Chekhov Short Story Thread

[Dark Muse]

I love Chekhov's descirptions of nature.

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

I think these are great lines.

Standards, half-standards

I found this a currious statement and wondered what is meant by it.

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."

It seems as if both Tania and Egor have rather currious expectations of Kovrin and there does not seem to be any real evidence to support thier high hopes of him.

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

I love this passage, but I found it a rather currious idea. Kovrin contemplating the propablity of his falling in love with Tania. Perhaps it is his philosophical nature which casues him to view things in this way.

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!

I really like this discription of Egor. He does seem like a rather comical figure.

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

This is just a great image

[Quark]

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?

Kovrin's infatuation does predate the marriage. By page two, it's clear that Kovrin in smitten, but the marriage isn't until later. I think the wedding is almost at the very middle of the story. The Black Monk appears sometime before then, but after this section.

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.

I don't think you're alone in that assumption. Anti seems like she's of the same mind. Janine and I are still unsure, though. I'm particularly troubled by the ending of the story. He starts using the Black Monk as an escape from his problems just when it appears that he might be finally realizing the problem in his life: ambition. The exchange between Kovrin and Yegor in the section I just posted is a small warning about the dangers of over-ambition. Yegor can't understand how the ground can be frigid while the air a few inches above can be warm. Kovrin good-naturedly reminds him that he can't know everything, but it's Kovrin who tries to comprehend everything. His very profession is the practice of the knowledge that he claims can never be fully known. Even in these little episodes it's clear that there's something wrong with Kovrin's life. The Black Monk grows out of those problems.

I've come to the conclusion, after a second reading, that while Chekhov still wanted to blur the lines between mental/emotional and physical illness, that Kovrin did, in fact, have TB and the it was not worsened by the hallucination of the black monk. If anything, I think the hallucination may have prolonged Kovrin's life a little because it gave him comfort and solace.

Here's the link to an article about Chekhov's own dream about the black monk and what prompted him to write the story:

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpag...56C0A9659C8B63

Thanks for posting that Anti. At first it sounded rather fantastic that Chekhov would see an apparition like this, but it turns out the far-fetched story is true. The similarities between Kovrin and Chekhov keep piling up.

I'll reply to the other posts later tonight. I'm short on time at the moment.

[Janine]

Kovrin's infatuation does predate the marriage. By page two, it's clear that Kovrin in smitten, but the marriage isn't until later. I think the wedding is almost at the very middle of the story. The Black Monk appears sometime before then, but after this section.

That is why I did think he was involved with Tania, before he saw the monk. It was after the evening tea one night, when Tania had some friends visiting and playing instruments and talking, that one of them told the story of a girl who had a fantastic dream or a hallucination; that was after Kovrin made the remark about possibly falling in love with Tania and marrying her. Here is that passage (sorry, if I am jumping a little ahead to make a point):

A girl with a diseased imagination heard one night mysterious sounds in the garden, which were so wonderfully beautiful and strange that she thought they were holy harmonies, but so incomprehensible for us mortals that they ascended again to heaven.

I thought the statement just before this curious and wondered why "Kovrin tried to make out the words --they were Russian--and he was quite unable to understand their meaning." Wasn't Kovrin Russian? Can you clear this up for me, Quark?

I found of particular significance, that this early in the story the words 'diseased imagination' are stated; doesn't this seem to foretell the idea presented in this story, with Kovrin also having a 'diseased imagination'?Chekhov could have choose other words such as vivid, overactive, creative; any number of words that would have positive indications, rather than the word 'diseased', which to me indicates the negative and an actual illness.

I don't think you're alone in that assumption. Anti seems like she's of the same mind. Janine and I are still unsure, though.

I think Antiquarian can tell you herself, but to me she seems to have come in half-way on her assessment - she seems to stay pretty open-minded about the whole thing; I did not get the impression that she has come to a final conclusion; afterall, should any of us, having just begun to scratch the surface, in discussing this story? When I said the story was 'open-ended', she agreed with that. I don't know, I think you have to ask Anti herself.

I'm particularly troubled by the ending of the story. He starts using the Black Monk as an escape from his problems just when it appears that he might be finally realizing the problem in his life: ambition.

