Page 1 About the Author
Mikhail Sholokhov was born on 24 May 1905 in the peasant family of the village of Kruzhlin (present-day Vyshchensk district, Rostov Oblast) in Donskoyjuntun, Vyschensk Province, the mother of whom she worked as a maid to the landlord's family until she married; her father was a junior Cossack officer; her stepfather was a civilian intellectual "foreigner", a hired worker in his youth, later a shop clerk and mill manager, and after the October Revolution as an employee in the grain department under the Soviet regime.
He spent most of his life there, and the extensive social experience of his adolescence laid a good foundation for his later creations. He was an outstanding representative of Soviet literature in the twentieth century, a winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1965, a famous writer of the Soviet Union, who was awarded the Order of Lenin and the title of "Hero of Socialist Labor", and was elected a member of the Central Committee of the COMMUNIST Party of the Soviet Union, a representative of the Supreme Soviet of the SOVIET, an academician of the Academy of Sciences, and a director of the Soviet Writers Association.
In 1965, his work "The Quiet Don" won the Nobel Prize in Literature. At the end of the twenties, Lu Xun, the founder of China's new literature, first noticed Sholokhov's works. In 1931, the Chinese translation of "Quiet Don River" was published by Shanghai Shenzhou Guoguang Society as one of the "Modern Literature and Art Series" edited by Lu Xun.
Since then, almost every time Sholokhov's works have been published, they have been quickly introduced to China, especially "A Man's Encounter" was first published in Pravda, and it was translated into Chinese that month, and there are two different translations, which have been published in "People's Liberation Army Literature and Art" and "Translation". This is a difficult thing to find in the history of Chinese translation.
Page 2 Celebrity Reviews
The Soviet literary scholar Leidman pointed out that "The Encounter of a Man" is a local Russian manuscript of the genre of the novel, "The Encounter of a Man" expresses a new concept of art, and Sokolov's "self-confession" forms several independent parts, such as "life before the war", "farewell to the family", "captured", "in the church", "unsuccessful escape", "the struggle against Miliul", "rescued", "family death", "encounter with Vanya" and so on.
They are all independent small narrative works, and they all have "dramatic components" and "narrative components" inside, and have independent conflict objects.
Page 3 Background of writing
In the Second World War, the German fascist aggressors inflicted enormous damage and losses on the Soviet people. The fascists looted more than seven hundred cities and workers' quarters of the USSR, the soviet material losses amounted to 679 billion rubles at pre-war prices, and 20 million lives of the Soviet people lost their lives during the war.
After the end of the war, the Soviet Union encountered serious difficulties in restoring and developing agricultural production and experienced a tortuous road. In 1946, the European part of the Soviet Union suffered another severe drought, which made the process of economic recovery in the Soviet Union extremely difficult. In the first few years after the war, various organizations, organs and private individuals illegally encroached on the land of collective farms and stole farm property in cases of serious phenomena, and there were many problems in the farm management system, bloated institutions, excessive administrative expenditures, and unreasonable labor remuneration, which seriously hindered the recovery and development of agricultural productivity.
At the same time, due to the rigidity and authoritarianization of the political life of the country during the Stalin period, most of the literary circles in the Stalin era praised literature and preached the "theory of no conflict", resulting in the formulation and conceptualization of literature, literary works avoided contradictions, whitewashed life, sang praises and praises, and often rudely attacked and criticized some works that slightly touched reality.
Page 4 Main content
The first spring of the war came to the upper Don region, and the roads on the steppes became impassable. On this unfortunate day, I'm going to the town of Buconov. It took me 6 hours in a carriage with another comrade to walk 30 kilometers. At the yelanka river crossing, I met Sokolov, a tall man with a hunchback on his back, with a little boy of five or six years old by his side. I found his eyes filled with a desperate melancholy. He told me what had happened to me:
"Before the war I lived in the city of Vronneš, my wife and I were orphans, she was a cheerful, gentle, intelligent, considerate and good woman, and we had a son and two daughters. I worked as a fitter in the factory and then left the factory for 10 years as a driver. During this time I worked hard, and we had some savings and built our own house.
"At this time, war broke out, and I enlisted in the army to go to the front. My wife and children came to send me, and she hugged me so tightly that I couldn't get up, so I pushed her. Even at this moment, I can't forgive myself even to death.
When I got to the front, I often received letters from home, but I rarely replied because I didn't want to complain to them and increase their troubles. In May 1942, under the city of Lozovinki, I was wounded and captured while driving a cannonball. "On the night we were captured, we were locked up in a church. I heard a man next to me say that he was going to betray his platoon leader. Early the next morning, with the help of the platoon leader, I strangled the traitor, the first man I had killed.
