A summary of "Quiet Morning" by Yuri Kazakov Automatic translate

This book is a poignant story written in 1954. The plot revolves around the clash of two children’s personalities and the sudden transition from an ordinary morning rivalry to mortal danger, without any adult intervention.

Yashka’s early awakening

A village boy named Yashka wakes up very early. It’s still dark outside, his mother hasn’t milked the cow yet, and the shepherd hasn’t driven the herd out to the meadows. Overcoming his morning drowsiness, he finds some old pants and a shirt, eats some bread and milk, and grabs his fishing rod from the entryway. Stepping out onto the porch, he sees the village, thickly shrouded in fog.

The thick haze compresses the visible world to the size of a single yard. Somewhere in the distance, the clang of a forge hammer can be heard, faintly echoing from the barn. Yashka, in high spirits, scares a crowing rooster with his fishing rods and runs to the barn. There, he takes out a rusty scythe and quickly digs up a full jar of red and purple earthworms. After adding fresh soil, he heads for the barn.

Meeting with Volodya

His new acquaintance, a boy from the capital named Volodya, is spending the night in the hayloft. Yashka puts his dirt-covered fingers in his mouth, whistles loudly, and wakes his friend. The Muscovite climbs down awkwardly, tripping on his untied shoelaces. His face is rumpled from sleep, and his hair is caked with hay dust. When he asks if they’re up too early, the village boy reacts with irritation.

He rose a full hour before dawn, diligently dug up worms, and instead of gratitude, he received disapproval. Yashka dismissively inspected the Muscovite’s shoes and mockingly asked if he was planning on wearing galoshes for the fishing trip. Volodya blushed but continued lacing his boots silently. He felt ashamed of his awkwardness. Yashka advised the Muscovite to also wear a tie, cracking a caustic joke.

The path through the village

The boys set off down the village street. The fog parted before them, momentarily revealing the outlines of houses, the school, and the long rows of farm buildings, before closing tightly behind them. Volodya was suffering greatly. He was angry at his companion’s rudeness, silently promising himself not to allow himself to be bullied, but at the same time he looked with open envy at Yashka’s bare feet. He was madly in love with his friend’s canvas bag and his distinctive gait.

Near the old well, Yashka stops, rattles the chain, and pulls out a heavy bucket. Although he’s not thirsty, he drinks the cold water with relish. The water spills over the edge and splashes onto his bare feet. Volodya also takes a few small sips until his head begins to ache from the cold. He does this solely to avoid angering his friend further.

Conversations on the way to the river

Gradually, the tension between the boys eases. Yashka asks the Muscovite if he’s ever fished. He admits, his voice low, that he’s only seen fishermen on the city river. The village expert softens and tells a story about a catfish. The local club manager saw a fish about two or three meters long in the Pleshansky pool and freaked out, mistaking it for a crocodile.

The city boy enthusiastically believes every word. Yashka suggests going fishing in the evening, promising to build a fire and catch chubs with earthworms. Volodya experiences an incredible surge of happiness from this crisp morning. The road passes oat fields. The hum of Fedya Kostylev’s tractor starting up can be heard, along with the cries of flying ducks and the chirping of thrushes in the rowan trees. Yashka promises to show him later how to catch birds with a special net.

Arrival at the dark pool

The boys descend into a ravine, follow a narrow path through a flax field, and suddenly emerge at a river. The sun rises, and the fog begins to thin, revealing the silhouettes of haystacks against the nearby forest. The boys walk along the bank, waist-deep in the cold morning dew. Soon, Yashka stops at a deep pool beneath tall willows.

The smell of mud and damp clay is pungent, and the water seems pitch black. The village fisherman frightens his companion with grim tales. He claims the pool has no bottom, and the icy water sucks you in. Yashka recalls Mishka Kayunenko’s tale of underwater octopuses whose tentacles dart along the shore in the evenings. Volodya is terrified and moves away from the water.

The beginning of fishing and first success

Yashka unwinds his tackle and hands the Muscovite a fishing rod and a box of worms. While casting, the city boy accidentally snags a willow with his rod, sending a loud splash into the water. Yashka looks at his friend with fear and curses under his breath. Soon, he notices a bite on his own rod. He hooks gently, feeling the strong resistance with relish, but the tension on the line eases, and the hook goes empty.

Frustrated by his failure, the hero puts on a new worm with trembling hands and thrusts the rod into the soft bank. The sun finally peeks into the gloomy pool. Suddenly, the float begins to move again. The fisherman carefully takes the rod, waits for the right moment, and jerks forward. A desperate struggle ensues. Volodya, his eyes wide with delight, moves his hands and asks him to reel in faster. Yashka throws his arm far back and brings his catch to the shore.

