Simply out of love. Reporter portraits of memory

And here is what Uladzimir Nyaklyaeu himself wrote about the book:

"I haven't read anything with such pleasure in a long time as Anna Kondratsyuk's reports, collected by the weekly "Niva" for her new book. In essence, they can be classified as non-fiction, a genre of modern literature, because they declare themselves, prove their own and act in them dozens of real characters with their own destinies and characters, each of whom assesses the historical role in his own way, interprets the fate and character of the main character: whether it is the poet Gumianyuk or the revolutionary Kalinovsky. Moreover, these assessments, as it is in real life, are far from coincidences, sometimes simply opposite.

Here, for example, is a report about Kastus Kalinouski, the truth about whom, as the author of the report claims (which I agree with her), is told not in historical treatises, but in artistic literature: in Uladzimir Karatkevich's novel "Earings under Your Sickle", Sokrat Yanovich's short story "The Silver Rider", and Arkady Kuleshov's poem "Khamutius".

It's also in the report:

— Do you love Kastus?

— Yes, very much.

— Who is Kalinowski to you?

– A central figure associated with the independence of Belarus.

This is one thing. What Uladzimir Karatkevich wrote about in his novel, or what artist Pyotr Sergievich painted on his canvas.

But here's another thing.

"And why do you need that Kalinouski?... Or do you not have enough to write about normal people in that "Niva"? Why do you "illuminate" that rebel?... He could not stand the Orthodox spirit. There is no need to glorify and illuminate him. Let the Poles take him and praise him."

And where does the author of the report hear such things? In Mostavlyany. A village that is considered Kalinouski's homeland, whose residents recall how scientists from Belarus once came to them and started a conversation like this: "We came to you because a great man was born here, in your village..." - and one grandfather dismissed them, saying "so that they don't talk about great people here, because here, in Mostavlyany, everyone was born small."

Like a gold coin, the metaphor shone!.. And behind it is character. And behind character is fate. Grandfather. Villages. People.

This is not the truth about Kalinouski. This is our truth about ourselves. And just because it is expressed here like nowhere else, this book is worth reading, because Anna Kondratsiuk has a rare human and writing gift: to notice how the golden threads of life shine in the trash of everyday life."