I don't know about that. In the L thread I had to start on the first page and keep working back until I found the last page that was a number, not last page - that seemed odd to me.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
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I don't know about that. In the L thread I had to start on the first page and keep working back until I found the last page that was a number, not last page - that seemed odd to me.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I think so, too. Chekhov appears to be talking more about daydreams than actual dreams. The dream that entices the three in this story is more about hopes than about a deep subconscious experience. Perception--or the distortion of perception--plays a large role in the creation of daydreams, and these characters are no exception.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Yeah, this is the main link between the tramp and Kovrin. They both share the same highs and lows, as they're stuck between dream and reality. "The Black Monk" might be considered different in the fact the story ends more ambiguously than this one, but the characters and moods are very similar.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I found you can download it from online. I'll have to look for the fog scene.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Yeah, the fog is probably the main symbol in the story, so we'll have to watch how Chekhov uses it. It's safe to say that it has more than one meaning.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
He certainly has a good motive for daydreaming. He's not just trying to pass the time in a boring class. No, he's about to die without really having ever lived. I would be fantasizing too, if it were my only way to live a full life.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
That's odd. You seem them as isolated? I thought they connected, toward the end at least. The part where they're all dreaming makes it seem like the tramp got through to the two constables.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
This story certainly casts some light on that "liquid mud" we encountered in the last one. I couldn't figure out what Chekhov was trying to get at before, but I now I have a slightly better idea. The mud conveys the monotony that these characters live in. The scenery never changes, and it makes us feel like no matter what these characters do they will always be treading mud.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Ptaha is in a better mood, but isn't he making light of the tramp's circumstances?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
The page glitch is a result of the deleted posts. They must not have deleted the page count when they lowered the post count.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Good to see you again Pensive. How are things going? What did you make of "Dreams?"Quote:
Originally Posted by Pensive
I responded to some posts above.
More from "Dreams:"
Oh, and I liked the poem you posted, DM. Did you just run across that recently, or is that something you read a while back?Quote:
The travellers had been a long while on their way, but they seemed to be always on the same small patch of ground. In front of them there stretched thirty feet of muddy black-brown mud, behind them the same, and wherever one looked further, an impenetrable wall of white fog. They went on and on, but the ground remained the same, the wall was no nearer, and the patch on which they walked seemed still the same patch. They got a glimpse of a white, clumsy-looking stone, a small ravine, or a bundle of hay dropped by a passer-by, the brief glimmer of a great muddy puddle, or, suddenly, a shadow with vague outlines would come into view ahead of them; the nearer they got to it the smaller and darker it became; nearer still, and there stood up before the wayfarers a slanting milestone with the number rubbed off, or a wretched birch-tree drenched and bare like a wayside beggar. The birch-tree would whisper something with what remained of its yellow leaves, one leaf would break off and float lazily to the ground. . . . And then again fog, mud, the brown grass at the edges of the road. On the grass hung dingy, unfriendly tears. They were not the tears of soft joy such as the earth weeps at welcoming the summer sun and parting from it, and such as she gives to drink at dawn to the corncrakes, quails, and graceful, long-beaked crested snipes. The travellers' feet stuck in the heavy, clinging mud. Every step cost an effort.
Andrey Ptaha was somewhat excited. He kept looking round at the tramp and trying to understand how a live, sober man could fail to remember his name.
"You are an orthodox Christian, aren't you?" he asked.
"Yes," the tramp answered mildly.
"H'm. . . then you've been christened?"
"Why, to be sure! I'm not a Turk. I go to church and to the sacrament, and do not eat meat when it is forbidden. And I observe my religious duties punctually. . . ."
"Well, what are you called, then?"
"Call me what you like, good man."
Ptaha shrugged his shoulders and slapped himself on the haunches in extreme perplexity. The other constable, Nikandr Sapozhnikov, maintained a staid silence. He was not so naïve as Ptaha, and apparently knew very well the reasons which might induce an orthodox Christian to conceal his name from other people. His expressive face was cold and stern. He walked apart and did not condescend to idle chatter with his companions, but, as it were, tried to show everyone, even the fog, his sedateness and discretion.
"God knows what to make of you," Ptaha persisted in addressing the tramp. "Peasant you are not, and gentleman you are not, but some sort of a thing between. . . . The other day I was washing a sieve in the pond and caught a reptile -- see, as long as a finger, with gills and a tail. The first minute I thought it was a fish, then I looked -- and, blow it! if it hadn't paws. It was not a fish, it was a viper, and the deuce only knows what it was. . . . So that's like you. . . . What's your calling?"
