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El beso y otros cuentos
La presente antología recoge cuentos de los diferentes períodos de Antón Chéjov (1860-1904). Desde relatos humorísticos y paródicos, como "El álbum", "La noche antes del juicio", "En la casa de baños", "Apellido de Caballo", "El orador", "Una noche terrible" (imitación de los cuentos de terror que se publicaban en las revistas rusas por aquellos años) hasta sus narraciones más famosas y sombrías como el célebre cuento "El beso". "El consejero secreto" oscila, al mejor estilo chejoviano, entre lo ridículo y lo triste, lo grotesco y lo serio,
Traducción e introducción de Alejandro Ariel González.
Traducción e introducción de Alejandro Ariel González.
137 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1965
59 people are currently reading
827 people want to read
About the author
Anton Chekhov
5,892 books9,762 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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October 1, 2025
Los cuentos de Antón Chejov tienen una particularidad única, y es que no se ajustan ni siguen el modelo tradicional establecido sino que fluyen libremente.
A qué me refiero con esto: a que no siguen el formato clásico instaurado por Edgar Allan Poe que imperiosamente necesita de un desenlace asociado a un efecto para impactar al lector.
Los de Chejov se caracterizan por la libertad de su estructura. Son situaciones sencillas, pequeños acontecimientos, un instante rodeado de casuales circunstancias en el que se relatan encuentros que se dan así como al pasar y nada más, pero no por ello significa que los cuentos carezcan de sentido o dirección, sino que dejan en el lector la posibilidad de haber saboreado una pequeña historia para recordar.
En este volumen, uno puede encontrarse con sus mejores cuentos y en ellos, Chejov nos da pinceladas de la vida y el modo de sentir del pueblo ruso, de sus tradiciones e idiosincrasia. Por sus relatos desfilan todo tipo de personajes, pero los que más descollan son los de la vida rural rusa, que incluye hermosas jovencitas, jóvenes soñadores, amantes furtivos, niños, doctores, funcionarios y borrachines.
Considero que no hay como Chejov, quien junto con Pushkin son los únicos que pueden mostrar la vida del pueblo ruso en forma genuina, tal cual es y sin deformar absolutamente nada.
De los veinticuatro cuentos, la mayoría de ellos transcurren casualmente en pequeños pueblos o en el campo y como dije y sus personajes son simples, los que en su gran mayoría viven situaciones cotidianas que Chejov adorna con los más interesantes detalles.
El libro incluye por supuesto “La dama del perrito”, tal vez, el más reconocido del autor. Un relato sobre el amor tan etéreo como volátil y que me recuerda en cierta manera a la pequeña nouvelle “Noches Blancas”, de Fiódor Dostoievski con la diferencia que el personaje de Gurov en este cuento en cierta forma tiene su revancha luego de su apasionado affaire con Anna Sergueievna, entrando ya en las líneas finales.
Ese cuento es el que posee el más elevado vuelo poético y artístico de todos. Los demás están narrados de forma estupenda pero nunca llegan a semejante nivel de perfección.
En otros casos, hasta podemos descubrir un par de cuentos divertidos y picarescos (“El camaleón” y “Apellido de caballo”); en otros se sigue la línea de “La dama del perrito” como es el caso de “La casa del sotabanco”, “El beso”, “Verochka”, “Las bellas” y muy especialmente en uno titulado “La cigarra” en donde toda la acción se desarrolla alrededor de una mujer adúltera. Este también es uno de los más logrados del libro.
En mi opinión, el mejor cuento de este libro se llama “Una apuesta”, y en él se relata acerca de una apuesta entre un juez y un jurista. Luego de una acalorada discusión acerca de que es peor, si la pena de muerte o la prisión perpetua, el primero desafía al segundo a cumplir una condena acordada entre ambos en una casita en el campo durante quince años (desde 1855 a 1870).
Si el jurista gana la apuesta recibe dos millones de rublos pero es alertado de que perderá los mejores quince años de su vida.
La segunda parte y el final del cuento son brillantes y demuestran la gran versatilidad que tenía Chejov para tratar distintos temas. Otro caso similar es el del cuento “Enemigos” en el que un doctor que ha perdido un hijo y un hombre que va a buscarlo para que salve a su esposa minutos después del suceso. Al final del cuento, Chejov nos mostrará hasta qué punto puede llegar un enfrentamiento tan particular.
Y en otros cuentos como “La pena” o “El hombre enfundado”, el autor nos da pinceladas de esos oscuros, tristes y desdichados personajes rusos que encontraremos en tantas novelas de Dostoievski o en cuentos como “El capote” de Gógol. Son los clásicos personajes que llevan al lector a apiadarse de ellos mientras lee lo que sucede con sus desafortunadas vidas.
En un cuento llamado "Ionich", un personaje afirma: «Mediocre no es quien no sabe escribir novelas, sino quien las escribe y no es capaz de ocultarlo.»
Años luz está Antón Chejov de ser mediocre. Además de sus famosa y prolífica trayectoria como escritor de obras de teatro, sigue siendo es uno de los más exquisitos cuentistas con el que un lector pueda encontrarse y disfrutar en la literatura.
A qué me refiero con esto: a que no siguen el formato clásico instaurado por Edgar Allan Poe que imperiosamente necesita de un desenlace asociado a un efecto para impactar al lector.
Los de Chejov se caracterizan por la libertad de su estructura. Son situaciones sencillas, pequeños acontecimientos, un instante rodeado de casuales circunstancias en el que se relatan encuentros que se dan así como al pasar y nada más, pero no por ello significa que los cuentos carezcan de sentido o dirección, sino que dejan en el lector la posibilidad de haber saboreado una pequeña historia para recordar.
