yu. Afterword to the publication of the story “Sonya” // Aurora. 1984. No. 10. P. 84).
15 Tolstaya T. Women's Day. S. 84.
16 Ibid. S. 90.
Sonya, the main character of the work, was neither smart nor beautiful. People around often used this and asked the girl either to sit with the children, or to help in the kitchen, or to hem something. She was a good cook and really knew how to sew, although she herself did not dress very nicely. Out of the kindness of her soul, Sonya did not refuse anyone. This made the people around her laugh even more.
But the simplicity and directness of the girl did not always please others. Often Sonia behaved not tactfully. She did not know how to sit with a mournful face at the wake, she asked married men about their beautiful companions with whom they met. And all this in the presence of wives.
One day, Ada, who more than once got hurt by such Sonya's simplicity, decided to take revenge on the stupid girl. Together with her friends, she came up with a gentleman for Sonya, they called him Nikolai. According to legend, the man was crazy about Sonya, but he could not meet her, because he was married and also had three children. The authors of the idea considered Sonya so stupid that they even came up with an address for Nikolai. It was Ada's father's house. They knew that Sonya would not have the courage to go there and break up someone's family.
All this began before the war. Fictional Nikolai sent Sonya letters with poems full of love and adoration. She answered with no less ardent letters, she sincerely fell in love with a man whom she had never seen. She even sent him her dove brooch, which she always wore. At first, this correspondence amused Ada and her friends, but eventually got tired, because the "fun" stretched out for years. In addition, the war began.
Ada and Sonya were blocked in Leningrad, they did not have time to leave. Ada's father died and she decided to write a letter to Sonya and end the relationship, detailing that Nikolai hated Sonya. But she did not receive a letter and continued to believe in the existence of her lover. Once Sonya, having collected all her meager supplies, decided to see Nikolai anyway.
At the indicated address, she found a terrible dying man. Naive Sonya could not even think that this was not her Nikolai. The girl gave to drink, as she thought, a man with tomato juice and went to fetch water. Sonya was bombed and did not return. She never found out the truth. Ada managed to escape. After all, it was she who lay in the house of her father and at the same time the fictional house of Nikolai under a pile of blankets and clothes. Dying of hunger, she thought that the funeral team would come for her. And then Sonya came.
The story teaches that one cannot blindly believe everyone and that one cannot play with the fate of another person - this is cruel.
Picture or drawing Tolstaya - Sonya
Other retellings and reviews for the reader's diary
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