Danilova Oksana Grigorievna,
teacher of Russian language and literature,
secondary school No. 21 with in-depth study
German language, Syktyvkar
DEVELOPMENT OF A LITERATURE LESSON “PEOPLE GIVING GOOD.” (AFTER THE STORY OF N. N. KURATOVA “A HANDLE OF THE SUN”)
Today the world is pragmatic, the best human qualities are in the background: kindness, compassion, understanding. This is the concern of the Komi writer Nina Nikitichna Kuratova. Her focus is on female characters, female destinies, problems of duty and happiness. In her works, the writer claims that happiness is never easy, the path to it lies through trials and pain. It is enough to name such stories and stories of hers: “The Poplar with Three Peaks,” “The Taste of Clover,” “Lonely Bird,” etc., where the author explores the fates of her heroines.
I bring to the attention of my students a touching story by Nina Kuratova, “A Handful of Sun.” Why did you choose this particular story? – The main character is our contemporary, a Komi girl, radiant, with a subtle sensual nature, giving her kindness free of charge to everyone around her. Lidochka is close to my ninth graders for her spontaneity, belief in love, in the possibility of happiness. The plot is perceived with great interest by teenagers: will the fiance of our “sunny” heroine be found, will she go after him.
The story begins with a description of the extraordinary purity of fluffy snow. With this alone, the author wants to tell about the exceptional spiritual purity of a girl with a difficult fate and other heroines of the work.
It is no coincidence that Nina Kuratova tells the story of an orphanage girl; the heroine has not hardened her soul or withdrawn; on the contrary, she radiates warmth and is capable of loving the whole world. The author compares Lidochka with a handful of sun and strives for every reader to not only feel this, but also discover these wonderful qualities in themselves.
Having become acquainted with the story “A Handful of Sun,” students themselves determine its moral problems: the struggle between good and evil, love, loyalty and cowardice. Most teenagers are susceptible to other people's grief and injustice; they are convinced that goodness does not die, nobility, love, self-sacrifice, generosity are eternal. Students correctly identify the writer’s call: “Hurry to do good deeds!”
I have no doubt that after reading the story, we will be imbued with deep respect for the wonderful heroes who give people light and mercy, and we will understand how terrible evil is if you put up with it.
In the teacher’s introductory speech, the following biographical material should be used about our amazing Komi writer, who has been recognized not only in Russia, but also abroad.
N.N. Kuratova was born on February 17, 1930 in the village of Kuratovo, Sysolsky district of the Komi Republic, into a peasant family. Her childhood coincided with the war. I was left without parents early. I studied at school and had to simultaneously work on a collective farm or as a night nanny in an orphanage as a teacher. Working with children fascinated the future writer; she graduated from the Syktyvkar Pedagogical College and worked as a teacher in kindergartens in our cities: Ukhta, Inta, Syktyvkar. She lived in the GDR for five years.
Nina Kuratova began trying the pen while still in school, but turned to serious literary work much later. In 1964, her first story, “Appassionata,” was published in the Northern Star magazine, which received positive reviews from readers and critics.
The writer has written dozens of short stories and novellas published in Syktyvkar and Moscow. The heroes of her books are fellow countrymen, workers of Komi villages. For children, N. N. Kuratova wrote the books “A Hare Gift”, “Let’s Be Friends and Get Acquainted”.
In 1978, she was admitted to the USSR Writers' Union. In 1980, she was awarded the title “Honored Worker of the Komi Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic.” The bright, verified language and originality of Nina Kuratova’s works are close to everyone who came into contact with her work both in her native Komi Republic and beyond. Now N.N. Kuratova lives in her native village of Kuratovo.
We will analyze the problem of morality raised by the author in the story from the point of view of the characters on the surrounding reality.
-Where does the story begin? What epithets did you pay attention to? (Description of a winter morning “Light, fluffy snow... renew the world... pristine whiteness... downy lightness.")
-Why do you think the author gives us these descriptions? (The author emphasizes the consonance between the state of nature and our heroine, the narrator-medical worker, who was on duty all night in the hospital.)
-What is the mood of the narrator Stepanovna? (p. 230, 2 paragraph.)
Teacher. And then the author of the story asks the question: “Is snow the cause of seemingly causeless joy, or is it “the joy living in the soul that revealed its (snow’s) charms to the eyes?” (Read page 230). “It happens suddenly...” “On this snow-white morning I hardly realized that I was happy because of Lidochka.”
Teacher. So we come to the solution to the high spirits of the narrator-nurse, work that is hard, and even more so at night). -Did the health worker do the right thing when she forced Lidochka to stop crying loudly in the ward? (Yes, she must take care of all the sick.) -What feeling did Anna Stepanovna herself experience? (It’s a pity that she seemed to have offended Lidochka. “I was punishing myself all night... I was thinking about how she would enter the room where Lidochka was.”) -What conclusion does Anna Stepanovna make when she learns about Lidochka’s joy - the groom’s letter? (p. 233 “So you don’t know...”).
So, the bright, worthy heroine in Nina Kuratova’s story is the health worker, on whose behalf the story is told.
Teacher. But as often happens, good coexists with evil. Who in the story is the bearer of this evil? It seems that we feel such people with our skin. So Stepanovna doesn’t know what to do when meeting with the Kalinovskys, but with sincere friendliness she said: “Good morning.” And what did you hear? How did her condition change dramatically after meeting these, so to speak, people? (p. 234. “But the heart... the third floor...") What incident from her son’s school life did Stepanovna remember? (Students' story).
Why was the mother both happy and worried about her son? (Honest, fair, able to fight evil, but “unrestrained, quick-tempered.”)
Teacher. But evil is nearby. Is it not only the Kalinovskys themselves, but also their son? Prove it. (At school he insulted the teacher, messes around, strums the guitar while his peers are studying or working, insults Anna Stepanovna’s son with “okhlomone”, vilely slanderes Misha with gloating, tells his neighbor that Misha ran over a man).
Teacher. From such a message, Stepanovna’s hands “turned blue, like a dead man’s,” and she herself ended up in a hospital bed. The unexpected, terrible and unfair (as it turned out) news forced Stepanovna, already as a patient, to see even more the kind hearts of those whom she was treating, her own son, who not only did not hit someone, but “picked up a bleeding man - and in hospital." Stepanovna calmed down somewhat when she learned that her son not only did not commit a crime, but showed nobility in saving the victim.