He jerks a large bream onto the grass, sending up a fountain of pink spray, and immediately falls belly-down on the fish. The joy is short-lived. Yashka enthusiastically displays the cool bream, but suddenly notices something amiss behind his friend. Volodya’s fishing rod is slowly sliding into the river, as the clod of earth beneath it has broken away.

Falling into water

The city boy jumps up and rushes toward the fishing rod. He stumbles, falls to his knees, but manages to grab the severely bent rod. At that moment, the ground beneath his feet suddenly crumbles. Losing his balance, he flails his arms awkwardly, as if trying to catch a ball, and falls into the pool with a loud scream. Yashka jumps up and angrily grabs a clod of earth, about to throw it at the Muscovite for ruining his fishing.

But his anger instantly gives way to numbness. Volodya thrashes his arms in the water three meters from the shore. His face turns chalk white, his eyes bulge, and gurgling sounds of "Wah… Wahhh" escape his throat. Realizing his friend is rapidly drowning, Yashka experiences a visceral terror. He drops the clod of earth, wipes his sticky hand on his pants, and backs away from the shore.

Rescue attempts

The earth crumbles heavily beneath his feet. The boy clumsily scrambles up, wanting to run and hide. Reaching the meadow, he forces himself to look down, hoping everything is okay. Only the top of Volodya’s head, its spiky hair sticking up, is visible above the surface, sometimes disappearing under the water, sometimes reappearing. Yashka screams, slides down the slope, and throws off his pants as he goes.

He jumps into the river, still wearing his shirt and carrying a bag over his shoulder. He swims to the drowning man and tries to help, but the distraught Volodya clings to his rescuer with a death grip. The drowning man leans on Yashka, wriggling his arms and trying to climb right onto his shoulders. The village teenager goes under and begins to swallow water.

A wild panic grips him. Red circles, sparks, and sunlit trees flash before his eyes with blinding intensity. Realizing he’s about to die along with Volodya, he twitches desperately. With the last of his strength, he kicks his friend in the stomach. Surfacing, Yashka thrashes his arms in terror and swims toward the shore. Clutching a sedge on the shore, he looks back.

Fighting for a friend’s life

The water calms, and there’s no one on its surface. The sun shines brightly all around, the webs between the flowers glitter iridescently, and a wagtail sits on a log, staring with a glittering eye. Nature breathes absolute peace, a stark contrast to the disaster that just occurred. A sense of guilt compels Yashka to action. He takes a deep breath, lets go of the branch, and dives back into the pool.

Underwater, among the dim greenish reflections and grass, he spots Volodya. He slowly turns on his side, his foot tangled in the seaweed. For a second, Yashka thinks the Muscovite is faking it, just waiting for the right moment to grab him. Overcoming his suffocation, the rescuer firmly grabs his comrade’s arm and yanks him upward. Volodya yields surprisingly easily. Resurfacing, Yashka greedily gulps in fresh air. He pushes his body toward the shallows.

Return to life and tears

Yashka struggles to the surface and pulls his friend out, laying him face down in the damp grass. The Muscovite’s body remains completely white and cold. The rescuer shudders, turns him over onto his back, begins pressing on his stomach, spreading his arms wide, and blowing into his nose. The city boy shows no sign of life. The village teenager is once again overcome with the urge to run away wherever his feet lead.

In desperation, he jumps up, grabs Volodya by the legs, pulls him up, and begins shaking him, turning purple with the effort. The victim’s head hits the ground. At that moment, water gushed from the Muscovite’s mouth. A spasm ran through his body, he groaned and began coughing. Yashka let go of his friend’s legs, crawled away, and sat down relaxed on the grass.

Right now, there’s no one dearer to him than the rescued Volodya. He looks at his friend with tenderness and a timid smile, pointlessly asking how he’s feeling. When the Muscovite hoarsely recounts how he drowned, Yashka can’t bear the pent-up tension.

He closes his eyes and begins to cry bitterly from the fear and relief he’s endured, glad that the stories about octopuses turned out to be a lie. Volodya looks at his savior with fear and bewilderment, and then, remembering all the horrific details, he too begins to cry. He helplessly lowers his head and turns away, his thin shoulders twitching. The bright sun continues to illuminate the bushes, the fishing rod washes ashore, and only the water in the murky pool remains unchangingly black.