Chekhov Short Story Thread

[Quark]

I will see what I can do considering my poor preformace in the D.H. Lawrence thread this time around

Ha, you keep saying that and I still don't know what you mean. How can you have perform poorly in a thread? You had to have performed better than I did. I wasn't even participating--let alone performing. That's all I'm really hoping for in this thread, anyway: participation. To hell with performance.

Doh! and now my intro is lost on the other page. I'll have to retrieve it somehow.

[Dark Muse]

Haha well I don't like it when I end up having to vannish for long periods of time and can only pop in preidodicaly now and again.

[Quark]

Haha well I don't like it when I end up having to vannish for long periods of time and can only pop in preidodicaly now and again.

Ah, I see. Yeah, that would get annoying--particularly if the discussion is moving along rapidly. I do hope you can join us this time around, though.

[Janine]

Quark, I read your beautiful and informative introduction; did I mention witty? haha....seriously, maybe you can post it again and delete it on the previous page. Soon though, this will turn into page #66; keep that in-mind. I did love those illustrations and your choice of font/color was beautiful (title). That painting of the house is just how I pictured that house to look. Do you know who did those two paintings? I love them.

This is pretty funny. This thread, (below) on the Tortoise poems, has been dead for about a year now. It just dwindled away and everyone forgot about it. Now everyone is noticing it; that's because, I posted an account of a turtle siting in my yard last night. I was always hoping to rejuevenate that thread, since it feels to me like one of my 'loose ends'...I hate unfinished discussions. Maybe now, someone will jump in and finish discussing the last poem we posted in there; otherwise, I may be talking to myself. These Lawrence poems are really fascinating. Anyone game?

Another is Janine's thread on D.H. Lawrence's Tortoise poems:

http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=25671

[Quark]

I know you said the translation on this forum is the best, but can you recomend others that are decent? Becasue I don't like reading stories from the computer screen and I don't like the way the stories on this site print out.

The translation online here at Lit Net is by Constance Garnette. Most translations you'll find of this story will probably be by her. If you don't have the same version, though, that's not terribly important. As I was saying to Janine earlier, the translations all look pretty similar for this story.

.seriously, maybe you can post it again and delete it on the previous page.

I think I'll just leave it there. It seems like everyone knows where it is if they want to find it.

Do you know who did those two paintings? I love them.

I wrote the painters names under the images in the intro. The person who painted the house is some late-nineteenth century American Impressionist--Twachtman, I think.

These Lawrence poems are really fascinating. Anyone game?

I'll stop by once I get things going here.


Here's the first section of the text. It's the description of the house, setting, and mother:

I HAVE seen a great many houses in my time, little and big, new and old, built of stone and of wood, but of one house I have kept a very vivid memory. It was, properly speaking, rather a cottage than a house -- a tiny cottage of one story, with three windows, looking extraordinarily like a little old hunchback woman with a cap on. Its white stucco walls, its tiled roof, and dilapidated chimney, were all drowned in a perfect sea of green. The cottage was lost to sight among the mulberry-trees, acacias, and poplars planted by the grandfathers and great-grandfathers of its present occupants. And yet it is a town house. Its wide courtyard stands in a row with other similar green courtyards, and forms part of a street. Nothing ever drives down that street, and very few persons are ever seen walking through it.

The shutters of the little house are always closed; its occupants do not care for sunlight -- the light is no use to them. The windows are never opened, for they are not fond of fresh air. People who spend their lives in the midst of acacias, mulberries, and nettles have no passion for nature. It is only to the summer visitor that God has vouchsafed an eye for the beauties of nature. The rest of mankind remain steeped in profound ignorance of the existence of such beauties. People never prize what they have always had in abundance. "What we have, we do not treasure," and what's more we do not even love it.

The little house stands in an earthly paradise of green trees with happy birds nesting in them. But inside . . . alas . . . ! In summer, it is close and stifling within; in winter, hot as a Turkish bath, not one breath of air, and the dreariness! . . .

The first time I visited the little house was many years ago on business. I brought a message from the Colonel who was the owner of the house to his wife and daughter. That first visit I remember very distinctly. It would be impossible, indeed, to forget it.

Imagine a limp little woman of forty, gazing at you with alarm and astonishment while you walk from the passage into the parlour. You are a stranger, a visitor, "a young man"; that's enough to reduce her to a state of terror and bewilderment. Though you have no dagger, axe, or revolver in your hand, and though you smile affably, you are met with alarm.

