Bunin's stories. Brief biography of Bunin, the most important thing
"Rusya", summary which is given in this article is included in famous cycle writer about love "Dark Alleys". Bunin worked on his stories in exile, living in France, but at the same time he wrote about Russia, which he greatly missed. Most of them were first published during the Second World War.
Bunin's story "Rusya", a summary of which you are now reading, begins with a description of the arrival of a train following the route "Moscow - Sevastopol" at a small station. Rides in the most prestigious first class carriage married couple. The wife leans on her husband's shoulder, and he looks thoughtfully out the window.
At this point, he begins to talk about how he once lived in this area on vacation. He then worked as a tutor in one of the country estates. According to his recollections, the area here was very boring, the large landowner's house was in disrepair and greatly impoverished. The large garden and the lake behind it were neglected, which over time began to turn into a swamp. But the gentleman still managed to take a girl for a ride on this lake in a poor sundress made of chintz.
Russia
In Ivan Bunin's story "Rusya", a summary of which is presented in this article, it is said that full name this girl was Marusya. In the family, her simple name was Rus. She was an artist, a student at the Stroganov School of Painting. I came to these same places to relax for the summer.
In the story "Rusya" Ivan Bunin describes how picturesque the heroine herself was. A powerful and long black braid, a dark face, which was decorated with dark moles, a nose correct form and curly hair. She was very similar to her mother, who was born an eastern princess. At the same time, Russia was almost always slow and melancholy.
Her father was a retired officer. Like his daughter, dry and silent, it was impossible to get an extra word out of him. True, there was also a brother. Unlike the rest of his relatives, he is sweet, cheerful and simple. This is exactly what the narrator taught him in his youth.
His wife immediately asks him if he was in love with Russia in those years. He admits this. Moreover, he is in love without memory and reason. Russia reciprocated his feelings, at least it seemed so to her. Here the gentleman interrupts his story and suggests going to bed. His companion now certainly wants to know how this story ends.
My husband says it’s downright trivial. He left rather than marry Ruse because he had a presentiment of a meeting with his current wife.
Memories of youth
In Bunin's story "Rusya", a summary of which you are now reading, it is described that the gentleman's wife falls asleep. And he himself smokes all night and remembers that very summer.
In the story “Rusya” by I. A. Bunin, the summary gives a complete picture of the plot; it is said that Russia at first looked closely at the main character. And only then did she decide to speak. Soon she invited him to go for a ride on the lake. True, the boat was rotten, with holes repaired carelessly and only one oar. But this didn’t bother anyone.
During a river walk, the narrator asks Rusya to put his cap next to her, but instead she passionately presses it to her chest, saying that she will take care of it. At that moment his heart trembled. The walk ends with a long kiss.
The very next day in the garden they declare their love to each other. They agree on a date in the evening at the same place. The main thing is to be as careful as possible. Rus''s mother keeps a close eye on her daughter.
Date night
In Bunin's story "Rusya" (a summary in the article) it is described that a girl came to the river bank with a blanket thrown over her arm. They got into the boat and went to the opposite shore.
Intimacy took place between them that night. The narrator threw the girl onto the stern, and she, with a clouded head, frantically hugged him.
Sad ending
This amazing romance ended within a week. The narrator was kicked out of the house in disgrace. It turned out that Rus' crazy mother had been watching them all this time. Once again she found them when the young people were sitting in the living room after dinner, touching their heads. They looked at pictures in old issues of Neva magazine and talked about love.
The crazy mother of Rus' took an old pistol from her son. The boy loaded it only with gunpowder to shoot sparrows. The woman shot the narrator and then hit him in the forehead with the pistol. After this, she screamed loudly that if her daughter ran away with him, she promised to hang herself or throw herself from the roof that same day.
She forced Russia to choose between herself and her beloved. The girl, with tears in her eyes, was forced to choose her mother.
About 20 years have passed since then. And so the narrator found himself in these places again. The next day after breakfast they go out for coffee. The wife notices that her husband adds too much cognac to the drink and admits that he still cannot forget his country girl and is sad. In response, the spouse only sadly confirms these assumptions.
Story Analysis
In Ivan Bunin's story "Rusya", a summary and analysis are given in this article, the author contrasts two worlds. The first is everyday and ordinary, in which the narrator now lives. The second is romantic and bright, built on the memories of his youth.
In the text of the story itself, you can observe how everything changes when love comes to the main character. The lake-swamp and the crumbling house no longer seem so to him; all his attention is turned to his beloved.
This shining example Bunin's lyrical prose, in which the author's striving for ideal is felt. The story has an open ending, the reader understands that something happened in the hero’s soul. But what exactly, he has to determine for himself.
Ivan Alekseevich Bunin's story "Overnight" is the latest in the "Dark Alleys" series: it was written in March 1849.
The purpose of writing the story is, to some extent, the completion of the “Dark Alleys” cycle, because, if you look more closely, it is a mirror image of the story “Dark Alleys”, which opens this cycle. The work describes a small but significant episode from the life of the main character. Also, the purpose of the story is to show that a man, who in his passion sometimes resembles an animal, was killed by an animal. I think it's very similar to the proverb.
The main character of the story is not named to us; Bunin simply calls him “Moroccan.”
By depriving the hero of his name, he further points out the similarity of the Moroccan to an animal, which helps to reveal the main idea of the work. From the description of the hero, we can notice a similarity with Nikolai Alekseevich from the first story of the cycle: for example, “a face eaten away by smallpox” and “coarse black hair curled at the corners of the upper lip.” This is hardly a coincidence. Moroccan scary man, we can notice this from the description of his eyes: “bluish whites that stand out not in his dry and pockmarked dark face,” but they are the mirror of the soul. With the help of the Moroccan’s speech, the main idea of the text is revealed: repetition is often used in his words so that we understand the hero’s state: feverish, frenzied.
For example: "Sit next to me for a minute, sit, sit, listen... just listen..."
As in almost all stories by I.A. Bunin, the landscape plays very important role. For example, the city at first looks extinct to a Moroccan. In fact, in the middle of a dark, abandoned place, there is only a small island of light - a square with an inn. In my opinion, it is obvious that the Moroccan with a lame horse, hungry and tired, had no choice but to stop at this inn for the night. This introduces a certain element of chance, as in the story “Dark Alleys”. Also, in the description of the landscape, an antithesis is used: the valley goes between passes that are completely different from each other. On one side, a mountain stream roars, fireflies shine like gems... And on the other - an ancient rocky road and a dark, almost uninhabited town. It reminds me of two worlds. And the Moroccan goes from the first to the second, from the world of the living to the world of the dead.
Reading this story, we understand that everything is over, nothing can be changed - the Moroccan is dead. Bunin does not tell us anything that happens next - the hero's life ends simultaneously with the story.
The story makes us think about the problem of people's behavior in fits of passion. This feeling cannot even be brought closer to love, it is animal, wild. And this, in my opinion, is what Ivan Alekseevich Bunin wanted to show us.
Updated: 2017-11-20
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Overnight
This happened in a remote mountainous area in the south
It was a June night, there was a full moon, there was a small moon
at its zenith, but its light is slightly pinkish, as happens on hot days
nights after brief daytime showers, so common at the time
blooming lilies, still illuminated the passes of the low mountains so brightly,
covered with low-growing southern forest that the eye could clearly distinguish them before
the very horizons.
A narrow valley ran between these passes to the north. And in the shadows
from their heights on one side, in the dead silence of this
desert night, the mountain stream rustled monotonously and mysteriously
floated and floated, gradually fading and steadily flaring up now with amethyst, now
topaz, flying fireflies, luccioli. Opposite
the hills retreated from the valley, and along the lowlands below them
there was an ancient rocky road. Seemed just as ancient
on it, on this lowland, and that stone town where in
this already quite late hour rode in at a pace on a bay stallion,
falling on the front right leg, tall Moroccan in
a wide burnouse made of white wool and a Moroccan fez.
The town seemed extinct, abandoned. Yes, he was like that.
