جنتلمان من سان فرانسيسكو

by Ivan Bunin, إيفان بونين, إبراهيم إستنبولي (Translator)

Le monsieur de San Francisco raconte l'histoire d'un riche Américain anonyme qui, après avoir couru toute sa vie après l'argent, meurt au moment de débarquer à Capri où il était venu prendre quelques semaines de repos.
Dans ce recueil figurent quatorze autres nouvelles, certaines imprégnées de l'univers spirituel hindou et inspirées par les voyages de bounine en Méditerranée et en Extrême-Orient. Mais la majorité de ces textes sont consacrés à sa terre natale. Tous écrits avant 1917, ils composent une fresque amère et sombre de la vieille Russie, avec ses plaies et ses monstruosités.

Genres: Russia, Classics, Fiction, Russian Literature, Short Stories, School, Audiobook

189 pages, Paperback

First published October 31, 1915

About the author

Ivan Alekseyevich Bunin (Russian: Иван Алексеевич Бунин) was the first Russian writer to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. He was noted for the strict artistry with which he carried on the classical Russian traditions in the writing of prose and poetry. The texture of his poems and stories, sometimes referred to as "Bunin brocade", is considered to be one of the richest in the language.

Best known for his short novels The Village (1910) and Dry Valley (1912), his autobiographical novel The Life of Arseniev (1933, 1939), the book of short stories Dark Avenues (1946) and his 1917–1918 diary ( Cursed Days, 1926), Bunin was a revered figure among anti-communist White emigres, European critics, and many of his fellow writers, who viewed him as a true heir to the tradition of realism in Russian literature established by Leo Tolstoy and Anton Chekhov.

He died November 8, 1953 in Paris.

Reviews

[Ekaterina Yakovina · Rating 5 out of 5]

A gentleman from San Francisco goes for travel with his wife and daughter. It seems to him that he is just starting to live. His wealth gives him freedom, relaxation and a great trip. For me this sad story shows how a visible respect and attention to a person depend on quantity of money that a person has. The false respect disappeared right away when the old gentleman died suddenly. It is story about people as they are. It is story about what life is.

[Kirill Lukashev · Rating 5 out of 5]

Произведения о ценности жизни, о том, что нужно наслаждаться моментом, а не ждать времени, когда можно спокойно выдохнуть и жить в удовольствие. Жизнь может резко оборваться и все мечты, все наслаждение уже никогда не получишь. Об этом и повествует рассказ Бунина "Господин из Сан-Франциско".

[Natia Morbedadze · Rating 3 out of 5]

რა არის სიმდიდრე , როცა სიკვდილი კარს მოგადგება? საერთოდ არაფერი...

[Fusya · Rating 4 out of 5]

начали за здравие закончили за упокой

[Sara Alhooti · Rating 4 out of 5]

ذكرتني هذه المجموعة القصصية بالقراءة الليلة، حين كنت أغرق في الكتاب حتى يفاجئني الفجر.
مجموعة قصصية ممتعة، كعادة أدب الروسي الذي يُريك النفس البشرية، ويرسم صورة المكان الموصوف في ذهنك.

استمتعت بقراءة الكتاب

[Asser Mattar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Russian realism at its best.

[Old Man JP · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ivan Bunin was such an incredible writer. Few short stories I've read in my life can compare to the magnificent title story "The Gentleman From San Francisco". The other stories in the book didn't quite reach the same level but most were good. One curious story titled "An Unknown Friend" was written as a series of letters to the author in which the letter writer increasingly implores the author to write back to her. My guess is that it is based on actual letters he received. Another story I especially enjoyed was the last one in the book titled "A Cold Autumn" in which a young womans lover is killed in war.

[Jeffrey Fang · Rating 2 out of 5]

I thought that this story was just fine... nothing more, nothing less.

Where "The Death Ivan Ilych" by Tolstoy really shone, this story felt more lacking in its representation of death.

To me, it felt almost cliche - perhaps that's because of the multitude of depictions of this exact same scenario in popular culture, but it just didn't leave the same impression on me as, say, "The Death of Ivan Ilych."

