Chekhov Short Story Thread [Archive] - Page 3

Janine

05-25-2008, 01:22 PM

It should be time to get summer clothes out, Janine, but I'm so intolerant of the cold, I leave a few sweaters out all summer long. LOL At least I've already read the story, so I won't have to catch up there, and I can log in before bed for a few minutes, I think.

Oh yes, same with me. Antiquarian. I do that too, leaving a few things available all summer long; you never know when you might need them. Still the bulk has to be brought up two flights of stairs - tiring; try to do it little at a time. In fact, just when I get things rearranged it will get cold again; you wait and see; happens every year to me!

Anyway, glad you are all caught up. I did finish the story last night. Gee, I don't know quite what to make of it. I did love that ending. I did find it tragic and very, very sad. I will be interested to hear all of your comments first. I thought the writing was wonderful and the descriptions beautiful; great imagery. I thought the story very well crafted. I know it will make for a fine discussion.

I am having a little trouble with a few personal feelings, that unfortunately are interferring with my perception and the main concept of the story; I felt this last night, when I got to a certain part. I will explain to you, Antiquarian, in an email personally and not on this thread. It is a private matter and quite involved actually.

I seriously, will be anxious first to hear all of your comments, to open up this discussion and then I will probably comment after. I hope that sheds a clearer light on this for me; the problem I am having is simply a complex thing for me, personally. I think the story is more 'complex' than it appears to be on a first reading. I am hoping to read it again; I am sure I will see more things to enlighten me. It is not that I don't fully understand the story; that I do, absolutely and I understand exactly what Chekhov is conveying in this story and those ideas do appeal greatly to me. I just have some qualms - this might involve my own ideas on realism, etc. I am sure we will get into all this in-depth later on. Perhaps this story is not intended to be totally realistic such as a "A Rose for Emily" by Faulkner, or "The Man Who Loved Islands" by Lawrence. I tend to see things logically and realistically. Not sure that can apply here at all.

Janine

05-26-2008, 02:16 AM

I tend to see things pretty logically and in a straightforward way, too, Janine. That's why the jokes and sarcasm some people indulge in just go right over my head. LOL I'm too literal, I guess, except in my own fiction writing.

However, this is one Chekhov story I think I do understand completely, strange as that may seem given the above. ;)

Sure, email me anytime you want.

Yes, I know my logic is playing into this story too much. I must try and disregard that, to look at it differently. I think it is very artistically written and constructed. I can't wait to hear what you have to say about the story, Antiquarian. In some ways, it reminded me of the Faulkner story, in that the ending was also tragic and a little surprising. I kind of knew at that point, you would have liked this story very much.

Quark

05-26-2008, 02:54 PM

It seems like everyone is ready for the next story. This one is much longer than the previous short story, so we'll move through it gradually. I'll post chunks of the story like I've done in other discussions. Really, I do that every time. I stopped in the last discussion because it was needless to post text when the entire text is only two pages long. "The Black Monk," having more pages, certainly needs to have parts posted to keep the conversation grounded to something specific in the story. I'll post the first section soon after the introduction. Here's the intro:

"The Black Monk"

The plot centers around the professor Andrey Vasilyevich Kovrin who takes a vacation to the country. There, he meets Pesotzky, his former gaurdian, and helps him with his impressive garden. He also becomes quite attached to Pesotzky's daughter, Tanya. The story follows Kovrin's interaction with this pair as he slowly becomes aware of his own physical weakening. Meanwhile, he's being visited by an apparition of a black monk which symbolizes many of Kovrin's own conceits and insecurities. Kovrin is one of Chekhov's most complicated characters, and in "The Black Monk" he gives him physical, mental, and social problems that he must engage with. Yet, for all that's going on, the story is told calmly and tranquilly. The comfortable garden scenes and light mocking of Pesotzky make the story seem pleasant and light-hearted, but underneathe the surface boils all of Kovrin's inner-turmoil.

It's an enjoyable read, and I hope we get a good discussion going. I expect there will be much talk about what the black monk actually symbolizes, and what it's role in the story is. But, I also think there's going to quite a lot to say about the style of this story--whether it's Poe-like or Faulkner-esk. Kovrin, of course, should be fun to discuss, as well as Pesotzky and the garden. There should be many points of interest. Hopefully we'll have time to get to everything.

Finally, there's the much anticipated story illustration. It's becomes so popular that I thought I should wait until the end to post it. That way I can give the picture some explanation. This one is an oil painting by a Russian artist from around the time this story was first published. It's been used before as a cover to a collection of Chekhov stories, but they applied it to "Ward No. 6" which I don't think it matches. It works well for the "Black Monk" because it reminds us that Kovrin is ailing while this story is going on. He doesn't want to admit it, and the text doesn't make much of his illness. But, it's still very present. He's in bed or on a couch most of his time. The painting reminds me of the reality that Kovrin doesn't want to admit. Also, I think the colors are great for this story. They seem to fit the mood.
http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/aoyrDSKih44whp4b3.jpg
Sleepless Nights by Nikolai Romadin (1905)

Well that's the introduction. I'll post the first section of the story in my next post.

Janine

05-26-2008, 03:26 PM

Good job on the introduction Quark and nice painting/photo to begin with; interesting that it was painted around the same time of the publication of the story. I find you are right in that, it does seem to fit the mood of the story, as you explained it. I also, like what you wrote about this story and believe it actually, has me thinking in a slightly different mode than I was thinking, just after completing the story; it is a very complex/complicated story.

I found some cool photos of Russian monks I will send to you, or post in here
later in the story.

This should be a very interesting discussion. I can't wait till we start, but take your time. Today is a holiday....

Happy Memorial Day everyone!

Hope everyone is having a cookout!

Dark Muse

05-26-2008, 06:13 PM

Now that we have officially began the discussion there were a couple things I just briefly mentioned earlier, that I said would explain further when the discussion began.

First was the fact that I did find the story to have some Poe like elements within it, the reason I said this was for a few reasons. For one thing, the very beginning in which Kovrin is depicted as being a very nervous individual and this aspect of his nervousness does play into the story and comes up more than once, as well Egor is also said to be quite nervous a times.

The idea of "nervousness" and either having a nervous narrator, and the subject of the story being of a "nervous" frame of mind is something that can be frequently seen in the works of Poe and Poe does use this device of nervousness for the readers to question the one who is telling us the story, to better determine if the events within the story are to be taken literally, and are reliable, or if we should doubt what we are being told.

And of course madness is another common factor in a lot of a Poe's stories, as well I thought the ending of this story had a Poe like feel to it, in some ways it made me think of the Masque of the Red Death.

The other thing I said, was that in some ways I found this story to be humorous, which I know sounds rather strange, as well I know the story was intended to be tragic, as well it was, but to be perfectly honest, for one thing I thought all three of them, Kovrin, Egor and Tania were all neurotic in one degree or another, and just the fact that the three of them were living together in the same house, all going off on their own little tangents, Egor constantly fretting about the farm, Tania, always bursting into tears and locking herself in her room while Kovrin was walking around talking to his hallucinogenic monk well I could not help but to find that amusing. It paints a really funny image in my mind.

And well the banquet scene during the wedding when Kovrin sees the Black Monk at the dinner table with them, I found that hysterical.

Janine

05-26-2008, 06:40 PM

Dark Muse, you gave really good reasons you felt the story Poe-like. Your post was well written and layed those ideas out well. I admit that I have read very little of Poe, but one forms an impression from poems and other people's remarks about Poe. My father loved Poe. I especially like the part you wrote about believing the narrator and he also being 'nervous'. That is a very interesting thought. It had not dawned on me before.

The other thing I said, was that in some ways I found this story to be humorous, which I know sounds rather strange, as well I know the story was intended to be tragic, as well it was, but to be perfectly honest, for one thing I thought all three of them, Kovrin, Egor and Tania were all neurotic in one degree or another, and just the fact that the three of them were living together in the same house, all going off on their own little tangents, Egor constantly fretting about the farm, Tania, always bursting into tears and locking herself in her room while Kovrin was walking around talking to his hallucinogenic monk well I could not help but to find that amusing. It paints a really funny image in my mind.

Actually, what I have been wanting to say, is that I thought none of them were sane. I thought the wife's fits of crying abnormal, and the father was such a perfectionist, concerning his garden, also a total 'control freak', so I have to agree with you about the three of them - Kovrin, Egor and Tania - none acted too rational to me. In fact, there were times, I actually thought Kovrin had it all together more do than the father and daughter did. One factor is, that they thought they were perfectly sane and Kovrin knew he had a problem when he started seeing the monk. At least, he could admit his. By his recognition that the monk was an halucination he seemed more in touch with reality, than they really were. Ironically enough, his awareness of his insanity made him more sane.

And well the banquet scene during the wedding when Kovrin sees the Black Monk at the dinner table with them, I found that hysterical.
I must check that scene out; I don't recall it at all. I think I might also find that amusing.

Dark Muse

05-26-2008, 07:42 PM

[I must check that scene out; I don't recall it at all. I think I might also find that amusing.

It seems I was slightly wrong, it was in the same chapter when they were talking about the wedding, but it was not the actual wedding banquet, but another dinner where he showed up, I went back to check.

One day the monk appeared during dinner and say down in the dinning-room near the window. Kovrin was delighted, and very adroitly turned the conversation with Egor Semenych and Tania upon subjects that might interest the monk. The black guest listened and nodded his head affably; Egor Semenych and Tania also listened and smiled gaily; never suspecting that Kovrin was not talking to them, but to his vision.

I didn't think Tania and Igor were not sane (or insane). They were in touch with reality. I thought Tania was spoiled, though, and Igor was obsessed with his orchards, but not to the point of insanity. No one was really likable, though. Maybe Kovrin was the most likable.

I did not truly think any of them were "insane" so to speak, but I do think their are degrees of both sanity and insanity. They were all a bit abnormal and eccentric, but not really institutional

I liked the Monk LOL

Janine

05-26-2008, 07:59 PM

A lot of people on this forum don't like Poe, Janine. I don't know why. I think his short stories and poems are superb.

Antiquarian, I did not know that about Poe and this site. I guess I did not run into those people, just Dark Muse, who always quotes him in her posts. Maybe I should read some Poe, it might cheer me up, so you would say Dark Muse, right?;)

I didn't think Tania and Igor were not sane (or insane). They were in touch with reality. I thought Tania was spoiled, though, and Igor was obsessed with his orchards, but not to the point of insanity. No one was really likable, though. Maybe Kovrin was the most likable.

Well, I didn't really mean literally they were 'insane', but they both had their issues I believe. For one, the father seemed to think no one could tend his garden but himself, and maybe his daughter; by projecting this duty onto his poor daughter and she letting him do so, he was really a very controlling man. At times he was truly fanatical about that garden. It was ashame for her having to feel so obligated, even when the old man were to die. I do know, in all seriousness, that Kovrin was the sickest of the lot. He definitely had to struggle with these mirages, or halucinations he would have; in my opinion he was indeed mentally ill. That can be a very real thing and I have known people who have dealt with these; luckily they have effective medications nowdays, for people with these disorders of the mind, really caused by chemical inbalances, etc. But too, I think we all suffer from time to time, from little shades of mental illness; call it depression or obsessing on whatever; luckily this is usually just temporary. Who of us can say we are 100% sane/rational all of the time?

(My oldest brother has convinced me to watch the Star Wars movies, but in return he as to watch twelve hours of something I like - maybe Vanity Fair and Pride and Prejudice. Or maybe even an opera, which he will actually like.)

Oh no, you might truly hate them. :cold: I find them fun; but of course, that is not my favorite genre, either; I have not seen them for years. Yet still I feel these beat out the newer space films and horror films. Somehow they seemed to have more charm or something - sort of like with Indiana Jones, you are meant to laugh through parts of it and as I said it is an adventure more or less. :eek: get ready for the :alien: 's! :lol:

So your brother will watch an opera and like it? Good! I love to watch opera on DVD's and ballet. Not too sure he will like the Jane Eyre films. You really want a trade-off.;) :lol:

It seems I was slightly wrong, it was in the same chapter when they were talking about the wedding, but it was not the actual wedding banquet, but another dinner where he showed up, I went back to check.

Good, glad that you looked. I thought once he showed up sitting in a chair in their bedroom; that was when she woke and discovered her husband conversing with an empty chair.

I did not truly think any of them were "insane" so to speak, but I do think their are degrees of both sanity and insanity. They were all a bit abnormal and eccentric, but not really institutional

Yes, I agree with that and expounded on it in my previous post.

I liked the Monk LOL
:lol: He may have been the most sane of the lot!:lol:

Dark Muse

05-26-2008, 08:06 PM

Antiquarian, I did not know that about Poe and this site. I guess I did not run into those people, just Dark Muse, who always quotes him in her posts. Maybe I should read some Poe, it might cheer me up, so you would say Dark Muse, right?;)

LOL yes it is true I do rather love his stories. Though in fact not all of his stories really are terribly dreary. His detective stories for example, really are not that dark and daunting, though one of them starts off with a rather gruesome murder, the story itself is not about that, but rather about solving the case.

And I love A Decent into the Maelstrom, and I do not find anything horribly dark about that story. It is not exzcactly warm and fuzzy, but nothing too distrubing either I do not think

Well, I didn't really mean literally they were 'insane', but they both had their issues I believe. For one, the father seemed to think no one could tend his garden but himself, and maybe his daughter; by projecting this duty onto his poor daughter and she letting him do so, he was really a very controlling man. At times he was truly fanatical about that garden. It was ashame for her having to feel so obligated, even when the old man were to die. I do know, in all seriousness, that Kovrin was the sickest of the lot. He definitely had to struggle with these mirages, or halucinations he would have; in my opinion he was indeed mentally ill. That can be a very real thing and I have known people who have dealt with these; luckily they have effective medications nowdays, for people with these disorders of the mind, really caused by chemical inbalances, etc. But too, I think we all suffer from time to time, from little shades of mental illness; call it depression or obsessing on whatever; luckily this is usually just temporary. Who of us can say we are 100% sane/rational all of the time?

Though I found Kovrin's "illness" to be quite harmless, and rather he was quite happy. Honestly, I do not think there is anything so dreadful about someone having conversations with an illusionary monk. I do not think it would have ever turned violent or malicious and how the story turned out, he might have been better off if he had been left with his delusions.

Janine

05-26-2008, 08:22 PM

Though I found Kovrin's "illness" to be quite harmless, and rather he was quite happy. Honestly, I do not think there is anything so dreadful about someone having conversations with an illusionary monk. I do not think it would have ever turned violent or malicious and how the story turned out, he might have been better off if he had been left with his delusions.

Dark Muse, if I restrict myself to the story only and the limited amount of knowledge we have about his delusions, visions, then I would tend to agree. His activity in this perimeter of the story and space of time of the story seemed harmless enough, benign. However, we don't know all that might have happened to him, staying on this path of delusionary thinking.

But, if I look at this story in a more realistic light, I tend to think his condition would have worsened with time and he would have been struggling even harder, to keep control of these visions invading his mind. Often, with people who suffer from actual halucinations, they don't do well coping in the so called 'normal' world of reality; also after a time they can't distiquish the world of reality, from the visionary world. It is like trying to live in two worlds at once. It might seem quite harmless, but who is to say these halucinations would always be so, or might they turn evil (within his own mind and imagination) and prompt him to become malicious or even violent at some point?

Dark Muse

05-26-2008, 08:31 PM

But the story and what happens within the story is really all we have to judge on, as there are a million what ifs that could go in a 100 different directions if we try and dicuss what would have or could have happend outside of what is given within the story. Loosing his dislussions is ultamtely what ruined him. He was never the same again, and he was quite misserable. By "curing" himself he also surpressed an imporant part of his mind and who he was.

Quark

05-26-2008, 11:29 PM

Janine

05-27-2008, 01:19 AM

I know I said I would post the first chunk of the text in my next post, but it's two-hundred degrees in the room with my computer. It's only beginning to cool down. My computer is upstairs, and all the heat rises up to that room and gets trapped. I don't want to have to stay too long in this room to write a post, so I'll just respond to what's been said so far. Tomorrow morning--when I'm not sweating through my clothes--I can post the text of the story.

Although, I am sweltering too, Quark, I decided to post now. I guess I like to suffer.;) I do think you might be exaggerating a bit...200 and you would be keeled over by now!

While so many of his stories include mentally unsound characters, I don't know how many had such explicit insanity. "On the Road" has a pretty delusional character, and the girl from "Sleepy" certainly loses it at the end. Were they insane, though? They probably were not insane to the extent Kovrin is. "The Black Monk" explores this much more than the others, I think.

Well, I know you are addressing Antiquarian here but I wanted to say I did not read "On the Road" but I did read "Sleepy" and I think that girl was temporarily derranged and desperate, she had sleep deprivation which actually can cause this type of madness. That was the explainable type and yes, I do agree that Kovrin in the Black Monk is definitely 'certifiably' insane or I would rather refer to his condition as mentally ill. So we are dealing with a story that is much different than the other two.

I'm not sure if Kovrin revels in his insanity or not. I think the Black Monk and the insanity represent something already existing in Kovrin. It's not something separate which he takes pride in. He may take pride in the feelings which the Black Monk embodies, but the Monk himself isn't really what he's proud of. The insanity and the Monk are more like the unfortunate consequences of the feelings he takes pride in, and not the feelings themselves--if that makes sense. That's how I interpret it right now, at least. I'm sure I'll change my mind when we get more into the story.
Well, when that was said, I tended to agree with it. I think that mentally ill people can actually enjoy their illness or they can do so to the extend, that it makes them feel special and set appart or unique from others. In this way they do revel in their own illness. They actually, feel elated about it and can have the need to share it with others, and I think this only makes them feel more important. There is a medical term for this - 'delusions of grandeur' . I do think I dedected this in our protaganist more than once.
Many mentally ill people are indeed extraordinarily brillant and often very creative; think of how creative one can be while dreaming at night and how illogical those night dreams can sometimes be. Sometimes when I wake from such a creative dream I do feel this elation in the fact that my mind actually conjured up this amazing creative drream. Now, take those having delusions in the daytime and you can image how fascinating that must be for them and how elating.
I know first hand, from someone close to me who suffers mental illness. Hey, don't look at me; I am creative and have my quirps, definitely eccentric, but so far, I am basically sane/stable I believe, well at least on good days, when they let me out.:lol: But seriously, I do know first hand about these things and have dealt with the problems these states of mind do entail, being in close proximity with mentally ill people; I am talking seriously mentally ill individuals such as Kovrin is in this story.
No doubt he was a much more interesting person, when not medicated. Who wouldn't think seeing Monks flying through the night wouldn't be interesting, or perceiving the tree trunks by the brook as living tendrils, not interesting? The person close to me, had a friend who would periodically call her from California and he would stay on the phone, but a few minutes. He wanted to check on the latest landing of aliens in New Jersey; don't laugh - he was totally serious and convinced of it. He was quite benign and harmless, but he was definitely a space-cadett. I found him very interesting and entertaining. I really believe he did enjoy his lifestyle and his delusions. Actually he was quite happy and lived alone in an appartment. That is all I really know about him and God knows where he is now. He hasn't called for ages. I guess there has not been any alien invasions lately.:alien:

Kovrin's character could be right out of a Poe story. His strained nervousness is a particularly Poe-like characteristic. Chekhov, however, forms the story around him a little differently than Poe might. He makes the other characters have a similar--but more benign--form of Kovrin's mental illness. Chekhov tries to implicate more than just Kovrin with his story. Poe, on the other hand, often would have just one character with the problem and then use another character as a foil. The Cask of Amontillado, for example, has the insane, obsessed killer paired with his blithe, unthinking victim. Poe uses contrast where Chekhov doesn't. Chekhov almost normalizes Kovrin's mental instability with his cast of characters. This makes Kovrin's insanity surprising, whereas insanity in Poe's work is creepy. I would say that both Poe and Chekhov use nervous insanity, but they develop it in different ways.

That is very interesting and quite inlightening. I see the difference clearly that you are pointing out even though I am not well read on Poe. I need to try some of his short stories. I know my father loved them so. I have a book of his collected works. I guess it is time to get it off my bookshelf and dust it off and read some. Interesting about the idea of the contrast in Poe's stories and the opposite in Chekhov's. I thought myself there was a blur there between the characters and their total stability of mind. Of course I never saw the father and daughter as truly mentally ill but I did not think them entirely normal either. They had their issues, each of them.

The tone of the story is light-hearted at times, and the characters are comically flawed. I laughed at parts, too--mostly at the obsessive gardener.

Whether Kovrin's delusion thinking was benign or even helpful is one of the big questions of the story. It definitely costs Kovrin much, but perhaps it's what made him interesting. Maybe he was a genius?

I think there is a fine line between mental illness and genius. I think may mentally ill persons are indeed near or truly genius'; but, I don't think they all can effectively channel that energy. There are solid medical reasons why this is true. For one thing the brain is overstimulated; mental illness is proven to be a chemical inbalance; there is much being done to improve on treatments, but when this story was written, so little was known about these things or how to truly control them, treat them effectively.

I would say this 'genius' idea particularly, could be applied to this story. As I was reading, I got the sense that we were to sympathise with Kovrin and be more against 'the cure', which, at least to his perception, put him into a catatonic state or one where he was now dull, no longer in touch with his creative self. I do know this can be a problem in real instances of mental illness, and one has to weigh the two. I think exploring this in this story, will be of great interest. To be honest with you, when I first read this story, I felt I was not going to be able to discuss it effectively, if it advocated he totally be left alone and not take any cure, be left to see these illusions as though it would be harmless to him; because I feel strongly that it would be harmful in the long run.

I think the story is open-ended enough now, to come up with our own conclusions. It is a good story, Quark, and it should make for a very interesting discussion.

Dark Muse

05-27-2008, 01:31 AM

I would say this 'genius' idea particularly, could be applied to this story. As I was reading, I got the sense that we were to sympathise with Kovrin and be more against 'the cure', which, at least to his perception, put him into a catatonic state or one where he was now dull, no longer in touch with his creative self. I do know this can be a problem in real instances of mental illness, and one has to weigh the two. I think exploring this in this story, will be of great interest. To be honest with you, when I first read this story, I felt I was not going to be able to discuss it effectively, if it advocated he totally be left alone and not take any cure, be left to see these illusions as though it would be harmless to him; because I feel strongly that it would be harmful in the long run.

I think the story is open-ended enough now, to come up with our own conclusions. It is a good story, Quark, and it should make for a very interesting discussion.

Personally I think he should have been left alone and not subjected to the "cure" as I think it killed an imporant and sigificant part of who he was. That is one of the probelems with treatment, though there are people that want it or need it, I really do not think it would be for everyone. It rewires the way a person precivies the world, and if a person is a "genuis" such as Kovrin, or a creative person, well your preception of the world is such an imporant part of who you are.

That is way I persoanlly refuse to submit to any form of treatment, I do not trust anyone else tweeking with my head and chagning how I see things. I cannot afford that risk.

Though hallucanations/dillusions, is not one of the things of which I am afflicted with, I could relate to Kovrin in someways, and felt for him, what he went through when he was "cured"

Janine

05-27-2008, 02:23 AM

Personally I think he should have been left alone and not subjected to the "cure" as I think it killed an imporant and sigificant part of who he was. That is one of the probelems with treatment, though there are people that want it or need it, I really do not think it would be for everyone. It rewires the way a person precivies the world, and if a person is a "genuis" such as Kovrin, or a creative person, well your preception of the world is such an imporant part of who you are.

That is way I persoanlly refuse to submit to any form of treatment, I do not trust anyone else tweeking with my head and chagning how I see things. I cannot afford that risk.

Though hallucanations/dillusions, is not one of the things of which I am afflicted with, I could relate to Kovrin in someways, and felt for him, what he went through when he was "cured"

Dark Muse, unless you have seen or lived with someone who saw these imaginary people or illusions you would not be able to fully understand this and how important it is, really vital for them to seek help. I have been subjected to this first hand, for a very long time and believe me I do know. Lives can truly be ruined when medications are ignored, or not administered and the person is left far out of reach of true reality. Someone very close to me suffers from these 'delusions of grandeur' and it is not easy to deal with daily, not for the person or the people who are involved with this person. I don't want to get too personal here, but really people who have delusions like Korvin, need to have some kind of treatment. If they lived in a vacumn that would be different but really they do live and have to function in the real world, not the world of total fantasy their minds invent for them to exist in.

I can further answer this in Antiquarian's post reply next.

Janine

05-27-2008, 02:52 AM

First off I think I know what all of us suffer from: Insomnia! ;)

"An Official Duty" is one of Chekhov's late stories dealing with mental illness, but it dealt with it in a totally different manner.

That is interesting. Is the story long? I will have to look into it after we finish discussing this one; I would not want to mix the two up.

Kovrin was suffering from megalomania, or as Janine said, "delusions of grandeur." The fact that Kovrin enjoys his mental illness is just more proof of how ill he is. Healthy people don't strive to remain ill to feed their ego, they try to get well.

That is so true and so insightful on your part, Antiquarian. I am glad you had this information. It is putting my own thoughts into words, that I had not heard of before. I don't think I was aware of the term megalomania. When I did refer to 'delusions of grandeur', often this state is characteristic of these people who experience this elated enhanced feeling, believing they can conquer the world so to speak. They can do anything, with no restrictions at all; they often do not use common sense and it leads them to a lot of poor decisions, which can ultimately ruin lives, not just their own, but others that love them or are close to them. They might believe one week, that they are capable of flight school, another week they could handle going to Harvard, another week sail around the world. There delusions change all the time and usually only worsen without treatment, and they have no rhyme or reason...they are usually very random thoughts. And these things only feed their inflated egos.

Kovrin says, "I was going mad. I had megalomania; but I was cheerful, confident, and even happy; I was interesting and original." People shouldn't need mental illness and delusions in order to achieve those things. I'm not saying I didn't like Kovrin, I did, but he was definitely ill and in need of treatment. At one point he says he's the "incarnation of the blessing of God." That is true megalomania.

This is true of individuals suffering this and Chekhov has captured this and expressed it so well. He is demonstrating just how this works in the mind of a person who is mad. They do know they are mad and they celebrate it. Because they do suffer this megalomania, they all do think they are genius and extraordinary individuals. It is the delusions that made this possible not the fact they truly are genius'.

My family actually knew this woman, who thought she was the reincarnation of the female (?) Jesus Christ. Now that is way out of the range of any logic. She stopped taking her medications; she spend money like crazy, without any limitations, she had wrecked her appartment, broke all her things, all because she could not function in the real world and her voices were telling her to do these things; she was tormented; it was tragic. She knew she was mentally ill, and I think she most certainly enjoyed the delusions she had, thus she stopped her medications and eventually, she had to give up her own place, which she loved and go to into a group home, it was tragic; she even killed her beloved cat accidently. People get totally out of control; those who are in need of these drugs to survive and live a relatively normal existence. It can be a very sad thing to see happen to someone.

I don't think Chekhov necessarily meant for us to feel empathy for Kovrin. One of Chekhov's hallmarks is his total objectivity.

I agree with that assertion, concerning Chekhov and what he would have intended us to feel in this story. I felt he was being objective.

I think the line between mental illness and physical illness as well as mental illness and genius has been deliberately blurred in this story, they are interwoven so skilfully and subtly. Kovrin may well have been a genius. Then again, he might not have been. Chekhov really doesn't give us any hint about that and I really didn't think it was necessary to the story.

That is true, Antiquarian, and actually, I don't see any signs, that he actually was a genius; we only can go by, what he has to reveal to us, about his intelligence. I guess now and then the wife mentions how smart he is, but I think when Quark posts some text, we can take a closer look at this point. I was not sure myself, if Kovrin was truly a genius or of ordinary intelligence, simply believing he was a genius, from what the monk vision told him to believe about himself.

I think the black monk can be interpreted in two ways, but I'll save that for later. I think it would be jumping ahead too much to talk about it now, though it's Quark's call, of course.

Yes, let's wait for Quark now. He will freak out, if he sees pages of posts, before he even posted the first segment of text. I can understand that. It is hard to catch up sometimes.

Dark Muse

05-27-2008, 02:54 AM

Yes, Korvin reached a point where he couldn't function in the world. He had to give up teaching because of his delusions. Little by little, his life would have eroded until he would have been living in a total fantasy world, unable even to take care of himself.

I believe he actually gave up his teaching after he began his treatment. There is no evidence in the story that the delusions themselves are responsible for his downfall but rather it was the depression that came over him when he began his treatment that ultimately he gave up his life and ambitions.

Dark Muse

05-27-2008, 03:12 AM

Though his physical illness does not really begin untill after he starts his "cure" for his mental illness. There is no indication that he was suffering from physical illness during the time od his delusions

Janine

05-27-2008, 03:25 AM

hehehe...already we three insomniacs have filled up three pages of posts and poor Quark has not yet posted one shred of text. He is going to go bananas! He might even become delusional himself.

Well, I am finally heading for bed; I think I am falling asleep at this keyboard and I am roasting hot also. It got into the 80's here today, but I rather liked it more than that cooler weather we were having. Night everybody!

Dark Muse

05-27-2008, 11:59 AM

No, he's not bleeding from the throat in the beginning of the story or before he begins treatment, but he was losing touch with reality and couldn't have lived among non-delusional people for long. His own wife couldn't stay with him when he would talk to the black monk.

But I was talking specially about his physcial illness, a person can have dillusions and still be perfectly healthy physcial, just because he was talking to the monk does not mean he was physcially sick, and his physcial illness did not occur untill after he began being treated for his mental illness.

I do not belive that his mental illness is what lead to his death I think it is what happend to him when he was being "cured" that caused his death.

Dark Muse

05-27-2008, 12:15 PM

Seeing delusions is not going to cause someone to bleed from the throat either. And I did not say it was the cure itself that had caused his physical illness, but the effect the cure had upon him and how he deteriorated sense he began taking it. He had grown weaker sense beginning his cure, not because the milk was making him sick, but because he had grown depressed and unhappy, the "cure" was suppressing what had once been an important and significant part of who he was.

Dark Muse

05-27-2008, 01:52 PM

I agree Kovrin enjoyed his mental illness and his delusions and was happier when he was seeing the black monk, but I don't think he could have remained in that happy state for long. Mental illness is not static. It gets better (rarely spontaneously) or it deteriorates without treatment.

I just do not think that treatment is really the right path for everyone. The way I view it, there may be many wonderful, valubale things we have today, becasue they were given to us by people who were on the brink of maddness in a time before there was realy treatment for it.

If the medications that exisit today have exisited in the past, would ther still have been a Vincent Van Gough? And Edgar Allen Poe? A Nietzsche, and the list goes on if all they had to do was pop a few pills to alter thier whole preception of the world. If they were "cured" would they still have been able to bring us thier creations?

Janine

05-27-2008, 02:43 PM

The medications that exist today didn't exist in Kovrin's time, and I think the above is veering away from the story too much for me to discuss beyond this post, but certainly not every great artist and innovator was/is delusional. I know Renoir was a happily married family man who was always very stable. Carl Sagan was a genius and sane. Artistic temperament, genius, and insanity do not necessarily go hand-in-hand. I've known some dumb people with mental illness and some very sane geniuses.

So, yes, van Gogh, Poe, etc, might have been able to give the world even more. No one knows. Chekhov, himself was one of the greatest short story writers who ever lived and he was not insane, not delusional, though he did suffer from tuberculosis. He dreamed about the black monk once, but he never "saw" him or held conversations with him. He had no problem leaving a very rich and enduring legacy.

William Trevor, Jose Saramago, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Toni Morrison are four of the greatest living writers, and Trevor is extremely prolific. All are quite sane.

I'm a strong believer in sanity and health. The argument that madness heightens creativity holds no credence with me, so I'm not the person to ask.

I read all of your two sets of post and I would have to agree with you, Antiquarian. Madness, or mental illness, is not a condition necessary for genius. In fact, some very creative people, who are known to suffer bipolar disorder, crop up all the time in the news and they cannot function or work in the world, without their medications. Medicine in this area of science, has advanced dramatically. The people I allude to, are highly accomplished and they excell in their professions/vocations. Without medication, they are a mess; two I am thinking of have been on talk shows and expressed what it is like, living with and without the drugs. Thank God we now have these advanced drugs. Mental illness is the same as any illness. If one has a chronic physical disorder and you need pain medication or treatment, you will willingly take it. Mental suffering is akin to physical suffering. I wonder if Chekhov included the two in this story, to show that both are alike, in that medication is needed to control each. I know with TB, if that is what Kovrin did indeed have, and I believe the text indicates that disease, there was no known cure; one could only seek treatment. I recall somewhere in the text, the narrator also mentioned, that someone in Kovrin's family had suffered the same - hemoraging from the throat. That is usually a sure sign of TB. If one refuses treatment for TB, death usually follows not long after; with treatment, even the less sophisticated treatments they had back then, one can live many years past what doctors could even predict. Also, TB has been know to affect the mind, but I don't know about delusional behavior. I don't think it can affect it as extreme as that. However, it can alter mood. So when Kovrin came back from the 'cure', he may by then been starting with advanced stages of the physical disease and his mood might have been caused by physical causes, and not purely mental.

Also, Dark Muse, I would not go by Van Gogh, in a fit he cut off his earlobe to send to an exlover and he also committed suicide. I have know very intelligent people who have gone without their treatment and they have degenerated into a very bad state - they either committed suicide like Van Gogh or they drank themselves to death (slow suicide). People can't live with delusions; most will tell you they are very distracting and therefore they can't function properly. Given drugs, they can direct their minds, in a much more effective manor. I really think you have a wrong impression here; being medicated for a known condition (either mental or physical) does not ruin a person and make them suddenly non-creative human beings. Many, many become more productive and more creative; they are better able to channel their wonderful minds into activity that ends in giving them much pleasure and happiness. These 'driven' artists were not happy people and many of them did indeed take their own lives in the end.

It is true that whatever this 'cure' was that Kovrin took for his condition most likely would have been a very crude cure at the time and first off no one with a mental condition can be truly cured.

I can't help but think it was hardly a treatment at all. Didn't he mention bromide or something like that? What exactly is bromide? I will have to look into the text and see exactly what he said the cure was.

I also think we should slow up on this debate. I noticed once again this has become a debate and I know I contributed to it as well; so I am guilty. Things seem to be getting too far off the story and poor Quark, our fearless leader, has not even posted any text to review. I know I can wait; for one thing, I think the actual text will reveal a lot more to us. I would also like to take the time to re-read the full story, even though it is a long one this time. At least, I would like to read the first few chapters.

Janine

05-27-2008, 03:33 PM

Potassium bromide was used as an anticonvulsant and as a sedative in the 19th and early 20th centuries, Janine.

I have read that the medications now available for mental/emotional illness make ill people feel "normal" and "themselves," which they make healthy people feel sedated. No longer are mentally and emotionally ill people "drugged" until they can't function. The goal, as I know you know, is to return them to full functioning and creativity.

Exactly, Antiquarian, this potassium bromide only sedated individuals (and Kovrin), it really did nothing to treat the (his) symptoms. This would have made them (him) lethargic and unable to function effectively. They (he) would no longer have their (his) halucinations, but be be forced to live in a more sedated, or colorless state; I only speak now of that time period and those cruder type of treatments. So that is exactly true. Often they would give people shots of morphine, when they had emotional problems, as well. I have heard of this as late as say, 1920. They did this for some woman after childbirth; often they felt depressed, and most likely it was 'postpartum depression' that was misdiagnosed or poorly treated. This morphine only made, some of them into addicts, if given it often enough. Very sad, the way people were treated or not treated at all, when doctors really did not know how to effectively treat people with mental illnesses and conditions.

Thank God that medicine has come such a long way in this last century. They can even detect the brain activity on MRI scans, and see just how the brain may be chemically malfunctioning or overfunctioning. Often with bipolar disorder, all is needed is lithium (sp?) which is a natural salt, I believe, to stabilize the individual.

Janine

05-27-2008, 04:32 PM

Yes, I agree, Janine. I can understand why the bromides depressed Kovrin. The treatment was very crude at that time (and treatment now will no doubt seem crude in 50 or 100 years). It often simply sedated the person and left them too drugged to do anything at all. I can understand why Kovrin felt better when he could converse with the black monk and was free of the bromides, though I do think his condition would have deteriorated. I don't think he could have maintained his happy state.

Yes, Antiquarian, I can understand it too and feel badly for Kovrin. Also, bromides can be damaging to the stomach. I just read this on Wikipedia:

Potassium bromide (KBr) is a salt, widely used as an anticonvulsant and a sedative in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Its action is due to the bromide ion (sodium bromide is equally effective). Potassium bromide is presently used as veterinary drug, as an antiepileptic medication for dogs and cats. It is a white crystalline powder, soluble in water. In a dilute aqueous solution, potassium bromide tastes sweet, at higher concentration it tastes bitter, and when most concentrated it tastes salty to humans (these effects are due mainly to potassium ion; sodium bromide merely tastes salty at all concentrations). In high concentration potassium bromide strongly irritates the gastric mucous membrane, leading to nausea and sometimes vomiting (again this effect is typical of all soluble potassium salts).

So as you can see this 'cure' is no cure at all, but a treatment that is no longer used on humans; obsolete. It can cause the last set of side-effects in high concentrations. I am sure that all salts do not cause this or if moderately given. Nowdays Lithium is used extensively, as a mood stabilizer. This does not mean it makes one non-functional, but actually helps control the mood swings, to level them out so that the person is able to function normally, within normal range of their brain functions.

I did go back into the text and the very first page, first sentence, indicated that Kovrin was overworked and nervous; this is what his doctor noticed his altered behavior, and therefore sent him off to a rest in the country. After the story, that was told at Tania's house at tea, which Kovrin overheard, is when his delussions/halucinations of the monk first began to appear. Actually, he had more of a delusional episode, when he relayed the story to Tania, of a dream or story (?), he had once heard, and now could not recall in his mind, just where or when he heard it. This showed he was beginning to have these delusions, and not long after is when he actually saw the black monk appear (halucination); believing it to be an actual being but considering it was an halucination.

There is a difference between delusions and halucinations, but they are similar, also.

Quark

05-27-2008, 05:16 PM

Wow, it looks like there's quite a divide in opinions, and we haven't even gotten into the story yet. This should be fun--as long as it doesn't get too pointed. I don't have answers for all the questions that have been brought up so far, but let me make sure I understand what the questions are. First, it sounds like we're split on what the cause of Kovrin's death was. Literally, he had TB which didn't have a cure at the time. His mother also had it, and he knew fairly early in the story that he also had it. He suppresses his consciousness of it, though. I'm not sure whether any of the treatments he gets were really helping him. I'd have to look more closely at what's known about late nineteenth-century medicine. Chekhov was a doctor; he was probably knew as much as anyone. I try to find some information on this soon. It doesn't appear this is the only question being debated, though. If Kovrin's delusions were really harmful is another uncertainty. This one can't be answered by medicine. We're going to have to read the story closely to decide on this. Another question I've noticed is whether the Black Monk's argument about genius is accurate. I tend to interpret the Black Monk less literally than the suggestions I've heard so far. To me, the Black Monk represents a particular desire in Kovrin for lasting fame and meaning. It's not necessarily insanity. It's just an aspect of his personality exaggerated for effect. The question, then, isn't whether the Black Monk is right about genius, but whether Kovrin is right to pursue his academic career so zealously. That's what I think right now, at least. Anyway, I think these are good questions to keep in mind as we move through the story. What causes Kovrins downfall? What's the effect of the Black Monk? Is the Black Monk right? Even if we don't all agree, I think we need to talk these points out.

Moving on to the story now, here's the first section of "The Black Monk:"

ANDREY VASSILITCH KOVRIN, who held a master's degree at the University, had exhausted himself, and had upset his nerves. He did not send for a doctor, but casually, over a bottle of wine, he spoke to a friend who was a doctor, and the latter advised him to spend the spring and summer in the country. Very opportunely a long letter came from Tanya Pesotsky, who asked him to come and stay with them at Borissovka. And he made up his mind that he really must go.

To begin with -- that was in April -- he went to his own home, Kovrinka, and there spent three weeks in solitude; then, as soon as the roads were in good condition, he set off, driving in a carriage, to visit Pesotsky, his former guardian, who had brought him up, and was a horticulturist well known all over Russia. The distance from Kovrinka to Borissovka was reckoned only a little over fifty miles. To drive along a soft road in May in a comfortable carriage with springs was a real pleasure.

Pesotsky had an immense house with columns and lions, off which the stucco was peeling, and with a footman in swallow-tails at the entrance. The old park, laid out in the English style, gloomy and severe, stretched for almost three-quarters of a mile to the river, and there ended in a steep, precipitous clay bank, where pines grew with bare roots that looked like shaggy paws; the water shone below with an unfriendly gleam, and the peewits flew up with a plaintive cry, and there one always felt that one must sit down and write a ballad. But near the house itself, in the courtyard and orchard, which together with the nurseries covered ninety acres, it was all life and gaiety even in bad weather. Such marvellous roses, lilies, camellias; such tulips of all possible shades, from glistening white to sooty black -- such a wealth of flowers, in fact, Kovrin had never seen anywhere as at Pesotsky's. It was only the beginning of spring, and the real glory of the flower-beds was still hidden away in the hot-houses. But even the flowers along the avenues, and here and there in the flower-beds, were enough to make one feel, as one walked about the garden, as though one were in a realm of tender colours, especially in the early morning when the dew was glistening on every petal.

What was the decorative part of the garden, and what Pesotsky contemptuously spoke of as rubbish, had at one time in his childhood given Kovrin an impression of fairyland.

Every sort of caprice, of elaborate monstrosity and mockery at Nature was here. There were espaliers of fruit-trees, a pear-tree in the shape of a pyramidal poplar, spherical oaks and lime-trees, an apple-tree in the shape of an umbrella, plum-trees trained into arches, crests, candelabra, and even into the number 1862 -- the year when Pesotsky first took up horticulture. One came across, too, lovely, graceful trees with strong, straight stems like palms, and it was only by looking intently that one could recognise these trees as gooseberries or currants. But what made the garden most cheerful and gave it a lively air, was the continual coming and going in it, from early morning till evening; people with wheelbarrows, shovels, and watering-cans swarmed round the trees and bushes, in the avenues and the flower-beds, like ants. . . .
Two things: first, Kovrin is very nonchalant about his illness. His attitude doesn't fit a person who have a family history TB. It seems like he's insulated himself against fears of illness with his work. The other thing that sticks out about this passage is the difference between nature and the garden. The natural surroundings have a varied appearance which is slightly cheery and slightly melancholy. The farm has an unnatural comfortableness. This difference between the garden and the land around becomes very similar to the Kovrin's two states later on in the story. The difference between naturalness and the artificial is very important in this story, and we see it already in this first passage. The garden, of course, symbolizes much more than this, but I wanted to get this thought out first. I'll finish my thought later after I attend to some of the other discussions I should be posting in.

Dark Muse

05-27-2008, 06:14 PM

Good point, about the two diferent settings, between the natural and the artificual reflecting Kovrin's two different sides.

Pesotsky had an immense house with columns and lions, off which the stucco was peeling, and with a footman in swallow-tails at the entrance. The old park, laid out in the English style, gloomy and severe, stretched for almost three-quarters of a mile to the river, and there ended in a steep, precipitous clay bank, where pines grew with bare roots that looked like shaggy paws; the water shone below with an unfriendly gleam, and the peewits flew up with a plaintive cry, and there one always felt that one must sit down and write a ballad. But near the house itself, in the courtyard and orchard, which together with the nurseries covered ninety acres, it was all life and gaiety even in bad weather. Such marvellous roses, lilies, camellias; such tulips of all possible shades, from glistening white to sooty black -- such a wealth of flowers, in fact, Kovrin had never seen anywhere as at Pesotsky's. It was only the beginning of spring, and the real glory of the flower-beds was still hidden away in the hot-houses. But even the flowers along the avenues, and here and there in the flower-beds, were enough to make one feel, as one walked about the garden, as though one were in a realm of tender colours, especially in the early morning when the dew was glistening on every petal.

I really like the shift in the settings in this passage as he is making his way from the more "gloomy park" and into the "vibrance" of the garden. And in some ways it reflects the general view the "civilized" world had about nature. Nature left on its own, was often seen as daunting, and "primitive" people preferred their nature to be in man's control, and to be neat, trimmed, and orderly.

and there one always felt that one must sit down and write a ballad

I loved that line.

Quark

05-27-2008, 07:14 PM

I loved that line.

It's very mood setting, isn't it? Of course, the ballad he would write can be contrasted with the academic treatises he does write.

Janine

05-27-2008, 07:19 PM

Quark, good post and I will address it later on more closely. Yes, this discussion may pose some difficulties since we are divided on the interpretation and the point that Chekhov is trying to get across in the story, among other things; but as you said, and I also believe we are jumping too far ahead, to make concrete assessments of certain aspects of the story; such as, if Kovrin is actually a genius, or whether the monk is a true halucination. I feel strongly this is a case of truly halucinating, but the first about whether he was a genius, I am not quite sure of, nor to I know if we can be certain either way. However, looking closer at the text, we always see much more, in what lies between the lines of Chekhov's work or is implied.

Interesting, I did not know Chekhov was a doctor. I wonder now, if he really did advise a person (a friend) to get rest in the country; if this story might be based on some bit or 'spark' of truth, that inspired him.

Thanks for posting that first big section of text. I will read it over more carefully later on, to see exactly what it says or maybe I will read/review my book while eating my dinner. I can read just up to that part.

Good point, about the two diferent settings, between the natural and the artificual reflecting Kovrin's two different sides.

Dark Muse and Quark, I don't think necessarily a garden that is organised, can be called artificial. I think that is kind of taking it to an extreme. It may be controlled, but in the begining (the passage you posted) Kovrin seems to like it very much and admire it intensely. His feelings about it are very sensitive and sunny and I found the description quite lovely with a very joyful feeling, tonally. To the contrary I found the passage about the old park gloomy and depressing. Yes, one might indeed be inspired to write a ballad there, but to stay there permanently would truly be a dismal existence, according to Chekhov's description:

The old park, laid out in the English style, gloomy and severe, stretched for almost three-quarters of a mile to the river, and there ended in a steep, precipitous clay bank, where pines grew with bare roots that looked like shaggy paws; the water shone below with an unfriendly gleam, and the peewits flew up with a plaintive cry, and there one always felt that one must sit down and write a ballad.

