The Marshal's Widow
A memorial service.
Then delicious food.
Nobody can resist some fine words and an even finer meal.
Perfect, except for one small detail.
The Marshal's widow is a no-go on booze.
She wants to make a statement since her hubby departed as a result of too much imbibing.
The guests do their best to oblige the lady.
But abstinence is not exactly their strong suit.
So they conspire to sneak in the liquor.
All is merry.
The Marshal's widow doesn't suspect the antics of the guests are not from deep emotions but stem from the secret of the grain.
An apt story poking fun at human foibles and idealistic notions.
The Goal: Read. Reflect. Respond. Over two hundred Chekhov stories. Constance Garnett translations.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
DRUNK
Drunk
The manufacturer is drunk with hatred.
He hates those who wait on him.
Mostly, he says, he hates his wife.
And why all this hate? He is rich and can have anything he wants.
Well, almost anything.
What he can't have is peace of mind. His problem stems from his riches. He thinks they are all after his money. The waiters, the singers and dancers, his friends, and his wife. The problem is he may be right.
What he needs to do is give his wealth away. Donate it to a worthy cause. Then he can see who stays with him. If his wife dumps him -- then he was right and she doesn't love him. Good riddance. The same goes with his friends. He will be poor in material possessions but his mind will be clear. He will have cleansed himself of the hatred. Seems like a fair trade.
Of course, that will never happen. He is a prisoner living in a gilded cage.
The pitiful rich. We tend to think they have it made but if we examine their lives closely I'm sure we will discover quite a bit of misery. And if you're super wealthy -- then you could drive yourself crazy like Frolov. It's hard to feel sorry for the one percent and that's the saddest part of it.
Misery is misery.
The only way left for Frolov to get out of his predicament is drinking and debauchery until all the merriment finally takes its toll and his health gives out.
His wife may be waiting for that day or she may not.
He'll never know.
The manufacturer is drunk with hatred.
He hates those who wait on him.
Mostly, he says, he hates his wife.
And why all this hate? He is rich and can have anything he wants.
Well, almost anything.
What he can't have is peace of mind. His problem stems from his riches. He thinks they are all after his money. The waiters, the singers and dancers, his friends, and his wife. The problem is he may be right.
What he needs to do is give his wealth away. Donate it to a worthy cause. Then he can see who stays with him. If his wife dumps him -- then he was right and she doesn't love him. Good riddance. The same goes with his friends. He will be poor in material possessions but his mind will be clear. He will have cleansed himself of the hatred. Seems like a fair trade.
Of course, that will never happen. He is a prisoner living in a gilded cage.
The pitiful rich. We tend to think they have it made but if we examine their lives closely I'm sure we will discover quite a bit of misery. And if you're super wealthy -- then you could drive yourself crazy like Frolov. It's hard to feel sorry for the one percent and that's the saddest part of it.
Misery is misery.
The only way left for Frolov to get out of his predicament is drinking and debauchery until all the merriment finally takes its toll and his health gives out.
His wife may be waiting for that day or she may not.
He'll never know.
Monday, December 26, 2011
STRONG IMPRESSIONS
Strong Impressions
I am writing this with a strong impression. A toothache.
Jurymen talk.
They share stories about past misfortunes.
None of the stories however comes close to the awaiting fate of the man in the jail cell.
One of the jurymen shares a story of having his life turned upside down by the persuasive orations of a skilled lawyer.
Sure enough the awaiting defendant in the jail cell -- his fate lies in the hand of how well his lawyer was able to convince the jury that he is not guilty.
And lawyers seem to able to convince one of anything. As one of the jurymen was convinced that his life would be better off not marrying his true love and then convinced he would be a fool not to marry her.
So is there such a thing as justice? Truth? Or can someone versed in argument convince you that white is black and black is white? Are we all brainwashed in some form or another?
Lawyers, advertising, politicians, philosophers, etc. -- all create their own mythology and we in part become beholden to the mythology. From birth we are handed pieces of the story and we try to make sense of the pieces -- however, most will rather just hear and obey what is most practical and most advantageous.
Words have power and when they are manipulated by crafty lawyers their power can determine a man's life. We are all the prisoner in the jail cell. All awaiting our verdict. All imprisoned by the words swirling around us. Words shaped and designed to make us see what they want us to see.
When it is all said and done -- this story did not make a strong enough impression on me to make me forget my toothache. Maybe a good lawyer can do that -- or better yet an able dentist.
I am writing this with a strong impression. A toothache.
Jurymen talk.
They share stories about past misfortunes.
None of the stories however comes close to the awaiting fate of the man in the jail cell.
One of the jurymen shares a story of having his life turned upside down by the persuasive orations of a skilled lawyer.
Sure enough the awaiting defendant in the jail cell -- his fate lies in the hand of how well his lawyer was able to convince the jury that he is not guilty.
And lawyers seem to able to convince one of anything. As one of the jurymen was convinced that his life would be better off not marrying his true love and then convinced he would be a fool not to marry her.
So is there such a thing as justice? Truth? Or can someone versed in argument convince you that white is black and black is white? Are we all brainwashed in some form or another?
Lawyers, advertising, politicians, philosophers, etc. -- all create their own mythology and we in part become beholden to the mythology. From birth we are handed pieces of the story and we try to make sense of the pieces -- however, most will rather just hear and obey what is most practical and most advantageous.
Words have power and when they are manipulated by crafty lawyers their power can determine a man's life. We are all the prisoner in the jail cell. All awaiting our verdict. All imprisoned by the words swirling around us. Words shaped and designed to make us see what they want us to see.
When it is all said and done -- this story did not make a strong enough impression on me to make me forget my toothache. Maybe a good lawyer can do that -- or better yet an able dentist.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
A MYSTERY
A Mystery
Fedyukov.
Thirteen years in a row.
His name keeps showing up but no one knows who he is or have ever seen him.
Is he a ghost? The devil? An angel?
Okay, you're Navagin, a high ranking official. This is obviously bothering you. You've had thirteen years to figure out this mystery and you've had no luck.
How about getting an actual list of every person who visited that day and asking them if they know who Fedyukov is?
"You came to visit me -- are you Fedyukov? Did you sign your name as Fedyukov? Do you know Fedyukov?"
Or how about one year you stay and watch as everyone signs their name?
There has to be a better way to figure out this mystery than to plunge into séances.
But alas I am being too logical. The point is we are all vulnerable to superstition -- to easy answers. Why think logically and rationally when you can have all you want by just believing in spirits? When you lock truth and science and logic and reasoning in the closet -- the whole world is yours. You can fashion it the way you want it.
Miracles? Definitely.
Navagin gets seduced by spiritualism -- and when you go down that road it's easy to get sucked in-- after all, who wouldn't want to have a little quality time with Napoleon? ("Okay, Mr. B, Russia is big and cold -- did you really think . . . and what's the deal with the hand in the pocket?")
Or to have a heart-to-heart chat with a deceased relative?
Who really wants to think the end is really the end?
An off switch and everything goes blank.
That's cruel.
Who doesn't want to encounter a situation where the mystery almost proves there is something beyond -- something offering hope and the possibility of eternal life?
Logic or eternal life? Is that much of choice?
So those who practice reason and logic and common sense and eschew superstition have a rough journey.
Somewhere in the psyche lurks a Navagin -- yearning for a sign -- for a trace of something beyond what science offers.
Frankly, Science doesn't give a damn. It won't change.
Some will be faithful to its factual charms to the bitter end -- but many will cheat.
Will they feel dirty in the morning or just happy?
Fedyukov.
Thirteen years in a row.
His name keeps showing up but no one knows who he is or have ever seen him.
Is he a ghost? The devil? An angel?
Okay, you're Navagin, a high ranking official. This is obviously bothering you. You've had thirteen years to figure out this mystery and you've had no luck.
How about getting an actual list of every person who visited that day and asking them if they know who Fedyukov is?
"You came to visit me -- are you Fedyukov? Did you sign your name as Fedyukov? Do you know Fedyukov?"
Or how about one year you stay and watch as everyone signs their name?
There has to be a better way to figure out this mystery than to plunge into séances.
But alas I am being too logical. The point is we are all vulnerable to superstition -- to easy answers. Why think logically and rationally when you can have all you want by just believing in spirits? When you lock truth and science and logic and reasoning in the closet -- the whole world is yours. You can fashion it the way you want it.
Miracles? Definitely.
Navagin gets seduced by spiritualism -- and when you go down that road it's easy to get sucked in-- after all, who wouldn't want to have a little quality time with Napoleon? ("Okay, Mr. B, Russia is big and cold -- did you really think . . . and what's the deal with the hand in the pocket?")
Or to have a heart-to-heart chat with a deceased relative?
Who really wants to think the end is really the end?
An off switch and everything goes blank.
That's cruel.
Who doesn't want to encounter a situation where the mystery almost proves there is something beyond -- something offering hope and the possibility of eternal life?
Logic or eternal life? Is that much of choice?
So those who practice reason and logic and common sense and eschew superstition have a rough journey.
Somewhere in the psyche lurks a Navagin -- yearning for a sign -- for a trace of something beyond what science offers.
Frankly, Science doesn't give a damn. It won't change.
Some will be faithful to its factual charms to the bitter end -- but many will cheat.
Will they feel dirty in the morning or just happy?
Sunday, December 11, 2011
A PLAY
Hilarious! Who hasn't fantasized in one fashion or another to terminate an annoyance with single blow? My favorite is the professor and the cell phone video.
Putting yourself out there is never easy -- Mme. Murashkin imagines her five-act play is a masterpiece. She has to. All artists thrive on self-delusion -- if you don't think your work is worthy you'd never dare to show it off -- sometimes the self-delusion is just that and you hope the artist will come to that realization by himself or herself soon enough but don't count on it (looking in the mirror is never fun) -- and other times you find an audience that either shares your delusion or maybe -- just maybe -- has some taste.
Of course, being pushy and subjecting others to your talent is a risky proposition -- any sign of rejection when you are starting out can be a deadly blow to your confidence. Many have aborted their passion based on a harsh reaction.
I almost gave up writing this blog early on after a particularly nasty comment -- but I didn't (don't get any ideas).
So tread gently when asking others for advice and make sure there are no heavy paper-weights in sight.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
IN THE DARK
In the Dark
Beware! You don't know what may be lurking in the kitchen when the lights are down. A shadow of a thief. Quick wake up the hubby.
The hubby don't care.
What do you mean? There's a burglar inside the house. He can kill us.
Relax there little lady. It's all under control.
Are you serious? You are too lazy to check if there's someone out there stealing our silver? Do you know what silver goes for nowadays?
Silver schmilver. I need some zzzz's.
This is pathetic. I knew I should've married Vlad. He's a dentist. He wouldn't be scared to check.
Look, I hate to disappoint you -- there's no burglar. The help must be entertaining a visitor.
At this time?
Well, you want her to get down and dirty in front of you?
Down and dirty? What is going on?
The birds and the bees honey. The fireman is creating some heat with our cook.
Stop! Not here.This is not a brothel. You must stop this at once. At once! I have morals.
That's good to know. But you can't eat morals.
This is your home. You want another man in your home doing what you haven't done in God knows how long? Stop it!
And if I do? We won't ever get a good meal again. We'll have to fire her. And then start interviewing cooks who don't like to make love. Is that what you want? A sour cook?
Go out there and do something.
Fine. Lalalalala. Trip. Ouch. Why did I ever get married? I could be cutting trees in Siberia. Happy. All alone. There's nothing here. I'm cold. Sleepy. Tired. The cook. Hey there, Pal, anything happening?
Happening. Why do you insult me? I'm a lousy worker and you think you can wake me up and throw accusations at me. How dare you? Capitalist! I cook your oatmeal just like you like it. And this is the thanks I get. Spit on me, why don't you? Happening? I'm sleeping. Just like you should be with your ugly ass wife. And wait till you eat your oatmeal tomorrow. You'll pay for your insolence. Now get out of my face, you dirty old man.
Sorry, my bad. Don't take it to heart. And please, I beg you, don't screw up my oatmeal. It's my only pleasure in life.
I'll think about it.
Thanks, you're swell.
Lallalala . . . I'm back.
Well, what happened?
False alarm.
What's that you're wearing?
