IN AN HOTEL

In an Hotel

Don't let a single man go to waste.

Especially when he's got brains, looks and youth on his side.

So he drinks a little or a lot. Loses his temper now and then. Becomes loud and aggressive. No problem. Forget AA -- you've got Madame Nashatyrin on the case.

This wife of a colonel will domesticate the wayward young staff-captain and ready him for marriage with one of her precious daughters.

So have fun while you can Kikin. Enjoy your bawdy stories. Drink up. You may not know it yet but someone is coming for you and you're going to need all the strength you've got left to resist her.

My money is on Madame Nashatyrin.

Order the wedding invitations.

HUSH!

Hush!

All the trappings.

None of the substance.

I can relate.

The trappings give you comfort.

Writing is lonely.

Even more so when you're a fourth-rate one.  Ouch!

But then again nearly all writers feel like that at some time or another. Don't they? Or am I alone here?

Krasnyhin is certainly a drama queen.

It's easy for Chekhov with his enormous talent to poke fun at him.

I, for one, was cheering him on as I sharpened one of my twelve pencils while my neighbor turned on his lousy stereo -- can't a man get some peace and quiet! Now where was I (tap -- tap -- on the temple)  ah, yes -- there was this . . .

IN THE GRAVEYARD

In the Graveyard

For most actors this story is very relevant. Most actors don't live a Hollywood lifestyle. They struggle and make no money. They do it because they love it.

Two people are hanging around a cemetery ( if you're in the mood for a movie about two people hanging out in cemeteries look at Harold and Maude) and they ran into an actor looking for the grave of Mushkin who was once a well regarded actor but now you can barely find his grave.

As Kansas once sang: "All we are is Dust in the Wind."

We struggle for fame and recognition. Sacrifice for art. But in the end we wind up in a cemetery where if you're lucky they can find your grave.

As Shakespeare once wrote in MACBETH:

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

MALINGERERS

Malingerers

Another Chekhov story about wealthy do-gooders and crafty peasants. (See The New Villa)

The question is who is really the malingerer?

Marfa Petrovna, the General's widow, dispenses some herbal pills to the peasants and she feels fulfilled. Especially when the peasants return and tell her how wonderful her cures are.The peasants give her life meaning and purpose. For such work naturally the peasants deserve some reward. The fact she gives them wood or a cow seems a small compensation for their affirmation of her calling.

After all, if let's say you were a chef and people lined up to taste your food and they told you how your cooking has entirely changed their life -- well, you'd be extremely satisfied. That's all you'd really want is for people to tell you much they love your food and that what you do matters -- and if those people got something back from you it would never equal what they've given you.

At the end of the story -- Marfa Petrovna finds she is being fooled by the peasants -- however, what is the value of that awareness? Her calling will be destroyed -- her faith in humanity shattered -- will this make her happier -- or just cynical?

In the end, will she keep the truth or swallow the medicine and go back to believing in the peasants and her cures?

Sometimes lies are more effective than the truth.

Placebo, anyone?

THE ORATOR

The Orator

Ooops! Would you believe . . .

Brings to mind Mark Twain's famous line after finding his obituary had been published in the New York Journal: "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."

Zapoikin gives a terrific speech -- he's just a little ahead of his time. At some point in the speech -- I'm sure he could relate to those funny Southwest Airlines commercials: Wanna get away?

There's another line from the movie, Cool Hand Luke, that is apropos:  "What we've got here is failure to communicate." 

Poplavsky means well. Gets the right man for the job -- but doesn't give him the full information. This type of error I'm sure is committed every day in countless situations. Just recently my mom broke her left hip and they did X-rays on her right hip -- the X-rays looked great!

OVERDOING IT

Overdoing It

Sometimes an Oscar winning performance can backfire as Smirnov regrettably learns.

Fear can turn anyone into Al Pacino but it can also turn your life into a tragedy.

Was this legitimate fear or paranoia? As in many Chekhov stories what is lacking in the characters is a little moderation -- which is what I suppose makes them interesting and flawed.

Smirnov had already made his point with the three revolver business -- leave well enough alone. But no -- he had to become a blabber mouth.

Most of our troubles are caused by excess -- controlling our passions is a tough nut to crack and this lack of control leads many down a path of no return -- here it just leaves Smirnov temporarily  stranded in the middle of a forest.

Lucky for him the driver was  able to maintain some semblance of composure and returns to bail Smirnov out of his self-induced nightmare.

Mr. DeMille, Smirnov is ready for his close-up.

A TRIPPING TONGUE

A Tripping Tongue

So the wife apparently suffers from what seems to be foot in mouth disease.

What bothers me is she's very obvious -- makes me think about the hubby -- who is he? Does he harbor illusions that his wife is innocent and faithful and this story finally reveals her true nature? He was trusting enough to let her go to the Crimea with her girlfriend -- what was he expecting her to do there? For her to stay home and play rummy and drink some hot milk and be in bed by nine?

