How wonderful it is when a person loves his job so much that he doesn’t need days off, because he enjoys what he does. This idea is well reflected in the book by the Strugatsky brothers, “Monday Begins on Saturday,” and this applies not only to its title. Writers transfer to unusual world, in which Soviet reality merged with fairy world, it turned out interesting and unconventional. It has its own language, a dictionary of terms that may not be clear to people from the real world.
During a trip to visit friends, programmer Alexander meets two hunters. They can help him stay overnight. When Roman and Vladimir find out that Sasha is a programmer, they make him a strange but interesting offer - to work at NIICHAVO. In this place they study magic and search for answers to the most difficult questions. Sasha learns about the existence of another world, where there are talking cats, huts on chicken legs, spells, movements, clones and much more. Most of the research institute's employees are completely immersed in the work they love, and those who are idle are betrayed by their ears. Experiments are carried out here, some are looking for happiness, others are looking for the meaning of life, relying on their centuries-old experience of communicating with people. And people, in fact, are always looking for the same thing.
The book consists of three parts of equal meaning that complement each other. There is a lot of unconventional humor in the novel, and the fantastic component captivates you from the first pages. Thanks to the author's terminology, detailed descriptions The reader, together with the hero, learns more and more about the new world. It seems that you yourself are gradually becoming an employee of NIICHAVO. The novel contains both satire and allegories, bureaucracy is ridiculed and consumer attitude to life and to people. Thus, the book will become a good fairy tale with deep meaning for both teenagers and adults.
On our website you can download the book “Monday begins on Saturday” by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, Dimitry Churakov for free and without registration in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format, read the book online or buy the book in the online store.
I am amazed at the imagination of science fiction writers. Their thinking, their ideas.
Sasha Privalov, a programmer, willy-nilly of fate, turns out to be an employee of NIICHAVO. And plunges into the world of magic, wizardry and madness (for me).
The first part conveys well the theme that in such a world there is a law. And they are required to comply with it. And you won’t surprise the police and ordinary people with all sorts of magical and magical things. Everyone is equal to the law. Law is law. And Alexander Privalov comes across as a man who uses the magic that has fallen on him exclusively as an experiment and observation. He is wildly interested in understanding how this works, in figuring it out. Perhaps these qualities allow him to become an employee of the miracle institute. He was interested and curious to get to the bottom of it. He quickly stopped being surprised by everything and tried to understand what and how.
In the second part of the book there is a topic consumption, consumption by society. A person who only consumes ends up metaphorically exploding, although in the book he does so physically. The idea is also conveyed that a person can begin to satisfy his spiritual needs only after satisfying his material assets. And what more people satisfied materially, the more he has to master spiritual values. In that regard, I liked this idea. I sincerely believe that people who themselves have earned a lot of money are not too developed spiritually.
And in this same part, the theme of the media is conveyed, which flock to news about the ideal consumer.
I also saw an interesting thing: many employees of the institute came to work in New Year, although it was strictly prohibited, this is what obsession and interesting work means. People who are creative interesting work are ready to work on holidays for free, I mean that they clearly do not value their work solely as a means of earning money, but also as development, interest, goal, ambition. One of the employees even sent his “double” to visit his family for the holiday, while he himself went to work; many would have probably done the opposite. Also, these people did not like the resurrection, and saw the purpose and meaning of life in “work”, continuous improvement, constant learning and worked for the benefit of society, tried to understand the meaning of life, tried to help people.
In the third part of the book, I was most surprised by how powerfully the imagination and thinking of the book’s authors work and how primitive we all sometimes think. By the end of the book, Alexander Privalov, whom everyone perceives as a newcomer to the institute, manages to understand and solve an interesting problem. He succeeded precisely because he could think so broadly and not be limited only by his experience. Bravo Alexander, bravo authors. By the end of the book, the authors suffered (in in a good way words) so much that they tried to explain their vision of the “Tunguska meteorite” event
In general, the book “accelerates” thinking very well and makes us think that we are in our own closed space, we think and think in a very primitive way. Everything is possible.
A. Strugatsky, B. Strugatsky
MONDAY STARTS ON SATURDAY
But what’s strangest, what’s most incomprehensible of all, is how authors can take such plots, I admit, it’s completely incomprehensible, that’s for sure... no, no, I don’t understand at all.