This. This. Oh, this. Why it's something to keep me warm and . . . light your fire. Because sweetheart, you need a hell of a lot of warming up. But first I need to sleep.
Sleep?
Oatmeal . . . zzzzzzzzzzz.
Lights out.
Sorry, I couldn't help myself. This is Chekhov as sitcom writer. It's I Love Lucy meets The Honeymooners meets The Dick Van Dyke Show meets All In the Family meets Raymond.
Beware! You don't know what may be lurking in the kitchen when the lights are down. A shadow of a thief. Quick wake up the hubby.
The hubby don't care.
What do you mean? There's a burglar inside the house. He can kill us.
Relax there little lady. It's all under control.
Are you serious? You are too lazy to check if there's someone out there stealing our silver? Do you know what silver goes for nowadays?
Silver schmilver. I need some zzzz's.
This is pathetic. I knew I should've married Vlad. He's a dentist. He wouldn't be scared to check.
Look, I hate to disappoint you -- there's no burglar. The help must be entertaining a visitor.
At this time?
Well, you want her to get down and dirty in front of you?
Down and dirty? What is going on?
The birds and the bees honey. The fireman is creating some heat with our cook.
Stop! Not here.This is not a brothel. You must stop this at once. At once! I have morals.
That's good to know. But you can't eat morals.
This is your home. You want another man in your home doing what you haven't done in God knows how long? Stop it!
And if I do? We won't ever get a good meal again. We'll have to fire her. And then start interviewing cooks who don't like to make love. Is that what you want? A sour cook?
Go out there and do something.
Fine. Lalalalala. Trip. Ouch. Why did I ever get married? I could be cutting trees in Siberia. Happy. All alone. There's nothing here. I'm cold. Sleepy. Tired. The cook. Hey there, Pal, anything happening?
Happening. Why do you insult me? I'm a lousy worker and you think you can wake me up and throw accusations at me. How dare you? Capitalist! I cook your oatmeal just like you like it. And this is the thanks I get. Spit on me, why don't you? Happening? I'm sleeping. Just like you should be with your ugly ass wife. And wait till you eat your oatmeal tomorrow. You'll pay for your insolence. Now get out of my face, you dirty old man.
Sorry, my bad. Don't take it to heart. And please, I beg you, don't screw up my oatmeal. It's my only pleasure in life.
I'll think about it.
Thanks, you're swell.
Lallalala . . . I'm back.
Well, what happened?
False alarm.
What's that you're wearing?
This. This. Oh, this. Why it's something to keep me warm and . . . light your fire. Because sweetheart, you need a hell of a lot of warming up. But first I need to sleep.
Sleep?
Oatmeal . . . zzzzzzzzzzz.
Lights out.
Sorry, I couldn't help myself. This is Chekhov as sitcom writer. It's I Love Lucy meets The Honeymooners meets The Dick Van Dyke Show meets All In the Family meets Raymond.
Monday, December 5, 2011
FROM THE DIARY OF A VIOLENT-TEMPERED MAN
From the Diary of a Violent-Tempered Man
The man has a temper. You better watch out! I mean it. He can explode any second. Don't mess with him! Certainly don't play games with him. He's got no time for that. No stomach. He's into finance. Dog licenses to be exact. He doesn't know nothing about young women. Doesn't want to know nothing about love. So don't whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Don't send him letters to meet up. Don't make him kiss you. No. Just let him be. He's a volcano. You better believe he is. And don't you dare marry him. Boy, that's asking for trouble.
Honeymoon. Did you just say Honeymoon? Look out!
The man has a temper. You better watch out! I mean it. He can explode any second. Don't mess with him! Certainly don't play games with him. He's got no time for that. No stomach. He's into finance. Dog licenses to be exact. He doesn't know nothing about young women. Doesn't want to know nothing about love. So don't whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Don't send him letters to meet up. Don't make him kiss you. No. Just let him be. He's a volcano. You better believe he is. And don't you dare marry him. Boy, that's asking for trouble.
Honeymoon. Did you just say Honeymoon? Look out!
Sunday, November 27, 2011
BETROTHED
Betrothed
I have seen similar stories in my Chekhov journey. At least the theme seems the same.
Someone is stuck in a provincial town and feels trapped. They long to escape. To live. In many other stories they can't get out. Here Nadya, becomes the runaway bride and is able to break free.
Nadya is betrothed to Andrey Andreitch who doesn't do much of anything except play the fiddle. She lives with her grandmother and mother. Her mother, Nina Ivanovna who didn't love her husband is now dependent on her mother-in-law.
Nadya has only one voice of clarity when she realizes she doesn't love her fiancé. Sasha, who the grandmother helped pay for his studies in art and stays with the family for several weeks in the summer, encourages Nadya to turn her "life upside down."
Looking at the life she will live if she stays -- it all seems oppressive to Nadya. Barren -- meaningless -- she desperately doesn't want to become like her mom -- dependent -- not doing anything with her life -- and she finally decides to break all conventions and leave.
A difficult decision for a young woman. It just wasn't done. Her reputation in the town and the family honor would be ruined. But she feels she has no alternative. Selfish? Yes. But so what? When you are drowning you have to grab any lifeline that is offered.
The question that is not answered is who would pay for her studies in Petersburg. Her room and board? Sometimes you have the desire and you're willing to go but you just don't have the means.
I imagine once she got to Petersburg she wrote home and they agreed to send her money. What if the grandmother refused to wire her the funds? Instead of studying at a university she may have had to become some rich man's mistress or worse. Like I said -- not an easy decision.
This story was most likely controversial in its time. Young women were not expected to leave their fiancés behind and go off on their own to study. Let's be honest -- this story is still quite controversial in many parts of the world even today -- where women are expected just to serve their husbands and their personal happiness is never considered.
Chekhov eloquently makes the argument for people to break free from tired traditions and not to feel encumbered by their surroundings and the expectation of others.
You only have one life to live so live it on your own terms -- it is the only way to be free and happy. It's never painless to do that -- there's many obstacles to overcome and family you may have to disappoint and most people take the easy road only to feel stifled and unhappy for much of their life.
Self-empowerment. Modern in Chekhov's day and still vital today and always.
I have seen similar stories in my Chekhov journey. At least the theme seems the same.
Someone is stuck in a provincial town and feels trapped. They long to escape. To live. In many other stories they can't get out. Here Nadya, becomes the runaway bride and is able to break free.
Nadya is betrothed to Andrey Andreitch who doesn't do much of anything except play the fiddle. She lives with her grandmother and mother. Her mother, Nina Ivanovna who didn't love her husband is now dependent on her mother-in-law.
Nadya has only one voice of clarity when she realizes she doesn't love her fiancé. Sasha, who the grandmother helped pay for his studies in art and stays with the family for several weeks in the summer, encourages Nadya to turn her "life upside down."
Looking at the life she will live if she stays -- it all seems oppressive to Nadya. Barren -- meaningless -- she desperately doesn't want to become like her mom -- dependent -- not doing anything with her life -- and she finally decides to break all conventions and leave.
A difficult decision for a young woman. It just wasn't done. Her reputation in the town and the family honor would be ruined. But she feels she has no alternative. Selfish? Yes. But so what? When you are drowning you have to grab any lifeline that is offered.
The question that is not answered is who would pay for her studies in Petersburg. Her room and board? Sometimes you have the desire and you're willing to go but you just don't have the means.
I imagine once she got to Petersburg she wrote home and they agreed to send her money. What if the grandmother refused to wire her the funds? Instead of studying at a university she may have had to become some rich man's mistress or worse. Like I said -- not an easy decision.
This story was most likely controversial in its time. Young women were not expected to leave their fiancés behind and go off on their own to study. Let's be honest -- this story is still quite controversial in many parts of the world even today -- where women are expected just to serve their husbands and their personal happiness is never considered.
Chekhov eloquently makes the argument for people to break free from tired traditions and not to feel encumbered by their surroundings and the expectation of others.
You only have one life to live so live it on your own terms -- it is the only way to be free and happy. It's never painless to do that -- there's many obstacles to overcome and family you may have to disappoint and most people take the easy road only to feel stifled and unhappy for much of their life.
Self-empowerment. Modern in Chekhov's day and still vital today and always.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
THE EXAMINING MAGISTRATE
The Examining Magistrate
As Al Gore knows very well, truth is inconvenient. Therefore, you believe what is convenient. What is convenient for the examining magistrate is to believe in the paranormal.
There are things out there beyond our comprehension. Forces out of our control.
Not so fast, says the district doctor. "There's no effect without a cause."
What proceeds is an argument between faith and reason. Rationality versus superstition.
No matter how hard the examining magistrate tries to convince the doctor a woman in prime health had a premonition she would die right after delivering her baby -- the doctor doesn't buy it. There has to be a logical answer.
A lot is at stake for the examining magistrate -- and when the doctor starts to ask some pertinent questions -- the mystery begins to unravel. Unfortunately for the examining magistrate his life is now poisoned by the truth just as the life of his own wife -- the woman with the premonition -- became poisoned when she found out he was cheating on her.
The truth is a powerful drug and very few have the stomach for it. Most of the time we prefer palliatives -- to keep us going painlessly into oblivion.
The examining magistrate might have been better off not bringing up the subject with the doctor -- yet somehow one would think there was something bothering him -- his own guilt -- or a deep-seated need for clarity.
We all make friends with lies in one fashion or another -- we have to -- who really wants to see the unblemished truth? That would force us not only to look at the world around us differently but more importantly to truly see ourselves in the mirror. Uggh!
What we discover in this story is truth can set you free but it can also kill you.
As Al Gore knows very well, truth is inconvenient. Therefore, you believe what is convenient. What is convenient for the examining magistrate is to believe in the paranormal.
There are things out there beyond our comprehension. Forces out of our control.
Not so fast, says the district doctor. "There's no effect without a cause."
What proceeds is an argument between faith and reason. Rationality versus superstition.
No matter how hard the examining magistrate tries to convince the doctor a woman in prime health had a premonition she would die right after delivering her baby -- the doctor doesn't buy it. There has to be a logical answer.
A lot is at stake for the examining magistrate -- and when the doctor starts to ask some pertinent questions -- the mystery begins to unravel. Unfortunately for the examining magistrate his life is now poisoned by the truth just as the life of his own wife -- the woman with the premonition -- became poisoned when she found out he was cheating on her.
The truth is a powerful drug and very few have the stomach for it. Most of the time we prefer palliatives -- to keep us going painlessly into oblivion.
The examining magistrate might have been better off not bringing up the subject with the doctor -- yet somehow one would think there was something bothering him -- his own guilt -- or a deep-seated need for clarity.
We all make friends with lies in one fashion or another -- we have to -- who really wants to see the unblemished truth? That would force us not only to look at the world around us differently but more importantly to truly see ourselves in the mirror. Uggh!
What we discover in this story is truth can set you free but it can also kill you.
Friday, November 25, 2011
ENEMIES
Enemies
I sit in front of my computer in silence. Just as Chekhov writes: " . . . dumbness is most often the highest expression of happiness or unhappiness." And I am very unhappy. Jealous. How can one man write with such power while the rest of us struggle to make even one sentence barely legible?
From beginning to end this story is flawlessly constructed. There is so much going on. First he has to capture the doctor's mood after just seeing his only son die. That alone is like climbing Mount Everest -- then he describes the eerie stillness of the room and his helpless wife clutching her dead son -- the image of the mother completely wiped out -- beyond grief -- is sublime.
He trumps what he writes: ". . . almost elusive beauty of human sorrow which men will not for a long time learn to understand and describe, and which seems only music can convey." Well, then Chekhov is Beethoven. His words brings to life the atmosphere of the room. The scene of the wife and child brings to mind the mother holding her dead child in Picasso's masterpiece Guernica.
And we're just getting started. In comes Abogin. Now we have a moral dilemma. The doctor's child has died five minutes ago and Abogin is pleading with him to come and save his wife. At first, one thinks Abogin is completely inappropriate -- but we begin to sympathize with him -- he is desperately trying to save his young wife whom he dearly loves.
Both of their arguments make sense -- the doctor is not capable of anything right now -- he's numb -- but Abogin can't give up -- his only hope to save his wife is to get the doctor to come with him.
Finally, the doctor relents. What convinces him is not big speeches but practicality. Abogin can get him there and back in an hour. Chekhov is brilliantly conveying the psychology involved in the competing crises. This is a duel loaded with moral and spiritual weight -- but Chekhov doesn't lose sight of what makes humans tick.
