#Стругацкие

[starryvelvet-art]

Happy birthday to me 🎂

☆Eng:

Hello everyone! Today is my birthday. Therefore, I will be very glad if you give me a repost and like this post. Thanks! 👉👈

☆Рус:

Всем привет! Сегодня у меня День Рождения. Буду очень рада, если вы поделитесь этой ��аписью и поставите лайк. Ещё можете на тгк подписаться (смотрите закреп) 👉👈

Всем большое спасибо!

[shelf-days]

Детям опять повезло

02.12.2024

Заходил в книжный, а там вот такие издания Братьев Стругатских!:

Круто! ��роходит наконец-то безвкусица девяностых? Будет больше красивых вещей?

Я тот еще барахольщик, конечно мне захотелось такую прочитать и на полку, но лет девять назад я уже пытался — Пикник на обочине мне не зашел. Иногда такое бывает что ты не готов к книжке, или просто не в этот год, а потом понимаешь и кайфуешь, но брать книгу просто так, заранее?

Да ладноооо, какогооо? Конечно купил бы я заранее — я ж обожаю вещи! Но последний переезд был какой-то такой выматывающий и как-то слишком уж много сил нужно было чтобы вынести все эти ящики с книгами и я не то что бы пообещал, но вроде как договорился сам с соб��й, что книги теперь покупаю электрические!

[nikolay-n-1982]

[dvolkoff]

7. Passport (паспорт)

There's an old photo there... Very old...

[aunties-harp]

[norilsk-klaipeda]

Мерихлюндия

[nastyacitrus]

И тут раздался Голос.     Он был как гром, он шел со всех сторон сразу покрыл все остальные звуки. Он был спокоен, даже меланхоличен, какая-то безмерная скука слышалась в нем, безмерная снисходительность, словно говорил кто-то огромный, презрительный, высокомерный, стоя спиной к шумевшей толпе, говорил через плечо, отвлекшись на минуту от важных дел ради этой, раздражившей его, наконец, пустяковины.     — Да перестаньте вы кричать, — сказал Голос. — Перестаньте размахивать руками и угрожать. Неужели так трудно прекратить болтовню и несколько минут спокойно подумать? Вы же прекрасно знаете, что дети ваши ушли от вас по собственному желанию, никто их не принуждал, никто не тащил за шиворот. Они ушли потому, что вы стали окончательно неприятны. Не хотят они жить больше так, как живете вы и жили ваши предки. Вы очень любите подражать предкам и полагаете это человеческим достоинством, а они — нет. Не хотят они вырасти пьяницами и развратниками, мелкими людишками, рабами, конформистами, не хотят ваших семей и вашего государства.     Голос на минуту смолк. И целую минуту не было слышно ни звука, только какой-то шорох, словно туман шуршал, проползая над землей. Потом Голос заговорил снова.     — Вы можете быть совершенно спокойны за своих детей. Им будет хорошо — лучше, чем с вами, и много лучше, чем вам самим. <...>     Толпа стояла недвижной стеной. Люди словно боялись пошевелиться.     — Только имейте �� виду, — продолжал Голос. — От вас самих зависит, захотят ли дети встречаться с вами. <...> А теперь расходитесь. Вы мешаете и нам, и детям, и себе. И очень вам советую: подумайте, попытайтесь подумать, что вы можете дать детям. Поглядите на себя. Вы родили их на свет и калечите их по своему образу и подобию. Подумайте об этом, а теперь расходитесь.

