Rasputin first published the story “Farewell to Matera” in 1976. The story takes place in the 1960s. In the story, the author reveals themes of relationships between fathers and children, continuity of generations, the search for the meaning of life, issues of memory and oblivion. Rasputin contrasts people of the old and new eras: those who cling to the traditions of the past, have a close connection with their small homeland, and those who are ready to burn huts and crosses for the sake of a new life.

Main characters

Pinigina Daria Vasilievna- a native resident of Matera, mother of Pavel, grandmother of Andrei. She was “the oldest of the old women,” “tall and lean” with a “stern, bloodless face.”

Pinigin Pavel– Daria’s second son, a fifty-year-old man, lives in a neighboring village with his wife Sophia. “I worked as a foreman on a collective farm, then as a supervisor.”

Other characters

Pinigin Andrey- grandson of Daria.

Bohodul- a stray “blessed” old man, “passed himself off as a Pole, loved Russian swearing,” lived in a barracks “like a cockroach.”

Sima- an old woman who came to Matera less than 10 years ago.

Catherine- one of the residents of Matera, Petrukha’s mother.

Petrukha- “dissolute” son of Catherine.

Nastya and Egor- old people, residents of Matera.

Vorontsov- Chairman of the village council and council in the new village.

Master of the Island, “royal foliage”.

Chapter 1

“And spring has come again” - “the last for Matera, for the island and the village that bear the same name.” Matera was created three hundred years ago.

Down the Angara, they began to build a dam for a power plant, because of which the water along the river was supposed to rise and soon flood Matera - the last summer remained, then everyone had to move.

Chapter 2

Old women Nastya and Sima often sat at Daria’s samovar. “Despite the years, the old woman Daria was still on her own two feet,” managing the household herself.

Nastasya, having lost her sons and daughter, lived with her husband Yegor. An apartment was already waiting for them in the city, but the old people were still delaying the move.

Sima arrived in Matera relatively recently; she had no one here except her grandson Kolya.

Chapter 3

The sanitary brigade was “cleaning up the area” at the cemetery - men removed crosses, bedside tables and fences from the graves in order to then burn them. The old women drove the brigade away and put the crosses in place until late at night.

Chapter 4

The next day after the incident, Bogodul came to Daria. Talking to him, the woman shared that it would be better for her not to live to see everything that was happening. Walking then around the island, Daria recalled the past, thinking that although she had lived a “long and toll-laden life,” she “didn’t understand anything about it.”

Chapter 5

In the evening, Pavel arrived, Daria’s second son, “the first was taken away by the war,” and the third “found death in a logging camp.” Daria couldn’t imagine how she would live in an apartment - without a garden, without a place for a cow and chickens, or her own bathhouse.

Chapter 6

“And when night came and Matera fell asleep, a small animal, slightly larger than a cat, unlike any other animal, jumped out from under the bank on the mill channel - the Master of the Island.” “No one had ever seen or met him, but here he knew everyone and knew everything.”

Chapter 7

It was time for Nastasya and Yegor to leave. The night before leaving, the woman did not sleep. In the morning the old people packed their things. Nastasya asked Daria to look after her cat. The old people took a long time to get ready - it was very difficult for them to leave their home, Matera.

Chapter 8

At night, one of the villagers, Petrukha, set fire to his hut. His mother, Katerina, moved her modest belongings to Daria in advance and began to live with the old woman.

“And while the hut was burning, the owner looked at the village. In the light of this generous conflagration, he clearly saw the faded lights above the still living huts,<…>noting in what order the fire will take them.”

Chapter 9

Arriving in Matera, Pavel did not stay here for long. When Ekaterina moved to Daria, he “became calmer,” since now his mother would have help.

Pavel “understood that it was necessary to move from Matera, but did not understand why it was necessary to move to this village, although it was richly constructed<…>Yes, it was put in such an inhumane and awkward manner.” “Paul was surprised, looking at Sonya, at his wife”: how she entered the new apartment – ​​“as if she had always been here. I got used to it within a day." “Pavel understood well that his mother would not be used to this. This is someone else's paradise for her."

Chapter 10

After the fire, Petrukha disappeared somewhere. Catherine’s samovar burned down in a fire, without which the woman “was completely orphaned.” Katerina and Daria spent all their days talking; life was easier for them together.

Chapter 11

Haymaking has begun. “Half the village has returned to Matera.” Soon Petrukha arrived in a new suit - he received a lot of money for the burned estate, but gave only 25 rubles to his mother.