"Whom have I the honour and pleasure of addressing?" the little lady asks in a trembling voice.

I introduced myself and explained why I had come. The alarm and amazement were at once succeeded by a shrill, joyful "Ach!" and she turned her eyes upwards to the ceiling. This "Ach!" was caught up like an echo and repeated from the hall to the parlour, from the parlour to the kitchen, and so on down to the cellar. Soon the whole house was resounding with "Ach!" in various voices.

Five minutes later I was sitting on a big, soft, warm lounge in the drawing-room listening to the "Ach!" echoing all down the street.

I'll come back with some comments later.

[Janine]

Quark, last night I listened to the audio reading of this story. I love it! What immediately stands out to me, is the first impression the narrator, (who is the outsider in this story, the observer) has of the house and it's surroundings. First, his impression is of the outside. There much contrast here in the first few paragraphs. The very first line sets this idea in motion:

I HAVE seen a great many houses in my time, little and big, new and old, built of stone and of wood, .....

but of one house I have kept a very vivid memory

Three distinct contrasts about houses and how they are build; then that last line that sets appart this house from others the narrator has observed. From first encountering it; curiously enough, from merely the outside, he is drawn to this cottage, this house stands out to him and seems to fascinate him right away.

a tiny cottage of one story, with three windows, looking extraordinarily like a little old hunchback woman with a cap on. Its white stucco walls, its tiled roof, and dilapidated chimney, were all drowned in a perfect sea of green.

Again there is contrast - the white and the sea of green. Wonderful line "drowned in a perfect sea of green". Nature as opposed to the 'unnatural' aspect and atmosphere, that we will soon discover to exist, inside the house is quite evident here, in this preliminary line. The 'stucco, tiled roof, dilapdated chimney' - all indictions of man and decay, even death. This very house mimics the death theme, I believe. I don't want to say anymore about that, for the time being; don't wish to spoil the story for others.

I like the way the author used the metaphor of the this house looking...

like a tiny cottage of one story, with three windows, looking extraordinarily like a little old hunchback woman with a cap on.

This house takes on a character all it's own; yet, I believe it mimics and reflects the stagnant 'old' qualities of the characters within.

Then the next part of this paragraph describes the trees, which seem to be vitally important to the author and the story, to the observation of the narrator. The cottage is said to be...

...lost to sight among the mulberry-trees, acacias, and poplars planted by the grandfathers and great-grandfathers....

So, the relatives of the occupants of the cottage have planted these trees; there are deep family roots and ties to this property.

Now the narrator suddenly switches to the idea of this house being a 'town house'....

And yet it is a town house. Its wide courtyard stands in a row with other similar green courtyards, and forms part of a street. Nothing ever drives down that street, and very few persons are ever seen walking through it.

I wondered much about this. Why is it a town house - because of the close proximity of the other houses in the neighborhood and also why does this street never get any traffic? Nor, do many people come out to walk the street? I admit I found this a bit odd, yet it sets up a kind of mystery in my mind from the beginning. It also makes me feel 'uneasy' about this idyllic little house "drowned in a perfect sea of green"; this line still facinates me. He didn't say 'set' or 'within', but 'drowned' and he used the word 'perfect' to describe this "sea of green." Wonderful imagery and some odd feeling of forboding, with the word 'drowned' (death) being mentioned.

OK, I will stop here, because I would hate to lose my post. I will post more late on the next paragraph which I find totally fascinating.

[jinjang]

I would like all of you to know I am a passive but ardent audience of this discussion. I am serious of being unable to participate in it because I face an extremely busy month. Reading your discussions will be my pleasant break because I read the story but it left me only questions which, I am sure, you will answer.

I look forward to it all!

And I vouchsafe Quark's French!

[Janine]

I would like all of you to know I am a passive but ardent audience of this discussion. I am serious of being unable to participate in it because I face an extremely busy month. Reading your discussions will be my pleasant break because I read the story but it left me only questions which, I am sure, you will answer.

I look forward to it all!

Oh, that is perfectly fine jinjang. I am glad you read the story. I can imagine being bogged down this coming month. I hope you can read along and occasionally make a comment. If you have the inclination, feel free to jump in anytime, even it just to ask a question now and then.

[Quark]

What immediately stands out to me, is the first impression the narrator, (who is the outsider in this story, the observer) has of the house and it's surroundings. First, his impression is of the outside.

