Shukshin's story villagers summary. Online reading book complete collection of stories in one volume villagers

“What, mom? Shake the old days - come. You will look at Moscow and in general. I will send money for the journey. Just get better by plane - it will become cheaper. And they immediately sent a telegram so that I knew when to meet. Most importantly, don't be afraid."

Grandma Malanya read this, folded her dry lips into a tube, thought.

“Pavel is calling to his place,” she said to Shurka and looked at him over her glasses. (Shurka is the grandson of grandmother Malanya, the son of her daughter. Her daughter did not have a personal life (she married for the third time), the grandmother persuaded her to give her Shurka to her for now. She loved her grandson, but kept him strict.)

Shurka did his homework at the table. He shrugged his shoulders at the words of the grandmother - go, if he calls.

- When do you have holidays? Grandma asked sternly.

Shura pricked up his ears.

- What kind? Winter?

- What else, summer, or what?

- Since the first of January. And what?

Grandmother again made her lips a tube - she thought. And Shurka's heart contracted anxiously and joyfully.

- And what? he asked again.

- Nothing. Learn know. Grandmother hid the letter in her apron pocket, got dressed and left the hut.

Shurka ran to the window to see where she went.

At the gate, Grandma Malanya met her neighbor and began to speak loudly:

- Pavel is calling to visit Moscow. I don't really know what to do. I won't put my mind to it. “Come,” he says, “Mom, I missed you a lot.”

The neighbor answered something. Shurka did not hear what, but the grandmother spoke loudly to her:

- It is, of course, possible. I have never seen my grandchildren yet, only on the card. Yes, it's scary...

Two more women stopped near them, then another came up, then another ... Soon a fair amount of people gathered around grandmother Malanya, and she began to tell again and again:

- Pavel is calling to himself, to Moscow. I really don't know what to do...

It was evident that everyone advised her to go.

Shurka put his hands in his pockets and began to walk up and down the hut. The expression on his face was dreamy and also thoughtful, like a grandmother's. In general, he was very much like a grandmother - the same lean, high cheekbones, with the same small intelligent eyes. But their personalities were completely different. Grandmother is energetic, wiry, noisy, very inquisitive. Shurka is also inquisitive, but shy to the point of stupidity, modest and touchy.

In the evening they wrote a telegram to Moscow. Shurka wrote, grandmother dictated.

- Dear son Pasha, if you really want me to come, then of course I can, although I am in my old age ...

- Hey! Shura said. Who writes telegrams like that?

- And how should it be, in your opinion?

- We'll come. Dot. Or so: we will arrive after the New Year. Dot. Signature: mom. All.

Grandma even got offended.

- You go to the sixth grade, Shurka, but you have no idea. You have to smarten up a little!

Shura was also offended.

“Please,” he said. - We are, you know, how much we will write? Rubles for twenty old money.

The grandmother made her lips a tube, she thought.

- Well, write like this: son, I consulted with someone ...

Shura put down his pen.

- I can't do that. Who cares that you consulted with someone here? We will be laughed at in the post office.

- Write as you are told! Grandma ordered. - What am I, I'll regret twenty rubles for my son?

Shurka took the pen and, condescendingly wrinkling his face, leaned over to the paper.

- Dear son Pasha, I talked with the neighbors here - everyone advises to go. Of course, in my old age, I’m afraid a little ...

“They’ll do it at the post office anyway,” Shurka put in.

- Let them try!

Shurka missed these words - about the fact that he became big and obedient.

“I won’t be so scared with him. Goodbye for now, son. I myself am very fond of you ...

Shurka wrote: "creepy."

- ... bored. At least I'll take a look at your kids. Dot. Mum.

“Let’s count,” Shurka said maliciously and began to poke the words with a pen and count in a whisper: “One, two, three, four…

Grandmother stood behind him, waiting.

“Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty!” So? We multiply sixty by thirty - one thousand eight hundred? So? We divide by a hundred - we have eighteen ... For twenty-something rubles! Shura announced solemnly.

Grandmother took the telegram and hid it in her pocket.

- I'm going to the post office. You count here, literate.

- You are welcome. The same will happen. Maybe I was wrong about a penny.

... At about eleven o'clock, Yegor Lizunov, a neighbor, a school supply manager, came to them. Grandmother asked his family to come to her when he returns from work. Egor traveled a lot in his lifetime, flew on airplanes.

Egor took off his sheepskin coat and hat, smoothed his graying sweaty hair with his coarse hands, and sat down at the table. The upper room smelled of hay and harness.

So you want to fly?

Grandmother climbed under the floor, took out a quarter with mead.

- Fly, Yegor. Tell everything in order - how and what.

“So what is there to tell?” - Egor did not greedily, but somehow even a little condescendingly looked at how the grandmother was pouring beer. - When you get to the city, you will take a Biysk-Tomsk bus, you will take it to Novosibirsk, and then ask where the city air ticket office is. And you can go straight to the airport…

- You wait! Got it: it's possible, it's possible. You speak the right way, not the right way. Yes, slow down. And then he threw it all together. - Grandmother offered Yegor a glass of beer, looked sternly at him.

Yegor touched the glass with his fingers and stroked it.

- Well, you will reach, then, to Novosibirsk and immediately ask how to get to the airport. Remember, Shura.

“Write it down, Shurka,” Grandma ordered.

Shurka tore a blank sheet out of his notebook and began to write.

- When you get to Tolmachev, ask again where they sell tickets to Moscow. Take the tickets, board the Tu-104 and in five hours you will be in Moscow, in the capital of our Motherland.

The grandmother, resting her head on her dry little fist, listened to Yegor woefully. The more he talked and the simpler this trip seemed to him, the more worried her face became.

- In Sverdlovsk, however, you will make a landing ...

- Necessary. They don't ask us. They plant and that's it. - Egor decided that now you can drink. - Well? .. For an easy road!

- Hold on. In Sverdlovsk, do we have to ask ourselves to be imprisoned, or are they imprisoning everyone there?

Egor drank, grunted relish, smoothed his mustache.

– Everyone. Your beer is good, Malanya Vasilievna. How do you do it? I would teach my grandmother...

Grandma poured him another glass.

- When you stop being stingy, then the beer will be good.

- Like this? Yegor did not understand.

- Add more sugar. Otherwise, you are all trying to be cheaper and more angry. Put more sugar in the hops, then there will be beer. And insisting on tobacco is a shame.

“Yes,” Yegor said thoughtfully. He raised his glass, looked at the grandmother, at Shurka, and drank. “Yeah,” he said again. “So it is, of course. But when you're in Novosibirsk, don't make a mistake.

- Yes, so ... Everything is possible. Yegor took out a pouch, lit a cigarette, and let out a huge white cloud of smoke from under his mustache. - The main thing, of course, when you arrive in Tolmachevo, do not confuse the ticket offices. And then you can also fly to Vladivostok.

Grandmother was alarmed and offered Yegor a third glass. Egor immediately drank it, grunted and began to develop his thought:

- It happens that a person comes up to the eastern ticket office and says: “I need a ticket.” And where is the ticket - he will not ask. Well, the man is flying in a completely different direction. So look.

Grandma poured Yegor a fourth glass. Egor is completely relaxed. He spoke with pleasure:

- Flying on an airplane requires nerves and nerves! Here he rises - they immediately give you candy ...

- Candy?

- But how. Like, forget it, don't pay attention ... But in fact, this is the most dangerous moment. Or, for example, they say to you: “Tie your belts on.” - "What for?" - "That's the way it's supposed to be." Heh... it's supposed to. Say it straight: we can make a profit, and that's it. And then - "supposed."

- Lord, Lord! - said the grandmother. - So why fly on it, if so ...

- Well, to be afraid of wolves - do not go into the forest. Yegor looked at the beer quarter. - In general, reactive, they are, of course, more reliable. Propeller, it can break at any moment - and please ... Then, they burn often, these motors. I once flew from Vladivostok ... - Yegor settled himself comfortably in a chair, lit a new one, again looked at the quarter. Grandma didn't move. - We are flying, so I look out the window: it’s burning ...

- Holy, holy! - said the grandmother.

Shurka even opened his mouth to listen.

- Yes. Well, of course I screamed. A pilot came running ... Well, in general, nothing - he cursed me. What are you saying, are you panicking? It's on fire, but don't worry, sit down... Such are the rules in this aviation.

Shura found this unbelievable. He expected that the pilot, seeing the flame, would shoot it down with speed or make an emergency landing, but instead he scolded Yegor. Weird.

“I don’t understand one thing,” Yegor continued, turning to Shurka, “why aren’t passengers given parachutes?”

Shura shrugged. He didn't know that passengers weren't given parachutes. It's certainly strange if that's the case.

Yegor jabbed a cigarette into the flower pot, got up and poured himself from a quarter.

- Well, you have beer, Malanya!

- You don’t lean too hard - you’ll get tipsy.

“Beer is just…” Egor shook his head and drank. – Khoo! But reactive ones are also dangerous. That one, if something is broken, flies down with an ax. Then right away ... And then they won’t collect the bones. Three hundred grams from a person remains. Along with clothes. Yegor frowned and looked carefully at the quarter. Grandmother took it and carried it into the hallway. Egor sat a little longer and got up. He shook slightly.

“Actually, don’t be afraid! he said loudly. - Sit just away from the cockpit - in the tail - and fly. Well, I'll go...

He walked heavily to the door, put on a sheepskin coat and a hat.

- Give a bow to Pavel Sergeevich. Well, you have beer, Malanya! Just…

The grandmother was unhappy that Yegor got tipsy so soon - they didn’t talk plainly.

– Weak you some became, Egor.

- Tired, therefore. Yegor took a straw from the collar of his sheepskin coat. - I told our leaders: let's take out the hay in the summer - no! And now, after this blizzard, the roads are all over the place. All day today we have been plaiting, forcibly made our way to the nearest haystacks. And beer you have such ... - Egor shook his head, laughed. - Well, go. Nothing, do not be shy - fly. Sit far away from the cab. Goodbye.

"Goodbye," Shura said.

Yegor left; he could be heard carefully descending from the high porch, walking across the yard, creaking the gate, and in the street singing in a low voice:

The sea spread wide...

And he shut up.

Grandmother looked thoughtfully and sadly out of the dark window. Shurka reread what Yegor wrote down.

“It’s scary, Shurka,” said the grandmother.

People are flying...

- Shall we go by train?

- By train - this is just all my holidays on the road will go.

- Lord, Lord! Grandma sighed. Let's write to Pavel. Let's cancel the telegram.

Shurka tore another sheet out of the notebook.

So we won't fly?

- Where to fly - such a passion, my fathers! Then they will collect three hundred grams ...

Shura thought.

- Write: dear son Pasha, I consulted here with knowledgeable people ...

Shura leaned over to the paper.

- They told us how they fly on these planes ... And Shurka and I decided this: we will go by train in the summer. It is, of course, possible even now, but Shurka has very short vacations ...

Shurka hesitated for a second or two and continued to write: “And now, Uncle Pasha, I am writing this on my own. Babonka was frightened by Uncle Yegor Lizunov, our supply manager, if you remember. For example, he cited the following fact: he looked out the window and saw that the engine was on fire. If this were the case, then the pilot would begin to knock down the flames with speed, as is usually done. My guess is that he saw the flames from the exhaust pipe and raised a panic. You, please, write to the grandmother that this is not terrible, but about me - that I wrote to you - do not write. She won't go in the summer either. Here the garden will go, pigs are different, chickens, geese - she will never leave them. We are still villagers. And I have a terrible desire to see Moscow. We go through it at school in geography and history, but this, you yourself understand, is not that. Uncle Yegor also said, for example, that passengers are not given parachutes. This is already blackmail. But the grandmother believes. Please, Uncle Pasha, shame her. She loves you terribly. So you tell her: how is it, mom, your son is a pilot himself, a Hero of the Soviet Union, awarded many times, and you are afraid to fly on some unfortunate civilian plane! At a time when we have already overcome the sound barrier. Write like this, she will fly in an instant. She is very proud of you. Of course - well deserved. I am personally proud too. But I have a terrible desire to look at Moscow. Well, goodbye for now. Greetings - Alexander. Meanwhile, the grandmother dictated:

- ... We'll go there closer by autumn. Mushrooms will also grow there, you can have time to cook some salted meats, cook sea buckthorn jam. In Moscow, after all, everything is from the purchase. And they will not do it the way I do at home. That's it, son. A bow to my wife and children from me and from Shurka. Bye. Recorded?

- Recorded.

The grandmother took the sheet, put it in an envelope and wrote the address herself:

“Moscow, Leninsky Prospekt, 78, apt. 156.

Hero of the Soviet Union Lyubavin Pavel Ignatievich.

From his mother from Siberia.

She always signed the address herself: she knew that it would come true that way.

- Like this. Don't be sad, Shura. Let's go in the summer.

- And I'm not sad. But you still get ready little by little: you take it and decide to fly.

The grandmother looked at her grandson and said nothing.

At night, Shurka heard her tossing and turning on the stove, sighing softly and whispering something.

Shura didn't sleep either. Thought. Life promised many extraordinary things in the near future. Never even dreamed of such a thing.

- Shurk! Grandma called.

- Pavel, probably, is allowed into the Kremlin?

- Maybe. And what?

- I would like to visit at least once there ... to see.

“They let everyone in now.

Grandma was silent for a while.

“So they let everyone in,” she said incredulously.

- Nikolai Vasilievich told us.

They were silent for another minute.

“But you, too, old lady: where there is courage, but here you were frightened of something,” Shurka said displeasedly. – What are you afraid of?

“Sleep, know,” ordered the grandmother. - Brave. You'll put the first one in your pants.

- I bet I'm not scared?

- Sleep know. And then tomorrow you won’t get to school again.

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Vasily Makarovich Shukshin
Villager

“What, mom? Shake the old days - come. You will look at Moscow and in general. I will send money for the journey. Just get better by plane - it will become cheaper. And they immediately sent a telegram so that I knew when to meet. Most importantly, don't be afraid."

Grandma Malanya read this, folded her dry lips into a tube, thought.

“Pavel is calling to his place,” she said to Shurka and looked at him over her glasses. (Shurka is the grandson of grandmother Malanya, the son of her daughter. Her daughter did not have a personal life (she married for the third time), the grandmother persuaded her to give her Shurka to her for now. She loved her grandson, but kept him strict.)

Shurka did his homework at the table. He shrugged his shoulders at the words of the grandmother - go, if he calls.

- When do you have holidays? Grandma asked sternly.

Shura pricked up his ears.

- What kind? Winter?

- What else, summer, or what?

- Since the first of January. And what?

Grandmother again made her lips a tube - she thought. And Shurka's heart contracted anxiously and joyfully.

- And what? he asked again.

- Nothing. Learn know. Grandmother hid the letter in her apron pocket, got dressed and left the hut.

Shurka ran to the window to see where she went.

At the gate, Grandma Malanya met her neighbor and began to speak loudly:

- Pavel is calling to visit Moscow. I don't really know what to do. I won't put my mind to it. “Come,” he says, “Mom, I missed you a lot.”

The neighbor answered something. Shurka did not hear what, but the grandmother spoke loudly to her:

- It is, of course, possible. I have never seen my grandchildren yet, only on the card. Yes, it's scary...

Two more women stopped near them, then another came up, then another ... Soon a fair amount of people gathered around grandmother Malanya, and she began to tell again and again:

- Pavel is calling to himself, to Moscow. I really don't know what to do...

It was evident that everyone advised her to go.

Shurka put his hands in his pockets and began to walk up and down the hut. The expression on his face was dreamy and also thoughtful, like a grandmother's. In general, he was very much like a grandmother - the same lean, high cheekbones, with the same small intelligent eyes. But their personalities were completely different. Grandmother is energetic, wiry, noisy, very inquisitive. Shurka is also inquisitive, but shy to the point of stupidity, modest and touchy.

In the evening they wrote a telegram to Moscow. Shurka wrote, grandmother dictated.

- Dear son Pasha, if you really want me to come, then of course I can, although I am in my old age ...

- Hey! Shura said. Who writes telegrams like that?

- And how should it be, in your opinion?

- We'll come. Dot. Or so: we will arrive after the New Year. Dot. Signature: mom. All.

Grandma even got offended.

- You go to the sixth grade, Shurka, but you have no idea. You have to smarten up a little!

Shura was also offended.

“Please,” he said. - We are, you know, how much we will write? Rubles for twenty old money.

The grandmother made her lips a tube, she thought.

- Well, write like this: son, I consulted with someone ...

Shura put down his pen.

- I can't do that. Who cares that you consulted with someone here? We will be laughed at in the post office.

- Write as you are told! Grandma ordered. - What am I, I'll regret twenty rubles for my son?

Shurka took the pen and, condescendingly wrinkling his face, leaned over to the paper.

- Dear son Pasha, I talked with the neighbors here - everyone advises to go. Of course, in my old age, I’m afraid a little ...

“They’ll do it at the post office anyway,” Shurka put in.

- Let them try!

Shurka missed these words - about the fact that he became big and obedient.

“I won’t be so scared with him. Goodbye for now, son. I myself am very fond of you ...

Shurka wrote: "creepy."

- ... bored. At least I'll take a look at your kids. Dot. Mum.

“Let’s count,” Shurka said maliciously and began to poke the words with a pen and count in a whisper: “One, two, three, four…

Grandmother stood behind him, waiting.

“Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty!” So? We multiply sixty by thirty - one thousand eight hundred? So? We divide by a hundred - we have eighteen ... For twenty-something rubles! Shura announced solemnly.

Grandmother took the telegram and hid it in her pocket.

- I'm going to the post office. You count here, literate.

- You are welcome. The same will happen. Maybe I was wrong about a penny.

... At about eleven o'clock, Yegor Lizunov, a neighbor, a school supply manager, came to them. Grandmother asked his family to come to her when he returns from work. Egor traveled a lot in his lifetime, flew on airplanes.

Egor took off his sheepskin coat and hat, smoothed his graying sweaty hair with his coarse hands, and sat down at the table. The upper room smelled of hay and harness.

So you want to fly?

Grandmother climbed under the floor, took out a quarter with mead.

- Fly, Yegor. Tell everything in order - how and what.

“So what is there to tell?” - Egor did not greedily, but somehow even a little condescendingly looked at how the grandmother was pouring beer. - When you get to the city, you will take a Biysk-Tomsk bus, you will take it to Novosibirsk, and then ask where the city air ticket office is. And you can go straight to the airport…

- You wait! Got it: it's possible, it's possible. You speak the right way, not the right way. Yes, slow down. And then he threw it all together. - Grandmother offered Yegor a glass of beer, looked sternly at him.

Yegor touched the glass with his fingers and stroked it.

- Well, you will reach, then, to Novosibirsk and immediately ask how to get to the airport. Remember, Shura.

“Write it down, Shurka,” Grandma ordered.

Shurka tore a blank sheet out of his notebook and began to write.

- When you get to Tolmachev, ask again where they sell tickets to Moscow. Take the tickets, get on the Tu-104 and

end of introduction

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Villager
Vasily Makarovich Shukshin

Vasily Shukshin

Villager

"What, mom? Shake the old days - come. You'll have a look at Moscow and in general. I'll send money for the road. Just get better by plane - it will become cheaper. And immediately send a telegram so that I know when to meet. The main thing is not to be afraid."

Grandma Malanya read this, folded her dry lips into a tube, thought.

“Pavel is calling to his place,” she said to Shurka and looked at him over her glasses. (Shurka is the grandson of grandmother Malanya, the son of her daughter. Her daughter did not have a personal life (she married for the third time), the grandmother persuaded her to give her Shurka to her for now. She loved her grandson, but kept him strict.)

Shurka did his homework at the table. He shrugged his shoulders at the words of the grandmother - go, if he calls.

- When do you have holidays? Grandma asked sternly.

Shura pricked up his ears.

- What kind? Winter?

- What else, summer, or what?

- Since the first of January. And what?

Grandmother again made her lips a tube - she thought.

And Shurka's heart contracted anxiously and joyfully.

- And what? he asked again.

- Nothing. Learn know. Grandmother hid the letter in her apron pocket, got dressed and left the hut.

Shurka ran to the window to see where she went.

At the gate, Grandma Malanya met her neighbor and began to speak loudly:

- Pavel is calling to visit Moscow. I don't really know what to do. I won't put my mind to it. "Come," he says, "Mom, I've missed you so much."

The neighbor answered something. Shurka did not hear that, but the grandmother spoke loudly to her:

- It is, of course, possible. I have never seen my grandchildren yet, only on the card. Yes, it's pretty scary. Two more women stopped near them, then another came up, then another ... Soon a fair amount of people gathered around grandmother Malanya, and she began to tell again and again:

- Pavel is calling to himself, to Moscow. I really don't know what to do...

