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Forty Stories
If any writer can be said to have invented the modern short story, it is Anton Chekhov. It is not just that Chekhov democratized this art form; more than that, he changed the thrust of short fiction from relating to revealing. And what marvelous and unbearable things are revealed in these Forty Stories. The abashed happiness of a woman in the presence of the husband who abandoned her years before. The obsequious terror of the official who accidentally sneezes on a general. The poignant astonishment of an aging Don Juan overtaken by love. Spanning the entirety of Chekhov's career and including such masterpieces as "Surgery," "The Huntsman," "Anyuta," "Sleepyhead," "The Lady With the Pet Dog," and "The Bishop," this collection manages to be amusing, dazzling, and supremely moving—often within a single page.
384 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 1, 1963
269 people are currently reading
2335 people want to read
About the author
Anton Chekhov
5,970 books9,795 followers
Antón Chéjov
(Spanish)
Dramas, such as The Seagull (1896, revised 1898), and including "A Dreary Story" (1889) of Russian writer Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, also Chekov, concern the inability of humans to communicate.
Born ( Антон Павлович Чехов ) in the small southern seaport of Taganrog, the son of a grocer. His grandfather, a serf, bought his own freedom and that of his three sons in 1841. He also taught to read. A cloth merchant fathered Yevgenia Morozova, his mother.
"When I think back on my childhood," Chekhov recalled, "it all seems quite gloomy to me." Tyranny of his father, religious fanaticism, and long nights in the store, open from five in the morning till midnight, shadowed his early years. He attended a school for Greek boys in Taganrog from 1867 to 1868 and then Taganrog grammar school. Bankruptcy of his father compelled the family to move to Moscow. At the age of 16 years in 1876, independent Chekhov for some time alone in his native town supported through private tutoring.
In 1879, Chekhov left grammar school and entered the university medical school at Moscow. In the school, he began to publish hundreds of short comics to support his mother, sisters and brothers. Nicholas Leikin published him at this period and owned Oskolki (splinters), the journal of Saint Petersburg. His subjected silly social situations, marital problems, and farcical encounters among husbands, wives, mistresses, and lust; even after his marriage, Chekhov, the shy author, knew not much of whims of young women.
Nenunzhaya pobeda , first novel of Chekhov, set in 1882 in Hungary, parodied the novels of the popular Mór Jókai. People also mocked ideological optimism of Jókai as a politician.
Chekhov graduated in 1884 and practiced medicine. He worked from 1885 in Peterburskaia gazeta.
In 1886, Chekhov met H.S. Suvorin, who invited him, a regular contributor, to work for Novoe vremya, the daily paper of Saint Petersburg. He gained a wide fame before 1886. He authored The Shooting Party , his second full-length novel, later translated into English. Agatha Christie used its characters and atmosphere in later her mystery novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd . First book of Chekhov in 1886 succeeded, and he gradually committed full time. The refusal of the author to join the ranks of social critics arose the wrath of liberal and radical intelligentsia, who criticized him for dealing with serious social and moral questions but avoiding giving answers. Such leaders as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov, however, defended him. "I'm not a liberal, or a conservative, or a gradualist, or a monk, or an indifferentist. I should like to be a free artist and that's all..." Chekhov said in 1888.
The failure of The Wood Demon , play in 1889, and problems with novel made Chekhov to withdraw from literature for a period. In 1890, he traveled across Siberia to Sakhalin, remote prison island. He conducted a detailed census of ten thousand convicts and settlers, condemned to live on that harsh island. Chekhov expected to use the results of his research for his doctoral dissertation. Hard conditions on the island probably also weakened his own physical condition. From this journey came his famous travel book.
Chekhov practiced medicine until 1892. During these years, Chechov developed his concept of the dispassionate, non-judgmental author. He outlined his program in a letter to his brother Aleksandr: "1. Absence of lengthy verbiage of political-social-economic nature; 2. total objectivity; 3. truthful descriptions of persons and objects; 4. extreme brevity; 5. audacity and originality; flee the stereotype; 6. compassion." Because he objected that the paper conducted against [a:Alfred Dreyfu
Dramas, such as The Seagull (1896, revised 1898), and including "A Dreary Story" (1889) of Russian writer Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, also Chekov, concern the inability of humans to communicate.
Born ( Антон Павлович Чехов ) in the small southern seaport of Taganrog, the son of a grocer. His grandfather, a serf, bought his own freedom and that of his three sons in 1841. He also taught to read. A cloth merchant fathered Yevgenia Morozova, his mother.
"When I think back on my childhood," Chekhov recalled, "it all seems quite gloomy to me." Tyranny of his father, religious fanaticism, and long nights in the store, open from five in the morning till midnight, shadowed his early years. He attended a school for Greek boys in Taganrog from 1867 to 1868 and then Taganrog grammar school. Bankruptcy of his father compelled the family to move to Moscow. At the age of 16 years in 1876, independent Chekhov for some time alone in his native town supported through private tutoring.
In 1879, Chekhov left grammar school and entered the university medical school at Moscow. In the school, he began to publish hundreds of short comics to support his mother, sisters and brothers. Nicholas Leikin published him at this period and owned Oskolki (splinters), the journal of Saint Petersburg. His subjected silly social situations, marital problems, and farcical encounters among husbands, wives, mistresses, and lust; even after his marriage, Chekhov, the shy author, knew not much of whims of young women.
Nenunzhaya pobeda , first novel of Chekhov, set in 1882 in Hungary, parodied the novels of the popular Mór Jókai. People also mocked ideological optimism of Jókai as a politician.
Chekhov graduated in 1884 and practiced medicine. He worked from 1885 in Peterburskaia gazeta.
In 1886, Chekhov met H.S. Suvorin, who invited him, a regular contributor, to work for Novoe vremya, the daily paper of Saint Petersburg. He gained a wide fame before 1886. He authored The Shooting Party , his second full-length novel, later translated into English. Agatha Christie used its characters and atmosphere in later her mystery novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd . First book of Chekhov in 1886 succeeded, and he gradually committed full time. The refusal of the author to join the ranks of social critics arose the wrath of liberal and radical intelligentsia, who criticized him for dealing with serious social and moral questions but avoiding giving answers. Such leaders as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov, however, defended him. "I'm not a liberal, or a conservative, or a gradualist, or a monk, or an indifferentist. I should like to be a free artist and that's all..." Chekhov said in 1888.
The failure of The Wood Demon , play in 1889, and problems with novel made Chekhov to withdraw from literature for a period. In 1890, he traveled across Siberia to Sakhalin, remote prison island. He conducted a detailed census of ten thousand convicts and settlers, condemned to live on that harsh island. Chekhov expected to use the results of his research for his doctoral dissertation. Hard conditions on the island probably also weakened his own physical condition. From this journey came his famous travel book.
