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The Greatest Short Stories of Anton Chekhov
Regarded as the father of the short story as well as the first modern fiction writer, Anton Chekhov rejected conventional forms to examine the lives of ordinary people in prosaic situations. His impressionistic depictions of Russian life and the human condition resound with emotional honesty, focusing on character rather than plot and revealing subtle but important truths. Thomas Mann held Chekhov in highest esteem, declaring, "His short stories rank with all that is greatest and best of European literature." This compilation of seven tales attests to the timeless appeal of the Russian author's short fiction.
Selections include "Misery," an account of a sleigh-driver's attempts to communicate his overwhelming grief; "A Father," a meditation on the conflict between rejecting a monstrous parent and giving him his respectful due; "A Problem," which proposes that criminals cannot reform unless they pay for their misdeeds; and "In Exile," an examination of whether it is better to dream of happiness or to accept a living hell. Other tales include "Ward No. 6," relating a conflict between an asylum inmate and the institution's director; "My Life: The Story of a Provincial," in which a rebellious young bourgeois joins the working classes; and "Peasants," an exposé of the dehumanizing effects of poverty.
Selections include "Misery," an account of a sleigh-driver's attempts to communicate his overwhelming grief; "A Father," a meditation on the conflict between rejecting a monstrous parent and giving him his respectful due; "A Problem," which proposes that criminals cannot reform unless they pay for their misdeeds; and "In Exile," an examination of whether it is better to dream of happiness or to accept a living hell. Other tales include "Ward No. 6," relating a conflict between an asylum inmate and the institution's director; "My Life: The Story of a Provincial," in which a rebellious young bourgeois joins the working classes; and "Peasants," an exposé of the dehumanizing effects of poverty.
544 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1959
About the author
Anton Chekhov
5,037 books8,825 followersDramas, such as
The Seagull
(1896, revised 1898), and including "A Dreary Story" (1889) of Russian writer Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, also Chekov, concern the inability of humans to communicate.
Born ( Антон Павлович Чехов ) in the small southern seaport of Taganrog, the son of a grocer. His grandfather, a serf, bought his own freedom and that of his three sons in 1841. He also taught to read. A cloth merchant fathered Yevgenia Morozova, his mother.
"When I think back on my childhood," Chekhov recalled, "it all seems quite gloomy to me." Tyranny of his father, religious fanaticism, and long nights in the store, open from five in the morning till midnight, shadowed his early years. He attended a school for Greek boys in Taganrog from 1867 to 1868 and then Taganrog grammar school. Bankruptcy of his father compelled the family to move to Moscow. At the age of 16 years in 1876, independent Chekhov for some time alone in his native town supported through private tutoring.
In 1879, Chekhov left grammar school and entered the university medical school at Moscow. In the school, he began to publish hundreds of short comics to support his mother, sisters and brothers. Nicholas Leikin published him at this period and owned Oskolki (splinters), the journal of Saint Petersburg. His subjected silly social situations, marital problems, and farcical encounters among husbands, wives, mistresses, and lust; even after his marriage, Chekhov, the shy author, knew not much of whims of young women.
Nenunzhaya pobeda , first novel of Chekhov, set in 1882 in Hungary, parodied the novels of the popular Mór Jókai. People also mocked ideological optimism of Jókai as a politician.
Chekhov graduated in 1884 and practiced medicine. He worked from 1885 in Peterburskaia gazeta.
In 1886, Chekhov met H.S. Suvorin, who invited him, a regular contributor, to work for Novoe vremya, the daily paper of Saint Petersburg. He gained a wide fame before 1886. He authored The Shooting Party , his second full-length novel, later translated into English. Agatha Christie used its characters and atmosphere in later her mystery novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd . First book of Chekhov in 1886 succeeded, and he gradually committed full time. The refusal of the author to join the ranks of social critics arose the wrath of liberal and radical intelligentsia, who criticized him for dealing with serious social and moral questions but avoiding giving answers. Such leaders as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov, however, defended him. "I'm not a liberal, or a conservative, or a gradualist, or a monk, or an indifferentist. I should like to be a free artist and that's all..." Chekhov said in 1888.
The failure of The Wood Demon , play in 1889, and problems with novel made Chekhov to withdraw from literature for a period. In 1890, he traveled across Siberia to Sakhalin, remote prison island. He conducted a detailed census of ten thousand convicts and settlers, condemned to live on that harsh island. Chekhov expected to use the results of his research for his doctoral dissertation. Hard conditions on the island probably also weakened his own physical condition. From this journey came his famous travel book.
Chekhov practiced medicine until 1892. During these years, Chechov developed his concept of the dispassionate, non-judgmental author. He outlined his program in a letter to his brother Aleksandr: "1. Absence of lengthy verbiage of political-social-economic nature; 2. total objectivity; 3. truthful descriptions of persons and objects; 4. extreme brevity; 5. audacity and originality; flee the stereotype; 6. compassion." Because he objected that the paper conducted against Alfred Dreyfus, his friendship with Suvorin ended
Born ( Антон Павлович Чехов ) in the small southern seaport of Taganrog, the son of a grocer. His grandfather, a serf, bought his own freedom and that of his three sons in 1841. He also taught to read. A cloth merchant fathered Yevgenia Morozova, his mother.
"When I think back on my childhood," Chekhov recalled, "it all seems quite gloomy to me." Tyranny of his father, religious fanaticism, and long nights in the store, open from five in the morning till midnight, shadowed his early years. He attended a school for Greek boys in Taganrog from 1867 to 1868 and then Taganrog grammar school. Bankruptcy of his father compelled the family to move to Moscow. At the age of 16 years in 1876, independent Chekhov for some time alone in his native town supported through private tutoring.
In 1879, Chekhov left grammar school and entered the university medical school at Moscow. In the school, he began to publish hundreds of short comics to support his mother, sisters and brothers. Nicholas Leikin published him at this period and owned Oskolki (splinters), the journal of Saint Petersburg. His subjected silly social situations, marital problems, and farcical encounters among husbands, wives, mistresses, and lust; even after his marriage, Chekhov, the shy author, knew not much of whims of young women.
Nenunzhaya pobeda , first novel of Chekhov, set in 1882 in Hungary, parodied the novels of the popular Mór Jókai. People also mocked ideological optimism of Jókai as a politician.
Chekhov graduated in 1884 and practiced medicine. He worked from 1885 in Peterburskaia gazeta.
In 1886, Chekhov met H.S. Suvorin, who invited him, a regular contributor, to work for Novoe vremya, the daily paper of Saint Petersburg. He gained a wide fame before 1886. He authored The Shooting Party , his second full-length novel, later translated into English. Agatha Christie used its characters and atmosphere in later her mystery novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd . First book of Chekhov in 1886 succeeded, and he gradually committed full time. The refusal of the author to join the ranks of social critics arose the wrath of liberal and radical intelligentsia, who criticized him for dealing with serious social and moral questions but avoiding giving answers. Such leaders as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov, however, defended him. "I'm not a liberal, or a conservative, or a gradualist, or a monk, or an indifferentist. I should like to be a free artist and that's all..." Chekhov said in 1888.
The failure of The Wood Demon , play in 1889, and problems with novel made Chekhov to withdraw from literature for a period. In 1890, he traveled across Siberia to Sakhalin, remote prison island. He conducted a detailed census of ten thousand convicts and settlers, condemned to live on that harsh island. Chekhov expected to use the results of his research for his doctoral dissertation. Hard conditions on the island probably also weakened his own physical condition. From this journey came his famous travel book.
