At the Tolubeevsky depot, Alexander was considered the best locomotive driver
Vasilievich Maltsev.
He was about thirty years old, but he already had the qualifications of a first driver
class and drove fast trains for a long time. When the first powerful one arrived at our depot
passenger locomotive of the "IS" series, then they were assigned to work on this machine
Maltsev, which was quite reasonable and correct. Assistant to Maltsev
worked old man from the depot mechanics named Fedor Petrovich
Drabanov, but he soon passed the machinist exam and went to work for
another car, and I, instead of Drabanov, was assigned to work in the brigade
Maltsev as an assistant; before that I also worked as an assistant mechanic, but only
on an old, low-power car.
I was pleased with my assignment. The IS car, the only one in production at that time
our traction area, just by its appearance made me feel
inspiration; I could look at her for a long time, and was especially moved by joy
awakened in me - as beautiful as when I first read it in childhood
poems by Pushkin. In addition, I wanted to work in a first-class team
mechanic to learn from him the art of driving heavy speed
Alexander Vasilievich accepted my appointment to his brigade calmly and
indifferent; he apparently didn’t care who his members were
assistants
Before the trip, as usual, I checked all the components of the car, tested everything
its servicing and auxiliary mechanisms and calmed down, considering the machine
ready to go. Alexander Vasilyevich saw my work, he followed
her, but after I checked the condition of the car again with my own hands,
He definitely didn't trust me.
This was repeated later, and I was already accustomed to the fact that Alexander
Vasilievich constantly interfered with my duties, although he was upset
silently. But usually, as soon as we were on the move, I forgot about my
chagrin. Taking your attention away from the devices monitoring your condition
running steam locomotive, from observing the work of the left car and the path ahead, I
looked at Maltsev. He led the lineup with the courageous confidence of a great
master, with the concentration of an inspired artist who has absorbed all
outside world into one’s inner experience and therefore has power over it.
Alexander Vasilyevich’s eyes looked forward abstractly, as if empty, but I
knew that he saw with them the whole road ahead and all of nature rushing towards us
towards - even a sparrow, swept from the ballast slope by the wind
piercing the space of the car, even this sparrow attracted the eye
Maltsev, and he turned his head for a moment after the sparrow: what’s wrong?
It will become after us where he flew.
It was our fault that we were never late; on the contrary, we are often
were delayed at intermediate stations that we must proceed from
progress, because we walked with the catch up of time and us through delays
entered back into the schedule.
We usually worked in silence; only occasionally Alexander Vasilievich, not
turning in my direction, he knocked on the boiler with the key, wanting me to turn
your attention to any disorder in the operating mode of the machine, or
preparing me for a sudden change in this regime so that I am vigilant.
I always understood the silent instructions of my senior comrade and worked with
full diligence, but the mechanic still treated me, as well as
to the oiler-stoker, aloof and constantly checking in the parking lots
grease nipples, tightening the bolts in the drawbar units, tested the axle boxes on
driving axles, etc. If I have just inspected and lubricated any
working rubbing part, then Maltsev, following me, examined it again and
lubricated, as if not considering my work valid.
“I, Alexander Vasilyevich, have already checked this crosshead,” I said
him once when he started checking this detail after me.
“But I want it myself,” Maltsev answered smiling, and in his smile there was
sadness that struck me.
Later I understood the meaning of his sadness and the reason for his constant
indifference to us. He felt superior to us because
understood the machine more accurately than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could
learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing at the same time and incidental
sparrow, and a signal ahead, feeling at the same moment the path, the weight of the train and
machine force. Maltsev understood, of course, that in diligence, in diligence
we can even overcome him, but I couldn’t imagine that we are more than him
they loved the steam locomotive and drove trains better than him - he thought it couldn’t have been better.
And that’s why Maltsev was sad with us; he was bored by his talent, how
from loneliness, not knowing how to express it so that we understand.
And we, however, could not understand his skills. I asked once
allow me to lead the composition myself; Alexander Vasilievich allowed
I drove about forty kilometers and sat down in the assistant’s place. I led the train, and
twenty kilometers later I was already four minutes late, and exits from
covered long climbs at a speed of no more than thirty kilometers per
hour. Maltsev drove the car after me; he took the climbs at speed
fifty kilometers, and on curves his car didn’t get thrown around like
me, and he soon made up for the time I had lost.