The "scenario" in question is this: young person is really career/money-oriented and wants to make it big - said person works really hard and sacrifices their time and youth to achieve their goals - having worked so hard all their youth, they are now middle-aged and finally decide to take it easy - as soon as they start to finally enjoy the fruits of their labor, some accident happens and they die.

The whole point of this kind of story is to tell you to "live your life," "don't just chase money," "live life for yourself and not for others," or something along those lines. Even though these are indeed good messages, the constant use of this kind of story to illustrate this point sort of renders the point a little muter (at least to me).

The Gentleman from San Francisco seems like just another one of those stories and I ultimately left the reading wondering to myself what the whole point was... I guess I'm nudged to lead a better life but really this story didn't elicit that big of an emotional response from me.

[Giedre · Rating 4 out of 5]

Klasika. O kadangi kūrinys trumpas, perklausiau du kartus: vienąkart lietuviškai, kitąkart originalo kalba (rusų). Abu variantai su labai skirtinga ekspresija, nuotaika įgarsinti, bet kai darbą atlieka profesionalai - tuo tik mėgaukis.

[mmasjam · Rating 5 out of 5]

Читала этот рассказ вслух для Маши, отсюда наблюдение - очень приятно читать прозу вслух, особенно с другом. Вспомнила, как меня поразил этот рассказ в 10 классе. Очень хорошо сделан и чем-то очень похож на западную прозу.

[Gwan · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am not often a fan of the short story - it's a bit of a tease really, drawing you in and then abruptly spitting you out, and in many of the stories in this collection, the ending comes abruptly indeed.

By far the best story in the collection is the first, 'The Gentleman from San Francisco'. Nothing much happens in it (only one key event which I won't recount here), but Bunin's decriptive powers are simply amazing. The gentleman himself is described as:

'Dry, of small stature, badly built but strongly made, polished to a glow and in due measure animated, he sat in the golden-pearly radiance of the palace...'

while this passage describes the workers on board the ship:

'As the gloomy and sultry depths of the inferno, as the ninth circle, was the submerged womb of the steamer, where gigantic furnaces roared and dully giggled, devouring with their red-hot maws mountains of coal cast hoarsely in by men naked to the waist, bathed in their own corrosive dirty sweat, and lurid with the purple-red reflection of flame. But in the refreshment bar men jauntily put their feet up on the tables, showing their patent-leather pumps, and sipped cognac or other liqueurs, and swam in waves of fragrant smoke as they chatted in well-bred manner.'

As I read, I couldn't help but praise the translator, as well as Bunin, for these most felicitous phrases - turning to the front of the book, I found that it was translated by no less than D.H. Lawrence, S.S. Koteliansky & Leonard Woolf, so small surprise that it's well done!

Despite the often-lengthy sentences, the text somehow draws the reader along at a frenetic pace. It's the type of story that you want to devour like a delicious meal, even though you know you should slow down and savour it. In fact, I read it once, at the beginning of the book and then again when I had finished the whole collection. I had to force myself, the second time, to take my time and really pay attention to the words.

The story covers themes of death, of the deceptiveness of appearances, of the relationship between the rich and those who serve them, but its chief delight is in its decriptions.

Unfortunately, the rest of the collection didn't quite live up to 'The Gentleman from San Francisco'. Much of the rest was overwhelmingly Russian. (Incidentally, Bunin was the first Russian to win the Nobel Prize.) I mean, I like Russian culture and so forth as much as the next man (probably much more, in fact), and I must say many of the Russian-set passages made me nostalgic for Moscow. They probably made Bunin even more nostalgic for Moscow, given that he left Russia in 1918, an opponent of the Revolution (a couple of the stories are set post-1917, in Paris, but for the most part they look back to late-Tsarist Russia, some being written before 1917).

However, the themes of tumultuous affairs where the woman cheats on her husband, and gets murdered by him, or grows tired of her lover, and gets murdered by him, are a bit grating. That sort of alcohol-fuelled extreme passion inflamed by a mere bare ankle is a bit boring and unrelatable, to those of us with milder passions. Does make you glad not to have been a woman in Tsarist Russia. Or possibly in Russia at any time.