En este volumen, uno puede encontrarse con sus mejores cuentos y en ellos, Chejov nos da pinceladas de la vida y el modo de sentir del pueblo ruso, de sus tradiciones e idiosincrasia. Por sus relatos desfilan todo tipo de personajes, pero los que más descollan son los de la vida rural rusa, que incluye hermosas jovencitas, jóvenes soñadores, amantes furtivos, niños, doctores, funcionarios y borrachines.
Considero que no hay como Chejov, quien junto con Pushkin son los únicos que pueden mostrar la vida del pueblo ruso en forma genuina, tal cual es y sin deformar absolutamente nada.
De los veinticuatro cuentos, la mayoría de ellos transcurren casualmente en pequeños pueblos o en el campo y como dije y sus personajes son simples, los que en su gran mayoría viven situaciones cotidianas que Chejov adorna con los más interesantes detalles.
El libro incluye por supuesto “La dama del perrito”, tal vez, el más reconocido del autor. Un relato sobre el amor tan etéreo como volátil y que me recuerda en cierta manera a la pequeña nouvelle “Noches Blancas”, de Fiódor Dostoievski con la diferencia que el personaje de Gurov en este cuento en cierta forma tiene su revancha luego de su apasionado affaire con Anna Sergueievna, entrando ya en las líneas finales.
Ese cuento es el que posee el más elevado vuelo poético y artístico de todos. Los demás están narrados de forma estupenda pero nunca llegan a semejante nivel de perfección.
En otros casos, hasta podemos descubrir un par de cuentos divertidos y picarescos (“El camaleón” y “Apellido de caballo”); en otros se sigue la línea de “La dama del perrito” como es el caso de “La casa del sotabanco”, “El beso”, “Verochka”, “Las bellas” y muy especialmente en uno titulado “La cigarra” en donde toda la acción se desarrolla alrededor de una mujer adúltera. Este también es uno de los más logrados del libro.
En mi opinión, el mejor cuento de este libro se llama “Una apuesta”, y en él se relata acerca de una apuesta entre un juez y un jurista. Luego de una acalorada discusión acerca de que es peor, si la pena de muerte o la prisión perpetua, el primero desafía al segundo a cumplir una condena acordada entre ambos en una casita en el campo durante quince años (desde 1855 a 1870).
Si el jurista gana la apuesta recibe dos millones de rublos pero es alertado de que perderá los mejores quince años de su vida.
La segunda parte y el final del cuento son brillantes y demuestran la gran versatilidad que tenía Chejov para tratar distintos temas. Otro caso similar es el del cuento “Enemigos” en el que un doctor que ha perdido un hijo y un hombre que va a buscarlo para que salve a su esposa minutos después del suceso. Al final del cuento, Chejov nos mostrará hasta qué punto puede llegar un enfrentamiento tan particular.
Y en otros cuentos como “La pena” o “El hombre enfundado”, el autor nos da pinceladas de esos oscuros, tristes y desdichados personajes rusos que encontraremos en tantas novelas de Dostoievski o en cuentos como “El capote” de Gógol. Son los clásicos personajes que llevan al lector a apiadarse de ellos mientras lee lo que sucede con sus desafortunadas vidas.
En un cuento llamado "Ionich", un personaje afirma: «Mediocre no es quien no sabe escribir novelas, sino quien las escribe y no es capaz de ocultarlo.»
Años luz está Antón Chejov de ser mediocre. Además de sus famosa y prolífica trayectoria como escritor de obras de teatro, sigue siendo es uno de los más exquisitos cuentistas con el que un lector pueda encontrarse y disfrutar en la literatura.
December 14, 2018
«De nuevo se queda solo y de nuevo sobreviene el silencio para él… La tristeza que se había aquietado por breve tiempo, reaparece ahora y oprime el pecho con fuerza mayor aún. Los ojos de Iona recorren inquieta y dolorosamente la multitud que camina apresurada por ambos lados de la calle: entre esos millares de personas, ¿habrá una siquiera que quiera escucharlo? La gente corre sin reparar en él ni en su tristeza. Una tristeza enorme, que no tiene límites. De estallar el pecho de Iona y de desparramarse esta tristeza, cubriría, al parecer, todo el mundo y, sin embargo, no se la ve. Supo caber en una cáscara tan ínfima que ni a la luz del día se la puede encontrar...»
Tristeza [p. 227]
Tristeza [p. 227]
January 2, 2022
"It was as if everyone suddenly realized that the space between the earth and the sky was not empty, that the rich and strong had not yet seized everything, that there was still some protection against wrongs, servile bondage, severe, unbearable need and that terrible vodka." (199)I hadn't read a couple of the stories—The Kiss and Peasants—in this collection, which also includes some other great and well-known stories: Ward Six, The Black Monk, The House with the Mezzanine, The Lady with the Little Dog, and The Bishop.
February 3, 2021
El beso es un relato corto de unos oficiales que son invitados a pasar la noche en casa del General Von Rabbek, en esta cena uno de ellos de nombre Riábovich recibe un beso de una mujer que nunca logra identificar a partir de esa noche sigue esperando encontrarla.
Encontré el relato en los Cuentos de Chéjov de Alma clásicos ilustrados
Encontré el relato en los Cuentos de Chéjov de Alma clásicos ilustrados
November 21, 2008
I think, "The Kiss" is the best story in this collection. It's hard to read that first and then try to top it with other stories because it's that good. The simple act of one mistaken kiss creates a flurry of excitement and fantasy and brings so much joy to the narrator that you can't help wish for an accidental kiss as well.
March 29, 2021
Somehow it took me until now to really dive into these short stories; I'd read the plays many years ago as well as a couple random stories from the Pevear translation (apparently I picked the absolute worst ones?), was only somewhat impressed, and put Chekhov on my amorphous "to-read" list. Anyway I'm late to the party but Chekhov is very, very good (obviously!); in terms of Russian literature, I'd say these stories are better than everything except Tolstoy and Bunin at their absolute best.
