Fairytale acrobat 4 letters crossword puzzle. Yuri Karlovich Olesha - interesting facts. About the process of creating "Three Fat Men"

Writer.

Born on February 19, 1899 in Elisavetgrad into an impoverished noble family. Olesha spent his childhood and teenage years in Odessa, where his literary activity began.

Twenty-year-old Olesha, together with the young Kataev and those just starting out, Ilf and Bagritsky, was one of the most active employees of the Bureau of Ukrainian Press (similar to Windows of ROSTA), was a member of the Collective of Poets, and wrote poetry.

Since 1922, Olesha lived in Moscow, worked in the railway newspaper "Gudok", where his poetic feuilletons appeared almost every day, published under the pseudonym "Zubilo". While working at the newspaper, he traveled a lot, saw many people, and accumulated a large stock of life observations. The feuilletonist "Chisel" helped the writer Olesha a lot.

Emmanuel Kazakevich, a great friend of Olesha, wrote: “Olesha is one of those writers who did not write a single word of falsehood. He had enough strength of character not to write what he did not want.”

In 1931, the collection “The Cherry Pit” was published, combining Olesha’s stories from different years. At the same time, on the stage of the theater. Meyerhold's play "List of Benefits" premiered. The film story “The Strict Young Man” was published in 1934, after which Olesha’s name appeared in print only under articles, reviews, notes, sketches, and sometimes stories. He wrote memoirs about his contemporaries (Mayakovsky, A. Tolstoy, Ilf, etc.), sketches about Russian and foreign writers, whose work he especially appreciated (Stendhal, Chekhov, Mark Twain, etc.).

Based on Olesha's scripts, the films "Swamp Soldiers" and "Engineer Cochin's Mistake" were produced; for the theater Vakhtangov Olesha dramatized the novel "The Idiot".

The main thing in the last period of his life was the work he carried out day after day, coming up with the code name “Not a Day Without a Line,” intending to write a novel later.

Friend Suok

Website: Arguments and Facts

In Odessa, three girls were born and raised in the family of the Austrian emigrant Gustav Suok: Lydia, Olga and Serafima. It was never boring in Odessa, but when the youngest, Sima, entered her “first age” - girlhood, the scenery was two wars and two revolutions.

In restaurants, sailors exchanged fake pearls for beer. Disheveled young men gathered in the summer theater and read poetry for hours. There Yuri Olesha met Sima. Among the young men were Valentin Kataev and the poet Eduard Bagritsky, who later became the husband of the eldest of the sisters, Lida.

When the city was occupied by the Reds, a lot changed. But one of the brightest characters of those days was a lame, shaved man with a severed left hand - Vladimir Narbut. Narbut, a poet with terrible poems and a terrible fate, was a representative of the new government. He wrote: “Oh, the city of Richelieu and De Ribas! Forget yourself, die and become someone else.”

Sima Suok was sixteen at the time, Yuri Olesha was twenty. Love broke out. Kataev recalled this couple as follows: “Not tied to each other by any obligations, poor, young, often hungry, cheerful, tender, they were able to suddenly kiss in broad daylight right on the street, among revolutionary posters and lists of those executed.”

Soon the lovers began to live together and moved to Kharkov. Olesha called his beloved “Buddy.” And nothing else.

It was a hungry time. Two (already famous!) writers - Yuri Olesha and Valentin Kataev - walked the streets barefoot. They lived on credit, earning bread, cigarettes and milk by writing epigrams and poetic toasts for other people's feasts for pennies.

Among their acquaintances in Kharkov there was a certain accountant nicknamed “Mak”. Mac had a pile of ration cards—the ultimate sign of luxury at the time. At one of the literary evenings, the accountant saw the Suok sisters and began to court them. At first without any success. And then the hungry writers hatched a plan for a scam. Bagritsky (at that time already married to Lida Suok) and Olesha, deciding to shake up the rich man, hid their relationship with their sisters. The youngest, Seraphima, approached the accountant herself.

“Tell me,” Mack suddenly heard, “do you like these poems?”

- For me?.. - He blushed, as if these were his poems. - Yes, I like it!

The accountant rained food on the whole cheerful company. The writers happily chewed salmon and sausage, not noticing that the accountant was already persuading Druzhochka to get married.

At that time, registering a marriage was a matter of one day. The divorce took an hour. And one day Druzhok announced to Olesha with a cheerful laugh that she had married Mack. And she has already moved. Kataev brought Sima back. Shocked by the betrayal, Olesha could not even speak clearly.

This is how Kataev described that evening: “Mack himself opened the door. Seeing me, he began to fuss and began to tug at his beard, as if anticipating trouble. I looked frightening: an officer's jacket from the time of Kerensky, canvas trousers, wooden sandals on my bare feet, a pipe smoking with shag in my teeth, and on my shaved head a red Turkish fez with a black tassel, which I received by order instead of a hat at the city clothing warehouse.

Don’t be surprised: this was how those glorious times were: citizens were provided with whatever God sent them, but for free.

“You see...” Mac began, fiddling with the lace of his pince-nez.

- Listen, Mac, don’t be a fool, call Buddy right this minute. I'll show you how to be a bluebeard these days! Well, turn around quickly!

“I’m here,” said Druzhochek, appearing at the door of the bourgeois furnished room. - Hello.

- I came for you. There's no point in you chilling here. The key is waiting for you below. (“Kataev called Olesha “Key.”)

“Let me…” Mack muttered.

“I won’t allow it,” I said.

“Excuse me, dear,” said Druzhochek, turning to Mac. “I’m very embarrassed in front of you, but you yourself understand that our love was a mistake.” I love Klyuchik and must return to him.

“Let’s go,” I commanded.

- Wait, I’ll take my things now.

- Which things? - I was surprised. - You left Klyuchik in only a dress.

- And now I already have things. And food,” she added, disappeared into the plush depths of the apartment and quickly returned with two packages. “Goodbye, Mac, don’t be angry with me,” she said to Mac in a sweet voice.”

The story with Mack for a long time served only as a reason for jokes. Olesha was happy again, again they kissed on the streets, and he asked in his high voice:

In 1921, friends decided to move to Moscow. Kataev was the first to leave. Having settled down, I began to wait for the others. Once on the telephone receiver Kataev heard Sima’s cheerful voice:

— Hello, I’m also in Moscow!

-Where is Yura?

— Stayed in Kharkov.

- How?! - Kataev was amazed. - Did you come alone?

“Not really,” Suok grinned into the phone.

- How is it, not really?

- Yes! - she answered happily. - Wait for us.

And she appeared, and with her, limping, a man without an arm entered the room.

“That’s why I’m glad,” he said to Kataev, stuttering strangely. And he added, smiling on one side of his face: “Do you remember me?”

Not only Kataev remembered him. Vladimir Narbut was known as a demonic figure. A hereditary Chernigov nobleman became an anarchist Socialist Revolutionary. He was once sentenced to death, but was saved by the red cavalry. “Kolchenogy,” as he was called, was one of the greatest poets of the beginning of the century. The entire edition of his collection of poems “Hallelujah” was burned by special order of the Holy Synod for blasphemy.

His own fame was added to the shine by the names of Akhmatova, Mandelstam and Gumilyov, with whom he created a new literary movement - Acmeism. When he came in, everyone in the room felt uneasy. Narbut's public readings were reminiscent of black magic sessions. At that moment his bizarre stutter disappeared. Trembling and swaying, he threw out stanzas, as if throwing curses into the heavens: “The dog star, which has been collecting honey for billions of years in its hive.” Many believe that Bulgakov based the image of his Woland on him.

Asking Suok where Olesha was and how he was feeling now was stupid. After spending a little time visiting Kataev, the “young” went looking for an apartment.

Olesha appeared a few days later. Fit, calm, confident, but aged. For several subsequent evenings, he stood under the windows of the apartment where his Suok moved in, watching the shadows move on the curtains. He called out to her one day:

- Friend!

She walked to the window, looked down at it and pulled down the curtain.

“I can guarantee that at that moment she turned pale,” Olesha later told Kataev.

Olesha decided to return her a second time. He did everything to find her alone at home. It is not known what he told her, but that same evening the two of them returned to Kataev’s apartment. And again it was as if nothing had happened. Olesha, looking into her blue eyes, asked and asked, smiling:

- You’re mine, my friend, aren’t you?..

She laughed, kissed him and stroked his hair, chirped about how she missed him...

The delighted Kataev walked in circles around the room, putting teapot after teapot, serving the lovers. Late in the evening someone knocked on the window. The knock was as if death itself was knocking. The upper part of Kolchenogy’s figure loomed in the window, his profile of a living dead man.

