The last bow of the astafievs by head. Analysis "Last Bow" Astafiev V.P.

Victor Astafiev

LAST BOW

(A story in stories)

BOOK ONE

Far and near fairy tale

In the backyard of our village, among a grassy clearing, stood on stilts a long log building with a hemming of boards. It was called "mangazina", which was also adjacent to the delivery - here the peasants of our village brought artel equipment and seeds, it was called the "public fund". If the house burns down, if even the whole village burns down, the seeds will be intact and, therefore, people will live, because as long as there are seeds, there is arable land in which you can throw them and grow bread, he is a peasant, a master, and not a beggar.

Away from the import - guardhouse. She snuggled under the scree, in the wind and eternal shade. Above the guardhouse, high on the hillside, larch and pine trees grew. Behind her, a key smoked from the stones in a blue haze. It spread along the foot of the ridge, marking itself with dense sedge and meadowsweet flowers in the summer, in winter - a quiet park from under the snow and kuruzhak along the bushes crawling from the ridges.

There were two windows in the guardhouse: one near the door and one on the side towards the village. That window, which is towards the village, was overwhelmed with wild cherry blossoms, stingers, hops and various foolishness that had bred from the spring. The guardhouse had no roof. Hop swaddled her so that she looked like a one-eyed shaggy head. An overturned bucket stuck out of the hops like a pipe, the door opened immediately to the street and shook off raindrops, hop cones, bird cherry berries, snow and icicles, depending on the season and weather.

Vasya the Pole lived in the guardhouse. He was small, lame on one leg, and he had glasses. Only person in a village that had glasses. They evoked shy courtesy not only from us children, but also from adults.

Vasya lived quietly and peacefully, did no harm to anyone, but rarely anyone came to him. Only the most desperate children stealthily peered into the guardroom window and could not see anyone, but they were still frightened of something and ran away screaming.

At the yard, the children pushed around from early spring until autumn: they played hide and seek, crawled on their belly under the log entrance to the gate of the yard, or buried under the high floor behind piles, and even hid in the bottom of the barrel; cut into grandmas, into chika. Tes hem was beaten with punks - beats poured with lead. At the blows that resounded under the vaults of fuss, a sparrow-like commotion flared up inside her.

Here, near the import, I was attached to work - I twisted the winnowing machine with the children in turn, and here for the first time in my life I heard music - a violin ...

The violin was rarely, very, really rare, played by Vasya the Pole, that mysterious, out of this world person who necessarily comes into the life of every boy, every girl and remains in memory forever. Such to a mysterious person it was as if they were supposed to live in a hut on chicken legs, in a musty place, under a ridge, and so that the light in it barely flickered, and so that an owl would laugh drunkenly over the chimney at night, and so that a key smoked behind the hut. and so that no one, no one, knows what is happening in the hut and what the owner is thinking about.

I remember that Vasya once came to his grandmother and asked something from his nose. Grandmother sat Vasya to drink tea, brought dry herbs and began to brew it in a cast-iron. She looked pitifully at Vasya and sighed.

Vasya drank tea not in our way, not in a bite and not from a saucer, he drank directly from a glass, laid out a teaspoon on a saucer and did not drop it on the floor. His glasses flashed menacingly, his cropped head looked small, the size of a trouser. Gray streaked across his black beard. And all of it seems to be salty, and coarse salt dried it up.

Vasya ate shyly, drank only one glass of tea, and no matter how much his grandmother tried to persuade him, he did not eat anything else, bowed ceremoniously and took away in one hand an earthenware pot with a herbal tea, in the other - a bird-cherry stick.

Lord, Lord! Grandmother sighed, closing the door behind Vasya. - You are a hard lot ... A person goes blind.

In the evening I heard Vasya's violin.

Was early autumn. The gates are thrown wide open. A draft was walking in them, stirring shavings in the bins repaired for grain. The smell of rancid, musty grain was drawn to the gate. A flock of children, not taken to the arable land because of their youth, played robber detectives. The game was sluggish and soon died out completely. In autumn, not like in spring, it is somehow badly played. One by one, the children wandered home, and I stretched out on the heated log entrance and began to pull out the grains that had sprouted in the cracks. I was waiting for the carts to rattle on the hillside in order to intercept our people from the arable land, ride home, and there, you see, they would let the horse take to the watering place.

