him. He was asleep, though he was no longer snoring. She looked back at the paper in relief, the words written seemed completely different from what she imagined. The writer seemed to be bullying someone, not really thinking about how smart his position was. She re-read it several times before the writing began to reach her… “Admiration and worship have never belonged to abstract concepts, since the very final analysis they are connected with the worldview of an individual. And the personality itself, its consciousness and thought are always concrete… The prose of Thackeray, Hugo, Frans, Schiller Scott that are known to the whole world did not arouse admiration and worship in me. Probably, someone is ready to attack me for this knowledge, and they say, that this is almost sedition! Yes, where did this wisdom come from, on what basis did he… and so on. So, they are fans. The ones who admire him can be dissuaded, the flame of their adoration can be knocked down, but the admirers cannot be turned off their path. It looks like a cult, fanaticism. Fanaticism and reason cannot live side by side, they are incompatible concepts. If fanaticism flourishes in an environment of ignorance, then reason develops in a conscious society. I do not bow before the writers mentioned above, I do not even admire them, because many can write like that. On the contrary, most of all I am attracted by the philosophical concepts of the little-known P. Borel, who lived in the eighteenth century, who died at the age of twenty-three. Surprising and striking is his unexpected approach to many issues, a kind of desire to make a revolution in the minds of people. Or the modern Russian writer D. Granin! His “This Strange Life” (the rest is weak) stands high! The sensational Rasputin and Astafiev are worth attention, but they did not add anything new to the universal thought. ‘Somebody’ named R. Vaillant excites me in a completely new way. Because he knows how to criticise himself boldly and sharply. And if we evaluate Kazakh literature, the professional level of its artistic prose and artistic thinking…” …Bagila sat without taking her eyes off the paper. She did not know how to react to what she read, to admire or toss the sheet away like garbage. But is it really possible to admire something from now on if he writes
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