There, in the distance, across the river

Know that there is nothing higher and stronger, and healthier, and more useful for life in the future, like some good memory, and especially one taken from childhood, from the parental home.

Dostoevsky

About fire, water and copper pipes

My uncle - my mother's brother - was a wonderful man. He lived a very stormy, difficult life, but he never lost heart. He was an amazing man. What has he not seen! I've been through so many alterations! My uncle went through fire, water and copper pipes.

My uncle was an excellent hunter and fisherman, loved nature and traveled a lot. He traveled in winter and summer and went without a hat all year round. My uncle was an extremely healthy man.

So, without a hat, he burst into our house: now from the Pamirs, now from the Far East, now from Central Asia. But most of all my uncle loved the North! The North was his second home. That's what my uncle himself told me.

Together with my uncle, his two favorite dogs, Hang and Chang, came rushing in to us. These were wonderful dogs! They always traveled with their uncle. Hang was a shepherd and Chang was a husky. My uncle bought Hanga in Moscow, and got Changa somewhere in the North. I really loved my uncle's dogs.

My uncle always brought back something amazing from his travels: the skin of a tiger, or the skeleton of a beluga whale, or a live loon. But the most amazing thing was the uncle himself. He was a walking encyclopedia. A living family legend.

When my uncle came to visit us, there was always smoke in the house: the smoke came from the uncle’s stories, from the uncle’s gifts, and from the uncle himself.

Everyone in the house loved my uncle, but I simply doted on him. And my uncle loved me very much too: more than anyone else in the world. My uncle had no children, he was a bachelor.

Grow up quickly, my uncle told me, and you and I will go through fire, water and copper pipes!

I was eight years old, and I still didn’t know how to get through fire, water and copper pipes.

What pipes? - I asked again.

Copper! - answered the uncle. - Copper!

There is no copper pipe in the yard, I climbed into it...

In fact of the matter! - answered the uncle.

Where are the copper ones?

In the country?

In the country.

And in the forest.

And in the field?

And in the field.

And on fire?

That's it! - Uncle yelled. - Exactly!

What about the sea?

ABOUT! There are as many of them as you want at sea!

And in the sky?

They are visible and invisible in the sky!

I looked at the sky: it was empty.

How to find them? - I asked.

They are not looking for them! Looking for the meaning of life! Donnerwetter, how can you not understand! They are looking for their happiness in order to pour salt on its tail!

"Donnerwetter" meant "thunder and lightning" in German. When my uncle was worried, he always spoke German.

How to pour salt on his tail? - I asked.

We must go through fire, water and copper pipes!

After talking with my uncle, everything was always confused in my head. I also wanted to find my happiness. And pour salt on his tail. And go through fire, water and copper pipes. But how to do that?

My uncle lived on the outskirts of Moscow - in Tushino. There he had a garden and a small house. Now Tushino is also Moscow, but when I was little, Tushino was a village. Roosters crowed there in the morning, cows mooed and carts rumbled along the potty streets.

Many times my uncle was offered an apartment in the center, but my uncle always refused. Uncle loved silence, because there was already enough noise in his life. He also wanted to be closer to nature.

“Uncle was shy again!” - Mom always said when my uncle went to his place.

In general, he was rarely there. He rarely visited us either. As far as I remember my uncle, he always went on business trips. That was his job. And he was such a restless person.

But when my uncle was at his place, I really liked to visit him. My uncle had it better than at home, he had real freedom! At my uncle’s you could do whatever you wanted: even walk upside down! Uncle allowed everything.

Uncle himself loved to play when he was free. My uncle would build trains with me out of chairs, blow ships in a trough, or blow bubbles out of a window, or ride me on his back like an Indian elephant to his Raja.

We turned my uncle's whole house upside down until we fell from fatigue! What can I say! It was always interesting with my uncle!

In the evenings, my uncle would sit me on his lap and read me picture books or tell me stories. He told wonderful stories! But Uncle told stories best of all. from my own life. He knew a million of these stories! Yes, this is not surprising if you remember your uncle’s life. No one could tell stories like my uncle. In this he had no rivals.

Beginning of the XXI century. Russia is in the abyss of a civilized market that has reached a certain limit of its development. The predatory things of the century lure with the inexorability of an electromagnet into the trap of over-consumerism and keep civilization on a short leash of dwindling resources in pseudo-comfort: “TVs that choose the programs for you... Three cars per family. They paved the roads: push, I don’t want to... Where, why? Nobody thinks, doesn’t count.”

Western ecologists in the USA, England, and the Netherlands periodically hold the so-called Bay nothing day (Day without shopping) under slogans like: “We want to show people that you can be happy with few things.” Television rarely shows such anti-commercial news. Civilized countries of the first echelon have long spent several times more energy on the entertainment industry than on production. And ahead hang the swords of Damocles of environmental, greenhouse, energy and other disasters.

“The earth was covered with the stench of cities,

Changing the essence.

Ragged Mist of Poisonous Swamps

Mercury is flying across the sky.

Sticky fingers through the TV screen

They're poking us into our places...”

(K. Kinchev, 1987)

Dozens of autonomous anarchic eco-villages have long existed in Denmark, Australia, Oceania, Latin America and here in Russia. Green anarchist theorist Murray Bookchin wrote in one of his works: “Anarchist ideas about a harmonious society, direct democracy, humane technology and decentralization of society are not only desirable, but necessary. They do not belong to the great insights of the future of people, they are today a prerequisite for the survival of humanity.” In the 21st century, there will also be those who like to escape to the pampas, away from the scab of civilization and the oppression of the Golem State.

Somewhere in the Siberian wilderness, a group of enthusiasts is creating on the basis of the empty town of Pavlovsk-69 (with a secret military complex abandoned in 1997) the agricultural commune of Leonidopol for 2.5 thousand people. A complete idyll: clean air, reasonable sufficiency, fair distribution and no trade, true equality, fraternity and freedom. The safest place in the world - “you can walk around the city even all night without fear of anything. And leave the doors open. And open to any knock or call, without asking who is there. The police service was carried out by two forty-year-old women,” who had absolutely nothing to do. Residents of the city make every effort to preserve their natural environment and themselves determine the environmental development of their settlement. Yes, it is true that over time, the ardent Bolsheviks grew into settled bureaucrats, who at the next stage turned into social democrats and liberals, and by 2016, in which the story takes place, some organizations of degenerate communists even began to resemble communities of early Christian appearance, where Conscience and high ethical culture certainly become the core of all human actions. (It is true that sometimes, for the sake of a holy cause, one can strangle an old man with a pillow, but, as Ralph Waldo Emerson used to say, “What is a sin for others, is an experiment for you and me”). But communism cannot hide anywhere - and now, in the light of the upcoming elections of the monarch, the decision to disperse the town is ready - the government and the patriarchy have become an eyesore at the too serene life of some communist sectarians, and the hermits will again be brought under the “totalitarian sect”.

However, it is not the evil machinations of the statists that put an end to the free city, but the materialized nightmares from the totalitarian phase of the development of communism crawl out of the ground and hold their descendants by the throat with tenacious clawed paws and do not allow them to breathe the free wind of freedom, so that there would be no further temptation to build Paradise on sinful earth. “And let no one encroach on the Divine.”

Lazarchuk not only created a beautiful world in which one wants to live, “like in the Strugatskys’ novel,” so that reality would not beat the mortal body with forged necessity, otherwise it would be a utopian tale; he methodically broke the idyll so that those same damned questions would appear in our minds: why can’t we live in the world without a “war of all against all,” why does the State get its dirty paws into people’s personal lives, why, in the end, do you have to give your life for the Motherland, but she never?

Rating: 9

A strange feeling after reading this thing. All the time there is a feeling of some kind of secondary nature. First - stylistic (ABS), then plot. Moreover, something specific is not remembered, but as a series of already visible pictures somewhere. Or did they arise so easily that they seemed familiar?..

The action is very dynamic and exciting. Very tough content. But for me, for example, it would be much more interesting to read in more detail about the life of the commune than to watch successive scenes of murders (even very well written ones). Perhaps, “There, Far Away...” is most similar to a movie, to a script for a cool bloody thriller. Which tickles your nerves, but doesn't make you think. There have already been so many stories about genetic monsters from secret laboratories...

Rating: 7

A successful example of new Russian horror. Although not as scary as we would like (the modern reader is very much spoiled by the riches of world literature), but it is well written (it just begs to be spoken - “well”) written. Smart, without author's blunders and obvious implausibilities, easy to read. And very, very fascinating - it’s quite difficult to tear yourself away from the story.

Of course, the story is good primarily for an easy, pleasant pastime. But, by the way, despite the relatively small volume, there is something in it to think about: communes, their pros and cons, advantages and disadvantages, relationships with the outside world, and so on. All these are the most interesting questions on which Lazarchuk managed to speak out in the story, albeit briefly, but very succinctly.

Rating: 8

Know that there is nothing higher and stronger, and healthier, and more useful for life in the future, like some good memory, and especially one taken from childhood, from the parental home.

Dostoevsky

About fire, water and copper pipes

My uncle - my mother's brother - was a wonderful man. He lived a very stormy, difficult life, but he never lost heart. He was an amazing man. What has he not seen! I've been through so many alterations! My uncle went through fire, water and copper pipes.

My uncle was an excellent hunter and fisherman, loved nature and traveled a lot. He traveled in winter and summer and went without a hat all year round. My uncle was an extremely healthy man.

So, without a hat, he burst into our house: now from the Pamirs, now from the Far East, now from Central Asia. But most of all my uncle loved the North! The North was his second home. That's what my uncle himself told me.

Together with my uncle, his two favorite dogs, Hang and Chang, came rushing in to us. These were wonderful dogs! They always traveled with their uncle. Hang was a shepherd and Chang was a husky. My uncle bought Hanga in Moscow, and got Changa somewhere in the North. I really loved my uncle's dogs.

My uncle always brought back something amazing from his travels: the skin of a tiger, or the skeleton of a beluga whale, or a live loon. But the most amazing thing was the uncle himself. He was a walking encyclopedia. A living family legend.

When my uncle came to visit us, there was always smoke in the house: the smoke came from the uncle’s stories, from the uncle’s gifts, and from the uncle himself.

Everyone in the house loved my uncle, but I simply doted on him. And my uncle loved me very much too: more than anyone else in the world. My uncle had no children, he was a bachelor.

Grow up quickly, my uncle told me, and you and I will go through fire, water and copper pipes!

I was eight years old, and I still didn’t know how to get through fire, water and copper pipes.

What pipes? - I asked again.

Copper! - answered the uncle. - Copper!

There is no copper pipe in the yard, I climbed into it...

In fact of the matter! - answered the uncle.

Where are the copper ones?

In the country?

In the country.

And in the forest.

And in the field?

And in the field.

And on fire?

That's it! - Uncle yelled. - Exactly!

What about the sea?

ABOUT! There are as many of them as you want at sea!

And in the sky?

They are visible and invisible in the sky!

I looked at the sky: it was empty.

How to find them? - I asked.

They are not looking for them! Looking for the meaning of life! Donnerwetter, how can you not understand! They are looking for their happiness in order to pour salt on its tail!

"Donnerwetter" meant "thunder and lightning" in German. When my uncle was worried, he always spoke German.

How to pour salt on his tail? - I asked.

We must go through fire, water and copper pipes!

After talking with my uncle, everything was always confused in my head. I also wanted to find my happiness. And pour salt on his tail. And go through fire, water and copper pipes. But how to do that?

My uncle lived on the outskirts of Moscow - in Tushino. There he had a garden and a small house. Now Tushino is also Moscow, but when I was little, Tushino was a village. Roosters crowed there in the morning, cows mooed and carts rumbled along the potty streets.

Many times my uncle was offered an apartment in the center, but my uncle always refused. Uncle loved silence, because there was already enough noise in his life. He also wanted to be closer to nature.

“Uncle was shy again!” - Mom always said when my uncle went to his place.

In general, he was rarely there. He rarely visited us either. As far as I remember my uncle, he always went on business trips. That was his job. And he was such a restless person.

But when my uncle was at his place, I really liked to visit him. My uncle had it better than at home, he had real freedom! At my uncle’s you could do whatever you wanted: even walk upside down! Uncle allowed everything.

Uncle himself loved to play when he was free. My uncle would build trains with me out of chairs, blow ships in a trough, or blow bubbles out of a window, or ride me on his back like an Indian elephant to his Raja.

We turned my uncle's whole house upside down until we fell from fatigue! What can I say! It was always interesting with my uncle!

In the evenings, my uncle would sit me on his lap and read me picture books or tell me stories. He told wonderful stories! But Uncle told stories best of all. from my own life. He knew a million of these stories! Yes, this is not surprising if you remember your uncle’s life. No one could tell stories like my uncle. In this he had no rivals.

I remember many stories my uncle told. And especially one: I remember it from deep childhood. I've heard it many times and know it by heart. Like a multiplication table. Like the back of your hand! I heard it not only from my uncle - we all loved to repeat this story. Dad loved her very much. And mother. And grandmother - uncle and mother's mother. And, of course, me. This story belonged to our family, it was from us inseparable. It is passed on to everyone in our family by inheritance from their uncle. You can’t help but love this story, because it’s amazing!

Current page: 1 (book has 9 pages in total)

Yuri Korinets
There, in the distance, across the river
The Tale of an Uncle

About fire, water and copper pipes

My uncle - my mother's brother - was a wonderful man. He lived a very stormy, difficult life, but he never lost heart. He was an amazing man. What has he not seen! I've been through so many alterations! My uncle went through fire, water and copper pipes.

My uncle was an excellent hunter and fisherman, loved nature and traveled a lot. He traveled in winter and summer and went without a hat all year round. My uncle was an extremely healthy man.

So, without a hat, he burst into our house: now from the Pamirs, now from the Far East, now from Central Asia. But most of all my uncle loved the North! The North was his second home. That's what my uncle himself told me.

Together with my uncle, his two favorite dogs, Hang and Chang, came rushing in to us. These were wonderful dogs! They always traveled with their uncle. Hang was a shepherd and Chang was a husky. My uncle bought Hanga in Moscow, and got Changa somewhere in the North. I really loved my uncle's dogs.

My uncle always brought back something amazing from his travels: the skin of a tiger, or the skeleton of a beluga whale, or a live loon. But the most amazing thing was the uncle himself. He was a walking encyclopedia. A living family legend.

When my uncle came to visit us, there was always smoke in the house: the smoke came from the uncle’s stories, from the uncle’s gifts, and from the uncle himself.

Everyone in the house loved my uncle, but I simply doted on him. And my uncle loved me very much too: more than anyone else in the world. My uncle had no children: he was a bachelor.

“Grow up quickly,” my uncle always told me, “and you and I will go through fire, water and copper pipes!”

I was eight years old, and I still didn’t know how to get through fire, water and copper pipes.

– What pipes? – I asked again.

- Copper! - answered the uncle. - Copper!

“There’s not a copper pipe in the yard, I climbed into it...

- In fact of the matter! - answered the uncle.

-Where are the copper ones?

- In the country?

- In the country.

- In the forest?

- And in the forest.

- And in the field?

- And in the field.

- And on fire?

- That's it! - Uncle yelled. - Exactly!

- And at the sea?

- ABOUT! There are as many of them as you want at sea!

- And in the sky?

- They are visible and invisible in the sky!

I looked at the sky: it was empty.

- How to find them? – I asked.

- They are not looking for them! - Uncle yelled. – Looking for the meaning of life! Donnerwetter, how can you not understand! They are looking for their happiness in order to pour salt on its tail!

"Donnerwetter" meant "thunder and lightning" in German. When my uncle was worried, he always spoke German.

- How can I pour salt on his tail? – I asked.

– We must go through fire, water and copper pipes!

After talking with my uncle, everything was always confused in my head. I also wanted to find my happiness. And pour salt on his tail. And go through fire, water and copper pipes. But how to do that?

Etvas

My uncle lived on the outskirts of Moscow - in Tushino. There he had a garden and a small house. Now Tushino is also Moscow, but when I was little, Tushino was a village. Roosters crowed there in the morning, cows mooed and carts rumbled along the potty streets.

Many times my uncle was offered an apartment in the center, but my uncle always refused. Uncle loved silence, because there was already enough noise in his life. He also wanted to be closer to nature.

“Uncle was shy again!” - Mom always said when my uncle went to his place.

In general, he was rarely there. He rarely visited us either. As far as I remember my uncle, he always went on business trips. That was his job. And he was such a restless person.

But when my uncle was at his place, I really liked to visit him. My uncle had it better than at home, he had real freedom! At my uncle’s you could do whatever you wanted: even walk upside down! Uncle allowed everything.

Uncle himself loved to play when he was free. My uncle would build trains with me out of chairs, blow ships in a trough, or blow bubbles out of a window, or ride me on his back like an Indian elephant to his Raja.

We turned my uncle's whole house upside down until we fell from fatigue! What can I say! It was always interesting with my uncle!

In the evenings, my uncle would sit me on his lap and read me picture books or tell me stories. He told wonderful stories! But best of all, my uncle told stories - from my own life. He knew a million of these stories! Yes, this is not surprising if you remember your uncle’s life. No one could tell stories like my uncle. In this he had no rivals.

I remember many stories my uncle told. And especially one; I remember her from deep childhood. I've heard it many times and know it by heart. Like a multiplication table. Like the back of your hand! I heard it not only from my uncle - we all loved to repeat this story. Dad loved her very much. And mother. And grandmother - uncle and mother's mother. And, of course, me. This story belonged to our family, it was from us inseparable. It is passed on to everyone in our family by inheritance from their uncle. You can’t help but love this story, because it’s amazing!

This happened a very long time ago - at the beginning of the twentieth century, during the Russian-Japanese War. Perhaps you have heard a little about this war. This war did not turn out well for us. It was not about the soldiers - Russians have always been brave soldiers - it was about the tsar and his system - tsarism. Tsarism was a colossus with feet of clay. A colossus is something very huge. Can you imagine what will happen if the colossus stands on feet of clay? Of course it will collapse! So it collapsed, and a revolution took place. That's how my uncle explained it.

And then, before the revolution, during the Russian-Japanese War, my uncle served as a private in the navy. At first, my uncle was an assistant cook; Uncle's job was to chop the flour and blow through the pasta. My uncle was so good at blowing pasta and chopping flour so well that he was promoted to stoker. Uncle served well! But things on the fronts were getting worse and worse, we didn’t have enough shells, and so we fought mainly with our hats.

One day, the cruiser on which my uncle served as a fireman fell into a trap: it was surrounded by four Japanese cruisers. With shouts of “Banzai!” they chased after my uncle's cruiser. They decided to take him alive. Of course, there were no shells on my uncle’s ship. The uncle separated the couples, and his cruiser rushed into the open sea. The Japanese were pursuing my uncle. Then my uncle called the ship's commander to his stoking room. “I will save people and destroy the enemy,” said the uncle, “if you give me two deputies for one hour, an ax and an aspen log.” The commander, of course, immediately agreed: he had one hope - his uncle!

The uncle left two deputies to support the couple in the stoker, while he himself took an ax and an aspen log and locked himself in the captain's cabin. Nobody knew anything about this: the sailors went about their business, and the tsar’s officers threw a banquet out of grief and drank in the wardroom. A choir of gypsies and champagne were specially kept on the cruiser for such an occasion.

An hour later, my uncle came out on deck and ordered the ship’s commander to be called to him. The commander could barely stand on his feet - he was completely drunk from champagne, gypsies and fear. The cruiser was also rocking heavily. But uncle stood firmly on his feet!

“Let them get closer,” said the uncle, “then I’ll launch them into the water.” this thing" In my uncle's hands was this thing.

When the Japanese came within cannon range, my uncle fired this thing onto the water... A second later the Japanese took off into the air!

Many people asked my uncle to tell me what it was for such a thing he did. But my uncle couldn't open it because it was It's too scary a thing. So it remained his secret. Even my uncle didn’t tell me anything specific. When I asked my uncle what this thing was, my uncle made scary eyes and shouted:

- It was etvas! Etvas!

“Etwas” meant “something” - also in German. Uncle loved this word very much.

After this, my uncle always fell into silence. When necessary, my uncle was as dumb as the grave.

That's what a man he was!