Quark, good observation; you know, I think this is true. He does use the Black Monk as an escape. He has been send to the country to recover from fatique or nervousness; conveniently these hallucinations occur and the Black Monk comes like a saviour to rescue Kovrin from himself. He really is overwhelmed, no doubt, with his ambitions; they have take their toll on him both mentally and physcially. As I see it he has a complete breakdown/meltdown. One could say it was from over exhaustion and overwork. Odd thing is he then becomes sleepless; the narrator mentions that fact more than once. I have read about sleep deprivation and actually, that in itself can cause hallucinations. I will try and do more research on that today. If he had this physical breakdown from fatique and overwork it could naturally bring on the hallucinations through lack of sleep and also combine that with his impending physical disease and it could be a whole recipe for his downfall. Even adding to all this the 'cure' which is really no cure at all, given the crude methods at the time, everything combined could lead to his demise. In the 1800's people were even bleed to try and release their diseased - this only weakened them more and led to a faster death. The bromide may have hastened Kovrin's condition because in reality, it was not the correct treatment for his conditions.

The exchange between Kovrin and Yegor in the section I just posted is a small warning about the dangers of over-ambition. Yegor can't understand how the ground can be frigid while the air a few inches above can be warm. Kovrin good-naturedly reminds him that he can't know everything, but it's Kovrin who tries to comprehend everything. His very profession is the practice of the knowledge that he claims can never be fully known. Even in these little episodes it's clear that there's something wrong with Kovrin's life. The Black Monk grows out of those problems.

Quark, very intelligent observation and good point! I would have to agree with you totally on this. Interesting pointing out the line having to do with the air. I noticed those remarks and wondered at the full significance; now I see it much clearly; thanks.

Thanks for posting that Anti. At first it sounded rather fantastic that Chekhov would see an apparition like this, but it turns out the far-fetched story is true. The similarities between Kovrin and Chekhov keep piling up.

Thanks Antiquarian, I found that article extremely interesting myself. It was quite helpful to read that; it filled in a lot of blanks. I would like to hear more about these similarities between Kovrin and Chekhov, Quark. You know me, I love to tie in biographies of the authors. I like to see just how their thought process worked when they created these stories.

I'll reply to the other posts later tonight. I'm short on time at the moment.

Quark, where did you run off to his time; I had to retrieve the thread on page 2 again! hahaha.....

Quark, I posted the new story in L. last night.

[Quark]

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.

Yeah, the article was also interesting because it gave a few interpretations of the story as well as the info about the play. I like the quote from Waterson, too: ''One of the great things about really good plays is they can't be reduced to a couple of sentences.'' This story certainly resists paraphrasing. Not only can the characters be considered in different ways, but what literally happens in the plot is ambiguous. It's impossible to know what caused what. Did his TB cause his delusion? Did the illusions cause the TB? Chekhov never makes it clear.

Looking at the interpretations given, though, I think I like Rabe's the best. He tells us that the play is about ''the inadvertent calamities -- as opposed to deliberate evil or deliberate harm -- that people bring on one another." That's an excellent description of the conflict in "The Black Monk." I would add to it some; but, as an overview, I think it works well. Kovrin, Tania, and Yegor inadvertently harm each other in ways that they never understand. The Stanley Fish interpretation doesn't resonate so much with what I read. He argues that ''It's a story about the nature of creative vision and whether it can survive in an environment that's hostile,'' he said. ''And also about the relationship between visionary thought and megalomania.'' Perhaps this goes more with what Antiquarian and DM have been saying, but I can't see the sense in this argument. It seems like an overly Kovrin-centric interpretation which ignores the parallels between the characters and the story's conclusion.

The play sounds fascinating. I adore plays.

I'm crossing my fingers someone will put it on youtube. I know you can see other Chekhov plays on the internet, so maybe this one will find its way onto a webpage sometime soon. I've actually thought about doing a Chekhov play on this thread for a while.

I love Chekhov's descirptions of nature.

Well I promised Antiquarian that I'd find a poetic story to do for this month. I think this one is definitely in that category. The descriptions of nature are very poetic. They also make statements about the characters and plot. The lines you quoted below about dawn throwing light over the garden are both beautiful in themselves and also description of the greater story. Chekhov's illustration of the garden is filled with a obscuring smoke and distinct outlines. This is very similar to the way the story is told. The ambiguity of the plot is comparable to smoke, and Chekhov's concrete, literal-minded story-telling is like the distinct outlines.

I found this a currious statement and wondered what is meant by it.