Chapter 12

Daria's grandson came to see him - Andrei, Pavel's youngest son. Andrey worked at a factory, but quit and now wanted to go “to a big construction site.” Daria and Pavel found it difficult to understand their grandson, who reasoned: “Now the time is such that it is impossible to sit in one place.”

Chapter 13

Petrukha got ready for the construction site with Andrey. In mid-September, Vorontsov arrived and ordered “not to wait for the last day and gradually burn everything that is located unless absolutely necessary.”

Chapter 14

Daria, talking with her grandson, expressed that people now began to live too quickly: “I galloped in one direction, looked around, didn’t look back - in the other direction.” “Only you and you, Andryushka, will remember after me how exhausted you are.”

Chapter 15

Daria asked her son and grandson to move the graves of their relatives. It scared Andrei, it seemed creepy. Pavel promised to do this, but the next day he was summoned to the village for a long time. Soon Andrei also left.

Chapter 16

Gradually, people began to “evacuate small animals from the village,” and buildings were burned. “Everyone was in a hurry to move out, to get away from the dangerous island. And the village stood deserted, bare, deaf.” Soon Daria took Sima and Kolya to her place.

Chapter 17

A fellow villager said that Petrukha “is engaged in burning abandoned houses” for money. “Katerina, having come to terms with the loss of her hut, could not forgive Petrukha for burning strangers’.”

Chapter 18

Pavel, taking the cow Mike, wanted to immediately take his mother, but Daria firmly refused. In the evening, the woman went to the cemetery - Pavel never moved the graves - to his father and mother, to his son. She thought that “who knows the truth about a person, why does he live? For the sake of life itself, for the sake of the children, so that the children leave the children, and the children’s children leave the children, or for the sake of something else? "

Chapter 19

“Matera, the island and the village, could not be imagined without larch on the cattle.” “The Royal Foliage” “eternally, powerfully and imperiously stood on a hillock half a mile from the village, noticeable from almost everywhere and known to everyone.” “And as long as he stands, Matera will stand.” Old people treated the tree with respect and fear.

“And then the day came when strangers approached him.” The men were unable to cut down or burn the old tree; not even a chainsaw could take it. In the end, the workers left the larch alone.

Chapter 20

Daria, despite the fact that her hut was to be burned very soon, whitewashed the house. In the morning I lit the stove and cleaned the house. “She was tidying up and felt how she was thinning out, being exhausted with all her strength - and the less there was to do, the less she had left.”

Chapter 21

The next day Nastya returned to Matera. The woman said that her husband Yegor died.

Chapter 22

After the huts were burned, the old women moved to the barracks. Having learned about this, Vorontsov was outraged and forced Pavel and Petrukha to urgently go pick up the women. The men left in the middle of the night and wandered for a long time in thick fog.

...At night Bogodul opened the doors of the barracks. “The fog rolled in and a distant melancholy howl was heard - it was the Master’s farewell voice.” “From somewhere, as if from below, came the faint, barely discernible noise of an engine.”

Conclusion

In the story “Farewell to Matera,” V. G. Rasputin, as a representative of the literary direction of “village prose,” pays special attention to descriptions of the nature of the island, conveying the mood of the characters through landscapes. The author introduces characters of folklore origin into the work - the Master of the Island and Bogodul, symbolizing the old, passing world, which the old people continue to hold on to.

In 1981, the story was filmed (directed by L. Shepitko, E. Klimov) under the title “Farewell.”

