Chekhov Short Story Thread

[Janine]

Ok, I was trying to determine how far behind I am and it's not as bad as I thought. I figure it's just about the second chunk of text you have posted, Quark. I need to read this whole page of posts and go from there....about 11 posts...yikes! and they are not short. I will take them a few at a time. You guys have really been busy with this second section. I wish to read all that both of you have written. Now I know just how lost everyone felt in the Lawrence thread with so many posts a day. I am determined though to catch up here. Afterall, I did suggest this story and I like it very much. If you can hold up on posting more text, Quark, and I will try to catch up tomorrow.

[Quark]

Ok, I was trying to determine how far behind I am and it's not as bad as I thought. I figure it's just about the second chunk of text you have posted, Quark. I need to read this whole page of posts and go from there....about 11 posts...yikes! and they are not short. I will take them a few at a time.

We're not that far into the story yet, so it shouldn't be that difficult to catch up. There have been a few posts, but you don't have to read all of them.

You guys have really been busy with this second section.

The first two sections may be the most important. Chekhov sets up this story like a row of dominoes. It's a straight line from premise to conclusion, and by the time the action starts we already know how this one is going to end. That makes is understanding these opening paragraphs quite crucial.

Now I know just how lost everyone felt in the Lawrence thread with so many posts a day.

Stupid poetic justice.

If you can hold up on posting more text, Quark, and I will try to catch up tomorrow.

I'm still catching up, as well. I was away for a few days and couldn't do much. I probably won't add any more text tomorrow.

[Janine]

We're not that far into the story yet, so it shouldn't be that difficult to catch up. There have been a few posts, but you don't have to read all of them.

Oh good because today is not looking too promising over here; I may be shutting down the computer most of it and tonight...thunderstorms again. This morning about 8:30 we had a killer storm. I could not believe the magnitude of that thunder - the whole house shook and it was loud; I think it was one of or the worst storms I ever experienced but it did not hit anything nearby, thank God. I was sure the front tree would be hit by lightening again. Needless to say, I was totally unplugged at the time for cautions sake. I will shut down if I even hear thunder far off. One never knows. By the way, Quark, it was my old computer which got the surge. I have some surge protection on this one but I do shut down anyway. Why risk it? It was actually my modem that was damaged - that I did have to replace with Verizon for about 30 bucks. The computer was unharmed, but next time I might not be so lucky. I unplug when I go out if they predict storms.

The first two sections may be the most important. Chekhov sets up this story like a row of dominoes. It's a straight line from premise to conclusion, and by the time the action starts we already know how this one is going to end. That makes is understanding these opening paragraphs quite crucial.

Interesting metaphor - domino effect, eh? Well, I guess I am dumb, first time I read it, I did not realise the young woman would die, even though the tone was so sad. At least, I don't think I did; but then again; it is a 'short' short story, and I have read it several times by now so I can't really recall my first impression. I agree that the opening paragraphs are very crucial to the story and that ending. The idea of this house being like a tomb, also is crucial to story development. You know, tombs can be quite lovely outside, with flowering trees in abundance; but inside, they are still dark and airless and deadly, aren't they?

Stupid poetic justice.

I'm still catching up, as well. I was away for a few days and couldn't do much. I probably won't add any more text tomorrow.

Ok, good...then I don't feel too bad. I will try and read all of the posts up until now. It will just take me a bit of time. Now I am like you, Quark, over there in the L thread this last time, trying to play 'catch up'.

[Quark]

The more I read this story the more I realize how dense the opening section is. There so many little details, and one could spend an entire post on each of them. I don't know if we'll get to everything, but I do want to cover the portraits. Chekhov says

On the wall hung the portrait of some bishop, painted in oils, with the glass broken at one corner, and next to the bishop a row of ancestors with lemon-coloured faces of a gipsy type.

Oil paintings appear in a several stories, and usually for Chekhov they have a special purpose. Paintings represent the way the owner wants to appear to others. They're about self-presentation. It makes some sense as these paintings were commissioned by patrons who dictate to the artist what the subject matter will be. If the patron wants a portrait of themselves or a family member to hang in their own homes, there's bound to be some posing and self-presentation. Chekhov uses this in his fiction to peak into the mind's of his characters. The painting we see in stories like "The Betrothed" or "A Doctor's Visit" put the self-image of characters like Andrey Andreyich and Lyalikov on display. At the same time, though, these paintings can often be brutally honest. The artist sees more than the patron wants, and the images can sometimes reflect part of the owner's personality they don't want to acknowledge. In "The Betrothed," Andrey Andreyich idolizes his wife and pursues her like a heroine from a romance novel. At one point he says

"My dearest, my darling, my beautiful," he murmured. "Oh, how happy I am! I think I shall go mad with joy!"

But Nadya recognizes this as a fantasy:

And this, too, she seemed to have heard long, long ago, to have read it in some novel, some old, tattered volume which no one ever read anymore.

Nadya then begins worry that she is becoming useless and unproductive in her role as idealized wife. When husband and wife go to look at houses this conflict between what Andrey wants in his wife and what Nadya wants for herself becomes clear:

On St. Peter's day Andrey Andreyich took Nadya after dinner to Moscow Street to have yet another look at the house which had long been rented and furnished for the young couple. It was a two-story house, but so far only the upper floor had been furnished. In the ballroom, with its gleaming floor, painted to look like parquet, were bent-wood chairs, a grand piano, a music-stand for the violin. There was a smell of paint. On the wall was a large oil-painting in a gilt frame--a picture of a naked lady beside a purple vase with a broken handle.

"Beautiful picture," said Andrey Andreyich with an awed sigh. "It's by Shishmachevsky."

