Groundhog Day

Congenital anthropocentrism (although this is a false attitude, but you can’t do anything, I still live with it) encourages me to make a lyrical statement: texts - they are just like people. The texts are born, live, experience divided (or unrequited as lucky) love for the author, and later for the reader; Some are quickly decrepit, others hold well as well as at a respectable age. But what is most amazing - sometimes the texts die.

When exactly and why the text dies - the question is controversial. In any case, it seems to me that the text, which is increasingly reading not pleasure for the sake, but by responsibility (say, because it is part of the school/university program) is more dead than alive.

An even more entertaining question: what happens to the texts after death? The texts, obviously, are also given by their faith. One shines non -existence, the other - hell of rural libraries or paradise under the pillows of structural linguists. Well, the texts that believed in reincarnation are doomed to the rebirth cycle. That is, the Rimey (not, by the way, such a word in the dictionaries of the Russian language, but in the language itself - is there; and what do you order to do here?!)

Recently, Hinduism seems to have become a fashionable religion in the community of texts. For "he is given by faith" with awesome intensity. The wheel of literary degenerations is increasingly reminiscent of the conveyor. The piece specimens , brilliant gestures and marginal studio are replaced by an effective and low-cost technology for creating a more or less mass reading.

The projects of the publisher Zakharov at first seemed to me a funny conceptual course - although not the first freshness: after all, it was, for example, a few years ago, the network project of Sergei Sokolovsky “Classic” was launched, on the title page of which the author called for progressive humanity to multiply and produce all kinds of classic texts. Since Sokolovsky, unlike Zakharov, did not promise money for mournful work, professional enthusiasm, stump was clear, was not observed. The case was limited to the wonderful, stabbing story of Danila Davydov “Underground inhabitants” and the revolutionary “last speech of Pinocchio” by Alexei Tsvetkov. However, I don’t think, however, that Zakharov really borrowed the idea from Sokolovsky: from the moment of creating a project on the site, according to the meter’s readings at 3.00 AM, February 19, 14 visitors have visited (of which 5 are the visits of your humble servant, the rest, probably the project participants themselves). Search systems, which were taught to the word "Rome", for some reason bypassing the "classics" by the side, so the likelihood that one of the visitors of the hidden resource was a cunning publisher Zakharov is striving for zero.

One way or another, but when I learned about the Romeker plans of the publisher Zakharov, I remember, I even rejoiced. Say, here, the cunning plays with people and letters, simultaneously, he explores the nature of intertextuality, and he blasphemes her little - Ay, well done! But as Zakharov’s concepts are briskly materialized in serious circulations, for some reason it begins to hang boredom from them.

Mortal boredom.

It begins to seem that the time has come to retell the old stories in a new way - all in a row, indiscriminately. As if everything that could be invented and remembered, they already told that there will never be new stories and everything that the reader, who is chilling in the last trolley in the north -west, can count on - the twice updated Anna Karenina, the best of the worst love novels of all time.

And the offensive of a sort of ground day is already imagining: our morning will begin with a new version of the "three musketeers" (like the original, it will probably be printed in one of the central newspapers - by the chapter in each issue); At lunch for improving appetite for the sake of, we can, say, look through the variations on the topic of Balzac ; In the evening, falling on the sofa with the new Romean Agatha Christie , postponing the most relevant, sixth in a row, the version of the "demons" before the weekend, and updated by the efforts of several Dyuzhin's hardworking apprentices "Ulysses" - and even before Christmas boredom. But we will not hang our nose: our grandchildren, in this case, will have to read the Khazar dictionary and the norms of the Khazar Dictionary , and this can be very funny: such a material will certainly provoke the masterpiece of the most mediocre scribe.

However, my grunts should not deceive the gullible reader: a romeic as a way of love affair with other people's text is still quite pretty; Even to the unceremonious publishing project of Igor Zakharov, I treat more with curiosity than with irritation (although I was unpleasant for me, Khotabych Oblomov and was bored with a diligently rewritten "idiot"). While my internal reader grips about the Zakharovskaya “Rimey factory”, my inner esthete reads the Akunin “Seagull” , and the inner snob repeats that she agrees only to the masterpieces of the “Pacific Limt” Michel Tourny, I myself do not take active participation in their dispute, because I sincerely believe that all alien game deserves an understanding smile - at least.

Yes, and the day of the groundhog was the second of February, which did not prevent all those present safely wake up in the morning of the third, fourth, and then the eighteenth ...