"My Russia"
Since this summer, I have become forever and wholeheartedly attached to Central Russia. I don’t know a country that has such enormous lyrical power and such touchingly picturesque - with all its sadness, tranquility and spaciousness - as central Russia. The magnitude of this love is difficult to measure. Everyone knows this for themselves. You love every blade of grass, drooping from the dew or warmed by the sun, every mug of water from the summer well, every tree above the lake, its leaves fluttering in the calm, every rooster crow, every cloud floating across the pale and high sky. And if I sometimes want to live to be one hundred and twenty years old, as grandfather Nechipor predicted, it is only because one life is not enough to fully experience all the charm and all the healing power of our Central Ural nature.
"On the field in summer"
Fun on the field, free on the wide one! Multi-colored fields seem to run along the hills to the blue stripe of the distant forest. The golden rye is agitated; she inhales the strengthening air. Young oats turn blue; Blooming buckwheat with red stems and white-pink, honey-colored flowers turns white. Hidden away from the road was a curly pea, and behind it a pale green strip of flax with bluish eyes. On the other side of the road, the fields turn black under the flowing steam.
The lark flutters over the rye, and the sharp-winged eagle looks vigilantly from above: he sees a noisy quail in the thick rye, he also sees a field mouse as it hurries into its hole with a grain that has fallen from a ripe ear. Hundreds of invisible grasshoppers are chattering everywhere.
"Morning Rays"
The red sun floated into the sky and began to send its golden rays everywhere - waking up the earth.
The first ray flew and hit the lark. The lark started, flew out of the nest, rose high, high and sang its silver song: “Oh, how good it is in the fresh morning air! How good! How fun!”
The second beam hit the bunny. The bunny twitched his ears and hopped merrily across the dewy meadow: he ran to get some juicy grass for breakfast.
The third beam hit the chicken coop. The rooster flapped his wings and sang: ku-ka-re-ku! The chickens flew away from their infestations, clucked, and began to rake away the rubbish and look for worms. The fourth beam hit the hive. A bee crawled out of its wax cell, sat on the window, spread its wings and - zoom-zoom-zoom! - flew off to collect honey from fragrant flowers.
The fifth ray hit the nursery, on the little lazy man’s bed: it hit him right in the eyes, and he turned on the other side and fell asleep again.
"Summer evening"
In the distant and pale depths of the sky, stars were just appearing; in the west it was still red - there the sky seemed clearer and cleaner; the semicircle of the moon glittered gold through the black mesh of the weeping birch. Other trees either stood as gloomy giants, with a thousand gaps, like eyes, or merged into solid gloomy masses. Not a single leaf moved; the upper branches of lilacs and acacias seemed to be listening to something and stretched out in the warm air. The house grew dark nearby; Long, illuminated shadows were drawn on it with spots of reddish light. The evening was gentle and quiet; but a restrained, passionate sigh was felt in this silence.
"The forest is noisy"
Korolenko Vladimir Galaktionovich
The forest is noisy...
There was always a noise in this forest - even, drawn-out, like the echo of a distant ringing, calm and vague, like a quiet song without words, like a vague memory of the past. There was always noise in it, because it was an old, dense forest, which had not yet been touched by the saw and ax of the forest dealer. Tall hundred-year-old pines with red mighty trunks stood like a gloomy army, tightly closed at the top with green tops. It was quiet below and smelled of resin; through the canopy of pine needles with which the soil was strewn, bright ferns emerged, luxuriantly spread out in a bizarre fringe and standing motionless, without moving a leaf. In damp corners green grasses stretched on tall stems; the white porridge bowed its heavy heads, as if in quiet languor. And above, without end or interruption, the forest noise continued, like the vague sighs of an old forest.
“What kind of dew happens on the grass?”
When in sunny morning, in the summer, you go into the forest, then in the fields, in the grass, diamonds are visible. All these diamonds sparkle and shimmer in the sun in different colors - yellow, red, and blue.
When you come closer and see what it is, you will see that these are drops of dew collected in the triangular leaves of the grass and glistening in the sun. The inside of the leaf of this grass is shaggy and fluffy, like velvet.
And the drops roll on the leaf and do not wet it.
When you carelessly pick a leaf with a dewdrop, the droplet will roll off like a light ball, and you will not see how it slips past the stem. It used to be that you would tear off such a cup, slowly bring it to your mouth and drink the dewdrop, and this dewdrop seemed tastier than any drink.