The painting represents the idealized beauty that Andrey thinks Nadya has, or should have. To Nadya, though, the image shows just how useless this kind aesthetic is. The woman is nude and next to a chipped (unusable) vase. The image at once portrays Andrey's aestheticism and the problems with that aestheticism. Chekhov uses paintings for this dual purpose in other places, and I think "The Trousseau" (I was getting to it) is another example. The portraits that the narrator comments on link the family to its past--which is extremely important to them. That's the self-image the mother and daughter have. They see themselves as part of a "row of ancestors." The most prominent painting in this first scene is of the bishop. A lower ecclesiastical rank might indicate spiritualism and a higher one might point toward ambition, but I think a bishop represents respectability and morality. That meshes well with the behavior of these characters, too. Respectability is all this family has going for it right now. The portraits reinforce that. The faces, though, and the chipped glace show a side of the family that is less attractive. We've already said a lot about the clutter and dilapidation of the house, and the chipped glace is just another part of that. The sallow complexion and the gypsy faces, however, say something different. That details makes it sound like the "row of ancestors" may not have been as sophisticated as they like to appear. The mother is proud of her French, but there's something grasping in the way she takes pride in it. She isn't sure of herself entirely, and she needs affirmations like her French skills to keep her going. She might fear that she isn't as sophisticated as she thinks.


Janine, I just saw your post. You must have got it in while I was typing. I'm not going to be back until later on tonight, though, so I won't be able to respond until then.

[Janine]

Quark, I came on here briefly to check on things. They are still predicting heavy storms. I may not be able to signon again tonight. I am finding that staying offline I am a little more inspired to get some domestic chores done (way over due).

I only just now read your last post. I agree about the pictures and I like the analogy you presented from the other Chekhov story. I, too, found those paintings very curious; I especially liked the way the bishops portrait has a chip or crack in the edge of the glass...that seemed symbolic to me; otherwise why would Chekhov have pointed that detail out. The other paintings also seem signiificant by the mere mention of their details - the yellow faces and the gipsy aspect of their appearances. I do agree the mother's French seems a bit strained and she doesn't seem natural speaking it, nor greatly confident. It is a mere affection and something she feels elevates the family above all the rest on their street, I am sure. This may also be why they don't mingle and they are so seclusive in the house. Perhaps the neighbors know the truths about their ancestors and their family but they hide those to each other and stay secluded to maintain a sort of superiority.

[Quark]

Interesting metaphor - domino effect, eh? Well, I guess I am dumb, first time I read it, I did not realise the young woman would die, even though the tone was so sad. At least, I don't think I did; but then again; it is a 'short' short story, and I have read it several times by now so I can't really recall my first impression.

It probably would be difficult to forecast that the daughter was going to die--that would have been some foresight--but, at the same time, one could tell this story probably wouldn't have a happy ending. Or, if it did, it would have been a surprise. From the setup we know there are only two possible endings: either the daughter gets married or she doesn't. Marriage is the only ambition these characters have, and the plot has to revolve around their ambitions or else it would be a rather random story. The setting and early characterization doesn't make it seem likely that there would be a marriage. There's so much isolation and gloom surrounding mother and daughter right from the start.

I agree that the opening paragraphs are very crucial to the story and that ending. The idea of this house being like a tomb, also is crucial to story development. You know, tombs can be quite lovely outside, with flowering trees in abundance; but inside, they are still dark and airless and deadly, aren't they?

There is something tomb-like about their home. The occupants of the house--like those of a tomb--are unconscious of the splendor around them, and both have a musty, decrepit interior.

I especially liked the way the bishops portrait has a chip or crack in the edge of the glass...that seemed symbolic to me; otherwise why would Chekhov have pointed that detail out.

I think that detail reinforces the state of disrepair the house is in. Everything seems a little worn-down or broken.

The other paintings also seem signiificant by the mere mention of their details - the yellow faces and the gipsy aspect of their appearances. I do agree the mother's French seems a bit strained and she doesn't seem natural speaking it, nor greatly confident. It is a mere affection and something she feels elevates the family above all the rest on their street, I am sure. This may also be why they don't mingle and they are so seclusive in the house. Perhaps the neighbors know the truths about their ancestors and their family but they hide those to each other and stay secluded to maintain a sort of superiority.

It's a little hard to speculate on this since Chekhov gives us so little to work with, but there is some aspersion he's casting on the family.

[Janine]

Ok, Quark, I am going to answer this and then go back over the stuff I missed last week.

It probably would be difficult to forecast that the daughter was going to die--that would have been some foresight--but, at the same time, one could tell this story probably wouldn't have a happy ending.

Well, sorry to laugh, Quark, but that's kind of 'a given', knowing Chekhov rarely ends his stories on a happy note. I did think it had a sad tone, right there from the beginning. I think most of the stories, I have read by him, do; they don't end up very promising for anyone. That's his strength though - he's a 'realist' in many ways. He's just telling it like it...as he is observing life. I am liking his work more and more. At first, I did find it a little too dismal, but now I really find it interesting. You have made a Chekhov convert out of me!

Or, if it did, it would have been a surprise. From the setup we know there are only two possible endings: either the daughter gets married or she doesn't. Marriage is the only ambition these characters have, and the plot has to revolve around their ambitions or else it would be a rather random story. The setting and early characterization doesn't make it seem likely that there would be a marriage.

No, I didn't see her getting married at all. I could pretty much spot the futility of their sewing from the beginning. I see those patterns strewn around the house. I was thinking 'patterns' could also symbolise to Chekhov an unfinished life. I think one could say that they girl's life is cut short and unfinished just like the trousseau in the end. The girl never develops and is like a shadow in that house. The patterns are the mere outline of the clothes and no doubt many don't get completed or finished.