I think you've hit the right word: "outsider." The narrator is very much on the outside looking in. Chekhov positions the narrator to create two feelings, I think. One is the humor. Like in "Wintry Peacock," the narrator is a nameless other who is keenly aware of the absurdity of the situation. Lawrence's narrator reacts to the letter, and Chekhov's is amused by the strange exclamations of the mother. "Ach!" indeed. I love the line: "Five minutes later I was sitting on a big, soft, warm lounge in the drawing-room listening to the "Ach!" echoing all down the street." Being an outsider, the narrator registers just how ridiculous the nervous mother is. Lawrence and Chekhov I think are doing more than just being humorous with the first person, though. I think Lawrence was using it to create a sense of neutrality and objectivity. The couple in "The Wintry Peacock" was embroiled in a fiery conflict (or maybe more of a cold war, now that I think about it), but in any case there was a conflict and neutrality and objectivity are perhaps the first virtues to be sacrificed in those kinds of fights. Lawrence wanted his narrator to stand outside of the conflict and give an honest report. Chekhov, meanwhile, seems to be going for something a little different. Lost objectivity isn't a danger here. Chekhov's more worried about the final effect of the story. He wants the tragedy to have as much force as possible. I think he may have used an outsider narrator to create a sense of understatement. An outsider narrator wouldn't feel the force of the tragedy like a participant, and so would naturally understate it. Chekhov may have thought the tragedy of the family would register better if it were understated than overstated.

There much contrast here in the first few paragraphs.

From first encountering it; curiously enough, from merely the outside, he is drawn to this cottage, this house stands out to him and seems to fascinate him right away.

I'm not sure what to make of either the contrasts or the uniqueness of the house. I'll have to think about. It could be simply a reflection on the people inside. The family belongs to the upper-class--which does not have many members. They would be rare and unique amongst most people, as the house is rare and unique among the other edifices that the narrator remembers.

Again there is contrast - the white and the sea of green. Wonderful line "drowned in a perfect sea of green". Nature as opposed to the 'unnatural' aspect and atmosphere, that we will soon discover to exist, inside the house is quite evident here, in this preliminary line.

The trees also represent how the reputation of the family overshadows the present. It's the grandfathers who planted the trees, and now they're clogging the view of the present generation. There's a theme of restraint and entrapment here, and the trees are part of that.

The 'stucco, tiled roof, dilapdated chimney' - all indictions of man and decay, even death. This very house mimics the death theme, I believe. I don't want to say anymore about that, for the time being; don't wish to spoil the story for others.

Yeah, the word "dilapidated" brings that out. The house is a little rundown, and as we'll see it only gets worse.

I wondered much about this. Why is it a town house - because of the close proximity of the other houses in the neighborhood and also why does this street never get any traffic? Nor, do many people come out to walk the street? I admit I found this a bit odd, yet it sets up a kind of mystery in my mind from the beginning.

This may be referring to the fact that the family, while being very elite and upper class, is still part of society. They have to function in a community. The house is still a "townhouse" and it's connected by a road. But, seeing as there isn't any traffic, it appears to be only a tenuous connection. In other words, the family is a part of society, but it doesn't acknowledge it--and nor does anyone else. The house is this beautiful structure on the fringe of the town that people can see, but not visit. I tend to see the description here as mirroring the relationship between classes. The working and middle class of the town can see the upper class, but they don't mix with them. The upper class is always a set beautiful people on one extreme tier of society.

Reading your discussions will be my pleasant break

We'll try to be entertaining.

because I read the story but it left me only questions which, I am sure, you will answer.

Feel free to ask something. I'm sure someone would have an answer.

[Dark Muse]

I wondered much about this. Why is it a town house - because of the close proximity of the other houses in the neighborhood and also why does this street never get any traffic? Nor, do many people come out to walk the street? I admit I found this a bit odd, yet it sets up a kind of mystery in my mind from the beginning. It also makes me feel 'uneasy' about this idyllic little house "drowned in a perfect sea of green"; this line still facinates me. He didn't say 'set' or 'within', but 'drowned' and he used the word 'perfect' to describe this "sea of green." Wonderful imagery and some odd feeling of forboding, with the word 'drowned' (death) being mentioned.

Perhaps it is just becasue of where I live, but I did not find this to strike me as all that odd. Though I do not live in a "town" per sae, but I live in suburban area and we don't get too much traffic here nor are there often all the many people around. It is a fairly quiet area. It describes the area as a courtyard, and to my mind and having once lived in a court, they are not usually areas that get a lot of traffic. It seems to be a fairly out of the way little place so it is not too surprising that it would be so still and unpopulated or infrequently traversed.