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V. G. Rasputin

Farewell to Matera

And again spring came, its own in its endless series, but the last for Matera, for the island and the village that bear the same name. Again, with a roar and passion, the ice rushed through, piling up hummocks on the banks, and the Angara opened freely, stretching out into a mighty sparkling stream. Again, on the upper cape, the water rustled vigorously, rolling down the river on both sides; The greenery of the earth and trees began to glow again, the first rains fell, swifts and swallows flew in, and the awakened frogs croaked lovingly to life in the evenings in the swamp. All this happened many times, and many times Matera was within the changes taking place in nature, not lagging behind or getting ahead of each day. So now they have planted vegetable gardens - but not all of them: three families left in the fall, went to different cities, and three more families left the village even earlier, in the very first years, when it became clear that the rumors were true. As always, they sowed grain - but not in all the fields: they didn’t touch the arable land across the river, but only here, on the island, where it was closer. And now they poked potatoes and carrots in the gardens not at the same time, but as they had to, whenever they could: many now lived in two houses, between which there were a good fifteen kilometers of water and a mountain, and were torn in half. That Matera is not the same: the buildings stand still, only one hut and a bathhouse were dismantled for firewood, everything is still in life, in action, the roosters are still crowing, the cows are roaring, the dogs are ringing, and the village has withered, it’s clear that it has withered, like a felled tree, it took root and left its usual course. Everything is in place, but not everything is the same: the nettles grew thicker and more impudent, the windows in the empty huts froze dead and the gates to the courtyards dissolved - they were closed for the sake of order, but some evil force opened them again and again, so that the draft, creaking and slamming became stronger ; fences and spinning mills were askew, flocks, barns, sheds were blackened and stolen, poles and boards were lying around uselessly - the owner’s hand, straightening them for long service, no longer touched them. Many of the huts were not whitewashed, not tidied up and halved, some had already been taken to new housing, revealing gloomy, shabby corners, and some were left for the needy, because there was still a lot to run into and mess around with here. And now only old men and old women remained in Matera all the time, they looked after the garden and the house, looked after the cattle, fussed with the children, maintaining a living spirit in everything and protecting the village from excessive desolation. In the evenings they got together, talked quietly - and all about one thing, about what would happen, sighed often and heavily, glancing cautiously towards the right bank beyond the Angara, where a large new settlement was being built. Various rumors came from there.

That first man, who more than three hundred years ago decided to settle on the island, was a keen-sighted and watchful man, who correctly judged that he could not find a better land than this. The island stretched for more than five miles and not as a narrow ribbon, but as an iron - there was room for arable land, and forest, and a swamp with a frog, and on the lower side, behind a shallow crooked channel, another island approached Matera, which was called Podmoga, then Podnogoy. Help is understandable: what was lacking on their land, they took here, and why Podnoga - not a single soul could explain, and now it won’t explain, even more so. Someone's stumbling tongue fell out, and off it went, and the tongue knows that the weirder it is, the sweeter it is. In this story there is another name that came from nowhere - Bogodul, that’s what they called the old man who wandered from foreign lands, pronouncing the word in the Khokhlatsky manner as Bokhgodul. But here you can at least guess where the nickname began. The old man, who pretended to be a Pole, loved Russian obscenities, and, apparently, one of the visiting literate people, having listened to him, said in their hearts: blasphemy, but the villagers either didn’t understand it, or deliberately twisted their tongue and turned it into a blasphemy. It’s impossible to say for sure whether it was like this or not, but this hint suggests itself.

The village has seen everything in its lifetime. In ancient times, bearded Cossacks climbed past it up the Angara to set up the Irkutsk prison; merchants, scurrying in this and that direction, turned up to spend the night with her; they carried the prisoners across the water and, seeing the inhabited shore right in front of them, they also rowed towards it: they lit fires, cooked fish soup from fish caught right there; For two full days the battle rumbled here between the Kolchakites, who occupied the island, and the partisans, who went in boats to attack from both banks. The Kolchakites left in Matera a barrack they had cut down on the upper edge near Golomyska, in which in recent years, during the red summers, when it was warm, Bogodul lived like a cockroach. The village knew floods, when half the island went under water, and above Podmoga - it was calmer and more level - and terrible funnels were spinning, it knew fires, hunger, robbery.

The village had its own church, as it should be, on a high, clean place, clearly visible from a distance from both channels; This church was converted into a warehouse during the collective farm period. True, she lost her service due to the lack of a priest even earlier, but the cross at the head remained, and the old women bowed to him in the morning. Then the cover was shot down. There was a mill on the upper nasal groove, as if specially dug for it, with grinding, although not selfish, but not borrowed, enough for one’s own bread. In recent years, twice a week a plane landed on the old cattle, and whether in the city or in the region, people got used to flying by air.

This is how the village lived, at the very least, holding its place in the ravine near the left bank, meeting and seeing off the years like water along which they communicated with other settlements and near which they eternally fed. And just as there seemed to be no end to the running water, there was no end to the village: some went to the graveyard, others were born, old buildings collapsed, new ones were cut down. So the village lived, enduring all times and adversity, for more than three hundred years, during which half a mile of land was washed up on the upper cape, until one day a rumor broke out that the village would not live or exist any further. Down the Angara they are building a dam for a power plant; the water along the river and streams will rise and spill, flooding many lands, including, first and foremost, of course, Matera. Even if you put five of these islands on top of each other, it will still flood to the top, and then you won’t be able to show where people were struggling there. We'll have to move. It was not easy to believe that this would actually be the case, that the end of the world, which the dark people were afraid of, was now really close for the village. A year after the first rumors, an assessment commission arrived by boat, began to determine the wear and tear of the buildings and set money for them. There was no longer any doubt about Matera’s fate; she survived in her last years. Somewhere on the right bank a new village for a state farm was being built, into which all nearby and even non-neighboring collective farms were brought together, and it was decided to put the old villages under fire, so as not to bother with rubbish.