There's so much isolation and gloom surrounding mother and daughter right from the start.

Most definitely, 'isolation' is the big theme here and I believe 'futility', as well. It's a very ironic story in some ways.

There is something tomb-like about their home. The occupants of the house--like those of a tomb--are unconscious of the splendor around them, and both have a musty, decrepit interior.

I think that was originally Dark Muse's idea or was it mine, yours? I'm not sure, but it's a good one whoever thought of it. Its stuffy and airless as a tomb would be. The contrast between outside and inside is remarkable and obvious right away. I was thinking how graveyards or mausoleums are sometimes remarkably beautiful and filled with natural elements. Even carvings outside are white and usually bedecked in floral designs, etc. The house is described as white so that would fit the idea of a tombstome or mausoleum. The inside of the house is definitely musty and decrepit as the old woman and the other occupants.

I think that detail reinforces the state of disrepair the house is in. Everything seems a little worn-down or broken.

Yes, I really loved the way Chekhov inserted that image of the broken glass on the edge. It's subtle and very meaningful, yet simplistic.

It's a little hard to speculate on this since Chekhov gives us so little to work with, but there is some aspersion he's casting on the family.

True, he never gives us a lot but what he does mention then takes on more significance. Anyway, I think it's fine to personally speculate a little, just for one's own interpretation or satisfaction.

[Quark]

Well, sorry to laugh, Quark, but that's kind of 'a given', knowing Chekhov rarely ends his stories on a happy note.

Well, what's the word we used in the previous discussion? Lachrymose, was it? That's certainly a dominant mood with Chekhov, and it is part and parcel of his realism. What I'm talking about with the dominoes is less about the mood of the story, and more about it's plot. It's really a tragedy, and I think that's what Chekhov is signaling early on. We can say that it's going to be lachrymose just by seeing the name at the bottom of the title page, but we know it's going to be tragic by reading the start of the story.

At first, I did find it a little too dismal, but now I really find it interesting. You have made a Chekhov convert out of me!

Oh, you know what I want to hear, Janine.

I see those patterns strewn around the house. I was thinking 'patterns' could also symbolise to Chekhov an unfinished life. I think one could say that they girl's life is cut short and unfinished just like the trousseau in the end. The girl never develops and is like a shadow in that house. The patterns are the mere outline of the clothes and no doubt many don't get completed or finished.

An incomplete pattern. Yeah, their lives are an incomplete pattern. Their lives' ambitious are a pretty clear cut pattern (get the daughter married), but it's stop short by death and left incomplete.

Most definitely, 'isolation' is the big theme here and I believe 'futility', as well. It's a very ironic story in some ways.

It's extremely ironic, and it's the forerunner of those great ironic plays like Three Sisters.

I think that was originally Dark Muse's idea or was it mine, yours? I'm not sure, but it's a good one whoever thought of it. Its stuffy and airless as a tomb would be.

I think you're echoing yourself, but yeah it is a good observation.

The contrast between outside and inside is remarkable and obvious right away. I was thinking how graveyards or mausoleums are sometimes remarkably beautiful and filled with natural elements. Even carvings outside are white and usually bedecked in floral designs, etc. The house is described as white so that would fit the idea of a tombstome or mausoleum. The inside of the house is definitely musty and decrepit as the old woman and the other occupants.

You can even extend this comparison beyond the physical nature of the house. It also describes the way the daughter and mother think. They're dead to the world. They don't respond to the beauty around them (or the opportunity, probably). Really, the deceased live as meaningful of a life as these two. That is, of course, way too hard to say out loud, which is why Chekhov gently insinuates it in the imagery.

Anyway, I think it's fine to personally speculate a little, just for one's own interpretation or satisfaction.

If we're speculating, then, here's what I say: the neighbors probably don't visit the mother and daughter. They wouldn't see the portraits, and they probably don't remember the people the portraits are supposed to represent. I don't think Chekhov is saying that the townspeople are somehow privy to embarrassing details about the family. Rather, I think he's saying that the family lineage isn't as great as the mother and daughter suppose it is. Pure speculation, though.


What do you want to do about text, by the way? Should we hold up until you're caught up, or should we go on?

[Janine]

Well, what's the word we used in the previous discussion? Lachrymose, was it? That's certainly a dominant mood with Chekhov, and it is part and parcel of his realism. What I'm talking about with the dominoes is less about the mood of the story, and more about it's plot. It's really a tragedy, and I think that's what Chekhov is signaling early on. We can say that it's going to be lachrymose just by seeing the name at the bottom of the title page, but we know it's going to be tragic by reading the start of the story.

Quark, 'Lachrymose' is a good word to describe the tone we often experience in these stories; it does go hand in hand with Chekhov's realism. I see what you mean about the dominos; but they're outcome is determined by the tone or attitudes of the individuals - their mood. It's obvious from the beginning observation, of just the house (first outside and then inside), that there will be some spiralling downward for the reader and the narrator yet to experience and therefore, it will not end happily at all. First off, we know the narrator will not marry the girl; he is looking back and saying he will never forget this house; this can also clue us into the fact, this house and these people have made such a deep impression on him. I think this suggests tragedy; 'tragedy' always leaves a stronger impression, than a story in which the ending would turn out happy.

Oh, you know what I want to hear, Janine.

Yeah, I am good at flattery. But seriously, I do find Chekhov more interesting now. I even read his early play "Ivanov"; I am hoping to read others, which are in a book I bought awhile ago, from Dover on 3 Russian authors. I think the CD narration was really what piqued my interest. I have listened to that several times now. I also like the background on the author, knowing some facts about him first being a doctor and realising he may have witnessed some of his stories interests me even more. Now his sense of realism is something I can relate to.

An incomplete pattern. Yeah, their lives are an incomplete pattern. Their lives' ambitious are a pretty clear cut pattern (get the daughter married), but it's stop short by death and left incomplete.

Yes, those patterns interested me from the beginning; it may be because I have sewn myself in the past; found old patterns in my storage and things never completed; just a pile of high hopes. In this way, I could so easily relate to this story of life not fully realised, of effort ending in futility. I like what you added her "Their lives ambitions are a pretty clear cut pattern (get the daughter married)...." But if you notice even their plan is lacking; how in the world will the woman shut up in the tomb-like house ever meet someone to marry? This is truly a disfunctional family - mother and daughter live in their dreams and concentrate only on the compiling of things for the trousseau. They never progress to having the daughter even wear the articles of clothing, let alone try to meet a man. That would take socialization and obviously, this family has problems in that area. They are quite deficient and unhealthly interacting with others. This story very much reminds me of Lawrence short story "Things". You should read it sometime, Quark. It is also concerned with the 'futility of things' and is ironic in the fact' the family keeps collecting 'things'; but then moves around a lot, eventually keeping their things in storage. They are always for the future, which they never realise.

It's extremely ironic, and it's the forerunner of those great ironic plays like Three Sisters.

Interesting. I must read that play sometime soon. It sounds good. Oddly enough, I am reading Lawrence's "Daughters of the Vicar"...I have a feeling they have similar themes.

I think you're echoing yourself, but yeah it is a good observation.

Oh, am I? Well I think it's an accurate thought. For some very odd reason I keep thinking of a Thomas Hardy novel, in which dead relatives were kept in a sort of ancient family tomb. I can't recall the name of that novel; it's not one of the major novels. I will have review and see if I can come up with the name for my own satisfaction. I read nearly all of Hardy's work at one time. I love the author.

You can even extend this comparison beyond the physical nature of the house. It also describes the way the daughter and mother think. They're dead to the world. They don't respond to the beauty around them (or the opportunity, probably). Really, the deceased live as meaningful of a life as these two. That is, of course, way too hard to say out loud, which is why Chekhov gently insinuates it in the imagery.

Yes, and they are stagnant. That's the exact word I have been trying to think of. They are very much stagant and stuck in rut, in a routine. They can't break out of this now and so this routine contains them as does this stuffy tomblike house. They are tramped in within their own stagnant attitude towards the rest of the world. The probably don't even see the beauty around them anymore. Right, they live as the dead, with no true meaning in their lives. Yes, again the patterns strewn on the floor, the delipadated portraits on the wall, the general lightless aspect of the house - the dreariness, mundane quality, stagnant, dead quality present in this house.

If we're speculating, then, here's what I say: the neighbors probably don't visit the mother and daughter. They wouldn't see the portraits, and they probably don't remember the people the portraits are supposed to represent. I don't think Chekhov is saying that the townspeople are somehow privy to embarrassing details about the family. Rather, I think he's saying that the family lineage isn't as great as the mother and daughter suppose it is. Pure speculation, though.

Yes, I would agree with those last two lines of speculation. Also, the neighbors may only speculate about these people since they keep so much to themselves.

What do you want to do about text, by the way? Should we hold up until you're caught up, or should we go on?

Quark, Maybe hold up one day; I just copied all the old posts into my offline file to review. I think, personally, I am pretty much caught up. I just want to read what you and Dark Muse were discussing. I doubt I will need to comment on those posts. I would say, to post more text tomorrow or Monday. I am going out Monday early evening, to visit my grand-daughter; I should be home by 10. Today we have thunderstorms again - just had a bad one a couple hours ago. I am glad I got through this post ok; I was detecting some flashes and thought I would have to quite and shut down again. These summer thunderstorms are really inconvenient. Oh well, what can one do, right? That's nature.

EDIT:OK, I just read all of the posts offline and I am up to snuff. I agree with both of you on your comments about the second and first part of the texts. I am ready to move on whenever you are Quark. Take your time and don't feel pressured.

[Quark]

First off, we know the narrator will not marry the girl; he is looking back and saying he will never forget this house; this can also clue us into the fact, this house and these people have made such a deep impression on him. I think this suggests tragedy; 'tragedy' always leaves a stronger impression, than a story in which the ending would turn out happy.

There is an ominousness that hangs around those first few paragraphs. Not only can we project from the characters what's going to happen, but the narration itself seems to set it up. I had felt the tragic expectation of this story, but I wasn't quite able to put my finger on what it was that was making me sense that. I think you're right that a lot of it has to do with the narrator setting the house apart from the rest of his experiences, as if saying something momentous had happened there. Since tragedy does have a longer shelf life than comedy, I tend to agree with you that Chekhov is forecasting gloom.

Yeah, I am good at flattery. But seriously, I do find Chekhov more interesting now. I even read his early play "Ivanov"; I am hoping to read others, which are in a book I bought awhile ago, from Dover on 3 Russian authors.

I keep saying this but it may become a reality yet. At some point, I'd like to do a play. For variety's sake, if nothing else.

I think the CD narration was really what piqued my interest. I have listened to that several times now. I also like the background on the author, knowing some facts about him first being a doctor and realising he may have witnessed some of his stories interests me even more. Now his sense of realism is something I can relate to.

The CDs were well done--"The Trousseau" particularly. Branagh really emotionalized the story. It was quite poignant when he said last words. As for Chekhov, yeah, it's an interesting story. A lot of why his fiction has such diverse characters is because he met so many different people during his travels as a doctor. In 19th century Russia there wasn't the specialization and coverage in the medical profession that we have today in the US. There was pretty much one doctor to call, and that doctor saw everyone.