The Moroccan first drove along a shady street, between stone
the skeletons of houses, gaping with black voids where windows had been, with
wild gardens behind them. But then I went out into the bright square,
on which there was a long pond with a canopy, a church with a blue
statue of the Madonna above the portal, several houses still inhabited, and
ahead, already at the exit, is an inn. There, on the lower floor,
the small windows were lit, and the Moroccan, already dozing,
woke up and pulled the reins, which made the limping horse
pound more vigorously on the bumpy stones of the square.
At this knock, a little girl came out onto the threshold of the inn,
a skinny old woman who could have been mistaken for a beggar jumped out
a round-faced girl of about fifteen, with bangs on her forehead,
espadrilles on bare feet, in a light dress of faded color
wisteria, a huge black dog lying at the threshold stood up with
smooth coat and short, erect ears. Moroccan
dismounted near the threshold, and the dog immediately leaned forward,
flashing his eyes and baring his white scary eyes as if with disgust
teeth. The Moroccan waved his whip, but the girl warned him:
Negra! - she shouted loudly in fright, - what’s wrong with you?
And the dog, lowering its head, slowly walked away and lay down with its muzzle
to the wall of the house.
The Moroccan said a greeting in bad Spanish and
began to ask if there was a blacksmith in the city - tomorrow I need
examine the horse's hoof - where you can put it for the night and
will there be food for her, and some dinner for him? Girl
looked with lively curiosity at his great height and small,
a very dark face, eaten away by smallpox, glanced warily at
a black dog lying quietly, but as if offended, an old woman,
hard of hearing, she hurriedly answered in a loud voice: there is a blacksmith,
the worker sleeps in the barnyard next to the house, but she is now his
wakes him up and releases food for the horse, as for food, then
let the guest not demand: you can fry scrambled eggs with lard, but from
All that's left for dinner is some cold beans and some stew
vegetables... And half an hour later, having controlled the horse with the help
worker, a perpetually drunk old man, the Moroccan was already sitting behind
table in the kitchen, greedily ate and greedily drank yellowish white wine.
The inn house was old. Its bottom floor
shared by a long hallway, at the end of which there was a steep staircase to
top floor, in two halves: to the left spacious, low
a room with bunks for the simplicity of the people, to the right is the same
a spacious, low kitchen and at the same time a dining room, all
the ceiling and walls are thickly smoked, with small and
very deep windows due to very thick walls, with a fireplace
in the far corner, with rough bare tables and benches next to them,
slippery from time to time, with a stone uneven floor. It was burning in her
a kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling on a blackened iron
chains, there was a smell of firebox and burnt lard, - the old woman lit a fire on the hearth
fire, heated up the sour stew and fried eggs for the guest,
while he ate cold beans, doused with vinegar and green olive
oil He did not undress, did not take off his burnous, he sat wide
legs spread apart, shod in thick leather shoes, over which
wide trousers made of the same white were grabbed narrowly at the ankle
wool And the girl, helping the old woman and serving him, every now and then
she was frightened by his quick, sudden glances at her, by his
bluish whites standing out on a dry and pockmarked dark face with
narrow lips. He was already scary to her. Very tall
in height, he was wide from the burnous, and the smaller he seemed
head in a fez. There were hard curls at the corners of his upper lip.
black hair. The same ones curled here and there on the chin.
The head was slightly thrown back, which made the
large Adam's apple in olive skin. On thin, almost black fingers
The silver rings were white. He ate, drank and was silent all the time.
When the old woman, having warmed up the stew and fried the scrambled eggs, tiredly
sat down on a bench near the extinguished fireplace and loudly asked him,
from where and where he was going, he gutturally threw back only one thing
Far.
Having eaten the stew and scrambled eggs, he shook his now empty wine glass.
jug - there was a lot of red pepper in the stew - the old woman
nodded her head to the girl, and when she grabbed the jug, she flashed
out of the kitchen, through her open door, into the dark entryway, where slowly
fireflies floated and flashed fabulously, he took them out from his bosom
a pack of cigarettes, lit a cigarette and tossed it out just as briefly:
Granddaughter?
