Ya pishu ob Evgenii Shvartse, potomu chto on govoril o nas. O mire, gde strashen ne Drakon, a privychka zhit' ryadom s nim; o strakhe, kotoryy pronikaet v dushu i stanovitsya normoy; i o vnutrenney svobode, kotoruyu mozhno sokhranit' dazhe vnutri nesvobody. Natal'ya Gromova

Evgeniy Shvarts pisal skazki, kotorye byli gorazdo realistichnee sovetskikh romanov. V 'Teni' i osobenno v 'Drakone' on prorocheski raskryl prirodu rabstva, togo, chto chut' pozdnee budet nazvano 'banal'nost'yu zla', - povsednevnuyu privychku zhit' ryadom s tiranom. V epokhu razryvov i poter' on vozvrashchal lyudyam poteryannost', druzhbu, lyubov', nadezhdu i govoril o nikh tak, chto stanovilos' legche dyshat'. V svoikh p'esakh Shvarts smeyalsya nad nasmert' perepugannymi sovremennikami i v to zhe vremya zhalel ikh, oplakivaya ikh [...] on byl na samom dele? Nasmeshnikom ili mudretsom pod maskoy shuta, kotoryy, perevorachivaya povsednevnye slova i smysly, videl mir yasnee vsekh. Shvarts prinadlezhit k tem nemnogim khudozhnikam, kto sumel pronesti cherez mrak svoego vremeni vnutrenniy svet - i podarit' lyudyam nadezhdu na istselenie.