Izba literary reading room. about the project

"Practical implementation of the self-sufficiency of the Izba-Chitalnya portal for free for its users"

The book market in our country currently operates exclusively on a commercial basis. Most of it is served by large bookselling networks that are focused on mass production, in demand by the majority of the population. There is practically no possibility for highly artistic literature of a non-commercial plan to break through to the reader. It is especially difficult to convey to the reader their work to authors little known and poorly provided for. All services are paid. But even if the author managed to publish his creation, then it is almost impossible to sell it through retail chains without powerful advertising support, for which the vast majority of talented authors simply do not have the funds.

Under all sorts of pretexts, bookstores practically do not accept literature of an acute socio-political orientation and do not put it in prominent places.

In these circumstances, the strategy of the literary association Izba-Chitalnya has features that are radically different from most book publishing portals.

Our mission is clear to everyone. This is the development of the reader's patriotic self-awareness and the creation of conditions for the disclosure of the creative possibilities of authors by means of the Russian language.

Among the tasks of the portal is to familiarize a wide range of readers with highly artistic literature.

We do a lot for this exclusively on a voluntary basis. Not without the participation of our editorial team, 7 electronic and 3 printed editions of the authors of the Izba-Chitalny were published.

The only thing left to do is to find a buyer for our products. It exists, but getting to it, bypassing the network dominance with its commercialization, seems to be a very difficult task.

At the same time, the cost of maintaining the Internet portal is growing. Ensuring its self-sufficiency with traditional methods of advertising and paid services will inevitably lead to a decrease in the artistic level of the works presented on the Main page of the portal. This is fraught with the fact that the Izba-Reading Room will lose its competitive advantages of the reader's interest in good literature.

To avoid this, to enable the portal to exist in its normal form and occupy its unique niche in the literary world, we must adequately respond to the trends of the times.

To sell literary products free of charge for authors, an online store "Bookshelf" has been opened on our portal. It is planned that the payback of the published products will be ensured by the reader's interest. New Izba products, specially selected by our Artistic and Editorial Councils, will come out with the Reading Izba logo. For everyone who wants to buy it, this will serve as a kind of quality mark, guaranteeing a high artistic or socio-political level of the book.

The prices of the online store "Bookshelf" will be without the monstrous markups of network intermediaries, which actually block the free access of the authors' products to the shelves of chain stores.

To implement the plan, it will be necessary to notify a huge number of the public about the existence of such an online store. This will be done through social networks. To do this, we have opened communities in social networks that are directly and indirectly related to the Izba. Through them, we will constantly provide information about the Reading Izba and its possibilities for authors.

In the three main networks (VKontakte, Facebook, Odnoklassniki) communities "Izba-Chitalnya" have been created. In addition, the LIK community has been additionally created on the VKontakte network.

As part of these communities, we need to invite the maximum number of friends with their friends and ask them to join our groups. Through these communities, with a link to the Izba-Chitalnya online store, we will advertise Izba products, which include both our own products and books by other authors who wish to use the services of the Bookshelf online store.

Bringing such communities to large sizes is a very time-consuming procedure, which can only be mastered by the whole world. Not many people are fully versed in network technologies. Therefore, we need to find people with networking experience. They will be tasked with filling our communities with content that engages people. Given the variety of tastes, this content can be very different. This is what the LIC community was created for.

We appeal to everyone who cherishes the fate of the Izba in its present form and who agrees with the strategy for its further development!

Join us in any capacity. Join our online communities and do your best to help spread our information through any networking opportunities. Send us any material, books for placement in networks and for direct sale to customers. Recommend us to your friends. Invite any participants. On the part of the Management, all conditions will be created to promote the creativity of its most active participants. We will give them the green light in all their endeavors.

The publication is subject to the following conditions:

1. The owner of the collection is the literary portal Izba-Chitalnya.

Valery Belov,

Leonid Kutyrev-Trapeznikov (Leo Silvio)

Introduction

"Izba-Chitalnya" - today is one of the best Russian-language literary sites. It is a unique portal for its many services and diverse resources. It is delicately balanced in the universal bundle of the most important elements of the site for creative people: on the one hand - "text, picture, sound, video", on the other - "author, original work, reader, comment-review", which is very convenient for portal users.

