Chekhov Short Story Thread

[Quark]

I did not think of it that way. It would make sense, but I was thinking about maybe his refrecne to the "only place he could breathe freely" might somehow relate to his later illness.

He does have to make concessions to his illness, so it is like him having to retreat from the orchard.

Hehe yes, but some obcessions are just more annoying than others, her constant tantrums are far less charming than having conversations with a monk and less amusing than being fantatical about a garden.

We see everything from Kovrin's perspective which makes the story more sympathetic to his particular problem. His obsession appears a little less funny. Yegor and Tania, on the other hand, are amusing. Tania even comes off as hysterical at times.

[Dark Muse]

We see everything from Kovrin's perspective which makes the story more sympathetic to his particular problem. Therefore, his obsession is little less funny. Yegor and Tania, on the other hand, are amusing. Tania comes off as hysterical at times.

Hehe Yes I know, I was mostly having a bit of fun with that.

[Janine]

Well, all that makes sense to me Quark, and if Tania, the woman, has to indeed live through the men (given the time of this novel) then maybe her fits of crying were her only real way to vent her own frustrations.
Exactly, since the story is seen through the eyes of Kovrin (even though he is not the actual narrator), naturally we are drawn to his side and are needful as humans to sympathise with his woes and his problems. The other characters then will appear less tragic and more comical to us.
I think that was a good observation, the illness that takes hold of Kovrin does indeed distance him from his friends. Even thought, Igor and Tania may have their own obsessions and hang-ups, flaws, he expresses his deep love and admiration for them early on in the story. I think there is a bond there and once the monk halucinations invade Kovrin's existence, that bond begins to deteriorate, which is ultimately sad and tragic for all.

[Dark Muse]

I think there is a bond there and once the monk halucinations invade Kovrin's existence, that bond begins to deteriorate, which is ultimately sad and tragic for all.

Then again, it was not tell after he saw the monk that he decided he really wanted to marry Tania, when Egor first brought the idea up to him, he did not really take it seriously, but after he began to see the monk is when he discovered he really did love her and wanted to marry her.

[Janine]

Well, if that is true, the monk halucinations fed his ego and he gained the self-confidence to ask her. I did think their engagement and marriage sort of 'impulsive' and come about quickly. I only got that impression, because Chekhov normally does not go into great detail, about things that happen and we don't have a true sense of the time that passes, between certain events. I thought he saw the monk after their marriage, so I will have to look back into the text, to note just when the first appearance took place.
He came to the country and to Igor's and Tania's estate for a rest recommended by a doctor friend; therefore, his true psychosis may have begun earlier than this; we don't really know that. That part is a bit sketchy. If he had a true mental illness, many times that will also manifest itself with periods of elation of self importance and impulsive behavior. He may have conjured up the idea of marrying her, because of his mental illness, but I do think he had a very strong bond before this, with both of these people from his past and he did indeed, love them very much. Even if they had not married, this illness of his, would ultimately have distanced him from them.

[Dark Muse]

The very first time he sees the monk is when he is walking in the garden before he asks her to marry him.

[Janine]

The very first time he sees the monk is when he is walking in the garden before he asks her to marry him.

Thanks, DM.

It appears I either have to re-read the story this week, or wait until we get to that part of the text; most likely Quark will post that part, since it is significant.

[Quark]

Then again, it was not tell after he saw the monk that he decided he really wanted to marry Tania, when Egor first brought the idea up to him, he did not really take it seriously, but after he began to see the monk is when he discovered he really did love her and wanted to marry her.

I'm not sure exactly why Kovrin marries Tania--besides the fact that she's the only woman in his life at this point. I'll have to think about it more as the we move through the story.

I thought he saw the monk after their marriage, so I will have to look back into the text, to note just when the first appearance took place.

He first sees the monk before he's officially engaged. I will post that section when we get there. I believe there are three scenes where he talks with the strange apparition. One where he only sees it, a second when he converses with it, and then finally the last time when Tania catches him talking to himself. I guess there also is also a forth time as he's dying.

[Janine]

You don't think his carelessness in any way sped up his deterioration?