8 + 5 = 13

From the age of eight this etvas gave me no rest. It caused me a lot of trouble. I dreamed about it at night. I thought about him during the day. I thought at home. I was thinking in the yard. I thought when I went to school. I thought about it in class.

I've been drawing this forever etvas on paper. And always in different ways.

It was a huge fish, like a whale, that swallowed ships, boats and islands. It was a many-eyed, many-armed and many-legged bird, like the one I saw at my uncle’s spinning wheel. I drew how she swallowed the moon, stars and airships. Do you know what it is airship? Does this word mean anything to you? It's a pity! This word means a lot to me. When I was little, airships were all the rage. The airship is a wonderful thing! This is a huge bubble filled with gas. Cigar-shaped bubble. A cabin is attached to the bottom of the bubble. There are people sitting in it. That's how they fly. Airships can be huge - taller than a five-story building!

So here's mine etvas swallowed twenty of these airships at once! That's what it was like etwas. It was very difficult to draw him. It even took my breath away when I painted it. But not a single drawing satisfied my imagination.

Then I drew this etvas abstractly. What does it mean to paint abstractly? To draw abstractly means to draw something that you have no idea about, and so that it does not resemble anything else. This is, of course, terribly difficult. Sometimes I came up with wonderful drawings. Simply amazing! But no one ever understood anything about them. Even an art teacher. For such drawings he gave me “very good marks.” Badly". But I wasn’t offended by him: was it possible to be offended by him? After all, he didn’t know what it was etwas. And I knew! Or rather, he didn’t know, but guessed. One uncle knew this. Sometimes he recognized it etvas in my drawings. I brought the drawing to my uncle and said:

- What is this? - asked my uncle.

– Etvas,– I answered in a whisper.

- Nonsense! - Uncle was angry. - This is just nonsense, not etwas!

- Not etvas? Is not it etvas?

- This is nonsense! - Uncle shouted. - This is mediocre!

- How to draw etvas?

- Don't know! I have no idea!

- How come you don’t know! – I said almost crying. -You told me so much about etwas, and now you say you don’t know!

- I know perfectly well what it is etwas!- Uncle yelled. - But I can’t draw! I have no talent!

- And I have?

- And you have talent! Who else has talent if not you! You have to search! Go and look!

– What to look for?

– Etvas!- Uncle roared.

- Donnerwetter! “Uncle was losing his temper. - Search within yourself! In itself! Draw! Work! And then it will work out etwas!

Reassured, I ran away and began to draw again. I drew like a man possessed. After a while, I brought fifty drawings to my uncle at once. Uncle examined them carefully. Sometimes, grabbing a drawing, my uncle would jump up and start running around the room, waving the drawing.

- Well done! - Uncle rumbled. - This etwas! This is wonderful! Amazing! Amazing! This is a phenomenon! Masterpiece! Keep up the good work and you will become a man.

And I continued. The best drawings are those in which there was etwas, I gave it to my uncle. He kept them in a special folder.

I loved showing my drawings to friends. I told everyone that I have an uncle who went through fire, water and copper pipes and saw a terrible monster at the end. This monster is called etwas.“When I grow up,” I said, “my uncle will take me with him. We will go through fire, water and copper pipes. And then I'll see etwas. And I’ll drag him home.”

Some laughed at me, but many listened with respect. Especially one girl, Valya, who studied with me in the same class. She only asked me to show her this monster when I got it. And I, of course, promised her. I just asked her to wait. And she promised to wait.

And I had to wait a long time: until the very day when I turned thirteen. That's what my uncle said. When I turn thirteen, my uncle said, he and I will go on a trip. We'll go to the North! First we will travel by train, then we will transfer to a ship and sail along the White Sea, then we will transfer to a boat and sail along rivers, waterfalls and lakes - further and further to the North! - and then we’ll get out and go on foot. By the way, we will go through fire, water and copper pipes. They are always passed by the way, they are never passed on purpose. That's what my uncle said. And in the end we will still be making our way through the thickets. Because in these thickets it is located etwas.

Do you like to push through thickets? I really like to push through the bushes. This is probably hereditary in me: my uncle spent his entire life trudging through the bush. Sometimes he made his way through the thickets without even leaving the apartment - he made his way inside himself... But I’ll tell you about this some other time.

Do you know what 13 − 8 equals?

What does 8 + 5 equal?

This is mathematics, there is no escape from it!

That's why I waited until I turned thirteen.

Hang and Chang

Many people asked my uncle why he needed two dogs?

– Isn’t one enough for you? - they told their uncle. – We can imagine how much trouble they are! You need to feed them, wash them, educate them. How do you just cope?

“The fact of the matter is that it is easier to have several dogs than one,” answered the uncle. “They just need to have different personalities.” And leave them to their own devices. Then they themselves will educate each other. Of course, I direct this education, I monitor them. But, in fact, they educate each other themselves. They even raised me, not to mention my nephew!

This means it's about me. And indeed, it was so. Hang and Chang were excellent teachers. They taught me to swim, climb trees, walk on booms, jump over fences, crawl on my bellies, march, turn military-style to the right and left, walk in step, bark and much more.

They were wonderful dogs, I owe them a lot.

But best of all, they raised each other.

Hang, for example, did not like to swim. So what do you think? When uncle appointed a bath day, who do you think helped uncle force Hang into the bathroom? I? No matter how it is! Chang did it!

On bath days I always came to my uncle. Of course, if I was free. My uncle and I undressed and remained in our underpants. I poured water into the bath and diluted two pieces of toilet soap in this water. After that, I called my uncle - he checked the water temperature.

- Come on, guys! - Uncle commanded when everything was ready. - Go for a swim!

Chang did not force himself to ask - he appeared instantly. But Hang was always hiding somewhere.

- Disgrace! - Uncle shouted. -Where is Hang?

Chang immediately rushed to find Hang and was the first to drive him into the bathroom. Then Chang jumped there himself. If Hang resisted, he received a good thrashing from Chang.

Bathing the dogs was not difficult: they washed themselves, my uncle and I only helped.

On command, Hang and Chang climbed into the bathtub and began jumping and tumbling there. My uncle called it “dog somersault class.” The “somersault college” lasted a long time. The dogs whipped up thick soapy foam in the bathtub. Foam flew in all directions. My uncle and I were covered in foam from head to toe. The entire bathroom was covered in foam.

When the dogs were washed clean, we doused them in the shower, dried them with towels and let them out into the room if it was winter. In the summer we let them out into the yard. After the bath, Hang and Chang ran after each other like crazy for a long time. I don’t know why, but after the bath they always had a lot of fun.

After the dogs, my uncle and I washed ourselves. Then we had dinner. We had dinner in the kitchen, and after dinner we drank tea in the room. The dogs also had dinner in the kitchen, and after dinner they also sat down to drink tea with us. But of course they didn’t drink tea. They just sat on chairs around the table and kept us company.

Chang behaved very well at the table. But Hang sometimes tried to steal something. He was generally mischievous. Sometimes he secretly climbed onto the sofa, which his uncle categorically forbade. Hang hated cats - he always drove these unfortunate creatures into trees.

Uncle never reprimanded Hangu himself: he entrusted this to Chang. When Chang noticed that Hang had stolen candy from the table, he immediately took it away from Hang and returned it to his uncle. Chang chased Hang off the couch. And saved the unfortunate cats from him. Chang always punished Hang himself: he put him in a corner or ruffled his ears.

Hang was mischievous, but he was cheerful and restless.

Chang was lazy, but he was calm and balanced.

Hang was not so handsome, but he was brave and strong - he fearlessly rushed at wolves and bears and saved his uncle’s life more than once.

But the most amazing thing was Chang: he was young, smart and noble. He still had many advantages. Chang was everyone's favorite.

One evening I was visiting my uncle. The concert was just being broadcast based on requests. We all - me, uncle, Hang and Chang - sat at the SI-235 radio and listened to this concert. I remember how now they announced the song “Steppe and Steppe All Around” at my uncle’s request. My uncle loved this song very much. My uncle was generally very musical - he had excellent hearing. My uncle could sing a whole symphony by heart. At the same time, he imitated playing different instruments. My uncle was very fond of old revolutionary songs, songs of his youth, and Russian folk songs, and of them especially “Steppe and steppe all around.” When my uncle sang this song, he always felt a little sad.

It was the same now. Uncle sat in his favorite chair by the radio, head down. Hang, Chang and I looked at our uncle. The light in the room was turned off because it was a full moon and the huge moon was shining directly through the window.

Lemeshev sang on the radio, and his uncle sang along with him:

And, having gained strength,
I sense the hour of death,
He's a friend
Gives orders...

And suddenly Chang began to sing!

It was so unexpected that my uncle fell silent. We were dumbfounded.

Chang howled, raising his mournful muzzle high. His whole appearance expressed exorbitant melancholy and pain. After each verse, Chang stopped, looked shyly to the side, and then continued again. It was obvious that he was shy, but that he couldn’t help but sing...

Chang sang very expressively and with soul. He had a deep velvety voice. His singing immediately captivated us. We couldn't move. And Hang tucked his tail in surprise and hid in a corner.

Yes, tell her
Let him not be sad,
Let her be with someone else
Gets married.
Tell me about me
That it's frozen in the steppe,
And her love
I took it with me.

When Chang got to this point, he hit a note that gave us all goosebumps. Chang rolled his eyes, his fangs were bared, he was shaking all over... It was really scary!

When Chang finished, his uncle began to sob and threw himself on his neck.

- Donnerwetter! – Uncle sobbed, hugging Chang. - Donnerwetter!

I was touched and almost cried too. I hugged my uncle and Chang.

- Well, Chang! Well, uncle! Well, Chang! Well, uncle! – I whispered.

And Hang jumped around us, licked me, uncle and Chang and squealed pitifully.

After this incident, my uncle taught Hanga to sing. Or rather, Chang taught him to sing; his uncle only helped. As a result, my uncle created a good dog duo. Chang sang in baritone and Hang in treble. My uncle played along with them on the harmonica and conducted them.

I also conducted sometimes. The duet, accompanied by his uncle, sounded beautiful, very harmonious. The dogs sang beautifully, but Chang sang better, of course. He was the lead singer in the duet.

The fame of the uncle's duet spread far and wide. Various dark personalities began to come to my uncle and ask his uncle to sell them his musical dogs. But my uncle refused everyone. When they were very stubborn, the uncle unleashed Hang and Chang on them, and then these individuals could barely escape.

My uncle was not the kind of man to sell his friends.

Thank you for attention!

We had several neighbors in our apartment. Our apartment was called “communal” - we lived in a commune. Living as a community means having everything in common and sharing everything. In our apartment, of course, not everything was common: for example, coats, galoshes, beds, toothbrushes, towels and other personal items. We used them ourselves and did not give them to anyone. And the neighbors didn’t give them to anyone either. But this was because we did not grow up to a full commune. This is how my uncle explained it to me. But we had a lot in common: a kitchen, a corridor, a bathroom, a telephone, brushes for sweeping floors, an electric meter, and so on. And we just shared the rest. We shared money (we lent each other), potatoes, bread, salt, teapots, stoves, frying pans, tea, pots, skis, matches, cigarettes, toys and various other things. We lived together.

On holidays we always went to each other with congratulations. And with gifts. And they always helped each other in trouble. We had a lot of fun in the apartment. We called the corridor “the avenue.” There was a telephone on the “prospect” - it was the “Central Telegraph”. Men usually gathered here and smoked. And the kitchen was called “Great Khural” - this means people's assembly. Because communal meetings always took place in the kitchen, everyone there gave speeches on various issues.

It was a lot of fun in the kitchen! Everyone always gathered there and discussed everything. Public opinion was formed there. Public opinion is what they say about you. My uncle explained this to me too. For example, you live in your room, but you leave it all the time and go to public places. You go to the kitchen, to the bathroom, to the street, to the park, and so on. I'm not even talking about school. And everywhere you meet people who see you and with whom you talk. And from this public opinion is formed. Then you come to your room, drink tea, do your homework, sleep, play with toys, and in public places they talk about you... You can then not leave your room for a week, but they still talk about you! You can leave for a month, a year, several years, you can even die, but they still talk about you! This is how public opinion works. As my uncle explained to me: “You come and you leave, but your opinion remains.” Public opinion is a very important thing! It needs to be good. That is, so that they speak well of you. For example, if you go out wearing unclean shoes or a dirty shirt, they say that you are a slob. And it’s very difficult to change this opinion, even if you then walk around for a long time in a clean shirt. Or let’s imagine the following case: you didn’t go to the bathroom to wash your face in the morning - and again they’re talking about you! They say that you didn't go to the bathroom this morning. But if you always wear a clean shirt, are neat, say “hello” to everyone, and don’t act out, people will have a good opinion of you. I’ll tell you more: if you try to hide something from public opinion, for example, not doing your homework or secretly tying some piece of paper to your cat’s tail, public opinion will still find out about it! How it finds out about this, I cannot explain, but the fact is that it finds out. That's the thing - public opinion!

I must say that all our residents in the apartment had a good public opinion. All our residents were modest and kind people and real hard workers. All except one person. In our apartment lived: one accountant with his family, one fitter with his family, one former singer of the Operetta Theater without a family, us and one more person, whom I will now tell you about. Everyone except this man worked tirelessly, even the former singer: she gave French lessons. We had a good opinion of everyone, except for one person. People in the apartment also had a good opinion of us, including me.

But the best public opinion was formed in the apartment about my uncle, although he did not live with us. But my uncle constantly visited us when he came from somewhere, often spent the night with us and was on excellent terms with all the residents of the apartment. They loved my uncle because my uncle was generally an interesting person, and besides, he did a lot of good things for our apartment. It’s not that he sometimes made minor repairs in the apartment (although he did that too), it’s not about repairs - my uncle did a lot for our apartment in the highest sense: My uncle's merit was that he strengthened our team. Everyone turned to his uncle for advice, and his uncle always gave everyone wonderful advice. My uncle often spoke at the Great Khural on various issues, and his uncle’s opinion was decisive. Because my uncle had enormous authority. Yes, this is not surprising: you know what kind of person my uncle was! Uncle was the cement of our apartment - everything was held on to him. I just don’t know what would have happened to our apartment if it weren’t for my uncle!

But there was one person in our apartment about whom we all did not have a very good opinion. This person's name was "Thank you for your attention." He endlessly said to everyone “thank you for your attention” and “thank you very much.” He was very polite. He was even too polite.

He was old and strange. He always wore a red coat, a red hat and “goodbye to youth” galoshes. He lived alone in a small room near the kitchen, at the very end of the “prospect”. They said that in his room there was no window! I didn’t see it myself: his room was always locked. When he went out, he immediately locked it - even when he went out to the kitchen. When he was sitting in the room, she was also locked. He also loved to sit on a bench in the yard. He probably didn't have enough air.

They also said that once upon a time he Our whole house belonged to us! I always felt a little sorry for him. And mom too. Just think: losing the whole house and staying in a small room without a window! But my uncle said that he shouldn’t be pitied. Because this is a former bloodsucker and owner. Ghoul. Do you know what a ghoul is? This is a werewolf. He is also called a vampire. This is a dead man who comes out of the grave and sucks the blood of living people. Remember how Pushkin wrote: “A red-lipped ghoul is gnawing at the bones on the grave...” Scary! I get chills down my spine when I think about it. When I first heard about this, I couldn't sleep the whole night. It seemed to me that a ghoul was about to come and suck all our blood! Then my uncle explained to me that this should be understood in a figurative sense. That is, some things must be understood in a literal sense, and some in a figurative sense. In the literal sense, this ghoul did not suck blood. And he didn’t gnaw the bones on the graves either. He dined wonderfully in the best restaurants. And he dressed very cleanly. And he rode around the city on reckless drivers - on the best cabs that rushed like the wind, because their horses were wonderful, thoroughbred, with and without apples, very beautiful, with thin, bandaged legs. I saw such reckless people in Moscow when I was five years old; I vaguely remember them - I only remember that they were very beautiful. My uncle and I even rode this reckless car twice, just for fun. It was often impossible to ride them because it was very expensive. But my uncle took me for a ride twice. Once my uncle and I took a reckless driver in Okhotny Ryad, where Marx Avenue is now. Where the taxis stand now, near the Moscow Hotel, used to be a parking lot for reckless drivers. I always chose the horse myself. I remember it took me a long time to choose a horse, and the cabbies vying with each other called us, each to his place, and each praised his horse. They also patted their sides with their hands, like birds with their wings, to keep warm, because it was winter. The horses were covered in frost, and steam was coming out of their nostrils. I myself chose the most beautiful horse. It was a wonderful horse - tall, covered in apples, with a small proud head on a thin neck, with thin, bandaged legs! We got into a small sleigh, covered ourselves with the bear's cavity - the skin - and drove through the streets. That was great! Of course, taking a taxi is also great. But it’s also great on reckless cars, especially since they are no longer there.

My uncle and I sat in the back, warmly covered in a bear's cavity, trimmed around the edges with red fringe, and in front sat a reckless coachman, waving his whip and shouting at passers-by: “E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!” The coachman was wearing a thick fur coat, with green cloth at the top, belted with a red sash, and the coachman’s butt was huge, like a pillow. I looked first at this butt, then at the horse, then around, and on the sides of the street there were snowdrifts, although we were flying through the very center of Moscow, and snow was pouring into our faces, and I immediately became all red, and my uncle was all red, and he had icicles on his mustache, and when the coachman turned to us, he, too, was all red, and the horse was all white with frost, she snored and threw out her thin legs far, splashing snow on the sides, and we flew like the wind!

And when we arrived home, the reckless driver allowed us to give the horse a piece of sugar - I took sugar with me on purpose - and pat the horse on the head...

So, this one, Thank you for your attention, did nothing but drive such reckless cars! And many walked. And my uncle walked. And my dad. And mother. Because they were poor. And thank you for your attention, this vampire was very rich. He owned not only our house - he also had a house on Mokhovaya and somewhere else there were houses in which he rented out rooms to various poor people. And he tore three skins from them. Because he was exploiter: profited from the poor. In this sense, he sucked blood. And after the revolution, everything was taken away from him and they put him in a small room, near the kitchen. And his rooms were given to the poor, including us and our neighbors. That's what a man he was, thank you for your attention!

Of course, he was offended that everything was taken away from him. That's why he stayed away from everyone. And he didn’t let anyone into his room. My uncle said that he didn't like people.

And he was so polite simply because people wouldn’t bother him. To leave him alone. Almost anything - he would immediately say “thank you for your attention” or “thank you very much” and turn his back to you.

The story “There, Away, Beyond the River” by Yuri Korinets, a Soviet children’s writer, was published in 1967. The title of the story is a line from a famous song from the Civil War. The story takes place in the early and mid-thirties, and tells about the life of Soviet schoolchildren.

About the plot of the story

In this work, an eight-year-old boy Misha talks about a wonderful man - his uncle Petya. Uncle Petya is a romantic, a participant in the Civil War on the side of the Reds, and a convinced communist. A person with a rich spiritual world, who has not lost his love of life and the ability to fantasize.

Uncle Petya's life cannot be called simple and easy. He is a participant in the pre-revolutionary underground and the revolution; he worked on the construction of the Dnieper Hydroelectric Power Station and Magnitogorsk. And many years later, he is the same busy man who has very little free personal time.

But at the same time, he is a very interesting person, who has traveled a lot and seen a lot. Uncle is a wonderful hunter and fisherman, a nature connoisseur and traveler. He often travels to different parts of the country on important assignments and brings strange gifts to his nephew.

He devotes his personal time and rare moments of rest to his nephew. Uncle Petya tells Misha stories from his life, and he has a lot to tell. He is a great storyteller and also a good mentor. Uncle Petya teaches the boy everything he knows. And he can do a lot.

Despite his wealth of life experience, Uncle Petya is a very modest person; he never brags about his knowledge or achievements. And Misha sees in him his moral ideal and role model. He tries to be like his uncle in everything. And Misha’s mother confirms that her son really does it.

The main characters of the story

1. The main character, of course, is the narrator Misha himself.
2. And also his uncle Petya, without whom there would be no story.
3. And the heroes are classmate Valya, who Misha really likes, and Mishka’s friend Vitya.
4. And one cannot ignore the attention of the other two main characters, although they are not people - these are the dogs Hang and Chang. They are loyal and devoted friends and good helpers.