- "Гадкие лебеди", А. и Б. Стругацкие

[technolib]

Книга vs Фильм. Аркадий и Борис Стругацкие "Трудно быть богом"

«Трудно быть богом» — социально-фантастическая повесть Аркадия и Бориса Стругацких. Написана в 1963 году, впервые опубликована в 1964 году в авторском сборнике «Далёкая Радуга». Действие повести разворачивается в будущем, на планете с гуманоидной цивилизацией, в местном государстве Арканар. Представители цивилизации физически неотличимы от людей. Цивилизация находится на уровне развития,…

[nikooo-whathehell]

also roadside picnic gang rise up ! ! ! my headcanons on the main cast bc I love them :)

[darrenpeace-shitpost]

a sketch inspired by "A Fleeting Moment of Fucking Happiness" by MidnightCity, fandom "Roadside picnic" Arkady and Boris Strugatsky ("Пикник на обочине", братья Стругацкие). This pis had been hanging out in my gallery for a while before I rediscovered it and decided finally to post it.

A friend of mine once said that my followers must be going nuts a little with the randomness of the fandoms I post about…

The carpet based on a real carpet.

[halucygeno]

The 2017 Bulgarian translation of Roadside Picnic is bloody weird as fuck, what the hell?

Ugh, I've been procrastinating writing this for months now, but I'm feeling inspired, so here goes.

This all started around mid-2023, when I decided to get a Storytel subscription and listen to Bulgarian audiobooks in preparation for a Bulgarian language course I'd take during the holidays. One of the first books I listened to was my all-time favourite, Roadside Picnic - but immediately, something was off.

Specifically, the way the narrator pronounced the name of the town Harmont. He called it "Marmont".

This isn't a mistake or dialectical thing - no speaker of Bulgarian would see "Harmont" and read it as "Marmont". And if you're familiar with Roadside Picnic's turbulent publication history, "Marmont" should be setting off alarm bells in your head. This altered name was used in the infamously butchered version of Picnic included in the Unintended Meetings anthology. To quote Michael Andre-Driussi's essay "Searching for the Worst Edition of Roadside Picnic":

"[...] I found hints that the problems with the Unintended Meetings edition were less about censorship and more about sloppy editing: the town’s name “Harmont” was inexplicably changed to “Marmont,” and the name of a stalker gang was altered from Warr to Fan (or “BaPP” to “BeeP”)."

Unintended Meetings came out in 1980. Yet there I was, listening to an audiobook from 2019, supposedly based on a 2017, updated translation of R.P., and they were STILL calling it "Marmont"?

When I finally got to Bulgaria for that language course, I went to a book store and bought a copy to see what was actually written in it - "Хармонт" or "Мармонт". And it was written correctly - "Harmont". I thought to myself "huh, must be some mistake with the audiobook" and put it out of mind.

Fast-forward a few weeks, and I decided that a good way to practice my Bulgarian pronunciation would be to read the book out loud to my grandma, who offered to correct my mistakes. So we started going through it, and very quickly, I found myself repeatedly surprised by entire paragraphs, entire SECTIONS that I didn't remember hearing or seeing before.

Now, to be clear, I know this book almost by heart. I've read the 1977 Antonina W. Bouis English edition, the 1974 Irena Lewandowska Polish edition, and listened to audiobooks of the 2012 English translation by Olena Bormashenko and 2015 Polish translation by Rafał Dębski. Not to mention, I had just finished listening to the Bulgarian audiobook, supposedly based on this very translation by Milan Asadurov. Across different languages and different editions, I had experienced the book about 5 times, maybe more; there's no way I would simply forget whole paragraphs of dialogue or description. Yet there I was, seeing completely new sections, none of which can be explained as a "quirk of translation".

I've gone through the book and tried to compile all the major alterations I could find. All Bulgarian has been (poorly) translated into English by me, and the new sections are in bold font and coloured red.

Chapter 1:

When Redrick describes what an "empty" is to the audience:

. But there's still something between them, undoubtably some sort of force, from what I understand. Something binds them together. As if someone took a glass tube, plugged up both ends with copper disks, and then the tube disappeared somewhere, but took off in such a way, that the disks stayed in place, as if the tube was still there. You can place such an "empty" on a shelf — and it's a heavy bastard, weighs six kilos and a half — so you place it, that is, on the shelf and push the upper disk, and it falls, let's say, like a can of orange juice of which you only see the lid and the bottom. And the disks stay still, as if they're two wheels on an axis, and you even feel like you can see some semblance of that axis, but there's nothing there, it's all a trick of the eye... . No, boys, it's a pain to describe this thing to someone who hasn't seen it, but it's really quite simple to understand on sight, especially once you look at it enough to finally believe your eyes.