-So who is Lidochka, who has such a magical effect on people, helping them overcome pain and suffering, live brightly and joyfully, no matter what? Let's find her portrait (p. 231, 1 paragraph). What does the author of the story emphasize? (The girl “... with an angelically pretty face. “Cheerful, agile...” She was brought up in an orphanage, she herself saw little warmth and affection...”).-What is her strength? (“She knows how to talk to everyone…our Lidochka…”)
Teacher: Because, probably, the girl has many friends, there is a groom who brings many gifts, which she immediately bestows on everyone.
-Which episode from the story confirms that Lidochka can not only love, but also suffer deeply? (A student’s story about a girl’s quarrel with her groom and how hard the heroine is going through, unable to restrain herself and crying loudly.)
-When does the heroine once again show attention to people and give them warmth? (Lidochka, having learned about Stepanovna’s illness, visits her in the hospital.)
Teacher. The author again resorts to describing nature. (Find in the text on page 237). Spring comes and gives a morning, “quiet, full of sunshine.”
-What does the author compare his heroine to? (Next to the story of the “spring beauty” there appears a description of joy in the guise of a beautiful girl). Lidochka comes with coltsfoot flowers and a bundle. She, dividing the bouquet in half, gives flowers to grandmother Varvara and Stepanovna, and puts a bundle of gifts. Then she gets sad, but immediately smiles, “What do you need, the clear sun from behind the clouds.”)
Teacher. Read the description of Lidochka’s farewell to grandmother Varvara and Anna Stepanovna (p. 238 “Hugged, gave.”)
Did the heroine cry with happiness? Why did she hide her misfortune from grandmother Varvara? (I decided not to disturb them, not to upset them, but to take care of their health.)
What does Lidochka do in connection with the groom's imprisonment? Is she right about this? (Students express their thoughts.)
But will the heroine’s fiancé appreciate her sacrifice and reconsider his unworthy actions? (A small dispute between students is possible here.)
How does N.N. justify it? Kuratova, the author of the story, her favorite heroine, what does she compare her to? (Page 239, last paragraph “Well, let her be there too... a handful of sunshine...")
Why do you think the story is called “A Fistful of Sun”? Is it only Lidochka who radiates the warmth that N. Kuratova compares to a handful of sun? (Vivid, sincere images in the story are Anna Stepanovna, and grandmother Varvara, who is so worried about her daughter-in-law and grandchildren, although she herself is weak, and Anna Stepanovna’s son Misha, who will always do good, like his mother. How much depends on the family : kind, decent parents, as a rule, have the same children.) Teacher. Collection of stories and short stories by N.N. Kuratova is named like the story, because in it (in the collection) the writer seemed to spill out from under her own palm and writer’s pen many bright people, beautiful with their kindness. And evil must be punished. I would always like to thank our Komi writer Nina Nikitichna Kuratova for her wonderful, highly moral novels and stories.
What does the story teach? (Goodness, nobility, love, self-sacrifice will never die.)
I think that this truth should hardly be questioned.
As homework, I give an essay on topics that make teenagers look around them and find worthy, kind people.
The person(s) in my life worthy of emulation. Why?
What qualities do I value in people? Why?
References.
Kuratova N.N. A handful of sunshine. Novels and stories. – Syktyvkar: Komi Book Publishing House, 1980. pp. 230–239.
Born on February 17, 1930 in the village of Kibra, Sysolsky district of the Komi Autonomous Region (now the village of Kuratovo, Sysolsky district of the Komi Republic). In 1946 she graduated from high school in her native village, in 1949 from Syktyvkar preschool pedagogical school No. 2. She worked as a teacher in orphanages. She lived in the GDR for five years. In 1962 she moved to the city of Syktyvkar. Since 1971 - literary consultant of the Union of Writers of the Komi Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic.
In 1964, Kuratova wrote her first story, “Appassionata.” Then more significant works appeared - “Maryushka” and “The Tale of the Fathers”. Nina Kuratova is the first female Komi writer to address the topic of the Great Patriotic War.
One after another, collections of stories and tales by the national writer were published: “Radeitana, Musa” (“Dear, Beloved,” 1974), “Bobonyan kor” (“The Taste of Blooming Clover,” 1980), “A Handful of Sun” (1980), “Otka pötka" ("Lonely Bird", 1985), "Vör gormög" ("Wild Pepper", 1986). The writer's focus is on female character, women's destinies, and the problem of family happiness.
N. Kuratova also writes for children. The following works were published as separate books: “Köch gosnech” (“Gift of the Hare”, 1968), “Let’s get acquainted and be friends” (1984), “Literate Petya and arrogant Lyuba” (2005).
Currently, N. Kuratova is actively working and publishing in magazines.
N. N. Kuratova - Honored Worker of Culture of the Komi ASSR (1980), laureate of the State Prize of the Komi ASSR (1985-1987), People's Writer of the Komi Republic (2001).
Artistic works
In Komi language
Kuratova, N. N. Koch gosnech / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; serpasalis M. P. Beznosov. - Syktyvkar: Komi publishing house, 1972. - 16 l.b. Per. cap.: Zaykin's gift: stories for children preschool. age.
Kuratova, N.N. Radeitana, musa: story, vistyas / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; serpasalis L. I. Potapov. - Syktyvkar: Komi book. Publishing house, 1974. - 175, l. b. : serpas. Per. cap.: What is loved, cute: a story, stories.
Rec.: Latysheva, V. Olömtö vyl pöv he ov // Voivyv kodzuv. 1975. No. 2. L. b. 55-56. Per. cap.: You won’t live life again.
Kuratova, N. N. Vaiö tödmasyamöy: vistyas / N. N. Kuratova; ed. T. N. Chukichev; serpasalic A. M. Garanin. - Syktyvkar: Komi book. publishing house, 1977. - 45, l. b. : serpas. Per. cap.: Let's get acquainted: stories.
Kuratova, N. N. Bobonyan kor: story, vistyas / Nina Kuratova; ed. V. A. Popov; rec. A. K. Mikushev; serpasalic S. A. Dobryakov. - Syktyvkar: Komi book. publishing house, 1983. - 211 l. b. - Per. cap.: The taste of clover: stories, stories.