Chekhov practiced medicine until 1892. During these years, Chechov developed his concept of the dispassionate, non-judgmental author. He outlined his program in a letter to his brother Aleksandr: "1. Absence of lengthy verbiage of political-social-economic nature; 2. total objectivity; 3. truthful descriptions of persons and objects; 4. extreme brevity; 5. audacity and originality; flee the stereotype; 6. compassion." Because he objected that the paper conducted against [a:Alfred Dreyfu
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 96 reviews
February 15, 2019
Ashamed to admit I'm a little disappointed. Having heard so much about Chekhov and his mastery of language, I expected something miraculous. Instead, I closed to book feeling underwhelmed.
This greatest hits of 40 short stories included only 9 that I highlighted as exceptional. They were:
Joy
The Ninny
Death of a Government Clerk
The Proposal
Who Is to Blame?
The Princess
The Student
In the Horsecart
The Lady with the Pet Dog
Stylistically, the stories I enjoyed most tended to be very short. Some less than 4 pages. "Who Is to Blame" was my favorite, as it has a kind of Aesop fable vibe coupled with witty humor. Generally speaking, Chekhov's flash fiction always came across as the work of a great talent, while the longer pieces got muddled in too many characters and plots that were too big for their canvas. The duds weren't so bad as to completely turn me off from him, and of course I know his bibliography is much more vast than this collection, but I'm definitely not on the bandwagon yet. Maybe I'll try his plays next.
This greatest hits of 40 short stories included only 9 that I highlighted as exceptional. They were:
Joy
The Ninny
Death of a Government Clerk
The Proposal
Who Is to Blame?
The Princess
The Student
In the Horsecart
The Lady with the Pet Dog
Stylistically, the stories I enjoyed most tended to be very short. Some less than 4 pages. "Who Is to Blame" was my favorite, as it has a kind of Aesop fable vibe coupled with witty humor. Generally speaking, Chekhov's flash fiction always came across as the work of a great talent, while the longer pieces got muddled in too many characters and plots that were too big for their canvas. The duds weren't so bad as to completely turn me off from him, and of course I know his bibliography is much more vast than this collection, but I'm definitely not on the bandwagon yet. Maybe I'll try his plays next.
March 15, 2022
3+
"My Holy of Holies are the human body, health, intelligence, inspiration, love, and the most absolute freedom from violence and lying in whatever forms they may manifest themselves." (Anton Chekov)
This collection of forty short stories (perhaps too many) is but a fraction of Chekov's oeuvre. To read his work is to know the man according to Robert Payne, the translator and writer of the thirty page introduction. Payne's insights about Chekov's life and the values he held were invaluable to me in understanding the many characters and events in these stories. The chronological order from 1880 -1903 helped me see the development of his skill. Many of the early stories were paid submissions to newspapers, a way for the young writer to support himself and pay his bills for medical school. They are quite different than those written when he had earned respect as a writer. But they all show his likes and dislikes, his belief in people, his sense of humor, his zest for life.
"Death of a Government Clerk", written when he was 24, tells the story of a clerk who can't stop apologizing to his boss. His accidental sneeze caused him so much embarrassment it led to his death. Chekov hated groveling and this is a humorous exaggeration of it. It was not a favorite of mine, but it did reveal much about Chekov - the love of human absurdities and the ability to laugh at them without judgement. "The Green Scythe" was also humorous but in a more subtle way. A villa on the shores of the Black Sea is the setting for this spoof. The beautiful, young Olya is saved by friends from a planned marriage on the day of the wedding. Through many antics, she is hidden away with the man she loves, much to the chagrin of her pompous mother. Chekov had no use for social classes and worn out traditions. His compassion for the poor was obvious in the sad story "Heartache". Iona, a public carriage driver, tries to tell passenger after passenger about the recent death of his son. No one will listen. No one shows any kindness. He eventually tells about his grief to his horse. I enjoyed "The Bishop", "The Bride", "The Malefactor", and "The House With the Mezzanine". While many of the early stories were not appealing to me, they all reflected life in 18th century Russia, a way of life now gone. What would Chekov think of present day Russia?
I feel I have come to know this author through these short stories, a person I would enjoy having as a friend. In the NYT Book Review section entitled "By the Book", authors are often asked who they would invite to a dinner party they were giving. Chekov would be my guest of honor. He would amuse and entertain us all.
"Respect the honest fellow in yourself and remember that no honest man is ever insignificant." (Anton Chekov)
"My Holy of Holies are the human body, health, intelligence, inspiration, love, and the most absolute freedom from violence and lying in whatever forms they may manifest themselves." (Anton Chekov)
This collection of forty short stories (perhaps too many) is but a fraction of Chekov's oeuvre. To read his work is to know the man according to Robert Payne, the translator and writer of the thirty page introduction. Payne's insights about Chekov's life and the values he held were invaluable to me in understanding the many characters and events in these stories. The chronological order from 1880 -1903 helped me see the development of his skill. Many of the early stories were paid submissions to newspapers, a way for the young writer to support himself and pay his bills for medical school. They are quite different than those written when he had earned respect as a writer. But they all show his likes and dislikes, his belief in people, his sense of humor, his zest for life.
"Death of a Government Clerk", written when he was 24, tells the story of a clerk who can't stop apologizing to his boss. His accidental sneeze caused him so much embarrassment it led to his death. Chekov hated groveling and this is a humorous exaggeration of it. It was not a favorite of mine, but it did reveal much about Chekov - the love of human absurdities and the ability to laugh at them without judgement. "The Green Scythe" was also humorous but in a more subtle way. A villa on the shores of the Black Sea is the setting for this spoof. The beautiful, young Olya is saved by friends from a planned marriage on the day of the wedding. Through many antics, she is hidden away with the man she loves, much to the chagrin of her pompous mother. Chekov had no use for social classes and worn out traditions. His compassion for the poor was obvious in the sad story "Heartache". Iona, a public carriage driver, tries to tell passenger after passenger about the recent death of his son. No one will listen. No one shows any kindness. He eventually tells about his grief to his horse. I enjoyed "The Bishop", "The Bride", "The Malefactor", and "The House With the Mezzanine". While many of the early stories were not appealing to me, they all reflected life in 18th century Russia, a way of life now gone. What would Chekov think of present day Russia?
I feel I have come to know this author through these short stories, a person I would enjoy having as a friend. In the NYT Book Review section entitled "By the Book", authors are often asked who they would invite to a dinner party they were giving. Chekov would be my guest of honor. He would amuse and entertain us all.
