At a Summer Villa
The eight-year itch.
You kind of have to feel sorry for Pavel Ivanitch Vyhodtsev, don't you? Okay, so he's a bit of a hypocrite. Who isn't?
His wife does play a dirty trick on him.
Yes, if he's truly happily married and receives a note asking for a rendezvous-- he shouldn't go, right? Except his wife very well knows he will go -- otherwise she would have tried another trick. How many men receiving such an inviting request while relaxing in a summer villa wouldn't at least be curious? You have to be curious. And if you're curious and it's only a short walk to the arbour -- why not go? It's human nature, isn't it?
Pavel Ivanitch is a very luck guy. He has a wife who has his number. She will take good care of him and guard him against his own worst instincts. Let's just hope he appreciates all her fine work.
Having just read A Pink Stocking about a wife who doesn't get the respect she deserves, it's nice to read here about a strong woman who knows how to maneuver the game in her favor.
Chekhov brilliantly adds to the story a confrontation between Pavel Ivanitch and his brother-in-law, Mitya, at the arbour. A perfect conflict and extremely hilarious.
You know -- he could be a great playwright!
The Goal: Read. Reflect. Respond. Over two hundred Chekhov stories. Constance Garnett translations.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
A PINK STOCKING
A Pink Stocking
Hey, Mr. Pavel Petrovitch Somov spell this: Misogynist.
If I were his wife, I'd stick that pink stocking up his you know where.
That will give him plenty to talk about.
Hey, Mr. Pavel Petrovitch Somov spell this: Misogynist.
If I were his wife, I'd stick that pink stocking up his you know where.
That will give him plenty to talk about.
THE DEATH OF A GOVERNMENT CLERK
The Death of a Government Clerk
You wouldn't think a story that ends with a man dying would be very funny -- but it is.
Well, it's quite possible Ivan Dmitritch Tcheryakov has been dead for a long time. One who worries so much about asking forgiveness for an accidental sneeze is not exactly beaming with life. Maybe the whole system which ranks people by importance is the culprit -- whatever it is -- it does seem very pathetic.
Except when one thinks about it -- a system like this exists today in many shapes and forms. Take Japan for instance, if you are a salary man in a big company -- you don't go home before your boss does -- even if that means reading a paper until your boss decides it's time to call it a day.
Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers relates the story of the Power Distance Index of different societies and connects it to several major plane accidents.
None of that is of course funny -- however Chekhov in this story reduces the dignity of the government clerk to such an absurd level that we can either cry or laugh.
Laughing is a lot easier.
You wouldn't think a story that ends with a man dying would be very funny -- but it is.
Well, it's quite possible Ivan Dmitritch Tcheryakov has been dead for a long time. One who worries so much about asking forgiveness for an accidental sneeze is not exactly beaming with life. Maybe the whole system which ranks people by importance is the culprit -- whatever it is -- it does seem very pathetic.
Except when one thinks about it -- a system like this exists today in many shapes and forms. Take Japan for instance, if you are a salary man in a big company -- you don't go home before your boss does -- even if that means reading a paper until your boss decides it's time to call it a day.
Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers relates the story of the Power Distance Index of different societies and connects it to several major plane accidents.
None of that is of course funny -- however Chekhov in this story reduces the dignity of the government clerk to such an absurd level that we can either cry or laugh.
Laughing is a lot easier.
FAT AND THIN
Fat and Thin
The story is very short but there's a lot to chew on. (He-he-he!)
The fat and thin man know each other from their school days.
They meet accidentally. Not having seen each other since they were boys, they begin trying to catch up.
The thin man loves to talk -- mostly about himself. He tells the fat man all about his family and work. And then the bomb drops. The thin man is a head clerk in the civil service but the fat man is now a privy councilor, a high official.
The news is too much to digest for the thin man. All he can do is compliment the fat man and as the young generation today would say "gas him up".
The thin man now feels like a failure. He is comparing his accomplishments with the fat man and there's not much meat on the bone. What we get with the thin man is a lot of superficiality. He is not very deep. His whole life it seems is mainly show and the inner happiness and satisfaction is not well-developed. His body is thin and so is his soul.
The fat man is proud to be a privy councilor but he doesn't stand on his rank. He prefers for his old friend to treat him as an equal. You get the sense that he is a decent man and well-rounded. In fact, the fat man never brags about his accomplishments and only tells the thin man he is a privy councilor when asked.
