Read short children's stories. Short stories for children
Notebooks in the rain
During recess, Marik says to me:
Let's run away from class. Look how nice it is outside!
What if Aunt Dasha is late with the briefcases?
You need to throw your briefcases out the window.
We looked out the window: it was dry near the wall, but a little further away there was a huge puddle. Don't throw your briefcases into a puddle! We took the belts off the trousers, tied them together and carefully lowered the briefcases onto them. At this time the bell rang. The teacher entered. I had to sit down. The lesson has begun. The rain poured outside the window. Marik writes me a note: “Our notebooks are missing.”
I answer him: “Our notebooks are missing.”
He writes to me: “What are we going to do?”
I answer him: “What are we going to do?”
Suddenly they call me to the board.
“I can’t,” I say, “I have to go to the board.”
“How, I think, can I walk without a belt?”
Go, go, I’ll help you,” says the teacher.
You don't need to help me.
Are you sick by any chance?
“I’m sick,” I say.
How's your homework?
Good with homework.
The teacher comes up to me.
Well, show me your notebook.
What's going on with you?
You'll have to give it a two.
He opens the magazine and gives me a bad mark, and I think about my notebook, which is now getting wet in the rain.
The teacher gave me a bad grade and calmly said:
You're feeling strange today...
How I sat under my desk
As soon as the teacher turned to the board, I immediately went under the desk. When the teacher notices that I have disappeared, he will probably be terribly surprised.
I wonder what he'll think? He’ll start asking everyone where I’ve gone - it’ll be a laugh! Half the lesson has already passed, and I’m still sitting. “When,” I think, “will he see that I’m not in class?” And it’s hard to sit under the desk. My back even hurt. Try to sit like that! I coughed - no attention. I can't sit anymore. Moreover, Seryozha keeps poking me in the back with his foot. I couldn't stand it. Didn't make it to the end of the lesson. I get out and say:
Sorry, Pyotr Petrovich...
The teacher asks:
What's the matter? Do you want to go to the board?
No, excuse me, I was sitting under my desk...
Well, how comfortable is it to sit there, under the desk? You sat very quietly today. This is how it would always be in class.
When Goga started going to first grade, he knew only two letters: O - circle and T - hammer. That's all. I didn't know any other letters. And I couldn't read.
Grandmother tried to teach him, but he immediately came up with a trick:
Now, now, grandma, I’ll wash the dishes for you.
And he immediately ran to the kitchen to wash the dishes. And the old grandmother forgot about studying and even bought him gifts for helping him with the housework. And Gogin’s parents were on a long business trip and relied on their grandmother. And of course, they didn’t know that their son still hadn’t learned to read. But Goga often washed the floor and dishes, went to buy bread, and his grandmother praised him in every possible way in letters to his parents. And I read it aloud to him. And Goga, sitting comfortably on the sofa, listened with his eyes closed. “Why should I learn to read,” he reasoned, “if my grandmother reads aloud to me.” He didn't even try.
And in class he dodged as best he could.
The teacher tells him:
Read it here.
He pretended to read, and he himself told from memory what his grandmother read to him. The teacher stopped him. To the laughter of the class, he said:
Do you want me I'd better close it a window to prevent it from blowing.
I'm so dizzy that I'm probably going to fall...
He pretended so skillfully that one day his teacher sent him to the doctor. The doctor asked:
How is your health?
It’s bad,” Goga said.
What hurts?
Well, then go to class.
Because nothing hurts you.
How do you know?
How do you know that? - the doctor laughed. And he slightly pushed Goga towards the exit. Goga never pretended to be sick again, but continued to prevaricate.
And the efforts of my classmates came to nothing. First, Masha, an excellent student, was assigned to him.
Let’s study seriously,” Masha told him.
When? - asked Goga.
Yeah right now.
“I’ll come now,” Goga said.
And he left and did not return.
Then Grisha, an excellent student, was assigned to him. They stayed in the classroom. But as soon as Grisha opened the primer, Goga reached under the desk.
Where are you going? - Grisha asked.
“Come here,” Goga called.
And here no one will interfere with us.
Yah you! - Grisha, of course, was offended and left immediately.
No one else was assigned to him.
As time went. He was dodging.
Gogin's parents arrived and found that their son could not read a single line. The father grabbed his head, and the mother grabbed the book she had brought for her child.
Now every evening,” she said, “I will read this wonderful book aloud to my son.
Grandma said:
Yes, yes, I also read interesting books aloud to Gogochka every evening.
But the father said:
It was really in vain that you did this. Our Gogochka has become so lazy that he cannot read a single line. I ask everyone to leave for the meeting.
And dad, along with grandmother and mom, left for a meeting. And Goga was at first worried about the meeting, and then calmed down when his mother began to read to him from a new book. And he even shook his legs with pleasure and almost spat on the carpet.
But he didn't know what kind of meeting it was! What was decided there!
So, mom read him a page and a half after the meeting. And he, swinging his legs, naively imagined that this would continue to happen. But when mom stopped really interesting place, he became worried again.
And when she handed him the book, he became even more worried.
He immediately suggested:
Let me wash the dishes for you, mommy.
And he ran to wash the dishes.
He ran to his father.
His father sternly told him never to make such requests to him again.
He thrust the book to his grandmother, but she yawned and dropped it from her hands. He picked up the book from the floor and gave it to his grandmother again. But she dropped it from her hands again. No, she had never fallen asleep so quickly in her chair before! “Is she really asleep,” thought Goga, “or was she instructed to pretend at the meeting? “Goga tugged at her, shook her, but grandma didn’t even think about waking up.
In despair, he sat down on the floor and began to look at the pictures. But from the pictures it was difficult to understand what was happening there next.
He brought the book to class. But his classmates refused to read to him. Not only that: Masha immediately left, and Grisha defiantly reached under the desk.
Goga pestered the high school student, but he flicked him on the nose and laughed.
That's what a home meeting is all about!
This is what the public means!
He soon read the entire book and many other books, but out of habit he never forgot to go buy bread, wash the floor or wash the dishes.
That's what's interesting!
Who cares what's surprising?
Tanka is not surprised by anything. She always says: “That’s not surprising!” - even if it happens surprisingly. Yesterday, in front of everyone, I jumped over such a puddle... No one could jump over, but I jumped over! Everyone was surprised except Tanya.
“Just think! So what? It’s not surprising!”
I kept trying to surprise her. But he couldn't surprise me. No matter how hard I tried.
I hit a little sparrow with a slingshot.
I learned to walk on my hands and whistle with one finger in my mouth.
She saw it all. But I wasn't surprised.