Along with the requisite depth in terms of themes, characterization, prose, etc., the main thing that kept striking me was the curious sense of lightness to Chekhov's writing, a cheerfulness or playfulness (?), while somehow also avoiding shallowness, which would be the obvious danger, there. It's very difficult to think another author quite like Chekhov, in this way; cheerfulness might actually be the last descriptor that would come to mind for similarly talented authors of his era (Joyce or Flaubert or Dostoevsky, etc.). Perhaps it's closest to the joy that comes through in Tolstoy, at times (like with Kitty near the end of Anna Karenina), or maybe Austen, but there's something that is uniquely Chekhov's own, as distinctive as (and different from) the mood/tone that permeates Kafka's work.
Along with the requisite depth in terms of themes, characterization, prose, etc., the main thing that kept striking me was the curious sense of lightness to Chekhov's writing, a cheerfulness or playfulness (?), while somehow also avoiding shallowness, which would be the obvious danger, there. It's very difficult to think another author quite like Chekhov, in this way; cheerfulness might actually be the last descriptor that would come to mind for similarly talented authors of his era (Joyce or Flaubert or Dostoevsky, etc.). Perhaps it's closest to the joy that comes through in Tolstoy, at times (like with Kitty near the end of Anna Karenina), or maybe Austen, but there's something that is uniquely Chekhov's own, as distinctive as (and different from) the mood/tone that permeates Kafka's work.
March 24, 2017
Especially "Room 6" and "the kiss" stand out. Sometimes slightly Kafkaesque atmosphere.
October 13, 2025
The Kiss, Terror and Other Stories by Anton Chekhov
10 out of 10
Terror
"Reading Chekhov was just like the angels singing to me" -- Eudora Welty, 1977…indeed, unless one is reading Terror and the very name does not suggest angels singing – unless of course we are talking fallen angels, or Rebel Angels as in Azazel, Beelzebub – and for this reader, this narrative brought forth many truths, anxieties, une angoisse terrible, and made him think of a variety of incidents, clashes taking place at home – in other words, spoiler alert or/and disclaimer, this note might be about anything except the Chekhov Terror and I might not even get to The Kiss, though I intend to – given the propensity to digress and worse, talk of anything but the subject in question- incidentally, coming back from the end of this soliloquy, I must say that the tangent was not so off the object after all, in that I will not write about the infuriating wife, as I thought at the beginning of this nonsense- let me just give the synopsis of The Kiss…well, why we are at it, perhaps try my hand at both…in The Kiss, one woman has planned an intimate meeting and by accident, the one she kisses in the dark is not the man she had in mind, all with some serious consequences, for the Accidental Tourist, while in Terror, we have a tale of a man that is infatuated – with love we have to make extremely cautious, I mean when using the word, as indicated by Thomas Mann – with the wife of his friend and while he tries to resist the temptation for quite some time, following some revelations, the restrictions do not vanish, but there is a different light on the whole ménage a trois…
The narrator of Terror has a complicated relationship with Dmitri Petrovitch Silin- He was an intelligent, kind-hearted, genuine man, and not a bore, but I remember that when he confided to me his most treasured secrets and spoke of our relation to each other as friendship, it disturbed me unpleasantly, and I was conscious of awkwardness…in his affection for me there was something inappropriate, tiresome, and I should have greatly preferred commonplace friendly relations…’ but this is more complex because of the attraction that the story teller feels for the wife and the awkwardness it brings to the surface.
When he is alone with the spouse, the anxiety, desires, feeling of guilty and probably the sheer Terror that is in the title and hangs over the three people involved in this ménage a trois make him act strangely and thus the wife, Marya Sergeyevna, tells her guest that he is evidently bored without the husband present and later on she would remark that at least the visitor would feel much better in the company of Dmitri Petrovitch, while she is always without solace and joy…when the two friends talk, we will understand that Dmitri Petrovitch had asked Marya Sergeyevna to marry six times, only to be refused and eventually have her say ‘I will be faithful to you, though I do not love you and I will marry you’…
With time, Dmitri Petrovich has become very unhappy with the marital arrangements ‘Prince Hamlet did not kill himself because he was afraid of the visions that might haunt his dreams after death…I like that famous soliloquy of his, but, to be candid, it never touched my soul…I will confess to you as a friend that in moments of depression I have sometimes pictured to myself the hour of my death’ and he continues with a fabulous speech…
“I am afraid of everything. I am not by nature a profound thinker, and I take little interest in such questions as the life beyond the grave, the destiny of humanity, and, in fact, I am rarely carried away to the heights. What chiefly frightens me is the common routine of life from which none of us can escape. I am incapable of distinguishing what is true and what is false in my actions, and they worry me. I recognize that education and the conditions of life have imprisoned me in a narrow circle of falsity, that my whole life is nothing else than a daily effort to deceive myself and other people, and to avoid noticing it; and I am frightened at the thought that to the day of my death I shall not escape from this falsity. To-day I do something and to-morrow I do not understand why I did it. I entered the service in Petersburg and took fright; I came here to work on the land, and here, too, I am frightened. . . . I see that we know very little and so make mistakes every day. We are unjust, we slander one another and spoil each other’s lives, we waste all our powers on trash which we do not need and which hinders us from living; and that frightens me, because I don’t understand why and for whom it is necessary. I don’t understand men, my dear fellow, and I am afraid of them. It frightens me to look at the peasants, and I don’t know for what higher objects they are suffering and what they are living for. If life is an enjoyment, then they are unnecessary, superfluous people; if the object and meaning of life is to be found in poverty and unending, hopeless ignorance, I can’t understand for whom and what this torture is necessary. I understand no one and nothing. Kindly try to understand this specimen, for instance…’
There is so much in these confessions, anxieties, doubts that we could argue they represent universal issues, they go to the core of the Chekhov literature, but also art and humanity in general, asking metaphysical, but also simple questions, expressing a common Terror that we all have of…well, everything as the scared Dmitri Petrovich says, pointing eventually to a fellow called Forty Martyrs, who is a drunkard and outré personage, difficult to comprehend – the reference to the routine is striking – a luminary of positive psychology, Stefan Klein, indicates among the few secrets he ends with his divine book, The Science of Happiness, the need for Change, we should include different things in our routine, if it is only a different itinerary on the way back from work http://realini.blogspot.com/2013/10/t... and to be naughty, we could include the Coolidge Effect just for fun and you can google it to smile or laugh when finding about it
