Garros evacuation

Poems are usually published in this place, but I have not yet learned to write poetry for the death of friends, and indeed, as Yevtushenko’s deaths published now showed, such poetic tombstones are almost always bad. Not because they are “Danish” (breakthroughs are possible in this genre), but because there are at least two emotions, the development of thought, the development of thoughts. And to philosophize above the coffin is somehow not very decent. And what is the second thought here in the case of Alexander Garros, except for despair? One must not be a man to make literature out of this.

Everyone loved him, and this is always suspicious, because they usually love those who do not interfere, and do not usually interfere with insignificance. But there are exceptions to this rule: when a person is obvious, clearly and almost defiantly good. Garros was talented, brave and disobeying, but could not envy anyone by definition, because the rest in something were more harmful. If we somehow determine its main literary and journalistic (more precisely, critical) theme, then the theme of this was “a beetle in an anthill”. He loved and knew the Strugatsky, they were brought up by them - and, like most of their pupils, in the current world he was most preoccupied with the question: how to make a man of a well -mannered person from a person, what could affect him, what are the laws of survival among the jubilant majority? Their best with Evdokimov, the story “Chuchhe”, written on the material of the history of Lyceum Mikhail Khodorkovsky, was just devoted to the main problem: is it possible to artificially grow a new generation of people endowed with superpowers? Like Strugatsky in his last novel “The powerless of this world”, a book that has not yet been read really, since very much has been invested there, it is impossible: in human nature, and in nature in general, too strong brakes are laid. The homeostatic universe is included in the decisive moment - and does not allow superhumans to be realized. Sometimes a war is such a brake, and, looking at a new brilliant generation, I am more and more afraid that we will again see the same homeostasis in action. So it was already with the generation of 1940, from which a few survived. And in the mysterious, meaningless, incomprehensible death of Garros at 41 (as before in the death of the brilliantly gifted Lutsik and Samorov, which could well come up with a new country) I see the same law: to stop too good ones that could push us out of a closed circle. And for some reason this circle is needed, as it is needed, maybe a catching impasse on the road. Everything should develop, and we - at all costs spin on the spot in order to pay off world development.

This is about this terrible power of homeostasis - the suddenly included “truck factor”, as the last joint essay called them with Evdokimov - he wrote all his life because he saw manifestations of this force with exceptional vigilance. He, I think, felt her on himself. Because the “gray mucus” (their excellent novel) for its final celebration needs ideal conditions, and this is not someone's evil will, but the mechanism of self-preservation of the world. And Russia is some very important part of this homeostasis, so it is doomed to grind everyone who is able to change it.

And sometimes it seems to me that it is still worse. The last months of Garros’s life were very painful, although he never spoke or wrote about it and generally kept with such a courage that we will never wait from the characters of deliberately brutal. Only convinced cosmopolitans and pacifists, true samurai, as Garros himself called himself in the last year, show such courage, is manifested. This is not dull humility to fate, but a special school of behavior developed by a long reading and strong imagination. As Leonid Filatov said to our last meeting with him when I just brought Garros to meet him - what is it: it turned out all my life, how brave and noble, and in the face of the disease it turned out to be more sweeping? Indecent. And now I think: suddenly Garros was still taken right now because all of us awaits something catastrophic, long-known and, scary to say, deserved? And if he left so painfully, and it was still a desperate attempt to save him, like the attempts of Rumata to evacuate Budaha, how much worse what the remaining awaits? All this Arcanar, where are the gray already replaced by black ones?

And what to do to those who stayed is, too, unfortunately, it is clear. To resist this new world advancing on us, and not think about the result. And to be comforted by the fact that either you are not good enough to grind you - either still too much is needed here to evacuate you.