Quark, from what I have read about TB, which is scanty (I admit that), I got the impression that taking some treatments or at least, modifying the diet and eating certain foods rich in certain vitamins, minerals, one could actually extent ones life considerable. It mades mention of these homeopathic steps in my Lawrence biographies and although L did die early in his life (40's) he lived far beyond, what they doctors predicted originally. So I would think any kind of carelessness, on Kovrin's part, would speed up his impending death from the TB, or whatever was wrong with him. Since TB was so prevalent at the time and once in the story a cough is mentioned as a chronic symptom of his, I would think that Chekhov is definitely indicting he had TB. I never got a sense, the Kovrin wanted to die; just that he knew his mother had had this disease and he knew he might have about 10 yrs left to live. I believe I recall that, from the text I read. Often, also with TB patients they would go about their lives feeling they might beat the illness although this idea was pretty much unrealistic. I know with Lawrence, he did not dwell on his illness, even though often he was ill; and quite often he in a 'state of denial' about the actual TB; he would not even refer to it as TB but called it 'my broncials'. Kovrin, on the otherhand, in one part of the story does acknowledge the fact he knows he will probably not live any longer than his mother did. I am sure we can discuss this further when we get to that part.

We don't get enough characterization of Tania to say anything definitive about her, but there are a few paragraphs toward the middle which are illuminating. Of course, now I can't find them! Chekhov's description of her makes it seem like her main concern is her husband. Like Kovrin and his writing and Egor and his gardening, Tania has her own obsession. When Kovrin starts hallucinating, I think she starts to worry that her husband is leaving her. He is, after all. He has TB. I think that's why she flips out.

I would agree - that there does not seem to be that much about Tania; at least I can't make a firm impression of what she is really like. Chekhov seems to only reveal her at key moments and we get a much fuller sense of what Kovrin is all about, but to me, Tania is a little sketchy; plus as you say she is living more through others - her father and then her husband.

Egor--it's Yegor in my book (go figure)--is funny. His pedantic work on gardening made me smile, but he isn't completely harmless. Look at what he does to Tania. He drives her away with his monomania for cultivation.

He is 'Egor' is my book, too. How funny; I think that Dark Muse and I have the same old book or by the same publishers. Her's was from her grandmother, mine from my father.
I thought he was amusing at times, but then he drove me crazy, with his fanatical ways with his garden; I have a neighbor who was like this and have known a few others, too. They actually kill themselves, over making their gardens perfect; then a storm comes along (nature, right?) and they freak out. I was thinking how the night frost, also was like an 'invasion' of the 'natural world' on the 'humanized cultivated' garden. The two worlds meet in that scene, with the burning smoke pots, and so the 'ghost-like' images of the workers seen through the smoke/mist, are like ghosts of the natural world, at least to the perception of Kovrin. That is just a thought, I felt like throwing out there. I may be totally off on that idea.

That's part of the tragedy here. He can either be healthy and social or he can be brilliant and interesting. Kovrin tries to have it both ways and he ends up losing it.

I realise that but I what I am saying is only in the confines of this story. I think this particular character was not presented with any other options at the time except extremes. In a later time with advanced treatments for both his mental and physical illnesses he may have had more options. It is tragic in this story that he was only given the two and both are at totally different ends of the spectrum.

I don't think that's a symptom of TB, but in the story it is. Kovrin, at least, believes it is. He says at one point that Black Monk must be caused by his weakening body, and the hallucination agrees with him.

I tried to do research on that and there was only one case of hallucinations but that was not totally proven to have been entirely due to TB. I am sure anything is possible. I know these people can be effected in their minds late in the illness. This I have heard before, but as far as actually seeing or talking to images or what they believe to be real beings, I don't think that is usual; that is not to say it could not be possible and it might be that Chekhov did know of such a case. Also, who if Kovrin had some other physical ailment - say cancer, even brain cancer, it could spread to his throat and it most certainly could cause hallucinations. The body is filled with chemicals and when it gets into a weakened state from disease those break down or do not function as they should. The imbalance can cause all kinds of symptoms. That is why, nowdays, if someone were to suddenly suffer from hallucinations or altered mental behavior, first a doctor would fully explore any physical causes. Now with advanced medicine an MRI would be automatically taken of the brain to see if something were amiss. Therefore, it is possible that Kovrin did suffer from very real physical disease that encrouched on his mental state.

