What does the proverb mean: the forest is cut, the chips fly. The forest is being cut down, chips are flying - that means? What do flying chips mean?

Andrey Malgin

Nowadays, no one will be surprised by a call to put an end to the complimentary nature of our literary criticism, to the unbridled praise of works that clearly do not deserve it. These calls have been heard for a long time, persistently and from a variety of platforms... However, let's not forget about the popular proverb, the hero of which, when he was forced to pray, hurt his forehead. The fight against one extreme often gives rise to another extreme - exactly the opposite...
The magazine “Our Contemporary” was perhaps the first to begin to fight the notorious complementarity. The “fight” was simple: “devastating” reviews began to be published in the magazine. Literally in every issue, the books of Evgeny Yevtushenko and Yuri Surorper, Viktor Kamyanov and Alexander Ivanov, Yunna Moritz and Yuri Ryashentsev were smashed to smithereens... For the revelations, figures were chosen that were popular among the general reader, widely known, and therefore “sharp” Such speeches by “Our Contemporary” acquired a scandalous character. However, this did not make the magazine’s criticism any less complimentary, and next to the “overthrow of idols” you can read something like this: “Yu. Borodkin clearly sees the dialectical connection between the old and the new..., the achievements of Yuri Borodkin, working in this direction, are undoubted and fruitful..., Yu. Borodkin, faithful to the truth of life, places the characters extremely accurately..., Yu. Borodkin closely follows..., undoubted the luck of Yu. Borodkin..., the high moral principle in the works of Yu. Borodkin.” And on the adjacent pages of the same issue: “Former “progressives” promote vulgarity, earning cheap fame and popularity. One author of intellectual poetry writes clumsy scenarios, another writer of poetic crossword puzzles casually produces texts for the most popular singers, a third writes historical stories, using the reader’s enormous interest in the past of his people...” And in fact, where would “former progressives” be without work recognizable by every reader, to Yuri Borodkin, to his “undoubted” (that’s right: undoubted!) successes.
At first, the unparliamentary tone of the critical speeches of Our Contemporary, the overexposure in assessments, and the tendency to cut from the shoulder did not cause any particular objections - this was attributed to the inevitable polemical costs. The forest is being cut down - the chips are flying! It’s a good thing - they are fighting against complementarity... But time passed, and the defeats appearing on the pages of “Our Contemporary” with enviable regularity began to attract attention not so much for their severity, but for their obvious bias, the use of illegal techniques, and outright fraud.
Let us also take a closer look at the methods of criticism of “Our Contemporary”.
Let's take, for example, an article typical for this magazine - “On universal firewood” and traditions Russian poetry”, written by the magazine’s regular author, poet Stanislav Kunyaev. It ends like this: “There are many critics who attach huge values to what will not live to see tomorrow" This is Blok's phrase. And Kunyaev ends his conversation about the work of the poet Andrei Voznesensky and the critic Sergei Chuprinin. What is not blamed on the poet: immorality, lack of patriotic feeling, and oblivion of the “socio-historical approach and class criteria"! In the same terrible sins The critic who dared to write several sympathetic articles about A. Voznesensky is also convicted.
The article is long, and I will not now dwell specifically on this or that author’s thesis. At least one can judge his method with sufficient certainty. according to this example. The following phrase by Chuprinin is taken as a basis: “The poetry of Andrei Voznesensky today... is one of the most vivid embodiments of the tradition in the mainstream of which Mayakovsky’s poems about foreign countries, the journalistic lines of Yesenin and Pasternak, the anti-war and anti-fascist works of Tvardovsky, Simonov, Berggolts, Tikhonov, Antokolsky, Lukonin, Kirsanov, Hikmet.” The phrase, as we see, is quite harmless: the critic only fits the poet’s work (not all of it, but only his recent poems about foreign countries) into a fairly broad literary context. Kunyaev removes from this phrase keyword“today” and cuts off the quotation after Mayakovsky’s last name. A strict reprimand to Chuprinin immediately follows: “...I would be careful not to unconditionally call Voznesensky a 100% successor of Mayakovsky’s traditions...” But, I think, Chuprinin himself would “be careful” to call Voznesensky, with all due respect to him, a 100% successor of Mayakovsky’s traditions . Even more so unconditionally.
This is how Kunyaev “creatively” quotes Chuprinin throughout the course of his article, leading to the conclusion: the work of this critic, as well as the poet about whom he writes, does not deserve the attention of the general reader (as if the “wide” reader himself had not long ago figured out what deserves , and what does not deserve his attention), because it, this creativity, “will not live to see tomorrow.”
Prose writer Oleg Volkov uses somewhat different techniques to prove approximately the same idea in his very belated review of the novel “Berry Places” by E. Yevtushenko. The prose writer, I note, is not bad, but in matters of literary criticism, it seems, he is far from a master. If Kunyaev is concerned with confirming literally each of his thesis with the help of quotes, then Volkov limits himself, so to speak, to emotions.
He didn’t like the novel, and he compares it “with the most prosaic string bag - a female, into which a busy housewife, on a tour of retail outlets, puts purchases in a row, so that a bag of kefir is adjacent to a package from a perfume store, a cellophane chicken lay on a bag of sweets, baked goods are piled up right there, the handle of a frying pan is sticking out, a somehow wrapped bunch of crumpled green onions is turning green...” However, there are also specific complaints. The main one comes down to the fact that the poet “forgot village life and taiga realities”, that “he is not armed enough to artistically depict modern world distant taiga region, that the heart remains cold when remembering him, I that he replaced the novel about taiga inhabitants with reports about the capital’s intelligentsia, foreign sketches, information about this and that...”
Here the premise is already wrong, because to an unprejudiced reader of the novel it is absolutely clear that this is not at all a “novel about taiga people.” The novel “Berry Places,” called by Valentin Rasputin a “propaganda novel,” is built on the principle of panoramic, wide coverage of different aspects of reality, and therefore moving in time and space, connecting additional, side themes, and reportage pieces to the main plot are completely justified. Yes, indeed, “there are no or almost no genuine berry places in the novel, shady urems, mossy hummocks dotted with blueberries or lingonberries,” but these hummocks and yokes could well not have existed at all: the book is simply not about that, and its author is not Prishvin, but Yevtushenko.
Read on. The author of the review notes that the heroes of the novel speak the language of “Russified foreigners,” and not at all the Siberian dialect. In Siberia, as he categorically declares, no one anymore says “lomat” instead of “breaks”, “cho” instead of “what”: “That’s what the Kerzhaks used to say in the old days...” I’ve been to Siberia, and although I didn’t meet any Kerzhaks (i.e., Old Believers) there; at every step I heard “cho” and truncation of verb endings there. And if personal impressions are not an argument in this case, I will turn to the facts. The author of the review illustrates the thesis about the “Russified foreigner” with the following, in his opinion, completely artificial, phrase from the novel: “so that the skis do not rustle on the snow.” Let us turn to the “Dictionary of Russian old-timer dialects of the middle part of the river basin.” Obi". On page 114 of the first volume we read: “We made wide hunting skis: so that the ski did not rustle on the snow, we sewed the skin on.” What happens, Russified foreigners live in the village of Kaftanchikovo, Tomsk region, where this phrase is recorded? It is curious that the reviewer bases his other thesis - that the author of the novel “forgot village life and taiga realities” on the fact that he, they say, “forces ... the hunter to sew “skins” to his skis (and not glue them with fish glue kamuses)..." In the village of Kaftanchikovo, as we see, they would have argued with the reviewer on this score.
You say: little things. But it is precisely on them that the author of the review bases his extremely negative review. If a vigilant editor had removed these “little things” and sorted out the whole pile of claims, there would simply have been nothing left of the review. Not to mention the fact that it would not hurt for him, the editor, to notice that O. Volkov throughout the entire review of the hero of the novel Seryozha Lachugin calls Sergei Lagutin, Kalya - Klasha, and for some unknown reason calls Ivan Kuzmich “old Kerzhak” ( perhaps based on the following phrase from the novel: “Ivan Kuzmich, like many native Siberians, did not believe very much in God...”?)
But where can the editor keep track of this? After all, he is blinded by the very fact of the reprimand: we are so brave, and we were not afraid to go against Yevtushenko. Although, if you remember, from whom only the poet has suffered over the past 25 years!
Or, let’s say, Yuri Gladilshchikov, in an article with the pretentious title “Green Humanoids, or Monologue in Defense of Drama” (however, this article does not “defend” anyone) literally attacks the new plays of Afanasy Salynsky. Alexey Simukov and Lev Korsunsky “It would be possible to shake up another dozen and a half plays... which worthily continue the artistic search for stupidity,” he roughly sums up and then moves on to purely theoretical problems, having apparently decided that he has “shook up” our famous playwrights enough. The work he started was continued by Vladimir Bondarenko and Alexander Bobrov: in their articles they “shook up” the plays of E. Radzinsky, I. Dvoretsky, R. Fedenev (“... other playwrights do not trust a person. Some kind of weak will and feeble-mindedness, passed off as deep moral problems... Or is it simply easier to be the public’s lackey than its driver, its banner?”), and at the same time they scolded a number of our leading theaters: the Moscow Art Theater and the Bolshoi Drama Theater for staging “Amadeus” by P. Schaeffer, “Sovremennik” for interpreting classics . “From the stage of the Moscow Art Theater... it is asserted that Mozart is just a naughty man, an erotomaniac who even manages to throw his girlfriend to the floor at a social reception.” “In the Sovremennik Theater... three sisters are no longer dreaming of Moscow, but of a more earthly, preferably bed, life.” “And in fact, you “giggle” as Anna Andreevna and Marya Antonovna chase after Khlestakov, as a daughter and mother lure him into their arms.” And this is all that V. Bondarenko noticed in serious performances of serious theaters, all that he could say about them.
However, indiscriminate labeling - characteristic feature critical style of this author, who has often appeared recently in Our Contemporary. It’s easy for a critic to casually accuse the parodist A. Ivanov of “deliberately dumbing down O. Fokina’s lines”, of “mocking the meaning of many poems, imposing on them an extremely understated meaning, ideas reduced to the point of outright vulgarity.” However, the critic does not specify which clever lines the poetess has in mind.
By the way, judging by the publications of Our Contemporary, there may not be a greater poet in our country than Olga Fokina. She, as she writes in her article Chief Editor magazine S. Vikulov, learned the “sacred fire of Poetry” from the hands of Pushkin himself, “Pushkin’s torch not only illuminated it, but lit a return fire in it.” "ABOUT. Fokina puts her palm on the strings of her lyre” and begins “to express a socially significant, civically high thought... Her almost unfeminine courage, self-confidence, consciousness of her high duty to the people, and her readiness to share all trials with them are striking.” “The poetess knows how to keep a poem at its height, not lowering it to the level of a craft,” “she openly and proudly expresses her poetic credo,” she has a “well-staged, artistically expressive and therefore exciting, impressive” voice, “ high culture", "and courage and courage, bordering on insolence." "With no one in modern poetry this voice cannot be confused. And in other times, no matter how much you change the records, no matter how hard you listen, you won’t find anything like it. Except maybe Nekrasov...” The author of the article compares Fokina with Nekrasov three times. And here’s what he writes about her language: “... the language of O. Fokina’s poetry is so rich in semantic meaning, is so bright and multi-colored in its artistic meaning, and most importantly - so flexible and dexterous that, using it, the poetess very easily, naturally recreates the speech of her heroes - always figurative, always filled with both social and moral points of view. Understanding full well that such a responsible statement should be supported by examples, S. Vikulov twice (!) quotes this “filled” couplet by Fokina:
See, there's some meat under the dress
They don't fit, they hang.
(Note in passing that good poetess O. Fokina is not responsible for how she is quoted, how and for what she is praised.)
Let's return to V. Bondarenko. He concentrated his fire not only on A. Ivanov. From this critic’s article, the reader learns, for example, that in Viktor Sosnora’s story “Savior of the Fatherland,” “speculatively and anecdotally,” “the entire eighteenth century of Russian history, almost all its glorious representatives, is slandered.” Have you caught your breath, reader? And we will stun you with this message: the Strugatsky brothers, it turns out, persistently pursue the idea that “in the future what awaits us is what happened in the past—unbelief, cynicism, emptiness.” On the basis of which lines of the Strugatskys such a far-reaching conclusion is drawn again remains unknown, for the author, without slowing down, rushes on. And now he is already criticizing the film “Moscow Doesn’t Believe in Tears,” a story by Anatoly Tobolyak, Leonid Reznikov (It is characteristic that V. Bondarenko publishes a derogatory review about this poignant story by L. Reznikov (“The Heart is Not a Stone”) for the fourth time)1, Andrei Molchanov (“Where does such love for petty life come from? It’s easier this way. Grumble, grumble and grumble. Maybe you’ll pass for a fighter against lack of spirituality”), novels “Press Center” by Yu. Semenov, “Department Store” by I. Shtemler, the entire work A. Rusova. All of these, according to the author of the article, are works that demonstrate “a conscious orientation to the taste of a culturally undeveloped person. Or one-sidedly developed. It kind of closes... everything similar works with bourgeois “mass culture”.
This is how the young critic Vladimir Bondarenko delivers slaps in two of his articles at full gallop. He seems to care little about the truth - after all, he leaves his assessments unproven; the main thing is to slap it harder, shout louder, like Gogol’s famous puppy: “Look what a young man I am!”
And if they don’t stand on ceremony with “adult” writers in “Our Contemporary”, then what can we say about the young ones! There's just fluff and feathers flying here. It is worthwhile for the young poet A. Lavrin to use the word “beloved” twice in two lines, like the critic A. Kazintsev in his article “The Beginning of the Path: life experience and diagrams,” having quoted them, he immediately exclaims with pathos: “Isn’t the dictionary too poor?..” Only on the basis that the poetess used the expression “by tomorrow” (M. Kudimova), and the poet (A. Shchuplov) - the words “kiator” and “crew”, the critic concludes that each of them goes against the “rules of the Russian literary language”, “shocks someone’s old-fashioned good manners”. At the same time, it remains completely incomprehensible why the hero of the poem should speak exclusively in standardized literary speech and why was the poet ordered to stylize - after all, the poem “The Silver Wrong Side,” from which the critic so strangely tore out two words, is historical?
Or here is a fragment from a poem by the same A. Lavrin about the Motherland given in an article by A. Kazintsev:
The poet's sacred lyre
She handed it over to the stone walls.
And she gave a voice, but for this
Demanding a soul in return.

Repeating the last verse, the critic exclaims with pathos: “Isn’t it blasphemous to attribute something like this to the Motherland? And what does a poet’s gift mean if he gave his soul? The highest gift that the Motherland bestows on an artist is the soul. Confused, the author turned everything upside down!” At the same time, the critic pretends that he does not know the textbook lines from the Soviet poetic classics: “I will give my whole soul to October and May...” (S. Yesenin). Or from modern poetry: “...My mother bequeathed her to us, and is it a pity to give her a suffering soul?” (V. Kostrov). The young poet’s quatrain may not be entirely successful in form, but still, the desire of his lyrical hero to give his soul to the Motherland is organic for Russian poetry, and there is nothing “blasphemous” in anyone!
These were examples of, so to speak, collective reprimands. But some of the authors actively working in our poetry are given the honor of being criticized in a separate article. Such a fate befell Peter Vegin, to whom A. Kazintsev dedicated the article “The Mechanics of Success, or Individuality of a New Type.” While I agree with some of the assessments contained in this article, I nevertheless cannot accept the very tone in which they were expressed.
Believing that “Vegin’s poetry in itself... cannot become the subject of serious consideration,” Kazintsev nevertheless spends a lot of critical energy and magazine space in order to prove what, according to his own statement, cannot become the subject of serious parsing.
However, its analysis can hardly be called serious. The critic limited his task to the desire to hurt the author about whom he undertook to write, to expose him to as much as possible unsightly, and therefore he does it in deliberately offensive terms.
“Here I should finally put down Vegin’s books and burst out laughing. (Agree, the “laughing” Kazintsev looks no more attractive than the “giggling” Bondarenko. - A.M.) No, it is absolutely impossible to continue to seriously talk about this patchwork quilt as poetry. If this is poetry, then what is beyond it?.. Laugh, and then cheerfully be amazed: you must know what a trickster he is.” In the young critic’s article there is neither an elementary desire to understand the poet (without which why sit down to write a critical article?), nor even a desire to develop his own argument. The weakness of his constructions is evidenced by the fact that he has to refer five (five!) times in his “monograph” about Vegina to one phrase of St. A seedling said about this poet twenty years ago.
What should the “dodger” P. Vegin do after Kazintsev’s article? What do you order the “liar” and “speculator” V. Sosnora, the “dirty” Yevtushenko, Voznesensky and Okudzhava to do? What can “grump-loving” Andrei Molchanov and the other heroes of Bondarenko’s article do? Where should they go, scolded and convicted of almost all mortal sins? To the people's court, or what?
A.P. Chekhov wrote to his brother Alexander: “Please do not print refutations in the newspapers. This is not the job of fiction writers. After all, refuting the newspapers is the same as pulling the devil by the tail or trying to outshout an evil woman... the only case When it is proper for us to print refutations is when we have to stand up for someone. Not for yourself, but for someone else."
I don’t know whether the writers scolded from the pages of “Our Contemporary” knew about these words of Chekhov, but none of them actually came forward with “refutations”. Apparently they considered it beneath their dignity. But it happens that a person cannot stand up for himself for another reason - I mean cases when abuse is heard against those who have already passed away. Alas, this also happens.
The same Stanislav Kunyaev, who more than once, after the death of V. Vysotsky, spoke from the newspaper pages with a sharp condemnation of his work (or rather, his legacy, since we are talking about the deceased), finally received the opportunity to develop his argument on a vast magazine area. What do you think? Did he understand the lyrics to his songs? Or maybe he tried to reveal the mechanism of this unheard-of popularity? (And the notorious “mechanisms of popularity” seem to be especially occupied by the authors of “Our Contemporary” - and precisely those who do not at all have this very popularity.) Nothing of the kind. In the text of a critical article entitled “What are they singing to you?” Instead of all this, there was a statement of the author’s impressions from visiting Vysotsky’s grave at the Vagankovskoye cemetery.
“When you are there,” my friend asked me, “please look to see if one unfamous grave there is still intact - it is about four meters from Vysotsky, but, by the way, look at the photograph...
In the photograph, surrounded by many human legs, a small mound with a half-meter wooden column was visible, on which was written a modest inscription: “Major N. Petrov, died in 1940.”
“I took the photograph a year ago,” my friend continued. “It seems that this grave no longer exists.”
The author of the article goes to the cemetery and, naturally, discovers: “There was trampled all around, flat land. Major Petrov’s grave did not exist.” Of course, the reader may wonder why it was that the anonymous “comrade” of the author of the article suddenly decided to photograph the grave of the unknown Major Petrov and why did he, without having been to the cemetery, confidently assume that it had been trampled? But he is simply not given time to ask these questions and is literally bombarded with a stream of angry tirades: “I cannot imagine that fans of Blok, Tvardovsky, Zabolotsky or Pasternak could allow themselves, out of love for their deity, to indifferently trample on other people’s graves " Here, they say, what kind of moral monsters the deceased raised with his songwriting.
After the publication of the article to the editors of “Our Contemporary”, in “ Literary newspaper“, a lot of letters came to “Youth”. Most readers were indignant at the very formulation of the question. But there were also letters that contained more significant information - in them the very fact of the existence of the grave of “Major Petrov” was disputed. “I, Stanislav Ivanovich Anisimov, was born at M Dekabristskaya st., 2/4, apt. 34, on the territory of the Vagankovsky cemetery in 1935. Our small wooden house stood on the burial site of V.S. Vysotsky. On one side was a row of wooden sheds, on the other side was the cemetery office. I undertake to assert that there were no burials dating back to 1940 in the area of V.S. Vysotsky’s grave within a radius of 5-7 meters. I lived at the Vagankovskoye cemetery from 1935 to 1962.” The letters also contained photographs taken in different years at the place where the grave of “Major Petrov” was supposed to be, but it was not there. There were also official responses in the extensive mail of Our Contemporary. Thus, the specialized consumer services trust under the executive committee of the Moscow City Council reported: “...burials in the 1st section of the Vagankovsky cemetery, where Vysotsky’s grave is currently located, were not carried out in the 40s. The development of this site for burial began in the 60s. Metal plate with the inscription “Major Petrov A.S. ca. 1940" was installed by unknown persons near a birch tree growing nearby in a free place. This sign was removed immediately after its installation in 1982.”
I am far from suggesting that “among the unknown persons” who installed a fake sign at Vysotsky’s grave was the author of the article; perhaps the “comrade” who took the photographs played a cruel joke on him. But events developed further.
Six months after the first publication, a selection of reader letters appeared in Nashe Sovremennik, which came to the magazine in response to Kunyaev’s article. What was in this collection? “I read it with great satisfaction...” “I basically agree with the position...” “I read it with a feeling of satisfaction...” “I read it with satisfaction...” “I hasten to thank the magazine...” Veteran of war and labor N S. Avdykovich writes: “It’s shameful and sad. Of course, such a rabid crowd could trample the grave of Major Petrov..." "This social force“, she is annoyingly impudent,” notes the poet N. Savostin. Teacher Voronezh University O. Razvodova writes: “The trampled grave of Major Petrov next to the grave of the “idol” oppresses me...” And so on...
If in the first case we could still assume that the author of the article and the magazine were misled, then in the second there is a deliberate misleading of readers. For the magazine’s employees already knew that Major Petrov’s grave did not exist next to Vysotsky’s grave, and therefore no one “rabid” could simply trample it.
We have wonderful critics - I could name dozens of names - who work honestly and conscientiously in our literature, supporting everything new, advanced, talented that appears in it, identifying negative trends that slow down, inhibiting its progressive development, doing a lot for for these trends to become obsolete. We can look up to their professional work. There is someone to follow as an example. The style chosen by some authors of the magazine “Our Contemporary” and the magazine as a whole, unfortunately, recalls Rapp’s times. I understand the relativity of this analogy, but still I cannot resist it.
By the way, in one of the recent materials of Our Contemporary, Rapp’s critics were mentioned with obvious condemnation: “Indeed, the desire not to learn, but to teach others, praising only “one’s own” writers and their works..., turning polemics into squabbles and gossip, critical tone , which gave rise to the concept of the “Napostovsky baton”, the lack of a sober assessment of their activities - everything indicated that the Rappovites not only did not assimilate the party’s approach to the development of socialist culture, but openly ignored this approach. Everything spoke of the discrepancy between their intellectual and moral level and the scope and objectives of Soviet art.” Alas, we have to apply these words to a number of recent critical publications of Our Contemporary.
No, I am not against sharply critical articles and reviews. They are needed - otherwise how will we fight against literary defects, opportunism, and ideological speculation? But I am for the objectivity of the criteria and respect for the writer about whom the critic undertakes to judge. This was discussed at the 27th Party Congress; the very reality of our time calls us to this. In order for the chips not to fly even when the forest is being cut down (immoderate glorification and complimentaryness), one, but very significant quality is required from the critic and from the literary critical body: a truly moral attitude towards what is happening in literature, respect for everyone, who works for it, literature.

Late fall.

Heavy leaden giant clouds slowly stretch over St. Petersburg, developing like puffs of smoke and obscuring the last shreds of the sky. The air is damp and cloudy. Sometimes it starts to drizzle, sometimes wet flakes fall on the snow. Newly repainted houses are covered in damp stains and look dull. The streets are filled with impassable mud and wide puddles of water. A sharp wind blows from the sea, never stopping for a minute. It howls ominously and piercingly in the chimneys of houses, in the rigging of ships, in the bare trees of gardens and cemeteries. The Neva, muddy and blackened, makes a gloomy noise and beats madly against the banks, as if trying to break its granite shackles into pieces and flood the city that has emerged from the swamp. The water has risen very high, and the river seems even wider, even more terrible. In the distance, the lonely sounds of cannon shots rush heavily and dully through the air - this is a reminder to the basement dwellers that a terrible enemy is rising against them - a flood, ready to drown their last pitiful belongings. The streets are almost empty, everyone who could has huddled in their, perhaps uncomfortable, but warm corners.

But intensive work is underway on the Neva.

The raftsmen, bathhouse keepers, and dozens of carriers are rushing to tie up the rafts and bathhouses; soldiers and workers carry planks, strengthen ropes, preparing to open bridges; belated barge workers unload the last remnants of firewood and hay; in some places you can still see Chukhon laybs and foreign ships hurrying to sail to Kronstadt; Firemen and sailors are scurrying about on the ships, the machines are being cleaned and inspected; At the Berdov fishing grounds, fishermen lay down nets, carry nets and buckets, and throw away rotten small fish. The blows of axes are heard in the air, the splashing of water under the oars and ropes, shouts are heard: “Give up the rope!”, “Let’s go!”, “Where is it taking you, darling, under the car!” These words, flying out through the hands attached to the mouth in the form of a mouthpiece, sound somehow dull and wild. The hands of the working people are the color of blood; they begin to stiffen, and meanwhile copious sweat, mixed with dirt and soot, rolls from their rough faces, leaving some gray, black and brown stripes, zigzags and spots on the cheeks and foreheads of the workers.

The closer to the mouth of the river, the more people are visible on it, the less restraint, the more haste in the movements and speeches of the workers. Smoky factory and ragged stokers with black faces, men in clumsy sheepskin coats, the Dutch in their tight-fitting trousers and jackets, all this, chilled, wet to the bones, scurry about, hurry, make noise, quarrel here among themselves in various dialects, different languages, and yet all this fuss, all this commotion, all this abuse is translated into a few words that everyone can understand: “We are hungry even in winter!”

Apparently, this mass has closely rallied in one hasty, friendly work, but it is precisely at this moment that it is most divided among itself and in none of its members there is room for a common curiosity that forces two men to peacefully talk about whether Chichikov’s wheel will arrive or not. chaises to Kazan, nor the general compassion that gathers a whole crowd of people to groan over a drowning neighbor. And curiosity, and compassion, and all other feelings were now absorbed by one thought about bread - about bread for oneself and only for oneself. At such moments, it is easiest to die unnoticed in the eyes of hundreds of people.

That’s why no one was interested in the pitiful baroque boat, poorly put together, poorly pitched, and leaking water here and there; she made her way from the seashore, diving heavily over the angry waves and every minute preparing to hide under them. In it, two people were sitting on rotten boards that served as benches. One was about fifty years old, the other was barely nine. The first was wearing a completely threadbare bottle-colored frock coat with patched elbows, ragged cuffs, two bone buttons on the right side and one copper button on the left. The knuckles were placed very far from each other - one at the waist, the other at the collar - and therefore, although the coat was buttoned, there was a large hole between the buttons, into which the wind climbed, like into an open mouth, blowing cold air over the entire body of the owner of this outfit. A dirty checkered paper handkerchief was wrapped around the old man's neck; on his feet were torn, rusty boots with half-fallen patches; the fringes of torn trousers were stuffed into the tops of the boots. The greasy cap was pushed onto the back of the old man's head; shreds were falling out from under it gray hair and the long unshaven face, overgrown with gray stubble, with inflamed eyes, a bluish-purple nose and bluish-purple cheeks, looked gloomily. Perhaps these were traces of many years of drunkenness; maybe these were traces of many years of exposure to the cold. It was difficult to determine from his face whether this man was kind or evil, smart or stupid, cunning or simple-minded. Life has erased from this face the traces of any human feelings; Only one expression of stern savagery remained and seemed to freeze on him, which did not turn into an evil smile or fiery anger. A similar expression is found among pitiful, downtrodden cowards close to cretinism, and among cold villains who have reached the point of brutality. In any case, it is the fruit of a terribly difficult past; This is what old “noble” prisoners look like after a long stay in prison. It cannot be said that the old man’s companion formed a sharp contrast with him, because it was difficult to see him. He was dressed no better than the old man, but warmer. Someone's caring hand put on him a cotton women's jacket with cotton wool and tied his ears with some thick rag of an unknown color and unknown material. Belted with a rope, tied with a rag, wearing a warm hat pulled down over his ears, the child at first glance looked more like a bundle of dirty rags than a person, and could have been mistaken for a girl rather than a boy if one had looked more closely at his small, blue-tinged face. a cold face, looking out with either dumbfounded or sad blue eyes at everything around him. Between the old man and the boy lay a whole pile of wet boards, firewood and wood chips. The boat sat very low in the water, and the waves had more than once splashed both the old man’s frock coat and the boy’s jacket with their spray. The companions had not spoken a word for a long time and rode in deathly silence amid the noise of the waves and the screams of the people working on both banks.

Why are you gaping? Don't you see? - the old man finally muttered in a hoarse and dull voice, shaking his head towards the water.

The boy began to fuss, picked up from the bottom of the boat something like a piece of a hook tied to a rope, and, pointing at something, threw the hook into the water. A moment later he was already dragging a log by the rope, into which the sharp end of the iron was stuck. The boat rocked more.

Water completely to the brim! - the boy muttered in fear, spreading his legs and, apparently, trying to hold the rocking boat with this movement.

You won't drown! - the old man answered through clenched teeth. - In winter, you yourself will begin to howl: “It’s cool, mom, get the devil into the stove!” We know you! Now you’re afraid of drowning, and then you’re afraid of freezing.

The old man spoke evenly, monotonously, without raising or lowering his voice. The boy was silent. They again rode in complete silence. The wind continued to blow. It started to rain. The travelers drove a few more fathoms in a fruitless search for meager booty. Finally the old man was completely exhausted and stopped rowing for a minute. The boat began to turn across the river and quickly drifted back downstream.

Oh, blow those mountains! “And you can’t rest,” the old man said gloomily and took up the oars again. - And what kind of scoundrel is this, your mother! - he muttered, turning to the boy. - There is no need to transplant buttons onto the coat; It’s as if some wind is blowing into the throat, and the copper on the left side is dangling without a path. Katya probably found a jacket to wear for you, but it wouldn’t hurt her father’s fingers. Damned, really, damned! No, that's it! This is the last time I'm working for you. Generate as you please!

0 Starting to understand various sayings and expressions, you come to understand that they contain a deep meaning that is invisible at first glance. Usually the very essence is hidden in an allegorical form. Unfortunately, modern youth are very far from starting to look for the bottom line in such statements. Therefore, we created this resource, to help young people understand the meaning of a wide variety of pearls inherited from our ancestors. Add this site to your bookmarks to always keep your finger on the pulse of history. Today we will touch on one of the most common proverbs in our country, this The forest is being cut down, the chips are flying, which means you can find out a little below.
However, before you continue, take a look at a couple more of our articles on the topic catch phrases and phraseological units. For example, what does it mean, After all, if the stars light up, it means someone needs it; how to understand what we have we do not keep, but when we lose it we cry; the meaning of the expression C'est la vie; which means Burn bridges, etc.
So, let's continue, The forest is being cut down, the chips are flying, what does it mean?

The forest is being cut down, the chips are flying- means that in any business one cannot do without mistakes, problems and troubles.

The forest is being cut down, chips are flying- this statement hints that one should put up with some sacrifices, erroneous actions, side effects, which are inevitable when performing any complex and responsible task.

The meaning of the expression Forest is cut down, chips are flying

First meaning. The point is that here, as in physics, any action generates results in the near future, that is, if there is any cause, then there will be a consequence. True, looking at the saying: The forest is cut down, the chips fly, it cannot be said that it is always positive.
Perhaps you don’t understand at all what we are talking about here, what kind of tree cutting, what kind of wood chips, a picky reader will ask me. The fact is that when wood is harvested, no matter whether it is chopped with an ax, or cut with chainsaws or circular saws, wood waste always appears in the form of chips, shavings, sawdust, etc. Moreover, sometimes, the chips fly off at high speed and have a high kinetic energy, which can cause injury to a person.
From this we can conclude that when people say " The forest is being cut down - the chips are flying", they mean that despite the danger of injury, it is necessary to do an important and necessary thing.

Second meaning. Chips and shavings flying off the tree trunk are a small but unpleasant production cost. You may have thought that " The forest is being cut down, the chips are flying"The meaning is identical to the folk saying" And there would be no happiness, but misfortune helped", which is fundamentally not true. The proverb discussed in this article implies that on the way to the result you need, you will have to endure a lot of all sorts of minor and at the same time unpleasant problems. While the second phraseological unit seems to emphasize that unexpectedly the trouble that arises can lead to a favorable outcome. Unfortunately, our citizens do not particularly understand the meaning of these expressions, often confusing them with each other.

Third meaning. In this case, the chips mean people who found themselves at the wrong time and in the wrong place. Here, the forest usually means the people, and the wood chips mean innocent people who, for no reason at all, fell under the hammer of the government, which is solving its own problems. In 1937, it was important to root out all the Trotskyist underdogs and other enemies of the people, which was promptly accomplished. However, under " batch“Completely innocent people were caught, and they are the chips. As you understand, these were sacrifices for the sake of prosperity, or rather the survival of our country. When military bases are built around us, and millions of people in the EU are put under arms, waiting for the go-ahead, to start killing and slaughtering civilians in the USSR, then no one will look at the fate of one person. This is completely unimportant if the survival of an entire people is at stake, or rather of all nations that depend on the Russians and feed at their expense.
Yes, and also, don’t get confused" The forest is being cut down, chips are flying"with a saying" The further into the forest, the more firewood"The meaning of the second proverb is that every task undergoes many transformations in the process of execution, which is why various surprises appear, and the more you work to solve a given problem, the more delays and delays arise.

After reading this article, you finally figured out what it means The forest is being cut down, chips are flying, and now you can demonstrate your intelligence by quoting this phraseological unit among your friends or acquaintances.

Contains deep meaning. They don't always say things directly. Their essence, as a rule, is revealed in an allegorical form. In this article we'll talk about the proverb “When the forest is cut down, the chips fly.” The meaning of this statement is not that when cutting down a forest, how side effect, splinters are formed.

The meaning of this phrase is much deeper and wiser. We will talk about it in our article.

The meaning of a similar proverb in Dahl's book

It is difficult to say exactly when the expression “When the forest is cut down, the chips fly.” The meaning of this statement in the original source was somewhat different. This proverb was first seen in print in Dahl's book. And she looked a little different. It said that trees were being cut down in the forest, and chips were flying to us. In this regard, its meaning was different. It consisted in the fact that human rumors and rumors spread information about events taking place in the most remote places. The meaning of the proverb “They cut down the forest, the chips fly” is completely different. It would seem that we are talking about the same thing, it’s just that the expression is somewhat paraphrased, but how much changes general essence statements.

The meaning of the proverb “If they cut down a forest, the chips fly”

What is said in the proverb discussed in our article, and what serious meaning is contained in this wise saying? The meaning of the proverb “They cut down the forest, the chips fly” is not in human rumors and rumors. This proverb is, of course, not about logging. The fact that wood chips fly when cutting wood is a fact that no one doubts. In this saying, the conversation is about human destinies and inevitable losses.

When do they say, “They cut down the forest and the chips fly”? We will try to briefly explain the meaning of the proverb. The bottom line is that in any large-scale business there is damage and loss. Unfortunately, there are often innocent human victims. Usually no means are chosen to achieve any great ends. Thousands of innocent people are sacrificed on the altar of victory, and colossal funds and resources are spent. For example: just as it is impossible to cut down a forest without splinters, not a single coup d'état, revolution or war is complete without human sacrifice and material investment.

There is an opinion that I.V. Stalin really liked the meaning of the proverb “They cut down the forest and the chips fly.”

Allegedly, he often used this expression in cases when it came to solving important government problems, for example, building socialism in the country. In his opinion, moral and ethical considerations were inappropriate in this great matter. It was possible to sacrifice something or someone in order to achieve such an important goal. However, there are no reliable sources that would indicate that I.V. Stalin pronounced this particular proverb.

But Lenin really had this expression in mind when he publicly spoke on the topic of bourgeois society. The phrase about cutting down an old forest and each new chip clearly indicates that Vladimir Ilyich was familiar with this proverb and put into his speech the meaning that lies in this wise saying. In those days, a great “cutting of the forest” was really going on. Those “chips” that flew at the same time, and all the events of those crucial days, entered the history of the people, which cannot be erased and forgotten.

Proverbs and sayings similar in meaning

The meaning of the proverb “They cut down the forest, the chips fly” very accurately characterizes many processes occurring in our lives. Not only in Russian there is such an expression. In other countries there are also sayings that testify to the fact that in some cases it is impossible to do without losses. For example, in English language There is a proverb that goes like this: “You can’t cook scrambled eggs without breaking eggs.”

As can be seen from given expression, its meaning echoes our proverb. It also we're talking about about inevitable hardships in certain matters. IN German There is also an analogue of the Russian proverb. It says that where a tree is cut, chips fly there.

Folk wisdom, passed down from generation to generation, never ceases to amaze how clearly and accurately it notes all the phenomena that happen in life. One sentence can describe processes affecting entire nations. The proverb discussed in this article will never become outdated and will not lose its relevance.

1 the forest is being cut down - the chips are flying

[saying]

etc etc):

2 the forest is being cut down - the chips are flying

the forest (firewood) is cut - the chips fly

last

lit. when wood is chopped the chips will fly; cf. you can"t make an omelette without breaking eggs

Let them mow bread and burn wood for their health. I don’t order this and I don’t allow it, but I can’t exact it either. It is impossible without this. They chop wood and the chips fly. (L. Tolstoy, War and Peace)- "Let them cut the crops and burn wood to their hearts" content. I don"t order it or allow it, but I don"t exact compensation either. One can"t get on without it. "When wood is chopped the chips will fly"."

3 The forest is being cut down - the chips are flying

When doing a great job, it is not without sacrificing, hurting someone or damaging something. See Where there is firewood, there are chips (G), Bread is not without crumbs b (U)

Var.: Firewood is being chopped - chips are flying Cf: You cannot make an omelet(te) (pancakes) without breaking eggs (Am. , Br. ). You can"t have an omelette unless you break the eggs (Am. )

4 the forest is being cut down - the chips are flying

1) General subject: you can"t make an omelet without breaking eggs, you can"t make an omelet without breaking eggs

2) Set phrase: if you sell the cow you will sell her milk too, one (you) cannot make an omelet() without breaking eggs, one (you) cannot make an omelet()s without breaking eggs, splinters will fly when the ax you ply, you can"t chop wood without making the chips fly, you can"t make omelet without breaking eggs, you can"t make omelette without breaking eggs, More rubble, less trouble (used in relation to the US war in Iraq) , omelettes are not made without breaking eggs

5 the forest is being cut down and the chips are flying

you can"t make an omelet without breaking eggs

6 The forest is being cut down - the chips are flying

To feel the consequences of others" actions/You can"t make an omelet without breaking eggs

7 The forest is being cut down - the chips are flying

To feel the consequences of others" actions/You can"t make an omelet without breaking eggs

8 the forest is being cut down - the chips are flying

after you have to break the eggs to make an omelet

9 the forest is being cut down - the chips are flying

after≈ you can"t make omelettes without breaking eggs

10 wood is being chopped - chips are flying

THE FOREST WOOD IS CUT - THE CHIPS ARE FLYING

[saying]

⇒ a major undertaking cannot be accomplished without errors, casualties etc(often used to justify the cost paid in lives during political purges etc):

- - you cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs ;

- if you hew trees the chips must fly.

♦ After all, it was the people of the twenties who destroyed values and found formulas that we cannot do without now: a young state, unprecedented experience, the forest is cut down - hats are flying... Each execution was justified by the fact that they were building a world where there would be no more violence, and that’s all sacrifices are good for the sake of the unheard of “new” (Mandelshtam 1). It was, after all, these people of the twenties who demolished the old values and invented the formulas which even now come in so handy to justify the unprecedented experiment undertaken by our young State: you can"t make an omelet without breaking eggs. Every new killing was excused on the grounds that we were building a remarkable "new " world in which there would be no more violence, and that no sacrifice was too great for it (1a).

♦ One order that... Kutuzov made in this report related to the looting of Russian troops... “Let them mow the grain and burn the wood for their health. I do not order this and do not allow it, but I cannot demand it either. Without this it is impossible. When they chop wood, the chips fly" (Tolstoy 6). The only instructions he ... added to the report concerned the looting by Russian troops .."Let them cut down crops and burn wood to their heart"s content! I do not order it, I do not allow it, but neither can I enforce punishment for it. It cannot be helped. If you hew trees the chips must fly" (6a).

What does the proverb mean: the forest is cut, the chips fly. The forest is being cut down, chips are flying - that means? What do flying chips mean?

The meaning of the expression Forest is cut down, chips are flying

The meaning of a similar proverb in Dahl's book

The meaning of the proverb “If they cut down a forest, the chips fly”

Proverbs and sayings similar in meaning

See also in other dictionaries: