Yuri Viira Biography

But for this book it would rather fit: “It’s not good forgotten ...” Because to forget the wonderful children's writer as Yuri Borisovich Viira was unforgivable. For readers will not forgive, if they are left without such charming fairy tales, amazing stories and others for Viyra of flax fables, in which the author’s imagination crosses all conceivable boundaries.

And rushes in ... in ... in general, judge you - after all, today you have opened its tenth anniversary! Yuri Viira was born in the year in Tallinn. In the evenings, dad told him exciting stories. However, captured by sleep, often fell asleep at the end of the story. And Little Yura had to think out himself how everything ended. And then he retold it to his friends at school.

And quietly became for them a real storyteller. And then for us too. Viira studied at the Estonian school. But he stuttered very much, speaking in Estonian. But in Russian - not droplets! When dad introduced him to the Estonian epic, saturated with outlandish characters and endless transformations, Yura fell in love with historical legends. And at the same time on travel.

And already at the age of 15 he independently went to an archaeological expedition. And so he liked the brotherhood of archaeologists that in his life he traveled almost half of the former USSR! What did you do? Yes, he was an artist: he sketched all sorts of excavations, rare finds and other relics. No wonder Yuri Borisovich graduated from the St. Petersburg Institute of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture named after Repin, having received the specialty of art critic.

However, he did not become a painter, a sculptor, nor an architect. But to the joy of us became a writer. Alas, only at the age of 44 was his story “Balcon” was published in the best children's journal “Tram”. Since then, Viira began to be printed almost everywhere; His books began to be published ... This one appeared. Of course, all the works could not fit in it. But here all the best that Yuri Viira created for children.

And what is easily recognized by his original style: captured, accurate, without unnecessary words. Did the sage Plato communicate so much with his students in ancient times? Maybe this is the influence of the Estonian language? Or maybe the author just like the question mark? .. Nobody will know. But I would very much like to believe that: you will love this storyteller, right?

He will divorce you a “bonfire in the ocean”, right? And then your world will become even better, right? And again: yes! In the country I lived with dad, mom and cache. Kesha is our dog. He is a chau-chau breed. There are shepherds, dogs, collies, poodles, Doberman-pinchers, dachshunds, and Kesha is a real chau-chau. And his tongue is blue, like everyone's chau.

One morning we went to the station to accompany mom to work. I sat at my dad around my neck, and Kesha ran ahead on the leash and pulled with terrible force, like a tractor. They carried out their mother, waved his train with his hand and began to think where we should go now. We sat on the ship, lifted the sails and sailed. They sailed, sailed and got lost.

I climbed onto the top of the mast and began to look in all directions. Nothing is visible, no land! Then dad took out his ancient copper tint pipe. When it is folded, it is placed in a pocket, and if you spread the pipe to the end, then a hundred people will be able to hold it, so it will become long and heavy. Dad looked into her and exclaimed: - Yes, here she is Africa, on that side!

I looked and also saw Africa: the yellow sandy shore, and behind it are palm trees. And in the distance above the thick forest, the huge letter A. sticks to the right - F. even further, on the mountain - the letter R. I turned a little pipe and found the remaining three letters: and, K and tiny A - it is almost not visible, it is far away. But where to look for dinosaurs? Dad thought that they were hiding in the more common forest.

He cut down several palm trees and tied the vines. It turned out an excellent raft. On it we sailed along the stormy African river. Kesha sat on the nose of the raft and barking crocodiles and hippos. Dad was steering in the stern with an oars. And I settled between them: I stared around and ate sandwiches with sausages - we took with us my brand new green backpack with sandwiches and a kefir bag.

I ate all the sandwiches, drank the entire kefir, and there were no dinosaurs. Dad was worried: - It's already an hour! It is necessary to find them as soon as possible - otherwise we will not have time to return and meet mom at the station. Look more attentive! At the turn of the river, the huts of some village appeared. We moored. Kesha left to guard the raft, and they themselves went to the village.

We knocked in the first hut ... in the second ... in the third ... not a soul. We went out to the main square ... And here no one. The mail is closed. The library is closed - on the door the sign: "The librarian is sick." The grocery store has a sanitary day. The seller of the household store went to some base. We stood in the middle of an empty dusty square and looked around in confusion.

Suddenly a rustle was heard over my head. I raised my eyes and saw the African. He was hiding on a tree. Huge and black, like a piano. On the cheeks - white crosses, on the forehead - a circle. You might think that on his face they played in crosses-nols. The Negro crouched and jumped down. I screamed: “Mom! Poor mom! If she knew where her beloved daughter was.She would faint. When I finally opened my eyes, it was dark, dark from local residents.

They gloomily examined us, holding a weapon ready. Dad greeted them in English, but no one answered him. Probably, at school they taught not English, but some other foreign language. Mom, however, then said that everything could be the other way around: they had perfectly owned English and simply did not understand dad. And then there was this. The blacks surrounded us. They waved their spears and arrows.

Suddenly, somewhere in the back rows there was a heart-rending cry:-Kelumba-shabumba !!! Everyone turned their heads and, bulging their eyes, stared there. Then, as if on command, they threw their weapons and crashed into dust.