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أنطون تشيخوف: حياة في صور
كلنا نعرف الأديب الروسى الكبير أنطون تشيخوف ، صاحب أهم الإنجازات الفنيه فى القصه القصيره فى عصرنا الحديث، لكن ماذا نعرف عن تشيخوف الإنسان الذى عالج بموهبه فذه كل المشاكل والمشاعر الإنسانيه على اختلافها؟ فى هذا الكتاب يقدم الباحث الألمانى بيتر أوربان عددا هائلا من الصور الفوتوغرافيه النادره لتشيخوف، وما يقرب من 200 رساله كان الأديب الروسى قد كتبها إلى أسرته وأصدقائه ومحبيه على مدار ثلاثه عقود، تحدث فيها عن حياته وأدق تفاصيلها على نحو لم يكشف عنه من قبل. ولعل القيمه الكبرى لهذه الصور والرسائل أنها تمثل محاوله جاده لرسم سيره ذاتيه مصوره لتشيخوف؛ فتصحبنا فى رحله مثيره عبر حياته، تبدأ من منزل الميلاد بـ "تاجانورج"، وتنتهى بالوفاه فى "بادن فيلر".
- GenresNonfiction
375 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2003
5 people are currently reading
36 people want to read
About the author
Peter Urban
91 books2 followersPeter Urban, geboren 1941 in Berlin, studierte Slavistik, Germanistik und Geschichte in Würzburg und Belgrad, war Verlagslektor bei Suhrkamp, Hörspieldramaturg beim WDR und ist Lektor im Verlag der Autoren in Frankfurt; er übersetzte u.a. Werke von Gorkij, Ostrovskij, Daniil Charms, Kazakov, Chlebnikov und das gesamte dramatische Werk von Anton Cechov. Für seine Neuedition und -übersetzung der Cechov-Briefe wurde ihm der Helmut-M.-Braem-Übersetzerpreis zuerkannt.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
March 30, 2024
Medicine as a legal wife, literature as a mistress
Do you want my biography? Here it is. I was born in Taganrog in 1860. I finished the course at Taganrog high school in 1879. In 1884 I took my degree in medicine at the University of Moscow. In 1888 I gained the Pushkin prize. In 1890 I made a journey to Sahalin across Siberia and back by sea. In 1891 I made a tour in Europe, where I drank excellent wine and ate oysters. In 1892 I took part in an orgy in the company of V. A. Tikhonov at a name-day party. I began writing in 1879. The published collections of my works are: “Motley Tales,” “In the Twilight,” “Stories,” “Surly People,” and a novel, “The Duel.” I have sinned in the dramatic line too, though with moderation. I have been translated into all the languages with the exception of the foreign ones, though I have indeed long ago been translated by the Germans. The Czechs and the Serbs approve of me also, and the French are not indifferent. The mysteries of love I fathomed at the age of thirteen. With my colleagues, doctors, and literary men alike, I am on the best of terms. I am a bachelor. I should like to receive a pension. I practice medicine, and so much so that sometimes in the summer I perform post-mortems, though I have not done so for two or three years. Of authors my favourite is Tolstoy, of doctors Zaharin.
All that is nonsense though. Write what you like. If you haven’t facts make up with lyricism.
So wrote Anton Chekhov (1860-1904) to the writer Alexander Tikhonov in a letter dated February 22, 1892 thus revealing that subtle humour not only pervades his stories and plays, but also shows in his sense of self-mockery.
I have been eyeing this marvellous “photo-biography” edited by the German Chekhov scholar and translator Peter Urban for a few years since I first spotted it in the library, so when I encountered some pictures drawn from it in Natalia Ginzburg’s concise biography on Anton Chekhov which I read recently, the time felt ripe to read it from cover to cover.
This is a luxuriant book which documents Anton Chekhov’s life chronologically from his youth in Taganrog to his last moments in the German spa town Badenweiler. The book is lavishly illustrated, but offers so much more than just an collection of images would. Through commenting on letters – Chekhov must have written thousands of letters – photographs, theatre posters, paintings of friends and contemporaries (Levitan, Repin), book covers, notes form the censor, Peter Urban creates a compelling view on Chekhov, his relatives, friends and influences. Charting Chekhov’s journey to the penal colony on the island of Sakhalin and travelling to France and Italy, his preoccupation with the Dreyfus affair, the various places where Chekhov lived (Taganrog, Moscow, Melikhovo, Yalta), the artistic and theatre circles he moved in, the reader gets fascinating vistas on (cultural) life in Russia in the late 19th century.
Chekhov and Gorky
Chekhov and Olga Knipper
I particularly liked the glimpse into Chekhov life by his own words, through his letters, to his brothers, or to his sister Masha, and to the actress Olga Knipper. his wife. Living mostly apart during their short marriage, the tenderness in his letters to Olga Knipper, bestowing endearing pet name on her, moved me. Urban’s selection of fragments from the letters appears well-chosen, showing Chekhov’s lifelong concern for his family (and how he spared them by keeping his condition secret, reassuring them his health was improving, until the bitter end), or giving insight in his writing through his correspondence with his publisher (mostly to Suvorin) or friends:
You advise me not to hunt after two hares, and not to think of medical work. I do not know why one should not hunt two hares even in the literal sense.... I feel more confident and more satisfied with myself when I reflect that I have two professions and not one. Medicine is my lawful wife and literature is my mistress. When I get tired of one I spend the night with the other. Though it’s disorderly, it’s not so dull, and besides neither of them loses anything from my infidelity. If I did not have my medical work I doubt if I could have given my leisure and my spare thoughts to literature. There is no discipline in me.
(Letter to his publisher A. S. Suvorin, September 11, 1888).
Bearing Chekhov’s tremendous production (letters, plays, stories) in mind, he seems far too harsh on himself….
Chekhov family and friends in front of Sadovaya-Kudrinskaya home, 1890. (Top row, left to right) Ivan, Alexander, Father; (second row) unknown friend, Lika Mizinova, Masha, Mother, Seryozha Kiselev; (bottom row) Misha, Anton
Going through the appendix with contains a chronology of Chekhov’s life, a meticulous commentary on the illustrations and paintings, translations of some of the documents and a register of names (indicating for each individual the amount of letters exchanged with Chekhov) , what struck me was the astonishing number of people orbiting around Chekhov (on many pictures he is surrounded by people) - making his prolificacy even more amazing (while he dropped 30% of his work when editing an edition of his collected works of which he sold the rights to the German-Russian publisher Adolf Marx).
Chekhov, Gorky and Tolstoy at Yasnaya Polyana
A treasure trove for Chekhov devotees, this was an enthralling complementary read to the brief biography by Natalia Ginzburg. Next I will be on the lookout for a collection of Chekhov’s letters, of which I cannot resist quoting a last fragment which illuminates how Chekhov’s scientific, medical training underpinned his writing:
Political and social writers, lawyers, and doctors who are initiated into all the mysteries of human sinfulness are not reputed to be immoral; realistic writers are often more moral than archimandrites. And, finally, no literature can outdo real life in its cynicism, a wineglassful won’t make a man drunk when he has already emptied a barrel.
That the world swarms with “dregs and scum” is perfectly true. Human nature is imperfect, and it would therefore be strange to see none but righteous ones on earth. But to think that the duty of literature is to unearth the pearl from the refuse heap means to reject literature itself. “Artistic” literature is only “art” in so far as it paints life as it really is. Its vocation is to be absolutely true and honest. To narrow down its function to the particular task of finding “pearls” is as deadly for it as it would be to make Levitan draw a tree without including the dirty bark and the yellow leaves. I agree that “pearls” are a good thing, but then a writer is not a confectioner, not a provider of cosmetics, not an entertainer; he is a man bound, under contract, by his sense of duty and his conscience; having put his hand to the plough he mustn’t turn back, and, however distasteful, he must conquer his squeamishness and soil his imagination with the dirt of life. He is just like any ordinary reporter. What would you say if a newspaper correspondent out of a feeling of fastidiousness or from a wish to please his readers would describe only honest mayors, high-minded ladies, and virtuous railway contractors?
To a chemist nothing on earth is unclean. A writer must be as objective as a chemist, he must lay aside his personal subjective standpoint and must understand that muck heaps play a very respectable part in a landscape, and that the evil passions are as inherent in life as the good ones.