I worked as Maltsev’s assistant for about a year, from August to July, and 5
July Maltsev made his last trip as a driver
courier train...
We took a train of eighty passenger axles, which was late for us at
four hours' journey. The dispatcher came out to the locomotive and specifically asked
Alexander Vasilyevich to reduce, as far as possible, train delays, reduce
this is at least three o'clock late, otherwise it will be difficult for him to give out an empty car
to the next road. Maltsev promised him to catch up with time, and we set off.
It was eight o'clock in the afternoon, but the summer day still lasted, and the sun
shone with solemn morning power. Alexander Vasilievich demanded from
keep me at all times the steam pressure in the boiler is only half an atmosphere lower
ultimate.
Half an hour later we emerged into the steppe, onto a calm, soft profile. Maltsev
brought the speed up to ninety kilometers and did not go lower, on the contrary -
on horizontals and small slopes the speed was increased to one hundred kilometers. On
climbs, I forced the firebox to its maximum capacity and forced the fireman
manually load the scoop, to help the stoker machine, because I have steam
Maltsev drove the car forward, moving the regulator to the entire arc and giving
reverse to full cut-off. We were now walking towards a powerful cloud that had appeared
from beyond the horizon. From our side the cloud was illuminated by the sun, and from the inside it was torn
fierce, irritated lightning, and we saw lightning swords vertically
pierced the silent distant land, and we rushed madly towards that distant
earth, as if rushing to its defense. Alexander Vasilyevich was apparently carried away
this is a sight: he leaned far out the window, looking forward, and his eyes,
accustomed to smoke, fire and space, they now shone with inspiration.
He understood that the work and power of our machine could be compared with
the work of a thunderstorm, and, perhaps, was proud of this thought.
Soon we noticed a dust whirlwind rushing across the steppe towards us.
This means that the storm was bearing a thundercloud on our foreheads. The light darkened around us;
dry earth and steppe sand whistled and scraped against the iron body
steam locomotive; there was no visibility, and I started the turbo dynamo for illumination and
turned on the headlight in front of the locomotive. It was now difficult for us to breathe
from the hot dusty whirlwind that clogged into the cabin and doubled in its
force from the oncoming movement of the car, from flue gases and early dusk,
surrounding us. The locomotive howled its way forward into the vague, stuffy darkness.
Into the slit of light created by the headlight. Speed dropped to
sixty kilometers; we worked and looked forward as if in a dream.
Suddenly a large drop hit the windshield and immediately dried up,
tormented by the hot wind. Then an instant blue light flashed at my eyelashes
and penetrated into my very shuddering heart; I grabbed the faucet
injector, but the pain in my heart had already left me, and I immediately looked into
towards Maltsev - he looked ahead and drove the car without changing his face.
What was that? - I asked the fireman.
Lightning, he said. - I wanted to hit us, but just a little
missed.
Maltsev heard our words.
What lightning? - he asked loudly.
“Now it was,” said the fireman.
“I didn’t see,” Maltsev said and turned his face outward again.
I didn't see it! - the fireman was surprised. - I thought the boiler exploded, what?
the light came on, but he didn’t see.
I also doubted that it was lightning.
Where's the thunder? - I asked.
We passed the thunder,” explained the fireman. - Thunder always strikes afterwards.
While he hit, while the air was shaken, while back and forth, we were already away from him
flew by. Passengers may have heard - they are behind.
the dark steppe, over which the quiet, overworked people rested motionless
It got completely dark, and it came good night. We smelled the damp
earth, the fragrance of herbs and grains, saturated with rain and thunderstorms, and rushed
forward, catching up with time.
I noticed that Maltsev began to drive worse - on curves we
was thrown, the speed reached more than a hundred kilometers, then decreased
up to forty. I decided that Alexander Vasilyevich was probably very tired, and
so I didn’t say anything to him, although it was very difficult for me to keep
the best mode for the operation of the furnace and boiler with this behavior of the mechanic. However
in half an hour we must stop to get water, and there, at the stop,
Alexander Vasilyevich will eat and rest a little. We've already caught up forty minutes,
and until the end of our traction section we will catch up in at least another hour.
In beauty and furious world Andrey Platonov
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Title: In a beautiful and furious world
About the book “In a Beautiful and Furious World” Andrei Platonov
Andrei Platonov, known primarily for his story “The Pit” and the novel “Chevengur,” is also the author of many wonderful stories.
“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a beautiful lyrical and philosophical work O " little man"and its place in a complex, confusing world. This is a story about human destiny, talent, and calling.
The main character is a talented driver Maltsev. He is so immersed in his work that he does not notice anyone around him. Maybe that's why he's so lonely.
Andrei Platonov depicted in his work a man who is completely absorbed in the only activity that brings him pleasure. For Maltsev, the world around him only makes sense when it rushes past him. He is literally fascinated by his profession, and his entire existence comes down only to it. But some things and events are beyond a person’s control, so unforeseen circumstances can interfere with the usual course of life at any moment. And then you can easily lose what you value so much. And no matter how strong a person is, he has no power over the elements.
“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a story about how one misfortune can be part of another. And also that a person is able to overcome any obstacles.
Andrei Platonov makes his hero a winner. The ending of the story is completely unpredictable. But is this victory worth the effort? In order to give an independent answer, you need to read both the story and the book.
“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a wonderful work, filled with genuine faith in a person capable of fighting cruel fate and unfair circumstances. The author writes warmly about ordinary people, about their everyday problems and difficulties in relationships with eternity.
Andrey Platonov is the author of many excellent stories. Without exaggeration, all of them are wonderful and full of light sadness. Reading them can be recommended to those who, despite everything, continue to believe in man and his unique mission on earth.
The author's works are a completely unique phenomenon in Russian literature. His bright, unique characters with a mindset that is imprinted with both the surrounding Soviet reality and the irrepressible imagination of the author remain forever in memory. With his creativity, Andrei Platonov managed to expand many of the usual frameworks into which Russian literature had been squeezed before him. He was one of the most talented and mysterious writers of his era. He perfectly felt the tragedy of every person, torn off and thrown to the margins of existence.
On our website about books you can download the site for free without registration or read online book“In a Beautiful and Furious World” by Andrey Platonov in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. Buy full version you can from our partner. Also, here you will find latest news from literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers there is a separate section with useful tips and recommendations, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.
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Retelling plan
1. Meet the driver Maltsev and his assistant.
2. Maltsev takes on a difficult task and goes blind while the train is moving. Such lineup management could lead to disaster.
3. Maltsev regains his sight, he is put on trial and sent to prison.
4. A former machinist goes blind again while conducting an investigative experiment with lightning-like electrical discharges.
5. An assistant driver, after a special exam, drives passenger trains himself. He takes the blind Maltsev on a trip.
6. Maltsev begins to see the light.
Retelling
The hero talks about an incident that happened to him and the “best locomotive driver” Maltsev. He was young, thirty years old, but already had a first class qualification and drove fast trains.
Maltsev was the first to be transferred to the new passenger locomotive "IS". The narrator was appointed as his assistant. He was very pleased with the opportunity to master the art of driving, and at the same time become familiar with new technology.
The driver received the new assistant indifferently. He relied only on himself and his knowledge in everything, so he carefully double-checked all the parts and components of the machine. This was a habit, but it insulted the student with lack of faith in his abilities. But for his professionalism, the hero forgave a lot to his teacher, who definitely felt the way. The train was never late; they even quickly made up for delays at intermediate stations along the way.
Maltsev practically did not communicate with either the assistant or the fireman. If he wanted to point out shortcomings in the operation of the machine that needed to be eliminated, he would bang the key on the boiler. He thought that no one else could love a locomotive and drive it the way he did. “And we, however, could not understand his skills,” the author admits.
One day the driver allowed the narrator to drive the train himself. But after some time, he was four and a half minutes behind schedule. Maltsev successfully compensated for this time.
The hero worked as an assistant for almost a year. And then an event happened that turned the lives of the heroes upside down. They took the train four hours late. The dispatcher asked to reduce this gap in order to let the empty truck onto the neighboring road. The train entered the zone of a thundercloud. A blue light hit the windshield, blinding the hero. It was lightning, but Maltsev did not see it.
Night has fallen. The hero noticed that Maltsev was driving worse, and later it became clear that something was wrong with him. When the hero screamed, the driver braked urgently. A man stood on the road and waved a red-hot poker to stop the train. Ahead, just ten meters away, stood a freight locomotive. They did not notice how yellow, red and other warning signals passed. This could lead to disaster. Maltsev ordered an assistant to drive the locomotive, admitting that he was blind.