Aren't ballads usually sad or tragic, especially English ballads? This paragraph does make mention of the English style. I did not find a shed of joy in this unkept woodland description, and I am one to loves nature and the untamed, and natural woodland and fields. Come to my garden any day, and see tons of weeds; I call them all wildflowers! It is just that in this passage and the way it is written, I don't get a sense that this is a place one would wish to remain for long, and definitely not permanently. Notice words and phrases like 'gloomy', 'severe', 'clay bank', 'bare roots' 'shaggy paws', 'unfriendly gleam, and 'plaintive cry'. That seems to portray to me a gloomy dismal place.

In contrast, the garden in which man is controlling the flowers and plants, is a more cheerful and happy place and Kovrin does seem to like basking in the sun and the brillance of that garden. I find this part especially interesting and it seems to interest Kovrin. Although, he is not narrating the story, one feels these are his impressions.

But what made the garden most cheerful and gave it a lively air, was the continual coming and going in it, from early morning till evening; people with wheelbarrows, shovels, and watering-cans swarmed round the trees and bushes, in the avenues and the flower-beds, like ants. . . .

He seems to like and admire the activity present there. I don't see that he feels this garden is at all artificial, nor something her wishes to shy away from; I get the sense he enjoys being there. All gardens, unless they are made of plastic flowers, are natural in their own way. Plants grow 'naturally', whether one plants them or sees them wild in the woods.

I really like the shift in the settings in this passage as he is making his way from the more "gloomy park" and into the "vibrance" of the garden. And in some ways it reflects the general view the "civilized" world had about nature. Nature left on its own, was often seen as daunting, and "primitive" people preferred their nature to be in man's control, and to be neat, trimmed, and orderly.

I loved that line.

Dark Muse, The contrast and shift is good. I don't know if I agree with you about it reflecting the view of the 'civilized' world about nature. I think most civilized people do enjoy natural things and woodland walks; I know I do. I think in this particular story this family, father and daughter, are very controlling and fanatical about their garden, so they wish it to be perfect. I don't think all gardens are such. It might be true, that nature, left on it's own, is 'daunting and primitive', but it does possess it's own extraordinary beauty. Man conceived gardens can be likewise, and very beautiful.

I would agree with this assessment in this story, if it were not for the aspects of the description in the other untended park, that were quite sad and ominious, in my opinion, given the words used to describe it and the mood that Chekhov imparted with this particular discription.

I think Chekhov's main motive here is to present to the reader the two contrasting sides of Kovrin - the dark depressed side and the happy side. I can't see where the dark side is attracting him, except to write a sad ballad; and I do see him more in preference, to the sunny active garden of his friends; at least at this point in the story, which is early yet.

Dark Muse

05-27-2008, 07:33 PM

Dark Muse and Quark, I don't think it the garden that is organised can be called artificial. I think that is kind of taking it to an extreme. It may be controlled, but in the begining (the passage you posted) Kovrin seems to like it very much and admire it intensely. His feelings about it are very sensitive and I found the description quite lovely and very joyful feeling tonally.

I think it is artifiical becasue it was created by man, and orginized by man it is not "ture nature" that does not mean it cannot be pleasent, but it is still man-made. Not part of the natural world

To the contrary I found the passage about the old park gloomy and depressing. Yesm one might indeed be inspired to write a ballad there but to stay there permanently would truly be a dismal existence according to Chekhov's description:

That would all depend upon ones perspective. In spite of the way and rather just because of the way Chekhov had described it, I thought it sounded rather beautiful and just the kind of place I would enjoy to sit in seculusion.

[Dark Muse, I don't know if I agree with you about it reflecting the view of the 'civilized' world about nature. I think most civilized people do enjoy natural things and woodland walks; I know I do. I think in this particular story this family, father and daughter, are very controlling and fanatical about their garden, so they wish it to be perfect. I don't think all gardens are such. It might be true, that nature, left on it's own, is 'daunting and primitive', but it does possess it's own extraordinary beauty. Man conceived gardens can be likewise, and very beautiful.
I would agree with this assessment in this story, if it were not for the aspects of the description in the other untended park, that were quite sad and ominious, in my opinion, given the words used to describe it and the mood that Chekhov imparted with this particular discription.

That may be true of some people today, but historicaly that is not true. Mankind in general linked nature left alone, akin to the "savages' they once had conqured and to Paganisim and Heathenism. The thought it was man's right and duty to conquear nature, in fact they thought nature for nature's sake was useless, and that it needed to be turned into something that man could profit from, which could be seen in the line:

What was the decorative part of the garden, and what Pesotsky contemptuously spoke of as rubbish, had at one time in his childhood given Kovrin an impression of fairyland.

The flowers in the garden do not produce anything that can be consumed or turned into a profit, and so Egor, calls it "rubbish" that is the way people comonly felt about nature at large.

And still in many reguards holds true for today in a lot of ways. "Civilized" man has never been so harmonous with nature as "primivtive man" and even today people who get houses within nature, than complain when the nature impeedes upon them in someway.

islandclimber

05-27-2008, 11:13 PM

I think it is artifiical becasue it was created by man, and orginized by man it is not "ture nature" that does not mean it cannot be pleasent, but it is still man-made. Not part of the natural world
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I agree with this... too a degree at least... and it also appears that Chekhov through Kovrin wants to impart this... that man makes a ridiculous and absurd mockery of nature in these decorative gardens... Every sort of caprice, of elaborate monstrosity and mockery at Nature was here... I think this kind of illustrates the point... and I agree with it in a sense...

As well as, man has always wanted to conquer nature... even now, whatever may be said, man wants to conquer nature, to tame it... that is why we have parks that are patrolled to keep humans safe from danger, why animals who attack humans who invade their space, well, they are generally killed.. that explains gardens of non native plant species.. explains how invasive species get introduced to areas where they overrun the native species often.. why we clearcut forests all around the world still in the name of progress... we adapt our environment to ourselves and don't ever think that maybe we should adapt to our environment instead... oh well, this isn't all that relevant...

I love the beginning and all the contrasts.. beginning on a depressed note with Kovrin's problems and progressing into the beauty of the country.. dropping gloomy hints through the happy feelings of the passage.. contrasting the artificial with the natural, and man with nature... the business of the workers in the garden with the lethargy of those they work for...

well, that's all for now... I won't be back until sunday or next monday as I have a wedding to go off to... a nice 20 hr drive each way.. so I'm staying for a few days to make the drive worthwhile... so have fun with the beginning...:)

Quark

05-28-2008, 12:19 AM

Dark Muse and Quark, I don't think necessarily a garden that is organised, can be called artificial. I think that is kind of taking it to an extreme. It may be controlled, but in the begining (the passage you posted) Kovrin seems to like it very much and admire it intensely. His feelings about it are very sensitive and sunny and I found the description quite lovely with a very joyful feeling, tonally. To the contrary I found the passage about the old park gloomy and depressing. Yes, one might indeed be inspired to write a ballad there, but to stay there permanently would truly be a dismal existence

islandclimber pointed to the part of that quote that makes me believe that the garden is artificial. Chekhov says "Every sort of caprice, of elaborate monstrosity and mockery at Nature was here." That sets the garden up as being opposed to nature. Beyond that, I also think of the garden as being connected with the ambition and desire that Kovrin feels, and he takes great joy in that ambition just as he enjoys the garden. We know that this desire is contrary to nature, though, and it entails the destruction of Kovrin's body. This is similar to the destruction of nature that the garden represents. Both could be considered artificial.

Whether the natural world is any better is a separate question. It is somewhat bland and depressing when compared with the garden. One may be better off in the "fairyland" than in the real world, after all.

I think in this particular story this family, father and daughter, are very controlling and fanatical about their garden, so they wish it to be perfect. I don't think all gardens are such. It might be true, that nature, left on it's own, is 'daunting and primitive', but it does possess it's own extraordinary beauty. Man conceived gardens can be likewise, and very beautiful.

Yes, don't let this story be a commentary on gardening. I don't think Chekhov is saying all gardens are monstrosities.

I think Chekhov's main motive here is to present to the reader the two contrasting sides of Kovrin - the dark depressed side and the happy side. I can't see where the dark side is attracting him, except to write a sad ballad; and I do see him more in preference, to the sunny active garden of his friends; at least at this point in the story, which is early yet.

It isn't happiness and sadness that are being offered by the garden and its surroundings. It's the choice between following your desires to the point of delusion or humbly accepting whatever's available. These are the options Kovrin has to choose from. The setting here is prefiguring that choice.

Quark, I know much later, when Kovrin begins coughing up blood he mentions that his mother did, too, and he really wasn't very concerned about it, but how do we know he had TB or even if he did, that he had TB at the beginning of the story? In the beginning, it only mentions his nerves.

Yeah, he doesn't start coughing up blood until the very end. There really are no warnings of his immediate mortality until then, but I think he does act rather thoughtlessly in the beginning. He works when he's supposed to be resting. He smokes and drinks. Eventually, when he does realize that he's dying he still finds reasons not to deal with his illness. This seems like a pattern with him, and the first paragraph sets this up. Instead of going to a doctor when he feels unwell, he merely invites one to have a drink with him.

Janine, I think Chekhov's point in the story is that we can't totally separate physical and mental/emotional illness, and today we do know that mental illness is often a matter of faulty brain chemistry, i.e., physical.

In this story they are. I don't know if he's making a medical claim that mental and physical problems are always tied together.

The book I have says that Chekhov once had a dream about the black monk and when he woke up, he wrote the story.

That may just be legend. I don't remember reading anything like that. He may have, but it seems rather far-fetched. I'll look into it. There are parallels between Kovrin and Chekhov which I will bring up.

I think it is artifiical becasue it was created by man, and orginized by man it is not "ture nature" that does not mean it cannot be pleasent, but it is still man-made. Not part of the natural world

True. The garden is very pleasant, despite it's monstrosities. Kovrin remember always finding it enjoyable. The question is why is it so enjoyable.

The flowers in the garden do not produce anything that can be consumed or turned into a profit, and so Egor, calls it "rubbish" that is the way people comonly felt about nature at large.

I agree, but I've always been a little thrown by that. Why does he bother to cultivate "rubbish?"

And still in many reguards holds true for today in a lot of ways. "Civilized" man has never been so harmonous with nature as "primivtive man" and even today people who get houses within nature, than complain when the nature impeedes upon them in someway.

Man's relation to nature may be too big of a problem for us to solve in this discussion. Although, I saw an article on Chekhov's view of nature which may be of some interest. I'll have to give it a read.

I love the beginning and all the contrasts.. beginning on a depressed note with Kovrin's problems and progressing into the beauty of the country.. dropping gloomy hints through the happy feelings of the passage.. contrasting the artificial with the natural, and man with nature... the business of the workers in the garden with the lethargy of those they work for...

That's a good point. Nowhere else do we see opposites so close together. After this openning, the story sinks into a flow which gradually moves from one extreme to the other and back, but here we see both sides put next to each other.

well, that's all for now... I won't be back until sunday or next monday as I have a wedding to go off to... a nice 20 hr drive each way.. so I'm staying for a few days to make the drive worthwhile... so have fun with the beginning...:)

20 hours in a car?!? I hope your going somewhere fun to make up for the drive. See you when you get back.

Janine

05-28-2008, 01:26 AM

islandclimber pointed to the part of that quote that makes me believe that the garden is artificial. Chekhov says "Every sort of caprice, of elaborate monstrosity and mockery at Nature was here." That sets the garden up as being opposed to nature. Beyond that, I also think of the garden as being connected with the ambition and desire that Kovrin feels, and he takes great joy in that ambition just as he enjoys the garden. We know that this desire is contrary to nature, though, and it entails the destruction of Kovrin's body. This is similar to the destruction of nature that the garden represents. Both could be considered artificial.

I guess it is just a quibbling over the word 'artificial', I don't see flowers that are lovely, in a garden as artificial. I might see them as ordered or arranged, but they are still real living flowers and plants. I understand the line you are pointing out, about the 'mockery of Nature' in those capricious objects adorning the garden. It all sounds so overdone and ostentagious to me.

Quark, I am trying to understand, what you mean exactly, by 'the garden as being connected with the ambition and desire that Kovrin feels, and he takes great joy in that ambition, just as he enjoys the garden'. Do you mean his ambitions as a scholar? If so, I understand now. So, his overworking is part of this 'destruction' of this body and mind (?). Finally the garden is destroyed, when the father dies; is this the garden distruction you speak of? So, the garden is made by man and his job is created by man, as well? Did I get that idea right? I still refuse to use the word 'artificial'..hahah. I guess I like gardening too much, and believe that gardens can be beautiful and natural looking.

Whether the natural world is any better is a separate question. It is somewhat bland and depressing when compared with the garden. One may be better off in the "fairyland" than in the real world, after all.

Yes, the way the natural world is described here miffs me. If Lawrence were writing this, he would percieve those areas - areas of natural wild beauty, but I don't quite get this sense from Chekhov's description - not with words like 'gloomy', 'severe', 'clay bank', 'bare roots' 'shaggy paws', 'unfriendly gleam, and 'plaintive cry'. This more or less reminds me of the beginning of "The Student", when it was cold for Easter and gloomy. Then later, there is a contrast with a bright garden, if I recall that correctly.

Yes, don't let this story be a commentary on gardening. I don't think Chekhov is saying all gardens are monstrosities.

Exactly, what I was thinking. I think the two areas represent two moods and two moods/sides that are part of Kovrin - the light side and the dark side. Also, what you say above makes a lot of sense, as well. There is a definite contrast in mood between the two areas.

It isn't happiness and sadness that are being offered by the garden and its surroundings. It's the choice between following your desires to the point of delusion or humbly accepting whatever's available. These are the options Kovrin has to choose from. The setting here is prefiguring that choice.

Well, which is which, in this story? Which represents which? What would you consider to represent 'accepting whatever's available'? I must admit, I need this made clearer to me. I am confused now, on the two images representing what you are saying, the two that are symbolising this idea.

Yeah, he doesn't start coughing up blood until the very end. There really are no warnings of his immediate mortality until then, but I think he does act rather thoughtlessly in the beginning. He works when he's supposed to be resting. He smokes and drinks. Eventually, when he does realize that he's dying he still finds reasons not to deal with his illness. This seems like a pattern with him, and the first paragraph sets this up. Instead of going to a doctor when he feels unwell, he merely invites one to have a drink with him.

You sure there was not a small hint earlier? I could have sworn there was, and Kovrin mentioned it being something that ran in his family; heriditary. He once spoke of coughing in the garden, when the smoke pots were burning; but, that did not seem odd to me; however, why did Chekhov point that out? I thought it might be a kind of 'foreshadowing' about his lungs and his illness to come. I know with Lawrence, he had TB for a long time, or the 'predisposition' for the condition; everything made him cough; so, I was reminded of this, when I read that remark by Kovrin to Tania.

In this story they are. I don't know if he's making a medical claim that mental and physical problems are always tied together.

Would be interesting to know what Chekhov believed in that area, even in theory, at the time he wrote this story.

That may just be legend. I don't remember reading anything like that. He may have, but it seems rather far-fetched. I'll look into it. There are parallels between Kovrin and Chekhov which I will bring up.

It sounded interesting to me, but then who knows? Hope you find something more about it. I would be very interested to know about the parallels between Kovrin and Chekhov; you know, how I like biographical facts, ;) I do a good job boring everyone with them in the L thread! :lol:

True. The garden is very pleasant, despite it's monstrosities. Kovrin remember always finding it enjoyable. The question is why is it so enjoyable.

He just seemed to be very much at peace, when he is there and even happy, in these beginning paragraphs. Yes, good question to ask then, why does it give him such enjoyment? But then again, a garden makes me joyful and happy, too. I don't know many people who hate gardens or sitting in them.

I agree, but I've always been a little thrown by that. Why does he bother to cultivate "rubbish?"

Good question. I didn't get that part either, when I read it.

Man's relation to nature may be too big of a problem for us to solve in this discussion. Although, I saw an article on Chekhov's view of nature which may be of some interest. I'll have to give it a read.

You said it. It would be a 50 page debate! This is not an 'environmental issue' thread or a debate on 'natural verses controlled plant life'. I would like to stick with the story, and see how the two places directly relate to Kovrin and his moods or his condition, etc. That article might be very helpful.

That's a good point. Nowhere else do we see opposites so close together. After this openning, the story sinks into a flow which gradually moves from one extreme to the other and back, but here we see both sides put next to each other.

That is true and it seems to work well. I like this device of Chekhov's. He paints a pretty vivid picture in this particular story, more so than in others we read. I like both descriptions - the unkept natural park and the other ordered active park or garden. I love all of the decriptions. The older park seems mysterious also and yet ominous and also melancholy like Antiquarian pointed out. The other park or garden seems luminous and alive. It is a nice contrast of natural elements. It reminds me of night and day.

20 hours in a car?!? I hope your going somewhere fun to make up for the drive. See you when you get back.

Yikes, yes, islandclimber...20 hrs is a loooonnnngggg drive... Have fun and hope the wedding is great! :)

Dark Muse

05-28-2008, 01:30 AM

Whether the natural world is any better is a separate question. It is somewhat bland and depressing when compared with the garden. One may be better off in the "fairyland" than in the real world, after all.

That can bee seen as representive of Kovrin's state was well. He was happier when he was living in his own "fairyland" and when that was taken away from him, his world become more depressing.

Yeah, he doesn't start coughing up blood until the very end. There really are no warnings of his immediate mortality until then, but I think he does act rather thoughtlessly in the beginning. He works when he's supposed to be resting. He smokes and drinks. Eventually, when he does realize that he's dying he still finds reasons not to deal with his illness. This seems like a pattern with him, and the first paragraph sets this up. Instead of going to a doctor when he feels unwell, he merely invites one to have a drink with him..

Yes his nonchalance is interesting, but than in his case, I am not sure it is entirely a bad thing really. Considering the fact that once he did have TB, it was pretty a death sencentence, it would not have really done him any good, to spend his time thinking about his illness. Nothing was going to change the situation.

True. The garden is very pleasant, despite it's monstrosities. Kovrin remember always finding it enjoyable. The question is why is it so enjoyable.

I think part of the reason he finds it enjoyable is becasue it does make him think of his childhood, he talks about how he grew up there, and Egor and Tania were people that loved him. Also it is a sort of escape for him, as he gets so caught up within his work.

I agree, but I've always been a little thrown by that. Why does he bother to cultivate "rubbish?"

Yes that is a good question, particuarly considering his overall personality and his relation to his garden, it is odd he would grow something that he did not have use for.

Quark

05-28-2008, 04:07 PM

Quark, I am trying to understand, what you mean exactly, by 'the garden as being connected with the ambition and desire that Kovrin feels, and he takes great joy in that ambition, just as he enjoys the garden'. Do you mean his ambitions as a scholar? If so, I understand now. So, his overworking is part of this 'destruction' of this body and mind (?). Finally the garden is destroyed, when the father dies; is this the garden distruction you speak of? So, the garden is made by man and his job is created by man, as well?

Yeah, that's the comparison I'm making. The garden and its upkeep is very similar to Kovrin and his work. Yegor makes the parallel even clearer. The obsessive gardener's zeal for his garden is much like Kovrin and his work. They both make themselves nervous over their goals. Kovrin eventually becomes cured of this nervousness, but he finds it boring and melancholy. Kovrin's cured state is much like the description of nature with its plain expanses and somewhat dreary look. The action of the story revolves around which of these two states Kovrin decides he wants to be in. Chekhov uses the setting to mirror this choice since it will play such an important role later on.

Yes, the way the natural world is described here miffs me. If Lawrence were writing this, he would percieve those areas - areas of natural wild beauty, but I don't quite get this sense from Chekhov's description - not with words like 'gloomy', 'severe', 'clay bank', 'bare roots' 'shaggy paws', 'unfriendly gleam, and 'plaintive cry'. This more or less reminds me of the beginning of "The Student", when it was cold for Easter and gloomy. Then later, there is a contrast with a bright garden, if I recall that correctly.

It's a matter of taste whether you prefer the garden or its surroundings. Both have their flaws.

Well, which is which, in this story? Which represents which? What would you consider to represent 'accepting whatever's available'? I must admit, I need this made clearer to me. I am confused now, on the two images representing what you are saying, the two that are symbolising this idea.

Did I answer that above? I was saying the garden is similar to his ambition and nature is like his calmer state.

Kovrin mentioned it being something that ran in his family; heriditary. He once spoke of coughing in the garden, when the smoke pots were burning; but, that did not seem odd to me; however, why did Chekhov point that out? I thought it might be a kind of 'foreshadowing' about his lungs and his illness to come. I know with Lawrence, he had TB for a long time, or the 'predisposition' for the condition; everything made him cough; so, I was reminded of this, when I read that remark by Kovrin to Tania.

He mentions his family history toward the end of the story, and he does cough from the smoke. You're right that the coughing foreshadows his TB later. The smoke also has symbolic importance that I'll get to when I post that section. Not only Lawrence suffered from Consumption, but also Chekhov. He, like Kovrin, decided to take a vacation than attempt to control his illness. This story was written before his illness became serious, though.

Yes his nonchalance is interesting, but than in his case, I am not sure it is entirely a bad thing really. Considering the fact that once he did have TB, it was pretty a death sencentence, it would not have really done him any good, to spend his time thinking about his illness. Nothing was going to change the situation.

TB was almost always deadly in the late nineteenth-century, but there were treatments to slow the progress of the disease. Kovrin takes some of these treatments--like the bromide.

I think part of the reason he finds it enjoyable is becasue it does make him think of his childhood, he talks about how he grew up there, and Egor and Tania were people that loved him. Also it is a sort of escape for him, as he gets so caught up within his work.

I've wondered why Chekhov makes this Kovrin's old, childhood home, and how that affects the way we look at this place. Maybe it gives Kovrin a better vantage point from which to contemplate his entire life, or maybe that's what we're supposed to be doing. I'm not actually sure why Chekhov makes him go back to his old home, but he seems insistent on reminding us that it is.

I think the fact that he's nonchalant about his physical illness is a part of his emotional illness, a part of his megalomania.

Certainly. I was trying to make that point before. It's a symptom of his nervous emotional state not to consider his own health.

I need to read the story again, but I liked Kovrin, despite his shortcomings. Perhaps in reading it again, I'll see things about his I didn't see the first time through.

I know how much Janine dislikes talking about the likability of the characters, but I have to say that I liked Kovrin, too. He acts poorly toward the end, but his life was falling apart and he was dying.

Dark Muse

05-28-2008, 04:14 PM

Yes I have to say I always liked Kovrin as well, and I really do not think his nonchalance about himself is all that bad of a thing. After all it is own life to take whatever attitude he wants about it.

I sort of had mixed feelings about Tania, at first I liked her, but she did get quite annoying with her constant burst of tears and little tantrums, and well personally I did not agree with the way she treated Kovrin, when she first found out about the delusions, she totally flipped out on him instead of trying to be understanding.

Egor amused me.

Janine

05-28-2008, 04:31 PM

Quark, yes, your post was fine and I agree with all. I only feel badly, that Kovrin was given but two options in this story, and both are extremes. Back then, the 'cure' was quite ineffective, as far as working to 'stabilze' his mental illness. I also wondered if halucinations can come about, because of the TB. I was going to look that up online and see if that would shed any light on this whole story. Of course, it might also be, that sensing he did have the TB, even before he is diagnosed with it, and then being overworked, prompted the halucinations. Sometimes, certain traumas in a persons life will bring on latent mental symptoms to this extreme. Halucinating is not normal and it is an extreme of a mental condition. Most likely, as Antiquarian has before mentioned, this condition would only worsen with time. For instance, he would see the black monk more frequently and it could get to the point, where it really did invade his mind and his privacy, disrupting his life. At the point, when we encounter the monk, except at the very end, the monk seems benign enough and not an evil presense to Kovrin. Laterm that same monk (halucination) could appear hostile and really drive Kovrin to do thingsm he would not normally have been capable of.

Yes, It is true, Quark - I do despise opinion polls and once again everyone is giving their opinion on the various characters; maybe that can be kept to a minimum this time. I just don't see the relavance of all that. It seems to me these characters are only partly portrayed, so who can really judge them? Also, they seem to be very complex humans, in this thread and the L thread. Hey, Quark, maybe we need a sticky poll thread, just to deal with the various characters, so we can evaluate each of their worths; vote on them and express our opinions about each.

I will check in later, I was out earlier and going out for dinner now.

Dark Muse

05-28-2008, 07:04 PM

Well I like giving my opinions about characters and I really do not see what is so awuful about that. Besides which, if I read a story in which I do not in fact formulate any opnions about the characters I end up finding the story boring sense I do not really care about anything that happens to anyone. For me if I feel neutral about a character, than that makes them bland in my eye.

Janine

05-28-2008, 09:30 PM

It is not that I am against expressing opinions on the characters or the story, but I just feel that would be more appropriate at the end, after the discussion; then there would be the option to listen to these opinions or not, and also at that time, it would not take up a lot of posts when we are just getting started discussing the story. It is a shame when the discussion seems to vere offtrack from the general ideas being presented, about the actual story text and the images in that part of the text. I think opinions are personal and I think expressing them first, does affect the way in which we see and discuss the story. Plus, we often get into contraversies concerning the characters. I find that kind of distasteful.

I don't know why I seem to be the only one, who doesn't strongly express an opinion about the characters. I find all of them fascinating and of interest in their own way. I don't normally, pass judgement on real people either, unless they give me extreme cause to dislike or distrust them. I guess this carries over into the fact, that I don't like the constant post discussions on whether the characters are morally correct or whether they are likable/dislikable. I guess, I am a lot more tolerant than you two are, but I do feel intensely involved in these stories, so I don't think it is that I don't connect with these characters. In fact, I could relate to Igor, because I once had a good size well-tended garden and found myself obsessing about it all the time; I could relate to Kovrin, because I have known people in his type situation, I could relate to Tania, because I also have know someone who had to be subordinate to an elder and felt abligated to carry on, when the elder no longer could; also, another person who had to deal with a mentally ill husband. So I did not find anyone, that I could honestly say, I 'disliked' in this story. They all had weaknesses, flaws and their good points. I guess I just like people and I don't try and judge them, espeically when I don't really know their full situation.

Maybe at the end of these discussions we just need a section for 'character analysis'.

Dark Muse

05-28-2008, 09:39 PM

Ahh yes, that is why we disagree so much. Becasue being a misanthope, in general I dislike people and so in real life I do make very harsh judgements.

Janine

05-28-2008, 10:14 PM

I don't think we're judging them, Janine. People just have an emotional reaction to a character, but it doesn't mean we're judging. I didn't like Tania very much, but I'm not saying she was bad or good or any place in between. She just didn't elicit a positive emotional response from me.

Ok, judging was too harsh a word, so I can go along with that.

Digressing for a moment, the great Irish author, John Banville often goes out of his way to make us dislike a character. His protagonists are usually middle-age or senior males, who are very unreliable narrators, yet fascinating, but despite their fascinating qualities, they are usually jerks.

I am sure there are many authors want us to dislike their characters or feel strongly toward them. I just don't think we have to constantly be expressing just how much we hate or like a character. I don't see the point of that in the story discussion.

I think if a writer doesn't make us like or dislike a character, then he's failed, at least in part, in his writing. And I'm just going to have to claim superiority here as I'm the one with the MFA in Creative Writing. LOL (I do have the MFA, but I'm joking about "claiming superiority." I wouldn't do that.)

Well, I think you are still reading me all wrong. I just think sometimes these discussions get out of hand; the point is I don't see what purpose there is debating the various charaters. Truly, it begins to give me a headache, even anxiety. I didn't say we all would not form some type of opinion by the end, but I think it's better to discuss the stories/plots/devices in conjunction with the characters first, and then come up with conclusions. I just feel this is putting the 'horse before the cart', when right away, we say 'I don't like her or him', or I 'liked her or him'; it also seems pointless this early on in the general discussion. I guess to me, it also feels somewhat negative, as a way to begin our discussions.

Antiquarian, feel free to claim superiority if you want to; I don't really care; hey, you earned it. I only have a BFA in Illustration, what do I know? :lol: I will still like you!:)

Well, whatever...I just won't read your 'like', 'dislike' posts, that is all. If Quark were not so slow, he would be posting more text, to discuss by now; then restlessness would not abound. Just seems we lose track of the general part of the discussion. Actually, I do need to go back and address his last post, much of that made sense to me, some was to me, and I liked what he pointed out in that post; I forgot all about it. Now I am kind of tired and may go watch a film; so I will wait till tomorrow.

Dark Muse

05-28-2008, 10:41 PM

I think it's better to discuss the stories/plots/devices in conjunction with the characters first, and then come up with conclusions. I just feel this is putting the 'horse before the cart', when right away, we say 'I don't like her or him', or I 'liked her or him'; it also seems pointless this early on in the general discussion. I guess to me, it also feels somewhat negative, as a way to begin our discussions.

Well for me it is almost impossible to discuss those things without bringing in my opinions of the characters into it, becasue the way I precieive the charactors, goes into how I look at the story at large.

Janine

05-28-2008, 10:56 PM

Quark has not posted much of the story. We don't have much to discuss, that's right.

Well, Antiquarian, that sounds more reasonable. I do appreciate you understanding what I am trying to convey. I like hearing the characters are not black or white; that they are interesting an complex. I can't ever recall reading a commentary where the critc, actually came out and said he liked or disliked a character, personally. Maybe we need a disclaimer here that starts out 'the opinions expressed on this ...." like the ones they now have on DVD movies. ;)

I hope you know I was just kidding about "claiming superiority." I wouldn't do that. Ever. And Quark is our leader here, not me. I'm terrible, really terrible at leading a discussion. LOL That was proven in the Faulkner thread. And I don't enjoy it anyway. I'd rather just be a contributor.

YES, of course, I knew you were kidding; and I was kidding you back; we need a better assortment of expressive emoticons in here. hahah - Yeah, maybe we should make you the leader in the next discussion. I bet you would run the other way fast. You did not do a bad job in the Faulkner thread - you didn't persist enough and then you ended up getting overwhelmed. It can be a daunting task. I find it hard to keep the discussion on track, too. I just persist more than you did I guess, even if people end up hating me! I have some thick skin by now. Unfortunately, your Faulkner thread did draw too many people and there again is a example of mere opinions being expressed and nothing in the way of a real story discussion even getting underway. That was a pity since that story was a fine one and would have been great to discuss, using the text.

I might go watch a movie, too. It seems like a good idea tonight. We don't want to get off-topic again, so I guess we should wait on Quark to post.

Yes, I grabbed two from my library and they both have to be returned in two days; so I better watch one tonight. They may both be booms, who knows, but they sounded good. One is actually a romantic comedy about two chefs. I keep thinking I may have seen that one before; hope I did not. It looks funny.

[quote]It seems that as soon as Quark, leaves we all get restless; that is becoming our usual scenerio. It did just now dawn on me, if I don't want to express an opinion, I should probably just keep out of your and Dark Muse's discussion. I just feel badly that the text Q, posted got lost somewhere a page or so back. We don't have L to occuppy us now either, so we are all at loose ends, I imagine.

Going to relax now and go to movieland. Enjoy your movie, too!

Quark

05-28-2008, 11:12 PM

Yes I have to say I always liked Kovrin as well, and I really do not think his nonchalance about himself is all that bad of a thing. After all it is own life to take whatever attitude he wants about it.

You don't think his carelessness in any way sped up his deterioration?

I sort of had mixed feelings about Tania, at first I liked her, but she did get quite annoying with her constant burst of tears and little tantrums, and well personally I did not agree with the way she treated Kovrin, when she first found out about the delusions, she totally flipped out on him instead of trying to be understanding.

We don't get enough characterization of Tania to say anything definitive about her, but there are a few paragraphs toward the middle which are illuminating. Of course, now I can't find them! Chekhov's description of her makes it seem like her main concern is her husband. Like Kovrin and his writing and Egor and his gardening, Tania has her own obsession. When Kovrin starts hallucinating, I think she starts to worry that her husband is leaving her. He is, after all. He has TB. I think that's why she flips out.

Egor amused me.

Egor--it's Yegor in my book (go figure)--is funny. His pedantic work on gardening made me smile, but he isn't completely harmless. Look at what he does to Tania. He drives her away with his monomania for cultivation.

Quark, yes, your post was fine and I agree with all. I only feel badly, that Kovrin was given but two options in this story, and both are extremes.

That's part of the tragedy here. He can either be healthy and social or he can be brilliant and interesting. Kovrin tries to have it both ways and he ends up losing it.

I also wondered if halucinations can come about, because of the TB.

I don't think that's a symptom of TB, but in the story it is. Kovrin, at least, believes it is. He says at one point that Black Monk must be caused by his weakening body, and the hallucination agrees with him.

Yes, It is true, Quark - I do despise opinion polls and once again everyone is giving their opinion on the various characters; maybe that can be kept to a minimum this time. I just don't see the relavance of all that.

Well characterization is part of fiction. Some critics actually think that characterization is the most over-developed element of nineteenth-century fiction. I think we would be missing part of the story if we didn't talk about it. That being said, I don't want the conversation to devolve into useless labeling. Sometimes people will say something like "I found her to be just icky", and the rest of us will have nothing to say to that. First of all, what did that person mean by icky? Even if I figure out what they mean (and usually I don't), I still don't have anything I can say to them. What could I say? Ickiness is a matter of opinion which I really can't argue with. Those kinds of statements are usually conversation-enders, and I try to stay away from saying things like that. Let's not confuse ickiness, though, with actual characterization--which is very important. I think you can have an intelligent conversation about one without it having to resort to the other.

I usually form strong opinions about characters as well, DM. I don't think it can be helped.

No one's trying to stifle opinion. We're just saying that you should expect to talk about whatever you put out there, and so it should be something valid to the conversation and open to debate.

Literature is usually designed to call forth an emotional response, so I think it's natural for us to like or dislike certain characters.

That's true, but hopefully your reaction is more nuanced that like and dislike--and you can find reasons for why you react that way. If you can do those things, then it makes it easier on the rest of us.

Now, Borges was a thematic writer. Good as he was, I don't particularly care for him because I don't find much emotion in his stories.

He is a remarkably cold writer. I'm not a huge Borges fan.

I didn't like Tania very much. She was too spoiled for my taste.

DM brought this up, and I posted a response above on this point.

If Quark were not so slow, he would be posting more text, to discuss by now; then restlessness would not abound.

I can take a hint. I'll post the next chunk very soon. I was just going slow since this there's so much to talk about.

Dark Muse

05-28-2008, 11:18 PM

You don't think his carelessness in any way sped up his deterioration?

Even if it does, that is his personal choice to take that apporach to it. I do not think anyone has the right to tell him that he is dealing with his own problems in the wrong way. If that is what he wants to do, that is his right to do it.

Egor--it's Yegor in my book (go figure)--is funny. His pedantic work on gardening made me smile, but he isn't completely harmless. Look at what he does to Tania. He drives her away with his monomania for cultivation.

I do not see it as his compeltely driving her away. Throughout the book even if they have thier fights, she remains loyal to her father. He even comes and lives with her and Kovrin and at the end, she is angry with Kovrin becasue she blames him for her father's death, when Kovrin leaves her, she returns to her father. And he is the one that wanted the to them to get together, becasue he thought Kovrin was the only one his garden could be trusted with.

Quark

05-28-2008, 11:40 PM

Even if it does, that is his personal choice to take that apporach to it. I do not think anyone has the right to tell him that he is dealing with his own problems in the wrong way. If that is what he wants to do, that is his right to do it.

I'm not necessarily saying Kovrin should have done this or that. I was just pointing out that his careless attitude might be a symptom of his mental state. Since it's a recurring trait in Kovrin we shouldn't overlook it.

I do not see it as his compeltely driving her away. Throughout the book even if they have thier fights, she remains loyal to her father. He even comes and lives with her and Kovrin and at the end, she is angry with Kovrin becasue she blames him for her father's death, when Kovrin leaves her, she returns to her father. And he is the one that wanted the to them to get together, becasue he thought Kovrin was the only one his garden could be trusted with.

Perhaps he doesn't drive her away, but he certainly puts a strain on their relationship with his hobby. We'll look at this more after I post the next section of the story. That part has the introduction of Tania and Egor.

I'll post that part in an hour or two. Right now I'm playing cards.

Dark Muse

05-29-2008, 12:19 AM

I do not completely agree, I think even if he has a wife, his illness, physcial or other wise, and his dealing with the possiblity of his own death, is a very personal thing, and I do not think anyone else has the right to dictate to him how he deals with those things, becasue they are not the ones experincing it. I do not think being married takes away all of ones personal choice in thier life.

And his wife, I do not think exzactly dealt with it in a very good way. She was not really very supportive of understanding of him at all.

Quark

05-29-2008, 12:30 AM

Before I forget, here's the text for the next section:

Kovrin arrived at Pesotsky's at ten o'clock in the evening. He found Tanya and her father, Yegor Semyonitch, in great anxiety. The clear starlight sky and the thermometer foretold a frost towards morning, and meanwhile Ivan Karlovitch, the gardener, had gone to the town, and they had no one to rely upon. At supper they talked of nothing but the morning frost, and it was settled that Tanya should not go to bed, and between twelve and one should walk through the garden, and see that everything was done properly, and Yegor Semyonitch should get up at three o'clock or even earlier.

Kovrin sat with Tanya all the evening, and after midnight went out with her into the garden. It was cold. There was a strong smell of burning already in the garden. In the big orchard, which was called the commercial garden, and which brought Yegor Semyonitch several thousand clear profit, a thick, black, acrid smoke was creeping over the ground and, curling around the trees, was saving those thousands from the frost. Here the trees were arranged as on a chessboard, in straight and regular rows like ranks of soldiers, and this severe pedantic regularity, and the fact that all the trees were of the same size, and had tops and trunks all exactly alike, made them look monotonous and even dreary. Kovrin and Tanya walked along the rows where fires of dung, straw, and all sorts of refuse were smouldering, and from time to time they were met by labourers who wandered in the smoke like shadows. The only trees in flower were the cherries, plums, and certain sorts of apples, but the whole garden was plunged in smoke, and it was only near the nurseries that Kovrin could breathe freely.

"Even as a child I used to sneeze from the smoke here," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "but to this day I don't understand how smoke can keep off frost."

"Smoke takes the place of clouds when there are none . . ." answered Tanya.

"And what do you want clouds for?"

"In overcast and cloudy weather there is no frost."

"You don't say so."

He laughed and took her arm. Her broad, very earnest face, chilled with the frost, with her delicate black eyebrows, the turned-up collar of her coat, which prevented her moving her head freely, and the whole of her thin, graceful figure, with her skirts tucked up on account of the dew, touched him.

"Good heavens! she is grown up," he said. "When I went away from here last, five years ago, you were still a child. You were such a thin, longlegged creature, with your hair hanging on your shoulders; you used to wear short frocks, and I used to tease you, calling you a heron. . . . What time does!"

"Yes, five years!" sighed Tanya. "Much water has flowed since then. Tell me, Andryusha, honestly," she began eagerly, looking him in the face: "do you feel strange with us now? But why do I ask you? You are a man, you live your own interesting life, you are somebody. . . . To grow apart is so natural! But however that may be, Andryusha, I want you to think of us as your people. We have a right to that."

I have three observations to make about this part, but I'll have to wait until tomorrow. At the moment I'm still at the table.

Dark Muse

05-29-2008, 12:48 AM

Kovrin sat with Tanya all the evening, and after midnight went out with her into the garden. It was cold. There was a strong smell of burning already in the garden. In the big orchard, which was called the commercial garden, and which brought Yegor Semyonitch several thousand clear profit, a thick, black, acrid smoke was creeping over the ground and, curling around the trees, was saving those thousands from the frost. Here the trees were arranged as on a chessboard, in straight and regular rows like ranks of soldiers, and this severe pedantic regularity, and the fact that all the trees were of the same size, and had tops and trunks all exactly alike, made them look monotonous and even dreary. Kovrin and Tanya walked along the rows where fires of dung, straw, and all sorts of refuse were smouldering, and from time to time they were met by labourers who wandered in the smoke like shadows. The only trees in flower were the cherries, plums, and certain sorts of apples, but the whole garden was plunged in smoke, and it was only near the nurseries that Kovrin could breathe freely.

I thought this was an absolute beautiful discription. I love the way the trees are called soliders in thier ranks.

This is a very different view we had earlier of the garden as well. Here it is seen as more deary with the talk of the frost, and the smoke. And I loved the imagery of the laboruers like shadows in the smoke. That is almost ghost like.

The only trees in flower were the cherries, plums, and certain sorts of apples, but the whole garden was plunged in smoke, and it was only near the nurseries that Kovrin could breathe freely

I think this was an interesting passage. They way the garden was plunged in smoke, and the line

it was only near the nurseries that Kovrin could breathe freely

I thought that was an interesting choice of words.

Much water has flowed since then

I found this an interesting way to talking about the passage of time. And I wonder just what she is refering to, by "much water has passed" is that ment to be in refernce to how many times it had rained sense she last saw them?

It does fit she would speak in such terms considering how much her life is steeped in her fathers obcesssion with the garden

Quark

05-29-2008, 04:42 PM

Looking at this portion I posted, I notice a few things. First, this is the introduction of Tania and Egor.

Kovrin arrived at Pesotsky's at ten o'clock in the evening. He found Tanya and her father, Yegor Semyonitch, in great anxiety. The clear starlight sky and the thermometer foretold a frost towards morning, and meanwhile Ivan Karlovitch, the gardener, had gone to the town, and they had no one to rely upon. At supper they talked of nothing but the morning frost, and it was settled that Tanya should not go to bed, and between twelve and one should walk through the garden, and see that everything was done properly, and Yegor Semyonitch should get up at three o'clock or even earlier.

Kovrin arrives at night, but Tania and Egor are still up. They're worried about the plants making it through the night. This should remind us of Kovrin and his anxieties. Like Kovrin, they stay up through the night minding the garden when they should be unconscious in bed. Already Chekhov is drawing the parallel between the gardeners and Kovrin.

Yegor and Tania work as a pair here. It becomes clear what Yegor gets out of his labor, but why does Tania work so hard and forgo sleep for this ostentatious garden?

The next part of the quote I posted has the description of the orchard and smoke. Chekhov's paragraph:

Kovrin sat with Tanya all the evening, and after midnight went out with her into the garden. It was cold. There was a strong smell of burning already in the garden. In the big orchard, which was called the commercial garden, and which brought Yegor Semyonitch several thousand clear profit, a thick, black, acrid smoke was creeping over the ground and, curling around the trees, was saving those thousands from the frost. Here the trees were arranged as on a chessboard, in straight and regular rows like ranks of soldiers, and this severe pedantic regularity, and the fact that all the trees were of the same size, and had tops and trunks all exactly alike, made them look monotonous and even dreary. Kovrin and Tanya walked along the rows where fires of dung, straw, and all sorts of refuse were smouldering, and from time to time they were met by labourers who wandered in the smoke like shadows. The only trees in flower were the cherries, plums, and certain sorts of apples, but the whole garden was plunged in smoke, and it was only near the nurseries that Kovrin could breathe freely.

Maybe my mania for comparing the garden to Kovrin's work is excessive, but I can't help saying that the "pedantic" placement and cut of the trees resembles Kovrin's fear that his work is dull. The frustrated scholar burns his later work because he believes it's filled with this kind of pedantry. In the orchard--and in Egor's writing--it's proudly displayed.

The smoke makes Kovrin cough or sneeze which Janine already noticed is a foreshadowing of his illness. The smoke is also part of Egor's strained attempts to keep the garden beautiful and productive. Unfortunately, it pushes people away. Kovrin has to stay by the nursery because the fumes are too much. If we're pushing the comparison of the garden to Kovrin's work to extreme, then we can look at the smoke as the unfortunate side-effects of his labors as well. Kovrin's obsession pushes his friends away just as the noxious smoke repels people. The laborers in the distance make the resemblance even closer. Kovrin sees a shadowy figure associated with his work, and here he sees several shadowy figures connected with the garden.

Finally, I posted the first half of the dialogue between Tania and Kovrin which ends in this request from Tania:

"Yes, five years!" sighed Tanya. "Much water has flowed since then. Tell me, Andryusha, honestly," she began eagerly, looking him in the face: "do you feel strange with us now? But why do I ask you? You are a man, you live your own interesting life, you are somebody. . . . To grow apart is so natural! But however that may be, Andryusha, I want you to think of us as your people. We have a right to that."

Tania is a typical Chekhov character. She's the frail, demure woman who acts as the love-interest for the male lead character. Usually, the woman is under the care of another character--this time Yegor--and she often lacks emotional and intellectual independence. I'm not sure if Chekhov was attracted to this type or what, but she plays a prominent role in his fiction. For examples, look at "The House with the Mansard", "Anyuta", and the most famous example "The Darling." Tania falls into this category because she appears to be living her life through the men she's with. When she's with Yegor she's convinced that the garden and Yegor's writing is the most important things in the universe. Then, when she meets Kovrin it suddenly becomes about him. That's why she demands that he consider them "your people." She's desperate for another man to become her universe. Hence why she bursts out "You are a man, you live your own interesting life, you are somebody."

I don't think Tania dealt with him in the right way, either. Not as a loving wife should. Granted, it would have been very difficult for her, but I do think this is the reason why I didn't like her so much. She seemed rather selfish, but again, I'll have to reread the story.

I think this goes with what I'm saying above. Before you condemn Tania for her weaknesses, though, we should remember that each character has their obsession.

I thought this was an absolute beautiful discription. I love the way the trees are called soliders in thier ranks.

The descriptions throughout are very well-done. Each is vivid and filled with meaning. Above, I explained some of what I thought the meaning was for the trees.

This is a very different view we had earlier of the garden as well. Here it is seen as more deary with the talk of the frost, and the smoke. And I loved the imagery of the laboruers like shadows in the smoke. That is almost ghost like.

Once again, it's another contrast. The joyous garden he finds at first moves aside to reveal a gloomy orchard.

I thought that was an interesting choice of words.

Do you think there's anything significant about him taking refuge by the nursery? I mentioned the fact that this is his childhood home. Perhaps, the fact that he's by a nursery is meant to be another indication of what this place means to him.

I found this an interesting way to talking about the passage of time. And I wonder just what she is refering to, by "much water has passed" is that ment to be in refernce to how many times it had rained sense she last saw them?

I took it to mean like water passing in the river of time. It's a common expression. Also, it might be like water under the bridge.

Dark Muse

05-29-2008, 04:53 PM

Do you think there's anything significant about him taking refuge by the nursery? I mentioned the fact that this is his childhood home. Perhaps, the fact that he's by a nursery is meant to be another indication of what this place means to him.

I did not think of it that way. It would make sense, but I was thinking about maybe his refrecne to the "only place he could breathe freely" might somehow relate to his later illness.

I took it to mean like water passing in the river of time. It's a common expression. Also, it might be like water under the bridge.

Ahh, yes I did not think of that.

Before you condemn Tania for her weaknesses, though, we should remember that each character has their obsession.

Hehe yes, but some obcessions are just more annoying than others, her constant tantrums are far less charming than having conversations with a monk and less amusing than being fantatical about a garden.

Quark

05-29-2008, 04:57 PM

I did not think of it that way. It would make sense, but I was thinking about maybe his refrecne to the "only place he could breathe freely" might somehow relate to his later illness.

He does have to make concessions to his illness, so it is like him having to retreat from the orchard.

Hehe yes, but some obcessions are just more annoying than others, her constant tantrums are far less charming than having conversations with a monk and less amusing than being fantatical about a garden.

We see everything from Kovrin's perspective which makes the story more sympathetic to his particular problem. His obsession appears a little less funny. Yegor and Tania, on the other hand, are amusing. Tania even comes off as hysterical at times.

Dark Muse

05-29-2008, 05:01 PM

We see everything from Kovrin's perspective which makes the story more sympathetic to his particular problem. Therefore, his obsession is little less funny. Yegor and Tania, on the other hand, are amusing. Tania comes off as hysterical at times.

Hehe Yes I know, I was mostly having a bit of fun with that.

Janine

05-29-2008, 05:57 PM

Well, all that makes sense to me Quark, and if Tania, the woman, has to indeed live through the men (given the time of this novel) then maybe her fits of crying were her only real way to vent her own frustrations.
Exactly, since the story is seen through the eyes of Kovrin (even though he is not the actual narrator), naturally we are drawn to his side and are needful as humans to sympathise with his woes and his problems. The other characters then will appear less tragic and more comical to us.
I think that was a good observation, the illness that takes hold of Kovrin does indeed distance him from his friends. Even thought, Igor and Tania may have their own obsessions and hang-ups, flaws, he expresses his deep love and admiration for them early on in the story. I think there is a bond there and once the monk halucinations invade Kovrin's existence, that bond begins to deteriorate, which is ultimately sad and tragic for all.

Dark Muse

05-29-2008, 06:01 PM

I think there is a bond there and once the monk halucinations invade Kovrin's existence, that bond begins to deteriorate, which is ultimately sad and tragic for all.

Then again, it was not tell after he saw the monk that he decided he really wanted to marry Tania, when Egor first brought the idea up to him, he did not really take it seriously, but after he began to see the monk is when he discovered he really did love her and wanted to marry her.

Janine

05-29-2008, 06:31 PM

Well, if that is true, the monk halucinations fed his ego and he gained the self-confidence to ask her. I did think their engagement and marriage sort of 'impulsive' and come about quickly. I only got that impression, because Chekhov normally does not go into great detail, about things that happen and we don't have a true sense of the time that passes, between certain events. I thought he saw the monk after their marriage, so I will have to look back into the text, to note just when the first appearance took place.
He came to the country and to Igor's and Tania's estate for a rest recommended by a doctor friend; therefore, his true psychosis may have begun earlier than this; we don't really know that. That part is a bit sketchy. If he had a true mental illness, many times that will also manifest itself with periods of elation of self importance and impulsive behavior. He may have conjured up the idea of marrying her, because of his mental illness, but I do think he had a very strong bond before this, with both of these people from his past and he did indeed, love them very much. Even if they had not married, this illness of his, would ultimately have distanced him from them.

Dark Muse

05-29-2008, 06:40 PM

The very first time he sees the monk is when he is walking in the garden before he asks her to marry him.

Janine

05-29-2008, 11:31 PM

The very first time he sees the monk is when he is walking in the garden before he asks her to marry him.

Thanks, DM.

It appears I either have to re-read the story this week, or wait until we get to that part of the text; most likely Quark will post that part, since it is significant.

Quark

05-30-2008, 01:25 AM

Then again, it was not tell after he saw the monk that he decided he really wanted to marry Tania, when Egor first brought the idea up to him, he did not really take it seriously, but after he began to see the monk is when he discovered he really did love her and wanted to marry her.

I'm not sure exactly why Kovrin marries Tania--besides the fact that she's the only woman in his life at this point. I'll have to think about it more as the we move through the story.

I thought he saw the monk after their marriage, so I will have to look back into the text, to note just when the first appearance took place.

He first sees the monk before he's officially engaged. I will post that section when we get there. I believe there are three scenes where he talks with the strange apparition. One where he only sees it, a second when he converses with it, and then finally the last time when Tania catches him talking to himself. I guess there also is also a forth time as he's dying.

Janine

05-31-2008, 02:40 PM

You don't think his carelessness in any way sped up his deterioration?

Quark, from what I have read about TB, which is scanty (I admit that), I got the impression that taking some treatments or at least, modifying the diet and eating certain foods rich in certain vitamins, minerals, one could actually extent ones life considerable. It mades mention of these homeopathic steps in my Lawrence biographies and although L did die early in his life (40's) he lived far beyond, what they doctors predicted originally. So I would think any kind of carelessness, on Kovrin's part, would speed up his impending death from the TB, or whatever was wrong with him. Since TB was so prevalent at the time and once in the story a cough is mentioned as a chronic symptom of his, I would think that Chekhov is definitely indicting he had TB. I never got a sense, the Kovrin wanted to die; just that he knew his mother had had this disease and he knew he might have about 10 yrs left to live. I believe I recall that, from the text I read. Often, also with TB patients they would go about their lives feeling they might beat the illness although this idea was pretty much unrealistic. I know with Lawrence, he did not dwell on his illness, even though often he was ill; and quite often he in a 'state of denial' about the actual TB; he would not even refer to it as TB but called it 'my broncials'. Kovrin, on the otherhand, in one part of the story does acknowledge the fact he knows he will probably not live any longer than his mother did. I am sure we can discuss this further when we get to that part.

We don't get enough characterization of Tania to say anything definitive about her, but there are a few paragraphs toward the middle which are illuminating. Of course, now I can't find them! Chekhov's description of her makes it seem like her main concern is her husband. Like Kovrin and his writing and Egor and his gardening, Tania has her own obsession. When Kovrin starts hallucinating, I think she starts to worry that her husband is leaving her. He is, after all. He has TB. I think that's why she flips out.

I would agree - that there does not seem to be that much about Tania; at least I can't make a firm impression of what she is really like. Chekhov seems to only reveal her at key moments and we get a much fuller sense of what Kovrin is all about, but to me, Tania is a little sketchy; plus as you say she is living more through others - her father and then her husband.

Egor--it's Yegor in my book (go figure)--is funny. His pedantic work on gardening made me smile, but he isn't completely harmless. Look at what he does to Tania. He drives her away with his monomania for cultivation.
He is 'Egor' is my book, too. How funny; I think that Dark Muse and I have the same old book or by the same publishers. Her's was from her grandmother, mine from my father.
I thought he was amusing at times, but then he drove me crazy, with his fanatical ways with his garden; I have a neighbor who was like this and have known a few others, too. They actually kill themselves, over making their gardens perfect; then a storm comes along (nature, right?) and they freak out. I was thinking how the night frost, also was like an 'invasion' of the 'natural world' on the 'humanized cultivated' garden. The two worlds meet in that scene, with the burning smoke pots, and so the 'ghost-like' images of the workers seen through the smoke/mist, are like ghosts of the natural world, at least to the perception of Kovrin. That is just a thought, I felt like throwing out there. I may be totally off on that idea.

That's part of the tragedy here. He can either be healthy and social or he can be brilliant and interesting. Kovrin tries to have it both ways and he ends up losing it.

I realise that but I what I am saying is only in the confines of this story. I think this particular character was not presented with any other options at the time except extremes. In a later time with advanced treatments for both his mental and physical illnesses he may have had more options. It is tragic in this story that he was only given the two and both are at totally different ends of the spectrum.

I don't think that's a symptom of TB, but in the story it is. Kovrin, at least, believes it is. He says at one point that Black Monk must be caused by his weakening body, and the hallucination agrees with him.

I tried to do research on that and there was only one case of hallucinations but that was not totally proven to have been entirely due to TB. I am sure anything is possible. I know these people can be effected in their minds late in the illness. This I have heard before, but as far as actually seeing or talking to images or what they believe to be real beings, I don't think that is usual; that is not to say it could not be possible and it might be that Chekhov did know of such a case. Also, who if Kovrin had some other physical ailment - say cancer, even brain cancer, it could spread to his throat and it most certainly could cause hallucinations. The body is filled with chemicals and when it gets into a weakened state from disease those break down or do not function as they should. The imbalance can cause all kinds of symptoms. That is why, nowdays, if someone were to suddenly suffer from hallucinations or altered mental behavior, first a doctor would fully explore any physical causes. Now with advanced medicine an MRI would be automatically taken of the brain to see if something were amiss. Therefore, it is possible that Kovrin did suffer from very real physical disease that encrouched on his mental state.

Well characterization is part of fiction. Some critics actually think that characterization is the most over-developed element of nineteenth-century fiction. I think we would be missing part of the story if we didn't talk about it. That being said, I don't want the conversation to devolve into useless labeling. Sometimes people will say something like "I found her to be just icky", and the rest of us will have nothing to say to that. First of all, what did that person mean by icky? Even if I figure out what they mean (and usually I don't), I still don't have anything I can say to them. What could I say? Ickiness is a matter of opinion which I really can't argue with. Those kinds of statements are usually conversation-enders, and I try to stay away from saying things like that. Let's not confuse ickiness, though, with actual characterization--which is very important. I think you can have an intelligent conversation about one without it having to resort to the other.

This is exactly my point. To simply say - I did not like her or him is without any substance if not back-up with something. Otherwise, it is usless labeling. I personally could not see how Tania was spoiled. I felt her father projected a lot of responsibility upon her to do with that garden. Was it ever mentioned why she did not have a mother? Had she died early on in Tania's life. I think she seemed to have a very unbalanced life; I could not see where the poor girl had any kind of social life. Her life seemed totally wrapped up with pleasing her father, and her father's garden. I don't blame her for taking fits of crying once in awhile. I guess she would just break-down from stress now and then. Then to wake to realise her husband was indeed having hallucinations and going insane; she must have really been in shock. What if they had had a child? I can't imagine that Kovrin could have dealt with that at all.

No one's trying to stifle opinion. We're just saying that you should expect to talk about whatever you put out there, and so it should be something valid to the conversation and open to debate.

I agree, Quark. You expressed that well.

That's true, but hopefully your reaction is more nuanced than like and dislike--and you can find reasons for why you react that way. If you can do those things, then it makes it easier on the rest of us.

Quark, 'nuanced' is a good word. Just reacting without any backup is useless, but expressing opinion with grounds is a lot different. Yes, easier on all of us.

I can take a hint. I'll post the next chunk very soon. I was just going slow since this there's so much to talk about.

Oh good, Quark. I did not mean to rush you. I may not be on the computer too much today - bad thunderstorms, high winds and rain are predicted here. I already had to unplug once the lightning was so intense. This should not be a fun day.

Janine

05-31-2008, 04:02 PM

Igor, Egor, Yegor, all are correct and none are correct. Russian, as all of you know, uses an entirely different alphabet. It's actually Игорь.

That is true, what you say - they are all actually wrong since it is Russian. Curious, Antiquarian, how do you have the Russian characters on your computer?

I think I'm a minority of one here, but I am not convinced that Yegor had TB at all. I think his physical illness might have been brought on by his mental illness and his inability to sustain the black monk in his life. In the end, the black monk tells him that he's only dying because his weakened body could no longer serve as the container for genius.

I wouldn't say that, Antiq. You are right; we really don't know if it was TB, in this case. Chekhov never reveals that in words; so it is possible that he did died from the effects of the mental illness. I tend to believe it was physically oriented first, but who knows? We all can have our own opinion on that and I guess it does affect our interpretation of the story.

Of course I agree that Yegor definitely had signs of TB and it certainly seems like he did died of TB, but I think Chekhov wants to deliberately blur the lines between physical and mental illness in this story. I think that's part of the reason the illness was never given a name.

I can see that entirely. That is a good point that you have brought out. I agree with you about the blurred lines between physical and mental. I do think Chekhov deliberately did that to point out the interweaving of the two or the overlapping of the two might be closer to the actualy perception.

Treatments were so crude in those days, and so ineffective that I doubt Yegor's nonchalance shortened his life by much. A little probably, but not by much.

That is true. I can agree with that. I think that his mental state, also would have weakened him. I am sure it would have had to.

Quark

05-31-2008, 10:45 PM

Good research, Janine. I think we can assume that the state of medicine in England and Russia was rather similar at the time since both Russian and English doctors would be reading the same French medical journals. We cannot say for sure what illness Kovrin was suffering from. Coughing up blood was a tell-tale sign for TB, but it's also a symptom in many other diseases. I think what we can say for sure is that his condition was deteriorating, and that the treatment he received had a vaguely positive effect on his physical health. Outside of that, it becomes too vague to claim anything definitely.

Igor, Egor, Yegor, all are correct and none are correct. Russian, as all of you know, uses an entirely different alphabet. It's actually Игорь.

Weird. The closest I can type to that is "Nropb." If I played with the fonts, maybe I could make it more convincing.

I think I'm a minority of one here, but I am not convinced that Yegor had TB at all. I think his physical illness might have been brought on by his mental illness and his inability to sustain the black monk in his life. In the end, the black monk tells him that he's only dying because his weakened body could no longer serve as the container for genius.

DM may agree with that. It sounds like both of you accept the Black Monk's version of the story. The toughest hurdle for that interpretation is probably in the last section of the story. You might want to reread the last few pages to see whether that changes you opinion. Kovrin, at least briefly, turns his back on the monk, and he laments everything that's happened since the monk appeared to him. His lament is fairly convincing. We'll look at it when we get there, but we're still quite far from it at the moment.

Of course I agree that Yegor definitely had signs of TB and it certainly seems like he did died of TB, but I think Chekhov wants to deliberately blur the lines between physical and mental illness in this story. I think that's part of the reason the illness was never given a name.

I hadn't thought about that before, but, yes, I think you're right. The illness remains nameless to create that uncertainty. You never know how much of his illness is mental and physical. Also, it's never clear whether this illness is terminal.

I wouldn't say that, Antiq. You are right; we really don't know if it was TB, in this case. Chekhov never reveals that in words; so it is possible that he did died from the effects of the mental illness. I tend to believe it was physically oriented first, but who knows? We all can have our own opinion on that and I guess it does affect our interpretation of the story.

The questions is do you think the physical illness caused his mental problems? Kovrin thinks so when he begins the treatment.

I'll post the next section of text since I think everyone is waiting on me.

"You were surprised this evening that we have so many of your photographs. You know my father adores you. Sometimes it seems to me that he loves you more than he does me. He is proud of you. You are a clever, extraordinary man, you have made a brilliant career for yourself, and he is persuaded that you have turned out like this because he brought you up. I don't try to prevent him from thinking so. Let him."

Dawn was already beginning, and that was especially perceptible from the distinctness with which the coils of smoke and the tops of the trees began to stand out in the air.

"It's time we were asleep, though," said Tanya, "and it's cold, too." She took his arm. "Thank you for coming, Andryusha. We have only uninteresting acquaintances, and not many of them. We have only the garden, the garden, the garden, and nothing else. Standards, half-standards," she laughed. "Aports, Reinettes, Borovinkas, budded stocks, grafted stocks. . . . All, all our life has gone into the garden. I never even dream of anything but apples and pears. Of course, it is very nice and useful, but sometimes one longs for something else for variety. I remember that when you used to come to us for the summer holidays, or simply a visit, it always seemed to be fresher and brighter in the house, as though the covers had been taken off the lustres and the furniture. I was only a little girl then, but yet I understood it."

She talked a long while and with great feeling. For some reason the idea came into his head that in the course of the summer he might grow fond of this little, weak, talkative creature, might be carried away and fall in love; in their position it was so possible and natural! This thought touched and amused him; he bent down to her sweet, preoccupied face and hummed softly:

" 'Onyegin, I won't conceal it;
I madly love Tatiana. . . .' "

By the time they reached the house, Yegor Semyonitch had got up. Kovrin did not feel sleepy; he talked to the old man and went to the garden with him. Yegor Semyonitch was a tall, broad-shouldered, corpulent man, and he suffered from asthma, yet he walked so fast that it was hard work to hurry after him. He had an extremely preoccupied air; he was always hurrying somewhere, with an expression that suggested that if he were one minute late all would be ruined!

"Here is a business, brother . . ." he began, standing still to take breath. "On the surface of the ground, as you see, is frost; but if you raise the thermometer on a stick fourteen feet above the ground, there it is warm. . . . Why is that?"

"I really don't know," said Kovrin, and he laughed.

"H'm! . . . One can't know everything, of course. . . . However large the intellect may be, you can't find room for everything in it. I suppose you still go in chiefly for philosophy?"

"Yes, I lecture in psychology; I am working at philosophy in general."

"And it does not bore you?"

"On the contrary, it's all I live for."

"Well, God bless you! . . ." said Yegor Semyonitch, meditatively stroking his grey whiskers. "God bless you! . . . I am delighted about you . . . delighted, my boy. . . ."

But suddenly he listened, and, with a terrible face, ran off and quickly disappeared behind the trees in a cloud of smoke.

I will post the rest of the first section, but after that I'll start quoting only parts of the story. We probably don't have time to read this one line by line. I may skip over some parts, but it's best if I keep things moving.

Janine

06-01-2008, 12:19 AM

Hi Quark,

You are a riot, trying to duplicate Antiquarian's key strokes. Why do you own a Russian Keyboard Antiq? I know you said you were Russian; however, I did not know you could speak or write it. That is interesting. I believe that Pensive owns a similar keyboard with her language. Once she posted something and said it was so.

Well, I found some things in this passage very interesting and I had not noticed one of of those before - the mention that Kovrin told Yegor,

"Yes, I lecture in psychology; I am working at philosophy in general."

I had recalled reading this part:

She talked a long while and with great feeling. For some reason the idea came into his head that in the course of the summer he might grow fond of this little, weak, talkative creature, might be carried away and fall in love; in their position it was so possible and natural! This thought touched and amused him; he bent down to her sweet, preoccupied face and hummed softly:

" 'Onyegin, I won't conceal it;
I madly love Tatiana. . . .' "

I think that is why, I thought they were involved or married, before he had any visions of the monk. I realise this is not 'involvement' at this point, but Kovrin did have a spark of interest in Tania, at this early stage; this thought proceeding Yegor's mention of marriage to his daughter, to Kovrin. What I am saying here is, there it this tiny seed of potennial in his mind, for him to marry with Tania.
He hasn't seen the monk yet, right? or am I being forgetful again?

I have to admit I that I am swaying this way in belief, Antiq:

Quotes by Antiquarian

Though we really don't know for sure it's TB Kovrin was suffering from, I would imagine it was. It was so prevalent in that time, and Chekhov, himself, died from it.

More so since it would be something Chekhov would be familiar with.

I agree Kovrin's mental state would have weakened him greatly, especially since he was fighting two urges - the urge to be well and stable and the urge to be mentally ill. He was being pulled in two directions emotionally, and that would have to take a very great toll on anyone's physical health as well.

Good thoughts here. Yes, that turmoil could certainly add to his physical demise.

Dark Muse

06-01-2008, 12:55 AM

DM may agree with that. It sounds like both of you accept the Black Monk's version of the story. The toughest hurdle for that interpretation is probably in the last section of the story. You might want to reread the last few pages to see whether that changes you opinion. Kovrin, at least briefly, turns his back on the monk, and he laments everything that's happened since the monk appeared to him. His lament is fairly convincing. We'll look at it when we get there, but we're still quite far from it at the moment.

Well I do not belive that his visions of the Black Monk is what caused him to become ill, as I am sort of the lone figure who does not in fact think thiat his hallucinations were a maligent force within his life, but rather I think it was when he began to be "cured" of the dilusions that he began to grow physcialy ill, now wheather those two events are completely sperate or not I am not completely sure, but I am not convinved that his being treated for his visions of the monk was a good thing.

Janine

06-02-2008, 03:16 PM

Gee, what happened on this site yesterday? Seems it was down all day, even into the night. I and a few others said they could not get on the forum; glad we are back up and running.

Antiquarian, thanks for posting the link to that article. It was quite interesting in different aspects. I have been wanting to find some commentary online about this story. This provided a start. I especially liked that last line about over-analysising the story; also Chekhov's own words about it. Both I think have truth in them.

Even if I re-read the entire story, I am still not sure I would come up with a truly firm conclusion. I tend to think this story is a bit open-ended and as the person in that commentary pointed out, it shows the fine line between sanity and insanity. He said something like that. I will come back and quote the line, to be more specific.

Actually here is the statement: "Kovrin begins to have hallucinations of a black-robed monk. As he becomes increasingly intoxicated by his visions, and Pesotsky more hysterical about his orchard and the Russian Antonovsky Apple, Chekhov explores the nebulous boundary between genius and insanity."

I thought the word 'nebulous' perfect in this statement "nebulous boundry between genius and insanity."

I wish I could go and see the play - it sounds fascinating, doesn't it?

Janine

06-02-2008, 04:03 PM

I think it's open ended, too, Janine. I know I won't come to any firm conclusions about it. I'll seem like I'm waffling because I think the story's is ambiguous.

Yes, I do agree and 'ambiguous' is a good word for it, also. I believe that was Chekhov's intention.

The play sounds fascinating. I adore plays.

Antiquarian, I love plays, too! I guess I will have to wait now until this one comes on some kind of video, such as ones that are available from the Kultur site. I hope they produce one eventually, of this play or others of Chekhov's others. Kenneth Branagh is currently starring in a Chekhov play in a theater (West End, London), adapted from "Ivan". I posted a photo and some information on it, a few dozen posts back, in this thread; probably was before you joined in here. I would love to see that one, also; but, I don't think I will be flying to London anytime soon. Hopefully, they will put it on DVD, but who knows?

Dark Muse

06-02-2008, 04:04 PM

I love Chekhov's descirptions of nature.

Dawn was already beginning, and that was especially perceptible from the distinctness with which the coils of smoke and the tops of the trees began to stand out in the air.

I think these are great lines.

Standards, half-standards

I found this a currious statement and wondered what is meant by it.

She took his arm. "Thank you for coming, Andryusha. We have only uninteresting acquaintances, and not many of them. We have only the garden, the garden, the garden, and nothing else. Standards, half-standards," she laughed. "Aports, Reinettes, Borovinkas, budded stocks, grafted stocks. . . . All, all our life has gone into the garden. I never even dream of anything but apples and pears. Of course, it is very nice and useful, but sometimes one longs for something else for variety. I remember that when you used to come to us for the summer holidays, or simply a visit, it always seemed to be fresher and brighter in the house, as though the covers had been taken off the lustres and the furniture. I was only a little girl then, but yet I understood it."

It seems as if both Tania and Egor have rather currious expectations of Kovrin and there does not seem to be any real evidence to support thier high hopes of him.

For some reason the idea came into his head that in the course of the summer he might grow fond of this little, weak, talkative creature, might be carried away and fall in love; in their position it was so possible and natural! This thought touched and amused him; he bent down to her sweet, preoccupied face and hummed softly:

I love this passage, but I found it a rather currious idea. Kovrin contemplating the propablity of his falling in love with Tania. Perhaps it is his philosophical nature which casues him to view things in this way.

He had an extremely preoccupied air; he was always hurrying somewhere, with an expression that suggested that if he were one minute late all would be ruined!

I really like this discription of Egor. He does seem like a rather comical figure.

But suddenly he listened, and, with a terrible face, ran off and quickly disappeared behind the trees in a cloud of smoke.

This is just a great image

Quark

06-02-2008, 05:40 PM

I think that is why, I thought they were involved or married, before he had any visions of the monk. I realise this is not 'involvement' at this point, but Kovrin did have a spark of interest in Tania, at this early stage; this thought proceeding Yegor's mention of marriage to his daughter, to Kovrin. What I am saying here is, there it this tiny seed of potennial in his mind, for him to marry with Tania.
He hasn't seen the monk yet, right? or am I being forgetful again?

Kovrin's infatuation does predate the marriage. By page two, it's clear that Kovrin in smitten, but the marriage isn't until later. I think the wedding is almost at the very middle of the story. The Black Monk appears sometime before then, but after this section.

Well I do not belive that his visions of the Black Monk is what caused him to become ill, as I am sort of the lone figure who does not in fact think thiat his hallucinations were a maligent force within his life, but rather I think it was when he began to be "cured" of the dilusions that he began to grow physcialy ill, now wheather those two events are completely sperate or not I am not completely sure, but I am not convinved that his being treated for his visions of the monk was a good thing.

I don't think you're alone in that assumption. Anti seems like she's of the same mind. Janine and I are still unsure, though. I'm particularly troubled by the ending of the story. He starts using the Black Monk as an escape from his problems just when it appears that he might be finally realizing the problem in his life: ambition. The exchange between Kovrin and Yegor in the section I just posted is a small warning about the dangers of over-ambition. Yegor can't understand how the ground can be frigid while the air a few inches above can be warm. Kovrin good-naturedly reminds him that he can't know everything, but it's Kovrin who tries to comprehend everything. His very profession is the practice of the knowledge that he claims can never be fully known. Even in these little episodes it's clear that there's something wrong with Kovrin's life. The Black Monk grows out of those problems.

I've come to the conclusion, after a second reading, that while Chekhov still wanted to blur the lines between mental/emotional and physical illness, that Kovrin did, in fact, have TB and the it was not worsened by the hallucination of the black monk. If anything, I think the hallucination may have prolonged Kovrin's life a little because it gave him comfort and solace.

Here's the link to an article about Chekhov's own dream about the black monk and what prompted him to write the story:

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9E01E3D8113FF93BA25756C0A9659C8B 63

Thanks for posting that Anti. At first it sounded rather fantastic that Chekhov would see an apparition like this, but it turns out the far-fetched story is true. The similarities between Kovrin and Chekhov keep piling up.

I'll reply to the other posts later tonight. I'm short on time at the moment.

Janine

06-03-2008, 03:22 PM

Kovrin's infatuation does predate the marriage. By page two, it's clear that Kovrin in smitten, but the marriage isn't until later. I think the wedding is almost at the very middle of the story. The Black Monk appears sometime before then, but after this section.

That is why I did think he was involved with Tania, before he saw the monk. It was after the evening tea one night, when Tania had some friends visiting and playing instruments and talking, that one of them told the story of a girl who had a fantastic dream or a hallucination; that was after Kovrin made the remark about possibly falling in love with Tania and marrying her. Here is that passage (sorry, if I am jumping a little ahead to make a point):

A girl with a diseased imagination heard one night mysterious sounds in the garden, which were so wonderfully beautiful and strange that she thought they were holy harmonies, but so incomprehensible for us mortals that they ascended again to heaven.

I thought the statement just before this curious and wondered why "Kovrin tried to make out the words --they were Russian--and he was quite unable to understand their meaning." Wasn't Kovrin Russian? Can you clear this up for me, Quark?

I found of particular significance, that this early in the story the words 'diseased imagination' are stated; doesn't this seem to foretell the idea presented in this story, with Kovrin also having a 'diseased imagination'?Chekhov could have choose other words such as vivid, overactive, creative; any number of words that would have positive indications, rather than the word 'diseased', which to me indicates the negative and an actual illness.

I don't think you're alone in that assumption. Anti seems like she's of the same mind. Janine and I are still unsure, though.

I think Antiquarian can tell you herself, but to me she seems to have come in half-way on her assessment - she seems to stay pretty open-minded about the whole thing; I did not get the impression that she has come to a final conclusion; afterall, should any of us, having just begun to scratch the surface, in discussing this story? When I said the story was 'open-ended', she agreed with that. I don't know, I think you have to ask Anti herself.

I'm particularly troubled by the ending of the story. He starts using the Black Monk as an escape from his problems just when it appears that he might be finally realizing the problem in his life: ambition.

Quark, good observation; you know, I think this is true. He does use the Black Monk as an escape. He has been send to the country to recover from fatique or nervousness; conveniently these hallucinations occur and the Black Monk comes like a saviour to rescue Kovrin from himself. He really is overwhelmed, no doubt, with his ambitions; they have take their toll on him both mentally and physcially. As I see it he has a complete breakdown/meltdown. One could say it was from over exhaustion and overwork. Odd thing is he then becomes sleepless; the narrator mentions that fact more than once. I have read about sleep deprivation and actually, that in itself can cause hallucinations. I will try and do more research on that today. If he had this physical breakdown from fatique and overwork it could naturally bring on the hallucinations through lack of sleep and also combine that with his impending physical disease and it could be a whole recipe for his downfall. Even adding to all this the 'cure' which is really no cure at all, given the crude methods at the time, everything combined could lead to his demise. In the 1800's people were even bleed to try and release their diseased - this only weakened them more and led to a faster death. The bromide may have hastened Kovrin's condition because in reality, it was not the correct treatment for his conditions.

The exchange between Kovrin and Yegor in the section I just posted is a small warning about the dangers of over-ambition. Yegor can't understand how the ground can be frigid while the air a few inches above can be warm. Kovrin good-naturedly reminds him that he can't know everything, but it's Kovrin who tries to comprehend everything. His very profession is the practice of the knowledge that he claims can never be fully known. Even in these little episodes it's clear that there's something wrong with Kovrin's life. The Black Monk grows out of those problems.

Quark, very intelligent observation and good point! I would have to agree with you totally on this. Interesting pointing out the line having to do with the air. I noticed those remarks and wondered at the full significance; now I see it much clearly; thanks.

Thanks for posting that Anti. At first it sounded rather fantastic that Chekhov would see an apparition like this, but it turns out the far-fetched story is true. The similarities between Kovrin and Chekhov keep piling up.

Thanks Antiquarian, I found that article extremely interesting myself. It was quite helpful to read that; it filled in a lot of blanks. I would like to hear more about these similarities between Kovrin and Chekhov, Quark. You know me, I love to tie in biographies of the authors. I like to see just how their thought process worked when they created these stories.

I'll reply to the other posts later tonight. I'm short on time at the moment.

Quark, where did you run off to his time; I had to retrieve the thread on page 2 again! hahaha.....

Quark, I posted the new story in L. last night.

Quark

06-03-2008, 05:40 PM

Antiquarian, thanks for posting the link to that article. It was quite interesting in different aspects. I have been wanting to find some commentary online about this story. This provided a start. I especially liked that last line about over-analysising the story; also Chekhov's own words about it. Both I think have truth in them.

Yeah, the article was also interesting because it gave a few interpretations of the story as well as the info about the play. I like the quote from Waterson, too: ''One of the great things about really good plays is they can't be reduced to a couple of sentences.'' This story certainly resists paraphrasing. Not only can the characters be considered in different ways, but what literally happens in the plot is ambiguous. It's impossible to know what caused what. Did his TB cause his delusion? Did the illusions cause the TB? Chekhov never makes it clear.

Looking at the interpretations given, though, I think I like Rabe's the best. He tells us that the play is about ''the inadvertent calamities -- as opposed to deliberate evil or deliberate harm -- that people bring on one another." That's an excellent description of the conflict in "The Black Monk." I would add to it some; but, as an overview, I think it works well. Kovrin, Tania, and Yegor inadvertently harm each other in ways that they never understand. The Stanley Fish interpretation doesn't resonate so much with what I read. He argues that ''It's a story about the nature of creative vision and whether it can survive in an environment that's hostile,'' he said. ''And also about the relationship between visionary thought and megalomania.'' Perhaps this goes more with what Antiquarian and DM have been saying, but I can't see the sense in this argument. It seems like an overly Kovrin-centric interpretation which ignores the parallels between the characters and the story's conclusion.

The play sounds fascinating. I adore plays.

I'm crossing my fingers someone will put it on youtube. I know you can see other Chekhov plays on the internet, so maybe this one will find its way onto a webpage sometime soon. I've actually thought about doing a Chekhov play on this thread for a while.

I love Chekhov's descirptions of nature.

Well I promised Antiquarian that I'd find a poetic story to do for this month. I think this one is definitely in that category. The descriptions of nature are very poetic. They also make statements about the characters and plot. The lines you quoted below about dawn throwing light over the garden are both beautiful in themselves and also description of the greater story. Chekhov's illustration of the garden is filled with a obscuring smoke and distinct outlines. This is very similar to the way the story is told. The ambiguity of the plot is comparable to smoke, and Chekhov's concrete, literal-minded story-telling is like the distinct outlines.

I found this a currious statement and wondered what is meant by it.

My translation replaces the words "standard" and "half-standard" with what they actually mean: tree trunks and timber. Standard is horticultural lingo for tree trunks. I don't know how they expect the casual reader to understand that, but they do apparently.

It seems as if both Tania and Egor have rather currious expectations of Kovrin and there does not seem to be any real evidence to support thier high hopes of him.

I didn't find it that odd. Yegor is like a parent to Kovrin, and parents have all kinds of hopes for their kids.

I love this passage, but I found it a rather currious idea. Kovrin contemplating the propablity of his falling in love with Tania. Perhaps it is his philosophical nature which casues him to view things in this way.

It isn't so much probability he's contemplating. It's possibility, if that makes sense. It's dawned on him that he might fall in love with her, so he's hypothetically thinking about what a relationship with her would be like. I don't think he's deciding on the percentage chance he has with her, or anything like that.

Janine, sorry to bury your post on the previous page. I'll reply to it soon. I just had to catch up on some of the other posts before I went on to yours.

Dark Muse

06-03-2008, 06:27 PM

My translation replaces the words "standard" and "half-standard" with what they actually mean: tree trunks and timber. Standard is horticultural lingo for tree trunks. I don't know how they expect the casual reader to understand that, but they do apparently.

Ahh yes that makes sense.

I didn't find it that odd. Yegor is like a parent to Kovrin, and parents have all kinds of hopes for their kids.

What I was trying to say and perhaps this is more true for Tania than for Egor, is that she seems to have this ideal that his coming to the farm is suddenly going to change their lifestyle there, or somehow make things on the farm more interesting and exciting, though prior to his engagement to her, he really dose not "do" anything to altar the course of their lives on the farm, he just sort of fits into the background of it, but his presence really does not change their goings on. He isn't exactly the "party guy" and I use that jokingly but I think you get my drift.

It isn't so much probability he's contemplating. It's possibility, if that makes sense. It's dawned on him that he might fall in love with her, so he's hypothetically thinking about what a relationship with her would be like. I don't think he's deciding on the percentage chance he has with her, or anything like that.

What I was trying to say, and perhaps I am just the odd one here, but to me, at least it does not seem that is natural for a person to contemplate if they might fall in love with a person or not, they either feel it or they don't. Now there are different degrees of attraction but to me that is a little different than someone thinking they could fall in love with a person, prior to actually having any feelings about them.

Janine

06-03-2008, 10:22 PM

Ahh yes that makes sense.

Yes, Quark, I second that. That made that part much clearer. How would anyone know that who was not familiar with horticulture?

What I was trying to say and perhaps this is more true for Tania than for Egor, is that she seems to have this ideal that his coming to the farm is suddenly going to change their lifestyle there, or somehow make things on the farm more interesting and exciting, though prior to his engagement to her, he really dose not "do" anything to altar the course of their lives on the farm, he just sort of fits into the background of it, but his presence really does not change their goings on. He isn't exactly the "party guy" and I use that jokingly but I think you get my drift.

I think early on in this story it is expressed by both of them just how happy a time it was when Kovrin lived there growing up; so why would it be strange that Tania and also Egor would not have an elated feeling seeing him return to them. I think it is reasonable to see why Tania would think things might change with Kovrin residing there. He may not be the "party guy" but then again I doubt this kind of guy would be what Tania would be interested in. She made mention when they walked through the gardens to Kovrin that:

We have but few acquaintances here, and they are not interesting.

Therefore, from what I have seen of what she says to Kovrin she does find him interesting; even fascinating and she knows he is highly intelligent. Perhaps her standards are these and not just a guy who likes light-hearted things. She seems a very serious-minded girl herself and is very dedicated to her father and his garden. I think any relief from that monotony of life would have been welcome to her and I think she genuinely does care for Kovrin - they grew up together; obviously they liked each other a great deal.

What I was trying to say, and perhaps I am just the odd one here, but to me, at least it does not seem that is natural for a person to contemplate if they might fall in love with a person or not, they either feel it or they don't. Now there are different degrees of attraction but to me that is a little different than someone thinking they could fall in love with a person, prior to actually having any feelings about them.

I don't think this odd at all. I think that when a person meets someone, they sometimes will think the other person has a potential to them for a long-term relationship and love. I don't think everyone falls head over heels in love on first sight. True that Kovrin has known Tania for a long time but now he seems to be viewing her with adult eyes and seeing a whole new person. I think it totally responsible that he is thinking "he might become attached" to her and "he might be carried away and fall in love - in their position it was so possible and so natural!"

I don't believe in love at first sight; that it can last; love at first sight is usually just infatuation, not true love. I think that one can however, get a sense that this might turn out to be a true love in the end. Love takes time to develop.

Quark

06-03-2008, 11:23 PM

I thought the statement just before this curious and wondered why "Kovrin tried to make out the words --they were Russian--and he was quite unable to understand their meaning." Wasn't Kovrin Russian? Can you clear this up for me, Quark?

I'm going to post the part of the story that talks about this at the bottom of my post. I'll explain it when I comment on that section. Right now, I'll just say that yes Kovrin is Russian. The words themselves would not give him any problems. It's the idea of a greater meaning beyond the literal meaning of the words that Chekhov is referring to here.

I found of particular significance, that this early in the story the words 'diseased imagination' are stated; doesn't this seem to foretell the idea presented in this story, with Kovrin also having a 'diseased imagination'?Chekhov could have choose other words such as vivid, overactive, creative; any number of words that would have positive indications, rather than the word 'diseased', which to me indicates the negative and an actual illness.

The word diseased does give it a negative connotation, but the words "beautiful" and "harmony" make it seem positive. It's a mixed feeling we get from the music.

The bromide may have hastened Kovrin's condition because in reality, it was not the correct treatment for his conditions.

Do you think they knew that in the late nineteenth-century, though? Chekhov could still have believed that this treatment worked.

Quark. You know me, I love to tie in biographies of the authors. I like to see just how their thought process worked when they created these stories.

When I move into my new place, I'll have access to the university library and I'm sure I can find several biographies then. Right now, unfortunately, the local library doesn't have any. All I have to go off of are the introductions in my short story collections--hardly enlightening.

Quark, I posted the new story in L. last night.

Thanks for giving us some time to read the story in advance. I always fall behind when we start the discussion on the same day as the story announcement.

What I was trying to say and perhaps this is more true for Tania than for Egor

Tania seems like she leads a rather insulated life. She doesn't leave the farm much and Yegor is the only person she has to talk to--outside of the violin guy. Kovrin must appear like quite the cosmopolitan to her. I can see why she might be impressed, given the circumstances.

What I was trying to say, and perhaps I am just the odd one here, but to me, at least it does not seem that is natural for a person to contemplate if they might fall in love with a person or not, they either feel it or they don't.

You think Kovrin is out of touch with his feelings? That's probably true, but I thought this contemplation was pretty normal. He's still getting over the fact that she's actually a woman now, so he's having some problems adjusting to the idea that he's in love with her.

Janine brought up the scene with the music. Let me post the text for that part so we can talk about it.

In the country he led just as nervous and restless a life as in town. He read and wrote a great deal, he studied Italian, and when he was out for a walk, thought with pleasure that he would soon sit down to work again. He slept so little that every one wondered at him; if he accidentally dozed for half an hour in the daytime, he would lie awake all night, and, after a sleepless night, would feel cheerful and vigorous as though nothing had happened.

He talked a great deal, drank wine, and smoked expensive cigars. Very often, almost every day, young ladies of neighbouring families would come to the Pesotskys', and would sing and play the piano with Tanya; sometimes a young neighbour who was a good violinist would come, too. Kovrin listened with eagerness to the music and singing, and was exhausted by it, and this showed itself by his eyes closing and his head falling to one side.

One day he was sitting on the balcony after evening tea, reading. At the same time, in the drawing-room, Tanya taking soprano, one of the young ladies a contralto, and the young man with his violin, were practising a well-known serenade of Braga's. Kovrin listened to the words -- they were Russian -- and could not understand their meaning. At last, leaving his book and listening attentively, he understood: a maiden, full of sick fancies, heard one night in her garden mysterious sounds, so strange and lovely that she was obliged to recognise them as a holy harmony which is unintelligible to us mortals, and so flies back to heaven. Kovrin's eyes began to close. He got up, and in exhaustion walked up and down the drawing-room, and then the dining-room. When the singing was over he took Tanya's arm, and with her went out on the balcony.

Dark Muse

06-04-2008, 01:44 AM

I don't think this odd at all. I think that when a person meets someone, they sometimes will think the other person has a potential to them for a long-term relationship and love. I don't think everyone falls head over heels in love on first sight. True that Kovrin has known Tania for a long time but now he seems to be viewing her with adult eyes and seeing a whole new person. I think it totally responsible that he is thinking "he might become attached" to her and "he might be carried away and fall in love - in their position it was so possible and so natural!"

Perhaps it is just the way I am viewing/interpreting it. Or the way he words it. I am not suggesting head over heels love at first sight, but I have never had an experience of contemplating the possibility of falling in love with a person I currently have no feelings for.

Either I have feelings for them or I do not, but that does not mean those "feelings" have to blossom into true love.

But I never said to myself "maybe I will fall in love with them"

I just do, or do not.

That is why I thought it was his philosophical nature that made him view things in that regard. Instead of just experiencing the feelings, he may or may not have, he pre-considers them.

Kovrin listened with eagerness to the music and singing, and was exhausted by it, and this showed itself by his eyes closing and his head falling to one side.

I found this to be an interesting expression. The fact that listening to music exhausted him.

Kovrin listened to the words -- they were Russian -- and could not understand their meaning

I found it currious that the fact that the words of the song were Russian was pointed out. Does that have some meaning to the nature of the song?

Kovrin's eyes began to close. He got up, and in exhaustion walked up and down the drawing-room, and then the dining-room. When the singing was over he took Tanya's arm, and with her went out on the balcony.

Once more he becomes exhausted by listening to a song. Is it becasue he thinks too much about the meaning of the muisc? Or becasue it is a partcuarly emotional experince for him?

Quark

06-04-2008, 06:53 PM

He has trouble understanding his own language, at least on first hearing it sung, whether it's the literal meaning or the symbolic and I think it's the symbolic. Yet he can still read. I found that strange. If I'm ever feeling high-strung (very rarely), I can't read. But then, I'm not Kovrin.

Looking at what I posted above, it appears that Kovrin couldn't understand the words initially because he was focusing on his book. Chekhov writes "Kovrin listened to the words -- they were Russian -- and could not understand their meaning. At last, leaving his book and listening attentively, he understood." Once he listens attentively he understands.

I thought the bromide was for his nerves, not for the possible TB? It probably didn't help or hinder either his physical or emotional state. If anything, it probably helped both a little.

That could be. It would even makes sense since they don't know he has TB at this point. They only know that he's hallucinating, and they might blame his strained nerves for that. Whether it's for the TB or not, though, I don't think it changes much since we've established that the line between his mental and physical condition is blurred.

As for the word "diseased," the translation could be at fault. We can't take things too, too literally here because Chekhov wrote in Russian and being Russian, I know Russian isn't easy to translate into English. Some of the Russian words simply don't translate.

That's true. Perhaps the word in the original Russian doesn't have the same unwholesome connotation that "diseased" has in English. I do have to say, however, that I've read three translations of the story and they all use that word.

Once more he becomes exhausted by listening to a song. Is it becasue he thinks too much about the meaning of the muisc? Or becasue it is a partcuarly emotional experince for him?

To understand Kovrin's reaction to the music you have to follow of series of connections that Chekhov makes. First, the music is connected to the Black Monk. Remember that immediately after he hears the music he comes up with the legend of the wandering monk. It's almost as if the music inspires the myth for Kovrin. The parallel is further established by what the song and the Black Monk represent. The song is about a woman finding a hidden harmony in her sick fancies, and the Black Monk convinces Kovrin that his diseased imagination is really genius. After we make this connection, Kovrin's reaction is much easier to understand. The song exhausts him because it's similar to his ambitious work. In his work he's trying to be overly-intelligent and it strains his nerves. The music tired him similarly because he has to strain his attention to hear it.

I found it currious that the fact that the words of the song were Russian was pointed out. Does that have some meaning to the nature of the song?

The fact that they're Russian means they're ordinary. If we're expanding our comparison of the music to Kovrin's intelligence, what does that say about Kovrin's mind? Is he really a genius, or is he an ordinary person striving for genius?

Dark Muse

06-04-2008, 06:59 PM

As far as Kovrin's genius is concerned. I was never completely convinced that he truly was a genius or that it was his own personal ambition to be genius throughout the story it is always Egor, and Tania that emphasize how great he is, or how great he is to become. In some ways I think he is just pressured by them, or that is just how they see him, but that is not necessarily how he sees himself.