Well characterization is part of fiction. Some critics actually think that characterization is the most over-developed element of nineteenth-century fiction. I think we would be missing part of the story if we didn't talk about it. That being said, I don't want the conversation to devolve into useless labeling. Sometimes people will say something like "I found her to be just icky", and the rest of us will have nothing to say to that. First of all, what did that person mean by icky? Even if I figure out what they mean (and usually I don't), I still don't have anything I can say to them. What could I say? Ickiness is a matter of opinion which I really can't argue with. Those kinds of statements are usually conversation-enders, and I try to stay away from saying things like that. Let's not confuse ickiness, though, with actual characterization--which is very important. I think you can have an intelligent conversation about one without it having to resort to the other.

This is exactly my point. To simply say - I did not like her or him is without any substance if not back-up with something. Otherwise, it is usless labeling. I personally could not see how Tania was spoiled. I felt her father projected a lot of responsibility upon her to do with that garden. Was it ever mentioned why she did not have a mother? Had she died early on in Tania's life. I think she seemed to have a very unbalanced life; I could not see where the poor girl had any kind of social life. Her life seemed totally wrapped up with pleasing her father, and her father's garden. I don't blame her for taking fits of crying once in awhile. I guess she would just break-down from stress now and then. Then to wake to realise her husband was indeed having hallucinations and going insane; she must have really been in shock. What if they had had a child? I can't imagine that Kovrin could have dealt with that at all.

No one's trying to stifle opinion. We're just saying that you should expect to talk about whatever you put out there, and so it should be something valid to the conversation and open to debate.

I agree, Quark. You expressed that well.

That's true, but hopefully your reaction is more nuanced than like and dislike--and you can find reasons for why you react that way. If you can do those things, then it makes it easier on the rest of us.

Quark, 'nuanced' is a good word. Just reacting without any backup is useless, but expressing opinion with grounds is a lot different. Yes, easier on all of us.

I can take a hint. I'll post the next chunk very soon. I was just going slow since this there's so much to talk about.

Oh good, Quark. I did not mean to rush you. I may not be on the computer too much today - bad thunderstorms, high winds and rain are predicted here. I already had to unplug once the lightning was so intense. This should not be a fun day.

[Janine]

Igor, Egor, Yegor, all are correct and none are correct. Russian, as all of you know, uses an entirely different alphabet. It's actually Игорь.

That is true, what you say - they are all actually wrong since it is Russian. Curious, Antiquarian, how do you have the Russian characters on your computer?

I think I'm a minority of one here, but I am not convinced that Yegor had TB at all. I think his physical illness might have been brought on by his mental illness and his inability to sustain the black monk in his life. In the end, the black monk tells him that he's only dying because his weakened body could no longer serve as the container for genius.

I wouldn't say that, Antiq. You are right; we really don't know if it was TB, in this case. Chekhov never reveals that in words; so it is possible that he did died from the effects of the mental illness. I tend to believe it was physically oriented first, but who knows? We all can have our own opinion on that and I guess it does affect our interpretation of the story.

Of course I agree that Yegor definitely had signs of TB and it certainly seems like he did died of TB, but I think Chekhov wants to deliberately blur the lines between physical and mental illness in this story. I think that's part of the reason the illness was never given a name.

I can see that entirely. That is a good point that you have brought out. I agree with you about the blurred lines between physical and mental. I do think Chekhov deliberately did that to point out the interweaving of the two or the overlapping of the two might be closer to the actualy perception.

Treatments were so crude in those days, and so ineffective that I doubt Yegor's nonchalance shortened his life by much. A little probably, but not by much.

That is true. I can agree with that. I think that his mental state, also would have weakened him. I am sure it would have had to.

[Quark]

Good research, Janine. I think we can assume that the state of medicine in England and Russia was rather similar at the time since both Russian and English doctors would be reading the same French medical journals. We cannot say for sure what illness Kovrin was suffering from. Coughing up blood was a tell-tale sign for TB, but it's also a symptom in many other diseases. I think what we can say for sure is that his condition was deteriorating, and that the treatment he received had a vaguely positive effect on his physical health. Outside of that, it becomes too vague to claim anything definitely.

Igor, Egor, Yegor, all are correct and none are correct. Russian, as all of you know, uses an entirely different alphabet. It's actually Игорь.

Weird. The closest I can type to that is "Nropb." If I played with the fonts, maybe I could make it more convincing.

I think I'm a minority of one here, but I am not convinced that Yegor had TB at all. I think his physical illness might have been brought on by his mental illness and his inability to sustain the black monk in his life. In the end, the black monk tells him that he's only dying because his weakened body could no longer serve as the container for genius.

DM may agree with that. It sounds like both of you accept the Black Monk's version of the story. The toughest hurdle for that interpretation is probably in the last section of the story. You might want to reread the last few pages to see whether that changes you opinion. Kovrin, at least briefly, turns his back on the monk, and he laments everything that's happened since the monk appeared to him. His lament is fairly convincing. We'll look at it when we get there, but we're still quite far from it at the moment.

Of course I agree that Yegor definitely had signs of TB and it certainly seems like he did died of TB, but I think Chekhov wants to deliberately blur the lines between physical and mental illness in this story. I think that's part of the reason the illness was never given a name.

I hadn't thought about that before, but, yes, I think you're right. The illness remains nameless to create that uncertainty. You never know how much of his illness is mental and physical. Also, it's never clear whether this illness is terminal.

I wouldn't say that, Antiq. You are right; we really don't know if it was TB, in this case. Chekhov never reveals that in words; so it is possible that he did died from the effects of the mental illness. I tend to believe it was physically oriented first, but who knows? We all can have our own opinion on that and I guess it does affect our interpretation of the story.

The questions is do you think the physical illness caused his mental problems? Kovrin thinks so when he begins the treatment.

I'll post the next section of text since I think everyone is waiting on me.

"You were surprised this evening that we have so many of your photographs. You know my father adores you. Sometimes it seems to me that he loves you more than he does me. He is proud of you. You are a clever, extraordinary man, you have made a brilliant career for yourself, and he is persuaded that you have turned out like this because he brought you up. I don't try to prevent him from thinking so. Let him."

Dawn was already beginning, and that was especially perceptible from the distinctness with which the coils of smoke and the tops of the trees began to stand out in the air.

"It's time we were asleep, though," said Tanya, "and it's cold, too." She took his arm. "Thank you for coming, Andryusha. We have only uninteresting acquaintances, and not many of them. We have only the garden, the garden, the garden, and nothing else. Standards, half-standards," she laughed. "Aports, Reinettes, Borovinkas, budded stocks, grafted stocks. . . . All, all our life has gone into the garden. I never even dream of anything but apples and pears. Of course, it is very nice and useful, but sometimes one longs for something else for variety. I remember that when you used to come to us for the summer holidays, or simply a visit, it always seemed to be fresher and brighter in the house, as though the covers had been taken off the lustres and the furniture. I was only a little girl then, but yet I understood it."

She talked a long while and with great feeling. For some reason the idea came into his head that in the course of the summer he might grow fond of this little, weak, talkative creature, might be carried away and fall in love; in their position it was so possible and natural! This thought touched and amused him; he bent down to her sweet, preoccupied face and hummed softly:

" 'Onyegin, I won't conceal it;
I madly love Tatiana. . . .' "

By the time they reached the house, Yegor Semyonitch had got up. Kovrin did not feel sleepy; he talked to the old man and went to the garden with him. Yegor Semyonitch was a tall, broad-shouldered, corpulent man, and he suffered from asthma, yet he walked so fast that it was hard work to hurry after him. He had an extremely preoccupied air; he was always hurrying somewhere, with an expression that suggested that if he were one minute late all would be ruined!

"Here is a business, brother . . ." he began, standing still to take breath. "On the surface of the ground, as you see, is frost; but if you raise the thermometer on a stick fourteen feet above the ground, there it is warm. . . . Why is that?"

"I really don't know," said Kovrin, and he laughed.

"H'm! . . . One can't know everything, of course. . . . However large the intellect may be, you can't find room for everything in it. I suppose you still go in chiefly for philosophy?"

"Yes, I lecture in psychology; I am working at philosophy in general."

"And it does not bore you?"

"On the contrary, it's all I live for."

"Well, God bless you! . . ." said Yegor Semyonitch, meditatively stroking his grey whiskers. "God bless you! . . . I am delighted about you . . . delighted, my boy. . . ."

But suddenly he listened, and, with a terrible face, ran off and quickly disappeared behind the trees in a cloud of smoke.

I will post the rest of the first section, but after that I'll start quoting only parts of the story. We probably don't have time to read this one line by line. I may skip over some parts, but it's best if I keep things moving.

[Janine]

Hi Quark,

You are a riot, trying to duplicate Antiquarian's key strokes. Why do you own a Russian Keyboard Antiq? I know you said you were Russian; however, I did not know you could speak or write it. That is interesting. I believe that Pensive owns a similar keyboard with her language. Once she posted something and said it was so.