There is an imbalance in this story. The reader is ahead of the husband -- shortly into the story we seem to have the wife pegged -- but the husband is clueless -- maybe he's just a fool in love. Blinded by her youth and looks -- and style. She obviously has her way -- and the hubby follows. Is he weak -- gullible -- naive? If so, then he deserves what he gets. Doesn't he?

Am I being too harsh?
 
The problem for me in this story is the wife is no master at keeping secrets -- or even covering them up -- and therefore I'm thinking the husband must know this woman pretty well and yet he allows to go off to the Crimea -- is this possible?

Probably yes. We can all be completely blind when we are in love. I'm thinking this woman is younger and better looking than the hubby -- he's got the money and the position -- she's a trophy wife -- and he adores her and even now after hearing her story and knowing outright what she did in Yalta -- will it make any difference? Does the hubby really desire the truth? He'll most likely shrug it off and maintain faith in his wife's fidelity.

What choice does he have? 

He could've married someone closer to his age -- less attractive -- but if that's what he had wanted then he'd have found a suitable mate.

And if he accepts the truth -- he'll also know -- she married him for his position and money and she doesn't really love him. Who needs the bitter medicine of truth?

Lies are so much sweeter and palatable.

He got what he wanted.

Oh, what a lucky man he is!

OH! THE PUBLIC

Oh! The Public

Less is more.

More or less.

Sometimes you want to do it by the book -- and it doesn't quite flow -- so you cut some corners and then it feels more natural and it works.

Like teaching. If you go into the classroom with a lesson plan covering every minute -- then you are bound -- trapped -- by that lesson plan and you don't allow for spontaneity -- for improvisation -- for creativity. But if you don't prepare at all then you risk chaos.

Moderation. The spirit of the law. Discretion.

Rules are black and white -- but we have to know when to apply them and when not to. Or some would say rules are made to be broken.

Now -- if a doctor is cutting some corners and not doing all the tests required because the doctor has a gut feeling about what is ailing the patient -- if the doctor is wrong then we sue. So the doctor orders all the tests just to protect himself from being sued and then the public complains the cost of health care is too high and the politicians want to do something about it and if they try to reduce the tests the doctors are required to do we bitch and moan about death panels.

This story really has great insight into how a bureaucracy works -- the rules are fixed but if every rule was actually enforced -- then we'd have an impossible situation.

A few months ago -- I went to the Salvation Army to drop off some clothes and books and a few other items. There was no parking -- and I double-parked -- knowing I would only be a minute or two -- my wife and child were in the car. When I got out of the center a minute later -- my wife was arguing with a parking official -- he had given us a ticket. Now, yes, I was double parked -- but he saw my wife was in the car -- he could've told her to move the car and she would've told him I was in the Salvation Army donating some items and that I would be right back -- and hearing this I would think the official could have just moved on -- because he would be honoring the spirit of the law -- rules have to include a human element. 

If every cop gave a ticket for jaywalking -- and driving past the speed limit -- and every rule was followed by every official -- we'd really have a hard time functioning -- but Chekhov is right -- when something goes wrong we conveniently blame officials for not doing their duty.

A number of years ago -- New York City had a squeegee problem -- you stopped at a red light and all of a sudden your car window was being cleaned with a dirty squeegee and you were expected to give a tip for the poor and unwanted service. No one was enforcing this violation because it was deemed to be a minor disturbance -- not serious enough to warrant the attention of the police -- but in fact it was affecting the quality of life.  I mean if it happens to you enough times and your clean window becomes dirty and then you are expected to pay a tip for this and if you don't then you might have not only a dirty window but a broken one as well -- then you want some action and the new Mayor at the time Giuliani tapped into people's frustrations and started to arrest the squeegee folks -- and crime did start going down as a whole -- but then people started to complain that the police were being too aggressive and the city was becoming a totalitarian state.

Oh! The public indeed.

A funny and very poignant story. Podtyagin is overcompensating. He is trying to make up for all the time he was neglecting his duty -- and this of course is a no-win situation. It becomes a vicious cycle -- the more he wants to do -- the less effective he becomes. He needs to find the right balance. But this is easier said than done. He goes back to drinking in the end and so he is going to feel bad at some point that he drinks too much and doesn't do his job -- so he'll repeat this story again and again.

But in one form or the other -- either as parents -- teachers -- citizens -- officials -- whatever -- we are like Podtyagin -- we all feel we should do a better job and get rid of our bad habits -- we do a New Year's resolution and become all Gung-ho about our task but usually we find ourselves going back to our old habits until we we start again on the path of reformation -- like I'm trying to make these blog entries more concise and to the point -- and then I make them too short and the public complains -- not really I'm just pretending -- in any case -- I think I need a drink.

THE ALBUM

The Album

Zhmyhov is a good guy.

In so many of Chekhov's stories -- we meet deeply flawed individuals -- it's nice to find someone who has it all together.

The lavish praise he receives from his workers seems to be well-deserved.

How do we know?

Chekhov the master storyteller waits until the very end to make us truly understand the character of Zhmyhov.

Forget all the speeches -- anybody can get speeches -- most of them are not really sincere or truthful.

When it comes to character it's not words but action that counts. And I think this is the point of Chekhov's story.

When his son shows what he has done to the touching gift that was given to him the night before  -- a vain man would've been really upset but Zhmyov not only doesn't take offense but caresses the boy and encourages him to show off his talent to his mother.

This small act reveals all you need to know about Zhmyhov.

AN INADVERTENCE

An Inadvertence

Paraffin kills. That is good paraffin kills. Cheap paraffin just makes you deathly ill.

And if you happen to drink some cheap paraffin and you want to laugh your head off -- then this story is the antidote you're looking for.

Strizhin, the nephew of Madame Ivanov, usually does the right thing but he lets his hair down at a party and he pays the price. People who party all the time know how to party -- Strizhin is a novice and he inadvertently almost poisons himself.

And this is where the comedy begins.

Nothing can top a dying man begging for some help being lectured by an old maid with a fiery temperament and little compassion. But the fun is just getting started.

Off he goes to get some much needed first-aid but all he finds is more words of admonishment from a chemist who does a Rodney Dangerfield routine on him "I get no respect, I tell ya."

It's just not Strizhin's night.  Or possibly his life.

The One-Party-Wonder goes to sleep thinking he won't be waking up again and then to his surprise he manages to make it through thanks to good old fashioned parsimony.

Cheapness saves Strizhin but the humor here is well-earned.

AT THE BARBER'S

At the Barber's

Delusion.The mirror in the barber shop distorts appearance. The mirror in the mind distorts reality.

Makar Kuzmitch doesn't realize he's working in a down and out barber shop and he's filthy.

Ernst Ivanitch, the godfather of the stinky barber is no peach himself. He's been ill for over a month -- yet he walks a long distance for a free haircut. He takes and thinks nothing of it. He believes he's entitled to what he gets from the barber. After all, he's the godfather.

And then the truth shatters their comfy illusions. When Ernst Ivanitch tells Makarushka his daughter is engaged to be married -- the barber finally gets to see what his godfather thinks of him. He is no match for his dear daughter. And how could he even believe he was. "Come on boy cut my hair and smell the roses -- you're a loser. Deal with it. Look for someone who thinks greasy is sexy and lay off my lovely child."

The barber is a romantic. He is in love. He thinks he and the daughter had a pact to be married and he was well on his way to a future wedding. Now that may also be a delusion. For all we know the daughter thinks of the barber the same way the father does.

Makar's whole world is as distorted as the mirror he uses on his clients. The slap on the face by his godfather might finally wake him up. Most likely not. He will probably continue to live in a delusion in one fashion or another.

Rarely do any of us dare to see the world for what it is. It's too damn dangerous.

Well, one thing is certain and not an illusion -- Ernst Ivanitch is walking around with a bad hairstyle.

As one of my favorite ads once showed -- displaying a picture of Einstein -- the caption reads: A Bad Haircut Can Make Anybody Look Stupid.  

A PECULIAR MAN

A Peculiar Man

Prudence on steroids.

Kiryakov turns what should be a virtue into a vice.

But don't listen to me listen to Plato:
“Moderation, which consists in an indifference about little things, and in a prudent and well-proportioned zeal about things of importance, can proceed from nothing but true knowledge, which has its foundation in self-acquaintance.”

  

Kiryakov can't distinguish between "little things" and "things of importance" and therefore he has become a peculiar man. A stranger to himself. And a pest to everyone else.

He needs to readjust the settings. Find the balance. The harmony. Get in touch with his spirit. ( Maybe I'm getting carried away -- but a little New Age never hurt anyone.)

If we go all out and don't know how to temper ourselves we can all become like Kiryakov. We might have the right message but it will become corrupted and we may do more harm than good.

So Kiryakov here's my recommendation for you if you don't mind -- a yoga class -- easy does it before you get too excited -- the local library is offering it: for free.

Breathe, dude, breathe.

LADIES

Ladies

Vremensky is out.

Polzuhin is in.

Vremensky should get the job. Fyodor Petrovitch does the right thing by offering it to the 14 year veteran teacher who can no longer teach.

But life doesn't work like that.

Polzuhin has the ladies behind him and their influence is too strong to resist.

The old adage: It's not what you know -- it's who you know -- and Polzuhin seems to know everybody and Vremensky is out of luck.