Though he does say he enjoys philosophy, one does not have to be a genius for that.

Though he does say he enjoys philsopohy, one does not have to be a genuius for that.

Quark

06-04-2008, 07:11 PM

I was never completely convinced that he truly was a genius or that it was his own personal ambition to be genius

Genius may have been an overstatement on my part. What I meant to say is that he demands a lot from his intellect and time which may be more than he's capable of. Here's a paragraph later on in the story which explains this a little better:

He [Kovrin] thought how much life exacts for the worthless or very commonplace blessings it can give a man. For instance, to gain, before forty, a university chair, to be an ordinary professor, to expound ordinary and second-hand thoughts in dull, heavy, insipid language -- in fact, to gain the position of a mediocre learned man, he, Kovrin, had had to study for fifteen years, to work day and night, to endure a terrible mental illness, to experience an unhappy marriage, and to do a great number of stupid and unjust things which it would have been pleasant not to remember. Kovrin recognised clearly, now, that he was a mediocrity, and readily resigned himself to it, as he considered that every man ought to be satisfied with what he is.

Dark Muse

06-04-2008, 07:18 PM

It just felt to me, that his feeling of having to aquire some form of greatness as instilled in him by the expectations and asperations of Egor, as the way he is with his garden, and Tania, he seems to be a very demanding man. So perhaps Kovrin feels he will be a dissapointment if he does not strive for great things.

Quark

06-04-2008, 07:19 PM

I think one of the central questions of the story is: Was the Black Monk a product of Kovrin's madness or a product of his genius to cope with his madness and to help him through it in a more fruitful and happy manner?

That is one of the central questions in the story. The second is probably "What did the Black Monk represent?"

One can be a genius in other ways, don't you think, Quark?

You mean that Kovrin's idea of genius isn't the only one?

Note: I have the original Russian text of the story and the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation.

Does the original Russian version use a single adjective to describe Kovrin's imagination like in the English versions? If so, what word do they use?

It just felt to me, that his feeling of having to aquire some form of greatness as instilled in him by the expectations and asperations of Egor, as the way he is with his garden, and Tania, he seems to be a very demanding man. So perhaps Kovrin feels he will be a dissapointment if he does not strive for great things.

That's a possibility. I've struggled to find the reason why Chekhov stages the action at Kovrin's childhood home. Maybe he's suggesting that Kovrin's ambition started here, and was implanted by his obsessive Yegor.

This interpretation sounds a little hard on Yegor, though. Yegor is such an amusing character it's hard to believe he could be root of Kovrin's problems. I think some of the blame must fall on Kovrin.

Janine

06-05-2008, 03:36 PM

Yeah, the article was also interesting because it gave a few interpretations of the story as well as the info about the play. I like the quote from Waterson, too: ''One of the great things about really good plays is they can't be reduced to a couple of sentences.'' This story certainly resists paraphrasing. Not only can the characters be considered in different ways, but what literally happens in the plot is ambiguous. It's impossible to know what caused what. Did his TB cause his delusion? Did the illusions cause the TB? Chekhov never makes it clear.

Quark, I hope you don't mind but I went back to this post of yours. I liked what you said here; yeah 'which came first, the chicken or the egg'?

I fished this out of my earlier post, one that you referred to here:

Janine, sorry to bury your post on the previous page. I'll reply to it soon. I just had to catch up on some of the other posts before I went on to yours.

Remember those? Ho hum...I think you forgot them....
Anyway, here is what I quoted from that article:

Kovrin begins to have hallucinations of a black-robed monk. As he becomes increasingly intoxicated by his visions, and Pesotsky more hysterical about his orchard and the Russian Antonovsky Apple, Chekhov explores the nebulous boundary between genius and insanity.

I thought the word 'nebulous' perfect in this statement "nebulous boundry between genius and insanity." I also noticed the close parrellel to the two kinds of neurosis. It seems that both men border between a sort of mental illness and genius at times; one with his obsessive scholarly pursuits and the other with his intense obsession with his garden. Out of both of these is born much anxiety and consequences of a negative aspect. Both men suffer from obsessive conditions to begin with. Kovrin is overworked and Yegor no doubt also is overworked. Of course, Kovrin experiences the hallucinations and sleeplessness; but the two men do share some form of obsessive behavior.

Looking at the interpretations given, though, I think I like Rabe's the best. He tells us that the play is about ''the inadvertent calamities -- as opposed to deliberate evil or deliberate harm -- that people bring on one another." That's an excellent description of the conflict in "The Black Monk." I would add to it some; but, as an overview, I think it works well. Kovrin, Tania, and Yegor inadvertently harm each other in ways that they never understand. The Stanley Fish interpretation doesn't resonate so much with what I read. He argues that ''It's a story about the nature of creative vision and whether it can survive in an environment that's hostile,'' he said. ''And also about the relationship between visionary thought and megalomania.'' Perhaps this goes more with what Antiquarian and DM have been saying, but I can't see the sense in this argument. It seems like an overly Kovrin-centric interpretation which ignores the parallels between the characters and the story's conclusion.

Quark, I agree with the first interpretation, Rabbi's. I don't think any of the characters mean to harm one another, and yet they do 'inadvertently' and they 'never understand'.

I'm crossing my fingers someone will put it on youtube. I know you can see other Chekhov plays on the internet, so maybe this one will find its way onto a webpage sometime soon. I've actually thought about doing a Chekhov play on this thread for a while.

I never thought to look there; now I will be looking for other plays I am interested in on that site. Hopefully someone will put it on Youtube. I will have to go and check out other Chekhov plays on there. Neat!

Well I promised Antiquarian that I'd find a poetic story to do for this month. I think this one is definitely in that category. The descriptions of nature are very poetic. They also make statements about the characters and plot. The lines you quoted below about dawn throwing light over the garden are both beautiful in themselves and also description of the greater story. Chekhov's illustration of the garden is filled with a obscuring smoke and distinct outlines. This is very similar to the way the story is told. The ambiguity of the plot is comparable to smoke, and Chekhov's concrete, literal-minded story-telling is like the distinct outlines.

I thought it was Dark Muse who pointed out the poetic sections of the story but maybe it was both Antiquarian and Dark Muse. You can add me to the list. This story did contain more interesting and lovely descriptions than others we have read. I enjoyed reading it; wish I could get it on audiofile. It would be fun to listen, to I think, with the vivid descriptions. I did like that smoke scene. I have seen films with this sort of thing and they are truly awesome scenes. I am thinking in particular of one movie I own where they burn pots in a huge field to keep off locust; I think it was locust. The scene was so amazing and the atmosphere so erie and wonderful.

My translation replaces the words "standard" and "half-standard" with what they actually mean: tree trunks and timber. Standard is horticultural lingo for tree trunks. I don't know how they expect the casual reader to understand that, but they do apparently.

Thanks for that interpretation. You know when people talk of the best translations, I don't know what to think. I can't afford to buy all new books and I would think the ones I have are sufficient, at least for me. Unless one was a true scholar of Chekhov, would it be necessary to buy the latest translation? I have run into this problem with most of the Russian authors' works. I have seen newer translations in B&N but they seem to cost a fortune.

Antiquarian, I know you said this:

Note: I have the original Russian text of the story and the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation....I've found these translations far superior to any others, but it's subjective to a degree, of course.

My question to you, would this really matter for me? I think you are more into Chekhov's work than I am, so I can understand your wanting to buy the best. I am relying basically on library books, online text and my father's old book.

I didn't find it that odd. Yegor is like a parent to Kovrin, and parents have all kinds of hopes for their kids.

I didn't find that odd at all. Yegor brought up Kovrin as a son. He had all those pictures framed of Kovrin in the parlour just like most loving and proud parents do. He surely did have high hopes for his friend (son). He proudly displayed his achievements and photos of him grown up and successful. Most parents would do the same.

It isn't so much probability he's contemplating. It's possibility, if that makes sense. It's dawned on him that he might fall in love with her, so he's hypothetically thinking about what a relationship with her would be like. I don't think he's deciding on the percentage chance he has with her, or anything like that.

I agree; he does have some feeling for Tania and now he sees her changed into a woman; this piques his interest in her in a whole new way. I think condemplating more involvement and love with her is only natural. I would do the same; should I meet someone and like them. I would not instantly fall in love with them, but I would see 'possibility' in that happening. One can't rely on 'probability' but 'possibility' could exist from the beginning, like the seed of a plant or flower. I also think his thinking 'hypothetically' is completely in the normal range. I think most 'normal' guys would think this way. Afterall back then there were not a lot of choices for men or woman. He finds Tania appealing and so he is looking to the future with some hope of happiness.

Quark, I will wait now until you post more text to discuss.

Dark Muse

06-05-2008, 04:00 PM

This interpretation sounds a little hard on Yegor, though. Yegor is such an amusing character it's hard to believe he could be root of Kovrin's problems. I think some of the blame must fall on Kovrin.

I am not really "putting" blame on anyone, I was just never really certain that Kovrin's attempting greatness was of his own making and his own decision. But I am not judging that as good or bad. It just seemed when he went back it was Egor that kept emphasizing all the great things he would do.

Though I do hold Tania and Egor in part responsible for Kovrin's downfall, because they are the ones that convinced him he needed to be "cured" as I do not really think the Black Monk as a bad thing, and I do not think that should have been taken away from him.

Janine

06-05-2008, 05:24 PM

It probably wouldn't matter to much to you, Janine, and the newer translation doesn't change the story a great deal.

Thanks, that is good to know. I am not all that particular about it, not if just reading it for pleasure.

It might make a big difference if you were reading a long book, like The Brothers Karamazov or Anna Karenina, both of which are among those Pevear and Volokhonsky have translated. The flow is a lot better in the newer translations and they retain more of the Russian. In many of the older translations of books, for example, Matei becomes Matthew, but in the Pevear and Volokhonsky translations he would remain Matei.

Oh gee, I guess then I am in trouble. Actually, I did read one older book of Anna K and I picked up a newer one, in my library free. Oh my gosh, I am in luck; just got over being lazy and went to get it from across the room; guess what? It is translated by those two you mention, Antiquarian. Good deal, huh - getting this novel free? It is just like new, too.
I may be in trouble with the Dostoyevsky - I bought those from Dover, when they had this big sale recently. I just went to check those, also, and most are translated by Constance Garnett. We had a discussion about her, not long ago on Lit Net; actually, I've liked her translations and others on the forum did too; so I guess I will be ok with those. She was married to Lawrence's editor.

But in a short story, and especially if you're not terribly into Chekhov, then I think the book you have is no doubt just fine.

Yes, I figured if we are using the online texts often, then who knows who translated those, right? I didn't think it that important, to me really.

DM, I do not think the Black Monk was necessarily a bad thing, either. He did help Kovrin cope with his emotional problems and the pressures placed on him, and he made Kovrin happy.

I am confused - wasn't the Black Monk the embodiment of his emotional problems; on the other hand he acted as the foil or distraction to Kovrin's reality. He was Kovrin's escape route; as a dream-world. In many ways, his own imagination was his escape route. I would say that was benign and harmless, if this Black Monk always appeared to him the same, benign and consistent; but, what if one day the Black Monk were to tell him to do some murderous act, or even kill himself? And that change could happen suddenly.

Interesting that in the Shakespeare play "Hamlet" Horatio says this same sort of thing to Hamlet, when Hamlet insists on pursuing his father's ghost, which at this time, Hamlet does not know whether it be apparation or truly the ghost, the embodiment of his actual father's soul.

Horatio tells Hamlet:

what if it tempt you to the flood, my lord,
Or the dreadful summit of the cliff
That beetles o'er his base into the sea,
And there assume some other horrible form,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,
And draw you into madness? think of it:
The very place puts toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain
That looks so many fathoms to the sea
And hears it roar beneath.

As we all know, Hamlet is lead into stages of temporary madness (always debatable). Thing do go totally wrong for him, ending in the tragedy. That too, is a matter of circumstances evolving over,time, chain reactions that all end badly.

I'm unclear, for now, if he was a product of Kovrin's blilliance in dealing with his madness or if he was a manifestation of illness. Probably something of both.

I feel it was the last. I always have since I first read this story. Just my own opinion. That is not to say his hallucination was not totally fascinating and creative. I have dreams while sleeping like this. But if they were to invade my daytime waking hours I would be definitely concerned.

Dark Muse

06-05-2008, 05:50 PM

I am confused - wasn't the Black Monk the embodiment of his emotional problems; on the other hand he acted as the foil or distraction to Kovrin's reality. He was Kovrin's escape route; as a dream-world. In many ways, his own imagination was his escape route. I would say that was benign and harmless, if this Black Monk always appeared to him the same, benign and consistent; but, what if one day the Black Monk were to tell him to do some murderous act, or even kill himself? And that change could happen suddenly

Well when I look at a story I do not make up fake scenarios that do not occur within the story. The "what ifs" are really irrelevant because they are not within the context of the story, and there is no way to say that the Black Monk would tell him to do any such thing, so it really does not matter. It does not exist outside of the story, so I go by what is within the story. Not a hundred possibilities of things that could have happened.

Based upon the text within the story, he was happier during the time in which he had his visions of the monk, and it was after they began to "cure" him for it, that he grew depressed and unahppy, and if his illness was purely a physical one being TB, than he still would have died Monk or no Monk, but based on what is within the story, his death might have been happier than it was if he had been allowed to continue with his visions.

But ther is nothing within the story to suggest the Monk was suddenly going to tell him to hurt himself or anyone else.

Dark Muse

06-05-2008, 06:11 PM

For me the question is: Was the Black Monk a product of Kovrin's madness or did Kovrin's subconscious create the Black Monk as a way of shielding him and helping him to deal with mental illness and emotional turmoil in a more peaceful way? If it was the latter, did that mean Kovrin was a genius?

I will have to read the story over again to contemplate those questions, though as of now, I am still not sure about his being a genuis, ambitous pehraps, but I am not sure about genius, as well I do not even know if I truly think he was mentally ill even if he was having visions.

Acutally that is another whole question really. Visisions and hallucinations are acutally two different things. I think many creative people do have "visions" though not always in a way that is completely crazy.

And the fact the Kovrin was aware that no one else could see the Monk, perhaps indicates he was not truly insane, as an insane person would not know the difference. But at the dinner Kovrin knew that Egor and Tania were unaware that he saw the monk sitting at the table with them.

A true mentally ill person would presume that everyone could see the monk.

But Kovrin knew the difference.

Dark Muse

06-05-2008, 06:17 PM

But don't they also say that people who are mentally ill, never think they are "crazy" and do not call themselves "crazy" so if Kovrin is aware something strange is happening to him that is not natural, perhaps that is an indication that he is not trully mentally ill. He is just having an experince.

Janine

06-05-2008, 06:30 PM

That's true. Mentally ill people do usually think that everyone sees the exact same thing they see. I'm not sure if they always do because I'm not that up in psychology. But at one point, Kovrin says he's going mad, doesn't he? I'm not sure. As I said, I have to read the story again myself.

Perhaps Kovrin wasn't mentally ill, but overburdened emotionally and the Black Monk was his way coping with stress. I just don't know at this point. I think the story is very ambiguous.

Quote by Dark Musr

But don't they also say that people who are mentally ill, never think they are "crazy" and do not call themselves "crazy" so if Kovrin is aware something strange is happening to him that is not natural, perhaps that is an indication that he is not trully mentally ill. He is just having an experince.

This is the thing; I do have first hand knowledge of this - hallucinations and people, actually accounting to me their individual experience(s); yes, they can know it is an hallucination. This is most definitely true. It is also true of those who hear voices; they can know they are not real. I have witnessed people experiencing, both. If too far removed from reality, then they can begin to believe these to be real. They are real to them, while experiencing them, but then they usually snap back to reality and they realise they were not real. These things are not easy things to live with daily. Mostly the individuals, I have known, have not wanted to live with these two things - they greatly disrrupted their lives; they are like hauntings. Some get help and some ended up in ruin; which is very sad. I have seen this first hand; this is why I have this particular opinion about this story. If indeed the story were of a 'supernatural' nature, would Chekhov be writing it? I did not think 'supernatural' his genre; I thought he was more of a realist.

Janine

06-05-2008, 07:05 PM

I don't think it's meant to be a tale of the supernatural, Janine. I don't think the Black Monk was a ghost or supernatural being. I was just wondering if Kovrin was truly mentally ill and the Black Monk was a manifestation of that illness or if he was greatly mentally and emotionally stressed and the Black Monk was his way of dealing with his stress the way some little children will make up imaginary playmates. Some children to that frequently and they are just highly imaginative, and usually highly strung and very intelligent, but not ill.

But no, no. I don't think the Black Monk has anything to do with the supernatural.

Yes, I know that is very true and psychologists will tell you that is within their normal range of behavior - for children to do so; my son had several imaginary friends, and he was a very creative child. I never worried about them; I even thought, how funny they were sometimes. On the other hand, I did know a person who had hallucinations and would sort of wake up from them and did indeed reason that they were not real. One person had a mental disorder; the other had a physical disease and the hallucinations were born out of the drugs he had to take. He also knew they were not real.

Two things could be happening here; either Kovrin is having a mental breakdown; and there were previous signs and symptoms to that before-hand: such as sleeplessness, nervousness, anxiety, maybe even 'racing thoughts', delusions of 'grandeur'; now had these not been present and mentioned from the very beginning of the story, I might even consider his vision of the monk came on suddenly and wonder at it; even in a purely 'imaginative' or 'supernatural' manor. The second thing I think could be happening, is that all this is born out of this physical condition. Who is to say he doesn't have a brain tumor or other such thing? If it is TB, he could be sleepless and he could also have hallucinations from lack of sleep; that is documented and known to occur within a few days time with no sleep; sleep is vital to our mental states.
Whether it is one or the other - both entail some kind of degenerative condition, whether physically born or mentally born.

Dark Muse

06-05-2008, 08:33 PM

I do not think the story is supernatural, but I think there is a difference between having visions and hallucinating. And I do not think that a person having a vision has to mean they are crazy.

Janine

06-05-2008, 10:45 PM

Yes, true. He could be hallucinating or having visions because of his physical illness. But I'm sure at one point in the story he says he knows he's going mad. I don't know how much emphasis we should put on that, however. It's Kovrin's perception.

Antiquarian, I think it could be from the illness, but then again, does seem odd to me that right after he heard that story, about the girl hearing fantastic music, is when he had his first hallucination. It would seem that thought or suggestion, mentally prompted/stimulated his mind to imagine the Black Monk. He does say he is going mad; those are Kovrin's own words, not the narrator. True that it is Kovrin's perception, but then that says something to me; that deep down, even subconsicously, he realises this in not a true vision, but rather a mind alteration (hallucination) and he does truly believe he is going mad.

We do know he was nervous, not sleeping well, had too much energy even when he didn't sleep, etc. He says so. I do think he's a reliable narrator, with the exception of the vision of the Black Monk.

We do have to go by those facts in the story that are stated. I think the sleepless behavior is a common symptom and indication of someone with a mania. This I have read about online. He is hyper-active in a sense, or his brain is functioning, in a way, that is overactive; yet, he is exhausted at the same time. It seems he tried to sleep at night, but only spend sleepless nights, over and over again, and then would just fall asleep listening to music. I do get your point now, since I came back in here again and read your statement, Antiquarian, about his reliability; but I still do get the sense he is being truthful and accurate in this realisation that, indeed he is going mad. I think that is more an impression, that I get when I read the text, but let me read it again and make a better evaluation; see if my impression has changed any.

I'm not sure what to make of that now.

I wish Quark would post more text, so we could look at the story closer and see what we can make of all of this.

Quark

06-05-2008, 11:45 PM

Sorry I couldn't be here today for the discussion. I was out for most of the day, and now I'm a little too exhausted to reply to everything yet.

I wish Quark would post more text, so we could look at the story closer and see what we can make of all of this.

Good idea. It seems like we've moved onto the Black Monk, so I'll post the Kovrin's first meeting with the strange apparition.

"I have been all day thinking of a legend," he said. "I don't remember whether I have read it somewhere or heard it, but it is a strange and almost grotesque legend. To begin with, it is somewhat obscure. A thousand years ago a monk, dressed in black, wandered about the desert, somewhere in Syria or Arabia. . . . Some miles from where he was, some fisherman saw another black monk, who was moving slowly over the surface of a lake. This second monk was a mirage. Now forget all the laws of optics, which the legend does not recognise, and listen to the rest. From that mirage there was cast another mirage, then from that other a third, so that the image of the black monk began to be repeated endlessly from one layer of the atmosphere to another. So that he was seen at one time in Africa, at another in Spain, then in Italy, then in the Far North. . . . Then he passed out of the atmosphere of the earth, and now he is wandering all over the universe, still never coming into conditions in which he might disappear. Possibly he may be seen now in Mars or in some star of the Southern Cross. But, my dear, the real point on which the whole legend hangs lies in the fact that, exactly a thousand years from the day when the monk walked in the desert, the mirage will return to the atmosphere of the earth again and will appear to men. And it seems that the thousand years is almost up. . . . According to the legend, we may look out for the black monk to-day or to-morrow."

"A queer mirage," said Tanya, who did not like the legend.

"But the most wonderful part of it all," laughed Kovrin, "is that I simply cannot recall where I got this legend from. Have I read it somewhere? Have I heard it? Or perhaps I dreamed of the black monk. I swear I don't remember. But the legend interests me. I have been thinking about it all day."

Letting Tanya go back to her visitors, he went out of the house, and, lost in meditation, walked by the flower-beds. The sun was already setting. The flowers, having just been watered, gave forth a damp, irritating fragrance. Indoors they began singing again, and in the distance the violin had the effect of a human voice. Kovrin, racking his brains to remember where he had read or heard the legend, turned slowly towards the park, and unconsciously went as far as the river. By a little path that ran along the steep bank, between the bare roots, he went down to the water, disturbed the peewits there and frightened two ducks. The last rays of the setting sun still threw light here and there on the gloomy pines, but it was quite dark on the surface of the river. Kovrin crossed to the other side by the narrow bridge. Before him lay a wide field covered with young rye not yet in blossom. There was no living habitation, no living soul in the distance, and it seemed as though the little path, if one went along it, would take one to the unknown, mysterious place where the sun had just gone down, and where the evening glow was flaming in immensity and splendour.

"How open, how free, how still it is here!" thought Kovrin, walking along the path. "And it feels as though all the world were watching me, hiding and waiting for me to understand it. . . ."

But then waves began running across the rye, and a light evening breeze softly touched his uncovered head. A minute later there was another gust of wind, but stronger -- the rye began rustling, and he heard behind him the hollow murmur of the pines. Kovrin stood still in amazement. From the horizon there rose up to the sky, like a whirlwind or a waterspout, a tall black column. Its outline was indistinct, but from the first instant it could be seen that it was not standing still, but moving with fearful rapidity, moving straight towards Kovrin, and the nearer it came the smaller and the more distinct it was. Kovrin moved aside into the rye to make way for it, and only just had time to do so.

A monk, dressed in black, with a grey head and black eyebrows, his arms crossed over his breast, floated by him. . . . His bare feet did not touch the earth. After he had floated twenty feet beyond him, he looked round at Kovrin, and nodded to him with a friendly but sly smile. But what a pale, fearfully pale, thin face! Beginning to grow larger again, he flew across the river, collided noiselessly with the clay bank and pines, and passing through them, vanished like smoke.

"Why, you see," muttered Kovrin, "there must be truth in the legend."

Without trying to explain to himself the strange apparition, glad that he had succeeded in seeing so near and so distinctly, not only the monk's black garments, but even his face and eyes, agreeably excited, he went back to the house.

Janine

06-06-2008, 12:47 AM

:lol: of course we moved onto the Black Monk - that is the name of the story, Quark! :lol: He is quite a popular apparition - maybe we should give him a name.
Seriously, Quark, thanks for posting that and we can start discussing it and that part of the text. It is so beautifully written and interesting.

I have been slow in Lawrence, too. Going there now to post some text. On my way, I made a short detour to this thread. I just can't miss anything and saw your name and knew you made an appearance finally. Thanks again, for posting that part.

Dark Muse

06-06-2008, 02:20 AM

"But the most wonderful part of it all," laughed Kovrin, "is that I simply cannot recall where I got this legend from. Have I read it somewhere? Have I heard it? Or perhaps I dreamed of the black monk. I swear I don't remember. But the legend interests me. I have been thinking about it all day."

Is the fact that he cannot recall where he first heard the legend, intended to indicate, that he had made it up all along from the beginning? Even if he does not realize that he is only making it up, but that it came from his own sub-conscious somewhere, and that is why he does not know where he heard it from?

Or does the mystery of the fact that there is an obscureness in its origins, make Kovrin more susceptible to being made a part of the legend by the appearance of the vision before him?

If he knew just where it had come from, pehraps that would have made it less intriguing.

I was also wondering if there was something significant in the legend itself, the way in which the monk is said to appear all over the world, and how its image will never leave the earth.

I found it interesting, the way it was described, was almost like a ripple upon the surface of water which just keeps spreading outward.

Letting Tanya go back to her visitors, he went out of the house, and, lost in meditation, walked by the flower-beds. The sun was already setting. The flowers, having just been watered, gave forth a damp, irritating fragrance. Indoors they began singing again, and in the distance the violin had the effect of a human voice. Kovrin, racking his brains to remember where he had read or heard the legend, turned slowly towards the park, and unconsciously went as far as the river. By a little path that ran along the steep bank, between the bare roots, he went down to the water, disturbed the peewits there and frightened two ducks. The last rays of the setting sun still threw light here and there on the gloomy pines, but it was quite dark on the surface of the river. Kovrin crossed to the other side by the narrow bridge. Before him lay a wide field covered with young rye not yet in blossom. There was no living habitation, no living soul in the distance, and it seemed as though the little path, if one went along it, would take one to the unknown, mysterious place where the sun had just gone down, and where the evening glow was flaming in immensity and splendour.

I think this imagery was great for setting up the conditions of his first vision of the monk. It sets up the perfect atmosphere for the appropriation to appear before him,

The imagery of the water, puts one in mind of a mirage

A monk, dressed in black, with a grey head and black eyebrows, his arms crossed over his breast, floated by him. . . . His bare feet did not touch the earth. After he had floated twenty feet beyond him, he looked round at Kovrin, and nodded to him with a friendly but sly smile. But what a pale, fearfully pale, thin face! Beginning to grow larger again, he flew across the river, collided noiselessly with the clay bank and pines, and passing through them, vanished like smoke.

I find it interesting that the idea of smoke and figures seeming to vannish into the smoke come up again, reflecting back to when the gardens were being smoked, and Egor went off into the smoke, and the way the workers were seen moving through the smoke.

Janine

06-06-2008, 05:35 PM

Is the fact that he cannot recall where he first heard the legend, intended to indicate, that he had made it up all along from the beginning? Even if he does not realize that he is only making it up, but that it came from his own sub-conscious somewhere, and that is why he does not know where he heard it from?

DM,That is an interesting thought. I kind of thought about that part myself, that because he was so vague about how he knew it it must have sprung from his own subconscious or that is was indeed curious. Of course, it very well could have started with a nighttime sleeping dream, such as the one that Chekhov, himself, claimed he had. Therefore it would be mostly subconsious in origin.

Or does the mystery of the fact that there is an obscureness in its origins, make Kovrin more susceptible to being made a part of the legend by the appearance of the vision before him?

If he knew just where it had come from, pehaps that would have made it less intriguing.

That could be the case to Kovrin, at least; cause him to have more fascination connected with the image. He does seem intrigued, even to where he first heard it or experienced it. Mysteries are always more intriguing, right?

I was also wondering if there was something significant in the legend itself, the way in which the monk is said to appear all over the world, and how its image will never leave the earth.

I guess when we get to that part we should examine the description better, or is the text that Quark just posted past that point, since that is his first siting of the Black Monk hallucination/vision.

I found it interesting, the way it was described, was almost like a ripple upon the surface of water which just keeps spreading outward.

That is a good way to put it. From that moment on, a whole chain of events occur.

I think this imagery was great for setting up the conditions of his first vision of the monk. It sets up the perfect atmosphere for the appropriation to appear before him,

The imagery of the water, puts one in mind of a mirage

I find it interesting that the idea of smoke and figures seeming to vannish into the smoke come up again, reflecting back to when the gardens were being smoked, and Egor went off into the smoke, and the way the workers were seen moving through the smoke.

I agree - atmosphere and imagery is everything. Chekhov does a superb job here in doing so and describing the dubious and obscure images of the night. I love the smoke and fog and the shadowy way we perceive objects and people through them. Makes me think of some of the impressionist paintings. One I am thinking of in particular is by Monet is such a strange and awesome fog painting. It is one of my favorites!

I will answer Antiquarian's post soon. I just got a call the guy, who will put the AC units in the windows; will be here in 20 mins. I have to move a ton of things now. I will be back later. J

Quark

06-06-2008, 05:45 PM

Remember those? Ho hum...I think you forgot them....
Anyway, here is what I quoted from that article:

Sorry Janine if I overlooked one of your posts. Unfortunately, I can't respond to everyone's posts. It would be tedious for me, and it would disrupt the flow of the conversation if I had to keep bringing up points made ten posts ago. I do try to answer everyone's questions and clear up uncertainties, but I can't comment on each individual post in the course of the discussion--particularly when I already agree with what they said. Instead, I just try to pick a few that represent the main idea of several posts, and then I write a response to just that post. In the post I'm writing write now, for example, I'm going to address Kovrin, the Black Monk, and the setting by selecting three posts and writing responses to them. I'm going to use your post on Kovrin because I think I you explained his character well, and even included a parallel which is quite accurate. Then, I'll quote to DM because she's been pretty observant of the details in the setting. Last, I want to talk about the Black Monk--it's origin and meaning--through one of Antiquarian's post since she's made a number of good points about the stories namesake.

Interesting that in the Shakespeare play "Hamlet" Horatio says this same sort of thing to Hamlet, when Hamlet insists on pursuing his father's ghost, which at this time, Hamlet does not know whether it be apparation or truly the ghost, the embodiment of his actual father's soul.

Horatio tells Hamlet:

As we all know, Hamlet is lead into stages of temporary madness (always debatable). Thing do go totally wrong for him, ending in the tragedy. That too, is a matter of circumstances evolving over,time, chain reactions that all end badly.

Thanks for posting this Janine because the Hamlet parallel is very helpful for understanding Kovrin's character. Both are approached by mysterious ghosts whose validity is in question. Each protagonist is then consumed by indecision. Hamlet is famous for this, of course. In the play he can always been seen wandering the stage saying "I've got to kill Claudius. Alright, I'm going to kill Claudius. Five minutes until I kill Claudius. I still need to kill Claudius." Tragically, he can never make up his mind to do it and he dies. Similarly, Kovrin knows he can either be a successful scholar or a good husband and friend, yet he fails to pick one option and he dies tragically. Both Hamlet and Kovrin engage our sympathies and both are more witty than the rubes around them. The main difference between the two is that, while Hamlet has just one objective, Kovrin has two. In "Hamlet" the audience knows what Hamlet should do. In "The Black Monk" the reader does not. Another key difference is that the descent into madness is more gradual for Kovrin. This comes from the different medium. "The Black Monk" is a short story which can afford to be slower and more subtle.

I found it interesting, the way it was described, was almost like a ripple upon the surface of water which just keeps spreading outward.

I think this imagery was great for setting up the conditions of his first vision of the monk. It sets up the perfect atmosphere for the appropriation to appear before him,

The imagery of the water, puts one in mind of a mirage

I find it interesting that the idea of smoke and figures seeming to vannish into the smoke come up again, reflecting back to when the gardens were being smoked, and Egor went off into the smoke, and the way the workers were seen moving through the smoke.

That's a good breakdown of this paragraph:

Letting Tanya go back to her visitors, he went out of the house, and, lost in meditation, walked by the flower-beds. The sun was already setting. The flowers, having just been watered, gave forth a damp, irritating fragrance. Indoors they began singing again, and in the distance the violin had the effect of a human voice. Kovrin, racking his brains to remember where he had read or heard the legend, turned slowly towards the park, and unconsciously went as far as the river. By a little path that ran along the steep bank, between the bare roots, he went down to the water, disturbed the peewits there and frightened two ducks. The last rays of the setting sun still threw light here and there on the gloomy pines, but it was quite dark on the surface of the river. Kovrin crossed to the other side by the narrow bridge. Before him lay a wide field covered with young rye not yet in blossom. There was no living habitation, no living soul in the distance, and it seemed as though the little path, if one went along it, would take one to the unknown, mysterious place where the sun had just gone down, and where the evening glow was flaming in immensity and splendour.

and this bit:

A monk, dressed in black, with a grey head and black eyebrows, his arms crossed over his breast, floated by him. . . . His bare feet did not touch the earth. After he had floated twenty feet beyond him, he looked round at Kovrin, and nodded to him with a friendly but sly smile. But what a pale, fearfully pale, thin face! Beginning to grow larger again, he flew across the river, collided noiselessly with the clay bank and pines, and passing through them, vanished like smoke.

To make this passage a little clearer, DM, I'll just add a few things to what you said. First, I think it's important to remember that his walk from the garden to the field represents not only his literal movement but also his mental transition. He's leaving the garden where his friends and eventual wife are and moving to a peopleless plain. This is what Kovrin will do toward the end of the story when he leaves his wife and Yegor to pursue the Black Monk. This part of the plot is foreshadowed in the setting here. Secondly, the field allures Kovrin just as the Black Monk will. Both have a mysterious beauty which draws the aging scholar.

I think DM is also right to compare the ghost to the smoke in Yegor's garden. This is another parallel drawn between the Black Monk and Yegor's horticultural obsession.

I don't think we're supposed to know if the legend is real or if Kovrin made it up. I'm inclined to think he made it up right now, but that's subject to change.

I was struck by the appearance of the monk's face. He's almost symbolic of death. It's almost as if, in seeing the Black Monk, Kovrin is seeing a premonition of his own death from TB.

Yes, we're not sure where the myth originates. It could be that the Monk story is a product of his subconscious. Or, it could be something that Kovrin picked up during his studies. We know that he reads assiduously. It's very possible that he read about it and simply doesn't remember where he first heard about it. It's left open to create more ambiguity. Plus, it makes the Monk seem even more omnipresent if we don't know who first came up with it. If Kovrin specified where he heard the story, then it would limit the phenomenon to just one person or source. By leaving it open ended, the Monk becomes more omnipresent by virtue of having a source which could be anywhere.

Antiquarian also made a good observation about the Black Monks appearance. The Monk appears aged and morbid looking which reminds us of the Black Monks effect. His idea of genius weakens the body and brings death closer.

Janine

06-06-2008, 06:27 PM

I don't think we're supposed to know if the legend is real or if Kovrin made it up. I'm inclined to think he made it up right now, but that's subject to change.

I love the description of how the monk moves through the rye. I found it very poetic and beautifully written.

I was struck by the appearance of the monk's face. He's almost symbolic of death. It's almost as if, in seeing the Black Monk, Kovrin is seeing a premonition of his own death from TB.

Good points, Antiquarian, but now I think that Quark has answered them very well below. Quark, your post is great. No, no, - you misunderstood me; I did not mean you had to answer all my posts, every detail; that would take an eternity; you had just made a statement back a few posts, that you would go and answer one of my posts; I don't honestly know which one it is now, so don't worry about it. I like how you answered each one of us below - good idea.

This is so funny, I knew I wrote at the bottom of one of my posts about the AC guy coming to install my units (it is now about 200 here in my room! I can exaggerate like you, Q!)....he still did not arrive and if he does not come I will want to scream since I had to move a zillion books, etc. Well, when I went to look for that last post I thought it disappeared in the L thread - duh, that is because it was in this thread, not the L. Oh silly me! The two threads have become simultaneous...and half the time I don't know where I am anymore.

Janine

06-06-2008, 07:34 PM

Don't feel too bad. LOL I'm not in charge of any thread at all and sometimes I feel that way. I forget passwords, don't do what I mean to do because I forgot, etc. My husband is going to ask if I called the dentist today and I forgot. LOL Well, he's home on Monday. He can do it then.

But you aren't alone. ;)

Antiquarian, I do that all the time, too; either that or proscrastinate calling. I have even been known to forget I had an appointment; once I went to one the day before instead, another time a week late. They must really think I'm a wacho. That time I was embarrassed.

I wasn't upset today; besides I blamed it on the heat, I was dying of sweating by then. I thought it was rather hilarious that I kept looking at the L thread posts and thinking "what the heck, where did my post go to?" Here it was over here, residing with the Black Monk; hey maybe he put some kind of spell on me!

Now, I a happy to say the AC is running and cooling things off. I like windows open, but could not deal with that humidity; was making me physically ill.

islandclimber

06-06-2008, 10:26 PM

I dread appointments too much to forget them, but I'm guilty of cancelling them at the last minute then having to pay. Terrible of me. I probably "forgot" to call the dentist because I dread going so much.

It's in the 90s here and humid. Now, most people have their air conditioners on, and we do, too, for the pets, but I don't need it. I've been sitting outside part of the day, reading and writing. I glory in this heat. I must have lived in a very hot place LOL in a former life.

Humidity is so awful sometimes.. it was in the 90s here too and so so so humid.. and I am prefitting timberframe bents outside right now.. and ick.. I got my first sunburn of the year.. 8 hrs without a shirt in the boiling hot sun.. not so smart I do think.. oh well... I would rather get burnt then sweat like crazy in my shirt...

oh so we are at the first appearance of the black month... not that there is much similarity, but it got me thinking of Macbeth for some reason haha... strange how the mind pulls up random associations like that...

I love how everything seems irritating in nature to Kovrin after he relates the tale of the monk and how he has no idea where he heard it... and then when he sees the monk.. why is the face so dreadfully pale and thin... is it ominous of his own impending illness???

well with this brief post I need to get back to writing... and dreaming of something more than my own melancholy... what about madness..

cheers all...

Janine

06-06-2008, 11:16 PM

Humidity is so awful sometimes.. it was in the 90s here too and so so so humid.. and I am prefitting timberframe bents outside right now.. and ick.. I got my first sunburn of the year.. 8 hrs without a shirt in the boiling hot sun.. not so smart I do think.. oh well... I would rather get burnt then sweat like crazy in my shirt...

:lol:I don't know, islandclimber, you seem to fly in and out of our lives like the Black Monk. Well, it is good to see you back; hope you can pop in soon and post again.

Sorry, you have to work outside and sweat and get a bad sunburn; no, nowdays they say that is not a good thing. You should have used sunscreen but then again hard to think of that running off to work; also applying it to your own back. I hope it is not too painful.

Humidity here is awful. Antiquarian, glad you enjoyed your day outside but you can have it, as far as humidity is concerned. I did like the aspect of having windows open to hear the birds and nature - I live on a lake, so you even can hear the water and wildlife at night, which is lovely; but when the heavy-duty heat/humidity moved in, it was time for the AC units. Upstairs attic rooms can get quite uncomforable and make me miserable.

oh so we are at the first appearance of the black monk... not that there is much similarity, but it got me thinking of Macbeth for some reason haha... strange how the mind pulls up random associations like that...

Not that strange about MacBeth - well there were three witches and they suggested the evil acts. I drew parallels to Hamlet's father's ghost and how he dealt with his encounter, a number of posts back; then Quark commented on it further, which was good; he expanded on my notion.

I love how everything seems irritating in nature to Kovrin after he relates the tale of the monk and how he has no idea where he heard it... and then when he sees the monk.. why is the face so dreadfully pale and thin... is it ominous of his own impending illness???

I really like all those parts too and especially the way the monk is first perceived and described to us. I do think the dreadfully pale and thin fact is ominous and predicts the illness or the effects of his illness. It is great foreshadowning.

well with this brief post I need to get back to writing... and dreaming of something more than my own melancholy... what about madness..

cheers all...

Well, come back soon and so some writing, dreaming in this thread...you can be a little mad and melancholy, also - maybe that reminds me of Hamlet again.

Quark

06-07-2008, 06:22 PM

I did not mean you had to answer all my posts, every detail; that would take an eternity; you had just made a statement back a few posts, that you would go and answer one of my posts; I don't honestly know which one it is now, so don't worry about it.

Oh, I thought you were asking me reply to each post which would be hard work. It's difficult enough just posting on each subject--especially, as there are now five of us in the conversation. Each time I log on to LitNet I take a huge gulp because I see that there are ten new posts that all have separate arguments. That's not to say that I don't want people to post. I started the thread hoping that we would get this much participation; but, now that we have it, I worry that people think I'm ignoring them because I don't get to their post. This isn't the case. I read all the posts, and I think about them before I write back. I just can't get everything without spending two hours at the computer. Maybe if I cut back on the number of posts I write for other threads I could do more here, but I fear I'm too scatter-brained to be completely thread-monogomous. I have to have my affairs with the Aeneid thread, the Lawrence thread, and the Yeats discussion to keep from being bored.

Oh silly me! The two threads have become simultaneous...and half the time I don't know where I am anymore.

I've done that as well. I cover tracks by deleting my posts, though.

It's in the 90s here and humid. Now, most people have their air conditioners on, and we do, too, for the pets, but I don't need it. I've been sitting outside part of the day, reading and writing. I glory in this heat. I must have lived in a very hot place LOL in a former life.

I've had to move my computer to the basement so I can write. The heat has been oppressive today. It put me in a complete daze.

oh so we are at the first appearance of the black month... not that there is much similarity, but it got me thinking of Macbeth for some reason haha... strange how the mind pulls up random associations like that...

You're back island. Although, it appears you've shed your avatar. Janine already beat you to making Shakespeare parallels, however. She suggested that Kovrin's relation to the Blank Monk is similar to Hamlet and the ghost. I thought that was a pretty good parallel, but Macbeth also works to some extent. I suspect you're think of Macbeth and the witches. The witches do lure Macbeth into his quest for power. Similarly, the Black Monk lures Kovrin into his quest for knowledge. The Macbeth parallel breaks down when go beyond this, but I can see why "The Black Monk" might remind you of Macbeth.

I love how everything seems irritating in nature

Yes, there's that line where the narrator tells us that the flowers emitted an "irritating" scent. I haven't entirely understood what that meant, though. Why do you suppose he find the garden irritating now? It was pleasant at the start of the story. Why the change?

well with this brief post I need to get back to writing... and dreaming of something more than my own melancholy... what about madness..

Madness and melancholy. Two themes that you can't escape from in Chekhov's later work. I hope this isn't completely depressing people, though. After all, there is much beauty and sympathy in these stories.

Good luck with writing (and dreaming)

Quark

06-08-2008, 12:17 AM

I cut out a large chunk of text this time, but I don't think it's too much. This is the scene in the third section where Kovrin receives Yegor's unintentionally funny articles.

"I do not mean in that sense. I meant to ask: what will happen to the garden when I die? In the condition in which you see it now, it would not be maintained for one month without me. The whole secret of success lies not in its being a big garden or a great number of labourers being employed in it, but in the fact that I love the work. Do you understand? I love it perhaps more than myself. Look at me; I do everything myself. I work from morning to night: I do all the grafting myself, the pruning myself, the planting myself. I do it all myself: when any one helps me I am jealous and irritable till I am rude. The whole secret lies in loving it -- that is, in the sharp eye of the master; yes, and in the master's hands, and in the feeling that makes one, when one goes anywhere for an hour's visit, sit, ill at ease, with one's heart far away, afraid that something may have happened in the garden. But when I die, who will look after it? Who will work? The gardener? The labourers? Yes? But I will tell you, my dear fellow, the worst enemy in the garden is not a hare, not a cockchafer, and not the frost, but any outside person."

"And Tanya?" asked Kovrin, laughing. "She can't be more harmful than a hare? She loves the work and understands it."

"Yes, she loves it and understands it. If after my death the garden goes to her and she is the mistress, of course nothing better could be wished. But if, which God forbid, she should marry," Yegor Semyonitch whispered, and looked with a frightened look at Kovrin, "that's just it. If she marries and children come, she will have no time to think about the garden. What I fear most is: she will marry some fine gentleman, and he will be greedy, and he will let the garden to people who will run it for profit, and everything will go to the devil the very first year! In our work females are the scourge of God!"

Yegor Semyonitch sighed and paused for a while.

"Perhaps it is egoism, but I tell you frankly: I don't want Tanya to get married. I am afraid of it! There is one young dandy comes to see us, bringing his violin and scraping on it; I know Tanya will not marry him, I know it quite well; but I can't bear to see him! Altogether, my boy, I am very queer. I know that."

Yegor Semyonitch got up and walked about the room in excitement, and it was evident that he wanted to say something very important, but could not bring himself to it.

"I am very fond of you, and so I am going to speak to you openly," he decided at last, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "I deal plainly with certain delicate questions, and say exactly what I think, and I cannot endure so-called hidden thoughts. I will speak plainly: you are the only man to whom I should not be afraid to marry my daughter. You are a clever man with a good heart, and would not let my beloved work go to ruin; and the chief reason is that I love you as a son, and I am proud of you. If Tanya and you could get up a romance somehow, then -- well! I should be very glad and even happy. I tell you this plainly, without mincing matters, like an honest man."

Kovrin laughed. Yegor Semyonitch opened the door to go out, and stood in the doorway.

"If Tanya and you had a son, I would make a horticulturist of him," he said, after a moment's thought. "However, this is idle dreaming. Goodnight."

Left alone, Kovrin settled himself more comfortably on the sofa and took up the articles. The title of one was "On Intercropping"; of another, "A few Words on the Remarks of Monsieur Z. concerning the Trenching of the Soil for a New Garden"; a third, "Additional Matter concerning Grafting with a Dormant Bud"; and they were all of the same sort. But what a restless, jerky tone! What nervous, almost hysterical passion! Here was an article, one would have thought, with most peaceable and impersonal contents: the subject of it was the Russian Antonovsky Apple. But Yegor Semyonitch began it with "Audiatur altera pars," and finished it with "Sapienti sat"; and between these two quotations a perfect torrent of venomous phrases directed "at the learned ignorance of our recognised horticultural authorities, who observe Nature from the height of their university chairs," or at Monsieur Gaucher, "whose success has been the work of the vulgar and the dilettanti." "And then followed an inappropriate, affected, and insincere regret that peasants who stole fruit and broke the branches could not nowadays be flogged.