Yes, those patterns interested me from the beginning; it may be because I have sewn myself in the past; found old patterns in my storage and things never completed; just a pile of high hopes. In this way, I could so easily relate to this story of life not fully realised, of effort ending in futility.

That's funny. I never realized how hopeless sewing is. And yet so many people do it.

I like what you added her "Their lives ambitions are a pretty clear cut pattern (get the daughter married)...." But if you notice even their plan is lacking; how in the world will the woman shut up in the tomb-like house ever meet someone to marry? This is truly a disfunctional family - mother and daughter live in their dreams and concentrate only on the compiling of things for the trousseau. They never progress to having the daughter even wear the articles of clothing, let alone try to meet a man. That would take socialization and obviously, this family has problems in that area. They are quite deficient and unhealthly interacting with others.

This goes back to something that DM said. She was saying that--let's see if I get this right--the mother was using the trousseau and the marriage as a distraction. It's a delusion that help her avoid thinking about the perhaps unpleasant reality of her life. She doesn't plan to set up the daughter because she knows that marriage is impossible. Instead, she just stays at home and works on the trousseau.

That's one possible explanation of why the mother doesn't plan this out better.

This story very much reminds me of Lawrence short story "Things". You should read it sometime, Quark. It is also concerned with the 'futility of things' and is ironic in the fact' the family keeps collecting 'things'; but then moves around a lot, eventually keeping their things in storage. They are always for the future, which they never realise.

"Things" sounded like a good story, and I do mean to read it sometime. I'll have to go look at the discussion when I do read it.

Oddly enough, I am reading Lawrence's "Daughters of the Vicar"...I have a feeling they have similar themes.

Is that another short story? I can't say I've heard of that one.

I can't recall the name of that novel; it's not one of the major novels.

If it's not one of the major ones I probably can't help you.

Yes, and they are stagnant. That's the exact word I have been trying to think of. They are very much stagant and stuck in rut, in a routine. They can't break out of this now and so this routine contains them as does this stuffy tomblike house.

This is another possible explanation of their lack of planning. The family is just so used to their home, its routine, and the life it represents that they don't want to leave the house.


And I say let there be more text!

Tea, biscuits, butter, and jam were brought in, followed by raspberries and cream. At seven o'clock, we had supper, consisting of six courses, and while we were at supper I heard a loud yawn from the next room. I looked with surprise towards the door: it was a yawn that could only come from a man.

"That's my husband's brother, Yegor Semyonitch," the little lady explained, noticing my surprise. "He's been living with us for the last year. Please excuse him; he cannot come in to see you. He is such an unsociable person, he is shy with strangers. He is going into a monastery. He was unfairly treated in the service, and the disappointment has preyed on his mind."

After supper the little lady showed the vestment which Yegor Semyonitch was embroidering with his own hands as an offering for the Church. Manetchka threw off her shyness for a moment and showed me the tobacco-pouch she was embroidering for her father. When I pretended to be greatly struck by her work, she flushed crimson and whispered something in her mother's ear. The latter beamed all over, and invited me to go with her to the store-room. There I was shown five large trunks, and a number of smaller trunks and boxes.

"This is her trousseau," her mother whispered; "we made it all ourselves."

After looking at these forbidding trunks I took leave of my hospitable hostesses. They made me promise to come and see them again some day.

It happened that I was able to keep this promise. Seven years after my first visit, I was sent down to the little town to give expert evidence in a case that was being tried there.

As I entered the little house I heard the same "Ach!" echo through it. They recognised me at once. . . . Well they might! My first visit had been an event in their lives, and when events are few they are long remembered.

I walked into the drawing-room: the mother, who had grown stouter and was already getting grey, was creeping about on the floor, cutting out some blue material. The daughter was sitting on the sofa, embroidering.

There was the same smell of moth powder; there were the same patterns, the same portrait with the broken glass. But yet there was a change. Beside the portrait of the bishop hung a portrait of the Colonel, and the ladies were in mourning. The Colonel's death had occurred a week after his promotion to be a general.

Reminiscences began. . . . The widow shed tears.

"We have had a terrible loss," she said. "My husband, you know, is dead. We are alone in the world now, and have no one but ourselves to look to. Yegor Semyonitch is alive, but I have no good news to tell of him. They would not have him in the monastery on account of -- of intoxicating beverages. And now in his disappointment he drinks more than ever. I am thinking of going to the Marshal of Nobility to lodge a complaint. Would you believe it, he has more than once broken open the trunks and . . . taken Manetchka's trousseau and given it to beggars. He has taken everything out of two of the trunks! If he goes on like this, my Manetchka will be left without a trousseau at all."

"What are you saying, mamam?" said Manetchka, embarrassed. "Our visitor might suppose . . . there's no knowing what he might suppose. . . . I shall never -- never marry."

Manetchka cast her eyes up to the ceiling with a look of hope and aspiration, evidently not for a moment believing what she said.

There's only one more chunk of text after this. Wow, this story went fast.

[Janine]

There is an ominousness that hangs around those first few paragraphs. Not only can we project from the characters what's going to happen, but the narration itself seems to set it up. I had felt the tragic expectation of this story, but I wasn't quite able to put my finger on what it was that was making me sense that. I think you're right that a lot of it has to do with the narrator setting the house apart from the rest of his experiences, as if saying something momentous had happened there. Since tragedy does have a longer shelf life than comedy, I tend to agree with you that Chekhov is forecasting gloom.

I still stand by the white house representing a mausoleums type fascade; as in a cemetary with lovely greenery all around it. In this way, the whole introduction would fortell something ominous lurking within that quite decievable white house, which appears at first sight, to be very sedate and peaceful, thus setting up a great contrast between life and death and light and darkness. Tombs and mausoleums are certainly 'momentous' in appearance. One may notice them from a distance, with a sort of awe.

