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
Es una historia triste, que gira alrededor de una criada de 13 años llamada Varka, que intenta de manera desesperada hacer dormir al bebe de la familia, cuando lo logra los dueños de la casa, la ponen hacer más tareas. Ella esta muy agotada y eso lo hace ver Chejov, es desesperante cuando uno lo lee o escucha. El final sorpresivo. 🤪😱
Uniquely crafted and not an easy one to enjoy but once you get past that struggling barrier and dive right into the portrayed psychologies, you realise it to be an under-appreciated master stroke.
I had read this book in a short story collection by Anton Chekov. But I am rating this book as separate because of two reasons - first, it was a long short story. Second, I really liked this. It was a great short story that combined religion with sadness. It was a sad, troublesome story, and the life of the characters was tragic. It wasn't suspense. It was just a big story in the present tense with the characters living their lives with guilt. It had a slow start but picked up the pace and was gripping after that point. Recommended for all
Eine gut geschriebene und stimmige Erzählung, die - meine Lesart - sich ganz gut mit den Facetten und Folgen von religiöser Überüberzeugung auseinandersetzt. Schön kurzweilige Unterhaltung.
Manchmal lese (bzw. höre) ich auch Kurzgeschichten. Dies mache ich ehrlich gesagt nur selten, weil mich Kurzgeschichten in vielen Fällen „nicht abholen“. Dies liegt aber nicht am Genre, sondern vermutlich ich erwische ich regelmäßig einfach Werke, die mich nicht so richtig fesseln wollen.
Auf diese Erzählung stieß ich auf Zufall. Ich glaube, ich suchte damals nach einem Krimi, doch in diesem Buch ist für mich der Krimianteil nur ein Aspekt.
Für mich war diese Geschichte wie ein kurzer Blick in den Alltag einer Familie. Allerdings ein Alltag mit einem sehr tragischen Ende.
Zunächst ist dort der sehr religiöse, ja, fast schon radikale Jacow, der sich in seinem Wunsch, den richtigen göttlichen Pfad zu finden, in immer mehr und immer strengere religiöse Vorschriften verrennt. Vorschriften, die durchaus auch Ergebnis seiner eigenen Interpretation sind. Und, was nicht untypisch ist für Menschen, die einen sehr streng ausgelebten Glauben verfolgen, das Verurteilen und Maßregeln des eigenen Umfelds bei Nichteinhaltung der eigenen, individuellen Glaubensansätzen. Und das Erheben der eigenen Person über andere.
Doch dann, Religiosität hin oder her, wird jemand getötet, mitten im Alltag. Vorangegangen sind viele Streitereien, bis es schließlich eskalierte. Statt jedoch das Verbrechen zu gestehen, versuchen es die Täter und Mitwisser zu vertuschen. Die Tat kommt heraus und auch Jacow wird bestraft.
Ich fand die Erzählung interessant, weil sie auf ihre Weise zeigt, wie banale Zwistigkeiten so eskalieren können, dass es zur Katastrophe kommt. Und man muss nur die Zeitungen aufmachen, um zu sehen, dass dieser fiktive Fall in der Realität nahezu täglich vorkommt. Nicht immer tödlich, aber durchaus mit tragischem Ausgang. Familien entzweien sich, Freundschaften zerbrechen.
Das Hörbuch war jetzt kein Highlight, dennoch habe ich das Hören nicht bereut und bin auf eine lohnenswerte Geschichte gestoßen.
This short atmospheric story by Anton Chekhov tells of the relationship between two brothers torn by suspicions about money, pride and religious fanaticism. Matvey is an ex-factory worker who struggles with his health and is forced to live at the inn run by his brother, merchant Yakov and his family. In the midst of one snowy winter, the family feels particularly claustrophobic in their house, and in no time Yakov and Matvey’s discord comes to its climax. This is a vivid tale of the price of faith, and the thorny path to it, a story of the ultimate crime and the ultimate punishment.
Really good short story by an author who is clearly a talented observer of people. The characters in this story are so well-drawn and expertly written (in both obvious and subtle ways), that they demonstrate Chekhov's brilliant understanding of human nature. The whole story, from beginning to end is an emotive, character-driven piece that conveys a horrifying sense of bleakness and gloom, which I imagine is far more enjoyable to read than to live out. 5 stars.
Hard to beat the masters. Age old story, brilliantly written with a cast of great characters. And with some killer lines, like “If only he could save just one man from ruin - and be free of suffering for just one day.”
A short story that is painfully long, detailing the life of equally bland and uninteresting characters, that seems more of an advertisement for god and the church than the recount of a cold murder.
No puedo calificarlo porque leí en un comentario sin querer el final del libro aqu�� en goodreads. Sí, me spoilearon, no sentí nada cuando se acercó el final porque lo estaba esperando.
"La muchacha ve en ellos correr por el cielo nubes negras que lloran a gritos, como niños de teta. Pero el viento no tarda en barrerlas, y Varka ve un ancho camino, lleno de lodo, por el que transitan, en fila interminable, coches, gentes con talegos a la espalda y sombras. A uno y otro lado del camino, envueltos en la niebla, hay bosques. De pronto, las sombras y los caminantes de los talegos se tienden en el lodo. (...) Varka, mirando las tinieblas enlutar las ventanas, se aprieta las sienes, que se siente como de madera, y sonríe de un modo estúpido, completamente inmotivado. Las tinieblas halagan sus ojos y hacen renacer en su alma la esperanza de poder dormir."