Behind the Yenisei, behind the Guard Bull, it got dark. In the gorge of the river Karaulka, waking up, blinked once or twice big star and began to glow. She looked like a burdock. Behind the ridges, over the tops of the mountains, stubbornly, not in autumn, a strip of dawn smoldered. But then darkness descended upon her. Dawn pretended like a luminous window with shutters. Until morning.

It became quiet and lonely. The guardhouse is not visible. It hid in the shadow of the mountain, merged with the darkness, and only the yellowed leaves gleamed a little under the mountain, in a depression washed out by a spring. Because of the shadows began to circle the bats, squeak over me, fly into the open gates of imports, catch flies there and nocturnal butterflies, not otherwise.

I was afraid to breathe loudly, squeezed into the corner of the fuss. On the slope, above Vasya's hut, carts rumbled, hooves clattered: people were returning from the fields, from the castles, from work, but I did not dare to peel off the rough logs, I could not overcome the paralyzing fear that had come over me. Windows lit up in the village. Smoke from the chimneys stretched towards the Yenisei. In the thickets of the Fokinsky River, someone was looking for a cow and then called her in a gentle voice, then scolded her with the last words.

In the sky, next to that star that still shone alone over the Guard River, someone threw a stub of the moon, and it, like a bitten half of an apple, did not roll anywhere, bare, orphan, chilly glassy, ​​and everything around was glassy from it. A shadow fell over the whole glade, and a shadow fell from me too, narrow and nosy.

Across the Fokinsky River - at hand - the crosses in the cemetery turned white, something creaked in the delivery - the cold crept under the shirt, along the back, under the skin. to the heart. I already leaned my hands on the logs in order to push off at once, fly to the very gates and rattle the latch so that all the dogs in the village would wake up.

But from under the ridge, from the weaves of hops and bird cherry, from the deep interior of the earth, music arose and nailed me to the wall.

It became even more terrible: on the left a cemetery, in front a ridge with a hut, on the right a terrible place outside the village, where many white bones are lying around and where a long time ago, grandmother said, a man was crushed, behind it is a dark mess, behind it is a village, vegetable gardens covered with thistles, from a distance similar to black puffs of smoke.

I'm alone, alone, such a horror all around, and also music - a violin. A very, very lonely violin. And she doesn't threaten at all. Complains. And there's nothing creepy at all. And there is nothing to be afraid of. Fool-fool! Is it possible to be afraid of music? Fool-fool, never listened to one, that's it ...

The music flows quieter, more transparent, I hear, and my heart lets go. And this is not music, but the key flows from under the mountain. Someone clung to the water with their lips, drinks, drinks and cannot get drunk - his mouth and inside are so dry.

For some reason, one sees the Yenisei, quiet at night, on it is a raft with a spark. An unknown person shouts from the raft: “Which village-ah?” - What for? Where is he sailing? And another convoy on the Yenisei is seen, long, creaky. He also goes somewhere. Dogs are running on the side of the convoy. The horses move slowly, drowsily. And you still see a crowd on the banks of the Yenisei, something wet, washed out with mud, village people all over the bank, a grandmother tearing her hair on her head.

This music speaks of sadness, it speaks of my illness, how I was sick with malaria all summer, how scared I was when I stopped hearing and thought that I would forever be deaf, like Alyoshka, my cousin, and how she appeared to me in in a feverish dream, mother put a cold hand with blue nails to her forehead. I screamed and did not hear my scream.

Story in stories

Sing, starling,
Burn, my torch,
Shine, star, over the traveler in the steppe.
Al. Domnin

* BOOK ONE *

Far and near fairy tale

In the backyards of our village, among a grassy clearing, stood on stilts
a long log room with a hemming of boards. It was called
"mangazin", which was also adjoined by the delivery, - here the peasants of our
villages brought artel equipment and seeds, it was called "public
fund". If the house burns down. If even the whole village burns down, the seeds will be intact and,
it means that people will live, because as long as there are seeds, there is arable land, in
which you can leave them and grow bread, he is a peasant, a master, and not
rogue.
Away from the imports is a guardhouse. She snuggled under the scree,
weather and eternal shadow. Above the guardroom, high on the ridge, larches grew and
pines. Behind her, a key smoked from the stones in a blue haze. He spread over
at the foot of the ridge, denoting itself with dense sedge and meadowsweet flowers in the summer
sometimes, in winter - a quiet park from under the snow and a kuruzhak along crawling from the ridges
shrubs.
There were two windows in the guardhouse: one near the door and one on the side towards the village.
That window, which is towards the village, was covered with cherry blossoms bred from the key,
sting, hops and various foolishness. The guardhouse had no roof. Hop swaddled
her in such a way that she resembled a one-eyed, shaggy head. Sticking out of the hop
an overturned bucket with a pipe, the door opened immediately to the street and shook
rain drops, hop cones, bird cherry berries, snow and icicles depending on
time of year and weather.
Vasya the Pole lived in the guardroom. He was small in stature, lame on one leg,
and he had glasses. The only person in the village who had glasses. They are
evoked shy courtesy not only among us children, but also among adults.
Vasya lived quietly and peacefully, did no harm to anyone, but rarely did anyone come to
him. Only the most desperate children peeped furtively out of the guardhouse window and
they could not see anyone, but they were still frightened of something and ran away screaming
away.
At the import, the children pushed around from early spring until autumn: they played
hide-and-seek, crawled on their belly under the log entrance to the gates of imports or
they were buried under a high floor behind piles, and they also hid in the barrels; cut
in grandmas, in chick. The hems were beaten with punks - beats poured with lead.
At the blows, resoundingly echoing under the vaults of fuss, inside her flared up
sparrow flurry.
Here, near the import, I was introduced to work - I twisted in turn with
winnowing machine by the children, and here for the first time in my life I heard music -
violin.

Astafiev devoted many of his works to the theme of the village, as well as to the theme of war, and The Last Bow is one of them. It is written in the form of a long story, composed of separate stories, of a biographical nature, where Viktor Petrovich Astafyev described his childhood and life. These memories are not built in a sequential chain, they are captured in separate episodes. However, it is difficult to call this book a collection of short stories, since everything there is united by one theme.

Victor Astafiev "The Last Bow" dedicates to the Motherland in his own understanding. This is his village motherland with wildlife, harsh climate, powerful Yenisei, beautiful mountains and dense taiga. And he describes all this in a very original and touching way, in fact, this is what the book is about. Astafiev created "The Last Bow" as an epoch-making work that addresses the problems ordinary people more than one generation in very difficult critical periods.

Plot

The protagonist Vitya Potylitsyn is an orphan boy raised by his grandmother. His father drank a lot and walked, eventually left his family and left for the city. And Viti's mother drowned in the Yenisei. The life of a boy, in principle, did not differ from the life of other village children. He helped the elders with the housework, went for mushrooms and berries, went fishing, well, he had fun, like all his peers. So you can start summary. Astafiev's “last bow”, I must say, embodied in Katerina Petrovna a collective image of Russian grandmothers, in whom everything is primordially native, hereditary, forever given. The author does not embellish anything in it, he makes her a little formidable, grouchy, with a constant desire to know everything first and dispose of everything at his own discretion. In a word, "general in a skirt." She loves everyone, takes care of everyone, wants to be useful to everyone.

She constantly worries and suffers for her children, then for her grandchildren, because of this, anger and tears alternately break out. But if the grandmother begins to talk about life, it turns out that there were no adversities for her at all. The children were always happy. Even when they were sick, she skillfully treated them with various decoctions and roots. And none of them died, well, isn't that happiness? Once, on arable land, she dislocated her arm and immediately set it back, but she could have remained a kosoruchka, but she didn’t, and this is also a joy.

This is what common feature Russian grandmothers. And lives in this image something fertile for life, native, lullaby and life-giving.