[Dark Muse]

This may be referring to the fact that the family, while being very elite and upper class, is still part of society. They have to function in a community. The house is still a "townhouse" and it's connected by a road. But, seeing as there isn't any traffic, it appears to be only a tenuous connection. In other words, the family is a part of society, but it doesn't acknowledge it--and nor does anyone else. The house is this beautiful structure on the fringe of the town that people can see, but not visit. I tend to see the description here as mirroring the relationship between classes. The working and middle class of the town can see the upper class, but they don't mix with them. The upper class is always a set beautiful people on one extreme tier of society.

Where did you get that they are elite upper class? That is not the impression I had about thier family from reading the story. They lived in a small one story cottage and the daughters alledged Trousseau is made up scraps which they have swen themselves and the mother says to the narrator

My husbands pay is not very ample, and we are not able to premit ourselves luxuries. So we have to make up everyhing ourselves.

Pehraps they are not working class, but I don't see them has high elite, of very upper class. To me it seems more perhaps middle class.

[Dark Muse]

The little house stands in an earthly paradise of green trees with happy birds nesting in them. But inside . . . alas . . . ! In summer, it is close and stifling within; in winter, hot as a Turkish bath, not one breath of air, and the dreariness! . . .

I really liked this descritpion of the house. The way in which it is referd to as an "earthly paradise" and the contrast to the green trees and happy birds that are outside of the house, opposed to the dead hot air in the house, really bout out the image of a tomb for me, which would refect on the house as being a place of connstant mourning and grief, as well as how all inside are decaying and so disconnected with the outside world.

Also the use of the worde "earthly" can be seen in contrast to the way in which the house and those within seem a part of an unearthly, otherworld, they have nothing to do with the life of the trees and the birds, but they are concerned only with death, and the brother in law has spiritual connections in his ambitions, as well when the narrator first visited he noticed a portrait of a bishop among images of dead anccestors.

[Quark]

Where did you get that they are elite upper class? That is not the impression I had about thier family from reading the story. They lived in a small one story cottage and the daughters alledged Trousseau is made up scraps which they have swen themselves

I don't mean that they're wealthy. Rather, I'm trying to say that they have aristocratic values. Military officials--and their families--were part of the respectable Russian society. We can see some of the mother's and daughter's upper class sensibilities slipping into the text when they start speaking in French. Yet none of this is to say that they have money. Maybe I shouldn't say "upper class" but rather aristocratic or respectable. That's really what the family is. In any case, I think it's important to the story. The reason Chekhov has the mother and daughter in the kind of stasis we find them in is because they're suppose to represent the values of a certain class.

Perhaps it is just becasue of where I live, but I did not find this to strike me as all that odd. Though I do not live in a "town" per sae, but I live in suburban area and we don't get too much traffic here nor are there often all the many people around. It is a fairly quiet area. It describes the area as a courtyard, and to my mind and having once lived in a court, they are not usually areas that get a lot of traffic. It seems to be a fairly out of the way little place so it is not too surprising that it would be so still and unpopulated or infrequently traversed.

Yeah, I could be reading too much into that detail. After all, Russia's population density at that point was only slightly higher than the moon's.

I really liked this descritpion of the house. The way in which it is referd to as an "earthly paradise" and the contrast to the green trees and happy birds that are outside of the house, opposed to the dead hot air in the house, really bout out the image of a tomb for me, which would refect on the house as being a place of connstant mourning and grief, as well as how all inside are decaying and so disconnected with the outside world.

Also the use of the worde "earthly" can be seen in contrast to the way in which the house and those within seem a part of an unearthly, otherworld, they have nothing to do with the life of the trees and the birds, but they are concerned only with death, and the brother in law has spiritual connections in his ambitions, as well when the narrator first visited he noticed a portrait of a bishop among images of dead anccestors.

You make some good points here, but actually they're actually a little too good for this late at night. It would take too much brain power at this point to come up with a response, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow. Janine will probably have something insightful to say about that, though, and she doesn't go to bed until 4 AM--this is still afternoon to her, I believe.

See you all tomorrow.

And thanks for posting everyone. I know I restarted the thread rather suddenly.

[Dark Muse]

I don't mean that they're wealthy. Rather, I'm trying to say that they have aristocratic values. Military officials--and their families--were part of the respectable Russian society. We can see some of the mother's and daughter's upper class sensibilities slipping into the text when they start speaking in French. Yet none of this is to say that they have money. Maybe I shouldn't say "upper class" but rather aristocratic or respectable. That's really what the family is. In any case, I think it's important to the story. The reason Chekhov has the mother and daughter in the kind of stasis we find them in is because they're suppose to represent the values of a certain class.