My translation replaces the words "standard" and "half-standard" with what they actually mean: tree trunks and timber. Standard is horticultural lingo for tree trunks. I don't know how they expect the casual reader to understand that, but they do apparently.

It seems as if both Tania and Egor have rather currious expectations of Kovrin and there does not seem to be any real evidence to support thier high hopes of him.

I didn't find it that odd. Yegor is like a parent to Kovrin, and parents have all kinds of hopes for their kids.

I love this passage, but I found it a rather currious idea. Kovrin contemplating the propablity of his falling in love with Tania. Perhaps it is his philosophical nature which casues him to view things in this way.

It isn't so much probability he's contemplating. It's possibility, if that makes sense. It's dawned on him that he might fall in love with her, so he's hypothetically thinking about what a relationship with her would be like. I don't think he's deciding on the percentage chance he has with her, or anything like that.


Janine, sorry to bury your post on the previous page. I'll reply to it soon. I just had to catch up on some of the other posts before I went on to yours.

[Dark Muse]

My translation replaces the words "standard" and "half-standard" with what they actually mean: tree trunks and timber. Standard is horticultural lingo for tree trunks. I don't know how they expect the casual reader to understand that, but they do apparently.

Ahh yes that makes sense.

I didn't find it that odd. Yegor is like a parent to Kovrin, and parents have all kinds of hopes for their kids.

What I was trying to say and perhaps this is more true for Tania than for Egor, is that she seems to have this ideal that his coming to the farm is suddenly going to change their lifestyle there, or somehow make things on the farm more interesting and exciting, though prior to his engagement to her, he really dose not "do" anything to altar the course of their lives on the farm, he just sort of fits into the background of it, but his presence really does not change their goings on. He isn't exactly the "party guy" and I use that jokingly but I think you get my drift.

It isn't so much probability he's contemplating. It's possibility, if that makes sense. It's dawned on him that he might fall in love with her, so he's hypothetically thinking about what a relationship with her would be like. I don't think he's deciding on the percentage chance he has with her, or anything like that.

What I was trying to say, and perhaps I am just the odd one here, but to me, at least it does not seem that is natural for a person to contemplate if they might fall in love with a person or not, they either feel it or they don't. Now there are different degrees of attraction but to me that is a little different than someone thinking they could fall in love with a person, prior to actually having any feelings about them.

[Janine]

Ahh yes that makes sense.

Yes, Quark, I second that. That made that part much clearer. How would anyone know that who was not familiar with horticulture?

What I was trying to say and perhaps this is more true for Tania than for Egor, is that she seems to have this ideal that his coming to the farm is suddenly going to change their lifestyle there, or somehow make things on the farm more interesting and exciting, though prior to his engagement to her, he really dose not "do" anything to altar the course of their lives on the farm, he just sort of fits into the background of it, but his presence really does not change their goings on. He isn't exactly the "party guy" and I use that jokingly but I think you get my drift.

I think early on in this story it is expressed by both of them just how happy a time it was when Kovrin lived there growing up; so why would it be strange that Tania and also Egor would not have an elated feeling seeing him return to them. I think it is reasonable to see why Tania would think things might change with Kovrin residing there. He may not be the "party guy" but then again I doubt this kind of guy would be what Tania would be interested in. She made mention when they walked through the gardens to Kovrin that:

We have but few acquaintances here, and they are not interesting.

Therefore, from what I have seen of what she says to Kovrin she does find him interesting; even fascinating and she knows he is highly intelligent. Perhaps her standards are these and not just a guy who likes light-hearted things. She seems a very serious-minded girl herself and is very dedicated to her father and his garden. I think any relief from that monotony of life would have been welcome to her and I think she genuinely does care for Kovrin - they grew up together; obviously they liked each other a great deal.

What I was trying to say, and perhaps I am just the odd one here, but to me, at least it does not seem that is natural for a person to contemplate if they might fall in love with a person or not, they either feel it or they don't. Now there are different degrees of attraction but to me that is a little different than someone thinking they could fall in love with a person, prior to actually having any feelings about them.

I don't think this odd at all. I think that when a person meets someone, they sometimes will think the other person has a potential to them for a long-term relationship and love. I don't think everyone falls head over heels in love on first sight. True that Kovrin has known Tania for a long time but now he seems to be viewing her with adult eyes and seeing a whole new person. I think it totally responsible that he is thinking "he might become attached" to her and "he might be carried away and fall in love - in their position it was so possible and so natural!"

