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Anton Chekhov's Life and Thought: Selected Letters and Commentary
English, Russian (translation)
494 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1904
65 people are currently reading
1569 people want to read
About the author
Anton Chekhov
5,877 books9,736 followersDramas, 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
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
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
April 7, 2020
Chekhov. He's one of those guys most everybody likes. And if you read 500 pages of his letters, you can see why. Just kind to the core. Talented. And afflicted, poor guy.
I speak of course of his short life, dying of consumption (TB) at age 44 in 1904. This after only getting married to the actress Olga Knipper three years earlier and living separately much of that time as he chased health-enhancing locations and she performed in Moscow. This after only writing The Cherry Orchard in 1903, making one wonder how many more wonderful plays he had with him if he lived as long as...oh, Tolstoy.
Most of the letters here are to fellow writers and family, and although he visits Tolstoy and writes about it more than once, none of the letters he wrote actually went to Tolstoy. Ironically, in a few letters, Chekhov (also a doctor by training) comments on how old Tolstoy is looking and worries about the guy living much longer. Turns out, Tolstoy would go on to live but two months shy of 1911, outliving Chekhov by six plus years.
Of course there are weird little things, too, like how he addressed his wife in letters as "doggie" and himself as "your holy father" until she asked that he stop (the "holy father" part, not the "doggie" part). Chekhov loved dogs. And gardening. And fishing. And, of course, reading.
He even reached out to me in 2020. I've been thinking about reading that copy of Goncharov's Oblomov that I own. Then I came across this (Chekhov to Alexey Suvorin): "As I have no new books I'm going over old ground rereading things I have read before. I'm reading Goncharov by the way, and am surprised: why did I ever think him a first-class writer? His Oblomov is really not good at all. Ilya Ilyich as a character is overdone; he is simply not strong enough to sustain a whole book. He is just a flabby layabout like hundreds of others, he's not a complex character, but a commonplace and trivial one; making a social type out of such a person is to elevate him way above his status."
Maybe, then, the layabout Oblomov can lay about (on my bookshelf) even longer. If anyone asks, I'll simply say, "Chekhov."
Speaking of fellow Russkies, Chekhov also wagered that 90% of Turgenev would be forgotten in 40 years. He might have whiffed on that one, but it made me wish he had identified the 10% he considered classical gas.
Last note. I love his short story "The Bishop," and was shocked to read, when he told his wife that he this while working on it: "It's a subject that has been knocking around in my head for about fifteen years."
Chekhov in a nutshell, that. A five-page story fifteen years in the making. And, when you read it, like a premonition of his own death.
I speak of course of his short life, dying of consumption (TB) at age 44 in 1904. This after only getting married to the actress Olga Knipper three years earlier and living separately much of that time as he chased health-enhancing locations and she performed in Moscow. This after only writing The Cherry Orchard in 1903, making one wonder how many more wonderful plays he had with him if he lived as long as...oh, Tolstoy.
Most of the letters here are to fellow writers and family, and although he visits Tolstoy and writes about it more than once, none of the letters he wrote actually went to Tolstoy. Ironically, in a few letters, Chekhov (also a doctor by training) comments on how old Tolstoy is looking and worries about the guy living much longer. Turns out, Tolstoy would go on to live but two months shy of 1911, outliving Chekhov by six plus years.
Of course there are weird little things, too, like how he addressed his wife in letters as "doggie" and himself as "your holy father" until she asked that he stop (the "holy father" part, not the "doggie" part). Chekhov loved dogs. And gardening. And fishing. And, of course, reading.
He even reached out to me in 2020. I've been thinking about reading that copy of Goncharov's Oblomov that I own. Then I came across this (Chekhov to Alexey Suvorin): "As I have no new books I'm going over old ground rereading things I have read before. I'm reading Goncharov by the way, and am surprised: why did I ever think him a first-class writer? His Oblomov is really not good at all. Ilya Ilyich as a character is overdone; he is simply not strong enough to sustain a whole book. He is just a flabby layabout like hundreds of others, he's not a complex character, but a commonplace and trivial one; making a social type out of such a person is to elevate him way above his status."
Maybe, then, the layabout Oblomov can lay about (on my bookshelf) even longer. If anyone asks, I'll simply say, "Chekhov."
Speaking of fellow Russkies, Chekhov also wagered that 90% of Turgenev would be forgotten in 40 years. He might have whiffed on that one, but it made me wish he had identified the 10% he considered classical gas.