It was evident that everyone advised her to go. Shurka put his hands in his pockets and began to walk up and down the hut. The expression on his face was dreamy and also thoughtful, like a grandmother's. In general, he was very much like a grandmother - the same lean, high cheekbones, with the same small intelligent eyes. But their personalities were completely different. Grandmother is energetic, wiry, noisy, very inquisitive. Shurka is also inquisitive, but shy to the point of stupidity, modest and touchy.

In the evening they wrote a telegram to Moscow. Shurka wrote, grandmother dictated.

- Dear son Pasha, if you really want me to come, then of course I can, although I am in my old age ...

- Hey! Shura said. Who writes telegrams like that?

- And how should it be, in your opinion?

- We'll come. Dot. Or so: we will arrive after the New kind. Signature: mom. All.

Grandma even got offended.

- You go to the sixth grade, Shurka, but you have no idea. You have to smarten up a little!

Shura was also offended.

“Please,” he said. - Do we know how much we will write? Rubles for twenty old money.

The grandmother made her lips a tube, she thought.

- Well, write like this: son, I consulted with someone ...

Shura put down his pen.

- I can't do that. Who cares that you consulted with someone here? We will be laughed at in the post office.

- Write as you are told! Grandma ordered. - What am I, I'll regret twenty rubles for my son?

Shurka took the pen and, condescendingly wrinkling his face, leaned over to the paper.

- Dear son Pasha, I talked with the neighbors here - everyone advises to go. Of course, in my old age, I’m afraid a little ...

“They’ll do it at the post office anyway,” Shurka put in.

- Let them try!

Shurka missed these words - about the fact that he became big and obedient.

“I won’t be so scared with him. Goodbye for now, son. I myself am very fond of you ...

Shurka wrote: "creepy."

- ... bored. At least I'll take a look at your kids. Dot. Mum.

“Let’s count,” Shurka said maliciously and began to poke the words with a pen and count in a whisper: “One, two, three, four…

Grandmother stood behind him, waiting.

“Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty!” So? We multiply sixty by thirty - one thousand eight hundred? So? We divide by a hundred - we have eighteen ... For twenty-something rubles! Shura announced solemnly.

Grandmother took the telegram and hid it in her pocket.

- I'm going to the post office. You count here, literate.

- You are welcome. The same will happen. Maybe I was wrong about a penny.

... At about eleven o'clock Yegor Lizunov came to them - a neighbor, a school supply manager. Grandmother asked his family to come to her when he returns from work. Egor traveled a lot in his lifetime, flew on airplanes.

Egor took off his sheepskin coat and hat, smoothed his graying sweaty hair with his coarse hands, and sat down at the table. The upper room smelled of hay and harness.

So you want to fly?

Grandmother climbed under the floor, took out a quarter with mead.

- Fly, Yegor. Tell everything in order - how and what.

“So what is there to tell?” - Egor did not greedily, somehow even a little condescendingly looked at how the grandmother poured beer. - When you get to the city, you will take a Biysk-Tomsk bus, take it to Novosibirsk, and then ask where the city air ticket office is. And you can go straight to the airport…

- You wait! Got it: it's possible, it's possible. You say how you need to, not how you can. Yes, slow down. And then he threw it all together. - Grandmother offered Yegor a glass of beer, looked sternly at him.

Yegor touched the glass with his fingers and stroked it.

- Well, you will reach, then, to Novosibirsk and immediately ask how to get to the airport. Remember, Shura.

“Write it down, Shurka,” Grandma ordered.

Shurka tore a blank sheet out of his notebook and began to write.

- When you get to Tolmachev, ask again where they sell tickets to Moscow. Take tickets, board the Tu-104 and in five hours you will be in Moscow, in the capital of our Motherland.

The grandmother, resting her head on her dry little fist, listened to Yegor woefully. The more he talked and the simpler this trip seemed to him, the more worried her face became.

- In Sverdlovsk, however, you will make a landing ...

- Necessary. They don't ask us. They plant and that's it. - Egor decided that now you can drink. - Well? .. For an easy road.

- Hold on. In Sverdlovsk, do we have to ask ourselves to be imprisoned, or are they imprisoning everyone there? Egor drank, grunted relish, smoothed his mustache.

- Everyone ... You have good beer, Malanya Vasilievna. How do you do it? I would teach my woman ... Vabka poured him another glass.

- When you stop being stingy, then the beer will be good.

- Like this? Yegor did not understand.

- Add more sugar. Otherwise, you are trying to be cheaper and more angry. Put more sugar in the hops, and there will be beer. And insisting on tobacco is a shame.

“Yes,” Yegor said thoughtfully. He raised his glass, looked at the grandmother, at Shurka, and drank. “Yeah,” he said again. “So it is, of course. But when you're in Novosibirsk, don't make a mistake.

- Yes, so ... Everything is possible. Yegor took out a pouch, lit a cigarette, and let out a huge white cloud of smoke from under his mustache. - The main thing, of course, when you arrive in Tolmachevo, do not confuse the ticket offices. And then you can also fly to Vladivostok.

Grandmother was alarmed and offered Yegor a third glass.

Egor immediately drank it, grunted and began to develop his thought:

- It happens that a person comes up to the eastern ticket office and says: "I need a ticket." And where is the ticket - he will not ask. Well, the man is flying in a completely different direction. So look.