I think it could be debateble if they truly connected with each other, they might to some degree be having a shared experince, but I do not think eitherof them empahtieis with the others circumstance or condition, they each are only thinking about thier own situation.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
But truly what I was originally was trying to say, is that the tree of them are isolated together. The fog sort of closes them out from everything else. There is no sign of civilization, there is only the three of them out there in the cold baren landscape.
Good observationsQuote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I am not sure I would consider that the same thing as being callous though.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I think I will have to give this story another read.
This made me think of a dream itself. If you ever had those dreams, where you can only move in really slow motion, or it seems like you are not really getting anywhere as much as you try.Quote:
The travellers had been a long while on their way, but they seemed to be always on the same small patch of ground. In front of them there stretched thirty feet of muddy black-brown mud, behind them the same, and wherever one looked further, an impenetrable wall of white fog. They went on and on, but the ground remained the same, the wall was no nearer, and the patch on which they walked seemed still the same patch.
It also reflects their situation in life, and the fact that they are trapped within a dreary rut of which they have no true escape, but perhaps for their dreams.
I loved this description. And again it is much like a dream. It offers from a distance a glimmer of hope, but when they draw near to it, it begins to fade away, until reality is reveled. The unattainable always lingering just out of their each.Quote:
They got a glimpse of a white, clumsy-looking stone, a small ravine, or a bundle of hay dropped by a passer-by, the brief glimmer of a great muddy puddle, or, suddenly, a shadow with vague outlines would come into view ahead of them; the nearer they got to it the smaller and darker it became; nearer still, and there stood up before the wayfarers a slanting milestone with the number rubbed off, or a wretched birch-tree drenched and bare like a wayside beggar.
Ok I agree that this passage is perhaps a tad bit much. It seems to be stretching a bit too far the idea of trying to hit you over the head with the dreariness of the scene. That bit about the tears does border upon the cheesyQuote:
The birch-tree would whisper something with what remained of its yellow leaves, one leaf would break off and float lazily to the ground. . . . And then again fog, mud, the brown grass at the edges of the road. On the grass hung dingy, unfriendly tears. They were not the tears of soft joy such as the earth weeps at welcoming the summer sun and parting from it, and such as she gives to drink at dawn to the corncrakes, quails, and graceful, long-beaked crested snipes
I thought this one line was quite powerful and I loved the symbolism behind it.Quote:
Every step cost an effort.
It was something I recently came acorssQuote:
Originally Posted by Quark
There again it is a case of perception....when one is going down a straight road such as a highway that all looks identical, then one loses the true sense of time and space - the road will appear to be endless. This happens often when one travels. A friend of mine relayed a waking experience to me about this same thing - never seeming to gain on any distance and seeing a traffic light up ahead which appeared to not get any closer. Of course, at the time I think they had partaken of something a little funny;) to have their perception so altered. I have had dreams in sleep that did seem like this and did seem odd or ilogical. I think everyone does and time sequences can be perceived differently.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Yes, I see your point. The fog does isolate the travelers and it seems to make them more close to each other - intimate enough for the tramp to reveal his true circumstances finally to the other two men.Quote:
But truly what I was originally was trying to say, is that the tree of them are isolated together. The fog sort of closes them out from everything else. There is no sign of civilization, there is only the three of them out there in the cold baren landscape.
I also need to give this story another read.Quote:
I think I will have to give this story another read.
I agree. Good observation, their lives are stagnant and not going anywhere just as the perceive that the road is staying the same, DM.Quote:
I loved this description. And again it is much like a dream. It offers from a distance a glimmer of hope, but when they draw near to it, it begins to fade away, until reality is reveled. The unattainable always lingering just out of their each.
It also reflects their situation in life, and the fact that they are trapped within a dreary rut of which they have no true escape, but perhaps for their dreams.
I guess I am a sap; I actually liked this part...but maybe those 'tears' are a bit much to swallow. Maybe the writing seems a little forced here.Quote:
Ok I agree that this passage is perhaps a tad bit much. It seems to be stretching a bit too far the idea of trying to hit you over the head with the dreariness of the scene. That bit about the tears does border upon the cheesy
Quote:
"Every step cost an effort."
I thought this one line was quite powerful and I loved the symbolism behind it.
Yeah, that is a good line and more simple, yet effective in getting the point across.
Quark, that is well stated; I agree.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Agree again. I like the analogies you have drawn here.Quote:
Yeah, this is the main link between the tramp and Kovrin. They both share the same highs and lows, as they're stuck between dream and reality. "The Black Monk" might be considered different in the fact the story ends more ambiguously than this one, but the characters and moods are very similar.
