Vasily Aksenova "Victory" story: Experience in the analysis of the semantic organization. Analysis of the story of the Aksenov "Victory" (an essay on the free topic) of Aksenov Victory Analysis of the work

The story of the "victory" of Aksenov, undoubtedly, speaks not only about how two characters face, two temperaments, but about the struggle of intellect and power, about the struggle of the doomed. This completely ordinary game becomes the chief of the laws of reality, rather symbolically reflecting the patterns of real life. The game becomes life, and life is a game.

Problems concerns questions about the collision of characters, about life principles, about dignity and honor, but most importantly - about the struggle of mind and strength. Much in the story of Aksenova is not by chance, and the laws of reality receive a detailed assessment in the images of two colliding in the chessing duel of the heroes: Grandmaster and G.O. Their character is a third-party observer, the narrator, pays quite detail, focusing on specific details and patterns, such as, for example, a branded sign on a chess player tie, or constantly flashing the fists of the "random satellite".

It was then that the reader understands how different the heroes are how the humanistic life principles of the "mind" contradict the scanty "power". It also rises the problem of honor and dignity. In this game, only one could win in this game - and he wins, while the second, following the initially wrong goal, was doomed if the winnings, then exclusively dirty and dishonest. However, the question is as follows: why is the victory quiet and hidden - indicator of dignity? Probably because it does not rise and do not mist out, but is accepted as "charm of minutes." This circle of problems leads to one important and general: the collision of the power of the mental and power of physical. The grandmaster, as an impersonation of the mind, enters the hidden conflict with G.O., the personification of force. When the first wins, it would seem, the story should come to a logical conclusion, but the laws of life dictate their rules, whipping mind, which is so free and easily hides their victory. And she goes to unbridled strength, to what he leads to chaos and destruction. This is happening in reality, when the power of why the mind ruffles more often than reason.

If you concern only the plot as a change of action, it can be said that Aksenov depicts a chess tournament between people antagonists: grandmaster and G.O., which are found in the train coupe. The game is dynamic, on the one hand is justified by restrained, on the other - impulsive. Both won: the controversivity of the situation is only that one wins the victory is truly, and the other, being already losers.

The grandmaster is undoubtedly the beginning of the city, the beginning of the story says, when Aksen is noticed that "the grandmaster played chess with a random satellite." The reader is offered a detailed characteristic of the hero, but in comparison it is possible to identify that the sonorous "grandmaster" is in itself a lot, unlike the brief GO. "The grandmaster was embodied accuracy ... the rigor of clothing and a manner, peculiar to people, insecure in itself and wounded." This is the reason for the final defeat of the "mind", which peacefully transfers victory to the coarse fists "Forces". He leads an honest struggle, and his game is a reflection of life with bright and rich. He is immersed in memories of the family, the philosophical thoughts are seized by His consciousness, the bright feelings awaken the beautiful in the soul. He lives the game honest and reasonable, but at the key moment retreats when G.O. Suddenly comes with his affected victory. Run to escape from the unbridled strength. Inner weakness, some uncertainty and secrecy, of course, become the main impetus for retreat. Its character, as the personification of the properties of the "mind", which, being a symbol of good and purity, does not have a solid internal straighter and solid confidence.

But this confidence and strength is "forces", which personifies G.O. Aksenov also introduces the reader with it quite detailed, as far as possible with the poor inner world of the hero. Nothing but the "rose steep forehead" and massive fists in the appearance of the hero is not remarkable. "He took two pawns, pushed them into the fists and the fists showed the grandmaster." Repeat used by the author allows you to emphasize

the reader's attention on the features of the image of the city of O. His actions - "accumulation of externally logical, but internally absurd forces.", Behind only one thing: the desire for the ambulance. It blinds him, which proves the climax of the story when he does not even notice the quiet victory of his opponent. "Mata does not notice his king." Behind all this is hidden quite well. What is the dismissive "chess" abandoned by them at the beginning of the game. It is noteworthy that the inner world of G.O., it would seem completely empty, because in addition to actions and strategic reflection, there is nothing sublime. "I don't want to finish it anyway." Yes, and "power" to be considered an exalted can not if it is expressed in two strong fists with a ridiculous tattoo of the uncertain name "G.".

The peculiarity of the composition is in the image of two completely excellent worlds: reason and forces, between which constant throwing occurs. Then the Gossmaster Duma perform, then G.O. And the victory itself slides from one to another, finding the shelter where she was before exhaustion, but meaninglessly desirable. "Nothing proved the meaninglessness and the ghost of life." Also in the story "Victory" is observed the unity of time, places, actions. This allows it to be considered logically completed, complete and holistic. And indeed, the Aksenov is a thought about the struggle of the mind and the strength from its very nucleation and to the permission of the hidden conflict, when two opposite phenomena converge on the chessboard. And the place of action is quite a badge. A train. His movement is commensurate with the movement of life, and it can not be "fast," as it does not speak about the rapidness of passing life time.

Aksenov often uses repetitions, which often become a confirmation of the mark of the author "story with exaggeration" and somewhat predetermine the completion of the story. So, for example, G.O. "Failed a unthinkable desire for an unthinkable victory," which immediately speaks about whose side will actually be victory. And further, "the center immediately turned into a field of meaningless and terrible actions", "nothing as definitely did not prove the meaninglessness and the ghostity of life." Undoubtedly, the previously mentioned fists and pink steep forehead G.O. Repeated in the text more than once. Artistic details are important. These include not only outstanding fists GO., Symbolizing strength, but also, for example, the corporate name "House of Diora" on a simple tie, which, as if predicting concealments in the image of the grandmaster, complementing his desire to hide not only eyes, but lips , and then the appearance of a secluded corner "for a terrace, behind a dilapidated stone terrace" (replay again). The color of chess is also important. If a decent and deep grandmaster, "mind", the color turns out to be white, as a symbol of the light of the soul, a clean heart, then in GO, "Forces", figures are black, as if evil and dirt.

Instead of preface The story "Victory" appeared in the journal "Youth" in 1965. And was written in Dubults, in the Riga Seaside, where the so-called Writers' creativity house was located in Soviet times. Remember the lines of Bella Akhmadulina those years about the snowfall in Peredelkino: House of creativity Wild nickname He pulled out and wiped out ... So in the same "house of creativity", only in Dubults, and not in the snowfall, Vasily Axenov watched the amateur chess party of his friends, famous writers Boris Balter and Anatolia Gladilin. One of them suddenly squatted the rook - she was not on a chessboard. There was a serious dispute between the respected writers, "according to Vasily Pavlovich, they were a dog. This was served as a creative impulse for our author. In the evening in his room, he decided to describe the situation in the humorous vein during the day, but, as often happens, the plot turned completely differently, and turned out to be a story "Victory". Grandmaster Mark Taimanov highly appreciated the story, in which Vasily Aksenov very true grabbed the essence of the chess duel as such. The author himself, add in conclusion, never experienced special attractions to chess, giving preference to basketball, but in school years had a third category on this ancient and beautiful game. I would like to hope that the story of the famous writer will be read by lovers of chess with the same interest as 40 years ago. Victor Esipov, representative V.Ksenova in Russia

VICTORY

Story with exaggerations

The Grossmaster played chess with a random satellite in a coupe.
This man immediately recognized the grandmaster, when he entered the coupe, immediately caught fire a unthinkable desire for a unthinkable victory over the grandmaster. "You never know what," he thought, throwing his smaller glances on the grandmaster, "you never know what, you think, some kind of hilar."
The grandmaster immediately realized that he was recognized, and reconciled with longing: two parties at least not to avoid. He also immediately recognized the type of this person. Sometimes from the windows of a chess club on Gogol Boulevard, he saw the pink cool foreheads of such people.
When the train moved, the satellite of the grandmaster with naive cunning stretched and indifferently asked:

In chess, whether, play, comrade?
- Yes, perhaps, muttered the grandmaster.

The satellite leaned out of the coupe, chess clicked, chess appeared, he grabbed them too hastily for his indifference, poured, took two pawns, pushed them into fists and the fists showed the grandmaster. On the bulges between the large and index fingers of the left fist, the tattoo was designated "G.".

Left, - said the grandmaster and strangled a little, imagining the blows of these fists, left or right.

He got white.

Time you need to kill, right? In the road, chess is a nice thing, - good-naturedly sentenced G.O., arranging the figures.

They quickly played the Northern Gambit, then everything confused.
Grandmaster carefully looked at the board, making small, minor moves. Several times in front of his eyes with lightning, there were possible matte roads of the queen, but he quenched these outbreaks, a little lowering eyelids and subordinate to the weakly buzzing inside a ridiculous foul note, like a mosquito buzz.

- "Has-Bulat delete, Poor Sakla Your ...", - on the same note he pulled G.O.

The grandmaster was embodied accuracy, embodied the rigor of clothing and a manner, so peculiar to people, insecure in itself and easily wounded. He was young, dressed in a gray suit, a bright shirt and a simple tie. No one, besides the grandmaster, did not know that his simple ties were marked by the company "House Diora". This little mystery always somehow warmed and comforted the young and silent grandmaster. The glasses also quite often saw it, hiding from extraneous uncertainty and the timidity of the view. He complained about his lips, which was characteristic of stretching in miserable smile or shudder. He willingly closed his lips from prying eyes, but this, unfortunately, has not yet been accepted in society.
GO O. hit and grieved grandmaster. On the left flank, the figures crowded in such a way that a ball of charlatanian Kabbalistic signs was formed, it was similar to the setting of the Halhum Own orchestra, the yellow-gray blind snow, deaf fences, a cement plant. The entire left flank to the toach latice and chlorine, the acidic odor of the barracks, the wet rags in the kitchen, and also pulled from early childhood by the Castor region and diarrhea.

After all, are you a grandmaster such? - asked G.O.
- Yes, - confirmed the grandmaster.
- ha ha ha, what coincidence! - exclaimed G.O.

"What a coincidence? What coincidence is he says? This is something unthinkable! Could this happen? I refuse, accept my refusal," the grandmaster thought Panically quickly, then he guessed what was the matter, and smiled.

Yes, of course, of course.
- Here you are a grandmaster, and I put a fork to the Queen and Ladew, - said G.O. He raised his hand. Horse provocateur hung over the board.

"Fork in the ass," Grossmaster thought. "That's how the fork! The grandfather had his own fork, he did not allow it to use it. Property. Personal fork, spoon and knife, personal plates and vice versus. Also remembered" Lirny "fur coat, A heavy fur coat on the "Lirny" Fur, she hung at the entrance, grandfather almost did not go outside. Fork on the grandfather and grandmother. Sorry to lose old people. "

While the horse hung over the board, before the eyes of the grandmaster, the luminous lines and points of possible premiemal raids and victims were again worn.
Alas, the croup of a horse with a dirty-lilac bike was so convincing that the grandmaster only shrugged.

Give Ladew? - asked G.O.
- What can you do.
- Silence Rude for the sake of attack? Guess? - asked G.O., still not deciding to put a horse on the desired field.
"I just save the queen," Grossmaster muttered.
- You do not capture me? - asked G.O.
- No, you, you are a strong player.

G.O. Made his cherished "fork." The grandmaster hid the Queen into a secluded corner of the terrace, behind a dilapidated stone terrace with carved fiddling columns, where in the fall sharply smelled with heavy maple leaves. Here you can sit down in a convenient position, squatting. It is good here, in any case, the pride does not suffer. For a second, the leading and looking out due to the terrace, he saw that G.O. He took a palm.
The introduction of a black horse into a meaningless crowd on the left flank, the field of fields, the occupation of them fields "B4", in any case, has already crushed to reflections.
Grandmaster understood that in this version, in this spring green evening, he won't be enough alone. All this is true, in the world nice fools - Yungs Billy, Cowboys Harry, beauties Mary and Nelli, and Brigantine raises sails, but the moment comes when you feel the dangerous and real intimacy of a black horse on the "B4" field. The struggle, complex, subtle, fascinating, calculating. There was life ahead.

Grandmaster won a pawn, pulled out a handkerchief and unimported. A few moments in full alone, when the lips and nose are hidden with a handkerchief, tuned it to a banal-philosophical way. "That's what you seek something," he thought, "and what's next? All his life seeks something; comes to you, and there is no joy from her. Here is, for example, the city of Hong Kong, distant and very mysterious, and I am in It was already. I was already everywhere. "
"In his place, Petrosyan would have surrendered," thought Grossmaster.
The loss of the pawns was a little disgraced G.O.: After all, he just won the Ladew. He replied to the grandmaster by the progress of the queen, which caused heartburn and a minute attack of headaches.
Grossmaster realized that some joys were still left in stock. For example, the joy of long, throughout the diagonal, the moves of the elephant. If a little dragging the elephant on the board, then this will be replaced by rapid
Slide on the sunny yalik, slightly bloomed water of the suburban pond, from light to the shadow, from the shadow to the light. The grandmaster felt an insurmountable passionate desire to seize the field "H8", for it was a field of love, a lunch of love, over which transparent dragonflies hung.

Cleverly you played Ladvi, and I worked, - I was trying G.O., only with the last word I gave my irritation.
"Sorry," said Grossmaster quietly. - Maybe you will return the moves?
"No, no," said G.O., "no concern, I beg you."
"I will give a dagger, let's give your horse, I will give your rifle ...", "he tightened, plunging into strategic reflections.

The rapid summer holiday of love on the field "H8" pleased and at the same time worried the grandmaster. He felt that soon there would be an accumulation of externally logical, but internally absurd forces. Again, the caocophony will be heard and smelled with chlorine, as in those distant damn memory of corridors on the left flank.
"If I am so, then he is so, - I thought G.O. - if I rent here, he will remove there, then I go here, he answers so ... Anyway, I will do it, I still do a doloma. Think Grossmaster Blatmeister, still lived with you thin against me. I know your championships: Contract in advance. Anyway, I will crush you, even blood from the nose! ".

