I. A. Bunin, "Antonov apples", summary: short story of moods

2024 Author: Leah Sherlock | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 05:25

I. A. Bunin, "Antonov apples" (a brief summary follows) is a picture-remembrance in which juicy autumn apples become the main character, because without their suffocating aroma there would be no author himself. Why? Sounds, smells, random pictures, vivid images… It would seem that thousands, millions of them rush through life. Something is stored for a long time in memory and is gradually forgotten. Something passes without a trace, erased as if it never happened. And something stays with us forever. It inexplicably seeps through the thickness of our consciousness, penetrates deep and becomes an integral part of ourselves.

Summary of "Antonov apples", Bunin I. A

Early fine autumn. It seemed like just yesterday it was August with its frequent warm rains. The peasants rejoiced, because when it rains on Lawrence, autumn and winter will be good. But time passes, and now a lot of cobwebs have appeared on the fields. The golden gardens thinned out, withered. The air is clean, transparent, as if it doesn’t exist at all, and at the same time it is filled “to the top” with the smells of fallen leaves, honey and Antonov apples… This is how Ivan Bunin begins his story.

"Antonov apples": first memory.

Vyselki village, the estate of the author's aunt, where he liked to visit and spent his best years. The hubbub and the creak of carts in the garden: the harvest of autumn apples is in progress. Petty-bourgeois gardeners recruited peasants to pour apples and send them to the city. Work is in full swing, even though it is night outside. A cautious creak of a long convoy is heard, in the darkness here and there a juicy crack is heard - this is a man eating apples one after another. And no one stops him, on the contrary, the owners encourage this irrepressible appetite: “Vali, eat your fill, there is nothing to do!” The thinned garden opens the way to a large hut - a real house with its own household. Everywhere incredibly smells of apples, but in this place - especially. During the day, people gather near the hut, and there is a brisk trade. Whomever is not here: single-dwelling girls in sarafans smelling of paint, and "masters" in beautiful and coarse costumes, and a young pregnant elder, boys in white shirts … By evening, the fuss and noise subside. Cold and dewy. Crimson flames in the garden, fragrant smoke, cherry branches crackle … "How good it is to live in the world!"

I. A. Bunin, "Antonov apples" (shortcontents read below): second memory.

That year in the village of Vyselki was fruitful. As they said, if Antonovka is born, then there will be a lot of bread, and village affairs will be good. So they lived, from harvest to harvest, although it cannot be said that the peasants were poor, on the contrary, Vyselki were considered a rich land. The old men and women lived for a long time, which was the first sign of well-being: Pankrat would be a hundred years old, and Agafya was eighty-three years old. There were also houses in the village to match the old people: large, brick, two or three under one roof, because it was not customary to live separately. They kept bees, were proud of stallions, behind iron doors they kept new coats, canvases, spinning wheels, harnesses. I also remember the estate of aunt Anna Gerasimovna, which stood about twelve versts from Vyselki. In the middle of the yard was her house, around a linden tree, and then the famous apple orchard with nightingales and doves. It used to happen that you cross the threshold, and before other smells, the aroma of Antonov apples is felt. Everywhere is clean and tidy. A minute, another, a cough is heard: Anna Gerasimovna comes out, and immediately, under endless trials and gossip about antiquity and inheritance, treats appear. First, Antonov apples. And then a delicious lunch: boiled ham, pink with peas, marinades, turkey, stuffed chicken and strong sweet kvass.

I. A. Bunin, "Antonov apples" (summary): third memory.

End of September. The weather is getting worse. It rains more and more often. You stand like this at the window. The street is empty and boring. Winddoes not let up. It starts to rain. Quiet at first, then stronger, stronger and turns into a thick downpour with leaden darkness and a storm. An unsettling night is coming. The next morning after such a battle, the apple orchard is almost completely naked. Wet leaves all around. The preserved foliage, already quiet and resigned, will dangle on the trees until the first frost. Well, it's time to hunt! Usually by this time everyone was gathering at the estate of Arseny Semyonitch: hearty dinners, vodka, flushed, weather-beaten faces, lively talk about the upcoming hunt. They went out into the yard, and there the horn was already blowing, and a noisy gang of dogs howled in different voices. It happened - you oversleep, you miss the hunt, but the rest was no less pleasant. You lie in bed for a long time. All around is silence, which is broken only by the crackling of firewood in the stove. You dress slowly, go out into the wet garden, where you will definitely find a cold, wet Antonov apple that you accidentally dropped. Strange, but it seems unusually sweet and tasty, completely different from others. Later, you start reading books.

Fourth memory.

The settlements are empty. Anna Gerasimovna died, Arseny Semyonitch shot himself, and those village old men are gone. The aroma of Antonov apples is gradually disappearing from the once prosperous landowners' estates. But this poor small-town life is also good. In the deep autumn in the house they liked not to light a fire at dusk and to have quiet sincere conversations in the semi-darkness. Outside, frost-blackened leaves rustle under boots. Winter is coming, which means, as in the old days, small locals will come to each other, they will drink at the lastmoney and spend the whole day hunting in snowy fields, and in the evening singing with a guitar.

I. A. Bunin, "Antonov apples", summary: conclusion

Antonov apples are the first link in an endless chain of memories. Behind him, other pictures invariably emerge, which, in turn, bring to the surface long-forgotten feelings and emotions, happy, tender, sometimes sad, and sometimes painful. Everything around is literally saturated with the juicy aroma of Antonov apples. But this is at the beginning of autumn, during the period of dawn and prosperity in the village. Then their smell gradually disappears, deep autumn sets in, the village becomes poorer. But life goes on, and perhaps this smell will soon be felt again above all others. Who knows?