“Niece, orphan,” the old woman began to shout and
launched into a story about how she loved her late brother so much,
the girl's father, that she stayed with the girls for his sake, that it was for him
belonged to this inn that his wife had already died
twelve years ago, and he himself was eight and bequeathed everything to
lifelong possession of her, the old woman, that things had become very bad in
in this completely deserted town...
The Moroccan, puffing on a cigarette, listened absentmindedly, thinking
something of its own. The girl ran in with a full jug, he looked at
her, he took a drag on his cigarette butt so tightly that he burned the tips of the sharp
black fingers, hastily lit a new cigarette and separately
said, turning to the old woman, whose deafness he had already noticed:
I will be very pleased if your niece herself
pour me some wine.
“It’s none of her business,” snapped the old woman, easily crossing
from talkativeness to sharp brevity, and began to shout angrily:
It's late, finish your wine and go to bed, she'll be there soon
make your bed in the upper room.
The girl's eyes flashed animatedly and, without waiting,
orders, jumped out again, quickly stomped up the stairs
Where do you both sleep? - asked the Moroccan and slightly
moved the fez from his sweaty forehead.
Upstairs too?
The old woman shouted that it was too hot there in the summer, what when
there are no guests - and now they are almost never there! -- they are sleeping
in the other lower half of the house - right here, opposite - she pointed
she threw her hand into the hallway and again launched into complaints about bad deeds and
that everything has become very expensive and that therefore, inevitably
you have to charge it expensively and from passers-by...
“I’ll leave early tomorrow,” said the Moroccan, clearly no longer
listening to her. - And in the morning you will only give me coffee. So you
you can now count how much is due from me, and I will immediately
I'll pay you. - Let's just see where my small ones are
money,” he added and took out a small bag from under his burnous
red soft leather, untied, stretched the strap, which
tightened its hole, poured a pile of gold coins onto the table and
pretended to count them carefully, and the old woman even
stood up from the bench near the fireplace, looking at the rounded coins
It was dark and very hot at the top. The girl opened the door to
stuffy, hot darkness, in which the cracks shone sharply
shutters closed behind two as small as the ones below,
windows, deftly swerved past in the dark round table in the middle
room, opened the window and, pushing, threw open the shutters onto the shining
moonlit night, to a huge bright sky with rare stars. It became
It was easier to breathe, the flow in the valley began to be heard. The girl leaned out of
windows to look at the moon, not visible from the room, standing
still very high, then she looked down: she was standing below and,
the dog raised its muzzle and looked at her, like a stray puppy
ran from somewhere five years ago to an inn,
who grew up before her eyes and became attached to her with that devotion
which only dogs are capable of.
Negra,” the girl said in a whisper, “why don’t you
The dog squealed weakly, shook his muzzle upward and rushed towards
the open door in the hallway.
Back, back! - the girl ordered in a hasty whisper.
Get into place!
The dog stopped and again raised its muzzle, flashing
red light in the eyes.
What do you want? - the girl spoke tenderly, always
talking to her like a person. -- Why are you not sleeping,
stupid? Is it the moon that worries you so much?
As if wanting to answer something, the dog stretched again
face up, she squealed quietly again. The girl shrugged.
The dog was also the closest thing to her, even the only one.
close being in the world, whose feelings and thoughts seemed
she almost always understands. But what did the dog want to express?
now, what was troubling her today, she didn’t understand and that’s why only
sternly shook her finger and again ordered the feignedly angry
In place. Negra! Sleep!