"Respect the honest fellow in yourself and remember that no honest man is ever insignificant." (Anton Chekov)
Want to read
March 17, 2017Kurt Vonnegut once wrote to his daughter: “Get a collection of the short stories of Chekhov and read every one. […] I’m not suggesting that you do these things. I am ordering you to do them.”
I'll trust him with this one.
I'll trust him with this one.
August 5, 2018
“Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoy's Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city's reservoir, he turns to the cupboards, only to find the vodka bottle empty.” - P.G. Wodehouse
I have always admired the Russians for their immense and an almost unreal understanding of the darkest recesses of human mind. Their painfully accurate ability to express and put down in words those deepest of human desires which few of us can even begin to pen down. Now I wasn't born an expert on Russian Literature and neither do I claim to be one, but I have read enough to know the real thing when I see it. Read the quote above for instance - this is Wodehouse cracking one of his countless jokes, and this one's on Russia. What't the one thing that strikes out here above everything else? What's the one thought that comes to mind reading this? That 'This is absurd!' The damned absurdity of it all! And in this very same most inexpressible of human conditions, is where the Russians find their highest form of expression. Pick up a Dostoyevsky some day and you would know what I am trying to talk about- you see I am not a Russian and I cannot express these things the way these people can.
Where Mr Chekhov takes this 'expression of the absurd' a notch higher is by bringing it forth through a medium that rests on the exact opposite end of the spectrum- comedy. By combining humor and the absurd, and a beyond human understanding of what goes on inside our heads, Chekhov creates an artistic medium that leaves the reader spellbound, starry-eyed and unable to fathom as to how this guy who lived and died so long ago can speak to us with such clarity even today. And that is the hallmark of all great literature, isn't it? That even the passage of time, that great destroyer of civilizations, cannot touch it. This collection of stories covers a fairly common set of themes - love, freedom, hope, faith, death among many others. It is the beauty of Chekhov's expression that makes this book a truly wonderful piece of art.
I would have liked to include some of the quotes from these stories, but there are far too many to be condensed into a coherent thread. Better then to simply pick up this book and read the whole of it. All said and done though, there is one quote I'd definitely like to include here. Its from a story where the narrator recites a tale of unrequited love. That, along with the way the author chooses to describe the setting, really captures the essence of everything that I loved about this story collection -
"He had the appearance of a man who wants to tell a story. Through a window we could see a gray sky and trees drenched in rain. It was the kind of weather which makes it impossible to go anywhere, when the only thing to do is to tell stories and to listen to them. And so, he began his story.."
I have always admired the Russians for their immense and an almost unreal understanding of the darkest recesses of human mind. Their painfully accurate ability to express and put down in words those deepest of human desires which few of us can even begin to pen down. Now I wasn't born an expert on Russian Literature and neither do I claim to be one, but I have read enough to know the real thing when I see it. Read the quote above for instance - this is Wodehouse cracking one of his countless jokes, and this one's on Russia. What't the one thing that strikes out here above everything else? What's the one thought that comes to mind reading this? That 'This is absurd!' The damned absurdity of it all! And in this very same most inexpressible of human conditions, is where the Russians find their highest form of expression. Pick up a Dostoyevsky some day and you would know what I am trying to talk about- you see I am not a Russian and I cannot express these things the way these people can.
Where Mr Chekhov takes this 'expression of the absurd' a notch higher is by bringing it forth through a medium that rests on the exact opposite end of the spectrum- comedy. By combining humor and the absurd, and a beyond human understanding of what goes on inside our heads, Chekhov creates an artistic medium that leaves the reader spellbound, starry-eyed and unable to fathom as to how this guy who lived and died so long ago can speak to us with such clarity even today. And that is the hallmark of all great literature, isn't it? That even the passage of time, that great destroyer of civilizations, cannot touch it. This collection of stories covers a fairly common set of themes - love, freedom, hope, faith, death among many others. It is the beauty of Chekhov's expression that makes this book a truly wonderful piece of art.
I would have liked to include some of the quotes from these stories, but there are far too many to be condensed into a coherent thread. Better then to simply pick up this book and read the whole of it. All said and done though, there is one quote I'd definitely like to include here. Its from a story where the narrator recites a tale of unrequited love. That, along with the way the author chooses to describe the setting, really captures the essence of everything that I loved about this story collection -
"He had the appearance of a man who wants to tell a story. Through a window we could see a gray sky and trees drenched in rain. It was the kind of weather which makes it impossible to go anywhere, when the only thing to do is to tell stories and to listen to them. And so, he began his story.."
February 13, 2017
Chekhov, on the 99%: "It's not a question of pessimism or optimism...It's just that ninety-nine out of a hundred people don't have any brains."
October 23, 2008
The best translation of Chekhov. Payne knows the Russian humor. At least I trust that he does. Because I'm laughing. And crying.
February 26, 2018
Chekhov’s literary reputation may rest chiefly on his masterpiece plays – Seagull, Cherry Orchard, etc. – but he is also widely regarded as the father of the modern short story. This chronological story collection, which spans the years 1880 to 1903, raises the question of just what that means.
If we mean the stripped down minimalist fiction and elliptical dialogue that graces many a contemporary literary magazine, then Chekhov is not your man. As editor and translator Robert Payne notes, Chekhov wrote in old-fashioned Russian of a long-gone world of fuzzy-headed gentry and work-beaten peasants, using language that even native speakers have occasional difficulty in understanding.
Many of the early stories, moreover, are really little more than sketches, vignettes – even two-page jokes – that he dashed off in the middle of his medical studies. If you want to see a more obvious forebear of modern short fiction, you would do better with Guy de Maupassant, Jack London – or in a more specialized genre – Edgar Allen Poe.
How, then, is Chekhov modern? I think it is his example of absolute freedom in the form; Chekhov recognized no strictures or rules about what a short story should or shouldn’t be. He made his tales dance to whatever tune he had in his head: whether an extended joke (“The Proposal”), dark comedy (“Death of a Government Clerk”, better known as “The Sneeze”), death and transfiguration (“Gusev,” “The Bishop”), the plight of provincial Russia (“The House with the Mezzanine,” “In the Horsecart”), oppression and poverty (“Sleepyhead,” “Vanka”), and most often, love and marriage (“The Huntsman,” “Anyuta,” “Anna Round the Neck,” “The Bride,” “The Lady with the Pet Dog”).
In “Gusev,” for example, we witness the suffering and death of a retired soldier aboard ship. But Chekhov doesn’t stop there: we see his body, sewn into a sailcloth, fall into the sea, dropping past schools of fish, a shark, to the bottom. And then this:
The heavens turned lilac, very soft. Gazing up at the enchanted heavens, magnificent in their splendor, the sea fumed darkly at first, but soon assumed the sweet, joyous passionate colors for which there are scarcely any names in the tongues of man.
