Chekhov Short Story Thread

[Dark Muse]

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

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

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

[Janine]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Janine]

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

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

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

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

[Janine]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Quark]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every sort of caprice, of elaborate monstrosity and mockery at Nature was here. There were espaliers of fruit-trees, a pear-tree in the shape of a pyramidal poplar, spherical oaks and lime-trees, an apple-tree in the shape of an umbrella, plum-trees trained into arches, crests, candelabra, and even into the number 1862 -- the year when Pesotsky first took up horticulture. One came across, too, lovely, graceful trees with strong, straight stems like palms, and it was only by looking intently that one could recognise these trees as gooseberries or currants. But what made the garden most cheerful and gave it a lively air, was the continual coming and going in it, from early morning till evening; people with wheelbarrows, shovels, and watering-cans swarmed round the trees and bushes, in the avenues and the flower-beds, like ants. . . .

Two things: first, Kovrin is very nonchalant about his illness. His attitude doesn't fit a person who have a family history TB. It seems like he's insulated himself against fears of illness with his work. The other thing that sticks out about this passage is the difference between nature and the garden. The natural surroundings have a varied appearance which is slightly cheery and slightly melancholy. The farm has an unnatural comfortableness. This difference between the garden and the land around becomes very similar to the Kovrin's two states later on in the story. The difference between naturalness and the artificial is very important in this story, and we see it already in this first passage. The garden, of course, symbolizes much more than this, but I wanted to get this thought out first. I'll finish my thought later after I attend to some of the other discussions I should be posting in.

[Dark Muse]

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

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

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

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

I loved that line.

[Quark]

I loved that line.

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

[Janine]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I loved that line.

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

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

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

[Dark Muse]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[islandclimber]

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

I agree with this... too a degree at least... and it also appears that Chekhov through Kovrin wants to impart this... that man makes a ridiculous and absurd mockery of nature in these decorative gardens... Every sort of caprice, of elaborate monstrosity and mockery at Nature was here... I think this kind of illustrates the point... and I agree with it in a sense...

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

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

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

[Quark]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Janine]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Dark Muse]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Quark]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Dark Muse]

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

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

Egor amused me.