The notion of falsity in our life could not ring more true in the age of Qanon, conspiracy theories that have billions buy into all sorts of nonsense, from the idea that the pandemic is false, to the concept that leaders like Putin, Xi, Kim of NK, Bolsanaro and so many others are genuine, moral, decent, good people and the under signed is also trapped in a vicious circle, where he has to defend some evident statements and live under assault from a consort that would rather approve of all those who live in this gated community – and other places – no matter how much they embezzled, stole from the public purse to become rich…they and others like them are so much better than yours truly that it blows the mind away…returning to Terror, the wife of the grieving Dmitri Petrovich had been in love with his friend for a long time and though she had promised to be faithful – but what does that mean, when she had also confessed she had not loved him and refused his proposal of marriage five times – the friend of the wife will have carnal relations and what is more, or should we say worse, the friend returns for a cap and finds about it…
10 out of 10
Terror
"Reading Chekhov was just like the angels singing to me" -- Eudora Welty, 1977…indeed, unless one is reading Terror and the very name does not suggest angels singing – unless of course we are talking fallen angels, or Rebel Angels as in Azazel, Beelzebub – and for this reader, this narrative brought forth many truths, anxieties, une angoisse terrible, and made him think of a variety of incidents, clashes taking place at home – in other words, spoiler alert or/and disclaimer, this note might be about anything except the Chekhov Terror and I might not even get to The Kiss, though I intend to – given the propensity to digress and worse, talk of anything but the subject in question- incidentally, coming back from the end of this soliloquy, I must say that the tangent was not so off the object after all, in that I will not write about the infuriating wife, as I thought at the beginning of this nonsense- let me just give the synopsis of The Kiss…well, why we are at it, perhaps try my hand at both…in The Kiss, one woman has planned an intimate meeting and by accident, the one she kisses in the dark is not the man she had in mind, all with some serious consequences, for the Accidental Tourist, while in Terror, we have a tale of a man that is infatuated – with love we have to make extremely cautious, I mean when using the word, as indicated by Thomas Mann – with the wife of his friend and while he tries to resist the temptation for quite some time, following some revelations, the restrictions do not vanish, but there is a different light on the whole ménage a trois…
The narrator of Terror has a complicated relationship with Dmitri Petrovitch Silin- He was an intelligent, kind-hearted, genuine man, and not a bore, but I remember that when he confided to me his most treasured secrets and spoke of our relation to each other as friendship, it disturbed me unpleasantly, and I was conscious of awkwardness…in his affection for me there was something inappropriate, tiresome, and I should have greatly preferred commonplace friendly relations…’ but this is more complex because of the attraction that the story teller feels for the wife and the awkwardness it brings to the surface.
When he is alone with the spouse, the anxiety, desires, feeling of guilty and probably the sheer Terror that is in the title and hangs over the three people involved in this ménage a trois make him act strangely and thus the wife, Marya Sergeyevna, tells her guest that he is evidently bored without the husband present and later on she would remark that at least the visitor would feel much better in the company of Dmitri Petrovitch, while she is always without solace and joy…when the two friends talk, we will understand that Dmitri Petrovitch had asked Marya Sergeyevna to marry six times, only to be refused and eventually have her say ‘I will be faithful to you, though I do not love you and I will marry you’…
With time, Dmitri Petrovich has become very unhappy with the marital arrangements ‘Prince Hamlet did not kill himself because he was afraid of the visions that might haunt his dreams after death…I like that famous soliloquy of his, but, to be candid, it never touched my soul…I will confess to you as a friend that in moments of depression I have sometimes pictured to myself the hour of my death’ and he continues with a fabulous speech…
“I am afraid of everything. I am not by nature a profound thinker, and I take little interest in such questions as the life beyond the grave, the destiny of humanity, and, in fact, I am rarely carried away to the heights. What chiefly frightens me is the common routine of life from which none of us can escape. I am incapable of distinguishing what is true and what is false in my actions, and they worry me. I recognize that education and the conditions of life have imprisoned me in a narrow circle of falsity, that my whole life is nothing else than a daily effort to deceive myself and other people, and to avoid noticing it; and I am frightened at the thought that to the day of my death I shall not escape from this falsity. To-day I do something and to-morrow I do not understand why I did it. I entered the service in Petersburg and took fright; I came here to work on the land, and here, too, I am frightened. . . . I see that we know very little and so make mistakes every day. We are unjust, we slander one another and spoil each other’s lives, we waste all our powers on trash which we do not need and which hinders us from living; and that frightens me, because I don’t understand why and for whom it is necessary. I don’t understand men, my dear fellow, and I am afraid of them. It frightens me to look at the peasants, and I don’t know for what higher objects they are suffering and what they are living for. If life is an enjoyment, then they are unnecessary, superfluous people; if the object and meaning of life is to be found in poverty and unending, hopeless ignorance, I can’t understand for whom and what this torture is necessary. I understand no one and nothing. Kindly try to understand this specimen, for instance…’
There is so much in these confessions, anxieties, doubts that we could argue they represent universal issues, they go to the core of the Chekhov literature, but also art and humanity in general, asking metaphysical, but also simple questions, expressing a common Terror that we all have of…well, everything as the scared Dmitri Petrovich says, pointing eventually to a fellow called Forty Martyrs, who is a drunkard and outré personage, difficult to comprehend – the reference to the routine is striking – a luminary of positive psychology, Stefan Klein, indicates among the few secrets he ends with his divine book, The Science of Happiness, the need for Change, we should include different things in our routine, if it is only a different itinerary on the way back from work http://realini.blogspot.com/2013/10/t... and to be naughty, we could include the Coolidge Effect just for fun and you can google it to smile or laugh when finding about it
The notion of falsity in our life could not ring more true in the age of Qanon, conspiracy theories that have billions buy into all sorts of nonsense, from the idea that the pandemic is false, to the concept that leaders like Putin, Xi, Kim of NK, Bolsanaro and so many others are genuine, moral, decent, good people and the under signed is also trapped in a vicious circle, where he has to defend some evident statements and live under assault from a consort that would rather approve of all those who live in this gated community – and other places – no matter how much they embezzled, stole from the public purse to become rich…they and others like them are so much better than yours truly that it blows the mind away…returning to Terror, the wife of the grieving Dmitri Petrovich had been in love with his friend for a long time and though she had promised to be faithful – but what does that mean, when she had also confessed she had not loved him and refused his proposal of marriage five times – the friend of the wife will have carnal relations and what is more, or should we say worse, the friend returns for a cap and finds about it…
December 31, 2018
This book made me love Chekhov, and think about rereading his Three Sisters once again.
