How to Write Like Chekhov: Advice and Inspiration, Straight from His Own Letters and Work

by Anton Chekhov, Lena Lencek (Editor), Piero Brunello (Editor)

Maxim Gorky said that no one understood “the tragedy of life’s trivialities” as clearly as Anton Chekhov, widely considered the father of the modern short story and the modern play. Chekhov’s singular ability to speak volumes with a single, impeccably chosen word, mesh comedy and pathos, and capture life’s basic sadness as he entertains us, are why so many aspire to emulate him. How to Write Like Chekhov meticulously cherry-picks from Chekhov’s plays, stories, and letters to his publisher, brother, and friends, offering suggestions and observations on subjects including plot and characters (and their names), descriptions and dialogue, and what to emphasize and avoid. This is a uniquely clear roadmap to Chekhov’s intelligence and artistic expertise and an essential addition to the writing-guide shelf.

Genres: Writing, Nonfiction, Russia, Biography, Crafts, Russian Literature

254 pages, Paperback

First published November 10, 2007

About the author

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 Alfred Dreyfus, his friendship with Suvorin ended

Reviews

[Paula Cappa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reading the letters of authors is often an eye-opening experience for writers. In correspondence we can find an intimacy that a writing craft book fails to provide. In How to Write Like Chekhov, editors Brunello and Lencek give us an experience with Chekhov that goes beyond a technical craft book. And for this, I truly appreciated getting to know Chekhov’s thinking and values as he digs deeply into expressing himself as an artist and a man. The book is in two parts: correspondence and travel memoir: part 1 is theory (mostly correspondence) and part 2 is demonstration (from his travel memoir The Island of Sakhalin). Lots of character sketches and landscape descriptions, which are models of prose. What stands out in this book is his voyage of discovery. This book is not a guide on how to write; it is not a roadmap on how to write a better book. This book will teach you how to think and observe, feel and interpret life like a writer. It is a clear observation into deep artistic expression and how to live the life of a writer, not just do it.

[Steven R. Kraaijeveld · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you have already read Chekhov's letters, his non-fictional Sakhalin Island, and just a little criticism, this book is probably redundant—it adds very little, because most of How to Write Like Chekhov is simply a thematically-arranged-Chekhov speaking for himself on various subjects pertaining to (his) writing. This does not make it any less pleasant to read. It also serves as a fairly handy reference work. As for inspiration, well—if you aren't already inspired by Chekhov, then this book comes too late.

[Shane · Rating 4 out of 5]

The writer as observer, not solution provider or judge; his purpose to depict life as it is in all its sordidness - this was the role Chekhov chose for himself, and that message is very clear from this "How to..." book.
Despite that premise, the old master is not shy to be firm and prescriptive about the "do's and "don'ts" of writing.
1) It's not "what" but "how"
2) Reading, Watching, Listening - essential to the writer
3) Cutting Mercilessly after writing
4) Do no invent suffering you have not experienced or witennessed yourself
5) No Lying in Art, and most importantly, do not lie to yourself
6) Never rush - deadlines are not important
7) Write with emotional restraint
8) Don't preach, don't teach
9) Pay no attention to the Critics
10) Do not put off writing

These are some of the learnings I took away, some contrary to what I had already learned.
Central to the book are notes and lessons observed from Chekov's ambitious trip to Sakhalin Island to expose the excesses of the Russian penal system at the time. His descriptions of life on that island definitely confirm Chekov as the master of "show, don't tell"

[Russell Bittner · Rating 5 out of 5]

“It is high time for writers—and especially for true artists—to admit that it is impossible to explain anything. Socrates acknowledged this long ago, as did Voltaire. Only the crowd thinks it knows and understands everything there is to know and understand. And the more stupid it is, the more open-minded it thinks itself to be” (p. 14).


This is possibly not an easy dictum to follow for those of us who are merely mortal. But it is, at any rate, a dictum to chew upon—possible imbibe—and ultimately digest. After all, Socrates, Voltaire—and yes, even Chekhov—were not exactly intellectual slouches.


On the next page (in this little 210-page tome—including an Acknowledgments page; a “Who’s Who in Chekhov’s Correspondence”; an Afterword by Piero Brunello; Endnotes; and suggested Further Reading) and in a letter to Alexei Suvorin in October, 1888, Chekhov elaborates: “(y)ou are right to demand that an author be conscious of what he is doing, but you are confusing two concepts: solving the problem and correctly formulating the problem. Only the latter is required of the artist. Not a single problem is resolved in Anna Karenina or Eugene Onegin, and yet the novels satisfy you completely because all the problems they raise are formulated correctly.”


As for writing with any kind of agenda in mind (however camouflaged), Chekhov wrote this in a letter to Alexei Pleshcheyev, also in October of 1888: “I am not a liberal, a conservative, a gradualist, a monk, or an indifferentist. I would like to be a free artist and nothing else, and regret that God has not given me the strength to be one. I hate falsehood and violence in all their forms, and reserve the same loathing for provincial secretaries, Notovich, and Gradovsky. Pharisaism, stupidity, and arbitrariness reign not only in the homes of merchants and in police stations. I see them in science, in literature, in the younger generation….

“For this reason I have no partiality for policemen, butchers, scientists, writers, or the younger generation. My holy of holies is the human body, health, intelligence, talent, inspiration, love, and absolute freedom, freedom from violence and falsehood, no matter what form these might take. This is the program to which I would adhere were I a great artist” (pp. 26 – 27).


Chekhov’s modesty notwithstanding, I think we get the point.


As regards writing about what’s topical, we might do well to remember Chekhov’s advice in the short paragraph titled “Ignore the Incidental.” On p. 45, we find the following in his letter of April, 1893, to Alexei Suvorin: “(e)verything time-pegged in the work—all those digs at trendy critics and liberals, all those barbs trying to be pointed and timely, and all those allegedly profound insights scattered here and there—how shallow and naïve they all are with respect to our present moment! This is what it all boils down to: the novelist who wants to be an artist must ignore everything that has a merely transitory significance.”


When—in a letter he wrote in March, 1890, to Ivan Leontyev (Shcheglov), who apparently thought Chekhov needed “a sound scolding ‘especially on ethical and aesthetic matters’—Chekhov responded in typically Chekhovian fashion, we get the following on p. 58: “(i)f my clear conscience can be trusted, I have never in word, deed, thought, in stories or in farces: coveted my neighbor’s wife or servant or oxen or cattle; I have not stolen, played the hypocrite, flattered or toadied to the mighty; I have not blackmailed anyone or lived at anyone’s expense. True: I have wasted my life in idleness; I have laughed without provocation; I have indulged in gluttony and defiled myself in drunkenness; I have dissipated myself in fornication. However, all of this is my personal business and does not take away my right to consider myself neither more nor less moral than the common run of humanity….”


(I don’t know about you, potential reader of How to Write Like Chekhov, but my conscience shimmers with equal clarity in the matter of coveting my neighbor’s oxen and cattle. As for everything else, that’s my personal business.)


Much of this particular work describes Chekhov’s visit to a penal colony on the island of Sakhalin in the Pacific Ocean. Chekhov being Chekhov, the writing is crisp and to the point—and adjectives, adverbs, embellishments of any kind are as sparse as flamingos on icebergs. And yet, one detects a cunning irony in some of the “advice columns” he aims at WriteLikeChekhov fellow writers.


As an example, consider on p. 92 his Study the Graffiti (Ask yourself why people write on benches and walls.): “Apparently, there used to be benches on the side of the lighthouse road but they were removed to prevent the convicts and exiles in the area from writing or carving dirty ditties and obscenities on them. To be sure, there are plenty of pornography buffs living in freedom, but when it comes to sheer cynicism, nothing can rival the convicts. Here, not only the messages scrawled on the benches and on backyard fences are vile, but even the love letters are revolting. It strikes me as remarkable that the person who writes obscenities on benches should also at the same time feel lost, rejected, and profoundly unhappy. An old man might say he’s sick of life, he might complain that it’s time to die, that his rheumatism is killing him and his eyes are failing; but just listen to the gusto with which he lets loose with a string of curses, and hear how he lets fly the choicest obscenities and ornate turns of phrase as he composes intricate incantations against fevers. And if he happens to be literate, he just cannot seem to stifle the urge or resist the temptation to scratch with his fingernails a dirty word into the latrine wall.”