N.V. Gogol
STORY ONE
Fuss around the sofa
CHAPTER FIRST
TEACHER: Children, write down the sentence: “The fish was sitting on the tree.”
STUDENT: Do fish really sit on trees?
TEACHER: Well... It was a crazy fish.
School joke
was approaching my destination. Around me, clinging to the road itself, the forest was green, occasionally giving way to clearings overgrown with yellow sedge. The sun had been setting for an hour, but still could not set and hung low above the horizon. The car was rolling along narrow road, covered with crispy gravel. I threw large stones under the wheel, and every time empty cans clanged and rumbled in the trunk.
To the right, two people came out of the forest, stepped onto the side of the road and stopped, looking in my direction. One of them raised his hand. I let off the gas, looking at them. It seemed to me that they were hunters, young people, maybe a little older than me. I liked their faces and stopped. The one who raised his hand stuck his dark, hook-nosed face into the car and asked, smiling:
Can you give us a lift to Solovets?
The second one, with a red beard and no mustache, also smiled, looking over his shoulder. Positively, these were nice people.
Let's sit down, I said. - One forward, one back, otherwise I have junk there, in the back seat.
Benefactor! - the hook-nosed man said joyfully, took the gun off his shoulder and sat down next to me.
The bearded man, looking hesitantly into the back door, said:
Can I have a little bit of that here?..
I leaned over the back and helped him clear the space occupied by a sleeping bag and a rolled-up tent. He sat down delicately, placing the gun between his knees.
Close the door better,” I said.
Everything went as usual. The car started moving. The hook-nosed man turned back and started talking animatedly about how much more pleasant it was to ride in a car than to walk. The bearded man vaguely agreed and slammed and slammed the door. “Pick up a raincoat,” I advised, looking at him in the rearview mirror. “Your cloak is pinched.” After about five minutes everything finally settled down. I asked: “Ten kilometers to Solovets?” “Yes,” answered the hook-nosed one. - Or a little more. The road, however, is not good for trucks.” “The road is quite decent,” I objected. “They promised me that I wouldn’t pass at all.” “You can drive along this road even in the fall.” - “Here, perhaps, but from Korobets it’s unpaved.” - “This year the summer is dry, everything has dried up.” “They say it’s raining near Zatonya,” noted the bearded man in the back seat. "Who is speaking?" - asked the hook-nosed one. "Merlin speaks." For some reason they laughed. I took out my cigarettes, lit them and offered them a treat. “Clara Zetkin’s factory,” said the hook-nosed man, looking at the pack. -Are you from Leningrad? - "Yes". - “Are you traveling?” “I’m traveling,” I said. “Are you from here?” “Indigenous,” said the hook-nosed man. “I’m from Murmansk,” said the bearded man. “For Leningrad, probably, Solovets and Murmansk are one and the same: the North,” said the hook-nosed man. “No, why not,” I said politely. “Will you be staying in Solovets?” - asked the hook-nosed one. “Of course,” I said. “I’m going to Solovets.” - “Do you have relatives or friends there?” “No,” I said. - I'll just wait for the guys. They are walking along the shore, and Solovets is our rendezvous point.”
I saw a large scattering of stones ahead, slowed down and said: “Hold on tight.” The car shook and jumped. The hook-nosed man bruised his nose on the barrel of a gun. The engine roared, stones hit the bottom. “Poor car,” said the hunchbacked one. “What should I do...” I said. “Not everyone would drive their car down this road.” “I would go,” I said. The scattering is over. “Oh, so this is not your car,” the hunchback-nosed one guessed. “Well, where did I get the car from? This is a rental." “I see,” said the hook-nosed man, as it seemed to me, disappointed. I felt offended. “What’s the point of buying a car to drive on asphalt? Where there is asphalt, there is nothing interesting, and where it is interesting, there is no asphalt.” “Yes, of course,” the hook-nosed man politely agreed. “It’s stupid, in my opinion, to make an idol out of a car,” I said. “Stupid,” said the bearded man. “But not everyone thinks so.” We talked about cars and came to the conclusion that if we were to buy anything, it would be a GAZ-69, an all-terrain vehicle, but, unfortunately, they don’t sell them. Then the hook-nosed man asked: “Where do you work?” I answered. “Colossal! - exclaimed the hook-nosed man. - Programmer! We need a programmer. Listen, leave your institute and come to us!” - “What do you have?” - “What do we have?” - asked the hook-nosed one, turning around. “Aldan-3,” said the bearded man. “Rich car,” I said. - And does it work well? - “How can I tell you...” - “I see,” I said. “Actually, it hasn’t been debugged yet,” said the bearded man. “Stay with us, fix it…” “And we’ll arrange a translation for you in no time,” added the hook-nosed one. "What are you doing?" - I asked. “Like all science,” said the hunchbacked one. “Human happiness.” “I see,” I said. - Anything wrong with space? “And with space too,” said the hook-nosed one. “They don’t seek good from good,” I said. “A capital city and a decent salary,” the bearded man said quietly, but I heard. “No need,” I said. “You don’t have to measure it with money.” “No, I was joking,” said the bearded man. “He’s joking like that,” said the hook-nosed man. “You won’t find anywhere more interesting than ours.” - "Why do you think so?" - "Sure". - “I’m not sure.” The hook-nosed grinned. “We will talk about this topic later,” he said. “Will you stay in Solovets for a long time?” - “Two days maximum.” - “We’ll talk on the second day.” The bearded man said: “Personally, I see the finger of fate in this - we were walking through the forest and met a programmer. I think you're doomed." - “Do you really need a programmer that much?” - I asked. “We desperately need a programmer.” “I’ll talk to the guys,” I promised. “I know people who are dissatisfied.” “We don’t need just any programmer,” said the hunchbacked one. “Programmers are a people in short supply, they have become spoiled, but we need someone who is not spoiled.” “Yes, it’s more complicated,” I said. The hook-nosed man began to bend his fingers: “We need a programmer: a - not spoiled, be - a volunteer, tse - to agree to live in a hostel...” - “De,” the bearded man picked up, “for a hundred and twenty rubles.” - “What about wings? - I asked. - Or, say, a glow around the head? One in a thousand!" “But we only need one,” said the hook-nosed one. “What if there are only nine hundred of them?” - “We agree nine-tenths.”
The forest parted, we crossed the bridge and drove between potato fields. “Nine o’clock,” said the hook-nosed man. -Where are you going to spend the night? - “I’ll spend the night in the car. What time are your stores open until? “Our stores are already closed,” said the hook-nosed man. “We can go to the hostel,” said the bearded man. “I have a free bed in my room.” “You can’t drive up to the hostel,” said the hook-nosed man thoughtfully. “Yes, perhaps,” the bearded man said and for some reason laughed. “The car can be parked near the police,” said the hook-nosed man. “Yes, this is nonsense,” said the bearded man. - I talk nonsense, and you follow me. How will he get to the hostel?” “Yes, yes, damn it,” said the hook-nosed one. “Really, if you don’t work for a day, you forget about all these things.” - “Or maybe transgress him?” “Well, well,” said the hunchbacked one. - This is not a sofa for you. And you are not Cristobal Junta, and neither am I..."
“Don’t worry,” I said. - I’ll spend the night in the car, not the first time.
I suddenly really wanted to sleep on the sheets. I've already slept in a sleeping bag for four nights.
Listen,” said the hook-nosed man, “ho-ho!” From inside the knife!
Right! - exclaimed the bearded man. - It’s in Lukomorye!
By God, I’ll spend the night in the car,” I said.
“You will spend the night in the house,” said the hunchbacked one, “in relatively clean linen.” We must thank you somehow...
“It’s not a good idea to shove fifty kopecks at you,” said the bearded man.
We entered the city. There were old strong fences, powerful log houses made of giant blackened logs, with narrow windows, carved frames, and wooden cockerels on the roofs. I came across several dirty brick buildings with iron doors, the sight of which brought the semi-familiar word “storage sheds” out of my memory. The street was straight and wide and was called Prospekt Mira. Ahead, closer to the center, two-story cinder block houses with open gardens could be seen.
“Next lane to the right,” said the hook-nosed man.
I turned on the turn signal, slowed down and turned right. The road here was overgrown with grass, but a brand new Zaporozhets was standing close to some gate. House numbers hung above the gates, and the numbers were barely visible on the rusty tin of the signs. The lane had an elegant name: “St. Lukomorye". It was not wide and sandwiched between heavy ancient fences, probably erected back in the days when Swedish and Norwegian pirates roamed here.
Monday starts on Saturday . Very light book Strugatsky brothers
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Title: Monday starts on Saturday
About the book “Monday Begins on Saturday.” A very bright book The Strugatsky Brothers
Most of us associate the word “Monday” exclusively with the beginning of a new working week. Many of us, hearing this word, involuntarily wince, thinking about how much else there is to do in the next few days... But we really want to relax... So, in the book by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky “Monday Begins on Saturday” everything is just the opposite ! And today this seems even more fantastic than an irredeemable nickel or talking animals. This book was included for a reason. However, you can see this for yourself.
You can download “Monday Begins on Saturday” at the bottom of the page in epub, rtf, fb2, txt format.
Main character - a common person, whose life at one point turned into a real magic show. Personally, this world somehow reminds me of the works of Bulgakov, because there is a talking cat and Vibegallo (the name reminds me of Azazello, doesn’t it?), the witch Stella (and for Mikhail Afanasyevich - Gella). The Strugatskys talk about everything magical so simply, as if we're talking about about the most ordinary things. And it’s addictive...
The abbreviation NIICHAVO seems to be nothing :). It's just that the name is hidden underneath it. scientific institution, where real enthusiasts work. For them, Monday just begins on Saturday; in other words, they do not need rest, because work is their life. They love what they do, enjoying the very process of creating new knowledge. This is real fantasy, isn't it?
Of course, in the world of hard workers, there are also malingerers. But these are very easy to spot: their ears give them away. A kind of ideal little world, more reminiscent of a bright dream of the Soviet era than today's realities. It’s even a pity that the future turned out to be completely different from what our parents and grandparents imagined.
“Monday Begins on Saturday” is also great humor. Believe me, jokes as good as those in this book are rare today. Although the Strugatskys did not write only to make the reader laugh. Their book is about what society will become if each of us stops thinking only about ourselves. That real magic is created not with a wand, but kind hearted and a bright mind.
“Monday Begins on Saturday” is a book filled with positivity and faith in people and the future. It is worth reading for everyone, and especially for hard times, when you need to find a magical resource to recharge your soul.
On our website about books you can download the site for free without registration or read online book"Monday starts on Saturday." A very light book The Strugatsky Brothers in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot pleasant moments and a real pleasure to read. Buy full version you can from our partner. Also, here you will find last news from literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers there is a separate section with useful tips and recommendations, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.
Quotes from the book “Monday Begins on Saturday.” A very bright book The Strugatsky Brothers
Communication with girls is a pleasure only in those cases when it is achieved through overcoming obstacles...
Only he will achieve his goal who does not know the w-word “fear”...
“What’s the point of buying a car to drive on asphalt? Where there is asphalt, there is nothing interesting, and where it is interesting, there is no asphalt.”
Rank, beauty, wealth,
All the pleasures of this life,
They fly, weaken, disappear,
Behold decay, and happiness is false!
Infections gnaw at the heart,
But you can’t hold on to fame...
In a deep niche from which an icy stench emanated, someone groaned and rattled chains. “You stop this,” I said sternly.
I felt stupid. There was something humiliating in this determinism that doomed me, independent person with free will, for completely definite deeds and actions that now do not depend on me. And it was not at all about whether I wanted to go to Kitezhgrad or not. Now I could neither die, nor get sick, nor be capricious (“even to the point of being fired!”), I was doomed, and for the first time I understood the terrible meaning of this word. I always knew that it was bad to be doomed, for example, to execution or blindness. But to be doomed even to the love of the most glorious girl in the world, to the most interesting trip around the world and it turns out that a trip to Kitezhgrad (where, by the way, I’ve been eager to go for three months) can also be extremely unpleasant. Knowledge of the future appeared to me in a completely new light...
As long as addressing you as “you” is disharmonious with your emotional rhythm, I am ready to be content with any address that is rhythmic to you.
And they accepted the working hypothesis that happiness lies in the continuous knowledge of the unknown and the meaning of life lies in the same. Every person is a magician at heart, but he becomes a magician only when he begins to think less about himself and more about others, when working becomes more interesting to him than having fun in the ancient sense of the word. And probably them working hypothesis was not far from the truth, because, just as work turned a monkey into a man, in the same way the lack of work turned into a much more short time turns a man into a monkey. Even worse than hitting a monkey.
Facts are always enough; imagination is not enough.
The only difference between Time and any of the three spatial dimensions is that our consciousness moves along it.
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