(Fragment from a letter to Madame M.V. Kiselyov, 14 January 1887)
Do you want my biography? Here it is. I was born in Taganrog in 1860. I finished the course at Taganrog high school in 1879. In 1884 I took my degree in medicine at the University of Moscow. In 1888 I gained the Pushkin prize. In 1890 I made a journey to Sahalin across Siberia and back by sea. In 1891 I made a tour in Europe, where I drank excellent wine and ate oysters. In 1892 I took part in an orgy in the company of V. A. Tikhonov at a name-day party. I began writing in 1879. The published collections of my works are: “Motley Tales,” “In the Twilight,” “Stories,” “Surly People,” and a novel, “The Duel.” I have sinned in the dramatic line too, though with moderation. I have been translated into all the languages with the exception of the foreign ones, though I have indeed long ago been translated by the Germans. The Czechs and the Serbs approve of me also, and the French are not indifferent. The mysteries of love I fathomed at the age of thirteen. With my colleagues, doctors, and literary men alike, I am on the best of terms. I am a bachelor. I should like to receive a pension. I practice medicine, and so much so that sometimes in the summer I perform post-mortems, though I have not done so for two or three years. Of authors my favourite is Tolstoy, of doctors Zaharin.
All that is nonsense though. Write what you like. If you haven’t facts make up with lyricism.
So wrote Anton Chekhov (1860-1904) to the writer Alexander Tikhonov in a letter dated February 22, 1892 thus revealing that subtle humour not only pervades his stories and plays, but also shows in his sense of self-mockery.
I have been eyeing this marvellous “photo-biography” edited by the German Chekhov scholar and translator Peter Urban for a few years since I first spotted it in the library, so when I encountered some pictures drawn from it in Natalia Ginzburg’s concise biography on Anton Chekhov which I read recently, the time felt ripe to read it from cover to cover.
This is a luxuriant book which documents Anton Chekhov’s life chronologically from his youth in Taganrog to his last moments in the German spa town Badenweiler. The book is lavishly illustrated, but offers so much more than just an collection of images would. Through commenting on letters – Chekhov must have written thousands of letters – photographs, theatre posters, paintings of friends and contemporaries (Levitan, Repin), book covers, notes form the censor, Peter Urban creates a compelling view on Chekhov, his relatives, friends and influences. Charting Chekhov’s journey to the penal colony on the island of Sakhalin and travelling to France and Italy, his preoccupation with the Dreyfus affair, the various places where Chekhov lived (Taganrog, Moscow, Melikhovo, Yalta), the artistic and theatre circles he moved in, the reader gets fascinating vistas on (cultural) life in Russia in the late 19th century.
Chekhov and Gorky
Chekhov and Olga Knipper
I particularly liked the glimpse into Chekhov life by his own words, through his letters, to his brothers, or to his sister Masha, and to the actress Olga Knipper. his wife. Living mostly apart during their short marriage, the tenderness in his letters to Olga Knipper, bestowing endearing pet name on her, moved me. Urban’s selection of fragments from the letters appears well-chosen, showing Chekhov’s lifelong concern for his family (and how he spared them by keeping his condition secret, reassuring them his health was improving, until the bitter end), or giving insight in his writing through his correspondence with his publisher (mostly to Suvorin) or friends:
You advise me not to hunt after two hares, and not to think of medical work. I do not know why one should not hunt two hares even in the literal sense.... I feel more confident and more satisfied with myself when I reflect that I have two professions and not one. Medicine is my lawful wife and literature is my mistress. When I get tired of one I spend the night with the other. Though it’s disorderly, it’s not so dull, and besides neither of them loses anything from my infidelity. If I did not have my medical work I doubt if I could have given my leisure and my spare thoughts to literature. There is no discipline in me.
(Letter to his publisher A. S. Suvorin, September 11, 1888).
Bearing Chekhov’s tremendous production (letters, plays, stories) in mind, he seems far too harsh on himself….
Chekhov family and friends in front of Sadovaya-Kudrinskaya home, 1890. (Top row, left to right) Ivan, Alexander, Father; (second row) unknown friend, Lika Mizinova, Masha, Mother, Seryozha Kiselev; (bottom row) Misha, Anton
Going through the appendix with contains a chronology of Chekhov’s life, a meticulous commentary on the illustrations and paintings, translations of some of the documents and a register of names (indicating for each individual the amount of letters exchanged with Chekhov) , what struck me was the astonishing number of people orbiting around Chekhov (on many pictures he is surrounded by people) - making his prolificacy even more amazing (while he dropped 30% of his work when editing an edition of his collected works of which he sold the rights to the German-Russian publisher Adolf Marx).
Chekhov, Gorky and Tolstoy at Yasnaya Polyana
A treasure trove for Chekhov devotees, this was an enthralling complementary read to the brief biography by Natalia Ginzburg. Next I will be on the lookout for a collection of Chekhov’s letters, of which I cannot resist quoting a last fragment which illuminates how Chekhov’s scientific, medical training underpinned his writing:
Political and social writers, lawyers, and doctors who are initiated into all the mysteries of human sinfulness are not reputed to be immoral; realistic writers are often more moral than archimandrites. And, finally, no literature can outdo real life in its cynicism, a wineglassful won’t make a man drunk when he has already emptied a barrel.