During the carriage ride to Abogin's home -- Chekhov juggles between the imagery of the surrounding landscape which is rendered with the brushstrokes of a Cézanne and the mindset of two people at the razor's edge. I'm tired already. But Chekhov is just gearing up.
In the home we get a fine description of the ugliness of the doctor and the elegance of Abogin. And now comes the twist. Abogin's wife is not dead. She is not even sick. It was all a ruse to escape with her lover. Abogin's whole life has been shattered. This is worse news to him than his wife having an aneurysm. This is about him. His life. All he has done and all he has given to his wife has been for nothing. He has been kicked in the gut. He forgets all about the doctor's suffering. He can only think about his pain. Selfish. Without a doubt. But here is Chekhov guiding us through this: "The unhappy are egoistic, spiteful, unjust, cruel, and less capable of understanding each other than fools."
So we witness two of the most unhappy people on the planet go at each other. Each feeling his unhappiness is more worthy than the other. Reminds me of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Each side lashing out their you-can't-beat-my-tragedy at each other.
You can decide to take a side in this conflict. You can say the doctor has the moral high ground. His son has just died -- he was decent enough to go with Abogin and now is being subjected needlessly to Abogin's marital woes -- or you can feel for Abogin who was desperately trying to save his wife only to find out it was all a ruse and now he has lost his senses -- and the doctor should not take it personally but simply ask Abogin to please get the carriage so he can go home.
In this case, is there a right and a wrong? Does morality play a role here? Both are justifiably unhappy and angry -- does one tragedy beat another?
Enemies. At some point there is a divide -- and because of circumstance or history -- does the ability to reach out and forgive become impossible?
I sit in front of my computer in silence. Just as Chekhov writes: " . . . dumbness is most often the highest expression of happiness or unhappiness." And I am very unhappy. Jealous. How can one man write with such power while the rest of us struggle to make even one sentence barely legible?
From beginning to end this story is flawlessly constructed. There is so much going on. First he has to capture the doctor's mood after just seeing his only son die. That alone is like climbing Mount Everest -- then he describes the eerie stillness of the room and his helpless wife clutching her dead son -- the image of the mother completely wiped out -- beyond grief -- is sublime.
He trumps what he writes: ". . . almost elusive beauty of human sorrow which men will not for a long time learn to understand and describe, and which seems only music can convey." Well, then Chekhov is Beethoven. His words brings to life the atmosphere of the room. The scene of the wife and child brings to mind the mother holding her dead child in Picasso's masterpiece Guernica.
And we're just getting started. In comes Abogin. Now we have a moral dilemma. The doctor's child has died five minutes ago and Abogin is pleading with him to come and save his wife. At first, one thinks Abogin is completely inappropriate -- but we begin to sympathize with him -- he is desperately trying to save his young wife whom he dearly loves.
Both of their arguments make sense -- the doctor is not capable of anything right now -- he's numb -- but Abogin can't give up -- his only hope to save his wife is to get the doctor to come with him.
Finally, the doctor relents. What convinces him is not big speeches but practicality. Abogin can get him there and back in an hour. Chekhov is brilliantly conveying the psychology involved in the competing crises. This is a duel loaded with moral and spiritual weight -- but Chekhov doesn't lose sight of what makes humans tick.
During the carriage ride to Abogin's home -- Chekhov juggles between the imagery of the surrounding landscape which is rendered with the brushstrokes of a Cézanne and the mindset of two people at the razor's edge. I'm tired already. But Chekhov is just gearing up.
In the home we get a fine description of the ugliness of the doctor and the elegance of Abogin. And now comes the twist. Abogin's wife is not dead. She is not even sick. It was all a ruse to escape with her lover. Abogin's whole life has been shattered. This is worse news to him than his wife having an aneurysm. This is about him. His life. All he has done and all he has given to his wife has been for nothing. He has been kicked in the gut. He forgets all about the doctor's suffering. He can only think about his pain. Selfish. Without a doubt. But here is Chekhov guiding us through this: "The unhappy are egoistic, spiteful, unjust, cruel, and less capable of understanding each other than fools."
So we witness two of the most unhappy people on the planet go at each other. Each feeling his unhappiness is more worthy than the other. Reminds me of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Each side lashing out their you-can't-beat-my-tragedy at each other.
You can decide to take a side in this conflict. You can say the doctor has the moral high ground. His son has just died -- he was decent enough to go with Abogin and now is being subjected needlessly to Abogin's marital woes -- or you can feel for Abogin who was desperately trying to save his wife only to find out it was all a ruse and now he has lost his senses -- and the doctor should not take it personally but simply ask Abogin to please get the carriage so he can go home.
In this case, is there a right and a wrong? Does morality play a role here? Both are justifiably unhappy and angry -- does one tragedy beat another?
Enemies. At some point there is a divide -- and because of circumstance or history -- does the ability to reach out and forgive become impossible?
Thursday, November 24, 2011
THE SCHOOLMASTER
The Schoolmaster
The schoolmaster is dying. But he's in denial. The story is seen mostly through the schoolmaster's point of view. He keeps hearing people tell him he is ill and he doesn't understand it. He's convinced himself he was ill and now he's recovered but still weak.
Denial is very strong and people hear and think only what they choose to. The story illustrates this point to an extreme. But we have denial all around us. From failed politicians to aging athletes.
One of my favorite examples of denial occurred in a comedy club. The comedian told the most lame jokes I'd ever heard. I vaguely remember one of them being about Elizabeth Taylor. Nobody laughed. He bombed. I was sitting near the exit of the stage when the comedian came off the stage and all he did was complain about the crowd. It's wasn't his pathetic attempt at humor that was the problem but the thickness of the crowd. We all do denial in one form of another.
The schoolmaster looks in the mirror and doesn't see himself with sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes and when he is finally confronted with the truth at the party he becomes despondent for a while but then he convinces himself he is not seriously ill.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her book, On Death and Dying, describes the five stages of dying. They start with denial, then anger, then bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. The schoolmaster needs to work fast to get through these stages because the doctors think he's only got a week left to live.
The schoolmaster is dying. But he's in denial. The story is seen mostly through the schoolmaster's point of view. He keeps hearing people tell him he is ill and he doesn't understand it. He's convinced himself he was ill and now he's recovered but still weak.
Denial is very strong and people hear and think only what they choose to. The story illustrates this point to an extreme. But we have denial all around us. From failed politicians to aging athletes.
One of my favorite examples of denial occurred in a comedy club. The comedian told the most lame jokes I'd ever heard. I vaguely remember one of them being about Elizabeth Taylor. Nobody laughed. He bombed. I was sitting near the exit of the stage when the comedian came off the stage and all he did was complain about the crowd. It's wasn't his pathetic attempt at humor that was the problem but the thickness of the crowd. We all do denial in one form of another.
The schoolmaster looks in the mirror and doesn't see himself with sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes and when he is finally confronted with the truth at the party he becomes despondent for a while but then he convinces himself he is not seriously ill.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her book, On Death and Dying, describes the five stages of dying. They start with denial, then anger, then bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. The schoolmaster needs to work fast to get through these stages because the doctors think he's only got a week left to live.
AN ACTOR'S END
An Actor's End
Did he die from an overdose of castor oil?
I know. Something snapped in Shtchiptsov the actor's chest. So we must presume it's a heart condition. Literally or figuratively. Maybe his heart just gave out. Or what snapped in his chest during the argument with the manager was a realization his life was a waste. He had no wife. No children. And all that acting to entertain audiences -- but to what end?
At some point in life you may have a realization, a satori, where one sees clearly what life is all about. During those moments you could very well decide that most of what you've done has not amounted to much. This is especially true if you are an artist -- where sacrifice is to be expected.
Acting in Chekhov's day (and nothing has changed much) -- unless you were famous -- is a profession where you would be struggling financially -- what kept you going was the love for the craft -- however even love has its limits. And the old man Shtchiptsov might have reached his limit.
He has a chance to reminisce with his fellow thespians about his adventures and through these memories we see the glory and hollowness of his life.
There must have been times when Shtchiptsov must've felt he was on top of the world -- strong, powerful and admired. He had given up the warmth of family and home. The comfort of routines and an ordinary job -- the laugh of his children -- the feeling of belonging to a community. However, he was traveling around -- doing something he loved -- meeting different people -- being part of a troupe -- every night a chance to be up on the stage and become transformed -- energized by the magic of theater. Was it a fair trade?
Yes and no. Many nights he probably experienced the wariness of the road -- the emptiness of coming back to a strange room and being all alone. Tired. Unloved. Only a bottle of booze by his side.
The old man has seen it all. He now wants to go to Vyazma. To die there. But as Thomas Wolfe once wrote: You can't go home again.
Shtchiptsov may have felt like a failure in his last days and never got to go back home -- but how can one sum up his life?
Well let us leave the final words to Thomas Wolfe:
"If a man has talent and can't use it, he's failed. If he uses only half of it, he has partly failed. If he uses the whole of it, he has succeeded, and won a satisfaction and triumph few men ever know."
Did he die from an overdose of castor oil?
I know. Something snapped in Shtchiptsov the actor's chest. So we must presume it's a heart condition. Literally or figuratively. Maybe his heart just gave out. Or what snapped in his chest during the argument with the manager was a realization his life was a waste. He had no wife. No children. And all that acting to entertain audiences -- but to what end?
At some point in life you may have a realization, a satori, where one sees clearly what life is all about. During those moments you could very well decide that most of what you've done has not amounted to much. This is especially true if you are an artist -- where sacrifice is to be expected.
Acting in Chekhov's day (and nothing has changed much) -- unless you were famous -- is a profession where you would be struggling financially -- what kept you going was the love for the craft -- however even love has its limits. And the old man Shtchiptsov might have reached his limit.
He has a chance to reminisce with his fellow thespians about his adventures and through these memories we see the glory and hollowness of his life.
There must have been times when Shtchiptsov must've felt he was on top of the world -- strong, powerful and admired. He had given up the warmth of family and home. The comfort of routines and an ordinary job -- the laugh of his children -- the feeling of belonging to a community. However, he was traveling around -- doing something he loved -- meeting different people -- being part of a troupe -- every night a chance to be up on the stage and become transformed -- energized by the magic of theater. Was it a fair trade?
Yes and no. Many nights he probably experienced the wariness of the road -- the emptiness of coming back to a strange room and being all alone. Tired. Unloved. Only a bottle of booze by his side.
The old man has seen it all. He now wants to go to Vyazma. To die there. But as Thomas Wolfe once wrote: You can't go home again.
Shtchiptsov may have felt like a failure in his last days and never got to go back home -- but how can one sum up his life?
Well let us leave the final words to Thomas Wolfe:
"If a man has talent and can't use it, he's failed. If he uses only half of it, he has partly failed. If he uses the whole of it, he has succeeded, and won a satisfaction and triumph few men ever know."
Sunday, November 20, 2011
A TROUBLESOME VISITOR
A Troublesome Visitor
A storm is coming. It is night. Two men. A dark ikon.
One of the men is Artyom, a forester. He talks about the evil of man. How some come to his hut and demand bread and rob him. All his thoughts are about how man is wicked.
The other man is a hunter. He speaks the truth (and that is always troublesome). Casually pointing out how Artyom is not feeding his cat properly.
More than speaking the truth -- he puts his money where his mouth is. When there is a scream coming from the forest for help -- Artyom wants to bolt the door and put off the light.
The hunter says they have to go and try to help -- Artyom thinks he's crazy and won't hear of it.
The hunter lashes in to him and tells him it's his duty to help. Artyom refuses to go out. The hunter leaves with his dog and Artyom bolts the door.
The hunter comes back a short time later and tells him it was a peasant woman who had lost her way -- but the hunter is troubled. Artyom passes himself of as a man of God -- railing against evil -- while the hunter sees that the forester is a mean, selfish hypocrite. The hunter wants to get back at Artyom and tries to rob him. But when he sees how pathetic Artyom is -- how scared -- how miserable -- he just wants to get out of there. And he does.