Grandma poured Yegor a fourth glass. Egor is completely relaxed. He spoke with pleasure:

- Flying on an airplane requires nerves and nerves! Here he rises - they immediately give you candy ...

- Candy?

- But how. Like, forget it, don't pay attention ... But in fact, this is the most dangerous moment. Or, for example, they say to you: "Tie your belts on." - "What for?" - "That's the way it's supposed to be." - "Heh ... it's supposed to. Say it straight: we can screw up, and that's it. Otherwise, it's supposed to."

- Lord, Lord! - said the grandmother. - So why fly on it, if so ...

- Well, to be afraid of wolves - do not go into the forest. - Yegor looked at the quarter with beer. - In general, they are reactive, of course, they are more reliable. Propeller, it can break at any moment - and please ... Then: they burn often, these motors. I once flew from Vladivostok ... - Yegor settled himself comfortably in a chair, lit a new one, again looked at the quarter; Grandma didn't move. - We are flying, so I look out the window: it’s burning ...

- Holy, holy! - said the grandmother.

Shurka even opened his mouth to listen.

- Yes. Well, of course I screamed. A pilot came running ... Well, in general, nothing - he cursed me. What are you saying, are you panicking? It's on fire, but don't worry, sit down... Such are the rules in this aviation.

Shura found this unbelievable. He expected that the pilot, seeing the flame, would shoot it down with speed or make an emergency landing, but instead he scolded Yegor. Weird.

“I don’t understand one thing,” Yegor continued, turning to Shurka, “why don’t they give passengers parachutes?”

Shura shrugged. He didn't know that passengers weren't given parachutes. It's certainly strange if that's the case.

Egor jabbed a cigarette into a flower pot, got up, poured himself from a quarter.

- Well, you have beer, Malanya!

- You don’t lean too hard - you’ll get tipsy.

“Beer, just…” Egor shook his head and drank. – Khoo! But reactive ones are also dangerous. That one, if something is broken, flies down with an ax. Right then and there ... And they won’t collect the bones for how much. Three hundred grams from a person remains. Along with clothes.

Yegor frowned and looked carefully at the quarter. Grandmother took it and carried it into the hallway. Egor sat for a while and got up. He shook slightly.

“Actually, don’t be afraid! he said loudly. - Sit just away from the cockpit - in the tail - and fly. Well, I'll go...

He walked heavily to the door, put on a sheepskin coat and a hat.

- Give a bow to Pavel Sergeevich. Well, you have beer, Malanya! Just…

The grandmother was unhappy that Yegor got tipsy so soon - they didn’t talk properly.

– Weak you some became, Egor.

- Tired, therefore. Yegor took a straw from the collar of his sheepskin coat. - I told our leaders: let's take out the hay in the summer - no! And now, after this blizzard, the roads are all over the place. All day today we have been plaiting, forcibly made our way to the nearest haystacks. And beer you have such ... - Egor shook his head, laughed. - Well, go. Nothing, do not be shy - fly. Sit far away from the cab. Goodbye.

"Goodbye," Shura said.

Yegor left; he could be heard carefully descending from the high porch, walking across the yard, creaking the gate, and in the street singing in a low voice:

The sea spread wide...

And he shut up.

Grandmother looked thoughtfully and sadly out of the dark window. Shurka reread what he wrote down for Yegor.

“It’s scary, Shurka,” said the grandmother.

People are flying...

- Shall we go by train?

- By train - this is just all my holidays on the road will go.

- Lord, Lord! – sighed. grandmother. Let's write to Pavel. Let's cancel the telegram.

Shurka tore another sheet out of the notebook.

So we won't fly?

- Where to fly - such a passion, my fathers! Then they will collect three hundred grams ...

Shura thought.

- Write: dear son Pasha, I consulted here with knowledgeable people ...

Shura leaned over to the paper.

- They told us how they fly on these planes ... And Shurka and I decided this: we will go by train in the summer. It is, of course, possible even now, but Shurka has very short vacations ...

Shurka hesitated for a second or two and continued to write:

“And now, Uncle Pasha, I am writing this on my own behalf. Uncle Yegor Lizunov, our supply manager, if you remember, scared Babonka. For example, he cited the following fact: he looked out the window and sees that the engine is on fire. If it were so, then the pilot would start knocking down the flames with speed, as is usually done.I assume that he saw the flames from the exhaust pipe and raised a panic.Please write to the grandmother that this is not scary, but about me - that I wrote to you "Don't write. Or else she won't go in the summer either. Here she'll go to the garden, all kinds of pigs, chickens, geese - she won't leave them. We're still villagers after all. And I'm terribly eager to see Moscow. We're going through it." at school in geography and history, but that, you know, is not the same. And Uncle Yegor also said, for example, that passengers are not given parachutes. This is already blackmail. But the grandmother believes. Please, Uncle Pasha, shame her. She is you she loves terribly. So you tell her: how is it, mother, your son is a pilot himself. Hero of the Soviet Union, awarded many times, and you are afraid to fly on some unfortunate civilian aircraft! At a time when we have already overcome the sound barrier. Write like this, she will fly in an instant. She is very proud of you. Of course - well deserved. I am personally proud too. But I have a terrible desire to look at Moscow. Well, goodbye for now. With regards - Alexander.