That the world swarms with “dregs and scum” is perfectly true. Human nature is imperfect, and it would therefore be strange to see none but righteous ones on earth. But to think that the duty of literature is to unearth the pearl from the refuse heap means to reject literature itself. “Artistic” literature is only “art” in so far as it paints life as it really is. Its vocation is to be absolutely true and honest. To narrow down its function to the particular task of finding “pearls” is as deadly for it as it would be to make Levitan draw a tree without including the dirty bark and the yellow leaves. I agree that “pearls” are a good thing, but then a writer is not a confectioner, not a provider of cosmetics, not an entertainer; he is a man bound, under contract, by his sense of duty and his conscience; having put his hand to the plough he mustn’t turn back, and, however distasteful, he must conquer his squeamishness and soil his imagination with the dirt of life. He is just like any ordinary reporter. What would you say if a newspaper correspondent out of a feeling of fastidiousness or from a wish to please his readers would describe only honest mayors, high-minded ladies, and virtuous railway contractors?
To a chemist nothing on earth is unclean. A writer must be as objective as a chemist, he must lay aside his personal subjective standpoint and must understand that muck heaps play a very respectable part in a landscape, and that the evil passions are as inherent in life as the good ones.
(Fragment from a letter to Madame M.V. Kiselyov, 14 January 1887)
April 25, 2015
کتاب دو بخش مجزا و در عین حال مرتبط به هم داره. بخش متنی کتاب برگرفته از متن نامههایی هست که چخوف در طول حیاتش به اشخاص مختلف از نویسندهها گرفته تا اعضای خانواده و معشوقهها فرستاده و بخش تصویری کتاب هم تا اونجایی که تونسته سعی کرده متناسب با متن نامه عکسی مربوط به اون دوران باشه
کتاب پر هست از تصاویر شهرها و مکانهایی که چخوف روزگاری در اونها زندگی کرده. از نیمههای کتاب از حجم تصاویر شهرها و مکانها کم میشه و جاش رو عکسها یا طرحهای به اجرا بردن نمایشنامههای چخوف میگیره که در نوع خودش میتونه برای علاقهمندان تئاتر و مخصوصا طراحان صحنه جالب باشه
با اینکه نمیشه به صرف خوندن و دیدن این کتاب به شمایی از زندگی چخوف رسید، اما میشه واکنشهاش رو نسبت به مسایل مهم روز پی گرفت. نکتهی جالب حضور تقریبا بیرنگ داستایفسکی در این کتاب هست. در مقابل با توجه به علاقهی چخوف به شخصیت و اقتدار اخلاقی تولستوی، علیرغم اینکه وجوه مشترک چندانی بینشون وجود نیست، حضور تولستوی در کتاب سنگینی میکنه. چخوف توی یکی از نامههاش از عشق دختران تولستوی به پدرشون میگه و این عشق رو نشونهی سلامت اخلاقی این مرد بزرگ میدونه و میگه میشه معشوقهها و همسر رو فریب داد؛ اما دخترها رو نه و این عشق دختران تولستوی به اون نشونهی زیر و رو یکی بودن این مرد هست
...
صفحههای کتاب گلاسه هستن و همین تماشای عکسها رو دوسداشتنیتر میکنه. برای چند ساعتی میشه با این کتاب «خوش» بود و چیز یاد گرفت
...
کتاب پر هست از تصاویر شهرها و مکانهایی که چخوف روزگاری در اونها زندگی کرده. از نیمههای کتاب از حجم تصاویر شهرها و مکانها کم میشه و جاش رو عکسها یا طرحهای به اجرا بردن نمایشنامههای چخوف میگیره که در نوع خودش میتونه برای علاقهمندان تئاتر و مخصوصا طراحان صحنه جالب باشه
با اینکه نمیشه به صرف خوندن و دیدن این کتاب به شمایی از زندگی چخوف رسید، اما میشه واکنشهاش رو نسبت به مسایل مهم روز پی گرفت. نکتهی جالب حضور تقریبا بیرنگ داستایفسکی در این کتاب هست. در مقابل با توجه به علاقهی چخوف به شخصیت و اقتدار اخلاقی تولستوی، علیرغم اینکه وجوه مشترک چندانی بینشون وجود نیست، حضور تولستوی در کتاب سنگینی میکنه. چخوف توی یکی از نامههاش از عشق دختران تولستوی به پدرشون میگه و این عشق رو نشونهی سلامت اخلاقی این مرد بزرگ میدونه و میگه میشه معشوقهها و همسر رو فریب داد؛ اما دخترها رو نه و این عشق دختران تولستوی به اون نشونهی زیر و رو یکی بودن این مرد هست
...
