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Конармия. Одесские Рассказы.
В этот сборник вошли известный цикл рассказов Бабеля "Конармия" и его бессмертные, разобранные на цитаты "Одесские рассказы".
В конармейском цикле автор страстно и правдиво рассказывает о Гражданской войне, о "стихии революции", где нашлось место победам и поражениям, великодушию и жестокости.
"Одесские рассказы" - ироничные истории о неунывающих бандитах с Молдаванки и их неотразимом предводителе Бене Крике. Бабель мастерски изображает воров, налетчиков и контрабандистов в рождении, любви и смерти. Низкое и высокое, духовное и плотское в этой прозе существует нераздельно, как и сама жизнь, описанная живым, экспрессивным языком.
В конармейском цикле автор страстно и правдиво рассказывает о Гражданской войне, о "стихии революции", где нашлось место победам и поражениям, великодушию и жестокости.
"Одесские рассказы" - ироничные истории о неунывающих бандитах с Молдаванки и их неотразимом предводителе Бене Крике. Бабель мастерски изображает воров, налетчиков и контрабандистов в рождении, любви и смерти. Низкое и высокое, духовное и плотское в этой прозе существует нераздельно, как и сама жизнь, описанная живым, экспрессивным языком.
First published January 1, 1926
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About the author
Isaac Babel
207 books298 followersIsaak Emmanuilovich Babel (Russian: Исаак Эммануилович Бабель; 1894 - 1940) was a Russian language journalist, playwright, literary translator, and short story writer. He is best known as the author of Red Cavalry, Story of my Dovecote and Tales of Odessa, all of which are considered masterpieces of Russian literature. Babel has also been acclaimed as "the greatest prose writer of Russian Jewry."
Loyal to, but not uncritical of, the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Isaak Babel fell victim to Joseph Stalin's Great Purge due to his longterm affair with the wife of NKVD chief Nikolai Yezhov. Babel was arrested by the NKVD at Peredelkino on the night of May 15, 1939. After "confessing", under torture, to being a Trotskyist terrorist and foreign spy, Babel was shot on January 27, 1940. The arrest and execution of Isaak Babel has been labeled a catastrophe for the world of literature.
Loyal to, but not uncritical of, the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Isaak Babel fell victim to Joseph Stalin's Great Purge due to his longterm affair with the wife of NKVD chief Nikolai Yezhov. Babel was arrested by the NKVD at Peredelkino on the night of May 15, 1939. After "confessing", under torture, to being a Trotskyist terrorist and foreign spy, Babel was shot on January 27, 1940. The arrest and execution of Isaak Babel has been labeled a catastrophe for the world of literature.
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September 26, 2024
I remember reading this intensely macabre but passionate set of stories in the grim New Year of 1989, and being incredibly stirred, shaken - and, alas, fried - by its totally in-your-face violence.
It depicts the horrific pogroms in Russia at the outset of the 20th century.
My wonderful buddy and once-roommate David - whose advice I will always affectionately remember - had imprinted Babel’s importance upon my fourteen-year-old brain twenty-five years earlier.
When I finally bought a copy of the Odessa stories, no timing could have been worse.
The button-down office where I worked was reeling from the aftershock of young Colleen’s diagnosis of terminal cancer. She was a familiar and witty mainstay of our big organization.
And I personally took it hard. You see, I had teased her for her serious demeanour - and was abruptly taken down a few pegs by her snappish rejoinder - just days before her hospital admission.
I had had no clue what she was then going through. And shortly afterward, she succumbed to that cancer.
It was, therefore, the worst time to plunge into Babel’s daylight nightmares. It sat hard on my stomach, if you know what I mean. My anxiety level skyrocketed.
But misery must love company! And Babel was ready to REALLY bend my ear with his grisly tales...
Well, the tales themselves are a bit bawdy and totally, unpredictably all-over-the-map in their primitive violence. You can tell that writing them musta administered an old-fashioned cathartic bloodletting to his sickened state of mind. Yes, pogroms were HELL.
But as for me, straitened severely by my draconian and gentrified office managers in 1991, it had given me a foretaste of my exile to the brutal reality of an organizational backwater -
To which unenvied locale my fate had led me -
As a serendipitous existential fix to the nameless dread my poor friend Colleen's death had uncovered.
And now, listening to Mozart’s E Minor Violin Sonata - occasioned by his beloved mother’s untimely death - I wonder if ploughing through the bitter regret of Colleen’s death and my antsy reading of Babel didn’t teach me a valuable lesson about life?
For I now think, in stark contradistinction to an unnamed recent American Administration -
That true existential freedom can only be won only on the bitter cross of self-sacrifice and compassion for the Victims on every side.