"It is beautiful, charming, healthy work, but even in this there is strife and passion," thought Kovrin, "I suppose that everywhere and in all careers men of ideas are nervous, and marked by exaggerated sensitiveness. Most likely it must be so."

He thought of Tanya, who was so pleased with Yegor Semyonitch's articles. Small, pale, and so thin that her shoulder-blades stuck out, her eyes, wide and open, dark and intelligent, had an intent gaze, as though looking for something. She walked like her father with a little hurried step. She talked a great deal and was fond of arguing, accompanying every phrase, however insignificant, with expressive mimicry and gesticulation. No doubt she was nervous in the extreme.

Quark

06-08-2008, 01:11 AM

We don't even know if he wants to remain in the country or what, for sure, Tania wants. I think, though, that she wants to remain in the country and tend to the orchard.

Tania's motives never become entirely clear. I tend to believe, however, that she's hopelessly dependent on her close relations--not literally, of course, but emotionally.

No wonder poor Kovrin conjured up the Black Monk! Everyone is stressing him.

Now we see that Tania, too, is a very nervous person as well and has her little quirks.

In the third section, we finally start to see how each of the characters press on each other. Tania pushes Yegor to write which he obviously has no applitude for, Yegor wants Kovrin to keep up his farm, and Kovrin wants Tania to join him in the city. Each character has their own desire which they want the other characters to respect, but unfortunately that can't happen.

Dark Muse

06-08-2008, 01:45 AM

"I do not mean in that sense. I meant to ask: what will happen to the garden when I die? In the condition in which you see it now, it would not be maintained for one month without me. The whole secret of success lies not in its being a big garden or a great number of labourers being employed in it, but in the fact that I love the work. Do you understand? I love it perhaps more than myself. Look at me; I do everything myself. I work from morning to night: I do all the grafting myself, the pruning myself, the planting myself. I do it all myself: when any one helps me I am jealous and irritable till I am rude. The whole secret lies in loving it -- that is, in the sharp eye of the master; yes, and in the master's hands, and in the feeling that makes one, when one goes anywhere for an hour's visit, sit, ill at ease, with one's heart far away, afraid that something may have happened in the garden. But when I die, who will look after it? Who will work? The gardener? The labourers? Yes? But I will tell you, my dear fellow, the worst enemy in the garden is not a hare, not a cockchafer, and not the frost, but any outside person."

I think that Egor is a sort of counterpart/Parallel to Kovrin, and in Egor's own expressions we can see a sort of reflection of Kovrin, because Kovrin himself never really goes into much detail about his own work in the ways in which Egor does, we only know that Egor believes him to be a great man, and that he studies philosophy and works as a teacher. But even when Kovrin is suppose to be relaxing within the country, he still continues with his own studies.

He does not completely leave it behind. Sometimes when Egor is being referenced, I feel that in a way it is really Kovrin who is being discussed, because Egor is almost like a parody of Kovrin, being he is much more amusing and much less serious.

"It is beautiful, charming, healthy work, but even in this there is strife and passion,"

I just loved this quote

Quark

06-08-2008, 10:51 PM

I think that Egor is a sort of counterpart/Parallel to Kovrin

Egor is almost like a parody of Kovrin, being he is much more amusing and much less serious.

Yeah, Chekhov introduces many Kovrin's shortcomings through the more light-hearted character Egor. He is almost a parody of the younger man. Many a serious word is said in jest here, though, so I want to look closely at this part before we move on. Let's start with this first paragraph that you quoted. The first noticeable aspect in Egor's speech is that he puts a lot of pressure on himself. He considers the laborers and even the size of the garden to be irrelevant. It's only his work that makes the orchard great. The second quality in Egor that sticks out is that he believes that he must love his work. It's not enough to mechanically go through the motions; Egor thinks attitude is important. Last, I find that his work-ethic makes him suspicious of everyone around him. His last words in this quote are "who will look after it? Who will work? The gardener? The labourers? Yes? But I will tell you, my dear fellow, the worst enemy in the garden is not a hare, not a cockchafer, and not the frost, but any outside person." We know that this isn't just words, too. His work actually does make him hateful and suspicious. He lashes out at workers and at his daughter when they do things not in line with Egor's plans. In a sense, Egor's garden alienates him from society and friends.

If we think about Kovrin and his work the parallel becomes pretty clear. The scholar also puts much pressure on himself, and that pressure is eventually what cuts him off from his wife. Kovrin also loves his work. Every time he sees the Black Monk he suddenly grows ecstatic.

Janine

06-08-2008, 11:30 PM

I have been reading everyone's posts and I do have to agree with with parellel to Egor and Kovrin. I did think there were similarities from the beginning but this really makes it so clear. I like what each of you has written about it and think Quark did a good job expanding on the idea in his last post.
I agree with this idea from Antiquarian, also.

Yegor is putting pressure on Kovrin when Kovrin came there to rest and recuperate and regain his health.
So the rest he sought only (ironically) aids in his decline.

Dark Muse

06-09-2008, 11:03 AM

They are different in thier personality and thier interests, but we see through the way Egor acts, how Kovrin feels about his own work, we can see they both strive for greatness in the thing they care about, and are ambitious, and can never stop working, becasue we do not acutally see Kovrin's own feelings about his work, but we see Egor express how he feels about the garden, and this relflects Kovrin's own feelings about his studies.

Janine

06-09-2008, 02:43 PM

Dark Muse

06-09-2008, 02:49 PM

By saying they are Paralles to each other, I am not saying they are acutally alike, but rather through Egor and the way he acts, we see how Kovrin is with his own work. That is why he is more comic than Kovrin is.

It is as Quark said:

Chekhov introduces many Kovrin's shortcomings through the more light-hearted character Egor. He is almost a parody of the younger man

Janine

06-09-2008, 03:04 PM

It seems as though I'm being very disagreeable in both the Lawrence thead and now this thread, but I don't see that Yegor is a parallel to Kovrin at all. The two men are quite different.

I was reading something written by Oscar Wilde the other day in which he said something to the effect that if everyone agrees on a piece of work, it's definitely not art, so I guess it's a good thing when a story provokes a little disagreement.

I have to admit, I still haven't had time to read the story again. I was out most of yesterday and will probably be out most of this afternoon.

Antiquarian, don't get a complex over this; I don't think you are being disagreeable, so don't label yourself such; I even agreed with you in the L thread, just now. No one said you can't disagree in either thread; that is healthy to do, as Oscar Wilde pointed out, and that is 'art' when there is intrepretations that differ. God bless OW. I love his works!

It is just when we get stuck on one subject, and seem to keep going in circles that, it becomes annoying and we don't move onto more important aspects of the stories. Sometimes we can't seem to move onto other aspects (it feels like we are stuck) when we are disagreeing; then we don't progress on to the crux of the story. Also, it is taking things personally that is not useful to these discussion groups. Many authors would make a person wild with anger, if one were to take his/her work to heart on a personal level. We often disagree with idealologies in these stories and in longer works.

Sometimes, it is hard to place ourselves in their time period and sometimes it is hard to see where they are coming from on their own personal level. I think when I looked into just what was going on in Chekhov's life when he wrote this story I had more insight into why he wrote this story in this way. The story is ambiguous in some respects. If that is true it might be that we will never truly agree on any of this story and that might be fine in the end. In my opinion this story is a very difficult and complex one to discuss. I am muddling along myself. I keep hoping to find some online commentary about it but so far I have come up with very little.

This story "The Black Monk" is a hard one not to take personally and I have been guilty myself in letting that enter into my own posts. Now I am attempting (with a struggle) to be objective about the story and consider the ideas of others in interpreting it. I kind of had to step back and say it is just a story; also it is set in an earlier time. In many ways, drs and people in general were very ignorant of mental illness at that time. This story predates CAT and MRI scans and indepth brain studies; advanced medicine, and current treatments. If Kovrin lived today there would be no story. ;)

Antiquarian, I too was preoccupied yesterday and then out most of the day/evening. I hope you enjoyed your time out. I had my first visit from my grandbaby and it was wonderful. I will have to tell you all about it in an email. I love little Brooke so much. She is adorable! I have new photos, too.

I have to go out today as well. I have some errands to do. So see you all later on. I hope that Quark posts some more text soon.

Quark

06-09-2008, 03:21 PM

It seems as though I'm being very disagreeable in both the Lawrence thead and now this thread, but I don't see that Yegor is a parallel to Kovrin at all. The two men are quite different.

I don't see them alike in all ways but in some respects; could it be that they both are 'perfectionists' when it comes to their work?

Kovrin and Yegor have their differences, and I don't mean to equate them. It's just that they both hold similar attitudes toward their work and life. These opinions are the main theme that "The Black Monk" works out; and, while Kovrin is the main character who is most attracted to these ideas, Chekhov cleverly introduces them through Yegor in this scene. I drew three parallels between them in my earlier post; I'd like to make a couple more before I move on, too. But, before I do that I wanted to see what people thought of something Kovrin says to himself in this passage. After reading Yegor's ridiculous article Kovrin wonders why Yegor strains himself to write something so silly. He says "I suppose that everywhere and in all careers men of ideas are nervous, and marked by exaggerated sensitiveness. Most likely it must be so." This observation makes it sound like Kovrin is saying that only intellectual pursuits make people nervous and strained. Do you think Chekhov is narrowing his criticism to only "men of ideas" by having Kovrin say this? I had thought that Chekhov was taking up desire and ambition as his theme, but this line makes it seem like he's only attacking intellectuals.

I was reading something written by Oscar Wilde the other day in which he said something to the effect that if everyone agrees on a piece of work, it's definitely not art, so I guess it's a good thing when a story provokes a little disagreement.

Not only does disagreement flatter Chekhov's fiction, it also gives us something to talk about. How boring it would be if we all agreed.

Quark

06-10-2008, 05:51 PM

The concluding part to section III:

Kovrin went on reading the articles, but he understood nothing of them, and flung them aside. The same pleasant excitement with which he had earlier in the evening danced the mazurka and listened to the music was now mastering him again and rousing a multitude of thoughts. He got up and began walking about the room, thinking about the black monk. It occurred to him that if this strange, supernatural monk had appeared to him only, that meant that he was ill and had reached the point of having hallucinations. This reflection frightened him, but not for long.

"But I am all right, and I am doing no harm to any one; so there is no harm in my hallucinations," he thought; and he felt happy again.

He sat down on the sofa and clasped his hands round his head. Restraining the unaccountable joy which filled his whole being, he then paced up and down again, and sat down to his work. But the thought that he read in the book did not satisfy him. He wanted something gigantic, unfathomable, stupendous. Towards morning he undressed and reluctantly went to bed: he ought to sleep.

When he heard the footsteps of Yegor Semyonitch going out into the garden, Kovrin rang the bell and asked the footman to bring him some wine. He drank several glasses of Lafitte, then wrapped himself up, head and all; his consciousness grew clouded and he fell asleep.

This comes directly after the part I last quoted, so it should be considered just the continuation of his musings.

We're almost halfway through the story, and we still haven't reached the conflict yet. Does anyone find this too slow? Chekhov's stories are notoriously end-heavy, but does anyone think that's problem? I actually like the buildup in this story. Sometimes it can get boring. This one, however, really seems to set the mood and develop the theme, I think.

Janine

06-10-2008, 06:00 PM

The concluding part to section III:

This comes directly after the part I last quoted, so it should be considered just the continuation of his musings.

We're almost halfway through the story, and we still haven't reached the conflict yet. Does anyone find this too slow? Chekhov's stories are notoriously end-heavy, but does anyone think that's problem? I actually like the buildup in this story. Sometimes it can get boring. This one, however, really seems to set the mood and develop the theme, I think.

No, Quark, I don't think you are too slow. I think you are pacing this just fine. We can't be here every minute. We do have real lives too. I just said in the L thread I thought my pacing was fine since it is only the 10th of the month. I think the same in here. If we are halfway then it is just right where we are presently. Good job, Quark!
Did you get my PM's? I guess you are pretty busy now getting ready for grad school, is it?
I will check the text later on. It is dinnertime now.
Your post above answering my post I agreed with so I did not bother answering it further. I did read it, so I was not ignoring you or the post. Thanks for posting more text.

Quark

06-10-2008, 06:07 PM

No, Quark, I don't think you are too slow.

I meant Chekhov, not me. It's good to know that I'm moving the conversation well, but I was actually asking what you thought about Chekhov's pacing. Some people might get impatient with this story. I was saying that it works somehow. I'm not completely sure how or why it works, and that's why I wanted to open it up to the floor.

Quark!
Did you get my PM's? I guess you are pretty busy now getting ready for grad school, is it?

I am busy, and it often gets in the way of my posts--as I explained in the L thread. Mostly it just takes away from quality, though, and not quantity. Usually, I can still post in all the discussion I want to. I just have write quickly--and often poorly. When I look over my posts I cringe. I use the word "though" six times in every post, though it never takes away from my point.

I will get to your PM after I post something (with plenty of "thoughs," of course) for the Aeneid thread .

Dark Muse

06-10-2008, 06:12 PM

I did not find the story too slow

Right now I find the weather disagreeable with me, so my ablitly to think is lacking, maybe later tonight I shall be able to say something more intelligent.

Quark

06-11-2008, 03:22 PM

I did not find the story too slow

I like the build up in this story. It's extremely interesting.

Yeah, even though we haven't reached the main conflict of the story I think the story is still quite engaging at this point. There is so much besides that going on. We have Kovrin's health to think about, his work, the burgeoning relationship with Tania, plus his conversations with Yegor. All of this busies the story, and there really isn't a dull moment. And, while there may not be outright conflict there still is tension. I almost hate to use the words since it's been such a contentious one in the Lawrence thread, but it is the best one for what I'm explaining. It's not sexual tension I'm referring to, but the tension between life and death, isolation and inclusion, intimacy and distance. The life that Kovrin is building in the country which is warm and pleasant we know is threatened by his decreasing health and obsessive qualities. The conflict that breaks out openly can be thought of as the natural extension of this tension. So, while this part of the story may not be as dramatic as Kovrin's death at the end, it still is entertaining.

Right now I find the weather disagreeable with me, so my ablitly to think is lacking, maybe later tonight I shall be able to say something more intelligent.

I sympathize. It's been extraordinarily hot every since June took over. I actually had a CD melt in my car when I left my car windows up. It wasn't tragic since it was only a blank CD, but, still, I thought it was impressive that it actually changed physical states.

I don't think the black monk is a product of his mental illness, but a coping mechanism, if I've made the difference clear, which I don't think I have.

I know you don't entirely agree with the Kovrin-Yegor parallel, but don't you think Kovrin's Black Monk serves the same function as Yegor's love? Yegor says that he must love the work in order for him to succeed. In the passage I just quoted, don't you see the same need in Kovrin.

He sat down on the sofa and clasped his hands round his head. Restraining the unaccountable joy which filled his whole being, he then paced up and down again, and sat down to his work. But the thought that he read in the book did not satisfy him. He wanted something gigantic, unfathomable, stupendous. Towards morning he undressed and reluctantly went to bed: he ought to sleep.

The Black Monk is what gives him the joy he feels he needs. Remember that when he comes back from seeing the ghost he's pretty ecstatic. He then becomes dependent on that joy in this passage. He needs to feel that what he is doing is grand and important in order to feel happy, and the Black Monk's argument gives him that importance. The Black Monk can be seen as a necessary fiction generated by Kovrin to give himself meaning and happiness. You're right that it also helps him forget his illness, but that seems to be an added perk.

Before I quote part four of "The Black Monk" I wanted to post a painting that I had completely forgotten about. It's a rather famous painting and I can't believe I didn't remember about it until now. This is an iconic piece of Romanticist art called Monk by the Sea by Caspar David Friedrich.

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/186/441900259_5d53b387c7_o.jpg

In my pursuit of Russian art for the story introductions, I must have overlooked this painting because it was German. It works well with this story, though, and I probably should have used it earlier. It portrays three elements of Kovrin's Black Monk in beautiful color. The foreground with monk shows the barren isolation of the monk and corresponds to Kovrin's own condition toward the end--after he's alienated everyone. The horizon of the painting is all turmoil. The sea and sky dissolve into each other in this mess of blue, like Kovrin's confused, ambiguous state. The sky is peaceful, though. Kovrin has hope for a celestial peace in the Black Monk, too. The painting lumps these three moods of the story together, so I thought I should bring it up.

Janine

06-12-2008, 04:09 PM

I meant Chekhov, not me. It's good to know that I'm moving the conversation well, but I was actually asking what you thought about Chekhov's pacing. Some people might get impatient with this story. I was saying that it works somehow. I'm not completely sure how or why it works, and that's why I wanted to open it up to the floor.

Quark, sorry it took me this long to respond to this. I did think you meant your pacing, but I try and be patient in here and wait for you to post more text and comments, if we exhausted the bit you did post; your pacing seems fine to me. I haven't been able to always keep up with everything anyway, but I will try better to do so. You have been so good to me sending me the Chekhov book.That is one way to make me a Chekhov fan for life! ;) :lol: Seriously that was very generous; I'm anxious to read all the stories now. I am so far behind on all my reading. I haven't read a novel in ages, well only a few novellas, which I have enjoyed emensely, non-the-less.

I do think Chekhov's own pacing is wonderful and very well done, he has a feeling for it; the way the story builds is great. I think it works well. This is a very well-written, finely crafted story.

I am busy, and it often gets in the way of my posts--as I explained in the L thread. Mostly it just takes away from quality, though, and not quantity. Usually, I can still post in all the discussion I want to. I just have write quickly--and often poorly. When I look over my posts I cringe. I use the word "though" six times in every post, though it never takes away from my point.

Yes, I know the feeling well. We all do have real lives besides computer ones. I do stuff like that all the time - using though too much or some other thing that is not really good writing form. Oh well, we are not writers correct. I think most people on Lit Net do not even bother to edit or proof-read their posts so I would not worry about that 'though'. I get your last statement (joke) using the word 'though' again! You are too funny, Quark!:lol:

I will get to your PM after I post something (with plenty of "thoughs," of course) for the Aeneid thread .

If you PM me, feel free to use the word 'though' freely - I can forgive that much.:D

I love the painting, Quark! Thanks so much for finding it and posting it. You know how I like having illustrations within the text - it livens things up. That painting is very moody and imparts the feelings in this story of his final isolation with the Black Monk.

Quark

06-12-2008, 05:20 PM

That painting is beautiful. It fits the story perfectly.

That painting is very moody and imparts the feelings in this story of his final isolation with the Black Monk.

Yes, I thought it was a good visual. The mood of the painting was just right. I'll try to bring more images when I find some. With islandclimber's love of combining reading with musical accompaniment I'm sure we can make this a very multi-media thread.

Where is islandclimber, anyway? We're discussing one of his favorite stories, and he's no where to be found on LitNet. I hope everything is going well with him.

Perhaps it functions as a life coping mechanism for Yegor.

I thought about this, too. Yegor is reaching old age, and his mortality must be a constant worry to him. The garden may be a way of, not so much avoiding death, but overcoming it. If the plant can continue to produce, then Yegor may feel like he still lives through them. This would explain why he needs Tania to cultivate the garden after he dies.

I'm anxious to read all the stories now. I am so far behind on all my reading. I haven't read a novel in ages, well only a few novellas, which I have enjoyed emensely, non-the-less.

Enjoy the book, Janine. The first few stories are a little boring, but after those the book is a great read.

I bought a collection of Chekhov play recently that I want to read. I've been meaning to read his shorter one-act plays for some time.

Oh well, we are not writers correct. I think most people on Lit Net do not even bother to edit or proof-read their posts so I would not worry about that 'though'. I get your last statement (joke) using the word 'though' again! You are too funny, Quark!:lol:

Yeah, word selection and sentence construction suffer in my posts when I have to rush them. To others, it comes more naturally, but I have to contemplate a post for a while to find exactly how to phrase it. We all have our verbal shortcomings, I guess. It seems like most writer here have problems with tone. I think that's why the smiles are in such frequent use. Someone will write "I think that's a completely boneheaded argument," then realize how harsh and overstated that is. Quickly, they'll just edit it to look like this: "I think that's a completely boneheaded argument:D ." See? Now my harsh overstatement is instantly softened by the big grin smily--problem solved. I turn my nose up at this pictoral substitute for proper tone, but I often realize that my "thoughs" are much the same thing.

Anyway, here's more Chekhov:

Yegor Semyonitch and Tanya often quarrelled and said nasty things to each other.

They quarrelled about something that morning. Tanya burst out crying and went to her room. She would not come down to dinner nor to tea. At first Yegor Semyonitch went about looking sulky and dignified, as though to give every one to understand that for him the claims of justice and good order were more important than anything else in the world; but he could not keep it up for long, and soon sank into depression. He walked about the park dejectedly, continually sighing: "Oh, my God! My God!" and at dinner did not eat a morsel. At last, guilty and conscience-stricken, he knocked at the locked door and called timidly:

"Tanya! Tanya!"

And from behind the door came a faint voice, weak with crying but still determined:

"Leave me alone, if you please."

The depression of the master and mistress was reflected in the whole household, even in the labourers working in the garden. Kovrin was absorbed in his interesting work, but at last he, too, felt dreary and uncomfortable. To dissipate the general ill-humour in some way, he made up his mind to intervene, and towards evening he knocked at Tanya's door. He was admitted.

"Fie, fie, for shame!" he began playfully, looking with surprise at Tanya's tear-stained, woebegone face, flushed in patches with crying. "Is it really so serious? Fie, fie!"

"But if you knew how he tortures me!" she said, and floods of scalding tears streamed from her big eyes. "He torments me to death," she went on, wringing her hands. "I said nothing to him . . . nothing . . . I only said that there was no need to keep . . . too many labourers . . . if we could hire them by the day when we wanted them. You know . . . you know the labourers have been doing nothing for a whole week. . . . I . . . I . . . only said that, and he shouted and . . . said . . . a lot of horrible insulting things to me. What for?"

"There, there," said Kovrin, smoothing her hair. "You've quarrelled with each other, you've cried, and that's enough. You must not be angry for long -- that's wrong . . . all the more as he loves you beyond everything."

"He has . . . has spoiled my whole life," Tanya went on, sobbing. "I hear nothing but abuse and . . . insults. He thinks I am of no use in the house. Well! He is right. I shall go away to-morrow; I shall become a telegraph clerk. . . . I don't care. . . ."

"Come, come, come. . . . You mustn't cry, Tanya. You mustn't, dear. . . . You are both hot-tempered and irritable, and you are both to blame. Come along; I will reconcile you."

Kovrin talked affectionately and persuasively, while she went on crying, twitching her shoulders and wringing her hands, as though some terrible misfortune had really befallen her. He felt all the sorrier for her because her grief was not a serious one, yet she suffered extremely. What trivialities were enough to make this little creature miserable for a whole day, perhaps for her whole life! Comforting Tanya, Kovrin thought that, apart from this girl and her father, he might hunt the world over and would not find people who would love him as one of themselves, as one of their kindred. If it had not been for those two he might very likely, having lost his father and mother in early childhood, never to the day of his death have known what was meant by genuine affection and that naïve, uncritical love which is only lavished on very close blood relations; and he felt that the nerves of this weeping, shaking girl responded to his half-sick, overstrained nerves like iron to a magnet. He never could have loved a healthy, strong, rosy-cheeked woman, but pale, weak, unhappy Tanya attracted him.

And he liked stroking her hair and her shoulders, pressing her hand and wiping away her tears. . . . At last she left off crying. She went on for a long time complaining of her father and her hard, insufferable life in that house, entreating Kovrin to put himself in her place; then she began, little by little, smiling, and sighing that God had given her such a bad temper. At last, laughing aloud, she called herself a fool, and ran out of the room.

When a little later Kovrin went into the garden, Yegor Semyonitch and Tanya were walking side by side along an avenue as though nothing had happened, and both were eating rye bread with salt on it, as both were hungry.

Quark

06-12-2008, 11:50 PM

The painting is a great visual and Janine used a great word for it - moody. It looks Impressionistic to me, but I'm not an artist. I don't know.

The small picture of the painting looks Impressionistic, but the original isn't so much. The image is of poor quality so it makes it look like it has those splotchy brush strokes you see in Renoir and Monet. The original, however, is quite clear. Techincally, the painting is classified as Romantic.

That's the reason he wants Tania to marry Kovrin, correct? Because he believes Tania and Kovrin will settle on the farm and tend the garden when he's gone.

Exactly, he comes right out and says it. Yegor's picture of their marriage is very self-satisfying. Kovrin goes for it, though, because he's already in love with the girl. The section I just posted shows Kovrin's affection at its highest.

So, Kovrin could not love a healthy girl, but he could love a weak one, with a very nervous constitution like Tania's. That is interesting. I'll have to think about that.

When I first read that I was suspicious, too, but I don't think it's as weird as it sounds. Kovrin loves her because she's similar to him. Listen to this:

Comforting Tanya, Kovrin thought that, apart from this girl and her father, he might hunt the world over and would not find people who would love him as one of themselves, as one of their kindred. If it had not been for those two he might very likely, having lost his father and mother in early childhood, never to the day of his death have known what was meant by genuine affection and that naïve, uncritical love which is only lavished on very close blood relations; and he felt that the nerves of this weeping, shaking girl responded to his half-sick, overstrained nerves like iron to a magnet. He never could have loved a healthy, strong, rosy-cheeked woman, but pale, weak, unhappy Tanya attracted him.

The words kindred, family, and relations all impart an air similarity. That's what attracts Kovrin. If he loved her simply for her strained nerves, then, yes, I would wonder what's going in Kovrin's mind that make nervousness alluring. He isn't attracted by that, though. On the contrary, his feeling seem quite genuine and touching here. In fact, this point seems like the zenith for Kovrin's mental state in this story. Here he's reached a tranquil and selfless attitude. All the story has been moving him toward this happy state. Unfortunately, everything unravels after this point.

Kovrin is happiest when he's indulging his ability to conjure the black monk, and I think he needs and wants that happiness. I don't think he wants to give it up, even if it means increased emotional health.

Yeah, we know he chooses the Black Monk over his health.

Arrg! There's a thunderstorm coming. I have to shut down. Janine, I'll answer your PM tomorrow morning. I'll also finish this post. I have two more things I want to add.

Janine

06-13-2008, 02:58 AM

I am partly trying to learn how to use the quote thing properly, but though I believe Kovrin genuinely loves Tania, it seems he feels Yegor and Tania are his family. It's not "normal" to marry one's family, though at that time in Russia, cousins married, so I guess Kovrin's feelings aren't too strange here.

I'll wait until you can finish what you wanted to say.

Edit - Good, the quote worked. I've been wondering how people got multiple ones in there. I didn't know we had to copy and paste.

Antiquarian, I always get confused with multiple quotes: quote within a quote. I know Virgil knows the right way to do them. With me it is hit and miss and I often have to revise my post, after since it does not work right the first time. If you quote within a quote, I think you add two of these to the beginning [quote][quote] and only one with the slash in front of the quote at the end. I am not sure of that but I will check it out for you. Maybe the mod will come in an give you specific pointers. I find that difficult to do, also. It is really hard to explain but I am sure one of the moderators can explain it way better than I can. Glad to see your last quote worked fine.

sofia82

06-13-2008, 10:04 AM

Antiquarian, I always get confused with multiple quotes: quote within a quote. I know Virgil knows the right way to do them. With me it is hit and miss and I often have to revise my post, after since it does not work right the first time. If you quote within a quote, I think you add two of these to the beginning .... and only one with the slash in front of the quote at the end. I am not sure of that but I will check it out for you. Maybe the mod will come in an give you specific pointers. I find that difficult to do, also. It is really hard to explain but I am sure one of the moderators can explain it way better than I can. Glad to see your last quote worked fine.

Thank you, Janine. The multiple quote thing is the one I can't do right. I always seem to mess that one up.

I'll just keep trying to make it work. Virgil did say in a post it's so easy.

I'm sure when my brother has time he'll look at it. He probably knows how to do it. In that meantime, I'll try what you said. Thanks.

Now let's see if I can do it correctly or not.
First of all choose the multiplie quote which should beecome red in the posts you choose then click on Quote.
If you want to divide a single quote to different quotes and answer differently select the sentence or paragraph you want to quote and click on the button on the top next to insert image which is wrap tags around the selected text. And if you want to do it manually, just type [Quote] in the beginning of the text and in the end type [/ Quote] (without any space between / and Quote, I have to write it so it wont quote the text) then it works, sometimes it need edition, though ;)

Quark

06-13-2008, 03:20 PM

Here's a brief tutorial of how to quote and reply to multiple posts.

To quote multiple post, you have to click the multi-quote button which is next to the "quote" button. It looks like this. Once you click it, it will turn orange--as shown below.

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial0.jpg

Then click on "quote" underneath Antiquarian's post. That will take you to the post screen. It should look like this with the sofia's post on top and Antiquarian's second since I clicked on sofia's first and Anti's second.

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial1.jpg

Now, say I want to split sofia's post into two separate parts. This happens a lot when a user makes different points, and you want to reply to them separately. To split a quoted post you have to cut the close quote command (which looks like this [/QUOTE]) and move it to where you want the quote to stop.

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial2.jpg

There in the highlighted blue section is close quote command ([/QUOTE) copy that with the copy or cut that (ctrl+c copies and ctrl+x cuts).

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial3.jpg

Now you can move it to where you want to stop the quote. I'll put it underneath sofia's first paragraph. That completes the first quote. I have a open quote command at the start and a close quote command at the end. I'm not done yet, though. I still have to open the second quote.

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial4.jpg

To open the second quote you have to highlight and copy (ctrl+c) the open quote command. I circled it in red. Then, you have to move it to the top of the second part of sofia's post which you want to quote.

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial5.jpg

There, now both quotes have an open quote command and a close quote command. They should now appear as separate quotes in your response. And, each should say "Quote from Sofia."

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial6.jpg

If I write in between the two quotes, the writing will appear in that place in your post.

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial7.jpg

Scroll down to write by the other post you quoted

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial8.jpg

There's the second post I quote from Antiquarian.

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk48/aquarker/tutorial9.jpg

If I write above or below the quotes, it will appear there in the post.

That's how to quote multiple posts and reply to them. My next post is the final result.

Quark

06-13-2008, 03:21 PM

Now let's see if I can do it correctly or not.
First of all choose the multiplie quote which should beecome red in the posts you choose then click on Quote.

This is the text I want to type underneath the first quote from sofia. It will show up between the two quotes I just created.

If you want to divide a single quote to different quotes and answer differently select the sentence or paragraph you want to quote and click on the button on the top next to insert image which is wrap tags around the selected text. And if you want to do it manually, just type in the beginning of the text and in the end type (without any space between / and Quote, I have to write it so it wont quote the text) then it works, sometimes it need edition, though ;)

This text will appear between sophia's post and Antiquarian's.

I'm sure when my brother has time he'll look at it. He probably knows how to do it. In that meantime, I'll try what you said. Thanks.

This writing will show at the bottom.

Janine

06-13-2008, 03:40 PM

Quark, those are excellent instructions - how did you do that - in an offline program? It must have taken you considerable time. I did not even know all of that. Thanks! I often just insert the commands manually such as the [quote] and then at the end the closed command. I have to then write above each quote the name of the person who's quote it was. I also have to copy and paste so much. This will be a real timesaver.

One last question. How do you 'quote inside another quote'? I still do that 'hit or miss' and have to go into 'advanced' and play around with it to get the 'quote inside of another quote' to work, correctly.

sofia82

06-14-2008, 09:52 AM

Oh, Visual tutorial. This is great idea

Quark

06-14-2008, 06:42 PM

Quark, those are excellent instructions - how did you do that - in an offline program? It must have taken you considerable time. I did not even know all of that.

You can do wonders with mspaint and a photobucket account, Janine. It didn't take me that long--although I didn't know that I was going to have to make ten images when I started. Hopefully, that cleared up everything about multiple posts.

One last question. How do you 'quote inside another quote'? I still do that 'hit or miss' and have to go into 'advanced' and play around with it to get the 'quote inside of another quote' to work, correctly.

What exactly do you mean by quote inside another quote? Are you asking about responding to posts that include quotes? Or, are you talking about quoting an outside source which happens to quote someone or something else?

I've been wondering if Kovrin truly loves Tania like a husband should love a wife. We know he loves Yegor and Tania like his family because he says so, but I wonder about the degree and quality of love between the Kovrin and Tania as a married couple.

I think Kovrin does love Tania sincerely. That's what this scene conveys.

It's not "normal" to marry one's family, though at that time in Russia, cousins married, so I guess Kovrin's feelings aren't too strange here.

Well I don't believe Chekhov means to indicate anything incestuous when he tells us that Kovrin thought of Tania as family. It seems more like he's trying to imply that Kovrin and Tania were very similar, and that their relationship was one of the closest Kovrin's every experienced. Like I said before, Chekhov is trying to show a loving couple. Kovrin will of course lose all of this later, and that's why I call this the highest point in the story for Kovrin. Here, he's gained everything he wants. He has Tania, his work, the Black Monk, and Yegor all in perfect balance.

Chekhov must have had "The Cherry Orchard" in mind when he wrote this? I don't know, but it seems like he would have.

I'm glad you brought that up. I've been meaning to quote a scene from that play because the themes are very similar as you noticed. "The Cherry Orchard" was written later than this story, if I'm not mistaken. "The Black Monk" was published in 1894, and most of Chekhov plays were closer to the turn of the century. I don't remember exactly when Chekhov wrote "The Cherry Orchard," though. He could have been writing it around this time. You're right that he had the same ideas on his mind, though.

I do love it and it is poetic.

The prose is very poetic. It has this way of being both clear and mysterious. It's also strangely beautiful and gloomy at the same time.

Quark

06-14-2008, 11:00 PM

I believe "The Cherry Orchard" was written sometime around 1900 or a few years before (I think before), though Chekhov had been making notes that referred to the idea for years. I know it premiered on January 17, 1904 at the Moscow Art Theatre, which I'm sure you know, too, and which was Chekhov's birthday.

No, actually I didn't know that. I was aware that he wrote his plays later in his career, but the dates had always remained rather fuzzy. I'm not as familiar with his plays as I am with the short stories. In fact, I'm just getting to some of his one-act plays now. They are entertaining, but I still prefer the short stories. You just don't get the same pathos in the plays.

I dearly love his plays.

I know I've said this before, but I have been kicking around the idea of discussing one of his plays for the thread. What do you say?

It's beautifully poetic and melancholy. One of Chekhov's best stories, I think. You're aware that late in his life, Chekhov had a cherry orchard of his own and was heartbroken when he discovered it had been cut down.

There's a lot that autobiographical in his late work. I've already pointed out some of the Chekhov life story details are in "The Black Monk." I guess as he got toward old age he started evaluating his life more critically.

I love the story, "Steppe," because of the boy crossing the fields of fallen cherry blossoms. Well, there are many other reasons, of course, but that's one of them. It's just a beautiful image, like the black monk floating across the rye in this story.

Yeah, if you like the poetic descriptions of nature in this story, then it's obvious that you would like "The Steppe." The setting descriptions go on for pages. Chekhov tells the story almost exclusively through his locales. Some readers react negatively to this and call the story as boring as the steppe it describes, but I thought it was very engaging.

A rare photo of Chekhov with Tolstoy, two of my very favorite authors:

Someone on LitNet used that photo as their avatar for a while--must have been a huge Chekhov fan. Luckily enough, we have many illustrations and photographs of Chekhov still available. Many of them seem like repeats, though, because Chekhov had pretty much four different looks.

There's the young Chekhov:
http://www.geocities.com/heartland/bluffs/7745/chekhov/chekhov01.jpg

The middle-aged nerdy Chekhov with the much worn hat:
http://www.geocities.com/heartland/bluffs/7745/chekhov/chekhov02.jpg

Older, cynical-looking Chekhov
http://www.shelterbelt.com/DRAMA/chekhov.JPG

And my favorite: the caricature-style statue the Russians built for him which gives him this odd Ronald McDonald appearance.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/da/Anton_Chekhov_in_Tomsk.jpg/450px-Anton_Chekhov_in_Tomsk.jpg

Janine

06-14-2008, 11:02 PM

You can do wonders with mspaint and a photobucket account, Janine. It didn't take me that long--although I didn't know that I was going to have to make ten images when I started. Hopefully, that cleared up everything about multiple posts.

Humm....I have the Photobucket account; and would imagine, that I have MS Paint, as well. I will have to hunt around for it. Anyway, Quark, it must have taken you considerable time to do all that. Pictures along with instructions are always so much clearer than attempting to explain things blindly.

What exactly do you mean by quote inside another quote? Are you asking about responding to posts that include quotes? Or, are you talking about quoting an outside source which happens to quote someone or something else?

I do mean the first. For instance if I wanted to keep in the quoted part of this post - when you click on the reply it eliminates that part. I have seen Virgil post double many times. Yes, posts that include the original quote within a quote. I knew how to accomplish it but now I forget. I will have to play around with it until it comes back to me; then I will let you know how is done.

I think Kovrin does love Tania sincerely. That's what this scene conveys.

I felt when I first read the book that Kovrin did love Tania. Yes, that scene seems to convey that.

Well I don't believe Chekhov means to indicate anything incestuous when he tells us that Kovrin thought of Tania as family. It seems more like he's trying to imply that Kovrin and Tania were very similar, and that their relationship was one of the closest Kovrin's every experienced. Like I said before, Chekhov is trying to show a loving couple. Kovrin will of course lose all of this later, and that's why I call this the highest point in the story for Kovrin. Here, he's gained everything he wants. He has Tania, his work, the Black Monk, and Yegor all in perfect balance.

Sort of reminds me of Heathcliff and Katy in Wuthering Heights. They grew up together and loved each other deeply and were very much 'alike' having been raised in the same environment. I would like to read "The Cherry Orchard," and other plays. I really like plays and love seeing them performed.

I'm glad you brought that up. I've been meaning to quote a scene from that play because the themes are very similar as you noticed. "The Cherry Orchard" was written later than this story, if I'm not mistaken. "The Black Monk" was published in 1894, and most of Chekhov plays were closer to the turn of the century. I don't remember exactly when Chekhov wrote "The Cherry Orchard," though. He could have been writing it around this time. You're right that he had the same ideas on his mind, though.

That is interesting, Quark. I like things that relate like two of his works. In Lawrence's work this is so often the case. I just read "The Virgin and the Gipsy" and found the end had similarities to one of the short stories we discussed awhile back. The play I bought of L's also was so like "Odour of Chrysanthemums". I wonder if these authors do that on purpose - expand their ideas from the short stories into the plays. Here the play you say came second after the story. That is interesting.

The prose is very poetic. It has this way of being both clear and mysterious. It's also strangely beautiful and gloomy at the same time.

It is lovely. I like the mist, the flowers, the atmosphere of the night, etc. It is beautiful and gloomy and strangely awesome to me. I have always loved mist and fog, shadows and sillouettes.

Nice photo, Antiquarian. Thanks for posting it here. I have seen that somewhere before; even before you posted it today in Literary Pictures - I love that new thread! I also love Tolstoy - always have.

Quark

06-14-2008, 11:25 PM

Humm....I have the Photobucket account; and would imagine, that I have MS Paint, as well.

If you're running Windows, then you have MS Paint. It's under Start>Programs>Accessories. Learning how to use paint can be tricky, though, because there are no directions and the program is hardly self-explanatory. I justed mess around with it haphazardly until I get the desired effect (sort of like how I write).

I do mean the first. For instance if I wanted to keep in the quoted part of this post - when you click on the reply it eliminates that part. I have seen Virgil post double many times. Yes, posts that include the original quote within a quote. I knew how to accomplish it but now I forget. I will have to play around with it until it comes back to me; then I will let you know how is done.

It too late at night for me to make another tutorial with images, so words will have to suffice. To get a quote within a quote in your response, you have to either use the advanced options or you can copy the text from post and make your own quote box within the quote. Like this:

I do mean the first. For instance if I wanted to keep in the quoted part of this post - when you click on the reply it eliminates that part.
I have seen Virgil post double many times. Yes, posts that include the original quote within a quote. I knew how to accomplish it but now I forget. I will have to play around with it until it comes back to me; then I will let you know how is done.

Here's what it looks like in the post (I took of the brackets in the quote commands so it wouldn't post this as a quote):

QUOTE=Janine;584945 I do mean the first. For instance if I wanted to keep in the quoted part of this post - when you click on the reply it eliminates that part. QUOTE=Janine;584945 I have seen Virgil post double many times. /QUOTE Yes, posts that include the original quote within a quote. I knew how to accomplish it but now I forget. I will have to play around with it until it comes back to me; then I will let you know how is done. /QUOTE

Sort of reminds me of Heathcliff and Katy in Wuthering Heights.

Like Heathcliff and Kathrine in Wuthering Heights, the girl shows the boy the only genuine affection he knows. That's of course critical to Bronte's novel. Here it's no less true, but it's not as central to Kovrin's life. He's not screaming Tania's name on the moors, at least.

I just read "The Virgin and the Gipsy"

You've really worked your way down on the list of Lawrence titles. I hadn't even heard of that one.

Quark

06-15-2008, 12:06 AM

I know I’d love to discuss one of Chekhov’s plays, maybe even “The Cherry Orchard,” but really, any one would be fine with me.

It depends on how long we want to discuss a play for. I might just use one of the shorter comical pieces as an interesting read for us in between stories. If I do decide to do a play for a whole month, however, then I would definitely pick "The Cherry Orchard." It's by far his best.

Some people on this forum might faint, but I like Tolstoy more than Dostoyevsky.

That's shocking. I didn't pass out when I heard that, though. Many people prefer Tolstoy to Dostoevsky. They're both great writers.

It’s great you have the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation of Anna Karenina. Personally, I found it so much superior to any other translation. Have you ever seen the miniseries of the book starring Nicola Pagett? I like it, but it’s not as lively as it could be. Pagett looks just like I pictured Anna Karenina.

Besides Anna Karenina those are all strange names to me. I'll have to take your word on what's the best translation. I've only read Anna Karenina once, and I don't think I could get all the way through it again no matter what translation I were using.

Before I go to bed, I want to make sure I post the next part of the story. This is the part of section V--right after the last section I posted. Kovrin sees the Black Monk again, and we get his first full conversation with the ghost.

Glad that he had been so successful in the part of peacemaker, Kovrin went into the park. Sitting on a garden seat, thinking, he heard the rattle of a carriage and a feminine laugh -- visitors were arriving. When the shades of evening began falling on the garden, the sounds of the violin and singing voices reached him indistinctly, and that reminded him of the black monk. Where, in what land or in what planet, was that optical absurdity moving now?

Hardly had he recalled the legend and pictured in his imagination the dark apparition he had seen in the rye-field, when, from behind a pine-tree exactly opposite, there came out noiselessly, without the slightest rustle, a man of medium height with uncovered grey head, all in black, and barefooted like a beggar, and his black eyebrows stood out conspicuously on his pale, death-like face. Nodding his head graciously, this beggar or pilgrim came noiselessly to the seat and sat down, and Kovrin recognised him as the black monk.

For a minute they looked at one another, Kovrin with amazement, and the monk with friendliness, and, just as before, a little slyness, as though he were thinking something to himself.

"But you are a mirage," said Kovrin. "Why are you here and sitting still? That does not fit in with the legend."

"That does not matter," the monk answered in a low voice, not immediately turning his face towards him. "The legend, the mirage, and I are all the products of your excited imagination. I am a phantom."

"Then you don't exist?" said Kovrin.

"You can think as you like," said the monk, with a faint smile. "I exist in your imagination, and your imagination is part of nature, so I exist in nature."

"You have a very old, wise, and extremely expressive face, as though you really had lived more than a thousand years," said Kovrin. "I did not know that my imagination was capable of creating such phenomena. But why do you look at me with such enthusiasm? Do you like me?"

"Yes, you are one of those few who are justly called the chosen of God. You do the service of eternal truth. Your thoughts, your designs, the marvellous studies you are engaged in, and all your life, bear the Divine, the heavenly stamp, seeing that they are consecrated to the rational and the beautiful -- that is, to what is eternal."

"You said 'eternal truth.' . . . But is eternal truth of use to man and within his reach, if there is no eternal life?"

"There is eternal life," said the monk.

"Do you believe in the immortality of man?"

"Yes, of course. A grand, brilliant future is in store for you men. And the more there are like you on earth, the sooner will this future be realised. Without you who serve the higher principle and live in full understanding and freedom, mankind would be of little account; developing in a natural way, it would have to wait a long time for the end of its earthly history. You will lead it some thousands of years earlier into the kingdom of eternal truth -- and therein lies your supreme service. You are the incarnation of the blessing of God, which rests upon men."

"And what is the object of eternal life?" asked Kovrin.

"As of all life -- enjoyment. True enjoyment lies in knowledge, and eternal life provides innumerable and inexhaustible sources of knowledge, and in that sense it has been said: 'In My Father's house there are many mansions.' "

"If only you knew how pleasant it is to hear you!" said Kovrin, rubbing his hands with satisfaction.

"I am very glad."

"But I know that when you go away I shall be worried by the question of your reality. You are a phantom, an hallucination. So I am mentally deranged, not normal?"

"What if you are? Why trouble yourself? You are ill because you have overworked and exhausted yourself, and that means that you have sacrificed your health to the idea, and the time is near at hand when you will give up life itself to it. What could be better? That is the goal towards which all divinely endowed, noble natures strive."

"If I know I am mentally affected, can I trust myself?"

"And are you sure that the men of genius, whom all men trust, did not see phantoms, too? The learned say now that genius is allied to madness. My friend, healthy and normal people are only the common herd. Reflections upon the neurasthenia of the age, nervous exhaustion and degeneracy, et cetera, can only seriously agitate those who place the object of life in the present -- that is, the common herd."

"The Romans used to say: Mens sana in corpore sano."

"Not everything the Greeks and the Romans said is true. Exaltation, enthusiasm, ecstasy -- all that distinguishes prophets, poets, martyrs for the idea, from the common folk -- is repellent to the animal side of man -- that is, his physical health. I repeat, if you want to be healthy and normal, go to the common herd."

"Strange that you repeat what often comes into my mind," said Kovrin. "It is as though you had seen and overheard my secret thoughts. But don't let us talk about me. What do you mean by 'eternal truth'?"

The monk did not answer. Kovrin looked at him and could not distinguish his face. His features grew blurred and misty. Then the monk's head and arms disappeared; his body seemed merged into the seat and the evening twilight, and he vanished altogether.

Quark

06-15-2008, 12:52 PM

Kovrin realizes that he, himself has conjured up the vision of the Black Monk.

Right, and that realization is a significant change. Before, he thought the monk was naturally occurring, but now he discovers that it's he himself who is creating the Black Monk. Creative interpretations of reality are something we should always be wary of in Chekhov's fiction. Most of the time they indicate that the character is losing it, and they are not considered helpful. In "Rothschild's Fiddle," for example, after Yakov loses his daughter he starts to believe that he never had a daughter. Then, he begins to imagine that he's constantly losing things--money, friends, his wife. That sense of loss takes over his life, and he becomes quite miserable. When we learn that Kovrin is imagining the monk we should immediately be suspicious. Most likely, this leads to something tragic.

As much as I like Kovrin, these passages seem to indicate that he’s suffering from megalomania.

The part of him that believes the monk may be a megalomaniac, but he struggles with this. Kovrin is tempted by the monk, certainly. He desires the power and knowledge that monk tells him he has. This part of the monk's speech particularly allures him:

"Yes, you are one of those few who are justly called the chosen of God. You do the service of eternal truth. Your thoughts, your designs, the marvellous studies you are engaged in, and all your life, bear the Divine, the heavenly stamp, seeing that they are consecrated to the rational and the beautiful -- that is, to what is eternal."

Later, though, he will turn away from this. When he takes the treatment for his TB, he stops believing the monk.

Kovrin is aware that he is mentally ill, overwrought.

The question is whether that's a helpful thing for Kovrin or not. It makes him happy, but it destroys his life and others. I tend to think it isn't helpful for Kovrin because Chekhov usually comes down on the side of selflessness over self-indulgence, and reality over imagination. I don't know if there's anything specific I can point to in the story which makes me believe that, though. The part at the end where he shreds his own work is perhaps the closest I can come to conclusive evidence.

Is being ill the only way Kovrin can be happy?

It appears that way. Kovrin never reaches the level of happiness he has with the monk at any other part of the story. Unlike in many other Chekhov tragedies, the protagonist isn't given a good option. He's doomed from the start.

Janine

06-15-2008, 02:31 PM

To me, this story is more like a Shakespearian tragedy in which everyone ends up dead, than a typical Chekhovian tragedy in which people live, but end up forlorn, bitter, or simply lost. I like Kovrin and felt terribly sorry for him.

Antiquarian, Funny you should say this, because the whole time I have been reading yours and Quark's posts I have been thinking of "Hamlet"; probably since I am watching it on DVD (for about the zillionth time!). I often become Hamlet obsessed. Shakespeare is another one of my deep passions. Anyway, I kept thinking of the three people in this story - the father, Korvin and Tania - seemed reminescent of the characters in "Hamlet", since everyone perceives Hamlet's own fall into the realm of insanity; which always comes under debate from scholars; I am aware of this fact - some say there is that thin line. To me "Hamlet" Shakespeare presents this idea of a 'thin blurred line', as well, especially after Hamlet kills Polonious. Polonius could almost parallel Yegor, but he does not have a garden, nor does Yegot get murdered ;) :lol: He does however, have a daughter, that he cares about to excess and Yegor is a bit meddling, as is Polonius. Both men's advice and actions towards their daughter's future, spur on her own downfall, to some extent. All three characters do end in tragedy and death. Interesting to note, that none have truly started out having bad intentions towards each other, as the three in this story do not intend either; also both sets of father and daughter attempt to control the madness, they see in the male character, Hamlet and Kovrin. When I think of it, both of the fathers are 'control-freaks' in various ways: Yegor channels that into his garden obessession and Polonius into controlling his two children. He even has Laertes spied on, when he is back in France. For some reason I could not fully comprehend, last night I kept being reminded of this line by Polonius, concerning the young Hamlet's decline: he...

Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;
Thence to a watch; thence into a weakness;
Thence to a lightness; and by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves
And all we wail for.

I can see now how this relates to this story. That could almost describe the various stages that Kovrin goes through as well, until his final decent into madness followed by death. Hey, Quark, I would imagine that Chekhov did read some Shakespeare? Anyway, for what it is worth I liked drawing these parallels, since I did bring up the idea of "Hamlet" in an earlier post. Now that I think of it more closely, there seem to me to be even more interesting parallels here.

Janine

06-15-2008, 03:01 PM

I think that's a great observation, Janine, and I think you've drawn some great parallels. It'll be interesting to see what Quark has to say.

Generally, I don't think Chekhov is as tragic as Shakespeare (well, he is, but not as melodramatic), but in this story, I think he comes very close.

Oh, off-topic, but the book I have lists "The Winter's Tale" as one of the "late romances."

Thanks, Antiquarian, I guess I could clearly see those parellels when watching the "Hamlet" film last night. I tried two other films and took them out of my player; I felt I needed to watch Hamlet instead; I couldn't watch something shallower. Of course, beginning it after 12 was not good. I didn't even get midway through it. I might even pick up on more parellels - who knows.

Yes, I listened to "The Winter's Tale" a year or so ago. I own it on Arkangel series CD set - very good rendition with Ciaran Hinds. I just could not see how it was truly a comedy. But often with Shakespeare's so called 'comedic' works, I feel they are tragic as well or at least contain many elements of sadness, pathos and tragedy. I went online recently to research this particular play and see if they actually call it a comedy and one article said is considered more of a 'tragicomedy'. I thought that was interesting and that is what I perceived when I listened to those audiofiles. I guess sometimes there is a fine line between comedy and tragedy, as there is in life itself.

Quark

06-15-2008, 05:17 PM

Chekhov was, I think, a very compassionate and non-judgmental writer. He seems pretty hard on everyone in this story

There are two separate thoughts there. I'll bring out the first one before I go on to the second.

Chekhov was a compassionate writer. He humanized all his characters--even those who might seem like villains. He also made the victims of the tragedies both pitiful and dignified at the same time. There seemed to be a reluctance on his part to point fingers when things go wrong. Chekhov was more interested in formulating the problems and noticing the consequences.

As for who he comes down on in this story, I think you're right that he makes everyone pretty miserable at the end. Yegor loses the garden he loves, Tania loses her husband, and Kovrin loses his life. Everyone is implicated in the tragedy.

To me, this story is more like a Shakespearian tragedy in which everyone ends up dead, than a typical Chekhovian tragedy in which people live, but end up forlorn, bitter, or simply lost.

I also have a hard time placing this along side other Chekhov works. It's much more fantastic and spectacular than his other stories. The ending is different, too, as you point out. It's almost Shakespearian. We've had a few people already make parallels to Hamlet and Macbeth. I see Janine has posted another one below.

In some ways, I feel the theme of this story could be that selfishness destroys. Kovrin’s selfishness in wanting the self-satisfaction the black monk provides ultimately destroys his life, Tania’s, and if not Yegor’s, then the orchard. It’s a hint of what’s to come in “The Cherry Orchard” when a “new order” destroys the peace and harmony of the old.

selfishness does destroy in this story, but, seen from another perspective, one could say that the story is about the boring unfulfillment of selflessness.

Anyway, I kept thinking of the three people in this story - the father, Korvin and Tania - seemed reminescent of the characters in "Hamlet", since everyone perceives Hamlet's own fall into the realm of insanity;

Yegor/Polonius and Tania/Ophelia have like roles in the short story and play. They both show the unfortunate consequences of the protagonist Kovrin/Hamlet. The only difference is that Ophelia and Polonius are not as implicated in the tragedy as Yegor and Tania. The characters in "The Black Monk" all share the common shortcomings, but in Hamlet the characters are not as similar.

I just could not see how it was truly a comedy. But often with Shakespeare's so called 'comedic' works, I feel they are tragic as well or at least contain many elements of sadness, pathos and tragedy.

I still have not read the play, but I know that many consider it to be a tragicomedy. Yet, at the same time, it's commonly published in collection of comedies. When I talked about my hope for a less tragic story in the Shakespeare thread, I wasn't necessarily saying I didn't want tragedy, though. Really, I was just hoping for a break from the hysterics I was reading in Greek tragedy. If the story is sad, that's perfectly fine. I just hope there aren't too many "Woe is me!" exclamations.

Janine

06-15-2008, 10:29 PM

Chekhov was a compassionate writer. He humanized all his characters--even those who might seem like villains. He also made the victims of the tragedies both pitiful and dignified at the same time. There seemed to be a reluctance on his part to point fingers when things go wrong. Chekhov was more interested in formulating the problems and noticing the consequences.

I like that about him. I personally don't like to judge any of the characters because I feel they all have their reasons for reacting and acting as they do; that is just human nature. Sometimes we don't even act as we think or anticipate we would. I guess we are all fallible and I tend to see characters portrayed in literature that way. Yes, many novels and stories are tragic. Life can be tragic also. It doesn't always work out, as we planned. I think in this particular story, it is evident that things just get out of control, for all the characters. I feel for them all. I know I can become obsessed with things, like Yegor is obsessed with his gardening; I know I can get emotional and even break down crying, like Tania; maybe I can even feel a bit out of kilter, not quite as extreme as Kovrin, but I can be too obsessed with my own studies and trying to make things perfect, so I can see where he is coming from. I know I have experienced this in my art, and a requirement for an artist, is to become emersed or obsessed with one's artwork. I think that Chekhov would have known this feeling. He was an an 'artist' as a writer. I think it was the same with Lawrence; both of them were very much driven. I think Lawrence also sees his characters as humans and flawed and no character who is to blame. I think really good writers will approach their characters in this manor; see both sides.

As for who he comes down on in this story, I think you're right that he makes everyone pretty miserable at the end. Yegor loses the garden he loves, Tania loses her husband, and Kovrin loses his life. Everyone is implicated in the tragedy.

They are in my opinion. No one is blameless, yet they all do what they think is right.

I also have a hard time placing this along side other Chekhov works. It's much more fantastic and spectacular than his other stories. The ending is different, too, as you point out. It's almost Shakespearian. We've had a few people already make parallels to Hamlet and Macbeth. I see Janine has posted another one below.

It does seem that way - different than other works of Chekhov's although I have not read that many so far.;) Yes, well I was the first, Quark, awhile back to compare it to "Hamlet" then a page or so later islandclimber said it reminded him of "Macbeth". I don't personally see parallels to Macbeth because in Macbeth the intentions of the characters are vicious and selfish and intended to gain power over everyone in the story; thus ending in tragedy. In "Hamlet" the appearance of a mysterious ghost/phantom/apparition speaks to Hamlet, much as the Black Monk speaks to Kovrin. It is true that Yegor and Tania do try and cure what they believe is his mental illness; however in "Hamlet" Polonius does interfer and conspire with the King (Hamlet's Uncle), concerning their observation of just why Hamlet is acting as he is. Of course, Ophelia does not marry with Hamlet, as Tania does with Kovrin; but there are similarities to what drives us to the final tragedy in both stories. I didn't profess they were identical, but similar in nature.

selfishness does destroy in this story, but, seen from another perspective, one could say that the story is about the boring unfulfillment of selflessness.

Not sure if I quite understand what you mean here. Can you explain this a little better, Quark?

Yegor/Polonius and Tania/Ophelia have like roles in the short story and play. They both show the unfortunate consequences of the protagonist Kovrin/Hamlet. The only difference is that Ophelia and Polonius are not as implicated in the tragedy as Yegor and Tania. The characters in "The Black Monk" all share the common shortcomings, but in Hamlet the characters are not as similar.

I think they are implicated, in a bigger way than you think. It is not until Polonius spies on Hamlet, and also before that he forbides his daughter to see Hamlet again; this helps to spur Hamlet onto a more destructive path. Sure he is comtemplating his revenge upon his uncle, but with the addition of the two key charactes of P and O, they help to advance the plot and bring about circumstances that spiral out of the control for Hamlet at the end. In much the same way, Yegor and Tania conspire together to bring about a state of normalacy for Kovrin, but it all backfires on them in the end, and in the process all of their lives are destroyed.

On further consideration (editing now) I think that Chekhov's story is about Kovrin's own isolation, so in that way it is not that different than many of Chekhov's other stories. I think conjuring up the Monk helps him feel less alone. Likewise, Hamlet suffers isolation; except he doe have Horatio to talk to and the ghost of his father. Still, I think he feels a terrible isolation in what he feels he must do to avenge his father's death. Therefore, in terms of isolation I think the two characters are similar. This 'isolation' is a big part of making them tetter on the edge of sanity.

I still have not read the play, but I know that many consider it to be a tragicomedy. Yet, at the same time, it's commonly published in collection of comedies. When I talked about my hope for a less tragic story in the Shakespeare thread, I wasn't necessarily saying I didn't want tragedy, though. Really, I was just hoping for a break from the hysterics I was reading in Greek tragedy. If the story is sad, that's perfectly fine. I just hope there aren't too many "Woe is me!" exclamations.

I listened to it and need to do so again. Did the discussion begin? I haven't even looked in there today. I guess the voting is done. I liked the play ok; I can't say it is one of my favorites of Shakespeare's. I think I much more prefer the tragedies and the histories (some of those to me are tragedies) to the comedies. I say this because I don't think any of the comedies are true comedies. They seem to me to be a genre of their own. Yes, there is a lot of lighthearted humor in them but it seems to run side by side much deeper issues and some are actually tragic in parts. I just watched "Twelfth Night" on DVD - the stage play and I always get such a melancholy feeling seeing that play. There is such pathos in it even though it is meant to be funny. Some moments are hilarious but others are quite sad. The parts that are funny, are a little too silly for me at times. I guess in Shakespeare's day this humor was fresher but now when you see it you feel it has all been done before. Probably so many people hence stole the routines in the Shakespeare comedies.

Quark

06-18-2008, 05:32 PM

Wow, it's already Wednesday. I didn't mean to abandon the discussion, but I guess that's what happened. I have an excuse, though: stupid browser. I visited my parents, and when I went to their computer to post on LitNet I couldn't log on. After typing my name and clicking log on it would refresh the page (as if it were logging me on), but then would just bring me back to the same page without me logged on. Eventually I got around that problem, but more and increasing aggravating problems persisted. One was that when I highlighted text it would highlight everything. I couldn't get a chunk of text. Also, it wouldn't update the forum. Once I logged on, everything would stop. If someone posted something, I wouldn't see it because the browser was stuck the instant I logged on. It was almost comical how much their browser messed up LitNet. Unfortunately, though, I couldn't post.

Now that I'm back let me answer Janine's post which has been begging a response for days now. I also want to post more of the story since it seems like we've been doing this story for months now. I'll post three smaller chunks this time, so we can move quickly now and finish.

I think Lawrence also sees his characters as humans and flawed and no character who is to blame. I think really good writers will approach their characters in this manor; see both sides.

I don't think there's a villain who's to blame in this story, but I do think that there are villains in other Chekhov stories. That doesn't subtract anything from those other stories, of course. The conflict is just written differently in those cases, and it's purely a matter of taste whether that makes those stories better or worse. "A Trifling Occurrence" has a great example of Chekhovian villain. In fact, Bieliayev from that story is a typical Chekhovian villain. He's the insensitive jerk. There's another character who deserves some of the blame, but for the most part Bieliayev single-handedly ruins everybody's life. Far from ruining the story, though, Bieliayev actually improves the story. So, while "The Black Monk" perhaps lack an antagonist, it doesn't necessarily mean that all Chekhov stories don't blame anyone.

I don't personally see parallels to Macbeth because in Macbeth the intentions of the characters are vicious and selfish and intended to gain power over everyone in the story

It all depends on how you interpret the monk. One could say that the monk exerts a similarly malignant influence over Kovrin as the witches do to Macbeth. Both tempt the protagonist to transgress certain rules to gain status for themselves.

Not sure if I quite understand what you mean here. Can you explain this a little better, Quark?

This goes back to what DM has argued. It's possible that Kovrin's problems are caused not by the monk, but by the treatment for his hallucinations. It's the selfless life he leads after the bromide which is awful. If he were merely left to himself, he would have been quite happy.

I think they are implicated, in a bigger way than you think.

Certainly Polonius and Ophelia are implicated in the downfall of Hamlet. That's why I said that they perform a similar role to Yegor and Tania. The father-daughter pair in "The Black Monk," however, are more than just implicated in Kovrin's downfall. They're also shown as having the same defects as those of the main character. Yegor, Tania, and Kovrin all share the same strained nerves and all-consuming perfectionism. This is slightly different that Polonius and Ophelia (particularly Polonius) who contribute to Hamlet's downfall, but don't necessarily share his qualities.

On further consideration (editing now) I think that Chekhov's story is about Kovrin's own isolation, so in that way it is not that different than many of Chekhov's other stories. I think conjuring up the Monk helps him feel less alone.

This goes back to the idea of the black monk as a coping mechanism. I'm not sure how much I agree with this. It's possible, but it doesn't seem like he needs to cope. It doesn't even seem like he really engages with his problems until the very end, so I'm not sure why he would need to cope.

Did the discussion begin? I haven't even looked in there today. I guess the voting is done.

They've definitely started now. I still haven't read the play, so I need to get to it.

I replied to Janine's post above. My fingers are crossed that this post won't bury it on a previous page. Here's the reaction of Tania and Yegor to Kovrin's marriage proposal.

"No; let us talk in earnest!" he said. "I shall take you with me, Tanya. Yes? Will you come with me? Will you be mine?"

"Come," said Tanya, and tried to laugh again, but the laugh would not come, and patches of colour came into her face.

She began breathing quickly and walked very quickly, but not to the house, but further into the park.

"I was not thinking of it . . . I was not thinking of it," she said, wringing her hands in despair.

And Kovrin followed her and went on talking, with the same radiant, enthusiastic face:

"I want a love that will dominate me altogether; and that love only you, Tanya, can give me. I am happy! I am happy!"

She was overwhelmed, and huddling and shrinking together, seemed ten years older all at once, while he thought her beautiful and expressed his rapture aloud:

"How lovely she is!"

VI
Learning from Kovrin that not only a romance had been got up, but that there would even be a wedding, Yegor Semyonitch spent a long time in pacing from one corner of the room to the other, trying to conceal his agitation. His hands began trembling, his neck swelled and turned purple, he ordered his racing droshky and drove off somewhere. Tanya, seeing how he lashed the horse, and seeing how he pulled his cap over his ears, understood what he was feeling, shut herself up in her room, and cried the whole day.

Yegor and Tania appear troubled by this. Since that's what they've been working for, it's odd that they would react so negatively.

Their wedding and marriage (with more from the black monk):

One day the monk appeared at dinner-time and sat in the dining-room window. Kovrin was delighted, and very adroitly began a conversation with Yegor Semyonitch and Tanya of what might be of interest to the monk; the black-robed visitor listened and nodded his head graciously, and Yegor Semyonitch and Tanya listened, too, and smiled gaily without suspecting that Kovrin was not talking to them but to his hallucination.

Imperceptibly the fast of the Assumption was approaching, and soon after came the wedding, which, at Yegor Semyonitch's urgent desire, was celebrated with "a flourish" -- that is, with senseless festivities that lasted for two whole days and nights. Three thousand roubles' worth of food and drink was consumed, but the music of the wretched hired band, the noisy toasts, the scurrying to and fro of the footmen, the uproar and crowding, prevented them from appreciating the taste of the expensive wines and wonderful delicacies ordered from Moscow.

VII
One long winter night Kovrin was lying in bed, reading a French novel. Poor Tanya, who had headaches in the evenings from living in town, to which she was not accustomed, had been asleep a long while, and, from time to time, articulated some incoherent phrase in her restless dreams.

It struck three o'clock. Kovrin put out the light and lay down to sleep, lay for a long time with his eyes closed, but could not get to sleep because, as he fancied, the room was very hot and Tanya talked in her sleep. At half-past four he lighted the candle again, and this time he saw the black monk sitting in an arm-chair near the bed.

"Good-morning," said the monk, and after a brief pause he asked: "What are you thinking of now?"

"Of fame," answered Kovrin. "In the French novel I have just been reading, there is a description of a young savant, who does silly things and pines away through worrying about fame. I can't understand such anxiety."

"Because you are wise. Your attitude towards fame is one of indifference, as towards a toy which no longer interests you."

"Yes, that is true."

"Renown does not allure you now. What is there flattering, amusing, or edifying in their carving your name on a tombstone, then time rubbing off the inscription together with the gilding? Moreover, happily there are too many of you for the weak memory of mankind to be able to retain your names."

"Of course," assented Kovrin. "Besides, why should they be remembered? But let us talk of something else. Of happiness, for instance. What is happiness?'

When the clock struck five, he was sitting on the bed, dangling his feet to the carpet, talking to the monk:

"In ancient times a happy man grew at last frightened of his happiness -- it was so great! -- and to propitiate the gods he brought as a sacrifice his favourite ring. Do you know, I, too, like Polykrates, begin to be uneasy of my happiness. It seems strange to me that from morning to night I feel nothing but joy; it fills my whole being and smothers all other feelings. I don't know what sadness, grief, or boredom is. Here I am not asleep; I suffer from sleeplessness, but I am not dull. I say it in earnest; I begin to feel perplexed."

"But why?" the monk asked in wonder. "Is joy a supernatural feeling? Ought it not to be the normal state of man? The more highly a man is developed on the intellectual and moral side, the more independent he is, the more pleasure life gives him. Socrates, Diogenes, and Marcus Aurelius, were joyful, not sorrowful. And the Apostle tells us: 'Rejoice continually'; 'Rejoice and be glad.' "

"But will the gods be suddenly wrathful?" Kovrin jested; and he laughed. "If they take from me comfort and make me go cold and hungry, it won't be very much to my taste."

Meanwhile Tanya woke up and looked with amazement and horror at her husband. He was talking, addressing the arm-chair, laughing and gesticulating; his eyes were gleaming, and there was something strange in his laugh.

"Andryusha, whom are you talking to?" she asked, clutching the hand he stretched out to the monk. "Andryusha! Whom?"

"Oh! Whom?" said Kovrin in confusion. "Why, to him. . . . He is sitting here," he said, pointing to the black monk.

"There is no one here . . . no one! Andryusha, you are ill!"

Tanya put her arm round her husband and held him tight, as though protecting him from the apparition, and put her hand over his eyes.

"You are ill!" she sobbed, trembling all over. "Forgive me, my precious, my dear one, but I have noticed for a long time that your mind is clouded in some way. . . . You are mentally ill, Andryusha. . . ."

Her trembling infected him, too. He glanced once more at the arm-chair, which was now empty, felt a sudden weakness in his arms and legs, was frightened, and began dressing.

Quark

06-18-2008, 09:25 PM

However, the Black Monk is a product of Kovrin's imagination. The witches are not a product of MacBeth's imagination. That's a big difference.

Well the witches are equally fantastic. Why do you draw a distinction?

I don't think he's a product of the bromides because they were given for TB, unless I'm mistaken, and Kovrin saw and interacted with the Black Monk before he was even taking the bromides.

Kovrin does interact with the monk before taking the treatment, and the monk goes away when he starts taking the bromide.

It may not seem like Kovrin needs to cope, but he was emotionally worn out and verging on mental illness on his arrival at Yegor's. He may have already been mentally ill. A person will cope subconsciously with many things, emotional illness included.

There's one sense in which I can see the monk as a coping mechanism. That is: he's having problems both with justifying all the effort he's put into study and with realizing that once he's dead his work won't mean anything. The monk constantly asserts that he's working for something great and permanent which gives Kovrin a way of overcoming those fears. Over and over, the monk stresses the timelessness and magnitude of Kovrin's genius. This must be quite soothing to a consumptive, over-working, mediocre professor.

What do you think of the portion I quoted above. I noticed a few odd things about those sections. It seems like Kovrin is extremely happy, but the others are not so. The description of their wedding seems to say it all.

Imperceptibly the fast of the Assumption was approaching, and soon after came the wedding, which, at Yegor Semyonitch's urgent desire, was celebrated with "a flourish" -- that is, with senseless festivities that lasted for two whole days and nights. Three thousand roubles' worth of food and drink was consumed, but the music of the wretched hired band, the noisy toasts, the scurrying to and fro of the footmen, the uproar and crowding, prevented them from appreciating the taste of the expensive wines and wonderful delicacies ordered from Moscow.

There's an almost excessive enjoyment in which the senses are lost, but it's mixed with a feeling of waste and loss. The ecstatic mood fits Kovrin's feelings, and the loss seems to be what consumes Tania and Yegor.

Dark Muse

06-18-2008, 10:11 PM

There's one sense in which I can see the monk as a coping mechanism. That is: he's having problems both with justifying all the effort he's put into study and with realizing that once he's dead his work won't mean anything. The monk constantly asserts that he's working for something great and permanent which gives Kovrin a way of overcoming those fears. Over and over, the monk stresses the timelessness and magnitude of Kovrin's genius. This must be quite soothing to a consumptive, over-working, mediocre professor.

I have not thought of it quite like that before, but yes, that is an interesting perspective. I could see how the monk could work as a way of reassuring Kovrin that is life is not a waste, and that is work does and will mean something.

I think everyone to some degree has dealt with that on some level and developed their own methods. Not necessarily everyone believing they are genius or destined to be, but I think everyone needs a way to reassure themselves that their life means something on some greater scale, or else really what would be the point of doing anything if it really is not going to amount to anything.

For Kovrin, it just takes on a greater extreme, perhaps because of his potential for genius, or the nature of his study, as philosophy does lead one to question many things including the very nature of reality.

Quark

06-19-2008, 12:12 AM

I have not thought of it quite like that before, but yes, that is an interesting perspective. I could see how the monk could work as a way of reassuring Kovrin that is life is not a waste, and that is work does and will mean something.

That's one of the three interpretations I generally apply to the monk. Another is that the monk represents the self-esteem of a certain class of Russian intellectuals who Chekhov very grudgingly joined. Or, the monk could show the trade-offs involved in gratifying your desires. I'll try to explain these perspectives better as we move forward in the story.

I think everyone to some degree has dealt with that on some level and developed their own methods.

Yeah, part of what gives this story its appeal is the fact that the themes are so universal. Everyone, at some point, has to ask themselves the questions that Kovrin tries to answer.

For Kovrin, it just takes on a greater extreme, perhaps because of his potential for genius, or the nature of his study, as philosophy does lead one to question many things including the very nature of reality.

Chekhov made Kovrin a philosopher and psychologist not only because it would lead him to these questions, but also because people at the time believed these fields could answer those questions. The reader discovers, however, that Kovrin cannot solve the problems posed to him, and that his studies were a feeble response to the grand mysteries presented to him.

Quark

06-19-2008, 05:26 PM

It seems a bit odd to me that Yegor and Tania don’t realize that Kovrin was speaking to a hallucination and not directly to them.

He's not talking directly to the monk here. It says Kovrin "very adroitly began a conversation with Yegor Semyonitch and Tanya of what might be of interest to the monk." The apparition-seeing conversationalist might be detected if he speaks directly with the monk--like he does when Tania catches him. Here, though, he aims the conversation at Yegor and Tania, but skillfully chooses a topic that might interest the monk.

Also, remember that Tania and Yegor think Kovrin is extremely interesting after he sees the monk. With the monk literally in the room, Kovrin must been even more entertaining. I can see why they wouldn't suspect anything yet.

I don’t find this too odd, myself. I think there were just too many people there, too much to do for them to really be able to relax and enjoy the wedding, the food, and the drink.

Maybe it isn't necessarily odd, but I think Chekhov is trying to tell us something through Kovrin's wedding--besides the fact that everyone had a good time. I suspect that he's trying to build up two growing feelings about Kovrin and Tania. The first is that Kovrin is excessively happy. It's almost a manic state that the monk has put him in. He's so happy that he can't sleep or even feel emotions. He confesses to the monk that his happiness "smothers all other feelings." This mindless joy that Kovrin experiences is similar to the "senseless festivities" of the wedding, and I think Chekhov is trying to alert us to Kovrin's state through the celebration. The second part of the wedding that I find suspicious is the wastefulness of it. They spend and exorbitant amount of money, drink beverages they can't even taste, and listen to disharmonious music. The wastefulness of the wedding reminds of everything that Yegor, Tania, and Kovrin will lose in their marriage. Yegor loses his garden, Tania her home and husband, and Kovrin will lose everything. Chekhov seems to be passing along a message to the reader through his description of the wedding.

I’m always amused by the Russian love for the French language. A little off-topic for a second, but my grandparents knew a couple who desperately wanted their children to speak French.

French was the language of diplomacy and the aristocracy. If you spoke it, you were considered cultured and refined. It's funny that the couple got completely fooled, though. It sounded like it was all the same to them anyway.

We can see Kovrin is becoming quite over-wrought again. I wasn’t surprised when the Black Monk appeared.

He clearly isn't sleeping. Interestingly, though, he's enjoying himself with light reading while his wife is suffering from headaches. I get the idea that Tania isn't as ecstatic about their new life as Kovrin is.

There are too many of him? Too many for the “memory of mankind to be able to retain your names.” That sounds quite odd to me. It’s not the megalomania we saw before. What is happening to Kovrin now?

There aren't too many of him. He's has some divine task which will last forever. According to the monk, there are two few Kovrin's. Kovrin and the monk agree, however, that there are too many famous people.

Yet he is beginning to be uneasy for his happiness and it is beginning to seem strange to him. Perhaps he knows he’s ill and is afraid that he will have to seek treatment and lose the Black Monk or descend into madness. I’m not sure.

He either suspects something wrong, or he simply decides that this life doesn't work for him. Either way, he's beginning to doubt the monk.

Quark

06-20-2008, 03:10 PM

Oh, I’m sorry. I thought we were talking about this:

We were talking about that part. I quoted from it. I did contrast that section with other parts of the story to make my point, but primarily I wanted to explain that scene.

I think the monk makes Kovrin more animated, more sociable. Perhaps the monk is the sociable part of him?

I sort of shot this down when Janine first mentioned something like this, but, now that you're also talking about it, I think something must be making people interpret the monk this way. I agree that the monk makes his conversation more interesting, so maybe one could say that the monk inspires him to be social. Beyond that, though, I can't see how the monk improves his social life. The monk seems to do more damage to his social life than help it. By listening to the monk Kovrin loses his wife and only friend. The message of the monk boils down to this: "don't worry about your health or anybody else because you're doing something great." That doesn't sound like something that would help one's social life.

Kovrin seems to suffer from some form of excessive bipolar depression – very up one time, very down the next. The monk appears to be a product of his “up” time.

Yeah, Kovrin's moods are like a roller coaster. This may not have been Chekhov's intention, though. He tried to cram so much into this short story that perhaps he didn't have time for gradual mood shifts. Really, there's enough plot here for a full-length novel, but he smashes it into some thirty pages. If he had taken more time, maybe he could have made Kovrin transition more gracefully.

Chekhov didn’t do a lot of foreshadowing, did he? Or am I mistaken about that?

Do you mean in this story, or in general?

When I said his writing was “Impressionistic,” I mean he didn’t go into a lot of descriptive detail, didn’t use symbolism heavily, didn’t foreshadow a lot. He’s not really an Impressionist, though.

Technically, no, he didn't foreshadow a lot. Typically, writers who focus more on plot use foreshadowing more than those who don't. Chekhov concerned himself more with mood and theme, and so foreshadowing wasn't something he included often. He did give many hints about what was going to happen in the story, though. I took the wedding as one of those subtle hints.

As far as impressionism goes, you're right that Chekhov didn't follow that school of writing. He wrote much more about the concrete than the subjective impressions of his characters. When he does write the impressions of a character, usually he does it for dramatic effect. There's rarely an instance where Chekhov describes a character's impressions merely for the sake of showing them.

I don’t think Tania enjoys life in the city at all. I think she greatly misses the countryside and Yegor.

Yeah, she suffers, but she suffers quietly. The narrative is very Kovrin-centric, and her feelings appear minimalized. We see Kovrin almost ecstatic taking up most of the story, and his wife in pain somewhere in the distant background. It sort of reminds me of a painting called The Funeral of Phocion which I won't post because I don't want to bombard everyone with images (you can google it if you want). The painting is dominated by people going about their business; meanwhile, the body of Phocion is being quietly led away. The painting is so focused on the benign people in the center that the death appears as just a detail at the very edge of the frame. Similarly, Tania's suffering is reduced to a detail by the focus on Kovrin's joy.

This has to be Kovrin’s megalomania coming to the fore again. A divine task that will last forever? It seems he’s associating himself with some divine aspect.

I mentioned this before, but I keep noticing how Faustian the black monk's argument is. He keeps insisting that Kovrin exchange almost everything he has for that chance at a divine purpose.

I think when he begins to doubt the monk, he begins his descent into true madness.

I thought you were saying that monk represented megalomania in Kovrin. Isn't megalomania madness?

I also think it’s interesting that Chekhov knew his objectivity regarding his characters made it harder on his readers, but offered no apologies for that. It does make it harder, but I like that. I like the fact that he doesn’t judge, but leaves it up to the reader to decide.

That's a good observation. His characters are objective portrayed, and that makes it difficult on the reader sometimes. Another problem the reader encounters is that they're also selectively portrayed. Certain key facts about them are withheld. For example, in this story we don't know anything about Kovrin's work. Since this is about genius, one would think that would be something Chekhov might talk about. Instead, he avoids the topic. We never know whether Kovrin was a genius or not. Sometimes Kovrin thinks he is, and other times he doesn't. Without knowing, though, the reader can't decide on the meaning of the story. If his work were important, then he shouldn't have been cured. But, if he was just a mediocre intellectual, then he probably shouldn't have listened to the monk. Without that information, though, it's impossible to know what Kovrin should have done.

I just noticed that, once again, I'm slow on posting text. I'm selecting another part of the story to post right now. I'll post it within the hour.

Quark

06-20-2008, 03:17 PM

Anti, I replied to your last post above. This post will probably merged with that one anyway.

Here's most of section VIII:

"I believe it is time for you to have your milk," Tanya said to her husband.

"No, it is not time yet . . ." he said, sitting down on the bottom step. "Drink it yourself; I don't want it."

Tanya exchanged a troubled glance with her father, and said in a guilty voice:

"You notice yourself that milk does you good."

"Yes, a great deal of good!" Kovrin laughed. "I congratulate you: I have gained a pound in weight since Friday." He pressed his head tightly in his hands and said miserably: "Why, why have you cured me? Preparations of bromide, idleness, hot baths, supervision, cowardly consternation at every mouthful, at every step -- all this will reduce me at last to idiocy. I went out of my mind, I had megalomania; but then I was cheerful, confident, and even happy; I was interesting and original. Now I have become more sensible and stolid, but I am just like every one else: I am -- mediocrity; I am weary of life. . . . Oh, how cruelly you have treated me! . . . I saw hallucinations, but what harm did that do to any one? I ask, what harm did that do any one?"

"Goodness knows what you are saying!" sighed Yegor Semyonitch. "It's positively wearisome to listen to it."

"Then don't listen."

The presence of other people, especially Yegor Semyonitch, irritated Kovrin now; he answered him drily, coldly, and even rudely, never looked at him but with irony and hatred, while Yegor Semyonitch was overcome with confusion and cleared his throat guiltily, though he was not conscious of any fault in himself. At a loss to understand why their charming and affectionate relations had changed so abruptly, Tanya huddled up to her father and looked anxiously in his face; she wanted to understand and could not understand, and all that was clear to her was that their relations were growing worse and worse every day, that of late her father had begun to look much older, and her husband had grown irritable, capricious, quarrelsome and uninteresting. She could not laugh or sing; at dinner she ate nothing; did not sleep for nights together, expecting something awful, and was so worn out that on one occasion she lay in a dead faint from dinner-time till evening. During the service she thought her father was crying, and now while the three of them were sitting together on the terrace she made an effort not to think of it.

Before going to bed, Tanya said to him:

"Father adores you. You are cross with him about something, and it is killing him. Look at him; he is ageing, not from day to day, but from hour to hour. I entreat you, Andryusha, for God's sake, for the sake of your dead father, for the sake of my peace of mind, be affectionate to him."

"I can't, I don't want to."

"But why?" asked Tanya, beginning to tremble all over. "Explain why."

"Because he is antipathetic to me, that's all," said Kovrin carelessly; and he shrugged his shoulders. "But we won't talk about him: he is your father."

"I can't understand, I can't," said Tanya, pressing her hands to her temples and staring at a fixed point. "Something incomprehensible, awful, is going on in the house. You have changed, grown unlike yourself. . . . You, clever, extraordinary man as you are, are irritated over trifles, meddle in paltry nonsense. . . . Such trivial things excite you, that sometimes one is simply amazed and can't believe that it is you. Come, come, don't be angry, don't be angry," she went on, kissing his hands, frightened of her own words. "You are clever, kind, noble. You will be just to father. He is so good."

"He is not good; he is just good-natured. Burlesque old uncles like your father, with well-fed, good-natured faces, extraordinarily hospitable and queer, at one time used to touch me and amuse me in novels and in farces and in life; now I dislike them. They are egoists to the marrow of their bones. What disgusts me most of all is their being so well-fed, and that purely bovine, purely hoggish optimism of a full stomach."

Tanya sat down on the bed and laid her head on the pillow.

"This is torture," she said, and from her voice it was evident that she was utterly exhausted, and that it was hard for her to speak. "Not one moment of peace since the winter. . . . Why, it's awful! My God! I am wretched."

"Oh, of course, I am Herod, and you and your father are the innocents. Of course."

His face seemed to Tanya ugly and unpleasant. Hatred and an ironical expression did not suit him. And, indeed, she had noticed before that there was something lacking in his face, as though ever since his hair had been cut his face had changed, too. She wanted to say something wounding to him, but immediately she caught herself in this antagonistic feeling, she was frightened and went out of the bedroom.

Quark

06-20-2008, 11:40 PM

I think the writing is very graceful, really.

Oh, definitely. The prose is graceful. It's just the transitions in Kovrin's mood that are not.

I was talking about foreshadowing in general. Lawrence will use a lot of it, I think, and his stories are character driven. No, we don’t get the characters' thoughts very often, but that adds to the dilemma of trying to decipher just what’s going on.

I agree with the part about Chekhov. Janine would probably have to decide on the part about Lawrence. I know the story we're reading right now in the L thread has a lot of foreshadowing. Who knows whether that's a constant trait, though?

I can see that, but Faust had a chance for redemption right up until the very end. I don’t see Kovrin as having many options. I don’t see him as having any, really. The bromides would eventually stop having any effectiveness at all.

Perhaps it's not as Faust-like as I though. It's just something about the black monk that reminded me of that story.

To me, not necessarily. I think a person can suffer some degree of megalomania and not be truly mad. Not need to be in a hospital, cared for, etc. I think many people can suffer some degree of megalomania and not hallucinate.

I suppose megalomania could be considered more of a personal weakness than an actual psychosis.

Quark

06-21-2008, 11:11 PM

I was going to post something on the part VIII of the story, but I found a section of part IX that sums it up quite succinctly.

They reached Sevastopol in the evening and stopped at an hotel to rest and go on the next day to Yalta. They were both exhausted by the journey. Varvara Nikolaevna had some tea, went to bed and was soon asleep. But Kovrin did not go to bed. An hour before starting for the station, he had received a letter from Tanya, and had not brought himself to open it, and now it was lying in his coat pocket, and the thought of it excited him disagreeably. At the bottom of his heart he genuinely considered now that his marriage to Tanya had been a mistake. He was glad that their separation was final, and the thought of that woman who in the end had turned into a living relic, still walking about though everything seemed dead in her except her big, staring, intelligent eyes -- the thought of her roused in him nothing but pity and disgust with himself. The handwriting on the envelope reminded him how cruel and unjust he had been two years before, how he had worked off his anger at his spiritual emptiness, his boredom, his loneliness, and his dissatisfaction with life by revenging himself on people in no way to blame. He remembered, also, how he had torn up his dissertation and all the articles he had written during his illness, and how he had thrown them out of window, and the bits of paper had fluttered in the wind and caught on the trees and flowers. In every line of them he saw strange, utterly groundless pretension, shallow defiance, arrogance, megalomania; and they made him feel as though he were reading a description of his vices. But when the last manuscript had been torn up and sent flying out of window, he felt, for some reason, suddenly bitter and angry; he went to his wife and said a great many unpleasant things to her. My God, how he had tormented her! One day, wanting to cause her pain, he told her that her father had played a very unattractive part in their romance, that he had asked him to marry her. Yegor Semyonitch accidentally overheard this, ran into the room, and, in his despair, could not utter a word, could only stamp and make a strange, bellowing sound as though he had lost the power of speech, and Tanya, looking at her father, had uttered a heart-rending shriek and had fallen into a swoon. It was hideous.

This paragraph shows why Kovrin is acting meanly toward Tania and Yegor. He's dissatisfied with his own life. There is a sentence that particularly speaks to this:

how he had worked off his anger at his spiritual emptiness, his boredom, his loneliness, and his dissatisfaction with life by revenging himself on people in no way to blame

Kovrin's reacts the way he does because he now realizes how unhappy his life really is. The monk just temporarily obscured the truth from him.

Janine

06-21-2008, 11:36 PM

Quark, your last post certainly does reveal so much about Kovrin. Thanks for posting that tonight. I will try and comment more on it tomorrow; too tired out now. I had not noticed this section before, when I first read the story; here he seems to be accepting the blame, that is his very own concerning a great many things he has done in the past. It is a very interesting passage and something to think about.

Quark

06-21-2008, 11:44 PM

I had not noticed this section before, when I first read the story; here he seems to be accepting the blame, that is his very own concerning a great many things he has done in the past. It is a very interesting passage and something to think about.

Yeah, I thought it showed the negative side of the black monk well. Below that paragraph, actually, there's another few sentences that also speak to this.

The manuscript with the sketch even led him to meditation on the vanity of the world. He thought how much life exacts for the worthless or very commonplace blessings it can give a man. For instance, to gain, before forty, a university chair, to be an ordinary professor, to expound ordinary and second-hand thoughts in dull, heavy, insipid language -- in fact, to gain the position of a mediocre learned man, he, Kovrin, had had to study for fifteen years, to work day and night, to endure a terrible mental illness, to experience an unhappy marriage, and to do a great number of stupid and unjust things which it would have been pleasant not to remember. Kovrin recognised clearly, now, that he was a mediocrity, and readily resigned himself to it, as he considered that every man ought to be satisfied with what he is.

Of course, we need to balance our understanding of the monk with what we learn about him earlier. There are positives associated with the monk such as Kovrin's happiness and interestingness.

Quark

06-22-2008, 11:34 PM

Regarding the writing, the transition from life with Tanya to life with Varvara was also abrupt and awkward. Except for those transitions, I love the writing, though.

Yeah, I would have liked to have had this is little more stretched out. Some of the transitions were too quick. Also, I could have stood to have more characters. I understand that Chekhov wanted to keep the story focused on the main theme and that other characters might have made taken away from that, but the story could have used a little variety. Forty pages with these people was a little much. What could Chekhov do, though? He was employed to write short stories, and not novels. Even though there was enough in this story to make a novel, he had to write it as a short story.

But the monk is a manifestation of something inside Kovrin. So, on some level, Kovrin is very interesting. He just can’t express it without the presence of the monk, and now apparently, not at all.

Perhaps the best way to look at the monk is as a choice for Kovrin. The monk isn't so much of an expression of Kovrin's mind as it is a possible life-style. As such, the ghost doesn't represent any inherent traits in Kovrin. Also, I don't think his bromide-induced healthy state is much of reflection on Kovrin, either. Once again, this seems like a choice for Kovrin. I don't know as if we can say Kovrin is either inherently interesting or inherently mediocre. He appears to be one when he chooses a certain outlook, and he changes into another Kovrin when picks a different outlook.

Janine

06-24-2008, 03:54 PM

So what is happening in this thread? We are not finished with this story, are we? Are we just waiting for Quark to post more text? Maybe, it is just me. I am feeling a little lost here; this story has been a long one, or maybe the discussion has been so. It has been a good discussion, just long.

Quark

06-24-2008, 05:05 PM

So what is happening in this thread?

It's been slow lately, but, no, the thread isn't closed or anything like that. I'm still around, posting, and ready to reply to any questions or comments.

We are not finished with this story, are we? Are we just waiting for Quark to post more text?

Well we're close to finishing, if we haven't already. I've posted all but the last paragraph of the story, so I feel like we've covered most everything. I might post some more general comments on the story before we move on, but other than that I don't have much to add. Of course, I realize that a few people have been in and out during the discussion, and that they might still have something to say. That's why I've paused here for a day.

Maybe, it is just me. I am feeling a little lost here; this story has been a long one, or maybe the discussion has been so. It has been a good discussion, just long.

It's a long story, and I promised to go slow since it seemed like we were all busy. That's turned out not to be the case, however, so maybe we could have gone faster. I'm glad you enjoyed the discussion, though. I already have a good idea of what I'm going to do for the next story.

Quark

06-25-2008, 04:10 PM

It appears like we're done with this story, so I'll ask--as I normally do--what we should do for the next story. Any preferences? I thought we might look at some of the shorter, more comical stories since we just had such a long and depressing one. "The Black Monk" was an excellent story, but I don't think the thread could take another one like that for a while. It seemed to suck the life out of us. For contrasts sake, I've dug up some stories with a more light-hearted tone. There's a funny one about re-gifting that I thought would work well. What does everyone think?

Quark

06-25-2008, 08:02 PM

I'd like to do "The Steppe" sometime, if you haven't done that one already

That might exceed the page limit for a short story. I did enjoy reading it, though. Some people find it dull, but I thought it was quite good. Maybe we can open another thread to do "The Steppe" in.

but that's kind of long and not lighthearted. We probably need a change of pace.

We don't necessarily need a change. That was just my suggestion.

Whatever you choose is fine with me. After all, it's Chekhov! :)

Thanks for being so easy to accommodate. When should we start the next story? I know we're all trying to the Shakespeare discussion simultaneously, so perhaps we should wait a couple of days at least.

Dark Muse

06-25-2008, 08:40 PM

Acutally I think I might sit the next dicussion out, becasue I will be gone part of next month anyway. As well I wanted to take the time to read Sleepy for myself, and reading two Chekov stories simotianisously might be a bit confussing.

Quark

06-25-2008, 08:46 PM

Anytime's okay with me, Quark.

I could start tomorrow, but let's wait and see what Janine thinks.

I'm a lot more interested in Chekhov than in Shakespeare. :)

Oh, aren't we all?

Acutally I think I might sit the next dicussion out, becasue I will be gone part of next month anyway. As well I wanted to take the time to read Sleepy for myself, and reading two Chekov stories simotianisously might be a bit confussing.

I remembered that from the L thread. Where are you taking off to that's so computer-less?

Dark Muse

06-25-2008, 09:04 PM

Well it is my perosnal choice not to use a computer while I am gone. But I am going up to Lake Tahoe

Quark

06-27-2008, 12:30 AM

Well it is my perosnal choice not to use a computer while I am gone. But I am going up to Lake Tahoe

Yeah, I agree. Tahoe is probably better without a computer. Have a good time, and enjoy reading "Sleepy."

Anti, what do you want to do while DM's at Tahoe and Janine's having computer problems. We could do a story, but it would probably be just us. If Janine is going to be without a CPU for a while, perhaps now would be a good time to do "Sleepy." We'd of course have to see what DM thinks since I think she would want to do that one with us. I'm not sure when she's leaving, though. When are you leaving DM? Do you want to sneak another story in before you leave?

Dark Muse

06-27-2008, 12:36 AM

I think it would be fun to get to discuss Sleepy sense I plan on reading it anyway.

I will be leaving in mid-July. I think from the 13th to the 19th, something close to that, if not that is not the exzact date.

Quark

06-27-2008, 12:41 AM

I will be leaving in mid-July. I think from the 13th to the 19th, something close to that, if not that is not the exzact date.

Oh, then we have plenty of time. Let me send a PM over to Janine and ask about her computer situation. If she's going to be LitNet absent for a while, I'd love to do "Sleepy."

Dark Muse

06-27-2008, 01:06 AM

Hehe ok

Quark

06-28-2008, 01:13 AM

Janine hasn't gotten back to me yet. If she doesn't respond tomorrow morning, I think I'll just go ahead. I don't think she will mind since she's been taking a break recently anyway.

Oh, and can anyone else see Antiquarian's posts? Is it just me, or did all her posts vanish?

Dark Muse

06-28-2008, 01:15 AM

You are right, they did. I cannot see her posts either, at least on this thread. I haven't noticed on any of the others yet

Virgil

06-28-2008, 01:17 AM

Just sticking my head in to tell you guys. Janine's comuter broke down and will not be able to participate for a while. Anti was banned from the forum and will obviously not be on any more.

Quark

06-28-2008, 01:23 AM

Weird. I didn't even know you could get banned. I guess I'm going to have to try enlist more people for the discussion. I thought I had built up a good sized group, but we're suddenly down to two.

Nightshade

06-28-2008, 01:35 AM

Well actually I thought I might pop my head in for a bit and try to join in ( another author off my litnet challenge list) but presumably Im going to have back track and read the whole thread from the beginning again to follow so it'll probably be the middle of the week before I can join in.

:D

Quark

06-28-2008, 01:46 AM

Well actually I thought I might pop my head in for a bit and try to join in

Oh, good. I'm sure you'll get hopelessly hooked on the discussion.

presumably Im going to have back track and read the whole thread from the beginning again to follow so it'll probably be the middle of the week before I can join in.

Well you picked a good time to enter the conversation. We're just about to start a new story, so you shouldn't have to review the other posts. You can if you want, of course. There have been some good posts. It's just that there's now over 800 separate posts, and it would take forever to read over them all.

The new story we're about to start is called "Sleepy." You can find it online here at LitNet if you go to the author's page. I'll post a link to it when I introduce the story.

Nightshade

06-28-2008, 01:55 AM

Okies

:D

Dark Muse

06-28-2008, 02:35 AM

Just sticking my head in to tell you guys. Janine's comuter broke down and will not be able to participate for a while. Anti was banned from the forum and will obviously not be on any more.

Oh wow that is crazy about her being banned. Do you know why?

Quark

06-28-2008, 11:56 PM

I read over the story again today, so I'm ready to start the discussion. I'll post an introduction tomorrow morning. It's gotten a little too late for me tonight. Besides, I still have to send off a couple of PMs to people who expressed interest in the thread. Also, I have yet to find a good image to use in the introduction. I'm looking for something that has a girl like the main character, a baby, and the dark mood of the story. I might have to google search for this one since I'm having a serious lapse of imagination right now. Anyway, I'll post an introduction tomorrow, and we can start the conversation whenever everyone has time.

Dark Muse

06-29-2008, 12:34 AM

I have now read the story, so I am ready, and cannot wait. Hehe hopefully some new people will join, or else it will just be the two of us LOL. Sense Janine will not do this story and now that Anti is gone.

Quark

06-29-2008, 01:04 PM

Now that we're set on a story and alerted everyone that the discussion is about to begin, I guess we can start. If anyone doesn't own a copy of the story, you can find it online at this url: http://www.online-literature.com/anton_chekhov/1248/. Here's the introduction for "Sleepy:"

"Sleepy"

This includes a bit of a spoiler, so those who haven't read the story yet may want to overlook this part. "Sleepy" is the story of Varka, a thirteen year old girl whose family are servants. At the start of the story she's already been up for many hours--if not days--taking care of her master's new born child. Her work combined with her family crisis prevent her from falling asleep, however, and she has to continue to work in her sleep-deprived state. She's able to drift off occasionally, but her mistress wakes her with more orders. Eventually, she becomes delerious. The objects in the room take on special significance. Her delierium becomes madness. Then, she completely loses touch with reality and believes that the baby is the one making her stay up. Finally, she attacks the child, and when the baby is dead she lays down to sleep.

"Sleepy" is perhaps Chekhov's best story from his middle period. The story is interesting for it's dramatic, thematic, and perspective qualities. The plot is extremely tragic. The themes are engaging, and the way Chekhov conveys the girl's half-awake state is perfect. For being only five pages long, "Sleepy" crams a lot in. It should be a good discussion.

As usual, I'll post segments of the story for discussion. This way there isn't confusion about where we're at or what we're talking about. Also, it should make it easier for us to find quotes. We won't have to keep going back and forth between the discussion and the story. I will post the first section of the story tonight.

Hehe hopefully some new people will join, or else it will just be the two of us LOL. Sense Janine will not do this story and now that Anti is gone.

I had a couple other people PM me about the thread. Hopefully at least one of them will join. Nightshade also posted on here two days ago.

Quark

06-30-2008, 12:46 AM

The beginning of the story:

NIGHT. Varka, the little nurse, a girl of thirteen, is rocking the cradle in which the baby is lying, and humming hardly audibly:

"Hush-a-bye, my baby wee,
While I sing a song for thee."

A little green lamp is burning before the ikon; there is a string stretched from one end of the room to the other, on which baby-clothes and a pair of big black trousers are hanging. There is a big patch of green on the ceiling from the ikon lamp, and the baby-clothes and the trousers throw long shadows on the stove, on the cradle, and on Varka. . . . When the lamp begins to flicker, the green patch and the shadows come to life, and are set in motion, as though by the wind. It is stuffy. There is a smell of cabbage soup, and of the inside of a boot-shop.

The baby's crying. For a long while he has been hoarse and exhausted with crying; but he still goes on screaming, and there is no knowing when he will stop. And Varka is sleepy. Her eyes are glued together, her head droops, her neck aches. She cannot move her eyelids or her lips, and she feels as though her face is dried and wooden, as though her head has become as small as the head of a pin.

"Hush-a-bye, my baby wee," she hums, "while I cook the groats for thee. . . ."

A cricket is churring in the stove. Through the door in the next room the master and the apprentice Afanasy are snoring. . . . The cradle creaks plaintively, Varka murmurs -- and it all blends into that soothing music of the night to which it is so sweet to listen, when one is lying in bed. Now that music is merely irritating and oppressive, because it goads her to sleep, and she must not sleep; if Varka -- God forbid! -- should fall asleep, her master and mistress would beat her.

The lamp flickers. The patch of green and the shadows are set in motion, forcing themselves on Varka's fixed, half-open eyes, and in her half slumbering brain are fashioned into misty visions. She sees dark clouds chasing one another over the sky, and screaming like the baby. But then the wind blows, the clouds are gone, and Varka sees a broad high road covered with liquid mud; along the high road stretch files of wagons, while people with wallets on their backs are trudging along and shadows flit backwards and forwards; on both sides she can see forests through the cold harsh mist. All at once the people with their wallets and their shadows fall on the ground in the liquid mud. "What is that for?" Varka asks. "To sleep, to sleep!" they answer her. And they fall sound asleep, and sleep sweetly, while crows and magpies sit on the telegraph wires, scream like the baby, and try to wake them.

There's quite a lot to talk about in this first section, so I'll start at the top and work my way down. First, this line:

"Hush-a-bye, my baby wee,
While I sing a song for thee."

Varka murmurs this to the baby repeatedly during the story, but to no avail. It seems extra cruel that she should have to sing a lullaby when she herself is struggling to stay awake. Much of the story is meant to build pity for Varka, and I think this is another instance of that.

A little green lamp is burning before the ikon; there is a string stretched from one end of the room to the other, on which baby-clothes and a pair of big black trousers are hanging. There is a big patch of green on the ceiling from the ikon lamp, and the baby-clothes and the trousers throw long shadows on the stove, on the cradle, and on Varka. . . . When the lamp begins to flicker, the green patch and the shadows come to life, and are set in motion, as though by the wind.

This paragraph sets up some of the themes. These objects represent other forces in Varka's life which she isn't able to deal with. The pants are her father's and correspond to his death, while the baby-clothes symbolize the burden her masters are putting on her. Varka, of course, misinterprets these symbols. She dreams that they are clouds and people lulling her to sleep. These misinterpretations are what lead to the shocking end, and we can see them beginning here. The paragraph ends with:

It is stuffy. There is a smell of cabbage soup, and of the inside of a boot-shop.

This is a little bit of setting, and it tells us something about Varka. The cabbage soup smell indicates that she is poor. The stuffiness and boot-shop tells us that she's living in a small cramped place that belongs to her master. Remember that the family she works for makes shoes. This is then a squalid scene, and it builds more compassion for the girl.

Dark Muse

06-30-2008, 12:59 AM

Varka murmurs this to the baby repeatedly during the story, but to no avail. It seems extra cruel that she should have to sing a lullaby when she herself is struggling to stay awake. Much of the story is meant to build pity for Varka, and I think this is another instance of that.

Thanks for the translation hehe.

In my book they do not translate the song she sings but leave it in Russian, though in someways it had added an interesting affect to the story, sense I could not understand the words, it just like this constant sound that is being repeated throughout the story.

Yes I agree the story was meant to inspire pitty to Varka, I for one felt sorry for her.

A cricket is churring in the stove. Through the door in the next room the master and the apprentice Afanasy are snoring. . . . The cradle creaks plaintively, Varka murmurs -- and it all blends into that soothing music of the night to which it is so sweet to listen, when one is lying in bed. Now that music is merely irritating and oppressive, because it goads her to sleep, and she must not sleep; if Varka -- God forbid! -- should fall asleep, her master and mistress would beat her.

I loved this passage, and the way all the sounds in the house begin to blend together, with everything being still and sleeping, except for Varka, who alone remains.

I also loved the cricket in the stove for some reason.

And the way in which the melody which is so soothing becomes oppressive to Varka, sense she alone cannot be lolled by it, and the way the idea of sleep is sort of mocking her.

This paragraph sets up some of the themes. These objects represent other forces in Varka's life which she isn't able to deal with. The pants are her father's and correspond to his death, while the baby-clothes symbolize the burden her masters are putting on her. Varka, of course, misinterprets these symbols. She dreams that they are clouds and people lulling her to sleep. These misinterpretations are what lead to the shocking end, and we can see them beginning here.

I loved the descritpions of the objects here. I really liked the flickering of the lamp and how it created that green spot which Varka keeps returning through the story, I also love the way these things merge and change into her dreams/hallucinations. And later the way they do begin to reoccur I thought was really quite interesting.

Quark

06-30-2008, 01:20 AM

Thanks for the translation hehe.

I wonder why they didn't translate it in your version. Lazy translator? I don't know. I suppose one could probably assume that it's a lullaby--considering that it is night and she's with a baby. Having it actually spelled out, though, kind of helps.

I loved this passage, and the way all the sounds in the house begin to blend together, with everything being still and sleeping, except for Varka, who alone remains.

I got that sense, too. Everything around her seems to be trying to get her to fall asleep. There's a drowsiness to room she's in. The swaying shadows, the lurid green glow from the lamp, and the cradle. It even makes the reader sleepy.

I also loved the cricket in the stove for some reason.

That's another part of the drowsy ambiance. A cricket chirps are night when we're supposed to be sleeping. The sound reminds Varka and the reader that she's up when she isn't supposed to be. The stove would make the sound reverberate, too.

I loved the descritpions of the objects here. I really liked the flickering of the lamp and how it created that green spot which Varka keeps returning through the story.

The lamp casts a weird color over the room which adds to the effect, but I haven't been able to tell if it relates to anything else in the story. I think the clothes symbolize parts of Varka's life, but the ikon lamp doesn't seem to relate to anything. Perhaps it is just a piece of ambiance.

I also love the way these things merge and change into her dreams/hallucinations. And later the way they do begin to reoccur I thought was really quite interesting.

I liked the interweaving of reality and dream, too. Really, though, it might be more of a progression from reality to dream rather than a balance of the two. Varka's dreams become harder to distinguish from reality the longer the story goes on. Her first dream is obviously a dream, but the second one is much more real. The last one she does mistake for reality.

Dark Muse

06-30-2008, 01:30 AM

I wonder why they didn't translate it in your version. Lazy translator? I don't know. I suppose one could probably assume that it's a lullaby--considering that it is night and she's with a baby. Having it actually spelled out, though, kind of helps.

In my book it acutally appears as:

Bayu, bayushki, bayu!
Nurse will sing a song to you

That's another part of the drowsy ambiance. A cricket chirps are night when we're supposed to be sleeping. The sound reminds Varka and the reader that she's up when she isn't supposed to be. The stove would make the sound reverberate, too.

Yes that is a good point. Also crikets are musical creatures of thier night. I dot know about others, but I always find listening to them to be quite soothing.

The lamp casts a weird color over the room which adds to the effect, but I haven't been able to tell if it relates to anything else in the story. I think the clothes symbolize parts of Varka's life, but the ikon lamp doesn't seem to relate to anything. Perhaps it is just a piece of ambiance.

Yes I think the strange green glow of the lamp does help set the mood of the story, as well I think it sort of helps with that sort of surreal affect of her dreams bleeding into reality. It casts this sort of murky haze over everything, and I think also created a bit more of an eerie affect to the story as well.

I liked the interweaving of reality and dream, too. Really, though, it might be more of a progression from reality to dream rather than a balance of the two. Varka's dreams become harder to distinguish from reality the longer the story goes on. Her first dream is obviously a dream, but the second one is much more real. The last one she does mistake for reality.

I felt that the blurred lines between dream and reality were the dellusisional effects that sleep deprivation can have on a person, particuarly after a long period of time, and this idea where she no longer really knows if she is sleeping or waking anymore, and what is going on around her, and what really is just a deram. She becomes disorinted becasue of her lack of sleep and cannot tell dream from reality.

Janine

06-30-2008, 08:30 PM

Yes, I won't be doing this story, so it is a good time to sneak it in. hahaha:lol: Have fun discussing it. I hope to be back after next month. I probably will be buying a new computer and hopefully it will be much faster and more efficient. That is one plus with my old one currently not functioning. I am here at my library currently. I hate the time restrictions though - they close up shop at 9 and the time is flying right by. This is my time to just get started on the computer, right DM?:lol:

Dark Muse

06-30-2008, 09:04 PM

Hehehe yes that is true, we are both quite the nightbirds

Quark

06-30-2008, 10:29 PM

In my book it acutally appears as:

Bayu, bayushki, bayu!
Nurse will sing a song to you

The untranslated version doesn't give the same sense that the translated lines do, but it I like it anyway. "Bayu, bayushki, bayu!" is extremely repetitive, and I think it's supposed to be. Varka chants it over and over again, and using an extremely repetitive words like those makes the reader realize how tiresome this must be.

Also crikets are musical creatures of thier night. I dot know about others, but I always find listening to them to be quite soothing.

Do you think they were meant to be soothing here? I'm not sure. The crickets told me two things. That it must be night, and that it must be quiet if they can hear that noise. This makes it setting sort of eerie. A quiet room with shifting shadows and a lurid glow is very eerie.

I think it sort of helps with that sort of surreal affect of her dreams bleeding into reality.

I think you're right. There doesn't seem to be any particular importance to the lamp other than it's weird light that it casts.

I am here at my library currently. I hate the time restrictions though - they close up shop at 9 and the time is flying right by. This is my time to just get started on the computer, right DM?:lol:

Oh, when will we get twenty-four hour libraries? If we can get around-the-clock drive-throughs, why not public libraries? At least your's stays open to nine, Janine. That's later than most.

Dark Muse

06-30-2008, 10:35 PM

The untranslated version doesn't give the same sense that the translated lines do, but it I like it anyway. "Bayu, bayushki, bayu!" is extremely repetitive, and I think it's supposed to be. Varka chants it over and over again, and using an extremely repetitive words like those makes the reader realize how tiresome this must be.

Yes I thought the way it appeared in my book gave it an intresting effect with the repitition of sound, and the constant lolling the baby to sleep while trying to stay awake herself. Also in the way things begin to blend together.

Paritcuarly lader in the story, where she starts to mar her dreams with reality, and at one point it said her father said

bu bu bu

I felt that sort of reflected the sounds of the song.

Do you think they were meant to be soothing here? I'm not sure. The crickets told me two things. That it must be night, and that it must be quiet if they can hear that noise. This makes it setting sort of eerie. A quiet room with shifting shadows and a lurid glow is very eerie.

I do not think I would say they are soothing here, but I think they fit into with the whole lullaby idea, and all the sounds blending together, that are said to be soothing to all but her, who is oppressed by them.

Quark

06-30-2008, 10:49 PM

Yes I thought the way it appeared in my book gave it an intresting effect with the repitition of sound, and the constant lolling the baby to sleep while trying to stay awake herself. Also in the way things begin to blend together.

Paritcuarly lader in the story, where she starts to mar her dreams with reality, and at one point it said her father said

bu bu bu

I felt that sort of reflected the sounds of the song.

That's interesting. Is it "bu bu bu" in your book? Online it's "boo boo boo" which is similar, but the "bu" version really does link it back to the song. The sounds blend together in the way you're talking about, and I think that is meant to relate to the theme of blurred lines in the greater story. Also, I think the lullaby is meant to provide some structure to the story. Varka utters those same words at a roughly even interval, and it marks advancements in the plot.

I do not think I would say they are soothing here, but I think they fit into with the whole lullaby idea, and all the sounds blending together, that are said to be soothing to all but her, who is oppressed by them.

Yeah, I had thought about that. A chirping sound, though, is sort of grating. Does that fit with a lullaby?

Looking at the next part of the quote I posted, I find the physical descriptions of Varka and the baby.

The baby's crying. For a long while he has been hoarse and exhausted with crying; but he still goes on screaming, and there is no knowing when he will stop. And Varka is sleepy. Her eyes are glued together, her head droops, her neck aches. She cannot move her eyelids or her lips, and she feels as though her face is dried and wooden, as though her head has become as small as the head of a pin.

The two of them make quite a contrast. The baby is screaming and implacable while the babysitter bears her pain in silence. Varka's attitude of acquiescence under suffering has both a dramatic and a social motive. Chekhov is both building pity for the girl (which is important for the tragic effect) and describing the lower-class attitude toward work and servitude. Varka's numbness to sensation and mute response to pain are common qualities attributed to the working class in the nineteenth century. Whether that's an accurate portrayal of working-class people is debatable, but it appears that Chekhov is trying to make a social statement in his story here.

Dark Muse

07-01-2008, 12:10 AM

That's interesting. Is it "bu bu bu" in your book? Online it's "boo boo boo" which is similar, but the "bu" version really does link it back to the song. The sounds blend together in the way you're talking about, and I think that is meant to relate to the theme of blurred lines in the greater story. Also, I think the lullaby is meant to provide some structure to the story. Varka utters those same words at a roughly even interval, and it marks advancements in the plot.

Yes, in my translation it is "bu"

That is a good point that the lullaby is used to advance the plot in the story.

Yeah, I had thought about that. A chirping sound, though, is sort of grating. Does that fit with a lullaby?

I suppose that could depend upon ones perspective, I think that it could fit in with a lullaby.

Looking at the next part of the quote I posted, I find the physical descriptions of Varka and the baby.

The two of them make quite a contrast. The baby is screaming and implacable while the babysitter bears her pain in silence. Varka's attitude of acquiescence under suffering has both a dramatic and a social motive. Chekhov is both building pity for the girl (which is important for the tragic effect) and describing the lower-class attitude toward work and servitude. Varka's numbness to sensation and mute response to pain are common qualities attributed to the working class in the nineteenth century. Whether that's an accurate portrayal of working-class people is debatable, but it appears that Chekhov is trying to make a social statement in his story here.

Yes I think that her posistion and her portryal as being lower class, and a rather poorly treated and over worked girl of the lower class, are elements that build up sympathy for her. I could see where this story could be a statment about class and the conditions of the poor and working class.

Quark

07-01-2008, 12:24 AM

Yes I think that her posistion and her portryal as being lower class, and a rather poorly treated and over worked girl of the lower class, are elements that build up sympathy for her. I could see where this story could be a statment about class and the conditions of the poor and working class.

And I think class is the reason why Chekhov includes the part with Varka's father. It doesn't seem to serve any other function in the story, but it links Varka's and her father's attitudes toward suffering. Both are numb to the pain they feel. The only similarity in their two situations is that both belong to the same class and are servants of the same family. By including the father, I think Chekhov is trying to make it clear that Varka's unfortunate life is tied to her class. Varka doesn't realize this, though, and she blames the baby. Her delirium, once again, makes her mistake one thing for another.

Dark Muse

07-01-2008, 12:27 AM

I did not look at it that way, but yes I could see where that would link her to suffering, as well as the ideas that one could not escape thier class, and what they were born into.

Quark

07-01-2008, 12:31 AM

I did not look at it that way, but yes I could see where that would link her to suffering, as well as the ideas that one could not escape thier class, and what they were born into.

Yeah, and that's the tragedy. Varka mistakes the baby for the cause of her problems when it's really her bosses who overwork her.

Oh, and I looked back at the cricket part.

A cricket is churring in the stove. Through the door in the next room the master and the apprentice Afanasy are snoring. . . . The cradle creaks plaintively, Varka murmurs -- and it all blends into that soothing music of the night to which it is so sweet to listen

Okay, it is supposed to be soothing.

Dark Muse

07-01-2008, 12:52 AM

Yes, though in a way I think the baby is a sort of symbolic represenation of her problems, and perhaps of the division of the classess.

As the child is putting a constant demand upon her, without giving in consideration or thought to how it makes her feel, and nothing she seems to do is good enough, it just constantly wants more, and is never satisfied. I think this is reflective of the way the middle and upper classess treated the poor and working class in general. They did not consider the needs of others only their own wants.

Quark

07-01-2008, 04:05 PM

Yes, though in a way I think the baby is a sort of symbolic represenation of her problems, and perhaps of the division of the classess.

I think so. At the very least, the baby represents the burden that her bosses place on her. The baby is her main duty, and it's her job which keeps her up. We see her at work on other tasks, but the baby is certainly the most onerous. Varka, however, doesn't seem to care about any of them. She's most concerned with staying awake and avoiding abuse.

Before I post another section of text let me comment on this last paragraph:

The lamp flickers. The patch of green and the shadows are set in motion, forcing themselves on Varka's fixed, half-open eyes, and in her half slumbering brain are fashioned into misty visions. She sees dark clouds chasing one another over the sky, and screaming like the baby. But then the wind blows, the clouds are gone, and Varka sees a broad high road covered with liquid mud; along the high road stretch files of wagons, while people with wallets on their backs are trudging along and shadows flit backwards and forwards; on both sides she can see forests through the cold harsh mist. All at once the people with their wallets and their shadows fall on the ground in the liquid mud. "What is that for?" Varka asks. "To sleep, to sleep!" they answer her. And they fall sound asleep, and sleep sweetly, while crows and magpies sit on the telegraph wires, scream like the baby, and try to wake them.

Here, there are two things going on. One, Varka starts making those mistaken associations which will only get worse. She mistakes the shadows for clouds and the baby's voice for the sound of birds. Varka hasn't completely lost it yet, so she still realizes the difference between this and a dream. But, this seemingly innocuous drifting off will eventually lead to something more serious. The other thing I notice about her dream is that it's an acting out of the desire she's resisting. It beckons her to sleep. Varka doesn't feel like she can give up her burden and fall asleep, but the people in her dream do exactly that.

Dark Muse

07-01-2008, 04:47 PM

Yes I noticed that, how in her first dream, the one thing she could not do was being acheived by those of whom she began to dream of. To me it almost felt as if she was being taunted in a why.

In which the voice repeats to her "To sleep, "to sleep" the one thing she cannot do, but so desperately wants.

I was currious about the "liquid mud" and just what it meant. Or is it intended only to be the blurring of dream and reality.

Quark

07-01-2008, 10:33 PM

Yes I noticed that, how in her first dream, the one thing she could not do was being acheived by those of whom she began to dream of. To me it almost felt as if she was being taunted in a why.

Varka definitely feels like she's being taunted. She can't fall asleep, and everything in the room is conspiring to make her sleepy. Tempted, though, might be a better word than taunted.

I was currious about the "liquid mud" and just what it meant. Or is it intended only to be the blurring of dream and reality.

I'm thrown by that, too. Both "liquid mud" and "cold harsh mist" have a somewhat ambiguous meaning. Why is she seeing so much moisture? It could be because of the texture of the wall and the way the light is falling on it. Yet, for some reason, Chekhov really fixates on this--which makes me think that it has a larger importance.

Dark Muse

07-01-2008, 11:15 PM

Yes, I felt that way too, that it must have some greater meaning. I will have to read the story over again, maybe tomorrow.

Quark

07-02-2008, 12:01 AM

Before I go to bed, I should post another section so we have something to talk about tomorrow.

Her dead father, Yefim Stepanov, is tossing from side to side on the floor. She does not see him, but she hears him moaning and rolling on the floor from pain. "His guts have burst," as he says; the pain is so violent that he cannot utter a single word, and can only draw in his breath and clack his teeth like the rattling of a drum:

"Boo--boo--boo--boo. . . ."

Her mother, Pelageya, has run to the master's house to say that Yefim is dying. She has been gone a long time, and ought to be back. Varka lies awake on the stove, and hears her father's "boo--boo--boo." And then she hears someone has driven up to the hut. It is a young doctor from the town, who has been sent from the big house where he is staying on a visit. The doctor comes into the hut; he cannot be seen in the darkness, but he can be heard coughing and rattling the door.

"Light a candle," he says.

"Boo--boo--boo," answers Yefim.

Pelageya rushes to the stove and begins looking for the broken pot with the matches. A minute passes in silence. The doctor, feeling in his pocket, lights a match.

"In a minute, sir, in a minute," says Pelageya. She rushes out of the hut, and soon afterwards comes back with a bit of candle.

Yefim's cheeks are rosy and his eyes are shining, and there is a peculiar keenness in his glance, as though he were seeing right through the hut and the doctor.

"Come, what is it? What are you thinking about?" says the doctor, bending down to him. "Aha! have you had this long?"

"What? Dying, your honour, my hour has come. . . . I am not to stay among the living."

"Don't talk nonsense! We will cure you!"

"That's as you please, your honour, we humbly thank you, only we understand. . . . Since death has come, there it is."

The doctor spends a quarter of an hour over Yefim, then he gets up and says:

"I can do nothing. You must go into the hospital, there they will operate on you. Go at once . . . You must go! It's rather late, they will all be asleep in the hospital, but that doesn't matter, I will give you a note. Do you hear?"

"Kind sir, but what can he go in?" says Pelageya. "We have no horse."

"Never mind. I'll ask your master, he'll let you have a horse."

The doctor goes away, the candle goes out, and again there is the sound of "boo--boo--boo." Half an hour later someone drives up to the hut. A cart has been sent to take Yefim to the hospital. He gets ready and goes. . . .

Dark Muse

07-02-2008, 12:51 AM

Her mother, Pelageya, has run to the master's house to say that Yefim is dying. She has been gone a long time, and ought to be back. Varka lies awake on the stove, and hears her father's "boo--boo--boo." And then she hears someone has driven up to the hut. It is a young doctor from the town, who has been sent from the big house where he is staying on a visit. The doctor comes into the hut; he cannot be seen in the darkness, but he can be heard coughing and rattling the door.

Do you think the stove was mentioned here, as a symbol of the bluring between reality and dream. The fact that in her waking life the stove played so much of a part of Varka, and now in her dreams she is lying upon a stove.

"I can do nothing. You must go into the hospital, there they will operate on you. Go at once . . . You must go! It's rather late, they will all be asleep in the hospital, but that doesn't matter, I will give you a note. Do you hear?"

Once more we have the idea of others being able to sleep while Varka must remain awake. I could not help but to find it somewhat humurs the idea of the hospital being asleep, though now it seems to be another reflection of Varka's denied desire and the constant taunting of her with it.

Quark

07-02-2008, 03:48 PM

Do you think the stove was mentioned here, as a symbol of the bluring between reality and dream. The fact that in her waking life the stove played so much of a part of Varka, and now in her dreams she is lying upon a stove.

I don't think this part is actually blurred. She really is laying on the stove, and she doesn't start to dream until later when she imagines her mother on the road. At the part I quoted, she's still aware of reality. Later, though, she will start blending perception and dream more frequently. Chekhov is showing a progression from the beginning when she is still somewhat aware to the end when she completely loses touch. The stove, here, at this point, is still a symbol of her awake life. I'm glad that you pointed out the stove's importance, though, because it does play a large role in Varka's life. It's part of her job, and she uses that job to repress her urge to sleep. Chekhov says "Varka leaves the cradle, and runs to the shed for firewood. She is glad. When one moves and runs about, one is not so sleepy as when one is sitting down. She brings the wood, heats the stove, and feels that her wooden face is getting supple again, and that her thoughts are growing clearer." The stove is one of the few things keeping her awake.

Once more we have the idea of others being able to sleep while Varka must remain awake. I could not help but to find it somewhat humurs the idea of the hospital being asleep, though now it seems to be another reflection of Varka's denied desire and the constant taunting of her with it.

I hadn't noticed that--good point. The hospital workers are much like the visions in Varka's dream. They both get to sleep while the protagonists suffer. This makes Varka's and her father's plight seem even more similar, and I think that's why the father is included in the story. He's just another illustration of Varka's problems. Other than that, I don't see any reason for why he should be written into the story.

I looked into the "liquid mud" mystery some more. I'm still confused by it, though. Everything in Varka's vision has a relation to her awake life; the shadows are cast by the clothes, the green forest is the light from the lamp, the movement is caused by the swaying shadows. The "liquid mud," however, doesn't relate to anything--at least directly. I think it may be there because the floors and walls are unclean, and therefore the light and shadows would have a consistency which would appear in her dreams. Varka could then interpret the consistency as mud or mist. The "liquid mud" might then be Chekhov's way of reminding the reader of the dirty, squalid conditions Varka lives in.

That's a theory, at least.

Dark Muse

07-02-2008, 04:19 PM

I don't think this part is actually blurred. She really is laying on the stove, and she doesn't start to dream until later when she imagines her mother on the road. At the part I quoted, she's still aware of reality. Later, though, she will start blending perception and dream more frequently. Chekhov is showing a progression from the beginning when she is still somewhat aware to the end when she completely loses touch. The stove, here, at this point, is still a symbol of her awake life. I'm glad that you pointed out the stove's importance, though, because it does play a large role in Varka's life. It's part of her job, and she uses that job to repress her urge to sleep. Chekhov says "Varka leaves the cradle, and runs to the shed for firewood. She is glad. When one moves and runs about, one is not so sleepy as when one is sitting down. She brings the wood, heats the stove, and feels that her wooden face is getting supple again, and that her thoughts are growing clearer." The stove is one of the few things keeping her awake.

But the way it is quoted in the text it makes it sound as if the stove is also part of her dream

Varka lies awake on the stove, and hears her father's "boo--boo--boo." And then she hears someone has driven up to the hut.

She is lying awake upon the stove while she is listening to her father dying. The stove has entered into her dream world as well as being apart of her "real" world.

I hadn't noticed that--good point. The hospital workers are much like the visions in Varka's dream. They both get to sleep while the protagonists suffer. This makes Varka's and her father's plight seem even more similar, and I think that's why the father is included in the story. He's just another illustration of Varka's problems. Other than that, I don't see any reason for why he should be written into the story.

I felt that in someway the story of her father must have some imporance, though I cannot see how it directly relates to her current situation other than to link thier suffering.

Though I know in my book it says she is 13 during the time she is working for the Shoemaker. I wonder if her father's death could be the reason why she must be put to work.

I looked into the "liquid mud" mystery some more. I'm still confused by it, though. Everything in Varka's vision has a relation to her awake life; the shadows are cast by the clothes, the green forest is the light from the lamp, the movement is caused by the swaying shadows. The "liquid mud," however, doesn't relate to anything--at least directly. I think it may be there because the floors and walls are unclean, and therefore the light and shadows would have a consistency which would appear in her dreams. Varka could then interpret the consistency as mud or mist. The "liquid mud" might then be Chekhov's way of reminding the reader of the dirty, squalid conditions Varka lives in.

That's a theory, at least.

That does make sense, partiucarly sense it says that the men "lie down in the mud" it could be just another way she blurs her surroundings with the dream image, and her own wish to sink down upon the floor and sleep. It could be reflective of the squallor she now lives in.

Quark

07-02-2008, 10:31 PM

But the way it is quoted in the text it makes it sound as if the stove is also part of her dream

What part makes you think it's in her dream. It appears that her dream starts immediately after the section I quoted. Chekhov describes the beginning of her dream:

But now it is a clear bright morning. Pelageya is not at home; she has gone to the hospital to find what is being done to Yefim. Somewhere there is a baby crying, and Varka hears someone singing with her own voice:

This quick change from night to day could not have happened so quickly--and indeed it didn't. When she wakes from her dream she notices that the sun is just rising, so that what she just experienced must have been a dream. Everything before the quote above doesn't seem like a dream. It's logically connected with everything else that happened in her awake life.

I felt that in someway the story of her father must have some imporance, though I cannot see how it directly relates to her current situation other than to link thier suffering.

No, the father doesn't directly relate to the plot in any way, but he does bring out some themes which might go unnoticed in a first read. I talked a little about the element of class in this story already, but there are other ideas the father helps create. He certainly reminds us of Varka's passivity. Both father and daughter quietly accept their fate. The father's death also heightens our pity for Varka. Now that's she's orphaned, she will have an even worse life than before. Her second dream is an anticipation of that worse life. So, while the father doesn't have anything directly to do with the plot, he does help reinforce some ideas that might pass unnoticed.

I wonder if her father's death could be the reason why she must be put to work.

I had supposed that the whole family worked for the shoemaker since that sort of thing was not uncommon, but I'm not sure whether that was the case or not here.

Dark Muse

07-02-2008, 11:54 PM

That part that I quoted where it says:

Varka lies awake on the stove, and hears her father's "boo--boo--boo." And then she hears someone has driven up to the hut.

Here it states that she is lying on the stove listening to her father. Her father is part of the dream, but she hears him while she is on the stove.

The stove plays a role both while she dreams and while she is awake. Later during the dream it also states:

Pelageya rushes to the stove and begins looking for the broken pot with the matches. A minute passes in silence. The doctor, feeling in his pocket, lights a match.

The stove seems almost a link between both worlds. It appears to her in her dreams, but it is also a focus of her waking life.

Quark

07-03-2008, 12:43 AM

Here it states that she is lying on the stove listening to her father. Her father is part of the dream, but she hears him while she is on the stove.

Oh, I was out of it for a moment there. Yes, I see what you mean now. There is a stove in both the dream and reality. Of course, Varka's dream duplicates everything in the actual room. The clothes, the lamp, the noises, shadows, everything gets reproduced in the dream. Her mother forcing her to go to town even mirrors Varka's mistress.

Looking back at the dream, I think it probably likely that Varka got her job after being orphaned and not before. The dream ends with them looking for jobs. It's probable that Varka got her job at that point. Originally, I had just focused on the fact that it appeared that they were lower-class servants to begin with anyway. But, it looks like they change masters at some point.

Dark Muse

07-03-2008, 11:28 AM

I am surprsied by how drasticly different are two translations are. The wording in mine is very different than the online text.

In the other story The Black Monk, I think the two versions were pretty similar, but in this one it has changed quite a bit. Though I think I might like my translation better

Dark Muse

07-03-2008, 12:12 PM

This is a samovar, it is mentioned a little later on in the story, and I had no idea what it was so I decided to look it up. They were used to heat and boil water.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f3/Samovar.silver.jpg/484px-Samovar.silver.jpg

Quark

07-03-2008, 02:01 PM

I am surprsied by how drasticly different are two translations are. The wording in mine is very different than the online text.

I've read a couple of other translations, and what I notice about this one is that it's rather terse. Usually the story is stretched out a little more, but in this one it's told with the absolute minimum of words. It's been a while, though, so I don't remember if the words were altered like in your translation. If I remember, I think they were quite similar. In fact, I remember the "liquid mud" phrase being in all of them. If you see any large differences between the your translation and the online one, it would be interesting to know. The untranslated line from Varka's song was certainly interesting. It linked her song to her dead father's noises. In the fully-translated versions you don't get that.

I think I might like my translation better

I haven't read your version, so I can't say. There is one part I really like about the online translation, though. It's the sentence "That foe is the baby." The online version sets it off in its own paragraph which gives it a really dramatic effect. Other translations blend that sentence in with the rest of the text, but the online version uses it much better.

This is a samovar, it is mentioned a little later on in the story, and I had no idea what it was so I decided to look it up. They were used to heat and boil water.

I had no idea that samovars were so ornate. I read a lot of Russian Lit, so I've had plenty exposure to the concept of a samovar. I just pictured something a little more functional. Maybe that was an upper-end samovar. It's hard to imagine that every family owned a shining silver object like that when many of them couldn't even buy their own four walls. Nineteenth-century Russia had some pretty warped priorities, though.

Dark Muse

07-03-2008, 03:24 PM

I've read a couple of other translations, and what I notice about this one is that it's rather terse. Usually the story is stretched out a little more, but in this one it's told with the absolute minimum of words. It's been a while, though, so I don't remember if the words were altered like in your translation. If I remember, I think they were quite similar. In fact, I remember the "liquid mud" phrase being in all of them. If you see any large differences between the your translation and the online one, it would be interesting to know. The untranslated line from Varka's song was certainly interesting. It linked her song to her dead father's noises. In the fully-translated versions you don't get that..

I noticed in the next section right after the part you posted there seemed to be some signifiance differences in the wording.

I will post some of the differences that really stuck out in my mind in the part you posted. I will not repost the entire text, just the parts that were really different.

Her mother, Pelageya, has run to the master's house to say that Yefim is dying. She has been gone a long time, and ought to be back.

In my version it says:

Mother Pelageya has run to the mannor-hour to tell the squire that Yefim is dying. She has been gone a long time...will she ever return?

Online text:

The doctor comes into the hut; he cannot be seen in the darkness

Mine:

The doctor comes into the hut; in the darkness he is invisible

Online text:

"In a minute, sir, in a minute," says Pelageya. She rushes out of the hut, and soon afterwards comes back with a bit of candle.

Mine:

"Immediately batiushka, immediately!" cries Pelagheya, running out of the cabint. In a minute she returns with a candle end.

Online text:

Come, what is it? What are you thinking about?" says the doctor, bending down to him. "Aha! have you had this long?"

"What? Dying, your honour, my hour has come. . . . I am not to stay among the living."

"Don't talk nonsense! We will cure you!"

"That's as you please, your honour, we humbly thank you, only we understand. . . . Since death has come, there it is."

Mine:

"Well, what's the matter with you" asks the doctor, bending over him. "Ah! You have been like this long?"

"What is the matter?" The time has come, your honour, to die....I shall not live any longer..."

"Nonsense...We'll soon cure you!"

"As you will your honour. Thank you humbly...only we understand. If we must die, we must die...."

I had no idea that samovars were so ornate. I read a lot of Russian Lit, so I've had plenty exposure to the concept of a samovar. I just pictured something a little more functional. Maybe that was an upper-end samovar. It's hard to imagine that every family owned a shining silver object like that when many of them couldn't even buy their own four walls. Nineteenth-century Russia had some pretty warped priorities, though.

When I was looking up pictures that is one of the plainest ones there were. Many of them were even more ornate than that.

Though there were some that looked to be maybe brass instead of silver.

Here are some others:

http://www.russian-gifts-home.com/samovars/images/tula-samovar.gif

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a5/Golden_samovar.jpg/300px-Golden_samovar.jpg

http://www.thebookman.org/samovar%202.JPG

Quark

07-03-2008, 06:08 PM

I noticed in the next section right after the part you posted there seemed to be some signifiance differences in the wording.

I will post some of the differences that really stuck out in my mind in the part you posted. I will not repost the entire text, just the parts that were really different.

In most of quotes I like your translation better, too. The wordings are rather similar, but the punctuation is much more graceful in your version. The online translation is somewhat clumsy in the way it lumps words together. Take this quote:

"In a minute, sir, in a minute," says Pelageya. She rushes out of the hut, and soon afterwards comes back with a bit of candle.

It isn't much different from your version:

"Immediately batiushka, immediately!" cries Pelagheya, running out of the cabint. In a minute she returns with a candle end.

Yet, your translation splits the two sentences much better. Since Pelageya is exiting while she is speaking it makes sense that those two actions should be part of the same sentence. The part about her returning is then correctly set off as its own sentence because it's a separate action which happens later. By turning the part about Pelageya leaving the room into a phrase, the translation is improved.

The only quote that I thought read better in the online text is the one with the father. The online translation uses language which fits Yefim's attitude, whereas the other text makes Yefim to plainspoken. He's supposed to be somewhat otherworldly here. It says that Yefim looked through the walls as though they weren't there, and he has an oddly accepting, peaceful demeanor when talking about his own death. The grander, more generalized language that the online version uses fits this more than the other.

When I was looking up pictures that is one of the plainest ones there were. Many of them were even more ornate than that.

Though there were some that looked to be maybe brass instead of silver.

The Russians must have been crazy for boiled water. I have to admit, though, they are handsome looking things. I wonder whether everyone owned one of these or just a few. From what I've read they seem to be a necessity to a Russian household; but, then again, the cost of the thing must have been ridiculous.

Anyway, here's the next section of "Sleepy." I don't mean to push ahead too far if you haven't gotten through with the last section, but I want to make sure we have something to comment on. This is the end of Varka's dream:

But now it is a clear bright morning. Pelageya is not at home; she has gone to the hospital to find what is being done to Yefim. Somewhere there is a baby crying, and Varka hears someone singing with her own voice:

"Hush-a-bye, my baby wee, I will sing a song to thee."

Pelageya comes back; she crosses herself and whispers:

"They put him to rights in the night, but towards morning he gave up his soul to God. . . . The Kingdom of Heaven be his and peace everlasting. . . . They say he was taken too late. . . . He ought to have gone sooner. . . ."

Varka goes out into the road and cries there, but all at once someone hits her on the back of her head so hard that her forehead knocks against a birch tree. She raises her eyes, and sees facing her, her master, the shoemaker.

"What are you about, you scabby slut?" he says. "The child is crying, and you are asleep!"

He gives her a sharp slap behind the ear, and she shakes her head, rocks the cradle, and murmurs her song. The green patch and the shadows from the trousers and the baby-clothes move up and down, nod to her, and soon take possession of her brain again. Again she sees the high road covered with liquid mud. The people with wallets on their backs and the shadows have lain down and are fast asleep. Looking at them, Varka has a passionate longing for sleep; she would lie down with enjoyment, but her mother Pelageya is walking beside her, hurrying her on. They are hastening together to the town to find situations.

"Give alms, for Christ's sake!" her mother begs of the people they meet. "Show us the Divine Mercy, kind-hearted gentlefolk!"

"Give the baby here!" a familiar voice answers. "Give the baby here!" the same voice repeats, this time harshly and angrily. "Are you asleep, you wretched girl?"

Janine

07-03-2008, 08:43 PM

Hi, Quark and DM, I see you are finally doing "Sleepy" haha - good oportunity while I am shopping for a new computer/and taking my month's break. This is funny, DM, I copied some photos awhile back, of some of those objects you posted, mostly samovars. The photos look great in your post - very interesting.

Dark Muse

07-03-2008, 08:43 PM

But now it is a clear bright morning. Pelageya is not at home; she has gone to the hospital to find what is being done to Yefim. Somewhere there is a baby crying, and Varka hears someone singing with her own voice:

"Hush-a-bye, my baby wee, I will sing a song to thee."

I really liked this part, I think it is where the blurry between the lines of reality and dream really begin to take hold. As she is no longer really aware that it is her signing, but she hears "another voice" in her dream signing instead.