Chekhov practiced medicine until 1892. During these years, Chechov developed his concept of the dispassionate, non-judgmental author. He outlined his program in a letter to his brother Aleksandr: "1. Absence of lengthy verbiage of political-social-economic nature; 2. total objectivity; 3. truthful descriptions of persons and objects; 4. extreme brevity; 5. audacity and originality; flee the stereotype; 6. compassion." Because he objected that the paper conducted against Alfred Dreyfus, his friendship with Suvorin ended
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 34 reviews
December 29, 2020
3.5★
I feel ridiculous pretending to review such a well-known and admired Russian author. I have no idea if the original Russian is old-fashioned and stilted or if the translation doesn’t do it justice. There are so many words and phrases that sound awkward but probably aren’t intended to. Whatever the reason, it prevented me from enjoying quite a lot of these stories, but the parts I liked, I really liked.
The Goodreads biography says that Chekhov called his childhood gloomy. That seems like an understatement, if these stories are any reflection of it.
There’s a selection of stories, but I’ll mention only a couple that struck a chord with me. The first is “Misery: To Whom Shall I Tell My Grief?”, which was the first in the book.
“The twilight of evening. Big flakes of wet snow are whirling lazily about the street lamps, which have just been lighted, and lying in a thin soft layer on roofs, horses’ backs, shoulders, caps. Iona Potapov, the sledge driver, is all white like a ghost. He sits on the box without stirring, bent as double as the living body can be bent.”
Chekhov suggests Potapov’s horse is lost in thought, used as she is to pulling a plough and now finding herself in the middle of “monstrous lights, of unceasing uproar and hurrying people.”
They are the local cab service. An officer shouts to him, boards, and tells him to hurry up. As they pull into traffic, he is sworn at and berated by other drivers and people in the street. The officer suggest they’re just “rascals”.
“Iona looks at his fare and moves his lips. . . . Apparently he means to say something, but nothing comes but a sniff.
‘What?’ inquires the officer.
Iona gives a wry smile, and straining his throat, brings out huskily: ‘My son . . . er . . . my son died this week, sir.’
‘H'm! What did he die of ?’
Iona turns his whole body round to his fare, and says: ‘Who can tell! It must have been from fever. . . . He lay three days in the hospital and then he died. . . . God's will.’
‘Turn round, you devil!’ comes out of the darkness. ‘Have you gone cracked, you old dog? Look where you are going!’
‘Drive on! drive on! . . . ’ says the officer. ‘We shan't get there till to-morrow going on like this. Hurry up!’”
When he delivers his fare, he searches for someone, anyone, to talk to, but eventually, he goes out to the stables to confide in his faithful mare, who seems to listen (as we all like to think our pets do).
As I said, gloomy. But Chekhov made me feel the cold-to-the bone of a Russian winter and the misery of the bereft father. And it’s not as if I didn’t have some idea of what I was getting into, with a title like that.
A story I really enjoyed took place in a hospital: “Ward No. 6”. This was the ward with lunatics. As we go in the ward, our narrator describes the various men with whom he shares this ward. After hearing all of their stories, we meet Andrey Yefimitich, the doctor, who is appalled at the conditions. No thermometer in the whole place, only two scalpels, and people said the previous doctor sold the hospital alcohol.
So how does the good doctor deal with this? Philosophically, of course. There are many discussions of philosophy, which I enjoyed, as so much of it is still prevalent today to justify all kinds of questionable activity. I’ll leave you with the doctor’s reasoning:
“What is gained if some shopkeeper or clerk lives an extra five or ten years? If the aim of medicine is by drugs to alleviate suffering, the question forces itself on one: why alleviate it? In the first place, they say that suffering leads man to perfection; and in the second, if mankind really learns to alleviate its sufferings with pills and drops, it will completely abandon religion and philosophy, in which it has hitherto found not merely protection from all sorts of trouble, but even happiness. Pushkin suffered terrible agonies before his death, poor Heine lay paralyzed for several years; why, then, should not some Andrey Yefimitch or Matryona Savishna be ill, since their lives had nothing of importance in them, and would have been entirely empty and like the life of an amoeba except for suffering?
Oppressed by such reflections, Andrey Yefimitch relaxed his efforts and gave up visiting the hospital every day.”
Or in a few words: What's the point? We're all going to die anyway.
Gloomy.
Thanks to NetGalley and Dover Publications for the copy for review from which I’ve quoted.
The stories:
Misery
A Father
A Problem
Ward No. 6
In Exile
My Life: The Story of a Provincial
Peasants
I feel ridiculous pretending to review such a well-known and admired Russian author. I have no idea if the original Russian is old-fashioned and stilted or if the translation doesn’t do it justice. There are so many words and phrases that sound awkward but probably aren’t intended to. Whatever the reason, it prevented me from enjoying quite a lot of these stories, but the parts I liked, I really liked.
The Goodreads biography says that Chekhov called his childhood gloomy. That seems like an understatement, if these stories are any reflection of it.
There’s a selection of stories, but I’ll mention only a couple that struck a chord with me. The first is “Misery: To Whom Shall I Tell My Grief?”, which was the first in the book.
“The twilight of evening. Big flakes of wet snow are whirling lazily about the street lamps, which have just been lighted, and lying in a thin soft layer on roofs, horses’ backs, shoulders, caps. Iona Potapov, the sledge driver, is all white like a ghost. He sits on the box without stirring, bent as double as the living body can be bent.”
Chekhov suggests Potapov’s horse is lost in thought, used as she is to pulling a plough and now finding herself in the middle of “monstrous lights, of unceasing uproar and hurrying people.”
They are the local cab service. An officer shouts to him, boards, and tells him to hurry up. As they pull into traffic, he is sworn at and berated by other drivers and people in the street. The officer suggest they’re just “rascals”.
“Iona looks at his fare and moves his lips. . . . Apparently he means to say something, but nothing comes but a sniff.
‘What?’ inquires the officer.
Iona gives a wry smile, and straining his throat, brings out huskily: ‘My son . . . er . . . my son died this week, sir.’
‘H'm! What did he die of ?’
Iona turns his whole body round to his fare, and says: ‘Who can tell! It must have been from fever. . . . He lay three days in the hospital and then he died. . . . God's will.’
‘Turn round, you devil!’ comes out of the darkness. ‘Have you gone cracked, you old dog? Look where you are going!’
‘Drive on! drive on! . . . ’ says the officer. ‘We shan't get there till to-morrow going on like this. Hurry up!’”
When he delivers his fare, he searches for someone, anyone, to talk to, but eventually, he goes out to the stables to confide in his faithful mare, who seems to listen (as we all like to think our pets do).
As I said, gloomy. But Chekhov made me feel the cold-to-the bone of a Russian winter and the misery of the bereft father. And it’s not as if I didn’t have some idea of what I was getting into, with a title like that.
A story I really enjoyed took place in a hospital: “Ward No. 6”. This was the ward with lunatics. As we go in the ward, our narrator describes the various men with whom he shares this ward. After hearing all of their stories, we meet Andrey Yefimitich, the doctor, who is appalled at the conditions. No thermometer in the whole place, only two scalpels, and people said the previous doctor sold the hospital alcohol.
So how does the good doctor deal with this? Philosophically, of course. There are many discussions of philosophy, which I enjoyed, as so much of it is still prevalent today to justify all kinds of questionable activity. I’ll leave you with the doctor’s reasoning:
“What is gained if some shopkeeper or clerk lives an extra five or ten years? If the aim of medicine is by drugs to alleviate suffering, the question forces itself on one: why alleviate it? In the first place, they say that suffering leads man to perfection; and in the second, if mankind really learns to alleviate its sufferings with pills and drops, it will completely abandon religion and philosophy, in which it has hitherto found not merely protection from all sorts of trouble, but even happiness. Pushkin suffered terrible agonies before his death, poor Heine lay paralyzed for several years; why, then, should not some Andrey Yefimitch or Matryona Savishna be ill, since their lives had nothing of importance in them, and would have been entirely empty and like the life of an amoeba except for suffering?
Oppressed by such reflections, Andrey Yefimitch relaxed his efforts and gave up visiting the hospital every day.”
Or in a few words: What's the point? We're all going to die anyway.