Well, so much for the Pushkin, Lermontov and Alexander Blok wannabes of the convict/exile world.


But then, on pp. 115 – 116 under the rubric Understand Your Reasons for Not Writing (Do not preach and do not hide the truth.) and in a letter of July, 1893, to the same Alexei Suvorin of many previous letters, Chekhov intimates that he is indeed aware of the creeping vine of irony in this work: “I have been suspecting for a long time that I have been off course, but I have now finally figured out where I have gone wrong. The falseness is in my apparent desire to teach my reader something with my ‘Sakhalin’ and, at the same time, in my hiding something and holding myself back. But as soon as I let myself describe how much of an eccentric I felt myself to be in Sakhalin and what swine those people are, then, at that point, I felt better and my work took off, even though it did turn out a touch humorous.”


A final note by way of conclusion to this review…. I bought How to Write Like Chekhov as a college graduation gift to my two children, both of whom have shown promise as fledgling writers. But I decided to read it for myself before I handed it off. I’m glad I did. Although I may now be too far over the hill to commit Chekhov’s suggestions to heart and pen, I can always hope that what he’s written in this little tome will guide my children to much greater achievements than this old man was ever capable of.


RRB
04/26/16
Brooklyn, NY

[Marian Allen · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's always interesting to read good writing, but this wasn't really what the title promised. The time reading it was well-spent, but nothing to rave about.

[Cepi Sabre · Rating 3 out of 5]

Membaca Surat-Surat Chekhov; Belajar Menulis Dengan Cara Mengintip Surat Orang

Konon, selain membayar pajak, rahasia pribadi yang diketahui oleh publik pun katanya menjengkelkan. Rahasia pribadi itu tentu macam-macam jenisnya, tapi medianya, bisa disebutkan sedikit saja, selain rekaman video porno seperti artis papan atas, termasuk di dalamnya percakapan pribadi, surat-surat, atau catatan di buku harian. Anton Chekhov melakukan dua yang terakhir: menulis surat dan mencatat. Kalau kemudian dia terbaca oleh umum, maka yang patut dipersalahkan untuk ini tentunya Piero Brunello dan Lina Lencek, editor dari buku "How to Write Like Chekhov; Advice and Inspiration, Straight from His Own Letters and Work". Tapi apa yang penting dari surat-surat Chekhov ini? Tentu saja, seperti judulnya, ini adalah buku how to, buku panduan untuk bisa menulis seperti Anton Chekhov melalui surat-suratnya yang kita curi-baca secara semena-mena. Sekali lagi, salahkan editornya.

Anton Pavlovich Chekhov dilahirkan pada tanggal 17 januari 1860 (berdasarkan sistem penanggalan lama Rusia; atau 29 Januari 1860 pada sistem penanggalan modern) di Taganrog, sebuah pelabuhan di Laut Azov di selatan Rusia. Chekhov menempuh pendidikan pertamanya di Greek School of the Church of the Emperor Constantine, lalu melanjutkan ke Taganrog Gymnasium sebelum akhirnya menempuh pendidikan kedokteran di Moscow University. Pada tahun 1880-an, Anton Chekhov mulai aktif menulis, bahkan pada tahun 1888, dia dianugerahi Pushkin Prize. Pada tahun 1890, Chekhov melakukan perjalanan ke Pulau Sakhalin untuk menulis buku tentang koloni kaum buangan dan pekerja paksa, sebuah perjalanan yang kemudian menghasilkan sebuah buku non-fiksi berjudul Ostrov Sakhalin (Pulau Sakhalin). Anton Pavlovic Chekhov sudah menulis empat ribu delapan ratus halaman novel dan cerita pendek selama dua puluh tahun karirnya, selain beberapa naskah drama juga. Dalam bahasa Lina Lencek, Anton Chekhov sudah menulis lima ratus enam puluh delapan cerita dalam rentang empat puluh empat tahun hidupnya.

Tapi apa yang paling penting selain biografi Chekhov yang dikutip Piero Brunello di bagian penutup buku itu yang juga bisa dengan cepat kita dapatkan dari banyak situs di internet atau kisah kematiannya yang tragis-herois seperti yang dicatat Olga Knipper, istrinya, dalam buku hariannya? Kalau kita membuka situs wikipedia di bawah judul literary techniques, maka di bagian teknik yang berhubungan dengan plot, kita akan menemukan istilah Chekhov's gun yang didefinisikan sebagai "penyisipan obyek yang sepertinya tidak relevan di awal cerita yang kegunaannya baru akan terungkap kemudian" [dilengkapi dengan contoh dari film James Bond dengan berbagai macam gadget yang kita tidak selalu tahu gunanya, tapi selalu juga menemukan situasi ketika alat-alat itu akhirnya digunakan]. Konon ini datang dari sebuah percakapan yang dicatat oleh Ilia Gurliand. "Kalau di babak pertama kau punya pistol yang menggantung di dinding, maka dia harus ditembakkan di babak terakhir," begitu kata Chekhov.

Dicatatnya teknik itu, Chekhov's gun itu, tentu menegaskan betapa tenarnya nama Anton Chekhov dalam dunia sastra. Di situs wikipedia lagi, kita bisa membaca bagaimana Chekhov dicatat, dikenang, dan dinilai. Tidak kurang Bernard Shaw dan Virginia Woolf pun memujinya. Tapi Lina Lencek mencatat hal lain, Anton Chekhov justru disebutnya memegang rekor untuk penulis Rusia abad sembilan belas yang paling sering dicemooh. Maxim Gorky --penulis Rusia dan salah seorang yang sering disurati Chekhov-- menyebut pikiran Chekhov muncul di jalanan yang monoton, gang-gang berliku, rumah kumuh yang kecil, orang-orang susah yang dicekam rasa bosan dan kemalasan yang mengisi rumahnya dengan kesibukan yang tolol. Bahkan wikipedia mencatat Hemingway yang berkata bahwa Chekhov menulis kira-kira enam cerita bagus, tapi dia cuma penulis amatir. Anton Chekhov pada masanya disebut hanya melakukan satu hal saja dalam karir kepenulisannya: "dengan satu dan lain cara dia membunuh harapan umat manusia."

Tapi Lina Lencek justru menemukan semangat yang berkobar ketika membaca Chekhov. Lina Lencek merasa seperti berlayar di antara taburan digresi, plot yang rumit, renungan filosofis yang berlarut-larut, perdebatan aneh pada topik yang tidak jelas, dan penamaan a la barok. Lina Lencek menyebut tiga kualitas: brevity, nuance, dan plotlessness. Sementara Piero Brunello mencatat beberapa pelajaran dari Chekhov seperti: untuk tetap berpegang pada bahasa yang sederhana tapi cermat, menghindari kata-kata yang dibebani oleh emosi yang tidak terkontrol, menyampaikan kesaksian tentang kehidupan, dan mengingat bahwa kritik bisa meringankan perasaan kesepian yang dialami oleh penulis. Ini juga kiranya yang menjadi alasan Piero Brunello dan Lina Lencek nekat mengintip dan menyebarluaskan surat-surat Chekhov, untuk memberitahu kepada kita tentang nilai-nilai yang diyakini dan dipegang oleh Anton Pavlovic Chekhov, khususnya dalam menulis.

Buku ini, seperti judulnya dan kata Piero Brunello sendiri dalam pengantarnya, tentu saja, berisi nasihat-nasihat Chekov tentang menulis. Bentuknya berupa surat-surat yang ditulis Chekhov kepada teman-temannya sesama penulis dan keluarganya. Buku ini dibagi menjadi dua bagian. Bagian pertama yang disebut No Plot, No Ending, berisi surat-surat Chekhov kepada editor, rekan penulis, keluarga, dan teman-temannya yang suka menulis. Bagian ini disusun berdasarkan pertanyaan-pertanyaan yang sering menghinggapi para penulis, mulai dari motif menulis, topik, pendekatan, waktu, ruang lingkup, deskripsi, karakter, emosi, sampai apa yang harus dihindari dan bagaimana berhubungan dengan sesama penulis. Bagian kedua di bawah judul Good Shoes and a Notebook, diambil dari catatan Chekhov sendiri ketika menulis catatan perjalanan Ostrov Sakhalin (Pulau Sakhalin). Bagian ini disusun menjadi tiga bagian, The Project, The Report, dan The Actual Writing yang menggambarkan tahapan-tahapan yang dialui Chekhov dalam menulis naskah non-fiksinya, dilengkapi dengan contoh-contoh langsungnya.

Buku ini tentu sangat berguna untuk mereka yang --seperti teman-teman Chekhov-- "bitten by the writing bug". Menarik untuk memperhatikan bagaimana Anton Chekhov di sub-bab What to Write, How to Write justru memulainya dengan sebuah nasihat tentang "bagaimana untuk TIDAK menulis". Beberapa kata kunci yang terus diulang-ulang oleh Anton Chekov adalah brevity dan truth. "I am cutting mercilessly. A strange thing has happened: I have developed a mania for brevity," begitu tulis Chekhov kepada Alexei Suvorin. Untuk truth, Chekhov berkata, "Orang bisa berbohong dalam cinta, politik, dan pengobatan: orang bisa menyesatkan orang banyak bahkan Tuhan; tapi tidak ada kebohongan dalam seni."

Chekhov juga percaya bahwa bukan tugas penulis untuk memecahkan masalah. Di antara memecahkan masalah atau merumuskan masalah dengan benar, Chekhov menyebut hanya yang terakhirlah yang diperlukan seorang penulis. Do not preach, do not teach --jangan berkhotbah, jangan mengajari-- adalah dua nasihat dari sekian banyak yang diberikan Chekhov. Cerita Chekhov memberikan pesan moral yang sederhana, tentang orang-orang biasa yang melakukan hal-hal biasa di tempat-tempat yang biasa, orang-orang yang hidup dengan sepenuhnya, sederhana, berintegritas, memperhatikan setiap momen, setiap sensasi, dan setiap interaksi. "Aku cuma ingin memberitahu orang-orang dengan jujur: lihat, lihat betapa buruk hidupmu, betapa membosankan hidupmu. Orang akan jadi lebih baik hanya kalau kita tunjukkan kepadanya siapa dia yang sebenarnya," kata Chekhov lagi.

Pada akhirnya, ini cuma sebuah buku, Piero Brunello dan Lina Lencek sudah sedemikian baiknya mengintipkan surat Chekhov --dan tentu saja Anton Chekhov yang sudah menulisnya-- buat kita, membaca buku ini tentu tidak serta merta menjadikan orang menjadi sesakti Chekhov. Lina Lencek memberi nasihat yang cukup baik, "Kebiasaan adalah mesin kesuksesan," katanya, "kebiasaan baik memberikan hasil yang baik. Menggosok gigi dua kali sehari dan mulutmu akan sehat. Menulis satu jam sehari dan kau akan mempunyai sebuah buku." Tapi Chekhov menyarankan yang lebih baik lagi, "Persiapkanlah perayaan dan rencana untuk melakukan perjalanan lain ketika tulisanmu belum selesai." Begitulah yang dilakukannya ketika menulis Ostrov Sakhalin. Menarik bukan?

O ya, Anda mau membaca kisah kematian Anton Chekhov yang tragis-herois itu?

"Dokter Schwörer," tulis Olga Knipper dalam buku hariannya, "datang dan mulai berbicara dengan lembut, lalu menggendong Anton Pavlovich dalam pelukannya. Chekhov duduk dan dengan suara yang keras dan kuat berkata kepada dokter, 'Ich sterbe' [aku sekarat]. Dokter mencoba menenangkannya, memberinya suntikan camphor, dan meminta sebotol sampanye. Anton Pavlovich mengambil segelas penuh, memperhatikannya dengan seksama, tersenyum padaku, dan berkata: 'Sudah lama aku tidak minum sampanye.' Dia minum semuanya sampai tetes terakhir, lalu meletakkannya dengan tenang di sisinya; Aku berlari ke arahnya dan membungkuk, dan memanggilnya, tapi dia sudah berhenti bernapas; Dia tertidur, seperti anak kecil...dan ketika Anton Pavlovich meninggal, seekor ngengat besar, abu-abu, masuk lewat jendela menerjang dinding, langit-langit, dan lampu seolah-olah sedang sekarat menjelang kematiannya."

Anton Pavlovic Chekhov meninggal pada tanggal 2 Juli 1904 pada usia empat puluh empat tahun.
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- end of note -

[Daniel Gargallo · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a very raw and vast compilation of writings which inspired a set of axioms. You may like this book better if you approach it as reference material. You’ll learn so much about who Chekhov is and what he thought about other writers, but I don’t think this is the kind of book that can happily be binged.

[Madeline Miller · Rating 4 out of 5]

It’s a book about Chekhov so it automatically earns four stars. It lost one because instead of keeping with the theme it started with: excepts of Chekhov’s letters with literal writing advice, the book jumped into portions of Sakhalin Island and from those portions drew writing advice. I would have preferred advice straight from Chekhov himself but whatever I guess

[Bella · Rating 5 out of 5]

If considering reading this, please do not neglect to read Lena Lenček’s introduction in the beginning!

[GreyAtlas · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not what I thought it was. Merely a collection of quotes derived from letters. Some decent stuff, but not my taste.

[حنان سليمان · Rating 2 out of 5]

مفيد لمن لم يقرأ كتبا في الكتابة وعنها ولم يشتغل بالصحافة.

[Doug · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is an arrangement of paragraphs from Chekhov's work, many from his non-fiction on Sakhalin. Each is introduced by an aphorism constructed by the editor. The aphorisms are really classifications of the activities that Chekhov may have performed while writing the text.

An example: "Visit cemeteries. Study the graves and the headstones; notice the inscriptions; take part in a funeral." The attached passage describes the expanse viewable from the graveside, the headstone of a guard who was killed by a prisoner, and the identical, nameless crosses over the graves of the convicts.

It's a good survey of Chekhov's letters during the period of his travel to Sakhalin. There's insight to be found, but it doesn't do much to explore the way Checkhov made his connections and composed his writing.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book is divided into sections, each of which (in my opinion) can stand separately from the others. As such, this functions somewhat like a reference book, or a book for pleasant browsing rather than one you'd necessarily want to read straight through. In fact, even the individual sections are broken down into bits you can read on their own.

If you are serious about writing well, this book might contain a sentence or a paragraph that could change your life. If you just want to be entertained, this isn't a great option.

[Erika Dreifus]

My review of this book appeared in the February 2009 issue of The Writer magazine, and was republished here.

[LeeFrances · Rating 2 out of 5]

Obviously whatever Chekhov has to say about writing amazing. However, the editor/translator had to stick their noses into every little thing. Each excerpt from his letters was prefaced by a heading and a brief summary. Chekhov is amazing, just let him speak for himself!

[Drew Jameson]

Fantastic. Makes me feel sorry for Chekhov's older brother Alexander, though. Anton really called him out mercilessly for what he saw as sloppy writing.

[Ann · Rating 4 out of 5]

great collection of advice and inspiration straight from his own pen

[Kristin Koski · Rating 4 out of 5]

Helpful when writing theatrical adaptations of Chekhov's short stories AND helpful when just writing AND helpful when just trying to live a "story worthy life."

[Kevin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found the first section, the quotes from Chekhov's letters, far more enjoyable and valuable than the latter sections. Overall, worth reading.

[Julio Reyes · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Digamos con franqueza que en este mundo no se entiende nada. Sólo los estúpidos y los charlatanes creen comprenderlo todo".

[Robert · Rating 3 out of 5]

A little misleading, but not a bad book overall.

[Mythili · Rating 4 out of 5]

"There is no need for laying it on thick." -- Anton Chekhov