The dog lay down, the girl stood at the window a little longer,
thought about her... It is possible that she was worried about this terrible
Moroccan. She almost always met the courtyard guests
calmly, did not pay attention even to those who looked
They seemed like robbers and convicts. But it still happened that
For some reason she rushed at some like mad, with thunderous
roar, and then only she alone could humble her. However, I could
there could be another reason for her anxiety, her irritation - this hot,
without the slightest movement of air and so dazzling,
full moon night. It was clearly audible in the extraordinary silence
this night, how the stream rustled in the valley, how it walked, stamped its hooves
a goat living in a barnyard, when suddenly someone - or
an old inn mule, or a Moroccan stallion, - with
kicked him with a thud, and he bleated so loudly and disgustingly that,
it seemed that this devilish bleating was heard throughout the world. AND
the girl cheerfully bounced away from the window, opened another one, opened
and there are shutters. The darkness of the room became even brighter. In addition to the table, in
stood at the wall to the right of the entrance, with their headboards facing it, three
wide beds covered only with rough sheets. Girl
pulled back the sheet on the first bed from the entrance, straightened it
headboard, suddenly fabulously illuminated with transparent, delicate
bluish light: it was a firefly landing on her bangs. She
ran her hand along it, and the firefly, flickering and going out, swam along
room. The girl sang lightly and ran out.
In the kitchen, a Moroccan stood at his full height with his back to her and
He said something quietly, but persistently and irritably to the old woman.
The old woman shook her head negatively. Moroccan jerked up
shoulders and with such an angry expression on his face he turned to the newcomer
to the girl that she recoiled.
Is the bed ready? - he shouted gutturally.
“Everything is ready,” the girl answered hastily.
But I don't know where to go. Walk me out.
“I’ll accompany you myself,” the old woman said angrily. - Go
The girl listened to how slowly she stomped up the steep
stairs, as the Moroccan clattered his boots behind her, and went out
out. The dog, lying at the threshold, immediately jumped up, flew up and,
trembling all with joy and tenderness, she licked her face.
“Get out, get out,” the girl whispered tenderly
pushed her away and sat on the threshold. The dog also sat on its hind legs
paws, and the girl hugged her neck, kissed her forehead and began
sway with her, listening to heavy footsteps and guttural
Moroccan talk in the upper room. He's somehow calmer now
spoke to the old woman, but it was impossible to make out what. Finally he
said loudly:
Well, okay, okay! Just let her bring me water
for drinking at night.
And the footsteps of someone carefully descending the stairs were heard
The girl entered the hallway to meet her and said firmly:
I heard what he said. No, I won't go to him. I
I'm afraid of him.
Nonsense, nonsense! - the old woman shouted. -- You,
So you think that I’ll go with my legs again, and even in
in the dark and on such slippery stairs? And there's nothing to be afraid of
his. He is only very stupid and hot-tempered, but he is kind. He's everything
told me that he felt sorry for you, that you were a poor girl, that
no one will marry you without a dowry. Yes indeed, what
do you have a dowry? We're completely broke. Who do we have now?
stops except for poor men!
Why was he so angry when I came in? - asked
The old woman was embarrassed.
What! - she muttered. - I told him to
he did not interfere in other people's affairs... So he was offended...
And she shouted angrily:
Go quickly, get some water and take it to him. He promised
give you something for this. Go, I say!
When the girl ran into the open door with a full jug
upper room, the Moroccan was lying on the bed completely
undressed: in the bright moonlit twilight he was piercingly blackened
bird's eyes, a small short-cropped head was black,
his long shirt was white, and his large bare feet stuck out. On the table
in the middle of the room glittered a large revolver with a drum and a long
barrel, on the bed next to his bed there was a white mound
his outer clothes were piled up... It was all very creepy.
The girl quickly put a jug on the table and rushed headlong
back, but the Moroccan jumped up and caught her hand.
Wait, wait,” he said quickly, pulling her towards
bed, sat down, without letting go of her hand, and whispered: “Sit next to
me for a minute, sit down, sit down, listen... just listen...
Stunned, the girl sat down obediently. And he hurriedly began
swear that I fell in love with her without memory, that for one kiss of hers
will give her ten gold coins... twenty coins... that he has them
a whole bag...
And, pulling out a bag of red leather from under the head of the head,
with shaking hands he stretched it out, poured the gold onto the bed,
You see how many of them I have... Do you see?
She shook her head desperately and jumped out of bed. But he
again instantly caught her and, covering her mouth with his dry, tenacious
hand, threw it on the bed. She tore it off with furious force.
hand and shrilly shouted:
He again squeezed her mouth and nose, and with his other hand
catch her bare legs, with which she kicks, painfully
hit him in the stomach, but at that very moment he heard a whirlwind roar
a dog rushing up the stairs. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed
revolver on the table, but didn’t even have time to catch the trigger, instantly
knocked down to the floor. Protecting your face from the dog's mouth,
stretched out on him, dousing him with fiery dog breath,
he rushed, raised his chin - and the dog was one dead
she tore out his throat with her grip.
