Presentation on the topic: "Tatyana Tolstaya The story" Blank sheet ". Tatyana Tolstaya" I am not writing about a small, but about a normal person

Tatiana Tolstaya

stories

That's why, at sunset

Leaving in the darkness of the night

From the white square of the Senate

I quietly bow to him.

And for a long time I will be kind to the people ...

Suppose, at the very moment when Dantes' white index finger is already on the trigger, some ordinary, non-poetic bird of God, frightened from fir branches by fuss and trampling in bluish snow, poops on the hand of the villain. Klyak!

The hand naturally twitches involuntarily; shot, Pushkin falls. Such a pain! Through the mist that obscures his eyes, he takes aim, shoots back; d'Anthes also falls; "glorious shot," the poet laughs. The seconds take him away, semi-conscious; in delirium, he mutters everything, everything seems to want to ask something.

Rumors of a duel spread quickly: Dantes was killed, Pushkin was wounded in the chest. Natalya Nikolaevna is hysterical, Nikolai is furious; Russian society is rapidly divided into the party of the killed and the party of the wounded; there is something to brighten up the winter, something to chat about between the mazurka and the polka. Ladies defiantly weave mourning ribbons into lace. The young ladies are curious and imagine a star-shaped wound; however, the word "breast" seems indecent to them. Meanwhile, Pushkin is in oblivion, Pushkin is in the heat, rushing about and delirious; Dal drags everything and drags soaked cloudberries into the house, trying to push the bitter berries through the clenched teeth of the sufferer, Vasily Andreevich hangs mournful sheets on the door, for the assembled and not dispersing crowd; the lung is shot, the bone is festering, the smell is terrible (carbolic, sublimate, alcohol, ether, cauterization, bloodletting?), the pain is unbearable, and old well-meaning friends, veterans of the twelfth year, say that it is like fire and incessant firing in the body, like tears thousands of cores, and they advise drinking punch and punch again: it distracts.

Pushkin dreams of fires, shooting, screams, the Battle of Poltava, the gorges of the Caucasus, overgrown with small and hard bushes, one in the height, the tramp of copper hooves, a dwarf in a red cap, Griboedov's cart, he imagines the coolness of the Pyatigorsk murmuring waters - someone put a cooling hand on feverish forehead - Dal? - Far. The distance is clouded with smoke, someone falls, shot, on the lawn, among Caucasian bushes, medlars and capers; it was he himself, killed, - why now sobs, empty praises, an unnecessary chorus? - the Scottish moon sheds a sad light on the sad glades, overgrown with spreading cranberries and mighty, sky-high cloudberries; a beautiful Kalmyk girl, coughing furiously, tuberculously - a trembling creature or has she the right? - breaks a green stick over his head - a civil penalty; What are you sewing, Kalmyk? - Porta. - To whom? - Myself. Are you still dozing, lovely friend? Don't sleep, get up, curly! The senseless and merciless peasant, bending down, does something with the iron, and the candle, under which Pushkin, trembling and cursing, with disgust, reads his life full of deceit, sways in the wind. The dogs are tearing up the baby, and the boys are bloody in the eyes. Shoot,” he says quietly and with conviction, “because I stopped hearing the music, the Romanian orchestra and the sad songs of Georgia, and the anchorage throws itself on my shoulders, but I’m not a wolf by my blood: I managed to stick it in my throat and turn it twice there. He got up, killed his wife, killed his sleepy babies. The rumble subsided, I went out to the stage, I went out early, before the star, I was, but I left all, a man with a club and a sack came out of the house. Pushkin leaves the house barefoot, boots under his arm, diaries in boots. So the souls look from a height at the body shed by them. Writer's diary. Diary of a Madman. Notes from the House of the Dead. Scientific Notes of the Geographical Society. I will go through the souls of the people with a blue flame, I will go through the cities with a red flame. The fish swim in the pocket, the path ahead is unclear. What are you building there, for whom? This, sir, is a state-owned house, the Alexander Central. And music, music, music is woven into my singing. And every language that is in it will call me. Whether I’m driving down a dark street at night, either in a wagon, or in a carriage, or in an oyster car, shsr yeukiu, this is not the same city, and midnight is not the same. Many robbers shed the blood of honest Christians! Horse, darling, listen to me... R, O, S, no, I can't distinguish between letters... And suddenly I realized that I was in hell.

"Broken dishes live for two centuries!" - Vasily Andreevich groans, helping to drag the crumpled sheets from under the convalescent. He strives to do everything himself, fusses, gets confused under the servants' feet - he loves. "Here's the broth!" Is there a devil in him, in the broth, but here are the troubles about the royal mercy, but here is the most merciful forgiveness for the unlawful duel, but intrigues, slyness, feigned court sighs, all-submissive notes and an endless ride back and forth in a cab, "but tell me, brother ... "Master!

Vasily Andreevich beams: he got the victorious student exiled to Mikhailovskoye - only, only! Pine air, open spaces, short walks, and the shot chest will heal - and you can swim in the river! And - "Shut up, shut up, my dear, the doctors won't tell you to talk, that's all later! Everything is fine. Everything will work out."

Of course, of course, the howling of wolves and the chiming of clocks, the long winter evenings by candlelight, the weepy boredom of Natalya Nikolaevna - first frightened cries at the bedside of the sick, then despondency, reproaches, whining, wandering from room to room, yawning, beating children and servants, whims, tantrums, the loss of a glass waist, the first gray hair in an uncombed strand, and what, gentlemen, in the morning, expectorating and spitting out the oncoming sputum, look out the window, like a dear friend in freshly fallen snow in cut off felt boots, with a twig in his hand, chasing a goat , eating dry stems of withered flowers sticking up here and there from last summer! Blue dead flies are lying between the glasses - order them to be removed.

No money. Children are goofs. When will the roads be fixed for us? .. - Never. I bet ten cellars of brut champagne - never. And don't wait, it won't. "Pushkin has written himself," the ladies chirp, aging and sagging. However, the new writers, it seems, also have peculiar views on literature - unbearably applied. The melancholy lieutenant Lermontov showed some promise, but died in a stupid fight. Young Tyutchev is not bad, although a bit cold. Who else writes poetry? Nobody. Pushkin writes outrageous poems, but does not flood Russia with them, but burns them on a candle, for supervision, gentlemen, is around the clock. He also writes prose that no one wants to read, because it is dry and precise, and the era requires pity and vulgarity (I thought that this word is unlikely to be in our honor, but I was mistaken, but how wrong!), And now the hemoptysis neurotic Vissarion and the ugly cheerleader Nekrasov - so, it seems? - they race along the morning streets to an epileptic raznochintsy (what a word!): “Do you understand yourself that you wrote such a thing?” ... But, by the way, all this is vague and vain, and barely passes through the edge of consciousness. Yes, old acquaintances have returned from the depths of Siberian ores, from chains and shackles: you can’t recognize it, and it’s not about white beards, but in conversations: unclear, as if from under water, as if drowned men, in green algae, were knocking under the window and at the gate. Yes, they freed the peasant, and now he, passing by, looks arrogantly and hints at something robbery. The youth is terrible and insulting: "Boots are higher than Pushkin!" - "Effective!". The girls have cut off their hair, they look like yard boys and talk about rights: scht Vshug! Gogol died after going insane. Count Tolstoy published excellent stories, but did not answer the letter. Puppy! The memory is weakening… Supervision has long been lifted, but I do not want to go anywhere. In the morning he suffers from a hacking cough. There is no money. And it is necessary, groaning, to finish at last - how long can one drag - the story of Pugachev, a work chosen in ancient times, but still not letting go, all pulling towards itself - they open previously forbidden archives, and there, in the archives, a bewitching novelty, as if it was not the past that was revealed, but the future, something vaguely glimpsing and appearing as indistinct contours in the feverish brain - back then, long ago, when he lay, shot through with this, what do you mean by him? - forgot; because of which? - forgot. As if uncertainty had opened up in the darkness.

On the large writing table lay many interesting things and amazing intricate things: paper clips, buttons, pens of different colors and calibers, pencils, coasters, notebooks, notepads, books and other necessities without which the table would not be known as written. In the upper right corner of this silent state rested an old thick Book. Its sheets turned yellow over time and even torn in places, and the cover was completely glossy and unsightly shone. The book never started a conversation with anyone first: it just lay there and watched what was happening around. She was inconspicuous, she was not conspicuous, cloyingly reminding of herself, and absolutely did not suffer about this. It seemed that for our table the old, well-worn Book was the only completely unnecessary thing. Her whole business was to wait! And she waited. Patiently and quietly waiting for someone to come in handy again. And after a long wait, those moments arrived.

At times, someone really really began to need it very much, and then the old Book always warmly and kindly answered any questions. She didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that they came only because of personal problems and only to take, and then leave for a long time, leaving until their next need. And she humbly and quietly agreed to lie down, waiting for the next moment and a new opportunity to be useful to someone and help someone. Gradually, the Book turned into a discreet continuation of the table itself, a necessary and important detail, without which the table would not exist, as without legs or tabletops. She became everything, being, at first glance, nothing!

In the center of the table lay a neat, smooth, well-groomed, well-groomed and always exquisitely presented sheet! His name was A4, and he was completely clean and empty. He was so proud of his central position that he always boldly, proudly and obtrusively to any pencil, colorfully described his perfectly trimmed shape and perfect page, so that everyone would want to leave their autograph on it, or at least a small elaborate scribble. By all means, the sheet tried to attract the attention of the inhabitants of the desk. It was so loud and so intrusive that it seemed to occupy the entire surface of the tabletop and all the attention of its inhabitants.

Look at me everyone! Come to me all! Think and admire me all! - as if he shouted every day from the very morning.

And some things, indeed, turned to him for help. However, after standing for several minutes near the narcissistic handsome man, they went home without support, realizing that he was completely empty, although absolutely clean! Gradually, less and less attention was paid to his cry and less and less asked for advice, hoping to get at least some help.

Liszt, as before, highly valued his cleanliness and, carefully respecting the boundaries, asked to write an autograph in his margins only from specially selected significant pens, which were respected and appreciated by the whole table. Only now these pens, no matter how beautiful and valuable they may seem, at first glance, were completely helpless without an owner.

One day, a small draft easily blew our A4 off the table and in an instant he was on the floor, completely helpless and alone. Leaf screamed for a long time, but no one could help him. And in the evening the owner came and, not noticing the neat man who had fallen from the table, stepped on him with his shoe. Only the owner could return our sheet back to its place! Now, our poor fellow turned out to be unnecessary to him, because the footprint from the boot irrevocably spoiled the perfect shape and perfect cleanliness. The owner simply crumpled up the damaged sheet and mercilessly sent it to the paper basket under the table.

Only when he was at the very bottom of the trash can, the leaf realized how important it is, even in the most visible place, not to take care of himself, showing off and protecting himself from scars and unnecessary worries, but to try to become useful to as many people in need as possible. And in the process of such help, let your sheets get dirty, blacken or even tear. Let your cover become unsightly and yellowed. May you be removed from the center and assigned to the most inconspicuous place, but may you never be blown away as an unnecessary and light thing, because you have become part of something whole, big and common! By helping and wasting ourselves, depth and content appear in us. And it doesn’t matter how you look and where you are, the main thing is that someone needs you, because you are always ready and want to help!

The text is large so it is divided into pages.

Clean slate, tell me about
What until now I have not said to the people.
How to share Calvary with Christ,
How not to bow to the freak prince.

How to honor honor for life,
Do not exchange grief for snotty.
How can we survive and survive
Seeing the mean...

https://www.site/poetry/1121329

A blank sheet of paper...

Blank paper
lies on the table
Where is the inspiration
what's not in a hurry?

I'll open the curtains
I'll look at the sky
Thoughts are like chains
All tied up the body.

Am I strong enough?
The heart desires.
I'll give him space
If only there was no pain.

https://www.site/poetry/14356

Clean slates from the past...

Children's dreams shattered
In which there were me and you.
The mirror of all dreams has broken,
And the lines of secret prose were erased.

And all sorrows are forgotten
Which you may not have known.
Opened blank sheets.
"In a new way, myself, let's live!"

Then I needed you...

https://www.site/poetry/124289

Blank slate in my hand

A blank sheet in my hand and a pen in my pocket
A rainy day, nevertheless, a cloud will not close me
Reflections in the Neva, all bridges with palaces
Birds flying in the distance, and temples with Kupala

I do not get tired of looking at the creators of creation
Glory to the old Peter, for ...

https://www.site/poetry/163952

Blank sheet

The white leaf smells fresh
pristine purity.
He is inexperienced, sinless.
For now, peace reigns.

There is no pain, no passion,
No sadness, no resentment.
The leaf may even be happy
Which is silent.

But the handle has already crept up.
In her...

https://www.site/poetry/1129436

Blank sheet

I want to talk to someone .. you don’t think with anyone .. not everyone can understand you, because questions always arise in the head exactly when we don’t expect it and it happens that the answers are next to the questions ... if you start a conversation with someone ...

https://www.site/poetry/194774

A study of a clean slate

But to admit is to understand, and no one in the world can understand, and in the end they just agree with you. II Clean sheet- these are all kinds of boundaries and expanses. Yes! I, as you noticed, repeated myself. But it's worth nothing, because it's the inglorious end of this... gray purring cat, with narrowed eyes, and lazily opening them at the crackle of the fireplace. IV And now, in front of you sheet. It gives you endless possibilities, do what you want! Write poetry, write a story, essay, memoir, write a new formula for...

was born on May 3, 1951 in Leningrad, in the family of physics professor Nikita Alekseevich Tolstoy with rich literary traditions. Tatyana grew up in a large family, where she had seven brothers and sisters. The maternal grandfather of the future writer is Lozinsky Mikhail Leonidovich, literary translator, poet. On the paternal side, she is the granddaughter of the writer Alexei Tolstoy and the poetess Natalia Krandievskaya.

After leaving school, Tolstaya entered the Leningrad University, the department of classical philology (with the study of Latin and Greek), which she graduated in 1974. In the same year, she marries and, following her husband, moves to Moscow, where she gets a job as a proofreader in the "Main Edition of Eastern Literature" at the publishing house "Nauka". Having worked at the publishing house until 1983, Tatyana Tolstaya published her first literary works in the same year and made her debut as a literary critic with the article "Glue and scissors ..." ("Questions of Literature", 1983, No. 9).

According to her own confessions, she was forced to start writing by the fact that she underwent eye surgery. “Now, after laser correction, the bandage is removed after a couple of days, and then I had to lie with the bandage for a whole month. And since it was impossible to read, the plots of the first stories began to be born in my head, ”said Tolstaya.

In 1983, she wrote her first story entitled "They sat on the golden porch ...", published in the Aurora magazine in the same year. The story was acclaimed by both the public and critics, and was recognized as one of the best literary debuts of the 1980s. The artistic work was "a kaleidoscope of childhood impressions from simple events and ordinary people, who appear to children as various mysterious and fairy-tale characters." Subsequently, Tolstaya published about twenty more stories in the periodical press. Her works are published in Novy Mir and other major magazines. "Date with a Bird" (1983), "Sonya" (1984), "Clean Sheet" (1984), "Love - Don't Love" (1984), "Okkervil River" (1985), "Hunting for a mammoth" ( 1985), "Peters" (1986), "Sleep well, son" (1986), "Fire and dust" (1986), "The most beloved" (1986), "Poet and muse" (1986), "Seraphim" ( 1986), “The Moon Came Out of the Fog” (1987), “Night” (1987), “Heavenly Flame” (1987), “Sleepwalker in the Fog” (1988). In 1987, the first collection of short stories of the writer was published, entitled similarly to her first story - “They were sitting on the golden porch ...”. The collection includes both previously known and unpublished works: “Darling Shura” (1985), “Fakir” (1986), “Circle” (1987). After the publication of the collection, Tatyana Tolstaya was accepted as a member of the Union of Writers of the USSR.

Soviet criticism took Tolstoy's literary works with caution. She was reproached for the "density" of the letter, for the fact that "you can't read a lot in one sitting." Other critics took the writer's prose with enthusiasm, but noted that all her works were written according to one, built-up template. In intellectual circles, Tolstaya gains a reputation as an original, independent author. At that time, the main characters of the writer's works were "city madmen" (old-fashioned old women, "brilliant" poets, demented childhood invalids ...), "living and dying in a cruel and stupid bourgeois environment." Since 1989 he has been a permanent member of the Russian PEN Center.

In 1990, the writer leaves for the United States, where she teaches. Tolstaya taught Russian literature and fine arts at Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs and Princeton, collaborated with the New York review of books, The New Yorker, TLS and other magazines, and lectured at other universities. Subsequently, throughout the 1990s, the writer spent several months a year in America. According to her, living abroad initially had a strong influence on her in terms of language. She complained about how the emigrant Russian language is changing under the influence of the environment. In her short essay of the time, “Hope and Support,” Tolstaya cited examples of typical conversation in a Russian shop on Brighton Beach: “Where such words as ‘Swiss-loufet cottage cheese’, ‘Slice’, ‘half a pound of cheese’ and ‘ salted salmon "". After four months in America, Tatyana Nikitichna noted that "her brain turns into minced meat or salad, where languages ​​\u200b\u200bare mixed and some kind of omissions appear that are absent in both English and Russian."

In 1991 he began his journalistic activity. He maintains his own column "Own Bell Tower" in the weekly newspaper "Moscow News", collaborates with the magazine "Capital", where he is a member of the editorial board. Essays, essays and articles by Tolstoy also appear in the Russian Telegraph magazine. In parallel with her journalistic activities, she continues to publish books. In the 1990s, such works as “Love - do not love” (1997), “Sisters” (co-authored with sister Natalia Tolstaya) (1998), “Okkervil River” (1999) were published. There are translations of her stories into English, German, French, Swedish and other languages ​​of the world. In 1998, she became a member of the editorial board of the American magazine Counterpoint. In 1999, Tatyana Tolstaya returned to Russia, where she continued to engage in literary, journalistic and teaching activities.

In 2000, the writer publishes her first novel, Kitty. The book caused a lot of responses and became very popular. Performances based on the novel were staged by many theaters, and in 2001, a literary series project was carried out on the air of the state radio station Radio Russia, under the direction of Olga Khmeleva. In the same year, three more books were published: "Day", "Night" and "Two". Noting the commercial success of the writer, Andrey Ashkerov wrote in the Russian Life magazine that the total circulation of books was about 200 thousand copies and the works of Tatyana Nikitichna became available to the general public. Tolstaya receives the prize of the XIV Moscow International Book Fair in the nomination "Prose". In 2002, Tatyana Tolstaya headed the editorial board of the Konservator newspaper.