Meanwhile, the grandmother dictated:

- We'll go there in the fall. Mushrooms will also grow there, you can have time to cook some salted meats, cook sea buckthorn jam. In Moscow, after all, everything is in purchase. And they will not do it the way I do at home. That's it, son. A bow to my wife and children from me and from Shurka. Bye. Recorded?

- Recorded.

The grandmother took the sheet, put it in an envelope and wrote the address herself:

"Moscow, Leninsky Prospekt, 78, apt. 156.

Hero of the Soviet Union Lyubavin Pavel Ignatievich.

From his mother from Siberia.

She always signed the address herself: she knew that it would come true that way.

- Like this. Don't be sad, Shura. Let's go in the summer.

- And I'm not sad. But you still get ready little by little: you take it and decide to fly.

The grandmother looked at her grandson and said nothing.

At night, Shurka heard her tossing and turning on the stove, sighing softly and whispering something.

Shura didn't sleep either. Thought. Life promised many extraordinary things in the near future. Never even dreamed of such a thing.

- Shurk! Grandma called.

- Pavel, probably, is allowed into the Kremlin?

- Maybe. And what?

- I would like to visit at least once there ... to see.

“They let everyone in now.

Grandma was silent for a while.

“So they let everyone in,” she said incredulously.

- Nikolai Vasilievich told us.

They were silent for another minute.

“But you, too, old lady: where there is courage, but here you were frightened of something,” Shurka said displeasedly. – What are you afraid of?

“Sleep, know,” ordered the grandmother. - Brave. You'll put the first one in your pants.

- I bet I'm not scared?

- Sleep know. And then tomorrow you won’t get to school again.

The story "Villagers", remaining "an anecdote story", gravitates towards a short story. An unexpected end, in which the reader learns that the son of grandmother Malanya is a pilot, Hero of the Soviet Union, fills all her fears of flying with an ironic meaning. At the same time, the ending of the story is expected, it stems from the attitude of the villagers to travel. The story tells about "not traveling", the reasons for which are understandable to the villagers and ridiculous to the reader.

Issues

The main problem of the story is traditional for Shukshin. This is a social problem of the relationship between the city and the countryside. The city for the villagers is the embodiment of a dream, a role model, a symbol of progress to which one should strive. But the village is the origin of the city, both material and spiritual. It is the people from the village who become famous citizens, heroes, the pride of the country.

Plot

The plot of the story “Village Residents” is contained in one sentence: grandmother Malanya receives an invitation in a letter from her son living in Moscow to stay with him and is going to fly with her grandson Shurka during the winter holidays, but, having learned from an experienced neighbor about the hardships and dangers of traveling by plane, she postpones trip to better times.

The whole action of the story fits in 1 day. In the morning, Malanya receives a letter, in the evening Shurka writes a telegram under her dictation, at 11 pm after work (!) A neighbor - a school supply manager - comes and talks about the upcoming trip. After the story, the grandmother dictates to Shurka a letter for her son that she will come in the summer. At night, grandma and Shurka dream of a future journey.

The main thing in the story is not the plot. The story "Villagers" is a story about what did not happen. The reader suspects that the grandmother will never find the strength and courage to fly to her son in Moscow, which both she and her grandson dream of. This is a reminiscence of Chekhov's play "Three Sisters", where the leitmotif "to Moscow, to Moscow!" did not lead to travel.

In the absence of action, the main idea of ​​the story, put into the title: inertia does not allow the villagers to escape from their familiar environment (like a grandmother), but if they escaped, they achieve a lot (like the son of Malanya and, obviously, Shura in the future).

Heroes of the story

Grandma Malanya is a simple rural woman. Only at the end of the story, on the last page, does the reader find out that Malanya's son is a Hero of the Soviet Union. Shurka mentions this in a letter, and then the grandmother displays on the envelope not only the name of the addressee, but also the title, believing that this way the letter will reach better. According to Shurka, her son's grandmother "loves terribly" and is proud of him.

Traveling for a grandmother is a difficult, obscure matter. She does not understand how to travel by different modes of transport and with a large number of transfers. Grandma is afraid to fly on an airplane (especially after a neighbor said that the plane could catch fire). But Shurka knows that his grandmother is not a timid ten (otherwise, where would her son have the qualities necessary for a pilot), she is surprised that she was afraid of the plane: “But you, too, old woman: where there is brave, but here you were afraid of something. .."

Shukshin emphasizes that Grandma Malanya has character traits that she obviously passed on to her son: energetic, wiry, noisy, very inquisitive.

Some characteristic features of the grandmother can be considered common to all rural residents: she is hospitable, treats Yegor with mead (beer), and observes traditions. She thinks of herself as a single whole with her fellow villagers, tells everyone she meets about the invitation, and asks everyone for advice. The advice of a “knowledgeable person” Yegor Lizunov is undeniable for her.

Grandma doesn't believe in progress. She is not only afraid of airplanes, but also writes a telegram like a letter (after all, she knows how to write according to tradition, she does not succumb to Shurka's persuasion that a telegram is completely different).