Oh good. I bought the movie in a bargain bin; think it was at my local drugstore. I also bought one of my favorite old films with Hepburn - "Roman Holiday". The scene I speak of is of Fonda and this peasant guy who befriends a dog and they are marching along with the army. The setting does remind me somehow of the photo you posted...the atmosphere, stark.Quote:
I found you can download it from online. I'll have to look for the fog scene.
Interesting - it almost seems that the fog is another character...one that is ellusive, transparent.Quote:
Yeah, the fog is probably the main symbol in the story, so we'll have to watch how Chekhov uses it. It's safe to say that it has more than one meaning.
"No, he's about to die without really having ever lived." - that is a good way of putting it. The story is somewhat about futility of the tramp's life as well.Quote:
He certainly has a good motive for daydreaming. He's not just trying to pass the time in a boring class. No, he's about to die without really having ever lived. I would be fantasizing too, if it were my only way to live a full life.
I thought so also; but as DM says below, she means the three are isolated from the rest of the world in these scenes,.... and the fog surrounds them, closing them in.Quote:
That's odd. You seem them as isolated? I thought they connected, toward the end at least. The part where they're all dreaming makes it seem like the tramp got through to the two constables.
That is interesting.Quote:
This story certainly casts some light on that "liquid mud" we encountered in the last one. I couldn't figure out what Chekhov was trying to get at before, but I now I have a slightly better idea. The mud conveys the monotony that these characters live in. The scenery never changes, and it makes us feel like no matter what these characters do they will always be treading mud.
I didn't find him very sympathetic. I did think he was making light of his plight but I could be wrong. A second reading would be helpful, I am sure.Quote:
Ptaha is in a better mood, but isn't he making light of the tramp's circumstances?
How do you know that? Also some of my posting seems particularly slow to go through. Is that what you have been experiencing. I guess they are all working out the glitches. I know that Logos said she was investigating it all in the L thread - that one is truly wacky with the number sequences. This thread seems ok to me. It is only the L short story thread that seems to be counting wrong.Quote:
The page glitch is a result of the deleted posts. They must not have deleted the page count when they lowered the post count.
I can speak for Pensive - she loves dreaming! :lol: She is a bluebird isn't she? Hey, Pensy, does that bird ever get anywhere?Quote:
Good to see you again Pensive. How are things going? What did you make of "Dreams?"
It's been a long day. Sorry I haven't been able to get to the thread until now, but I've been packing for my move. Tomorrow morning I'll try to get to everyone's posts. In the meantime, I'll at least keep posting text. Here's the first exposition of the tramp's character:
Quote:
"I am a peasant and of peasant family," sighed the tramp. "My mamma was a house serf. I don't look like a peasant, that's true, for such has been my lot, good man. My mamma was a nurse with the gentry, and had every comfort, and as I was of her flesh and blood, I lived with her in the master's house. She petted and spoiled me, and did her best to take me out of my humble class and make a gentleman of me. I slept in a bed, every day I ate a real dinner, I wore breeches and shoes like a gentleman's child. What my mamma ate I was fed on, too; they gave her stuffs as a present, and she dressed me up in them. . . . We lived well! I ate so many sweets and cakes in my childish years that if they could be sold now it would be enough to buy a good horse. Mamma taught me to read and write, she instilled the fear of God in me from my earliest years, and she so trained me that now I can't bring myself to utter an unrefined peasant word. And I don't drink vodka, my lad, and am neat in my dress, and know how to behave with decorum in good society. If she is still living, God give her health; and if she is dead, then, O Lord, give her soul peace in Thy Kingdom, wherein the just are at rest."
The tramp bared his head with the scanty hair standing up like a brush on it, turned his eyes upward and crossed himself twice.
"Grant her, O Lord, a verdant and peaceful resting-place," he said in a drawling voice, more like an old woman's than a man's. "Teach Thy servant Xenia Thy justifications, O Lord! If it had not been for my beloved mamma I should have been a peasant with no sort of understanding! Now, young man, ask me about anything and I understand it all: the holy Scriptures and profane writings, and every prayer and catechism. I live according to the Scriptures. . . . I don't injure anyone, I keep my flesh in purity and continence, I observe the fasts, I eat at fitting times. Another man will take no pleasure in anything but vodka and lewd talk, but when I have time I sit in a corner and read a book. I read and I weep and weep."
"What do you weep for?"
"They write so pathetically! For some books one gives but a five-kopeck piece, and yet one weeps and sighs exceedingly over it."
"Is your father dead?" asked Ptaha.
"I don't know, good man. I don't know my parent; it is no use concealing it. I judge that I was mamma's illegitimate son. My mamma lived all her life with the gentry, and did not want to marry a simple peasant. . . ."
"And so she fell into the master's hands," laughed Ptaha.
"She did transgress, that's true. She was pious, God-fearing, but she did not keep her maiden purity. It is a sin, of course, a great sin, there's no doubt about it, but to make up for it there is, maybe, noble blood in me. Maybe I am only a peasant by class, but in nature a noble gentleman."
The "noble gentleman" uttered all this in a soft, sugary tenor, wrinkling up his narrow forehead and emitting creaking sounds from his red, frozen little nose. Ptaha listened and looked askance at him in wonder, continually shrugging his shoulders.
After going nearly five miles the constables and the tramp sat down on a mound to rest.
"Even a dog knows his name," Ptaha muttered. "My name is Andryushka, his is Nikandr; every man has his holy name, and it can't be forgotten. Nohow."
"Who has any need to know my name?" sighed the tramp, leaning his cheek on his fist. "And what advantage would it be to me if they did know it? If I were allowed to go where I would -- but it would only make things worse. I know the law, Christian brothers. Now I am a tramp who doesn't remember his name, and it's the very most if they send me to Eastern Siberia and give me thirty or forty lashes; but if I were to tell them my real name and description they would send me back to hard labour, I know!"
Oh no! Now this thread is doing the same thing as the L thread did. You can't click on the 'last' page - it won't let you in. I notice they placed those symbols at the bottom of the screen - could that have anything to do with it, I wonder.
Quark, glad to see you here, but don't worry about posting quickly. We have other things going on anyway and with your move coming up it must be hard to keep up. Just post the segments of the story at your own pace. There is no rush really. I am tired out now and retiring for the night. I will look over the text tomorrow and comment.
Yes, I think the problem is tied to the deletion of Antiquarian's posts. It set back the post count, and so the server thinks were on a previous page. The page count, however, hasn't updated. That's why the last page doesn't appear as the last page on the bottom. What have the mods told you about fixing this problem?Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Oh, good. I feared that I was holding everyone up. I will try to get the posts tomorrow, though, because I don't want to fall too far behind. Plus, I have a point or two of my own that I'd like to add.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Edit:
I posted more of the story on the previous page.
No, I don't think that is the problem, Quark. I think it is those new tags or browser links at the bottom of the page. I noticed pages with them seem to run slower - like for posts to go through. The mods got the L thread straightened out so I feel sure they will get this one back to normal also. You could email them and point out the problem. I did that with the L thread. Come to think of it; now I think it is straightened out, because I just clicked the page 'last' and I got here with no problem.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Quote:
Oh, good. I feared that I was holding everyone up. I will try to get the posts tomorrow, though, because I don't want to fall too far behind. Plus, I have a point or two of my own that I'd like to add.
That is fine.
Edit:
Oh, I did not look there yet. You are going too fast for me. I haven't addressed the above text yet or commented on it. I will check the next page out now - maybe you have made comments.Quote:
I posted more of the story on the previous page.
Now it is my edit - what page? I can't go any further than page 54 (this page). The last clump of text you posted started with something about peasants...and ended with..."I know". Is there anything after this portion?
Okay, this is a long post. I tried to quote as little as I could from your posts to keep it short. That means that I may be replying to more than just the person I quoted.
I think we may be talking about different problems. What I was noticing is that the page count was skewed. The numbers at the bottom went up to 64, but the last page shown was on page 54. They have since fixed this problem, though, so it's no longer an issue. Now, as for slow posting, I don't know what would be causing that.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I probably won't post any more of the story until Sunday. I, too, am falling behind.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
LitNet combines posts that are by the same user when the posts are right after each other. When our posts consolidated it moved my last post back onto page 54. Before, when our previous posts were separated, my last post appeared on page 55.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Yeah, I think you're right. There is no actual empathy between the characters, but they do share an experience. I called that connecting, but maybe it isn't.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Whatever we call it, though, I thought that was one of the best parts of the story. It was probably the only happy event in the story, and it's a rare moment in Chekhov's fiction where a character gets through to someone else. Most of the time Chekhov has his characters stranded in their own little world, so I think the tramp accomplishes something meaningful here.
