Reviews about the book:

There are such books when they are beyond age. They seem childish, they seem cheerful, but nevertheless very real and catchy. Marina Boroditskaya stands in that isolated circle of people who, through their poetry, carry pieces of your life, sometimes those moments that we don’t even have time to pay attention to. For me, this book came as a big surprise: it came to us on the eve of September 1, although it is called “The Last Day of Study,” but the first poems in the book are still poems about September 1, about a first-grader. Those. - the book came into our house just in time)). Another surprise were the illustrations - these are separate bottomless worlds in which books, lessons, time, courtyards, and children live. No words/poems/stories can describe or convey the charms of the illustrations - they don’t stand out at all, don’t scream, don’t be pompous and don’t take a leading role, no, they seem to accompany the poems, but at the same time they are much richer, more detailed, more tender , finally. Thanks to the illustrations, the whole book looks like a world in which you want to disappear - and this is your world, surprisingly rich, only sometimes you just have to stop and look around... The book is about everything that fills the life of a schoolchild, who is at school in the morning, and then After lunch, he rushes home and sees the life that is no longer subject to us, adults - the wind blowing up in bad weather, and very special everyday city courtyards, and the landscape changing with the seasons... Don’t we just have time to watch all this? And the life of a schoolchild is not only lessons, but also a bagel bought for a snack, and a tailor neighbor and the dreams of girls, and their long braids, and summer holidays, and secret notes, and the weather outside the window, and younger brothers/sisters . An amazing book... it is equally enjoyable for schoolchildren and adults, and... for all children who love books - because here they (the books) tell a little about how and why they live (we found this in the illustrations). But our dad liked this poem: The witch sits, sulking at the whole wide world: The witch does not cast a spell, And there is no inspiration. I conjured a banana for breakfast from Africa, and it appeared - hello to you! - From the Arctic blizzard. I conjured an ice cream for dinner in a glass, but I was convinced with horror: There is kefir in the glass! What kind of bad luck, What a punishment - And even instead of singing, Drawing comes out, And even instead of chicken, A pistol comes out... The witch sits, sulking For the whole wide world. Or maybe whoever is sulking is not doing magic?

Leontyuk Irina Viktorovna0

So the “Last Day of Study” has reached my hands, practically coinciding with the calendar end of the school year. Marina Yakovlevna (born June 28, 1954, Moscow) is the author of three lyric collections of poetry, twelve books of poems for children, fairy tales and translations. I’m sure many owners of children’s literature are familiar with her translations. Hardcover book in A4 format. But it looks more like an album of poetry. I was struck by the very beautiful and thoughtful artwork. The pages are thick and matte. They exude homeliness. Each spread is a different color. Very delicate peach, lemon, lavender shades. Vadim Ivanyuk’s illustrations to the cheerful poems of Marina Boroditskaya are made with a light pen, delicately tinted with watercolors, each of them is enclosed in a round frame. Looking at the artist’s drawings, my child received true joy and new impressions from their interesting, unusual style. The romantic V. Ivanyuk clearly prefers fairy-tale reality to everyday life. There are many birds and animals in his illustrations, their images are slightly caricatured, their silhouettes are outlined with an ironic stroke of the pen, and are rich in the smallest details. More information about the graphic artist, who has illustrated more than 50 books over the past quarter century, can be found in the biographical article at the end of the book. I really like this technique from the publisher in the design of books from the “Old Friends” series. The poems themselves are playful, ironic, mischievous and lyrical at the same time. They are about children and for children. They gave both me and my child many joyful moments and memories. I wish everyone to receive the same aesthetic pleasure from this collection as our family. It's not difficult with such a wonderful book.

Kovaleva Ekaterina0

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Maria Poryadina

For three and equally,
or
Great reading happiness

Marina Boroditskaya. Marina Moskvina. Sergey Georgiev

Last day of training!
It's hot outside the windows...
All diaries with marks
Received in the morning
And new textbooks
Next year
Behind the stack is a motley stack
The attendant distributes.
<…>
And hard covers
It smells so new
Long holidays
And forest freshness!

It is about to come - as in Marina Boroditskaya's poem - the last day of teaching, when it will be possible to run away for the summer holidays and enjoy life. What's joy without good summer reading?

But before you start free reading, solve a simple problem. Three good writers are celebrating their anniversary this summer. How old is each person if it is known that between the three of them they are one hundred and fifty, and all equally?