This site has the most favorable conditions for any creative person seeking recognition and communication among interesting and talented people who speak Russian.

Here the authors are given the freedom to publish in various genres of contemporary art: literature - from poetry and prose to criticism and journalism, painting and photography in all forms and forms, author's songs, musical and voice accompaniment of texts, as well as video films from video clips and genre scenes to documentaries and animations.

The fundamental basis of the "Reading Hut" is the patriotic worldview of Russian people who consider themselves patriots of the Russian language and welcome everything that benefits the Russian people and any other people who "understand and accept the Russian language as their native language."

A friendly atmosphere has been created here that motivates users to actively participate in the life of the site, and various competitions and projects encourage authors to create new creative works.

"Izba-Reading Room" is harmonious in terms of the architectonics of its creators' intention and has the most progressive dynamics of its development today.

All of the above features of the "Izba-Reading Room" are an obvious rarity and a clear advantage over other sites, which allows us to draw the following conclusion:

"Izba-Reading Room" is one of the brightest stars in the sky of the Russian-language literary Internet space!

Leonid Kutyrev-Trapeznikov (Leo Silvio)

Alexandra Yastrebkova (Yana Nega)

"All will pass..

and this too…”

inscription on Solomon's ring

The dawn of Sinai is scraped and clean

The dawn of Sinai is scraped and clean,
Translucent with the ocher of Giotto's frescoes,
Lies like a lamb of dreams on a white sheet
Having collected from words and rhymes a night quota.

Warm me up and touch me softly.
Warmth is more animated than silence.
When you soar and are suddenly thrown down,
Once again teaching the art of life,

Warmth is more important than the words of non-existence,
At least Nirvana enjoys them.
Keep me warm don't leave me
Until I stop believing in heaven.

The dawn of Sinai faded to white
Prayer frozen in mid-sentence,
Only Magdalena collected poppies
All in cinnabar drops of God's blood.

Hiding the iconography of tempera in the shadows,
I drop Solomon's ring
And again I paint with a brush not you.
You are sealed with seven seals - sacred.

The balance of time

The balance of time ... The softness of the touch of dawn,
Half-light-penumbra of a watercolor veil of dawn.
Through the non-woven lace of sleep confess the essence of love,
Laying dreams - a fragile gift - on her altars.

The balance of time... The illusory nature of a melting fresco,
Twilight shadows, dissolving the outline of the moon.
Confess love like a child, almost biblical
From the beginning began at the pier of holy silence.

Equilibrium of time... Ancient written scroll,
Where all who were born and will be born are remembered.
On this sinful earth and sometimes forgotten by heaven
Confess love in the reflection of God's names...

Remember me sometimes...

Remember me, sometimes, in loneliness with a boom,
If bright sadness touches whiskey with a faithful woman.
I know I didn't happen by your unexpected miracle.
But, I loved ... God saw ... How empty it is in the captivity of melancholy.

How bottomless, beloved ... how salty the human sea,
All sunrises, sunsets ... and a haze in the eyes of mirages.
Remember me, sometimes ... I will have peace
In this cold sea of ​​boundless falsehood and lies.

Remember me, sometimes, even if I'm not standing.
I know that you are persecuting my image, because it hurts a wound in the heart.
Write something bold, sharp, sharp, angry.
Prepare a polished shield of indifference.

Defend yourself from the memory, shoot her right in the soul.
Anyway, you and I will gradually die to each other,
Like fish of the sea, forgotten by God on dry land.
Remember me, sometimes... forgetting about everything...

Gilded willow, amber dream

Gilded willow, amber dream.
And the girl's eyes are heavenly light.
Alkonosts and Sirins… Chime
Crystal bells, innocent laughter.

In paradise, everything is lilies of the valley and streams,
An angel of God weaves a cover from the clouds.
We, Maria, are no one's yet, we are no one's...
There are still so many times before great words.

Hush, hush, Maria... Grow, grow.
Soon, soon, Mary, good news.
And forgive us who have gone astray, child, forgive us.
The purest sleeps sweetly, she is six tomorrow ...

Dragon blood...