This book made me love Chekhov, and think about rereading his Three Sisters once again.
December 14, 2019
Yay! My first Russian piece of literature, in English that is, that I actually got a pretty good grasp of. Well, I read an Indonesian translation of Doctor Zhivago while I was in high school and that went over my head. No doubt about it.
A lot of realism seemed to be going on in Chekhov’s writing that vividly captured his era, from everyday’s norms to culinary, I would say. These were very apparent in “Peasants”, “The Russian Master”, “A Case History”, and “The Gully” (In the Ravine).
I had a hard time finishing “Peasants” (1897) because it was very bleak. I felt like reading the story of Van Gogh’s painting, “The Potato Eaters” (1885). Drawing a line between rural poverty in the span of two centuries (19th in the case “Peasants” and 21st in the case of IFPRI recent food policy report), it’s quite upsetting to realize that welfare seems like chasing rainbows.
Chekhov gripped readers with surprise that generally lurked toward the end of a story. The setting were mostly rural, covering the lives of owners of capitals, professionals, farmers and workers.
And I couldn’t agree more with Maxim Gorky’s comment on Chekov, which was written on the back cover of the version that I read, “..no one understood so clearly as Anton Chekhov the tragic element in life’s trivialities.”
A lot of realism seemed to be going on in Chekhov’s writing that vividly captured his era, from everyday’s norms to culinary, I would say. These were very apparent in “Peasants”, “The Russian Master”, “A Case History”, and “The Gully” (In the Ravine).
I had a hard time finishing “Peasants” (1897) because it was very bleak. I felt like reading the story of Van Gogh’s painting, “The Potato Eaters” (1885). Drawing a line between rural poverty in the span of two centuries (19th in the case “Peasants” and 21st in the case of IFPRI recent food policy report), it’s quite upsetting to realize that welfare seems like chasing rainbows.
Chekhov gripped readers with surprise that generally lurked toward the end of a story. The setting were mostly rural, covering the lives of owners of capitals, professionals, farmers and workers.
And I couldn’t agree more with Maxim Gorky’s comment on Chekov, which was written on the back cover of the version that I read, “..no one understood so clearly as Anton Chekhov the tragic element in life’s trivialities.”
January 14, 2024
Queria poder classificar cada conto. Sinto uma imensa dor em ter que classificar um livro de contos no geral, ainda mais por esse livro encerrar com o melhor conto da obra.
Se eu tivesse que recomendar dois contos, seriam: "Kaschtanka" e "Enfermaria n° 6"
Os mais inovadores, lindos e profundos.
Se a obra tivesse somente esses dois, teria dado todas as estrelas, mas os demais contos foram arrastados, não fluíam, por isso as três estrelas.
Se eu tivesse que recomendar dois contos, seriam: "Kaschtanka" e "Enfermaria n° 6"
Os mais inovadores, lindos e profundos.
Se a obra tivesse somente esses dois, teria dado todas as estrelas, mas os demais contos foram arrastados, não fluíam, por isso as três estrelas.
November 18, 2025
Superieur gecureerd drieluik waarin Chekhov drie vormen van liefde—d.w.z. de prille variant, de hunkerende variant en de existentialistische variant (waarvan laatstgenoemde met name betrekking heeft op de voortdurende zelfliefde die men nodig heeft om op diens sterfbed de ogen te kunnen sluiten met het gevoel van tevredenheid à la "doe mij er nog maar een als deze")—aan de lezer toont met zo'n uitvoerige diepgang, dat ik niet anders kan zeggen dat deze klassieke Russische werken mij tot in mijn merg hebben geïnspireerd.
January 28, 2022
Sparkling.
August 2, 2025
"Não existe sobre a terra nada de bom que não tenha na sua origem alguma vilania."