Well, I found some things in this passage very interesting and I had not noticed one of of those before - the mention that Kovrin told Yegor,

"Yes, I lecture in psychology; I am working at philosophy in general."

I had recalled reading this part:

She talked a long while and with great feeling. For some reason the idea came into his head that in the course of the summer he might grow fond of this little, weak, talkative creature, might be carried away and fall in love; in their position it was so possible and natural! This thought touched and amused him; he bent down to her sweet, preoccupied face and hummed softly:

" 'Onyegin, I won't conceal it;
I madly love Tatiana. . . .' "

I think that is why, I thought they were involved or married, before he had any visions of the monk. I realise this is not 'involvement' at this point, but Kovrin did have a spark of interest in Tania, at this early stage; this thought proceeding Yegor's mention of marriage to his daughter, to Kovrin. What I am saying here is, there it this tiny seed of potennial in his mind, for him to marry with Tania.
He hasn't seen the monk yet, right? or am I being forgetful again?

I have to admit I that I am swaying this way in belief, Antiq:

Quotes by Antiquarian

Though we really don't know for sure it's TB Kovrin was suffering from, I would imagine it was. It was so prevalent in that time, and Chekhov, himself, died from it.

More so since it would be something Chekhov would be familiar with.

I agree Kovrin's mental state would have weakened him greatly, especially since he was fighting two urges - the urge to be well and stable and the urge to be mentally ill. He was being pulled in two directions emotionally, and that would have to take a very great toll on anyone's physical health as well.

Good thoughts here. Yes, that turmoil could certainly add to his physical demise.

[Dark Muse]

DM may agree with that. It sounds like both of you accept the Black Monk's version of the story. The toughest hurdle for that interpretation is probably in the last section of the story. You might want to reread the last few pages to see whether that changes you opinion. Kovrin, at least briefly, turns his back on the monk, and he laments everything that's happened since the monk appeared to him. His lament is fairly convincing. We'll look at it when we get there, but we're still quite far from it at the moment.

Well I do not belive that his visions of the Black Monk is what caused him to become ill, as I am sort of the lone figure who does not in fact think thiat his hallucinations were a maligent force within his life, but rather I think it was when he began to be "cured" of the dilusions that he began to grow physcialy ill, now wheather those two events are completely sperate or not I am not completely sure, but I am not convinved that his being treated for his visions of the monk was a good thing.

[Janine]

Gee, what happened on this site yesterday? Seems it was down all day, even into the night. I and a few others said they could not get on the forum; glad we are back up and running.

Antiquarian, thanks for posting the link to that article. It was quite interesting in different aspects. I have been wanting to find some commentary online about this story. This provided a start. I especially liked that last line about over-analysising the story; also Chekhov's own words about it. Both I think have truth in them.

Even if I re-read the entire story, I am still not sure I would come up with a truly firm conclusion. I tend to think this story is a bit open-ended and as the person in that commentary pointed out, it shows the fine line between sanity and insanity. He said something like that. I will come back and quote the line, to be more specific.

Actually here is the statement: "Kovrin begins to have hallucinations of a black-robed monk. As he becomes increasingly intoxicated by his visions, and Pesotsky more hysterical about his orchard and the Russian Antonovsky Apple, Chekhov explores the nebulous boundary between genius and insanity."

I thought the word 'nebulous' perfect in this statement "nebulous boundry between genius and insanity."



I wish I could go and see the play - it sounds fascinating, doesn't it?

[Janine]

I think it's open ended, too, Janine. I know I won't come to any firm conclusions about it. I'll seem like I'm waffling because I think the story's is ambiguous.

Yes, I do agree and 'ambiguous' is a good word for it, also. I believe that was Chekhov's intention.

The play sounds fascinating. I adore plays.

Antiquarian, I love plays, too! I guess I will have to wait now until this one comes on some kind of video, such as ones that are available from the Kultur site. I hope they produce one eventually, of this play or others of Chekhov's others. Kenneth Branagh is currently starring in a Chekhov play in a theater (West End, London), adapted from "Ivan". I posted a photo and some information on it, a few dozen posts back, in this thread; probably was before you joined in here. I would love to see that one, also; but, I don't think I will be flying to London anytime soon. Hopefully, they will put it on DVD, but who knows?