You can find it on LitNet (http://www.online-literature.com/anton_chekhov/1189), if nowhere else.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Printable View
You can find it on LitNet (http://www.online-literature.com/anton_chekhov/1189), if nowhere else.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
That is the beauty of interpretation.;) I agree that the family who keeps Varka doesn't seem to have any compassion. Chekhov seems to have neither the space or time to supply it, and so it is up to the reader to supply it ourselves.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
At the risk of disturbing Janine, however, I admit I have a dark fascination with toddler/infant vunerability in literature, and "Sleepy" is one of the best of its kind I've come across. Eliot's Adam Bede is another but with a much more common occurrence, one which is still prevalent in our day, that of a pregnant girl who disposes of the newborn as a consequence of what *we* as a society deem the immorality of sexual activity before marriage.
Bede starts slowly but if one stays with the novel Eliot packs quite a wallop. I almost like it better than Middlemarch. An instructor told me once that Ibsen had such a play or story too, but I haven't been able to ferret it out on the basis of what he told me.
Now Doris Lessing, of whom I am a huge fan, has one where she pushes the envelope, and the child itself is the *Monster*, but I haven't read it yet, and she published it before she was awarded the Nobel in 07, but I have some idea of how she'd treat the issue.
Thank youQuote:
Originally Posted by Quark
It's not just that they have no compassion for her, though. It's that it's their abuse which is keeping Varka up. Therefore, when Varka searches for what's keeping her awake we, the readers, know that she's looking for the masters. That isn't to say that death and poverty are not weighing on her mind--far from it. You were right to point to those causes of misery, and I liked how you linked the father and baby. However, the misery that those cause doesn't keep her awake. Pain and death are actually what make Varka want to sleep. It's the masters who prevent this, though.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
You must share DM's dark streak. I don't know how I felt about the whole thing. Ambivalent, maybe. I thought the effect was great, but if it could have been created without infanticide I think I would have preferred that.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
I'm starting to read "Dreams" now, so I should have something posted on it soon.
I have to disagree with you there. I think without it, the effect of the story would have been signifcinatly lessoned. Perhaps the same point could have been gotton across, but it would have been a "taking the easy way out" Personaly I like a good story that does not cop out of a tragic ending.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Well, I am the kind who sheds tears when animals are shot on nature shows, or killed by humans for no reason. Hate it and it nearly makes me hate people dispassionately. Watching lions kill cubs or wolves kill coyotes isn't pretty either, but animal power plays are necessary. Humans do not need to destroy on such a scale anymore. I don't mean killing for food of course, that is necessary even if our industrialization of it isn't sustainable, and babies are irrevocably fragile--but for me that is part of the pull in the artistic sense of the word.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
When I hit kitty in my power chair by accident because my guard went down, and kitty yeows and I feel terrible and buy extra treats, how far is that from the psychopath? I just like seeing what the artist or movie director does with it and what it says about human nature.
My own work is mildly on the dark side, not as good as some treatments which have made me wince. "Sleepy" did not though.
You're probably right. I can't see any other way to conclude the story in such a shocking way, and the shock is critical for the effect. Some people are more fond of shock that others, though. Janine, in particular, had problems with this kind of shock since she recently became a grandmother. I wasn't so opposed to it as she, but usually I don't go for the shocking stories. As you're probably already aware, I seem to go for the more lachrymose ones. What does that say about me? I don't know. It just happens to be the kind of Chekhov stories I usually read.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Did it at least make you jump? The ending still get me even though I've read it twenty times now.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
Her thought, not the act.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Wowy, lots of new posts here. That is great! Wecome Jozanny! I hope you take part in the next story discussion.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Quark, I am in agreement about the story 'Dreams' - I believe that is right up your alley being lacrhrymose - using those big words again, eh? Anyway, I am happy to report that I read 'Dreams' along with 'Oysters' and 'Chameleon and I liked all three. They are all are 'lachromose' I believe if I have the right definition of that word;) . I liked how each was a slice of life, a sad slice but still a little window into a short period in each person's life. 'Oysters' was not without it's humor, which I really liked. We had thunderstorms earlier, so it seemed a good time to read the story and after reading the one I decided to read a few more; I could not reconnect the computer in fear of a power surge; I stay cautious these days. The book is great, Quark - thanks again! I will be sending you those Chekhov CD's (set) real soon, now that I am back and able to burn them on this new computer.
Even though I did not want to discuss this story at the time, because of my new grandma statis and sensitivity, I did read the story and it seemed to me that it was necessary to have the ending as it was - shocking. I think I knew what was coming actually, but it did kind of make me jump and feel rather depressed afterwards - it had that shocking effect as in the Hardy novel, "Jude the Obscure"; if you have read the novel you know what I am referring to...that was truly disturbing and like this story one does not ever truly forget that moment in the story. Another thing is that I did not realise the girl was so young - did you say she was only 13 yrs old?Quote:
Did it at least make you jump? The ending still get me even though I've read it twenty times now.
Yes at the very beigning of the story it says she is 13
Thanks DM, I must have charged ahead and forgotten that part.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
It is in like the opening secentence and than it really does not get mentioned again
Yeah, "Dreams" is not particularly cheery--definitely lachrymose. I like the characters, though, and the narration is quite beautiful through sections. I'll post an introduction right after this post to get things going.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
If you liked "Oysters" and "Chameleon," you might enjoy some of the other little jokes Chekhov came up with.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Protect that computer!Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
It was certainly necessary for "Sleepy" to end with death. The story would have been kind of boring if it didn't, actually. I just meant to say that I'm sort of ambivalent about shock and infant mortality in general when it comes to fiction. It doesn't kill (sorry) a story for me if there's something like that, but it doesn't necessarily make the story either.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I responded to your last post Janine on the previous page.
I don't mean to prevent anyone from discussion "Sleepy," or any other story for that matter, but I do want to introduce "Dreams" since that was the agreed upon story.
"Dreams"
"Dreams" is only six or seven pages long, so the reading shouldn't be too difficult for this one. You can find the text online at LitNet here: http://www.online-literature.com/anton_chekhov/1189. As usual I'll post segments of the story for discussion whenever we're ready to discuss. This keeps the conversation focused, and makes it easier for everyone to understand what's being talked about. Just let me know when you're done with the story, and I'll post the first chunk of text.
Anyway, the story is about a tramp who is arrested by two peasant constables. The criminal refuses to give his name, and the two officers are taking him to a court which will probably exile him to Siberia. The story revolves around the conversation these three characters have, and the mutual hope and despair they each feel. I'm glad we're doing this story after having done "The Black Monk" because the nameless tramp in this story has many similarities to Kovrin from the previous story. Also, the stories share some common themes. By itself, though, the story has still the same effect. It should be a good read. Also, I also like the characters from this one, too.
Here's the picture I went with for "Dreams."
It's not a famous painting, an original manuscript, or anything else inherently interesting, but I thought it shows something of what the characters would see. That's incredibly important in this story, too. The fog and dreary sameness of the scenery take on much meaning as the story progresses. The picture--while not being entirely accurate--renders the right idea.
I haven't read the story yet, but I love that picture
Oh, goody! I had to come in and edit what I had written just now - Quark, you beat me out with your post and cool photo. That is perfect I think! I like to read your introductions, also - you did a real good job, Quark! :thumbs_up Maybe the three trees represent the three individuals in the foggy landscape. ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I did get a chuckle out of each of those. I can just imagine how a kid would perceive the strange unknown food and the dog story was hilarious actually.Quote:
If you liked "Oysters" and "Chameleon," you might enjoy some of the other little jokes Chekhov came up with.
You better believe it kiddo! Just a tiny rumble or thunder and I am heading for the plugs. Thunderstorms now seem to be out of our area so I thought I would check back in.Quote:
Protect that computer!
Yes, if it had not ended in death it would be like "Hamlet" not ending in death. It is inevitable in both instances. The story would not have been anything without that ending and the dire act. It is not that I don't appreciate talking about tragic plays or stories - to the contrary but it was the timing on that one. I won't dispute it was a good story - well written but it was a little too sad and horrifying to me, at the time I read it, just before my grandchild was born. You know they used to claim that crib deaths were actually murders - I believe it and woman (mothers) were not treated correctly having post pardum (sp?) depression. In this case the poor girl was not treated correctly either; she was starving for sleep and no doubt her sleep deprivation caused her to be temporarily insane enough to commit murder. The baby and the girl were both victims - that was what was truly sad about it.Quote:
It was certainly necessary for "Sleepy" to end with death. The story would have been kind of boring if it didn't, actually. I just meant to say that I'm sort of ambivalent about shock and infant mortality in general when it comes to fiction. It doesn't kill (sorry) a story for me if there's something like that, but it doesn't necessarily make the story either.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Thanks, I wanted to keep the intro and picture to minimum this time since I didn't want to give anything away. This story reveals itself gradually, and if I opened my mouth too much here I might spoil it. The setting is told right away, so I don't think I ruining anything with the picture. Besides, the picture isn't even completely accurate. It's supposed to be mud they're walking on, and the photo above shows grass. What I wanted to get through, though, was the dreary sameness of the scene. The evenly spaced trees and damp, bleak atmosphere do that well.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I thought about the same thing. No, the story and play couldn't have ended differently.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Yeah, we talked a bit about how Chekhov builds our sympathy for the girl. It almost makes you feel worse for the murderer than the murdered.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Quark, Funny thing is while reading this story, I kept being reminded of this old film I just saw - old version of "War and Peace" and one big scene their are soldiers and prisoners who are drudging through the mud and then it turns to winter - all frozen, there is fog as well. I think I can percieve what a Russian landscape would look like after seeing that film. Your photo fits that mood very well, I think. The fog plays a true role in this story much as it did in "The Black Monk", don't you think?Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I agree.Quote:
I thought about the same thing. No, the story and play couldn't have ended differently.
Yeah, we talked a bit about how Chekhov builds our sympathy for the girl. It almost makes you feel worse for the murderer than the murdered.
I just finnised reading the story and I found it to be quite commical
WHAT - comical???? reeeealy, DM? ....you should be exiled to Siberia.:lol: hahaha....Wonder what our Quark will say about your comment.
Haha, yes I know, but I cannot help it.
Well I always did like the cold :D
But the way the characters were described it made them sound more like caricatures and well I could not help but to find the story a bit amusing.
hhehehaha...DM, you never fail to amuse me. Glad you enjoyed it so. I am just the opposite - I like the warmth and summer is my time of year. However, strangely enough I am fascinated by films set in cold, even frigid climates; especially survival stories about the Antarctic.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I haven't read or seen "War and Peace," unfortunately. I'll google it to see if I can't pull up that scene.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Do you mean the part in "The Black Monk" where the monk forms from the cloud? Or was there another fog scene? I'm starting to forget the story.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
The two constables are funny. You can tell Chekhov is laughing at the pair of country bumpkins in this scene. The appearance of the tramp has its absurdities, too. His refined/impoverished look is sort of humorous.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
No, I get what she's saying: no need to banish her to Siberia. She's laughing with Chekhov here, and not at him. Although, I couldn't fault her if she did laugh at Chekhov in this story since there are parts which are a little over-the-top. He's really straining in certain paragraphs to drive home how dreary this scene is and it almost gets ridiculous. His description of the leaf falling, for example, is one of those parts. You almost want to scream "Oh, C'mon!" Despite those moments, though, I still think this a great story.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
It seems like everyone's read the story, so now I can spit out the first piece of text. Here's the initial characterization of our three slightly humorous characters:
Quote:
Two peasant constables -- one a stubby, black-bearded individual with such exceptionally short legs that if you looked at him from behind it seemed as though his legs began much lower down than in other people; the other, long, thin, and straight as a stick, with a scanty beard of dark reddish colour -- were escorting to the district town a tramp who refused to remember his name. The first waddled along, looking from side to side, chewing now a straw, now his own sleeve, slapping himself on the haunches and humming, and altogether had a careless and frivolous air; the other, in spite of his lean face and narrow shoulders, looked solid, grave, and substantial; in the lines and expression of his whole figure he was like the priests among the Old Believers, or the warriors who are painted on old-fashioned ikons. "For his wisdom God had added to his forehead" -- that is, he was bald -- which increased the resemblance referred to. The first was called Andrey Ptaha, the second Nikandr Sapozhnikov.
The man they were escorting did not in the least correspond with the conception everyone has of a tramp. He was a frail little man, weak and sickly-looking, with small, colourless, and extremely indefinite features. His eyebrows were scanty, his expression mild and submissive; he had scarcely a trace of a moustache, though he was over thirty. He walked along timidly, bent forward, with his hands thrust into his sleeves. The collar of his shabby cloth overcoat, which did not look like a peasant's, was turned up to the very brim of his cap, so that only his little red nose ventured to peep out into the light of day. He spoke in an ingratiating tenor, continually coughing. It was very, very difficult to believe that he was a tramp concealing his surname. He was more like an unsuccessful priest's son, stricken by God and reduced to beggary; a clerk discharged for drunkenness; a merchant's son or nephew who had tried his feeble powers in a theatrical career, and was now going home to play the last act in the parable of the prodigal son; perhaps, judging by the dull patience with which he struggled with the hopeless autumn mud, he might have been a fanatical monk, wandering from one Russian monastery to another, continually seeking "a peaceful life, free from sin," and not finding it. . . .
Other than the fact, that I think it does provide certain comic releif to the story. What is the significance of the two constables being projected as complete oppisites of each other. I have to wonder that there must be some reason behind doing this, though I cannot say as I grasp it completely.Quote:
Two peasant constables -- one a stubby, black-bearded individual with such exceptionally short legs that if you looked at him from behind it seemed as though his legs began much lower down than in other people; the other, long, thin, and straight as a stick, with a scanty beard of dark reddish colour -- were escorting to the district town a tramp who refused to remember his name. The first waddled along, looking from side to side, chewing now a straw, now his own sleeve, slapping himself on the haunches and humming, and altogether had a careless and frivolous air; the other, in spite of his lean face and narrow shoulders, looked solid, grave, and substantial; in the lines and expression of his whole figure he was like the priests among the Old Believers, or the warriors who are painted on old-fashioned ikons. "For his wisdom God had added to his forehead" -- that is, he was bald -- which increased the resemblance referred to. The first was called Andrey Ptaha, the second Nikandr Sapozhnikov.
I also found it kind of amusing that Ptaha is sort of the steroytypical "jolly fat man" if you will.
I could not help but to laugh at this image of this figure all bundled up with just this red nose sticking out. It kind of made me think of Rudolph LOL. I saw the three of almost being like cartoon characters.Quote:
The collar of his shabby cloth overcoat, which did not look like a peasant's, was turned up to the very brim of his cap, so that only his little red nose ventured to peep out into the light of day
I was closed out of this site for awhile this evening...anybody else have that problem? I emailed to Virgil and he said he could not get access either. Here I was worried, because right before that something came on my screen about my Norton and said something was needing to fixed - some minor problem - not critical, so I went and fixed it. Then I could not access Lit Net, but the rest of the internet was fine...odd. Well, anyway, now I am back here and all is well - it must have been the site, to my own relief.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
The movie was good, if looked at in the light of very out-dated film, but I would not rave about it. I think it was pretty unrealistic and rather humorous itself at times, besides being especially long. I did not read the book yet either, Quark, so don't feel badly. It will be a taunting task to take on - I think it is about 2000 pages, isn't it? or am I exagerating?... like someone we know...I read your interview today and liked it very much - you had me really laughing in places!
.Quote:
Do you mean the part in "The Black Monk" where the monk forms from the cloud? Or was there another fog scene? I'm starting to forget the story
Weren't there a bunch of foggy scenes in 'The Black Monk', that we discussed quite a lot and how the fog was a sort of isolating device that Chekhov employed to emphasis the point of the main character's isolation? I see this crop up again in this story, where as, the 'dreamer' is seeing broader horizons, than what is really there. In reality, there is fog all about him; the fog, in this case, is restricting and not expanding -I hope that makes sense. He is in a sort of fog of denial and unrealistic dreams of his future in Siberia and exile. At anyrate, I think your photo serves this story very well. I like it very much.
DM, I was really just kidding with you. I know there was some humor. I also wonder about what DM brought up about the first part; why did Chekhov choose to describe them as such opposites in physical characteristics? I too, looked for significance in that part of the tale. At first, I thought this reminds me of that children's rhyme - "Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean." In this way, I too was somewhat amused.Quote:
The two constables are funny. You can tell Chekhov is laughing at the pair of country bumpkins in this scene. The appearance of the tramp has its absurdities, too. His refined/impoverished look is sort of humorous.
I guess what was making me feel more sad or lacrhrymose (Quark's word) is that it played into my memory of the film scenes in "War and Peace" because those are soldiers who have become prisoners and one of them who is very gentle, does die from the march through the winter weather. He is so accepting of it and his blight in life; that is what makes it so sad and tragic. He reminded me of this guy who dreams of his excile as something so wonderful; even an improvement on his past life. This is the part I found to be truly sad and I also found it sad, the way the two constables were so light-hearted about it all and comical. In some sense, I found that more disturbing, since they were not the poor soul who was being send to his dire fate; they did not seem to care much about him at all. He could have been a piece of baggage for all they were concerned.
Well, she said she liked the cold.;) ....just kidding with her....:lol: I will have to re-read that part about the leaf - now I will probably laugh at it, too. With you two's help to give me a new perspective, I will probably now thing this story is a comedy/tragedy like "The Winter's Tale".Quote:
No, I get what she's saying: no need to banish her to Siberia. She's laughing with Chekhov here, and not at him. Although, I couldn't fault her if she did laugh at Chekhov in this story since there are parts which are a little over-the-top. He's really straining in certain paragraphs to drive home how dreary this scene is and it almost gets ridiculous. His description of the leaf falling, for example, is one of those parts. You almost want to scream "Oh, C'mon!" Despite those moments, though, I still think this a great story.
It seems like everyone's read the story, so now I can spit out the first piece of text. Here's the initial characterization of our three slightly humorous characters:[/QUOTE]
I am too weary now to properly comment on that part but will look that over tonight in my book and I will comment tomorrow instead when I can think more clearly.
DM, you bring up some good points. Now I will keep thinking of Ptaha as Santa Claus and the other guy as his beloved reindeer; or was that the same guy?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Yes I had a problem getting on the site as well for a whileQuote:
Originally Posted by Janine
It was mostly smoke in the Black Monk, they were burning to protect the orchid from the frost, so there was all this hovering smoke around a lot of the time.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
hehe the tramp is the one who had the red nose.Quote:
DM, you bring up some good points. Now I will keep thinking of Ptaha as Santa Claus and the other guy as his beloved reindeer; or was that the same guy?
maybe he was nipping the bottle....
I thought it was suppose to be becuase he was sick
Yeah, it was and cold I would imagine. I was just getting tired and silly; think now I will retire and go to bed. Nite, DM!
Hehe ok, goodnight
I like the way that Chekhov has contrasted these two characters and I can see now in reading it a second time, that this paragraph does have some humor in it; very amusing, indeed. I do recall that, when I read the part about his forehead, I had to laugh out loud, he being bald. I like the way the one character is likened to an 'old fashioned ikon' - and 'a priest' among the 'Old Believers' and that takes us to the line "For his wisdom God had added to his forehead" and the bald factor which made me laugh. I like the way in which the author presents the characters, right from the start. These are mere 'impressions', but like DM said, they appear as caricaturations and this makes this part of the story amusing.Quote:
Two peasant constables -- one a stubby, black-bearded individual with such exceptionally short legs that if you looked at him from behind it seemed as though his legs began much lower down than in other people; the other, long, thin, and straight as a stick, with a scanty beard of dark reddish colour -- were escorting to the district town a tramp who refused to remember his name. The first waddled along, looking from side to side, chewing now a straw, now his own sleeve, slapping himself on the haunches and humming, and altogether had a careless and frivolous air; the other, in spite of his lean face and narrow shoulders, looked solid, grave, and substantial; in the lines and expression of his whole figure he was like the priests among the Old Believers, or the warriors who are painted on old-fashioned ikons. "For his wisdom God had added to his forehead" -- that is, he was bald -- which increased the resemblance referred to. The first was called Andrey Ptaha, the second Nikandr Sapozhnikov.
Now, Chekhov seems to go into more detail with his description and assumptions about the third man - the tramp - I think this puts greater emphasis on his central importance to the story. He does not even name him, in this first introductory paragraph. In the previous paragraph, C left us lastly with the names of the two constables. Here Chekhov leaves the tramp nameless, because the tramp is saying he has forgotten his name. He sets up a mystery about his man from the very beginning of the story; this makes one want to read on, out of sheer curiosity.Quote:
The man they were escorting did not in the least correspond with the conception everyone has of a tramp. He was a frail little man, weak and sickly-looking, with small, colourless, and extremely indefinite features. His eyebrows were scanty, his expression mild and submissive; he had scarcely a trace of a moustache, though he was over thirty. He walked along timidly, bent forward, with his hands thrust into his sleeves. The collar of his shabby cloth overcoat, which did not look like a peasant's, was turned up to the very brim of his cap, so that only his little red nose ventured to peep out into the light of day. He spoke in an ingratiating tenor, continually coughing. It was very, very difficult to believe that he was a tramp concealing his surname. He was more like an unsuccessful priest's son, stricken by God and reduced to beggary; a clerk discharged for drunkenness; a merchant's son or nephew who had tried his feeble powers in a theatrical career, and was now going home to play the last act in the parable of the prodigal son; perhaps, judging by the dull patience with which he struggled with the hopeless autumn mud, he might have been a fanatical monk, wandering from one Russian monastery to another, continually seeking "a peaceful life, free from sin," and not finding it. . . .
I don't know if there is another significance to the two constables. Their appearances differ to heighten their comical aspects, I think. At least I can't find any buried meaning in their contrast. Most likely, this shows us that idiocy can come in many shapes and sizes. One can be ridiculous by being fat and jolly, and they can be just as stupid by being slim and laconic. I think they're supposed to be two sides of the same coin rather than actual foils.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Yeah, it's safe to say that Ptaha is more of a caricature than a character. Of course, Sapozhnikov isn't much less of a stereotype than his colleague. Tall, dignified, austere, pompous, these are usually connected, too.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
They are quite a pack of misfits, right? Each character is ridiculous in some way or another. I think this has a purpose in the story, too. It shows how each characters' interpretation of themself differs from their actual appearance. This is similar to how their dreams differ from the reality of their situation. Also, by making them misfits, Chekhov makes it clear that these characters can never realize their dreams. If they were dynamic, self-aware individuals, then maybe they could analyze their situations better and have more strength to reach their goals. The discrepancy between the dream world and the actual world wouldn't be so great if they were smarter and more able. By making them misfits, Chekhov is making the dream world appear even more far of than it might be.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
We all were blocked, I guess. It probably was related to the recent upgrade--which I have mixed feelings about. It added several useful functions, but it also cut out over one hundred posts from this thread. I was getting ready for the 1000 post party we were almost upon, and then suddenly I log on and there are only 790 posts! What the...! It was bad enough when they deleted Antiquarian's posts, so we couldn't go back and see previous conversations. Now, they've even taken away the post count from those posts. They probably also combined a lot of posts. So now much of the post history has been lost. I'm more than miffed about it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
You're not exaggerating by much, Janine. It's almost 1000 pages depending on the translation and edition. So, while I may watch the movie to find the scene, it's pretty much decided that I won't touch the book.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I know there was smoke in "The Black Monk," but I forget if there was fog. There might have been in one of those lyrical nature descriptions.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
As for "Dreams," I agree about the fog there. Yeah, it is limiting. It's a cold, damp, oppressive fog. While I think the fog can also be likened to the dreams in that it's obscure, it mostly is a limiting force.
The constables are callous, and that certainly makes us feel more for the tramp. I wonder how resigned the tramp is, though. After all, he keeps dreaming for more.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Quark, I know here you are really addressing DM's post but in doing so you are speaking to both of us. I like this comment of yours -Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
"idiocy can come in many shapes and sizes" - that seems about accurate...and it is interesting to think of them as "two side of the same coin."
Yes, I agree.Quote:
Yeah, it's safe to say that Ptaha is more of a caricature than a character. Of course, Sapozhnikov isn't much less of a stereotype than his colleague. Tall, dignified, austere, pompous, these are usually connected, too.
That is a good word - 'misfits'. I think that describes them all well and puts them on more common ground in order for them to communicate with each other. It is also interesting what you observe - "how each characters' interpretation of themself differs from their actual appearance." Perception is a funny thing and a big part of this story. I guess the dream that the tramp percieves in his mind depends on where one is standing - his perspective, not theirs. He has little hope to grasp onto and this is one way of keeping sane but having a dream, even if the dream is one of pure fantasy, as we know it to be. In the same way that Kovrin hung onto the image of the black monk, this tramp holds dearly to his dream of life in Siberia. It reminds me also of the novel, "The Grapes of Wrath"...throughout the story the family are talking of California like it is the Garden of Eden - paradise...big oranges on all the trees, etc...land of milk and honey. Eventually they come to CA only to discover that the all was a pure fantasy, a dream. As you said " By making them misfits, Chekhov is making the dream world appear even more far of than it might be."....and unattainable.Quote:
They are quite a pack of misfits, right? Each character is ridiculous in some way or another. I think this has a purpose in the story, too. It shows how each characters' interpretation of themself differs from their actual appearance. This is similar to how their dreams differ from the reality of their situation. Also, by making them misfits, Chekhov makes it clear that these characters can never realize their dreams. If they were dynamic, self-aware individuals, then maybe they could analyze their situations better and have more strength to reach their goals. The discrepancy between the dream world and the actual world wouldn't be so great if they were smarter and more able. By making them misfits, Chekhov is making the dream world appear even more far of than it might be.
Oh horrors! I saw that post about the changes and thought it sounded like a lot of improvements, although I only half understand them at this time. Lawrence is not gone, is it? ekk. We have been inactive for a short while now. I wonder if the 'Tortoise poems' is gone, as well. I would be mortified. How about our Women in Love thread discussion? I better go and check. I was going to copy that to my hard-drive. I hope they only cut frivolous thread and not the serious lit discussion threads. Maybe they just merged some of the threads - they do that sometimes. FYI, Anti's posts were not deleted by the mods, but by herself. She said she requested that they be deleted and asked to delete her own blog. It is a shame they were deleted from the Lawrence and this discussion thread - now the answers to some don't make a lot of sense, do they?Quote:
We all were blocked, I guess. It probably was related to the recent upgrade--which I have mixed feelings about. It added several useful functions, but it also cut out over one hundred posts from this thread. I was getting ready for the 1000 post party we were almost upon, and then suddenly I log on and there are only 790 posts! What the...! It was bad enough when they deleted Antiquarian's posts, so we couldn't go back and see previous conversations. Now, they've even taken away the post count from those posts. They probably also combined a lot of posts. So now much of the post history has been lost. I'm more than miffed about it.
See the movie; at least looking at gorgeous Audrey Hepburn is worth it and some scenes are quite commentable for an old epic film.Quote:
You're not exaggerating by much, Janine. It's almost 1000 pages depending on the translation and edition. So, while I may watch the movie to find the scene, it's pretty much decided that I won't touch the book.
I thought there was fog also; but I will have to review to find out if I am right. Wasn't there fog over the sea near the end of the story when the monk finally appears to him?Quote:
I know there was smoke in "The Black Monk," but I forget if there was fog. There might have been in one of those lyrical nature descriptions.
Yes, for some reason the first thing I thought of midway through was how limiting it was. Of course 'fog' would always represent obscurity and a dreamworld atmosphere. But this fog seemed to enclose the three characters and create a more intimate setting. This reminds me of Ambroise Bierce short stories during the Civil War - many of those take place in fog - hey, 'the fog of war', as they say. This fog gives his stories this wonderful atmosphere of unreality. I saw a film recently based on some of his stories and the way the depicted these foggy scenes was extraordinary.Quote:
As for "Dreams," I agree about the fog there. Yeah, it is limiting. It's a cold, damp, oppressive fog. While I think the fog can also be likened to the dreams in that it's obscure, it mostly is a limiting force.
Yes, I thought they were callous also...and in this way we do sympathise with the tramp. Besides, usually everyone goes for the underdog and in this case he is the underdog to be pittied and sympathised with. I think the tramp dreams because he has nothing else to hold onto. He is all alone so dreams help him to go out past that restricting fog - take that away from him and he has nothing to keep himself going and alive.Quote:
The constables are callous, and that certainly makes us feel more for the tramp. I wonder how resigned the tramp is, though. After all, he keeps dreaming for more.
I am editing this now: I just went to check on the L thread and short stories is locked. I wrote a few desperate emails. I also wrote one to you Quark, so check your box. J
Yes, they are quite the motley crew.
I have noticed the Chekhov uses isolatation a lot within his stories. Particuarly using nature as an isolatation device for the characaters. In a way I can see the fog here as isolating the characters and the fact that they are trudging through this baren muddy land with no sign of civilization, or anyone else in sight.
It did make me think of Varka's dream in sleepy, in which she kept seeing the men who were walking through the mud.
Though Sapozhnikov came off as being rather cold, I did not find Ptaha as truly beging very callous.
I just happend to come acorss this poem, and it made me think of the story, so I thought I would share
Ghosts of Dreams
WE are all of us dreamers of dreams,
On visions our childhood is fed;
And the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems,
By ghosts of dreams that are dead.
From childhood to youth's but a span,
And the years of our life are soon sped;
But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,
When the first of his dreams is dead.
'Tis a cup of wormwood and gall,
When the doom of a great man is said;
And the best of a man is under a pall
When the best of his dreams is dead.
He may live on by compact and plan
When the fine bloom of living is shed,
But God pity the little that's left of a man
When most of his dreams are dead.
Let him show a brave face if he can;
Let him woo fame and fortune instead;
Yet there's not much to do, but to bury a man
When the last of his dreams is dead.
William Herbert Carruth
Is this some sort of a glitch in the new programs? When I click on the last page of this thread it just returns to this one everytime; now I see this was posted tonight. Why, then, does it say '55' to 'last' on the top of my screen?
I love that poem, Dark Muse. Where and how did you ever find it? Wow, it does fit the story well.
Yeah it does that too me, but if you just post, the post comes up fine. Not sure why it says that, but it does not seem to affect the forum
I found the poem here:
http://theotherpages.org/poems/poem-cd.html
Just completed the story and I can't help agreeing with you here. And Quark that's a good way of putting it, we are surely laughing with Chekhov, not at Chekhov. :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Also I think the contrast between the two constables has been just for the sake of humour...
Well, it might not in here but I posted a reply to your post in the Lawrence thread and it would not let me go to the following page. I don't know if my post is lost or what. Anyway, how can one find the right page. I am a big confused with this new upgrade. Maybe they just have to refine it in the next few days.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Pensive, so glad to see you here again. I haven't downloaded my IM yet but I should do that now. Send me your ID's in a PM so I can put you in my list or contact me when I am online and then we can chat.
I think when you post it is acutally on the right page, it just highlights the wrong page at the bottom.