Rec.: Andreev, A. Bobonyan köra olöm // Voivyv Kodzuv. 1980. No. 8. L. b. 39-40. Per. cap.: Life with the taste of clover.
Kuratova, N. N. Vör gormög: tales, vistyas / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova. - Syktyvkar: Komi book. publishing house, 1989. - 160 l. b. - Per. title: Wild pepper: stories, stories.
Kuratova, N. N. Mishuk bydmö lunys lunö: posni servants vistyas / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova. - Syktyvkar: Komi book. publishing house, 1991. - 12 p. b. - Per. cap.: Misha is growing up: stories for children.
Kuratova, N. N. Boböyas ti boboyas, nyvkayas da zonkayas: kyvburyas, nodkyvyas / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; serpasalic A. Moshev. - Syktyvkar: Komi book. publishing house, 1993. - 32 p. b. - Per. cap.: Helpers: poems, riddles.
Kuratova, N. N. Addzyslam na tshuk: tales and vistyas / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova. - Syktyvkar: Komi publishing house, 1995. - 239 l.b. - Per. cap.: See you for sure: stories and stories.
Kuratova, N. N. Köni uzlo shondi: Vistyas / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; serpasalis E. V. Sukhareva. - Syktyvkar: Komi book. publishing house, 1998. - 80 l. b. : ill. - Per. cap.: Where the sun sleeps: stories.
Kuratova, N. N. Yoktigtyryi tuvchchomöy: vistyas, hang / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; ed. A. V. Tentyukov; serpasalic V. A. Kleiman. - Syktyvkar: Komi nebog ledzanin, 2002. - 293, l. b. : serpas. - Per. cap.: Walking, dancing: stories, story.
Kuratova, N. N. Literacy Petya and tshapunka Lyuba: kyvburyas, vistyas, nodkyvyas, vorsan-sylanyas / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; serpasalic A. V. Moshev; ed. P. I. Simpelev. - Syktyvkar: Komi nebog ledzanin, 2005. - 110, l. b. : serpas, notes. - Per. cap.: The literate Petya and the arrogant Lyuba: poems, stories, riddles, play songs.
Kuratova, N. N. Menam dona sikötsh-necklace: povestyas, vistyas, playas, olömys serpastoryas / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; ed. V. I. Trosheva; serpasalis G. N. Sharipkov. - Syktyvkar: Anbur, 2009. - 749 l. b. : serpas. Per. title: My precious necklace: stories, stories, plays, notes.
In Russian
Kuratova, N. N. The Tale of Fathers / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; lane with Komi V. Sinaiskaya // Rafts float: stories of Komi writers. - M.: Sov. Russia, 1972. - P. 334-352.
Kuratova, N. N. A handful of the sun: stories, stories / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; lane with Komi - Syktyvkar: Komi book. publishing house, 1980. - 240 p. : ill.
Rec.: Miroshnichenko, N. A handful of sunshine // Red Banner. 1980. November 8 ; Voronina, I. [Rec. on the book “A handful of sun”] // Literary review. 1981. No. 9. P. 74. ; Mikushev, A. Who deserves happiness? // North. 1982. No. 5. P. 116-117.
Kuratova, N. N. The taste of blooming clover: stories / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova. - M.: Sovremennik, 1982. - 304 p. : ill.
Kuratova, N. N. Let's get acquainted and be friends: a story and stories / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; lane with Komi V. Putilin. - M.: Det. lit., 1984. 96 p.
Kuratova, N. N. Wolf's Bast: stories and stories / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; lane with Komi - M.: Sovremennik, 1989. - 205 p. : ill.
Literature about N. N. Kuratova
About the Komi prose writer Nina Nikitichna Kuratova.
Toropov, I. G. Nina Kuratova / Ivan Grigorievich Toropov // Youth of the North. 1983. April 24, photo.
Let's get acquainted and be friends. Nina Kuratova - for children: [memo for young children] / Komi rep. children's library named after S. Ya. Marshak reference-bibliography. department; [comp. L.F. Kornaukhova]. - Syktyvkar: [b. i.], 1989 (RIO KRPPO). - 1 l., folded. three times: ill.
Nina Kuratova - the first Komi prose writer: method. instructions for studying creativity at school / Komi RIPKRO]; [E. F. Ganova]. - Syktyvkar: Komi RIPCRO, 1995. - 77, p.
Burilova, N. A. Nina Nikitichna Kuratova / N. A. Burilova // Encyclopedic dictionary of a schoolchild. Komi literature. Syktyvkar, 1995. pp. 131-134.
Burilova, N. Nina Nikitichna Kuratova / N. Burilova // Writers of Komi: bibliographer. words Syktyvkar, 1996. T. 1. P. 274-278.
Kuratova Nina Nikitichna // Who is who in the Komi Republic. Syktyvkar, 1997. pp. 94-95.
Vaneev, A. Kuratova Nina Nikitichna / A. Vaneev // Komi Republic: encyclopedia. Syktyvkar, 1999. T. 2. P. 176.
70 years (1930, February 17) since the birth of Nina Nikitichna Kuratova, Komi writer // Calendar of significant and memorable dates of the Komi Republic for 2000. Syktyvkar, 1999. pp. 9-10.
Byzova, V. Images of women / V. Byzova // Connection of times. Syktyvkar, 2000. P. 616.
About Nina Nikitichna Kuratova and her work.
Martynov, V.I. Kuratova Nina Nikitichna // Martynov V.I. Writers of the Komi land. Syktyvkar, 2000. P. 84-85.
Nina Nikitichna Kuratova // Komi literature: 11th class of Velodchan nebog. Syktyvkar, 2000. L. b. 145-152.
About Nina Nikitichna Kuratova and her work.
Kuratova, N. N. “Honey zhö undzhyk loö howl gizhysysys yes lyddysysysys” / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; interviewer I. Belykh // Yologa. 2001. No. 37 (Sept.). Per. caption: “Let there be more new writers and readers.”
Komi Republic of People's Gizhys Nina Nikitichna Kuratova / photographs with S. Sukhorukovlön // Voivyv Kodzuv. 2001. No. 12. 1 vol. region, color photo. Per. Cap.: People's Writer of the Komi Republic Nina Nikitichna Kuratova.
Decree of the Head of the Komi Republic on awarding an honorary title to a Komi writer.