The grandmother and grandson have one appearance for two: lean, high cheekbones, with small intelligent eyes. Shurka by nature it does not look like a grandmother. He is just as inquisitive, but shy to the point of stupidity, modest and touchy. Shurka is the son of the daughter of grandmother Malanya, who temporarily lives with her grandmother because his mother arranges her personal life. He really knows a lot. He not only knows how to write a telegram, but also knows how much it will cost. Shurka knows that if the engine caught fire, then the flame must be knocked down with speed, he guesses that Uncle Yegor saw not a burning engine, but a flame from the exhaust pipe. Shurka knows that everyone is allowed into the Kremlin these days. The reader understands who is the source of Shurka's knowledge.

He was told about the Kremlin by Nikolai Vasilyevich, obviously a teacher. The only thing Shurka doesn't know is that they really don't give parachutes on the plane.

Shurka’s modesty does not allow him to directly object to his grandmother, but he willfully writes to his uncle in a letter from himself that he shames the “grandmother”, wrote that it’s not scary to fly: “She will fly in an instant.”

Egor Lizunov is Grandma Malanya's neighbor, a school supply manager, an authority on travel: he traveled and flew a lot. Shukshin pays attention to such details as hardened palms, graying sweaty (from hard work) hair. Another characteristic detail of the hero's portrait is the smell. Egor smells of harness and hay. For a villager, this smell is the smell of the road.

Yegor's smell has an explanation, as does his late return home. He and his superiors took out haystacks in bad weather after a snowstorm. Egor complains that he asked the "figures" to bring hay back in the summer. He is an economic, practical person.

Stylistic features

To characterize the characters, their speech features are important. Grandma's speech is filled with vernacular: we know, it’s very scary, I put it in my pants. Shurka, as the embodiment of the future, has the necessary knowledge, his speech is literate. Tiny dialect more in his letter shows that his dream is to stop being a villager, to leave, like an uncle, for Moscow: “We are still villagers more».

The meaning of the name is both ironic and filled with bitterness. The Hero of the Soviet Union comes from those same villagers, about whom Shurka says in a letter that they cannot tear themselves away from their village, because “there will be a garden, pigs are different, chickens, geese.” Collective neologism swine for Shurka, it is a symbol of all rural life, which prevents him from seeing a common dream with his grandmother - Moscow, which Shurka goes through at school in geography and history.

Grandmother Malanya, a resident of a village in the Altai Territory, receives a letter from her son Pavel from Moscow. She is invited to stay in the capital and they promise to send money for the journey. Pavel asks his mother to send a telegram in advance. He advises to fly by plane: it will be much faster.

Malanya lives with her grandson Shurka, a sixth grade student. His mother sent him to his grandmother in the village, so as not to interfere with the establishment of personal life. Upon learning of his uncle's proposal, Shurka begins to dream of a trip to Moscow. He had long wanted to visit the distant capital. Malanya has never been to Moscow either, and she saw Pavel's children only on a photograph.

After a little thought, the woman decides to take Shurka with her - it will not be so “fearful” together. Just have to wait for the school holidays. After consulting with the neighbors, Malanya finally decides to go. She dictates a telegram to her grandson in Moscow. In it, a woman says that she will come with Shurka after the New Year holidays. Malanya writes the telegram as a letter, full of feelings and lengthy reasoning. To the remark of her grandson that such a message would cost twenty rubles, she only dismisses it.

Malanya has never flown by plane and therefore invites Yegor Lizunov, a seasoned traveller, the school supply manager. She seats the guest at the table and treats him to her own beer. Lizunov, praising the drink, says that there is no direct flight to Moscow, you can fly to the capital by plane from Novosibirsk. He warns that the grandmother and grandson should not mix up the cash registers, otherwise you can fly to Vladivostok.

Drinking glass after glass, Egor shares his own experience of flying, explaining the dangers in detail. He starts making up all sorts of lies. Lizunov says that aircraft engines often ignite. He himself witnessed such an incident: during the flight, the engine caught fire. And passengers are not given parachutes. So when the plane crashes, everyone dies. Only 300 grams remain from a person, including clothes.

Baba Malanya, listening to these stories, is horrified. Shurka first looks at Lizunov with great interest, and then begins to suspect a lie in the words of the supply manager. In parting, the drunk Yegor advises Malanya to fly in the tail section of the cabin, since it is safer there.

The grandmother, seriously frightened by Yegor's stories, decides to take the train. But Shurka notices that the one-way trip will take all the winter holidays, so they will not have time to go to the capital and back before the start of their studies. Then Malanya postpones the trip until the summer holidays.

On the same day, the grandmother dictates a letter to her grandson. In it, she informs Pavel that she will not arrive in Moscow until summer. Malanya wants to take her grandson with her, and in winter his holidays are too short. Shurka ascribes lines from himself to the letter, in which he explains that the grandmother is frightened by the stupid stories of Yegor Lizunov. He advises Paul to shame Malanya. The son is a pilot, Hero of the Soviet Union, and his mother is afraid of some civil aircraft.

Shurka asks her uncle to persuade her grandmother to fly in winter, because in summer there is a lot of household chores. They are rural residents and will not be able to escape in the midst of seasonal work, so the summer voyage, most likely, will not take place.

Malanya seals and signs the envelope herself. At night, the grandmother and grandson cannot fall asleep for a long time, thinking about a possible trip.

• "Villagers", analysis of Shukshin's story
• "The sun, the old man and the girl", analysis of Shukshin's story
• "Freak", analysis of Shukshin's story
• "Resentment", analysis of Shukshin's story