(Ivan Dmítritch): "Os estóicos, que o senhor parodia, foram gente admirável, mas a sua doutrina estratificou-se há dois mil anos, e não se moveu nem um pingo para a frente, e não se moverá, porquanto não é prática, vital. Ela teve êxito somente com a minoria que passava a vida estudando e saboreando toda espécie de doutrinas, mas a maioria não a compreendia. A doutrina que prega indiferença à riqueza, às comodidades da vida, o desprezo pelos sofrimentos e pela morte, é de todo incompreensível para a imensa maioria, pois esta jamais conheceu a riqueza nem aquelas comodidades; e desprezar os sofrimentos significaria para ela desprezar a própria vida, pois toda a essência da vida humana consiste em sensações de fome, frio, ofensas, privações e um medo hamletiano da morte. Nessas sensações está a vida inteira: pode-se senti-la como um peso, odiá-la, mas não desprezar."
(Ivan Dmítritch): "Os estóicos, que o senhor parodia, foram gente admirável, mas a sua doutrina estratificou-se há dois mil anos, e não se moveu nem um pingo para a frente, e não se moverá, porquanto não é prática, vital. Ela teve êxito somente com a minoria que passava a vida estudando e saboreando toda espécie de doutrinas, mas a maioria não a compreendia. A doutrina que prega indiferença à riqueza, às comodidades da vida, o desprezo pelos sofrimentos e pela morte, é de todo incompreensível para a imensa maioria, pois esta jamais conheceu a riqueza nem aquelas comodidades; e desprezar os sofrimentos significaria para ela desprezar a própria vida, pois toda a essência da vida humana consiste em sensações de fome, frio, ofensas, privações e um medo hamletiano da morte. Nessas sensações está a vida inteira: pode-se senti-la como um peso, odiá-la, mas não desprezar."
March 17, 2023
A 2023 READING PROJECT
The kiss ★★★★ (07/02/23)
— This is one of Chekhov’s longer short stories and tells of a Russian officer who suffers from low self-esteem and is mostly overlooked in social situations. He has a brief encounter which seems to improve his outlook on life, but ends up figuratively “shooting himself in the foot”.
Verotchka (02/19)
On trial (In the court)(04/03/23)
The mass for the dead (Requiem)(03/03/23)
The privy councillor (04/03/23) ★★★★
— Talk, my friends, sing... play!... Dont lose time. You know, time, the rascal, runs away and waits for no man! Upon my soul, before you have time to look round, old age is upon you.... Then it is too late to live! Thats how it is, Pelagea Ivanovna.... We mustn’t sit still and be silent. . . . Yes . . . my uncle went on, love, marry, do silly things. Foolishness is a great deal more living and healthy than our straining and striving after rational life.
The runaway (05/03/23)
The reed (The Pipe)(05/03/23)
La cigale (The grasshopper)(06/03/23) ★★★★
The head gardener's tale
Oysters (14/05/15)
Women (Ladies) (06/02/23) ★★★
— I am uncertain of Chekhov’s point with this story. Initially, the issue is one of social justice — a man of business acts honourably by trying to help a needy employee who, for health reasons, cannot continue with his present employment. As the story progresses, however, two upper-class women (“ladies”) interfere with his decision in favour of a wealthy young man. It may be read as a misogynistic statement or as a criticism of the social structure — or perhaps both!
Woe (Sorrow)(03/03/23)
Zinotchka (02/19)
The princess (07/02/23) ★★★★★
— a scathing criticism of the Russian aristocracy, with Chekhov’s trademark surprise ending
— But the worst of all, the thing that most revolts me, is having a fortune of over a million and doing nothing for other people, nothing!
— A person who does not feel the difference between a human being and a lap-dog ought not to go in for philanthropy.
The muzhiks (Peasants) (08/03/23)
The kiss ★★★★ (07/02/23)
— This is one of Chekhov’s longer short stories and tells of a Russian officer who suffers from low self-esteem and is mostly overlooked in social situations. He has a brief encounter which seems to improve his outlook on life, but ends up figuratively “shooting himself in the foot”.
Verotchka (02/19)
On trial (In the court)(04/03/23)
The mass for the dead (Requiem)(03/03/23)
The privy councillor (04/03/23) ★★★★
— Talk, my friends, sing... play!... Dont lose time. You know, time, the rascal, runs away and waits for no man! Upon my soul, before you have time to look round, old age is upon you.... Then it is too late to live! Thats how it is, Pelagea Ivanovna.... We mustn’t sit still and be silent. . . . Yes . . . my uncle went on, love, marry, do silly things. Foolishness is a great deal more living and healthy than our straining and striving after rational life.
The runaway (05/03/23)
The reed (The Pipe)(05/03/23)
La cigale (The grasshopper)(06/03/23) ★★★★
The head gardener's tale
Oysters (14/05/15)
Women (Ladies) (06/02/23) ★★★
— I am uncertain of Chekhov’s point with this story. Initially, the issue is one of social justice — a man of business acts honourably by trying to help a needy employee who, for health reasons, cannot continue with his present employment. As the story progresses, however, two upper-class women (“ladies”) interfere with his decision in favour of a wealthy young man. It may be read as a misogynistic statement or as a criticism of the social structure — or perhaps both!
Woe (Sorrow)(03/03/23)
Zinotchka (02/19)
The princess (07/02/23) ★★★★★
— a scathing criticism of the Russian aristocracy, with Chekhov’s trademark surprise ending
— But the worst of all, the thing that most revolts me, is having a fortune of over a million and doing nothing for other people, nothing!
— A person who does not feel the difference between a human being and a lap-dog ought not to go in for philanthropy.
The muzhiks (Peasants) (08/03/23)
January 3, 2018
Why did I wait so long to read this? Superb. Sublime.
May 22, 2025
Coisa boa mesmo é ler esses contos ou novelas... como queiram
May 13, 2020
Entrañables cuentos para empezar a conocer un poco la literatura rusa. Chejov tiene una escritura muy simple y a su vez muy llevadera. Lindo.