Kuratova, N. “The fate of every woman is a ready-made novel” / Nina Kuratova; prepared Anna Sivkova // Republic. 2001. September 27, photo.
Memoirs of the People's Writer of the Komi Republic about herself and her parents' family.
Kuratova, N. “Byd kyv menym - dawn” / Nina Kuratova; interviewer Anzhelika Elfimova // Komi mu. 2003. 15 Feb. Per. cap.: “Every word is gold for me.”
Interview with a Komi writer.
75 years (1930, February 17) since the birth of Nina Nikitichna Kuratova, people's writer of the Komi Republic // Calendar of significant and memorable dates of the Komi Republic for 2005. Syktyvkar, 2004. pp. 15-16.
Brief biographical information and bibliography.
About the exhibition “Female portrait in the interior of the era. XX century" in the National Museum of the Komi Republic, one of the heroines of which is Nina Kuratova.
To the 75th anniversary of the national writer.
Kuratova, N. N. Bydsa olöm olöma / N. N. Kuratova // Komi mu. 2005. 17 Feb. Per. cap.: A whole life has been lived.
Kuratova, N. N. Sergei Mikhalkov’s lesson was not in vain for Nina Kuratova: conversation with the writer / N. N. Kuratova; recorded by Artur Arteev // Youth of the North. 2005. 17 Feb. P. 12.
Elina, I. Kebra sixtsa an / Irina Elina // Banner of Labor. 2005. March 1. Per. cap.: A woman from the village of Kuratovo.
Kuratova, N. Olömys tai velodis / Nina Kuratova; prepared Ganna Popova // Yologa. 2005. No. 11. L.b. 10-11. Per. cap.: Life has taught.
Kuratova Nina Nikitichna // Your people, Sysola. Syktyvkar, 2006. P. 41.
Brief information, photo.
Nina Kuratova // Writers of the Komi Land: set of 22 postcards. Syktyvkar, 2006. Part 1. 1 sheet: portrait. Parallel text Russian, Komi
Brief information, photo.
Kuratova, N. N. “Vuzhtogys koryyd oz syalodchy” / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; interviewer N. Obrezkova // Art. 2006. No. 1. L. b. 4-8, portrait Per. cap.: Without roots, leaves do not rustle.
Interview with a Komi writer.
Kuratova, N. N. Chuzhan mules bur howl / Nina Nikitichna Kuratova; interviewer Ivan Belykh // Komi mu. 2006. 24 Jan. Per. cap.: For the benefit of the native land.
Interview with a Komi writer.
Golovina, V.N. Kuratova Nina Nikitichna / V.N. Golovina // Literature of Komi: words. schoolboy. Syktyvkar, 2007. pp. 143-144.
Brief biographical information in Komi language.
Kornaukhova, L.F. Kuratova Nina Nikitichna / L.F. Kornaukhova // Literature of Komi: words. schoolboy. Syktyvkar, 2007. pp. 142-143.
Brief biographical information in Russian.
Kuratova Nina Nikitichna // Prize winners of the Government of the Komi Republic: biobibliogr. reference Syktyvkar, 2007. pp. 150-151.
Nina Nikitichna Kuratova // Limerova, V. A. Komi literature: 7th grade of literature Velodchan and Lyddysyan nebog. Syktyvkar, 2009. L. b. 202.
Brief biographical information.
Meetings with a classic: Nina Kuratova was the first listener of Mikhalkov’s “Anna-Vanna” // Youth of the North. 2009. 10 Sep. P. 13.: photo.
About the meetings of Nina Nikitichna Kuratova with the poet Sergei Mikhalkov during his visit to the Komi Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic in 1939 and her visit to Moscow in 1979.
Belykh, I. Petas, vokyas, shondi-y tan... / Ivan Belykh // Komi mu. 2009. July 7. Per. cap.: I believe, brothers, the sun will rise here...
About the national writer, a descendant of the first Komi poet Ivan Kuratov.
Kuratova, N. “The most interesting book is life” / Nina Kuratova; interviewer Anna Sivkova // Republic. 2010. 19 Feb. P. 12.
Interview with the People's Writer of the Komi Republic.
Electronic resources
Martynov, V.I. Kuratova Nina Nikitichna [Electronic resource] / V.I. Martynov // Literary encyclopedia of the Komi land / V.I. Martynov. Syktyvkar, 2004. - Section: Personalities. - 1 electron. wholesale disk (CD-ROM).
Brief biographical information and bibliography.
“Shudtoroy, kodzuloy”: Velodchan otsög / Komi Rep. national m-o politics; Yozös velödan federal agency; "Syktyvkarsa Kanmu University" vylys tshupöda ujsikasö velödan state institution; comp.: E. V. Ostapova, N. V. Ostapov, V. A. Molchanova. - Syktyvkar: Publishing house Syktyvkar. University, 2009. - Transl. title: “My happiness, little star”: multimedia textbook. allowance.
Dedicated to the work of 12 writers and poets of Komi, incl. Nina Kuratova.
Let's get acquainted and be friends! For more than thirty years now, the main characters of the story of the same name by Komi writer Nina Kuratova, classmates and namesakes Yura Pystin and Zhenya Sinitsyn have been calling. And who doesn’t understand why namesakes - run for the Komi-Russian dictionary!
The future national writer was born on February 17, 1930 in the village of Kibra, Sysolsky district (now the village of Kuratovo). She worked as a teacher in orphanages. She lived in the GDR for five years, and in 1962 she moved to the city of Syktyvkar. Nina Nikitichna writes stories and novellas for both adults and children. In 1964 she wrote her first story, "Appassionata". Then more significant works appeared - “Maryushka” and “The Tale of the Fathers”. The works “Köch gosnech” (“Gift from the Hare”, 1968), “Let’s get acquainted and be friends” (1984), “Literate Petya and arrogant Lyuba” (2005) were published as separate books.
"KP-Avia" introduces you to preschooler Nintur. Despite her sometimes harmful, but cheerful character, the little girl knows how to see only the good in any situation.
Ninka-hook
Do you have a younger sister? If there is, then I don’t envy you. Suddenly she looks like Nintur. That's what we call my little sister Nina.
Although she is still small, she is very lively. And as soon as something missed her, she: “Shh-shh!” - like an angry cat. Immediately releases scratchy claws. No wonder her friends tease her with the thorn.
