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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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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
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!
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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?
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.
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.Quote:
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 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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.
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:Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
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).
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.
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:"
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.Quote:
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. . . .
Good point, about the two diferent settings, between the natural and the artificual reflecting Kovrin's two different sides.
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.Quote:
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 loved that line.Quote:
and there one always felt that one must sit down and write a ballad
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.
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:Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
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.
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.
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.Quote:
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. . . .
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.Quote:
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.
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.
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 worldQuote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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:Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
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.
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.
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...Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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...:)
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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, don't let this story be a commentary on gardening. I don't think Chekhov is saying all gardens are monstrosities.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
True. The garden is very pleasant, despite it's monstrosities. Kovrin remember always finding it enjoyable. The question is why is it so enjoyable.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I agree, but I've always been a little thrown by that. Why does he bother to cultivate "rubbish?"Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by islandclimber
20 hours in a car?!? I hope your going somewhere fun to make up for the drive. See you when you get back.Quote:
Originally Posted by islandclimber
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
Yes, don't let this story be a commentary on gardening. I don't think Chekhov is saying all gardens are monstrosities.
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
Would be interesting to know what Chekhov believed in that area, even in theory, at the time he wrote this story.Quote:
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.
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:Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
True. The garden is very pleasant, despite it's monstrosities. Kovrin remember always finding it enjoyable. The question is why is it so enjoyable.
Good question. I didn't get that part either, when I read it.Quote:
I agree, but I've always been a little thrown by that. Why does he bother to cultivate "rubbish?"
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
Yikes, yes, islandclimber...20 hrs is a loooonnnngggg drive... Have fun and hope the wedding is great! :)Quote:
20 hours in a car?!? I hope your going somewhere fun to make up for the drive. See you when you get back.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
It's a matter of taste whether you prefer the garden or its surroundings. Both have their flaws.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Did I answer that above? I was saying the garden is similar to his ambition and nature is like his calmer state.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Certainly. I was trying to make that point before. It's a symptom of his nervous emotional state not to consider his own health.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.
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.
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.
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'.
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.
Ok, judging was too harsh a word, so I can go along with that.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.)
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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. ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
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, 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:
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.
[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!
You don't think his carelessness in any way sped up his deterioration?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
He is a remarkably cold writer. I'm not a huge Borges fan.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
DM brought this up, and I posted a response above on this point.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I'll post that part in an hour or two. Right now I'm playing cards.
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.
Before I forget, here's the text for the next section:
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.Quote:
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 thought this was an absolute beautiful discription. I love the way the trees are called soliders in thier ranks.Quote:
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.
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.
I think this was an interesting passage. They way the garden was plunged in smoke, and the lineQuote:
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 that was an interesting choice of words.Quote:
it was only near the nurseries that Kovrin could breathe freely
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?Quote:
Much water has flowed since then
It does fit she would speak in such terms considering how much her life is steeped in her fathers obcesssion with the garden
Looking at this portion I posted, I notice a few things. First, this is the introduction of Tania and Egor.
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.Quote:
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.
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:
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.Quote:
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.
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:
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."Quote:
"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 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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Once again, it's another contrast. The joyous garden he finds at first moves aside to reveal a gloomy orchard.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Ahh, yes I did not think of that.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
He does have to make concessions to his illness, so it is like him having to retreat from the orchard.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Hehe Yes I know, I was mostly having a bit of fun with that.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.