Time does not stand still. Society and life itself are constantly moving forward, making their own adjustments to already established rules. But this happens differently for everyone and not always in accordance with the laws of morality and conscience.

The story “Farewell to Matera” by V. Rasputin is an example of how new trends run counter to moral principles, how progress literally “absorbs” human souls. The work, which appeared in the mid-70s of the last century, touches on many important issues that have not lost their relevance today.

The history of the story

The second half of the 20th century became a time of change in the history of the country. And the achievements of the scientific and technical industry, which contributed to the transition to a higher level of development, often led to serious contradictions in society. One such example is the construction of a powerful power plant near the writer’s native village, Atalanka. As a result, it ended up in a flood zone. It would seem like such a trifle: to destroy a small village in order to bring considerable benefit to the whole country. But no one thought about the fate of its old residents. And the ecological balance was disrupted as a result of interference in the natural course of development of nature.

These events could not help but touch the soul of the writer, whose childhood and youth were spent in the outback, in direct connection with established traditions and foundations. Therefore, Rasputin’s story “Farewell to Matera” is also a bitter reflection on what the author himself had to endure.

Plot basis

The action begins in the spring, but the symbolic understanding of this time as the birth of a new life is not applicable in this case. On the contrary, it is at this moment that news of its imminent flooding spreads around the village.

At the center of the story are the tragic fates of its indigenous inhabitants: Daria, Nastasya, Katerina, the “old old women” who dreamed of ending their lives here and sheltered the useless Bogodul (associations arise with the holy fool, the wanderer, the man of God). And then everything falls apart for them. Neither stories about a comfortable apartment in a new village on the banks of the Angara, nor fiery speeches of the young (Andrey, Daria’s grandson) that the country needs this, can convince them of the advisability of destroying their home. The old women gather for a cup of tea every evening, as if they are trying to enjoy each other's company before parting. They say goodbye to every corner of nature, so dear to the heart. All this time, Daria is trying to rebuild her life, hers and the village’s, bit by bit, trying not to miss anything: after all, for her, “the whole truth is in memory.”

All this is majestically observed by the invisible Master: he is not able to save the island, and for him this is also a farewell to Matera.

The content of the last months of the old-timers' stay on the island is supplemented by a number of terrible events. The burning of Katerina's house by her own drunkard son. An unwanted move to Nastasya’s village and watching how a hut without a mistress immediately turned into an orphan. Finally, the outrages of the “officials” sent by the SES to destroy the cemetery, and the decisive opposition of the old women to them - where did the strength come from in protecting their native graves!

And the tragic ending: people in a boat caught in the fog, lost in the middle of the river, having lost their bearings in life. Among them is the son of the main character, Pavel, who was never able to tear his native place out of his heart. And the old women who remained on the island at the time of its flooding, and with them an innocent baby. Towering, unbroken - neither fire took it, nor an ax, nor even a modern chainsaw - foliage as proof of eternal life.

“Farewell to Matera”: problems

Simple plot. However, decades pass, and it still does not lose its relevance: after all, the author raises very important issues related to the development of society. Here are the most important ones:

• Why was a person born, what answer should he give at the end of his life?
• How to maintain mutual understanding between generations?
• What are the advantages of the “rural” way of life over the “urban” one?
• Why is it impossible to live without memory (in the broad sense)?
• What kind of power should the government have so that it does not lose the trust of the people?

And also, what is the threat to humanity from interfering in the natural development of nature? Could such actions be the beginning of the tragic end of his existence?

Questions that are initially quite complex and do not imply a clear answer are addressed by Rasputin. “Farewell to Matera” is his vision of problems, as well as an attempt to attract the attention of everyone living on Earth to them.

Daria Pinigina - the oldest resident of the village

A keeper of centuries-old traditions, faithful to the memory of her family, respectful of the places where her life passed - this is how the main character of the story is seen. My son and his family went to the village, one joy is their arrival once a week. The grandson for the most part does not understand and does not accept her beliefs, since he is a person of a different generation. As a result, lonely old women like herself become family people for her. She whiles away the time with them and shares her worries and thoughts.