But really, you should hunt out the Lawrence, Koteliansky and Woolf translation of 'The Gentleman from San Francisco' and give it a read or two, a true masterpiece. Four stars for the title story, knocked down to three for the rest of the collection.

[Tom · Rating 3 out of 5]

While you can see how being dead makes you irrelevant to the world, the symbol being used (a dead rich American) gets in the way of that poetic interpretation and gives way to a highly political post WWI interpretation. As an American I didn't see the bland, rich American as a symbol for anything else than for America in Europe. He goes with his family to Europe to enjoy themselves, and after he dies the Italian managers put him into a box previously used for food just to get his corpse out of their hotel. The creulty towards the gentleman's family from the Italians is the treating of his body like a burden for their time and not caring about his family's tragedy at all. As he is a stand in for America, the message is clear, Europeans love America for its money and the moment it isn't giving them money they will put whatever is left into a box and ship it home. This story was written before our soldiers fought and died in WWI but it has a political view that an angry soldier who doesn't want to fight for European countries could get behind.
The gentleman from San Francisco was told he would have an adventure in Europe for a couple years and go home happy. Instead he has an uncomfortable time, dies, and then discarded like a broken tool with no consideration as to what that does to his family. That is pretty much how Americans felt about WWI before WWII.

[J. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very Haunting, and odd...

[Emilie · Rating 2 out of 5]

The last 5 pages were the most interesting. It just didn't capture my attention, but I did enjoy the detailed descriptions.

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thomas Mann-esque, with an ending that lingers.

[Sofya · Rating 1 out of 5]

Энд вот дид ю экспект)

[anotherLostKitten · Rating 5 out of 5]

The synaesthetic texture of this story is absolutely phenomenal. Much of the description is mired in opulence, be it golden light, silver moustaches, or waves the colour of peacock plumes. Of course, this is well integrated in the vain wealth of the family from San Francisco, here on an sightseeing trip around Europe characterized by an emphatic indifference to cultural or religiously significant events, or the "endless Balkan War," which when this story was written the U.S. had yet to enter. Complementing this is the transactional deference paid these tourists through the trappings of their status; the bellhops, drivers, and hotel owners may mock and mislead the gallivanting family behind their backs, but as long as the Liras flow their forced smiles stay. Just as the reader is at the point of the complete exasperation with the titular gentleman's implied lechery, causeless complaints, and overall self-importance, his sudden heart attack (surrounded heavily by structural symmetry which contrasts the themes of open nature and its artificial confinement, his dressing on his way to die and undressing on his way to die, the transference of his body to the largest, most extravagant suite in the hotel to its coldest and dingiest) completely reverses these relationships. The hotel manager, previously wholly accommodating, now mandates that the body be carried out in the humiliating crate used by the hotel for shipments of soda water to serve to their rich guests. Luigi, their steward turns from timidity inching into the imbecilic to preforming a pantomime of his running to and fro serving the family for the amusement of two attendant maids. Finally, the Gentleman's body is shipped back across the ocean on the very luxury liner that carried him in Europe, now interred in the dark, hellish depths of the coal ship while above guests (including one notable couple feigning affection under the employ of the cruise company, now exhausted of their masquerade) dance obviously in the lavish ballrooms, as the devil suddenly appears at the close of the story to watch as the ominously entitled Atlantis sinks back into the darkness and storm from whence it came.

The story, despite its brevity, is phenomenally luscious and densely packed with thematic elements; the ironical tone taken as the narrative alternates between the thoughts (such as they are) of the self-absorbed gentleman and the omniscient narrator makes it often difficult to determine when we are genuinely seeing the gentleman's thoughts and when he is explicitly being mocked. Overall, this was a super evocative, beautifully written short story.

