Ïîèñê ïî êàòàëîãó ïå÷àòíûõ èçäàíèé

Àííîòàöèÿ: ×òî òàêîå ìóçûêàëüíàÿ îäàðåííîñòü? Ïàòîëîãèÿ èëè Áîæèé äàð? ×åì ãåíèàëüíîñòü ×àéêîâñêîãî îòëè÷àåòñÿ îò ãåíèàëüíîñòè Âàãíåðà? ×åì îáóñëîâëåíà óäèâèòåëüíàÿ ëþáîâü ê ìóçûêå ëþäåé ñ ñèíäðîìîì Âèëüÿìñà è ïî÷åìó ñòðàäàþùèå "àìóçèåé", íàïðîòèâ, âîñïðèíèìàþò åå êàê íåâûíîñèìîå íàãðîìîæäåíèå çâóêîâ? Êàêèå èçìåíåíèÿ ïðîèçîøëè â ñîçíàíèè ÷åëîâåêà, êîòîðûé, âûæèâ ïîñëå óäàðà ìîëíèè, íåîæèäàííî äëÿ âñåõ è ïðåæäå âñåãî äëÿ ñàìîãî ñåáÿ ñòàë ãîðÿ÷èì ïîêëîííèêîì Øîïåíà è äàæå âûó÷èëñÿ èãðàòü íà ôîðòåïüÿíî äëÿ òîãî, ÷òîáû èìåòü âîçìîæíîñòü èñïîëíÿòü åãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ? Äàæå åñëè âû íå ëþáèòå ìóçûêó, âû íå ñìîæåòå îòîðâàòüñÿ îò ýòîé êíèãè, êîòîðàÿ îòêðîåò òàêèå ãëóáèíû â âàøåì ñîáñòâåííîì "ÿ", î êîòîðûõ âû äàæå íå äîãàäûâàëèñü

Àííîòàöèÿ: Îëèâåð Ñàêñ - áðèòàíñêèé íåâðîëîã è íåéðîïñèõîëîã, àâòîð ðÿäà ïîïóëÿðíûõ êíèã, â êîòîðûõ îí ðàññêàçûâàåò ðåàëüíûå èñòîðèè ñâîèõ ïàöèåíòîâ. Ýêðàíèçàöèÿ åãî êíèãè "Ïðîáóæäåíèÿ" ñ Ðîáåðòîì Äå Íèðî â ãëàâíîé ðîëè èìåëà áîëüøîé óñïåõ. Ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ Ñàêñà ïåðåâåäåíû íà äâàäöàòü ÿçûêîâ, íî íàèáîëüøóþ ïîïóëÿðíîñòü çàâîåâàëè ìåæäóíàðîäíûå áåñòñåëëåðû "×åëîâåê, êîòîðûé ïðèíÿë æåíó çà øëÿïó" è "Àíòðîïîëîã íà Ìàðñå", íàïèñàííûå â æàíðå "êëèíè÷åñêèõ ðàññêàçîâ" ÕIÕ âåêà. "Àíòðîïîëîãå íà Ìàðñå" ñîáðàíû íåâåðîÿòíûå èñòîðèè ïàöèåíòîâ äîêòîðà Ñàêñà, ñóìåâøèõ îòñòîÿòü ñâîå ìåñòî â æèçíè, íåâçèðàÿ íà ñòðîãèé ìåäèöèíñêèé ïðèãîâîð, íå ïîäëåæàùèé ïåðåñìîòðó. Ñåìü óäèâèòåëüíûõ èñòîðèé î íåèñ÷åðïàåìûõ âîçìîæíîñòÿõ ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî ìîçãà, î ñòîéêîñòè è ëþáâè, êîòîðàÿ çàùèùàåò, ñïàñàåò, äàåò ñèëû æèòü è ïðåîäîëåâàòü äàæå ñàìûå æåñòîêèå óäàðû ñóäüáû.

Àííîòàöèÿ: Ýòà êíèãà, íàïèñàííàÿ Î.Ñàêñîì åùå â 1971 ãîäó, âûäåðæàëà îêîëî äåñÿòè ïåðåèçäàíèé. Ýòî èñòîðèè ñîâðåìåííûõ ëþäåé, ïûòàþùèõñÿ ïîáîðîòü ñåðüåçíûå è íåîáû÷íûå íàðóøåíèÿ ïñèõèêè è áîðþùèåñÿ çà âûæèâàíèå â óñëîâèÿõ, ñîâåðøåííî íåâîîáðàçèìûõ äëÿ çäîðîâûõ ëþäåé. Ñòðàííûå, òðóäíîäîñòèæèìûå îòíîøåíèÿ ìåæäó ìîçãîì è ñîçíàíèåì Ñàêñ îáúÿñíÿåò äîñòóïíî, æèâî è èíòåðåñíî

Àííîòàöèÿ: Ýòà êíèãà, íàïèñàííàÿ Î.Ñàêñîì åùå â 1971 ãîäó, âûäåðæàëà îêîëî äåñÿòè ïåðåèçäàíèé. Ýòî èñòîðèè ñîâðåìåííûõ ëþäåé, ïûòàþùèõñÿ ïîáîðîòü ñåðüåçíûå è íåîáû÷íûå íàðóøåíèÿ ïñèõèêè è áîðþùèåñÿ çà âûæèâàíèå â óñëîâèÿõ, ñîâåðøåííî íåâîîáðàçèìûõ äëÿ çäîðîâûõ ëþäåé. Ñòðàííûå, òðóäíîäîñòèæèìûå îòíîøåíèÿ ìåæäó ìîçãîì è ñîçíàíèåì Ñàêñ îáúÿñíÿåò äîñòóïíî, æèâî è èíòåðåñíî

Àííîòàöèÿ: When OIiver Sacks, a physician by profession, injured his leg while climbing a mountain, he found himself in an unusual position — that of patient. The injury itself was severe, but straightforward to fix; the psychological effects, however, were far less easy to predict, explain or resolve: Sacks experienced paralysis and an inability to perceive his leg as his own, instead seeing it as some kind of alien and inanimate object, over which he had no control. A Leg to Stand On is both an account of Sacks— ordeal and subsequent recovery, and an exploration of the ways in which mind and body are inextricably linked.

Àííîòàöèÿ: Oliver Sacks is a psysician and the author of nine other books. In his most extraordinary book, Oliver Sacks recounts the stories of patients lost in the bizarre, apparently inescapable world of neurological disorders. These are case studies of people who have lost their memories and with them the greater part of their pasts; who are no longer able to recognize people or common objects; whose limbs have become alien; who are afflicted and yet are gifted with uncanny artistic or mathematical talents. In Dr Sacks—s splendid and sympathetic telling, each tale is a unique and deeply human study of life struggling against incredible adversity.

Àííîòàöèÿ: The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat is populated by a cast as strange as that of the most fantastic fiction. The subject of this strange and wonderful book is what happens when things go wrong with parts of the brain most of don't know exist... Dr Sacks shows the awesome powers of our mind and just how delicately balanced they have to be.