I don't believe in love at first sight; that it can last; love at first sight is usually just infatuation, not true love. I think that one can however, get a sense that this might turn out to be a true love in the end. Love takes time to develop.

[Quark]

I thought the statement just before this curious and wondered why "Kovrin tried to make out the words --they were Russian--and he was quite unable to understand their meaning." Wasn't Kovrin Russian? Can you clear this up for me, Quark?

I'm going to post the part of the story that talks about this at the bottom of my post. I'll explain it when I comment on that section. Right now, I'll just say that yes Kovrin is Russian. The words themselves would not give him any problems. It's the idea of a greater meaning beyond the literal meaning of the words that Chekhov is referring to here.

I found of particular significance, that this early in the story the words 'diseased imagination' are stated; doesn't this seem to foretell the idea presented in this story, with Kovrin also having a 'diseased imagination'?Chekhov could have choose other words such as vivid, overactive, creative; any number of words that would have positive indications, rather than the word 'diseased', which to me indicates the negative and an actual illness.

The word diseased does give it a negative connotation, but the words "beautiful" and "harmony" make it seem positive. It's a mixed feeling we get from the music.

The bromide may have hastened Kovrin's condition because in reality, it was not the correct treatment for his conditions.

Do you think they knew that in the late nineteenth-century, though? Chekhov could still have believed that this treatment worked.

Quark. You know me, I love to tie in biographies of the authors. I like to see just how their thought process worked when they created these stories.

When I move into my new place, I'll have access to the university library and I'm sure I can find several biographies then. Right now, unfortunately, the local library doesn't have any. All I have to go off of are the introductions in my short story collections--hardly enlightening.

Quark, I posted the new story in L. last night.

Thanks for giving us some time to read the story in advance. I always fall behind when we start the discussion on the same day as the story announcement.

What I was trying to say and perhaps this is more true for Tania than for Egor

Tania seems like she leads a rather insulated life. She doesn't leave the farm much and Yegor is the only person she has to talk to--outside of the violin guy. Kovrin must appear like quite the cosmopolitan to her. I can see why she might be impressed, given the circumstances.

What I was trying to say, and perhaps I am just the odd one here, but to me, at least it does not seem that is natural for a person to contemplate if they might fall in love with a person or not, they either feel it or they don't.

You think Kovrin is out of touch with his feelings? That's probably true, but I thought this contemplation was pretty normal. He's still getting over the fact that she's actually a woman now, so he's having some problems adjusting to the idea that he's in love with her.

Janine brought up the scene with the music. Let me post the text for that part so we can talk about it.

In the country he led just as nervous and restless a life as in town. He read and wrote a great deal, he studied Italian, and when he was out for a walk, thought with pleasure that he would soon sit down to work again. He slept so little that every one wondered at him; if he accidentally dozed for half an hour in the daytime, he would lie awake all night, and, after a sleepless night, would feel cheerful and vigorous as though nothing had happened.

He talked a great deal, drank wine, and smoked expensive cigars. Very often, almost every day, young ladies of neighbouring families would come to the Pesotskys', and would sing and play the piano with Tanya; sometimes a young neighbour who was a good violinist would come, too. Kovrin listened with eagerness to the music and singing, and was exhausted by it, and this showed itself by his eyes closing and his head falling to one side.

One day he was sitting on the balcony after evening tea, reading. At the same time, in the drawing-room, Tanya taking soprano, one of the young ladies a contralto, and the young man with his violin, were practising a well-known serenade of Braga's. Kovrin listened to the words -- they were Russian -- and could not understand their meaning. At last, leaving his book and listening attentively, he understood: a maiden, full of sick fancies, heard one night in her garden mysterious sounds, so strange and lovely that she was obliged to recognise them as a holy harmony which is unintelligible to us mortals, and so flies back to heaven. Kovrin's eyes began to close. He got up, and in exhaustion walked up and down the drawing-room, and then the dining-room. When the singing was over he took Tanya's arm, and with her went out on the balcony.

[Dark Muse]

I don't think this odd at all. I think that when a person meets someone, they sometimes will think the other person has a potential to them for a long-term relationship and love. I don't think everyone falls head over heels in love on first sight. True that Kovrin has known Tania for a long time but now he seems to be viewing her with adult eyes and seeing a whole new person. I think it totally responsible that he is thinking "he might become attached" to her and "he might be carried away and fall in love - in their position it was so possible and so natural!"

Perhaps it is just the way I am viewing/interpreting it. Or the way he words it. I am not suggesting head over heels love at first sight, but I have never had an experience of contemplating the possibility of falling in love with a person I currently have no feelings for.

Either I have feelings for them or I do not, but that does not mean those "feelings" have to blossom into true love.

But I never said to myself "maybe I will fall in love with them"

I just do, or do not.

That is why I thought it was his philosophical nature that made him view things in that regard. Instead of just experiencing the feelings, he may or may not have, he pre-considers them.

Kovrin listened with eagerness to the music and singing, and was exhausted by it, and this showed itself by his eyes closing and his head falling to one side.

I found this to be an interesting expression. The fact that listening to music exhausted him.

Kovrin listened to the words -- they were Russian -- and could not understand their meaning

I found it currious that the fact that the words of the song were Russian was pointed out. Does that have some meaning to the nature of the song?

Kovrin's eyes began to close. He got up, and in exhaustion walked up and down the drawing-room, and then the dining-room. When the singing was over he took Tanya's arm, and with her went out on the balcony.

Once more he becomes exhausted by listening to a song. Is it becasue he thinks too much about the meaning of the muisc? Or becasue it is a partcuarly emotional experince for him?

[Quark]

He has trouble understanding his own language, at least on first hearing it sung, whether it's the literal meaning or the symbolic and I think it's the symbolic. Yet he can still read. I found that strange. If I'm ever feeling high-strung (very rarely), I can't read. But then, I'm not Kovrin.

Looking at what I posted above, it appears that Kovrin couldn't understand the words initially because he was focusing on his book. Chekhov writes "Kovrin listened to the words -- they were Russian -- and could not understand their meaning. At last, leaving his book and listening attentively, he understood." Once he listens attentively he understands.

I thought the bromide was for his nerves, not for the possible TB? It probably didn't help or hinder either his physical or emotional state. If anything, it probably helped both a little.

That could be. It would even makes sense since they don't know he has TB at this point. They only know that he's hallucinating, and they might blame his strained nerves for that. Whether it's for the TB or not, though, I don't think it changes much since we've established that the line between his mental and physical condition is blurred.

As for the word "diseased," the translation could be at fault. We can't take things too, too literally here because Chekhov wrote in Russian and being Russian, I know Russian isn't easy to translate into English. Some of the Russian words simply don't translate.

That's true. Perhaps the word in the original Russian doesn't have the same unwholesome connotation that "diseased" has in English. I do have to say, however, that I've read three translations of the story and they all use that word.

Once more he becomes exhausted by listening to a song. Is it becasue he thinks too much about the meaning of the muisc? Or becasue it is a partcuarly emotional experince for him?

To understand Kovrin's reaction to the music you have to follow of series of connections that Chekhov makes. First, the music is connected to the Black Monk. Remember that immediately after he hears the music he comes up with the legend of the wandering monk. It's almost as if the music inspires the myth for Kovrin. The parallel is further established by what the song and the Black Monk represent. The song is about a woman finding a hidden harmony in her sick fancies, and the Black Monk convinces Kovrin that his diseased imagination is really genius. After we make this connection, Kovrin's reaction is much easier to understand. The song exhausts him because it's similar to his ambitious work. In his work he's trying to be overly-intelligent and it strains his nerves. The music tired him similarly because he has to strain his attention to hear it.

I found it currious that the fact that the words of the song were Russian was pointed out. Does that have some meaning to the nature of the song?

The fact that they're Russian means they're ordinary. If we're expanding our comparison of the music to Kovrin's intelligence, what does that say about Kovrin's mind? Is he really a genius, or is he an ordinary person striving for genius?

[Dark Muse]

As far as Kovrin's genius is concerned. I was never completely convinced that he truly was a genius or that it was his own personal ambition to be genius throughout the story it is always Egor, and Tania that emphasize how great he is, or how great he is to become. In some ways I think he is just pressured by them, or that is just how they see him, but that is not necessarily how he sees himself.

Though he does say he enjoys philosophy, one does not have to be a genius for that.

Though he does say he enjoys philsopohy, one does not have to be a genuius for that.