And I came up with another nickname for her. But, screw it! I'll tell you in order.
One day the boys and I were playing hide and seek. I hid - no one would have found me. If it weren't for my sister. I hid in my hiding place, sitting and not breathing. Lo and behold - Nintur. Walks proudly, nose up. There's a fishing rod on my shoulder. In his hand is a tin jar of jam. I myself attached a wire bow to this jar so that it would be convenient to take it on fishing trips.
You took my fishing rod! Well, just wait, it will be for you!
- Nin-ka! – I hissed and shook my fist at her. It’s impossible to come out of hiding: the guys will immediately “catch” me.
Nintur didn't even pay attention to my fist. She stuck out her tongue and calmly walked on her way. At this point I couldn’t stand it.
– Don’t you hear?! Take the fishing rod home. It will hit you, you'll see!
- You hid, just sit there. Do you feel sorry for the fishing rod? Do you think I don't know how to fish? You can't do that. He catches two minnows and wonders!
And she went, and she went. She made such a noise that I just grabbed my head. That's when the guys caught me. And Nintur looked at me triumphantly and walked on as if nothing had happened. Only the bucket jingles: dziv-dziv, dziv-dziv...
By evening I realized: where is Ninturka? I looked - there was no house, there was no one on the street either. Is it really on the river? I even became afraid that I might drown. We must look for her quickly.
I ran to the river. He climbed the high bank and saw his sister below. He stands right next to the water, never taking his eyes off the float. “He’s trying so hard,” I thought with respect and approached her.
“Let me help,” I said. -Where is the bait? Now let's catch a good perch.
-What bait? – Nintur was surprised. “I can catch as much as I want without it.” You better go away, don't bother me. I almost took the bait, and you got in the way.
Nintur pulled out a fishing rod, spat on the hook, whispered some kind of tongue twister, and waved the fishing rod to throw it into the water. And then she screamed:
- Oh! What are you doing, Pashka! Leave me alone! Who are they talking to?
And I laughed. The hook got caught on her dress! Nintur fished herself out.
“Oh-oh-oh,” I said cheerfully. - Well, I caught a fish!
Nintur realized what happened, and let herself laugh.
What a fisherman! That's how Ninka the Hook is. She got herself hooked.
Since then I’ve called her that – Ninka the Hook.
Gift from the hare
This winter our father often went hunting. He returned one evening, put the bag on the bench, sat down next to him and said:
- I’m kind of tired. Help me, Nintur, take off my shoes.
Nintur looked at her father's felt boots. And they are all covered in snow.
“I already washed my hands for dinner,” she said. - You can’t get them dirty!
“That’s it,” said the father thoughtfully. - And I brought a gift from the forest. From the long-eared hare himself. Only, the daughter, it turns out, was not waiting for her father.
- What are you talking about, daddy! – Nintur jumped up to him. - I was really waiting for you. Let me kiss you deeply.
– Who will help me take off my shoes? - asks the father. “You can’t sit at the table with legs like that!”
There is nothing to do. Nintur touched her felt boot with her finger and pretended to pull it with all her might.
“Thank you, daughter,” said the satisfied father. - Now get a present from the hare. – He opened the knapsack, took out a frozen edge of bread and handed it to Nina. She grabbed the edge and darted onto the stove. He sits there and gnaws on frozen bread.
- Well, daughter, did you like the gift? – the father asks, smiling.
“Delicious,” Nintur replies with his mouth full. Then she looked at her father slyly and added: “When you go hunting again, take ice cream with you.” So that the bunny sends it to me later. OK?
You can't fool our Nintur.
VERTOGRAD
Nina Kuratova
OLD PHOTO
On poor, thin paper without gloss, the image is gray, pale, barely noticeable. A woman with a child. Mom... And on the back there is also a faded inscription, but it is still readable, you can see that it was written by a child’s hand:
“For long and good memory to dear Vasilyushka from his wife Anna and son. 1942, August 16th.”
How many years has the card been in the album, and today I suddenly see it in the trash bin!
I hold the photo in front of me and look at my daughter-in-law and son in confusion.
“We looked through the photographs and threw them away,” the son says calmly. “You can’t make out anything anymore, everything is burned out.” Yes and...
He didn’t finish, he glanced at the card, but he didn’t look at me.
“It burned out... They threw it away...” As unnecessary, ugly, worthless and even, probably, ugly...
"Thrown away"...
I groped my way to the table by the window and sat down, as if I were watching TV. I don’t even see the photograph, although it’s on the table in front of me. First - out of resentment, and then - out of annoyance at yourself: how can this be! – for many years I haven’t found the time to tell, at least to my son, at least in childhood, what kind of photo this is! That it didn’t appear that way and then walked around, traveled around the world - or that way? ...What if we made it all up?
When I began to remember myself well, my father and mother already had four of us. For those times - not a lot, but not a little either. And all four are girls. White-headed, strong, but only girls. I am the oldest. I already remember well how my mother gave birth to her fourth daughter. I ran out onto the porch and shouted joyfully to my girlfriends, boasting to the whole street:
- And ours is small! And ours is small!
And I remembered how the women who were gossiping nearby seemed to brush aside my joy, muttered dissatisfiedly, and didn’t care that I heard them:
- Anna’s Vaska seems like a healthy guy, but he can’t make a guy!
More than once I later heard my father being called a cheater to his face, laughing. And he answered cheerfully:
– Don’t your sons need brides? I'm trying for you! I'm making it!
He, of course, wanted to have a son, I saw that. But this made him love us girls even more deeply. I remember gently stroking it with his huge hand:
- How nice you are, my little white mushrooms...
Whether he walks around the village, he and I are always with him: two of us are hanging on him, the third is nearby... Whether he’s digging potatoes, we’re all right there, each with a wooden spatula, a smaller daughter with a smaller spatula. Every year my father made new shovels for us, and they were like an expensive gift: “Dad made them!” Whether they were sawing wood, everyone was again next to their father: whoever was dragging a log into the barn, whoever was stronger was a complete log, and I, the eldest, was allowed to saw, although what kind of sawyer I was, just consider that I was holding on to the handle of the saw... And My father even took me fishing. As soon as the river opens, it’s already calling:
- Olenka! Shall we go and sap? Maybe we'll catch it by ear.