“We need to go out to him,” Olesha said hoarsely. Nobody answered him.

As the owner of the house, Kataev came out into the yard. Narbut looked at him heavily and, interspersing his words with his eternal “otto,” asked him to tell Serafima Gustavovna that if she didn’t leave Yuri Karlovich right away, he would shoot himself right here, in their yard.

Pure as an angel, the heroine of the fairy tale film “Three Fat Men” Suok is completely different from the prototype that gave her name. And she left. This time it's forever. Only her one glove remained on the table. Life again lost its meaning for Olesha. But a year later, Yuri Olesha married the middle of the Suok sisters, Olga. His famous fairy tale “Three Fat Men” is dedicated to her. But for everyone who knew Sima Suok, it was obvious: she was the circus performer Suok and the doll of Tutti’s heir. This was not a secret for Olga either. Olesha himself told her: “You are the two halves of my soul.”

Seraphima was probably happy with Vladimir Narbut. In any case, there were no more antics from her. In 1936, Narbut was arrested and subsequently perished in Stalin’s camps. Bagritsky's widow, Lydia Suok, tried to intercede for her relative before the NKVD commissars. She defended it so ardently that she herself left the Gulag seventeen years later.

After Narbut's death, Sima was married twice more. Both of her new husbands were writers: Nikolai Khardzhiev and Viktor Shklovsky.

Periodically he appeared in the Shklovsky-Suok family. Shklovsky usually went into his office, closing the door tightly. I was nervous. There was a conversation going on in the other room. Loud - Simochki, quiet - Olesha. About five minutes later Olesha came out into the corridor, disgustedly holding a large bill in his fingers. Sima saw him off, wiping away her tears.

During his life, Yuri Olesha did not say a single rude word about Seraphim. He called his painful attachment to his friend, who betrayed him more than once, the most beautiful thing that happened in his life.

Interesting facts from Olesha's biography

"Girl" Suok

Most of you, dear readers, have probably read Yuri Olesha’s fairy tale “Three Fat Men” and remember one of the main characters of this work, the circus girl Suok. Once Yuri Karlovich was asked: “And the girl Suok from Three Fat Men, where did you meet this charming little circus performer? You have never been able to create a more poetic image!” Olesha smiled sadly: “If I tell you, you won’t believe me.” And he said that the little girl Suok had a real predecessor. This was a golden-haired acrobat girl, with whom Olesha the high school student fell in love after seeing her at the circus during a performance. Subsequently, to Olesha’s horror, it turned out that this was not a girl, but a cynical boy who spat for a long time through his teeth.

About the process of creating “Three Fat Men”

Yuri Olesha in his youth worked for the newspaper "Gudok", wrote poetic feuilletons and signed them with the pseudonym Zubilo. And he lived in a small room at the Gudka printing house. Olesha later recalled: “Those were fun times! Next to my bed there was a huge roll of newsprint. I tore off a large sheet of paper and wrote “Three Fat Men” with a pencil. These are the conditions under which masterpieces are sometimes created.”

Minkus

Once Olesha and Eisenstein visited the Bolshoi Theater together to see Ludwig Minkus' ballet Don Quixote. They liked the name of the author of the ballet so much that they started a kind of game in which they endowed certain phenomena or people with this word. One could often see how they watched the people around them or passers-by, and, from time to time, Olesha leaned towards Eisenstein and mysteriously whispered: “Minkus.” Eisenstein responded just as mysteriously: “Absolute Minkus.”

Olesha and typesetters

Once Olesha corrected typos in the layout of one of his plays and was indignant: “It’s a nightmare! It’s impossible to fight with typesetters! I corrected everything in the proofs, but here you go, in the layout it’s the same again. In my play, Ulyalum says: “Your hands round, like a railing." And here, admire: "Your hands are round, like a feather bed." And what did they do with the remark: "Who should I shoot at for breaking the connection of times?" They printed: "Should I shoot at the window for the fact that the connection of times has disintegrated?” And, finally, instead of the phrase: “You came from childhood, where there was the city of Nîmes, built by the Romans,” there is super meaninglessness: “You came from childhood, where there was the city of Rome, built by the Romans.” They consoled Olesha: “Yuri Karlovich, but you’ve straightened it all out now?” He grumbled: “Of course! So what?" They continued to reassure him: "Let's hope that everything will be fixed." Olesha exploded: "Abandon hope, everyone who enters here! It’s impossible to fight with typesetters!..” Olesha turned out to be right, since the book came out with the same distortions.

Receiving a fee

One day Olesha came to a publishing house to receive a fairly large fee. Olesha forgot his passport at home, and he began to persuade the cashier to give him a fee without a passport. The cashier refused: “I’ll give you the fee today, and tomorrow another Olesha will come and demand the fee again.” Olesha straightened up to his full short height and said with majestic calm: “You shouldn’t worry, girl! Another Olesha will come no earlier than in four hundred years...”

Olesha and Lerner

Olesha and Shostakovich

When Shostakovich returned from a trip to Turkey, Olesha began asking him about his impressions. Shostakovich enthusiastically recounted that all Soviet artists were especially impressed by the reception given by President Kemal Atatürk, who presented all the men with gold cigarette cases and the women with bracelets. Olesha suddenly stunned Shostakovich with a question: “Tell me, Mitya, when Kemal Kemarit, is it quiet in Ankara?”

Olesha and the tree

One morning Olesha went out into the courtyard of an Odessa hotel, where in the summer the restaurant set up its tables, and saw that a huge tree that grew near the fountain had collapsed and was blocking half of the courtyard. Olesha began to reason: “After all, there was no storm at night... We went to bed late... It was quiet - no rain, no wind... What’s the matter - why did the tree collapse?” No one could answer him. Olesha shrugged his shoulders and buried himself in the first page of Izvestia. After skimming through a few lines, he exclaimed: “Oh, that’s it! Michurin, a great gardener, has died. Now I understand why a tree collapsed here yesterday. Nature responded to the death of its brilliant assistant. He was very old and also resembled a mighty tree... "

Malraux and Olesha

When the French writer Andre Malraux arrived in Moscow, Olesha decided to show him something unusual and invited him to a kebab shop, which was located in the basement, opposite the Central Telegraph. It was very crowded and noisy there, and it was simply impossible to talk to the accompaniment of a Caucasian orchestra. The orchestra was especially furious when the young horsemen performed national dances. Through the translator, Malraux was asked: “Tell me, monsieur, how did you like it in our country?” Malraux replied: “I liked it very much! Only, you know, capitalism has one advantage over socialism...” Olesha burst out: “Which one?” Malraux said: "In capitalist countries there are restaurants where there is no orchestra..."

Memoirs of Piast

When Olesha was looking through the memoirs of Vladimir Piast, he was asked: “What do you think, Yuri Karlovich, why doesn’t he talk about Blok?” Olesha said: “Very proud. Blok, they say, is on his own, and Piast is on his own. He doesn’t want to travel at the expense of the great poet. Piast is a nobleman. Polish blood. The blood of Polish kings from the Piast dynasty.” They corrected Olesha: “Why, Yuri Karlovich, what kind of kings? After all, Vladimir Alekseevich’s real name is Pestovsky. What do Polish kings have to do with it?”
Olesha grumbled: “Moreover...”

Much and little

One writer who published many books once said to Olesha: “How little you have written in your life, Yuri Karlovich! I can read it all in one night.” Olesha instantly retorted: “But in just one night I can write everything that you have read in your entire life!..”

Starting point

Once Olesha was sitting with a group of literary friends in the cafe of the National Hotel. Nearby, at another table, two friends were sitting and arguing fiercely about something. One of his friends said to Olesha: “We all know that these two are the stupidest of us. I wonder what they can argue about?” Olesha explained: “They are now finding out who was stupider - Goethe or Byron? After all, they have their own account - on the other hand...”

The pangs of creativity

One late night, Olesha and his friends were returning home and noticed that in the writers’ house in the passage of the Art Theater all the windows were dark. His indignation knew no bounds: “Just think: everyone is already asleep! Where is the night inspiration? Why is no one awake, indulging in creativity?!”

Olesha about life

One of the leaders of the Writers' Union met Olesha at the Central House of Writers and politely greeted: “Hello, Yuri Karlovich! How are you living?” Olesha was delighted: “It’s good that at least one person was interested in how I live. I’ll tell you everything with great pleasure. Let’s step aside.” The activist was dumbfounded: “What are you talking about! I don’t have time, I’m in a hurry to go to a meeting of the section of poets...” Olesha insisted: “Well, you asked me how I live. Now I can’t run away, I need to listen. Yes, I’ll take a long time.” I won’t keep you and I’ll do it in about forty minutes...” The leader barely escaped and ran away, and Olesha muttered offendedly: “Why did you ask how I live?”

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Yuri Karlovich Olesha (1899-1960) - Russian Soviet prose writer, poet, playwright, satirist

Interesting Facts

Most of you, dear readers, have probably read Yuri Olesha’s fairy tale “Three Fat Men” and remember one of the main characters of this work, the circus girl Suok. Once Yuri Karlovich was asked:
“And the girl Suok from Three Fat Men, where did you meet this charming little circus performer? You have never been able to create a more poetic image!”
Olesha smiled sadly:
"If I tell you, you won't believe me."
And he said that the little girl Suok had a real predecessor. This was a golden-haired acrobat girl, with whom Olesha the high school student fell in love after seeing her at the circus during a performance. Subsequently, to Olesha’s horror, it turned out that this was not a girl, but a cynical boy who spat for a long time through his teeth.

Yuri Olesha in his youth worked for the newspaper "Gudok", wrote poetic feuilletons and signed them with the pseudonym Zubilo. And he lived in a small room at the Gudka printing house. Olesha later recalled:
“Those were fun times! Next to my bunk there was a huge roll of newsprint. I tore off a large sheet of paper and wrote “Three Fat Men” with a pencil. These are the conditions under which masterpieces are sometimes created.”

Once Olesha and Eisenstein visited the Bolshoi Theater together to see Ludwig Minkus' ballet Don Quixote. They liked the name of the author of the ballet so much that they started a kind of game in which they endowed certain phenomena or people with this word. One could often see how they watched the people around them or passers-by, and, from time to time, Olesha leaned over to Eisenstein and mysteriously whispered:
"Minkus."
Eisenstein responded just as mysteriously:
"Absolute Minkus."

Once Olesha corrected typos in the layout of one of his plays and was indignant:
“It’s a nightmare! It’s impossible to fight with the typesetters! I straightened everything out in the proofs, but here you go, in the layout it’s the same thing again. In my play, Ulalyum says:
“Your arms are round, like railings.”
And here, admire:
"Your arms are as round as a feather bed."
What did they do with the replica:
“Who should I shoot at because the connection of times has broken down?”
They printed:
“Should I shoot at the window because the connection of times has broken down?”
And finally, instead of the phrase:
“You came from childhood, where there was the city of Nîmes, built by the Romans,” stands the super meaninglessness:
“You came from childhood, where there was the city of Rome, built by the Romans.”
They consoled Olesha:
“Yuri Karlovich, but you’ve straightened all this out now?”
He grumbled:
"Of course! So what?"
They continued to reassure him:
"Let's hope everything gets fixed."
Olesha exploded:
“Abandon hope, everyone who enters here! It’s impossible to fight the typesetters!..”
Olesha turned out to be right, since the book came out with the same distortions.

One day Olesha came to a publishing house to receive a fairly large fee. Olesha forgot his passport at home, and he began to persuade the cashier to give him a fee without a passport. The cashier refused:
“Today I will give you a fee, and tomorrow another Olesha will come and demand a fee again.”
Olesha straightened up to his full short height and said with majestic calm:
“You shouldn’t be worried, girl! Another Olesha will come no sooner than in four hundred years...”

When Shostakovich returned from a trip to Turkey, Olesha began asking him about his impressions. Shostakovich enthusiastically recounted that all Soviet artists were especially impressed by the reception given by President Kemal Atatürk, who presented all the men with gold cigarette cases and the women with bracelets. Olesha suddenly stunned Shostakovich with a question:
“Tell me, Mitya, when Kemal Kemarit is quiet in Ankara?”

One morning Olesha went out into the courtyard of an Odessa hotel, where in the summer the restaurant set up its tables, and saw that a huge tree that grew near the fountain had collapsed and was blocking half of the courtyard. Olesha began to reason:
“After all, there was no storm at night... We went to bed late... It was quiet - no rain, no wind... What’s the matter - why did the tree collapse?”
No one could answer him. Olesha shrugged his shoulders and buried himself in the first page of Izvestia. After skimming a few lines, he exclaimed:
“Oh, that’s what! Michurin died. A great gardener. Now I understand why a tree collapsed here yesterday. Nature responded to the death of its brilliant assistant. He was very old and also resembled a mighty tree...”

