Taiga
7 hrs. 33 min.
Language
Russian
Author
Vyacheslav Shishkov
Author
Vyacheslav Shishkov
Narrator
Mikhail Roslyakov
Narrator
Mikhail Roslyakov
Description
The MediaBook studio presents an audiobook by the great Russian writer, a knight of the USSR’s highest award, the Order of Lenin, Vyacheslav Yakovlevich Shishkov— the novella “Taiga.”
“Shishkov is a good storyteller-realist, reflecting in his prose an in-depth knowledge of various regions of Siberia and a deep interest in the language of the people,” V. Kazak.
“And in the qualities of the soul, it was rare. A man of Good, a man of Faith—he was national in all manifestations. And that’s why he captivated such distant and different people—the true master Zamyatin, Tolstoy’s elemental talent, Radlov’s esthetic,” Fedorin, K. A.
“Cracked the taiga, roared, entered into a dispute with a man: it sent bears to his home, frightened him with the forest sprites. But the man held his ground, endured everything, and still conquered the taiga. And where centuries-old trees rose toward the sky, cheerful fields now lay down like green carpets. The village lived day by day, year after year. Decades passed. The old people asked for a quiet death; they died without resistance, firmly hoping that somewhere there—beyond the grave—something good and bright would begin, the very thing that the heart had long ached for; the soul had missed. The old people loved to complain to each other about their sons and grandsons, that the boys got out of hand, that they had completely gone against the father’s will, that they didn’t want to know anyone—neither God nor the devil.
‘We watch after God so well,’ they reproached the youth, ‘but you—what about you?.. Woe to you!’
But both the old men and old women kept watch over God badly. How could it be otherwise: there was such strife among the people that they were ready to tear each other’s throats for joy. And because of what—no one can make sense of it. Afimya’s dairy cow died— they were glad. Petrukha Teterov burned his wine— they were glad; he left Akulina all by herself with the fourth child. Jacob’s boy choked on porridge and died— they were glad. Obabok’s wife, a woman who was getting poorer, gave birth to triplets— they were glad!
And it always happened that first, as if pity would fall on the heart—like someone lit a candle and illuminated the soul; warmth, it’s pleasant. But then— the devil with a black face stepped in, blew on the candle and stamped it out with a hoof. Suddenly it would get dark in the soul; something cold would start to crawl in it, and then, about Obabok’s wife, they said, seething with anger and rolling their eyes: ‘Serves her right, you bitch.’
… That’s how everyone treated everyone else—everything back to everyone.”
The book is read by a popular theater and film actor, Mikhail Rozlyakov. Let’s listen, like, and comment actively! )
“Shishkov is a good storyteller-realist, reflecting in his prose an in-depth knowledge of various regions of Siberia and a deep interest in the language of the people,” V. Kazak.
“And in the qualities of the soul, it was rare. A man of Good, a man of Faith—he was national in all manifestations. And that’s why he captivated such distant and different people—the true master Zamyatin, Tolstoy’s elemental talent, Radlov’s esthetic,” Fedorin, K. A.
“Cracked the taiga, roared, entered into a dispute with a man: it sent bears to his home, frightened him with the forest sprites. But the man held his ground, endured everything, and still conquered the taiga. And where centuries-old trees rose toward the sky, cheerful fields now lay down like green carpets. The village lived day by day, year after year. Decades passed. The old people asked for a quiet death; they died without resistance, firmly hoping that somewhere there—beyond the grave—something good and bright would begin, the very thing that the heart had long ached for; the soul had missed. The old people loved to complain to each other about their sons and grandsons, that the boys got out of hand, that they had completely gone against the father’s will, that they didn’t want to know anyone—neither God nor the devil.
‘We watch after God so well,’ they reproached the youth, ‘but you—what about you?.. Woe to you!’
But both the old men and old women kept watch over God badly. How could it be otherwise: there was such strife among the people that they were ready to tear each other’s throats for joy. And because of what—no one can make sense of it. Afimya’s dairy cow died— they were glad. Petrukha Teterov burned his wine— they were glad; he left Akulina all by herself with the fourth child. Jacob’s boy choked on porridge and died— they were glad. Obabok’s wife, a woman who was getting poorer, gave birth to triplets— they were glad!
And it always happened that first, as if pity would fall on the heart—like someone lit a candle and illuminated the soul; warmth, it’s pleasant. But then— the devil with a black face stepped in, blew on the candle and stamped it out with a hoof. Suddenly it would get dark in the soul; something cold would start to crawl in it, and then, about Obabok’s wife, they said, seething with anger and rolling their eyes: ‘Serves her right, you bitch.’
… That’s how everyone treated everyone else—everything back to everyone.”
The book is read by a popular theater and film actor, Mikhail Rozlyakov. Let’s listen, like, and comment actively! )