It depicts the horrific pogroms in Russia at the outset of the 20th century.
My wonderful buddy and once-roommate David - whose advice I will always affectionately remember - had imprinted Babel’s importance upon my fourteen-year-old brain twenty-five years earlier.
When I finally bought a copy of the Odessa stories, no timing could have been worse.
The button-down office where I worked was reeling from the aftershock of young Colleen’s diagnosis of terminal cancer. She was a familiar and witty mainstay of our big organization.
And I personally took it hard. You see, I had teased her for her serious demeanour - and was abruptly taken down a few pegs by her snappish rejoinder - just days before her hospital admission.
I had had no clue what she was then going through. And shortly afterward, she succumbed to that cancer.
It was, therefore, the worst time to plunge into Babel’s daylight nightmares. It sat hard on my stomach, if you know what I mean. My anxiety level skyrocketed.
But misery must love company! And Babel was ready to REALLY bend my ear with his grisly tales...
Well, the tales themselves are a bit bawdy and totally, unpredictably all-over-the-map in their primitive violence. You can tell that writing them musta administered an old-fashioned cathartic bloodletting to his sickened state of mind. Yes, pogroms were HELL.
But as for me, straitened severely by my draconian and gentrified office managers in 1991, it had given me a foretaste of my exile to the brutal reality of an organizational backwater -
To which unenvied locale my fate had led me -
As a serendipitous existential fix to the nameless dread my poor friend Colleen's death had uncovered.
And now, listening to Mozart’s E Minor Violin Sonata - occasioned by his beloved mother’s untimely death - I wonder if ploughing through the bitter regret of Colleen’s death and my antsy reading of Babel didn’t teach me a valuable lesson about life?
For I now think, in stark contradistinction to an unnamed recent American Administration -
That true existential freedom can only be won only on the bitter cross of self-sacrifice and compassion for the Victims on every side.
June 21, 2021
Just a general observation: except maybe War and Peace i don’t think I’ve ever read a Russian novel I have not enjoyed.
November 17, 2023
Rat je i dalje tu, samo pisci više nisu isti. Pitam se, hoće li se nakon ovog rata Rusije i Ukrajine pisati knjige poput ove?
Rereading poslije 12 godina.
Rereading poslije 12 godina.
March 2, 2025
L'armata a cavallo è stato un fulmine: è un'opera costituita da un'insieme di raccontini (della dimensione di qualche paginetta) che nel loro insieme si fondono in un'originalissima cronaca della guerra sovietico-polacca, vissuta in prima persona dallo stesso Babel come giornalista e propagandista a seguito della leggendaria prima armata a cavalo di Budënnyj.
Sono raccontini popolareschi e vivaci, ricchi di colore, favolistici e grotteschi, carichi di un furore espressionistico radicato tanto nella tremenda e sanguinaria realtà bellica quanto, soprattutto, nella solita, assoluta follia del popolo russo. È una scrittura quella di Babel che sa essere al contempo essenziale e poetica, scarna ed aristocratica, una scrittura di assoluta vividezza espressiva. Il racconto si nutre e si incentra su una passione viscerale per le storie, le storie più popolane, le storie più assurde, senza mai tuttavia trascendere nel mero surrealismo: e così vedremo soldati bolscevichi rimembrare le proprie radici contadine (e quel novero di storie e di assurdità che la propria identità trascina) nel mezzo della guerra che incendia e distrugge la campagna russa e polacca, soldati bolscevichi trascinati da pulsioni animalesche compiere gesta di assoluta insensatezza... E il tutto condito da due fondamentali fattori: da un lato un'attenzione fervida nei confronti dell'ortodossia bolscevica, un'attenzione tuttavia non di formale convenienza, ma dettata dalla convinta accettazione da parte di Babel della missione storica comunista; dall'altra un'attenzione fondamentale nei confronti della realtà ebraica (lo stesso Babel era ebreo), ebraismo che sarà una, se non la tematica più importante della produzione letteraria del Babel post armata a cavallo.
Ciò che mi ha disturbato invece della raccolta è stata la fine (così come per Il villaggio della nuova vita di Platonov, altra opera che ho amato e con cui L'armata a cavallo conta numerosi punti in comune): improvvisa, lapidaria, nel pieno sviluppo della narrazione.
