Ivan Bunin won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1933 "for the strict artistry with which he has carried on the classical Russian traditions in prose writing." That's complimentary, but "strict" and "classical" are such rigid terms to apply to an author of such emotional, evocative, poetic prose.
I first read Bunin's stories in a Russian lit class in college, making him the sixteenth Nobel laureate I've read. "The Gentleman from San Francisco," "First Love," "Sunstroke," "Light Breathing," and my favorite, "A Cold Autumn"... they're all the kind of stories that are a pleasure to unpack and analyze in class while still holding on to some additional meaning that analysis can't quite get at. I see the "classical Russian traditions" most in Bunin's themes of love and death, as his stories can be read as a depressing reminder that love is fleeting and death comes for us all or, at the same time, as an invigorating moment to hold on to the moments of love and happiness in life, which are made all the more precious because they are fleeting.