I tried my best. What didn’t I do! Climbed trees, walked without a hat in winter...
She still wasn't surprised.
And one day I just went out into the yard with a book. I sat down on the bench. And he began to read.
I didn't even see Tanka. And she says:
Marvelous! I wouldn't have thought that! He reads!
Prize
We made original costumes - no one else will have them! I will be a horse, and Vovka will be a knight. The only bad thing is that he has to ride me, and not me on him. And all because I'm a little younger. True, we agreed with him: he will not ride me all the time. He’ll ride me a little, and then he’ll get off and lead me like horses are led by the bridle. And so we went to the carnival. We came to the club in ordinary suits, and then changed clothes and went into the hall. That is, we moved in. I crawled on all fours. And Vovka was sitting on my back. True, Vovka helped me - he walked on the floor with his feet. But it was still not easy for me.
And I haven't seen anything yet. I was wearing a horse mask. I couldn’t see anything at all, although the mask had holes for the eyes. But they were somewhere on the forehead. I was crawling in the dark.
I bumped into someone's feet. I ran into a column twice. Sometimes I shook my head, then the mask slipped off and I saw the light. But for a moment. And then it's dark again. I couldn't shake my head all the time!
At least for a moment I saw the light. But Vovka saw nothing at all. And he kept asking me what was ahead. And he asked me to crawl more carefully. I crawled carefully anyway. I didn’t see anything myself. How could I know what was ahead! Someone stepped on my hand. I stopped immediately. And he refused to crawl any further. I told Vovka:
Enough. Get off.
Vovka probably enjoyed the ride and didn’t want to get off. He said it was too early. But still he got down, took me by the bridle, and I crawled on. Now it was easier for me to crawl, although I still couldn’t see anything.
I suggested taking off the masks and looking at the carnival, and then putting the masks back on. But Vovka said:
Then they will recognize us.
It must be fun here,” I said. “But we don’t see anything...
But Vovka walked in silence. He firmly decided to endure until the end. Get first prize.
My knees started to hurt. I said:
I'll sit on the floor now.
Can horses sit? - said Vovka. “You’re crazy!” You're a horse!
“I’m not a horse,” I said. “You’re a horse yourself.”
“No, you’re a horse,” Vovka answered. “Otherwise we won’t get a bonus.”
Well, so be it,” I said. “I’m tired of it.”
“Be patient,” said Vovka.
I crawled to the wall, leaned against it and sat on the floor.
You are sitting? - asked Vovka.
“I’m sitting,” I said.
“Okay,” Vovka agreed. “You can still sit on the floor.” Just don't sit on the chair. Do you understand? A horse - and suddenly on a chair!..
Music was blaring all around and people were laughing.
I asked:
Will it end soon?
Be patient,” said Vovka, “probably soon...
Vovka couldn’t stand it either. I sat down on the sofa. I sat down next to him. Then Vovka fell asleep on the sofa. And I fell asleep too.
Then they woke us up and gave us a bonus.
In the closet
Before class, I climbed into the closet. I wanted to meow from the closet. They'll think it's a cat, but it's me.
I was sitting in the closet, waiting for the lesson to start, and didn’t notice how I fell asleep.
I wake up - the class is quiet. I look through the crack - there is no one. I pushed the door, but it was closed. So, I slept through the entire lesson. Everyone went home, and they locked me in the closet.
It's stuffy in the closet and dark as night. I got scared, I started screaming:
Uh-uh! I'm in the closet! Help!
I listened - silence all around.
ABOUT! Comrades! I'm sitting in the closet!
I hear someone's steps. Someone is coming.
Who's bawling here?
I immediately recognized Aunt Nyusha, the cleaning lady.
I was delighted and shouted:
Aunt Nyusha, I'm here!
Where are you, dear?
I'm in the closet! In the closet!
How did you, my dear, get there?
I'm in the closet, grandma!
So I hear that you are in the closet. So what do you want?
I was locked in a closet. Oh, grandma!
Aunt Nyusha left. Silence again. She probably went to get the key.
Pal Palych knocked on the cabinet with his finger.
There’s no one there,” said Pal Palych.
Why not? “Yes,” said Aunt Nyusha.
Well, where is he? - said Pal Palych and knocked on the closet again.
I was afraid that everyone would leave and I would remain in the closet, and I shouted with all my might:
I'm here!
Who are you? - asked Pal Palych.
I... Tsypkin...
Why did you go there, Tsypkin?
I was locked... I didn't get in...
Hm... He's locked up! But he didn’t get in! Have you seen it? What wizards there are in our school! They don't get into the closet when they are locked in the closet. Miracles don’t happen, do you hear, Tsypkin?
How long have you been sitting there? - asked Pal Palych.
Don't know...
Find the key,” said Pal Palych. - Fast.
Aunt Nyusha went to get the key, but Pal Palych stayed behind. He sat down on a chair nearby and began to wait. I saw his face through the crack. He was very angry. He lit a cigarette and said:
Well! This is what prank leads to. Tell me honestly: why are you in the closet?
I really wanted to disappear from the closet. They open the closet, and I’m not there. It was as if I had never been there. They will ask me: “Were you in the closet?” I will say: “I wasn’t.” They will say to me: “Who was there?” I will say: “I don’t know.”
But this only happens in fairy tales! Surely tomorrow they will call your mother... Your son, they will say, climbed into the closet, slept through all the lessons there, and all that... as if it’s comfortable for me to sleep here! My legs ache, my back hurts. One torment! What was my answer?
I was silent.
Are you alive there? - asked Pal Palych.
Well, sit tight, they'll open soon...
I am sitting...
So... - said Pal Palych. - So will you answer me why you climbed into this closet?
Who? Tsypkin? In the closet? Why?
I wanted to disappear again.
The director asked:
Tsypkin, is that you?
I sighed heavily. I simply couldn't answer anymore.
Aunt Nyusha said:
The class leader took the key away.
“Break down the door,” said the director.
I felt the door being broken down, the closet shook, and I hit my forehead painfully. I was afraid that the cabinet would fall, and I cried. I pressed my hands against the walls of the closet, and when the door gave way and opened, I continued to stand in the same way.
Well, come out,” said the director. - And explain to us what that means.
I didn't move. I was scared.
Why is he standing? - asked the director.
I was pulled out of the closet.
I was silent the whole time.
I didn't know what to say.
I just wanted to meow. But how would I put it...
Carousel in my head
By the end school year I asked my father to buy me a two-wheeler, a battery-powered submachine gun, a battery-powered airplane, a flying helicopter and a table hockey game.
I really want to have these things! - I told my father. “They are constantly spinning in my head like a carousel, and this makes my head so dizzy that it is difficult to stay on my feet.”
“Hold on,” said the father, “don’t fall and write all these things on a piece of paper for me so that I don’t forget.”
But why write, they are already firmly in my head.
Write,” said the father, “it doesn’t cost you anything.”
“In general, it’s worth nothing,” I said, “just extra trouble.” And I wrote in capital letters for the whole sheet:
VILISAPET
PISTAL GUN
VIRTALET
Then I thought about it and decided to write “ice cream”, went to the window, looked at the sign opposite and added:
ICE CREAM
The father read it and said:
I'll buy you some ice cream for now, and we'll wait for the rest.
I thought he had no time now, and I asked:
Until what time?
Until better times.
Until what?
Until the next end of the school year.
Yes, because the letters in your head are spinning like a carousel, this makes you dizzy, and the words are not on their feet.
It's as if words have legs!
And they’ve bought me ice cream a hundred times already.
Betball
Today you shouldn’t go outside - today is the game... - Dad said mysteriously, looking out the window.
Which? - I asked from behind my dad’s back.
“Wetball,” he answered even more mysteriously and sat me down on the windowsill.
A-ah-ah... - I drawled.
Apparently, dad guessed that I didn’t understand anything and began to explain.
Wetball is like football, only it is played by trees, and instead of a ball, they are kicked by the wind. We say hurricane or storm, and they say wetball. Look how the birch trees rustled - it’s the poplars that are giving in to them... Wow! How they swayed - it’s clear that they missed a goal, they couldn’t hold back the wind with branches... Well, another pass! Dangerous moment...
Dad spoke just like a real commentator, and I, spellbound, looked at the street and thought that wetball would probably give 100 points ahead to any football, basketball and even handball! Although I didn’t fully understand the meaning of the latter either...
Breakfast
Actually, I love breakfast. Especially if mom cooks sausage instead of porridge or makes sandwiches with cheese. But sometimes you want something unusual. For example, today's or yesterday's. I once asked my mother for an afternoon snack, but she looked at me in surprise and offered me an afternoon snack.
No, I say, I would like today’s one. Well, or yesterday, at worst...
Yesterday there was soup for lunch... - Mom was confused. - Should I warm it up?
In general, I didn’t understand anything.
And I myself don’t really understand what these today’s and yesterday’s ones look like and what they taste like. Maybe yesterday's soup really tastes like yesterday's soup. But what then does the taste of today’s wine taste like? Probably something today. Breakfast, for example. On the other hand, why are breakfasts called that? Well, that is, according to the rules, then breakfast should be called segodnik, because they prepared it for me today and I will eat it today. Now, if I leave it for tomorrow, then it’s a completely different matter. Although no. After all, tomorrow he will already be yesterday.
So do you want porridge or soup? - she asked carefully.
How the boy Yasha ate poorly
Yasha was good to everyone, but he ate poorly. All the time with concerts. Either mom sings to him, then dad shows him tricks. And he gets along well:
- Don't want.
Mom says:
- Yasha, eat your porridge.
- Don't want.
Dad says:
- Yasha, drink juice!
- Don't want.
Mom and Dad are tired of trying to persuade him every time. And then my mother read in one scientific pedagogical book that children do not need to be persuaded to eat. You need to put a plate of porridge in front of them and wait until they get hungry and eat everything.
They set and placed plates in front of Yasha, but he didn’t eat or eat anything. He doesn’t eat cutlets, soup, or porridge. He became thin and dead, like a straw.
-Yasha, eat porridge!
- Don't want.
- Yasha, eat your soup!
- Don't want.
Previously, his pants were difficult to fasten, but now he was hanging out completely freely in them. It was possible to put another Yasha in these pants.
And then one day a strong wind blew. And Yasha was playing in the area. He was very light, and the wind blew him around the area. I rolled to the wire mesh fence. And there Yasha got stuck.
So he sat, pressed against the fence by the wind, for an hour.
Mom calls:
- Yasha, where are you? Go home and suffer with the soup.
But he doesn't come. You can't even hear him. He not only became dead, but his voice also became dead. You can't hear anything about him squeaking there.
And he squeaks:
- Mom, take me away from the fence!
Mom began to worry - where did Yasha go? Where to look for it? Yasha is neither seen nor heard.
Dad said this:
“I think our Yasha was blown away somewhere by the wind.” Come on, mom, we'll take the pot of soup out onto the porch. The wind will blow and bring the smell of soup to Yasha. He will come crawling to this delicious smell.
And so they did. They took the pot of soup out onto the porch. The wind carried the smell to Yasha.
How Yasha smelled it delicious soup, immediately crawled towards the smell. Because I was cold and lost a lot of strength.
He crawled, crawled, crawled for half an hour. But I achieved my goal. He came to his mother’s kitchen and immediately ate a whole pot of soup! How can he eat three cutlets at once? How can he drink three glasses of compote?
Mom was amazed. She didn't even know whether to be happy or sad. She says:
“Yasha, if you eat like this every day, I won’t have enough food.”
Yasha reassured her:
- No, mom, I won’t eat that much every day. This is me correcting past mistakes. I will, like all children, eat well. I'll be a completely different boy.
He wanted to say “I will,” but he came up with “bubu.” Do you know why? Because his mouth was stuffed with an apple. He couldn't stop.
Since then, Yasha has been eating well.
Secrets
Do you know how to make secrets?
If you don't know how, I'll teach you.
Take a clean piece of glass and dig a hole in the ground. Place a candy wrapper in the hole, and on the candy wrapper - everything that is beautiful.
You can put a stone, a fragment of a plate, a bead, a bird feather, a ball (can be glass, can be metal).
You can use an acorn or an acorn cap.
You can use a multi-colored shred.
You can have a flower, a leaf, or even just grass.
Maybe real candy.
You can have elderberry, dry beetle.
You can even use an eraser if it’s pretty.
Yes, you can also add a button if it’s shiny.
Here you go. Did you put it in?
Now cover it all with glass and cover it with earth. And then slowly clear away the soil with your finger and look into the hole... You know how beautiful it will be! I made a secret, remembered the place and left.
The next day my “secret” was gone. Someone dug it up. Some kind of hooligan.
I made a “secret” in another place. And they dug it up again!
Then I decided to track down who was involved in this matter... And of course, this person turned out to be Pavlik Ivanov, who else?!
Then I made a “secret” again and put a note in it:
“Pavlik Ivanov, you are a fool and a hooligan.”
An hour later the note was gone. Pavlik did not look me in the eye.
Well, did you read it? - I asked Pavlik.
“I haven’t read anything,” Pavlik said. - You yourself are a fool.
Composition
One day we were told to write an essay in class on the topic “I help my mother.”
I took a pen and began to write:
"I always help my mom. I sweep the floor and wash the dishes. Sometimes I wash handkerchiefs.”
I didn't know what to write anymore. I looked at Lyuska. She scribbled in her notebook.
Then I remembered that I washed my stockings once, and wrote:
“I also wash stockings and socks.”
I didn’t really know what to write anymore. But you can’t submit such a short essay!
Then I wrote:
“I also wash T-shirts, shirts and underpants.”
I looked around. Everyone wrote and wrote. I wonder what they write about? You might think that they help their mother from morning to night!
And the lesson did not end. And I had to continue.
“I also wash dresses, mine and my mother’s, napkins and bedspreads.”
And the lesson did not end and did not end. And I wrote:
“I also like to wash curtains and tablecloths.”
And then the bell finally rang!
They gave me a high five. The teacher read my essay out loud. She said that she liked my essay the most. And that she will read it at the parent meeting.
I really asked my mother not to go to the parent meeting. I said that my throat hurts. But mom told dad to give me hot milk with honey and went to school.
The next morning at breakfast the following conversation took place.
Mom: Do you know, Syoma, it turns out that our daughter writes essays wonderfully!
Dad: It doesn't surprise me. She was always good at composing.
Mom: No, really! I’m not kidding, Vera Evstigneevna praises her. She was very pleased that our daughter loves to wash curtains and tablecloths.
Dad: What?!
Mom: Really, Syoma, this is wonderful? - Addressing me: - Why have you never admitted this to me before?
“I was shy,” I said. - I thought you wouldn’t let me.
Well, what are you talking about! - Mom said. - Don't be shy, please! Wash our curtains today. It's good that I don't have to drag them to the laundry!
I rolled my eyes. The curtains were huge. Ten times I could wrap myself in them! But it was too late to retreat.
I washed the curtains piece by piece. While I was soaping one piece, the other was completely blurry. I'm just exhausted with these pieces! Then I rinsed the bathroom curtains bit by bit. When I finished squeezing one piece, water from neighboring pieces was poured into it again.
Then I climbed onto a stool and began hanging the curtains on the rope.
Well, that was the worst! While I was pulling one piece of curtain onto the rope, another fell to the floor. And in the end, the whole curtain fell to the floor, and I fell onto it from the stool.
I became completely wet - just squeeze it out.
The curtain had to be dragged into the bathroom again. But the kitchen floor sparkled like new.
Water poured out of the curtains all day.
I put all the pots and pans we had under the curtains. Then she put the kettle, three bottles and all the cups and saucers on the floor. But water still flooded the kitchen.
Oddly enough, my mother was pleased.
You did a great job washing the curtains! - Mom said, walking around the kitchen in galoshes. - I didn’t know you were so capable! Tomorrow you will wash the tablecloth...
What is my head thinking?
If you think that I study well, you are mistaken. I study no matter. For some reason, everyone thinks that I am capable, but lazy. I don't know if I'm capable or not. But only I know for sure that I am not lazy. I spend three hours working on problems.
For example, now I’m sitting and trying with all my might to solve a problem. But she doesn’t dare. I tell my mom:
Mom, I can’t do the problem.
Don’t be lazy, says mom. - Think carefully, and everything will work out. Just think carefully!
She leaves on business. And I take my head with both hands and tell her:
Think, head. Think carefully... “Two pedestrians went from point A to point B...” Head, why don’t you think? Well, head, well, think, please! Well what is it worth to you!
A cloud floats outside the window. It is as light as feathers. There it stopped. No, it floats on.
Head, what are you thinking about?! Aren `t you ashamed!!! “Two pedestrians went from point A to point B...” Lyuska probably left too. She's already walking. If she had approached me first, I would, of course, forgive her. But will she really fit, such a mischief?!
“...From point A to point B...” No, she won’t do. On the contrary, when I go out into the yard, she will take Lena’s arm and whisper to her. Then she will say: “Len, come to me, I have something.” They will leave, and then sit on the windowsill and laugh and nibble on seeds.
“...Two pedestrians left point A to point B...” And what will I do?.. And then I’ll call Kolya, Petka and Pavlik to play lapta. What will she do? Yeah, she'll play the Three Fat Men record. Yes, so loud that Kolya, Petka and Pavlik will hear and run to ask her to let them listen. They've listened to it a hundred times, but it's not enough for them! And then Lyuska will close the window, and they will all listen to the record there.
“...From point A to point... to point...” And then I’ll take it and fire something right at her window. Glass - ding! - and will fly apart. Let him know.
So. I'm already tired of thinking. Think, don’t think, the task will not work. Just an awfully difficult task! I'll take a walk a little and start thinking again.
I closed the book and looked out the window. Lyuska was walking alone in the yard. She jumped into hopscotch. I went out into the yard and sat down on a bench. Lyuska didn’t even look at me.
Earring! Vitka! - Lyuska immediately screamed. - Let's go play lapta!
The Karmanov brothers looked out the window.
“We have a throat,” both brothers said hoarsely. - They won't let us in.
Lena! - Lyuska screamed. - Linen! Come out!
Instead of Lena, her grandmother looked out and shook her finger at Lyuska.
Pavlik! - Lyuska screamed.
No one appeared at the window.
Whoops! - Lyuska pressed herself.
Girl, why are you yelling?! - Someone's head poked out of the window. - A sick person is not allowed to rest! There is no peace for you! - And his head stuck back into the window.
Lyuska looked at me furtively and blushed like a lobster. She tugged at her pigtail. Then she took the thread off her sleeve. Then she looked at the tree and said:
Lucy, let's play hopscotch.
Come on, I said.
We jumped into hopscotch and I went home to solve my problem.
As soon as I sat down at the table, my mother came:
Well, how's the problem?
Does not work.
But you’ve been sitting over it for two hours already! This is just terrible! They give the children some puzzles!.. Well, show me your problem! Maybe I can do it? After all, I graduated from college. So. “Two pedestrians went from point A to point B...” Wait, wait, this problem is somehow familiar to me! Listen, you and your dad decided it last time! I remember perfectly!
How? - I was surprised. - Really? Oh, really, this is the forty-fifth problem, and we were given the forty-sixth.
At this point my mother became terribly angry.
It's outrageous! - Mom said. - This is unheard of! This mess! Where is your head?! What is she thinking about?!
About my friend and a little about me
Our yard was large. There were a lot of different children walking in our yard - both boys and girls. But most of all I loved Lyuska. She was my friend. She and I lived in neighboring apartments, and at school we sat at the same desk.
My friend Lyuska had straight yellow hair. And she had eyes!.. You probably won’t believe what kind of eyes she had. One eye is green, like grass. And the other one is completely yellow, with brown spots!
And my eyes were kind of gray. Well, just gray, that's all. Completely uninteresting eyes! And my hair was stupid - curly and short. And huge freckles on my nose. And in general, everything with Lyuska was better than with me. Only I was taller.
I was terribly proud of it. I really liked it when people called us “Big Lyuska” and “Little Lyuska” in the yard.
And suddenly Lyuska grew up. And it became unclear which of us is big and which is small.
And then she grew another half head.
Well, that was too much! I was offended by her, and we stopped walking together in the yard. At school I didn’t look in her direction, and she didn’t look in mine, and everyone was very surprised and said: “Between the Lyuskas.” black cat ran through,” and pestered us about why we had quarreled.
After school, I no longer went out into the yard. There was nothing for me to do there.
I wandered around the house and found no place for myself. To make things less boring, I secretly watched from behind the curtain as Lyuska played rounders with Pavlik, Petka and the Karmanov brothers.
At lunch and dinner I now asked for more. I choked and ate everything... Every day I pressed the back of my head against the wall and marked my height on it with a red pencil. But strange thing! It turned out that not only was I not growing, but, on the contrary, I had even decreased by almost two millimeters!
And then summer came, and I went to a pioneer camp.
In the camp, I kept remembering Lyuska and missing her.
And I wrote her a letter.
“Hello, Lucy!
How are you? I'm doing well. We have a lot of fun at camp. The Vorya river flows next to us. The water there is blue-blue! And there are shells on the shore. I found a very beautiful shell for you. It is round and with stripes. You'll probably find it useful. Lucy, if you want, let's be friends again. Let them now call you big and me small. I still agree. Please write me the answer.
Pioneer greetings!
Lyusya Sinitsyna"
I waited a whole week for an answer. I kept thinking: what if she doesn’t write to me! What if she never wants to be friends with me again!.. And when a letter finally arrived from Lyuska, I was so happy that my hands even shook a little.
The letter said this:
“Hello, Lucy!
Thank you, I'm doing well. Yesterday my mother bought me wonderful slippers with white piping. I also have a new big ball, you'll really get pumped! Come quickly, otherwise Pavlik and Petka are such fools, it’s no fun to be with them! Be careful not to lose the shell.
With pioneer salute!
Lyusya Kositsyna"
That day I carried Lyuska’s blue envelope with me until the evening. I told everyone what a wonderful friend I have in Moscow, Lyuska.
And when I returned from the camp, Lyuska and my parents met me at the station. She and I rushed to hug... And then it turned out that I had outgrown Lyuska by a whole head.
A funny story about a mischievous deceiver, schoolgirl Ninochka. Story for junior schoolchildren and middle school age.
Harmful Ninka Kukushkina. Author: Irina Pivovarova
One day Katya and Manechka went out into the yard, and there sat on a bench Ninka Kukushkina in a brand new brown school dress, a brand new black apron and a very white collar (Ninka was a first grader, she boasted that she was an A student, but she herself was a D student) and Kostya Palkin in a green cowboy jacket, sandals on bare feet and a blue cap with a large visor.
Ninka enthusiastically lied to Kostya that she had met a real hare in the forest in the summer and this hare made Ninka so happy that he immediately climbed into her arms and did not want to get off. Then Ninka brought him home, and the hare lived with them for a whole month, drinking milk from a saucer and guarding the house.
Kostya listened to Ninka with half an ear. Stories about hares did not bother him. Yesterday he received a letter from his parents saying that perhaps in a year they would take him to Africa, where they were now living and building a dairy canning plant, and Kostya sat and thought about what he would take with him.
“Don’t forget the fishing rod,” thought Kostya. “A trap for snakes is a must... A hunting knife... I need to buy it at the Okhotnik store.” Yes, there's still a gun. Winchester. Or a double-barreled shotgun."
Then Katya and Manechka came up.
- What's this! - said Katya, after hearing the end of the “rabbit” story. “It’s nothing!” Just think, a hare! Hares are nonsense! Here on our balcony already whole year the real goat lives. Call me Aglaya Sidorovna.
“Yeah,” said Manechka. “Aglaya Sidorovna.” She came to visit us from Kozodoevsk. We've been around for a long time goat milk Let's eat.
“Exactly,” said Katya. “Such a kind goat!” She brought us so much! Ten bags of chocolate-covered nuts, twenty cans of goat’s condensed milk, thirty packs of Yubileinoye cookies, and she eats nothing but cranberry jelly, bean soup and vanilla crackers!
“I’ll buy a double-barreled shotgun,” Kostya said respectfully. “You can kill two tigers at once with a double-barreled shotgun... Why specifically vanilla ones?”
- So that the milk smells good.
- They're lying! They don't have any goats! — Ninka got angry. “Don’t listen, Kostya!” You know them!
- Just as it is! She sleeps in a basket at night fresh air. And during the day he sunbathes in the sun.
- Liars! Liars! If a goat lived on your balcony, it would bleat throughout the entire yard!
- Who bleated? For what? - Kostya asked, having managed to immerse himself in thoughts about whether or not to take his aunt’s lotto to Africa.
- And she bleats. You'll hear it for yourself soon... Now let's play hide and seek?
“Come on,” said Kostya.
And Kostya began to drive, and Manya, Katya and Ninka ran to hide. Suddenly a loud goat bleating was heard in the yard. It was Manechka who ran home and bleated from the balcony:
- B-e-e... Me-e-e...
Ninka crawled out of the hole behind the bushes in surprise.
- Kostya! Listen!
“Well, yes, he’s bleating,” said Kostya. “I told you...
And Manya ran back last time and ran to help.
Now Ninka was driving.
This time Katya and Manechka ran home together and began bleating from the balcony. And then they went down and, as if nothing had happened, ran to the rescue.
- Listen, you really have a goat! - said Kostya. “What were you hiding before?”
- She's not real, not real! - Ninka shouted. “They have a groovy one!”
- Here's another one, catchy! Yes, she reads our books, counts to ten and even knows how to speak like a human being. Let's go and ask her, and you stand here and listen.
Katya and Manya ran home and sat down balcony grille and they bleated in one voice:
- Ma-a-ma! Ma-a-ma!
- Well, how? - Katya leaned out. - Do you like it?
“Just think,” said Ninka. - “Mom” every fool can say. Let him read some poem.
“I’ll ask you now,” Manya said, squatted down and shouted to the whole yard:
Our Tanya cries loudly:
She dropped a ball into the river.
Hush, Tanechka, don’t cry:
The ball will not drown in the river.
The old women on the benches turned their heads in bewilderment, and the janitor Sima, who at that time was diligently sweeping the yard, became wary and raised her head.
- Well, isn’t it great? - said Katya.
- Amazing! — Ninka made a sly face. “But I don’t hear anything.” Ask your goat to read poetry louder.
Here Manechka starts screaming obscenities. And since Manya had the right voice, and when Manya tried, she could roar so that the walls shook, it is not surprising that after the poem about the whiny Tanya, people’s heads began to poke out of all the windows with indignation, and Matvey Semyonicheva Alpha, who at this ran around in the yard for a while, barking deafeningly.
And the janitor Sima... There’s no need to talk about her! Her relationship with the Skovorodkin children was not the best anyway. They are sick of Sima to death with their antics.
Therefore, having heard inhuman screams from the balcony of apartment eighteen, Sima rushed straight into the entrance with her broom and began pounding on the door of apartment eighteen with her fists.
And the most mischievous Ninka, pleased that she managed to teach Frying Pans a lesson so well, glanced at the angry Sima, and sweetly said, as if nothing had happened:
- Well done, your goat! Excellent poetry reader! Now I’ll read something to her.
And, dancing and sticking out her tongue, but not forgetting to adjust the blue nylon bow on her head, the cunning, harmful Ninka squealed very disgustingly.
Unfortunately, modern fairy tales, despite their diversity and great amount, do not carry the brilliant semantic load that children's literature of past years can boast of. Therefore, we are increasingly introducing our children to the works of writers who have long established themselves as skilled masters of writing. One of these masters is Nikolai Nosov, known to us as the author of The Adventures of Dunno and His Friends, Mishkina Porridge, Entertainers, Vitya Maleev at School and at Home and other equally popular stories.
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It is worth noting that Nosov’s stories, which can be read by children at any age, are difficult to classify as fairy tales. These are rather artistic narratives about the lives of ordinary boys who, like everyone else in childhood, went to school, made friends with the guys and found adventures in completely unexpected places and situations. Nosov's stories are a partial description of the author's childhood, his dreams, fantasies and relationships with peers. However, it is worth noting that the author was not at all interested in literature, and certainly did not try to write anything for the public. The turning point in his life was the birth of his son. Nosov's fairy tales were born literally on the fly, when a young father lulled his son to sleep, telling him about the adventures of ordinary boys. This is how a simple adult man turned into a writer whose stories have been reread by more than one generation of children.
After some time, Nikolai Nikolaevich realized that writing witty and funny stories about the guys was the best thing he could imagine. The writer got down to business seriously and began publishing his works, which immediately became popular and in demand. The author turned out to be good psychologist and thanks to his competent and delicate approach to the boys, Nosov’s stories are very easy and enjoyable to read. Light irony and wit do not offend the reader in any way; on the contrary, they make you smile once again or even laugh at the heroes of truly living fairy tales.
Nosov's stories for children will seem simple interesting story, the adult reader involuntarily recognizes himself in childhood. It is also pleasant to read Nosov’s fairy tales for the reason that they were written in simple language without sugary dilutions. What can also be considered surprising is the fact that the author was able to avoid ideological implications in his stories, which was the sin of children's writers of that time.
Of course, it is best to read Nosov’s fairy tales in the original, without any adaptations. That is why on the pages of our website you can read all of Nosov’s stories online without fear for the safety of the originality of the author’s lines.
Read Nosov's fairy tales
Entertainers
0+. Translator Irina Trofimova. "Scooter". M., 2017
Stories about the Fox and the Bunny have been published in Holland since 1998: there are more than twenty books in total, five have been translated into Russian. As befits a book from the “I Read by Myself” series, there are very simple texts with short, clear sentences, suitable for those who are just getting used to independent reading. Tae Tong Kin's illustrations are built into the stories, several of them are placed on the page, and this creates the illusion of movement. And the book talks about the most important things - love and friendship. The Fox loves the Bunny (and she is the Fox), the Owl loves the chick Pee-Peep, and no matter how difficult they all sometimes have with each other, love conquers all.
Gudrun Mebs. ““Grandma!” Frieder shouts.”
0+. Translator Vera Komarova. "Scooter". M., 2017
German Gudrun Mebs became an actress at the age of 17, traveled all over the world with her theater troupe and successfully acted in television series until she was forty, and in the 80s she began writing fairy tales and philosophical stories for children and became a popular writer. Her first book about her grandmother and Frieder was published in 1984, her fourth in 2010, and all four were illustrated by Susanna Rotraut Berner, another wonderful children's author. The main characters are five-year-old tomboy Frieder and his incredibly patient grandmother. Each story is structured the same way: Frieder starts something, and then the grandmother cheerfully and wisely sorts out his ideas. He wants to learn to write - she makes him letters from dough, he wants to go on a picnic in the rain - she has a picnic at a bus stop. And this is again about love - more precisely, about the science of listening and understanding another.
Bernard Frio. "Impatient Stories"
6+. Translator Asya Petrova. "CompassGuide". M., 2013
Before becoming a writer and publisher of children's books, the Frenchman Bernard Friot worked for a long time at school and invented together with his students short stories- they form the basis of the five collections of “Impatient Stories”. Brief, absurdist and meaningless at first glance, these stories represent the world through the eyes of a child, when everything needs to be turned upside down, rethought, and then, perhaps, everything will become much better. Like in the story about the teacher who shouted at the children so much (“Quiet!”) that the students caught her, put her in a jar and calmly re-did all their work while she, sitting in the jar, burst into indignation. - mouth. Or about the boy who cleaned his room so well that he cleaned himself too, and his mother had to throw everything back to find her son. A good reminder that the world is not always comprehended and measured by parental rules and that sometimes you can understand it only by turning it inside out.
Christine Nöstlinger. "Stories about Franz"
0+. Translator Vera Komarova. "CompassGuide". M., 2017
Franz grows from book to book: in the first collection he is six, in the final collection, the nineteenth, he is already nine. Each story (there are usually three or four in a book, ten pages each) is some recognizable situation from a child’s life, be it waiting for Christmas gifts or a trip to summer camp, the first meeting with injustice or a sore stomach. As always in such continuation stories, what the hero is is very important. Franz is a charming, a little unlucky, not at all ideal child who can lie and be stupid. And that is why stories about him are truly funny and instructive. No matter what Franz does, no matter what situation he finds himself in, support awaits him big family and true friends, so here we are talking not only about growing up, but also about what Small child shouldn't be lonely.
Jürg Schubiger. "Where is the sea?"
6+. Translator Elena Leenson. "Scooter". M., 2013
In the funny absurdist stories of the German writer Jürg Schubiger, something strange happens or nothing happens. The pigs ask the cows how they can get to the sea. The girl got caught in the rain on a bridge in Hamburg and thought: she herself was wet, but her name remained dry. The boy put on his pants and changed his mind because he was tired. The cow is in love with sorrel. The Sun and Moon created the world so that there was somewhere to direct the rays. One thing unites all these stories important feature: they invariably provoke mental effort, the need to feel someone else’s sadness or love, to take a closer look at the world around them, because in essence these are still very real philosophical parables.
Anastasia Orlova. “I love walking on clouds”
6+. "Egmont". M., 2018
The wonderful children's poetess Anastasia Orlova wrote a series of short stories - no longer than her funny children's poems. Orlova has a remarkable ability to turn any everyday things into a big event. Mom puts on makeup - an event, clouds reflected in a puddle - an event, went for a walk with mom by the hand, tripped and fell on the street - also a whole thing. I drank orange juice - there was a swamp in my stomach, there was a noise in my ears - there was a janitor sweeping up the leaves with a broom. Everything around the child turns out to be alive and important, even his socks.
Socks
I'm sitting in the morning, getting dressed. I take yesterday’s socks, but they are dirty. And they smell somehow impolite - like yesterday’s puddle. And I quickly went to wash my socks with strawberry soap.
Marie-Aude Murail. "Dutch no problem"
6+. Translator Marina Kadetova. "Scooter". M., 2014
French wife Marie-Aude Murail wrote her first stories for children in the 1990s, and today in France she is already known as the author of several dozen books. Her teenage stories “Umnik”, “Oh, boy!” have been published in Russian. and "Miss Charity". Dutch No Problem is a collection of three of her early stories. Short, but very inspiring. In one, a boy who is sent to learn German for the summer invents his own language and speaks it well, in the second, two girls compare New Year's gifts, in the third, a father stays with his four sons for the weekend and doesn't cope well with them. Everything seems simple, but each situation contributes to the writer’s favorite theme: all of us - both adults and children - need to learn to talk to each other, again and again to come up with a “Dutch” language that will help overcome misunderstandings.
Ksenia Dragunskaya. "Angels and Pioneers"
12+. "Time". M., 2018
The new book by Ksenia Dragunskaya very well conveys the confusion of Orthodoxy, patriotism and fear of the Unified State Exam, which has become modern school. But the main thing is not how funny, with her signature absurdist humor, Dragunskaya plays out all this modern children's life, but her willingness to offer an alternative - a family where they are not scolded for grades, robotic schoolchildren who are ready to stand up for their classmates , a grandfather who turns into a watchdog to keep evil teachers out of the door, a school where literature is taught by a writer, and geography by a sea captain.
Maria Bershadskaya. "Big Little Girl"
0+. "CompassGuide". M., 2018
A happy example of a domestic book series for children is 12 stories (for each story there is a separate, generously illustrated book) about a girl, Zhenya, a very ordinary girl, but so tall that her mother has to stand on a stool to braid her hair. The metaphor here is understandable: Zhenya may look very big, but inside she is still growing, and Bershadskaya’s stories are dedicated precisely to this internal growth. 12 books are a year in Zhenya’s life. She bakes a cake for dad's birthday, walks the dog, goes to the village, waits for the New Year: the simplest things always turn into funny adventures. Or thoughts, including about very difficult things: is it possible to think about a holiday when grandfather is sick? Which direction should you go if you are completely lost in the forest? And what to do if someone abandoned a dog on the street?
Stanislav Vostokov. “Do not feed or tease!”
6+. "Egmont". M., 2017
Stanislav Vostokov is a very talented writer and a true animal lover. He worked at the Moscow and Tashkent zoos, as well as at the Darrel Nature Conservation Center on the island of Jersey, and participated in the construction of a rehabilitation center for gibbons in Cambodia... But the point is not in a romantic biography, but in that special the ironic and loving intonation with which he writes his stories about animals and people. “Do not feed or tease!” - his most famous book, stories of a Moscow Zoo attendant: short portraits and sketches of monkeys and capi-bars, as well as hippos that are not there.
Where's the hippopotamus?
Visitors often ask:
-Where is your hippopotamus? Why is there no hippopotamus?
But there is no hippopotamus. And you begin to feel very uncomfortable about such an omission, as if you didn’t bring the hippopotamus from Africa.
The visitors shake their heads reproachfully:
- What do you have to look at here if there is no hippopotamus? Not for monkeys.
- Why not monkeys? - you answer. - Just like monkeys. After all, some of them are also from Africa. And they probably saw a hippopotamus there!
Bart Muyart. "Brothers"
12+. Translator Irina Mikhailova. "Scooter". M., 2017
In Belgium, Bart Muyart is one of the most famous writers, the author of more than forty books, the winner of numerous awards. And so far only his “Brothers,” a collection of stories about his childhood in Bruges in the late 1960s, have been translated into Russian. There are seven brothers, and they are tirelessly interested in everything. Is it true that the whistle in your ear is the echo of dancing on your future grave? How does a pipe help dad think? Can you get sick if you put an onion in your armpit? And did the king himself really drive in the royal car to give the youngest of the brothers silver spoons? Time in these stories flows slowly - so that both the characters and the reader can look at the world around them and discover that everything in it is worth a separate story and is full of meaning.
Victor Lunin. "My beast"
12+. "Beringa". M., 2015
Victor Lunin is a poet, translator and writer, holder of an Andersen diploma for translations of children's poetry, author of the story “The Adventures of Butter Liza.” “My Beast” are stories about animals that the author met at different points in his life: a moose in the forest, a cat in the kitchen, a nightingale in the country - simple, like table stories or family anecdotes. A simple, but surprisingly pleasant book in its unpretentiousness.
Asya Petrova. "Wolves on Parachutes"
12+. "Black River". SPb., 2017
Writing for teenagers is much more difficult than writing for middle schoolers, to whom most modern children's stories are addressed. Partly because teenagers instantly and acutely sense falsehood. In this collection of Asya Petrova, the honesty is almost stunning. The experiences of the growing hero are conveyed with utmost precision: these are stories about how you are afraid of death, how fantasies become more life, how difficult it is to trust another, how joy is inseparable from suffering, and how it is always easier to believe in tragedy than in happiness. And in each story there is not a bland moral, but a life lesson, something that makes it possible to move on.
Arthur Givargizov. “Control dictation and ancient Greek tragedy”
6+. "Melik-Pashayev". M., 2017
In fact, it is completely impossible to choose the best one from Givargizov’s books, because they are all a cure for boredom and sadness. And the point is not only that they are easy to read and very funny (you start laughing from the very first pages). For the reader, tormented by school, work, parents and other toe-to-toe behavior, a real festival of disobedience is organized here. This is a liberating laughter that knows no hierarchies, does not strive for education and some kind of “pedagogy”, which is already abundant everywhere. It is not surprising that Givargizov is especially good at books about school: “Notes of an Outstanding Loser,” “Test Dictation and Ancient Greek Tragedy,” “Flight of an Airplane by Music,” “How the School Principal Disappeared.” But he also makes kings and generals, pirates, and pensioners very charming, not without weaknesses and passions.
Irina Zartaiskaya. "The best age"
6+. "Egmont". M., 2018
Irina Zartayskaya’s stories are ideal for parents who are worried about the pedagogical safety of children’s reading: no hooligans are welcome here, and the poor students are somehow unconvincing, too cute. In fact school life The author is not that interested in her stories; the main thing in her stories is family. The most traditional: mom is always in the kitchen, and dad is at work. And in this immutability of all positions one can see the guarantee of the permanence of the world. Now you can play linguistic games in it (what if instead of breakfast there is today’s or yesterday’s?), argue with puddles and go to school in tights and T-shirts, because content is more important than form.
Mikhail Esenovsky. "The Ultimate Spy Question"
0+. "Egmont". M., 2017
Writer and poet Mikhail Yesenovsky continued the absurdist tradition of Russian literature, using it for almost therapeutic purposes. In “The Main Spy Question,” a very brave boy Yura enters into wonderfully funny dialogues with things that he is afraid of: a crocodile under the bed, a skeleton behind the curtain, a grandfather’s portrait on the wall. And, of course, with the spy torturing Yura with the main spy question: “Who do you love more - mom or dad?” Of course, laughter overcomes fear - as in the sequel “Tasty Yura”, where the hero conducts his absurdist conversations with a fox and a jerboa who are about to eat him. And in “Anginina Marina” Yura always gets sick with something, and even in rhyme:
“The sick Yura is not in good health: he doesn’t walk during the day, and doesn’t sleep at night, and doesn’t hear through his nose, and doesn’t breathe through his ears, and his heel shoots, and his neck creaks.”
Nikolai Nazarkin. “Emerald fish. Mandarin Islands"
6+. "Egmont". M., 2018
The subtitle of the book is “Ward Stories”: these are stories about children for whom the hospital has become an everyday occurrence. The book is partly autobiographical: Nazarkin grew up diagnosed with hemophilia and was in the hospital much more often than at school. The inhabitants of the wards dream of fishing, beg each other for sausages, exchange toys, weave fish from drip filters, and the real trouble here is when the brilliant green has disappeared from the ward and the fish from the filters cannot be painted emerald. new color. Nazarkin does not embellish hospital life, namely that he does not see tragedy in it. More precisely, it is not the tragedy that interests him: everyday drips, ECGs, doctor’s rounds and waiting for packages from home become only the background for a strong boyish friendship. It’s just that these boys are real knights, and “a knight must face his fate.”
Sergey Georgiev. "Tamer of Lilac Hippos"
0+. "Egmont". M., 2017
For many years happy years In children's literature, the writer Sergei Georgiev polished his stories to absolute brevity. Some literally consist of one line: “Remember: a horse in apples is not a culinary recipe.” And it is not only linguistic virtuosity that is impressive, but the ability to create a three-dimensional picture with one movement. A few phrases - and you see a fifth-grader meowing in music class, or a third-grader examining chocolate candy under a magnifying glass to make it bigger. These stories can be retold as anecdotes, but their main task is to make the gears of even the laziest fantasy turn rapidly.
Oleg Kurguzov. "Our cat is an alien"
0+. "Egmont". M., 2017
For his first book of short stories, “The Sun on the Ceiling. Stories of a Little Boy,” published in 1997, Oleg Kurguzov received the international prize named after Janusz Korczak. Since the late 1980s, he has been the editor of children's publications: from the magazine “Tram” to the newspaper “Little Cart”, which he himself invented. In 2003, his last book, “Our Cat is an Alien,” was published, and in 2004 Kurguzov passed away. And what a pity that he did not live to see the current heyday of children's literature! “Our Cat is an Alien” is a book about a family in which everything is extraordinary: dad flies and crawls with his son, the goat turns into a dog, and the horse comes to visit for cleaning. And also a book about love, because this strange family with a cat is an example of complete harmony.
Sergey Makhotin. "The Grunt Virus"
6+. "Detgiz". M., 2014
Sergei Makhotin is the author of novels, poems, stories, historical stories— in 2011, he became a laureate of the Korney Chukovsky Prize “for outstanding creative achievements in domestic children’s literature.” The “Grunt Virus” itself received the “ Scarlet Sails” and an international diploma named after Andersen, and yet finding this book is not at all easy - but it’s definitely worth it. “The Grumbling Virus” is the story of the inhabitants of one house, inspired, according to the author, by his childhood in St. Petersburg. The stories in the collection are both fabulous - for example, about a hairdresser who bewitched a girl's braids so that whoever pulls them immediately shrinks - and piercingly realistic. For example, about two classmates who were sent to visit a third one, but it turned out that he was not ill, but went to Boston, and what was left was a grandmother, a skinny cat on a branch outside the window, and a melancholy feeling of broken conversations. Makhotin knows better than many others how to show that life can be both surprisingly easy and strangely sad.
Alexander Blinov. "The House That Went"
12+. "Scooter". M., 2018
Alexander Blinov is a graphic artist, architect and aircraft designer who just a few years ago began writing stories for children. Blinov already has six wonderful books, and in all of them - be they fairy tales, as in “The Moon Who Loved Eclairs”, or autobiographical stories, as in “Pure Lies” - you feel some incredible freedom . No boundaries, no constriction and worn-outness, a full tramcar, inside of which a seven-story building could fit, which suddenly decided to go on a journey on foot. Paris - Berlin - Vienna - Rome and beyond everywhere. But in the end, the house still returns, having fled from Hollywood to the New Khodilovo microdistrict. In these stories, Blinov perfectly managed to convey the feeling of a man of the world, equally at home in Italy and Israel and, to the same extent, frivolously alien.