"Summer Thunderstorms"
Summer thunderstorms pass over the land and fall below the horizon. Lightning either strikes the ground with a direct blow, or blazes on black clouds.
A rainbow sparkles over the damp distance. Thunder rolls, rumbles, grumbles, rumbles, shakes the earth.
"Flowers"
Near the water, innocent blue-eyed forget-me-nots peeked out from the mint thickets in large clumps. And further, behind the hanging loops of blackberries, wild rowan with tight yellow inflorescences bloomed along the slope. Tall red clover mixed with mouse peas and bedstraw, and above all this closely crowded community of flowers rose a gigantic thistle. He stood waist-deep in the grass and looked like a knight in armor with steel spikes on his elbows and knee pads.
The heated air above the flowers “mellowed”, swayed, and from almost every cup the striped abdomen of a bumblebee, bee or wasp protruded. Like white and lemon leaves, butterflies always flew at random.
And even further, hawthorn and rose hips rose like a high wall. Their branches were so intertwined that it seemed as if the fiery rosehip flowers and the white, almond-scented hawthorn flowers had somehow miraculously blossomed on the same bush.
The rosehip stood with its large flowers turned towards the sun, elegant, completely festive, covered with many sharp buds. Its flowering coincided with the shortest nights - our Russian, slightly northern nights, when nightingales thunder in the dew all night long, the greenish dawn does not leave the horizon and in the deepest part of the night it is so light that the mountain peaks of the clouds are clearly visible in the sky.
"Summer has begun"
There was a dull thump in the distance - dark, heavy clouds were creeping towards the village. They crawled slowly, swirling menacingly and imperiously growing to the very horizon.
The village became dark and silent. Even the cattle became silent in anticipation. And suddenly a deafening roar shook the earth.
Doors and gates slammed all over the village. People ran out into the street, placed tubs under the floods, and joyfully called to each other in the pouring rain. Barefoot children ran through the puddles like foals, and the short northern summer began.
"It's good in summer!" Short story about summer
Good in summer! The golden rays of the sun generously pour onto the earth. The river runs off into the distance like a blue ribbon. The forest is in festive, summer decoration. Flowers - purple, yellow, blue - scattered across the clearings and edges.
Sometimes in the summer all sorts of miracles happen. The forest stands in a green dress, underfoot there is green ant grass, completely strewn with dew. But what is it? Just yesterday there was nothing in this clearing, but today it is completely strewn with small, red, as if precious, stones. This is a berry - strawberry. Isn't this a miracle?
The hedgehog puffs, enjoying the tasty provisions. Hedgehog is an omnivore. Therefore, good days have come for him. And for other animals too. All living things rejoice. The birds are singing happily, they are now in their homeland, they don’t need to rush to distant, warm lands yet, they are enjoying the warm, sunny days.
Children and adults love summer. For long, sunny days and short, warm nights. For a rich harvest summer garden. For generous fields full of rye and wheat.
All living things sing and triumph in summer.
"Summer morning". Short story about summer
Summer is the time when nature wakes up early. Summer morning is amazing. Light clouds are floating high in the sky, the air is clean and fresh, it is filled with the aromas of herbs. The forest river sheds the haze of fog. A golden ray of the sun skillfully makes its way through the dense foliage, illuminating the forest. A nimble dragonfly, moving from place to place, looks carefully, as if looking for something.
It's nice to wander through the summer forest. Among the trees, the tallest are pine trees. Spruce trees are also not small, but they do not know how to stretch their tops so high towards the sun. You step softly on the emerald moss. What is there in the forest: mushrooms and berries, mosquitoes and grasshoppers, mountains and slopes. The summer forest is nature's storehouse.
And here is the first meeting - a large, prickly hedgehog. Seeing people, he gets lost, stands on a forest path, probably wondering where he should go next?
"Summer evening". Short story about summer
The summer day is approaching evening. The sky gradually darkens, the air becomes cooler. It looks like it might rain now, but inclement weather is rare in the summer. The forest is becoming quieter, but the sounds do not disappear completely. Some animals hunt at night; darkness is the most favorable time for them. Their vision is poorly developed, but their sense of smell and hearing are excellent. Such animals include, for example, the hedgehog. Sometimes you can hear the turtledove moaning.
