Wq/syl/ꠞꠤꠁꠞ ꠔꠤꠃꠔꠤꠃꠘ꠆ꠘꠤꠇ

ꠃꠇ꠆ꠞꠦꠘꠤ ꠝꠣꠔꠕꠘꠦ ꠅꠘꠥꠛꠣꠖ ꠇꠞꠣꠞ ꠅꠘꠥꠞꠥꠗ ⁕ ꠇꠤꠀꠘꠕꠘꠦ ꠀꠘꠣ ꠅꠁꠍꠦ ꠀꠞ ꠇꠣꠞ ꠇꠣꠞ ꠅꠛꠖꠣꠘ ꠀꠍꠦ ꠁꠔꠣ ꠖꠦꠈꠣꠞ ꠟꠣꠉꠤ uk:q:ꠞꠤꠁꠞ ꠔꠤꠃꠔꠤꠃꠘ꠆ꠘꠤꠇ ꠖꠦꠈꠃꠇ꠆ꠇꠣ ⁕

ꠞꠤꠁꠞ ꠔꠤꠃꠔꠤꠃꠘ꠆ꠘꠤꠇ

Article in Wikipedia

Hryhir Mychailovych Tiutiunnyk  (укр. Григір Михайлович Тютюнник; Григір Тютюнник; –) — Ukrainian novelist, translator, teacher. Brother of the writer Hryhoriy Tiutiunnyk. Laureate of the Lesya Ukrainka Prize (, for the stories "Klymko" () and "A small fire far away in the Steppe"; ).

ꠔꠣꠘꠞꠦ ꠟꠂꠀ

	Hryhir Tiutiunnyk is Hryhir Tiutiunnyk. We have never had such a men and never will. It seems to be a certain summary of our national identity: the village was being reborn, our ethnos was changing, it was changing in accordance with human nature and the surrounding nature... And everything that was written after Hryhir Tiutiunnyk about our village looks secondary now.
	— Pavlo Movchan

	The painter of truth - this is how one can define the creative principles of the writer, and the whole structure of his soul, and therefore his style, marked by a truly bright individuality. The artistic painting of Hryhir Tiutiunnyk arose on the basis of folk life, from which the writer drew the characteristic features of his heroes, plots and the richness of language. He is all from life.
	— Oles Honchar

	Постійно був у його новелах та повістях якийсь трагічний колорит. У нього людина постає в час якогось страшного вибору: або лишитися людиною, або зламатися і стати ніким.
	— Mykhailo Slaboshpytskyi

	... if in a few centuries people want to know what kind of creatures they were - the last of the Mohicans of the ruthlessly destroyed peasant civilization, then they will be able to learn it best from Tiutiunnyk. In this artist, the words of a philosopher, historian and sociologist harmoniously combining, never replacing the artist who told the truth about his people..
	— Mykhailo Slaboshpytskyi

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ꠔꠣꠘ ꠇꠕꠣꠁꠘ

Sometimes I look at people, at their troubles, work, at their daily practicality, and such despair envelops the soul that it would leave, leave the paper blank, it would not hurt in the chest, it would not press on the throat, as it was for me after almost every story, — left and walked away. But I already know for sure that behind those human troubles, behind their practicality, there are beautiful souls and we must reach out to them, because otherwise it is impossible, otherwise we will all be lonely... — From a letter to V. Bilous dated April 28,

So, I conclude that this Moscow decree on the "demandingness" of criticism was directed against good literature, in particular and most strongly in Ukraine, it built a dam against it, dug a bypass channel for speculators, and all the literary filth went there. — From a letter to F. K. Rogovyi dated January 1,

And before [living in] Donbass, when I lived with my mother and father, I remembered Shevchenko's «Kobzar», «Under the quiet willows» by Hrinchenko, «Do Oxen Low...?», «Kaidash's family», «Quiet Don», then not yet finished - the third part was read, probably, father and mother fought for it: both wanted to read it. They agreed that they would it read aloud in the evenings.