Last note. I love his short story "The Bishop," and was shocked to read, when he told his wife that he this while working on it: "It's a subject that has been knocking around in my head for about fifteen years."
Chekhov in a nutshell, that. A five-page story fifteen years in the making. And, when you read it, like a premonition of his own death.
August 5, 2015
“You complain that my characters are gloomy. Alas, this is not my fault! They come out like that without my necessarily wanting them to, and when I am writing I don’t feel as though I am writing gloomily. In any case, I’m always in a good mood when I’m writing. It is a well-documented fact that pessimists and melancholics always write in a very upbeat way, whereas cheerful writers generally manage to depress their readers. My temperament is inclined to be cheerful; at least for the first thirty years of my life I have lived, as they say, content with my lot.” (Letter to Lidia Avilova, 6 October 1897)
A complete delight. Anton Pavlovich, uncensored! Chekhov is as profound and fun and pleasant in his letters as he is in his stories and plays. He expounds on literature, art, politics, relationships, sex, other famous writers, his work as a physician, Russia, among other things, and always with his characteristic wit and emotional gravity. His letters from his travels in Continental Europe and Asia are especially enjoyable, even as he is trying to remain healthy and stable while battling tuberculosis. And I loved his pet names/greetings for his wife (“Dearest little colt!” “My own true doggie!” “Hello, my incomparable little horse!” “My dearest chaffinch!”). Reading his letters from 1904 are heartbreaking, knowing that he is so close to death. I almost wish that the letters had been grouped by correspondent, instead of chronologically, but perhaps that is never done in published books of letters. It would have been nice to have been able to read his entire correspondence with one person (as it was often difficult to remember the identities of the various recipients); but as it is, this collection is a rollicking insight into the life of one of the greatest writers we’ve ever known. Highly recommended to Russian literature aficionados and, naturally, vociferous Chekhov admirers like myself.
A complete delight. Anton Pavlovich, uncensored! Chekhov is as profound and fun and pleasant in his letters as he is in his stories and plays. He expounds on literature, art, politics, relationships, sex, other famous writers, his work as a physician, Russia, among other things, and always with his characteristic wit and emotional gravity. His letters from his travels in Continental Europe and Asia are especially enjoyable, even as he is trying to remain healthy and stable while battling tuberculosis. And I loved his pet names/greetings for his wife (“Dearest little colt!” “My own true doggie!” “Hello, my incomparable little horse!” “My dearest chaffinch!”). Reading his letters from 1904 are heartbreaking, knowing that he is so close to death. I almost wish that the letters had been grouped by correspondent, instead of chronologically, but perhaps that is never done in published books of letters. It would have been nice to have been able to read his entire correspondence with one person (as it was often difficult to remember the identities of the various recipients); but as it is, this collection is a rollicking insight into the life of one of the greatest writers we’ve ever known. Highly recommended to Russian literature aficionados and, naturally, vociferous Chekhov admirers like myself.
April 10, 2008
A great read for anyone who enjoys the voyeuristic qualities of reading someone else's correspondence. Chekhov's letters to his wife are incredibly touching and wonderful. It's also for those who miss the fine art of letter writing, when people took the time to sit down, share their observations on pen and paper and strolled to the local post office to post them!
November 26, 2011
Collections of letters offer such a quandary--part of me wants to have just a Selected Letters to get to the juicy stuff--the thoughts on writing. But while the travelogue stuff seems dull at first, as well as some the commentaries to others about his mongoose and other family chats, there does seem to be some interest here in some of the more mundane aspects of a great writer's life. A collection to peruse when you don't have pressing titles on your To-Read shelf and can really work through slowly and digest.
December 29, 2020
Every time he wants to compliment a woman he calls her masculine so I'm knocking a star for that 😌
March 27, 2017
Humane, witty, unpretentious, adventurous, reflective: an admirable man, brought to life through the treasure of his letters. A book to spend time with and return to.
November 28, 2020
Anton Chekhov had the most gentle, kind and beautiful soul of all the artists I’ve studied so far. A lofty, sublime man in addition to his artistic grandeur.
“I have no faith in our intelligentsia, which is hypocritical, false, hysterical, ill-educated and idle, and I have no faith in it even when it suffers and complains, because its oppressors spring from its own bowel. My faith is in individual people, and I see our salvation in individual personalities scattered all over Russia, whether educated people or peasants, that is where our strength lies although there are few enough of them.”