A skilled master of words beautifully expressed his thoughts, competently built his own beliefs and excellently conveyed to the listener all the splendor of Russian nature, enchanting with its extraordinary colors and landscapes. Bunin touched on many topics in his creative masterpieces - love for the motherland, peasant life, the absurdity of revolutionary upheavals in Russia, the tragic ending human existence and passionate relationships of loving hearts.
Each work by Ivan Alekseevich awakens certain feelings; the reader is inspired by the author’s frankness and experiences spiritually along with the main characters, as if getting used to the role of fictional people. All fans of the work of the great Russian writer find something dear and soulful in Bunin’s works.
Ivan Bunin was an excellent writer and an extraordinary poet. Picturesque descriptions natural phenomena, painful experiences for home country, inspired slogans and longing for the woman you love... All these topics tell each new generation about important, vital things that cannot be ignored and are difficult to forget. You need to read the works of a talented Russian writer with special care; only in this way can you understand all the sincerity and truthfulness of human life.
Works of Ivan Alekseevich Bunin
The unique writer left behind many literary works: melodious poems, intriguing stories, impressive novel and numerous prose works. The author was often involved in translation activities, so in the list of his works you can also find famous novels foreign writers, the plot of which Russian readers were able to familiarize themselves with thanks to the professionally performed work of Ivan Alekseevich. Bunin's works are interesting and educational for everyone. His stories are read with pleasure by schoolchildren while studying the work of the great Russian author according to the program. Among his fans are many middle-aged and mature people. These people who lived long life, are inspired by the humanity and frankness of Ivan Alekseevich. The author was often interested in philosophy, loved to think about life and death, as if he was trying to look beyond the boundaries of existence. He expressed his thoughts in his works.
The writer was concerned about many problems of humanity. He rooted for his country with all his heart and saw the disastrous consequences for his homeland provoked by the revolutionary process. He was always oppressed by the injustice towards poor peasants living in meager villages and often in need of the bare necessities.
Bunin's stories
Bunin openly described all his experiences in stories. IN creative works he touched on many topics that are quite close to every citizen of our country. The most intriguing stories of the famous Russian writer, with a fascinating storyline, were published in the unique collection “Dark Alleys”.“Dark Alleys” was written far from his homeland, on French soil, during the period of Ivan Alekseevich’s emigration. The first book was published in 1943. It consists of three parts, almost all the stories from this magnificent collection are devoted to the theme of love.
1 part:
✔"Caucasus"
✔"Ballad"
✔"Styopa"
✔“Muse”
✔“Late hour”
Part 2:
✔"Rusya"
✔"Beauty"
✔“Fool”
✔"Antigone"
✔"Smaragd"
✔"Guest"
✔"Wolves"
✔“Business cards”
✔"Zoyka and Valeria"
✔"Tanya"
✔“In Paris”
✔"Galya Ganskaya"
✔"Henry"
✔"Natalie"
Part 3:
✔“In a familiar street”
✔"River Inn"
✔“Kuma”
✔“The Beginning”
✔"Oaks"
✔“Young Lady Clara”
✔"Madrid"
✔“Second coffee pot”
✔“Iron wool”
✔"Cold Autumn"
✔"Steamboat "Saratov""
✔"Raven"
✔"Camargue"
✔“One hundred rupees”
✔"Revenge">
✔"Swing"
✔« Clean Monday»
✔“Chapel”
✔“In the spring, in Judea”
✔"Overnight"
In addition to the stories from the collection “Dark Alleys,” Ivan Alekseevich wrote others famous works, impressive with an original storyline, vivid storytelling and sharpness of thought.