Hypocrites are all around us. Shouting out against the evils of the world -- when all they have to do is look in the mirror. Take one recent example -- Newt Gingrich -- who was running for president. In his campaign Gingrich had been lambasting Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae and blaming these government-sponsored mortgage companies for the problems affecting housing. Until we discovered that good ole Newt profited nearly two million dollars by acting as a consultant for these very same companies.
Hypocrisy is nothing new and will always be around. I suppose as Chekhov points out in this story -- the best solution is calling out the hypocrite and then staying as far away from them as possible.
A storm is coming. It is night. Two men. A dark ikon.
One of the men is Artyom, a forester. He talks about the evil of man. How some come to his hut and demand bread and rob him. All his thoughts are about how man is wicked.
The other man is a hunter. He speaks the truth (and that is always troublesome). Casually pointing out how Artyom is not feeding his cat properly.
More than speaking the truth -- he puts his money where his mouth is. When there is a scream coming from the forest for help -- Artyom wants to bolt the door and put off the light.
The hunter says they have to go and try to help -- Artyom thinks he's crazy and won't hear of it.
The hunter lashes in to him and tells him it's his duty to help. Artyom refuses to go out. The hunter leaves with his dog and Artyom bolts the door.
The hunter comes back a short time later and tells him it was a peasant woman who had lost her way -- but the hunter is troubled. Artyom passes himself of as a man of God -- railing against evil -- while the hunter sees that the forester is a mean, selfish hypocrite. The hunter wants to get back at Artyom and tries to rob him. But when he sees how pathetic Artyom is -- how scared -- how miserable -- he just wants to get out of there. And he does.
Hypocrites are all around us. Shouting out against the evils of the world -- when all they have to do is look in the mirror. Take one recent example -- Newt Gingrich -- who was running for president. In his campaign Gingrich had been lambasting Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae and blaming these government-sponsored mortgage companies for the problems affecting housing. Until we discovered that good ole Newt profited nearly two million dollars by acting as a consultant for these very same companies.
Hypocrisy is nothing new and will always be around. I suppose as Chekhov points out in this story -- the best solution is calling out the hypocrite and then staying as far away from them as possible.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
A HAPPY MAN
A Happy Man
You get on the wrong train. A train accident. Anything can happen at anytime to put an end to your happiness. Or as an obscure playwright once wrote: Things happen quickly and with force and we are all too slow and too weak to do anything about it.
Poor bridegroom. Ivan Alexyevitch has landed in a Chekhov story where he will be a pawn to illustrate the fickleness of fate. Too bad. He seems to be having such a fine time. It truly is rare to see such unabashed happiness and we'd like to see it last.
So what do we do when we're in the same train or boat as Ivan Alexyevitch? Do we revel in our happiness and enjoy it while it lasts or do we wait for the other shoe to drop?
The story makes Ivan Alexyevitch look rather foolish for putting too much faith in happiness. But his ebullience is so damn contagious we become infected. We all need to find a few moments in life where we simply bask in happy feelings and embrace the world.
The bad and unhappiness will show up soon enough -- but as Rick tells Elsa in the classic Casablanca:"We'll always have Paris."
We need those moments of unrepentant bliss to couch us a bit from the incoming blows which fate sooner or later has in store for us.
So hurry Ivan Alexyevitch and get on that express train to Petersburg. Godspeed!
And for those who believe truth is stranger than fiction click on the attached link to check out this story of a very happy bridegroom indeed.
You get on the wrong train. A train accident. Anything can happen at anytime to put an end to your happiness. Or as an obscure playwright once wrote: Things happen quickly and with force and we are all too slow and too weak to do anything about it.
Poor bridegroom. Ivan Alexyevitch has landed in a Chekhov story where he will be a pawn to illustrate the fickleness of fate. Too bad. He seems to be having such a fine time. It truly is rare to see such unabashed happiness and we'd like to see it last.
So what do we do when we're in the same train or boat as Ivan Alexyevitch? Do we revel in our happiness and enjoy it while it lasts or do we wait for the other shoe to drop?
The story makes Ivan Alexyevitch look rather foolish for putting too much faith in happiness. But his ebullience is so damn contagious we become infected. We all need to find a few moments in life where we simply bask in happy feelings and embrace the world.
The bad and unhappiness will show up soon enough -- but as Rick tells Elsa in the classic Casablanca:"We'll always have Paris."
We need those moments of unrepentant bliss to couch us a bit from the incoming blows which fate sooner or later has in store for us.
So hurry Ivan Alexyevitch and get on that express train to Petersburg. Godspeed!
And for those who believe truth is stranger than fiction click on the attached link to check out this story of a very happy bridegroom indeed.
AN ENIGMATIC NATURE
An Enigmatic Nature
Churchill when asked what he thought the role Russia would play in World War Two replied: "It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma."
A young writer is trying to impress a beautiful woman. He tells her he knows all about her. That nothing she could say would surprise him. He kisses her.
The pretty lady unburdens herself to the author. He listens intently and eats it up. So sure of his mastery of the human soul -- he revels in her confessions and is certain that he will own her after it's done.
But of course he's wrong. No matter how much we try to pigeonhole people -- the inner workings of the mind still eludes us.
Here the young author is riding a big wave -- loving every minute and then a wash out. The pretty lady explains how an old general had gotten in the way of her happiness and how miserable she was -- then he croaks -- she's got money and is now free to finally capture her happiness -- if it wasn't for another old general.
Go figure.
The author will eventually bow down to the vagaries of the soul -- and instead of imitating will have to resort to imagination.
We read Chekhov for insights into what drives people -- and we are not disappointed -- but just as we gain insight on people as a whole -- one person who we think we understand completely shocks us. That's how it should be. Life would be pretty boring if we could predict what every person would do at every step. It is surprises that keeps us going. Sometimes those surprises are the negative type -- and sometimes they open up a new layer in the never ending quest for truth (sorry I'm being a bit mysterious).
Either way they make us scratch our head.
Just hope you don't have dandruff.
Churchill when asked what he thought the role Russia would play in World War Two replied: "It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma."
A young writer is trying to impress a beautiful woman. He tells her he knows all about her. That nothing she could say would surprise him. He kisses her.
The pretty lady unburdens herself to the author. He listens intently and eats it up. So sure of his mastery of the human soul -- he revels in her confessions and is certain that he will own her after it's done.
But of course he's wrong. No matter how much we try to pigeonhole people -- the inner workings of the mind still eludes us.
Here the young author is riding a big wave -- loving every minute and then a wash out. The pretty lady explains how an old general had gotten in the way of her happiness and how miserable she was -- then he croaks -- she's got money and is now free to finally capture her happiness -- if it wasn't for another old general.
Go figure.
The author will eventually bow down to the vagaries of the soul -- and instead of imitating will have to resort to imagination.
We read Chekhov for insights into what drives people -- and we are not disappointed -- but just as we gain insight on people as a whole -- one person who we think we understand completely shocks us. That's how it should be. Life would be pretty boring if we could predict what every person would do at every step. It is surprises that keeps us going. Sometimes those surprises are the negative type -- and sometimes they open up a new layer in the never ending quest for truth (sorry I'm being a bit mysterious).
Either way they make us scratch our head.
Just hope you don't have dandruff.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
A DEFENCELESS CREATURE
A Defenceless Creature
Some say, don't negotiate with terrorists. Okay, Madame Shtchukin is not carrying a bomb -- but to Kistunov whose job is to deal with the clients of the bank who have petitions -- she is as dangerous as Carlos the Jackal.
Kistunov is not in the best of health. Maybe it's the gout, the job or his life -- but his defenses are down.
And then came Madame Shtchukin.
She is not going to take no for an answer. Why should she? She's been down this road before and the door has been shut in her face. Logic. Reason. Never mind.
What she's looking for is some compassion. Some sympathy. They are in short supply. So she'll squeeze it out -- like toothpaste in a used-up tube -- from any official she can can get her hands on.
Fortunately for Madame Shtchukin she has come to the right place.
You have here a tug of war between two defenseless creatures. One who society has turned its back on and is beyond desperate to secure whatever help she can find -- and another whose health has led him to the verge of a nervous breakdown and thus susceptible to unrelenting remonstrations.
Both will do whatever they can to relieve their situation. Madame Shtchukin smells weakness. She won't give up until she gets her relief. Kistunov just wants to end the torture and he's willing to pay the price to get some peace of mind.
Unfortunately, Kistunov didn't hear Madame Shtchukin last words after paying her off: "Kistunov, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Saturday, November 12, 2011
THE JEUNE PREMIER
The Jeune Premier
Young actor likes to brag. Nothing unusual there. Embellish. Live up to the image. Give people what they want. Entertain.
When he meets Klimov who dabbles a bit in theater and lives in the town where the jeune premier had performed for a couple of seasons -- the lead actor is so moved by his paramour adventures he has an Elia Kazan moment and begins to name names.
That's the thing about getting used to being the center of attention -- you lose your sense of perspective and come to the conclusion the whole world revolves around you.
Now the jeune premier has gone too far and implicated Klimov's niece in his Penthouse stories. What is an uncle to do? Duel, baby, duel. The young actor pretends not to be frightened and storms off. "You want a duel, you'll get a duel, buster!"
In the hotel room the jeune premier comes to his senses: "A duel. That's not acting. I'm too young to play Hamlet in real life."
So off he goes to Klimov and catches him alone after the party where the lead actor puts on one of his best performances. Klimov appreciates the show and ups him one by reciting the dad lecture.
All's well that ends well.
Not so fast.
Yevgeny Alexeyitch Podzharov will continue to spin his yarns. The people demand it. We wouldn't want to imagine our actors are merely leading ordinary lives. They are obligated to live out our fantasies and sooner or later -- the jeune premier will get carried away again and land in another mine field -- and if he doesn't conjure the right moves -- it's curtains.
Young actor likes to brag. Nothing unusual there. Embellish. Live up to the image. Give people what they want. Entertain.
When he meets Klimov who dabbles a bit in theater and lives in the town where the jeune premier had performed for a couple of seasons -- the lead actor is so moved by his paramour adventures he has an Elia Kazan moment and begins to name names.
That's the thing about getting used to being the center of attention -- you lose your sense of perspective and come to the conclusion the whole world revolves around you.
Now the jeune premier has gone too far and implicated Klimov's niece in his Penthouse stories. What is an uncle to do? Duel, baby, duel. The young actor pretends not to be frightened and storms off. "You want a duel, you'll get a duel, buster!"
In the hotel room the jeune premier comes to his senses: "A duel. That's not acting. I'm too young to play Hamlet in real life."
So off he goes to Klimov and catches him alone after the party where the lead actor puts on one of his best performances. Klimov appreciates the show and ups him one by reciting the dad lecture.
All's well that ends well.
Not so fast.
Yevgeny Alexeyitch Podzharov will continue to spin his yarns. The people demand it. We wouldn't want to imagine our actors are merely leading ordinary lives. They are obligated to live out our fantasies and sooner or later -- the jeune premier will get carried away again and land in another mine field -- and if he doesn't conjure the right moves -- it's curtains.
Friday, November 11, 2011
AN AVENGER
An Avenger
Husband catches wife doing the nasty.
Wants to kill her and her lover and then himself.
First he needs a gun.
The shopkeeper seems very eager to sell him one.
But the husband, Sigaev, is having second thoughts. Chekhov guides us through the mind of someone who wants to get revenge and is still able to think things though.
A crime of passion is avoided by rational thought. Fyodor Fyodorovitch seems very rational. Too rational. When the shopkeeper presents him with the perfect weapon for his crime -- he seems to think the price of the gun is too much. Finding a bargain at these moments should not be very high on the agenda.
Maybe this is Sigaev's problem and the reason his wife is cheating on him. He lacks passion. Everything is weighed. Measured. Until what's left is all rationality and no passion.
So what saves Sigaev from committing his crime is most likely the cause of his wife's hanky-panky.
Sigaev does need to pack some heat -- in his heart.
Husband catches wife doing the nasty.
Wants to kill her and her lover and then himself.
First he needs a gun.
The shopkeeper seems very eager to sell him one.
But the husband, Sigaev, is having second thoughts. Chekhov guides us through the mind of someone who wants to get revenge and is still able to think things though.
A crime of passion is avoided by rational thought. Fyodor Fyodorovitch seems very rational. Too rational. When the shopkeeper presents him with the perfect weapon for his crime -- he seems to think the price of the gun is too much. Finding a bargain at these moments should not be very high on the agenda.