Gloomy.
Thanks to NetGalley and Dover Publications for the copy for review from which I’ve quoted.
The stories:
Misery
A Father
A Problem
Ward No. 6
In Exile
My Life: The Story of a Provincial
Peasants
January 28, 2017
3.75★
Considered the greatest writer of short fiction, this collection contains only seven of Anton Chekhov’s vast library of work.
Having made it a priority to read some of the great classics this year to which I've had no exposure, I was curious to see if I could appreciate it. There is bound to be a challenge or disconnect when reading pre-revolutionary literature over one hundred years old full of unfamiliar Russian names and places, i.e., Nikolay Chikildeyev in Slavyansky, Fyokla, Kiryak, and let’s not forget Ivan Makarych the Matveichev.
Since this was an uncorrected proof, the sometimes choppy nature of the sentence and paragraph layout didn’t help either. My biggest criticism of this book was its lack of notes and paltry introduction but the information is easily a click search away.
After each story I read online summaries to see how much I had gleaned and must admit that things were missed or overlooked.
If you’ve never read the author this was a nice introduction. Are these his greatest? Is this the greatest translation? I’m not the one to judge, but I was moved by the timeless motifs. As an added plus I felt more well read and scholarly upon completion and had fond thoughts of my senior English Lit teacher, the first adult to recognize and personally guide my journey in great literature.
The stories included were:
Misery: A father must continue working with overwhelming grief in the face of man’s indifference.
A Father: A switch-up where the father’s lifestyle gives his children, particularly his son, much grief.
A Problem: Relatives struggle with covering up vs. exposing a family member's misdeeds when their honor is at stake.
In Exile: People in Siberia find different ways in attitude to cope. Better to accept your circumstances or hope for change and some measure of comfort?
Ward No. 6: My favorite, is set in a lunatic asylum and “considered a microcosm of Russian society” exploring “the conflict between reality and philosophy—namely, how people intellectualize reality to justify their own inaction” (thank you SparkNotes for putting words in my mouth).
My Life: The Story of a Provincial: The longest at 150 pages, I learned again from SparkNotes that it was “First published in censored form in 1896 [and] is one of Chekhov's longest and most politically contentious. . .shares many similarities with Chekhov's personal life. . .[and] may be read as a fictionalized account of many of Chekhov's own anxieties and experiences.” Good to know I think. Having just come through a politically contentious election in the United States, I found much relevance in the pages as to the human condition and highlighted a passage linked to this review. Sadly, little has changed in 121 years.
Peasants: The dehumanizing and devastating effects of poverty. This could have been read in today’s news: “He had to give up his job. Whatever money he and his wife had was spent on doctors and medicines; they had nothing left to live on…”
Thank you to NetGalley and Dover Publications for this ARC.
The quote did not link so I include it below.
“I could not understand what these sixty-five thousand people lived for, what they read the gospel for, why they prayed, why they read books and magazines. What good had they gained from all that had been said and written hitherto if they were still possessed by the same spiritual darkness and hatred of liberty, as they were a hundred and three hundred years ago?
So these sixty-five thousand people have been reading and hearing of truth, of justice, of mercy, of freedom for generations, and yet from morning till night, till the day of their death, they are lying, and tormenting each other, and they fear liberty and hate it as a deadly foe.”
Considered the greatest writer of short fiction, this collection contains only seven of Anton Chekhov’s vast library of work.
Having made it a priority to read some of the great classics this year to which I've had no exposure, I was curious to see if I could appreciate it. There is bound to be a challenge or disconnect when reading pre-revolutionary literature over one hundred years old full of unfamiliar Russian names and places, i.e., Nikolay Chikildeyev in Slavyansky, Fyokla, Kiryak, and let’s not forget Ivan Makarych the Matveichev.
Since this was an uncorrected proof, the sometimes choppy nature of the sentence and paragraph layout didn’t help either. My biggest criticism of this book was its lack of notes and paltry introduction but the information is easily a click search away.
After each story I read online summaries to see how much I had gleaned and must admit that things were missed or overlooked.
If you’ve never read the author this was a nice introduction. Are these his greatest? Is this the greatest translation? I’m not the one to judge, but I was moved by the timeless motifs. As an added plus I felt more well read and scholarly upon completion and had fond thoughts of my senior English Lit teacher, the first adult to recognize and personally guide my journey in great literature.
The stories included were:
Misery: A father must continue working with overwhelming grief in the face of man’s indifference.
A Father: A switch-up where the father’s lifestyle gives his children, particularly his son, much grief.
A Problem: Relatives struggle with covering up vs. exposing a family member's misdeeds when their honor is at stake.
In Exile: People in Siberia find different ways in attitude to cope. Better to accept your circumstances or hope for change and some measure of comfort?
Ward No. 6: My favorite, is set in a lunatic asylum and “considered a microcosm of Russian society” exploring “the conflict between reality and philosophy—namely, how people intellectualize reality to justify their own inaction” (thank you SparkNotes for putting words in my mouth).
My Life: The Story of a Provincial: The longest at 150 pages, I learned again from SparkNotes that it was “First published in censored form in 1896 [and] is one of Chekhov's longest and most politically contentious. . .shares many similarities with Chekhov's personal life. . .[and] may be read as a fictionalized account of many of Chekhov's own anxieties and experiences.” Good to know I think. Having just come through a politically contentious election in the United States, I found much relevance in the pages as to the human condition and highlighted a passage linked to this review. Sadly, little has changed in 121 years.
Peasants: The dehumanizing and devastating effects of poverty. This could have been read in today’s news: “He had to give up his job. Whatever money he and his wife had was spent on doctors and medicines; they had nothing left to live on…”
Thank you to NetGalley and Dover Publications for this ARC.
The quote did not link so I include it below.
“I could not understand what these sixty-five thousand people lived for, what they read the gospel for, why they prayed, why they read books and magazines. What good had they gained from all that had been said and written hitherto if they were still possessed by the same spiritual darkness and hatred of liberty, as they were a hundred and three hundred years ago?
So these sixty-five thousand people have been reading and hearing of truth, of justice, of mercy, of freedom for generations, and yet from morning till night, till the day of their death, they are lying, and tormenting each other, and they fear liberty and hate it as a deadly foe.”
May 16, 2023
Starting with one his most famous short stories and ending with his last completed story, this book carries 50 short stories written by this genius. I read this book in between other books hence took me a whole year to set it aside.
I'm a fan of Chekhov's stories since I was a wee lass. His stories has this twisted sense, unexpected endings or no ending at all. Some stories in this book such as Ward No.6, The death of a government clerk , Anyuta, The Black monk were stories I read 30 years ago and stayed fresh in my mind.
Lets admit it, I'm a sucker for Russian lit and classics. Still, Chekhov's stories carries none of the familiar, oh this is typical classic lit, oh this is 100% Russian lit sort of classifications. These stories carries so much grimness, gave quite a hopeless sense which was almost depressing. I guess it's his profound focus on life, love, suffering and all sorts of feelings that makes people who they are. Most of this stories tends to just stop. I have no complaints about that. I actually like that about his stories.
Out of the 50 the best for me is Ward No.6. For me, that story holds the whole truth of the society we live in. Apart from that, Anyuta, The witch, The chemist's wife, The Black Monk, After the theatre, Little trilogy, Peasants, The Bishop were the most captivating ones. They properly captured the essence of life and human nature.
I think this is one of the best books I've read in life.
Book #67 of 2022.
I'm a fan of Chekhov's stories since I was a wee lass. His stories has this twisted sense, unexpected endings or no ending at all. Some stories in this book such as Ward No.6, The death of a government clerk , Anyuta, The Black monk were stories I read 30 years ago and stayed fresh in my mind.