Story “Dark Alleys”, summary
Ivan Alekseevich Bunin wrote his favorite story in 1938. The plot is based on the theme of love, and most importantly literary direction made in the style of neorealism. For the first time, the work was published in the publication " New land"(New York) in 1943. The main character of the story “Dark Alleys” is a sixty-year-old man, Nikolai Alekseevich. He was a military man, had a wife and son, and in the past, he had a beloved woman named Nadezhda, but due to certain circumstances, their relationship did not work out.
The former lover, a 48-year-old woman, was the owner of an inn. Nadezhda sincerely loved Nikolai Alekseevich, and even the fact of betrayal on his part (after all, it was he who initiated the breakup) did not affect her feelings. All her life she remained devoted to her loved one, so she never got married.
The work also features the character Klim, who serves as Nikolai Alekseevich’s coachman.
Main story line the story is built on a chance meeting of two ex-lovers of people. Their sudden conversation, after thirty years of separation, awakens frankness. The hero admits to Nadezhda that all these years he has been deeply unhappy and regrets what he did in his youth. Only now did he admit to her, and to himself, that at that moment he had lost the most precious thing that could have been in his life. Comparing all the events of the past and present, Nikolai Alekseevich thinks about how his fate could have developed if he had not abandoned the woman he loved and built a married life with her.
In this story, the author reflects on the most serious problem of humanity - love, open and passionate, jealous and tragic, joyful and painful... Is time subject to real feelings? Can years erase real feelings from the memory and heart of a person in love? Or do the passing years leave only a trace of pleasant memories that often warm a person’s soul in unhappy times? The reader can get an answer to all these questions if he reads the romantic and somewhat tragic work of I.A. Bunin - “Dark Alleys”.
The story “Clean Monday”, summary
In 1944, Bunin wrote another interesting story, which was also included in the collection “Dark Alleys” - “Clean Monday”. This work also belongs to neorealism and has a love plot. The antithesis is clearly visible here, artistic technique, aimed at a detailed contrast of the images of the main characters, their everyday life, spirituality and other important aspects. The main character of the story is a daringly handsome and young man from the Penza province. He's in love with beautiful girl. The work is based on heartfelt story this man.
His beloved, a beautiful dark-skinned girl with dark hair and black eyes, lives on rented apartment in Moscow. In the final part of the story, she goes to the monastery. It is about this damn beautiful and charming heroine that the young man tells his love story.
Their romantic relationship developed into big city. The young man gave his beloved gifts and flowers, they spent a lot of time together, went to concerts, restaurants and the theater.
The young people were a wonderful couple; they looked spectacular with each other. He is a handsome and cheerful guy, outwardly similar to an Italian macho. She is a silent, but quite intelligent beauty, whose appearance was comparable to the features of Persian and Indian girls.
The young man was inspired by her beauty and grace, but he was always oppressed by her indifference towards him. It seemed that only love and respect for her lived in her heart. to my own father, and the dear chosen one was like an addition to Everyday life the main character.
One day, a young man proposed to his beloved, but received a refusal in response. Despite this, he waited and believed that her indifference would sooner or later disappear, and instead of this ridiculous feeling, true love would awaken in the heart of the chosen one.
Their relationship continued, and soon, during a visit to the Novodevichy Convent, what happened in Forgiveness Sunday, the girl reveals her secret to her lover. She is sincerely passionate about the life of the monastery, often visits religious institutions and even dreams of leaving everyday life into this world. The guy is confused, he did not expect such confessions from his bride.
At the end of the story, the young man describes her sudden departure to the city of Tver. She told the young man about her decision early in the morning; it was their last meeting outside the monastery. The guy longed for his beloved for a long time, led a dissolute lifestyle, and often visited taverns. This separation seemed to erase his entire life. She went to the monastery, and it is no longer possible to return her to her arms.
Years later, on Clean Monday, he will visit the Archangel Cathedral, where, among the marching nuns of the religious procession, he will notice charming dark eyes your beloved...
This story amazes the reader with the depth of the themes explored, forcing each of us to think about the meaning of human and spiritual life. main character made her choice, giving pure and bright love in exchange for religious beliefs. The intriguing storyline will appeal to every reader who respects sincere feelings of love and free choice person.