Right! On June 25 we congratulate Marina Lvovna Moskvina, on June 28 – Marina Yakovlevna Boroditskaya, and on July 9 – Sergei Georgievich Georgiev.

As a child, almost everyone dreams of something like this! To become a pilot or a musician, an actress or a sailor: to jump with a parachute, drift on an ice floe, wander around the world and sing songs... Some succeed, and some of the chosen ones have a completely extraordinary gift - writing. This means a free fall and landing on the golden roof of the world! Drifting on an ice floe along the equator! Endless wanderings from yourself to yourself and back! Traveling theater on the desk! All the kingdoms of the world and all their glory are at the tip of the imagination!

Marina Boroditskaya writes poetry for children and adults, translates poetry and prose from English. Her own and translated poems for children were published by the publishing houses “Malysh” and “Children’s Literature”, “AST-Press” and “Samovar”.

Boroditskaya’s children’s poems are a free, convincing intonation of a lively conversation, a creative “childishness” - that is, gullibility and openness, which have nothing to do with immaturity and irresponsibility.

Migratory plasterer
Not afraid of high altitudes:
Comes to us in the spring
Hanging in an old cradle.

“Telephone Tales of Marinda and Miranda,” published by Bustard in the charming series “Tales of Our Court,” is an experience of witty, cheerful and sensitive prose. The compositional feature of this book is that fairy tales for children are combined here into one lyrical and parody fairy tale for adults, without losing their childish charm.

The “adult” Boroditskaya is philological in the best sense of the word, often gravitating towards laconicism and the depth of the parable. She is not afraid of the manifestation of the feminine principle in her lyrics, even such ambiguous and deepest motives as motherhood or loneliness, because her lyrical heroine is smart and firm, and does not fall into stress, nor into complaint, nor into hysterics. These lyrics are intellectual. And therefore, it is difficult to say about Boroditskaya’s best poems, whether they are addressed to adults or growing up:

Twelve-sheet notebook
It's just begun, and everything is possible:
Will the page happen to get dirty?
You bend the staples carefully,
And away with the dirt. Then the leaf is double
Insert a spare one from your notebook
And you write again. The teacher won't notice.
Ay, well done! You're getting an A.
And so on until the middle. And already there -
Everything is clean, and the sheets are strictly counted.

Together with G. Kruzhkov, she translated Kipling (“Puck from the Magic Hills” and “The Fairies’ Gifts”), alone - Chaucer (“Troilus and Cressida”). Alan Garner's two-volume work translated by M. Boroditskaya (“The Stone from the Brising Necklace” and “The Moon on the Eve of Gomrath”) was awarded a diploma from the British Council for Culture.

Marina Moskvina also writes prose for children and adults. The best of children's stories is the collection of stories “My Dog Loves Jazz,” awarded the International Andersen Diploma. The heroes of these stories - Andryukha Antonov, his mother Lyusya, father Misha and the dachshund Keith - are at the epicenter of life. They don’t do anything on purpose, but something constantly happens to them: a fire with a flood, fleas on a dog, a hobby like fishing and... jazz to the fullest! And if suddenly nothing is done, then a belated traveler named Avtandil Elbrusovich comes. Or a Fritz is discovered under the country veranda, immersed in a lethargic sleep. “I feel bad when nothing happens around me”– Andryukha explains.

Another mischievous and unobtrusively instructive book by Moskvina for children is “The Head of Professor Shishkin” (in the series “Tales of Our Court” by the Bustard publishing house). And for those who are growing up and have already grown up - “The Blochness Monster, or the Life and Adventures of Policeman Karavaev. Incredible stories for children and adults with pictures by Leonid Tishkov." The novels “The Genius of Unrequited Love” and “Days of Trembling” are addressed to the adult reader.

Marina Moskvina paints a world of eccentric eccentrics, absolutely free - not necessarily happy, but always striving for happiness: “We live well, crushed by affairs and troubles.” Their existence is a continuous ode to joy, because there is no alternative: “I always laugh,” my mother responded joyfully. “Because when I don’t laugh, I cry.” By plunging her heroes into the abyss of a desperate farce, Moskvina allows them to purify themselves and rise, as if an ancient tragedy had happened to them.

They react to every fluctuation, but are not destroyed, because they are aimed at happiness and rejoice in the world like crazy. “How good it is to live in the world when you know that life is endless!”