That's well put--especially the point about their distance from civilization. The fog separates them from all the rest of society, and this important because it makes it easier for them to dream. Civilization, which clearly has rules and structure, limits opportunities that the peasants might have otherwise. By placing a wall of fog between them and everything else, Chekhov makes it possible to imagine better situations.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I might have missed the right word, but it seems like you see what I'm getting at. Affable people can be just as distant and haughty ones. That appears to be the case here.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
This part does seem almost surreal, but I think Chekhov is just stretching for effect here. He's trying to show how monotonous the journey is, and how fruitless their labor will be. As I've said before, Chekhov goes over-the-top with his language in this story. This is another instance of that. I don't think he's trying to make the journey seem dreamlike, though. This part is supposed to be contrasted with the dreams later on, so it seems like that contrast would lose its effect if this scene were dreamlike. Also, I think the title refers to daydreams more than just dreams. The copy of the story I found in my library names this story "Daydreams," too. That's probably a better translation.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
This is the sense I got from it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
This fog is very dreamlike. I agree. At least, I agree in a sense. The fog is dual symbol in this story. At times it refers to the cold, damp, miserable reality around them, but at other times it reflects the misty, unrealized dream world.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Right, this story doesn't quite have the control that Chekhov will find for his later works. "The Black Monk" is much better at handling this theme without all the exaggeration.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Oh, I liked it to. The imagery was excellent. I just found some of his analogies unnecessary. I prefer it when Chekhov just lets his setting do the work.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Yes, the fog has its own characteristics and it plays a large role in the story.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
It's a statement on the futility of his life, as well as the futility of his action. It shows that no matter what he does, he is still going to die unhappy.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Yeah, that's what I was trying to get at before.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Me three. I recently pulled a version of this story with a different translation. I'd like to see how things are written in the other book and compare.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Quark and DM, I read both your posts so now I feel I am up-to-date with this. Posting the next part on Sunday would be just fine with me, Quark. I will be busy tomorrow and may not be on here so much.
I hope to be able to comment soon upon the latest section that Quark has posted, as that has not yet been addressed I do not think.
I read the story before the upgrade, and I think the word I'd use for the landscape and the constables is surreal--what gave me trouble with the piece though, is, if the fugitive really was a seven year old convicted for conspiracy to murder, well, I know this is Czarist Russia in the 19th century, but Chekov is either stretching credibility or the gent is a charlatan, not sure which--but it was a bit too schematic for me. Most 19th century short stories are, but it was still a little too stagey.
I wanted to address some of the things within the last segment of the text that was posted, before we move one to the next part of the text.
First of all, one of the things I noticed about this story, is that there seems to be a certain element of mystery which is offered within the story, particularly in regards to the tramp. There is the initial introduction in which we are told he is not what one would expect a tramp to be and speculation upon his true identity, as well there is his namelessness, and as more of his life starts to be reveled bit by bit, at first it seems to just add to the mystery that surrounds him.
The other thing that I really noticed in the section of the text that was more recently posted (I don't want to repost it all again), is when we begin to discover the somewhat nobel upbringing of the tramp and learn a bit more about his past. This seems to have a two-fold effect. In some ways it adds to the comic aspect of the story and the character. Making him this sort of mix-match, adds to a certain ridiculousness about him, and well there were moments in which the way he was described, made him seem almost a Fool/Jester. He is sort of a mockery of himself, being the bastard son of a peasant woman, but dressed in fine clothes and schooled like a gentleman.
But it also almost seemed to suggest that because of his upbringing he should be more sympathetic than a "mere" peasant would be, because he is use to having fine things in life and was raised to expect fine things. There seems to be some classicism within this section, as the tramp is painted to appear almost as being "superior" to the lowly peasants.
Here it states:
This seems almost to suggest that if he was raised like a peasant than somehow he would be less affected by his current position, that because he was raised like a nobel he is more aware of his fate and suffers more because of his "proper" upbringing.Quote:
If it had not been for my beloved mamma I should have been a peasant with no sort of understanding!
And here it seems to be suggesting that he is better than most men, perhaps even more "human" which would lend one to view his situation all the more dire. While other men simply waste themselves in drinking, he reads and presents himself as being much more sensitive, for than it is truly absurd, that he cries because he finds the books in such poor quality.Quote:
Another man will take no pleasure in anything but vodka and lewd talk, but when I have time I sit in a corner and read a book. I read and I weep and weep."
Quote:
"What do you weep for?"
"They write so pathetically! For some books one gives but a five-kopeck piece, and yet one weeps and sighs exceedingly over it."
At the moment I don't have internet at my apartment, so unfortunately I can't post regularly. I hope to have a connection by the end of this week, though.
Oh gosh, you are going through what I went through a month ago. I am still working to have my files taken off my old hard drive and infact tried to extract the unit from the old computer today but could not get the screws out...didn't have the right tool. I had to drag the whole tower into the shop to have them remove it. It should be done a few days from now.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Anyway, that is ok, Quark, we can wait, can't we Dark Muse? I will try and address what you wrote tomorrow, DM....I was out tonight and did not get back until an hour or so ago and watched some Olympics. We started the Lawrence thread also, but we will go slowly this week and you can catch up if you have the time to do the story this month. It is a short one but you can wait till Sept if that is more convenient for you. Fully understandable. Glad you are in your new place; I know it takes time to get settled.
Hehe yes, I can wait
Good, because I have one eye ;) open again - that means one is closed...I am really tired out now.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
My first impression was the sad contrast between our “Dreams” and reality. Chekhov told me how unreachable our dreams are. It’s not enough that the desirable place doesn’t even exist; but if it was, you still wouldn’t be able to get there because of the physical weakness, or other reason.
About elements of mystery, noticed by Dark Muse. I thought that the trump’s dreams were not only about his future, but about his past as well. It least two hits gave me that impression. First, his story about getting seven years as accomplice for handling a glass to the master (unbelievable even for Czarist Russia); second, he talks a very simple language (unfortunately, lost somehow in translation) He made up his life story with the help of books: “when I have time I sit in a corner and read a book. I read and I weep and weep."
OlgaG, You pointed out some good impressions; well expressed. I hope you stick around for the whole discussion. It is moving along rather slowly this month, so be patient. Our fearless leader, Quark, just moved into a new appartment, so we are waiting for his return to post more text. He will resurface soon, I believe. He is busy also with school I believe.Quote:
Originally Posted by OlgaG
And... OlgaG, Welcome to the forum! I see you are new. I know you will enjoy these threads and discussion groups; this is a great site!
Dark Muse, I will try and comment on what you wrote last about the story...probably tonight.
I just heard that my internet is getting hooked up sometime on Saturday afternoon. I should be able to post that night. In the meantime, it's rather hard for me to post because the library is only open during the hours I'm supposed to be at a training class.
If you're through with what's been posted so far, you can go ahead and post more. I wouldn't mind. I'll catch up on the weekend.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Quark, that is ok, we fully understand, or at least I do. I went through the same ordeal over a month ago - library, limited hours, incovenience, etc. Take your time and we can wait for you to post the next part. I am super busy, also. Sat or Sun will be fine with me. Anyway, I still need to comment on what Dark Muse observed about the text you did post. Good luck with everything.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Okay, I'm completely back now. I've got home internet and everything. I'm not seeing much activity on the thread at the moment, though, so I'm not sure if we should go on with the discussion. Were you all just waiting for me? If so, I can post more text from the story. If not, we might hold off on this thread for a while and focus more on the Lawrence thread. What do you guys think?
Good to see you back, I think Janine was waiting for you
Thanks, it's good to be back. I wasn't expecting to be without internet for so long, but it turned out to be an entire week before Comcast sent someone out here to hook my place up.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I hope not. I was trying to get everyone to go on without me.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
:lol: DM, Could be I was...or maybe Janine was too busy, with the new forum upgrades, not to mention getting involved in 6 Social Groups, also starting a blog (I have no idea what I am doing in there:() and also continuing to taylor this computer to my particular needs, such as installing supportive software for my antiquated devices, and a few newer ones - not an easy task, and very time-consuming. I have had to read a lot of 'help' menus...I really need tech education.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Anyway, Quark, It is good to see you back again but still take your time; I guess I was waiting now for your return, and the next section to discuss of the actual text. The L thread is just creeping along so you can definitely catch up there.
Quark, do you recall the photo of a painting that I posted in here awhile ago? It was when we discussed 'Misery'. I was online and saw the artist sitting in front of the painting (which by the way, is huge!). I copied it and will post it to show you. I think it is of St. Petersburg and painted by a prominent artist, whose work I particularly like.
Yes, I've been looking at all the work you've been doing. Very impressive. Are you into blogging now?Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I can restart the "Dreams" discussion if there's interest, but I don't want to push people into it. I'm certainly up for continuing. I just don't know how everyone else feels.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I remember you posting some images about "Oh! The Public," but I can't recall the one you posted for "Misery." What was it of? I'll try to find it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Thanks Quark, that is really nice of you to say; and thanks for coming by my new profile page. Did you request to be my friend or leave any comments? I have not gotten into blogging quite yet; I just posted that one topic in my blog; hope you can read it soon. I still need to name my blog and write a short description.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Well, can you just pick up from where we left off or must we start all over again - say for Sept? I am not feeling really well today so I can't post very much right now and I know you must still be busy with your new place.Quote:
I can restart the "Dreams" discussion if there's interest, but I don't want to push people into it. I'm certainly up for continuing. I just don't know how everyone else feels.
Oh, not sure which it was for now, but know it was a snow scene - St. Petersburg - and very nice. I think really it for "Misery". I will check it out, too.Quote:
I remember you posting some images about "Oh! The Public," but I can't recall the one you posted for "Misery." What was it of? I'll try to find it.
I would if I could. I'm not even sure how the friend system works. Is there a button somewhere to click on?Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
We don't have to start over. I'll post something on the story tomorrow, and see what happens. If there isn't much interest, we can focus on just the L thread. Next month I plan to start another story, though.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Was it this?Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Yep, there is a couple of buttons; Quark, just look around the page for them and you will find them eventually. I think it is right near the 'Friends' box. I think I already befriended you, so doesn't that automatically make you my friend, in my profile page?Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I like this story. I will post something when I can; let's continue in the same vane.Quote:
We don't have to start over. I'll post something on the story tomorrow, and see what happens. If there isn't much interest, we can focus on just the L thread. Next month I plan to start another story, though.
Yep, that is the exact one. Thanks for finding it and reposting.Quote:
Was it this?
http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p...e/muchasep.jpg
See the man in relation to the size of the painting - rather impressive.
Painting by Alphonse Mucha
http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p...e/muchapho.jpg
This is a self portrait of Mucha
http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p...Astrologer.jpg
You probably have seen his work prior to this. He did many like this beautiful Art Nouveau poster
Well that livened up the Chekhov thread, even though it was a bit of a departure.
That's what I thought. You asked whether I requested to be your friend before, and I was under the impression that it automatically reciprocates friendships. I could be wrong, though. I'm not sure how these things work.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
I'll pick up where we left off before. There's a post or two I want to reply to and then I'll post more from the story.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
No, this was new to me. Was he a 19th C artist?Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Quark, I think now that you are in my friend's list so don't worry about it. I saw I was in yours already. We are all learning as we go along - like the blind leading the blind..:eek:Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Glad to hear that. Take your time.Quote:
I'll pick up where we left off before. There's a post or two I want to reply to and then I'll post more from the story.
I recently bought a large book of his art at Barnes and Noble. I have always loved his decorative designs and his advertising and then I discovered his wonderful classic paintings. The man was a genius and very talented - very colorful, too. He was born in 1860 and painted into the early part of the next century. My book says he was Czech and studied and lived in Paris. I think he helped to bring the Art Nouveau movement to the public eye. I just love his work and have copied many pieces from online and can run a screen-saver slideshow on this computer; either morph the images or fade from one to the other. I also can make a film with Movie Maker - that will take some time to learn, I imagine, but it looks like loads of fun. The computer is so nice; I love it! I can post way faster now also. Yeah!Quote:
No, this was new to me. Was he a 19th C artist?
Looking back over the posts I missed while I was away, I noticed one from Jozanny and another from DM that each make some good points. I keep promising to post more text, but before I do that I want to completely catch up.
If I remember, I think I objected to the label "surreal" before. The landscape and constables appear to be contrasted with the dreams that follow later in the story. The landscape, for example, depresses us with its dreary sameness, while the later dreams are filled with cheerful variety. The constables also contrast in that their close-minded fools who lack imagination. Now this isn't to say that there isn't anything odd about the constables or the landscape--clearly there is. I just chalk this up to Chekhov stretching for effect. He really wants to convince us that the constables are country bumpkins and the landscape is dreary, so he exaggerates. This gives the scene its oddness.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
I would agree that this story is a little stagey. Yet, I wouldn't say all 19th C short stories are. I wouldn't even say all of Chekhov's are. I keep bringing up "The Black Monk" because of its connections with this story's themes, but it also shows the development of Chekhov as a writer. The later story is much less stagey.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
The beginning is mysterious. We're not sure what to make of the situation or the characters. While it might be unsettling not to know, it doesn't feel that way in this story. In this instance, it seems to make one feel free. The characters are set off by themselves by the mystery. They aren't determined by any social forces. I think this feeling of freedom at the beginning is part of what makes the ending so sad. When the mystery is over the characters realize that their doomed to continue their unfulfilling lives.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
That's definitely a good point. What do you make of that, though? Why would Chekhov make his habits be some incongruous with his situation? Does it fit in with the theme of depressing circumstances vs. hopeful dreams?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
We'll figure this stuff out eventually, Janine. In the meantime, we can console ourselves with the fact that we're so ahead of everyone in using images. Look how many pictures we have on our threads!Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
;)Yeah really, Quark....and we always come up with great images to express the stories, don't we? I am tired out now so can't respond to the other parts of your posts. I have just spend hours uploading a new album for my profile page. This photo thing is quite to my liking. If you have a chance, peek in and see my new Garden Album. Of course, the garden now is over-run with weeds; but at least, I have the photos to show the 'glory days':DQuote:
We'll figure this stuff out eventually, Janine. In the meantime, we can console ourselves with the fact that we're so ahead of everyone in using images. Look how many pictures we have on our threads!
I am really not sure what to make of it, I just could not help but to notice the suggestion of it seemed to be there. In someways I thought perhaps, it was intended to make the ending more tragic, becasue considering his education, we are let to beleive that perhaps he would have more hopeful dreams, or perhaps possibly greater prospects were it not for the circumstance he found himself in.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Or perhaps that his mother had worked so hard to try and give him better oppetunities in life, only to have him end up as a criminal and soon to be exile.
It does build our sympathy for him. He clearly has ambitions and ideas. If he wasn't going to die during his journey to Siberia, he may have been able to lead a happy, productive life.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I also think his refined habits add to the contrast between his current prospects and his dreams for more. By having his personal situation differ so much from his ideas, Chekhov is introducing a theme that will come to forefront later.
We'll talk about this more when we get into the text I posted below.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I did. It looks like a big garden, but I can't tell from the close-up photos. It's certainly a very colorful garden. You say it's been taken over by less attractive weeds now, though? That's unfortunate. I suppose LitNet has pulled you away from gardening too much. At least your LitNet page is colorful now. I like the sea foam theme.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Anyway, here's more of the text. This is the part where we finally get a full history of the tramp's crime. There isn't too much to say about this part, but it is interesting to note how the mother's desires are frustrated just as the son's are later on.
Quote:
"Why, have you been a convict?"
"I have, dear friend. For four years I went about with my head shaved and fetters on my legs."
"What for?"
"For murder, my good man! When I was still a boy of eighteen or so, my mamma accidentally poured arsenic instead of soda and acid into my master's glass. There were boxes of all sorts in the storeroom, numbers of them; it was easy to make a mistake over them."
The tramp sighed, shook his head, and said:
"She was a pious woman, but, who knows? another man's soul is a slumbering forest! It may have been an accident, or maybe she could not endure the affront of seeing the master prefer another servant. . . . Perhaps she put it in on purpose, God knows! I was young then, and did not understand it all . . . now I remember that our master had taken another mistress and mamma was greatly disturbed. Our trial lasted nearly two years. . . . Mamma was condemned to penal servitude for twenty years, and I, on account of my youth, only to seven."
"And why were you sentenced?"
"As an accomplice. I handed the glass to the master. That was always the custom. Mamma prepared the soda and I handed it to him. Only I tell you all this as a Christian, brothers, as I would say it before God. Don't you tell anybody. . . ."
"Oh, nobody's going to ask us," said Ptaha. "So you've run away from prison, have you?"
"I have, dear friend. Fourteen of us ran away. Some folks, God bless them! ran away and took me with them. Now you tell me, on your conscience, good man, what reason have I to disclose my name? They will send me back to penal servitude, you know! And I am not fit for penal servitude! I am a refined man in delicate health. I like to sleep and eat in cleanliness. When I pray to God I like to light a little lamp or a candle, and not to have a noise around me. When I bow down to the ground I like the floor not to be dirty or spat upon. And I bow down forty times every morning and evening, praying for mamma."
The tramp took off his cap and crossed himself.
"And let them send me to Eastern Siberia," he said; "I am not afraid of that."
"Surely that's no better?"
I have been reading all the posts, although not posting much myself. I feel bogged down now with all the new changes and my own new computer work/installations, etc. I hope you will forgive me. I will try and post comments on this next section, but DM always beats me to it, and usually I just agree with what she says/observes...weird lately...we have been agreeing way too much.
Thanks Quark, for looking at my once and glorious garden, now a tangle of weeds. Actually many of the perennial plants are still there, but they have been crowded out by the unwanted invaders: mulberrry trees and God knows what else, wild ferns, vines, etc.
It is a big garden - too big! I kept expanding it, until it was uncontrollable; I call it 'natural'. If you click on each photo, you will see the full size view. You haven't commented on my page yet, have you?
Be back later to comment on this story.
I haven't gotten a chance to yet. I've been so busy with the Lawrence and Chekhov threads--my "official duties"--that I really haven't had much time for anything else.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
:lol: You're forgiven....just come visit when you have time...no rush.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
One thing I was a bit confussed about in this story, was what exzactly the two constables had arrested him for. They did not know of his past deeds untill he began to speak of them. Was he taken in just for being a tramp? Or did I miss something?
I remember asking myself this question when I was reading, and I thought something later in the text gave me a clue. I can't remember what it was, though. I'll have to look it over again. Originally, I assumed that he was arrested for being a tramp, and then forgetting his name was an added crime--like not complying with officials. Of course, why would they be arresting tramps? Was he loitering, or something? Would they really send people to Siberia for that?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
While we're figuring this out, let me point to one other thing. What do you make of the tramp's version of his past? It seems like he's trying to paint himself as the victim. Later it tells us that he begins relating things to the constables in "mawkish" tones. Do you think that the tramp may be a little self-pitying? Could this be part of his daydreams? We know we can't trust his foresight, so why should we trust his memory?