SUMAR

 

Nota bibliografului. Conversia scrierilor nelatine
CUVÂNT DESPRE SPIRIDON VANGHELI
Mihai Cimpoi. Turnul dorului
Stanislav Rassadin.  Copacii cântă cu păsările
Olguța Caia.  De la Bădița din Humulești - la Bădița din Chișinău
Vlad Ciubucciu. Strămoșii lui Guguță cel Bun
Dumitru Vacariu. O candelă cu flacără de aur
Grigore Vieru. Tu știi
Aprecieri
Dragă nene Spiridon Vangheli: scrisori de la copii
Din confesiunile scriitorului
Tabel cronologic
A FORWARD ABOUT SPIRIDON VANGHELI
Mihai Cimpoi. The tower of Homesickness
Stanislav Rassadin.  The trees sing with the birds
Appreciations
Dear uncle Spiridon Vangheli
Biographical information on Spiridon Vangheli
OPERA LITERARĂ
În original
În alte limbi
Lucrări scrise în colaborare
PUBLICISTICĂ
SPIRIDON VANGHELI - TRADUCĂTOR
SPIRIDON VANGHELI - SELECȚII
REFERINȚE CRITICE
DEDICAȚII ÎN VERSURI
SCRISORI DE LA COPII
INTERVIURI, DISCURSURI
BIBLIOGRAFII
MATERIALE AUDIOVIZUALE
Înregistrări pe disc
Filme cu desene animate
Diafilme  
Emisiuni televizate
 

Stanislav Rassadin

THE TREES SING WITH THE BIRDS

(from Spiridon Vangheli's book „The Boy From the Blue Hovel")
Spiridon Vangheli was bom to be a children's writer. His feeling is not that of being proudly distinct from a child, but that of being happily close to the little one. For him a child is not an object of watching and researching, but a partner in thinking and feeling. Both the writer and his character are in constant movement. They would not stop and let themselves being observed. They are in a hurry: they need to grow and learn, make comparisons and draw parallels.
Radu teaches his little sister about water-melons: „When they are small, they are playing on the ground, then they hide under the leaves. Do you know what they do with their leaves? They drink rain and grow big. The rain becomes red sweet snow inside the water-melon."
The child's explanation is based on two trivial things. The first one is that ram turns into snow. This dull axiom is exploded, made fresh and poetic by a specifica-tion in water-melons. Besides, a cold and delicious granulated pulp of a water-melon can hardly be called better than red sweet snow.
The other triviality is: rain gives land water to drink. This trite metaphor is refreshed by a pagan literal perception of a child. Ordinary water-melons are ani-mated, they play like children; moreover, they become unusual living beings as they eat and drink with the help of their tails!
Radu looks for regularities. He is puzzled. When he stretches his impatient hand for a bunch, the beautiful grapes are sour. „When I pick them up, they are sour, when my mother picks them up — they are sweet". The conclusion is obvious — „They are getting sweet in mother's hands." And it certainly has nothing to do with mother being experienced to choose ripe bunches!
The child introduces his budding compassion into the world of nature. He feels
ity for a little tree gnawed around by a rabbit, promises to apply a healing medicine
and expects the execution of the law he has learned well — children are protected
by grown-ups. He asks old trees why they have not taken care of the young one!?
He sees the world as an amusing integrity. The boy teaches his baby-sister: „Rodica, do you know what the forest is made of? Of trees and summer. And summer? It is made of grass, strawberries, flowers, butterflies, weeds and trees with leaves."
Try to make head or tail of this mysterious confusion and you will probably fail. Radu discovers the complexity of the world. An attempt to disintegrate the world gives him a lesson on its integrity.
That was about miniatures from Spiridon Vangheli's book The Boy From theBlue Hovel.
When I read in Spiridon Vangheli's book of Stories about Guguțe that the little boy received from his mother such gifts as a candy rooster on a stick, a bagel with poppy seeds, and new pants, I have not the slightest doubt that these treats are to be enumerated in this very order: an immediate acute pleasure promised by a delicious candy is sure to be mentioned before the pragmatic usefulness of the pants.
When I learn that Guguță, who was well under school age and decided to go to school ahead of time, „washed both of his ears", in this funny observation I hear the kid's diligence as well as a cunning hint of the author that the other ear might occasionally happen to remain unwashed.
Do you find it a minor detail? I don't. This is a small element of the big truth — the foundation on which Guguță's magic castles grow.
"Strange rings happened because Guguță's father had made him a fur hat that was much too big."
„Never mind," Father hâd said. „This way it will last for several winters. You can wear it as it is."
"But, Papa, it keeps falling over my eyes!" Guguță complained. „Push it up when it slides down — that will give you something to do all winter long," said Father.
Really! As if he hâd nothing better to do."
With this half-reproach of Father and with the hat that kept sliding down and reminding of itself, wonders of the story began. First it was no great surprise: Guguță saw a girl blue with cold, felt pity for her and put the hat on himself and the freezing little girl. Then the sorcery built up — all of the first-graders together with the teacher got warm covered by the magic hat. And finally — miracles never cease! — „Guguță sat near the stove, thinking. Could his hat, he wondered, grow even larger — large enough to warm the whole village until spring?"
"There started spring under the fur hat. Though, electric bulbs were lit even in the daytime. Life was going on under the hat: cars and trucks were roaring, well sweeps were creaking. People were walking bareheaded. A few hats remained in the village. For those who hâd to leave the village to go for halva (you have tasted that delicious paste of nuts, sugar, and oii, right?), bagels (yum-yum!) and on business."
Reality feeds fantasy and keeps it on the earth. Guguță is troubled by drawbacks of his paradise: electric bulbs burning by daylight is a waste of master, he keeps in store some hats for the villagers — „to go for halva, bagels and on business" (a curious gradation made exactly from Guguță's viewpoint: first things comefirst!).
Guguță is a considerate and businesslike benefactor for the whole village. оs it not a cherished dream for a child? Strânge as it may seem, hyperbole in the story is an embodiment of reality. It reflects the reality of every-day life, reality of childhood rules, reality of recreating the world.
Conceming terminology. In fact I would not caii these pieces of writing stories, I would rather name them tales. They are pure fairy-tales created by the same tan­dem of a child and an adult author as the poems from The Boy From the Blue Hovel.
At the dawn of civilization mankind was making up legends based on then experience animating nature and expressing people's naive ideals. In the same way Guguță embodies his experience, his ideals, and his relation with nature. And the principal thing here is not borrowing from ready-made tales, but quenching his thirst for creation, seif— realization, reshaping the world according to his laws.
If there are loans, they are transformed according to the laws the childhood follows in writing its never-ending tale.
Let us turn to the tale entitled His Majesty Guguță. A child becomes a king and enjoys all the royal privileges as it would be in a tradițional tale. But how did this idea come about?
Guguță happened to notice that adults, leaving the village to work in the field, were getting shorter and shorter: first they became smaller than Guguță's little sister, then smaller than her shoe, and finally smaller than a poppy seed. „Com-pared to them Guguță was a real giant; no wonder that when all the grown-ups and elder children left for the field he became the king." The tale ends in a similar way:
"When so many important and urgent matters had been done, His Majesty was somewhat tired and came out to the margin of the village.
Along all the roads people were returning home from fields and farms. They were as big as a rye-ear, then as a corn-cob, later as a tomato bush — no, as a vine already.
Though His Royal Majesty was staying in the same place, he was getting smaller and smaller until the people took the boy by the hand and led him home."
Why on finishing this merry tale one may have a feeling of light sadness? The sadness is subtly rendered by the poetics of the fairy tale itself. When Guguță is watching the leaving adults he is a starting-point, a measure of all things; moreover, he is growing!
In the finale we are back to where we have started. Now Guguță is getting smaller and smaller again, and the author calls him not „His Majesty", not the king, but a boy. And he certainly feels sad that he will have to grow for a long time before he becomes — no, not the king — but a real adult independent man.
As for the other co-creator, the writer Vangheli, he sympathizes with the child and shares his sadness; still he emphasizes another idea, his own thought. Adults are the main people on the earth, they work and get tired, they feed you, and you have to be grateful to them.
The author is right, every pride needs to be subdued from time to time. The little Caracter has to be taken out of the zone of selfishness, egocentrism that is no less rypical of a child than the best features, such as optimism and Iove to life.
To realize how significant and complicated Vangheli's task is, we should examine aiiother tale — Postman.
The beginning of the tale is somewhat childish.
Letters get delivered to the villagers more.seldom. Guguță wants to find out why. Then he thinks he found the answer: the postman is old.
The postman is given a horse and it helps for a while, but then it starts anew. The village is in despair. Practicai Guguță takes measures.
"Guguță bought a map of our country in a bookstore and researched where people from his village left for. In the place where a mân lived he painted a hat and where a woman lived — a flower. Then he drew a map of the village. All the houses where people were waiting for letters were depicted with open doors."
Here we have both a charming symbolism and a peasant thoroughness, both poetry and humor. First there is a hidden smile, then it broadens when a witty boy decides to write letters and send them to his village-mates and starts acting. He is thinking how to write a letter to a soldier's wife so that she would believe that it is really from her husband. He is getting into his role.
"Guguță was walking up and down the room, marching, standing at attenn'on, but no soldier thoughts came to his mind. Only one: a soldier must not let out a State secret. Then instead of a letter Guguță painted a dove and endosed it in the envelope."
The village is in elation, nobody doubts the authenticity of such smart letters. Everybody is happy.
The end of the story is extremely significant:
"Thus, since Guguță began to help the postman to seal the letters, on the village map there were less and less houses with open doors. People were seeing iir the distance."
Seeing whom? Guguță, right? No, not him!
"Wheh the old postman was coming, people were ready to take off their hats, while for his horse oats and succulent grass were always in store."
This is how Vangheli directed the boys self-realization. The good name of the old postman is reconstituted, his horse is rehabilitated. They reap the glory. Guguță is in the shade and nobody suspects that he is the village benefactor and guarding angel. And this is — cunning Vangheli! — the victory of proud Guguță, great plotter. He did not want anybody to reveal his secret plan.
Hence, a joyous tale preaches Kindness, Modesty, and Compassion.
Spiridon Vangheli is not dissolved as a stage-director in his little personage and co-author. He finds his self-expression — indirect, but obvious and vivid. Children's good will, faith in good forces, their unbridled imagination, all the traces of his co-authors (little Guguță and even younger Radu), help Vangheli to recreate the world. He makes a bright and big picture of it the way he would like to see it—in the light of the spiritual ideal, which is worth craving for.
Confident and merry optimism of Radu and Guguță is strengthened by the dreams and hopes of Vangheli himself. Their children's „what I see" is multiplied by his adult „what I foresee".