When the French writer Andre Malraux arrived in Moscow, Olesha decided to show him something unusual and invited him to a kebab shop, which was located in the basement, opposite the Central Telegraph. It was very crowded and noisy there, and it was simply impossible to talk to the accompaniment of a Caucasian orchestra. The orchestra was especially furious when the young horsemen performed national dances.
Through the translator, Malraux was asked:
"Tell me, monsieur, how did you like it in our country?"
Malraux replied:
“I really liked it! Only, you know, capitalism has one advantage over socialism...”
Olesha burst out:
"Which?"
Malraux said:
"In capitalist countries there are restaurants where there is no orchestra..."

When Olesha was looking through the memoirs of Vladimir Piast, he was asked:
“What do you think, Yuri Karlovich, why doesn’t he talk about Blok?”
Olesha said:
“Very proud. Blok, they say, is on his own, and Piast is on his own. He doesn’t want to travel at the expense of the great poet. Piast is a nobleman. Polish blood. The blood of Polish kings from the Piast dynasty.”
Olesha was corrected:
“Why, Yuri Karlovich, what kind of kings? After all, Vladimir Alekseevich’s real name is Pestovsky. What does the Polish kings have to do with it?”
Olesha grumbled:
"Especially..."

One writer who has published many books once told Olesha:
“How little you have written in your life, Yuri Karlovich! I can read it all in one night.”
Olesha instantly retorted:
“But in just one night I can write everything that you have read in your entire life!..”

Once Olesha was sitting with a group of literary friends in the cafe of the National Hotel. Nearby, at another table, two friends were sitting and arguing fiercely about something. One of his friends told Olesha:
"We all know that these two are the stupidest of us. I wonder what they can argue about?"
Olesha explained:
“They are now finding out who was stupider - Goethe or Byron? After all, they have their own account - on the other hand...”

One late night, Olesha and his friends were returning home and noticed that in the writers’ house in the passage of the Art Theater all the windows were dark. His indignation knew no bounds:
“Just think: everyone is already asleep! Where is the nighttime inspiration? Why isn’t anyone awake, indulging in creativity?!”

One of the leaders of the Writers' Union met Olesha at the Central House of Writers and politely greeted him:
"Hello, Yuri Karlovich! How are you doing?"
Olesha was delighted:
“It’s good that at least one person was interested in how I live. I’ll tell you everything with great pleasure. Let’s step aside.”
The activist was dumbfounded:
“What are you talking about! I don’t have time, I’m in a hurry to go to a meeting of the poets’ section...”
Olesha insisted:
“Well, you asked me how I was living. Now you can’t run away, you need to listen. Yes, I won’t keep you long and will do it in about forty minutes...”
The leader barely escaped and ran away, and Olesha muttered offendedly:
“Why did you ask how I live?”

One day Olesha and Mayakovsky and their friends came to the apartment of Nikolai Aseev, who lived in a large room on the ninth floor of a house near the Myasnitsky Gate. A game of cards began, with nines. Olesha sat next to the players, and in front of him lay a thick wad of money.
Mayakovsky asked:
"Wow! Where does this wealth come from?"
Olesha replied:
“I received a fee and took an advance.”
Mayakovsky continued to interrogate:
“If you received a fee, then why did you need an advance?”
Olesha explained:
“My wife is at the resort, she asked me to send more money.”
Mayakovsky said sternly:
“How dare you sit down at the card table?”
Olesha remained silent.
Mayakovsky continued in the same tone:
“I warn you, I will beat you and I will be merciless.”
Olesha objected:
"Well, the outcome of the game is never known in advance."
Mayakovsky was phenomenally lucky, and, winning against Olesha, he said:
“Serves you right! This will be a good lesson for you.”
It all ended with Mayakovsky actually winning all his money from Olesha.
In the morning, Mayakovsky called Olesha and invited him to the editorial office of Komsomolskaya Pravda at twelve o'clock. When Olesha arrived, Mayakovsky led him into the corridor and handed him money:
“That’s it, Olesha, take your loss in full.”
Olesha took a step back:
“What are you talking about, Vladimir Vladimirovich! Who takes back their loss!?”
Mayakovsky was adamant:
“Don’t you dare argue! You and I, thank God, are not hussars. Now go to the telegraph office and send money to your wife.”