Lets admit it, I'm a sucker for Russian lit and classics. Still, Chekhov's stories carries none of the familiar, oh this is typical classic lit, oh this is 100% Russian lit sort of classifications. These stories carries so much grimness, gave quite a hopeless sense which was almost depressing. I guess it's his profound focus on life, love, suffering and all sorts of feelings that makes people who they are. Most of this stories tends to just stop. I have no complaints about that. I actually like that about his stories.
Out of the 50 the best for me is Ward No.6. For me, that story holds the whole truth of the society we live in. Apart from that, Anyuta, The witch, The chemist's wife, The Black Monk, After the theatre, Little trilogy, Peasants, The Bishop were the most captivating ones. They properly captured the essence of life and human nature.
I think this is one of the best books I've read in life.
Book #67 of 2022.
March 16, 2021
At a Country House by Anton Chekhov
10 out of 10
This is part of a series of fifty two short stories by the Master, the one that made another great story teller to say "Reading Chekhov was just like the angels singing to me" -- Eudora Welty –and it is exalting to find so much inspiration, joy, amusement, complexity in such an accessible, readable Magnum opus, which is also so modern and timely – indeed, Anton Chekhov was considered the father of modern short stories, the one who said "Medicine is my lawful wife and literature is my mistress"…the narrative At a Country House is no exception, in that it has a main theme which has not changed for ages and it is in the spotlight and headlines to this day, when white supremacists and other nut cases have gain more infamy when they have occupied the Congress of The United States no less…
Pavel Ilitch Rashevitch is the anti-hero of the tale, a sort of proto Trump, the one talking to his visitor, Monsieur Meyer, a guest that the host assumes to belong to the same caste – which would be the higher one, he could not possibly belong to the lower, the untouchable one, albeit the main character has a history of blunders, he has once travelled on a train where he told passengers that Germans are awful, only to find that they were all…well, Germans – has very vicious views of those he sees as ‘commoners’ and now the thing that comes to mind is the interview that is already called the Interview of the Year, though we are only at the start of 2021, wherein Meghan attacks the British Monarchy or the commoner versus the aristocracy as we could call them and if we are as vile as Pavel Ilitch, we could argue that the blue blood appears to have won, in that the outsider had not looked at the contract, The Firm requires dedication and sacrifice in the name of the outfit and it is not about personal gain and glory…
Yes, the liberal, progressive, young take on the Interview is that the monarchy is obsolete, medieval and so passé, while the ingénue, modern, woke Duchess of Sussex – is that not a contradiction in terms an oxymoron in itself, keeping a title and then throwing mud at the concept – is all for the future of the royals, only they missed the chance…actually, for this viewer – who now testifies to being so conservative, old school and retrograde, for this is the view held by the older fellows – it seems that the obscure actress has gained world recognition, title, riches – incidentally, she was all for the money, but did not want to engage in the boring, demanding tasks of opening boo clubs, going to small dance rooms to meet common people – but all she wanted the goodies, glamour, fame, wealth, title, being able to push around the staff – yes, there are at least two, or is it three, complaints of harassment and that shows a very ignoble double standard in that I will take no shit from anybody, princes, dukes, but let me show you how I can kick your ass around, for you are talking about the duchess baby – and taking all the good, but refusing to comply to the rules of the Firm…
Which is exactly the point made by the Inglorious Bastard, Pavel Ilitch and he says “From the point of view of fraternity, equality, and all that sort of thing the swineherd Mitka is as good a man as Goethe or Frederick the Great…But look at it from the point of view of science; have the courage to look actuality straight in the face, and you cannot possibly deny that the white bone is not a prejudice, not a silly woman’s invention…’
On the other hand, The Economist has published about a week or two weeks ago a study that looked at the results of inbreeding in the history of Spain, where the argument was that because the monarchs tried to marry only in house, cousins and the like, in order to keep as much territory under their control as possible – in the case of the House of Habsburg that meant at a certain point Austria, Spain and the Netherlands – the results were eventually disastrous and the look at the historical dates and the inbreeding index seems to demonstrate that the result of keeping all this ‘blue blood’ untouched led eventually to catastrophe…
“if some Richard the Lion-hearted or Frederick Barbarossa, for instance, a man courageous and magnanimous, has a son, his good qualities will be inherited by the son, together with his bumps; and if this courage and magnanimity are fostered in the son by education and exercise, and he marries a princess also courageous and magnanimous, then these qualities will be transmitted to the grandson, and so on, until they become peculiarities of the species, and descend organically, so to speak, in flesh and blood’…the argument proposed by the protagonist of this narrative looks like being confirmed by the discovery of the DNA and recent studies that show we tend to inherit even the tendency to watch the same number of hours of television as our parents – only these are tendencies and the conflict between Nature and Nurture appears to have been solved by having to accept that both have an impact on humans and animals.
‘Who are our best people…Take our first-class artists, authors, composers…. Who are they…All these, my dear sir, are representatives of the white bone. Pushkin, Gogol, Lermontoff, Turgenieff, Tolstoy…. Were these cook-maids’ children…Gontcharoff was a tradesman said Meyer…What does that prove…The exception, my friend, proves the rule…And as to the genius of Gontcharoff there can be two opinions…But let us leave names and return to facts…Tell me how you can reply, sir, to the eloquent fact that when the potboy climbs to a higher place than he was born in—when he reaches eminence in literature, in science, in local government, in law—what have you to say to the fact that Nature herself intervenes on behalf of the most sacred human rights, and declares war against him…As a matter of fact, hardly has the potboy succeeded in stepping into other people’s shoes when he begins to languish, wither, go out of his mind, and degenerate; and nowhere will you meet so many dwarfs, psychical cripples, consumptives, and starvelings as among these gentry’…this is the mad plea of a Hitler, probably, and there would be a figurative slap when the guest reveals he is of ‘modest extraction’
However, if we take a jocular, and sinister look at the aforementioned Interview, we could argue again that Meghan has climbed up the ladder as a ‘commoner’ and broke things incredibly fast – the climb was as a fast as the destruction process – with no respect for the history and tradition of the family she has joined – willingly by the way, she was not forced into it – and soon started acting up, but as a modest actress, she bullied though under her power, while demanding so much from the rest – a typical case of you are not allowed to ask from me what I demand with authority and then with ferociousness from the others – what does she mean she has had nobody to talk to…is she not married to her husband, who even has connections with a charity in the field of mental health…how could she ask for security detail when she lives abroad and nobody else has those benefits…does she realize she benefited from tax payers money…
10 out of 10
This is part of a series of fifty two short stories by the Master, the one that made another great story teller to say "Reading Chekhov was just like the angels singing to me" -- Eudora Welty –and it is exalting to find so much inspiration, joy, amusement, complexity in such an accessible, readable Magnum opus, which is also so modern and timely – indeed, Anton Chekhov was considered the father of modern short stories, the one who said "Medicine is my lawful wife and literature is my mistress"…the narrative At a Country House is no exception, in that it has a main theme which has not changed for ages and it is in the spotlight and headlines to this day, when white supremacists and other nut cases have gain more infamy when they have occupied the Congress of The United States no less…
Pavel Ilitch Rashevitch is the anti-hero of the tale, a sort of proto Trump, the one talking to his visitor, Monsieur Meyer, a guest that the host assumes to belong to the same caste – which would be the higher one, he could not possibly belong to the lower, the untouchable one, albeit the main character has a history of blunders, he has once travelled on a train where he told passengers that Germans are awful, only to find that they were all…well, Germans – has very vicious views of those he sees as ‘commoners’ and now the thing that comes to mind is the interview that is already called the Interview of the Year, though we are only at the start of 2021, wherein Meghan attacks the British Monarchy or the commoner versus the aristocracy as we could call them and if we are as vile as Pavel Ilitch, we could argue that the blue blood appears to have won, in that the outsider had not looked at the contract, The Firm requires dedication and sacrifice in the name of the outfit and it is not about personal gain and glory…