June 14, 2012
After all, what a lot of contented, happy people there must be! What an overwhelming power that means! I look at this life and see the arrogance and the idleness of the strong, the ignorance and bestiality of the weak, the horrible poverty everywhere, overcrowding, drunkenness, hypocrisy, falsehood. . . . Meanwhile in all the houses, all the streets, there is peace; out of fifty thousand people who live in our town there is not one to kick against it all. Think of the people who go to the market for food: during the day they eat; at night they sleep, talk nonsense, marry, grow old, piously follow their dead to the cemetery; one never sees or hears those who suffer, and all the horror of life goes on somewhere behind the scenes. Everything is quiet, peaceful, and against it all there is only the silent protest of statistics; so many go mad, so many gallons are drunk, so many children die of starvation. . . . And such a state of things is obviously what we want; apparently a happy man only feels so because the unhappy bear their burden in silence, but for which happiness would be impossible. It is a general hypnosis. Every happy man should have some one with a little hammer at his door to knock and remind him that there are unhappy people, and that, however happy he may be, life will sooner or later show its claws, and some misfortune will befall him -- illness, poverty, loss, and then no one will see or hear him, just as he now neither sees nor hears others. But there is no man with a hammer, and the happy go on living, just a little fluttered with the petty cares of every day, like an aspen-tree in the wind -- and everything is all right.'
December 8, 2022
¿Acaso es esto lo que ella necesita? Si tuviera un amor que se apoderara de todo su ser, su alma, su mente; que le diera ideas, dirección a su vida; que calentara su sangre aletargada...
Los cuentos que más me gustaron o llegaron fueron:
*La casa del sotabanco
*El hombre enfundado
*Una apuesta
*El beso
January 23, 2012
One of the masters of the short story, Chekhov weaves his tales with careful attention and pulls all kinds of punches with his delivery. The Kiss is one of the stand out stories in this collection, it is both beautiful and devastating a must read for the short story lover.
March 27, 2007
Sad, poignant, short.
June 20, 2008
Even the stories that aren't so amazing are at a level far above what some may only dream to achieve.
October 9, 2014
O autor é mestre no gênero conto e esse volume reúne um de meus preferidos, Enfermaria número 6, onde podemos observar sua vivência como médico. Contém outros cinco contos, todos primorosos.
Read
May 30, 2019No puede dudarse de la capacidad extraordinaria del autor de crear historias de calado, con personajes, escenas, paisajes y atmósferas muy bien labrados y diálogos simples pero efectivos.
La escritura es limpia, aunque a veces sobran detalles más propios de una novela que de un relato corto.
Todas las historias presentan, cuando no representan, un choque entre personajes de una sociedad muy partida. Ricos y pobres, enfermos y sanos, vagos y trabajadores, hombres que estudian o tocan el violin y mujeres que se dedican a sus labores, sueñan con amores o tocan el piano.
Me interesa una manera de contar que refleja sin aspavientos, de manera natural, una sociedad que estaba desde decenios abocada a la desaparición, prefacio de una tragedia, la que luego sería la dictadura. En todo caso, un salto de una tragedia, la del tándem nobleza-siervo, a otra tragedia, la del tándem dictadura-pueblo.
Es en esa disyuntiva continua en la que nos encontramos en cada uno de los cuentos de esta colección. Casi siempre hay detrás un escape de algún personaje de una situación a otra, por necesidad, nostalgia o por un empuje que lo aboca a escapar de su jaula particular.
Las tragedias son pasivas, naturales. Las muertes también, por enfermedad, como si la via de escape siempre fuera porque la naturaleza así lo desea, incapaces los personajes de dejarse cambiar el destino porque el destino toma las riendas, no porque los personajes sean capaces de tomar las riendas de áquel.
La riqueza en aquellos tiempos eran la música, los libros, los caballos, las casas enormes, el tener siervos. La pobreza era más simple porque, simplemente, valga la redundancia, no se tenía absolutamente nada. Nunca mejor aplicado aquello de que los pobres de estos relatos no tenían ni donde caerse muertos.
En ese natural devenir nos embarcamos en cada una de estas historias. Solo los amores, la base de casi todos los cuentos, y los modos me parecen bastante ñoños, a veces algo espesos, excesivos, en muchos casos antinaturales (diferencias de edad que hoy se considerarían casi proscritas). En todo caso, esa ñoñería no es otra cosa que un elemento más de aquella época. Rechina la ñonería lo mismo que puede rechinar la sociedad de la que se habla, ni más ni menos. Así pues, el que se enfrente a este tipo de historias, tiene que aceptar esa parte del contrato (de lectura). También eso, esa ñoñería, es un descubrimiento, sobre tiempos en que las cartas y no los mensajes cortos de whatsapp eran el medio de comunicación y viajar en caballo era un lujo que pocos podían disfrutar.
En fin, una lectura que me ha parecido muy amena, con la que he disfrutado y con la que se me ha revelado una vez más una sociedad en un contexto histórico interesantísimo que hay que conocer para entender mejor la primera parte del siglo que nos dejó hace casi cuatro lustros, sobre todo en ese país que abraza sin miedo la extensísima Siberia.
La escritura es limpia, aunque a veces sobran detalles más propios de una novela que de un relato corto.
Todas las historias presentan, cuando no representan, un choque entre personajes de una sociedad muy partida. Ricos y pobres, enfermos y sanos, vagos y trabajadores, hombres que estudian o tocan el violin y mujeres que se dedican a sus labores, sueñan con amores o tocan el piano.
Me interesa una manera de contar que refleja sin aspavientos, de manera natural, una sociedad que estaba desde decenios abocada a la desaparición, prefacio de una tragedia, la que luego sería la dictadura. En todo caso, un salto de una tragedia, la del tándem nobleza-siervo, a otra tragedia, la del tándem dictadura-pueblo.
