Mister from san francisco epic genre. There was something Mongolian in his yellowish face with cropped hair.

Learn the poem by heart. Bunin finds the extraordinary in the most ordinary. The grave of I.A.Bunin in Paris. Control of absorption. Aroma - Chamber - Heat - Sweet - Snuggle -. Boron-. Iceberg. Anna Nikolaevna son of Kolenka Tsakni. Vera Nikolaevna Muromtseva. Heat. Today in class we got acquainted with I.A. Bunin’s poem “Childhood”.

“Bunin’s theme of love” - Great happiness. Analysis of the works of I. Bunin. Happiness. Sunstroke. Theme of love. Children. The mystery of the "Cup of Life". Captain's daughter. The theme of love in the works of I. Bunin. The theme of love in the stories of I.A. Bunin. Love in the works of Bunin. Love. Glossary.

“Biography of Ivan Alekseevich Bunin” - House of Bunins. Travel to Germany. The gymnasium where Bunin did not finish his studies. Last days. English language. Time of hard work. From birth, Vanya was different from other children. Bunin became the first Russian Nobel Prize laureate. Bunin and Pashchenko. Emigrant period. South of Russia. Petersburg.

“Lyrics of Bunin” - “Easy Breathing”. The motives of the poem “Portrait” anticipated creative quests. The meaning of the name. The idea of the work. Psychological portrait of Olya Meshcherskaya. Development of the idea. Main motives, images, symbols. Station scene. Lyrics by I.A. Bunin as an anticipation of his quest in prose. Artistic model of the story.

“Bunin Museum in Orel” - Yeletsk Museum of the writer I.A. Bunin Yelets Literary and Memorial Museum of the writer I.A. Bunin opened on June 4, 1988 and is located in the house where Bunin the high school student once lived. In 1995, a monumental monument to Bunin was opened in Orel (sculptor V.M. Klykov). In 1957, a hall dedicated to the life and work of Bunin was opened at the Oryol Writers Museum.

“Biography of Bunin” - Not accepting the power of the Bolsheviks, Bunin was forced to leave Russia in 1920. Bunin did not understand the revolution of 1905. Alexey Nikolaevich Bunin is Bunin’s father. In 1933, Bunin was awarded the Nobel Prize. The official statement said: “By the decision of the Swedish Academy of November 9, 1933, in 1881. Bunin entered the gymnasium in Yelets.

There are a total of 40 presentations in the topic

In the evenings, the floors of Atlantis gaped in the darkness as if with countless fiery eyes, and a great many servants worked in the cooks', sculleries' and wine cellars. The ocean that walked outside the walls was terrible, but they did not think about it, firmly believing in the power over it of the commander, a red-haired man of monstrous size and bulkiness, always as if sleepy, resembling in his uniform, with wide golden stripes, a huge idol and very rarely appearing to people from his mysterious chambers; on the forecastle the siren constantly howled with hellish gloom and shrieked with frantic anger, but few of the diners heard the siren - it was drowned out by the sounds of a beautiful string orchestra, exquisitely and tirelessly playing in the marble two-story hall, covered with velvet carpets, festively flooded with lights, crowded with low-cut ladies and men in tailcoats and tuxedos, slender footmen and respectful head waiters, among whom one, the one who took orders only for wine, even walked around with a chain around his neck, like some lord mayor. The tuxedo and starched underwear made the gentleman from San Francisco look very young. Dry, short, awkwardly cut, but tightly sewn, cleaned to a gloss and moderately animated, he sat in the golden-pearl radiance of this palace behind a bottle of amber Johannisberg, behind glasses and goblets of the finest glass, behind a curly bouquet of hyacinths. There was something Mongolian in his yellowish face with a trimmed silver mustache, his large teeth glittered with gold fillings, and his strong bald head was old ivory. His wife was dressed richly, but according to her years, a large, broad and calm woman; complex, but light and transparent, with innocent frankness - a daughter, tall, thin, with magnificent hair, beautifully styled, with aromatic breath from violet cakes and with the most delicate pink pimples near her lips and between her shoulder blades, slightly powdered... Lunch lasted more than an hour , and after dinner, dancing opened in the ballroom, during which the men, including, of course, the gentleman from San Francisco, raised their feet, decided on the basis of the latest stock market news the fate of nations, smoked Havana cigars until they were crimson red, and got drunk liqueurs in a bar served by blacks in red jackets with whites that looked like peeling hard-boiled eggs.
The ocean roared behind the wall like black mountains, the blizzard whistled strongly in the heavy rigging, the whole steamer trembled, overcoming both it and these mountains, as if with a plow, breaking apart their unsteady masses, now and then boiling and fluttering high with foamy tails, in the siren suffocated by the fog moaned in mortal melancholy, the watchmen on their watchtower were freezing from the cold and went crazy from the unbearable strain of attention, the gloomy and sultry depths of the underworld, its last, ninth circle was like the underwater womb of the steamer - the one where the gigantic furnaces cackled dully, devouring with their hot the mouths of piles of coal, with a roar thrown into them by people drenched in acrid, dirty sweat and naked to the waist, crimson from the flames; and here, in the bar, they carelessly threw their feet on the arms of the chairs, sipped cognac and liqueurs, swam in waves of spicy smoke, in the dance hall everything shone and shed light, warmth and joy, couples either spun in waltzes, or bent in
tango - and the music insistently, in a kind of sweet, shameless sadness, begged everyone for one thing, everything for the same... Among this brilliant crowd there was a certain great rich man, shaven, long, looking like a prelate, in an old-fashioned tailcoat, there was a famous Spanish writer, there was an all-world beauty, there was an elegant couple in love, whom everyone watched with curiosity and who did not hide their happiness: he danced only with her, and everything turned out so subtly, charmingly for them that only one commander knew that this couple was hired Lloyd plays love for good money and has been sailing on one ship or another for a long time.