Chekhov strikes the same elegiac redemptive tone following another seemingly unredeemed death in a later story “The Bishop,” although in much more stripped-down language. The bishop, subject to incessant obsequiousness in life, is almost immediately forgotten after his death; life goes on, and only his aged peasant mother recalls him as she chats with her friends.
Chekhov’s modern sensibility is also apparent in his rich characterizations and ambiguous conclusions to many of his stories: presumably happy endings are laden with irony, tragic conclusions infused with the powerful sense of life’s continuity. Chekhov never passes judgment on his characters; he is both merciful and merciless, letting them make and unmake their lives and fates.
It is this claim to freedom within the confines of the form, then, where Chekhov’s greatness as a short story resides.
Will the illicit couple in “The Lady with the Pet Dog” find a way to happiness? We don’t know, but what do know is how much we have grown to care about the answer
And it seemed as though in a little while the solution would be found and a lovely new life would begin for them; and to both of them it was clear that the end was still very far away, and the hardest and most difficult part was only beginning.
If we mean the stripped down minimalist fiction and elliptical dialogue that graces many a contemporary literary magazine, then Chekhov is not your man. As editor and translator Robert Payne notes, Chekhov wrote in old-fashioned Russian of a long-gone world of fuzzy-headed gentry and work-beaten peasants, using language that even native speakers have occasional difficulty in understanding.
Many of the early stories, moreover, are really little more than sketches, vignettes – even two-page jokes – that he dashed off in the middle of his medical studies. If you want to see a more obvious forebear of modern short fiction, you would do better with Guy de Maupassant, Jack London – or in a more specialized genre – Edgar Allen Poe.
How, then, is Chekhov modern? I think it is his example of absolute freedom in the form; Chekhov recognized no strictures or rules about what a short story should or shouldn’t be. He made his tales dance to whatever tune he had in his head: whether an extended joke (“The Proposal”), dark comedy (“Death of a Government Clerk”, better known as “The Sneeze”), death and transfiguration (“Gusev,” “The Bishop”), the plight of provincial Russia (“The House with the Mezzanine,” “In the Horsecart”), oppression and poverty (“Sleepyhead,” “Vanka”), and most often, love and marriage (“The Huntsman,” “Anyuta,” “Anna Round the Neck,” “The Bride,” “The Lady with the Pet Dog”).
In “Gusev,” for example, we witness the suffering and death of a retired soldier aboard ship. But Chekhov doesn’t stop there: we see his body, sewn into a sailcloth, fall into the sea, dropping past schools of fish, a shark, to the bottom. And then this:
The heavens turned lilac, very soft. Gazing up at the enchanted heavens, magnificent in their splendor, the sea fumed darkly at first, but soon assumed the sweet, joyous passionate colors for which there are scarcely any names in the tongues of man.
Chekhov strikes the same elegiac redemptive tone following another seemingly unredeemed death in a later story “The Bishop,” although in much more stripped-down language. The bishop, subject to incessant obsequiousness in life, is almost immediately forgotten after his death; life goes on, and only his aged peasant mother recalls him as she chats with her friends.
Chekhov’s modern sensibility is also apparent in his rich characterizations and ambiguous conclusions to many of his stories: presumably happy endings are laden with irony, tragic conclusions infused with the powerful sense of life’s continuity. Chekhov never passes judgment on his characters; he is both merciful and merciless, letting them make and unmake their lives and fates.
It is this claim to freedom within the confines of the form, then, where Chekhov’s greatness as a short story resides.
Will the illicit couple in “The Lady with the Pet Dog” find a way to happiness? We don’t know, but what do know is how much we have grown to care about the answer
And it seemed as though in a little while the solution would be found and a lovely new life would begin for them; and to both of them it was clear that the end was still very far away, and the hardest and most difficult part was only beginning.
Read
November 29, 2025Gonna write a story about how a girl broke my heart so bad I turned bald
June 20, 2022
I've read and enjoyed several novels by Chekov and was encouraged to read his short stories by one of my favorite librarians. I read this collection which were published in order as to when they were written. I found an unexpected humor in most of the stories which made them a delight to read.
March 20, 2020
As is probably inevitable in a 40 story collection, a few of these short stories I thought among the most memorable I've ever read ("The Bishop," for one), but many did not engage me. All in all though, definitely worth reading.
February 14, 2012
Chekhov is my friend because he is definitely a socialist. Case in point, from "The Bride:" "'You must realize how immoral and unclean your idle life is,' Sasha went on. 'Can't you realize that to enable you and your mother and your grandmother to live a life of leisure, others have to work for you, and you are devouring their lives? Is that right?'"
The stories are so true to life. It's impressive how he can make me completely relate to people from the late 1800's, in Russia, before electricity, using horses and carriages for transport, and with servants commonplace in households. It's because he gets to the core of what it is to be a human, in many different life situations. The crux of it is, everyone is in an impossible situation that they cannot get out of. And this often holds true today, albeit less extremely so.
Don't read Chekhov if you are prone to depression. Death is everywhere. One story is a military infirmary on a ship, in which every single character dies, and then the story keeps going along with the body in the sea.
Also he wrote some hilarious satire, like the guy who goes crazy with embarrassment for sneezing on someone.
The stories are so true to life. It's impressive how he can make me completely relate to people from the late 1800's, in Russia, before electricity, using horses and carriages for transport, and with servants commonplace in households. It's because he gets to the core of what it is to be a human, in many different life situations. The crux of it is, everyone is in an impossible situation that they cannot get out of. And this often holds true today, albeit less extremely so.
Don't read Chekhov if you are prone to depression. Death is everywhere. One story is a military infirmary on a ship, in which every single character dies, and then the story keeps going along with the body in the sea.
Also he wrote some hilarious satire, like the guy who goes crazy with embarrassment for sneezing on someone.
September 5, 2017
This was my first Chekhov book and I can't remember the last time I was so deeply moved by a short story collection.
Forty Stories is a great read, Chekhov's acute observations of the human spirit, the beautifully portrayed 19th century Russian countryside and the gut-wrenching emotional turmoil of his characters leaves a lasting impact.
In my mind, the first few stories didn't really seem that captivating and were somewhat off-putting but the last few stories more than made up for it. By the time I turned the last page of the book, I felt awestruck by Chekhov's ability to paint vivid and lasting images of his characters. Even though the stories are over 130 years old, each and every character feels hauntingly real and each story reminds us of the intricacies of human personalities.
All in all, 4/5, a great read indeed.