I Racconti di Odessa accentuano la passione popolaresca e folkloristica dell'Armata a cavallo, ma secondo me senza raggiungere la follia e l'intensità della prima raccolta: ambientati ad Odessa e più particolarmente nella Moldovjanka, quartiere degradato nella quale aveva vissuto fino ai propri vent'anni lo stesso Babel, rappresentano quattro racconti di breve durata (la raccolta sarà massimo di una trentina di pagine) incentrati sull'immaginaria figura del bandito ebreo Benja Kirk, zingaresco e romantico fuorilegge. La raccolta rappresenta un grande affresco, oltre che un grande atto d'amore verso Odessa e la sua comunità ebraica, un affresco pittoresco e romantico della vera Odessa, quella nascosta, povera e fatiscente.
La raccolta si chiude poi con vari racconti, editi e non: i primi racconti (quelli della giovinezza) non sono nulla di che, realisti di quel degradante e lurido realismo dostoevskijiano, profondamente quotidiani anche nello stile dimesso. I successivi vertono la propria attenzione quasi interamente sull'autobiografismo e sulla comunità ebraica russa, e particolarmente sull'inferno della vita dei cittadini ebrei durante l'impero zarista (particolarmente toccante è Storia di una colombaia, racconto sul pogrom di Odessa vissuto dallo stesso Babel bambino), ma è con gli ultimi racconti che Babel si riconferma il meraviglioso scrittore dell'Armata a cavallo: sono racconti ricchi di tensione, di violenza improvvisa, di rancore e pura rabbia, intervallati da perle di una saggezza talmudica, rabbinica. Ritorna l'estro del migliore Babel, arricchito di un nuovo, fondamentale problema sorto con l'avvento della rivoluzione, ossia il problema (insolvibile) dell'identità: lo scontro tra potere sovietico, con la sua esigenza di progresso e di benessere, e le comunità (ebraica e contadina), con i propri riti, le proprie sacre quanto assurde tradizioni.
Sono raccontini popolareschi e vivaci, ricchi di colore, favolistici e grotteschi, carichi di un furore espressionistico radicato tanto nella tremenda e sanguinaria realtà bellica quanto, soprattutto, nella solita, assoluta follia del popolo russo. È una scrittura quella di Babel che sa essere al contempo essenziale e poetica, scarna ed aristocratica, una scrittura di assoluta vividezza espressiva. Il racconto si nutre e si incentra su una passione viscerale per le storie, le storie più popolane, le storie più assurde, senza mai tuttavia trascendere nel mero surrealismo: e così vedremo soldati bolscevichi rimembrare le proprie radici contadine (e quel novero di storie e di assurdità che la propria identità trascina) nel mezzo della guerra che incendia e distrugge la campagna russa e polacca, soldati bolscevichi trascinati da pulsioni animalesche compiere gesta di assoluta insensatezza... E il tutto condito da due fondamentali fattori: da un lato un'attenzione fervida nei confronti dell'ortodossia bolscevica, un'attenzione tuttavia non di formale convenienza, ma dettata dalla convinta accettazione da parte di Babel della missione storica comunista; dall'altra un'attenzione fondamentale nei confronti della realtà ebraica (lo stesso Babel era ebreo), ebraismo che sarà una, se non la tematica più importante della produzione letteraria del Babel post armata a cavallo.
Ciò che mi ha disturbato invece della raccolta è stata la fine (così come per Il villaggio della nuova vita di Platonov, altra opera che ho amato e con cui L'armata a cavallo conta numerosi punti in comune): improvvisa, lapidaria, nel pieno sviluppo della narrazione.
I Racconti di Odessa accentuano la passione popolaresca e folkloristica dell'Armata a cavallo, ma secondo me senza raggiungere la follia e l'intensità della prima raccolta: ambientati ad Odessa e più particolarmente nella Moldovjanka, quartiere degradato nella quale aveva vissuto fino ai propri vent'anni lo stesso Babel, rappresentano quattro racconti di breve durata (la raccolta sarà massimo di una trentina di pagine) incentrati sull'immaginaria figura del bandito ebreo Benja Kirk, zingaresco e romantico fuorilegge. La raccolta rappresenta un grande affresco, oltre che un grande atto d'amore verso Odessa e la sua comunità ebraica, un affresco pittoresco e romantico della vera Odessa, quella nascosta, povera e fatiscente.
La raccolta si chiude poi con vari racconti, editi e non: i primi racconti (quelli della giovinezza) non sono nulla di che, realisti di quel degradante e lurido realismo dostoevskijiano, profondamente quotidiani anche nello stile dimesso. I successivi vertono la propria attenzione quasi interamente sull'autobiografismo e sulla comunità ebraica russa, e particolarmente sull'inferno della vita dei cittadini ebrei durante l'impero zarista (particolarmente toccante è Storia di una colombaia, racconto sul pogrom di Odessa vissuto dallo stesso Babel bambino), ma è con gli ultimi racconti che Babel si riconferma il meraviglioso scrittore dell'Armata a cavallo: sono racconti ricchi di tensione, di violenza improvvisa, di rancore e pura rabbia, intervallati da perle di una saggezza talmudica, rabbinica. Ritorna l'estro del migliore Babel, arricchito di un nuovo, fondamentale problema sorto con l'avvento della rivoluzione, ossia il problema (insolvibile) dell'identità: lo scontro tra potere sovietico, con la sua esigenza di progresso e di benessere, e le comunità (ebraica e contadina), con i propri riti, le proprie sacre quanto assurde tradizioni.
September 20, 2017
The book really consists of 3 parts. The first part, Tales of Odessa as such, is absolute gem: it is a tribute to the fading world of the Jews of Odessa, colourful as paintings by Marc Chagall. His writing is economic and atmospheric. The situations described would feel phantasmagoric and absurd; all the better, because it was the real life of that community before it has been destroyed and faded into the past.
The second part is autobiographic stories, though i doubt they all really happened to Babel. And you would understand my doubts if you read the book - the protagonist constantly makes up stories about himself within the stories. The first one "The story of my dovecote" is the most poignant and shocking. It is devoted to a pogrom in Nikolaev witnessed through the eyes of 11 year old boy. After reading it, one would understand better why so many Jews have supported the revolution and the bolsheviks specifically.
The third part are just sketches from post-revolutionary St Petersburg. They are less impressive.
I've read the book in Russian. I would not know how you can convey the first part in translation. It is full of Jewish and Odessa slang and spirit. But I hope, the translation keeps the original alive. Fantastic expressive short stories.
Наш физик ан уроках цитировал одесские рассказы к месту и ни к месту. Так что, мне очень хорошо знакомы эти сюжеты. Несмотря на прошедшие к тому времени 80 лет с их написания, они были свежи и современны. Вокруг меня было очень много еврейской культуры и быта (так сказать), когда я росла в 70-е в черте оседлости в Украине. Не смотря на ужасы, истребления и притеснения, люди выживали благодаря своему чувству юмора не в последнюю очередь. Жаль, что окончательно это все исчезло в 90-е, когда большинтсво получило возможность и уехало. Но наверное, Бабеля читают сейчас в Нью Йорке и Тел Авиве, и это все живет там, и это здорово.
The second part is autobiographic stories, though i doubt they all really happened to Babel. And you would understand my doubts if you read the book - the protagonist constantly makes up stories about himself within the stories. The first one "The story of my dovecote" is the most poignant and shocking. It is devoted to a pogrom in Nikolaev witnessed through the eyes of 11 year old boy. After reading it, one would understand better why so many Jews have supported the revolution and the bolsheviks specifically.
The third part are just sketches from post-revolutionary St Petersburg. They are less impressive.
I've read the book in Russian. I would not know how you can convey the first part in translation. It is full of Jewish and Odessa slang and spirit. But I hope, the translation keeps the original alive. Fantastic expressive short stories.
Наш физик ан уроках цитировал одесские рассказы к месту и ни к месту. Так что, мне очень хорошо знакомы эти сюжеты. Несмотря на прошедшие к тому времени 80 лет с их написания, они были свежи и современны. Вокруг меня было очень много еврейской культуры и быта (так сказать), когда я росла в 70-е в черте оседлости в Украине. Не смотря на ужасы, истребления и притеснения, люди выживали благодаря своему чувству юмора не в последнюю очередь. Жаль, что окончательно это все исчезло в 90-е, когда большинтсво получило возможность и уехало. Но наверное, Бабеля читают сейчас в Нью Йорке и Тел Авиве, и это все живет там, и это здорово.
September 12, 2018
Çocukluğunun geçtiği Odesa'da tanık olduğu pogrom, arka mahalleler, çocukluk hayalleri, bir çocuğun ilk aşkı, Gorky'ye adanmış "Güvercinliğimin Öyküsü", "Benya Krik" ismiyle sessiz filmi de çekilen haydut, "Kral" lakaplı Benya Krik'in öyküleri ve bence kitabın en güzel öyküleri olan "Buğday Seferi", "Öpüş", "Karl-Yankel", "İhtiyarlar Evinin Sonu" ve "Ermiş Hipatius'un Sonu"...
"Önce bakmayı öğreneceksin. Hep belli bir yöne bakıyorsun; başka yerler içinse, gözlerin yok sanki."
"Önce bakmayı öğreneceksin. Hep belli bir yöne bakıyorsun; başka yerler içinse, gözlerin yok sanki."
June 6, 2015
This collection of short stories about life among Jewish traders, workers and robbers in early-20th century Odessa, leading up to the revolution, almost packs the same punch as Red Cavalry. That's high praise. Yes, it's a bit uneven, but the best stories here are astounding, switching from jovial tales of childhood that never forget the darkness underneath, to brutally violent stories of antisemitism and crime, all with a language that wants to squeeze out evey possibility carbonated with a dark sense of humour.
Take "The Story of My Dovecot", for instance, which starts out as a hopeful story about how the narrator has saved for years to buy the pigeons he wants to raise, then suddenly out of nowhere the bright market day careens into bloody surrealism -
My world was tiny, and it was awful. I closed my eyes so as not to see it, and pressed myself tight into the ground that lay beneath me in soothing dumbness. This trampled earth in no way resembled real life, waiting for exams in real life. Somewhere far away Woe rode across it on a great steed, but the noise of the hoofbeats grew weaker and died away, and silence, the bitter silence that sometimes overwhelms children in their sorrow, suddenly deleted the boundary between body and the earth that was moving nowhither. The earth smelled of raw depths, of the tomb, of flowers. I smelled its smell and started crying, unafraid. I was walking along an unknown street set on either side with white boxes, walking in a getup of bloodstained feathers, alone between the pavements swept clean as on Sunday, weeping bitterly, fully and happily as I never wept again in all my life.
- until at the end, we understand what this child is experiencing.
And so with Kuzma I went to the home of the tax-inspector, where my parents, escaping the pogrom, had sought refuge.
The irony only gets bleaker when I look at the foreword of my 1960 edition: "Isaac Babel, 1894-1941(?)". That a writer capable of captuing the wold's messiness like this was not only denied the right to live, but even the right to a proper death, instead was swallowed in silence up by a dictator's prison camps, is beyond criminal.
Take "The Story of My Dovecot", for instance, which starts out as a hopeful story about how the narrator has saved for years to buy the pigeons he wants to raise, then suddenly out of nowhere the bright market day careens into bloody surrealism -
My world was tiny, and it was awful. I closed my eyes so as not to see it, and pressed myself tight into the ground that lay beneath me in soothing dumbness. This trampled earth in no way resembled real life, waiting for exams in real life. Somewhere far away Woe rode across it on a great steed, but the noise of the hoofbeats grew weaker and died away, and silence, the bitter silence that sometimes overwhelms children in their sorrow, suddenly deleted the boundary between body and the earth that was moving nowhither. The earth smelled of raw depths, of the tomb, of flowers. I smelled its smell and started crying, unafraid. I was walking along an unknown street set on either side with white boxes, walking in a getup of bloodstained feathers, alone between the pavements swept clean as on Sunday, weeping bitterly, fully and happily as I never wept again in all my life.
- until at the end, we understand what this child is experiencing.
And so with Kuzma I went to the home of the tax-inspector, where my parents, escaping the pogrom, had sought refuge.
The irony only gets bleaker when I look at the foreword of my 1960 edition: "Isaac Babel, 1894-1941(?)". That a writer capable of captuing the wold's messiness like this was not only denied the right to live, but even the right to a proper death, instead was swallowed in silence up by a dictator's prison camps, is beyond criminal.
May 24, 2021
Talentat. Toxic, obscen, bolșevic. Rusia evreimii marginale, dar și a celei omnipotente, a despotismului țarist și a turbării comuniste. Rusia iconoclastă și blasfemică. Puterea Sovietică în marș distrugător, peste așezări, moravuri și credințe, în extazul unui scriitor inconștient. Un înșelător înșelat, ucis în și de propriile himere.
February 25, 2014
I haven't read Babel in ten years. So now I've found this book and decided to give it a go because of its title.
Tales of Odessa is a cycle set in Southern Ukraine, in Odessa, and explores the culture of Odesskaya Jewry. These stories are fun, if a little violent (if anyone minds), for it deals with gangsters and other misfits. Violence isn't explicit, though, and it doesn't inhabit every page of the book.
Babel's language is straightforward, somewhat raw. I wouldn't call him polished, although it possesses poetic qualities here and there. But it isn't poetry of Nabokov, Bunin, Pushkin, if you know what I mean. Say, you have a dirty, crime-ridden place and you describe it accordingly––not one bit of sentimentalism takes place. Whether you enjoy it is up to you. I do. These stories are lively. Moreover, I needed a few laughs, and Babel delivered.
The use of humour in this book is typical Odessa's humour, in my opinion. That is black, sprinkled with something improbable(?). Think: Ilf and Petrov. Dialogues are excellent and very true to life; you could go to Odessa and see people speak this way even today.
Of course, there is one BUT. The book is culturally dense, it features many locations, thus a reader might feel a little lost. And it makes it difficult to recommend. If you don't mind the foreignness factor then, please, go for it. If anything, Babel needs more recognition. He is a superb short story writer.
Tales of Odessa is a cycle set in Southern Ukraine, in Odessa, and explores the culture of Odesskaya Jewry. These stories are fun, if a little violent (if anyone minds), for it deals with gangsters and other misfits. Violence isn't explicit, though, and it doesn't inhabit every page of the book.
Babel's language is straightforward, somewhat raw. I wouldn't call him polished, although it possesses poetic qualities here and there. But it isn't poetry of Nabokov, Bunin, Pushkin, if you know what I mean. Say, you have a dirty, crime-ridden place and you describe it accordingly––not one bit of sentimentalism takes place. Whether you enjoy it is up to you. I do. These stories are lively. Moreover, I needed a few laughs, and Babel delivered.
The use of humour in this book is typical Odessa's humour, in my opinion. That is black, sprinkled with something improbable(?). Think: Ilf and Petrov. Dialogues are excellent and very true to life; you could go to Odessa and see people speak this way even today.
Of course, there is one BUT. The book is culturally dense, it features many locations, thus a reader might feel a little lost. And it makes it difficult to recommend. If you don't mind the foreignness factor then, please, go for it. If anything, Babel needs more recognition. He is a superb short story writer.
September 8, 2025
No es un libro que se pueda apreciar totalmente con una sola lectura. Y el hecho de haber conseguido todos los relatos y la necesidad de analizarlos para un trabajo fue de mucha ayuda ( pero me voy a limitar a hacer una reseña, por supuesto). Cuentos de Odessa (tengo una versión en español) es una reescritura de la infancia de un autor que no fue ajeno al momento histórico en el que vivió. No se sabe en dónde empieza la biografía y dónde empieza la ficción, lo cual lo hace complejo. Muchos de los cuentos son entretenidos y otros son simplemente angustiantes, sobre todo los que están narrados por un niño afectado por el antisemitismo imperante. La escritura es concisa, breve, disruptiva y no flamea la bandera de "no confío en tu interpretación así que, por las dudas, te lo explico todo". Vale la pena.
August 28, 2020
"Беня говорит мало. но он говорит смачно"- сказав один з героїв цих оповідань, Фроїм Грач про свого колегу, знаменитого одеського бандита Беню Кріка( він же Мішка Япончик), теж герой оповідань.
Ці оповідання написані так смачно. що ви не зможете відірватися від цього тексту, багатого одеського колориту, світу Молдаванки. Пересипі та Привозу, лихих нальотчиків, які напамять могли цитувати блока, Бальмонта та Мандельштама і "чистити каси".
Тому "Кладите себе в уши мои слова" - ця книга варта прочитання, а звідси висновок "перестанем размазывать белую кашу по чистому столу" і почнемо читати
Ці оповідання написані так смачно. що ви не зможете відірватися від цього тексту, багатого одеського колориту, світу Молдаванки. Пересипі та Привозу, лихих нальотчиків, які напамять могли цитувати блока, Бальмонта та Мандельштама і "чистити каси".
Тому "Кладите себе в уши мои слова" - ця книга варта прочитання, а звідси висновок "перестанем размазывать белую кашу по чистому столу" і почнемо читати
December 6, 2017
Benja Krik, koji nije bio slavnoga roda postao je Benja Kralj. Jer je nasrnuo na Ruvima Osipoviča Tartakovskog kojeg su oni drugi krstili u Jervrejina i po i "devet nasrtaja". Rečeno je da je postava debelog novčanika sašivena suzama, a oni drugi su videli Forima Grača kao taljigaša, a on je bio i to i još nešto drugo. Daleko od Rotšilda i Mozesa Montefiorea, bankarskih hulja, na Sabornom trgu ili negde tu okolo, u Odesi, Cudečkis je bio dečak tada, i držao je golubove na svom srcu i onda je bogalj Makarenko - "Udario me besno, stisnutom pesnicom i razmrskao goluba na mojoj slepoočnici. ... Ležao sam na zemlji a utroba razmrskane ptice klizila mi je niz slepoočnicu. Lepila se niz obraze, prskala me krvlju i zaslepljivala me. Nežna golubova utroba lepila se na čelu i ja sklopih poslednje nezatvoreno oko da ne gledam svet koji se pružio preda mnom. Svet taj beše malen i grozan. ... Malen i grozan beše svet moj".
April 7, 2020
Preporuke...
May 1, 2012
I actually read this in the Collected Stories of Isaac Babel, and will probably return to the rest of the stories. Babel is touted as a master short story writer of Russia. These stories in particular were rather violent, not surprising since it tells the stories of Russian gangsters, ironically Jewish gangsters. They weren't really my cup of tea but they were ok. I did enjoy reading about some of the effects of the Russian revolution on the community.
April 25, 2013
Разкази за това как живее, мисли, оцелява, пие, пее и се умножава едно, изтикано в дълбините на града, в покрайнините на света и на общаството, парченце от народ, във времето на грандиозен политически и социален катаклизъм. Книгата е мнага еврейска, много руска, но и много просто човешка. Езикът, хуморът, метафорите, сатирата са много специфични и правят четенето на разказите неповторимо преживяване за читатели с настроени сетива.
July 23, 2017
Most of the language and interactions flew straight over my head. Found it too dense to connect the separate stories into a coherent whole. Wouldn't recommend this without some kind of prior cultural knowledge.
August 22, 2020
Najdraže mi je pronaći rijetka, stara izdanja koja se prodaju u kutijama po pet maraka. Naročito kad uroniš u svijet knjige, poput ovog židovskog iz Odese. Babelj je uh!
February 20, 2020
A superb writing, with gorgeous, funny, and sometimes tragic descriptions of people and local landmarks in an enchanting old Odessa (Moldavanka region) at the beginning of the 20th century. Mobs, revolutionaries, social upheaval - lots to enjoy here. A rich read. Rating: 4,5/5
January 31, 2020
Rereading Isaac Babel is always a treat. I don’t think I’ve loved and hated an author more than him. He makes you feel so many emotions, it’s almost too much. My favorite short- “The Story of my Dovecot” is especially soul-crushing. But I wanted to read some revolution prose during this current political climate 🤔
June 17, 2016
Вполне возможно, что можно будет зваться наиболее раскрывающей книгой, прочитанной за год 16ый, учитывая даже, что он ещё далеко не окончен. Наиболее раскрытой, книгой нараспашку - книгой, как человек; способной разделить горечь и радость, не обязывая. И светясь в темноте. Необязательной к прочтению книгой, прочесть которую не стоит упускать возможности, потому что прочесть её ничего не стоит, не требует излишнего усилия, прилежания и наличия толкового словаря.
"Одесские рассказы" - это мир, не подлежавший со времени сочинения кардинальным изменениям. Сплошной радикализм, а потому неспособный ко "смене парадигмы". Законсервированный прогресс. Безутешная попытка олицетворения хода истории. Мир, который невозможно будет пережить вновь уже в тот момент, когда "всё только начинается". Мир Ороборо.
"Конармия" - это прелесть (не стоит цепляться за это слово, поскольку оно имеет отношение лишь к художественному, литературному воплощению оной) войны, смерти, убийства, предательства, разрушения и кощунства. Словами начальника конского запаса, бывшего циркового атлета: "Ежели конь упал и подымается, то это - конь; ежели он, обратно говоря, не подымается, тогда это не конь." - встречает нас книга, но ещё прежде, несколькими главами ранее, мы читаем: "Прочь... прочь от этих подмигивающих мадонн, обманутых солдатами" - и закрываем книгу, будто читать мы начали с конца и так и не хватило сил у нас стать соучастником цветущих тёплой невинностью поры преступлений. "Мы оба смотрели на мир, как на луг в мае, как на луг, по которому ходят женщины и кони". Герой не заряжал ружья, и тотчас вспомнился Адам Парсел (который только что почему-то был оговорен "Пиндером") с "Острова" Мерля, и только в отдалении, в пыли дорожных работ и дорогих автомобилей маячил Жюльен Майа.
"Одесские рассказы" - это мир, не подлежавший со времени сочинения кардинальным изменениям. Сплошной радикализм, а потому неспособный ко "смене парадигмы". Законсервированный прогресс. Безутешная попытка олицетворения хода истории. Мир, который невозможно будет пережить вновь уже в тот момент, когда "всё только начинается". Мир Ороборо.
"Конармия" - это прелесть (не стоит цепляться за это слово, поскольку оно имеет отношение лишь к художественному, литературному воплощению оной) войны, смерти, убийства, предательства, разрушения и кощунства. Словами начальника конского запаса, бывшего циркового атлета: "Ежели конь упал и подымается, то это - конь; ежели он, обратно говоря, не подымается, тогда это не конь." - встречает нас книга, но ещё прежде, несколькими главами ранее, мы читаем: "Прочь... прочь от этих подмигивающих мадонн, обманутых солдатами" - и закрываем книгу, будто читать мы начали с конца и так и не хватило сил у нас стать соучастником цветущих тёплой невинностью поры преступлений. "Мы оба смотрели на мир, как на луг в мае, как на луг, по которому ходят женщины и кони". Герой не заряжал ружья, и тотчас вспомнился Адам Парсел (который только что почему-то был оговорен "Пиндером") с "Острова" Мерля, и только в отдалении, в пыли дорожных работ и дорогих автомобилей маячил Жюльен Майа.
