Officer's belt

The worst thing for a drunkard is to wake up in a hospital bed. Not yet fully awake, you mutter:

All! I'm tying it! Tying forever! More - not a single drop!

And suddenly you find a thick gauze bandage on your head. You want to touch the bandages, but it turns out that your left hand is in a cast. Etc.

All this happened to me in the summer of 1963 in the south of the Komi Republic.

A year before that, I was drafted into the army. I was enrolled in the camp guard. He graduated from the twenty-day school of overseers under Sindor ...

Even earlier, I had been boxing for two years. Participated in republican competitions. However, I don’t remember that the coach told me at least once:

Well, that's it. I'm calm for you.

But I heard this from the instructor Toroptsev at the school supervision staff. After three weeks of classes. And despite the fact that it was not boxers who threatened me in the future, but repeat offenders ...

I tried to look around. Sun spots were yellow on the linoleum. The bedside table was filled with drugs. There was a wall newspaper at the door - Lenin and Health Care.

It smelled of smoke and, oddly enough, algae. I was in the medical unit.

The head, tied with a bandage, ached, I felt a deep wound above the eyebrow. The left hand did not work.

My tunic hung on the headboard. There should have been cigarettes. Instead of an ashtray, I used a jar of some kind of ink solution. I had to keep the matchbox in my teeth.

Now it was possible to recall the events of yesterday.

In the morning I was struck off the escort list. I went to the foreman:

What happened? Am I entitled to a day off?

It’s like that, ”says the foreman,“ you can rejoice… The zack is mad in the fourteenth barrack. He barks, crows ... He bit the cook aunt Shura ... In short, you will take him to the mental hospital on Iossera. And then the whole day is free. Weekend type.

When should I go?

Right now.

Why - one? Together, as expected. Take Churilin or Gayenko ...

I found Churilin in the tool shop. He fiddled with a soldering iron. Something crackled on the workbench, spreading the smell of rosin.

I do the soldering, - said Churilin, - jewelry work. Look.

I saw a brass badge with an embossed star. The inside of it was covered with tin. A belt with such a soldering turned into a formidable weapon.

At that time we had a fashion - the Chekists got themselves leather officer belts. Then they covered the badge with a layer of tin and went to the dances. If there was a massacre, brass plaques flashed over their heads ...

I say:

Get ready.

What?

We are taking the psycho to Yosser. Some prisoner went crazy in the fourteenth barrack. By the way, he bit aunt Shura.

Churilin says:

And he did the right thing. Apparently he wanted to eat. This Shura takes government oil home. I have seen.

Come on, I say.

Churilin cooled the badge under the tap and tightened the belt;

Go…

We got weapons, we go on watch. About two minutes later the inspector brings in an unshaven, fat prisoner. He rests and shouts:

I want a beautiful girl, an athlete! Give me an athlete! How long should I wait ?!

The controller answered without irritation:

At least six years. And then, if released ahead of schedule. You have a group business.

The zack paid no attention and continued to shout:

Give me, you bastards, a sportswoman-ranked! ..

Churilin looked at him closely and nudged me with his elbow:

Hey, how crazy is he ?! Normal person. At first he wanted to eat, but now give him a woman. Yes, even a discharger ... A man with taste ... I would also not mind ...

The inspector gave me the documents. We went out onto the porch. Churilin asks:

What's your name?

Doremifasol, - answered the prisoner.

Then I told him:

If you are really crazy, please. If you're pretending, that's okay. I am not a doctor. My business is to take you to Yosser. The rest doesn't bother me. The only condition is not to overplay. If you start biting, I'll shoot you. And you can bark and crow as much as you like ...

We had to go about four kilometers. There were no passing timber trucks. Captain Sokolovsky took the camp chief's car. They say he left to take some exams at Inta.

In short, we had to walk. The road led through the village, to the peat bogs. From there - past the grove, to the very crossing. And behind the crossing began the camp towers of Yosser.

In the village near the store, Churilin slowed down his steps. I handed him two rubles. There was no need to fear the patrolmen during these hours.

Zack clearly approved of our idea. He even shared with joy:

My name is Tolik ...

Churilin brought a bottle of Moskovskaya. I put it in my breeches pocket. It remains to be patient until the grove.

The zack remembered his insanity every now and then. Then he got down on all fours and growled.

I advised him not to waste energy. Save them for medical examination. And we won't give him away.

Churilin spread a newspaper on the grass. He took some cookies from his pocket.

We drank in turn, from the neck. The zack hesitated at first:

The doctor can smell it. It will be somehow unnatural ...