The fat man is more content. He has achieved more in the civil service. Maybe his personality helped him move forward or possibly his success has given him comfort. Either way, he is now in the position of being charitable to those less fortunate.
The thin man might've wanted to get ahead too much and like a lover who is overeager turned people off with his runaway desire. Not attaining his goals has left him bitter and jealous of those who have.
The fat man could've helped the thin man if the thin man was honest. All that obsequiousness was too heavy a load for the fat man to deal with -- so instead he walks away leaving the thin man with the stress of failure for the rest of his life.
Meanwhile, the thin man undervalues his greatest possession, his ace in the hole, which is right in front of him and something which the fat man may be missing.
A family.
The fat man wins by default.
The story is very short but there's a lot to chew on. (He-he-he!)
The fat and thin man know each other from their school days.
They meet accidentally. Not having seen each other since they were boys, they begin trying to catch up.
The thin man loves to talk -- mostly about himself. He tells the fat man all about his family and work. And then the bomb drops. The thin man is a head clerk in the civil service but the fat man is now a privy councilor, a high official.
The news is too much to digest for the thin man. All he can do is compliment the fat man and as the young generation today would say "gas him up".
The thin man now feels like a failure. He is comparing his accomplishments with the fat man and there's not much meat on the bone. What we get with the thin man is a lot of superficiality. He is not very deep. His whole life it seems is mainly show and the inner happiness and satisfaction is not well-developed. His body is thin and so is his soul.
The fat man is proud to be a privy councilor but he doesn't stand on his rank. He prefers for his old friend to treat him as an equal. You get the sense that he is a decent man and well-rounded. In fact, the fat man never brags about his accomplishments and only tells the thin man he is a privy councilor when asked.
The fat man is more content. He has achieved more in the civil service. Maybe his personality helped him move forward or possibly his success has given him comfort. Either way, he is now in the position of being charitable to those less fortunate.
The thin man might've wanted to get ahead too much and like a lover who is overeager turned people off with his runaway desire. Not attaining his goals has left him bitter and jealous of those who have.
The fat man could've helped the thin man if the thin man was honest. All that obsequiousness was too heavy a load for the fat man to deal with -- so instead he walks away leaving the thin man with the stress of failure for the rest of his life.
Meanwhile, the thin man undervalues his greatest possession, his ace in the hole, which is right in front of him and something which the fat man may be missing.
A family.
The fat man wins by default.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
A BLUNDER
A Blunder
Strike while the iron is hot.
This is a twisted story. Usually the parents are out to protect their daughter from the horny teacher -- not ready to trap him.
"The fat little hand that smelt of egg soap" is Chekhov's way of delivering the news. The daughter's prospects might not be so great and the parents must do what they can when the teacher, Shchupkin, who writes like a spider, enters their web.
But then the ikon get crossed up with a portrait of an author and the victim is allowed to make his escape.
Haste makes waste or writer's block?
Strike while the iron is hot.
This is a twisted story. Usually the parents are out to protect their daughter from the horny teacher -- not ready to trap him.
"The fat little hand that smelt of egg soap" is Chekhov's way of delivering the news. The daughter's prospects might not be so great and the parents must do what they can when the teacher, Shchupkin, who writes like a spider, enters their web.
But then the ikon get crossed up with a portrait of an author and the victim is allowed to make his escape.
Haste makes waste or writer's block?
Monday, September 17, 2012
A COUNTRY COTTAGE
A Country Cottage
"Hell is other people" as Sartre once wrote and Sasha and Varya would most certainly agree. Especially if the other people are a flock of intrusive relatives.
Didn't really understand the virginity comment -- well, if it has anything to do with setting the right mood -- it seems like Sasha and Varya will have to wait another three or four days to get it on -- and if we know anything about unwanted guests -- probably a lot longer
My uncle had sure-fire way of doing away with lingering visitors -- he would start undressing in front of them-- they always managed to get the point.
"Hell is other people" as Sartre once wrote and Sasha and Varya would most certainly agree. Especially if the other people are a flock of intrusive relatives.
Didn't really understand the virginity comment -- well, if it has anything to do with setting the right mood -- it seems like Sasha and Varya will have to wait another three or four days to get it on -- and if we know anything about unwanted guests -- probably a lot longer
My uncle had sure-fire way of doing away with lingering visitors -- he would start undressing in front of them-- they always managed to get the point.
A JOKE
A Joke
And the punchline is he's miserable.
Big hero with the sled convinces young woman to go down the hill. Nadenka is terrified. Not our fearless narrator. He's not scared of some nasty ice hill. He's scared of life, and most importantly, love.
So he makes his innermost feelings into a joke. He doesn't have the guts to tell Nadenka straight to her face how he loves her.
Nadenka is petrified to go down the hill on the sled but she does it -- she takes the plunge. And then she becomes entranced with hearing those sweet words which our hero whispers to her while rushing down the hill. She even ventures down the hill on her own to verify where those lovely words originate from.
They come from our narrator who is a bona fide coward. He never tells her how he feels but instead runs away. (Macho, isn't he?)
The result is Nadenka gets on with her life and gets married and has three children and a touching memory that lingers with her and our dashing hero seems to only have regrets and a sick joke to lie with.
That's pretty funny.
And the punchline is he's miserable.
Big hero with the sled convinces young woman to go down the hill. Nadenka is terrified. Not our fearless narrator. He's not scared of some nasty ice hill. He's scared of life, and most importantly, love.
So he makes his innermost feelings into a joke. He doesn't have the guts to tell Nadenka straight to her face how he loves her.
Nadenka is petrified to go down the hill on the sled but she does it -- she takes the plunge. And then she becomes entranced with hearing those sweet words which our hero whispers to her while rushing down the hill. She even ventures down the hill on her own to verify where those lovely words originate from.
They come from our narrator who is a bona fide coward. He never tells her how he feels but instead runs away. (Macho, isn't he?)
The result is Nadenka gets on with her life and gets married and has three children and a touching memory that lingers with her and our dashing hero seems to only have regrets and a sick joke to lie with.
That's pretty funny.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
A WORK OF ART
A Work of Art
Art is in the eye of the beholder -- yes, beauty too.
They all seem to love the candelabra -- too much. (Liberace, anyone?)
Female nudes kept in an office or the home -- might not be apropos back then.
Surely, that has changed.
We are beyond all that type of prudishness.
Right?
Taking my six- year old son to the Metropolitan Museum of Art the other day -- walking by the ancient Greek statues he had three words to describe all those amazing sculptures the guide was brilliantly describing to a group of sophisticated tourists: Pee pee, butt, and boobs.
How childish. Not one of those sophisticated tourists was thinking the same thing. They were transfixed in the subtlety of the stone and the impressive use of angles and realism and making comparisons to the different uses of styles to represent the fusion between . . .
Chekhov is of course poking fun at us and cleverly uses our mores to fashion a witty story which reminds me a bit of O.Henry's story: The Gift of the Magi.
(Don't ask me why. The stories have absolutely nothing in common.)
There is an interesting article in the New York Times today about whether or not art can still shock.
It can.
If it's truly art.
Chekhov, as usual, is ahead of his time.
Art is in the eye of the beholder -- yes, beauty too.
They all seem to love the candelabra -- too much. (Liberace, anyone?)
Female nudes kept in an office or the home -- might not be apropos back then.
Surely, that has changed.
We are beyond all that type of prudishness.
Right?
Taking my six- year old son to the Metropolitan Museum of Art the other day -- walking by the ancient Greek statues he had three words to describe all those amazing sculptures the guide was brilliantly describing to a group of sophisticated tourists: Pee pee, butt, and boobs.
How childish. Not one of those sophisticated tourists was thinking the same thing. They were transfixed in the subtlety of the stone and the impressive use of angles and realism and making comparisons to the different uses of styles to represent the fusion between . . .
Chekhov is of course poking fun at us and cleverly uses our mores to fashion a witty story which reminds me a bit of O.Henry's story: The Gift of the Magi.
(Don't ask me why. The stories have absolutely nothing in common.)
There is an interesting article in the New York Times today about whether or not art can still shock.
It can.
If it's truly art.
Chekhov, as usual, is ahead of his time.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
NERVES
Nerves
He sees dead people.
She sees a horny man.
Vaxin, the architect, has just come back from a séance and the ghosts have followed him home.
Rosalia Karlovna, the German governess, knows what men want. Her.
And the wife is out all night praying.
Vaxin can't sleep.
Boo.
Rosalie Karlovna is snoring.
Vaxin is sweating.
Now you have all the ingredients.
Mix them up.
Stir for about five minutes.
Pour and enjoy.
Unless, of course, you're Vaxin's wife.
Boo!
He sees dead people.
She sees a horny man.
Vaxin, the architect, has just come back from a séance and the ghosts have followed him home.
Rosalia Karlovna, the German governess, knows what men want. Her.
And the wife is out all night praying.
Vaxin can't sleep.
Boo.
Rosalie Karlovna is snoring.
Vaxin is sweating.
Now you have all the ingredients.
Mix them up.
Stir for about five minutes.
Pour and enjoy.
Unless, of course, you're Vaxin's wife.
Boo!
Sunday, September 9, 2012
CHORISTERS
Choristers
The Count is coming!
The Count is coming!
To Yefremovo.
Which he owns.
Get ready the music.
Sacristan, is the choir ready?
Yes, sir.
Yes, sir.
Answers, Alexey Alexeitch the conductor and sacristan.
Practice makes perfect.
And practice they do.
Day and night.
Day after day.
Impressive thinks the little priest with the lilac cassock.
But not the deacon.
The deacon thinks the sacristan is wasting his time.
The count is an atheist.
He doesn't care for church music.
The sacristan hates the deacon.
The deacon thinks the sacristan is a fool.
The count is here!
The count is here!
Father Kuzma, the little priest with the lilac cassock, is knocking on the door of the sacristan.
What's going on?
No choir.
No Choir?
No choir.
The deacon is right.
The sacristan will never hear the end of it.
And then . . .
The deacon is also rejected.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
The Count is coming!
The Count is coming!
To Yefremovo.
Which he owns.
Get ready the music.
Sacristan, is the choir ready?
Yes, sir.
Yes, sir.
Answers, Alexey Alexeitch the conductor and sacristan.
Practice makes perfect.
And practice they do.
Day and night.
Day after day.
Impressive thinks the little priest with the lilac cassock.
But not the deacon.
The deacon thinks the sacristan is wasting his time.
The count is an atheist.
He doesn't care for church music.
The sacristan hates the deacon.
The deacon thinks the sacristan is a fool.
The count is here!
The count is here!
Father Kuzma, the little priest with the lilac cassock, is knocking on the door of the sacristan.
What's going on?
No choir.
No Choir?
No choir.
The deacon is right.
The sacristan will never hear the end of it.
And then . . .
The deacon is also rejected.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
A DAUGHTER OF ALBION
A Daughter of Albion
Gryabov, the landowner, seems to have it in for the Englishwoman, Wilka Charlesnova Fyce. He keeps insulting her while he fishes with her. Then he strips naked in front of her. A bit kinky, I'd say.
As much as Gryabov says he despises the daughter of Albion, you wonder why he is alone with her fishing. He also professes to hate fishing and he sits all day at the beach fishing.
What's going on?
This is a strange story. What exactly is the relationship between Gryabov and Fyce? You have to think that although he insults her, he is also drawn to her. But what about the daughter of Albion? What is she all about? That's what makes this story so strange. She sits there like some statue not understanding a word of Russian -- although she's been there for years. Does she not want to learn Russian or is she pretending not to understand? If she doesn't speak Russian -- then what is she doing in Gryabov's home? Can she take care of children without being able to communicate? There is a mystery surrounding these events.
Otsov, the Marshal of Nobility, seems to represent the common wisdom. He tells Gryabov to quit fishing and come home and start drinking some vodka -- but Gryabov is addicted. To fishing and to the Englishwoman. Despite of himself. He's been hooked and is stuck under a stone and there's no one that could lift him up and set him free except himself. However, right now his inclination is to stay hooked.
The crooked nose of the Englishwoman has got him by the balls.
Gryabov, the landowner, seems to have it in for the Englishwoman, Wilka Charlesnova Fyce. He keeps insulting her while he fishes with her. Then he strips naked in front of her. A bit kinky, I'd say.
As much as Gryabov says he despises the daughter of Albion, you wonder why he is alone with her fishing. He also professes to hate fishing and he sits all day at the beach fishing.
What's going on?
This is a strange story. What exactly is the relationship between Gryabov and Fyce? You have to think that although he insults her, he is also drawn to her. But what about the daughter of Albion? What is she all about? That's what makes this story so strange. She sits there like some statue not understanding a word of Russian -- although she's been there for years. Does she not want to learn Russian or is she pretending not to understand? If she doesn't speak Russian -- then what is she doing in Gryabov's home? Can she take care of children without being able to communicate? There is a mystery surrounding these events.
Otsov, the Marshal of Nobility, seems to represent the common wisdom. He tells Gryabov to quit fishing and come home and start drinking some vodka -- but Gryabov is addicted. To fishing and to the Englishwoman. Despite of himself. He's been hooked and is stuck under a stone and there's no one that could lift him up and set him free except himself. However, right now his inclination is to stay hooked.
The crooked nose of the Englishwoman has got him by the balls.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
THE LION AND THE SUN
The Lion and the Sun
Kutsyn, the mayor, loves medals.
He lives for them.
Persian, Serbian.
But no matter how many he receives he'll always want more.
Recipe for unhappiness.
Kutsyn might want to look up The Second Noble Truth.
Again, when I read Chekhov I notice how many of his stories align themselves with the teachings of Buddhism.
Coincidence?
Kutsyn, the mayor, loves medals.
He lives for them.
Persian, Serbian.
But no matter how many he receives he'll always want more.
Recipe for unhappiness.
Kutsyn might want to look up The Second Noble Truth.
Again, when I read Chekhov I notice how many of his stories align themselves with the teachings of Buddhism.
Coincidence?
Monday, September 3, 2012
MARTYRS
Martyrs
So you're sick and need to feel better -- what do you ask for? Jew jokes. And the husband obliges.
I have to say after reading most of Chekhov stories, I am still amazed about the way the society of the time looks at Jews. If I had the time or inclination -- I would write a thesis about Jewish life in Russia during the 19th century using only Chekhov stories.
This story is about a very spoiled wife who needs a lot of attention and the schmuck husband that attends to her and who feels the more he gives the better man he is.
She will keep taking and he will keep giving.
Oy vey!
So you're sick and need to feel better -- what do you ask for? Jew jokes. And the husband obliges.
I have to say after reading most of Chekhov stories, I am still amazed about the way the society of the time looks at Jews. If I had the time or inclination -- I would write a thesis about Jewish life in Russia during the 19th century using only Chekhov stories.
This story is about a very spoiled wife who needs a lot of attention and the schmuck husband that attends to her and who feels the more he gives the better man he is.
She will keep taking and he will keep giving.
Oy vey!
Sunday, September 2, 2012
AN INQUIRY
An Inquiry
Money talks.
Bullshit walks.
Some things never change.
A harsh look at a government office.
Everything is dirty.
The fly feels right at home.
Voldyrev, a country gentleman (who is there because of some lawsuit -- so he may not be so clean either), feels invisible.
Takes three roubles to be noticed.
I'd call it a bargain.
Have you ever had to negotiate with a five year old?
Money talks.
Bullshit walks.
Some things never change.
A harsh look at a government office.
Everything is dirty.
The fly feels right at home.
Voldyrev, a country gentleman (who is there because of some lawsuit -- so he may not be so clean either), feels invisible.
Takes three roubles to be noticed.
I'd call it a bargain.
Have you ever had to negotiate with a five year old?
Saturday, September 1, 2012
ABORIGINES
Aborigines
Some people have only hate to keep them going. Unfortunately, haters are not that rare. And once you start hating -- it only gets worse. It's a downward spiral. Unlike, lovers, who bring joy to the world, haters only bring more hate to the world.
You see, I told you it was addictive. So I'm going to stop hating the haters. Obviously they are sad and lonely people and desperately need a dose of good old fashioned love.
In case Lyashkevsky wants to party -- he could hang out with Clint Eastwood's character in Gran Torino. Just bring a chair.
Some people have only hate to keep them going. Unfortunately, haters are not that rare. And once you start hating -- it only gets worse. It's a downward spiral. Unlike, lovers, who bring joy to the world, haters only bring more hate to the world.
You see, I told you it was addictive. So I'm going to stop hating the haters. Obviously they are sad and lonely people and desperately need a dose of good old fashioned love.
In case Lyashkevsky wants to party -- he could hang out with Clint Eastwood's character in Gran Torino. Just bring a chair.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)