I keep saying this but it may become a reality yet. At some point, I'd like to do a play. For variety's sake, if nothing else.

Ok, I will go for that, Quark. I would love to do a play. You know recently I read a number of plays. I read some O'Casey, since I saw a Youtube video of one of his plays performed and loved it. I also would like to read a few of Lawrence's plays. I bet you didn't even know he wrote any plays? L did it all; he even painted!

The CDs were well done--"The Trousseau" particularly. Branagh really emotionalized the story. It was quite poignant when he said last words. As for Chekhov, yeah, it's an interesting story. A lot of why his fiction has such diverse characters is because he met so many different people during his travels as a doctor. In 19th century Russia there wasn't the specialization and coverage in the medical profession that we have today in the US. There was pretty much one doctor to call, and that doctor saw everyone.

I thought so, too...Branagh a very good narrator. He must make a fortune with his voice alone. I recently, saw on Youtube a clip, where he's in the studio, recording his readings about Goebels. I think the DVD is the "Goebels Experiment"...it sounded chilling...readings from his diary. Branagh also starred in the West End in Chekhov's "Ivanov". It was rewritten some for the modern stage and I heard excerpts on Youtube. They are wonderful. His performance was acclaimed. I know someone who flew there to see it twice, so you can imagine, and it's not even Chekhov's most well known play. I wish Branagh would do more Chekhov. He really seems to admire the author. Maybe as he gets older her will do more. It would be interesting if he would.

About the doctor, here we used to have one doctor for mostly everything. You are just too young to remember those days, Quark. I recall them even making housecalls. I miss those days. Medicine was much more personalized. I hate the way it is so cold nowdays. It takes me a week to get an appointment with my family doctor; a couple of months with my specialists. It didn't used to be anything like that. Doctors attented to their patients immediately and insurance was not a big issue, like it is today. I would image that Chekhov was a sort of country doctor and got to see many things in the short space of his career. It is good he did, he had so much to draw upon. It's always interesting, to see how an author develops his ideas, drawing from what sources from his own past.

That's funny. I never realized how hopeless sewing is. And yet so many people do it.

Only if you are a chronic procrastinator like me. But I know a lot of people who are and have started sewing projects and then got impatient and abandoned them. Later the reminents someone crop up to taunt you and haunt you. I have an exorbinate amount of 'unfinished' projects around this house. I always maintain hope that someday....
Perhaps the key here is the word 'hope'...perhaps making these clothes keep the mother and daughter hopeful. Of course it's only an illusion or delusion as we already discussed. It's a false sense of 'hope'.

This goes back to something that DM said. She was saying that--let's see if I get this right--the mother was using the trousseau and the marriage as a distraction. It's a delusion that help her avoid thinking about the perhaps unpleasant reality of her life. She doesn't plan to set up the daughter because she knows that marriage is impossible. Instead, she just stays at home and works on the trousseau.

Good point. It is a distraction and they are so emeshed in this nonsense of making so many unwearable clothes, they never stop to let it dawn on them, the futility of their own efforts. By habit, they are obesessed now, with their set tasks and that has become their routine. They remain in the groove; they now know nothing else.

That's one possible explanation of why the mother doesn't plan this out better.

Right.

"Things" sounded like a good story, and I do mean to read it sometime. I'll have to go look at the discussion when I do read it.

"Things" is one of my favorite Lawrence stories; but unfortunately, we did that one first and it was only Virgil and I starting off and we didn't do much discussion in depth on that particular story. I regret that now, since I really love that story; I have even thought of doing it over again. You will find our discussion right in the beginning of that thread.

Is that another short story? I can't say I've heard of that one.

It's in the collection of the (48) Complete Short Stories of DHL (in three volumes); it's one of the longest ones. I believe it has more than ten parts. I am over half way through. It's a wonderful story, but a bit long to discuss, I think, in the L thread. It's nearly a novella. It's suppose to be one of his finest short stories. I left the longest ones in the collection till last.

If it's not one of the major ones I probably can't help you.

No, but it was very good. I think it involved an architect coming to this parish. Hardy had trained to be an architect; he designed his own house - Maxgate. You can find it online. I know I own this novel and it's not a long one; I need to go check through my Hardy books.

I have "Under the Greenwood" tree by Hardy on DVD adaptation and love it. Ever read the book? It's more pastoral and a slow-paced novel, but very good, with country humor in it...a colorful band of wandering mistrals - the church choir - real characters. The movie has really grown on me and become a favorite. It's very well done. It's a great Christmas movie since it starts out then and goes through the seasons like "Far From the Madding Crowd"....but it's a lighter tale, more playful and humorous.

This is another possible explanation of their lack of planning. The family is just so used to their home, its routine, and the life it represents that they don't want to leave the house.

That is what I think, believe.

And I say let there be more text!

Quark, I like your flair!

There's only one more chunk of text after this. Wow, this story went fast.

Ok, I will work on the new text later on; maybe even tomorrow. Yes, see, now that you have not abandoned the ship, we can finish this up fairly quickly and move onto Shakespeare and dear old Henry IV.

[Quark]

Tombs and mausoleums are certainly 'momentous' in appearance. One may notice them from a distance, with a sort of awe.

Do you think the narrator recognized the house as a tomb? Are you saying he would have made that connection?

Ok, I will go for that, Quark. I would love to do a play.

They're long, of course, like all plays, so that might be an obstacle. Maybe we could do one of the short one act plays. Some of those are rather comical. If anyone liked this story, though, I would suggest Three Sisters which shares many themes with this story. The Cherry Orchard is the play people usually read, but I think it's a little overrated.