Three kilometers to the river. My father’s knapsack swings steadily in front of me, and I, raising my head, look at it, trying to keep up, and so on - until I stumble and fall down. My father will stop, smile, take his hand, and now I’m running next to him in the middle of the road, and immediately - how wide is the world! The sun is setting. The riverside meadow is clean, clean and already turning green. But the wind here, in the open space, is still cold and angry, you almost suffocate from it. And finally, there is a twist over the river. Far below, the wide spring water seethes and boils. It's really cold here on the slope. The father stops at someone’s not completely extinguished fire, with the toe of his boot he pushes the scattered firebrands back into the fire.
“Gather what’s drier and feed the fire,” he tells me. “And I’ll cut down the stake for the sake and debark it.”
Satisfied, I run along the shore, warm myself, drag and put all sorts of miners into the fire, as long as they burn, and my father is already attaching a brand new white pole to the sack.
- Well, shall we start? - and suddenly with a sigh: - And why are you Olya, and not Oleksan?
And now medium-sized perches and roaches are trembling on the shore, and squirrels are wiggling sharply. My job, of course, is the most important - I sort out what my father dumps out of the sack. Okushkov here, a dry twig - back to the river, a piece of wood here, wet mud - back to the river. My hands are red, the perch’s plumage is red, and the sorog’s eyes are too: it must be oh, how cold it is there, under the water! Every now and then I jump up and down with excitement:
- What a big pike! Mom will bake cherinyan from it!
And the echo from across the river lazily responds to my cry.
Cherinyan is a fishmonger.
My father will look at me and smile. His collar is unbuttoned, the sleeves of his padded jacket are wet, and a strand of brown hair that has escaped from under his hat is also wet.
My father took me fishing in the summer. And he also praised me for his efficiency, and most importantly, that I’m not afraid of any mosquitoes... The mother will hear the praise and nod in agreement:
– Yes, she is growing up as a kind helper for us, thank God!
And he will be silent and sigh.
Only later, much later, did I understand her sadness: the son whom my father had been waiting for was still missing.
- Boyfriend, Annushka, bring your son! – the father put his hand pleadingly on her shoulder, sending her to her fifth birth, and there was so much in his whisper that made my childish heart burst with pity and love for him. With the little mind of a child, I understood that for some reason the mother did not want to give birth to a boy. And I even seemed to be angry with her for this: why doesn’t she want to if dad asks! But I was also offended by my father: that he was just a little boy and a little boy, as if I wasn’t his helper!
For the sixth birth, I accompanied my mother to the hospital; my father was not at home; I took grain to the mill. Mom and I left the house - everything was fine. But on the hospital porch she suddenly burst into tears.
- Mother! What? Mother! – I was scared.
- The girl will jump out again. Father... will die of grief!
- And you, the boy! - I say and poke my finger at the button on her stomach.
She fell silent, calmed down, stroked me:
- My good girl... Run home, no matter what they do there.
- Don’t cry! You'll see - there will be a brother!
“Tep-tep!” – it dripped heavily from the roof onto my mother’s head. She smiled again, and I rushed home, turning off the road into the first thawed patches, confident that this time everything would be all right. And she shouted to her sisters from the doorway:
- And mom will soon bring us a brother!
They say that children's words are prophetic... My sisters fell asleep in the evening, and I myself was already dozing off, when suddenly there was a knock on the porch.
- Dad has arrived! – I jumped up.
- Vaska the leshak! He's sleeping and can't hear! She gave birth to a son! Born in a shirt, he will be happy!
My father returned from the mill in the morning and woke me up quietly:
- Where is mom?
“Mom brought my brother,” I say, opening my eyes with difficulty. And the father looks and doesn’t believe. The sweatshirt is covered in flour, the hat with earflaps is crumpled in his hand.
- Are you lying?!
That spring was not only for my father, but for all of us, the happiest. And my father - he became winged. No matter how much you work during an endless spring day, you still run from work radiant, cheerful, your face red from the sun, and your eyes like the sunny sky. And we are waiting for it, and one of us was the first to see it:
- Bapko is coming!
And - towards! And everyone wants to hold him in their arms! How can you take five of us in your arms?! So, I remember, my father gets down on all fours, the youngest Katenka pulls him by the hair - as if a horse, as if on the lead, and the rest of us are on horseback:
- But, but, Sivka-burka! Let's go!
- And how do you, Vasily, not get bored? - the neighbor shouts from behind the fence, either condemning or envying. The neighbors have no children, their yard is always quiet.
Near the porch, the father takes off his boots and shirt, washes himself for a long time and noisily, and finally opens the door to the hut, tiptoes towards the sway. Lifting back the old colorful sundress under which our brother Vastol is sleeping, he looks at him sleeping for a long time and seriously, almost without smiling. He will cover it and ask his mother quietly:
- Not crying?
- Thank God, no! - the mother will answer cheerfully and loudly. – Our nannies don’t complain!
Mamuk, like her father, is ruddy from a spring tan, busy, light and fast, preparing dinner. Barefoot, in a clean calico apron, and a matching calico scarf - she is so festive, as if she was expecting guests. But she herself was also at work all day, she also just came in, she only had time to feed the baby.
- Zinuk! - Mom commands. - Cover the table with a tablecloth. And you, Manya, bring the spoons. Where is Katya? On the street again? Bring her, Olya, bring her! Did anyone forget to wash their hands?
And she herself pulled out the cast iron pot with the brew from the oven and cut the bread.
It was not customary for us to invite people to the table twice; everyone sat down quickly. And they ate not haphazardly, but as if they were doing something. Only Katenka, holding her on his lap, will be helped by her father so that food does not fall past her mouth.
But since Vastol was born, I began to go fishing very rarely - where can you run away from your brother. And then one day... Well, isn’t it a shame that I wasn’t with my father?! He left one day after dinner... And returned only in the morning. Tattered, scratched, his hands are bloody, and over his shoulder there is such a pike that it’s scary to approach: its tail drags along the ground behind its father, its head reaches the ground in front.
- Blaslo Christos! - Mom exclaimed in fear, and father smiled, staggering from fatigue.
And there was not a person in our village who would not come to look at the miracle fish.
- Uh, Satan! Maybe this is the king of fish himself? - says some man, moving his spread fingers along the slippery scales in order to measure the length of the pike.
“No,” answers the other. - Not the king! The king, they say, has green moss growing on his back!
On the sidelines, women gossip superstitiously:
- This is not good, women! Kidas! In Udora, a fox ran right onto my aunt’s porch and sat there. “Don’t shoot, drive away! - the aunt shouts to her husband. “Kidas it is!” But he didn’t listen. And then, in the same year, how it went! They've cultivated... Just an aunt now. This pike is not good, women. Kidas!
- How bad it is! - the mother laughs. “I’ll bake cherinyan, the whole village come, there’s enough for everyone!” That's good!
This large festive gathering in our house that spring was already the second time - the first time the whole village came to us for Vastoly’s christening. And no one thought how soon they would have to get together again...
- And who are you leaving us with? Where am I going with such a crowd? – the mother wailed, choking with tears, falling to her father’s chest. And our neighbor, already completely ready for war, spoke quietly, looking at his mother:
- Yes, brother... This is cleaner than that pike. If you don't shut her mouth in time...
Before his departure, the neighbor was not sitting in his quiet, childless house, but in ours. And his wife stood by her fence, silently buried in her hand, her husband’s knapsack at her feet...
Since then, the village has been left without men. But life, as before, went differently for everyone. At the neighbor’s, you see, in the morning the stove is not even heated, and our mother is already in a hurry from the forest, dragging a full motley of mushrooms: we need something to feed us, so many mouths! In the evening, almost the whole village is already asleep, and mother is bending over the smokehouse, patching her underwear - our clothes are burning on all of us, like the most desperate boys, you won’t be happy.
The first letter from my father came from Vologda, the second - from the Volkhov Front. He wrote a lot - you have to ask about everyone, say hello to everyone, and the handwriting was small. And the paper is bad - I can’t read it with my mother’s eyes, it was my dear business. On this occasion, the mother lit a kerosene lamp with glass. And she herself, quiet, was nearby. I read it, she will nod gratefully and say:
- Come on, paws, one more time. Dear, I didn’t deprive anyone of my bow. Bored...
I read it again, and I see my mother is already dozing, she’s worn out for the day.
- You, mom, are not listening...
He shakes himself and shakes his head exhaustedly:
- Well, I’m listening. Read, my darling...
So sometimes we read it two or three times...
And then a card came from my father. Filmed in the forest. The tree is deaf behind and an unfamiliar soldier is nearby, very young. My father wrote that this is Efremov, a student from Leningrad, his friend, and very intelligent, understands things very well, and is also a signalman. It was clear that the father was proud of his friendship with Efremov... Both of them were wearing the same tunics and without hats. In my father’s hand there is a coil of wire, at his feet there is a large coil.
The mother looked at the card for a long time, sighed that the father had lost weight, then said:
“We should also take a photo and send him a card.” Where is it today?
And it was as if her words were heard!
The harvest was going on, but my mother hurt her hand so much that the sickle couldn’t hold it, so she had to carry the sheaves. I am her first assistant here, because Vastoly has already risen to his feet, my younger sisters are already fussing with him. That day we stopped home for lunch for a minute and rushed back to the field. I'm shaking in the middle of the cart, holding on with all my might. Lo and behold: lame Egor comes out of the Kusprom hut, with a tripod on his shoulder.
- Yogoryushko! Oh how you are needed! – the horse’s mother stopped.
- Everyone needs it. “There’s no material,” the photographer answered gloomily. He, lame, used to often appear in the village with his apparatus, then disappeared, and now again - here he is.
- Cute! Click at least once! At least send his son to his father!
– We’ll find it, if one thing...
- So sit down! – the mother was delighted and turned the cart home. - But, but, Father!
But neither Vastolya nor the little sisters were in our yard, anywhere nearby; the baby chickens had managed to run away somewhere!
Oh, my mother was upset:
- Well, isn’t it a bandit team? Let's go to the river! Run, Olya! And you, Yogorushko, rest a little, we’ll find you now. Drink kvass from the heat!
My mother rushed to look near the nearby houses, I ran to the river and into the nearby raspberry fields, screaming, calling - as if they had fallen through the ground! How could I have guessed that the reason I didn’t find it was because I was screaming: our little ones were filling their bellies in the pea field, they heard me and hid so that they wouldn’t find me.
- Go crazy! – the mother was almost wailing. - Maybe he’s no longer alive? Well, run somewhere else!
Mom doesn't seem to think about taking photographs anymore; and people gathered in the yard: of course, the photographer is from somewhere from pre-war times! There are old women here with children in their arms, and boys, everyone is interested.
And when Yegor got up to leave, one of the grandmothers approached his mother, and her granddaughter said:
“Yours won’t go anywhere, they’ll come running.” And you can film with mine too. Here you go. He and Vastoly are similar. Yes, yearlings differ a lot from each other, if not even similar! It will be completely unnoticeable on the card. If you send it to Vasily, he will be happy.
Yegor perked up:
- Take the boy! And next time I come, I’ll definitely take pictures of everyone! I say this with all authority!
Mother both here and there - how can that be?! But there was nothing to do, she grabbed a stranger’s child. And right next to the tears...
- No no! – the photographer protested. - Light up with a smile! Remove the tears! That's it!.. Removed!
And soon fellow travelers from the region brought this photograph, and we sent it to the front. And they began to wait.
- God! - the mother sighed. - I deceived my relative. What a sin...
There were no letters from my father this time for a long, long time. And when the answer finally came, for some reason my father didn’t even mention the photograph.
And then... It’s scary to remember... Vastol fell ill with diarrhea and died. Son, continuation of the surname...
– It’s all my fault! She deceived her father at the front! God punished me! - the mother screamed, not remembering herself, when they took her away from Vastolya’s grave.
And not only my mother thought so, but in my heart, too. And still... Forgive me, my mother...
Before we recovered from this misfortune, my father’s funeral came...
That's it. That's it...
And then, after the war, five years passed, we received an envelope with this photo card. And there was nothing else in the envelope, not even a word. And instead of the return address: “Leningrad, Efremov”...
...The TV is droning, it’s day outside the window, and it’s dark, dark...
Threw it away, it burned out!
How so, son? After all, you have a son, what if he asks? Or won’t he ask anymore?..
From the book “Wolf Bast”, Moscow, Sovremennik Publishing House, 1989.
