Nothing personal

The collection “Lessons of Russian Love”, compiled by Maria Golovanivskaya, consists of 100 love texts of Russian literature and two dozen essays about masters of love prose - from Pushkin to Limonov. Among the authors of the essay are Sergey Gandlevsky, Tatyana Tolstaya and Alexander Timofeevsky, Alena Doletskaya, Arkady Ippolitov and others. Colta.ru publishes the chapter written by Evgenia Pishchikova.

With Pelagia Aparina from the village of Kruchi, the Ekaterinovsky district of the Saratov region, this happened like this: “Ivan Egorovich and Pelagia Ivanovna met at a village party in the spring of 1946. A month later, she looked out the window of Pelagia - he goes straight to their gate. My heart shouted as I heard a knock. She went out to him, wiping her wet, in soapy foam. And he struck a minute and said: “Please, if you don’t mind, get married to me!” So Pelageya became Aparina ”(Russian State Archive of Continuing History, D. 78, 79).

The Pelagia explanation in love turned out just like in a fairy tale.

In the old Russian fairy tale, even from the collection of Alexander Nikolayevich Afanasyev, in three volumes, where texts are without age, without a bottom, if you look in them for a long time, it is addictive; There is a grandmother of a blue hat, a mushroom war, a clay guy who ate his parents, that he was blinded - a grandfather with a spin and a grandfather with a club: a voracious Russian galatea; Well, romantic, of course, heroes - fools and virgins with their interest. And Dunno there lives not in the sunny city, but stands in a bull bubble and in a freshened bull skin in the middle of someone else's garden - scarecrow. The plots are completely without rainbows and pink unicorns - vital. All -improving. In Afanasyevsky, “Morozko” brings the old man home to two frozen stepmother daughters, she “turned away the horn and found the children dead.” But what to do? “I was inherent, stinted, but after the stepdaughter made it reconciled. And they began to live yes, but to make good, but they can’t remember the dashing. Susad was awarded, they played the wedding, Marfusha lives happily. The old man grandchildren was frozen and did not give stubbornly. "

Every fairy tale describes everyday life. Death is everyday. Love, miracle and death are parts of everyday life.

The atrocity, vice and fornication are just the same as the usual and necessary components of the ordinary, and not surprise and not a break; So now in the latest Internet news you read how in St. Petersburg a brothel was found by the smell of borsch (there was a home cuisine that was attached to the services of cloudlessness).

The life of the genus is continuous. No personal reflection - they have not told anyone that a person was born for happiness. A fairy-tale, preliteural reality does not give a set of feelings-etalones, nor a verbal canon to express these feelings-perhaps in all folklore meetings you will not find a single lyrical explanation in love. There are several sensual exclamations; Basically, we are not talking about a love conversation, but about the persuasion, the condition: “The noble Prince Peter sent one of his servants to ask:“ Tell me, girl, who wants to cure me? Let him cure and receive a rich reward. ” She replied without abysses: “I want to cure him, but I don’t demand any rewards from him. Here is my word: if I do not become a wife to him, then it doesn’t fit me up and treat him” ”(Yermolay-Erasmus,“ The Tale of Peter and Fevronia of the Murom ”)-or the agreement (sometimes the most fantastic lady):“ Anastasia beautiful woke up and woke up and wake up, as well as I wake up. "And what, we will fight, TI to put up?" EN KAZA: “Kali our horses to struggle, Tagda and we will wake up.” In Yana, they lowered their cane. The horses panked and began to lick ADIN of the other, and they began to graze. Duck Anastasia is beautiful and seemed to Fedar Tugarin: “Were you my husband, and I am to Jean’s chop.” And, having eaten on the cane, we went houses. Live Saba to get used to it, yak of the Galubka. ”

And this tradition of the love explanation of “as an agreement” is eternal - at least it was preserved in the post -war Soviet village.

The coincidence of scenarios of folk (rustic) and fairy -tale love confessions can be absolute, to grin.

“Vanyushka went home. He comes, Marya says: “Well, mother, I saw the royal daughter. Such, mother, misfortune-she dresses up all day and looks in the mirrors, does not know how to work, says-bread grows on Christmas trees. Yes, he’s drinking tea-it sucks a sugar head.” And Marya laughs and says: “Okay, Vanyushka. Okay, but it’s a buttock. I'll find a bride for you myself.” I looked for a mother in the village and found her son a bride Nastenka. Such a good girl, the mistress is working, a working needlewoman. ” This is from the fairy tale "Vanyushka and Princess." And here is the record of the memoirs of Olga Semenovna Kalinova (“Voices of the peasants: rural Russia of the twentieth century in peasant memoirs”, 1996; project manager - Professor Theodore Shanin): “Pavel had a city bride, I did not wait for anything, with our poverty. I come home, there is my future father -in -law. The father -in -law says: "I say, I came to woo you." Usually they send people, matchmakers, and he himself came, Pavel's father. Says: “We have long been about you, Olga, we dream!” I was the most working in the village. ”

Or, say, compare the marriage proposal from the fairy tale “Soldiers and Princess”: “In gold chests, the clothes will lie like a heat to burn!” - And the story of Natalia Egorovna Shilkina, who in 1970 was called married in an equally cute way (entries from the project of Professor Shanin): “He then, when he persuaded, said that he said that he said that All in gold It will dress her. And indeed, he bought her a lot, she has 16 golden teeth. And he said in a joke that she was golden! ”

Obviously, the contract or even matchmaking - as a form of collective recognition of love (recognition of the swarm) - is much more lovely more lovely confessed. And Vera Fedorovna Shaneva, the Station Buftchitsa (Siberia Station, the city of Myski of the Kemerovo region), explains why: “He did not ring with me, but asked respectfully. He said: “The sister is still a bachelor. Therefore, the mother will be against our wedding. But you still go for me!” The sociologist-interviewer (the recording of the oral memoir of Vera Fedorovna is in Rgani) is trying to clarify: "In what sense" did not ring "?" “He did not lie, did not present anything,” Vera Fedorovna Shaneeva answers. - I am in a catering all my life, and in hostels, I heard about love. And he said good words, beautiful. ”

For Vera Fedorovna, love recognition is ugly words. An ancient attitude to the concept of beauty and ugliness of the word. “Ugly words” - embarrassing, crafty, personal, exposing, too beautiful. This is a shameful speech act, temptation, verbal sin, verbal fornication.

When you read folk memoirs, it is interesting to observe the return of the word, overwhelmed by two centuries of the inexorage multiple, Gostiny, literary conversation, initial meaning. “Beautiful”, the right word is that behind which there is not a symbol, but reality, action. So, Anna Matveevna Gantsevich (records of the group of Theodore Shanin) said an absolutely accurate, impossible phrase: “The husband, it happened, cheated on me. But I did not think that he would leave me, since he was very true to me. " Behind this phrase - bone, cerebellar reality. The fairy-tale, in which, as in the endless versions of Koshcheev, the older brothers cut, dissect and deceive Ivan Tsarevich in order to appropriate his exploits, “threats and otseners” make his bride and bring the girl to his father’s court as his own prey. "Where is your younger brother?" - the father asks. “We don’t know, Father, we were smashing with him.” What is the bride, Tsarevno - gold curls? Silent. Do not die, for some words. There is no Vanya. According to any literary law - there is no reader forgotten such a heroine. And according to the life, fabulous canon (on Pravda), everything goes as expected. And only Vanyusha, doused by the morning light and live water, appears at the porch of the porch, as Princess immediately rushes to the neck of a real hero: “Here is my husband, and the brothers said the Scy of Ski!” True girl.

Ugly words mean nothing. From them only "exposure".

And one of the most charming Soviet utopians, writer Semyon Babaevsky, who, in his “Golden Star Cavalier” with a julver, was built by the city of the Sun (power station) on the Kuban collective farm, is also true, proved by his genuine nationality - picked up a peasant's incredulous and vindictive attitude towards a love of love and, as if turning his romance into a final a fairy tale, denies himself the right to engage in literary work itself:

“I know that we still have such readers who are already turning over the book and run forward: they do not care before the Kuban glistened in the spill and what color the grass took after the rain. They want to find out more likely what happened there, on the mound. Here every little thing should not be lost. If Sergei will be explained in Irina’s love - and this is quite possible - then this moment needs to be written in all his details: did Sergey Irina say everything that he thought directly, without abyss, as he was appropriate for the front -line soldier, or was expressed only by hints and smiles; whether he blushed at the same time; What exactly Irina answered him; If Sergey did not have the courage for that misfortune, then it is necessary to show where this timidity came from: what, in fact, the hero, when he had no courage at the right time ... But we will not indulge the impatient reader and leave our heroes on the mound. Let them enjoy both wet, warm after the rain by the steppe, and the moon running between the clouds of clouds, and if they find it necessary to explain, then let it do without extraneous witnesses. ”

As the writer Babaevsky looked in the Kuban.

Much in the Sloboda, communal (in the recent past - peasant, and now city and public) life has occurred "without extraneous witnesses."

Now that the judgments and ideals of the popular majority have become visible and important again, it has become noticeable that these ideals are conditionally traditional, but not pronounced (the right person is clear without words) and pre-individual. The center of independent sociological analysis made a poetic survey by the first summer month: "What does a person live for?" Most answers were given according to the obvious scenario, a quote from a favorite film (which, in general, is in general a fairy tale about the Soviet fifties): “Living, trunk, is not necessary for joy, but for conscience.” When expanding the question (which means “for conscience”) the answers were the following: “Not only for themselves, but for others, for everyone.”

"How to live for everyone?" “Live like everyone else.”

The country was still a peasant (in 1921 eighty -three percent of the population - peasants); We, like cucumbers, are eighty percent of the community warm and sour, dissolving personal. Life around is an abstruse, alien, something was wrong, but if you look at it with ancient communal eyes, then everything fits into an unsympathetic, but understandable picture: creeping offshores, sluggish mortgages, banquics are required, angry Turks with their steel swabs for every Russian square meter are dicked, some of them are fed, beechs. Berry, they climb into his pocket, the sovereigns are heated in the sun.

And life plots are eternal.

Majorka Nesmeyan-Ksarevna (around her a luxury, everything is what the soul wants, and she never smiles, because “she has nothing more to want”) gets rid of the spell and merrily floods by the window because her future husband, honest worker, having seen her own beauty, fought ... th the mud-this is as funny as Petrosyan to see. Or the show "Ural dumplings" to see. But, by the way, an honest employee receives an understandable life scenario as a reward: he worked Petrosyan, stood on karachi in a puddle - and became rich and successful. And then for three pennies the field plowed.

And here is also Ivan Bykovich with a retoner from the brother, Opivaylo, Yersha, Parles and Starcock (and always, surrounded by a strong bold man, some intellectual will be shuttered), who married the princess, and he became languidly and hard, and she wanted to become an asterisk in the sky. Also a familiar situation, we saw such stars.

In the very little things, the modern national mental economy inherits and copies the archaic: for example, Natalia Pushkareva in the work “Honey and Malno under your language ...” has a wonderful record of “Tatar kiss”: “The love kissing differed from the ritual-treasured kiss in that the Pluscati’s“ lips ”-healing, kissing his lips, kissing his lips, kissing his lips, kissing his lips, kissing his lips, kissing his lips An open mouth, and most importantly - “stealing the tongue”. In the XIV century, in some repentant collections (we are talking about the penitentiary literature used by priests during the confession to determine the punishment for certain sins), such a kiss was called “Tatar” (“did it put its tongue ... did you put it in Tatar, or who do you have?”). ” Then, after the centuries, in the Russian love life, “Kiss with the language” became called French.

Useful, therapeutic and very today's popular ability to see a Basurman trace in all its own sin and to make excuses to them.

And if to such an extent - without taking it to the end, we live with archaic; impersonal reality, then the traditions of modern folk love recognition should be fabulous. Is it so?

This is true.

We gave examples from peasant memoirs describing the post-war (somewhere until 1980) a village life that is swirling between a tuning, a well and a market area.

And today's tuning, well and market square are the Internet; And examples of modern folk recognition of love should be sought in Internetlorer (the term clumsy, but already existing, adopted by the folklorists of several schools).

On the request “Recognition of Love” (girl, guy, mch, husband, wife) - three million answers; All the first pages are anonymous, common explanations. Today's “writing” is something like a huge collective album of Dembel and a graduate at the same time. There, of course, is full of “urban romance”, such quasi -forming folklore:

I am writing to you, my beloved boy,
That I can’t live without you anymore.
Why do I dream of every night,
Why am I suffering and tears all pour?

But most of the explanations are others. Thousands of “recommended” confessions (for example, SMS understandings) are falling into your table, the same, like empty canning cans: “Bunny, hello. I remind you that I love you! And I already madly miss your smile, sexual voice and touch. Remember that you are my most expensive little man! " For the "man" must immediately be killed; “Man”, “Story” and “Kisa”-terrible words, “Woodo-name”, which in a second are divided by the one who was so called, immediately leave a living, individual person to some black fraternal hole, where there is nothing of their own, not a single personal details-no hill, nor snow, nor a dead toad of a flower, nor childhood, nor the first adulthood Bellya, not even the first mobile phone and the first selfie in the fitting room.

In general, the quoted recognition is a classic example of “zero-rescue”, “empty speech”, when there are words in the sentence, but they mean nothing. There are words in this love sentence, but they mean nothing personal. Nothing present. This is all from the past. This is a communal rumble, ancient fairy -tale words denoting an agreement or an agreement between two men, Kisa and Zaya. We are still together, like a husband and wife, I remind you that we have everything like everyone else. Your voice, as necessary, is sexy, h/yu (smile) has everything, everything is in order. We cooled like a ghoul, we live like in a fairy tale.

And only occasionally from all this explanatory collective smoothness, some pale obscene sprout crawls into the white light, and you understand how the personal in a fairy tale grew. From the foal and grew. And I stumbled upon a great, personal, “eternal” in the most candy, clashed, popular chat “How to make an offer to a girl”: “I can’t do anything - when I start to worry, I grab myself for a member. This prevents me from explaining with a girl. I got used to it when I watched terrible films in childhood, I kept myself as a member. It's like a friend’s hand. ”

So we will be saved - maybe. Let us return to modern life not through a chanson drama, not through the heroic clicks, but through the foal. First, admit to yourself that you are small and weak, then admit to the whole world that you are lonely. And then to admit the love of the girl, grabbing himself by the pants - in that anxious love that is looking for its own words.

Lessons of Russian love. - M., Corpus, 2014. 592 p.