At night the nightingale sings. During the day he also performs a solo part, but among the polyphony of voices it is difficult to hear and make out. It's a different matter at night. Some are singing, some are moaning. But overall, the forest is dying. Nature rests so that by morning it can delight everyone again.
Ushinsky Konstantin Dmitrievich.
8. Ushinsky Konstantin Dmitrievich.
9. Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky
10. Korolenko Vladimir Galaktionovich
11. Tolstoy Lev Nikolaevich
12. Mamin-Sibiryak Dmitry Narkisovich
Excerpts from the story “Forest and Steppe”
Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev
And a summer, July morning! Who, besides the hunter, has experienced how pleasant it is to wander through the bushes at dawn? The trace of your feet lies like a green line across the dewy, whitened grass. If you part the wet bush, you will be bombarded with the accumulated warm smell of the night; the whole air is filled with the fresh bitterness of wormwood, buckwheat honey and “porridge”; In the distance, an oak forest stands like a wall and shines and turns red and the sun; It’s still fresh, but you can already feel the heat coming. The head is languidly spinning from the excess of fragrances. There is no end to the bush... Here and there, in the distance, ripening rye turns yellow, and buckwheat turns red in narrow stripes. …. The sun is getting higher and higher. The grass dries quickly. It's already getting hot. An hour passes, then another... The sky darkens around the edges; The still air swells with a prickly heat.
***
Through dense hazel bushes, tangled with tenacious grass, you descend to the bottom of the ravine. Exactly: right under the cliff there is a source; the oak bush greedily spread its clawed branches over the water; large silvery bubbles, swaying, rise from the bottom covered with fine, velvety moss. You throw yourself on the ground, you are drunk, but you are too lazy to move. You are in the shade, you breathe the odorous dampness; you feel good, but opposite you the bushes heat up and seem to turn yellow in the sun.
***
But what is it? The wind suddenly came and rushed by; the air trembled all around: was it thunder? You are coming out of the ravine... what is that lead stripe in the sky? Is the heat getting thicker? Is a cloud approaching?.. But lightning flashed faintly... Eh, yes, it’s a thunderstorm! The sun is still shining brightly all around: you can still hunt. But the cloud grows: its front edge stretches out like a sleeve, tilts like an arch. The grass, the bushes, everything suddenly went dark... Hurry! over there, it seems, you can see the hay barn... quickly!.. You ran, entered... How is the rain? what are lightning? Here and there, through the thatched roof, water dripped onto the fragrant hay... But then the sun began to shine again. The storm has passed; Are you getting off. My God, how cheerfully everything sparkles around, how fresh and liquid the air is, how it smells of strawberries and mushrooms!..
***
But then evening comes. The dawn burst into flames and engulfed half the sky. The sun is setting. The air nearby is somehow especially transparent, like glass; soft steam lies in the distance, warm in appearance; along with the dew, a scarlet shine falls onto the clearings, recently doused with streams of liquid gold; Long shadows ran from the trees, from the bushes, from the tall haystacks... The sun had set; the star has lit up and trembles in the fiery sea of sunset... Now it is turning pale; the sky turns blue; individual shadows disappear, the air fills with darkness. It's time to go home, to the village, to the hut where you spend the night. Throwing the gun over your shoulders, you walk quickly, despite your fatigue... Meanwhile, night comes; twenty steps away it’s no longer visible; the dogs barely turn white in the darkness. Over there, above the black bushes, the edge of the sky becomes vaguely clear... What is this? fire?.. No, it's the moon rising.
***
...Here is the forest. Shadow and silence. Stately aspens babble high above you; the long, hanging branches of the birches barely move; a mighty oak tree stands like a fighter next to a beautiful linden tree. You are driving along a green path dotted with shadows; large yellow flies hang motionless in the golden air and suddenly fly away; midges curl in a column, lighter in the shade, darker in the sun; the birds howl peacefully. The golden voice of the robin sounds with innocent, chatty joy: it goes to the smell of lilies of the valley. Further, further, deeper into the forest... The forest becomes deaf... An inexplicable silence sinks into the soul; and everything around is so drowsy and quiet. But then the wind came, and the tops rustled like falling waves. Tall grasses grow here and there through last year's brown leaves; The mushrooms stand separately under their caps.