[Quark]

I was never completely convinced that he truly was a genius or that it was his own personal ambition to be genius

Genius may have been an overstatement on my part. What I meant to say is that he demands a lot from his intellect and time which may be more than he's capable of. Here's a paragraph later on in the story which explains this a little better:

He [Kovrin] thought how much life exacts for the worthless or very commonplace blessings it can give a man. For instance, to gain, before forty, a university chair, to be an ordinary professor, to expound ordinary and second-hand thoughts in dull, heavy, insipid language -- in fact, to gain the position of a mediocre learned man, he, Kovrin, had had to study for fifteen years, to work day and night, to endure a terrible mental illness, to experience an unhappy marriage, and to do a great number of stupid and unjust things which it would have been pleasant not to remember. Kovrin recognised clearly, now, that he was a mediocrity, and readily resigned himself to it, as he considered that every man ought to be satisfied with what he is.

[Dark Muse]

It just felt to me, that his feeling of having to aquire some form of greatness as instilled in him by the expectations and asperations of Egor, as the way he is with his garden, and Tania, he seems to be a very demanding man. So perhaps Kovrin feels he will be a dissapointment if he does not strive for great things.

[Quark]

I think one of the central questions of the story is: Was the Black Monk a product of Kovrin's madness or a product of his genius to cope with his madness and to help him through it in a more fruitful and happy manner?

That is one of the central questions in the story. The second is probably "What did the Black Monk represent?"

One can be a genius in other ways, don't you think, Quark?

You mean that Kovrin's idea of genius isn't the only one?

Note: I have the original Russian text of the story and the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation.

Does the original Russian version use a single adjective to describe Kovrin's imagination like in the English versions? If so, what word do they use?

It just felt to me, that his feeling of having to aquire some form of greatness as instilled in him by the expectations and asperations of Egor, as the way he is with his garden, and Tania, he seems to be a very demanding man. So perhaps Kovrin feels he will be a dissapointment if he does not strive for great things.

That's a possibility. I've struggled to find the reason why Chekhov stages the action at Kovrin's childhood home. Maybe he's suggesting that Kovrin's ambition started here, and was implanted by his obsessive Yegor.

This interpretation sounds a little hard on Yegor, though. Yegor is such an amusing character it's hard to believe he could be root of Kovrin's problems. I think some of the blame must fall on Kovrin.

[Janine]

Yeah, the article was also interesting because it gave a few interpretations of the story as well as the info about the play. I like the quote from Waterson, too: ''One of the great things about really good plays is they can't be reduced to a couple of sentences.'' This story certainly resists paraphrasing. Not only can the characters be considered in different ways, but what literally happens in the plot is ambiguous. It's impossible to know what caused what. Did his TB cause his delusion? Did the illusions cause the TB? Chekhov never makes it clear.

Quark, I hope you don't mind but I went back to this post of yours. I liked what you said here; yeah 'which came first, the chicken or the egg'?

I fished this out of my earlier post, one that you referred to here:

Janine, sorry to bury your post on the previous page. I'll reply to it soon. I just had to catch up on some of the other posts before I went on to yours.

Remember those? Ho hum...I think you forgot them....
Anyway, here is what I quoted from that article:

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 also noticed the close parrellel to the two kinds of neurosis. It seems that both men border between a sort of mental illness and genius at times; one with his obsessive scholarly pursuits and the other with his intense obsession with his garden. Out of both of these is born much anxiety and consequences of a negative aspect. Both men suffer from obsessive conditions to begin with. Kovrin is overworked and Yegor no doubt also is overworked. Of course, Kovrin experiences the hallucinations and sleeplessness; but the two men do share some form of obsessive behavior.

Looking at the interpretations given, though, I think I like Rabe's the best. He tells us that the play is about ''the inadvertent calamities -- as opposed to deliberate evil or deliberate harm -- that people bring on one another." That's an excellent description of the conflict in "The Black Monk." I would add to it some; but, as an overview, I think it works well. Kovrin, Tania, and Yegor inadvertently harm each other in ways that they never understand. The Stanley Fish interpretation doesn't resonate so much with what I read. He argues that ''It's a story about the nature of creative vision and whether it can survive in an environment that's hostile,'' he said. ''And also about the relationship between visionary thought and megalomania.'' Perhaps this goes more with what Antiquarian and DM have been saying, but I can't see the sense in this argument. It seems like an overly Kovrin-centric interpretation which ignores the parallels between the characters and the story's conclusion.