She felt good in his captivity,
Confidently ... Wherever it takes off,
Picked up strong palms
And wearily stroked the wings.
She has long resigned herself to this fate,
Laughed, sometimes shone in society,
But the dragon's blood woke up at night
And the sky was unspeakably small ...

And there was indescribably little happiness,
It fell like silver on her shoulders.
And there was nothing left in my heart
And even the heart did not dare to beat.
Then she broke all the barriers
Tore love's invisible shackles.
And he appeared, as always, out of place,
And he pretended that nothing ... as if,
As if it didn't happen
Again she drunkenly offered her palms,
Smoked without measure, calling sweetheart.
And it seemed to her that she was drowning again.
And the blood boiled and rushed from the throat.
She forgot how much she died
That it hurts terribly every time ...
And only in the morning, broken, subsided ...

And he apologized guiltily,
He beat his fists into the stone walls
And he promised that he would release sometime
Home from human captivity ...

Wanna know what I'm made of
Calculate all my troubles
Bypass all borders with limits,
And open hidden points!?

Well, the desire is strong, bold.
Steel gaze aiming accurately
Right into the apple of paradise, ripe,
Do you want to be my only night?!

Become a gentle page, even timid,
That is a harsh and domineering tramp,
But you can become a loss,
A fire victim without a castle and a banner.

Do you want to know what I'm made of?!
How much softness, how much sharpness?
Will lead the curiosity of the skilled
Into my pools, into my abysses.

You might get lost for a long time
Lost in the herbs by accident.
Do you want to know where I am hidden and hidden?!
Night, do you think it's enough?... Desperate...

2009

Do I…

Should I look for you
Pick keys.
Time to turn back.
Just be quiet, be quiet.

Should I love and wait
And measure sadness
If separation seal
Printed on the line.

Should I cherish and honor
Burn a candle by the window
If you burn the thread
If the trigger to the temple.

Do I have a soul to the creator
To beg life to be able,
If it suits you
Death and obola copper.

Should I drink hope
Cry into your shoulder
But I return the thread
Who else will save...

While we keep up with apples ...

While we keep up with apples on the branches
In the golden garden of the Lord - in silence,
Whisper to me with a leaf - at your own risk and my fear
About the earthly, miserly human country.

While pouring into the ovary of souls - grace,
And the holy connection is not torn by ripeness,
Teach me, Angel, down there... down there... to die.
Teach me to die for Him, laughing...

On the heart…

It becomes cloudy in the heart, as if in autumn in it
The hostess of uninvited sadness is preparing a lodging for the night.
And in the past the path is covered with golden foliage
Calls to get lost in the garden, having lost the amulet.

At the heart of mists and birds flying over the sea,
Gray rains, showering heights on the forest.
You will remember and accept love with grace ... Isn't it too early,
Isn't it too late?... Deadlines are only there - on the scales by the heavens.

In the heart of forgiveness, farewell and memories.
The tenderness of the soul is infused for a new round.
Your quiet comfort, which does not even have a name,
Prepares for life in the world among the humility of the lines.

Thirty seventh...

Do not let go of my hand, not from ... let ... kai ...
So I never asked, they know the score.
If only this moment, sliding over the edge,
It would last forever ... only, eternity for us yet.

The yellow lantern, bent over, froze like me.
Where is your angel, my dear, in what region?
Here only the widows of crimson October.
Line to hell... I love you madly!

White patch of cuff, blur lines.
You will close up a letter from heaven with a crumb of bread.
A terrible stage of roads for execution
The thirty-seventh issues a prisoner's cross.

Don't let go of my hand in a cold dream.
You know, when your eyes are before me,
I shrink in pain and hide in the frozen darkness.
My light, you look like the elders on the images.

In happiness, he splashed a puddle of black funnels.
Terrible fates and the time of bloody sacrifices.
The thirty-seventh executioner cut the threshold.
After all, I believed in God, and God is so callous ...

We are just words with an accent in the word love ...

How she crushed - heart whim, emptiness,
That autumn rain flows into the veins with a gray line.
And we're not talking about that, on the middle span of the bridge
We talk about feelings and, it seems, do not expect a change.

After all, we are just words with an accent in the word melancholy
And with autumn sadness, like the flu, we get sick all over.
Here we stand in the middle of a bridge that goes into oblivion,
Seeing off another year along the autumn alley.

And we grow madly old under this rough song,
Scattering through the streets with rusty and dull foliage.
And the question - "to be - not to be?" replaced by doubt – “I am?!”
And we do not believe that we can become a better soul by an iota.

And the assigned angel, graying, frowns again:
It is not an easy job to fish meaning out of the swamp.
After all, we are just words with an accent in the word love,
Let's otskuyu autumn stubble, and something will cure us ...

I won't remember you...

I will not remember you either today or after ...
I'll just exhale the autumn together - and calmly fall asleep,
And I will not torment you with the light bliss that swirls around.
The blackness of your underside will not affect my whiteness ...

Yes ... I am the first winter, clean, gentle blizzard.
You know, if an angel is offended, snow falls.
He believed that I had found a true friend.
But only the enemy makes a robbery raid on the soul.

No, do not be afraid ... My angel will not say a word after.
He will sweep the roughness of the traces leaving the wing.
With a feeling of pity the salt of forgiveness from God's salt shaker
The conscience of the sinner will gently sprinkle and, perhaps, save ...

2009

When you start rewriting me
From light and shadow, silence and music,
Weave your memory from flashes of flame
From the whisper of the wind and blues autumn ...

Surround the trembling of the heart with ringing strings
The quietest prayers, the silver of the full moon,
Carmine dawn, amaranth twilight,
Create a little wiser than me and crazier ...
It's like I wasn't created before you.
But, no matter how hard you try to deceive hope,
The one from the rib will defeat the one from the air,
When you start rewriting me...

Vera Sokolova

I will leave you

I will leave you
walkways,
and all past life
plunge into the fog
I'm so late -
it's time for me
break this
lasting for years
dope ...

I will leave you
without explanation,
early Sunday morning,
while you're still sleeping.
Only sticky bitterness
uninvited shadow
scratch on the heart
quiet as a mouse...

Only will be on the poles
flags are flown,
and "Farewell of the Slav"
orchestra will play...
(How easy it is to say goodbye
write on paper
and how hard to bear
his life cross.).

I will leave you...
However, it doesn't matter:
this is not the last sin
from grave sins
and will be remembered
paper ash,
from the burned
dedicated to you
poems...

I will leave you...

Conversation with autumn

Dark-eyed with a veil
Late autumn, have mercy
clueless, lonely -
I conjure your rains...

Let the sun occasionally break through,
aid to the south wind.
Oh, how you want a free bird
shout to you: "Love!" ...

Autumn is late, how ruthlessly
you tear off the last leaf,
but please don't leave me
promise to save, swear...

I am a slave to your restless
born at the end of November
changing redness to scale,
put on a new outfit...

Autumn late dark-eyed,
you just a little longer,
but you answer immediately with rain,
without letting me finish my thought...

Dark-eyed with a veil
Late autumn, have mercy
clueless, lonely -
I conjure your rains...

Fog again

Fog again... Soul trembles...
And no matter how vain God -
in the intersection of truth and lies
vice lies...

Winter's harbinger and ambassador
gray November, saying goodbye, angry,
and leaves dropped camisoles
wet with tears...

And still immobilized
clouds in the autumn puddles,
and no rain, no wind -
there is fog...

And in the number of minutes
that we are released, live
and a thief, and a righteous man, and a swindler,
and charlatan...

Muffled pain pain
and swarms of vague thoughts:
we play a different role
year after year…

There will be no meeting by candlelight
under the exercises of a violinist,
and this pain is a draw,
she will pass...

He stood on the bridge

He stood on the Bridge of Parting - with his back to the sunset,
the glare of a broken shadow splashed on a yellow wave,
the dates before last scattered like a brilliant stream,
and drowned in transparent drops there, in the depths ...

He stood on the Bridge of Promise for a meaningless long time
and caught in the darkened wave the reflection of the stars,
in the trembling of the water he heard the rustle of silk
falling clothes from distant midnight dreams ...

He stood on the bridge ... he stood, forgetting about time,
remembering only her, their short-lived love affair ...
He stood on the bridge, forgotten, it would seem, by everyone ...
He stood on the bridge of Solitude and listened to the fog ...

She kindled the stove with verses

She kindled the stove with verses,
they burned, blackening with letters,
she prayed before going to bed,
but the dream didn't come...
The snow was falling on the alley,
and remembered an old love,
ended with that first kiss
on the same alley under cover
from the darkness and the evil wind blower.
Ruthlessly fate parted them,
and, alas, did not give a second chance:
the snow has skillfully covered the trail
to the whistling and singing of a blizzard romance.
She kindled the stove with verses,
without complaining about life and the weather:
there was not much from the verses of heat -
burned quickly, and years were written ...

Survive until the future lilac

Time for love, time for bloom
no - not over, by no means:
live up to the future lilac
and inhale its fragrance...
Lilac life is short-lived:
two weeks and bloom -
lilac, white-bridal
fill the city and leave
until the next orgies of May,
when the soul is not in itself,
lilac fragrance inhaling
we believe in heart and destiny...

Draws pearls on the window
another frosty day
a cat warmed up by the fireplace,
and I dreamed of a lilac ...

Seven yellow chrysanthemums

Seven yellow chrysanthemums in a tall vase
my birthday is seventy-eighth,
smile on the face, and in every phrase
playful tone is my last trump card.

Mysterious night, your motives
I can’t comprehend - I am indebted to you:
you are so dark and so voluptuous,
I'll let you know what else I can...

I can light a candle spilling on velvet
cherry curtains viscous yellow wax,
I can read Plutarch's Morals,
without damaging the wisdom of the brain.

Can I talk about love in a high style
to compose a sonnet of fourteen lines,
I can forget the familiar road
on a blizzard morning going over the threshold.

I can laugh it through my tears
with all my heart - to colic in the side,
because I'm not a mimosa woman,
and mille pardon, and je vous aime beaucoup ... [In French: Mille pardon - a thousand apologies; Zhe wu zem boku - I love you very much.]

Seven yellow chrysanthemums - their smell is bitter
brings sadness before the coming winter.
With a mischievous smile I roll downhill
on your birthday - the seventy-eighth ...

Winter outside

The mailbox is empty
whining winter under the door
and hurry to get cold
both soul and home.
My feelings touched
cold disbelief:
change for money
pearl embroidery
frost on glass
and frost on the roof
for a short letter
tattered envelope,
on an imprint on ash,
in which the name breathes ...
But you couldn't
decide on an answer.
And the games of hot lips
and passionate embraces
unshaven cheek burn
in unforgotten dreams?
superbly rough
you were tearing off your dress...
Everything is in the past, and more -
winter outside...

sorry

that the lines at this midnight I write not to you,
that I say to another: “Come to me, my dear!” ...
Forgive me for breaking my vows so meanly.

I remember our last date
the heart did not skip a beat, the look did not light up,
confidence remained that, as on the battlefield,
a projectile does not fall twice into the same funnel.

Loved, fell out of love - heart secrets:
I excommunicate you, I will tame another ...
Love short-lived familiar signs
flow down yellow light on the moonbeam.

And the morning rejoices in what has come,
that the night - a dashing matchmaker - has gone into oblivion ...
I don't have the heart to say that I fell out of love
that the lines at this midnight were not written to you ...

Snow

The first snow falls on the city again,
Snowflakes circling under the lanterns.
Invisibly Time slows down the run,
And the first snow melts underfoot.

You are far away... Snow, snow, snow
You are hidden from me by a veil ...
And outside the window are foreign shores,
Alien speech and life is completely alien.

And the first snow falls on the city:
It will melt soon, leaving puddles ...
I'll run into the unknown
Where no one can find me.

Like a clam hiding in a shell
So I'll hide my sick soul
And, without revealing true feelings,
I won't disturb your peace.

Sweeping, sweeping blizzard outside the windows,
Quietly sweeping your mark on the heart ...
You are far ... Snow, snow, snow ...
And I - alas, you are a complete stranger ...

Be happy soul

Be happy Soul!
Chill at the crossroads
love and years, predicted by fate ...
Wake of courage,
covered with lime
temples, and strange songs - out of order ...

And the blizzard sows horror:
and suddenly she - for a long time?
The cherished pencil trembles in the hand ...
Will you be able to cheat?
So what's the point of cheating?
And the winter day is boarding ...

Hope for spring?
But the days are getting shorter...
And a snowy canvas is spinning ...
And going to sleep
I remember, by the way,
that the deadlines have all ended a long time ago ...

Be happy Soul!

Was

"He won't come again..." she thought.
and turned to the mirror to check
how sad she looks...
Spring was seen in the foggy mirror,
and drafty open doors
with a grand gesture invited to the garden ...

“He will not come again ...”, - and went out onto the porch ...
Embraced by the shoulders of the wind daringly spicy,
spring ray slid through the hair ...
And the singing of the returned starlings from the south,
that so easily heals wounds,
a magical balm was shed on them ...

“He won’t come again… no, I don’t want to think…
in my eyes he will not see tears -
the garden dissolved its arms for me ...
And he will remain one of the quirks,
the outcome of which was so obvious ... "

And sadly repeated the word - "was" ...

Vladimir Gilep (Voha)

Second "I"

If life spreads "caramel", flowing in the "peace" mode.
I yearn and want to wander aimlessly along my beloved river.
Sometimes I want, even crack, spread my inner world.
Sing and listen to good songs in the depths of "bad apartments."
And then, like a beast on bait, from one spill to another
I leave along the granite of the Fontanka, not quite understanding - why?
Accept! City backyards - reservation of gray cats.
By tradition, there are no cops near the garbage cans of the garbage dump.
Guys, let go of your shirt! Light up - light up, but be rude ...
In our district, they beat without a swing, because I also like to joke.
Here I am! Not like himself ... receiving and distributing from the heart,
I smile with a broken face, realizing that somewhere I am wrong.
Representing the reaction vaguely, I will overcome the closed door.
And I'll tell you: "Good morning! I didn’t hang around with women, believe me. ”
I will confess and reveal the reason to the charming lady of worms:
My great-great-primitive man was a vagabond in essence.

September 4, 2008

Draw and draw

On the path of passions there were a draw and a draw
And, converging at the stream under the mountain ash,
Dried up a pair of gray eyes
Blue as the sky, with sparkles.

They would, faded, not even dare to think about more,
Yes, on the way met the bottomless.
They took the blue ones and began to look
In light gray dark green.

That storm watered my eyes with tears.
Happiness melted like a white piece of ice.
They only looked with hope, as in images,
Blue to harsh grey.

Many days and nights have passed since then.
The path split into paths.
Oh, it was not sweet for the gaze of gray eyes
Without that, blue with sparks.

Fleeting summer intoxicated with freshness

Fleeting summer intoxicated with freshness,
Dizzy with the smell of herbs.
And from this tenderness, having become careless,
A berry fermented, becoming a berry.
The backwaters were covered with yellow water lilies,
Ryaskoy, yes mud - green water.
Bright picture, ruby ​​berry
Trouble has ripened on the raspberry bush.
Not divided by someone's half,
But not becoming a dear friend,
On the lips of the hateful one, it was caked with blood.
She stayed and disappeared, giving her all.
Crane wedges chirp in the sky.
Pulling into the distance is not easy - do they get used to it.
Life is halved, like the fate of Marinin.
Low gave the blue, but do not scream.

So, on the agenda is the literary portal "Izba-Chitalnya"
What can I say ... Izba is a pretty nice site, with its interesting technical and functional know-how, for which they get a big plus from me. But there are a few "highlights" in this site, which, for the past one year, have made it look like the patrimony of untalented, ambitious inadequacies - a kind of literary geniuses of small-town spills.

The first "highlight" is carte blanche in managing the site, which was given by its owners Khairullin and Vorobyov to a certain Valery Belov and a user under the nickname "Leo-Silvio" (in the world - Leonid Kutyrev-Trapeznikov). So, these gentlemen managed to become "assets" in the business plan of the portal owners.
Analyzing their rapid “career growth” on this portal, and, in the absence (in my opinion) of the slightest writing talent for both, I noticed that it (this take-off) began after the chairman of the Russian Union of Writers Ganichev mentioned the Reading Room as one from promising literary sites of Runet. I note that this idea was voiced at a meeting not with anyone, but with V, V, Putin himself. Based on the fact that Leo-Silvio is a member of the SP of Russia (which in itself is already nonsense, in my opinion), I am more than sure that it was he who "hurried" with the mention of the Izba at the highest level. Naturally, for such a present to the business of Khairullin and Vorobyov, gratitude from them followed with lightning speed: Leo-Silvio became untouchable throughout the entire space of the portal, and Valery Belov became the administrator, author and interpreter of the local “User Agreement”.

The second "highlight" is even sweeter. Valery Belov, who succeeded in parodies of the Bible, and Leo Silvio, who declared on the Izba forum that all immigrants are freaks, and paraphrased the Nazi slogan "Germany is above all" to "Russia is above all", became the sole judges and executioners of the authors this site. It seems that the owners do not care at all, that more than three hundred authors who dared to express a point of view that differs from Belovskaya had pages removed; that the Izba forum has become a graveyard of opinions, and serves only to inform admins about the next deleted author's page; that the "public council" of the Izba, which was created with grandiose pomp to resolve controversial issues, has turned into a staff of Belov's pocket guards, who does not disdain even perusal of the authors' personal messages. Or maybe really - do not care?

In general, summing up the results, I can say with confidence that the literary portal "Izba-reading room", despite the page of the Russian joint venture present there, is not intended for writers who have their own point of view on matters related to literature. I'm talking about other areas of life. That's what he is currently good at - so it's functional, convenient for storing his works. And then, you must always be on the alert, because any of your works can be unceremoniously removed if these two near-literary clerks do not like it.

To be continued…

Reviews

Hi Igor...
It's just a fascist site. Not the one, of course, on which Adolf is praised, but somewhat different. Not German-fascist, but Russian-Nazi. The meaning, however, is the same. Unpunished propaganda of misanthropic ideas and biological anti-Semitism is the hallmark of this site. Maybe not the entire site, but its important component, the FORUM, for sure! And the Forum is the face of the site. And this forum is a platform for absolutely clinical misanthropes. Everything on this forum is saturated with hatred. And all THIS finds the full support of the owners of the site. I have always wished this Forum to die and it seems to me that my wishes have come true. I have not looked there for a long time and looking today I did not find the usual page. As well as the Forum. Did justice finally prevail and this serpentarium was slammed shut?

The daily audience of the Potihi.ru portal is about 200 thousand visitors, who in total view more than two million pages according to the traffic counter, which is located to the right of this text. Each column contains two numbers: the number of views and the number of visitors.

TOP 15 literary sites of Runet

LiveLib (Live Library, Livelib) - Russian-language Internet project, social network,

dedicated to literature.

The site provides information about books, writers, publishers, libraries.

It is one of the most visited portals of Runet in the field of literature.

Literary reviews and reviews. Statistics service: popular books, authors. Information about the latest events and novelties of the book world. Forum, blogs.

2. Poetry.ru - poetry portal

Poetry.ru is the largest Russian poetry portal that provides authors with the opportunity to freely publish their works.

The Poetry.ru portal operates under the auspices of the Russian Union of Writers, and is developed and supported by the Literary Club.

Services on the portal:
Textbook of versification
Encyclopedia of poetry
Poet's assistant
Authors' diaries
Contests and magazines

3. Proza.ru

Proza.ru is the largest Russian literary portal that provides authors with the opportunity to freely publish their works.

The Proza.ru portal operates under the auspices of the Russian Union of Writers, and is developed and supported by the Literary Club.

4. Fantasy Lab

The main sections and projects of the site:

the most complete and reliable bibliographies of science fiction authors
ratings of books and authors based on the voting of visitors, reviews
person-centered recommendations
genre classification of works
publishing plans, rumors and gossip
awards and prizes
forum
author's columns

The site has a methodology for selecting books for like-minded people and making individual recommendations for readers

5. LitLife Literary Club

LitLife is a network project that brings together people who love books and communication.

6. Askbook of Literature

A site about literature as a way of life.

Askbuka is a literary portal entirely dedicated to books.

The main goal of the portal is to help readers navigate the current book market, which is widely replete with catchy and bright third-rate literature.

The main sections of the site:
Askbook of poetry.
The best poems of many classical and modern authors: from Francois Villon to Boris Ryzhy, from Charles Bukowski to Andrey Voznesensky.
Quotes from books.
Sometimes these are short aphorisms, and sometimes even short stories in a few paragraphs.
Articles about literature, reviews and notes about literature or somewhere near literature.
Book reviews of famous and not so famous works.
Literary online tests.
Thematic collections of poems are a subsection of the poetic collection of Askbuka literature with their own interesting solutions.

7. Website of the magazine "World of Fiction"

The site is made by the team of the World of Science Fiction magazine.

Infotainment site where you can read articles from the paper "World of Fantasy", but also find a lot of exclusive material.

The site is mainly about sci-fi and fantasy, but also has material on topics related to movies, TV series, comics, popular science and geek culture.

MirF and Igromania are part of the same publishing house, with a common database of authors.

8. Litportal - "Izba - reading room"

Izba-Reading Room "- a popular literary portal with free publication

The literary portal "Izba-Chitalnya" provides authors with the opportunity to publish poetry and prose in various genres of literature. The basis of the association of the Izba-Chitalnya is love for the Motherland, for its culture and the preservation of the traditional values ​​of the Russian world.

The literary site "Izba-Chitalnya" is open for posting your works and for attracting readers.

We offer the reader a rich selection of modern poetry and prose.

In the "Izba-reading room" it is allowed to publish any works, discuss any topics directly or indirectly related to literary creativity.

9. Parnasse.ru

Parnasse.ru - a project for creative people, primarily for poets and writers

It is positioned as a modern Internet portal, which is intended for the publication of author's works, as well as for communication, creating your own social circle (clubs of interests have been created for this), searching for new readers and listeners and direct contacts with them.

10. 45th parallel: classical and modern Russian poetry

Internet almanac. The interests of the editorial board of the journal are focused on rhymes, rhythms, images.

Section "First hand" - allows you to navigate in space, time, names of the almanac-45. This section also publishes emotional impressions, analytical articles, critical reviews related to poetry events in different countries.

Under the auspices of the almanac, several international poetry competitions were held. Members of the 45th Parallel team have implemented several major book projects.

11. Network literary magazine "Kamerton"

Literary magazine KAMERTON started its activity in 2009.

The magazine sees its task in reflecting the literary process and the movement of social thought where people speak, write and think in Russian, primarily in the countries of the former USSR.

The motto of the magazine: "Do not divide, but unite!"

12. Magazine "Samizdat"

The server of modern literature "Samizdat" at the Moshkov Library is designed to create author's literary sections

13. Library.ru

The information and reference portal "Library.ru" was created in 2003 by a group of specialists who now represent the ANO "Institute of Information Initiatives" and the Russian State Library for Youth.

Four main sections - "Libraries", "Readers", "World of Libraries" and "INFOLOOK".

The basis of the portal is the Virtual Reference and Information Service of Public Libraries (VSIS PB) of Russia "Virtual Help".

14. "InterLit" international literary club

A literary resource that sets itself the task of identifying and supporting young gifted authors in order to preserve the traditions and develop great Russian literature

The site positions itself as an international literary club. There are many foreign Russian-speaking authors here. There is cooperation with a number of publishers and bookstores. Average attendance. The standard functionality, in addition to poetry and prose, is divided into separate sections of criticism and parody, the vernissage works. Deprecated function of downloading audio instead of listening. The policy of the portal is focused on attracting foreign audience here. Good thematic variety. Weak community stability due to large differences in the mentality of the authors and the uncertainty of goals. Conditional parameters of communication: the forum is temporarily closed, but there is an interesting project of collective creativity. There are competitions. Collections and almanacs are formed from the works of the authors of the site. There is a master class.

15. Reading Center of the Russian National Library

The Reading Center of the Russian National Library was established in 2004 with grant support from the Pushkin Library Non-Commercial Foundation.

The Reading Center was founded by the Russian National Library, the Center for Contemporary Literature and Books of St. Petersburg and the Society of Friends of the Russian National Library.

The Reading Center of the Russian National Library is a structural subdivision of the National Library of Russia as part of the scientific and methodological department and carries out research, methodological, informational and educational activities in the field of reading.