Walk cheerfully along the decks, breathing in the cold freshness of the ocean, or play sheffle board and other games to whet your appetite again, and at eleven - refresh yourself with sandwiches with broth; having refreshed themselves, they read the newspaper with pleasure and calmly waited for the second breakfast, even more nutritious and varied than the first; the next two hours were devoted to rest; all the decks were then filled with longchairs, on which travelers lay, covered with blankets, looking at the cloudy sky and at the foamy mounds flashing overboard, or sweetly dozing off; at five o'clock, refreshed and cheerful, they were given strong fragrant tea with cookies; at seven they announced with trumpet signals what was the main goal of this entire existence, its crown... And then the gentleman from San Francisco, rubbing his hands with a surge of vitality, hurried to his rich luxury cabin to get dressed.

The ocean roared behind the wall like black mountains, the blizzard whistled strongly in the heavy rigging, the whole steamer trembled, overcoming both it and these mountains - as if with a plow, breaking apart their unsteady, now and then boiling masses with foamy tails fluttering high - in the fog-smothered siren moaned in mortal anguish; the watchmen on duty were freezing from the cold and going crazy from the unbearable strain

What works of Russian classics contain the theme of “spiritual death” and what makes them similar to the story “The Gentleman from San Francisco”?

I.A.Bunin "Mr. from San Francisco"
In the evenings, the floors of Atlantis gaped in the darkness with countless fiery eyes, and a great many servants worked in the cooks', sculleries' and wine cellars. The ocean that walked outside the walls was terrible, but they did not think about it, firmly believing in the power over it of the commander, a red-haired man of monstrous size and bulk, always as if sleepy, looking like a huge idol in his uniform with wide golden stripes and very rarely appearing at people from their mysterious chambers; on the forecastle, a siren constantly howled with hellish gloom and squealed with furious anger, but few of the diners heard the siren - it was drowned out by the sounds of a beautiful string orchestra, exquisitely and tirelessly playing in a two-story hall, festively flooded with lights, crowded with low-cut ladies and men in tailcoats and tuxedos , slender footmen and respectful head waiters, among whom one, the one who took orders only for wine, even walked around with a chain around his neck, like a lord mayor. The tuxedo and starched underwear made the gentleman from San Francisco look very young. Dry, short, awkwardly cut, but tightly sewn, he sat in the golden-pearl radiance of this palace behind a bottle of wine, behind glasses and goblets of the finest glass, behind a curly bouquet of hyacinths. There was something Mongolian in his yellowish face with a trimmed silver mustache, his large teeth glittered with gold fillings, and his strong bald head was old ivory. His wife was dressed richly, but according to her years, a large, broad and calm woman; complex, but light and transparent, with innocent frankness - a daughter, tall, thin, with magnificent hair, beautifully styled, with aromatic breath from violet cakes and with the most delicate pink pimples near her lips and between her shoulder blades, slightly powdered... Lunch lasted more than an hour , and after dinner there were dances in the ballroom, during which the men, including, of course, the gentleman from San Francisco, with their feet in the air, their faces crimson red, smoked Havana cigars and got drunk on liqueurs in a bar where blacks served in red camisoles, with whites that looked like flaky hard-boiled eggs. The ocean roared behind the wall like black mountains, the blizzard whistled strongly in the heavy rigging, the whole steamer trembled, overcoming both it and these mountains, as if with a plow, breaking apart their unsteady masses, now and then boiling and fluttering high with foamy tails, in the siren suffocated by the fog moaned in mortal melancholy, the watchmen on their watchtower were freezing from the cold and went crazy from the unbearable strain of attention, the gloomy and sultry depths of the underworld, its last, ninth circle was like the underwater womb of the steamer - the one where the gigantic furnaces cackled dully, devouring with their hot the mouths of piles of coal, with a roar thrown into them by people drenched in acrid, dirty sweat and naked to the waist, crimson from the flames; and here, in the bar, they carelessly threw their feet up on the arms of the chairs, sipped cognac and liqueurs, swam in waves of spicy smoke, in the dance hall everything shone and shed light, warmth and joy, couples either waltzed or twisted in tango - and music persistently, in sweet, shameless sadness, she kept praying for the same thing, always for the same thing. .. Among this brilliant crowd there was a certain great rich man, shaven, long, in an old-fashioned tailcoat, there was a famous Spanish writer, there was an all-world beauty, there was an elegant couple in love, whom everyone watched with curiosity and who did not hide their happiness: he danced only with her, and everything turned out so subtly and charmingly for them that only one commander knew that this couple had been hired by Lloyd to play at love for good money and had been sailing on one ship or another for a long time.