"They put him to rights in the night, but towards morning he gave up his soul to God. . . . The Kingdom of Heaven be his and peace everlasting. . . . They say he was taken too late. . . . He ought to have gone sooner. . . ."

I wondered if there is intended to be some meaning behind the father arriving to the hospital too late. For some reason that fact just stuck out within my mind.

I did like the way this was worded better in my text:

"Last night he was better, toward morning he gave his soul to God... Heveanly kingdom, eternal rest!..... They say we brought him too late....We should have done it sooner..."

I like the way it was more personalized here with the using the "We" instead of just stating it as a plain fact. It feels more emtional here I think.

Also, I found interesting the way in which it says that he was better right before he died. Is that becasue of the peace he felt knowing the end had come at last? That he finnaly did just resgin himself to his fate in the end.

"What are you about, you scabby slut?" he says. "The child is crying, and you are asleep!"

I found it intersting that in my version they took out the word slut.

He gives her a sharp slap behind the ear, and she shakes her head, rocks the cradle, and murmurs her song. The green patch and the shadows from the trousers and the baby-clothes move up and down, nod to her, and soon take possession of her brain again. Again she sees the high road covered with liquid mud. The people with wallets on their backs and the shadows have lain down and are fast asleep. Looking at them, Varka has a passionate longing for sleep; she would lie down with enjoyment, but her mother Pelageya is walking beside her, hurrying her on. They are hastening together to the town to find situations.

I love the way in which the green light and the other items return again here. As she begins to drift off again. I wonder, is there any signifigance to why the men have wallets? Sense it makes a point of mentioning it. Is that meant to be a class symbol as well? They are alloud to sleep becasue they have money?

When I first read this, I wondered what it meant by "situations" at first, it never dawned on me, that it was jobs they were now looking for untill you mentioned it.

The green patch and the shadows from the trousers and the baby-clothes move up and down, nod to her

In my version it says that they "wink" at her. I think the imagery of winking is much more powerful, I loved the idea of the objects and the lights winking at her. To me that just added more to the mocking factor and trying to tempt her with what she could not have.

"Give the baby here!" a familiar voice answers. "Give the baby here!" the same voice repeats, this time harshly and angrily. "Are you asleep, you wretched girl?"

I really liked this scene when the mistress came in and intrupted her dreams. In the events that happen after it, I think everything, even what is real begins to take on an almost dream like feeling to it.

Also I liked the way this is woven into her dream.

As in my book, her mother repeats the same words as the mistress by saying:

"Give me a kopeck for the love of Christ"

and after that the mistress addresses Varka by saying:

"Give me here the child"

Dark Muse

07-03-2008, 08:44 PM

Hi, Quark and DM, I see you are finally doing "Sleepy" haha - good oportunity while I am shopping for a new computer/and taking my month's break. This is funny, DM, I copied some photos awhile back of some of those objects you posted. They look great in your thread - very interesting.

Hehe thank you. They are interesting

Janine

07-03-2008, 08:46 PM

You are welcome - photos are fun. See you all next week. Library is closed till then.

Quark

07-03-2008, 11:30 PM

This is funny, DM, I copied some photos awhile back, of some of those objects you posted, mostly samovars. The photos look great in your post - very interesting.

I thought I remembered you posting some pictures of samovars. I couldn't find them when I looked back, though. It must have been a while ago.

I really liked this part, I think it is where the blurry between the lines of reality and dream really begin to take hold.

Yeah, she's starting to incorporate more and more of the room around her in her dreams.

I wondered if there is intended to be some meaning behind the father arriving to the hospital too late. For some reason that fact just stuck out within my mind.

I'm not sure. I had assumed that he arrived too late because he had already resigned himself to dying. I don't know whether that has any greater importance in the story or not.

I like the way it was more personalized here with the using the "We" instead of just stating it as a plain fact. It feels more emtional here I think.

The "we" makes it sound like she considers herself culpable for his death in some way. She's implicating herself now, instead of just stating the general fact that it was too late.

Also, I found interesting the way in which it says that he was better right before he died. Is that becasue of the peace he felt knowing the end had come at last? That he finnaly did just resgin himself to his fate in the end.

Yes, he improves slightly at the end because he's accepted that he's going to die. This is somewhat similar to the release that Varka feels when she turns on the baby. She's briefly better and then worse.

I found it intersting that in my version they took out the word slut.

Maybe the translator didn't think we hated the mistress enough. This version really tries to make it clear how abusive Varka's masters are.

I love the way in which the green light and the other items return again here.

I think the green light and the shadows represent the wish-fulfillment part of Varka's dream. They create the vision of the people falling asleep, and this is fulfillment of Varka's repressed wish. By bringing them back at the end of the dream, Chekhov is reminding us that the dream is primarily about wish-fulfillment--despite the fact that he used it to lay out Varka's past.

As she begins to drift off again. I wonder, is there any signifigance to why the men have wallets?

Wallet is meant in a different sense here. They mean wallet as in something like a knapsack. In the dream the heavy wallets are used to represent Varka's burdensome work.

In my version it says that they "wink" at her. I think the imagery of winking is much more powerful, I loved the idea of the objects and the lights winking at her. To me that just added more to the mocking factor and trying to tempt her with what she could not have.

The way they are described winking makes it seem like they have some agency. That's exactly how it must appear to Varka who's sees in them the fulfillment of her repressed desire. They tempt her with something she can't have.

As in my book, her mother repeats the same words as the mistress by saying:

I had wondered whether the mother and mistress were supposed to be compared here. It makes sense to do so since they are both pushing jobs on Varka. The mom pushes Varka to get a job, and the mistress gives her the chores that make up her job.

Dark Muse

07-03-2008, 11:45 PM

I'm not sure. I had assumed that he arrived too late because he had already resigned himself to dying. I don't know whether that has any greater importance in the story or not.

Yes that would make sense. But for some reason I wondered if the father arriving too late, somehow related to what happens to Varka at the end, with the baby. Perhaps I am just reading too much into it. But it seems in a way it is "too" late for Varka as well, by the time she finally gets to sleep she has already done something unthinkable. If she was able to sleep before then, she probably would not have killed the baby.

Yes, he improves slightly at the end because he's accepted that he's going to die. This is somewhat similar to the release that Varka feels when she turns on the baby. She's briefly better and then worse.

I do not get the feeling that within the story itself she acutally does "get worse" As it ends with her fianlly able to sleep, though true there will be consequences when it is revealed what she has done, but in the story itself that is now shown.

Maybe the translator didn't think we hated the mistress enough. This version really tries to make it clear how abusive Varka's masters are.

I thought perhaps it had to do with an age thing. My version is rather old so I thought maybe it just would have been too obcsence for them to publish that word.

Wallet is meant in a different sense here. They mean wallet as in something like a knapsack. In the dream the heavy wallets are used to represent Varka's burdensome work.

Ahh yeah, that makes sense, acutally now that I think about it, I think they are called sachels in my text

The way they are described winking makes it seem like they have some agency. That's exactly how it must appear to Varka who's sees in them the fulfillment of her repressed desire. They tempt her with something she can't have.

I felt that sense of conspirace as well with the winking, particuarly at the end, when it seems everything around her, as "known" all along that the baby was the problem (thought of course that is a misconception it is really not the baby) but it is like she has been led up to that moment to finally focus on the baby, as if the other objects have been waiting for that conclusion.

I had wondered whether the mother and mistress were supposed to be compared here. It makes sense to do so since they are both pushing jobs on Varka. The mom pushes Varka to get a job, and the mistress gives her the chores that make up her job.[/QUOTE]

Quark

07-04-2008, 06:02 PM

Yes that would make sense. But for some reason I wondered if the father arriving too late, somehow related to what happens to Varka at the end

That's possible, but the connection is pretty weak. One can think of both characters' relief coming too late, yet there isn't anything that makes the reader connect the father's treatment with the daughter's sleep. In fact, they're described differently in the story. It would be difficult to make the leap from one to the other. I do think, though, that you're right that both characters didn't get help or relief until it was too late. And, Chekhov may have been trying to get the reader to connect the two, but I don't think he did a very good job at that.

I do not get the feeling that within the story itself she acutally does "get worse" As it ends with her fianlly able to sleep, though true there will be consequences when it is revealed what she has done, but in the story itself that is now shown.

Yeah, her mood improves at the end of the story, but isn't there bound to be trouble when she awakes. There's an implied problem there which she will eventually discover. I'm not sure whether that justifies a connection between the father and the daughter, though. I may be reaching with this.

I thought perhaps it had to do with an age thing. My version is rather old so I thought maybe it just would have been too obcsence for them to publish that word.

It probably has more to do with the translator's temperament. Russian readers of the day probably wouldn't have been shocked by seeing "slut" in print. Many stories had that kind of name calling, and some even included actual prostitutes. I tend to think Chekhov probably did use the word "slut" here, because in several of his stories he has characters abusively castigate others with words like that.

Ahh yeah, that makes sense, acutally now that I think about it, I think they are called sachels in my text

It's a strange use of the word wallet. I'm not sure why they don't just say knapsack or satchel or bag. Any of those would work.

I felt that sense of conspirace as well with the winking, particuarly at the end, when it seems everything around her, as "known" all along that the baby was the problem (thought of course that is a misconception it is really not the baby) but it is like she has been led up to that moment to finally focus on the baby, as if the other objects have been waiting for that conclusion.

Conspiracy is a good way to put it. They represent to Varka knowledge of the hidden force that's stopping her from living. In the end, though, she can't find that force. Chekhov puts it like this:

through her half sleep she cannot understand the force which binds her, hand and foot, weighs upon her, and prevents her from living. She looks round, searches for that force that she may escape from it, but she cannot find it.

Instead of finding the actual binding force, though, she picks on the baby.

Dark Muse

07-04-2008, 07:14 PM

It probably has more to do with the translator's temperament. Russian readers of the day probably wouldn't have been shocked by seeing "slut" in print. Many stories had that kind of name calling, and some even included actual prostitutes. I tend to think Chekhov probably did use the word "slut" here, because in several of his stories he has characters abusively castigate others with words like that.

I mean that in the American/Translated version, I thought they left out the word slut so not to shock American readers of the day.

I think there is meant to be some connection between Varka and her farther beyond just the vauge and genreal idea of suffering. Though perhaps he did not do a very good job of establishing that connection and made it weak. I still think some connection is intended between the two.

Quark

07-04-2008, 11:59 PM

I mean that in the American/Translated version, I thought they left out the word slut so not to shock American readers of the day.

Oh, that could be. I don't know anything about when these translations were done. Usually they are British translations, though. Few ever get made by Americans for some reason.

I think there is meant to be some connection between Varka and her farther beyond just the vauge and genreal idea of suffering. Though perhaps he did not do a very good job of establishing that connection and made it weak. I still think some connection is intended between the two.

That's definitely true. Chekhov is clearly drawing comparisons between the father and daughter. I just think sometimes it could have been made a little more explicit. Some of the parallel requires a lot from the reader, and it isn't very apparent on a first reading.

We have three sections of the story left. One is the recovery from her dream, another is the string of chores she performs, and the last is the murder. Here's the brief segment showing her coming out of her dream:

"Give the baby here!" a familiar voice answers. "Give the baby here!" the same voice repeats, this time harshly and angrily. "Are you asleep, you wretched girl?"

Varka jumps up, and looking round grasps what is the matter: there is no high road, no Pelageya, no people meeting them, there is only her mistress, who has come to feed the baby, and is standing in the middle of the room. While the stout, broad-shouldered woman nurses the child and soothes it, Varka stands looking at her and waiting till she has done. And outside the windows the air is already turning blue, the shadows and the green patch on the ceiling are visibly growing pale, it will soon be morning.

"Take him," says her mistress, buttoning up her chemise over her bosom; "he is crying. He must be bewitched."

Varka takes the baby, puts him in the cradle and begins rocking it again. The green patch and the shadows gradually disappear, and now there is nothing to force itself on her eyes and cloud her brain. But she is as sleepy as before, fearfully sleepy! Varka lays her head on the edge of the cradle, and rocks her whole body to overcome her sleepiness, but yet her eyes are glued together, and her head is heavy.

Dark Muse

07-05-2008, 02:54 AM

"Take him," says her mistress, buttoning up her chemise over her bosom; "he is crying. He must be bewitched."

In my book this line is a bit different in a way that struck me when I was first reading. In my book it says:

"Take it," says her mistress, buttoning her nightdress. "It is crying. The evil eye is upon it!"

I found this interesting because previously just above it it says:

While the stout, borad-shouldered woman feeds and soothes the baby

Here it makes her seem almost motherly, but than suddenly, she is thrusting the child back into Varka's arms and refering to the baby as an "it" The change in which her relationship with the baby suddenly becomes so inpersonal struck me.

Also I always got the impression that the Shoemakers family were not "that well off" higer than Varka of course, but I still felt they were still perhaps more middle class or lower middle class. And this scene sort of stuck out to me as a statement of thier class. As was it not common for higher classess to have wet nurses? Or was that not a practice in Russia?

Quark

07-05-2008, 03:27 PM

Also I always got the impression that the Shoemakers family were not "that well off" higer than Varka of course, but I still felt they were still perhaps more middle class or lower middle class.

I also get the impression that this family was not particularly affluent--they shoemakers, after all. There was, however, a large lower class in Russia, so it was pretty usual for middle class families to have multiple servants. I don't know about child care, though.

Here it makes her seem almost motherly, but than suddenly, she is thrusting the child back into Varka's arms and refering to the baby as an "it" The change in which her relationship with the baby suddenly becomes so inpersonal struck me.

That is a noticeable difference between the two versions. Your book makes the mistress even easier to hate. She doesn't even care about her own child, let alone Varka. The baby is just a troublesome thing to her, and yet she expects Varka to stay up all night watching after it.

I think your version is probably the better of the two. It fits much more with the purpose of this section. This part concludes the story that starts in Varka's dream with her father dying. In her dream we see her losing her family and being forced to find work. The mistress comes into the story as the conclusion of this episode. She represents the job Varka got and the end result of the process that started in the dream. Particularly, she represents the unhappy, tragic end of that story. The fact that Varka ends up with snarling, abusive masters is the tragedy of the story. Therefore, Chekhov needs to paint the mistress in the most unflattering way he can. That's why we get the picture of her as this stumpy, coarse, snarling woman. Your version adds to this picture by showing that isn't even capable of affection toward her own child.

Looking toward the bottom of the section I quoted:

The green patch and the shadows gradually disappear, and now there is nothing to force itself on her eyes and cloud her brain. But she is as sleepy as before, fearfully sleepy! Varka lays her head on the edge of the cradle, and rocks her whole body to overcome her sleepiness, but yet her eyes are glued together, and her head is heavy.

What do you make of this part? Why does the day dispel her delirium? She seems just as sleepy, but she isn't imagining things any more.

Dark Muse

07-05-2008, 04:47 PM

I found the imagery of her rocking the craddle to try and fight off her wish to sleep to be intersting, as usually one rocks a child to put them too sleep. It goes hand in hand with the lullaby before it and how everything but her was lulled to sleep.

I agree that here it seems she is starting to return back to reality once more, as she begins to see things for what they really are again. Her dreams began to vannish, and her illusions, but yet her problem is still not solved. Even with the day, she is not refreshed and still desperately needs and wants to sleep, but a whole knew set of chores will await her.

Quark

07-05-2008, 08:45 PM

I found the imagery of her rocking the craddle to try and fight off her wish to sleep to be intersting, as usually one rocks a child to put them too sleep. It goes hand in hand with the lullaby before it and how everything but her was lulled to sleep.

Yeah, it helps create the somnolent mood of the story, and it reminds us of the cruelty involved in making Varka lull someone to sleep while she herself must stay awake.

I agree that here it seems she is starting to return back to reality once more, as she begins to see things for what they really are again. Her dreams began to vannish, and her illusions, but yet her problem is still not solved.

It seems like she returns to reality not because she wants to, though. Varka begins to come back because she's forced to by her work and she doesn't have time for reflection. Only when she's left to herself can she contemplate her problems and wish for better circumstances. The day represses all that. I think there's a strong psychological undercurrent in the story. It seems like a like the struggle between desire and repression is being played out in Varka's mind. She wants to sleep, but her social duties don't let her fall asleep. She then has a typical wish-fulfillment dream which tempts her to sleep. After that, though, she's confronted with her social duty and has to repress the desire. Eventually, the desire overcomes the repression and tries to find an outlet in killing the baby. It's the usual pattern of a desire being forced to use other means in order to find expression.

Quark

07-06-2008, 06:03 PM

The next part of "Sleepy."

"Varka, heat the stove!" she hears the master's voice through the door.

So it is time to get up and set to work. Varka leaves the cradle, and runs to the shed for firewood. She is glad. When one moves and runs about, one is not so sleepy as when one is sitting down. She brings the wood, heats the stove, and feels that her wooden face is getting supple again, and that her thoughts are growing clearer.

"Varka, set the samovar!" shouts her mistress.

Varka splits a piece of wood, but has scarcely time to light the splinters and put them in the samovar, when she hears a fresh order:

"Varka, clean the master's goloshes!"

She sits down on the floor, cleans the goloshes, and thinks how nice it would be to put her head into a big deep golosh, and have a little nap in it. . . . And all at once the golosh grows, swells, fills up the whole room. Varka drops the brush, but at once shakes her head, opens her eyes wide, and tries to look at things so that they may not grow big and move before her eyes.

"Varka, wash the steps outside; I am ashamed for the customers to see them!"

Varka washes the steps, sweeps and dusts the rooms, then heats another stove and runs to the shop. There is a great deal of work: she hasn't one minute free.

But nothing is so hard as standing in the same place at the kitchen table peeling potatoes. Her head droops over the table, the potatoes dance before her eyes, the knife tumbles out of her hand while her fat, angry mistress is moving about near her with her sleeves tucked up, talking so loud that it makes a ringing in Varka's ears. It is agonising, too, to wait at dinner, to wash, to sew, there are minutes when she longs to flop on to the floor regardless of everything, and to sleep.

The day passes. Seeing the windows getting dark, Varka presses her temples that feel as though they were made of wood, and smiles, though she does not know why. The dusk of evening caresses her eyes that will hardly keep open, and promises her sound sleep soon. In the evening visitors come.

"Varka, set the samovar!" shouts her mistress. The samovar is a little one, and before the visitors have drunk all the tea they want, she has to heat it five times. After tea Varka stands for a whole hour on the same spot, looking at the visitors, and waiting for orders.

"Varka, run and buy three bottles of beer!"

She starts off, and tries to run as quickly as she can, to drive away sleep.

"Varka, fetch some vodka! Varka, where's the corkscrew? Varka, clean a herring!"

We've talked about her demanding job a lot so far, but here it is actually shown to us. I'll comment on it some when I post tonight.

Dark Muse

07-07-2008, 02:32 AM

Quark

07-07-2008, 05:21 PM

I think this section is great for showing just how oeverworked Varka really is, as well I think it helps to build up more sypathy for her and her cicumstance, as we can see, she is not given a single moments rest, the orders just pile on top of each other one after the other without stop.

I particularly like how the orders pile up and overwhelm her. In a line like

Varka splits a piece of wood, but has scarcely time to light the splinters and put them in the samovar, when she hears a fresh order

we can tell that Varka is being pushed to the limit. It's easy to see why she goes over the edge later on. This tiresome, demanding work would drive anyone crazy.

Also, I thought the stream of orders added to the perspective by making the reader as drowsy as Varka. Repetition often does this, and many writers have used it to lull a reader to sleep. One of the best examples is from Tennyson's "The Lotus Eaters" in which the poet repeats certain words, sentences, and sounds to lull the reader into the sleepy, lazy mood that the Lotus eaters are in. Chekhov uses the same device here.

I loved this image of her wanting to just slide into the golosh and go to sleep. And here we can see how reality and her illusions are starting to merge together, the way in which, she begins to see the golosh growing before her and she tries to fight the image off.

I thought the shoe part was a nice touch, too. Chekhov shows how she is completely losing perspective here. She can't tell what size, shape, or positions objects really are in any more. This is part of her problem later when she attacks the baby. In that case, the baby takes up too large of a place in her mind, instead of the shoes taking up too large of a place in the room.

I found this a bit odd when I first read the story, that they had more than one stove.

She's in the store, so the building probably has more than one room. It wouldn't be surprising if they had three of four wood stoves. Wood stoves put out a lot of heat, but that heat doesn't travel very far. My parents have two in their house, and they manage to only heat two rooms. Those rooms are ninety degrees of course, but the rest of the house gets freezing cold. When you think about it, central air was a wonderful invention.

Here seems to be a start of a turning point for Varka and the events that are soon to come. As I think at the very end when she kills the baby, it mentions her smiling than as well, and this moment and at the end are the only instances in which she is seen to smile.

That's a good point. The totally unprompted and somewhat deranged smile makes its first appearance here. It seems to come from the fact that she's finally starting to contemplate sleep. Before, she was resisting the thought, but now it's a real possibility to her. That thought must make her smile.

Also I found it interesting, her seeming exepectation that she will finally be able to sleep, as though we do not know how long she has been working for the shoemaker, we have the feeling she has been through this routine before so she has no reason to suspect tonight will be any different.

No, I don't think she's expecting a break in her work, but just the idea of sleep is what's making her smile.

The dusk of evening caresses her eyes that will hardly keep open, and promises her sound sleep soon.

The "dusk of evening" is what brings up the idea of sleep, not any hope that her chores will end. Varka is consciously aware that her job won't let her fall asleep, but the dim light makes her think of sleep. That's enough to elicit a smile. It's a bit like the way the green light impresses her mind and brings up uncontrollable thoughts.

Dark Muse

07-07-2008, 09:48 PM

I particularly like how the orders pile up and overwhelm her.

I also like the way in which it starts out by saying the Master master ordered her to do this and the Mistress ordered her to do that, but than it no longer matters who is giving the orders, they all just blend together in a constant Varka do this and Varka do that.

we can tell that Varka is being pushed to the limit. It's easy to see why she goes over the edge later on. This tiresome, demanding work would drive anyone crazy.

Yes that is true, not to mention in addition the delirum that would be caused by a lack of sleep

I thought the shoe part was a nice touch, too. Chekhov shows how she is completely losing perspective here. She can't tell what size, shape, or positions objects really are in any more. This is part of her problem later when she attacks the baby. In that case, the baby takes up too large of a place in her mind, instead of the shoes taking up too large of a place in the room.

That is a good point, about how the way in which she views the shoes here relates than how she later sees the baby and blows the baby out of perportion, as the baby only plays a small role in her problems. It is true in the moment the baby is the one immideately responsebile for her not being able to sleep, but of course the baby is not the true source of the problem it is the master and mistress, but she can lash out at the baby in a way she cannot do so to them.

I also like the part about the potatos

But nothing is so hard as standing in the same place at the kitchen table peeling potatoes. Her head droops over the table, the potatoes dance before her eyes, the knife tumbles out of her hand while her fat, angry mistress is moving about near her with her sleeves tucked up, talking so loud that it makes a ringing in Varka's ears. It is agonising, too, to wait at dinner, to wash, to sew, there are minutes when she longs to flop on to the floor regardless of everything, and to sleep.

I find it interesting how she is often given repeitive tasks to do it seems, that would make a person feel drowsy and to me the peeling of a potatos could almost refelct back to the motion of rocking the cradle and the voice of her mistress rigning in her ear is like the baby constnatly crying and keeping her from sleep.

She's in the store, so the building probably has more than one room. It wouldn't be surprising if they had three of four wood stoves. Wood stoves put out a lot of heat, but that heat doesn't travel very far. My parents have two in their house, and they manage to only heat two rooms. Those rooms are ninety degrees of course, but the rest of the house gets freezing cold. When you think about it, central air was a wonderful invention.

That makes sense I did not think of that

No, I don't think she's expecting a break in her work, but just the idea of sleep is what's making her smile.

The "dusk of evening" is what brings up the idea of sleep, not any hope that her chores will end. Varka is consciously aware that her job won't let her fall asleep, but the dim light makes her think of sleep. That's enough to elicit a smile. It's a bit like the way the green light impresses her mind and brings up uncontrollable thoughts.

Yes I can see how the coming of the night could put her in the mind of sleep.

Quark

07-08-2008, 04:39 PM

I also like the way in which it starts out by saying the Master master ordered her to do this and the Mistress ordered her to do that, but than it no longer matters who is giving the orders, they all just blend together in a constant Varka do this and Varka do that.

I hadn't noticed that actually. You're right that the first two orders come from different people and then Chekhov stops telling us who is talking altogether. The fact that she gets separate sets of orders adds to the hectic, overwhelmed feeling Varka must be experiencing. When Chekhov stops naming the source of orders it also shows how desensitizes Varka is becoming. She doesn't even realize who's talking anymore. It's just a stream of words, nothing more. This is another clever device Chekhov uses to draw us into Varka's mind, and I wouldn't have caught it unless you pointed it out, DM. Little things like this are what makes me like this story so much. They create an effect without drawing attention to themselves. They allow the story to reach such a high dramatic pitch while still being subtle and not over-the-top.

I find it interesting how she is often given repeitive tasks to do it seems, that would make a person feel drowsy and to me the peeling of a potatos could almost refelct back to the motion of rocking the cradle and the voice of her mistress rigning in her ear is like the baby constnatly crying and keeping her from sleep.

Since the story ends with infanticide, Chekhov has a lot of work if he's not going villainize Varka. Specifically, he has to make her job absolutely horrible. That way Varka can be somewhat justified in resorting to desperate measures to escape from it. These repetitive tasks and loud sounds are part of that.

Oh, and how much time do we have left? I know you were planning on taking off to Tahoe sometime. Should we start wrapping this up? If you have time we can probably keep going for another five or six days, but if you have to leave that's okay.

Dark Muse

07-08-2008, 05:01 PM

I am leaving this Saturday

Quark

07-08-2008, 06:25 PM

I am leaving this Saturday

That's good. I don't have to rush things, then. Thanks for staying in the conversation this long. I know it's been kind of slow since everyone has disappeared, but it's a good story and I wanted to discuss it before the thread stopped again.

Let me look over the last section of text and see if there is anything else left to add before we move on to the last part.

Dark Muse

07-08-2008, 06:44 PM

I have enjoyed it so far, even if the others all bailed. It is a good story.

Quark

07-08-2008, 11:19 PM

I have enjoyed it so far, even if the others all bailed. It is a good story.

Oh, good. I thought you were just humoring me.

Anyway, here's the conclusion of the story:

But now, at last, the visitors have gone; the lights are put out, the master and mistress go to bed.

"Varka, rock the baby!" she hears the last order.

The cricket churrs in the stove; the green patch on the ceiling and the shadows from the trousers and the baby-clothes force themselves on Varka's half-opened eyes again, wink at her and cloud her mind.

"Hush-a-bye, my baby wee," she murmurs, "and I will sing a song to thee."

And the baby screams, and is worn out with screaming. Again Varka sees the muddy high road, the people with wallets, her mother Pelageya, her father Yefim. She understands everything, she recognises everyone, but through her half sleep she cannot understand the force which binds her, hand and foot, weighs upon her, and prevents her from living. She looks round, searches for that force that she may escape from it, but she cannot find it. At last, tired to death, she does her very utmost, strains her eyes, looks up at the flickering green patch, and listening to the screaming, finds the foe who will not let her live.

That foe is the baby.

She laughs. It seems strange to her that she has failed to grasp such a simple thing before. The green patch, the shadows, and the cricket seem to laugh and wonder too.

The hallucination takes possession of Varka. She gets up from her stool, and with a broad smile on her face and wide unblinking eyes, she walks up and down the room. She feels pleased and tickled at the thought that she will be rid directly of the baby that binds her hand and foot. . . . Kill the baby and then sleep, sleep, sleep. . . .

Laughing and winking and shaking her fingers at the green patch, Varka steals up to the cradle and bends over the baby. When she has strangled him, she quickly lies down on the floor, laughs with delight that she can sleep, and in a minute is sleeping as sound as the dead.

Before I comment on the actual text here, I want to point out that nothing has really changed from the beginning of the story. This scene is identical to the one at the beginning. Chekhov even draws attention to that by repeating the exact wordings he used before (I'm assuming this is true in the original Russian). The scenes in between, then, are not really a progression, but explanation of her current state. She could have killed the baby last night just as easily as this night. The only reason we're given the record of her previous night and day is to better explain her psychological state later on. It's important to rehash then what we've learned. First, we know that she's delerious. From what we've seen of her daily routine, it's easy to see why. Second, we know that Varka isn't going to get to sleep if she follows her master's orders. Varka didn't get to sleep last night, so there isn't any reason to believe she will get to sleep this night. Third, we know from her history that she has never really controlled anything in her life. Circumstances have always required her to do things, and she has never made any decision in her life. We can say fairly that she isn't used to making decisions, and so will probably not be able to make a good choice when pushed too far. Lastly, it's become clear that Varka has lost whatever natural affection she might have had for the child or its parents.

All of this we learn during the middle of the story; and, while it doesn't advance the story necessarily, it does build our understanding of Varka's character. Plus, it explains Varka's motives for killing the child.

Dark Muse

07-09-2008, 12:59 AM

The cricket churrs in the stove; the green patch on the ceiling and the shadows from the trousers and the baby-clothes force themselves on Varka's half-opened eyes again, wink at her and cloud her mind.

I loved the way in which the end came around back to the begining, I thought that was a nice touch, and as you have mentioned, it does show the routine of her days, and how nothing will ever change for her.

I have noticed several times throughout the story, it mentions the state of her mind, and how her mind is being clouded, or it said something before about how her brain was being affected.

I think this is meant as another way to build up sympathy for her, and show that when she does the deed, she really is not completly at fault, becasue she is not really thinking, she does not truly know what she is doing. It is not herself that is acting.

And the baby screams, and is worn out with screaming. Again Varka sees the muddy high road, the people with wallets, her mother Pelageya, her father Yefim. She understands everything, she recognises everyone, but through her half sleep she cannot understand the force which binds her, hand and foot, weighs upon her, and prevents her from living. She looks round, searches for that force that she may escape from it, but she cannot find it. At last, tired to death, she does her very utmost, strains her eyes, looks up at the flickering green patch, and listening to the screaming, finds the foe who will not let her live.

That foe is the baby.

One thing I will critizie about this story, is the fact that it felt to me as if there was not any build up to the moment of her discovering that the baby is her foe. This part felt a bit rushed to me, but perhaps that is just me, but in one scentence it says how she cannot find the foe, and than a couple lines later she says it is the baby. When I was reading this story it felt a bit anti-climatic here.

The hallucination takes possession of Varka. She gets up from her stool, and with a broad smile on her face and wide unblinking eyes, she walks up and down the room. She feels pleased and tickled at the thought that she will be rid directly of the baby that binds her hand and foot. . . . Kill the baby and then sleep, sleep, sleep. . . .

I love this part of the story. I thought this moment was really very chilling.

Laughing and winking and shaking her fingers at the green patch, Varka steals up to the cradle and bends over the baby. When she has strangled him, she quickly lies down on the floor, laughs with delight that she can sleep, and in a minute is sleeping as sound as the dead.

Here we can see how she really is dillusional and and how her mind has finally completly snapped and she is pushed over the edge.

One of the things I like about my book is the last line says:

she sleeps soundly as the dead child

Quark

07-09-2008, 10:09 PM

I loved the way in which the end came around back to the begining, I thought that was a nice touch, and as you have mentioned, it does show the routine of her days, and how nothing will ever change for her.

Yes, it's another repetition in the story. The sense of dull sameness is really hammered home by this point.

I have noticed several times throughout the story, it mentions the state of her mind, and how her mind is being clouded, or it said something before about how her brain was being affected.

I think this is meant as another way to build up sympathy for her

Definitely. He mental state has to deteriorate if we're not going to despise her at the end. She kills a baby. One would have to be out of their mind to do that.

One thing I will critizie about this story, is the fact that it felt to me as if there was not any build up to the moment of her discovering that the baby is her foe. This part felt a bit rushed to me

Isn't the whole story build up for this moment? That's why I summarized what we've learned about Varka up to this point. It all comes into play here. All those parts of her personality make her prone to this. I suppose one could argue that there isn't any reason why she should pick the baby instead of anything else, but I didn't think that that was much of a stretch. The baby is quite annoying. It's natural that she would pick it as the source of her problems.

I love this part of the story. I thought this moment was really very chilling.

Chilling is the right word. I was looking for a way to describe the scene, but couldn't get the right word. Chilling fits well. It combines sadness with terror and that's what this scene purveys.

One of the things I like about my book is the last line says:

That is good. I links the death of the child with her sleep. None of the other translations I've read, though, have included a line like that.

Dark Muse

07-09-2008, 10:18 PM

Isn't the whole story build up for this moment? That's why I summarized what we've learned about Varka up to this point. It all comes into play here. All those parts of her personality make her prone to this. I suppose one could argue that there isn't any reason why she should pick the baby instead of anything else, but I didn't think that that was much of a stretch. The baby is quite annoying. It's natural that she would pick it as the source of her problems.

Perhaps I worded that wrong, I am not quite sure how to explain it really. Perhaps in a way it just felt like he glossed over this part, though I do not know.

I can understand why indeed she had choose the baby as her target, and well the child was starting to get on my nerves after a while. Though I understand for the sake of building sympathy why the child was cast in such a way, as he did come off as something of a brat constantly crying all the time, though of course the child could not truly be held responseble for this, but the baby was made to be grating upon the nerves and crying children are never pleasent.

Quark

07-09-2008, 10:24 PM

Perhaps I worded that wrong, I am not quite sure how to explain it really. Perhaps in a way it just felt like he glossed over this part, though I do not know.

I read over it again and I think I might see what you mean. There isn't much of her thought-process given. It might help if we saw into her psychology a little more at this critical moment, but instead Chekhov merely gives us her final verdict: "That foe is the baby." Is this what you think he glossed over?

Dark Muse

07-09-2008, 10:26 PM

Quark

07-09-2008, 10:32 PM

Yes that is what I mean, that was what I was trying to say, we are not given much of a look as how she had gone from not knowing what the cause was, to suddenly her declaration that the child was the foe.

Yet, if Chekhov did let us into her private mental state more the story might lose some of its effect. I think you said it right when you called it "chilling;" and, if we were given a full account of Varka's mind, it might not be so chilling. I have hard time faulting the ending of this story because the ending gets me every time. Even though we can tell something bad is coming, that sentence "That foe is the baby" is still shocking and powerful. Perhaps everyone isn't as affected as I am, but I think the conclusion is excellent (hence why I made it my signature).

Dark Muse

07-10-2008, 12:47 AM

Yes you might be right about that. I could loose something if we were given more of an account of Varka's though process, and I did like the story.

Quark

07-10-2008, 03:46 PM

I was reading over some of Chekhov's letters today when I ran across one that made me think about Chekhov's endings. In the letter he said that he felt rushed by the time constraint placed on him. He lamented that many of his stories start out with large aims, but have to be cut short in order to be completed by the date set for publication. This led many of them to end in "fireworks," by which he meant a spectacular conclusion (like a character suddenly dying or making some important revelation). We can see this happen in stories like "The Black Monk" or "The Grasshopper." The story moves very gradually at the beginning, but finishes in an explosion of pathos, conflict, and spectacle at the end. Unfortunately, in some cases the "fireworks" don't yield the desired effect. They can seem artificial and forced if not done right. If the story opens up too much--as in the two stories I mentioned before--the sudden ending doesn't seem to match. In "Sleepy," however, I think this is done just right. The ending naturally flows out of the rest of the story, and it doesn't seem like a forced conclusion. I'm not entirely sure how Chekhov writes this one differently, but I just wanted to point out that I though the ending was handled much better here. I suppose it has to with keeping the story more focused than his others, but I'll have to think about it more.

Dark Muse

07-10-2008, 03:52 PM

That is a rather interesting bit of information.

Quark

07-11-2008, 03:21 PM

One last thing:

I'm sure you're busy packing for Tahoe (and, once again, thanks for sticking in the discussion), but before you take off I want to comment on the chilling feeling in the conclusion. I think it deserves a little further thought. Earlier, I split the chilling sensation into two parts: terror and sadness. The sadness is a result of the tragic plot. Meanwhile, the spectacle creates the terror. Both the fear and sadness are handled quite well, and I want to trace them back to their sources in the story.

The story scares us because of Varka's madness primarily. The murder itself is actually glossed over. One might expect Chekhov to linger on the killing, but instead he nearly omits it. This is the closest Chekhov comes to referring to it:

Varka steals up to the cradle and bends over the baby. When she has strangled him, she quickly lies down on the floor

This omission makes the murder even more terrifying, though. It shows how casually she does it. If we were given a description of the death, it might make the scene more gruesome or pathetic than terrifying. By omitting it, Chekhov puts the focus back on Varka's madness which is the truly scary part of this scene. The madness scares because it's so divorced from reality, and because it's so desperate. Chekhov writes

She understands everything, she recognises everyone, but through her half sleep she cannot understand the force which binds her, hand and foot, weighs upon her, and prevents her from living. She looks round, searches for that force that she may escape from it, but she cannot find it. At last, tired to death, she does her very utmost, strains her eyes, looks up at the flickering green patch, and listening to the screaming, finds the foe who will not let her live.

"She cannot understand" and "She does her very utmost" are the two clauses which stick out. They show just how deluded and desperate Varka is. When the madness takes over she becomes even more deranged:

The hallucination takes possession of Varka. She gets up from her stool, and with a broad smile on her face and wide unblinking eyes, she walks up and down the room.

The crazed, pacing babysitter scares us more than the actual murder. It's Varka who provides the terror of the chilling conclusion.

The sadness of the ending comes from the typical formula for good tragedy: bad things happen to a character who draws our sympathy. In "Sleepy," Varka draws our sympathy through the main themes in the story. The themes of class, repression, mistaken associations, and sleep deprivation are all ones that people can relate to on some level. We know that the poor are treated unfairly or that people mistake one thing for another, so when Varka is treated cruelly for being poor or mistakes one thing for another we feel sympathy for her. Later, when she's driven to insanity, we feel tragic sadness. A bad thing has happened to a sympathetic character.

I could be wrong, but I think the chilling effect comes from the combination of the terror and sadness I described.

Dark Muse

07-11-2008, 03:37 PM

The story scares us because of Varka's madness primarily. The murder itself is actually glossed over. One might expect Chekhov to linger on the killing, but instead he nearly omits it.

This omission makes the murder even more terrifying, though. It shows how casually she does it. If we were given a description of the death, it might make the scene more gruesome or pathetic than terrifying. By omitting it, Chekhov puts the focus back on Varka's madness which is the truly scary part of this scene. The madness scares because it's so divorced from reality, and because it's so desperate.

That is a very good point about the murder. I had not previously looked at it that way before, as I mentioned at first I was a bit dissapointed by how it came to be built up to so much just to be glossed over like that, but yes, what you say does make sense. It would have changed the dynmatic of the story. And perhpas in a way it would have also made Varka less sympatheic if it explained the deed in detail.

"She cannot understand" and "She does her very utmost" are the two clauses which stick out. They show just how deluded and desperate Varka is. When the madness takes over she becomes even more deranged:

The hallucination takes possession of Varka. She gets up from her stool, and with a broad smile on her face and wide unblinking eyes, she walks up and down the room.

This is acutally one of the things I liked better about the online text. In my book it replaces "hallucination" with "idea" but I do think hallucination is so much a better word and gives it a much stronger affect.

"The sadness of the ending comes from the typical formula for good tragedy: bad things happen to a character who draws our sympathy. In "Sleepy," Varka draws our sympathy through the main themes in the story. The themes of class, repression, mistaken associations, and sleep deprivation are all ones that people can relate to on some level. We know that the poor are treated unfairly or that people mistake one thing for another, so when Varka is treated cruelly for being poor or mistakes one thing for another we feel sympathy for her. Later, when she's driven to insanity, we feel tragic sadness. A bad thing has happened to a sympathetic character.

I could be wrong, but I think the chilling effect comes from the combination of the terror and sadness I described.

I also wondered if making Varka so young was also meant to aide in drawing sympathy, as at only 13 she cannot be fully exepcted to be completly rational, and to have a full grasp and understanding of her actions. If Varka was older, even under the circumstances one might exepect her to still no better.

But being only 13 and put through what she is, she herself is really but a child and I think this helps make her more identifiable with the reader, as really she is too young to be given such responseablies.

Also I think it is more easy to accept a child being driven to such missassocations than it would be with an adult or someone who was older and had a more mature mind.

Quark

07-11-2008, 03:41 PM

This is acutally one of the things I liked better about the online text. In my book it replaces "hallucination" with "idea" but I do think hallucination is so much a better word and gives it a much stronger affect.

I like "hallucination" better, too. It's a much stronger word.

I also wondered if making Varka so young was also meant to aide in drawing sympathy, as at only 13 she cannot be fully exepcted to be completly rational

The age certainly makes her more susceptible to her madness. Sometimes I forget that she's thirteen because Chekhov slips it in at the beginning and then doesn't refer back to it. The age, though, is very important.

Dark Muse

07-11-2008, 03:44 PM

Well it was a fun dicussion, I enjoyed the story, and it was good to have a chance to talk about it. So thank you for continuing it on with me, even though none of the others joined in. Hopefully by the time I get back you can rally up some new members to take part in this thread.

Quark

07-11-2008, 03:49 PM

Have a good vacation!

Hopefully by the time I get back you can rally up some new members to take part in this thread.

I hope so, too. I'd like to get at least one more story in before work gets intolerably busy.

Janine

08-06-2008, 06:26 PM

Hi Everyone!

When will we be starting up the discussions again? I am back partly for now -will post more on the weekend; I now am at home on my new computer which is great; no more library uncomfortable chairs and limited computer access.

I hope we can do another Chekhov story in September; I actually miss Chekhov, Quark, haha...and now I have that great book of his short stories, thanks to you. Soon I will send you those Chekhov disks.

What does everyone think? Will we resume next month? Sorry I have been away so long. I see you, Quark and DM finally discussed 'Sleepy'...someday I will have to read your discussion...haha..seriously, I am sure it was enlightening and interesting.

Dark Muse

08-06-2008, 06:53 PM

I could go for starting another story

Janine

08-06-2008, 08:03 PM

I could go for starting another story

Hi DM, did you miss me? haha - we were getting along so well when I left, due to the death of my PC. I see you two did 'Sleepy' - a very dark tale. Where is our fearless leader Quark these days? If he cannot participate, then maybe you and I can discuss a story and then start up the Lawrence thread in Sept. What do you think? Did you have a particular story picked out. I had listened to a number of them on my CD audio set and liked one Chekhov particularly. I forget the name now, but I will look it up and let you know, or if you have a preference, let me know. All this, provided that Quark is too busy this month to discuss on this thread - he is in grad classes, perhaps (?).

Dark Muse

08-06-2008, 08:12 PM

Janine

08-06-2008, 09:42 PM

Hehe it has been a while.

Yes, the Sleepy dicussion was interesting, though it ended up just being the two of us, as others who had expressed interest than did not show up, but we had fun.

Acutally during the time that this thread has been on break, I have been busy reading other short stories so I haven't looked at Chekhov sense Sleepy, and sense I do not know him very well, I would have no idea upon a story to choose. I would end up picking on just based on its name LOL

Glad the 'Sleepy' discussion was interesting and went well, with just the two of you. I actually listened a few times to all the ones on my CD set and some I liked very much, so I have some ideas on the subject. Maybe since the month is partly begun, we could pick an easy short one. I am not back full-tilt yet; I am still getting used to my new computer and Vista. I like it very much so far and it is faster now, going from thread to thread or window to window. I have something pressing this week to attend to, but next week might be good to begin a new story. Any ideas if Quark has been around? or what he is up to? I really just wanted to touch base here and see what everyone intended for the thread - maybe Quark is taking a break until Sept.

Quark

08-06-2008, 09:59 PM

Dark Muse

08-06-2008, 10:45 PM

I think Janine might have an idea for a story. Good to see you back around again.

Quark

08-06-2008, 10:53 PM

I think Janine might have an idea for a story. Good to see you back around again.

Yes, she's very fond of that CD set. I forget which stories are on it, though. I think "In the Ravine" is included. That's, of course, a classic Chekhov story. It's a little long--a little shorter than "The Black Monk," maybe--but it's an excellent read.

Janine

08-06-2008, 11:24 PM

How is everyone doing? It's been a while. Janine, I see you're posting after 9:00 today. Does that mean you have a new computer? I just got back from a ten day vacation, so this is the first time I've been back in a long time. I guess it was good timing that I got back in time for another Chekhov discussion. We could do another story, but it might be a rather abbreviated one since I have to be moving into my new place on the 15th or 16th. If that's alright, I'm more than willing to do another story. Does anyone have one in mind that they might like to do?

Hi Quark, good to see you back; hope school is going well and your 10 day vacation sounded great. I am back and on my new computer, thanks to some very thoughful friends. Yeah, I don't have to go to the library anymore and I can post past 9 o'clock; you are right about that! Library schedule was awful for me. I am not back full-force posting yet, but thought I would pop-in here and see what has been happening. I need to get fully oriented and familarize myself with all the aspects of Vista and the different way things happen automatically on here; which is kind of freaky. I just sucessfully got my printer to work, but it was not the way my friend suggested. Vista goes and gets it for you...hahaa...kind of scary like Hal in 'Space Odyssey'. Next thing, computers will have real live conversations with us:eek2:
hope they don't do this - :argue:...haha

Yes, she's very fond of that CD set. I forget which stories are on it, though. I think "In the Ravine" is included. That's, of course, a classic Chekhov story. It's a little long--a little shorter than "The Black Monk," maybe--but it's an excellent read.

Hahaha - talking about me behind my back again, eh? I do like that CD set, but you did not like the stories I suggested that much. 'The Ravine' is a good story, but we should save it for a time we have more time to spend on it - it is quite long. I know I am not yet up to the task. Let me check out the CD set and see if I can suggest any - I do recall I liked the one about the house - forget the name now --- or pick a short one from the book you sent me; that would be fine with me. Something new would be fun. I could read it on the weekend.