I escaped once after being imprisoned in a prisoner of war camp in Poznan, but the Germans found me by means of police dogs. I was vaguely taken back to camp and locked up for a month, but I survived. During the two years of captivity, I traveled half of Germany. In the B-14 battalion, not far from Dresden, we had only 57 of our 142 prisoners of war left in less than two months.
One night, I grumbled because I was too heavy to live and had nothing to eat, and one of the bad guys told the battalion captain. This guy was particularly fierce, beating up criminals every night for fun. The next day, he called me to the office, and he was drunk. He asked me to have some drinks before I was shot, and I drank three in a row. As a result, my courage and the news of the victory of the German army at that time saved my life.
Later, I was sent to drive a small car for a fat, frighteningly fat Major-level German engineer. A few weeks later, while sending him to the front line to build the fortifications, I drove back to my side. "When I got back, I immediately wrote to my wife to tell me about my experience. Three weeks later, I received a letter from a neighbor. He told me that my wife and daughter had been killed at home by German planes in June 1942 and that my son had gone to the front lines. After reading the letter, my eyes were dark, and I remembered the scene when she sent me.
In the camp, I spent almost all night talking to her and the children in my dreams. It turned out that I had been talking to dead people for two whole years! A week later, I went home and had a look. The place where we used to live was desolate, the house was gone, and there was only a deep crater there. I went back to the troops that same day.
After 3 months, I was happy again because my son had written to me, and he had become the commander of the captain's artillery company. Since then, at night, I often dreamed of marrying my son to a daughter-in-law, and I embraced my grandson. Who would have thought that on the day of victory, my son was killed in Berlin, and I went to see him lying in a coffin. My last joy and hope were buried.
"After demobilization, I moved to the home of a friend in the city of Ulyubinsk and found a job in the car team. That's when I got to know my new son, Vanya, who was a little tramp. When I heard that his father had died and his mother had been killed, I immediately said I was his father. As soon as he heard it, he hugged my neck and pressed his whole body against me, and I shivered all over.
I carried him back to my friend's house, and for the first time in a long time I slept peacefully. I asked my friend's wife to take care of him, but he cried until dusk and then went to the place where I worked and waited for me until late at night. Then I had a car accident and my license was confiscated. Now I'm taking my son to Kashari, where a friend of mine is, and I want to get a new license there.
Now my heart is very bad, and I am afraid that one day I will not wake up and frighten my little son. In addition, I dreamed of dead relatives almost all night and night. Don't look at me as strong during the day, but when I wake up at night, the tears are always wet on the pillow..."
Speaking of which, the comrades who were with me crossed the river. I watched with a heavy melancholy as they walked toward the ferry. I thought, what is waiting for them in front of them? Vanya suddenly turned back and waved a small red hand at me. My heart seemed to be caught by a soft and sharp claw, and I hurriedly turned my face because I did not want my tears to hurt the child's heart.
Page 5 Quotes
Vanya ran a few steps with a pair of short legs and a jumping belt, and suddenly turned back to me, waving a small red hand. Suddenly, as if a soft and sharp claw had grabbed my heart, I hurriedly turned my face.
No, men with gray hair and old age during the years of the war did not only shed tears in their dreams; they also shed tears when they were awake. At this time, it is important to turn your face in time. At this time, the most important thing is not to hurt the child's heart, not to let him see how the tears of a miserly and sad man roll on your cheek...
The past is like the grassland lost in the distant fog
The child dressed very simply, but the material of the clothes was very strong: an old thin sheepskin top, the front of which was longer, but very fitting, a pair of exquisite little leather boots, slightly wider, which could wear a pair of wool socks, and one of the sleeves of the top had been torn, but it was very delicately sewn, which all showed the care of a woman, a pair of capable mother's hands. The father's appearance was different: there were several holes in the cotton jacket, patched up for thick branches, patches on the worn grass green pants, not sewn well, but nailed with the stitches of a sparsely dropped man, and a pair of almost brand new military leather shoes on the feet, but a pair of thick wool socks were torn by worms, and they did not touch the woman's hands... At that time, I thought to myself, "Either I am a widower, or I have a bad relationship with my wife." ”
(To be continued)
(The pictures and materials in the text are from the Internet, if there is infringement, please contact the author to delete.) Here, thanks to the provider) original is not easy, please pay attention, welcome to forward.