Moskvina’s books are not intended to be retold, as is required at school, “in your own words.” Because she is the very author who has your words- ones that no one else has. Her style cannot be imitated and, perhaps, cannot be understood, that is, decomposed into its component parts: techniques, means, principles... From any little thing, Marina Moskvina is capable of creating a universal catastrophe, in order to then rise above it, then wave her hand, laugh and drown in endless love to everything that is.

“Yes, I want to capture every detail, have time to sing (well, I spoke in rhyme!) a song of love to a small crowd of people who met along the way, and we walked together half an inch or four hundred miles, so that they all found immortality under my pen ",- says Lucy Mishadottir. Marina Moskvina could say the same.

Sergei Georgiev is a master of prose miniatures. The “three paragraphs” of his fairy tale or story contain everything that should be in a good – “big” – book: truthfulness and observation, kindness and humor, and also condescension, and a lot of worldly wisdom.

“King Hugo II invited a scribe to his place and dictated the Decree:

- I declare war! Glorious, victorious, nationwide, crushing, sacred, anemic, but destructive!

The scribe quickly wrote down, shaking his head:

– Don’t make mistakes in adjectives...

“Cross out those that have at least some doubt,” the king agreed.

The scribe carried out the order. King Hugo II looked over his shoulder, sighed and... changed his mind about declaring war.”

Georgiev's books are populated by a variety of characters, fabulous and not so fabulous. This is not only King Hugo, but also Princess Clementine - a thunderstorm for sensible people, various dragons (one of them, the most touchy, is named Caramel), as well as ordinary or almost ordinary children - “One Boy, One Girl” (that’s the name of the book from the series “Tales from our backyard”). Georgiev’s other heroes are also charming: the boy Sanka (“House of the Sunny Hare”), the dog Yanka, the puppy Pronya, the sparrow Bantik and the brave field marshal Pulkin, who defeats any enemy with an almost magical spell “Christmas trees!”

Or here is the collection of “African” fairy tales “The Good God of the Jungle” and the novel “The Smell of Almonds”, consisting of “Chinese” parables. It combines “realism” and dizzying fantasy, sharp modernity and close attention to other times and cultures.

Sergei Georgiev is also known as the editor and author of many stories in the humorous film magazine “Yeralash,” adored by children of any age. But here’s what few people know: at one time, Sergei Georgiev graduated from the Faculty of Philosophy and even defended his dissertation on the topic “The Formation of Free Individuality.”

Perhaps “free individuality” is the most convincing characteristic of all our today’s celebrants.

These writers are (fortunately, perhaps) not well represented in the school curriculum. They are even more suitable for summer reading. Take a book and climb a tree with it,
in a hut or just on the sofa with your feet up - and forget about everything in the world!
and remember everything!

This is prose that does not need to be “retold for evaluation,” but can simply be reread and experienced.
And poems that don’t need to be learned by heart are memorized on their own. And more stories about dragons, princesses and kings, far from the history textbook...

This is exactly what, it seems to me, Great Reader Happiness looks like.

Surely you are familiar with our regular column “Mom’s Bookshelf”. Today, the father of two kids will act as an expert in the field of books, Andrey. He will tell us about the interesting rhymes and beautiful illustrations of Marina Boroditskaya’s book “The Last Day of Study.” We wish you pleasant reading!

I was returning from visiting
I walked in the dark,
Aunt Luna is behind me
Walked sideways across the sky...

Let's get acquainted!

My name is Andrey. I'm a dad of two kids. I try to instill in children a love of reading. That is why there are a lot of children's books in our library. I'm posting on Instagram blog about teenage literature, where, through personal reading for the future, I systematize the best, in my opinion, books for my children, who are still very young, but in a few years will become teenagers.

Our library has a lot of children's books that we read with children now (from 0 to 4-5 years old). Some books are good, some not so much. Sometimes you really want to talk about good books! That's why I started a second separate one on Instagram blog, in which I share our “baby” books that we read to children now.

About the book from dad

I have a special relationship with poetry. I love it myself and try to instill this love in my children. It's no secret that reading poetry to children is even more useful than prose. This is a special catalyst for development. They perfectly develop memory and imagination, train the child’s speech, enrich vocabulary, and teach rhythm. That is why in our home reading we pay special attention to poems. We have many collections of poems. These are, as a rule, classics: Chukovsky, Mikhalkov, Barto, Marshak, etc. But I want to tell you about one special and amazing book. A collection of poems by Marina Boroditskaya with illustrations by Vadim Ivanyuk (Nigma publishing house, 2015, “Old Friends” series).

Who is this book for?