About the author
Nina Nikitichna (Nikitevna) Kuratova - the first professional Komi writer, was born on February 17, 1930 in the village of Kibra (now the village of Kuratovo) in the Sysolsky district of the Komi Autonomous Region. During the war years she worked on a collective farm and the Kuratovsky orphanage. After graduating from school in 1946, she entered the Syktyvkar Pedagogical School. From 1949 to 1951 she worked as a teacher in kindergartens in Seregovo and Ukhta, then lived with her family in the German Democratic Republic for six years. After returning home, she again entered teaching work and was a teacher in kindergartens in Inta, Vorkuta, and Syktyvkar. Since 1972 - consultant at the Writers' Union of the Komi Republic. In 1978 she was admitted to the USSR Writers' Union.
N. N. Kuratova’s path in literature began with writing poems and fairy tales for young pupils, and in 1972 her first book was published - a collection of stories for children - “Koch gosnech” (A gift from a hare). Currently, Nina Nikitichna has hundreds of children's works published in the pages of the Bi Kin magazine and in separate collections. A sign of all-Union recognition of N. Kuratova as a children's writer was her book “Let's Get Acquainted and Be Friends” (Moscow, 1984), published by the reputable publishing house “Children's Literature”.
The first “adult” work by N. N. Kuratova appeared in print in 1964. The story “Appassionata” in the magazine “Wowyw Kodzów” (North Star) introduced readers to a new author, but already with his own literary style of writing: confessional storytelling, highlighting the inner experiences of the characters, attention to the values of everyday human life. With particular force, these features common to the entire work of N. N. Kuratova were expressed in her first story “Batias yilys vist” (The Tale of Fathers, 1969), in which the theme of war is revealed through a dramatic collision of the personal fate of the heroes who managed to preserve love in an extreme situation and the purity of human relationships.
An important stage in the work of N. Kuratova was the books “Radeitana, musa” (What is loved, cute, 1974) and “Bobonyan kor” (Taste of clover, 1983). The author affirms in them simple truths, but necessary for the spiritual “economy” of his contemporary: that evil is powerless before good, that one must live with people as human beings, that the family is the main nutritious soil on which human happiness grows. The central characters of most of the works in these collections are women. The writer compares the actions of her heroines with popular ideas about a woman as the keeper of the family, the bearer of age-old worldly wisdom. It is no coincidence that one of the key heroines of N. Kuratova - grandmother Tatyana (the story "Bobonyan kor") - is considered by those around her to be "todys", that is, knowledgeable, in charge. This same popular definition is quite applicable to other female characters, such as Maryushka from the story of the same name, Galina from the story “Kuim Vozha Topol” (Polar with Three Peaks), Daria from “The Tale of Fathers”, etc. Their characters are revealed in different dramatic life situations, but all of them are characterized by a heightened desire for goodness, truth, beauty, and it is they who are entrusted by the writer with raising children. In this sense, the works of N. N. Kuratova can be classified as a special category of works - the so-called literature of education. It is also important that girls, as a rule, play the role of those brought up in the works of N.N. Kuratova. This feature of the character composition is associated with the author’s idea, also based on folk wisdom: when raising a boy, you raise a man; By raising a girl, you are raising the future of the people.
A woman is responsible for the moral order in life - this is the writer’s thought, therefore she is attentive to women’s destinies, but she is also particularly demanding of her heroines and is far from idealizing them. The theme of the impoverishment of the feminine principle in a woman became the main one in the book “The Thief of Gormog” (Wolf's Bast, 1989). Marya, the heroine of the story that gives the book its name, is fabulously strong and beautiful in her youth. But she remained a widow early on, during the war she regularly worked for empty workdays on the collective farm, and she taught her children to brew moonshine - not for the sake of drunken fun, but for the sake of a piece of bread in the house; Only this matter turned into disaster - the children became drunkards. The type of modern woman who prefers to live in a space of personal comfort is recreated by N. N. Kuratova in the image of Anna, the heroine of the story with the symbolic title “Otka Potka” (Lonely Bird). Having grown up in an urban environment, she leaves her husband, a rural teacher, and returns to live with her parents, without thinking about the fact that she is depriving her son of his father’s love. And she continues to live under her parents’ wing, so as not to disturb herself with family concerns that are alien to her. Another type of modern woman is Anna’s friend Margot: a trade worker, well-groomed, dressed in “scarcity”, which has become the goal of her life, she looks at the world through the eyes of a shopkeeper. The obtained thing is also a man - her husband, “stolen” from another family for prestige. The next link in the chain is daughter Margot, who is looking for a wealthy and obedient husband. Along with heroines who look like birds of prey, male heroes, weak-willed and weak, are also condemned. There is another series of male characters in the story - these are Anna's son Victor, raised by his grandmother, and his friend Vanya. Good sons, they also possess those qualities that family life requires from a man-father. The type of male protector, male support is developed by the writer in the future. Thus, a reliable guiding star for the hero of the story “Urodik kaktus ledzoma dzoridz” (Blooming cactus), included in the collection “Addzyslam na tshuk” (See you for sure, 1995), is love: Yegor Filippovich, Yegorsha, devotes a lot of energy to leadership work at the mine, but clearly realizes that the main source of these forces is the woman he loves, the family. The story contains many details from the industrial life of a coal mine and at the same time is very lyrical.
N.N. Kuratova was one of the first in Komi literature to turn to the topic “man and state.” The unjustification of Stalin's repressions, the indifference to the people of the state, which declared the happiness of its citizens as its goal, is revealed by the writer in a number of works and especially clearly in the story “Sjod sinyasa tominik niv” (A young girl with black eyes), the heroine of which found herself in a camp only because She couldn’t leave her loved ones.
The heroes of N.N. Kuratova grow up with her. In the works that made up her books “Yoktigtyryi tuvchchomoy” (Stepping, dancing, 2002), “Menam dona sikotsh-ozhereleoy” (My precious necklace, 2009), the narration is narrated by a person with extensive life experience. A connection between generations that cannot be lost is the main leitmotif of these collections.
N. N. Kuratova - Honored Worker of Culture of the Komi Republic (1980), laureate of the State Prize named after I. A. Kuratov (1987), People's Writer of the Komi Republic (2001), Honored Worker of Culture of the Russian Federation (2010).