The publishing house “Russian Gulliver”, a book by Vadim of the Month “Uncle Joe. Roman Brodsky” — quasibinary Russian-American physicist and writer to be awarded, which in itself is unique, praise of Joseph Brodsky, his meetings with poets, lovers and infernal beings. Mikhail Trofimenkov, deciding not to separate the author from lyrical, real Month from the book “Smoke,” declared “Uncle Joe” work in a unique genre.The best in the book — its title. “Uncle Joe”, as the Anglo-Saxons called Stalin— isn’t it ironic appropriate nickname for the “sexist, Imperials and homophobic” Brodsky. Allowing the Month to refer to themselves, mater turns into a feisty, but caring uncle of the author.Speech characteristics — a terrible thing. Conversing with Dimoj, Brodsky then “fell into a tense silence,” then admired the desire to go after Julia Roberts, it “hesitated”, “started”, “happy”, “was”, “was interethnical”. Smoke also occasionally agrees, exclaims, leaping laughing, said with a sneer, coin: “no Matter who you are. It is important, who you yourself seem to be.” And Brodsky have nothing to cover.If “uncle Joe” balked, you can scratch him behind the ear, praising “the Christmas song”, “Very good poetry”. And he melts, “Really?” Who Smoke, will save him from the infernal benny Krueger, devourer of other people’s poems, with classified equipment exhaust of the noosphere poems, including those not yet written. The idea of a mystical radio, which broadcasts verses from the abyss taken from “Orpheus” Cocteau, but the onset of the Month in the reader’s mind so strong that it just do not remember.In a sense, that’s fine. Lidia Ginzburg remembered, as in the discussion at Pushkin house Pushkin edition of the marginalia of a party boss could not resist: “what noise, when I was on the phone talking too in Notepad tweeting”. Ginsburg was the moral: against the background of “universal salivation” about Pushkin that sounded extremely reasonable. As an antidote to “the universal salivating” about Brodsky’s book of the Month is good.Although there is Brodsky. Responding to a letter from the author with a wish-a command to restore the great power, he calls President Yeltsin: “His words fell like infants in a well”. Barely arrived in the United States Smoke taken under the wing of Eisenhower’s granddaughter, and he makes a lot of money on the trade achievements of the Soviet “power electronics”. Is the Month to go to a lecture Yevtushenko, he applauded the guest. Subtlest bard Aleksey Khvostenko, he advises: “we must Think less and think more.” Alexander Genis, nalivshiesya at the Metropolitan to see the beloved Brueghel, puzzling question, if he were certain that Bruegel wanted to see Genis. After you have nothing better to do “something in the folklore style”, striking in the heart of the soloist ensemble of Dmitry Pokrovsky: it is “said that they had to put it all on the cities and villages, and I just take it and sing”.The same effortless shifting rocks and earth from one sacred place to another — the Parthenon, the Sinai, Luxor,— Month, curiously observes the consequences of mystical manipulation. In the US army begin to call gay men, Arafat reconciled with Israel, created the European Union, the Falklands oil find.He even taxi drivers don’t accept tips, and women immediately undress: in the reader’s mind involuntarily, but I rattling old song “I Changed women, women, women’s gloves. I always wore just the Shapoklyak”. And just as inexorably emerges the image of Ivan Alexandrovich Khlestakov. Style, you know, similar.”Ate simply and gracefully”. “The son of God and his life, I was interested in rarely. Felt his breath somewhere nearby, but I never looked back”. “Wonder why I’m so easy that the rest is extracted with great difficulty. This applies to communication, work, women. I do it quickly and well.” “I wasn’t necessary to spend forces for progress in society.”In General, the book is written in a unique for Russian literature, the genre of “life is good”: it is rather a comic than a novel. Apparently, the author really managed it. Nothing wrong with that, except that the luck of the hero precludes any inward movement of the text, characters and other academic dregs. I want to implore: please, let the hero something will have to be overcome in addition to quarrels with friends. But no, even with a terrible Benny he finished on one-two-three. And isn’t that the property of the author meant Brodsky, when he wrote that his poems “make me the envy not so much how they are written (although that, too), but to the inner life, for them and their events to life external caller”. Uncle Joe is such a fantastic vezuha from time to time and never dreamed of.Vadim A Month. Uncle Joe. Roman Brodsky.— M.: “Russian Gulliver”, 2020.