Twist in fate

Then it becomes not as fun as it first describes. village life main character summary. Astafiev's "last bow" continues with the fact that Vitka suddenly has an unkind streak in life. Since there was no school in the village, he was sent to the city to his father and stepmother. And here Astafiev Viktor Petrovich recalls his torment, exile, hunger, orphanhood and homelessness.

How could Vitka Potylitsyn then realize something or blame someone for his misfortunes? He lived as best he could, escaping death, and even at some moments managed to be happy. The author here pities not only himself, but all the then young generation, which was forced to survive in suffering.

Vitka later realized that he got out of all this only thanks to the saving prayers of his grandmother, who at a distance felt his pain and loneliness with all her heart. She also softened his soul, teaching patience, forgiveness and the ability to see even a small grain of goodness in the black haze and be grateful for it.

Survival School

In the post-revolutionary period Siberian villages were dispossessed. Ruin was all around. Thousands of families turned out to be homeless, many were driven to hard labor. Having moved to his father and stepmother, who lived on casual income and drank a lot, Vitka immediately realizes that no one needs him. Soon he experiences conflicts at school, the betrayal of his father and the oblivion of relatives. This is the summary. Astafiev’s “Last Bow” goes on to say that after the village and the grandmother’s house, where, perhaps, there was no prosperity, but comfort and love always reigned, the boy finds himself in a world of loneliness and heartlessness. He becomes rude, and his actions become cruel, but nevertheless, his grandmother's upbringing and love for books will later bear fruit.

And while he waits Orphanage, and this is just a nutshell describing the summary. Astafiev's "Last Bow" illustrates in great detail all the hardships of a poor teenager's life, including his studies at a factory course school, going to war and, finally, returning.

Return

After the war, Victor immediately went to the village to his grandmother. He really wanted to meet her, because she became for him the only and most dear person in the whole world. He walked through the vegetable gardens, catching burdocks, his heart clenched strongly in his chest with excitement. Victor made his way to the bathhouse, on which the roof had already collapsed, everything had long been without the master's attention, and then he saw a small pile of firewood under the kitchen window. This indicated that someone was living in the house.

Before entering the hut, he suddenly stopped. Victor's throat went dry. Gathering his courage, the guy quietly, timidly, literally on tiptoe, went into his hut and saw how his grandmother, just like in the old days, was sitting on a bench near the window and winding threads into a ball.

Minutes of oblivion

The protagonist thought to himself that during this time a whole storm flew over the whole world, millions human destinies got mixed up, there was a deadly struggle with the hated fascism, new states were formed, and here everything is as always, as if time had stopped. The same mottled calico curtain, a neat wooden wall cabinet, cast-iron stoves, etc. Only it no longer smelled of the usual cow swill, boiled potatoes and sauerkraut.

Grandmother Ekaterina Petrovna, seeing her long-awaited grandson, was very happy and asked him to come closer to hug and cross him. Her voice remained the same kind and gentle, as if the grandson did not return from the war, but from fishing or from the forest, where he could linger with his grandfather.

Long-awaited meeting

A soldier returning from the war thought that perhaps his grandmother might not recognize him, but that was not the case. Seeing him, the old woman wanted to get up abruptly, but her weakened legs did not allow her to do this, and she began to hold her hands to the table.

Grandma is very old. However, she was very glad to see her beloved grandson. And I was glad that, finally, I waited. She looked at him for a long time and could not believe her eyes. And then she let slip that she prayed for him day and night, and in order to meet her beloved granddaughter, she lived. Only now, having waited for him, grandmother could die in peace. She was already 86 years old, so she asked her grandson to come to her funeral.

Oppressive melancholy

That's all the summary. Astafiev's "last bow" ends with Victor leaving to work in the Urals. The hero received a telegram about the death of his grandmother, but he was not released from work, referring to the charter of the enterprise. At that time, they were only allowed to go to the funeral of their father or mother. The management did not want to know that his grandmother replaced both of his parents. Viktor Petrovich never went to the funeral, which he later regretted very much all his life. He thought that if this happened now, he would simply run away or crawl from the Urals to Siberia just to close her eyes. So all the time this guilt lived in him, quiet, oppressive, eternal. However, he understood that his grandmother forgave him, because she loved her grandson very much.