Yes, the liberal, progressive, young take on the Interview is that the monarchy is obsolete, medieval and so passé, while the ingénue, modern, woke Duchess of Sussex – is that not a contradiction in terms an oxymoron in itself, keeping a title and then throwing mud at the concept – is all for the future of the royals, only they missed the chance…actually, for this viewer – who now testifies to being so conservative, old school and retrograde, for this is the view held by the older fellows – it seems that the obscure actress has gained world recognition, title, riches – incidentally, she was all for the money, but did not want to engage in the boring, demanding tasks of opening boo clubs, going to small dance rooms to meet common people – but all she wanted the goodies, glamour, fame, wealth, title, being able to push around the staff – yes, there are at least two, or is it three, complaints of harassment and that shows a very ignoble double standard in that I will take no shit from anybody, princes, dukes, but let me show you how I can kick your ass around, for you are talking about the duchess baby – and taking all the good, but refusing to comply to the rules of the Firm…
Which is exactly the point made by the Inglorious Bastard, Pavel Ilitch and he says “From the point of view of fraternity, equality, and all that sort of thing the swineherd Mitka is as good a man as Goethe or Frederick the Great…But look at it from the point of view of science; have the courage to look actuality straight in the face, and you cannot possibly deny that the white bone is not a prejudice, not a silly woman’s invention…’
On the other hand, The Economist has published about a week or two weeks ago a study that looked at the results of inbreeding in the history of Spain, where the argument was that because the monarchs tried to marry only in house, cousins and the like, in order to keep as much territory under their control as possible – in the case of the House of Habsburg that meant at a certain point Austria, Spain and the Netherlands – the results were eventually disastrous and the look at the historical dates and the inbreeding index seems to demonstrate that the result of keeping all this ‘blue blood’ untouched led eventually to catastrophe…
“if some Richard the Lion-hearted or Frederick Barbarossa, for instance, a man courageous and magnanimous, has a son, his good qualities will be inherited by the son, together with his bumps; and if this courage and magnanimity are fostered in the son by education and exercise, and he marries a princess also courageous and magnanimous, then these qualities will be transmitted to the grandson, and so on, until they become peculiarities of the species, and descend organically, so to speak, in flesh and blood’…the argument proposed by the protagonist of this narrative looks like being confirmed by the discovery of the DNA and recent studies that show we tend to inherit even the tendency to watch the same number of hours of television as our parents – only these are tendencies and the conflict between Nature and Nurture appears to have been solved by having to accept that both have an impact on humans and animals.
‘Who are our best people…Take our first-class artists, authors, composers…. Who are they…All these, my dear sir, are representatives of the white bone. Pushkin, Gogol, Lermontoff, Turgenieff, Tolstoy…. Were these cook-maids’ children…Gontcharoff was a tradesman said Meyer…What does that prove…The exception, my friend, proves the rule…And as to the genius of Gontcharoff there can be two opinions…But let us leave names and return to facts…Tell me how you can reply, sir, to the eloquent fact that when the potboy climbs to a higher place than he was born in—when he reaches eminence in literature, in science, in local government, in law—what have you to say to the fact that Nature herself intervenes on behalf of the most sacred human rights, and declares war against him…As a matter of fact, hardly has the potboy succeeded in stepping into other people’s shoes when he begins to languish, wither, go out of his mind, and degenerate; and nowhere will you meet so many dwarfs, psychical cripples, consumptives, and starvelings as among these gentry’…this is the mad plea of a Hitler, probably, and there would be a figurative slap when the guest reveals he is of ‘modest extraction’
However, if we take a jocular, and sinister look at the aforementioned Interview, we could argue again that Meghan has climbed up the ladder as a ‘commoner’ and broke things incredibly fast – the climb was as a fast as the destruction process – with no respect for the history and tradition of the family she has joined – willingly by the way, she was not forced into it – and soon started acting up, but as a modest actress, she bullied though under her power, while demanding so much from the rest – a typical case of you are not allowed to ask from me what I demand with authority and then with ferociousness from the others – what does she mean she has had nobody to talk to…is she not married to her husband, who even has connections with a charity in the field of mental health…how could she ask for security detail when she lives abroad and nobody else has those benefits…does she realize she benefited from tax payers money…
May 11, 2021
One of the greatest books I've ever read. Realised what the power of pathos actually means. While reading those intense stories I felt extremely grim, almost depressed. But once done and after some reflection it dawned upon me the unifying thread of how everyone yearns for life, whatever the situation.
Neither life nor love or ambition can be captured in a case or marriage. It wants and will go out, breathe, love and feel before dying. And it must.
The stories that especially touched me were: Vanka - the story of sheer pain the little Vanka expresses, A story without a title - the rampant mediocrity that is found in every damn place and time, Sleepy - the wretched situation the tender girl finds herself and the burdens that break her back and mind, the Dreary Story - thoughts of an old dying man, Ward No. 6 - the perils of taking oneself so seriously that... Well I almost gave the spoiler here, The Black Monk - the mirage of being special by which every person is infested in varied degrees, The Lady with the Dog - the story of all passionate beautiful love stories, The Bishop - that proves yet again that the human being always likes to be treated as one and not as a chair and then finally Betrothed - ironically Chekhov's last written story in his life so powerful and relatable that it brought together tears and goosebumps.
I would highly recommend this book who is fond of reading intense short stories.
Neither life nor love or ambition can be captured in a case or marriage. It wants and will go out, breathe, love and feel before dying. And it must.
The stories that especially touched me were: Vanka - the story of sheer pain the little Vanka expresses, A story without a title - the rampant mediocrity that is found in every damn place and time, Sleepy - the wretched situation the tender girl finds herself and the burdens that break her back and mind, the Dreary Story - thoughts of an old dying man, Ward No. 6 - the perils of taking oneself so seriously that... Well I almost gave the spoiler here, The Black Monk - the mirage of being special by which every person is infested in varied degrees, The Lady with the Dog - the story of all passionate beautiful love stories, The Bishop - that proves yet again that the human being always likes to be treated as one and not as a chair and then finally Betrothed - ironically Chekhov's last written story in his life so powerful and relatable that it brought together tears and goosebumps.
I would highly recommend this book who is fond of reading intense short stories.
November 29, 2011
Classic literature, especially classic Russian literature, vexes me. I know roughly nothing about the Russian language so I sometimes console myself as I struggle with Dostoevsky or Tolstoy (which I've occasionally attempted but never fully conquered) with the notion that written Russian is particularly difficult to translate into smooth reading English. But then again, I get this way about classic English lit sometimes as well, where I see words on the page and just can't seem to get through them into that fugue state where I'm not really reading as a mechanical word-eye-brain-context-thought-idea process, but as a sort of direct input from the author's imagination, utterly unaware of the printing or the sentence construction; it's like drawing ideas from the page via some kind of mind vacuum.
I guess there is a reason why I'm not an English major (or any kind of major for that matter). Chalk me up as just another filthy soul populating the unwashed masses.
But I like stories. I love books and written words and I have enjoyed some classics, even some stuffy and difficult works, both modern and time-honored. So I don't always know what it is that may cause me to go cross-eyed with frustrated agitation that a story just won't seem to let me in.
So consider my first foray into Anton Chekhov. On one hand, there are moments in the fairly limited collection of Chekhov's work included in this old paperback printing I found for a song at a used bookstore which reveal clearly why he is considered a master of the short form. "The Kiss," for example, an early inclusion about a lonely young soldier who happens upon a stolen moment of intimacy, intended for someone else entirely, and uses that off-handed experience to construct for himself an entirely new persona, a boosted ego of imagination and possibility which has, in spite of the joy it brings him, a tragic collision with the reality of, well, reality. Another pair of tales, "A Father" and "A Problem," highlight a certain astonishing insight into human nature, simply revealing complex elements to relationships in a relatable way.
But then you get to some of the longer works included here, such as "Ward No. 6," and I start to hang back on the dry exposition, the deliberate pace to a character study that, too, has something interesting to say but says it in such a dull fashion that I struggled to get through the 30-some page short over the course of about four days. Again I found myself looking back on my own Russian lit crutch and saying, "Well, maybe it's just the translation?" But maybe it isn't. At least in the case of Chekhov, or perhaps in the case of this particular collection, the longer the story gets the harder it was for me to muddle through. I like the way I can see his mind working: his philosophy and his understanding of what makes a character interesting combined with a detailed sense of realistic arc make for living souls in the stories but at some point it's like reading 500 pages about a grandmother spending an evening watching TV: no matter how good the writing is, the subject is bound to wear out its welcome if you linger too long.
I couldn't help contrast this selection with the Raymond Carver volume, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love that I read earlier in the year. Carver's direct-to-the-point simplicity doesn't need fantastical things to happen to be compelling. The slice of life examinations are reminiscent to Chekhov's, in spite of being separated by nearly one hundred years and half a planet. But Carver (or his editor) never let those tales overstay their welcome, stripping them down to their barest necessities leaving only that which absolutely must be revealed. They both traffic in sadness and irony and the bitter pill that is life, but where I could not put down What We Talk About, I couldn't wait to set down Great Stories. I can attribute this fact to the editors, to the translators, to the authors or to myself but in any case, what I cannot escape is that I didn't much care for enough of this book to recommend it or even like it. At best I can say it was okay and I'm intrigued to know more about the author's work, but when I dive in again, I'll be sure to be more selective about which volume I choose and not let a bargain make my decision for me.
I guess there is a reason why I'm not an English major (or any kind of major for that matter). Chalk me up as just another filthy soul populating the unwashed masses.
But I like stories. I love books and written words and I have enjoyed some classics, even some stuffy and difficult works, both modern and time-honored. So I don't always know what it is that may cause me to go cross-eyed with frustrated agitation that a story just won't seem to let me in.
So consider my first foray into Anton Chekhov. On one hand, there are moments in the fairly limited collection of Chekhov's work included in this old paperback printing I found for a song at a used bookstore which reveal clearly why he is considered a master of the short form. "The Kiss," for example, an early inclusion about a lonely young soldier who happens upon a stolen moment of intimacy, intended for someone else entirely, and uses that off-handed experience to construct for himself an entirely new persona, a boosted ego of imagination and possibility which has, in spite of the joy it brings him, a tragic collision with the reality of, well, reality. Another pair of tales, "A Father" and "A Problem," highlight a certain astonishing insight into human nature, simply revealing complex elements to relationships in a relatable way.
But then you get to some of the longer works included here, such as "Ward No. 6," and I start to hang back on the dry exposition, the deliberate pace to a character study that, too, has something interesting to say but says it in such a dull fashion that I struggled to get through the 30-some page short over the course of about four days. Again I found myself looking back on my own Russian lit crutch and saying, "Well, maybe it's just the translation?" But maybe it isn't. At least in the case of Chekhov, or perhaps in the case of this particular collection, the longer the story gets the harder it was for me to muddle through. I like the way I can see his mind working: his philosophy and his understanding of what makes a character interesting combined with a detailed sense of realistic arc make for living souls in the stories but at some point it's like reading 500 pages about a grandmother spending an evening watching TV: no matter how good the writing is, the subject is bound to wear out its welcome if you linger too long.
I couldn't help contrast this selection with the Raymond Carver volume, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love that I read earlier in the year. Carver's direct-to-the-point simplicity doesn't need fantastical things to happen to be compelling. The slice of life examinations are reminiscent to Chekhov's, in spite of being separated by nearly one hundred years and half a planet. But Carver (or his editor) never let those tales overstay their welcome, stripping them down to their barest necessities leaving only that which absolutely must be revealed. They both traffic in sadness and irony and the bitter pill that is life, but where I could not put down What We Talk About, I couldn't wait to set down Great Stories. I can attribute this fact to the editors, to the translators, to the authors or to myself but in any case, what I cannot escape is that I didn't much care for enough of this book to recommend it or even like it. At best I can say it was okay and I'm intrigued to know more about the author's work, but when I dive in again, I'll be sure to be more selective about which volume I choose and not let a bargain make my decision for me.
December 16, 2012
I guess I'm a sucker for Russian fiction because I have yet to read anything by a Russian author that I haven't liked. They tend to focus a lot on the negatives in life, which could be rather depressing, I guess, but they tend to not be superficial or shallow. I like Chekhov's short stories here because they tend to deal with whole lives of individuals. As I recollect, American short stories seem to focus on one event and get the reader immersed in it. Chekhov's stories focus on one life and give a quick overview of that life, making you consider whether the protagonist has lived a good life, a worthwhile life, a virtuous life. And looking at the lives of these characters in that light tends to make one stand back and similarly evaluate one's own life by the same standards and with the same questions, and that is the value of the short stories in this book. A few of the stories near the end seem to get bogged down in the sufferings of their characters, but most actually use these sufferings to encourage us to evaluate the moral choices the characters have made and the moral choices the reader has made. There is something spiritual here, something that causes us to think about the Big Questions without being overbearing or overt.
March 30, 2017
This title 'Master of Short Stories' truly belongs to Chekhov. Saki is really good with humor. O Henry has talent. But Chekhov transcends.
The detachment, the intricacies, the simplicity its so... His stories are like snow globes.
The main themes are dullness and boredom in life and struggles to escape it. The beautiful life given to the theme in the Russian living is a theme in itself.
Stories like Troublesome Visitor, Dreams, At Home, they were strong. Out of words to describe the Chekhov phenomenon
The detachment, the intricacies, the simplicity its so... His stories are like snow globes.
The main themes are dullness and boredom in life and struggles to escape it. The beautiful life given to the theme in the Russian living is a theme in itself.
Stories like Troublesome Visitor, Dreams, At Home, they were strong. Out of words to describe the Chekhov phenomenon
July 23, 2021
If you like short stories and Classic Russian writers this book should be read by you. What makes Anton Chekhov one of the best short story writer you can easily understand If you read this book. I would have given this version of the book 5 star but it doesn't have some of my favorite ones like "The Duel", "The Steppe". Otherwise it's a solid collection.
August 27, 2017
I am rating this 4 stars because this is my 1st reading of Chekhov and believe it is a nice introduction to his work. This collection has a brief introduction that I doubt would satiate Chekhov enthusiasts and the stories do not have footnotes or any extra background text to enhance the reading experience.
The best compliment a short story writer can be given it seems is to be compared to Chekhov. I believe this is because in a few words he can envelop you into the character of the story, their social status and their current situation.
This book includes 7 short stories:
Misery: '.... Iona Potapov, the sledge-driver, is all white like a ghost. He sits on the box without stirring, bent as double as the living body can be bent. If a regular snowdrift fell on him it seems as though even then he would not think it necessary to shake it off... His little mare is white and motionless.'
A sleigh driver is burdened with grief, but who will listen to him? This would be relevant today if the setting was a taxi driver and made me reflect on the 2017 year Man Booker international winner 'A horse walked into a bar' by David Grossman.
A Father: Once a Russian short story collection without a rouge father fleecing his sons for vodka money?
A Problem: A young man has disgraced his family by not honouring a debt. Should the patriarchs of the family pay the debt, redeeming the family name or allow their nephew to learn a lesson?
Ward No. 6: In a country hospital a doctor begins communicating regularly with one of his mental patients.
' He bit the pillow from pain and clenched his teeth, and all at once through the chaos in his brain there flashed the terrible unbearable thought that these people, who seemed now like black shadows in the moonlight, had to endure such pain day by day for years. How could it have happened that for twenty years he had not known it and had refused to know it?'
In Exile: A young Tatar is exposed to some cynical advise on how to survive his exile in Siberia.
My Life: A young man disillusioned by aristocratic pursuits shocks his father by becoming a labourer.