***
Summer foggy days are also good... On such days... a bird, fluttering out from under your feet, immediately disappears into the whitish darkness of a motionless fog. But how quiet, how inexpressibly quiet everything is around! Everything is awake and everything is silent. You pass by a tree - it does not move: it luxuriates. Through the thin steam, evenly spread in the air, a long strip blackens in front of you. You take it for a nearby forest; you approach - the forest turns into a high bed of wormwood at the boundary. Above you, all around you, there is fog everywhere... But then the wind moves slightly - a piece of pale blue sky will vaguely emerge through the thinning, as if smoky steam, a golden-yellow ray will suddenly burst in, flow in a long stream, hit the fields, rest against the grove - and behold everything became clouded again. This struggle continues for a long time; but how unspeakably magnificent and clear the day becomes when the light finally triumphs and the last waves of warmed fog either roll down and spread like tablecloths, or soar and disappear into the deep, gently shining heights...
Excerpts from the story “Bezhin Meadow”. From the series “Notes of a Hunter”
Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev
It was a beautiful July day, one of those days that only happen when the weather has settled for a long time. From early morning the sky is clear; morning dawn does not burn with fire: it spreads with a gentle blush. The sun - not fiery, not hot, as during a sultry drought, not dull crimson, as before a storm, but bright and welcomingly radiant - floats up peacefully under a narrow and long cloud, shines freshly and sinks into its purple fog. The upper, thin edge of the stretched cloud will sparkle with snakes; their shine is like the shine of forged silver... But then the playing rays poured out again, and the mighty luminary rose merrily and majestic, as if taking off. Around noon there usually appear many round high clouds, golden-gray, with delicate white edges. Like islands scattered along an endlessly overflowing river, flowing around them with deeply transparent branches of even blue, they hardly move from their place; further, towards the horizon, they move, crowd together, the blue between them is no longer visible; but they themselves are as azure as the sky: they are all thoroughly imbued with light and warmth. The color of the sky, light, pale lilac, does not change throughout the day and is the same all around; It doesn’t get dark anywhere, the thunderstorm doesn’t thicken; unless here and there bluish stripes stretch from top to bottom: then barely noticeable rain is falling. By evening these clouds disappear; the last of them, blackish and vague, like smoke, lie in pink clouds opposite the setting sun; at the place where it set as calmly as it calmly rose into the sky, a scarlet glow stands for a short time over the darkened earth, and, quietly blinking, like a carefully carried candle, the evening star glows on it. On days like these, the colors are all softened; light, but not bright; everything bears the stamp of some touching meekness. On such days, the heat is sometimes very strong, sometimes even “soaring” along the slopes of the fields; but the wind disperses, pushes apart the accumulated heat, and whirlwind vortices - an undoubted sign of constant weather - walk in tall white columns along the roads through the arable land. The dry and clean air smells of wormwood, compressed rye, buckwheat; even an hour before night you do not feel damp. The farmer wishes for similar weather for harvesting grain...
***
The moon has finally risen; I leaned towards the dark edge of the earth; many stars did not immediately notice: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night, it seemed, was still as magnificent as before... But already, until recently, they stood high in the sky; everything around was completely silent, as everything usually only calms down in the morning: everything was sleeping in a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. There was no longer a strong smell in the air; dampness seemed to be spreading in it again... The summer nights were short-lived!..
... the morning began. The dawn had not yet blushed anywhere, but it was already turning white in the east. Everything became visible, although dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky became lighter, colder, and bluer; the stars blinked with faint light and then disappeared; the earth became damp, the leaves began to sweat, in some places living sounds and voices began to be heard, and the liquid, early breeze had already begun to wander and flutter over the earth.....
... have already poured around me across a wide wet meadow, and in front, along the green hills, from forest to forest, and behind along a long dusty road, along sparkling, stained bushes, and along the river, bashfully blue from under the thinning fog - they poured first scarlet, then red, golden streams of young, hot light... Everything moved, woke up, sang, rustled, spoke. Everywhere large drops of dew began to glow like radiant diamonds; The sounds of a bell came towards me, clean and clear, as if also washed by the morning cool, and suddenly a rested herd rushed past me, driven by familiar boys...