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One of the works related to the Russian classical literature, became the story of V.P. Astafiev “The Last Bow”. Summary of this artwork quite small. However, it will be presented in this article as fully as possible.

Summary of Astafiev's "Last Bow"

Despite the fact that even in the original the work is read in just a few minutes, the plot can still be said in a nutshell.

The protagonist of the summary of Astafyev's "Last Bow" is a young guy who spent several years in the war. From his own face, the narration is conducted in the text.

In order for everyone to understand what and how, we will divide this work into several separate parts, which will be described below.

Homecoming

First of all, he decides to visit his grandmother, with whom he spent a lot of time as a child. He does not want her to notice him, so he went around the back of the house to enter through another door. Till the protagonist walks around the house, he sees how much it needs repair, how everything around is neglected and needs attention. The roof of the bath completely collapsed, the garden was completely overgrown with weeds, and the house itself squinted on its side. Grandmother did not even keep a cat, because of this, mice gnawed all the corners in a small house. He is surprised that everything fell apart during his absence.

Meeting with grandma

Entering the house, the protagonist sees that everything in it remains the same. For several years the whole world was shrouded in war, some states disappeared from the face of the Earth, some appeared, and in this small house everything was the same as the young military man remembered. The same tablecloth, the same curtains. Even the smell - and it was the same as the main character remembered as a child.

As soon as the main character steps over the threshold, he sees a grandmother, who, just like many years ago, is sitting by the window and winding yarn. The old woman immediately recognizes her beloved grandson. Seeing the grandmother's face, the main character immediately notices that the years have left their imprint on her - she has aged very much during this time. Grandmother does not take her eyes off the guy for a long time, on whose chest the Red Star glitters. She sees how mature he has become, how he has matured in the war. Soon she says that she is very tired, that she feels the approach of death. She asks the protagonist to bury her when she passes away.

Death of a beloved grandmother

Grandma dies very soon. At this time, the main character found workplace at a factory in the Urals. He asks to be released for only a few days, but he is told that they are only released from work if it is necessary to bury his parents. The main character has no choice but to continue to work.

Guilt of the protagonist

He learns from the neighbors of the deceased grandmother that the old woman could not carry water home for a long time - her legs hurt badly. She washed the potatoes in the dew. In addition, he learns that she went to pray for him in the Kiev-Pechersk Lavra, so that he would return from the war alive and healthy, so that he would create his family and live happily, without knowing any trouble.

Many such trifles are told to the main character in the village. But all this cannot satisfy the young guy, because life, even if it consists of little things, includes something more. The only thing that the main character understands well is that the grandmother was very lonely. She lived alone, her health was fragile, her whole body ached, and there was no one to help. So the old woman coped somehow by herself, until on the eve of her death she saw her grown and matured grandson.

Awareness of the loss of a loved one

The protagonist wants to know as much as possible about the time when he was at war. How did the old grandmother cope here alone? But there was no one to tell, and what he heard from his fellow villagers could not really tell anything about all the difficulties that the old woman had.

The main character is trying to convey to every reader the importance of the love of grandparents, all their love and affection for the young, whom they raised from an early age. The protagonist is not able to express his love for the deceased in words, he was left with only bitterness and guilt for the fact that she had been waiting for him for so long, and he could not even bury her, as she asked.

The main character catches himself thinking that the grandmother - she would forgive him anything. But the grandmother is no more, which means there is no one to forgive.

Here we are talking about an orphan boy, Vitya, who is being raised by his grandmother. Dad left him, leaving for the city, and mom drowned in the river.

His grandmother has a character, but at the same time she worries about everyone, cherishes everyone, wants to help everyone. Because of this, she is constantly nervous, worried, and her emotions come out through tears or anger. But if she begins to speak for life, then everything is always fine with her, children are only happiness. Even during their illness, she knew how to treat with folk remedies.

A twist in fate.

