he froze, all pale, not knowing whether to believe what was written or not: “All this is office fiction! If you don’t feel sorry for literature, then at least have pity on the readers.” “Ah! He thinks he’s so smart! Time will tell which one of us is the fool! “Have pity on the readers”! If he is so compassionate, let him first stop writing his muddled stories! He himself only digs into the crap and brings back blackness. And when we write about a bright life, he immediately doesn’t like it!” “Say what you need to say, don’t talk so much. A writer should be ashamed to talk like that!” said Jasyn’s wife, frowning. “How could he! And you, you sing the same songs as him. He thinks that there is no one left in literature besides him, and this is because two or three blockheads once praised him! Let’s see how long he will remain at the top!” “Talk to him about it! There is a sick father lying in other room, don’t shout like that.” Jasyn’s colleague slammed the door in parting. A huge article, in which this story was assessed as a new stage in the development of literature, caused Jasyn to laugh. However, such outlandish things were not a surprise to him… Criticism, which he forgot to even think about, hit the book about two months later and in that newspaper. No stone was left unturned from the book. Ideological vagueness, suspicious ambiguities, the characters are victims of their complexes, the plot does not correspond to the truth of life, language and concepts are alien to the Kazakhs, “creative stagnation…” The article consisted only of such expressions. For Jasyn this was the strongest blow. Actually, not the criticism itself, but the deliberate murder of the book, entrusted to a not very smart person. He was painfully worried that the newspaper did not disdain this scribbling. For two days, Jasyn tried to write a rebuke to the criticism, but realising that by doing so he would get involved in a senseless skirmish, Jasyn abandoned the idea. “Why show character,” he thought. “The writer must be criticised, and he must be ready for this. My goal is to write, to defend myself against fools – these kinds of arguments are not for me. And also, only the weak need to protect themselves, but for now I am
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