These poems, judging by the annotation to the publication, are intended for primary school age, but my four-year-old son reads them (or rather, I read them to him) with great pleasure, several times a day. The poems in the book are small, but they have an elusive charm that makes you re-read the lines with quiet pleasure and inexplicable interest. I really respect books when reading them a child asks questions. And here the child has a lot of questions that interrupt the reading, despite the obvious simplicity of the poems.

The fact that this book has become one of the favorites in our home library is also due to the artist, Vadim Ivanyuk. The illustrations are amazing and intelligent. I want to look at each drawing, study the little things and every detail, of which there are a lot in the illustrations! I really love this “brewery” artistic style. This is a good book that children love!

Bakery song

There were two friends:

Bagel and Loaf.

We were waiting for a buyer

Bagel and Loaf.

I liked the bagel

Schoolboy in a cap

And Baton is a grandmother

In a beige scarf.

The bagel fell into the backpack

And he took off at a gallop,

And Baton quietly

The net is great...

Bagel met

With an ice slide,

With four boys

With a girl alone.

And the loaf - with saucepans,

With warm milk

With a bearded grandfather

With a red puppy.

Rybkin TV

The pond is frozen. The skating rink is open!

The waltz thunders. The lantern is on.

A fish sighs under the ice

And he says to his friends:

“It’s late, it’s time to go to bed,

I'm tired of calling children

From figure skating

There’s no way to tear them off!”

Shchi-talochka

I peel vegetables for cabbage soup.

How many vegetables do you need?

Three potatoes, two carrots,

One and a half heads of onion,

Yes, a parsley root,

Yes, cabbage cob.

Make room, cabbage,

You make the pot thick!

One-two-three, the fire is lit -

Stump, get out!

To school

Dark. December. Seven in the morning.

The alarm clock screams: “Hey! It's time!

... On a December morning, at seven o'clock,

I'll bolt the door,

So that at this hour, almost at night,

My dream was still with me.

I'll crush my sleep with a pillow:

I so, I love him so much!

I'll lock myself, I'll close myself - they won't find me,

I’ll shrink, I’ll bury myself - they’ll go around,

Even if you break up here by calling,

Even if the world collapses, I’m gone!!!

... But in an hour, like in a year,

I run out of the gate:

I already know this day

And fast, long ice spreads, -

And I slide and I jump

And I want to live this day!

Chickenpox

Chickenpox is not a terrible disease,

Yes, it's spring...

All painted with brilliant green

I'm hanging out by the window.

Green dots

Dancing in the wind:

The buds have opened there

On the linden trees in the morning.

It's like I'm sick

The whole city is following me

Green chickenpox -

Green wind!

Bear School

April 1st,

On the first day of school,

The cubs are writing

Essays at school.

Topic posted

On a big pine tree:

“HOW I SLEEP MY VACATION

AND WHAT YOU SAW IN YOUR DREAM.”

Migratory plasterer

Migratory plasterer

Not afraid of high altitudes:

Comes to us in the spring

Hanging in an old cradle.

Last day of training

Last day of training!

It's hot outside the windows...

All diaries with marks

Received in the morning

And new textbooks

Next year

Behind the stack is a stack of motley

The duty officer distributes.

What's there? Look, molecules!

Oh, girls, a skeleton! -

As if from textbooks

Haven't seen it for a hundred years!

And Rybochkin almost cries,

Lazy and merry:

“I didn’t get algebra,

Mar-Palna, how can this be?”

And hard covers

It smells so new

Long holidays

And forest freshness!

About the Middle Ages

After all, the house is from the Middle Ages

Not asked yet.

Forest swamp

Please tell me

How is there so much in it?

Did it fit?

There are three tadpoles.

Half a cloud.

Willow branch.

Chaffinch bird.

And gnarly

My boat!

First grader

First grader, first grader -

Dressed up like for a holiday!

Didn't even go into a puddle:

I looked and passed.

Ears are washed to a shine,

Scarlet mushroom on the lid of the backpack,

And he himself is like a mushroom -

Looking sideways from under his cap:

Does everyone see? does everyone know?

Does everyone sigh with envy?

First of September

Books are wrapped

Bookmarks ready

Smooth paper

The notebooks are shining.

From now on they will contain

Write neatly -

Goodbye forever

Marks and stains!

Simple pencil,

Pencil red-blue

And three spare ones -

So it will be from now on.

Instead of wooden

The rulers are nondescript

Still bought yesterday

The square is transparent.

Here's a brand new backpack

With a tight latch:

It's never

They won't kick you

No way on it

They won't ride down the hill,

They will settle in it

Solid A's!

And the morning will begin

From a cold shower;

Wrapped for breakfast

yellow pear,

And its taste is sweet,

And her appearance is bright,

Like the light of a new life -

No blots or blots!

Stationery fairy tale

Maple leaf - yellow, wet -

Takes flight.

To the stationery store

The people are rushing in.

To the stationery store -

The most necessary, the most important:

Rusting like a forest

Full of all sorts of miracles.

There is a pen there,

Self-scraping pencil,

There is a “Do It Yourself” constructor

Weighing twenty kilograms!

There on a pair of thin legs

Suddenly it will go away on its own

A pile of pink covers

On top there is a blue bow.

There is a globe with three girths

Floating somewhere above the crowd

And rotates as if alive

A giant head.

Like unknown birds

Blotters fly up;

Counting sticks bag

Someone is dragging him, about an inch himself.

Dwarfs as a friendly family

“Two hundred into the cage! One hundred in line!

And polka dots - fifty!”

Behind armfuls of armfuls

Leaving the store

Buttons, paper clips, paints, folders,

Even stale plasticine...

All goods are stationery,

The most necessary, the most important,

Sold out to the end -

Except for the seller's uncle:

The seller was unsaleable,

He stood for a sample.

Having barely caught my breath,

He takes off his robe:

“So the shelves are empty,

Soon the leaves will fly off."

New Year

Are you waiting: when will he come?

You'll wake up at dawn

Everything is as always, and New Year

It's been a long time in the yard!

Everything is the same from the Christmas tree branches

Tinsel is flowing down,

And the red ball shines under her,

Gifted yesterday...

But the snow fell overnight

Still so evenly white,

And last year's pie

It hasn't gotten stale yet!

A Quick Guide to Growing Long Braids

Eh, boys don't understand

What a pleasure -

Grow your braids long

Almost from birth!

To groom and protect the braids,

Nurture-work

Large-toothed comb

Rain water.

Wash with baby soap

Or strawberry

That's an infusion of wild herbs,

That's egg yolk.

Oh, how sweet it is in the morning,

Sitting on the bed

Weave them tightly

Or barely

To be like a stick

Stand over your shoulders

Or a smooth stream

There was a murmur on my back...

How nice it is to choose

Silk ribbons

And from strangers' grandmothers

Listen to compliments!

No, boys don't understand

Uneasy happiness -

Wear long braids

Grade up to sixth grade,

And then go and borrow

Queue for haircut

And say decisively:

“Cut like a boy!”

Botanist

Once upon a time there was a botanist,

He wanted to go to the forest:

I took a notebook, Tula gingerbread

And he got on the electric train...

Along the path in the spring

Without going through five steps -

Suddenly familiar plants

He met him on the way.

Those are healthy, those are sick,

The kids grew up there

Those neighbors are being bullied

Those are not visible from the ground...

So he walked along the edge of the forest -

He lifted his cap all the time,

Stroked the lush tops

Yes, I shook leaves.

And greeted the nerd

All twenty times a day -

Like a city nephew

Village relatives!

Frog and pumpkin

The frog asked the pumpkin:

"Pumpkin?"

But she remained silent in response.

“Poor thing!

Is she alive or dead?

Tell me yes or no?

The frog tapped it with his palm

And poked the pumpkin with her foot,

And the pumpkin lay in its garden bed

And the crust glistened tight.

"Pumpkin? - the croak squealed. -

Pumpkin?"

Until the sow thistle whispered to her:

"Good pumpkin

Always like this:

Keep silent and grow."

Fairies

I am a hand mirror

Left it in the garden

So that fairies under the moon

We skated like on ice.

... Left on the mirror

Needles and twigs.

Lazy people! Done -

And they quit their skates.

Walnut gnome

In one nut,

In hazelnut

Settled in yesterday

Walnut gnome.

To the walnut house

He hid from everyone

But the branch was bent,

They picked a nut,

He's floating

In my basket:

The house is rocking

The gnome is tumbling,

Where will they bring it?

Or will they stock up for future use?

Milk ran away

The milk ran out.

Ran far away!

Down the stairs

It rolled down

Down the street

It started

Through the square

Guard

Under the bench

It slipped through

Three old ladies got wet

Treated two kittens

Warmed up - and back:

Down the street

Up the stairs

And it crawled into the pan,

Puffing heavily.

Then the hostess arrived:

- Is it boiling?