Excerpts from the story “Kasyan with the Beautiful Sword.” From the series “Notes of a Hunter”
Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev
The weather was beautiful, even more beautiful than before; but the heat did not subside. High and sparse clouds barely rushed across the clear sky, yellow-white, like late spring snow, flat and oblong, like lowered sails. Their patterned edges, fluffy and light, like cotton paper, slowly but visibly changed with every moment; they melted, these clouds, and no shadow fell from them. ..
The young shoots, which had not yet managed to stretch above an arshin, surrounded the blackened, low stumps with their thin, smooth stems; round, spongy growths with gray edges, the very growths from which tinder is boiled, clung to these stumps; strawberries sprouted their pink tendrils over them; the mushrooms were sitting closely together in families. My legs were constantly getting tangled and clinging in the long grass, saturated with the hot sun; everywhere the sharp metallic sparkle of young, reddish leaves on the trees dazzled the eyes; everywhere were blue clusters of crane peas, golden cups of night blindness, half purple, half yellow flowers of Ivan da Marya; here and there, near abandoned paths, on which wheel tracks were marked by stripes of small red grass, there were piles of firewood, darkened by wind and rain, stacked in fathoms; a faint shadow fell from them in oblique quadrangles - there was no other shadow anywhere. A light breeze would wake up and then die down: it would suddenly blow right in your face and seem to play out - everything would make a cheerful noise, nod and move around, the flexible ends of the ferns would sway gracefully - you would be glad to see it... but now it froze again, and everything became quiet again. Some grasshoppers chatter together, as if embittered, and this incessant, sour and dry sound is tiresome. He walks towards the relentless heat of midday; it’s as if he was born by him, as if he was summoned from the hot earth.
***
The heat forced us to finally enter the grove. I threw myself under a tall hazel bush, over which a young, slender maple beautifully spread its light branches... The leaves swayed faintly in the heights, and their liquid-greenish shadows quietly slid back and forth over his frail body, somehow wrapped in a dark overcoat, over his small face. He didn't raise his head. Bored with his silence, I lay down on my back and began to admire the peaceful play of tangled leaves in the distant bright sky. It's a surprisingly pleasant experience to lie on your back in the forest and look up! It seems to you that you are looking into a bottomless sea, that it spreads widely beneath you, that the trees do not rise from the ground, but, like the roots of huge plants, descend, falling vertically into those glassy clear waves; the leaves on the trees alternately show emeralds and then thicken into golden, almost black green. Somewhere far, far away, ending in a thin branch, a single leaf stands motionless on a blue patch of transparent sky, and another one sways next to it, its movement reminiscent of the play of a fish reach, as if the movement is unauthorized and not caused by the wind. Like magical underwater islands, white round clouds quietly float and quietly pass, and suddenly this whole sea, this radiant air, these branches and leaves bathed in the sun - everything will flow, tremble with a fugitive shine, and a fresh, trembling babble will rise, similar to an endless small the splash of a sudden swell. You don’t move - you look: and you can’t express in words how joyful, and quiet, and sweet it becomes in your heart. You look: that deep, pure azure awakens a smile on your lips, as innocent as itself, like clouds in the sky, and as if along with them happy memories pass through your soul in a slow line, and it still seems to you that your gaze goes further and further further and pulls you along with you into that calm, shining abyss, and it is impossible to tear yourself away from this height, from this depth...
Excerpts from the novel “Rudin”
Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev
It was a quiet summer morning. The sun was already quite high in the clear sky; but the fields still glistened with dew, fragrant freshness wafted from the recently awakened valleys, and in the forest, still damp and not noisy, the early birds sang merrily...
... All around, through the tall, unsteady rye, shimmering with silver-green, then reddish ripples, long waves ran with a soft rustle; the larks were ringing overhead.
***
The day was hot, bright, radiant, despite the occasional rain. Low, smoky clouds rushed smoothly across the clear sky, without blocking the sun, and from time to time dropped heavy streams of sudden and instant rain onto the fields. Large, sparkling drops fell quickly, with a kind of dry noise, like diamonds; the sun played through their flickering mesh; the grass, recently agitated by the wind, did not move, greedily absorbing moisture; the irrigated trees trembled languidly with all their leaves; the birds did not stop singing, and it was gratifying to listen to their chatty chirping along with the fresh hum and murmur of the running rain. The dusty roads smoked and were slightly mottled under the sharp blows of frequent splashes. But then a cloud flew by, a breeze fluttered, the grass began to shimmer with emerald and gold... Sticking to each other, the leaves of the trees showed through... A strong smell rose from everywhere...