Having reported the incident to the head of the depot, the assistant went to accompany him home. Already on the way to the house, Maltsev regained his sight.
After the incident, Maltsev was put on trial. The investigator called the driver's assistant as a witness, and he said that he did not consider Maltsev guilty, since the driver was blinded by a nearby lightning strike. But the investigator treated these words with distrust, because the lightning had no effect on the others. But the hero had his own explanation. In his opinion, Maltsev went blind from the light of the lightning, and not from the discharge itself. And when lightning struck, he was already blind.
Maltsev was still found guilty because he did not transfer control to an assistant, risking the lives of hundreds of people. From the investigator the hero went to Maltsev. When asked why he did not trust him with his place, he replied that it seemed to him that he saw the light, but in fact it was in his imagination. Maltsev was sent to prison. The hero became an assistant to another driver. But he missed Maltsev, his ability to really work, and did not give up the thought of helping him.
He proposed conducting an experiment with a prisoner using a Tesla installation to produce artificial lightning. However, the experiment was carried out without warning, and Maltsev became blind again. But now the chances of returning vision were much less. Both the investigator and the hero felt guilty for what happened. Having found justice and innocence, Maltsev received an illness that prevented him from living and working.
At this moment, for the first time, the hero came up with the idea of the existence of certain fatal forces that accidentally and indifferently destroy a person. “I saw that facts were happening that proved the existence of hostile human life circumstances, and these disastrous forces crush the chosen, exalted people.” But the hero decided not to give up and resist the circumstances. A year later, the former assistant passed the exam to become a driver and began to independently drive passenger trains. Very often he met Maltsev, who, wiping himself on a cane, stood at the station platform and “greedily breathed in the smell of burning and lubricating oil, listened carefully to the rhythmic work of the steam-air pump.” He understood Maltsev’s melancholy, who had lost the meaning of life, but could do nothing to help him.
Maltsev was irritated by friendly words and sympathy. One day the hero promised to take him on a trip if he would “sit quietly.” The blind man agreed to all the conditions. The next morning the hero put him in the driver's seat. He put his hands on top of his, and so they drove to their destination. On the way back, he again put the teacher in his place. And in quiet areas he even allowed him to drive the car on his own. The flight ended safely, the train was not late. The hero hoped for a miracle. On the last stretch, he deliberately did not slow down before the yellow traffic light. Suddenly Maltsev stood up, extended his hand to the regulator and turned off the steam. “I see a yellow light,” he said and began to brake. “He turned his face and cried. I walked up to him and kissed him back." Kostya’s desire to “protect him (his teacher) from the grief of fate” performed a miracle. Until the end of the route, Maltsev drove the car independently. After the flight they sat together all evening and all night. This time the hostile forces retreated.
In a beautiful and furious world
At the Tolubeevsky depot, Alexander Vasilyevich Maltsev was considered the best locomotive driver.
He was about thirty years old, but he already had the qualifications of a first-class driver and had been driving fast trains for a long time. When the first powerful passenger locomotive of the IS series arrived at our depot, Maltsev was assigned to work on this machine, which was quite reasonable and correct. An elderly man from the depot mechanics named Fyodor Petrovich Drabanov worked as an assistant for Maltsev, but he soon passed the test for a driver and went to work on another machine, and instead of Drabanov, I was assigned to work in Maltsev’s brigade as an assistant; Before that, I also worked as a mechanic’s assistant, but only on an old, low-power machine.
I was pleased with my assignment. The IS machine, the only one on our traction site at that time, evoked a feeling of inspiration in me by its very appearance; I could look at her for a long time, and a special, touched joy awakened in me - as beautiful as in childhood when reading Pushkin’s poems for the first time. In addition, I wanted to work in the crew of a first-class mechanic in order to learn from him the art of driving heavy high-speed trains.
Alexander Vasilyevich accepted my appointment to his brigade calmly and indifferently; he apparently did not care who his assistants would be.
Before the trip, as usual, I checked all the components of the car, tested all its servicing and auxiliary mechanisms and calmed down, considering the car ready for the trip. Alexander Vasilyevich saw my work, he followed it, but after me, he again checked the condition of the car with his own hands, as if he did not trust me.
This was repeated later, and I was already accustomed to the fact that Alexander Vasilyevich constantly interfered with my duties, although he was silently upset. But usually, as soon as we were on the move, I forgot about my disappointment. Distracting my attention from the instruments monitoring the condition of the running locomotive, from monitoring the operation of the left car and the path ahead, I glanced at Maltsev. He led the cast with the courageous confidence of a great master, with the concentration of an inspired artist who has absorbed the entire outer world into his inner experience and therefore dominates it. Alexander Vasilyevich’s eyes looked ahead abstractly, as if empty, but I knew that he saw with them the whole road ahead and all of nature rushing towards us - even a sparrow, swept from the ballast slope by the wind of a car piercing into space, even this sparrow attracted Maltsev’s gaze, and he turned his head for a moment after the sparrow: what will happen to him after us, where did he fly?
It was our fault that we were never late; on the contrary, we were often delayed at intermediate stations, which we had to proceed on the move, because we were running with time catching up and, through delays, we were put back on schedule.
We usually worked in silence; Only occasionally did Alexander Vasilyevich, without turning in my direction, tap the key on the boiler, wanting me to draw my attention to some disorder in the operating mode of the machine, or preparing me for a sharp change in this mode, so that I would be vigilant. I always understood the silent instructions of my senior comrade and worked with full diligence, but the mechanic still treated me, as well as the lubricator-stoker, aloof and constantly checked the grease nipples in the parking lots, the tightness of the bolts in the drawbar units, tested the axle boxes on driving axles, etc. If I had just inspected and lubricated any working rubbing part, then Maltsev, after me, inspected and lubricated it again, as if not considering my work valid.
“I, Alexander Vasilyevich, have already checked this crosshead,” I told him one day when he began checking this part after me.
“But I want it myself,” Maltsev answered smiling, and in his smile there was sadness that struck me.
Later I understood the meaning of his sadness and the reason for his constant indifference towards us. He felt superior to us because he understood the car more precisely than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing both a passing sparrow and a signal ahead, at the same moment sensing the path, the weight of the composition and the force of the machine. Maltsev understood, of course, that in diligence, in diligence, we could even overcome him, but he could not imagine that we loved the locomotive more than him and drove trains better than him - he thought it was impossible to do better. And that’s why Maltsev was sad with us; he missed his talent as if he were lonely, not knowing how to express it to us so that we would understand.
And we, however, could not understand his skills. I once asked to be allowed to conduct the composition myself; Alexander Vasilyevich allowed me to drive about forty kilometers and sat in the assistant’s place. I drove the train and after twenty kilometers I was already four minutes late, and I covered the exits from long climbs at a speed of no more than thirty kilometers per hour. Maltsev drove the car after me; he took the climbs at a speed of fifty kilometers, and on the curves his car did not throw up like mine, and he soon made up for the time I had lost.
The main character of the story, Alexander Vasilyevich Maltsev, was considered the best locomotive driver in the depot. He was quite young - about thirty years old - but already had the status of a first-class machinist. And no one was surprised when he was assigned to the brand new and very powerful passenger locomotive IS. It was "reasonable and correct." The narrator became Maltsev's assistant. He was extremely pleased that he got on this IS car - the only one in the depot.
Maltsev showed virtually no feelings towards the new assistant, although he closely watched his work. The narrator was always amazed that after checking the machine and its lubrication, Maltsev rechecked everything himself and lubricated it again. The narrator was often annoyed at this oddity in the driver’s behavior, believing that they simply didn’t trust him, but then he got used to it. To the sound of the wheels, he forgot about his offense, carried away by the instruments. He often looked at how inspired Maltsev was driving the car. It was like an actor's performance. Maltsev carefully watched not only the road, but also managed to enjoy the beauty of nature, and even a small sparrow caught in the air stream from the locomotive did not escape his gaze.
The work always happened in silence. And only sometimes Maltsev tapped the boiler with the key, “wishing that I would turn my attention to some disorder in the operating mode of the machine...”. The narrator says that he worked very hard, but the driver’s attitude towards him was exactly the same as towards the oiler-stoker, and he still carefully checked all the details with his assistant. One day, unable to resist, the narrator asked Maltsev why he double-checked everything after him. “But I want it myself,” Maltsev answered, smiling, and in his smile there was sadness that struck me.” Only later did the reason for this sadness become clear: “he felt superior to us, because he understood the car more accurately than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing both a passing sparrow and a signal at the same time.” ahead, feeling at the same moment the path, the weight of the train and the force of the machine.” This means that he was simply bored alone with his talent.
One day the narrator asked Maltsev to let him drive the car a little, but his car began to spin when turning, the climbs were overcome slowly, and very soon he was four minutes late. As soon as control passed into the hands of the driver himself, the delay was caught up.
The narrator worked for Maltsev for about a year when the incident happened. tragic story... Maltsev’s car took a train of eight to ten passenger axles, which were already running three hours late. Maltsev’s task was to reduce this time as much as possible, at least by an hour.
We hit the road. The car was working almost at its limit, and the speed was no less than ninety kilometers per hour.
The train was traveling towards a huge cloud, inside of which everything was seething and lightning was flashing. Soon the driver's cabin was engulfed in a whirlwind of dust; almost nothing was visible. Suddenly lightning struck: “an instant blue light flashed at my eyelashes and penetrated me to my shuddering heart; I grabbed the injector tap, but the pain in my heart had already left me.” The narrator looked at Maltsev: he didn’t even change his face. As it turned out, he didn’t even see lightning.
Soon the train passed the rain, which began after the lightning, and drove out into the steppe. The narrator noticed that Maltsev began to drive the car worse: the train was thrown around on turns, the speed either decreased or increased sharply. Apparently the driver was just tired.
Busy with electrical problems, the narrator did not notice that the train was rushing under red warning lights. The wheels are already clattering like firecrackers. “We’re crushing firecrackers!” - the narrator shouted and reached for the controls. "Away!" - Maltsev exclaimed and slammed on the brakes.
The locomotive stopped. About ten meters away from him there is another locomotive, its driver was waving a red hot poker with all his might, giving a signal. This meant that while the narrator turned away, Maltsev drove first under the yellow, then under the red signal, and who knows what other signals. Why didn't he stop? “Kostya! - Alexander Vasilyevich called me.
I approached him. - Kostya! What's ahead of us? - I explained to him.
The narrator brought the dejected Maltsev home. Near the house itself, he asked to be left alone. To the narrator’s objections, he replied: “Now I see, go home...” And indeed, he saw his wife come out to meet him. Kostya decided to check him and asked whether his wife’s head was covered with a scarf or not. And having received the correct answer, he left the driver.
Maltsev was put on trial. The narrator tried his best to justify his boss. But the fact that Maltsev endangered not only his life, but also the lives of thousands of people, could not be forgiven. Why didn’t blind Maltsev transfer control to someone else? Why did he take such a risk?
The narrator will ask Maltsev the same questions.
“I was used to seeing light, and I thought I saw it, but I saw it then only in my mind, in my imagination. Actually I was blind, but I didn't know it. I didn’t even believe in firecrackers, although I heard them: I thought I had heard wrong. And when you blew the stop horn and shouted to me, I saw a green signal ahead, I didn’t guess right away.” The narrator responded to Maltsev’s words with understanding. Material from the site
The following year, the narrator takes the driver's exam. Every time, leaving on the road, checking the car, he sees Maltsev sitting on a painted bench. He leaned on a cane and turned his face with empty, blind eyes towards the locomotive. "Away!" — that’s all he said in response to all the narrator’s attempts to console him. But one day Kostya invited Maltsev to go with him: “Tomorrow at ten thirty I will lead the train. If you sit quietly, I’ll take you into the car.” Maltsev agreed.
The next day the narrator invited Maltsev to the car. The blind man was ready to obey, so he humbly promised not to touch anything, but only to obey. His driver put one hand on the reverse, and the other on the brake lever, and put his hands on top to help. On the way back we walked the same way. Already on the way to the destination, the narrator saw a yellow traffic light, but decided to check his teacher and went to the yellow one at full speed.
“I see a yellow light,” Maltsev said. “Or maybe you are again only imagining that you see the light!” - the storyteller answered. Then Maltsev turned his face to him and began to cry.
He drove the car to the end without help. And in the evening the narrator went with Maltsev to his home and for a long time could not leave him alone, “how own son, without protection against the action of the sudden and hostile forces of our beautiful and furious world.”
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- summary of the story what I saw
- how did you understand the narrator’s state when he looked at the car and what did he compare this joy with?
- What can’t the narrator come to terms with and why does he again invite Maltsev to join him on the locomotive?
- summary of Platonov's story in a beautiful and furious world original in 35 minutes