Highlight 1 The waves lapped at the scattered rocks at his feet, and the dry sea breeze blowing from distant Turkey blew his face. The coast of the harbor is irregularly arched, and a breakwater made of steel and cement blocks the waves. The rolling mountain ranges abruptly break off to the seashore. On the outskirts of the city, white huts line up among the peaks, stretching far into the distance.
The old suburban park was quiet. The withered yellow maple leaves swept by the autumn wind slowly fell on the paths that had not been cleaned for a long time and were overgrown with weeds.
An old Persian coachman pulled Paul here from the city. As he helped the strange passenger out of the car, he couldn't help but ask: "Why are you here? There are no girls here, no theater, only jackals wandering around here... What are you doing here? I really don't understand." Understood! Mr. Comrade, you'd better take my car back!"
Korchakin paid the fare and the old man left.
The park was deserted. Paul found a bench at the beach and sat down, facing the sun, which was no longer so scorching.
He came to this secluded place by car in order to consider how to arrange his future life. It’s time to wrap up and make decisions.
With his second arrival, the conflicts in the Chucham family intensified to the extreme. When the old man heard that he was here again, he became very angry and made a lot of noise and mischief at home. The leader of the resistance was naturally Paul. The old man did not expect to encounter strong resistance from his wife and two daughters, so from the day Paul came for the second time, the family had been separated, and the two sides were hostile to each other and hated each other. The corridor leading to the old couple's room has been nailed down, and a small wing has been rented to Korchagin. The rent has been paid to the old man in advance. He seemed to have calmed down quickly because his two daughters no longer had to bear the cost of living on their own.
For diplomatic reasons, Albina still lives with the old man. The old man never went to where the young man lived because he didn't want to meet that hateful man. However, in the yard he was like a locomotive, puffing out smoke loudly to show that he was the owner of this place. .
Before the old man went to work in the cooperative, he knew two skills: a shoemaker and a carpenter. Now, he uses the shed as a workshop, working in it whenever he has time to earn some extra money. He quickly moved the workbench under Paul's window, deliberately trying to embarrass the tenant. He hammered the nails hard, feeling happy in his heart. He knew that this would prevent Paul from reading.
"Just wait, one day I will drive you away from here..." He often whispered to himself in a low voice.
In the distance, close to the horizon, the smoke column from the ship spread out like a dark cloud. A flock of seagulls screamed and swooped toward the sea.
Korchakin held his head in his hands and fell into deep thought. His whole life, from childhood to the present, flashed before his eyes scene by scene. How has his life been in these twenty-four years? Good or bad? He looked back year after year, examining his life like an impartial judge. He was very satisfied with the result and his life was pretty good. Of course, due to stupidity, youth, and mostly ignorance, I also made many mistakes. But the most important thing is that in the fiery years of struggle, he did not sleep. He found his position in the brutal struggle to seize power, and there were also a few drops of his blood on the red flag of the revolution.
He never left the team until all his energy was exhausted. Now that his body is broken and he can no longer hold his position, there is only one way to go to the rear hospital. He also remembered that during a fierce battle near Warsaw, a soldier was shot by a bullet and fell from his horse to the ground. The comrades hurriedly bandaged his wounds, handed him over to the ambulance personnel, and continued to run forward, chasing the enemy. This cavalry company did not stop advancing because of the loss of a soldier. That's how it is, and that's how it should be when fighting for a great cause. Of course, there are exceptions. He has seen machine gunners without legs, sitting on machine gun carts and persisting in fighting. They are warriors who frighten the enemy. Their machine guns bring death and destruction to the enemy. With their iron will and accurate marksmanship, they have become the pride of each team. But such people are rare.
Now, his body is completely broken and there is no hope of returning to the team. What should he do with himself? He finally learned the true condition of the disease from Bazhanova: he should be mentally prepared, as he would encounter more terrible things in the future. So, what should be done? This unresolved problem lay before him like an eerie black hole.
Now that he has lost the most precious thing - the ability to fight, what's the point of living? Today, in the bleak tomorrow, what can he use to prove that he is not wasting his time? What do you use to enrich your life? Just eat, drink and breathe? Just be a helpless bystander, watching your comrades fight and advance? Are you going to become a liability to this team? Should he destroy this body that had betrayed him? Just take a shot in the heart and all the problems are solved! If you could live a good life in the past, you should be able to end this life in time now.
Who can blame a dying warrior who refuses to struggle any longer?
His hand touched the flat frame of the Browning pistol in his pocket, and his fingers habitually grasped the handle of the gun. He slowly pulled out his pistol.
"Who would have thought that you would have such a day?"
The muzzle looked into his eyes contemptuously. Paul put the pistol on his knee and cursed fiercely:
"Brother, this is fake heroism! Kill yourself, any fool can do it at any time. This is to get rid of The most cowardly and easiest way to survive. Have you ever tried to overcome this life? Have you tried your best to break free from this iron ring? Didn't you launch seventeen charges in one day near Volonsky New Town and finally conquer that city against all odds? Put your pistol away and never tell anyone about it, even if life becomes unbearable. We should also be good at living and make life useful and fulfilling."
He stood up and walked towards the road. A mountain man driving a four-wheeled carriage into the city took him along with him. At the crossroads he bought a local newspaper. There was a notice in the newspaper: Party members in the city were asked to meet at the Demyan Bedny Club. It was late at night when Paul returned home. He delivered a speech at the meeting. He did not expect that this would be his last speech at the conference.
The review here describes a mental crisis of Paul. In the form of inner monologue, it vividly depicts Paul's inner despair and wavering at the severe moment when he was ill and lost his ability to fight, and finally overcame his weakness and self. The psychological portrayal is delicate and touching
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Highlight 2 Paul and Daya arrived in Moscow and lived in an agency archives for a few days. The person in charge of this agency helped Paul to be admitted to a specialized hospital.
Until now, Paul understands: When a person is young and strong, it is relatively simple and easy to be strong; now, when life is holding you tightly like an iron ring, It is a glorious achievement to be able to persevere even when you are struggling.
A year and a half has passed since the night Paul checked into the archives. It is difficult to express in words the pain he has suffered during these eighteen months.
In the hospital, Professor Averbach told Paul bluntly that it was impossible to restore vision. In the unlikely future, if the inflammation disappears, pupil surgery may be tried. He suggested surgical treatment first to eliminate inflammation.
They asked Paul for his opinion. Paul said he agreed with whatever the doctor thought needed to be done.
When he was lying on the operating table and the scalpel cut open his neck and removed the parathyroid gland on one side, the black wings of death touched him three times. However, Paul's vitality is very tenacious. Daya waited outside anxiously. A few hours later, she saw her husband's face was as pale as death, but still very energetic and as calm and gentle as usual: "Good girl, don't worry, I won't be so easy." I'm going to go into a coffin. Even if I try to mess with the predictions of those medical authorities, their diagnosis of my condition is absolutely correct, but it would be a big deal to write a certificate saying that I am 100% incapable of working. That's wrong. Let's see!"
Paul firmly chose a path and was determined to return to the ranks of builders of a new life through this path.
Winter has passed, and spring is blooming outside the window. Paul performed the last operation and finally escaped death, but his blood was gone. He felt he could no longer stay in the hospital. He had lived for so long among the pain of various patients and the groans and wails of the dying, which was more difficult than enduring his own pain.
The doctor suggested that he undergo another operation. He said coldly and bluntly: "That's it. That's enough for me. I have donated part of my blood to science, and the rest will be left behind." Give me something else to do."
That same day, Paul wrote a letter to the Central Committee, asking for help in settling in Moscow, because his wife was working there and he continued to move around. Hospitalization was of no use. For the first time in his life, he asked the party organization for help. The Moscow City Soviet allocated him a house. So Paul left the hospital, his only hope at that time was to never come back.
The house was in a secluded alley on Kropotkin Street. It was very simple, but in his opinion, it was already very luxurious. When he wakes up at night, he often still doesn't believe that he has left the hospital far away.
Daya has become a formal party member. She worked very hard, and despite a very unfortunate personal life, she did not fall behind other advanced workers. The workers trusted this taciturn woman: she was elected to the factory committee. Paul was proud that his lifelong partner had become a Bolshevik, which eased his pain.
Once, Bazhanova came to Moscow on a business trip and came to visit Paul. They talked for a long time. Paul enthusiastically told her of the path he had chosen, by which he would be able to return to the ranks of a warrior.
Bazhanova noticed that Korchagin had silver hair on his temples, and said softly: "I can see that you have endured a lot of pain, but you still have not lost the eternal beauty." Unquenchable enthusiasm. What could be more valuable than this? You have been preparing for five years and now you have decided to write. But how do you write?"
Paul comforted her with a smile. Said: "Tomorrow they will send me a board with a grid carved on it. It is made of cardboard. Without this board I can't write, and the words on different lines will overlap. I thought about it for a long time. The solution was to carve out spaces on the cardboard so that my pencil would not go outside the straight lines. I couldn't see what I was writing. It was very difficult to write, but it was not impossible. I'm convinced of this. I tried for a long time and couldn't write well at first, but now I write slowly and carefully, and the result is pretty good." /p>
Paul started to work. He planned to write a novella about the heroic Kotovsky Cavalry Division, and the title came to him without thinking: Born of the Storm.
From this day on, Paul devoted his whole body and mind to the creation of this book. He wrote slowly, line after line, page after page. He forgot everything and immersed himself in the characters in the book. He also tasted the hardship of creation for the first time: sometimes those vivid, vivid and unforgettable scenes clearly reappeared in his mind, but he could not express them with pen and ink. The written words seem so pale and weak, lacking vitality and passion.
He must memorize all the parts that have been written word for word. Otherwise, once the clue is broken, the work will be hindered. The mother watched her son's work with anxiety.
In the process of working, he had to recite entire pages and even entire chapters from memory, so his mother sometimes thought he was crazy. When Paul was writing, she did not dare to approach him. Only when she was picking up the manuscript that had fallen to the ground for him, she timidly said: "Povrusha, you'd better do something else. Where have I seen someone like you, always writing endlessly..."
Seeing his mother so uneasy, Paul couldn't help laughing, and comforted the old lady, saying that he was not completely "crazy" yet. the point.
Comments: This is a description of Paul, who was physically disabled and blind, using literature as a weapon to continue fighting and relying on tenacious perseverance to write. It is also the author Ostrovs A true portrayal of gay life. This spirit of fighting against fate and never giving up is the charm of the work. The vivid and humorous language brings out Paul's optimistic and open-minded character and enhances the appeal of the text.