***
In the distant and pale depths of the sky, stars were just appearing; in the west it was still red - there the sky seemed clearer and cleaner; the semicircle of the moon glittered gold through the black mesh of the weeping birch. Other trees either stood as gloomy giants, with a thousand gaps, like eyes, or merged into solid gloomy masses. Not a single leaf moved; the upper branches of lilacs and acacias seemed to be listening to something and stretched out in the warm air. The house grew dark nearby; The illuminated long windows were painted on it with spots of reddish light. The evening was gentle and quiet; but a restrained, passionate sigh was felt in this silence.
If you're getting ready for summer, then you're probably looking for good book for vacation. To make your search easier, location with a chain of bookstores We have compiled a diverse list, combining all sorts of genres: time-tested classics and modern prose; detective stories and dystopias; humorous stories and romance novels. So, here are 20 fascinating works that will brighten up your summer.
1. Dandelion Wine, Ray Bradbury
Undoubtedly, the most popular and most revered book about summer remains the incomparable novel “Dandelion Wine.” Ray Bradbury surprisingly accurately shows us the experiences of a little boy during summer holidays. Every day of the main character is fraught with bright moments that influence his character and relationships with others. 12-year-old Douglas Spaulding plays in the forest, fantasizes, and collects dandelions (the sweet wine from which will remind you of hot days in winter). This summer he will make an unusually important discovery - listening to the singing of birds, peering into the twinkling of stars, for the first time he will truly understand what it means to live!
2. "The Door to Summer", Robert Heinlein
This creation by Robert Heinlein (even though it was written more than half a century ago) has still not lost its position in the top 100 best science fiction works. This is an unusual novel about the desire for retribution and punishment for betrayal. Dan is a brilliant scientist who has everything you could dream of: a successful company, a beautiful bride and a devoted friend. But money tears off the masks from people, revealing their true essence: a friend turned out to be an enemy, and a loved one turned out to be an unfaithful swindler. Having lost everything, Dan longs to punish the offenders. Revenge, as we know, is a dish best served cold, so Dan freezes himself for 30 years so he can strike when everyone has forgotten about him. Don't let the rather sad plot of the plot scare you, this novel is full of optimism and faith in a bright future.
3. “Three in a Boat, Not Counting the Dog,” Jerome Klapka Jerome
Fans of English humor are probably very familiar with the book by the great British satirist. The work is filled with good jokes and funny situations into which the main characters find themselves every now and then. Despite the inexorable passage of time, the story remains relevant to this day and, without a doubt, our descendants will laugh at the misadventures of the heroes no less than ours. Critics and readers from all over the world recognize it as one of the funniest books of all time. The reason for its enduring popularity is the believable main characters - in them the reader can easily recognize his friends, relatives, and even himself. This is the story of how Jay, George and Harris (on the advice of their doctor) go on a health holiday along the Thames, taking with them faithful dog and a lot of unnecessary things.
4. "Blackberry Wine" by Joanne Harris
For centuries, wine was considered a sacred drink with special properties. The wonderful combination of berry juice gives us not just a feast of taste, it can expand our consciousness. And this is not sarcasm, we are not talking about continuous drunkenness, but rather about a conversation with wine, when you uncork the bottle, inhale a wonderful bouquet of aromas, and then savor the magical elixir. Joanne Harris tells the story of a writer who has lost his muse and is forced to face the vicissitudes of life without inspiration. Fortunately, one day a man finds an unusual wine, which again gives him the ability to create.
5. “The Turtles Never End,” John Green
A fascinating novel by the author of the phenomenal bestseller “The Fault in Our Stars” will brighten up the evening for all lovers of romance. The main character is a modest girl who has difficulty finding mutual language with those around her (except for her mischievous friend, Daisy). Having learned of a reward for help in finding a missing rich man, Daisy and quiet Aza decide to unravel the tangle of mysteries surrounding Russell Pickett. An already difficult task becomes even more difficult when Russell’s son is nearby.
6. “Hearts of Three”, Jack London
For lovers of sea adventures and treasure hunting, a wonderful summer book will be a novel by Jack London. In the center of the plot is a rich descendant of the famous pirate, his distant relative and amazing girl, the beauty of which is difficult to resist. The trio faces a difficult journey to the shores of America, where untold riches are hidden. Surely you watched the Soviet film adaptation with Zhigunov in the role of Henry Morgan. Well, if not, then we recommend reading this fascinating book first.
