My XX century
Published in Russian: Çàãðàåâñêèé Ñ.Â. Ìîé ÕÕ âåê. Ì.: Àëåâ-Â, 2001. ISBN 5-94025-009-2
ANNOTATION TO THE BOOK
A well-known artist and theologian Sergey Zagraevsky in former times was a Komsomol worker, a scientist, a programmer, a businessman, and a psychic ... About all that he tells openly and fascinatingly.
Sergey Zagraevsky’s autobiography unfolds
against the background of last years of Soviet power and the reign of
"bandit capitalism" in
The following text was translated from the Russian original by the computer program
and has not yet been edited.
So it can be used only for general introduction.
There were Christmas bonfires warmed,
And was in a state of bridges coach,
And all mourning the city floated
For some unknown purpose,
Only away from their graves.
The galley was black arch,
In Summer subtly sang flyugarka,
And silver month brightly
Over the Silver Age was.
Because every road,
Because all thresholds
Walked slowly shadow,
The wind tore the wall posters,
Smoke danced squat jumps on the roof,
And the cemetery was a smell of lilac...
And always in the heat of frosty,
Pre-war, and terrible prodigal
Lived some future rumble.
But then he heard the muffled,
He almost never troubled soul
As if in a mirror terrible night
And raves and does not want
To know a person, -
And along the promenade of the legendary
Closer than calendar -
This Twentieth Century.
The book “My twentieth century” - not a historical, not philosophical, and, moreover, not theological, though to touch we both that and the third. May be, this book could be called a memoir, but I managed to catch only the last third of the century, so formally it is neither a memoir or autobiography.
A story? A tale? Also there. So leave unsuccessful attempts to define the genre of this book, only comment on the title: “my” the twentieth century is the century of my eyes.
I was lucky. I managed to look at the twentieth century through the eyes of not only the artist, but also a “techie”. Not only dissident, but “Komsomol activist”. Not only a scientist, but a “new Russian”. Not only Christian theologian, but a psychic...
And on the part of the century, which I have not seen, I look through the eyes of those people who gave me life - grandmothers, grandfathers, father, mother. The most different character, personality, social layers...
In the end, legally I'm an heir, thus, their age is my age. My twentieth century.
Century, unique in its inconsistency. Two world wars and an unprecedented number of victims - and unprecedented triumph of democracy. Auschwitz, Khatyn, Kolyma and universal abolition of the death penalty. Fascism, Stalinism, nationalism and humanistic ideals. The chemical plants, nuclear reactors, Chernobyl, and care of the protection of the ozone layer. And so on, all of the contradictions and so on.
But all this we still talk.
A couple of years ago I wrote an Autobiography happy man” (it was published in the book “Two roads to the temple). And now I am ready to sign under every word: I am a truly happy person. Happy, despite the years that I was forced to do anything but what they wanted. Because in the end even the life and role of the psychic, and in the role of “new Russian” gave me invaluable experience and... the material for this book. Unless otherwise could I tell to readers, for example, how to protect themselves from “astral attacks”? Or how to behave when gangster “attacks”?..
A few words about the book. It is written at the
end of the century in 2000, uncensored state, without censorship of the Church,
in the era of democratic and relatively free
Another point: in order to reduce the cost of circulation had to abandon illustrations for each Chapter and leave only the inset. However, it does not matter - illustrations to each Chapter may serve as a poem. The most different most different poets, and often have no direct sense of connection with the text. Yes and no need to seek this relationship. The task of these poetic illustrations - create a certain mood, and nothing more.
Orient the reader about yourself: I was born on August 20, 1964. Say: the day the world has seen... Not I knew then what was happening in this day, and for several years I am not very interested. Two months after my birth dismissed Khrushchev, but this, of course, I also did not know.
So let's begin with those who knew about it and I told afterwards. In the times described Akhmatova in our first poetic illustrations in 1913 they were already born.
© Sergey Zagraevsky