Ahh ok, yes seeing them as artitocratic makes more sense then "upper class" at least what upper class means to me, but I can see where they are of an aristocratic nature in how they live and thier vaules.

[Janine]

Quote by Dark Muse

Ahh ok, yes seeing them as artitocratic makes more sense then "upper class" at least what upper class means to me, but I can see where they are of an aristocratic nature in how they live and thier vaules.

I agree with Dark Muse on this one. Just curious, Quark, how you determined the family was aristocratic; was it stated in a criticism you read? Just curious. I agree, that so far, the indictions have shown decay to the house and other signs that they no longer had money; perhaps they did at one time? As, Dark Muse pointed out, the mother made direct remarks that they had to make the clothes themselves and not have them sent out for. I didn't quite get the sense, that they were poor, but neither did I think them well off. I guess I agree with DM, in that they seems more middle-class. Perhaps too, the mother exaggerates their family situation with the stranger. I got a sense she was a bit dramatic.

I really liked this descritpion of the house. The way in which it is referd to as an "earthly paradise" and the contrast to the green trees and happy birds that are outside of the house, opposed to the dead hot air in the house, really bout out the image of a tomb for me, which would refect on the house as being a place of connstant mourning and grief, as well as how all inside are decaying and so disconnected with the outside world.

I really liked it too...the house in the first few paragraphs. I like how you point out the pharse "earthly paradise". Here's the exact line:

The little house stands in an earthly paradise of green trees with happy birds nesting in them. But inside . . . alas . . . ! In summer, it is close and stifling within; in winter, hot as a Turkish bath, not one breath of air, and the dreariness!

In fact this one statement, the narrator nicely contrasts the inside of the house to the outer natural surroundings, which to the visitor's first sight, are quite lovely, a paradise. The inside 'dreariness' is like death itself...dry and hot...that could describe a tomb as you suggest. Yes, this is a good way of putting it - "a place of constant mourning and grief"...also, your mention of the decay inside, disconnecting it from the beautiful outside surroundings....that's so true and excellent writing I think. Outside the green is emphasised, inside the gray dreariness. It's like a techicolor film shot half in black and white.

I also like the use of the word 'shutters' in the second paragraph. It evokes immediately the idea of 'shutting' out the world. Also, they don't care for sunlight. This too is so tomb-like. It's like they are vampires, afraid now to encounter the sun/day or even allow air to enter the house-chamber.

I wondered why the narrator points this part out.

People who spend their lives in the midst of acacias, mulberries, and nettles have no passion for nature. It is only to the summer visitor that God has vouchsafed an eye for the beauties of nature.

How can it be beautiful and yet in this statement seems to evoke no passion in the occupants of the property? Of course, he finishes the idea with the following phrase, which I just love.

People never prize what they have always had in abundance. "What we have, we do not treasure," and what's more we do not even love it.

So true.

Quote by Dark Muse

Also the use of the worde "earthly" can be seen in contrast to the way in which the house and those within seem a part of an unearthly, otherworld, they have nothing to do with the life of the trees and the birds, but they are concerned only with death, and the brother in law has spiritual connections in his ambitions, as well when the narrator first visited he noticed a portrait of a bishop among images of dead anccestors.

Good point and the one about the brother-in-law and the portrait and his ties to spirtutal ambitions. I find all the portraits on the wall of great interest. Reminds me of the "House of Seven Gables" for some reason. Ever read it, Dark Muse? The house, from the start echos death. Perhaps the humorous "Ach!", observed in the beginning, becomes almost a death echo by the end; a hollow echo through a lifeless chamber. That "Ach!" rather disturbed me; I could not quite figure out what that was all about. Quark, do you know? Does anyone really understand that part?

Quote by Quark

You make some good points here, but actually they're actually a little too good for this late at night. It would take too much brain power at this point to come up with a response, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow. Janine will probably have something insightful to say about that, though, and she doesn't go to bed until 4 AM--this is still afternoon to her, I believe.

Hahaha...how well you know me, Quark! hahah...do you check my posts and what time I post them - keep tabs on me? Haha...Dark Muse does pretty good herself at being a night owl.

Yes, good points, Dark Muse.

I will try to comment on the remainder of the section you posted later today. Please don't proceed on yet with the text postings, Quark; there is still much here to comment on.