In 2002, the writer also appeared on television for the first time, in the television program Basic Instinct. In the same year, she became a co-host (together with Avdotya Smirnova) of the TV show "School of Scandal", aired on the Kultura TV channel. The program receives recognition from television critics, and in 2003 Tatyana Tolstaya and Avdotya Smirnova received the TEFI award in the Best Talk Show category.

In 2010, in collaboration with her niece Olga Prokhorova, she published her first children's book. Titled as "The same ABC of Pinocchio", the book is interconnected with the work of the writer's grandfather - the book "The Golden Key, or the Adventures of Pinocchio". Tolstaya said: “The idea for the book was born 30 years ago. Not without the help of my older sister... She was always sorry that Pinocchio sold his ABC so quickly, and that nothing was known about its contents. What bright pictures were there? What is she all about? Years passed, I switched to stories, during this time my niece grew up, gave birth to two children. And finally, there was time for a book. The half-forgotten project was picked up by my niece, Olga Prokhorova.” In the ranking of the best books of the XXIII Moscow International Book Fair, the book took second place in the Children's Literature section.

In 2011, she was included in the "One Hundred Most Influential Women of Russia" rating, compiled by the Ekho Moskvy radio station, RIA Novosti, Interfax news agencies and Ogonyok magazine. Tolstaya is attributed to the "new wave" in literature, is called one of the brightest names of "artistic prose", rooted in the "play prose" of Bulgakov, Olesha, which brought with it parody, buffoonery, celebration, eccentricity of the author's "I".

Talks about himself: “I am interested in people “from the outskirts”, that is, to whom we are usually deaf, whom we perceive as ridiculous, unable to hear their speeches, unable to discern their pain. They leave life, understanding little, often missing something important, and leaving, they are perplexed like children: the holiday is over, but where are the gifts? And life was a gift, and they themselves were a gift, but no one explained this to them.

Tatyana Tolstaya lived and worked in Princeton (USA), taught Russian literature at universities.

Now he lives in Moscow.

VALENTINA roger
(Poltava)

The title of T. Tolstoy's story "Clean Slate" is significant in many respects and evokes certain associations in the modern reader. In particular, it can be associated with the well-known Latin expression tabula rasa, both in its direct meaning - a blank board where you can write anything you want, and figuratively - a space, emptiness. After all, at the end of the story, the hero, who voluntarily changed his inner essence, asks for a “CLEAN letter” in order to “provide a boarding school” for his own son, whom he calls a “miscarriage”. The reader understands that the “blank slate” in the context of the final episode is an important detail, a symbol of the beginning of a new life for the hero, whose soul has disappeared, and a void has formed in its place.

On the other hand, the winged expression tabula rasa is associated with the works of famous philosophers. So, Locke believed that only practice forms a person, and his mind at birth is tabula rasa. I. Kant and the American transcendentalists who were guided by him rejected this thesis of Locke. From the point of view of R. Emerson worthy of transcendentalists, a person is born with an understanding of truth and error, good and evil, and these ideas are transcendental, given to a person a priori, come to him apart from experience. Tatyana Tolstaya does not make direct allusions to these philosophical disputes, but in her work the motif of the soul plays an important role, which in the subtext of the story is perceived in the traditions of classical literature.

as a battlefield between good and evil, between God and the devil.

The story "Clean Slate" is divided into seven small fragments, which are closely related to each other. Each fragment is based on episodes of the hero's inner and outer life. However, structurally, two parts can be distinguished in the text of the work - before the hero's meeting with the mysterious doctor, who "had no eyes", and after the meeting with him. This division is based on the opposition "living" - "dead". In the first part of the story, the idea that "Alive" tormented the hero is accentuated: "And Alive wept thinly into his chest until the morning." "Alive" in the context of the work is a symbol of the soul. The word "soul" is never mentioned in the story, however, the leitmotif of its first part is the motive of longing, and longing, as V.I.

In the strange world in which the hero lives, longing follows him everywhere. It can even be said that the author creates a personified image of longing that “came” to the hero constantly, with which he was “amazed”: “Ignatiev was silent with anguish,” “Tosca moved closer to him, waved its ghostly sleeve ...”, “Toska waited, lay in a wide bed, moved closer, gave a place to Ignatiev, hugged her and put her head on her chest ...”, etc. .

Tosca waves her sleeve like a woman, and these mysterious "swipes" contribute to the emergence of strange visions in the mind of the hero. The author of the story gives a collage consisting of the thoughts and visions of the hero: “... locked in his chest, gardens, seas, cities tossed and turned, their owner was Ignatiev, they played with him, with him they were doomed to dissolve in Nothingness.” The phrase “with him they were born” that we have underlined is reminiscent of the non-assertion of Kant and other philosophers that a person from birth is not a tabula rasa.

The author "includes" the reader in the stream of consciousness of the hero, which makes it possible to significantly expand the context of the work. It is noteworthy that almost all the pictures that are drawn in the mind of a strange hero have an apocalyptic character. "Inhabitants, color the sky in twilight color, sit on the stone thresholds of abandoned houses, damage your hands, lower your heads ...". The mention of lepers, deserted alleys, abandoned hearths, cooled ashes, market squares overgrown with grass, gloomy landscapes - all this enhances the state of anxiety and longing in which the hero is. As if playing with the reader, the author draws a low red moon in the inky sky, and against this background - a howling wolf... the hero of the story.

The longing of the hero is motivated in the story by life circumstances - the illness of the child, for whose sake the wife quit her job, as well as the internal split associated with the fact that, in addition to his wife, he also has Anastasia. Ignatiev pities the sick Valerik, pities his wife, himself and Anastasia. Thus, the motive of longing is closely connected at the beginning of the story with the motive of pity, which intensifies in the further narration, in particular, in the first part, and disappears in the second part, because the hero’s soul disappears, and along with it, longing.

A feature of the chronotope of the story is the connection of different time layers - the past and the present. In the present in Ignatiev - “little white Valerik - a frail, sickly sprout, miserable in a spasm - a rash, glands, dark circles under the eyes”, in the present and a faithful wife, and next to her in his soul - “unsteady, evasive Anastasia”. The author immerses the reader into the inner world of the hero, which strikes with its gloominess. His "visions" follow each other like frames of a chronicle. They are united by common moods, fragmented and appear in the hero's mind in the same way as miracles appear in fairy tales - by magic. However, in Tolstoy's story, there are other “swings” - not of a good sorceress, but of longing.

In the second "vision" - a string of ships, old sailboats, Which "leave the harbor no one knows where", sweat? - Why did the ropes loosen. Human life is often compared in literature to a ship setting sail. This "vision" does not accidentally arise in the mind of the hero, it is not by chance that he sees sick children sleeping in the cabin. In the stream of his thoughts, Ignatiev's anxiety for his small, sick son was reflected.

The third picture is saturated with oriental and at the same time mystical motifs. A rocky desert, a camel stepping at a measured pace... There is a lot of mystery here. For example, why does frost glisten on a cold rocky plain? Who is he, the Mysterious Horseman, whose mouth "gaps with bottomless gaps", "and deep mournful furrows were drawn on the cheeks of the millennium by pouring tears"? The motives of the apocalypse are palpable in this fragment, and the Mysterious Horseman is perceived as a symbol of death. As the author of a work created in the style of postmodernism, Tatyana Tolstaya does not strive to create Clear, definite pictures, images. Her descriptions are impressionistic, aimed at creating a certain impression.

In the last, fourth "Vision", which appeared in the mind of the hero, there are reminiscences and allusions from Gogol's story "The Evening on the Eve of Ivan Kupala". Here is the same fragmentation of perception as in the previous episode. Anastasia, as a symbol of the Devil's temptation, and "wandering lights over the marsh bog" stand side by side, are mentioned in one sentence. "Hot flower", "red flower", which "floats", "blinks", "flashes", is associated with the fern flower in Gogol's story, which promises the hero the fulfillment of his desires. The intertextual connections between the fragment under consideration and Gogol's work are clear, they are emphasized by the author with the help of distinct reminiscences and allusions. Gogol has "swampy swamps"; in T. Tolstoy - “Swamp quagmire”, “springy brown bumps”, fog (“white clubs”), moss. Gogol has "hundreds of hairy hands reaching out to the flower", mentions "ugly monsters". In T. Tolstoy "Shaggy heads are in the moss". The fragment under consideration combines with Gogol's text the motif of the sale of the soul (in Gogol - the line, in T. Tolstoy - Satan). On the whole, the “vision” or dream of Ignatiev performs the function of artistic anticipation in the text of the story. After all, the hero of Gogol's story, Petrus Bezrodny, must sacrifice the blood of an infant - innocent Ivas. This is the requirement of evil spirits. Ignatiev in Tolstoy's story "A Clean Sheet" will also make a sacrifice - he will give up the most precious thing that he had, including his own son.

So, in the first part of the story, this is his exposition. The leading motive of this part is the motive of longing that haunts Ignatiev, who is, in fact, a marginal hero. He is lonely, tired of life. His material problems are NOT emphasized in the story. However, some details more eloquently indicate that they were, for example, the mention that “the wife sleeps under a torn blanket”, that the hero walks in a “tea-colored” shirt, which his dad also wore, “he married in it, and met Valerik from the hospital, "went on dates with Anastasia ...

The motives stated at the beginning of the work are developed in the further narration. Ignatiev continues to be haunted by melancholy (“her flat, blunt head popped up here and there”), he still pities his wife, telling a friend that “she is a saint”, and still thinks about Anastasia. The mention of the famous fairy tale “Turnip” is not accidental in the story, and it is not accidental that in the monologues of the heroes it coexists with the name of the mistress: “And it’s all lies, if the turnip is settled, you won’t pull it out. I know. Anastasia ... You call, you call - she is not at home. The situation in which Ignatiev is, outlined clearly and definitely. He faces a dilemma: either a faithful but tormented wife, or a beautiful but evasive Anastasia. It is difficult for the hero to make a choice, he does not want and, obviously, cannot refuse either his wife or his mistress. The reader can only guess that he is weak, that he has a service, but the camera is of interest to her, there is no favorite thing, because

it is NOT spoken about. And so his longing is not accidental. Ignatiev realizes that he is a loser.

One can reproach the author that the character of the protagonist is outlined indistinctly. However, it seems that T. Tolstaya did not strive for such clarity. She creates a conditional text, draws a conditional world in which everything obeys the laws of the aesthetic game. The hero of the story plays with life. He makes plans, mentally works out possible options for a future happy life: “I’ll forget Anastasia, earn a lot of money, take Valery to the south ... Renovate the apartment ...». However, he understands that when all this is achieved, longing will NOT leave him, that the “living” will continue to torment him.

In the image of Ignatiev, T. Tolstaya creates parodies of a romantic hero - lonely, suffering, misunderstood, focused on her inner worldview. However, the hero of the story lives in a different era than the heroes of romantic works. It was Lermontov's Pechorin who could come to the sad conclusion that his "soul was corrupted by the light," that, apparently, he had a high destiny, but he did not guess this destiny. In the context of the romantic era, such a hero was perceived as a tragic person. In contrast to the romantic sufferers, the heroes of T. Tolstoy's story, in particular, Ignatiev and his friend, do not mention the soul. This word is not in their vocabulary. The motive of suffering is given in a reduced, parodic way. The hero does not even think about a high destiny. Thinking about his character, one involuntarily recalls Tatyana Pushkinskoye's question: “Isn't he a parody? “The reader understands that Ignatiev’s anguish and suffering are due to the fact that he sees no way out of the situation that he himself created. From the point of view of Ignatiev’s friend, he is just a “woman”: “Just think, world sufferer!” "You revel in your imagined torments". It is noteworthy that the phrase "world sufferer" sounds in an ironic context. And although the nameless friend of the hero is the bearer of an ordinary average consciousness, his statements confirm the assumption that the image of Ignatiev is a parody of a romantic hero. He cannot change the current situation (for this there is neither will nor determination), and therefore it turns out to be easier for him to change himself. But Ignatiev does NOT choose the path of moral self-improvement, which was close, for example, to many Tolstoy's heroes. No, it is easier for him to get rid of the "living" , that is, souls.“I’ll have an operation ..., I’ll buy a car ...” The author makes it possible to understand that material wealth will not save a person from suffering.

In the third part of the story, it is not by chance that Ignatiev witnesses how the swarthy short "little man" called "his Anastasia", whose name was Raisa, as he promised her a paradise, from his point of view, life. “You will live like cheese in butter”, “Yes, I have all the living space in carpets! "- he said, and then left the telephone booth with tear-stained eyes and an angry face. But this case did not stop the hero. He made a decision, although not immediately.

A meeting with classmates of his friend, who was “cut out” or “pulled out” of “her” (the reader has long guessed that it was about the soul) as something unnecessary, dead, served as the impetus for making a decision. The hero was not alarmed by the fact that a tear-stained woman “came out” of N.’s office, because his attention and the attention of a friend were riveted to the second - to golden pens and expensive cognacs, to the luxury that they saw there. The motif of wealth is enhanced in this part of the work. The author gives the concept that this motive in the mind of an ordinary, average person is closely connected with the image of a successful man. In a distorted world, heroes like N are associated with real men. T. Tolstaya in this case is another example of a parodic worldview. But the ideal of a real man, familiar to Ignatiev, is instilled in him by both his friend and Anastasia, who drinks “red wine” with others and on whom the “red dress” burns with a “love flower”. The symbolism of color and the mention of the "love flower" are not accidental here. All of these details resonate with the motives of temptation, with the episode discussed above from Gogol's story "The Evening on the Eve of Ivan Kupala." "Love flower" is associated with "love potion", which is a symbol of the magical influence on the feelings and actions of a person. The “love flower” for Ignatiev was Anastasia, who speaks “demonic words” and smiles with a “demonic smile”. She tempts like a demon. The ideals of the crowd become ideals for Ignatiev. And in order to fulfill his dream - to get rid of contradictions, "tame the elusive Anastasia", save Valerik, Ignatiev needs to "become rich, with fountain pens." This clarification - "with fountain pens" - shows through the author's irony. Ignatiev’s internal monologue also evokes an ironic smile: “Who is this coming, slender as a cedar, strong as steel, with springy steps that know no shameful doubts? This is Ignatiev. His path is straight, his earnings are high, his eyes are sure, women look after him.

In the hero's thoughts, the wife is constantly associated with something dead. So, Ignatiev wanted to "caress the parchment locks of his hair, but his hand met only the cold of the sarcophagus." As a symbol of cold and death, the story mentions several times “rocky frost, the tinkling of a lone camel’s harness, a lake frozen to the bottom”, “a frozen horseman”. The same function is performed by the mention that "Osiris is silent." Note that in Egyptian mythology, Osiris, the god of the productive forces of nature, dies every year and is reborn to a new life. Oriental motifs are also present in the hero's dreams in how he - "wise, whole, perfect - will ride on a white front elephant, in a carpet arbor with flower fans". Yes, Depicting the inner world of the hero, the author spares no irony. After all, he wants a miracle, an instant transformation that would bring him recognition, fame, wealth without any effort. A "miracle" happens, the hero changes, but only becomes not the same as he imagined himself in his dreams. However, he no longer notices and does not understand. The instantaneous removal of the "Alive" - ​​his soul - made him the way he was supposed to be. Given his desires and thoughts.

The author of the story freely plays with images of world culture, we invite the reader to unravel them. The work is based on the motif of selling the soul to the devil, Satan, Antichrist, evil spirits, which is common in world literature, as well as the Metamorphosis motif associated with it. It is known that like Christ performing a miracle, the Antichrist imitates the miracles of Christ. So, Satan, under the guise of an Assyrian, "Physician of Doctors", imitates the actions of a doctor. After all, a real doctor heals both the body and the soul. The Assyrian "extracts", that is, removes the soul. Ignatieff is struck by the fact that “he had no eyes, but there was a look”, “the abyss looked out of the eye sockets”, and since there were no eyes - “the mirror of the soul”, then there was no soul. The hero is struck by the blue beard of the Assyrian and his cap in the form of a ziggurat. “What kind of Ivanov is he ...” - Ignatiev was horrified. But it was already too late. His “belated doubts” disappeared, and with them - and “betrayed by him under ?? Uh-huh - longing. " The hero enters the realm of the Antichrist - the realm of moral evil. Here "people will be selfish, greedy, proud, haughty, blaspheming, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, impious, unmerciful, unfaithful to the word ..., impudent, pompous, loving pleasure more than God." According to a medieval expression, the Antichrist is the ape of Christ, his false double. The doctor in Tolstoy's story "A Clean Slate" is a fake double of the doctor. He puts on gloves not for sterility, but "To keep his hands dirty." He is rude to his patient when he sarcastically remarks about his soul: “Do you think your soul is big?” The author of the story Uses a well-known mythological plot, significantly modernizing it.

T. Tolstoy's story "Clean Slate" is a vivid example of postmodern discourse with many features inherent in it. Indeed, in the inner world of the hero there is something terrible and unusual, the hero feels internal disharmony. T. Tolstaya emphasizes the conventionality of the depicted world, playing with the reader. The motives of the aesthetic game play a structure-forming role in its story. The game with the reader has different forms of manifestation in the work, which affects the depiction of events on the verge of the real and the unreal. The author "plays" with spatial and temporal images, making it possible to freely move from one time to another, update information of various kinds, which opens up wide scope for the reader's imagination. The game is reflected in the use of intertext, mythologies, irony, in the combination of different styles. So, the colloquial, reduced, vulgar vocabulary of the hero degraded at the end of the work is a complete contrast in comparison with the vocabulary that occurs in his stream of consciousness at the beginning of the story. The hero plays with life, and the aesthetic play of the author with the reader allows not only to recreate the well-known plot motifs and images, but also turns the hero's tragedy into a farce.

The title of the story “A Blank Slate” actualizes the old philosophical dispute about what the mind and soul of a person are like from birth: tabula rasa or not tabula rasa? Yes, a lot is inherent in a person from birth, but his soul continues to be a battlefield of God and the Devil, Christ and Antichrist. In the case of Ignatiev, in T. Tolstoy's story, the Antichrist won.

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Dal V.I. Explanatory dictionary of the Russian language. Modern version. /AT. I. Dahl. - M.: EKSMO-Press, 2000. - 736 p.

Myths of the peoples of the world: encyclopedia: in 2 volumes - M .: Sov. encyclopedia, 1991. - Vol. 1. - 671 p.

Tolstaya T. Clean sheet /T. Tolstaya // Love - do not love: stories / T. Thick. - M.: Onyx: OLMA-PRESS, 1997. - S. 154 -175.