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MAXIM GORKY AMMA PDF

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Amma. byMaxim Gorky. Publication date Topics GENERAL. Publisher ADARSHA GRANDAMALA VIJAYAWADA. Collectionuniversallibrary. Contributor . CLASSIC SOVIET NOVEL TRANSLATED IN ENGLISH, MAXIM GORKY. Mother - Maxim Gorky yellow, square eyes. The mud plashed under their feet as if in mocking commiseration. Hoarse exclamations of sleepy.


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Ebook `Mother`: ebooks list of Maksim Gorky. Nook books. download TXT · download PDF (recognized text) · download EPUB · download MOBI for Kindle. Mother. Maksim Gorky. This web edition published by [email protected] Last updated Wednesday, December 17, at To the best of our knowledge, . Project Gutenberg · 59, free ebooks · 35 by Maksim Gorky. Mother by Maksim Gorky. No cover available. Download; Bibrec.

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To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. Lists with This Book. This book is not yet featured on Listopia. Community Reviews. Showing Rating details. Sort order. Dec 30, Aju Krishnan rated it liked it Shelves: I am not particularly used to Gorky's style of writing. Maybe that's the reason why I couldn't enjoy it very much, or maybe because it was a translation.

Gorky's lines are splendid and reflects the life of Russian villages. Most of the female characters in his story are weak - having desires and willing to sleep with any man who approaches her. Tanya in the story 'Twenty six and one' was my hope of being an exception, but she too fell for a talkative young man.

Nikhil Rajendran rated it really liked it Jan 23, Suralal Surendra rated it liked it Mar 15, Najimudin rated it liked it Sep 05, Sanjay Sathyan marked it as to-read Dec 08, Deeju Divakar added it Sep 04, Mahesh marked it as to-read Feb 08, There are no discussion topics on this book yet.

About Maxim Gorky. One must add a hatred of the city. There is so much of this scornful hatred in the famous beginning of one of Tolstoi's novels which describes the way people choked down the living earth beneath their cobblestones and how it stubbornly sent up green shoots through the stones.

Nevertheless, Tolstoi the writer, Tolstoi the ideologist does not like Nature: he is not only indifferent to it in his own way, but he is afraid of it, he practically hates it.

He is prepared, if the worst comes to the worst, to accept Mother Earth, since it can be ploughed and the ripe ears can then be reaped for man's meagre daily bread, but that is all.

For what is Nature? This brightness of day and charm of night? These flowers, sparkling in every hue, their aroma intoxicating? This play of elemental forces which calls upon one to live, to fight, to seek pleasure, to multiply, as the animal world lives, finds pleasure, fights and multiplies, but more wisely, i. What is Nature then?

It is temptation! It is a mirage!

It is difficult to believe that God could have created this. God has for unknown reasons sown our souls as a myriad of sparks into the luxuriant and evil world and has set these souls a task: not to be tempted, to live a pure life and return to Him, the source of the spiritual fire, cleansed of the filth of contact with Nature.

This is less the peasant than the Asiatic attitude towards Nature, imposed upon the peasantry from Asia, and one which Tolstoi, despite his flaming sensuality and his sensitive genius, tried to adopt and called upon others to adopt. That is why Tolstoi is so sparing in his descriptions of Nature.

If you do come upon a few landscapes in his works, they seem to have been done at random and rather grudgingly. The few exceptions merely prove the rule. Now recall Gorky's descriptions of Nature!

Though it weeps and rages and inflicts pain upon man, this is not the impression one carries away. What remains is an elemental grandeur, a great, and, I believe, despite Turgenev, incomparable variety of landscapes unequalled in Russian literature.

Gorky is truly a great landscape painter and, more important, a passionate landscape lover. He finds it difficult to approach a person, to begin a story of a chapter of a novel without first glancing at the sky to see what the sun, the moon, the stars and the ineffable palette of the heavens with the everchanging magic of the clouds are doing. In Gorky we find so much of the sea, the mountains, forests and steppes, so many little words he invents to describe it! He works at it as an objective artist: now as Monet, breaking down its colours for you with his amazing analytical eye and what is probably the most extensive vocabulary in our literature, now, on the contrary, as a syntheticist who produces a general outline and with one hammered phrase can describe an entire panorama.

But he is not merely an artist. His approach to Nature is that of a poet. What if we do not actually believe that a sunset can be sad, that a forest can whisper pensively, that the sea can laugh!

Indeed, they can do all this; it is only when man will become a dry old stick and he will never become one that he will stop seeing in the forces of Nature a magnificently delicate and enlarged version of his own emotions. In order to create Nature's majestic and beautiful orchestrations for his human dramas, Gorky uses most skilfully the frailest similarities and contrasts between human emotions and Nature, which at times are barely discernible.

Those who will doubt the truth of this and think that I am too lavish in my praise of Gorky, the artist and poet of Nature, should pick up any volume of The Life of Klim Samgin and reread the pages which create a background of Nature for the human drama.