The analysis of the work “Farewell to Matera” begins with the image of Daria. It helps to understand how important it is not to lose touch with the past. The main belief of the heroine is that without memory there is no life, since as a result the moral foundations of human existence itself are lost. Thus, an unremarkable old woman becomes a measure of conscience for Rasputin and his readers. It is precisely such inconspicuous heroes, according to the author, who attract him most.

Scene of farewell to the house

An important moment in understanding Daria’s inner world is the episode in which she “prepares” her home for death. The parallel between the decoration of a house that will be burned and the dead body is obvious. Rasputin includes in his work “Farewell to Matera” a detailed description of how the heroine “washes” and whitens it, decorates it with fresh fir - everything as it should be when saying goodbye to the deceased. She sees a living soul in her house and addresses him as the most precious being. She will never understand how a person (meaning Petrukha, the son of her friend) can with his own hands burn down the house in which he was born and lived.

Cemetery protection

Another key scene, without which an analysis of the work “Farewell to Matera” is impossible, is the destruction of graves in the local cemetery. No good intentions can explain such a barbaric act of the authorities, committed in front of the residents. To the pain of having to leave the graves of dear people to be drowned, another one was added - to see crosses being burned. So the old women with sticks had to stand up to protect them. But it was possible to “do this cleanup in the end” so that the residents would not see.

Where has the conscience gone? And also - simple respect for people and their feelings? These are the questions asked by Rasputin (“Farewell to Matera,” by the way, is not the writer’s only work on this topic) and his heroes. The merit of the author is that he was able to convey to the reader a very important idea: any government restructuring must be correlated with the peculiarities of the people’s way of life, the characteristics of the human soul. This is where trust in each other and any relationship between people begins.

Generational connection: is it important?

Where do people like SES workers and Petrukha come from? And not all of its inhabitants feel the same way about the destruction of Matera as these five old women. Klavka, for example, is only rejoicing at the opportunity to move into a comfortable house.

Again, Daria’s words come to mind about what it means for a person to remember his roots, his ancestors, and the laws of morality. Old people leave, and with them the experience and knowledge accumulated over centuries, which are of no use to anyone in the modern world, disappear. Young people are always in a hurry somewhere, making grandiose plans that are very far from the way of life that their ancestors had. And if Pavel, Daria’s son, still feels uncomfortable in the village: he is burdened by the new house built by someone “not for himself,” and the stupidly located buildings, and the land on which nothing grows, then her grandson, Andrei, no longer understands at all what can keep a person on such an abandoned island as Matera. For him, the main thing is progress and the prospects that it opens up for people.

The connection between generations is a rather hackneyed topic. “Farewell to Matera,” using the example of one family, shows how lost it is: Daria sacredly honors her ancestors, her main concern is to transport the graves to the ground. Such a thought seems strange to Pavel, but still he does not dare to immediately refuse his mother. Although he will not fulfill the request: there are enough other problems. And the grandson doesn’t even understand why this is needed. So what can we say about those who are “just doing their job” to clean up the territory - what a word they made up! However, you cannot live in the future without remembering the past. That's why history is written. And they are stored so that mistakes are not repeated in the future. This is another important idea that the author is trying to convey to his contemporary.

Small homeland - what does it mean for a person?

Rasputin, as a person who grew up in a village, a Russian at heart, is also concerned about another question: will society lose its roots, which originate in his father’s home? For Daria and other old women, Matera is the place where their family originated, the traditions that have developed over centuries, the covenants given by their ancestors, the main one of which is to take care of the land-nurse. Unfortunately, young people easily leave their native places, and with them they lose their spiritual connection with their hearth. The analysis of the work leads to such sad reflections. Farewell to Matera can be the beginning of the loss of moral support that supports a person, and an example of this is Pavel, who finds himself in the finale between two banks.

The relationship between man and nature

The story begins with a description of the beauty of the island, untouched by civilization, which has preserved its primitiveness. Landscape sketches play a special role in conveying the author’s ideas. An analysis of the work “Farewell to Matera” makes it possible to understand that a person who has long considered himself the master of the world is deeply mistaken. Civilization can never prevail over what was created before it. The proof is the unbroken, mighty foliage that will protect the island until its death. He did not succumb to man, retaining his dominant principle.

The meaning of the story “Farewell to Matera”

The content of one of V. Rasputin’s best works still sounds like a warning many years later. In order for life to continue and the connection with the past not to be lost, you must always remember your roots, that we are all children of the same mother earth. And everyone’s duty is to be on this earth not guests or temporary residents, but guardians of everything that has been accumulated by previous generations.