Yes, I lost quality, "he said to the grandmaster," but nothing, not even evening.

He began an attack in the center, and, of course, as expected, the center immediately turned into a field of meaningless and terrible actions. It was not love, not a meeting, not hope, not hi, not life. Gripposny chills and again yellow snow, post-war no longer, all body itchs. Black queen in the center of the Karkal, like a loving crow, Voronene love, besides the neighbors scraped a tin bowl with a knife. Nothing as definitely did not prove the meaninglessness and the ghostity of life, like this position in the center. It's time to finish the game.
"No," Grossmaster thought, "after all, there is still something other than that."
He put a big bobbin with the piano plays of Baha, calmed the heart clean and monotonous, like a splash of waves, sounds, then left the cottage and went to the sea. Pines rustled over him, and under the barefoot legs there was a slippery and spring coniferous.
Remembering the sea and imitating him, he began to understand the position, harmonize it. It was suddenly pure and light on his soul. It is logical as the Bakhovskaya Coda, the mat is black. The matte situation dimly and beautifully lit up, completed like an egg. Grandmaster looked at G.O. He was silent, standing, looking into the deepest rear of the grandmaster. Mata does not notice his king. Grandmaster was silent, fearing violating the charm of this minute.

Shah, - quietly and carefully said G.O., moving his horse. He barely held back inner roar.

... Grossmaster cried and rushed to run. Behind him, Topokha and whitish, the owner of the village, Kucher Evripide and Nina Kuzmichnna ran. Having overtaking them, overstigala the grandmaster lowered from the chain of the dog.

Shah, - once again he said G.O., rearranged his horse, and with painful lust swallow air.

... grandmaster led on the aisle among the salted crowd. Going from behind a little touching his backs with some kind of solid subject. A man in a black overcoat with the Singa Lightning on the loovers was waiting for him ahead. Step - half awend, another step - second, another step - one and a half, another step - two ... steps up. Why up? Such things should be done in the pit. You need to be courageous. It is necessary? How much time does it take on the head of the smelly bag from Rogodh? So, it became completely dark and difficult to breathe, and only somewhere very far the orchestra was glavily played "Hass-Bulat delete".

Mat! - As a copper pipe, cried out G.O.
- Well, you see, - muttered the grandmaster, - congratulations!
- UV, - said G.O., - of, Wow, straightly stolen, rightly incredible, it is necessary, damn it! Incredible, headed by the MAT GROSSMASTER! Unbelievable, but it is a fact! He walked.
- Ah yeah me! - He fuckedly stroked himself on his head. "Eh, grandmaster you are mine, grandmaster," he squeezed, put his palms on the shoulders of grandmaster and pressed the friendly, "you are a cute young man ... Nervish woman did not stand it, right?" Aware?
"Yes, yes, I fell down," Grossmaster confirmed hastily.

G. O. Wide-free gesture bold shapes from the board. The board was old, sterling, in some places the surface polished layer was blocked, was naked was yellow, exhausted wood, in some places there were fragments of round spots from the glasses of railway tea.
The grandmaster looked at the empty board, sixty-four absolutely impassive fields capable of accommodating not only his own life, but an infinite number of lives, and this endless alternation of bright and dark fields filled his reverence and quiet joy. "It seems, he thought," I did not commit any major lobes in my life. "

But you will tell you, and no one will believe, - sighed sighed G.O.
- Why not believe? What is in this incredible? You are a strong, volitional player, "said Grossmaster.

Nobody will believe, - repeated G.O., "they say that Bresh. What is my evidence?

Let me, - a little offended by the grandmaster, looking at the pink cool forehead G.O., - I will give you a convincing proof. I knew that I would meet you.

He opened his portfolio and took out a large, with a palm of the Golden Fatone, on which it was beautifully engraved: "The submarine I won the batch in my chess. Grandmaster such that".

It remains only to put the number, "he said, extracted the engraving accessories from the portfolio and engraved the number in the corner of the token.
"It's pure gold," he said, handing a token.
- Without cheating? - asked G.O.
"Absolutely pure gold," said Grossmaster. - I already ordered many such tokens and constantly replenish stocks.

February 1965

Nov 05 2015.

The story of Aksenova "Victory" was written at the beginning of the sixties of the XX century, in the height of Khrushchev thaw. At this time, the society slowly flourished, coming to itself after thirty years of cruel totalitarianism. This flourishing was marked by the advent of the new wave of writers and poets, which became the "rulers of the DUM" of the young generation. Some of them were returned from the camps, others got the opportunity to print prohibited earlier works, and the third (including accents) were completely new people in the literature.

Inspired by the thaw, they created works, absolutely independent of the line of the party and the nomenclature instructions and expressed all the thoughts and hopes of young people. Aksenov became the leader among young prose plates in the 60s. "Victory" is one of his first stories.

He is completely small, but very interesting. So, in a coupe of a fast train, a young grandmaster meets a random traveler. Travel, immediately learning the grandmaster, instantly charged with a "unthinkable desire" to defeat him. Simply because the kind of awkward intelligent grandmaster causes a mockery and contempt in it: "If you never know what, you think, some kind of hilar" / grandmaster easily agrees to the game, and the party begins ...

And then there is a very strange thing: starting, the party acquires an unexpected character. Of the simple sports competition, it develops into a merciless struggle of two generations, completely different in spirit and beliefs. On the chessboard there were not just white and black figures, but two lives, two views on. Conflicting constantly and in real life, they converge openly on a chess field, and the battle begins not for life, but to death.

Grandmaster in this battle represents all the young generation of the 60s. He is accurate, raised, corrected and, though the timid, is ready to fight for his ideals to the last. The mysterious his fellow traveler acquires the features of frightening and almost mystical. The external description is almost absent; Its physical appearance is unclear, a faceless and foggy, only a steep pink forehead and huge fists are clearly highlighted, on one of which (left) is visible tattoo " ABOUT.". But this is also a collective character.

It focuses on all the worst features found in the non-smallest part of modern society: Headhood, ignorance, rudeness, hatred for "smart", contempt for young. Without the shade of doubt, he asks for the grandmaster: "That's wondering why all the chess players are the Jews? .." There is something infinitely pious about it, and the grandmaster calls for help all the brightness that he has in the shower.

The battlefield for it comes to life: A secluded corner appears behind the stone terrace where the queen can be hidden; The H8 field, strategically important for grandmaster, takes the appearance of the "Love Field". In contrast to black figures marching under the "Hass-Bulat removed", white go into battle under the piano plays Bach and the splash of sea waves. Cute and clear thoughts of the grandmaster is opposed to a caoconium and confusion in the head and on the field of O. at the time when the grandmaster builds beautiful and subtle plans of possible moves, O. thinks: "If I am so, then he is me. If I rent here, he will remove there, then I go here, he answers so ... Anyway, I will do it, anyway. Think, grandmaster-balletmaster, lived with you still thin against me. "

The place of the board, where the figures of the city of Oh are breaking through, becomes the center of "meaningless and terrible actions." Fasciating deep offensive, O. Makes a number of errors, and now the grandmaster is close to victory, and the reader who loving justice is looking forward to this victory, as suddenly, completely unexpectedly ... The grandmaster loses. G. O. Announces the Mat, and the whole bright disposition of grandmaster collapses, and he sees himself, as black people in chinels with Eschi zippers are played and how they wear All So Ch. RU 2001 2005 A stinky bag under the distant sounds of "HAS-Bulat" ... What happened?

Did you really have ignorance with the winners and really it is destined to strangle all the bright ideals? In no case. The victim's defeat grandmaster still feels that he is above his winner that he never committed subsidiaries, and presents the town of G. O. Golden fault with the inscription: "This god won the batch in my chess. Grossmaster such something. " The main thing is that it expresses this one, this willingness of the younger generation to defend its views and beliefs, fight for the right to independent existence, whatever power tried this generation to crush and absorb.

Although grandmaster and lost to the party, but he is not defeated morally and is ready for future battles. Complete the story of his words that he already ordered a lot of gold tokens with his future winners and will constantly replenish stocks. Ahead of the grandmaster, as well as its generation, a long life, like a big, exciting party.

Need a cheat sheet? Then save - "Vasily Aksenov. "Victory" (story with exaggerations). Literary writings! In the coupe of the fast train, the grandmaster played chess with a random companion. This man immediately recognized the grandmaster, when he entered the coupe, immediately caught fire to the unthinkable desire for a unthinkable victory over the grandmaster. "You never know what," he thought, throwing his leaving glances on the grandmaster, "you never know what, you think that some kind of hilak". Glossmaster immediately realized that he was recognized, and with longing, she was reconciled: two parties at least not to avoid. He also immediately recognized the type of this person. Sometimes, from the windows of a chess club on Gogol Boulevard, he saw the pink cool foreheads of such people. When the train moved, the satellite of the grandmaster with naive cunning satellite and indifferently asked: - in a chess, what, play, comrade? - Yes, perhaps, muttered the grandmaster. The satellite leaned out of the coupe, chess clicked, chess appeared, he grabbed them too hastily for his indifference, poured, took two pawns, pushed them into fists and the fists showed the grandmaster. On the bulge between the large and index fingers of the left fist, the tattoo was designated "G.O." .- left, - said the grandmaster and snatched a little, imagining the blows of these fists, left or right. There were white. - time you need to kill, though ? In the road, chess is a cute business, - good-naturedly sentenced G.O., arranging the figures. They quickly played the Northern Gambit, then everything was confused. Grandmaster carefully looked at the board, making small, minor moves. Several times in front of his eyes with lightning there were possible matte roads of the queen, but he quenched these outbreaks, a little lowering eyelids and subordinate to the weakly buzzing inside the ridiculous funeral note, like a mosquito buzz. "Has-Bulat delete, Poor Sakla Your ..." - On the same note, GOO. GROSSMASTER was embodied accuracy, embodied rigor of clothing and a manner, so peculiar to people, insecure in itself and easily wounded. He was young, dressed in a gray suit, a bright shirt and a simple tie. No one, besides the grandmaster, did not know that his simple ties were marked by the company "House Diora". This little mystery always somehow warmed and comforted the young and silent grandmaster. The glasses also quite often saw it, hiding from extraneous uncertainty and the timidity of the view. He complained about his lips, which was characteristic of stretching in miserable smile or shudder. He willingly closed his lips from prying eyes, but this, unfortunately, has not yet been accepted in society. GO O. hit and grieved grandmaster. On the left flank, the shapes crowded in such a way that a ball of charlatanian cabbage signs was formed, it was similar to setting up a huty brass orchestra, yellow-gray blind snow, deaf fences, a cement plant. The entire left flank of the toach latice and chlorine, the sour of the barracks, the wet rags in the kitchen, and also pulled out early childhood by the Castor region and diarrhea. - Do you have a grandmaster such? - asked G.O.- Yes, - confirmed the grandmaster. - Ha ha ha, what coincidence! - exclaimed G.O. "What coincidence? What kind of coincidence is he says? This is something unthinkable! Could it happen to happen? I refuse, accept my refusal," the grandmaster thought represented quickly, then he guessed, what's the matter, and smiled .- Yes, of course, of course. - Here you are a grandmaster, and I put a fork to the queen and Ladew, - said G.O. He raised his hand. Horse provocateur hung over the board. "Fork in the ass," thought Grossmaster. "That's a fork! The grandfather had his own fork, he did not allow anyone to use it. Property. Personal fork, spoon and knife, personal plates and spoon. Also remembered "Lirny" fur coat, a heavy fur coat on the "lirny" fur, she hung at the entrance, the grandfather almost did not go outside. Fork on the grandfather and grandmother. Silent to lose old people. "The horse hung over the board, before the eyes of the grandmaster again fleeing glowing Lines and points of possible premiemal raids and victims. Alas, the croup of horse with a dirty-lilaca squid was so convincing that the grandmaster only shrugged. - Give the Ladew? - asked G.O. - what can you do. - Silence Rudew for the sake of attack? Guess? - asked G.O., still not deciding to put a horse on the desired field. - Just save the queen, - muttered the grandmaster. "You do not catch me?" - asked G.O.- No, that you, you are a strong player. Made his cherished "fork." The grandmaster hid the Queen into a secluded corner of the terrace, behind a dilapidated stone terrace with carved fiddling columns, where in the fall sharply smelled with heavy maple leaves. Here you can sit down in a convenient position, squatting. It is good here, in any case, the pride does not suffer. For a second, the leading and looking out due to the terrace, he saw that G.O. He took off the lady. The alternation of a black horse into a meaningless crowd on the left flank, the field of fields, the occupation of them fields "B4", in any case, already injected on reflections. GROSSMASTER realized that in this version, in this spring green evening alone youthful myths He does not have enough. All this is true, in the world nice fools - Yungs Billy, Cowboys Harry, beauties Mary and Nelli, and Brigantine raises sails, but the moment comes when you feel the dangerous and real intimacy of a black horse on the "B4" field. The struggle, complex, subtle, fascinating, calculating. There was a life ahead. GROSSMASTER won the pawn, pulled out a handkerchief and unimported. A few moments in full alone, when the lips and nose are hidden with a handkerchief, configured it to a banal-philosophical way. "That's what you seek something," he thought, "and what's next? All my life seek something; comes to you, and there is no joy from her. That's, for example, the city of Hong Kong, distant and very mysterious, and I am in It was already there. I was already everywhere. "" In his place, Petrosyan would have already surrendered, "thought Grossmaster. The loss of the pawns was not enough. He replied to the grandmaster by the course of the queen, who caused heartburn and a minute attack of headache. Grossmaster realized that some joys were still left in stock. For example, the joy of long, throughout the diagonal, the moves of the elephant. If a little dragging the elephant on the board, then this will be to some extent replacing the rapid slip on the yalik on the solar, a little bit of blooming water of the pond near Moscow, from light to the shadow, from the shade to light. The grandmaster felt an insurmountable passionate desire to capture the field "H8", for it was a field of love, a bumps of love, over which transparent dragonflies were hanging on Irritation. - Forgive, - Grossmaster said quietly. - Maybe you will return the moves? "No, no," said G.O., "no concern, I beg you." "I will give a datagon, I will give a horse, I will give my rifle ..." he dragged himself, plunging into strategic reflections. The first summer holiday of love on the field "H8" was pleased and at the same time the grandmaster was disturbed. He felt that soon there would be an accumulation of externally logical, but internally absurd forces. Again, a caocophony will be heard and smelled by chlorine, as in those distant damn memory of corridors on the left flank. - That's interesting: why are all chess players - Jews? - asked G.O.- Why all? - said Grossmaster. - Here I am, for example, not a Jew. - True? - surprised G.O. And added: - Yes, you do not think that I am so. I have no prejudice on this bill. Just curious. "Well, here you are, for example," said Grossmaster, "after all, you are not a Jew." Where can I! " - muttered G.O. And again plunged into his secret plans. "If I am so, then he is me, - I thought G.O. - If I rent here, he will remove there, then I go here, he answers so ... I don't care about him Dove, all the same Doloma. Think, grandmaster-botmeister, I still lived with you thin against me. I know that I have your championships: Contact advance. I still ask you, even though blood from the nose! "- Yes, I lost the quality," he said to the grandmaster, - but nothing, not yet evening. He began an attack in the center, and, of course, as expected, the center immediately It turned into a field of meaningless and terrible actions. It was not love, not a meeting, not hope, not hi, not life. Grippose chills and again yellow snow, post-war no longer, the whole body itches, black queen in the center of the Karkal, like a crow, Voronene Love, besides, the neighbors screck a tin bowl. Nothing so definitely did not prove the meaninglessness and the ghostity of life, like this position in the center. It's time to finish the game. "No, - thought the grandmaster, - after all, there is still something other than this . He put a big bobbin with the piano plays of Baha, calmed the heart clean and monotonous, like a splash of waves, sounds, then left the cottage and went to the sea. The pines rushed over him, and under the bare feet there were slippery and spring coniferous Nispomnia Sea and imitating him, he began to understand in position Harmonize it. It was suddenly pure and light on his soul. It is logical as the Bakhovskaya Coda, the mat is black. The matte situation dimly and beautifully lit up, completed like an egg. Grandmaster looked at G.O. He was silent, standing, looking into the deepest rear of the grandmaster. Mata does not notice his king. Grandmaster was silent, fearing to break the charm of this minute. - Shah, - quietly and carefully said G.O., moving his horse. He barely held back inner roar .... The grandmaster cried and rushed to run. Behind him, Topokha and whitish, the owner of the village, Kucher Evripide and Nina Kuzmichnna ran. Having overtaking them, overtaking the grandmaster bowed from the chain of the dog. - Shah, - once again he said G.O., rearranged his horse, and with painful lust swallow air .... The grandmaster was led by the passage among the escaped crowd. Going from behind a little touching his backs with some kind of solid subject. A man in a black overcoat with the Singa Lightning on the loovers was waiting for him ahead. Step - half awend, another step - second, another step - one and a half, another step - two ... steps up. Why up? Such things should be done in the pit. You need to be courageous. It is necessary? How much time does it take on the head of the smelly bag from Rogodh? So, it became completely dark and hard to breathe, and only somewhere very far the orchestra was playing "Hass-Bulat delete" .- Mat! - As a copper pipe, cried down G.O. - Well, you see, - muttered the grandmaster, - Congratulations! - Uf, - said. Oh., - Of, Wow, straightly stolen, right incredibly, it is necessary, damn it! Incredible, headed by the MAT GROSSMASTER! Unbelievable, but it is a fact! He walked. - Ah yeah me! - He fuckedly stroked himself on his head. "Eh, grandmaster you are mine, grandmaster," he squeezed, put his palms on the shoulders of grandmaster and pressed the friendly, "you are a cute young man ... Nervish woman did not stand it, right?" Aware? - Yes, yes, I broke, - hastily confirmed the grandmaster. O. Wide free gesture bold shapes from the board. The board was old, sterling, in some places the surface polished layer was pulled out, was naked was yellow, exhausted wood, in some places there were fragments of round spots from the glasses of railway tea, Able to accommodate not only his own life, but an infinite number of lives, and this endless alternation of light and dark fields filled his reverence and quiet joy. "It seems, he thought," I did not commit any major lobes in my life. "" But you will tell you, and no one will believe, "sighed sigtely G.O.- Why not believe? What is in this incredible? You are a strong, volitional player, "said the grandmaster. It does not believe it," G.O. repeated, "they say that Bresh. What are my evidence? - Let me, - a little offended by the grandmaster, looking at the pink cool forehead G.O., - I will give you a convincing proof. I knew that I would meet you. He opened his portfolio and took out a large gadget from there, with the palm of the Golden Fatone, on which it was beautifully engraved: "I won the batch in my chess. The grandmaster is such that". "It remains only to put a number," he said, extradited from the portfolio Engraving accessories and beautifully engraved the number in the corner of the token. - This is pure gold, - he said, handing aware. - Without deception? - asked G.O.- Absolutely pure gold, "said Grossmaster. - I already ordered many such tokens and constantly replenish stocks. February 1965

How scenes arise

The story "Victory" appeared in the journal "Youth" in 1965. And was written in Dubults, in the Riga Seaside, where the so-called Writers' creativity house was located in Soviet times. So, Vasily Aksenov watched the amateur chess party of his friends, famous writers Boris Balter and Anatolia Gladilin. One of them suddenly squatted the rook - she was not on a chessboard. There was a serious dispute between the respected writers - according to Vasily Pavlovich, they were a dog. This was served as a creative impulse for our author. In the evening in his room, he decided to describe the situation in the humorous vein during the day, but, as often happens, the plot turned completely differently, and turned out to be a story "Victory". Grandmaster Mark Taimanov highly appreciated the story, in which Vasily Aksenov very true grabbed the essence of the chess duel as such. The author himself never experienced special attractions to chess, giving preference to basketball, but in school years had a third category on this ancient and beautiful game.

With a difference of two years, in 1966 and 1968, in two main (after the "New World") of the literary journals of that time - "adolescence" and "banner" - two not characteristic of that era of the story appeared. In the humorous department of "Youth" was published by the "victory" of Vasily Aksenov, and in the prosaic department of "Banner" - "Winner" of Yuri Trifonova.

Tryphones at this time work intensively on the stories, trying to add a new literary manor. He learns to speak in subtext, but without Hemingueevsky boasting, without a demonstrative underscore. He writes simple stories in which events are reported, chronically and without author's assessment. "Winner" is a story about how Soviet journalists are sent to the only living participant in the second - Paris - 1900 Olympics. Bald, without a single tooth, an old man of 98 years old lives in a deep province. It is caught by a woman attached by social services that hates him for being living for so long. In the competition runners, he was the last and nevertheless calls himself the winner: "He says he is the winner of the Olympic Games. ... Now he is a winner. Everyone died, and he is alive. " The journalist-international Bazil is struggling with horror and disgust: "Do not live for a long time ... And that small, who won the then four hundred meters, seventy years ago, - let him rotten somewhere under the vertex or on Marne, - all the time he is ... And this with his longevity of an ivory turtle ... "Trifonov, for the first time in Soviet literature, refuses to make a clear conclusion, but in the final the narrator suddenly says:" And I think that you can be an easy old man who forgot to die, no one needed, but suddenly - piercing, to the tremors - to clean this smell of burned boughs, which stretches the wind from the mountain ... "The one won the longer lived, and not the one who most beautifully died - this is a surprisingly strange, new conclusion for Trifonov, who always poeticed the father - Hero, Civil War Commissioner.

The "winner" trifov is interesting to echoes Vasily Aksenov's "victory". It is strange that the two main writers of their generations almost simultaneously wrote stories with almost identical names. Perhaps this coincidence is due to the fact that then the very concept of victory needed substantial adjustment. The winner in the story of Aksenova is a grandmaster who won the match, - faces a certain person, G. O., who did not notice his defeat. And even after he got a mat, continues to attack the grandmaster. And he gives him a gold token, which says: "The submarine I won my batch in chess. Grossmaster such something. " This, of course, mockery, but this is the recognition that victory in the usual, traditional sense is impossible, unthinkable.

Stories were written in 1966 and 1968, in the situation of defeat. The defeat suffered a "thaw", the defeat suffered a young writer generation, which failed to protect either his freedom or his future. The victory won the diverse G. O., who, without noticing their own doom, continue to stubbornly to go. Aksenovsky story is much frankly, much easier than Trefonov's story. Aksenov and did not count on any subtext - he regarded this story more like a stylistic exercise, although it still turned out to be an extremely deep thing, if you like, the Soviet analogue of the "Protection of the Ludan" Nabokov.

Both of these stories about the fact that the true winner is not a triumphant. The true winner is the one who will survive everyone. And not by chance the roots of Chukovsky at the same time repeated more than once: "In Russia, it is necessary to live long." And the Aksenov himself said: "We have a chance at least to survive them." The fact that the life that Soviet romance was so easily spread is the highest heritage, suddenly opened the heroes of 1966 and 1968.