The boy begins a black streak in life. There is no school in the village, and he is sent to study in the city with his father and stepmother. And then he begins hunger, exile, homelessness. But even in such a situation, Vitya never blamed anyone.

Only a little later did he realize that his grandmother's prayer helped him get out of hell, which, even at a distance, felt how bad and lonely he was. She also helped him to gain patience, to be generous.

Survival School

After the revolution, villages began to be dispossessed in Siberia. Many families found themselves without a roof over their heads, many were driven to hard labor. Having moved in with his parent and stepmother, who lived on odd jobs and drank a lot, he realizes his uselessness. There are disagreements at school. Vitya becomes coarse, his heart is filled with greed. He ends up in an orphanage, studies in courses, and soon goes to war.

Return

When the war is over, Vitya immediately goes to his grandmother. He is waiting for this meeting, because for him she is the most beloved and dearest person in the world.

Near the house, he suddenly stopped abruptly. He was at a loss, but having gained courage, the young man carefully enters the house and sees how his beloved grandmother, as before, is sitting on a bench near the window and is engaged in threads.

Minutes of oblivion

Grandmother, seeing her long-awaited Vitya, was insanely delighted and asked to come up to her to let her kiss him. She was still calm and welcoming, as if nothing had changed in her life.

Long-awaited meeting

Grandma is very old. But she was glad to meet her, she looked at her Vityunka for hours and could not take her eyes off him. And then she said that she had been praying for him all this time, for days on end. And she lived for this meeting. She lived with the hope that she would see her grandson again. And now she can safely leave this life. After all, she is quite old, she is already 86 years old.

Oppressive melancholy

Soon Vitya leaves to work in the Urals. He receives a summons about the death of his grandmother. But he is not released from work, citing that it is not allowed. He did not dare to go to his grandmother's funeral and then regretted it all his life, although he understood that his grandmother did not hold a grudge against him, she forgave everything.

This is a rather difficult psychological story about relationships, about feelings, about the need to do everything in a timely manner, so as not to reproach yourself for the rest of your life.

Read the summary of Astafiev's last bow in the 2nd version of the story

The writer devoted a lot of works to the theme of war and the countryside. And "The Last Bow" also applies to them. This work is represented by a short story, which consists of several stories that are biographical in nature. The writer describes his life and his childhood. His memories are not consistent, they are represented by episodes.

He dedicated this work to the Motherland in the sense he saw it. He described his village, with beautiful wildlife, harsh climate, beautiful mountains and dense and impenetrable taiga. The work raises the problems of ordinary people in difficult periods of life.

The war is over and people are returning to their native villages and cities to find their families, wives, children.

A man who survived heavy fighting wants to return home, where he hopes to see his grandmother. He loves and respects her very much. He goes backwards to the village so that others do not tell her before that he is returning, he wants to surprise her. He thought that now they would rejoice together and remember, perhaps they would cry about old days but still be happy.

But when he came to his native village, to the very street that was so recognizable, he realized that everything had changed and the gardens were no longer blooming like that, and the houses were lopsided, and some were completely destroyed.

The memories made him feel a little sad. But when he saw his grandmother's house, he was delighted, although its roof also slanted. The roof of the bathhouse, in which he so loved to bathe, also became full of holes in some places and even rotted. Mice gnawed holes, but it was all such trifles when he saw his grandmother, who was sitting in the same place as before.

He rushed to her and began to rejoice together. Grandmother began to examine her beloved grandson and was very happy when she saw the order on his chest. She began to tell him that she was tired of living, from problems, war and a long separation.

Soon the grandmother passed away. And they sent him a letter to the Urals with a summons to the funeral, but they didn’t let him go, because they let him go only if his parents died. All his life he regretted that he spent so little time with his beloved grandmother and did so little for her.

In the work, the author claims that a person has no right to feel like an orphan, on the land that is dear to him. His reflections on generational change are philosophical. And each person should treat his family and loved ones with trepidation, value and respect them.

Picture or drawing Last bow

The story of the famous novel is about a young man grazing a flock of sheep, Santiago. One day, Santiago decides to spend the night near a dilapidated church under a large tree.