Show full text

Story, 1915
Gentleman from San Francisco - at the very beginning of the story, the hero’s lack of a name is motivated by the fact that “no one remembered” him. The gentleman “went to the Old World for two whole years, with his wife and daughter, solely for the sake of entertainment. He was firmly convinced that he had every right to rest, pleasure, and an excellent trip in all respects. For such confidence, he had the following reason: that, firstly, he was rich, and secondly, he had just started life, despite his fifty-eight years.” Bunin sets out in detail the route of the upcoming trip: Southern Italy - Nice - Monte Carlo - Florence - Rome - Venice - Paris - Seville - Athens - Palestine - Egypt, “even Japan, of course, is already on the way back.” “Everything went fine at first,” but in this dispassionate statement of what is happening, “hammers” can be heard
fate." The gentleman is one of the many passengers of the large ship "Atlantis", which looks like "a huge hotel with all the amenities - with a night bar, with oriental baths, with its own newspaper1". The ocean, which has long become in world literature a symbol of life in its variability, menacing and unpredictability, “he was terrible, but they didn’t think about him”; “on the forecastle the siren constantly howled with hellish gloom and screeched with frantic anger, but few of the diners heard the siren - it was drowned out by the sounds of the beautiful string orchestra “Siren”.” -a symbol of world chaos, “music” - of calm harmony. The constant juxtaposition of these leitmotifs determines the dissonant stylistic intonation of the story: “Dry, short, poorly cut, but.
tightly sewn. There was something Mongolian in his yellowish face with a trimmed silver mustache, his large teeth glittered with gold fillings, his strong bald head was old ivory." Another important, as it turns out later, deceptive detail: "The tuxedo and starched linen made him look very young." The ship arrived in Naples, the Master and his family decide to get off the ship and go to Capri, where, “everyone assured”, it was warm. Bunin does not indicate whether the tragic outcome of the Master was predetermined if he had remained on the Atlantis. Already during the voyage on a small boat to the island of Capri, the Master felt “as he should have - quite an old man” and thought with irritation about the purpose of his journey - about Italy. The day of his arrival in Capri became “significant” in the fate of the Master. looks forward to an elegant evening in the company of a famous beauty, but when he gets dressed, he involuntarily mutters: “Oh, this is terrible!”, “without trying to understand, without thinking what exactly is terrible.” He overcomes himself, waits in the reading room for his wife, reads the newspapers - “how.” suddenly the lines flashed before him with a glassy shine, his neck tensed, his eyes bulged, his pince-nez flew off his nose... He rushed forward, wanted to take a breath of air - and wheezed wildly; his lower jaw fell off, illuminating his entire mouth with gold fillings, his head fell onto his shoulder and began to roll, the chest of his shirt stuck out like a box - and his whole body, writhing, lifting up the carpet with his heels, crawled to the floor, desperately struggling with someone. "The agony of the Master is depicted physiologically and dispassionately. However, death does not fit into the lifestyle of a rich hotel. “If there had not been a German in the reading room, the hotel would have quickly and deftly managed to hush up this terrible incident, they would have rushed off by the legs and by the head of the gentleman from San Francisco, to nowhere - and not a single thing.” the soul of the guests would not have known what he had done." The gentleman "persistently fights death," but calms down "in the smallest, worst, coldest and dampest room, at the end of the lower corridor." After a quarter of an hour in the hotel, everything comes to order, but a reminder of death, “the evening was irreparably ruined.”
On Christmas Day, the body of “a dead old man, having experienced much humiliation, much human inattention” in a “long soda box of English water” is sent along the same route, first on a small steamer, then on “the same famous ship” goes home. But the body is now hidden from the living in the womb of the ship - in the hold. A vision of the Devil appears, observing “a ship, multi-tiered, multi-pipe, created by the pride of the New Man with an old heart.”
At the end of the story, Bunin re-describes the brilliant and easy life of the ship's passengers; including the dance of a pair of hired lovers: and no one knew their secret and fatigue from pretense, no one knew about the Master’s body “at the bottom of the dark hold, in the vicinity of the gloomy and sultry bowels of the ship, heavily overcome by the darkness, the ocean, the blizzard... ". This ending can be interpreted as a victory over death and at the same time as submission to the eternal circle of existence: life - death.
The story was originally called "Death on Capri". Bunin connected the idea of the story with Thomas Mann’s story “Death in Venice,” but even more with memories of the sudden death of an American who arrived in Capri. However, as the writer admitted, he invented “San Francisco and everything else” while living on his cousin’s estate in the Yeletsky district of the Oryol province.