صفحههای کتاب گلاسه هستن و همین تماشای عکسها رو دوسداشتنیتر میکنه. برای چند ساعتی میشه با این کتاب «خوش» بود و چیز یاد گرفت
...
October 19, 2024
کتابی جالب و دیدنی است که پر است از عکس های آنتوان چخوف، تصاویر کاور کتاب ها و نمایش نامه ها و مکان هایی که چخوف در آن ها زندگی کرده است ( تگانروک، مسکو، ملیخو، یالتا و…). در این کتاب نویسنده برخی از نامه های آنتوان به برادرها، خواهرش، ناشر آثارش سوورین، دوستانش و همسرش را جمع آوری کرده است. پیتر اوربان با عکس ها و نامه های چخوف ما را با او در سفرهایش به جزیره ساخالین، ایتالیا، فرانسه و…همراه می کند.
July 3, 2019
این کتاب شما رو با کلی عکس های ناب و نامه های شوخ و گاهی جدی، وارد زندگی چخوف میکنه. چخوفی که بی نهایت صادق، درستکار و دلسوز خانواده اش بود و در این کتاب گوشه ای از کمک هاشو نشون میده که زندگی فقیرانه افراد خانواده اش با جادوی قلمش رونق میگیره و همه آنتوشا رو نه برادر و فرزند بلکه پدر و مسئول خودشون میدونند.
نامه هاش به سردبیر روزنامه ای که سالها داستان کوتاه های اونو چاپ میکنه، نامه به برادر سرکشش آلکساندر، به خواهر صبورش ماشا و رفته رفته با برنده شدن جایزه پوشکین و مشهور شدن ، با نویسندگان نامدار و ملاقات و مکاتبه با آنها و سپس نمایش نامه نویسی و بازیگران و کارگردانانی که با شور فراوان تمایل به همکاری با این نابغه شوخ داشتند. و همینطور عاشق شدن ... این کتاب رو شکل داده . و در تمام این سالها مریضی سخت اون رو محدود میکرد.
اما در این عمر ۴۴ ساله، با همت و سخت کوشی برای ما چه غنایمی باقی گذاشت.
چخوفی که با تولستوی و ماکسیم گورکی و زولا هم دوره بود و چه دوران پر شکوهی!
توصیه ام به شما خواندن این کتاب در کنار "چخوف" از هانری تروایا از نشر ناهید که بی نهایت لذت چخوف شناسی رو افزون میکنه.
از چخوف غافل نباشید😃
نامه هاش به سردبیر روزنامه ای که سالها داستان کوتاه های اونو چاپ میکنه، نامه به برادر سرکشش آلکساندر، به خواهر صبورش ماشا و رفته رفته با برنده شدن جایزه پوشکین و مشهور شدن ، با نویسندگان نامدار و ملاقات و مکاتبه با آنها و سپس نمایش نامه نویسی و بازیگران و کارگردانانی که با شور فراوان تمایل به همکاری با این نابغه شوخ داشتند. و همینطور عاشق شدن ... این کتاب رو شکل داده . و در تمام این سالها مریضی سخت اون رو محدود میکرد.
اما در این عمر ۴۴ ساله، با همت و سخت کوشی برای ما چه غنایمی باقی گذاشت.
چخوفی که با تولستوی و ماکسیم گورکی و زولا هم دوره بود و چه دوران پر شکوهی!
توصیه ام به شما خواندن این کتاب در کنار "چخوف" از هانری تروایا از نشر ناهید که بی نهایت لذت چخوف شناسی رو افزون میکنه.
از چخوف غافل نباشید😃
August 24, 2023
حياة في صور - كتاب خفيف يوثق حياة أنطون تشيخوف ورحلاته المهمه وبعض من رسائله لأهله وأصدقائه...
May 27, 2020
چخوف همیشه خواندنی اینبار به شدت دیدنی میشود.بی شک و حتم نباید جزئی از عشاق کتاب های عکس و عکاسی باشید تا میل به خرید و خواندن و دیدن
..کتاب پیدا کنید
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