Peasants: A man leaves Moscow due to illness and returns to his hometown, with his family to be confronted by his parents poverty.
' All seemed suddenly to grasp that there was no void between earth and heaven, that the rich and powerful had not seized everything, that there was still protection from abuse, from bondage, from crushing, unbearable want, from the terrible vodka.'
Another classic line:
'... a farmhouse, half hidden by green foliage, and with a scent of dampness and hemp coming from it, a place that for some reason seemed inhabited by happy people...'
I plan to read the 4 plays by Chekhov next.
The best compliment a short story writer can be given it seems is to be compared to Chekhov. I believe this is because in a few words he can envelop you into the character of the story, their social status and their current situation.
This book includes 7 short stories:
Misery: '.... Iona Potapov, the sledge-driver, is all white like a ghost. He sits on the box without stirring, bent as double as the living body can be bent. If a regular snowdrift fell on him it seems as though even then he would not think it necessary to shake it off... His little mare is white and motionless.'
A sleigh driver is burdened with grief, but who will listen to him? This would be relevant today if the setting was a taxi driver and made me reflect on the 2017 year Man Booker international winner 'A horse walked into a bar' by David Grossman.
A Father: Once a Russian short story collection without a rouge father fleecing his sons for vodka money?
A Problem: A young man has disgraced his family by not honouring a debt. Should the patriarchs of the family pay the debt, redeeming the family name or allow their nephew to learn a lesson?
Ward No. 6: In a country hospital a doctor begins communicating regularly with one of his mental patients.
' He bit the pillow from pain and clenched his teeth, and all at once through the chaos in his brain there flashed the terrible unbearable thought that these people, who seemed now like black shadows in the moonlight, had to endure such pain day by day for years. How could it have happened that for twenty years he had not known it and had refused to know it?'
In Exile: A young Tatar is exposed to some cynical advise on how to survive his exile in Siberia.
My Life: A young man disillusioned by aristocratic pursuits shocks his father by becoming a labourer.
Peasants: A man leaves Moscow due to illness and returns to his hometown, with his family to be confronted by his parents poverty.
' All seemed suddenly to grasp that there was no void between earth and heaven, that the rich and powerful had not seized everything, that there was still protection from abuse, from bondage, from crushing, unbearable want, from the terrible vodka.'
Another classic line:
'... a farmhouse, half hidden by green foliage, and with a scent of dampness and hemp coming from it, a place that for some reason seemed inhabited by happy people...'
I plan to read the 4 plays by Chekhov next.
October 8, 2020
Great Stories by Chekhov by Anton Chekhov published by Dover Publications is a collection of seven short stories from the person attributed as the father of the short story. Chekhov lived from 1860 until 1904 and lived a life ranging semi-comfort and of poverty. He began writing to pay for his tuition at medical school and to support his family. Chekhov was well traveled in Russia and met and interviewed a variety of people including prisoners. His works consist mostly of plays and short stories.
This Dover edition presents seven of the lesser known short stories to give a reader an introduction to the writer. Russian literature, to me, has always seemed more human and in touch with the common people than other European literature. Chekhov is a master of portraying people in a very honest and at times touching way. It is not always the simple good man that he writes about. He can take you into the mind of a manipulative character and the reader will hear the rationalizations going justifying his actions and passing the blame along. Other characters, like the carriage driver who lost his son, are alone in the world and are simply seen as automatons. These characters find compassion in forms other than humans. The rich Russian culture, the good and bad, are also displayed in the stories.
The Dover edition gives the reader an adequate introduction to Chekhov and a simple introduction to the short stories. Words of Russian origin are also defined for the reader. Everything that a novice to Russian literature needs is provided in this edition. The language in the stories is simple. Russian literature tends to be intimidating in the length of the work rather than the story line. Being short stories, the longest story is under one hundred pages. Constance Garnett provides the translation into English. Her work is well known and her experience extensive -- translating over seventy volumes of Russian literature. Well done and, as always, a very affordable Dover publication.
This Dover edition presents seven of the lesser known short stories to give a reader an introduction to the writer. Russian literature, to me, has always seemed more human and in touch with the common people than other European literature. Chekhov is a master of portraying people in a very honest and at times touching way. It is not always the simple good man that he writes about. He can take you into the mind of a manipulative character and the reader will hear the rationalizations going justifying his actions and passing the blame along. Other characters, like the carriage driver who lost his son, are alone in the world and are simply seen as automatons. These characters find compassion in forms other than humans. The rich Russian culture, the good and bad, are also displayed in the stories.
The Dover edition gives the reader an adequate introduction to Chekhov and a simple introduction to the short stories. Words of Russian origin are also defined for the reader. Everything that a novice to Russian literature needs is provided in this edition. The language in the stories is simple. Russian literature tends to be intimidating in the length of the work rather than the story line. Being short stories, the longest story is under one hundred pages. Constance Garnett provides the translation into English. Her work is well known and her experience extensive -- translating over seventy volumes of Russian literature. Well done and, as always, a very affordable Dover publication.
January 28, 2022
I have been going back and forth between this translation by Constance Garnett and a more recent one by Pevear and Volokhonsky. I prefer Garnett's prose; C and V's translation is rather clunky, but since I don't read Russian I have no idea whether Garnett's translation is inaccurate. The important thing is that I have really enjoying reading lots of stories by Chekhov. He was so prolific, and so innovative, that it is difficult to make any sweeping statement about his style, structure, or ideology. In fact, if there is a takeaway from reading lots of Chekhov is that he did not believe in the validity of sweeping generalizations about human character, the causes of societal problems, religious belief, or life philosophies. He's suspicious of ideologies, always exploring the other side, and other other side, of motivations and beliefs. This is not to say that he is indifferent to injustice. Rather, he seems to suggest that ideological humility is needed, even while acknowledging that there is too much suffering, incompetence, and ignorance. Many of his characters are zealots or monomaniacs, but he treats them with compassion even as he points out the harm they do themselves and others (see Ivan Gromov in Ward 6). It is sometimes says that nothing happens in Chekhov's stories, that the just end. Certainly, you don't find a dramatic arc in the action of many stories. Instead, the aperçu sometimes belongs to the reader, whose attitude toward a character changes (see "The Darling" or "A Boring Story"). But in one of Chekhov's most famous stories, "The Lady with the Little Dog," there is a profound change in the main character, the roué Gurov, who finds himself falling in love with the lady he has seduced, discovering a new way to love.
February 26, 2022
Yet another example of the Mastery of the Russian authors. It must be the striking resemblance between the Indian life that I have lived and the life in Russia then, that must have excited me about the Russian stories. Chekhov was my introduction to the Russian literature, and from right then I decided to read Chekhov and other Russian legends extensively, and what a turning point it turned out to be. This book is a perfect gift for any one, even just some one starting to build their reading habit.
All the stories are great, but the following are the ones I enjoyed the most
1. The death of a government clerk
2. A dead body
3. The witch
4. The chemists wife
5. A trifle from life
6.Love
7. Vanka( Inspiration for film ottaal)
8. The lottery ticket
9. A story without a title (about the monk going to salvate the sinful city)
10. Sleepy(I felt for the slave girl)
11. The bet( the one that I previously read and what comes to my mind when thinking of Chekhov)
12. The princess
13. A dreary story (among my favorite)
14. Peasant wives
15. Ward no 6( among my favorite)
16. The black monk
17. An artist story
18. The peasants(reminded me of my village)
19. About love
20. The lady with the dog
All the stories are great, but the following are the ones I enjoyed the most
1. The death of a government clerk
2. A dead body
3. The witch
4. The chemists wife
5. A trifle from life
6.Love
7. Vanka( Inspiration for film ottaal)
8. The lottery ticket
9. A story without a title (about the monk going to salvate the sinful city)
10. Sleepy(I felt for the slave girl)
11. The bet( the one that I previously read and what comes to my mind when thinking of Chekhov)
12. The princess
13. A dreary story (among my favorite)
14. Peasant wives
15. Ward no 6( among my favorite)
16. The black monk
17. An artist story
18. The peasants(reminded me of my village)
19. About love
20. The lady with the dog
February 29, 2024
Kinh điển. Bản dịch tiếng Việt là tuyển tập truyện ngắn do dịch giả Bùi Ngọc Diệp thực hiện. Lời giới thiệu của dịch giả không đề cập các truyện được dịch từ tiếng Nga hay tiếng Anh, nhưng dịch giả đã từng dịch 3 tập truyện cổ Nga. Câu văn đúng ngữ pháp một cách khó chịu, cảm giác dịch giả bám rất sát cấu trúc câu trong bản tiếng Nga/Anh. Đọc bằng tiếng Việt không khỏi cảm giác gượng gạo, nhất là với một nhà văn thông minh như Chekhov. Tuy nhiên, dịch giả lựa chọn từ ngữ rất khéo cho các tác phẩm kinh điển, cũng là một thế mạnh của những dịch giả có thâm niên.
Công tác biên tập có khá nhiều vấn đề: có sai chính tả, thiếu dấu câu, dấu gạch đầu dòng. Thật khó nhắm mắt cho qua khi nhìn thấy sự cẩu thả trong việc biên tập không chỉ một mà nhiều tác phẩm của một nhà văn kinh điển. Bên cạnh đó, tên của mỗi nhân vật trong các truyện ngắn đều mang một ý nghĩa khơi gợi về tình tiết, bài học của câu truyện. Hơn nữa, những cái tên này tồn tại ở thời tiền Cách mạng hơn 1 thế kỷ trước. Do đó, khá là khó để độc giả tự cảm thụ nghệ thuật chọn tên của Chekhov khi viết truyện. Biên tập viên cần bổ sung phần này để tác phẩm kinh điển không mất đi sự hấp dẫn trong thời hiện đại.
Công tác biên tập có khá nhiều vấn đề: có sai chính tả, thiếu dấu câu, dấu gạch đầu dòng. Thật khó nhắm mắt cho qua khi nhìn thấy sự cẩu thả trong việc biên tập không chỉ một mà nhiều tác phẩm của một nhà văn kinh điển. Bên cạnh đó, tên của mỗi nhân vật trong các truyện ngắn đều mang một ý nghĩa khơi gợi về tình tiết, bài học của câu truyện. Hơn nữa, những cái tên này tồn tại ở thời tiền Cách mạng hơn 1 thế kỷ trước. Do đó, khá là khó để độc giả tự cảm thụ nghệ thuật chọn tên của Chekhov khi viết truyện. Biên tập viên cần bổ sung phần này để tác phẩm kinh điển không mất đi sự hấp dẫn trong thời hiện đại.
February 12, 2021
Who would have thought that the Enterprise's tactical officer was also an excellent short story writer? What? Wrong Chekhov?
In all seriousness, what a delightful (if I can properly use that word) collection of the most thoroughly-depressing (in the best tradition of Russian literature) well-written stories. In reading these stories, I can almost detect a foreshadowing of Kafka, or at least hazard a guess as to who might have inspired Kafka. From the extremely short The Darling and The Kiss to the longer Ward-6 and the novella My Life, these are wonderful reads. Short enough to finish each story in one sitting and long enough to pack a punch.
In all seriousness, what a delightful (if I can properly use that word) collection of the most thoroughly-depressing (in the best tradition of Russian literature) well-written stories. In reading these stories, I can almost detect a foreshadowing of Kafka, or at least hazard a guess as to who might have inspired Kafka. From the extremely short The Darling and The Kiss to the longer Ward-6 and the novella My Life, these are wonderful reads. Short enough to finish each story in one sitting and long enough to pack a punch.
Read
July 28, 2021I picked this up on impulse at the little used bookstore near my house in spite of knowing full well that I don't like Constance Garnett's translations. I still enjoyed the stories although her rendition is wooden and dry (difficult to give it a star rating for that reason). "Ward No. 6" was my favorite.
September 28, 2020
This was an audio version of short stories picked by Audible. Some of them were not as compelling as the ones I had read in the past, but the writing is outstanding. I enjoyed most of them, and also the background, society & traditions they embody.
July 25, 2023
I'm sorry, I just don't see what it is with his writing, at least on the basis of these stories. They did nothing for me. Maybe his better-known books are more arresting, but I won't rush to revisit his work.
March 8, 2017
A good mix of Chekhov's well known and not so well known writings.
I was given a digital copy of this book by the publisher Dover Publications via Netgalley in return for an honest unbiased review.
I was given a digital copy of this book by the publisher Dover Publications via Netgalley in return for an honest unbiased review.
March 5, 2021
A mix of short stories showing slices of life in Russia. Some were quite enjoyable, some were a bit of a slog. Not that easy to read but fairy interesting.
April 7, 2022
AMAZING!
August 27, 2022
Collection of short stories.
December 18, 2022
Amazing collection of short stories. Stories reflecting a hundred lives.
February 20, 2023
My weekly short story group read and discussed, A Father
TO BE CONTINUED..,..
TO BE CONTINUED..,..
June 27, 2023
masterpiece
December 31, 2023
better than his plays
May 9, 2024
It's Chekhov!
Always leaves you in deep thought. A good selection of some of his best tales I shall probably read them again and again.
Always leaves you in deep thought. A good selection of some of his best tales I shall probably read them again and again.
June 29, 2017
I was hooked when I read the lines of the first story.
This was the first book I've read from Chekhov, and I have grown fond of his stories, found similarities, and found his cynical view of humanity. This was the important part.
I realize that some of the stories highlights these points:
- How boredom can be easily manipulated and converted into sins easily
- Affairs and carnal desires from being unhappy
- The bad economy and political condition in Russia at that time
- How artists are seen through the eyes of people (some thought it was great, some were not)
And most of all, what I noticed is, that the stories are mostly ironic tragedies that might have been absurd and funny, yet somehow produces the truth that brought your mind into thinking. There are more points from this book than I could describe, and I really recommend you read this book, because not only it will give you insight about how Russia was at that time (I learned few of the terms myself), but also it lets us know how dark and depressing the world outside were.
This was the first book I've read from Chekhov, and I have grown fond of his stories, found similarities, and found his cynical view of humanity. This was the important part.
I realize that some of the stories highlights these points:
- How boredom can be easily manipulated and converted into sins easily
- Affairs and carnal desires from being unhappy
- The bad economy and political condition in Russia at that time
- How artists are seen through the eyes of people (some thought it was great, some were not)
And most of all, what I noticed is, that the stories are mostly ironic tragedies that might have been absurd and funny, yet somehow produces the truth that brought your mind into thinking. There are more points from this book than I could describe, and I really recommend you read this book, because not only it will give you insight about how Russia was at that time (I learned few of the terms myself), but also it lets us know how dark and depressing the world outside were.
December 10, 2016
Thanks to NetGalley I’ve been privileged to receive quite a few of these Dover Publications and without exception they have been excellent collections of key works by the chosen author. For example, the volume on Oscar Wilde has a couple of his plays, some non-fiction works and many of his best-known stories plus an excellent introduction. But this Chekhov volume seems to be a real cop-out. All it contains, apart from a very short and not very illuminating introduction, is a mere 7 of the hundreds of stories he wrote, and not one of the plays for which he is equally acclaimed. Also the translations are by Constance Garnett, which were for many years the standard translations but are now very out-dated and there are so many other better translations to choose from. I feel that this collection is a cynical venture to throw a book together and make some easy money, and I was very disappointed by it. My rating reflects this particular publication and not Chekhov’s stories themselves.
Want to read
August 14, 2008i read the first four of these and they weren't doing much for me? i felt like they all ended in predictable tragedy, usually with a corny moral... am i being premature? probably. short stories are hard for me to concentrate on, to tell the truth...
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