Nothing has changed.
“I have no faith in our intelligentsia, which is hypocritical, false, hysterical, ill-educated and idle, and I have no faith in it even when it suffers and complains, because its oppressors spring from its own bowel. My faith is in individual people, and I see our salvation in individual personalities scattered all over Russia, whether educated people or peasants, that is where our strength lies although there are few enough of them.”
Nothing has changed.
October 27, 2018
It is amazing! Really classic and immortal style!
Want to read
July 5, 2020Russian Doctor, Playwriter, Story Writer Anton Chekhov's "A Life in Letters" is very important source to understand Doctor Anton Chekhov's life since his childhood to his death! Doctor Anton Chekhov's letters to his wife Olga, his publishers, his friends, sign his thoughts, feelings, expectations, observations and questions for his life in Russia in 19. Century! Doctor Anton Chekhov, when writes his letters, is like in his writing stories, he summarizes everything in a few sentences, but he writes his all thoughts, there are no secret things in Doctor Anton Chekhov's letters. "A Life in Letters" of Doctor Anton Chekhov, now, is a more important source for his readers in the world, in "pandemic", the readers can see Doctor Anton Chekhov's replies to anything in his life - a Doctor's life. Doctor Anton Chekhov's "A Life in Letters" is an evident-book of his love for his wife Olga, we see their love in Doctor Anton Chekhov's letters' pages.
October 8, 2021
A one sided conversation that spans the life of Chekov. A general pattern of his life emerges as his writing career gradually takes over his medical career all the while his own medical problems come to dominate him. The most interesting letters are his thoughts on writing, both in terms of the encouragement and mentoring he gives to the next generation of Russian writers but also his interactions with publishers as he procrastinates. His letters to Olga are perhaps the most disturbing as they hint at a fairly disfunctional relationship, makes me wonder whether she was a "gold digger".
May 14, 2022
I previously read some collections of Chekhov’s correspondence with portions of the letters missing. I loved reading Chekhov’s the letters with the parts restored that the Soviets redacted to protect Chekhov’s image. I wish this book included the two way correspondence which would be great. If only I could read Russian I could read all the letters.
January 14, 2025
It’s hard to combine a desire to live and a desire to write.
So he lived when he didn't write, and he wrote when he didn't live.
So he lived when he didn't write, and he wrote when he didn't live.
October 30, 2020
It's better to be the victim than to be the hangman.
1889 to Alexander Chekhov.
Being quarantined is a surprise I wouldn't wish on anyone. It's worse than being arrested.
1892, to Alexei Suvorin
Anton Chekhov's letters to Alexei Suvorin and a few others. Dealing mostly with literature and the theatre. I'm very curious how representative these are, according to Karlinsky there had been almost no commenter until him who hadn't distorted Chekhov to suit their own ends. You will forgive me for being sceptical. The commentary was, however, very helpful and instructive.
Why, you'd have to be a pretty dry, wiry, immobile crocodile to spend all summer in the city! Two or three good months of tranquility are centrainly worth giving up your work or anything else for that matter.
1886 to Viktor Biblin.
Oh and by the way again, I've enclosed a clipping from the New Times. This Thoreau fellow sounds quite promising, the first chapter at least. He's got ideas and a certain freshness and originality about him.
1887 to Vladimir Korolenko.
You advise me not to chase after two hares at once and to forget about practicing medicine. I don't see what's so impossible about chasing two hares at once even in the literal sense. Provided you have the hounds, the chase is feasable. In all likelihood i'm lacking in hounds (in the figurative sense now), but I feel more alert and more satisfied when I think of myself as having two occupations instead of one. Medicine is my lawful wedded wife, and literature my mistress. When one gets on my nerves, I spend the night with the other.
1888 to Alexei Suvorin.
I take my meals at the common table. Can you imagine? There are two sweet little Dutch girls sitting opposite me, one of whom makes me think of Puschkin's Tatyana and the other of her sister Olga. I look at both of them all through the meal, and picture a neat little white turreted house, excellent butter, superb Dutch cheese, Dutch herring, a dignified pastor, a staid schoolmaster . . . and it makes me want to marry a sweet little Dutch girl and have her and me and our neat little house become a picture on a tray.
Rome, 1891, to Maria Kiselyova
Of course I have no time to give even a thought to literature. I'm not writing a thing. [...] You can't run after two hares at once.
1892, to alexei Suvorin
The following excerpt was written during the 1892 Cholera pandemic:
I have been appointed cholera doctor, and my section includes twenty-five villages, four factories, and one monastery [he tended to this entire section first alone, and later with an assistant]. I am organizing the building of barracks, and so on, and I feel lonely, for all the cholera business is alien to my heart, and the work, which involves continual driving about, talking, and attention to petty details, is exhausting for me. I have no time to write.
[...]
There's been no word yet about cholera uprisings, but there is talk of arrests, proclamations and so on. If our socialists do in fact exploit the epidemic for their own ends, I will feel utter contempt for them. Repulsive means for good ends make the ends themselves repulsive. Let them make dupes of the doctors and their assistants, but why lie to the people? Why assure them that they are right to be ignorant and that their crass prejudices are the holy truth? Can a beautiful future really expiate this base lie? If I were a politician, I'd resolve never to disgrace my present for the sake of my future even if I were promised tons of bliss for a pennyweight of base lies.
1892, to Alexei Suvorin
The novel's goals is to lull the bourgeoisie in its golden dreams. Be true to your wife, pray wih her according to the prayerbook, make a fortune, enjoy sports - and you're all set in this world and the next. The bourgeosie is very fond of what are commonly referred to as "positive heroes" and of novels with happy endings, because they make them feel at ease with the idea that you can hoard capital while maintaining your innocence, be a beast and yet be happy.
1895, to Alexei Suvorin
About the Dreyfus Case:
Little by little, a messy kettle of fish began stewing; it was fueled by anti-Semitism, a fuel that reeks of the slaughterhouse.
1898, to Alexei Suvorin
1889 to Alexander Chekhov.
Being quarantined is a surprise I wouldn't wish on anyone. It's worse than being arrested.
1892, to Alexei Suvorin
Anton Chekhov's letters to Alexei Suvorin and a few others. Dealing mostly with literature and the theatre. I'm very curious how representative these are, according to Karlinsky there had been almost no commenter until him who hadn't distorted Chekhov to suit their own ends. You will forgive me for being sceptical. The commentary was, however, very helpful and instructive.
Why, you'd have to be a pretty dry, wiry, immobile crocodile to spend all summer in the city! Two or three good months of tranquility are centrainly worth giving up your work or anything else for that matter.
1886 to Viktor Biblin.
Oh and by the way again, I've enclosed a clipping from the New Times. This Thoreau fellow sounds quite promising, the first chapter at least. He's got ideas and a certain freshness and originality about him.
1887 to Vladimir Korolenko.
You advise me not to chase after two hares at once and to forget about practicing medicine. I don't see what's so impossible about chasing two hares at once even in the literal sense. Provided you have the hounds, the chase is feasable. In all likelihood i'm lacking in hounds (in the figurative sense now), but I feel more alert and more satisfied when I think of myself as having two occupations instead of one. Medicine is my lawful wedded wife, and literature my mistress. When one gets on my nerves, I spend the night with the other.
1888 to Alexei Suvorin.
I take my meals at the common table. Can you imagine? There are two sweet little Dutch girls sitting opposite me, one of whom makes me think of Puschkin's Tatyana and the other of her sister Olga. I look at both of them all through the meal, and picture a neat little white turreted house, excellent butter, superb Dutch cheese, Dutch herring, a dignified pastor, a staid schoolmaster . . . and it makes me want to marry a sweet little Dutch girl and have her and me and our neat little house become a picture on a tray.
Rome, 1891, to Maria Kiselyova
Of course I have no time to give even a thought to literature. I'm not writing a thing. [...] You can't run after two hares at once.
1892, to alexei Suvorin
The following excerpt was written during the 1892 Cholera pandemic:
I have been appointed cholera doctor, and my section includes twenty-five villages, four factories, and one monastery [he tended to this entire section first alone, and later with an assistant]. I am organizing the building of barracks, and so on, and I feel lonely, for all the cholera business is alien to my heart, and the work, which involves continual driving about, talking, and attention to petty details, is exhausting for me. I have no time to write.
[...]
There's been no word yet about cholera uprisings, but there is talk of arrests, proclamations and so on. If our socialists do in fact exploit the epidemic for their own ends, I will feel utter contempt for them. Repulsive means for good ends make the ends themselves repulsive. Let them make dupes of the doctors and their assistants, but why lie to the people? Why assure them that they are right to be ignorant and that their crass prejudices are the holy truth? Can a beautiful future really expiate this base lie? If I were a politician, I'd resolve never to disgrace my present for the sake of my future even if I were promised tons of bliss for a pennyweight of base lies.
1892, to Alexei Suvorin
The novel's goals is to lull the bourgeoisie in its golden dreams. Be true to your wife, pray wih her according to the prayerbook, make a fortune, enjoy sports - and you're all set in this world and the next. The bourgeosie is very fond of what are commonly referred to as "positive heroes" and of novels with happy endings, because they make them feel at ease with the idea that you can hoard capital while maintaining your innocence, be a beast and yet be happy.
1895, to Alexei Suvorin
About the Dreyfus Case:
Little by little, a messy kettle of fish began stewing; it was fueled by anti-Semitism, a fuel that reeks of the slaughterhouse.
1898, to Alexei Suvorin
January 20, 2016
Compendium of letters to family and friends from his youth until the last days of his life where one can understand and lear from his way of acting, his personality, his love for his homeland, his power of observation, his humility and his great value as one of the most important Russian writers of the late nineteenth century.
Besides being a writer, Chekhov was a doctor, profession that supplemented, in his words, his observation skills to write and that helpd him to prevent many mistakes in his writings.
Cheerful, good-humored, very critical of his work, highly sensitive, consummate traveler (recounts in great detail his adventure journey across Siberia to the prison island of Sahalin in the Russian Far East) who considered trips as indispensable to nurture the inspiration of the author.
A great admirer of Tolstoy, was influenced by conversations with him and his works to describe in short stories and plays the Russian people's feelings and especially peasants. Despite its economic woes contributed on the communities where he lived with his medical knowledge and his efforts to improve the living standards of the people ..... latent respects, did not hurt anyone and tried to spread this example among his acquaintances .
An enriching reading that allows understanding and insight into the personality of this great writer and man of society.
(Spanish original text)
Compendio de cartas a sus familiares y amigos desde su juventud hasta los últimos días de su vida donde se puede apreciar su manera de ser, su personalidad, el amor por su patria, su capacidad de observación, su humildad y su gran valor como uno de los mas importantes escritores rusos de finales del siglo XIX.
Además de escritor fue médico, que le complementó, según sus palabras, la capacidad de observación para escribir y le impidió cometer muchos errores en sus escritos. Persona alegre, de buen humor, muy crítico de sus obras, de gran sensibilidad, viajero consumado ( narra con gran detalle su aventura del viaje atravesando Siberia a la isla-prisión de Sahalin en el extremo oriental de Rusia) que consideraba lo adquirido en los viajes algo indispensable para nutrir la inspiración del autor.
Gran admirador de Tolstoy, se nutría de las conversaciones con el y de sus obras, para describir en historias cortas y en obras teatrales los sentimientos dle pueblo ruso y en especial de los campesinos. A pesar de sus angustias económicas contribuyó de manera permanente en las comunidades donde vivió con sus conocimientos médicos y sus iniciativas para mejor el nivel de vida del pueblo.....respetuoso de latente, no trataba mal a nadie y procuraba difundir este ejemplo entre sus conocidos.
Una lectura muy enriquecedora que permite entender y conocer la personalidad de este gran escritora y hombre de sociedad.
Besides being a writer, Chekhov was a doctor, profession that supplemented, in his words, his observation skills to write and that helpd him to prevent many mistakes in his writings.
Cheerful, good-humored, very critical of his work, highly sensitive, consummate traveler (recounts in great detail his adventure journey across Siberia to the prison island of Sahalin in the Russian Far East) who considered trips as indispensable to nurture the inspiration of the author.
A great admirer of Tolstoy, was influenced by conversations with him and his works to describe in short stories and plays the Russian people's feelings and especially peasants. Despite its economic woes contributed on the communities where he lived with his medical knowledge and his efforts to improve the living standards of the people ..... latent respects, did not hurt anyone and tried to spread this example among his acquaintances .
An enriching reading that allows understanding and insight into the personality of this great writer and man of society.
(Spanish original text)
Compendio de cartas a sus familiares y amigos desde su juventud hasta los últimos días de su vida donde se puede apreciar su manera de ser, su personalidad, el amor por su patria, su capacidad de observación, su humildad y su gran valor como uno de los mas importantes escritores rusos de finales del siglo XIX.
Además de escritor fue médico, que le complementó, según sus palabras, la capacidad de observación para escribir y le impidió cometer muchos errores en sus escritos. Persona alegre, de buen humor, muy crítico de sus obras, de gran sensibilidad, viajero consumado ( narra con gran detalle su aventura del viaje atravesando Siberia a la isla-prisión de Sahalin en el extremo oriental de Rusia) que consideraba lo adquirido en los viajes algo indispensable para nutrir la inspiración del autor.
Gran admirador de Tolstoy, se nutría de las conversaciones con el y de sus obras, para describir en historias cortas y en obras teatrales los sentimientos dle pueblo ruso y en especial de los campesinos. A pesar de sus angustias económicas contribuyó de manera permanente en las comunidades donde vivió con sus conocimientos médicos y sus iniciativas para mejor el nivel de vida del pueblo.....respetuoso de latente, no trataba mal a nadie y procuraba difundir este ejemplo entre sus conocidos.
Una lectura muy enriquecedora que permite entender y conocer la personalidad de este gran escritora y hombre de sociedad.
Want to read
December 6, 2015Rosamund Bartlett
who edited these letters
and
also translated them with Anthony Phillips
IS MY LECTURER
at the Art Gallery of NSW, Sydney ,
for the series of 4 lectures on Art in Imperial Russia.
HOW LUCKY CAN YOU GET?????????????????????????????????
She lectures at the University of Durham.
The reason we are getting a 3 week break between lecture 2 and lecture 3
is because Rosamund is getting married to a fellow who works at the ABC
ie.the Australian Broadcasting Commission.
I talked to them after the first lecture.
This is the first uncensored edition of the letters in any language,
including previously unpublished material from the Russian archives,
and the translation conveys the humour and warmth of Chekhov's prose.
who edited these letters
and
also translated them with Anthony Phillips
IS MY LECTURER
at the Art Gallery of NSW, Sydney ,
for the series of 4 lectures on Art in Imperial Russia.
HOW LUCKY CAN YOU GET?????????????????????????????????
She lectures at the University of Durham.
The reason we are getting a 3 week break between lecture 2 and lecture 3
is because Rosamund is getting married to a fellow who works at the ABC
ie.the Australian Broadcasting Commission.
I talked to them after the first lecture.
This is the first uncensored edition of the letters in any language,
including previously unpublished material from the Russian archives,
and the translation conveys the humour and warmth of Chekhov's prose.
September 18, 2008
If you love Chekhov's stories and/or plays this book will break your heart. He only lived until age 44, and despite having active TB, accomplished so much in his short life. A practicing physician, Chekhov wrote literature on the side. He also built three schools for the poor and quietly donated to those in need. His correspondence with his publisher shows the development of the young writer into a literary lion. His love letters to Olga are priceless, and his correspondence to his concerned family about his health are heart rending.
September 25, 2016
I read this expecting to gain more insight on Chekhov's views on writing. And some of that is available in these letters, but very little. What was so delightful is how clear Chekhov writes and what a superb story teller he is, even in his correspondence. This is also a window into Russian society of the time with glimpses of the rural life in particular. It was also encouraging to see such a renowned author having to borrow so often and so frequently throughout his career -- even after he was an established success. It might be feel slightly less of a loser.
May 9, 2011
In the time I took reading this book, I could have incubated a human baby. It was interesting but it definitely became an exercise in willfulness.
March 23, 2014
This made me wonder how many vivid characters and roles one plays in a life. Each letter flows into a role entirely different from the other and they beautifully fit in.
One of the best reads.
One of the best reads.
May 17, 2014
Helpful and instructive.
August 24, 2017
ككاتب، تمنحك هذه الرسائل منظورا إلى عمق الصراع مع الكتابة والسبيل المقدس الى ترجمان الفكرة.
May 21, 2019
A very insightful collection of Chekhov's thoughts and most fruitful moments. It did help me realize a lot of my misgivings concerning writing in general. Recommended for aspiring writers everywhere.
June 20, 2020
A delight. The life and the obstacles. The last letter, a month before he died, was just amazing. How death comes swiftly while you're making plans to go home or doing something else. Loved them.
March 19, 2022
契诃夫有时可爱，有时坦荡，总是缺钱
March 28, 2023
We may not be able to have dinner with our favorite historical figures, but at least we have letters like these to inspire and hearten us.
Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews