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Дом
«Дом» – это совместный проект издательства «Клаудберри», литературного агентства «Банке, Гумен и Смирнова» и благотворительной организации «Ночлежка».
Издательство собрало под одной обложкой 24 рассказа замечательных современных авторов.
Издательство собрало под одной обложкой 24 рассказа замечательных современных авторов.
396 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2021
11 people are currently reading
181 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
February 24, 2021
Чудесно! Обожаю короткую прозу, а тут такой цветник под одной обложкой.
May 7, 2021
Тёплые и живые рассказы
July 22, 2021
Как оценить сборник рассказов? Не знаю :) Даю оценку идее и наиболее понравившемуся. (Если ориентироваться по наименее - получилась бы двоечка, вот такой разброс!).
August 24, 2021
Хороший сборник: разные жанры, разные стили. Не очень понятно, что тут делает отрыв из детектива Акунина, дом там ну очень притянут за уши.
И у Степновой опять какие-то патологические отношения между родственниками и всё такое многословное. Но вообще, хорошо.
И у Степновой опять какие-то патологические отношения между родственниками и всё такое многословное. Но вообще, хорошо.
July 21, 2021
Авторы все очень почётные и талантливые, тексты - щемящие душу, но особенно хочется отменить работу редактора и корректора: ни одной ошибки, ни одной опечатки не встречено! Браво!
January 10, 2022
One of the best collections of short stories I’ve read. If you can get your hands on this, please do. Out of favorites, I can list Горбунова, Юзефович, Водолазкин, Шульман (a wonderful essay on Urban Planning), Рубинштейн, Сапрыкин.
Out of the bad I can only name Быков, unfortunately. The essay just flows with pretentiousness - as does he in many ways.
A translation of the Gorbunova piece, fun and short:
"The Abruptness and Inexplicability of Life"
⁂
Beatty, my grandmother’s sister, with whom we lived in one apartment, slowly squeezed me and my first husband Dennis out of our home. She made our stay at this home unbearable. Every morning I’d wake up to hear how she’d talk shit about me in the kitchen. Once I prepared soup, and while I was cooking this soup, she kept coming up to me to ask, “Would you let me have some soup?” I told her, of course you can, and as soon as it was done, I served her some soup. And then she brought one hundred rubles and kept shoving it into my hands. I refused for a long time, but she kept shoving and shoving the cash and, on top of all of this, she was shaking. She had schizophrenia, and she shook because of her medication. Finally I took the money, to avoid her having a fit. But as soon as I took the money, Beatty ran to my mother and started complaining that I take money from her, a poor pensioner, just to let her have some soup. Then I went to Beatty, and before her eyes, I tore those hundred rubles into small pieces . And things like this happened constantly. Once the door to the bathroom got stuck while Beatty was in there, and even though we immediately got her out, Beatty claimed that we locked her in there on purpose. The last straw was when she called her friend in front of us, and complained that we wanted to force her out of the apartment. After this, Dennis said that he wouldn’t stay in the apartment one more minute. He gathered a bag and left, and I followed suit. We went to our friends and lived with them at first. I gathered money from relatives and rented a one room apartment on the Fontanka river for three months from an acquaintance of an acquaintance for a small sum. We couldn’t afford to rent for longer, but after three months, summer would start, and I could move to the dacha, and Denis could return to his homeland in Krasnoyarsk. And what we would do later - we would figure out later.
The apartment on the Fontanka river was in the Dom Kapustina, a former revenue house near Lermontov boulevard and the hotel Azymuth. The room was on the first floor. Once, in May, we left for a few days to visit the dacha, and when we returned - we found shit all over the floor, cat shit to be specific. It was true that in the courtyard there were cats, but we left the windows and doors closed, and when we returned, they were still closed, so the shit appeared out of nowhere. When I told this story to my philosopher friend Alexander Sekatsky, he was impressed and said that this story about the abrupt and inexplicable appearance of a bunch of shit was a good reflection of the essence of life.
And the issue regarding the need to rent quarters solved itself by the fall. During the summer, Beatty passed away - my mother found her, upon returning from the dacha, drowned and cooked in the boiling water of the bathtub.
Out of the bad I can only name Быков, unfortunately. The essay just flows with pretentiousness - as does he in many ways.
A translation of the Gorbunova piece, fun and short:
"The Abruptness and Inexplicability of Life"
⁂
Beatty, my grandmother’s sister, with whom we lived in one apartment, slowly squeezed me and my first husband Dennis out of our home. She made our stay at this home unbearable. Every morning I’d wake up to hear how she’d talk shit about me in the kitchen. Once I prepared soup, and while I was cooking this soup, she kept coming up to me to ask, “Would you let me have some soup?” I told her, of course you can, and as soon as it was done, I served her some soup. And then she brought one hundred rubles and kept shoving it into my hands. I refused for a long time, but she kept shoving and shoving the cash and, on top of all of this, she was shaking. She had schizophrenia, and she shook because of her medication. Finally I took the money, to avoid her having a fit. But as soon as I took the money, Beatty ran to my mother and started complaining that I take money from her, a poor pensioner, just to let her have some soup. Then I went to Beatty, and before her eyes, I tore those hundred rubles into small pieces . And things like this happened constantly. Once the door to the bathroom got stuck while Beatty was in there, and even though we immediately got her out, Beatty claimed that we locked her in there on purpose. The last straw was when she called her friend in front of us, and complained that we wanted to force her out of the apartment. After this, Dennis said that he wouldn’t stay in the apartment one more minute. He gathered a bag and left, and I followed suit. We went to our friends and lived with them at first. I gathered money from relatives and rented a one room apartment on the Fontanka river for three months from an acquaintance of an acquaintance for a small sum. We couldn’t afford to rent for longer, but after three months, summer would start, and I could move to the dacha, and Denis could return to his homeland in Krasnoyarsk. And what we would do later - we would figure out later.
The apartment on the Fontanka river was in the Dom Kapustina, a former revenue house near Lermontov boulevard and the hotel Azymuth. The room was on the first floor. Once, in May, we left for a few days to visit the dacha, and when we returned - we found shit all over the floor, cat shit to be specific. It was true that in the courtyard there were cats, but we left the windows and doors closed, and when we returned, they were still closed, so the shit appeared out of nowhere. When I told this story to my philosopher friend Alexander Sekatsky, he was impressed and said that this story about the abrupt and inexplicable appearance of a bunch of shit was a good reflection of the essence of life.
And the issue regarding the need to rent quarters solved itself by the fall. During the summer, Beatty passed away - my mother found her, upon returning from the dacha, drowned and cooked in the boiling water of the bathtub.
February 15, 2022
ДОМ: cборник рассказов в поддержку "Ночлежки"- это, если я правильно помню, 22 рассказа от разных авторов (и я всех их знаю! это было приятно, что авторы которых я читаю написали рассказы в поддержку). Хочу бумажную версию, иначе никак нельзя.
December 18, 2021
Получилась неплохая антология современной (в основном -) прозы.
February 7, 2022
Прекрасная книга. Чувственная. Многие произведения зацепили за живое. Прочлась на одном дыхании.
March 17, 2021
Невероятно тронули рассказы Марины Степновой и Людмилы Улицкой, и — обожаю такое — великолепная форма скетча Ксении Букши, заигрывающая с читателем (я, конечно же, всегда поддаюсь и верю в такие штуки, — естественно я с удовольствием помогла двумерному человеку построить домик)) Чудесный сборник!
January 10, 2021
Уезжаю от книжки с недочитанными пятью рассказами. Из успетого рекомендую Веру Полозкову, Дину Рубину, Евгения Водолазкина, Евгению Тимонову, Леонида Юзефовича, Марину Степнову, Михаила Шишкина, Наринэ Абгарян
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews