Yes, it is an impressionable, because people with closed tightly soul does not hook or proymet no very vivid description of human suffering.
Not to say that the memories presented here are written easy language that some readers are so fond positively characterize in his reviews favorite books . And it is not in the complexity of verbal constructions – they are again, just how simple the language of any of the common man. Seriously the content of these words, which, if they seriously think about it vividly, just did not fit in my head
And yet -.
All in this book, the bitter truth. And if the huge outflows passed elapsed, they melted into the ground of Stalinist repression and the German concentration camps, then in another way could not be, then, a mysterious hand of fate of all mankind took away the flow of millions of lives for the slaughter.
Now you can read this book, sitting quietly in a chair.
You can give it to another person to read, to write a review on it. But mentally immersed in the times displayed in it, all of a sudden comes the feeling that hold in the hands of the poison chalice that could kill you, even for a single word, a single phrase, which is in its … This realization does not come immediately.
At the heart of this book, it is a gem memories Tamara Pyatkevich “Loyalty to yourself.” With amazingly thin, the contrast for events such feminine artistic and psychological along with it we pass through the process of pulling a person from his usual life and immersion in the spiritual weightlessness complete lawlessness.
“On this he service and personal arrogant the right investigator, determined to weed my life to snatch her from the weeds, just to show how much of it false and unwanted people, has exceeded all limits. The intention Perepech and rebuild another person at the same time he is a monster-state Sodra l all the turf with more green shoots indecisive twenty-three lives. I have nothing to become the pull, I had no protection is now. After all, all hurt. “
Memories male authors are more rational. Sometimes they are impartial like photochronicle frames. And sometimes cause squeamish pity for those who consciously or unconsciously he had a hand in the creation of this murderous machine.
A special case among other men’s memories stand out in his short philosophical comprehension of the novel by Vasily Grossman. And his piercing soulful story about the death in the gas chamber of a Jewish woman and a little boy David with contrasting name – “humdrum affair»
“Death has done his mundane thing, and people its Sometimes she gave finish smoking, dozhevav.. sometimes overtook person in a friendly, rough, stupid cackling, slamming his hand on the back.
it seemed that people finally began to understand her, she opened them his ordinariness, simplicity of a child. Oh very easy was this transition, as if through a shallow creek, where deployed wooden masonry shore, where smoke house, a deserted meadow side, -.! five or six steps and all “
I can not imagine what could this book be a cover, if it decided to issue in the present as much as possible the visual style on the principle banks of corned beef (which is inside, and on the label). I think it’s better not to draw these images … and the despair of people standing on the edge, on the topic of life and death, or, conversely, cold quiet acceptance of their final destiny can be understood only by word of mouth. Seen through the eyes themselves memories authors
The past -. As a Hollywood film – tells us only those stories in which the main character always gets alive until the final credits …
So in this book, we witness, partners only those events that ended relatively well. Their heroes were able to tell us about it.
But if you reveal your eyes wider if to open for a moment your consciousness, then close this book ghosts are hundreds, thousands, millions of other books, dangling on the front page … on first row … These silent books never tell us about the pain and suffering of the last thoughts of their authors. Their stories are heard in the past, inaudible to us, a mute language. And these very people, with all their joys and hopes, the grief and despair long ago merged into a featureless stream of grains of sand blown by the wind of time far beyond the horizon of the past …