Maybe this is Sigaev's problem and the reason his wife is cheating on him. He lacks passion. Everything is weighed. Measured. Until what's left is all rationality and no passion.
So what saves Sigaev from committing his crime is most likely the cause of his wife's hanky-panky.
Sigaev does need to pack some heat -- in his heart.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
GONE ASTRAY
Gone Astray
Don't count your chickens before they hatch.
Two lawyers are tired and sleepy.
One it seems is very happily married and he wants to share his happiness with his colleague. Maybe he is too eager. Or too preachy . We know in Chekhov's world these traits might need a little correcting.
When Kozyavkin and his friend Laev arrive home -- Kozyavkin expects his wife to be waiting for them. When she isn't there -- one assumes his wife might not be the angel he imagines her to be. The thought enters that Kozyavkin might be cuckold. And shortly we find out he is but not the way we expect.
Lesson to be learned: When arriving at a train station late at night drunk with a friend and your home is miles away -- take a cab.
Don't count your chickens before they hatch.
Two lawyers are tired and sleepy.
One it seems is very happily married and he wants to share his happiness with his colleague. Maybe he is too eager. Or too preachy . We know in Chekhov's world these traits might need a little correcting.
When Kozyavkin and his friend Laev arrive home -- Kozyavkin expects his wife to be waiting for them. When she isn't there -- one assumes his wife might not be the angel he imagines her to be. The thought enters that Kozyavkin might be cuckold. And shortly we find out he is but not the way we expect.
Lesson to be learned: When arriving at a train station late at night drunk with a friend and your home is miles away -- take a cab.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
MINDS IN FERMENT
Minds in Ferment
The heat has made the town daffy.
A mere sighting of a common starling nearly results in a riot. Like rubber neckers seeking the blood in an accident scene -- the town needs some distraction from the sweltering temperature. And at this point anything will do. Madcap mayhem follows. Laurel and Hardy meets Occupy Wall Street.
If the conditions are ripe a mob mentality can easily develop and the consequences are beyond the control of most officials.
Bureaucracies being bureaucracies they will always try to spin it to their advantage.
Isn't it just better to lower the heat when you can?
The heat has made the town daffy.
A mere sighting of a common starling nearly results in a riot. Like rubber neckers seeking the blood in an accident scene -- the town needs some distraction from the sweltering temperature. And at this point anything will do. Madcap mayhem follows. Laurel and Hardy meets Occupy Wall Street.
If the conditions are ripe a mob mentality can easily develop and the consequences are beyond the control of most officials.
Bureaucracies being bureaucracies they will always try to spin it to their advantage.
Isn't it just better to lower the heat when you can?
Saturday, November 5, 2011
A SLANDER
A Slander
Ahineev loves sturgeon. Too much so. His passion for sturgeon has apparently ruined his life.
Well, that's not entirely true. I'm not one for spreading false rumors but Ahineev seems too preoccupied with his reputation. And that's always a dangerous thing. We can never live up to what others think about us. If we strive to whitewash any unflattering accounts of ourselves we'll need more bleach than even Clorox can muster.
It's much easier to live as Popeye says: "I ams what I ams."
Ahineev instead becomes his own TMZ and trying to rectify some sweet nothings to a sturgeon creates a runaway "telephone game" that gets him into hot water.
But Ahineev doesn't seem the happy sort and if he can't even chill at his own daughter's wedding -- well, I wouldn't want to be his student handing in a paper late.
Listen, I don't want to be too hard on Ahineev because we all have a little Ahineev crawling inside -- putting too much stock on what others say about us and too little account on what we know to be the truth.
If only Ahineev had done a few sessions with Albert Ellis -- he would've saved himself a lot of trouble -- but then again -- Chekhov would've been short a story.
Ahineev loves sturgeon. Too much so. His passion for sturgeon has apparently ruined his life.
Well, that's not entirely true. I'm not one for spreading false rumors but Ahineev seems too preoccupied with his reputation. And that's always a dangerous thing. We can never live up to what others think about us. If we strive to whitewash any unflattering accounts of ourselves we'll need more bleach than even Clorox can muster.
It's much easier to live as Popeye says: "I ams what I ams."
Ahineev instead becomes his own TMZ and trying to rectify some sweet nothings to a sturgeon creates a runaway "telephone game" that gets him into hot water.
But Ahineev doesn't seem the happy sort and if he can't even chill at his own daughter's wedding -- well, I wouldn't want to be his student handing in a paper late.
Listen, I don't want to be too hard on Ahineev because we all have a little Ahineev crawling inside -- putting too much stock on what others say about us and too little account on what we know to be the truth.
If only Ahineev had done a few sessions with Albert Ellis -- he would've saved himself a lot of trouble -- but then again -- Chekhov would've been short a story.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
FROST
What I liked best about this story is that all the talk leads somewhere. The mayor, governor, and the bishop reminisce about their past. And their memories inform them into action. By placing themselves in the past they come to appreciate the misfortune of those suffering in the cold in the present and they do something about it.
Most talk remains just talk.
The talk here is about the weather and what Russian writer would not write about the weather? The Russian winter has obviously played a big role in her history. Just ask Napoleon or Hitler.
In this story we are transported back to an ordinary town and hear how many in Russia believed enduring the harshness of the winter made the Russian a more hardy soul.
The frost has not affected the mayor's tongue in any way. Chekhov introduces this character very nimbly. From his sense of humor to his managerial skills and his incapacity to keep silent.
This town although suffering from the winter frost seems like it has a big heart. The officials seem genuinely involved in the community and its affairs.
As I write this blog, winter approaches and while not entirely welcomed, this story makes one respect those who brave the cold and make the most with what they got.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
IN TROUBLE
Fate.
One day you're eating caviar and the next you're out in the street begging or worse.
That's life or so this story tells you.
Makes me think of the whole Bernard Madoff scandal. One day the king of Wall Street and the next a convict. Avdeyev claims he signed the audit without checking. Instead of using a high powered auditing firm, Madoff's accounting firm was run by David G. Friehling, "who operated from a tiny storefront office in the New York City suburb of New City in Rockland County."
Of course, our actions help determine our fate. But only to an extent.
We can deny it all we want but fate is like a ticking time bomb -- therefore we have to live in the moment.
Of course, our actions help determine our fate. But only to an extent.
We can deny it all we want but fate is like a ticking time bomb -- therefore we have to live in the moment.
Chekhov the Zen Master.
Monday, October 10, 2011
A STORY WITHOUT A TITLE
Evil. Damn evil!
Vice. Drinking, gambling.
Sexy women.
The monks hide from sin.
Hide from lust.
Hide from passion.
Unfortunately they also hide from life.
Our animal nature wants -- needs -- to gratify itself.
We can overcome it. Through prayer. Through meditation. Through avoidance.
But temptation is always there.
A neon sign that never goes away.
And we are all susceptible to the charms of the flesh -- vice in all its forms has its allure -- so we must be cautious.
But not too cautious.
Otherwise we might forget to live.
However, miles away from town -- the monks created their own life -- they might've known happiness --- but like the story of Adam and Eve when they tasted the sinful world through the words of the Father Superior they couldn't resist it. Chekhov is being cheeky here. I would give the monks more credit. Their life in the monastery is a choice. They had escaped to the isolated monastery for a reason-- and a life regimented by prayer and asceticism can be rewarding and healthy.
What will happen to those monks in town? How long will they be able to maintain their happiness? They will drown in wine and women and gambling and before you know it -- they'll be crossing the desert back to the monastery.
To be fair -- the monks are not children -- they may be tempted like all people -- but they would have their faith -- their devotion -- their discipline to guide them through.
If you have the will you can overcome your animal nature and ascend to a more enlightened being.
Okay, I gave it my best shot defending the monks -- all I know is the picture of the long haired full lipped comely woman keeps dancing in my mind.
I'm heading to town!
Sunday, October 9, 2011
THE BEGGAR
The beggar begs. He lies. Skvortsov the lawyer confronts the beggar on his lies. Tells him he should go find a job. The beggar tells him there is no job for him to do. Finally Skvortsov offers the beggar the opportunity to chop some wood for him. Luckily for the beggar he is taken to Olga the cook who despises him.
The cook holds nothing back She tells him what a pathetic lazy drunkard he is and how he'll be going to hell and most importantly after finishing haranguing him the cook takes some pity and chops the wood for him.
And that is what saves Lushkov the beggar. Talk is cheap. The fact that the cook chops the wood for him shows Lushkov what real compassion is all about. Maybe Olga chops the wood because she feels guilty after lambasting the beggar - whatever the reason -- the fact that she takes some action gives her words credibility.
The lawyer wants to pat himself on the back for saving the beggar but without the real actions of the cook the beggar would still be begging.
And without running into Lyshkov in the theater the lawyer would never have learned the truth He would be thinking he deserves credit for helping -- when in fact it was the cook who had no interest in flattering herself on her charity that provides the crucial hand.
How many Olgas are out doing vital work who never get any credit and how many Skvortsovs are out there thinking they are saving the world?
Saturday, October 8, 2011
DARKNESS
The peasant is desperate.
He needs help.
Family is starving and the brother who has the means to make a living is in jail.
So he begs a doctor at the convict prison to let the brother out.
Doctor ignores him.
He tries to go to a head honcho peasant official and that does no good.
So he returns to the doctor.
This time he brings his father.
The doctor still ignores him.
Justice.
Hard to get when you're poor.
Then and now.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
OLD AGE
Old Age
Thomas Wolfe is right. You can't go home again.
Uzelkov, the rich architect divorced his wife for no apparent good reason. Made sure the wife took the blame and took off. The wife who loved Uzelkov the architect tried to drown her sorrow in drink. Her life was miserable and she died.
Uzelkov has come back to town and meets up with Shapkin, his crafty lawyer. Now, Shapkin and Uzelkov are old men and they've lost their edge. Shapkin doesn't hide from Uzelkov his misdeeds.
Uzelkov is in town to repair the church in the cemetery. There, he and Shapkin visit the grave of his wife. Uzelkov wants to weep. Regrets. He wants one good cry to possibly give him some relief from his guilty conscience. But he is too uptight to do it in front of Shapkin. Doesn't want to reveal his weakness. But the moment only comes once and when he goes back later to the grave alone the feelings are no longer there.
Uzelkov is an old man looking back at his life and he is dead inside. The life he once thought he'd live was never lived. The joys he imagined he'd experience -- he never did. All he has is the bad taste in his mouth -- the pathetic realization that his selfishness drove his wife to an early grave.
Not a pleasant thought.
Cry, old man. It's all you got left.
Monday, September 5, 2011
THE LOOKING-GLASS
A young woman desperate to get married looks inside a looking-glass and instead of finding everlasting happiness in her future with her ideal husband sees the opposite.
What's there to do? If we all looked into the future we'll see things that frighten us. Do we stop hoping for happiness?
The young woman is too desperate to get married -- she's too invested in marriage for salvation -- for everything -- this I think is the criticism -- the point of the story.
The young woman is too desperate to get married -- she's too invested in marriage for salvation -- for everything -- this I think is the criticism -- the point of the story.
Live life in the moment.
Appreciate what you have and don't bank on gaining happiness outside of yourself.
Everything has pitfalls and if you depend on anything or anyone to live up to an ideal -- you'll be disappointed.
Appreciate what you have and don't bank on gaining happiness outside of yourself.
Everything has pitfalls and if you depend on anything or anyone to live up to an ideal -- you'll be disappointed.
New Years Resolution for Nellie:
Live for today. Develop yourself. Don't depend on a husband and married life for completion.
In other words:
Live for today. Develop yourself. Don't depend on a husband and married life for completion.
In other words:
Drink some champagne and chill.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
A HAPPY ENDING
Matchmaker, Matchmaker,
Make me a match . . . with you!
Wonder if Patty from Millionaire Matchmaker would approve.
Nice, for once, to read a light Chekhov story.
A DEAD BODY
Eerie.
Two peasants watch over a dead body.
One peasant is young. The other peasant is old.
The young one is fearful.
The old one is peaceful.
But the star of the show is a dead body.
The dead body is covered in white linen.
The imagery of a linen covered body lying in the forest where everything is still is very powerful.
Death.
As Hamlet says:
"The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns . . . "
The ultimate mystery.
Something we will all face and fear.
What is that world?
Nothing?
Paradise?
Here comes the man wearing a cassock.
A monk of some sort.
Looking for a brickyard.
When the monk sees the dead body he becomes upset.
He asks questions about who the body is.
We find out he was a stranger.
We don't know why he died.
According to tradition the soul will leave the body in three days.
Soul.
Our hope is that when we are done here there's something waiting for us.
Something better.
Or at least something.
Something is better than nothing.
The dead body captivates us.
The body or the soul is now residing in another dimension and we are aware of how little we know about that other dimension.
It can frighten us or if you are like our simpleton peasant you might just take it in stride -- accept it as our fate and not lose sleep.
Friday, September 2, 2011
THE PETCHENYEG
Ivan Abramitch Zhmuhin is so full of himself that he doesn't realize the consequences of his actions.
He has reduced his wife to a nonentity. The man even has his own room. Having bought her when she was seventeen -- he has watched her crying for the last twenty years -- and it has never occurred to him to try to ease her misery. Instead he dismisses her completely. He believes women are not human beings.
He has not educated his children and they spent their time shooting birds.
Zhmuhin's head is full ideas which he generously shares with his reluctant visitor. He thinks so much about the state of the world and his own being that he obviously has no time to see the reality in front of him. He is blind to the home life he has constructed. (Reminds me a bit of Dick Cheney -- full of grand ideas and clueless to the damage he did to the country.)
Zhmuhin is totally oblivious to the criticism of others. Even after the visitor shouts at him and tells him he has bored him to death -- he has a temporary moment of doubt -- but quickly recovers and goes back to his own "profound" ideas.
The world is full of characters like Zhmuhin -- people engrossed by their thoughts who truly think they are deep and serious and and are unaware of how much havoc they cause on their family and the world.
Howard Gardner has written a lot about multiple intelligences. Zhmuhin excels in intrapersonal intelligence but he's completely lacking in interpersonal intelligence.
But of course he'll never realize it.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
WARD NO. 6
Rich. There is so much in this story I am tempted to read it again before commenting.
I will do my best with what I got from my initial reading.
Philosophy plays a big role in the story. Philosophy can give you insight and also possibly drive you crazy.
Insight -- knowing things from books is different from learning them through experience -- as the doctor sadly finds out. Just like theory is different from practice.
The good doctor was living in a prison of the mind all the time due to his lack of interesting companionship. Reaching out to a lunatic apparently was too much for the town to handle.
Just like Socrates was put to death for corrupting the youth -- the doctor is condemned for fraternizing with the enemy.
What happens if you are sane and all around you people are crazy -- think Winston Smith in Orwell's novel 1984 -- or any other totalitarian system where free speech is seen as dangerous.
But did the doctor ask for it? Were his ideas anti-life -- skewered to such an extent that the only interesting companionship lied in Ward No. 6?
The doctor had a lot of ideas -- when he was a doctor he could feel pity for Ivan Dmitritch -- from his pedestal he could give advice -- but once he went down to the same level as the patient -- then he saw the reality. Reminds me of the reality show: Undercover Boss -- where CEO's go undercover and realize the way their companies really operate.
The doctor's ideas -- and maybe this is the point -- that ideas when espoused as just ideas may sound noble and profound -- but when these ideas are really lived and not just thought -- then the consequences may be quite tragic (I'm thinking of the anti-science ideas many politicians espouse -- if as a society we really discount science and put into practice faith over reason -- we'll inherit the result).
Beware what you think may become how you live.
This is a complex story that also deals with mental illness. Who is really crazy and who determines what crazy is -- if you live under tyranny then talking about freedom is crazy. If you live in a society where everyone lies -- then telling the truth is treasonous. If you live in a society where racism is the norm -- then tolerance is a threat ( There are millions of examples). Society has a lot to do with how we perceive sanity and how we think about how we should live. Breaking traditions can be dangerous.
Conforming to the standards of society may make you live longer but not happier. When and how to break free from what is expected is something all of us have to decide at some point in our lives.
Do it wisely.
R.I.P. Andrey Yefimitch.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
THE HORSE-STEALERS
To Catch a Thief.
Out there in the world we all become prisoners. We have jobs -- routines -- laws -- life becomes a rut. Boring.
The thief is free to do what he wants when he wants to.
The hospital assistant meets some thieves and he fights for his stuff -- but in the end he loses his stuff and his position.
He has an awakening. He turns his back on his old life -- the life of routines -- the bourgeois existence -- of work and a little vacation -- a wife -- two kids -- the whole lot which is sold as normality. He gives it all up for a taste of lawlessness. Otherwise, in his eyes known as freedom.
After being robbed -- instead of getting mad at the thieves -- he envies them -- he wants to get rid of all his baggage and live like nature intended -- not worrying about routines -- not getting into ruts -- being free.
He becomes a thief. An outlaw. Is he happier for it? At least he doesn't feel inferior like he did in his old lifestyle -- where as a hospital clerk he knew his lowly position and had to endure the humiliation of that position all the time.
This story is rich with characters and it keeps you on the edge as to what is going to happen. You know Yergunov is going to be robbed but when and how will he react. The twist in the story is also done very cleverly and the end of the story is chilling and shocking when we find out Yergunov's reaction.
This is anarchy. No laws. No rules. In this story Chekhov presents a world where the anarchist dream of a society with no rules is visited -- although there is no denying the freedom of that society we also realize the brutality as well.
What's most interesting is how the story makes us understand why Yergunov would be tempted to throw everything away and become a thief -- at the same time we also realize that the world of the outlaw might be romanticized -- but at the end of the day -- the thief is still a thief -- or a murderer -- or whatever else he wants to be. Just get out of the way!
This story explores what it means to be free but like the West with its outlaws like Billy the Kid -- the reality which Yergunov will sadly find out -- his new life will not be a carefree one -- more a world where he will live like a wild animal with all its grace and savagery.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
THE SHOEMAKER AND THE DEVIL
Be careful what you wish for.
The poor shoemaker makes a bargain with the devil.
He becomes rich and the devil gets his soul.
But quickly the shoemaker realizes that what he wished for might not be what he really wanted.
Being rich has responsibilities and obligations which he doesn't want to deal with.
The grass is always greener on the other side.
Being happy has nothing to do with being rich or poor but with how well you handle your inner self.
Of course, we all want to fantasize about being rich and having all the benefits we imagine comes with wealth. However, if like this story we became rich in an instant -- without truly earning it -- we'd feel just as unsatisfied as the shoemaker.
Studies repeatedly have shown lottery winners who became rich overnight -- their happiness quota doesn't in fact go up in the long run. They'll eventually be just as happy or unhappy as they were before hitting it big.
I think if you do become rich because you worked hard and truly made it with your sweat -- then you'll probably enjoy what you made -- but real happiness depends on love -- friendships -- family -- intangibles that money just can't buy.
Sounds naive and childish to think that money can't buy happiness -- we'd all love to be handed millions -- but the truth is if you want to be happy then work on being happy -- not on envying the rich or anyone else -- develop your inner being -- and then your happiness will be genuine and not measured by how many cars you own and no one will be able to take it away from you.
Still -- if you have a few million to spare -- as long as I don't have to sign anything -- no -- forget it.
That hurts.
There's a side to us that no matter how much we realize that money won't buy happiness -- won't believe it.
And that's why this story hits home.
THE BEAUTIES
How does beauty affect us? Especially if we are a man too old or too young -- too ugly or too ordinary to get noticed -- when we come face to face with beauty that is undeniable -- we are moved by it -- but we also become sad -- knowing very well we'll never be able to possess it -- beauty makes us reflect on who we are -- brings us to the realization of what life is.
After all, we see this great beauty but we also realize that it will fade like everything else -- the great sadness of time and aging -- we have to live in the moment -- yet we know the moment is forever speeding to the next --
And yes beauty does inspire. Whether it's a beautiful sunset -- a beautiful painting or a beautiful face. Especially a young beautiful girl's face. There you can drown yourself in all that life has to offer -- it is like a magnet that draws everything to it -- you try to pull yourself away but you can't -- you want to fight the pull but you are too weak -- you fall prey to it and you are utterly happy and incredibly sad.
We are as Chekhov highlights in this story prisoners to great beauty -- it makes us all feel alive -- what else is there than those moments when you come into contact with this great beauty? -- whatever you imagine it to be -- you realize that this is nature at her best -- you want to cherish it -- dwell in it -- but you also know how rare that beauty is and that no matter what -- it is a fleeting moment in a life that is mostly harsh and mostly lacking of truly inspiring beauty.
To me, this story is sort of like a journal entry. A meditation of beauty. Not a plot driven -- character driven tale -- but just a thought -- a feeling -- but a great subject -- and it does make you empathize with the idea that life is cruel because it shows you great beauty in short bursts and makes you eventually come to the realization that all you can do is watch the wonder and smile. And then cry.
Then you can take a deep breath and smile again.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
THE HEAD-GARDENER'S STORY
Crime.
Faith.
Idealism.
The point of the story makes total sense. If we had total faith in the goodness of people then our world would be a better world. Most people would probably be uplifted by this spirit and would conform to doing good rather than evil.
I'm a believer than many people act out of expectation. If people are treated poorly and are expected to be criminal and violent -- they most likely won't disappoint and behave criminally and violent. The opposite is also true -- if the expectation is that they will behave properly and productively -- they probably will.
Society is actually fashioned in many ways based on these expectations. What's the last time there was a riot at an opera? But look at soccer(football) and hooliganism is a common place occurrence. It's not that the people at an opera are less violent than people at soccer matches but the expectation society has placed on these events are different.
While I admire the sentiment in the story, I'm well aware that society can't implement a system of justice that doesn't punish anyone. One bad apple and people would want revenge or justice and all good feelings would fly out the window. But living with a benevolent attitude towards each other makes an ideal fantasy. Like Communism.
Communism is where we all live equally and share everything. There are no upper classes or lower classes. But trying to implement this ideal to practice leads to countless problems. Some don't want to be equal but superior. What happens to the lazy person -- is he entitled to the same benefits as the hard-working person?
Idealism always sounds good in theory.
Therefore, the spirit of the story -- that we should all try to love each other and respect each other and try to have faith in our goodness -- sounds in our cynical age as being naive and foolish and frankly . . . refreshing.
Peace!
Friday, August 19, 2011
THE BET
What's this story about?
There's a bet. Several men are debating the merits of capital punishment versus life imprisonment. One young lawyer says that he is willing to live in solitary confinement for the two million the banker offers. It's unclear to me why the lawyer ups the stakes to fifteen years when he could have gotten the same money for five years.
There is an agreement and the lawyer goes to live in solitary confinement. By himself, he reads all kinds of books and in the end he becomes a cynic. He decides to leave hours ahead of the agreed time and therefore lose the bet.
Why?
I don't know. I can only guess here.
What's happened to the lawyer in those fifteen years? He's read a lot -- has acquired a lot of knowledge -- his values have changed and he no longer values money like he once did.
He's turned against humanity. Maybe that's what he had to do to survive. He had to renege all association with other people. All he had to help him evaluate existence was books.
What we see here is that all book knowledge is just book knowledge -- what keeps us going -- what keeps us healthy are not ideas or knowledge from books but our interaction with each other. Can you really learn, like the lawyer says he learned, from a book about love?
What makes this existence bearable is that we have each other. Yes, maybe Sartre is right and "Hell is other people" but people are what makes us keep living. Alone -- detached -- we lose our grip -- life ultimately becomes meaningless. So what we need to become truly happy and satisfied is to develop good relationships with other people.
It's also quite reasonable to assume that the lawyer just went insane. And he doesn't even know he's insane. How could he? It's not like he could Skype with Sigmund Freud.
There is one more explanation -- everything the lawyer concludes is true -- we do take lies for truth -- and maybe everything is meaningless -- after all no matter what we think or do the sun will eventually blow up and we will all disappear (unless of course in two billion years we find a hospitable planet in another solar system) -- but looking at life and seeing it for what it really is -- shouldn't make us give up -- or should it?
Samuel Beckett puts it best in the last lines of Waiting For Godot:
Vladimir: Well? Shall we go?
Estragon: Yes, let's go.
[they do not move]
The other part of the story is what happens to the banker in the fifteen years. He goes on doing what he does -- but he's lost a lot of his fortune -- and finally he considers committing murder.
So who is wiser? Who has made the most of the fifteen years -- the freed banker or the jailed lawyer?
And who was truly free? The banker who was enslaved to a hedonistic lifestyle or the lawyer who was on a personal journey of discovery?
Who really won the bet?
[they do not move]
The other part of the story is what happens to the banker in the fifteen years. He goes on doing what he does -- but he's lost a lot of his fortune -- and finally he considers committing murder.
So who is wiser? Who has made the most of the fifteen years -- the freed banker or the jailed lawyer?
And who was truly free? The banker who was enslaved to a hedonistic lifestyle or the lawyer who was on a personal journey of discovery?
Who really won the bet?
I just wonder where the lawyer will go.
Ashram, anyone?
Thursday, August 18, 2011
PANIC FEARS
"Everything we don't understand is mysterious."
That seems the point to this story. It's not, I'm afraid, much of story.
Presented are three examples of when the narrator was scared to death -- or felt ill at ease -- and the payoff is that once you understand something then it's no longer mysterious and therefore no longer frightening.
Or as FDR put it:
"Only thing we have to fear is fear itself."
The Twilight Zone seems like an outgrowth of this tale.
But that's being too generous. The Twilight Zone episodes were sometimes quite eerie and mind provoking. The same thing can't be said about this lightweight anecdote.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
IN THE COACH-HOUSE
In the Coach-House
A fancy house.
A gentleman has shot himself.
The hired help play cards and talk about the suicide.
Talk about how people who kill themselves can't get proper funerals.
Discuss why the gentleman might have killed himself. Women troubles?
Recount a story of another rich man who killed himself but the mother paid off the police and he got buried inside the cemetery until the workers told the mother her dead son was howling every night.
Alyoshka, the eight year old grandson of the coachman is frightened.
He wants to go home.
The grandfather soothes him to go to sleep but he has bad dreams throughout the night.
Whenever you read a story of suicide by Chekhov -- you harken to The Seagull. How common was this act of shooting yourself with a revolver? Also, it's mentioned that too much thinking may have led to this action. Was that a commonly held idea?
What were Chekhov's personal experiences with suicide?
Since there are about one million suicides every year in the world and we still grapple as to why people kill themselves -- the topic is one which still elicits great interest.
A fancy house.
A gentleman has shot himself.
The hired help play cards and talk about the suicide.
Talk about how people who kill themselves can't get proper funerals.
Discuss why the gentleman might have killed himself. Women troubles?
Recount a story of another rich man who killed himself but the mother paid off the police and he got buried inside the cemetery until the workers told the mother her dead son was howling every night.
Alyoshka, the eight year old grandson of the coachman is frightened.
He wants to go home.
The grandfather soothes him to go to sleep but he has bad dreams throughout the night.
Whenever you read a story of suicide by Chekhov -- you harken to The Seagull. How common was this act of shooting yourself with a revolver? Also, it's mentioned that too much thinking may have led to this action. Was that a commonly held idea?
What were Chekhov's personal experiences with suicide?
Since there are about one million suicides every year in the world and we still grapple as to why people kill themselves -- the topic is one which still elicits great interest.
Monday, August 15, 2011
THE REQUIEM
A father, Andrey Andreyitch, calls his deceased daughter a harlot.
The priest is upset.
The father, a former lackey now a merchant, doesn't understand why the priest is upset.
Why does the father think his daughter was a harlot?
Because the daughter was an actress. Gasp!
I'd like to see Andrey Andreyitch in the same room with Meryl Streep. I don't think he'd ever make it out of there.
Times certainly have changed. The president of France is married to an actress. Although, I wonder what Queen Elizabeth would say if one of her family -- maybe her new granddaughter-in-law -- decided to take up a thespian career.
And in terms of conservative religious folks -- do they view an actress as a suitable profession? Not.
So while we do want to think that times have changed greatly since this tale was written -- it has and it hasn't.
What is curious is why the daughter died. Was it related to her lifestyle? Was she Lindsay Lohan in her behavior? Chekhov doesn't tell us -- other than the last sentence which mentions "the woes and tribulations of which that poor soul was full."
We can understand why she might be troubled -- especially if her own father considered her a harlot.
Also, let's not forget her father neglected her when she was growing up and left her to the fortunes of the master's family. No matter how many dance lessons she received it wouldn't replace a father's attention.
Ironically, look at the problematic lives the children of famous actors face in our times due to neglect. The father might have an Oscar and the children a pool and maids -- but at what price? (Check out the recent film: Somewhere.)
Many artists have unhappy childhoods and find art as a viable outlet.
Let us hope that at least while she was on the stage the daughter of the merchant Andrey Andreyitch, Mariya, found solace and even bliss.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
SMALL FRY
Yearning for a better life but not having any idea how to make it happen.
A petty clerk sees life passing him by.
His clothes are tattered. His environment is filthy.
His life is a waste. A mess. A nothing.
He dreams of what it would be like to get the things he wants. To escape depression and meet exhilaration.
But in the end -- he realizes he'll never get anywhere.
He doesn't have the smarts -- the will -- the energy -- the passion -- the hunger -- the drive (you get the idea) and most importantly the confidence to taste the fruit of happiness.
And then a poor cockroach gets in the way and he takes it out on the innocent bug.
There's always someone to take out your anger on.
Someone who is weaker and more pitiful than you.
It's when you start taking out your anger and frustrations on those higher up than you -- that you may get somewhere.
But the clerk is petty.
And petty he will stay.
Friday, August 12, 2011
A TRANSGRESSION
A very clever story.
Guilty conscience does him in.
Miguev is a cheating husband.
Gets the maid pregnant and she threatens to expose him.
Trying to cover up his transgression he cooks his own goose.
Just desserts.
In this story -- Chekhov keeps you guessing. What is Miguev going to do? Is he going to give up the baby? Keep the baby? Tell his wife? And then the final twist.
Really well played.
We also find out what the consequences are for immoral behavior. Your place in society is upset. Which in Russia at the time -- your rank was very important and you wouldn't want to do anything to jeapordize it.
Doors are shut. You become an outcast. Papers would publish the story. So, in effect, playing hide and seek with the maid comes with a heavy price -- but as usual -- then and now -- some are willing to risk everything for a bit of hanky-panky.
Monday, August 8, 2011
A TRAGIC ACTOR
A brief glimpse into the theater world.
A young woman goes to the theater for the first time and becomes mesmerized.
The father, a police captain, invites only the male actors to the house for dinner.
Bad move.
The daughter falls for the lead actor.
He only cares about getting some money to start his own theater.
The father disowns the daughter for marrying the actor who he considers a lowlife.
The lead actor beats the daughter when he learns he's not getting any dough.
But the daughter is in love with the theater and begs to stay with the troupe.
Eventually she becomes an actress.
She forgets her lines.
The lead actor beats her and she pleads to her father to send money.
Moral of the story: Beware that what you see up on the stage doesn't become what you live in real life.
Actors shine on stage because of their craft but that doesn't necessarily mean they'll shine off stage. In fact, they may be quite ordinary and dull no matter how interesting and exciting they seem on stage. (And I would add that if an actor is a dynamo on stage he'll have a hard time living up to that when he comes off the stage where he's not given poetic words and charged emotions to work with. An actor has it tough because people want to think that in real life he's the same exciting person as he portrays on stage and sometimes it gets into the actor's head that he has to be this exciting person so he drinks and does drugs and lead a raucous life to keep up with the actor. Re: Charlie Sheen).
On the stage actors are highly admired but off the stage they are not held in high esteem. Hence, the police captain disowns the daughter. And the actresses have a bad reputation simply for being actresses. A proper lady doesn't go on stage.
Be careful what you expose your young impressionable daughter to.
I would like to read more stories of the theater world which I'm sure Chekhov knew real well. So I hope as I continue this journey there are more and longer theater stories.
Love the double entente of the title.
THE FIRST-CLASS PASSENGER
The First-Class Passenger
Celebrity scene in Russia 1886.
Celebrity scene today.
Nothing much seems to have changed.
Chekhov handles this theme much more deftly in The Grasshopper.
Here, an engineer who built many bridges laments that he is not as well known as a singer or actress.
When someone decries our celebrity obsessed age remind them that the worship of celebrities has been around for quite a long time and if they have any doubts -- just refer them to this tale or The Grasshopper.
My only question would be is how well-known was Chekhov during his lifetime?
In any case, those with small talent might garner more fame than real artists but it will be short-lived.
Genius is what stands the test of time.
LOL
Celebrity scene in Russia 1886.
Celebrity scene today.
Nothing much seems to have changed.
Chekhov handles this theme much more deftly in The Grasshopper.
Here, an engineer who built many bridges laments that he is not as well known as a singer or actress.
When someone decries our celebrity obsessed age remind them that the worship of celebrities has been around for quite a long time and if they have any doubts -- just refer them to this tale or The Grasshopper.
My only question would be is how well-known was Chekhov during his lifetime?
In any case, those with small talent might garner more fame than real artists but it will be short-lived.
Genius is what stands the test of time.
LOL
Sunday, August 7, 2011
ON OFFICIAL DUTY
Spiritual insight lies at the heart of this complicated tale.
The suicide of a potentially rich man who accepts becoming an insurance agent after his father (who had stolen his inheritance) squanders his wealth on drink gets things rolling. Karma is a bitch.
So this insurance agent commits suicide and because it looks suspicious a doctor and an examining magistrate are called in to investigate. But the real investigation is on what lies at the center of all human life.
The snobbish magistrate thinks that life only occurs in big cities like Moscow -- what takes place out in the provinces is just a shadow of life -- insignificant. Well, obviously this immature idea has to be further examined and it is what this story does.
What the magistrate eventually realizes is that we are all connected:
"Some tie unseen, but significant and essential, existed between them and Von Taunitz and between all men -- all men; in this life, even in the most remotest desert, nothing is accidental, everything is full of one common idea, everything has one soul . . ." The concept of Moksha -- universal spirit or soul.
If we think we are superior to someone else -- and therefore entitled to a better life -- well, that is not in line with the way nature works. We must respect and be in harmony and in balance with life and each other to find some kind of solace in this world.
Otherwise, we risk becoming miserable -- out of ease(dis-eased) -- and in the most extreme cases resort to suicide.
I'll revist this theme in a minute. I just want to point attention to Chekhov's brilliant descriptions of the cruel Russian winters. Here is a terrific scene from the story:
"In the night, towards morning, it all subsided. When they got up and looked out of the window, the bare willows with their weakly drooping branches were standing perfectly motionless; it was dull and still, as though nature now were ashamed of its orgy, of its mad nights, and the license it had given to its passions."
Can you top that?
Put simply -- this story helps a young magistrate expand his mind from viewing life as only happening in the cultural centers of Moscow (elitism which is never healthy -- just -- or true) --- to a much broader -- mature vision and a more inclusive appreciation of life and humanity.
Meaning -- love -- suffering -- joy -- passion -- loss-- all the things that make up life are all around us wherever we are and we are part of that -- as we are part of the universe -- and we shouldn't look up or down at anyone -- no matter what their station in life is -- because they are just like us -- a small part of a greater whole.
This is deep stuff and I'm certain I didn't do it justice in this entry -- especially the way Chekhov develops this theme from the dirty and cold Zemstvo hut where death -- meaninglessness -- is residing next door -- to the Taunitz mansion where beautiful music is played and all is warm and cozy -- that's the temptation -- to believe that somehow you will find satisfaction just in the mansion and not in the hut -- which if we buy into will only distort our soul. Of course, there's a lot more I missed or left out ( which is the case for most of Chekhov stories -- you can keep finding new things every time you reread them).
In any case, if I were more ambitious -- I would write a book -- or maybe one has already been written -- I would title it: Chekhov's Buddha. How the stories of Chekhov reflect the teachings of Buddhism.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
SORROW
Man marries beautiful woman.
Spends the next forty years neglecting her.
Just when he wakes up to how badly he treated her -- she dies.
And then he dies.
Forty years wasted wandering the desert.
Life goes quickly if you don't love.
Just saw the movie The Tree of Life and it had the same message.
So start loving and start living.
Okay, if that's too much -- then eat some good chocolate.
Fine -- if that's not possible -- how about a nice hot shower?
No problem -- watching a good movie will do.
You got it -- having a meaningful conversation with your neighbor about her dog counts!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
THE CATTLE-DEALERS
An old man and his son riding on a train with their cattle.
To get his cattle to market the old man has to bribe numerous officials.
The old man considers himself Willy Loman in his heyday. Teaching his son how it's done.
His son seems to have been beaten down by his father -- his life -- and nothing matters.
In fact, the only ones truly suffering here are the poor cattle.
They are not fed and have no water for days and when they finally stagger to their destination -- they are marched to the slaughterhouse.
You feel for them.
What is all their suffering for? So that the old man has a few more rubles to buy presents nobody needs.
Do the cattle represent the oppressed class -- suffering so the rich can get richer?
Maybe not. But I'm certainly not eating hamburger tonight.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
IN EXILE
Down and out in Siberia.
Grim.
Better not have any illusions that life is going to get better.
No matter who you were.
Better to leave that former life behind.
Best philosophy for survival:
Old Semyon -- "I want nothing and I am afraid of nobody, and the way I look at it is that there is nobody richer and freer than I am."
Worst philosophy: Ask the Gentleman who tried to bring his pretty wife from Russia to live with him. She left him cold.
The Tatar might not agree.
He just wants to taste the good life for one day. "Better one day happiness than nothing."
And there you have it.
Do you keep dreaming of that one day of happiness when you are surrounded by gloom -- or do you just accept what you have and feel free?
And if you're in the mood for more Siberian gloom and doom -- read Dostoyevsky's terrific account of Siberian penal life, The House of the Dead.
I would also recommend Primo Levi's Survival In Auschwitz -- Levi mentions how the ones who were best able to survive were the ones who abandoned their illusions about what they had before and saw the reality of where they were now.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
A LADY'S STORY
This is the first Chekhov story that I've read which has a female narrator.
Lamenting the passing of youth -- reminds me of George Bernard Shaw's quote: Youth is wasted on the young.
Allowing rank and wealth to come between her and the man which she very well might have loved -- Natalya Vladimirovna realizes years later that she has wasted her life.
Walls that could have been broken down by her lover Pyotr Sergeyitch and herself stayed upright -- the will and force of love was contained by the prudence of rank and class.
And the result of all that meekness -- all that propriety is unhappiness. Not to go quote happy -- but John Greenleaf Whittier said it best: "For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'"
Moral of the story: Don't let walls stand in the way of love or life.
Edith Piaf: I have no regrets.
Natalya Vladimirovna: I only have regrets.
Monday, August 1, 2011
AFTER THE THEATRE
What strikes me about this story is how much culture has changed.
A sixteen year old regularly went to the theater -- and was actually inspired by what she saw there. An opera based on a novel that uses poetic verse. Okay so the opera is by Tchaikovsky and the verse is by Pushkin. Not exactly Glee.
She writes letters -- instead of chatting with so-called friends on Facebook.
She dreams of going to the country and getting high not from Crystal Meth but from simply looking at the vast night sky full of stars.
This is not one of Chekhov's masterpieces like Misery. But what is so compelling about Chekhov is he could create a story of a suffering old sledge-driver or of a wealthy capricious young lady -- and bring humanity to them both.
CHAMPAGNE
A toast to love.
Love that blinds.
Love that enslaves.
Goodbye to freedom.
To boredom.
To apathy.
In the middle of nowhere -- when you think you've got nothing worth living for -- love can suddenly find you.
And now it will become your sole companion.
It will rule your thoughts.
Day and night it will tell you what to do.
When to do it.
How to do it.
Why to do it.
Can anyone ask for anything more?
Sunday, July 31, 2011
MISERY
Iona Potapov speak.
Tell us your story.
Tell us about your son.
Forget those who are too busy to care.
Too busy to listen.
Your mare might be an animal -- but what are those that ride in your sled and don't even pretend to feel any sympathy?
And unfortunately -- this is our world.
Iona the sledge-driver who has just seen his son die does not matter.
Nobody will listen to him.
We are too busy Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Or Lamar Odom.
And our government policies follow suit. They are designed to help the well-to-do.
Not Iona the sledge-driver who has just seen his son die.
Not the unemployed mother who can't afford to feed her kids.
And the countless others out there in towns and cities all over this country -- those who don't have a glamorous job -- who struggle every day just to get by.
No one listens -- not only don't they listen -- they don't care.
They keep taking away whatever little they have and that's supposed to help us balance our budget -- help us solve our fiscal problems.
I'm sorry -- you probably don't care what I'm saying right now either -- so -- I guess I should just tell it to my dog.
Wait a minute . . . my dog is sleeping.
And all she cares about are Greenies.
Chekhov is right. This is our world.
We didn't become the dominant creature on the planet by caring about what ails Iona the Cabman.
Just ask the Neanderthals -- who were minding their own business until we got in their face and wiped them out.
Human survival depends on us being clever -- cunning -- aggressive and ultimately -- heartless.
That said -- Iona Potapov please tell us your story.
Shout it out to the world.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN
Law student wants to do right.
Wants to help women who are being exploited.
Women who live in brothels.
But how?
But why?
Is he too sensitive?
Do these women really want his help?
Can one man cure what ails society?
Is that always a good thing?
History is fraught with individuals who thought they could save the world and ending up causing great harm.
But what do you do when you see something that is wrong?
Do you just accept it and move on?
What if your temperament is so sensitive that you can't let it go?
Do you inflict pain on yourself?
Are there answers to these questions?
You decide.
Monday, July 25, 2011
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS
Alone.
Corruption all around.
Day after day.
Year after year.
Older and older.
No hope for anything better.
You wonder how you got into this fix.
Teaching might seem noble from the outside.
From the outside.
From the inside you understand the toll the daily grind takes --
Idealists drop like flies.
Realists fight to endure.
All around you there is incompetence and greed . . .
No one really values what you do.
No one gives you support.
Finally you're left with the examinations.
And so it goes.
For a brief moment you see a reflection of what might've been.
For that brief moment you taste happiness.
Until reality sets in.
And you're back to being a schoolmistress.
Back to getting older and older.
Back to being alone.
A TRIVIAL INCIDENT
Prince Sergey Ivanitch could've been very wealthy instead of barely getting by.
But he had to lie.
Pretend to say he loved the ugly princess.
But he was too honest.
So he blew it.
Now he's got the truth and no dinner.
He has his good name but he might lose his estate.
He told the truth and most took advantage of him.
The fool on the hill.
And why exactly did he reject the princess?
Was it solely on looks?
Did he think himself superior?
Now you have a princess with lots of money and very little happiness.
And an honest prince who needs to work on his résumé.
True that!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
A GENTLEMAN FRIEND
A Gentleman Friend
Where there's a will there's a way.
Vanda needs clothes -- needs style -- needs to live well.
Just out of the hospital with nothing but a ring which she pawns for a ruble -- she has to employ her charms to get back in the game.
But like Batman sans cape -- she just doesn't have the same bravado without the fancy apparel -- she goes to a dentist she's familiar with -- one who has enjoyed her attention -- a converted Jew -- who Chekhov still refers to as a Jew. (Does Chekhov subscribe to the idea that once a Jew always a Jew -- it's in the blood -- something the Nazis believed? Let's hope not.)
Vanda loses a tooth to Finkel the dentist and her ruble -- he pulls out her tooth in an unsanitary procedure -- was this the customary ways that dentists worked back then? -- or is this an indictment against Jews for being unclean?(In Spain -- the converted Jews of the Inquisition were referred to as Marranos which translated to pigs).
Vanda doesn't let this discourage her -- within a matter of hours -- she has figured out how to live la Vida Loca again.
Men are easy prey to the charms of a willing lady or are women victims of a society that forces them to rely on their sex for advantage?
Who knows?
Vanda isn't a sociologist -- she just wants to party and party she will.
Where there's a will there's a way.
Vanda needs clothes -- needs style -- needs to live well.
Just out of the hospital with nothing but a ring which she pawns for a ruble -- she has to employ her charms to get back in the game.
But like Batman sans cape -- she just doesn't have the same bravado without the fancy apparel -- she goes to a dentist she's familiar with -- one who has enjoyed her attention -- a converted Jew -- who Chekhov still refers to as a Jew. (Does Chekhov subscribe to the idea that once a Jew always a Jew -- it's in the blood -- something the Nazis believed? Let's hope not.)
Vanda loses a tooth to Finkel the dentist and her ruble -- he pulls out her tooth in an unsanitary procedure -- was this the customary ways that dentists worked back then? -- or is this an indictment against Jews for being unclean?(In Spain -- the converted Jews of the Inquisition were referred to as Marranos which translated to pigs).
Vanda doesn't let this discourage her -- within a matter of hours -- she has figured out how to live la Vida Loca again.
Men are easy prey to the charms of a willing lady or are women victims of a society that forces them to rely on their sex for advantage?
Who knows?
Vanda isn't a sociologist -- she just wants to party and party she will.
Friday, July 22, 2011
BAD WEATHER
A cheating lawyer.
Some things never change.
Last night I saw the movie -- The Lincoln Lawyer.
Kvashin would've liked his style.
Not so his mother-in law.
Eventually she'll realize that there's
20, 000 rubles down the drain.
ZINOTCHKA
A tender hate story.
Love always gets the credit.
Makes the world go round.
But this story delightfully deals with hate.
Hate can be just as powerful as love.
Just as intoxicating.
And once you fall in hate -- it might take a long time to come out of it.
Maybe you stay in hate forever.
So beware by your actions that you don't provoke someone to hate you.
They may become fond of the feeling and may never want to give it up.
Coincidentally after reading Zinotchka I read an article about the artist Lucius Freud who died Wednesday night. He hadn't spoken to his brother Clement for over fifty years and supposedly the hatred begun with a childhood racing contest.
Chekhov is always timely.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
IVAN MATVEYITCH
The man of learning waits for Ivan Matveyitch. He is angry because Ivan Matyevitch is late. He won't put up with it anymore. What kind of secretary comes late every day? He is useless. Useless!
Ivan Matveyitch finally arrives. The man of learning shows his displeasure but doesn't fire Ivan Matveyitch.
The man of learning depends on Ivan Matveyitch. Not so much for his secretarial work but for companionship.
And that's why he gets so angry when Ivan Matveyitch is late.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
ROTHSCHILD'S FIDDLE
A man, Yakov Ivanov, who makes a living as an undertaker doesn't get much out of life. He worries about money -- what he earns and might've earned -- but hardly pays attention to his faithful wife of fifty-three years.
His life doesn't know much joy. He makes good coffins and he's proud of that. But he also hates. He hates Rothschild, the Jewish musician who plays flute in the band. He ill treats Rothschild for no apparent reason.
Here we have a man who is miserable and doesn't care for anyone much -- unless they're dying and he thinks he will make a good profit when they croak.
His loyal wife gets sick -- he takes her to the doctor who doesn't treat her well -- and when he realizes his wife is dying -- he starts to look back and begins to sense how poorly he treated her.
She dies. He buries her for next to nothing in a coffin he made and he is immensely satisfied that he was able to make such an elegant coffin at such a cheap price.
Then comes Rothschild to ask him to play with the band and Yakov lashes out at him -- and Rothschild gets bitten by a dog while running away.
Finally, Yakov becomes ill and when he is facing death he has a satori -- going to the river he remembers his infant daughter who died and he understands what a wretched life he created for himself -- how many lost opportunities there were.
Possibly he never got over the death of his daughter -- he shut himself up -- punished himself -- dwelt in death and not life.
He finds redemption in the end by changing his ways. His final act is to give away his beloved fiddle to Rothschild.
I think one can decipher Chekhov's philosophy in this story -- his grand message:
"Why did people in general hinder each other from living? What losses were due to it! what terrible losses! If it were not for hatred and malice people would get immense benefit from one another."
Amen, brother!
Having read Mire a while back and feeling disappointed in the story's portrayal of a Jewish woman and wondering where Chekhov stood on Antisemitism which appears to be quite rampant at the time -- I feel in this story Chekhov delivers a strong message against hatred and malice and I want to believe that Chekhov learned that the best way for all of us to make the most out of life is not to go against each other-- to look beyond nationality -- religion -- class -- gender -- race -- and to stand up for each other.
I also see parallels with Shakespeare's King Lear -- men in their old age who come to see the truth.
Maybe too little but never too late.
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