Forty Stories is a great read, Chekhov's acute observations of the human spirit, the beautifully portrayed 19th century Russian countryside and the gut-wrenching emotional turmoil of his characters leaves a lasting impact.
In my mind, the first few stories didn't really seem that captivating and were somewhat off-putting but the last few stories more than made up for it. By the time I turned the last page of the book, I felt awestruck by Chekhov's ability to paint vivid and lasting images of his characters. Even though the stories are over 130 years old, each and every character feels hauntingly real and each story reminds us of the intricacies of human personalities.
All in all, 4/5, a great read indeed.
April 29, 2021
What a great short story writer. This was my first experience with Chekhov and his characterization is maybe the most impressive I have read. His characters feel so varied, utterly real, and genuine. You don't feel contempt towards any because Chekhov helps you understand where they're coming from so you end up sympathizing with the "antagonists" just the same.
April 20, 2022
SIX WORD REVIEW: ...the best of horse & buggy courtships.
January 26, 2024
4.5/5
Great collection of short stories. The richness with which Checkov is able to develop his characters in only a few pages of writing is genuinely amazing. Can't give it 5 starts because some stories are superfluous, mainly the shorter ones, and giving a short story collection 5 stars feels wrong.
Stand outs:
Typhus
The Peasant Women
The House with the Mezzanine
The Lady with the Pet Dog
Heartache
(+ other great ones I'm definitely forgetting, the vast majority were very enjoyable to read)
Great collection of short stories. The richness with which Checkov is able to develop his characters in only a few pages of writing is genuinely amazing. Can't give it 5 starts because some stories are superfluous, mainly the shorter ones, and giving a short story collection 5 stars feels wrong.
Stand outs:
Typhus
The Peasant Women
The House with the Mezzanine
The Lady with the Pet Dog
Heartache
(+ other great ones I'm definitely forgetting, the vast majority were very enjoyable to read)
December 20, 2024
Goat. I read vanka 2 years ago and it still makes me 😞
December 26, 2018
What a buoyant collection of stories: one of those rare triumphs in translation where the translator suffuses every page with real feeling, real rhythm that makes these stories eminently readable. The imagery and the capture of consciousness literally dances up from the page and grabs you. That's Chekhov for you. It's got none of the weight or age of being written in late 19th century at all. I suppose writing about universalities and common frailties with precision and empathy would do that.
Akin to bingeing on a boxset, I read this volume cover to cover and true to the compilation's original title "the image of Chekhov", a sort of an image of Chekhov the storyteller does emerge (I would wholly recommend Payne's clipped biography in the Introduction to go away with the right image of the person behind these). The earlier year's tragicomic sketches, casually mixed aperitifs lay ground for throwaway-genius moment-capture pieces which lay further ground for deep and hearty main courses of later capacious symphonies patiently drawn up in his later years. It is beautifully and thoughtfully compiled as a collection
I was swept away many a times, not once bored to switch to the next story but there are many pieces that stand out. There is Sergeant Prishibeyev which encapsulates Chekhov's brand of comedy in a bystanding third-person narrator who patiently sees the downfall of an obsessed-with-officiousness, now non-commissioned officer who arrests and reprimands people for the slightest of infarctions. He is brought to court and it makes for quite a scene. Close on its heels is The Malefactor, another courtroom comedy where a peasant who steals nuts off train-rails, jeopardising lives of hundreds, only to act as sinkers for fishing cannot see the head or tail of his offence.
In two of his stories Heartache and Who is to Blame, I was completely surprised at how his characters noticed the presence of animals around them, tried inhabiting their invisible minds and found solace borrowing them to offload their own troubles with death and dead languages. Not far behind is his capture of the hallucinatory state endowed by illness and sleep deprivation: making for sometimes chilling read (Sleepyhead).
The ultimate tour-de-force for me came mid-volume in the form of the Princess in which we begin ourselves perched on the shoulder of appreciative, precious little Marie Antoinette-like figure who is seen innocently wishing for simpler times as she wakes up in a monastery absorbing the elements and taking a stroll and having pleasant thoughts but as she bumps into a doctor-an erstwhile physician at the court, who, unimpressed by her self-delusions, gives her such a piece of her mind that his monologue could be read to all the rich, preening, hypocritical narcissists guilty of virtue signalling and token philanthropy down the ages and not a word more will be required. What a telling-off! I almost wanted to applaud.
Straight after the Princess, we find ourselves parked at the threshold of a bounty of Chekhov's later pieces. There is Gusev, staged aboard a ship, which reads like something Melville would have written, then The Peasant Women which is rather Dickensian, which bleeds into the smalltown madness of distant Siberia in the Exile, a reprieve with amusing little character-pieces where earnest adults are held in throes after reading the Bible or absorbing some high art (The Student, After the Theater) and finally, reminiscent of Tolstoy there is a trail of stories where female characters are seen convincingly suffocated in bad marriages with their lovers so close yet so far (Big Volodya and Little Volodya, On Love, The Lady with the Pet Dog). They are questioning the institution privately and publicly, often resigning themselves to their fate (The Bride). However, there is hope in this movement of female self-awareness in female characters who can intimidate male narrators (House with the Mezzanine), and who know that their incandescent personalities and minds must deserve better than being the sobbing, servile fools society wants them to be (Anna round the neck).
Nestled between these later stories about women with unsuccessful marriages and unconsummated loves is a story of the Bishop (apparently Chekhov toiled close to a decade on this) who over the years of his small-town closeted ecclesiastical existence observes and meditates in deep melancholy at the passage of life, changing times and the Purpose. I liked it for the change of mood it brought. Very deeply felt.
In all, flush with characters from all walks of society who are imagined with all their little vexations, foibles, faults, eccentricities, throes of passion, mood swings and grander strokes of sacrifice, love, societal obligations, Chekhov has something for everyone and Payne ensures everyone gets it!
Akin to bingeing on a boxset, I read this volume cover to cover and true to the compilation's original title "the image of Chekhov", a sort of an image of Chekhov the storyteller does emerge (I would wholly recommend Payne's clipped biography in the Introduction to go away with the right image of the person behind these). The earlier year's tragicomic sketches, casually mixed aperitifs lay ground for throwaway-genius moment-capture pieces which lay further ground for deep and hearty main courses of later capacious symphonies patiently drawn up in his later years. It is beautifully and thoughtfully compiled as a collection
I was swept away many a times, not once bored to switch to the next story but there are many pieces that stand out. There is Sergeant Prishibeyev which encapsulates Chekhov's brand of comedy in a bystanding third-person narrator who patiently sees the downfall of an obsessed-with-officiousness, now non-commissioned officer who arrests and reprimands people for the slightest of infarctions. He is brought to court and it makes for quite a scene. Close on its heels is The Malefactor, another courtroom comedy where a peasant who steals nuts off train-rails, jeopardising lives of hundreds, only to act as sinkers for fishing cannot see the head or tail of his offence.