Es en esa disyuntiva continua en la que nos encontramos en cada uno de los cuentos de esta colección. Casi siempre hay detrás un escape de algún personaje de una situación a otra, por necesidad, nostalgia o por un empuje que lo aboca a escapar de su jaula particular.
Las tragedias son pasivas, naturales. Las muertes también, por enfermedad, como si la via de escape siempre fuera porque la naturaleza así lo desea, incapaces los personajes de dejarse cambiar el destino porque el destino toma las riendas, no porque los personajes sean capaces de tomar las riendas de áquel.
La riqueza en aquellos tiempos eran la música, los libros, los caballos, las casas enormes, el tener siervos. La pobreza era más simple porque, simplemente, valga la redundancia, no se tenía absolutamente nada. Nunca mejor aplicado aquello de que los pobres de estos relatos no tenían ni donde caerse muertos.
En ese natural devenir nos embarcamos en cada una de estas historias. Solo los amores, la base de casi todos los cuentos, y los modos me parecen bastante ñoños, a veces algo espesos, excesivos, en muchos casos antinaturales (diferencias de edad que hoy se considerarían casi proscritas). En todo caso, esa ñoñería no es otra cosa que un elemento más de aquella época. Rechina la ñonería lo mismo que puede rechinar la sociedad de la que se habla, ni más ni menos. Así pues, el que se enfrente a este tipo de historias, tiene que aceptar esa parte del contrato (de lectura). También eso, esa ñoñería, es un descubrimiento, sobre tiempos en que las cartas y no los mensajes cortos de whatsapp eran el medio de comunicación y viajar en caballo era un lujo que pocos podían disfrutar.
En fin, una lectura que me ha parecido muy amena, con la que he disfrutado y con la que se me ha revelado una vez más una sociedad en un contexto histórico interesantísimo que hay que conocer para entender mejor la primera parte del siglo que nos dejó hace casi cuatro lustros, sobre todo en ese país que abraza sin miedo la extensísima Siberia.
January 6, 2023
Anton Chekhov, even in translation from Russian, radiates an understanding & deep feeling for rural life, under a gathering storm from a threatening, modern world, as technological, political & social progress, tears at the very roots of traditional, and often backward, societies, so personified in the work of great - and not so great! - Russian novelists & artists.
The 10 stories - of varying length & depth - are a 1982 Penguin assembly, with a more modern translation than the ones I am used to reading; but nonetheless, a very good selection of Chekhov's famous genre, almost theatrical in parts...certainly cinematic, with descriptions of the countryside, the houses & the 'real' characters, not all pretty, handsome or colourful!
The literary skills needed for short stories are clearly evident in Chekhov's brief excursions, with their undercurrent of impending tragedy, disaster, & the sense of a world about to be torn asunder, as Russia moved towards the 20th century, & the catastrophes of violent, political turmoil. A lost world of masters & peasants - still 'serfs' in all but name - a world caught in literary amber as a proof of its approaching demise.
The 10 stories - of varying length & depth - are a 1982 Penguin assembly, with a more modern translation than the ones I am used to reading; but nonetheless, a very good selection of Chekhov's famous genre, almost theatrical in parts...certainly cinematic, with descriptions of the countryside, the houses & the 'real' characters, not all pretty, handsome or colourful!
The literary skills needed for short stories are clearly evident in Chekhov's brief excursions, with their undercurrent of impending tragedy, disaster, & the sense of a world about to be torn asunder, as Russia moved towards the 20th century, & the catastrophes of violent, political turmoil. A lost world of masters & peasants - still 'serfs' in all but name - a world caught in literary amber as a proof of its approaching demise.
December 12, 2024
“'Yes, that's what I used to say and now I'd like to know what is it we're waiting for? I'm asking you, what? What is it we're trying to prove? I'm told that nothing can be achieved in five minutes, that it takes time for any kind of idea to be realized; it's a gradual process. But who says so? And what is there to prove he's right? You refer to the natural order of things, to the law of cause and effect. But is there any law or order in a state of affairs where a lively, thinking person like myself should have to stand by a ditch and wait until it's choked with weeds, or silted up, when I could quite easily, perhaps, leap across it or bridge it? I ask you again, what are we waiting for? Until we have no more strength to live, although we long to and need to go on living?“
January 15, 2019
Lentamente durante este libro me enamoré de los cuentos de Chekhov, de su escritura simple, cotidiana. Sus cuentos generan emociones en el pecho lector o dejan pensamientos dando vueltas por la cabeza, todo esto con tan solo unas pocas páginas que transmiten la sensación de que el autor comprende perfectamente la naturaleza humana. A pesar de haber leído hace un tiempo uno de sus cuentos más famosos, recién ahora entiendo por qué dicen que es el mejor autor de cuentos cortos. Mis preferidos fueron "Tristeza", "Enemigos" y "La cigarra" y no dudo que volveré a leerlos.
October 4, 2024
This is an interesting collection of Chekhov short stories. Two of the most interesting ones focus on mental illness and feel very contemporary. One of these stories "Ward Six" is almost a novella at 70 pages. Together with the story the Black Monk Chekhov's medical background as a qualified doctor gives these stories authenticity which is to be valued. The Peasants is another powerful story focussing on the appalling poverty suffered by the ex serfs now crushed in an economically deprived freedom. A collection to treasure.
July 20, 2022
La edición que leí es del Instituto Distrital de Cultura y Turismo y fue publicada por la Secretaría de Educación de Bogotá en 2004. Incluye los siguientes cuentos: Una bromita, La muerte del funcionario, La dama del perrito, Boda por interés, El hombre enfundado y El beso. No había leído nada de este autor y me gustó mucho su estilo: sencillo, pero lleno de detalles y las historias son cotidianas, a pesar de que fueron escritas hace más de 100 años.
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