V. G. Rasputin

Farewell to Matera

And again spring came, its own in its endless series, but the last for Matera, for the island and the village that bear the same name. Again, with a roar and passion, the ice rushed through, piling up hummocks on the banks, and the Angara opened freely, stretching out into a mighty sparkling stream. Again, on the upper cape, the water rustled vigorously, rolling down the river on both sides; The greenery of the earth and trees began to glow again, the first rains fell, swifts and swallows flew in, and the awakened frogs croaked lovingly to life in the evenings in the swamp. All this happened many times, and many times Matera was within the changes taking place in nature, not lagging behind or getting ahead of each day. So now they have planted vegetable gardens - but not all of them: three families left in the fall, went to different cities, and three more families left the village even earlier, in the very first years, when it became clear that the rumors were true. As always, they sowed grain - but not in all the fields: they didn’t touch the arable land across the river, but only here, on the island, where it was closer. And now they poked potatoes and carrots in the gardens not at the same time, but as they had to, whenever they could: many now lived in two houses, between which there were a good fifteen kilometers of water and a mountain, and were torn in half. That Matera is not the same: the buildings stand still, only one hut and a bathhouse were dismantled for firewood, everything is still in life, in action, the roosters are still crowing, the cows are roaring, the dogs are ringing, and the village has withered, it’s clear that it has withered, like a felled tree, it took root and left its usual course. Everything is in place, but not everything is the same: the nettles grew thicker and more impudent, the windows in the empty huts froze dead and the gates to the courtyards dissolved - they were closed for the sake of order, but some evil force opened them again and again, so that the draft, creaking and slamming became stronger ; fences and spinning mills were askew, flocks, barns, sheds were blackened and stolen, poles and boards were lying around uselessly - the owner’s hand, straightening them for long service, no longer touched them. Many of the huts were not whitewashed, not tidied up and halved, some had already been taken to new housing, revealing gloomy, shabby corners, and some were left for the needy, because there was still a lot to run into and mess around with here. And now only old men and old women remained in Matera all the time, they looked after the garden and the house, looked after the cattle, fussed with the children, maintaining a living spirit in everything and protecting the village from excessive desolation. In the evenings they got together, talked quietly - and all about one thing, about what would happen, sighed often and heavily, glancing cautiously towards the right bank beyond the Angara, where a large new settlement was being built. Various rumors came from there.

That first man, who more than three hundred years ago decided to settle on the island, was a keen-sighted and watchful man, who correctly judged that he could not find a better land than this. The island stretched for more than five miles and not as a narrow ribbon, but as an iron - there was room for arable land, and forest, and a swamp with a frog, and on the lower side, behind a shallow crooked channel, another island approached Matera, which was called Podmoga, then Podnogoy. Help is understandable: what was lacking on their land, they took here, and why Podnoga - not a single soul could explain, and now it won’t explain, even more so. Someone's stumbling tongue fell out, and off it went, and the tongue knows that the weirder it is, the sweeter it is. In this story there is another name that came from nowhere - Bogodul, that’s what they called the old man who wandered from foreign lands, pronouncing the word in the Khokhlatsky manner as Bokhgodul. But here you can at least guess where the nickname began. The old man, who pretended to be a Pole, loved Russian obscenities, and, apparently, one of the visiting literate people, having listened to him, said in their hearts: blasphemy, but the villagers either didn’t understand it, or deliberately twisted their tongue and turned it into a blasphemy. It’s impossible to say for sure whether it was like this or not, but this hint suggests itself.

The village has seen everything in its lifetime. In ancient times, bearded Cossacks climbed past it up the Angara to set up the Irkutsk prison; merchants, scurrying in this and that direction, turned up to spend the night with her; they carried the prisoners across the water and, seeing the inhabited shore right in front of them, they also rowed towards it: they lit fires, cooked fish soup from fish caught right there; For two full days the battle rumbled here between the Kolchakites, who occupied the island, and the partisans, who went in boats to attack from both banks. The Kolchakites left in Matera a barrack they had cut down on the upper edge near Golomyska, in which in recent years, during the red summers, when it was warm, Bogodul lived like a cockroach. The village knew floods, when half the island went under water, and above Podmoga - it was calmer and more level - and terrible funnels were spinning, it knew fires, hunger, robbery.