Same section in the 2012 Olena Bormashenko translation:

. And despite this, there must be something there, a force field of some sort, because so far no one’s managed to push these disks together, or pull them apart either. . No, friends, it’s hard to describe this thing if you haven’t seen one. It looks much too simple, especially when you finally convince yourself that your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you.

When Redrick talks about Kirill's work on the empties:

. Actually, Kirill's been struggling with these "empties" for more-or-less an entire year already. He has four of them. There were three, but the other day they brought him another. The Vulture Burbridge found it in the "House without a roof". A patrol caught him, the "empty" was transferred to us, while he's been thrown in jail. So what? We had three, now we have four. We could have hundreds of them, it's all the same! Each one is identical and no one will ever figure them out. But Kirill hasn't stopped trying. He's gotten it into his head that they're some sort of magnetic trap — be it a hydromagnet, gyromagnet, whatever, some magnet — advanced physics. I know nothing about that sort of thing. But he's exposing them to a bunch of things in accordance with this hypothesis, as one should. Thermally, for example, he heats them up to crazy temperatures in an electric furnace. Chemically, say, he pours acid on them and smothers them with various pressurised gases. Besides this, he tries crushing them in a press or running electricity though them. No matter what he does, it hasn't yielded anything yet. Only thing he's managed is to completely exhaust himself. Actually, he's a funny guy, this Kirill. I've been dealing with these academic types for a while now. When something doesn't go their way, they become irritable, rude, start snapping at you, shouting at you, and you get this temptation to clobber them in the mug. Kirill isn't like that. He just wilts, his eyes start beaming sorrow, like those of a sick dog, he even gets teary; whatever you say to him — he doesn't hear it; he wanders around the lab, bumps into furniture, whatever he gets his hands on, he puts in his mouth. Found a pencil — hop, it's in his mouth. Found some plastilin — into his mouth it goes. Puts things in his mouth and chews. And he asks me wistfully: "Why — he says — is it inversely proportional, do you think? It can't be — he says — inversely. It should be directly..." . So we're standing in the storage room. I look at the way he's gotten, how red his eyes are and start to feel extremely sorry for him.

Now, from the 2012 Olena Bormashenko translation:

. Anyway, Kirill’s been struggling with these empties for almost a year now. I’ve worked for him from the very beginning, but I still don’t get what he wants with them, and to be honest, I haven’t tried too hard to find out. Let him first figure it out for himself, sort it all out, then maybe I’ll have a listen. But so far, one thing is clear to me: he’s absolutely determined to dismantle an empty, dissolve it in acid, crush it under a press, or melt it in an oven. And then he’ll finally get it, he’ll be covered in glory, and the entire scientific world will simply shudder in pleasure. But for now, as far as I know, he’s nowhere near this goal. He hasn’t yet accomplished anything at all, except that he’s exhausted himself, turned gray and quiet, and his eyes have become like a sick dog’s—they even water. If it were someone else, I’d get him totally wasted, take him to a great girl to loosen him up a bit, then the next morning I’d feed him more booze, take him to more girls, and by the end of the week he’d be A-OK—good as new and ready to go. Except this sort of therapy wouldn’t work on Kirill. There’s no point in even suggesting it; he’s not the type. . So, as I said, we’re standing in the repository, I’m looking at him, the way he’s gotten, how his eyes have sunk in, and I feel sorrier for him than I can say.

This one is a huge change. Redrick openly, and very aggressively, accuses Kirill of having told someone about their expedition plan:

. I think everything through and even feel slightly relieved that I won't have to go into the Zone. Then it suddenly clicked in my head, what had happened. When I saw Kirill, I immediately told him: . — Don't mess with me! Do you have any idea what sort of problems you can get me into?! . He winced and became all startled. I immediately realised, that he understood nothing. . — What happened? — he asks — What are you saying? . — Did you tell anyone about the garage? . — About the garage? No! Why? . — Nothing. Goddamn it — I say. — Your orders? . — We go and declare the route. . — What route? . Naturally, that pissed him off. . — What do you mean "what route"?! Our route through the Zone. . — Why? — I say. — Who says were going to the Zone today? Evidently, he figured out what was happening at that point. He took me by the elbow, brought me to his office, and sat me down at his desk while he plopped down on the windowsill next to me. We smoked a cigarette each. Silence. Then he cautiously asks: . — Did something happen, Red? . Eh, what do I tell him? . — No — I say, — nothing happened. Yesterday, I lost twenty bucks playing poker with Mr. Noonan. He's like a machine, the bastard. And I had a straight... . — Wait — he exclaims. — did you change your mind or something?. That's when I lose it. I'm not playing games with him. . — Yes, — I say, — changed my mind. You're a real claptrap. Snitched on me. I trusted you with this, and you had to go blabbing to the whole town. Even the people from security heard about it. — He started waving his hands to signal that I've got it all wrong, but I finished my thought. — If that's how you do things, then don't rely on me. Not that it matters, since from now on, fat chance I'll say anything when I'm around you. . I rattled all of this off and went silent. He, on the other hand, got his miserable look back, and his eyes again became like that of a sick poodle. He inhaled convulsively, lit a new cigarette with the butt of the previous one, and quietly said: . — Believe me, Red, I didn't say a word to anyone. . — Alright — I say. — If you insist it wasn't you, then it wasn't. . — I haven't even told Tender anything. I got him a permit, and I haven't even asked him if he's coming or not... . I smoke in silence. To laugh or to cry, the man understands nothing. . — Listen, Red — he says unexpectedly. — Are you sure that it was this garage that alerted them? It's not as if you have a spotless track record! . — What difference does it make?! — I say. . — Just know that I didn't snitch on you! Do you believe me? . — I believe you - I lied to calm him down. . But he didn't calm down. He jumped from the windowsill and started pacing back and forth around the office, murmuring to himself: . — No, buddy, I can see that you don't believe me! Why don't you believe me?! Your distrust towards me won't give you anything, I tell you... . He looked at me strangely somehow, jumped from the windowsill and began walking across his office. He runs around while I sit, smoke and keep quiet. I feel sorry for him, of course, and I'm kicking myself that it all turned out so stupidly. Way to cure someone's melancholy.

Note that Kirill jumps off the windowsill and starts pacing around the office twice. This makes me think that Milan Asadurov had, for whatever reason, stitched together an early draft of this scene with the final version we see in all other editions. Why? It's so much worse!

The ENTIRE vibe and character dynamic of this scene is much better in the Bormashenko translation:

. I think all this through and even feel a bit of relief that I don’t need to go into the Zone today. Except how am I going to break it to Kirill? . I tell him straight out. “I’m not going into the Zone. Your orders?” . At first, of course, he just gawks at me. Eventually, something seems to click. He takes me by the elbow, leads me to his office, sits me down at his table, and perches on the windowsill nearby. We light up. Silence. Then he asks me cautiously, “Red, did something happen?” . Now what am I supposed to tell him? “No,” I say, “nothing happened. Well, I blew twenty bucks last night playing poker—that Noonan sure knows how to play, the bastard.” . “Hold on,” he says. “What, you mean you just changed your mind?” . I almost groan from the tension. “I can’t,” I say through my teeth. “I can’t, you get it? Herzog just called me to his office.” . He goes limp. Again misery is stamped on his face, and again his eyes look like a sick poodle’s. He takes a ragged breath, lights a new cigarette with the remains of the old one, and says quietly, “Believe me, Red, I didn’t breathe a word to anyone.” . “Stop it,” I say. “Who’s talking about you?” . “I haven’t even told Tender yet. I got a pass for him, but I haven’t even asked him whether he’d come or not . . .” . I keep smoking in silence. Ye gods, the man just doesn’t understand. . “What did Herzog say to you, anyway?” . “Oh, not much,” I say. “Someone squealed on me, that’s all.” . He gives me a funny look, hops off the windowsill, and starts walking back and forth. He’s pacing around his office while I sit there, blowing smoke rings and keeping my trap shut. I feel sorry for him, of course, and really this is rotten luck: a great cure I found for the guy’s depression.

([Jan 18th, 2025 edit] I'M TOO TIRED, SO I GAVE UP ON WRITING THE REST OF THIS. SORRY! BELOW ARE A FEW NOTES ON OTHER POINTS I WAS GOING TO COVER)

-- [When the emigration agent tries to convince Redrick to leave Harmont, Redrick complains about the cultural atmosphere of a few European countries, saying that he definitely wouldn't want to move to Europe.]

-- [In chapter 2, when Red and Burbridge run into a resurrected body in a cemetery inside the zone, Redrick briefly considers that the figure might be Creon the Maltese, tailing them after they turned down his offer to join the expedition. He quickly dismisses this as very unlikely.]

[Jan 18th, 2025 edit] Oh, I guess I should try to hastily conclude this somehow:

Months after I initially wrote this, I believe I've tracked down two potential candidates for the Russian edition where these passages originate from. Milan Asadurov, in his translator's note (which I took a crack at translating into English), claims he was working from "the version of '...Picnic' specially prepared by Boris Natanovich for the 2003 release of their collected works".

Checking fantlab.ru, which has a lot of details on the publication history of Picnic, it turns out there were actually FOUR Strugatsky anthologies released in 2003. I managed to find two of them online, and they didn't contain the altered passages. So I managed to narrow down the potential source of this weirdness to these two editions: one published by Амфора, and one published by ОЛМА-ПРЕСС.

I was even thinking about asking around in Russo-phone circles and seeing if I can buy these two editions somewhere, but it seemed like a huge hassle and I quickly forgot about the idea. Any Russian fans of Picnic seeing this, could you help out?

(And I still have no idea why the Storytel audiobook used an earlier edition of Asadurov's translation with the stupid "Marmont" mistake! AGHH!)

[Jan 27th, 2025 edit] Ok, apparently this is common knowledge in Russia — I just researched this extremely poorly

Uh, never-mind, it wasn't the 2003 edition at all. The original text actually originates from this 1989 edition. According to Boris Sturgatsky, this was a draft version of the story that Arkady sent to the publisher because he didn't have the final version on-hand:

"Для данной публикации использован текст повести «Пикник на обочине» в редакции, заметно отличающейся от других публикаций. По словам Бориса Стугацкого, данное издание «… было (промежуточным) черновиком повести, который АНС сунул некогда издателю за неимением под рукой соответствующего чистовика». О том, что это черновик, в издании не указано. [...]"

This Strugatsky fan-site, (ran by a Maksim Gushin) further corroborates the story:

"В 1989 году в издательстве «Юридическая литература» вышел двумя изданиями под разными обложками авторский сборник с «Пикником на обочине», текст которого значительно отличался от всех ранее и впоследствии опубликованных вариантов — это было обусловлено тем, что Аркадий Стругацкий (вероятно, по ошибке) передал в издательство один из черновых вариантов."

...and even links to a .pdf of this original, draft version, so you can look at all of its strange quirks if you wish.

Sorry for having researched this so poorly, and accidentally spreading misinformation. I have no idea why Milan Asadurov cited a 2003 edition, when this version was published in 1989. Maybe the draft was mistakenly used once again in 2003? Or maybe Asadurov just got the two editions mixed up? Who knows.

Again, apologies for the shoddy research.

[starryvelvet-art]

☆Eng:

I finished it a year later! The comic is an illustration of one of my favorite moments from the book. I started drawing this thing last summer when I was very interested in the "Prisoners of power". Actually, my skill has grown a little during this time, and I already see a lot of mistakes, but to fix them, I would have to start all over again, and I don't want that.

I tried to translate these lines for an English-speaking audience, but perhaps I did not succeed very well, since English is not my native language. I tried to adapt the text of the English translation of the book, for greater authenticity.

Tap on this↓

1: Wastelands. The impact of towers = 0% -…Well, all right. We'll check it out right now. What do all of you do at ten o'clock? you form up into even ranks and yell your lungs out about being ready to shed blood for your cause. Remember? -And it comes straight from our hearts! -No, it's hammered into your empty skulls. Never mind, we'll find out very soon where it comes from. 2: -(Trying to sing) Forward, legionnaires... -Come on! -(Trying to sing) Forward, legionnaires, men of iron…… …Forward, sleep… …sweeping away fortresses, with fire… …shall smash the foe with… (He stopped singing) Stop staring at me! You're upsetting me! Besides… it's hard to sing well out of formation. -Don't give me that stuff. You used to do just as well outside of formation. It was frightening to watch you and Uncle Kaan. You'd be bellowing 'Men of Iron,' and Unc would be drawling 'Glory to the Creators'. So, Guy, what has suddenly happened to your intense desire to burn and slaughter for the glory of the Creators? 3: -Don't you dare talk that way about the Creators! If what you say is true… it means only that the Creators were duped! -Who duped them? So the Creators are not all-powerful? …What's wrong, Guy? Are you in pain? -No… -Why are you so sulky? -Oh, I don't know… I feel sort of lousy. Maybe I'll lie down.… -(Thinks) So that's how it is… It's not as simple as I thought… He's been living inside that field all his life. Maybe he needs it? Suppose he gets sick?? What a mess! 5: "He looked through the hatch at the pale face and grew increasingly fearful. Finally, unable to restrain himself any longer, he jumped into the compartment, turned off the engine, dragged Guy outside, and laid him on the grass by the side of the road. Guy muttered and twitched in his sleep. Then he began to shiver; he hunched himself up, as if trying to warm his body. Maxim placed Guy's head on his knees, pressed his fingers to his temples, and tried to concentrate. He hadn't performed psychomassage for a long time, but he knew that everything except the patient must be excluded from one's consciousness. He must assimilate the patient into his own healthy system. For ten or fifteen minutes he maintained the same position, and when he returned to his normal state of consciousness, he saw that Guy had improved. His color had improved, his breathing was regular, and his shivering had ceased. Maxim made a pillow out of grass and sat next to him for a while, chasing away the insects. Suddenly he remembered the long journey ahead of them and the leaky reactor. That was dangerous for Guy; he must figure something out. He rose and returned to the tank."

(PART FOUR: PRISONER, Chapter 14)

☆Рус:

Я закончила это спустя ГОД! Коммикс-иллюстрация к одному из моих любимейших моментов из книги (Часть четвёртая. "Каторжник". Глава 14). Я начала эту штуку ещё прошлым летом, когда увлекалась "Обитаемым островом". На самом деле мой скилл немного подрос за это время и я уже вижу много ошибок, но чтобы исправить их пришлось бы начинать заново, а я не хочу. Дешифровку моего почерка оставляю вам, хах.

[auritu-01]

[nikolay-n-1982]

[dvolkoff]

"Слушайте, нельзя ли выключить этот проклятый трезвон? Я не привык умирать в таких условиях" "Listen, can't you turn off this damn bell? I'm not used to dying in such conditions"

[goshminherz]

Почему человек не научится жить просто? Откуда-то из бездонных патриархальных глубин все время ползут тщеславие, самолюбие, уязвленная гордость. И почему-то всегда есть что скрывать. И всегда есть чего стесняться.

АРКАДИЙ и БОРИС СТРУГАЦКИЕ, "Попытка к бегству"