The very first time he sees the monk is when he is walking in the garden before he asks her to marry him.
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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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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 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.
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.Quote:
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 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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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 agree, Quark. You expressed that well.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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 Antiquarian
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 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.Quote:
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 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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
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.
Weird. The closest I can type to that is "Nropb." If I played with the fonts, maybe I could make it more convincing.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
The questions is do you think the physical illness caused his mental problems? Kovrin thinks so when he begins the treatment.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I'll post the next section of text since I think everyone is waiting on me.
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.Quote:
"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.
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:
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.Quote:
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. . . .' "
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
More so since it would be something Chekhov would be familiar with.Quote:
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.
Good thoughts here. Yes, that turmoil could certainly add to his physical demise.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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?
Yes, I do agree and 'ambiguous' is a good word for it, also. I believe that was Chekhov's intention.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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?Quote:
The play sounds fascinating. I adore plays.
I love Chekhov's descirptions of nature.
I think these are great lines.Quote:
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 found this a currious statement and wondered what is meant by it.Quote:
Standards, half-standards
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.Quote:
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."
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.Quote:
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 really like this discription of Egor. He does seem like a rather comical figure.Quote:
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!
This is just a great imageQuote:
But suddenly he listened, and, with a terrible face, ran off and quickly disappeared behind the trees in a cloud of smoke.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
I'll reply to the other posts later tonight. I'm short on time at the moment.
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):Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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?Quote:
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 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 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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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, 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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
Quark, where did you run off to his time; I had to retrieve the thread on page 2 again! hahaha.....Quote:
I'll reply to the other posts later tonight. I'm short on time at the moment.
Quark, I posted the new story in L. last night.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I didn't find it that odd. Yegor is like a parent to Kovrin, and parents have all kinds of hopes for their kids.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.
Ahh yes that makes sense.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Yes, Quark, I second that. That made that part much clearer. How would anyone know that who was not familiar with horticulture?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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:Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
We have but few acquaintances here, and they are not interesting.
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!"Quote:
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 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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Do you think they knew that in the late nineteenth-century, though? Chekhov could still have believed that this treatment worked.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Janine brought up the scene with the music. Let me post the text for that part so we can talk about it.
Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.
I found this to be an interesting expression. The fact that listening to music exhausted him.Quote:
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 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?Quote:
Kovrin listened to the words -- they were Russian -- and could not understand their meaning
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?Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.
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:Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Quote:
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.
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 is one of the central questions in the story. The second is probably "What did the Black Monk represent?"Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
You mean that Kovrin's idea of genius isn't the only one?Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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?Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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.
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'?Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I fished this out of my earlier post, one that you referred to here:
Remember those? Ho hum...I think you forgot them....Quote:
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.
Anyway, here is what I quoted from that article:
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.Quote:
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.
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'.Quote:
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.
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!Quote:
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 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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
Antiquarian, I know you said this:
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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 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.Quote:
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.
Quark, I will wait now until you post more text to discuss.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
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.
Thanks, that is good to know. I am not all that particular about it, not if just reading it for pleasure.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
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.
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.
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.
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.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
Quote by Dark Musr
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
I'm not sure what to make of that now.
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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"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.
: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.
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?Quote:
"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."
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.
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,Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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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?
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?Quote:
If he knew just where it had come from, pehaps that would have made it less intriguing.
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.Quote:
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.
That is a good way to put it. From that moment on, a whole chain of events occur.Quote:
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 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!Quote:
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 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
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
That's a good breakdown of this paragraph:Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
and this bit:Quote:
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.
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.Quote:
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 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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by Antiquarian
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.