Churilin interrupted him:

And barking and crowing - naturally? .. You eat sorrel, and that's all.

The zack said:

Convinced ...

The day was warm and sunny. Changeable light clouds stretched across the sky. At the crossing, timber trucks hummed impatiently. A bumblebee vibrated above Churilin's head.

The vodka started to work, and I thought: “It's good to be free! Now I will be demobilized and will walk the streets for hours. I'll go to a cafe on Marat. I'll smoke on a bench near the Duma building ... "

I know that freedom is a philosophical concept. It is not interesting for me. After all, slaves are not interested in philosophy. Go wherever you want - that's what freedom is! ..

My drinking companions talked amicably. The zack explained:

My head is out of order. Again, the gases ... If in all conscience, they should all be freed. Write off outright due to illness. They write off outdated equipment.

Churilin interrupted him:

Head is out of order ?! Was it enough to steal the mind? According to your documents, you have group theft. What have you stolen, I wonder?

Zack shyly waved it off:

Nothing special ... Tractor ...

One-piece tractor ?!

And how did you kidnap him?

Very simple. From the plant of reinforced concrete products. I acted on psychology.

Like this?

I went to the plant. I got into the tractor. Tied an iron barrel from under the grease. I'm going to watch. The barrel rumbles. The guard appears: "Where are you taking the barrel?" I answer: "For personal need." - "Do you have any documents?" - "No". - "Untie it to the edren hair dryer" ... I untied the barrel and drove on. In general, psychology worked ... And then we disassembled this tractor for parts ...

Churilin slapped the prisoner on the back with delight:

You are an artist, dad!

The zack humbly confirmed:

The people respected me.

Churilin suddenly got up:

Long live labor reserves!

And took a second bottle out of his pocket.

By this time, our glade was illuminated by the sun. We moved into the shade. We sat down on the fallen alder.

Churilin commanded:

Go!

It was hot. Zack unbuttoned to the waist. A gunpowder tattoo was visible on his chest:

“Faina! Do you remember the golden days ?! "

And next to it is a skull, a Finn and a jar with the inscription "poison" ...

Churilin suddenly became drunk. I didn't even notice how it happened. He suddenly became gloomy and quiet.

I knew the barracks were full of neurasthenics. This inevitably leads to service in the protection. But it was Churilin who seemed to me relatively healthy.

I remembered only one crazy trick behind him. We then drove zzkov to the felling. We sat by the stove in a wooden booth, warmed up, talked. Naturally, they drank.

Churilin went outside without a word. I got a bucket somewhere. I filled it with diesel fuel. Then he climbed onto the roof and dumped the fuel into the pipe.

The room was filled with fire. We barely got out of the booth. Three were burned.

But it was a long time ago. And now I tell him:

Calm down…

Churilin silently took out a pistol. Then we heard:

Stand up! A two-man brigade is placed at the disposal of the convoy! If necessary, the convoy uses weapons. Prisoner Cholodenko, go ahead! Corporal Dovlatov - follow him! ..

I continued to calm him down:

Wake up. Come to your senses. And the main thing is to hide the pistol.

The zack was surprised in the camp:

What the hell is the ban?

Churilin, meanwhile, lowered the safety catch. I walked towards him, repeating:

You just drank too much.

Churilin began to back away. I kept walking towards him, avoiding sudden movements. He repeated something incoherent out of fear. I even remember smiling.

But the prisoner did not lose his presence of mind. He shouted cheerfully:

Business - even get under the bunk! ..

I saw a felled alder behind Churilin's back. He didn't have much time to back up. I ducked. He knew that, falling, he could shoot. And so it happened.

Rumble, crackling of dead wood ...

The pistol fell to the ground. I kicked him aside.

Churilin got up. Now I was not afraid of him. I could lay him down from any position. And the prisoner was there.

I saw Churilin take off his belt. I didn’t understand what that meant. I thought he was adjusting his tunic.

In theory, I could shoot him, or at least wound him. We were on a mission. So to speak, in a combat situation. I would be acquitted.

Instead, I moved towards him again. Intelligence hurt me even when I was boxing.

As a result, Churilin dropped the badge on my head.

Most importantly, I remember everything. I have not lost consciousness. I didn't feel the blow itself. I saw that blood was flowing onto my pants. So much blood that I even put my hands up. I stand, and the blood flows.

Thank you for at least the prisoner not at a loss. Took the belt from Churilin. Then he tied my forehead with the torn sleeve of my shirt.

Here Churilin, apparently, began to think. He clutched his head and, sobbing, walked towards the road.

His pistol lay in the grass. Next to empty bottles. I told the prisoner:

Raise ...

Now imagine an expressive picture. A Chekist walks ahead, sobbing. Further - an abnormal prisoner with a pistol. And the corporal with a bloody bandage on his head closes the procession. And a military patrol is on the way. "GAZ-61" with three machine gunners and a hefty wolfhound.

I wonder how they didn't shoot my prisoner. They could well have given a turn on it. Or set the dog on.

When I saw the car, I passed out. Volitional centers have refused. And the heat has finally worked. I only managed to warn that the prisoner was not to blame. And who is to blame - let them figure it out for themselves.

In addition, I broke my arm while falling. More precisely, he did not break, but damaged. I have a crack in my forearm. I also thought - this is absolutely unnecessary.

The last thing I remember was the dog. Sitting next to me, she yawned nervously, opening her purple mouth ...

A loudspeaker started working over my head. A buzz came from there, followed by light clicks. I pulled out the plug without waiting for the solemn sounds of the anthem.

I suddenly remembered a forgotten childhood feeling. I am a schoolboy, I have a temperature. I am allowed to skip classes.

I'm waiting for a doctor. He will sit on my bed. Look down my throat. Say: "Well, young man." Mom will look for a clean towel for him.

I am sick, happy, everyone pity me. I shouldn't wash myself with cold water ...

I waited for the doctor to appear. Churilin appeared instead. He looked through the window and sat down on the windowsill. Then he walked towards me. He looked pleading and mournful.

I tried to kick him in the scrotum. Churilin retreated slightly and began, falsely wringing his hands:

Seryoga, I'm sorry! I was wrong ... I repent ... I sincerely repent ... I acted in a state of effect ...

Affect, - I corrected.

Especially…

Churilin stepped carefully in my direction:

I wanted to joke ... For a laugh ... I have no complaints about you ...

Still, - I say.

What could I tell him? What can you say to a security guard who uses Hygiene Lotion only internally? ..

I asked:

What's with our prisoner?

Order. He went crazy again. All morning he sings: "Wide is my native country." Tomorrow he has an examination. So far he is in the isolation ward.

And I, naturally, in the guardhouse. That is, in fact, I am here, but in principle - in the guardhouse. There my fellow countryman is on duty ... I have business with you.

Churilin took another step and spoke quickly:

Seryoga, I'm dying, baked! On Thursday, a friendly court!

Over whom?

Yes, above me. You, they say, crippled Seryoga.

Okay, I'll say that I have no complaints. That I forgive you.

I already said that you forgive me. This, they say, does not matter, the cup of patience is overflowing.

What can I do?

You are educated, think of something. As they say, wrap the toadstool. Otherwise these bitches will hand over the papers to the tribunal. This means three years of disbat. A disbat is worse than a camp. So help out ...

He grimaced, trying to cry:

I'm the only son ... My brother is in prison, my sisters are married ...

I say:

I don't know what can be done here. There is one option ...

Churilin perked up:

I will ask a question in court. I will ask: "Churilin, do you have a civilian profession?" You will answer: "No". I will say: “Why should he steal after demobilization? Where are the promised courses for chauffeurs and bulldozers? Why are we worse than a regular army? " Etc. Here, of course, there will be noise. Maybe they'll bail you.

Churilin perked up even more. He sat down on my bed, repeating:

Well, head! This is the head! In principle, you can not work with such a head.

Especially, - I say, - if you pound on it with a brass plate.

It's a matter of the past, - said Churilin, - everything is forgotten ... Write me what I have to say.

I told you everything.

Now write. Otherwise, I will immediately get confused.

Churilin handed me a stub of a chemical pencil. Then he tore off a piece of the wall newspaper:

I carefully deduced: "No."

What do you mean - "No"? - he asked.

You said: "Write me what to say." So I write: "No." I will ask a question in court: "Do you have a civilian profession?" You will answer: "No". Then I will tell you about the driver's courses. And then the noise starts.

So I only say one word - no?

Seems Yes.

Not enough, - said Churilin.

It is possible that you will be asked other questions.

I don't know.

What will I answer?

Depending on what they ask.

What will they ask me? About?

Well, let's say: "Do you admit your guilt, Churilin?"

And what will I answer?

You will answer: "Yes."

You can answer: "Yes, of course I admit it and I deeply regret it."

That's better. Write it down. First write the question, and then my answer. Write questions normally, answers in square letters. So that I do not confuse ...

We sat with Churilin until eleven. The paramedic wanted to kick him out, but Churilin said:

Can I visit my comrade in arms ?!

As a result, we wrote a whole drama. There were dozens of questions and answers. Moreover, at the insistence of Churilin, I marked in brackets: "Cold", "pensive", "confused".

Then they brought me lunch: a bowl of soup, fried fish and jelly.

Churilin was surprised:

And the food here is better than in the guardhouse.

I say:

Would you like it the other way around?

I had to give him jelly and fish.

After that we parted. Churilin said:

At twelve my countryman leaves the guardhouse. After him some crest is on duty. I have to be there.

Churilin went to the window. Then came back:

I forgot. Let's change belts. Otherwise they will add a term to me for this badge.

He took my soldier's belt. And he hung his own on the bed.

Lucky you. - says - mine is made of genuine leather. And a badge with soldering. Blow - and a man off the hooves!

Yes, I know ...

Churilin went to the window again. I turned around again.

Thank you, - he says, - I will never forget.

And got out through the window. Although he could have walked through the door.

It's good that he didn't take away my cigarettes ...

Three days have passed. The doctor told me that I got off lightly. That I just got a scratch on my head.

I wandered around the territory of the military town. I spent hours in the library. Sunbathed on the roof of the wood-burning warehouse.

I tried twice to enter the guardhouse. Once a Latvian of the first year of service was on duty. Immediately raised the machine gun. I wanted to hand over the cigarettes, but he shook his head.

In the evening I went in again. This time a familiar instructor was on duty.

Come in, - he says, - you can even spend the night there.

And he rattled the keys. The door opened.

Churilin played borax with three other prisoners. The fifth watched the game with a sandwich in hand. Orange peels were scattered on the floor.

Hi, - said Churilin, - don't bother me. Now I will put them on four points.

I gave him the Belomor.

And a drink? Churilin asked.

One could envy his insolence.

I stood for a minute and left.

The next morning lightning bolts were pasted everywhere: “Open Komsomol meeting of the division. Friendly court. The personal file of Vadim Tikhonovich Churilin. Attendance is required. "

Some conscript passed by.

For a long time, he says, it's time. They were wild ... What's going on in the barracks is a terrible thing ... Wine flows from under the door ...

Sixty people gathered in the clubhouse. The Komsomol Bureau was located on the stage. Churilin was seated on the side, near the banner. We were waiting for Major Afanasyev to appear.

Churilin looked absolutely happy. Maybe he was on stage for the first time. He gestured and waved to his friends. By the way, he also waved to me.

Major Afanasyev took the stage:

Comrades!

Gradually, silence fell in the hall.

Comrades warriors! Today we are discussing the personal case of Private Churilin. Private Churilin, along with Corporal Dovlatov, was sent on a responsible mission. On the way, Private Churilin got drunk like a zyuzya and began to commit irresponsible actions. As a result, corporal Dovlatov was injured, by the way, the same, I apologize, mud-ring ... If only they were ashamed of the prisoner ...

While the major was saying all this, Churilin beamed with pleasure. Once or twice he combed his hair, twirled in a chair, touched the banner. Obviously, I felt like a hero.

The major continued:

In this quarter alone, Churilin spent twenty-six days in the guardhouse. I'm not talking about booze - for Churilin, it is like snow in winter. I'm talking about more serious crimes like fighting. It seems that communism has already been built for him. If you don't like someone's face - hit it in the face! So everyone will start swinging their fists! Do you think I don't want to hit someone's face?!. In general, the cup of patience is overflowing. We must decide whether Churilin remains with us or his papers will go to the tribunal. This is a serious matter, comrades! Let's start! .. Tell us, Churilin, how it all happened.

Everyone looked at Churilin. A crumpled piece of paper appeared in his hands. He turned it around, looked at it and whispered something soundlessly.

Tell me, - repeated Major Afanasyev.

Churilin looked at me in confusion. Something, apparently, we have not foreseen. Missing something in the script.

Don't keep yourself waiting!

I have nowhere to rush, - said Churilin.

He darkened. His face grew more angry and sullen. But irritation grew in the Major's voice too. I had to stretch out my hand:

Let me tell you.

Set aside, - shouted the major, - you yourself are good!

Yeah, - said Churilin, - here ... I wish ... this ... to enter the bulldozer courses.

The major turned to him:

What does it have to do with courses, your mother's leg! He got drunk, you know, he crippled a friend, now he dreams of courses! .. Do you accidentally want to go to college? Or to the conservatory? ..

Churilin glanced at the piece of paper again and said gloomily:

Why are we worse than a regular army?

The major choked with rage:

How long will this last ?! They go to meet him - he is his own! They tell him "tell me" - he doesn't want to! ..

Yes, there is nothing to tell here, - Churilin jumped up, - just think, what a saga about Forsytes! .. Tell me! Tell me! What is there to tell ?! Huli, you bitch, are you eating my baldness ?! I can tickle you too! ..

The major grabbed his holster. Red spots appeared on his cheekbones. He was breathing heavily. Then he regained control of himself:

Everything is clear to the court. The meeting is closed!

Churilin was taken by the hands of two conscripts. I, taking out cigarettes, went to the exit ...

Churilin received a year of a disciplinary battalion. I was demobilized a month before his release. I never saw the crazy prisoner either. This whole world has disappeared somewhere.

And only the belt is still intact.

The collection of stories "Suitcase", authored by Sergei Dovlatov, has become one of the best works of Russian literature. A summary of S. Dovlatov's stories can be found in this article. What the author writes about, hiding the meaning behind lines, becomes really important problems of our time.

The main character, around whom the description unfolds, decides to move to America. Strange, but he does not take with him any things, bags and other things. The main character has only a small suitcase with him. When he arrives at the apartment, he puts the suitcase aside and forgets about its existence. Only a few years later, the main character opens the suitcase, and what does he find there? An ironed suit, a few pairs of nice socks, a winter hat, a carefully ironed shirt, and a bright jacket. Touching every thing, the main character plunges into the memories that the garments carry.

Speaking about the summary of Sergei Dovlatov's "Suitcase", it must be said that it is not capable of conveying all the emotions and feelings that the author put into his work. Reading the work in detail is recommended.

Finnish crepe socks

The main character got socks because of his financial problems. One of his acquaintances, who worked in a factory, offered his help to the man: the main character only needed to buy several pairs from a dealer, which could then be resold at twice the price. A man tired of poverty agrees, realizing that this is his only way out of such a situation. When he buys socks and is already deciding who can sell them to, Soviet factories abruptly fill up the counters of all stores with exactly the same product, only several times cheaper than the main character wanted to sell it. This is how an expensive and scarce commodity suddenly became unnecessary and accessible.

Named Boots

The protagonist began working in a working team of stone cutters. They were entrusted with painstaking work: at one of the recently opened metro stations, it was necessary to make a drawing that would depict.After the work was completed, a huge banquet was held in honor of the opening of the new metro station. Sitting at the same table with the head of the city, the main character notices that he has taken off his shoes and is sitting barefoot. While no one sees, the man simply puts his shoes into his bag and calmly returns to the table.

Decent double-breasted suit

In the editorial office in which the main character worked, a new employee appears, behaving very strangely. The next day after the arrival of the newcomer, the protagonist is summoned to the office of the editorial director. The director explains to the employee that the newcomer is a spy and asks for help in a small matter. All is required of the protagonist - to get to know the newcomer better and go to the theater with him. For this job, the director orders an excellent suit for his employee.

Officer's belt

The main character changed many professions. This time he served as a guard at the camp. One day the foreman gives the order for the main character to take one of his partners to the hospital for the mentally and mentally ill. When the protagonist finds his colleague, he is busy in the workshop melting a huge plaque for. Despite the order of obedience, an incompletely made belt becomes a serious weapon for self-defense.

Jacket Fernand Leger

The main character talks about his long friendship with the family of the People's Artist Cherkasov. When the actor died, his wife went to France to visit her girlfriend. From there she brought the main character a jacket - an old, tattered, with dried paint on the sleeves. As it turned out, this jacket was worn by the artist Leger. Before his death, he told his wife to be on good terms with any rabble. That is why she gave the jacket to the main character.

Poplin shirt

Elections were to be held very soon. The main character is visited by a famous agitator. Instead of going to his site, the agitator accepts the proposal of the protagonist to accompany him in the cinema. But after watching a movie, they do not go to the site - they visit It was on this evening that the future life of the protagonist was decided. The agitator herself began a conversation about the need for emigration. The main character has not yet made a final decision, and therefore decided to stay for a short while in Russia. The wife did not wait for the authorities to pay their exclusive attention to them: she nevertheless made the decision to move. On the day of her departure, she presented her beloved husband with a beautiful poplin shirt.

Winter hat

Once the main character with his brother decided to relax in one of the Soviet hotels. There they meet a group of female actresses who celebrated successful shooting. The feast was gaining momentum, and one of the girls asked the protagonist to accompany her to the airport, where the chief director of the film was supposed to fly.

However, adventures awaited the protagonist already at the taxi parking: caught with some guys, the man got into a fight. The journey to the airport continues first in the department, then in the emergency room. Despite the huge number of problems that the protagonist had, he had a reward - during the fight, he became the owner of a beautiful fur hat made of a cat.

Chauffeur gloves

The main character was offered a role in a film directed by an amateur journalist. He needed to enter the image of Peter the Great, to which he agreed. Were found all the items of clothing needed "to create the desired image." The protagonist was very afraid that during the filming, people passing by would look at him as if he were crazy. However, people met the protagonist in the image as if they see this every day.

About the book

Speaking about the summary of Dovlatov's "Suitcase", it must be said that each story is a separate independent work that carries its own morality. Collection since 2013, it has been included in the lists of those works that are great for extracurricular reading in high school. It is a story (which can already be seen from the summary of Dovlatov's "Suitcase"), which the author wrote about his life. All this became a great story about the youth of the writer, whose career could not go up under the Soviet government.

Book Reviews

Speaking about the summary of Dovlatov's book "Suitcase", the reviews should be noted. The books that came out of the hands of the writer are still tremendous success today. The way readers positively perceive the collection of stories by Sergei Dovlatov "Suitcase" is simply surprising and thus proves that the author really had great potential and talent.

A summary of S. Dovlatov's story "Inostranka"

Speaking about this story, it should be noted how vividly it expresses all the events of those years when many Soviet citizens were forced to emigrate to other parts of the world.

The main character grew up in an excellent Soviet family. The girl's parents never achieved career growth, because their pedigree was not the best example. They have always worked in those positions that were free. Having worked all their lives, the family is firmly entrenched in the middle financial and social class. For their daughter, they did everything possible to make her happy: they gave her a piano, bought a color TV for her apartment, lived in a good neighborhood where the police were always on duty.

After graduating from school, the main character easily entered a prestigious institute. But the family's happiness began to crumble when the girl fell in love with a guy whose parents were purebred Jews. The parents had nothing against the nationality of the daughter's boyfriend, however, they thought with horror about their common children, who may appear in the future. The parents introduced the girl to another young man from a good family. The girl liked him. Very soon, the young got married, but there was no family happiness in marriage. The main character began to constantly cheat on her husband out of boredom, and soon they divorced. Not long grieving because she was left alone again, the girl first fell in love with the musician, to whom she was eventually engaged. It didn't work out - after the musician there was love with the artist. Again it did not work out - the girl met a magician. However, she did not get along with anyone. The main character had the feeling that all her suitors were running away from her on purpose. In addition to the musician, he died due to a serious illness.

Time passed, and the girl began to understand that she would soon be thirty years old, and there would be no opportunity to give birth very soon. She began to worry about it. And then a famous singer appears in her life. It seemed like there was love, but it turned out that the girl's chosen one was constantly cheating on her. Disappointed in men, the girl no longer hoped for happiness.

And then suddenly her first love bursts into the life of the main character - a guy with Jewish roots. He insisted that the girl simply needed to emigrate. It was after this that the heroine enters into a fictitious marriage with a Jew, and after three months she was on the other side of the world. A lot of the girl wandered around the world, not finding her place. Having left for America, the girl meets several Russian emigrants. One of them helps the main character and her children to settle down.

Time passes. The girl calls her friend to ask him for help. She got a Latin American fan who once again raised his hand to the main character. The piece ends with the girl eventually marrying a jealous admirer, hoping to find happiness with him. At the wedding, everyone is waiting for the friend who once helped the main character when she called him. He appears and the girl begins to cry.

"Suitcase" by Sergey Dovlatov is a collection of literary sketches created by the author in 1986, at a time when he himself was already in exile. In this collection, the author examines the contents of his suitcase, casting his mind's eye over his whole life at home. Each thing in the suitcase is a separate story, comic and sad at the same time, associated with difficult circumstances and whole layers of memories.

Many admirers of Dovlatov's work say that it is with the "Suitcase" that it is necessary to begin acquaintance with this author. Indeed, from the very first lines, this work carries the reader into the cycle of memories, a kaleidoscope of faces and events, anecdotal situations and small tragedies.

In each story, the main character, who is at the same time the only storyteller and the very author of "Suitcase", acquaints the reader with one thing or another that has traveled with him a difficult journey abroad. Each of these things can be dear only by the part of memory that wakes up at the sight of it - the author himself, with a bitter smile, makes it clear that, except to kindle a small fire of nostalgia, they are not suitable for anything. Gradually talking about each of them, the hero tells about his life, eventually becoming a close friend to the reader.

"Suitcase" is one of those works by Dovlatov, in which his ability to write ironically and easily is most clearly manifested, making the reader smile even in the saddest moments. Despite the fact that Dovlatov himself never considered himself a "real writer", it is his writing talent that is clearly visible in "Suitcase" - the author keeps the reader's attention, does not let him go from himself for a minute, gives him the opportunity not only to spend time with absolutely interesting reading, but also think about your own life.

For Dovlatov, "Suitcase" is an autobiographical work. In this book, he writes primarily about himself and about what happened to him before emigration. Despite the fact that at times the fate of the author presented him with a lot of unpleasant surprises, Dovlatov manages to maintain inexhaustible optimism, which is felt in every line and thanks to which the whole book leaves a light, pleasant impression. Perhaps that is why "Suitcase" has become one of the author's most popular works - translated into a number of foreign languages, it attracts the attention of new and new members of a vast readership, and many of them do not limit themselves to reading the book once, periodically returning to it again and again.

"Suitcase" is a collection of stories by Sergei Dovlatov, published in 1986 by the Hermitage publishing house (Ann Arbor).

In Russia, the book was first published by the Moscow Rabochy publishing house (1991).

In 2013, the collection was included in the list of "100 books" recommended by the Ministry of Education of the Russian Federation to schoolchildren for independent reading.

The hero of the work, leaving for the USA, takes with him only a small plywood suitcase. Opening it a few years later, he finds there a double-breasted suit, a poplin shirt, a corduroy jacket, three pairs of Finnish crepe socks, and a fake cat winter hat. Each of these items becomes an occasion for memories.

Finnish Crepe Socks
Finding himself in a difficult financial situation, the hero of the story accepted the offer of a familiar farmer to "enter the share" and purchase a batch of Finnish crepe socks, which were in great demand at that time: they could be handed over to wholesalers for three rubles per pair. The immediate enrichment operation was disrupted by the Soviet light industry, which suddenly flooded stores with similar goods for eighty kopecks. Finnish socks from a shortage have turned into illiquid.

"Nomenclature low shoes"
The hero ended up in a brigade of stone cutters, which was instructed to cut down a relief image of Lomonosov for the new station of the Leningrad metro. After the completion of all the work, a banquet was held. The narrator, finding himself at the same table with the mayor, noticed that he had taken off his shoes. Pulling them to him, the hero bent down and hid someone else's shoes in a nearby briefcase.

"Decent double-breasted suit"
A stranger named Arthur appeared in the editorial office, with whom the hero first went down to the buffet, and then went to the restaurant. The next day, Dovlatov was invited to the editor's office - there was a major of state security. It turned out that Arthur is a spy. The major suggested that the journalist continue his acquaintance and go to the theater with Arthur. For the sake of such an occasion, the editor ordered the purchase of an imported double-breasted suit for "Comrade Dovlatov" from a local department store.

"Officer's belt"
The story takes place during the hero's service in the camp guard. Once the foreman ordered Dovlatov to deliver the prisoner to the mental hospital on Iosser. The hero found a partner by the name of Churilin in the tool shop, where he soldered a brass badge on a leather officer's belt. Filled with tin from the inside, such a belt turned into a formidable weapon.

"Jacket Fernand Leger"
The narrator recalls the many years of friendship with the family of actor Nikolai Cherkasov. After the death of the people's artist, his widow Nina Cherkasova traveled to Paris and brought Dovlatov a gift - an old jacket requiring repair with traces of oil paint on the sleeve. It turned out that the jacket belonged to Fernand Léger. The artist's widow Nadya specially donated the jacket for Dovlatov, since Leger bequeathed her "to be a friend of every rabble."

"Poplin shirt"
On election day, the agitator Elena Borisovna came to the hero. Instead of going to the polling station, the hero, along with a new acquaintance, went to the cinema, and from there to the House of Writers. This is how the history of the Dovlatov family began. Lena was the first to talk about emigration. The narrator, who by that time had not yet “reached some fatal point,” decided to stay. Before leaving, his wife presented Dovlatov with a Romanian poplin shirt.

"Winter hat"
Together with his brother Boris, the hero went to the Sovetskaya Hotel, where women from the film group, who were filming the documentary, were waiting for them. During the feast, one of them - Rita - asked the narrator to accompany her to the airport: it was necessary to meet the director of the picture. At the taxi stand, there was a fight with tall guys. The adventures were continued at the police station, emergency room, restaurant. Their result was the acquisition of a new fur seal hat by Dovlatov.

"Driver's gloves"
Dovlatov agreed to play the role of Peter the Great in an amateur film, which the journalist Schlippenbach decided to stage. In the studio's sham shop, they found a camisole, a hat and a black wig. One of the scenes had to be filmed near a beer stand. The hero's fears that he would be mistaken for an idiot in such clothes were not justified: the appearance of the tsar was perceived by the line as an everyday circumstance.

Sergey Dovlatov

Suitcase (collection)

... But such, my Russia,

you are dearer to me than all the lands ...

Alexander Blok

Foreword

In OVIR this bitch says to me:

Each departing person is entitled to three suitcases. This is the established norm. There is a special order from the ministry.

There was no point in arguing. But I, of course, objected:

Only three suitcases ?! What about things?

For example?

For example, my collection of racing cars?

Sell \u200b\u200bit, ”the official responded without delving into it.

If you are dissatisfied with something, write a statement.

I'm happy, I say.

After prison, I was happy with everything.

Well, just behave more modestly ...

In a week I was already packing my things. And, as it turned out, only one suitcase was enough for me.

I almost sobbed in self-pity. After all, I'm thirty-six years old. Eighteen of them I work. I earn something, I buy. I own, as it seemed to me, some property. And the result is one suitcase. And a rather modest size. So I'm a beggar? How did this happen ?!

Books? But mostly I had forbidden books. Which are not allowed by customs. I had to distribute them to my friends along with the so-called archive.

Manuscripts? I sent them to the West long ago by secret routes.

Furniture? I took the desk to a thrift store. The chairs were taken by the artist Chegin, who had previously done with boxes. I threw away the rest.

So he left with one suitcase. The suitcase was plywood, covered in fabric, with nickel-plated fasteners at the corners. The castle was inactive. I had to tie a clothesline around my suitcase.

Once I went with him to a pioneer camp. On the lid it was written in ink: “Younger group. Seryozha Dovlatov ". Nearby someone scribbled amiably: "shitty." The fabric broke in several places.

The inside of the lid was covered with photographs. Rocky Marciano, Armstrong, Joseph Brodsky, Lollobrigida in transparent clothes. The customs officer tried to tear off Lollobrigida with his nails. As a result, only scratched.

But Brodsky did not touch. He just asked - who is it? I replied that a distant relative ...

On May 16, I found myself in Italy. He lived in the Roman hotel "Dina". The suitcase was pushed under the bed.

Soon he received some fees from Russian magazines. Purchased blue sandals, flannel jeans, and four linen shirts. I never opened the suitcase.

He moved to the United States three months later. To New York. At first he lived at the Rio Hotel. Then with friends in Flushing. Finally I rented an apartment in a decent area. I put the suitcase in the far corner of the closet. I never untied the clothesline.

Four years have passed. Our family has recovered. The daughter became a young American. A son was born. He grew up and began to be naughty. One day my wife, out of patience, shouted:

Go to the closet now!

My son spent three minutes in the closet. Then I released it and I ask:

Were you scared? Did you cry?

And he says:

No. I was sitting on a suitcase.

Then I took out my suitcase. And he opened it.

On top was a decent double-breasted suit. Based on interviews, symposia, lectures, gala receptions. I suppose it would have worked for the Nobel Prize too. Next is a poplin shirt and shoes wrapped in paper. Underneath is a corduroy jacket with faux fur. On the left is a fake cat winter hat. Three pairs of Finnish crepe socks. Driver's gloves. And finally - a leather officer's belt.

At the bottom of the suitcase lay a page of Pravda for May 1980. The big headline read: "Great Teaching - Live!" In the center is a portrait of Karl Marx.

As a schoolboy, I loved to paint the leaders of the world proletariat. And especially - Marx. I smeared an ordinary blot - it looks like ...

I looked around the empty suitcase. At the bottom - Karl Marx. On the lid is Brodsky. And between them - a lost, priceless, only life.

I closed my suitcase. Inside, balls of naphthalene rolled echoingly. Things lay in a motley heap on the kitchen table. This was all that I have made in thirty-six years. For all my life at home. I thought - is this really all? And he answered - yes, that's all.

And then, as they say, memories flooded. They must have been hidden in the folds of this wretched rag. And now they burst out. Memories that should have been named - "From Marx to Brodsky." Or, let's say - "What have I acquired." Or, let's say, simply - "Suitcase" ...