The village had its own church, as it should be, on a high, clean place, clearly visible from a distance from both channels; This church was converted into a warehouse during the collective farm period. True, she lost her service due to the lack of a priest even earlier, but the cross at the head remained, and the old women bowed to him in the morning. Then the cover was shot down. There was a mill on the upper nasal groove, as if specially dug for it, with grinding, although not selfish, but not borrowed, enough for one’s own bread. In recent years, twice a week a plane landed on the old cattle, and whether in the city or in the region, people got used to flying by air.

This is how the village lived, at the very least, holding its place in the ravine near the left bank, meeting and seeing off the years like water along which they communicated with other settlements and near which they eternally fed. And just as there seemed to be no end to the running water, there was no end to the village: some went to the graveyard, others were born, old buildings collapsed, new ones were cut down. So the village lived, enduring all times and adversity, for more than three hundred years, during which half a mile of land was washed up on the upper cape, until one day a rumor broke out that the village would not live or exist any further. Down the Angara they are building a dam for a power plant; the water along the river and streams will rise and spill, flooding many lands, including, first and foremost, of course, Matera. Even if you put five of these islands on top of each other, it will still flood to the top, and then you won’t be able to show where people were struggling there. We'll have to move. It was not easy to believe that this would actually be the case, that the end of the world, which the dark people were afraid of, was now really close for the village. A year after the first rumors, an assessment commission arrived by boat, began to determine the wear and tear of the buildings and set money for them. There was no longer any doubt about Matera’s fate; she survived in her last years. Somewhere on the right bank a new village for a state farm was being built, into which all nearby and even non-neighboring collective farms were brought together, and it was decided to put the old villages under fire, so as not to bother with rubbish.

But now it was the last summer: the waters would rise in the fall.

The three old women sat at the samovar and then fell silent, pouring and sipping from the saucer, then again, as if reluctantly and tiredly, they began to carry on a weak, infrequent conversation. We sat with Daria, the oldest of the old women; None of them knew their exact years, because this accuracy remained at baptism in church records, which were then taken somewhere - the ends cannot be found. They talked about the old woman’s age like this:

- Girl, I was already carrying Vaska, my brother, on my back when you were born. - This is Daria Nastasya. – I was already in my memory, I remember.

“You, however, will be three years older than me.”

- But, on three! I was getting married, who were you - look around! You were running around without a shirt. You should remember how I came out.

- I remember.

- Well, okay. Where should you compare? Compared to me, you are very young.

The third old woman, Sima, could not participate in such long-standing memories, she was a newcomer, brought to Matera by a random wind less than ten years ago - to Matera from Podvolochnaya, from the Angarsk village, and there from somewhere near Tula, and She said that she saw Moscow twice, before the war and during the war, which in the village, due to the eternal habit of not really trusting what cannot be verified, was treated with a chuckle. How could Sima, some kind of unlucky old woman, see Moscow if none of them saw? So what if she lived nearby? – I guess they don’t let everyone in to Moscow. Sima, without getting angry, without insisting, fell silent, and then said the same thing again, for which she earned the nickname “Moskovishna.” By the way, it suited her: Sima was all clean and tidy, knew a little literacy and had a songbook, from which she sometimes drew melancholy and drawn-out songs about her bitter fate when she was in the mood. Her fate, it seems, was certainly not a sweet one, if she had to suffer so much, leave her homeland where she grew up during the war, give birth to her only and dumb girl, and now, in her old age, be left with a young grandson in her arms, whom no one knows when or how to raise. But Sima, even now, has not lost hope of finding an old man, next to whom she could warm herself and whom she could follow - wash, cook, serve. It was for this reason that she ended up in Matera at one time: having heard that grandfather Maxim remained a bore and having waited for the sake of decency, she left Podvolochnaya, where she then lived, and went to the island for happiness. But happiness did not emerge: grandfather Maxim became stubborn, and the women, who did not know Sima well, did not help: although no one needed his grandfather, it would be a shame to put his own grandfather under someone else’s side. Most likely, Maxim’s grandfather was frightened by Valka, Simina’s mute girl, who was already big at that time, mooing in a particularly unpleasant and loud manner, constantly demanding something, nervous. Regarding the failed matchmaking in the village, they scoffed: “Even though Sima was there, but by the way,” but Sima was not offended. She did not swim back to Nodvolochnaya, and remained in Matera, settling in a small abandoned hut on the lower edge. I planted a little garden, put up a garden, and wove paths for the floor from rag shingles—and that’s how I supplemented my income. And Valka, while she lived with her mother, went to the collective farm.

In Siberia, where rivers meander and then split into several forks, there is the concept of “matera”. This is the name for the main current, the core of the river. Hence Valentin Rasputin’s Matera, which has one common root with the words mastery, motherhood. The author shows that the verbal name of the old village is based on the mind and feeling of the people.

Matera, whose name has become fused not only with the earth, but also with people, must disappear. It will become the bottom of the coming sea. Houses, gardens, meadows, cemetery - all this will go under water forever. And this is death. And so all human affairs and concerns were laid bare in these last days of the village. Each word acquired sharp clarity and original meaning. Every action began to speak about man and the world as if it were the final truth, because “a true man,” as Rasputin writes, “speaks out almost only in moments of farewell and suffering - this is who he is, remember him.” "

And in the story there is not just one person, there is the whole life of the village and its inhabitants. She would have broken off silently if not for the memorable and unyielding old woman Daria Pinigina. People like her in every village unite the strict and fair, under whose protection “the weak and suffering are drawn together.” Pinigina is one of the “early” people who “distinguished conscience greatly” and believed that “your life, look what taxes it takes: Give it to Matera. If only Matera alone?!”

Another resident of the village, Anna, like all old people, knows only her dear Matera, loves her and does not want to part with her. In her opinion, the greatest sin in the world is to deprive him of his homeland. And old Nastasya is openly sad: “Who replants an old tree?!”

The news that prompted the heroes to act actively is symbolic. Bogodul brought it. This hero is perceived as nothing other than the peculiar spirit of Matera. He has been living on the island for God knows how many years. Coming out to the old women sitting at the samovar, he said: “They are robbing the dead.” Probably, the old women could bear a lot of things silently, resignedly, but not this.

When the old people reached the cemetery located outside the village, the workers of the sanitary and epidemiological station “finished their work, pulling down sawn-down bedside tables, fences and crosses in order to burn them with one fire.” It doesn’t even occur to them that for Daria and other villagers the cemetery is something sacred. It’s not for nothing that even the restrained Daria, “choking with fear and rage, screamed and hit one of the peasants with a stick, and swung it again, angrily asking: “Did you bury them here? Are your father and mother lying here? Are the guys lying down? You, bastard, didn’t have a father and mother. You're not a human". The whole village supports her.

This scene in the story gives reason for deep reflection. Life in this world does not begin with us, and it does not end with our departure. The way we treat our ancestors is how our descendants will treat us, following our example. “Disrespect for ancestors is the first sign of immorality,” Pushkin wrote. Old woman Daria talks about this. The author never tires of talking about this, picking up its truth. Throughout his passing village life, Rasputin reminds us that we are only a link in the chain of existence of the Universal world.

Thinking about this, the author shows several generations. It turns out that the further you go, the weaker the connections become. Here the old woman Daria sacredly honors the memory of the departed. Her son, Pavel, understands his mother, but what worries her is not the most important thing for him. And grandson Andrei doesn’t even understand what we’re talking about. It is not difficult for him to decide to get a job building a dam, because of which the island will be flooded. And in general, he is sure that memory is bad, it’s better without it. Rasputin's story is perceived as a warning. People like Andrey will create by destroying. And when they think about what is more in this process, it will be too late: broken hearts cannot be healed. What will he ever have to answer to his ancestors? Daria thinks about this. She worries about her grandson and feels sorry for him.

The conscience of people like Petrukha is even worse. He set fire to his own house in order to receive monetary compensation. He is happy with the fact that money is being paid for the destruction.

The new village where the villagers are supposed to move is beautifully designed: one house after another. But it was staged somehow awkwardly, not in a human way. Probably, if necessary, it will be much easier to say goodbye to this village than to Matera.

Yes, Daria sees that the village’s departure is inevitable. But the old woman is worried about how easily people say goodbye to Matera; how unceremonious we are with the graves, behind which there is centuries-old life and memory. Academician Dmitry Likhachev wrote in the margins of “Farewell”: “In all centuries and in all countries, the consciousness of our own mortality has brought us up and taught us to think about what kind of memory we will leave behind.”

During the remaining days before the flooding, Daria collects the history of Matera. The old woman is in a hurry to think it over and reunite it, so that at least in her heart the village can live as a human being, without losing itself. Daria wants Matera’s entire experience to remain in her memory: “The truth is in my memory. He who has no memory has no life.” Rasputin also knows this, because he shows that the village of Matera is the core, the origins of human life, moral relations