I'm not even surprised I didn't know anything about Mikhael Ancharov. The more I read, the more I am convinced that it is impossible to know all the good writers. You can expand your horizons as much as possible. That's what I do, in addition to having fun with books. It's still strange that such a significant figure for the Russian cultural space is a founder of the bardic song genre, a military translator, a Chinese painter, an artist, a scriptwriter, a prose writer, and Vysotsky himself called him his teacher. And "Samshitovy forest" was a cult book for the generation born in the sixties (the novel was published in 1979). And nothing, well, I just haven't heard anything about him.
It so happens that in my circle read other books, and bard's song is not particularly listened to. But it doesn't mean that the ideas, which Mikhail Leonidovich was a guide to, passed by. When you're destined to meet something, you can't go round the narrowed horse. I didn't go around, and I am grateful to all the books that opened the way to a wonderful new world. In my case, there are more and more books with practical mentors, not that they were not lucky, but point touches: one, less often two or three meetings, a conversation about something important, move on, look for answers to questions, learn to learn. The fate is external.
Books were not carried away by the wind of change, in any case, the most important ones were always there when they were needed. I think that the Samshitovy forest became one such for the generation of older brothers and sisters. About whom, about what? About a man who came to the world to change it for the better. About who serves his purpose to fix faulty and broken things, and at the same time fountains ideas related to various fields of knowledge. Sometimes he is ridiculed, often heard from reputable people, who do not do their own thing, sometimes ostracised. And sometime later, after he has expressed in the society of academic scientists the next idea which has been taken aback as a false scientist, sees it, properly issued and taken in working out by one of those who proved inconsistency.
Shoemaker is not sorry, he has a lot, let them take it. But sometimes, when he compares his permanently unsettled life with the established, decorated, regalia crowned a life of yesterday's opponents and persecutors, he gets sick. Whoever gets pies and dumplings, he gets bruises and cones. And the world is arranged in such a way that color differentiation of trousers is extremely important. Let not for him, but the best woman in the world who loves not for the sake of money (what kind of money?), although half the younger and damn good for herself, and asceticism in journalism, at all times a prestigious profession. Sapozhnikov himself can be as much as he likes, but for Vicky's sake, for the sake of the future of their future children, we have to step on our own song, put aside the desire for independence, and begin to derive material (social) benefits from our ideas. Otherwise, one can lose one's beloved one and not wait for children.
But the thing is that if you try to be like everyone else, you stop being yourself. You will melt, tear up, break something important in yourself, the key one. And then why live at all? I read a lot of Soviet and post-Soviet literature about those years, and "Boxwood" is about eighty percent of the total volume of one of the most bitter and hopeless books. I can't imagine how it could have been published six years before perestroika, it's also in direct words: science is at an impasse, because the system is designed in such a way as to promote and encourage the Silent Ones (in my summers, you shouldn't dare to have your own judgment), while at the same time putting in a pro crystal bed those who have the carelessness to get a bigger head than is welcomed by the standard.
Society is at a standstill because what is happening in science is a local manifestation of a common rule. In fact, I understand how we missed it. The next conclusion concerns more global generalizations: humanity is in a dead-end, degrades, the ability to think creatively replaces the ability to follow a slave paradigm, and the discoverers are stoned before being elevated to a pedestal (if they survive). Truly, the experience with Christ, if any, taught us anything, so only to repeat it as often as possible in all suspicious cases.
Oops, Ostapa carried, in fact, the "Samshitovy forest" not only and not so much about the problems of science and society, and not even the history of one person, although the image of Sapozhnikov is bright, interesting, he is sixties old of the first thaw wave, who was unable and unwilling to live by the law of general approval of the seventies. In fact, this is about Atlantis. So you agreed, mother, now a couple of dozen medics can't be avoided, can you? No. Let dilettantism, but charming, logical, sensible - teaches you to break the patterns, go beyond the ordinary ideas. The forerunner of our current quest for mass creativity, in which we are taking our first steps so far, but we are really quite different now. We look for and find the business to our liking, which we do not do for the sake of reward, we know how to enjoy life in all its forms, we do not put the achievements at the fair of vanity in the first place, and we do not consider participation in rat races to be mandatory.
No, I am far from thinking that one book could cause such a change. Although why not? The sun was stopped by the Word, in a word, it destroyed cities. And the world, according to an authoritative source, is created by the word.