In two of his stories Heartache and Who is to Blame, I was completely surprised at how his characters noticed the presence of animals around them, tried inhabiting their invisible minds and found solace borrowing them to offload their own troubles with death and dead languages. Not far behind is his capture of the hallucinatory state endowed by illness and sleep deprivation: making for sometimes chilling read (Sleepyhead).
The ultimate tour-de-force for me came mid-volume in the form of the Princess in which we begin ourselves perched on the shoulder of appreciative, precious little Marie Antoinette-like figure who is seen innocently wishing for simpler times as she wakes up in a monastery absorbing the elements and taking a stroll and having pleasant thoughts but as she bumps into a doctor-an erstwhile physician at the court, who, unimpressed by her self-delusions, gives her such a piece of her mind that his monologue could be read to all the rich, preening, hypocritical narcissists guilty of virtue signalling and token philanthropy down the ages and not a word more will be required. What a telling-off! I almost wanted to applaud.
Straight after the Princess, we find ourselves parked at the threshold of a bounty of Chekhov's later pieces. There is Gusev, staged aboard a ship, which reads like something Melville would have written, then The Peasant Women which is rather Dickensian, which bleeds into the smalltown madness of distant Siberia in the Exile, a reprieve with amusing little character-pieces where earnest adults are held in throes after reading the Bible or absorbing some high art (The Student, After the Theater) and finally, reminiscent of Tolstoy there is a trail of stories where female characters are seen convincingly suffocated in bad marriages with their lovers so close yet so far (Big Volodya and Little Volodya, On Love, The Lady with the Pet Dog). They are questioning the institution privately and publicly, often resigning themselves to their fate (The Bride). However, there is hope in this movement of female self-awareness in female characters who can intimidate male narrators (House with the Mezzanine), and who know that their incandescent personalities and minds must deserve better than being the sobbing, servile fools society wants them to be (Anna round the neck).
Nestled between these later stories about women with unsuccessful marriages and unconsummated loves is a story of the Bishop (apparently Chekhov toiled close to a decade on this) who over the years of his small-town closeted ecclesiastical existence observes and meditates in deep melancholy at the passage of life, changing times and the Purpose. I liked it for the change of mood it brought. Very deeply felt.
In all, flush with characters from all walks of society who are imagined with all their little vexations, foibles, faults, eccentricities, throes of passion, mood swings and grander strokes of sacrifice, love, societal obligations, Chekhov has something for everyone and Payne ensures everyone gets it!
November 6, 2020
Swell compendium charting his progress in a Whitman Sampler sort of way. The pacing of the stories is very good, as is the introduction. He really was kind of the Bill Murray of Russia. A real joker. The perfect introduction to his work. I have a much deeper volume with some overlap of stories represented here and that I've read before.
Chekhov was THE game-changer for writing short stories--they were mostly religion-inspired morality tales (with the exception of Melville) before Anton. Required reading for those in the sacred all-important short story racket.
Chekhov was THE game-changer for writing short stories--they were mostly religion-inspired morality tales (with the exception of Melville) before Anton. Required reading for those in the sacred all-important short story racket.
November 8, 2010
In the unlikely event you are reading this snippet review while contemplating whether or not your should read this collection of Chekhov short stories, the answer, of course, is that you should, particularly if you've never read him before. Chekhov is probably the all-time master in the universe of short stories, and his direct influence on some of my favorite short story writers (Cheever, Carver, even Updike) is transparently obvious. He works like a painter, giving the reader a clear sense of time and place, but he goes much further beyond his beautifully created scenes (as befitting a writer who mocks the self-righteousness and listlessness of a landscape painter in perhaps the only first person story in the collection). He fills the pages with a piercing realist's eye, while displaying wonderful flourishes, capturing the inner worlds of a huge variety of people, all with economical prose, and all with an undeniable empathy towards his often wretched subjects. He's also one of those types of literary "broccoli" that goes down much easier than you might believe. This is particularly true in this collection, with many of the stories lasting less than five pages.
My one point of contention relates to the entertaining and useful introduction to the version of Forty Stories I read, written by the translator, Robert Payne. In describing both the author's private life and his work, Payne continuously emphasizes Chekhov's humor and mischievousness. To me, Chekhov's dominant displayed emotions/moods in these works are curiosity (towards people of all backgrounds, as well as to the larger mysteries of life) and melancholia (death, disease and discontentment haunt the subjects of his fiction -- often those living without hope in abject poverty or conversely those surrounded by wealth but trapped in their empty, frivolous lives). This all makes for a fascinating panoramic portrait of Russia at the turn of the twentieth century, but not one, to my eyes, that presents humor in any conventional sense. Humaneness, perhaps, is a better way to describe Chekhov's gentleness and his often (though not exclusively) warm observations of those on the outskirts of society. In this way, for example, he differs greatly from literary descendant Carver, who may have inherited Chekhov's interests in helpless subjects -- the drunks, the poor, the emotionally turbulent -- but who captured them with a menacing almost monotone, unblinking style that presents great discomfort to the reader. In contrast, most of Chekhov's works left me wistful, or empathetic or, in the very best of his works, humbled by the enormity of existence. Yeah, some of these stories are that good.
My one point of contention relates to the entertaining and useful introduction to the version of Forty Stories I read, written by the translator, Robert Payne. In describing both the author's private life and his work, Payne continuously emphasizes Chekhov's humor and mischievousness. To me, Chekhov's dominant displayed emotions/moods in these works are curiosity (towards people of all backgrounds, as well as to the larger mysteries of life) and melancholia (death, disease and discontentment haunt the subjects of his fiction -- often those living without hope in abject poverty or conversely those surrounded by wealth but trapped in their empty, frivolous lives). This all makes for a fascinating panoramic portrait of Russia at the turn of the twentieth century, but not one, to my eyes, that presents humor in any conventional sense. Humaneness, perhaps, is a better way to describe Chekhov's gentleness and his often (though not exclusively) warm observations of those on the outskirts of society. In this way, for example, he differs greatly from literary descendant Carver, who may have inherited Chekhov's interests in helpless subjects -- the drunks, the poor, the emotionally turbulent -- but who captured them with a menacing almost monotone, unblinking style that presents great discomfort to the reader. In contrast, most of Chekhov's works left me wistful, or empathetic or, in the very best of his works, humbled by the enormity of existence. Yeah, some of these stories are that good.