Quark, I agree with the first interpretation, Rabbi's. I don't think any of the characters mean to harm one another, and yet they do 'inadvertently' and they 'never understand'.

I'm crossing my fingers someone will put it on youtube. I know you can see other Chekhov plays on the internet, so maybe this one will find its way onto a webpage sometime soon. I've actually thought about doing a Chekhov play on this thread for a while.

I never thought to look there; now I will be looking for other plays I am interested in on that site. Hopefully someone will put it on Youtube. I will have to go and check out other Chekhov plays on there. Neat!

Well I promised Antiquarian that I'd find a poetic story to do for this month. I think this one is definitely in that category. The descriptions of nature are very poetic. They also make statements about the characters and plot. The lines you quoted below about dawn throwing light over the garden are both beautiful in themselves and also description of the greater story. Chekhov's illustration of the garden is filled with a obscuring smoke and distinct outlines. This is very similar to the way the story is told. The ambiguity of the plot is comparable to smoke, and Chekhov's concrete, literal-minded story-telling is like the distinct outlines.

I thought it was Dark Muse who pointed out the poetic sections of the story but maybe it was both Antiquarian and Dark Muse. You can add me to the list. This story did contain more interesting and lovely descriptions than others we have read. I enjoyed reading it; wish I could get it on audiofile. It would be fun to listen, to I think, with the vivid descriptions. I did like that smoke scene. I have seen films with this sort of thing and they are truly awesome scenes. I am thinking in particular of one movie I own where they burn pots in a huge field to keep off locust; I think it was locust. The scene was so amazing and the atmosphere so erie and wonderful.

My translation replaces the words "standard" and "half-standard" with what they actually mean: tree trunks and timber. Standard is horticultural lingo for tree trunks. I don't know how they expect the casual reader to understand that, but they do apparently.

Thanks for that interpretation. You know when people talk of the best translations, I don't know what to think. I can't afford to buy all new books and I would think the ones I have are sufficient, at least for me. Unless one was a true scholar of Chekhov, would it be necessary to buy the latest translation? I have run into this problem with most of the Russian authors' works. I have seen newer translations in B&N but they seem to cost a fortune.

Antiquarian, I know you said this:

Note: I have the original Russian text of the story and the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation....I've found these translations far superior to any others, but it's subjective to a degree, of course.

My question to you, would this really matter for me? I think you are more into Chekhov's work than I am, so I can understand your wanting to buy the best. I am relying basically on library books, online text and my father's old book.

I didn't find it that odd. Yegor is like a parent to Kovrin, and parents have all kinds of hopes for their kids.

I didn't find that odd at all. Yegor brought up Kovrin as a son. He had all those pictures framed of Kovrin in the parlour just like most loving and proud parents do. He surely did have high hopes for his friend (son). He proudly displayed his achievements and photos of him grown up and successful. Most parents would do the same.

It isn't so much probability he's contemplating. It's possibility, if that makes sense. It's dawned on him that he might fall in love with her, so he's hypothetically thinking about what a relationship with her would be like. I don't think he's deciding on the percentage chance he has with her, or anything like that.

I agree; he does have some feeling for Tania and now he sees her changed into a woman; this piques his interest in her in a whole new way. I think condemplating more involvement and love with her is only natural. I would do the same; should I meet someone and like them. I would not instantly fall in love with them, but I would see 'possibility' in that happening. One can't rely on 'probability' but 'possibility' could exist from the beginning, like the seed of a plant or flower. I also think his thinking 'hypothetically' is completely in the normal range. I think most 'normal' guys would think this way. Afterall back then there were not a lot of choices for men or woman. He finds Tania appealing and so he is looking to the future with some hope of happiness.

Quark, I will wait now until you post more text to discuss.

[Dark Muse]

This interpretation sounds a little hard on Yegor, though. Yegor is such an amusing character it's hard to believe he could be root of Kovrin's problems. I think some of the blame must fall on Kovrin.

I am not really "putting" blame on anyone, I was just never really certain that Kovrin's attempting greatness was of his own making and his own decision. But I am not judging that as good or bad. It just seemed when he went back it was Egor that kept emphasizing all the great things he would do.

Though I do hold Tania and Egor in part responsible for Kovrin's downfall, because they are the ones that convinced him he needed to be "cured" as I do not really think the Black Monk as a bad thing, and I do not think that should have been taken away from him.