Nikolai Klimontovich died

It would seem that the glory of the writer of new times is provided to him. But the fact of the matter is that he turned out to be a writer not of any special time, but an artist in essence: lonely, uncompromising, arrogant. This was contrary to his vital way of Sibarita, indulging in all its whims. His charm often overshadowed his extraordinary mind - it was soft and irresistible, and the mind was tough and stinging. They used charm and sharp word - he was the best secular observer of Kommersant and the welcome columnist for the most famous publications, and they were more afraid of mind and observation, especially after the scandalous “last newspaper”, in which the internal life of the untouchable publishing house is depicted with merciless irony.

But the effect of her was merciless - his publishing fate went downhill largely. Of course, he was printed, it was stupid not to print his subtlest stories and stories, but the attention of the offended press, and therefore publishers, was lost, because in advertising times, advance required almost more strength than creativity. Out of pride, he made no effort except those that comforted bitterness. Nikolai died at 64, because he could no longer write. And for him it meant - not to live. His books and plays remained - they will always remind us of what an extraordinary writer we lost.