7. Lord of the Flies, William Golding
If you prefer serious dystopian stories over light literature, then William Golding's chilling novel is ideal for you. "Lord of the Flies" is a sad tale of how quickly a society can lose its civilized appearance. The main characters were the most ordinary children, whom evil fate forced to create their own tribe with terrible rules. As a result of a plane crash, the boys end up in desert island. It could have become a paradise for them far from the war, but on the hot tropical shore, surrounded by fabulous coral reefs, a terrible and bloody performance is about to take place - sad evidence that a real beast lurks in every person (even an innocent child!).
8. “A unique specimen. Stories about this and that, Tom Hanks
Tom Hanks is not just a talented actor, but also a writer. Not long ago, a collection of his with various stories appeared on store shelves: some of them are funny, others are a little sad. A light and pleasant book about love and flirting, about gifts and holidays, in general - about all those small pieces of a huge puzzle called “life”. According to the author, he wrote the book in his free moments from filming. “A Unique Copy” will undoubtedly appeal to all admirers of Hanks’ talent, whose writing style was noted even by Stephen Fry, a prominent actor and literary figure.
9. “Summer House with a Swimming Pool”, Herman Koch
The master of suspense and author of world-famous bestsellers (such as “The Dinner Party,” “Dear Mr. M,” etc.) takes the reader to France, where his characters spend their summer vacation. Family consultant Schlosser unexpectedly receives an invitation from the wealthy Rafla Mayer. For a strange reason, the eccentric actor invites Schlosser, his wife and daughters, to his summer house with a swimming pool. It is not customary to refuse such offers, but the Schlossers have no idea what surprises this trip will have in store for them. The relationship between guests and hosts becomes increasingly complex, drawing the characters into a whirlpool of passions.
10. “The Beach,” Alex Garland
Garland's novel was quite popular in the United States and even became a bestseller, but he gained fame all over the world only thanks to the sensational film of the same name with DiCaprio. This is a dystopian story about the search for heaven on earth. In Bangkok, fate brings the main character together with a young foreign couple, just like him, who crave solitude. Having heard about a remote and fabulously beautiful beach, the trio sets off in search of the promised land, where they can hide from the hustle and bustle of the world. They manage to achieve their goal, but rest in the lap wildlife turns into an unexpected discovery - the beach is not deserted at all.
11. “Emmanuel. Roman Holiday, Emmanuel Arsan
In the mid-1970s, the film “Emmanuel” was released, which amazed the audience of that time with its explicit scenes. of a sexual nature. Now we easily talk about sex, considering it an integral part of life, but then any mention of carnal pleasures made the sanctimonious society blush, causing a storm of indignation. The film was based on the novel of the same name by Mariah Rolle-Andrian (better known under the pseudonym Emmanuelle Arsan). The writer's fate was surprising and complex: being very young, the Thai girl became the concubine of the prince, who later gave her to a French diplomat. These events became the impetus for the creation of a series of books about the sultry beauty. If you're looking for summer fiction for adults in the 50 Shades vein, then Roman Holiday is the book for you.
12. “Silver Bay”, Jojo Moyes
Silvery Bay is a piece of heaven on earth, where a small town is comfortably located. Local residents lead a normal lifestyle, so characteristic of the inhabitants of the coast, spoiled by warm weather and seafood. But paradise may come to an end because of a newly arrived tourist. Mike Dormer is set to transform Silver Bay into a giant city of lights, filling the beaches with rowdy holidaymakers. But he never could have imagined that Lisa McCullin would stand in his way. She escaped from everyday troubles to a sunny Australian town to regain peace of mind and will not allow anyone to destroy her quiet haven and take away her last hope for happiness.
13. “The Cruise of the Smug Cupid”, Daria Kalinina
If you are far from beautiful and have spent too much time in girls (although all your friends have long since acquired a family nest), do not rush to despair. Fortune may still smile on you by giving you a luxurious groom. This is exactly what happened with Eulalia, whose betrothed turned out to be not just handsome, but also rich. Yes, only plans for Honeymoon It was not destined to come true: first someone kills the groom, and then the mother of poor Eulalia. The bride's friends decide to look into the strange circumstances of the crime.