But why does Gorky devote so much space to Nature? And does this prove that he is a proletarian writer? How much of Nature does a worker see? Do not the brick factory walls conceal it? Has it not been exiled from the workers' barracks, from the workers' settlement? Gorky, the proletarian writer, loves Nature for the very reason the old peasant writer Tolstoi does not and is afraid to like it.

We have already said that Nature calls upon man to live, struggle, enjoy life and multiply, but more wisely, i. According to Tolstoi and Christianity, this is temptation, it is Satan's trap. And both the feudal landowning and capitalist systems of the world have proven that, indeed, this principle of life and struggle, no matter what creative force it develops, what sciences it calls to its aid, what arts it adorns itself with, can lead only to sin and filth, to moral death of some as the oppressors and others as their victims.

But it is at this point that the proletariat disagrees with history, it is at this point that it wants to change the course of humanity. The proletariat says: Yes, Mother Nature, our great, wonderful, merciless and blind Mother, you are right; your world and your way of life is good. They will become a supreme good, surpassing all our hopes in the hands of a wise, united mankind, in the hands of the universal commune which we shall achieve, which we shall build, sparing no effort at all.

And we know how to win it, how to build it. And then, what a true paradise you will be, Nature, for the new and wonderful man the future will produce.

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That is why we love you, Nature. V The very same difference exists in Gorky's and Tolstoi's attitudes towards man. Certainly, Tolstoi loves his fellow man. This love for his fellow man may be considered the chief commandment of his teaching.

But this is a strained sort of love. According to it, one must not love man as a whole, but only "God's spark" that lies hidden within him. And one must love only this "spark" within oneself as well, only one's own power to believe and to love. In this respect Tolstoi is a true proponent of the teachings of some Asiatic gnostic, philotheistic, etc.

Tolstoi's man is made of two men: one born of God, the other of Satan. He who perhaps is often endowed with a beautiful body immortalised by sculpture, he whose breast harbours the gentlest emotions and fiery passions, which find expression in music; he whose head contains that most amazing apparatus, a brain, which has created such miracles of science; he who wants happiness for himself and for others, implying by happiness the fulfilment of the ever-growing demands of the rich human body and the human collective--that man is born of Satan, Tolstoi does not love him, he is afraid of him; he has cast him aside, because he sees him as the victim of a terrible social system and, at the same time, as the one responsible for this system; because in the future he sees no happiness for this man, but only an increase in the greedy oppression of capitalism, the state and the Church, and the useless bloody revolutions.

That is why Tolstoi's love went to the other man: the quiet, meek little angel, the passionless, incorporeal and kind one with ever-tearful eyes, everthankful to dear God. While still living on earth this man, this Abel, can cast off all of Cain's magnificence, all of culture, and divide the land up into tiny gardens, he can grow cabbages there, eat them, fertilise his garden and plant some more cabbage, and thus, sustaining himself self-sufficiently and ever so sweetly, he will have no need for his neighbour, except for soulsaving talks or mutual prayer.

Gradually, according to Tolstoi, marriages will cease between these little fools that is how he fondly though seriously calls them, viz. Such a love for man is more terrifying than any hatred and we Communists consider Tolstoi's teachings to be but another variety of the old Asiatic poison which crippled man's will. Goethe confessed that he hated the sign of the Cross.

Oh no, there's been an error

Many of the best representatives of the young bourgeoisie shared this view. With even greater vehemence we hate and reject Christianity and all the teachings which paved the way for it, and any of its distillations which the decadents of all colours are busy with to this day.

Gorky, on the other hand, loves man in his entirety. But he knows that these are ignoramuses, that these are freaks, that these are mere scabs on the beautiful tree of human life. Moreover, he knows that there are still very few really great men, pure of heart, courageous and wise, that there are practically no perfectly wonderful people.

But this does not keep him from loving his fellow man with a feeling that is true love and to have real faith in him, a faith born of knowledge. VI And now we come to the question of Tolstoi's and Gorky's attitudes towards progress.

Here the two writers have much in common. Tolstoi came through his sufferings to despise patriotism, royalty, the nobility, the feudal past and all its remnants. Gorky can be said to have been born with this burning disgust. Tolstoi came to hate capital with a truly great hatred and would not be bribed by the glitter of European culture, but, after visiting Europe, he returned full of rage, having seen quite clearly all the black lies that lay beneath the surface of life with its marble and tapestry drapes.

Gorky, too, became a sworn enemy of capital from his earliest youth. And neither was he fooled by America's Yellow Devil, and he spat gall and blood into the face of the bourgeois la belle France. Tolstoi saw every manifestation of cowardice, gross drunkenness, petty chicanery, the spider-like cruelty of the petty townsfolk--and of the peasantry to a very great extent as well.

And Gorky, too, driven by horrified curiosity, likes to dig up the Okurov dens and bring their filth to light. Nevertheless, Tolstoi drew the line here: having washed all that he considered to be a superfluous accumulation from the visage of the old peasantry, he restored the saintliness of the forefathers, the saintly Akims, with their eloquent ineloquence, the fairy-tale-like patriarchs who would give to poor mankind "grain as large as hen's eggs".

Tolstoi built his mystical cabbage heaven for mankind on the myth of the saintly peasantry, on the myth that hidden in each muzhik was a saint that could not wait to pop out of him. Gorky, too, nearly drew the line at the little man, but he searched among them for large and proud specimens, for the nuggets in the gold ore.

He felt they were to be found where life's waters washed ashore all that seemed most unsuitable to it, there on the bottom, among the outcasts, among the wolfmen, the unruly protestants, individuals who were not shackled by property and morals, giants of antisocial behaviour, instinctive anarchists. But Gorky did not stop for long at this extremely anti-Tolstoian stage of development. There followed Gorky's natural merger with the proletariat and its vanguard, the Bolsheviks. This great event was marked in literature by many magnificent works, among which Enemies, Mother and The Life of Klim Samgin are most notable.

Herein, naturally, lay the reason for the great difference in Tolstoi's and Gorky's attitudes towards mankind's cultural treasures. There is undoubtedly much truth in Tolstoi's invective against bourgeois science and bourgeois art, but he has cast out the child with the bath water.

And the child, no matter how badly brought up by the ruling classes, is nevertheless hardy and viable. If people of the old tenor of life, whom Tolstoi joined, regard science and art suspiciously and have no use for technical progress, the proletariat, on the other hand, accepts them enthusiastically and takes them for its own.

It knows that only under socialism can science develop and culture flourish. Gorky knows this, too. I believe there are very few people on earth who are so inspired by the achievements of science and art and who await new miracles with such anticipation. VII The proletarian writer rises to his full height in Gorky the publicist.

We will not analyse this aspect of Gorky here. It is a significant part of the writer's work, an integral part of his forty years of writing.

It rises as a watchtower and bastion against the background of his mountain range. Even writing from Western Europe, Gorky the publicist has taken it chiefly upon himself to ward off the treacherous blows against the communist cause, inflicted by fear and hatred.

Gorky often disregards a public or even official blow, or snap of one of his many poison-pen correspondents; they circle like a cloud of gnats above his head. His replies usually deal a moral mortal blow to the inquirer. On the whole the greater part of Gorky's journalism can be collected and issued as an impressive and forceful well-argumented volume entitled On Guard of the U. Thousands upon thousands of news items reach the writer's sensitive ears.

He keenly absorbs books, magazines and newspapers, he listens to people and has at his disposal an amazing store of knowledge about what is going on in the Soviet Union and in the hostile world that surrounds it.

There is not much he can do for the rest of the world, though he cannot lose sight of it for a moment.

However, the news that reaches him from the Soviet Union is not stored away in the vast chambers of Gorky's erudition. It must all serve the cause. Here Gorky can lend a helping hand.

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His aid is undoubtedly valuable as a collector of the achievements of our vast building programme, for instance the magazine Nashi dostizhenia Our Achievements. But this is not his true calling.

And he knows it. What we need are major literary works. What we actually need is great literature. We do not have it. It would be a great undertaking to win over the old writers, among whom there are many talented men and skilled craftsmen, to throw bridges over to them and help them overcome the various inner barriers which prevent them from understanding and accepting our great times.

And Gorky can undoubtedly play a tremendous role in this respect. But our power does not lie in this. Our power is not to be found in the yesterday, but in the future. Our basic strength lies in the young growth. Without for a moment forgetting our daily tasks and our own work, we must give very much of our attention to our wonderful youth.

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The Party delves deep into it to find its cadres. It is just as understandable that we must delve into it to find our artistic cadres and our writers as well. It is quite understandable that this is a vital detachment of our Soviet creative army. Ever since the now deceased Valery Bryusov noted so correctly that an artist of the written word, just as any other artist, must possess beside his talent both skill and a cultural background, something is constantly being done to promote such study.

But what is being done is done timidly, lacking generosity and vitality. There are many amateur literary circles, but things are apparently moving too slowly there. And especially disappointing was the insufficient attention the young leaders of proletarian literature paid to Lenin's great behests on learning from the vast culture of the past. The dialectics here are very refined: since one must study critically, it means one must study and criticise!He can not only convince our young people of the necessity of acquiring a cultural background.

Proud to be Gorky's Reader Tolstoi was an inveterate hiker, a horseman until he was eighty, for many years a dedicated hunter, a man who lived mostly in the country; he was, to a very great extent, a man of Nature. On the whole the greater part of Gorky's journalism can be collected and issued as an impressive and forceful well-argumented volume entitled On Guard of the U. Gorky condemned Luka Lower Depths as a man who consoles the suffering by hastily stuffing their mouths with a narcotic pacifier of lies.

While tormenting the peasants, this crisis dealt the landowners a terrible blow as well, sending them down to the bottom.

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