February 6, 2008
This was an absolute joy to read! I didn't know much about Chekhov - apparently he is the 'father of the short story' - who knew? Plus, in general I am not a super big fan of short stories...BUT these are really fantastic...smooth as silk, effortless to read, and just great all the way through. Most of these are wonderful vignettes, where you feel as tho you've been plucked by the shoulder and dropped down into the middle of the lives of one of his characters - whether it's the dying soldier's remembrances, the young serf-girl who can't stay awake, the abandoned young bride, or the young government official. All are beautifully sketched where you are involved in the story from the first few lines.
I MUST give an excerpt...this is a paragraph where Chekhov describes a cat's dream...really!!...amazing...
" The kitten lay awake thinking. Of what? Unacquainted with real life, having no store of accumulated impressions, his mental processes could only be instinctive, and he could but picture life in accordance with the conceptions that he had inherited, together with his flesh and blood, from his ancestors, the tigers (vide Darwin). His thoughts were of the nature of day-dreams. His feline imagination pictured something like the Arabian desert, over which flitted shadows closely resembling Praskovya, the stove, the broom. In the midst of the shadows there suddenly appeared a saucer of milk; the saucer began to grow paws, it began moving and displayed a tendency to run; the kitten made a bound, and with a thrill of blood-thirsty sensuality thrust his claws into it.
When the saucer had vanished into obscurity a piece of meat appeared, dropped by Praskovya; the meat ran away with a cowardly squeak, but the kitten made a bound and got his claws into it. . . . Everything that rose before the imagination of the young dreamer had for its starting-point leaps, claws, and teeth. . . The soul of another is darkness, and a cat's soul more than most, but how near the visions just described are to the truth may be seen from the following fact: under the influence of his day-dreams the kitten suddenly leaped up, looked with flashing eyes at Praskovya, ruffled up his coat, and making one bound, thrust his claws into the cook's skirt. Obviously he was born a mouse catcher, a worthy son of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Fate had destined him to be the terror of cellars, store-rooms and cornbins, and had it not been for education . . . we will not anticipate, however. "
A kitten attacking a retreating saucer of milk in its' dreams - who in the world can pull that off so wonderfully?!
I MUST give an excerpt...this is a paragraph where Chekhov describes a cat's dream...really!!...amazing...
" The kitten lay awake thinking. Of what? Unacquainted with real life, having no store of accumulated impressions, his mental processes could only be instinctive, and he could but picture life in accordance with the conceptions that he had inherited, together with his flesh and blood, from his ancestors, the tigers (vide Darwin). His thoughts were of the nature of day-dreams. His feline imagination pictured something like the Arabian desert, over which flitted shadows closely resembling Praskovya, the stove, the broom. In the midst of the shadows there suddenly appeared a saucer of milk; the saucer began to grow paws, it began moving and displayed a tendency to run; the kitten made a bound, and with a thrill of blood-thirsty sensuality thrust his claws into it.
When the saucer had vanished into obscurity a piece of meat appeared, dropped by Praskovya; the meat ran away with a cowardly squeak, but the kitten made a bound and got his claws into it. . . . Everything that rose before the imagination of the young dreamer had for its starting-point leaps, claws, and teeth. . . The soul of another is darkness, and a cat's soul more than most, but how near the visions just described are to the truth may be seen from the following fact: under the influence of his day-dreams the kitten suddenly leaped up, looked with flashing eyes at Praskovya, ruffled up his coat, and making one bound, thrust his claws into the cook's skirt. Obviously he was born a mouse catcher, a worthy son of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Fate had destined him to be the terror of cellars, store-rooms and cornbins, and had it not been for education . . . we will not anticipate, however. "
A kitten attacking a retreating saucer of milk in its' dreams - who in the world can pull that off so wonderfully?!
December 23, 2020
There's a sense when reading a classic like this that I'm supposed to find every story to be a gem, but of course this wasn't the case. Not every story grabbed me, but there were a few I loved, and overall I definitely appreciated the style. A mixture of stories and vignettes, the focus is always on the characters and he manages to capture so much of the inner lives of a wide range of ordinary people. Some particular favourites:
The Huntsman, about an adoring wife married to an unloving and unfaithful husband, who is as excited as he is indifferent to their accidental meeting and who watches him leave again while standing on tiptoe hoping to catch one more glimpse of his white cap.
The Proposal, a cute short 'fairy tale' focussing on a woman's success in business rather than marriage.
On Love, a melancholy recounted tale of excessive caution leading to love's opportunity missed.
Heartache, the story of a desolate old man who only wants to find someone who will listen to him speak about his dead son, finding eventual bittersweet comfort with his gentle horse.
The Huntsman, about an adoring wife married to an unloving and unfaithful husband, who is as excited as he is indifferent to their accidental meeting and who watches him leave again while standing on tiptoe hoping to catch one more glimpse of his white cap.
The Proposal, a cute short 'fairy tale' focussing on a woman's success in business rather than marriage.
On Love, a melancholy recounted tale of excessive caution leading to love's opportunity missed.
Heartache, the story of a desolate old man who only wants to find someone who will listen to him speak about his dead son, finding eventual bittersweet comfort with his gentle horse.
September 20, 2020
The Vintage edition arranges Checkhov's stories in chronological order -- a good idea that lets readers see the development of the author's talent. Holding the stories together is a sort of minimalism: Checkhov only gives us enough information to move the action along, a technique many readers favor.
The last few stories are notably good. The first ones, for me, were too short, often only a page or two long. Although cleverly conceived, these micro-stories have no staying power, and I too quickly forgot them as I went along. This is a good book to skip around in, picking and choosing whichever stories you'd like to read.
The last few stories are notably good. The first ones, for me, were too short, often only a page or two long. Although cleverly conceived, these micro-stories have no staying power, and I too quickly forgot them as I went along. This is a good book to skip around in, picking and choosing whichever stories you'd like to read.
July 27, 2011
Chekhov has been one of the few major writers I haven't read yet for a long time. I love Chekhov inluenced writers like Katherine Mansfield and Raymond Carver so I was looking forward to reading their forebear. This collection is organised in chronological order and at first I found the stories a bit disappointing. They were good but not quite as good as I had anticipated them to be. However he kept getting better and better and by the time I got to the Lady with a Pet Dog and The Bishop he had become a master. Those stories are incredibly moving and yet very simple. You can see why he is considered to be the father of the modern short story.
November 10, 2021
I have an affinity for Russian literature, and I have loved Chekhov since college. Overall, this was a pretty good collection. The Lady with the Pet Dog and the Bride were my favorites.