I also would like to read a few of Lawrence's plays. I bet you didn't even know he wrote any plays? L did it all; he even painted!

No, I had no idea. It doesn't surprise me, however. That guy wrote a little of everything: novels, poems, short stories, philosophical tracts, travel books. Any of the plays worth reading?

Branagh also starred in the West End in Chekhov's "Ivanov". It was rewritten some for the modern stage and I heard excerpts on Youtube. They are wonderful. His performance was acclaimed. I know someone who flew there to see it twice, so you can imagine, and it's not even Chekhov's most well known play. I wish Branagh would do more Chekhov. He really seems to admire the author. Maybe as he gets older her will do more. It would be interesting if he would.

I saw parts of his Ivanov on youtube, but I couldn't find the whole thing. What I saw was pretty good. I don't know if it's worth flying to see, but Branagh's version did bring something to the play.

About the doctor, here we used to have one doctor for mostly everything. You are just too young to remember those days, Quark. I recall them even making housecalls. I miss those days. Medicine was much more personalized. I hate the way it is so cold nowdays. It takes me a week to get an appointment with my family doctor; a couple of months with my specialists.

Oh, health care is such a hot topic these days. I'd say something, but the mods would be on me like mildew on my bathroom tiles.

I would image that Chekhov was a sort of country doctor and got to see many things in the short space of his career. It is good he did, he had so much to draw upon. It's always interesting, to see how an author develops his ideas, drawing from what sources from his own past.

That is one of the things I like about Chekhov's fiction. The cast of characters is quite diverse. It isn't like reading Henry James where you going to be introduces to aristocrat followed by aristocrat followed by middle-class woman about to become an aristocrat. There's actually some difference between characters and settings. One story might center on shopkeeper, the next on a seminary student, the next is about a peasant. Men, women, children, the elderly, even animals are main characters in the short stories. Some are set in Siberia, and others is Petersburg. Chekhov takes a good survey of his country through his works.

Perhaps the key here is the word 'hope'...perhaps making these clothes keep the mother and daughter hopeful. Of course it's only an illusion or delusion as we already discussed. It's a false sense of 'hope'.

As long as you're not living in a tomb, you're fine.

Good point. It is a distraction and they are so emeshed in this nonsense of making so many unwearable clothes, they never stop to let it dawn on them, the futility of their own efforts. By habit, they are obesessed now, with their set tasks and that has become their routine. They remain in the groove; they now know nothing else.

The mother's reaction to the narrator's question about the trousseau indicates that to me. She seems so surprised, as though she never considered whether what she was doing was excessive. It seems like she's losing herself in the work. Whether that's healthy or not, I don't know. But I would say she's very absorbed in what's she doing.

"Things" is one of my favorite Lawrence stories; but unfortunately, we did that one first and it was only Virgil and I starting off and we didn't do much discussion in depth on that particular story.

Yeah, If I remember that was second story you two did.

I have "Under the Greenwood" tree by Hardy on DVD adaptation and love it. Ever read the book?

No, and there's a lot of Hardy I haven't read like Return of the Native. I didn't even finish Tess. I read the first half, and then had to abandon it for some reason--maybe boredom, I don't know.

Ok, I will work on the new text later on; maybe even tomorrow.

There's a few things to talk about with the new text: a new character, a jump forward in the plot, the mother's grief. Should be something good to say. Then, there's the conclusion. I'd be interested to see what people think of this story when we get to the end.

[Dark Muse]

"That's my husband's brother, Yegor Semyonitch," the little lady explained, noticing my surprise. "He's been living with us for the last year. Please excuse him; he cannot come in to see you. He is such an unsociable person, he is shy with strangers. He is going into a monastery. He was unfairly treated in the service, and the disappointment has preyed on his mind."

I was wondering if there was any particular significance as to the absence of men within this story as it stuck me as being curious, and when I say that, of course there are men mentioned in the story, but they seem to have no direct, "physical" or interactive relationship with the mother and the daughter, they are all just hovering in the background like ghosts even when they are still alive, but we do not see them as truly being a part of the family in any sort of way, nor do we see them interacting with the family.

We start with the mother's husband who is away somewhere, and we never actually "see" him in the story, he is only mentioned second-hand through the narrator and the mother, he does not seem to have any role in what is going on, and then later he dies.

Then there is the brother-in-law, and whenever we "meet" him it is never face to face, he is never truly present when the narrator is there, he is always lurking somewhere off in the shadows, and we here about him through the mother, but again he does not seem to be truly present within the story, is almost like a ghost haunting the house.

We have the daughters wishful thinking (even though she verbally denies) about someday being married, but her insistence that she never will marry becomes a self-fulfilled prophecy as she mysteriously dies and so her husband is non-existent.

Then there is the narrator who just passes in and out of the house, but he is an outside, he is not really connected to them, just an observer, and I think it is like seven years it said between his first and second visit, so he really has no part in their goings on.

[Quark]

I was wondering if there was any particular significance as to the absence of men within this story

You're right that all the male characters have been pushed to the story's periphery. Now that you mention it, I wonder too. It could stem from the assumption that men are somehow more active than women, and so Chekhov thought a story about passivity should be acted out by women. The plays that have the same theme in them use passive female characters, as well. Chekhov may have believed that his readers would have an easier time accepting a group of women never leaving the house than a group of men.

they seem to have no direct, "physical" or interactive relationship with the mother and the daughter,

Yeah, that brings up another good idea. Their absence makes the household feel cold, too. There's a lack of intimacy created by their distance.

they are all just hovering in the background like ghosts even when they are still alive,

This goes back to Janine's observation that the house is like a tomb. The men are like ghosts hovering around the dead.

but we do not see them as truly being a part of the family in any sort of way, nor do we see them interacting with the family

This introduce the idea of disintegration. The family slowly disintegrates in this story, and the men's absence foreshadows that. The family is half-disintegrated when the story starts, but by the end only the mother is left.

Then there is the brother-in-law, and whenever we "meet" him it is never face to face, he is never truly present when the narrator is there, he is always lurking somewhere off in the shadows, and we here about him through the mother, but again he does not seem to be truly present within the story, is almost like a ghost haunting the house.

I'm going hold off on talking about the brother-in-law, but I think what you're saying here works.

Then there is the narrator who just passes in and out of the house, but he is an outside, he is not really connected to them, just an observer, and I think it is like seven years it said between his first and second visit, so he really has no part in their goings on.

And the narrator's gender adds to that feeling of oddness that Chekhov is trying to conjure up early in the story. He--the narrator--is male while the household is very feminine.

[Janine]

Do you think the narrator recognized the house as a tomb? Are you saying he would have made that connection?

Ok, I am going to answer this one first, so I don't get behind again. I am not sure about that answer; it might be so but let me listen once more to the story, and I will make up my mind as to the whole opening scene.

They're long, of course, like all plays, so that might be an obstacle. Maybe we could do one of the short one act plays. Some of those are rather comical. If anyone liked this story, though, I would suggest Three Sisters which shares many themes with this story. The Cherry Orchard is the play people usually read, but I think it's a little overrated.

Oh, are they long? I have a book of several playwrites and it's not a thick paperback. I didn't think "The Cherry Orchard" was that long. Also, to me, plays read faster. Usually they are basically quick dialogue. Is Three Sisters a long play? Awhile ago I went to print out "Ivanhov" from the computer and I didn't think it that long...the printer was running forever and I could not abort it. I think when I was done it printed about 50 pages....well, there goes my ink...

No, I had no idea. It doesn't surprise me, however. That guy wrote a little of everything: novels, poems, short stories, philosophical tracts, travel books. Any of the plays worth reading?

Haha...I actually think he wrote a lot of everything. Did you fail to mention all his critical analysis? I have two books dedicated to those. I wish he done something on Chekhov. It would have been interesting. He discussed the other Russian authors. He also wrote a few philosophical books. I own both of those. One I read but one is still begging to get read. Also, you failed to mention the 8 full volumes of letters he wrote...he was a prolithic letter writer!

I saw parts of his Ivanov on youtube, but I couldn't find the whole thing. What I saw was pretty good. I don't know if it's worth flying to see, but Branagh's version did bring something to the play.

No, you can't find the whole thing - it's a play on stage - they don't even allow cameras or video cameras into the theaters. I just saw some stills and heard some excerpts from it. You didn't see any true moving videos of the play, did you? I would die to see those. I heard his performance was stellar. I would die to see it but of course, I don't have the money to fly off to London.

Oh, health care is such a hot topic these days. I'd say something, but the mods would be on me like mildew on my bathroom tiles.

Good one, and yes they would....I know that mildew well; currently I have been scrubbing away. Isn't there something atomic I can put on my tub and tile to remove soap scum in a flash?

That is one of the things I like about Chekhov's fiction. The cast of characters is quite diverse. It isn't like reading Henry James where you going to be introduces to aristocrat followed by aristocrat followed by middle-class woman about to become an aristocrat. There's actually some difference between characters and settings. One story might center on shopkeeper, the next on a seminary student, the next is about a peasant. Men, women, children, the elderly, even animals are main characters in the short stories. Some are set in Siberia, and others is Petersburg. Chekhov takes a good survey of his country through his works.

That is true. I like the way you have contrasted Henry James and Chekhov. It's true. Dickens seems to have complete opposites - wealthy or downtrodden and poor. I don't think there are many in-betweens. I like the diversity here in Chekhov's work as well. Good point, Quark.

As long as you're not living in a tomb, you're fine.

Somedays I do wonder....

The mother's reaction to the narrator's question about the trousseau indicates that to me. She seems so surprised, as though she never considered whether what she was doing was excessive. It seems like she's losing herself in the work. Whether that's healthy or not, I don't know. But I would say she's very absorbed in what's she doing.

Exactly! I think they did very much lose themselves in the work; at least the mother. It became so routine to her; she knew nothing else. It became her obsession; I guess just like TV and computers can be nowdays.... especially computers! eeekkk...

Also, I think this being a woman's type chore - the 'sewing' - it is important to consider and this may be why this story centers on the women; the men are in the background so much.

Yeah, If I remember that was second story you two did.

Oh, maybe it was the second. Do you recall which one we did as the first?

No, and there's a lot of Hardy I haven't read like Return of the Native. I didn't even finish Tess. I read the first half, and then had to abandon it for some reason--maybe boredom, I don't know.

A lot of people cannot get into "The Return of the Native" for some reason; but I guarantee if you do, you won't regret it. It starts out slow perhaps. I have the movie version with a very young Katherine Zetta-Jones and Clive Owen. It's pretty close to the novel with a few liberties. You can always cheat and watch that first. The book can be a little confusing at times. I liked the book emensely, though. I think, though my favorites are still "Tess", "Far From the Madding Crowd", and "The Major of Casterbridge". By the way, I own all of those film adapations as well. I'm a bit of a film freak.

There's a few things to talk about with the new text: a new character, a jump forward in the plot, the mother's grief. Should be something good to say. Then, there's the conclusion. I'd be interested to see what people think of this story when we get to the end.

Great. I look forward to that. Now onto Dark Muse's post and your second one here. It may have to wait until tomorrow - late now.