December 14, 2019
Eye-opening in a lot of ways. Babel's facility with language is stunning, the way he interweaves beauty with mundane Soviet realities often stopped me and made me re-read. It was also not the easiest to get through, as he uses quite a bit of Odessa-specific slang, and more importantly, a lot of the more common terms are no longer relevant. As for the stories, they're sketches, they're pre-revolutionary and revolutionary and Soviet life, they're commentary on the way that Jews were treated and perceived, which was never at the forefront of Soviet consciousness, and which it is necessary to remember, at least for those who never really knew or thought about it. I'm really glad I read this.
July 10, 2020
Одна из лучших историй про то, что "человек человеку волк", про то, что Бог умер, и каждый бесконечно один и беск��нечно страдает, и целая страна была полна такими людьми. Слог, поэтика и эстетика, невероятно красивые, еще более контрастно подчеркивают это разрушение старого мира и приход жестокого хаоса, где ценится только сила и и некий пространный кодекс чести, не глубже поварешки по комплексности и содержанию.
January 20, 2018
Ф��рмат: Книга Язык: Русский
Воспоминания одесского еврея о начале 20-го века в Одессе. Достаточно интересно. Характерный стиль повествования. Наверно в настоящее время нужно считать классикой.
К перечтению - возможно.
Воспоминания одесского еврея о начале 20-го века в Одессе. Достаточно интересно. Характерный стиль повествования. Наверно в настоящее время нужно считать классикой.
К перечтению - возможно.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 27, 2011
Babel'i, Ecinniler'in (Elif Batuman) aktardığı kadar sev(e)medim. Önsözde yapılan Kafka-Babel kıyaslaması da ayrı bir soğuma/umduğunu bulamama nedeni.
January 10, 2017
Definitely not one of my favorites.
August 29, 2018
Some of it is pure magic, some of it is really hard to swallow and understand at all. The language is beautiful but it often makes detours that are simply too complicated to follow.
January 3, 2021
‘L’avenir nous apparaissait comme notre propriété incontestée, la guerre comme une tumultueuse préparation au bonheur, et le bonheur lui-meme comme un trait de caractère’
Recueil de nouvelle autobiographique d’une enfance et adolescence passéedans les quartiers juifs d’Odessa et Nicolaiev durant la fin de l’empire russe et le début de la Russie Bolchievik.
Babel décrit avec détachement les pogroms, la révolution et la pègre malhonnête du ghetto où il a grandit.
Il n’existe pas de trame chronologique qui lie les nouvelles entre elles ce qui force à se crée une image globale de sa vie et du milieu dans lequel il évolue, comme un puzzle qu’on essaierai de reconstitué pièce après pièce.
Intéressant!
Recueil de nouvelle autobiographique d’une enfance et adolescence passéedans les quartiers juifs d’Odessa et Nicolaiev durant la fin de l’empire russe et le début de la Russie Bolchievik.
Babel décrit avec détachement les pogroms, la révolution et la pègre malhonnête du ghetto où il a grandit.
Il n’existe pas de trame chronologique qui lie les nouvelles entre elles ce qui force à se crée une image globale de sa vie et du milieu dans lequel il évolue, comme un puzzle qu’on essaierai de reconstitué pièce après pièce.
Intéressant!
March 15, 2023
Два очень разных произведения под одной обложкой, поэтому оценить их в целом сложновато. "Конармия" понравилась гораздо меньше - очень уж заметно, как обычному сборищу бандитов и убийц пытаются придать какое-то более глубокое измерение. "Одесские рассказы" оставляют после себя приятную светлую меланхолию - едва ли не лучшее чувство, которое может подарить книга. "История моей голубятни", наверно, один из лучших рассказов на русском вообще.
May 5, 2023
Povestirile referitoare la războiul cu Polonia (în Ucraina), sunt interesante și zugrăvesc o lume extrem de reală și uluitor de brutală, realismul de-a dreptul naturalist fiind doar ocazional afectat (negativ) de lirism si patetism (genul penibil, de anii 1790). Cele "civile" ar descrie si ele o lume fascinantă si exotică (mahalaua odesită evreiască) dar sunt mult mai grav afectate de "poetism", devenind deseori efectiv neinteligibile.
October 9, 2020
What a great book! for some reason I thought there are 30 or so stories but there were only 8 :( I was very disappointed. His language of the mix of Russian and Hebrew is just fantastic. The characters are great and the stories of Jewish life are painting a vivid picture of life at that time & place
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