I read the Lady with the Pet Dog in a class called Initiation and Alienation, and it has stuck with me ever since, more than 20 years now. It’s always cool to come back to a story you love at a later point in life to see what you remember and what affects you now that didn’t affect you then. The image of the last scene that I created in my mind way back then was still there, and I got a little choked up when I read it.
I read the Lady with the Pet Dog in a class called Initiation and Alienation, and it has stuck with me ever since, more than 20 years now. It’s always cool to come back to a story you love at a later point in life to see what you remember and what affects you now that didn’t affect you then. The image of the last scene that I created in my mind way back then was still there, and I got a little choked up when I read it.
June 17, 2020
A brilliant collection; Chekhov is master of the short story. In a few pages, he can bring you closer to a character than many authors can over the course of a novel. These stories add up to a vivid picture of 19th century Russia with a patchwork of characters spanning classes. Kindness, innocence, guilt, miserliness and cruelty are all on display in sometimes surprising and somewhat shocking situations. Personally I found The Little Apples, The Ninny, The Huntsman, The Malefactor, The Peasant Women, After the Theatre, The Lady with the Pet Dog and The Bride to be the most interesting.
December 17, 2018
There are some real gems in here, the short stories are all worth reading. The stories can be really funny, profound, or rich with information on Russian life. My favourite stories were: The lady and her pet dog, anna round the neck, the house with the mezzanine, and on love... all really great.
April 5, 2016
Great stories, some better than others, but still great.
September 30, 2016
I borrowed this from the library, but I'm going to buy a copy for myself to have on hand for future rereads.
December 20, 2019
Can you even rate Chekhov?
January 29, 2022
Chekhov is one of the masters. I’ve never disappointed in a group of his stories but this one certainly could be called uneven. Forty stories consists of stories written from 1880 to the beginnings of the twentieth century.
Many of the early stories probably provide great grist for academic scholars, and certainly there are flashes of brilliance, but many seem almost incomplete or not fully developed.
I’m only going to write about those stories I would read again and or recommend.
“ Green Scythe “ follows a group of people who spend each summer at a boarding home in Crimea and their interactions
“ The Huntsman” sees the title character come across a woman very pleased to see him. We learn she is his wife but that he does not live with, or really provide for her. His life is his job.
In “ Typhus” we see an Army Colonel traveling home by train. He feels ill, and is bothered by a Finnish passenger but does not really get to the end of the trip. He wakes up in bed, very ill. He is comforted by his Mother and younger sister. When, many days later, he is comprehending where he is, recovering actually, he learns he brought typhus home with terrible consequences
“ Gusev” is the story of a man traveling home in the sick bunk of a ship. We see him watch those around him succumb and then he himself realizes he will it make it home either.
In “ Big Volodya and Little Volodya “ a young woman has married a wealthy man twice her age. Her childhood friend is a protege of her husband. One day she realizes her distaste for her husband and passion for the younger man. It does turn out well
In “ Anna Round the Neck “ we see the power dynamics in a marriage shift. A middle aged low level government functionary marries an attractive young woman of little means. She is shy, timid, afraid to ask for anything, in essence still poor. He is excited to show her off to his advantage, and she does impress the local officials at a society gathering. Even the local Governor pays attention to her. Her husband gets his promotion but she gains confidence, so much that she now rules the roost
“ The House With the Mezzanine “ is a wonderful story. A young artist staying with a friend in the country becomes acquainted with a wealthy family living on an old estate. A Mother and her two daughters, it is the oldest daughter who runs the family. When the man falls for the youngest woman and late one summer night they kiss and profess their love he is filled with joy. When he returns the next day the girl is shipped off on a trip and he never sees her again
In “ On Love “ a man tells the story of his younger love gone wrong. He had been welcomed into the bosom of a young couple and he truly loved them both. Over the years his feelings for the wife and hers for him seem apparent but are never spoken. Eventually when the family moves to the east for the husbands new job posting they have a brief opportunity for an unfettered embrace. It is what he lives in to this day still.
“ The Lady With the Pet Dog “ might be his most anthologized story, one I’ve read several times and written about previously. Still as an example of how a brief affair can spiral into an obsession it will remain relevant.
Other stories have lines, quotes, an ideas worth consideration but overall this is certainly the worst set of his stories I have seen collected. Quite a bit of filler that in a true best of would not draw ink.
Many of the early stories probably provide great grist for academic scholars, and certainly there are flashes of brilliance, but many seem almost incomplete or not fully developed.
I’m only going to write about those stories I would read again and or recommend.
“ Green Scythe “ follows a group of people who spend each summer at a boarding home in Crimea and their interactions
“ The Huntsman” sees the title character come across a woman very pleased to see him. We learn she is his wife but that he does not live with, or really provide for her. His life is his job.
In “ Typhus” we see an Army Colonel traveling home by train. He feels ill, and is bothered by a Finnish passenger but does not really get to the end of the trip. He wakes up in bed, very ill. He is comforted by his Mother and younger sister. When, many days later, he is comprehending where he is, recovering actually, he learns he brought typhus home with terrible consequences
“ Gusev” is the story of a man traveling home in the sick bunk of a ship. We see him watch those around him succumb and then he himself realizes he will it make it home either.
In “ Big Volodya and Little Volodya “ a young woman has married a wealthy man twice her age. Her childhood friend is a protege of her husband. One day she realizes her distaste for her husband and passion for the younger man. It does turn out well
In “ Anna Round the Neck “ we see the power dynamics in a marriage shift. A middle aged low level government functionary marries an attractive young woman of little means. She is shy, timid, afraid to ask for anything, in essence still poor. He is excited to show her off to his advantage, and she does impress the local officials at a society gathering. Even the local Governor pays attention to her. Her husband gets his promotion but she gains confidence, so much that she now rules the roost
“ The House With the Mezzanine “ is a wonderful story. A young artist staying with a friend in the country becomes acquainted with a wealthy family living on an old estate. A Mother and her two daughters, it is the oldest daughter who runs the family. When the man falls for the youngest woman and late one summer night they kiss and profess their love he is filled with joy. When he returns the next day the girl is shipped off on a trip and he never sees her again
In “ On Love “ a man tells the story of his younger love gone wrong. He had been welcomed into the bosom of a young couple and he truly loved them both. Over the years his feelings for the wife and hers for him seem apparent but are never spoken. Eventually when the family moves to the east for the husbands new job posting they have a brief opportunity for an unfettered embrace. It is what he lives in to this day still.
“ The Lady With the Pet Dog “ might be his most anthologized story, one I’ve read several times and written about previously. Still as an example of how a brief affair can spiral into an obsession it will remain relevant.
Other stories have lines, quotes, an ideas worth consideration but overall this is certainly the worst set of his stories I have seen collected. Quite a bit of filler that in a true best of would not draw ink.
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