14. “Kostya + Nika =”, Tamara Kryukova
Kryukova’s touching novel formed the basis of the youth melodrama “Kostyanika. Summer time". This is an unusually bright, kind and instructive work about the holidays, about the first pure feelings, about unconditional friendship and the fact that faith and love can create a real miracle. The main characters, at first glance, are completely different from each other, but in fact they have a lot in common. Kostya – handsome guy from a poor family, and Nika is the weak, sick daughter of a wealthy rake who does not pay attention to the poor cripple. Her life would have been terrible if it had not been for meeting Kostya.
15. “The Loneliest Man,” Sarah Winman
Sarah Winman's novel tells the story of the most... ordinary people, whose life has not gone as desired. At the very beginning of the book, we meet the parents of the main character - a despotic father and a submissive mother, who only once dared to contradict her husband. Their difficult relationship, without a doubt, left its mark on the character of their son, who made many mistakes. At first glance, it may seem that such simple characters (not particularly remarkable) are not worth writing novels about. However, such books are priceless, because they help the average reader take a look at his own life from the outside, seeing himself in the heroes of the work.
20. “Luis Mariano, or A Sip of Freedom (with Consequences)”, Anna Gavalda
Even the most ordinary family vacation can turn into a fascinating story, especially if the narrator is Anna Gavalda. The French writer fell in love with many readers for her light style and marvelous gift for depicting nature so vividly and realistically that it seems as if you are transported to the pages of a book and traveling around France along with the characters. “A Breath of Freedom” is the adventures of one cheerful family who got together to spend the weekend. Two brothers and two sisters seem to return to their mischievous childhood once again, as soon as they are next to each other. The simple and unpretentious plot is actually full of deep meaning, reminding us that a close-knit family is the greatest happiness. Gavalda's work is a must-read for those who hate holidays with family. Appreciate every moment spent with your loved ones! 
May this summer give you the most vivid and pleasant memories. Enjoy reading!
It is considered the most favorite of almost all people. It is expected every year. It attracts children and adults on warm and hot days. Thanks to which flowers bloom, grass grows, fruits, berries and vegetables ripen. Everyone enjoys the noisy, thunderous summer rain, after which everything around becomes clean and fresh. And after it you can see a very phenomenon - a rainbow. After the rain, everything comes to life, birds begin to sing, plants grow, their buds open. It's very nice to wake up early and run through the dew. If you look closely, you will notice that all the grass is strewn with small droplets of water. They resemble diamonds shimmering in the sun's rays.
Children especially look forward to summer days. After all, at this time the longest ones begin. It will be possible to forget about lessons for three months. Go with your parents to the dacha, the sea. Better yet, go to your grandmother. It attracts with clean air, freedom and open spaces. You can go fishing. Take a boat ride on the lake. Swim and sunbathe. Or go and wander around it, taking a break from the bustle of the city. It’s even better to go out and pick mushrooms after the rain. Only in the village can there be an opportunity to try fresh cow's milk. Chat with pets, feed chickens and little ducklings.
In summer you can walk through the meadow, inhaling the aromas of meadow herbs and flowers. Lie on them, peering at the floating clouds and flying birds. Listen to the singing of the lark and swallows. It is especially pleasant to watch the swifts, which, screaming together like airplanes, are chasing insects. Admire the beauty of fluttering butterflies, a flying bumblebee, and a bronco. Watch how a bee lands on a flower and collects nectar.
Everyone is busy with their own affairs, especially the ants, who are constantly expanding their mounded homes. And in the evening it is very pleasant to listen to the singing of crickets, reminiscent of a beautiful enchanting song. When it gets dark it's interesting to look at the starry sky, finding Milky Way, and wait for the star to fall to make your deepest wish. In addition to relaxing in the summer, you have to work a lot in order to live calmly in the winter. But this work is pleasant in its own way, because it is carried out on fresh air, and not in a stuffy room. People work in the fields, in gardens, caring for plants.
And in the summer you can gather with friends around the fire, bake potatoes, and sing your favorite songs with a guitar. Summer is the most wonderful time when you want to create something, dream about the future, enjoy the warm sun, bask in the silky grass, admire the beauty of flowers, the harvest of vegetables and fruits. Even though every summer is the same, you always look forward to it!