I read the Graham Hettlinger translation. Anyways, here's the essay I wrote about the epilogue:

The tripartite epilogue of Ivan Bunin’s “The Gentleman from San Francisco” expands the story’s focus from portraying the purposeless opulence of the titular gentleman’s life to depicting him as a victim of an artificial social order which, to universal detriment, has supplanted harmonious communion with nature.
The epilogue’s first part pushes the perpetual quest for prestige to its logical conclusion, portraying Tiberius Caesar as the gentleman’s hyperbolic counterpart. Tiberius’ introduction echoes the gentleman’s own: the emperor is not explicitly named, but identified only through the name of a place, here Mount Tiberius rather than San Francisco. However, Tiberius’ identity has been imprinted upon the landscape for eons after his death (an imposition of the artificial upon indescribable nature), whereas even while the gentleman was alive “no one really learned his name in Naples or Capri,” (64). The gentleman seeks greater prestige throughout his trip: at its onset he happily believes “he’d drawn almost level to those he held as paragons,” (65), and hopes his daughter will further his station through marriage; his death, however, quickly demonstrates the transience of whatever status he had. Based on the roles imposed by his paragons’ examples, that he is immediately forgotten would seem to indicate a failure, but it is actually to his credit. Tiberius attained his immortal image only by committing “immeasurable atrocities against his subjects,” here “millions of people,” (86), to the Gentlemen’s comparatively meager thousands of Chinese laborers (64). Tiberius’ excess is flatly condemned by the narrative; that some shred of sympathy is ascribed to the gentleman is due to his greater restraint. While Tiberius “gratified his lust in ways that are repugnant beyond words” (86), euphemism adequately renders the fulfilment of the gentleman’s wants (such as “the tableaux vivants of certain haunts” (74) in which he often found himself ensconced).
The gentleman’s wealth ultimately earns him little freedom: though successful in satiating his base urges, he is so constrained by societal expectation that he is incapable of achieving lasting happiness. He embarks upon his vacation because he feels exhausted by his ceaseless labour, but through his holiday dictated by routine and conformity, he takes pleasure from neither natural landscape nor religious sites. He is literally choked by the dinner dress his station requires he wears, whose tight collar turns “his face a bluish-grey,” (78). In the epilogue’s second section, as two Abruzzian musicians trek along a mountainside, suffocating enclosures give way to open space: “the entire country – joyful, lovely, bathed in light – spread out before them,” (87). These wanders find in a simple figure of the Holy Mother the “humble, innocent joy” (88) which the gentleman was unable to attain visiting any “invariably renowned rendition of Christ’s descent from the cross,” (71). The open, natural environment is what bestows beauty upon the statue: she is “resplendent in the strong, warm light of the sun,” that same light which makes gleam “her halo flecked with golden rust” (88). The gentleman finds the musicians’ peace only with death, as he grows “beautiful with the beauty that he had long shunned and that became him so well,” (83). This repose appears when he is freed from the cares of his class, as his constricting clothes are removed; when he moves from artifice to nature, as the electric light is switched off, and the window opened to the “dark blue stars” (84).
At its end, the epilogue expands the fate of the gentleman to the wider world. The gentleman’s coffin is placed in the bowels of the Atlantis, “which resembled hell’s ninth and final circle,” (68); this internment of his decaying body clearly bodes ill for his eternal soul. Additionally, like the eponymous city was cast down for its sin, the Atlantis is shown here sinking “into the darkness and the storm,” as the devil looks on at the “arrogance of the New Man,” (89). However, these warnings of personal damnation and general apocalypse go wholly unheeded by the passengers, who have erected atop the ship’s hellish depths a Pandemonium which drowns out the raging sea. In this realm of superficiality, no genuine joy exists, having been replaced with the forced smiles of social norm: the “graceful, loving couple whom everyone observed with curiosity” (69) “had long ago grown tired of faking their tormented bliss,” (90). This couple is shown to be another set of victims unable to escape the artificial order, and though they are complicit in its propagation, they are, like animals under yoke, unable to alter its course towards apocalypse alone.

[Mark Porton · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ivan Bunin was a proponent of Russian realism, along with the likes of Tolstoy and Chekhov, this was a style adopted by some Russian authors in the late nineteenth century.

“The general characteristics of nineteenth-century Russian realism include the urge to explore the human condition in a spirit of serious enquiry, although without excluding humour and satire”

I am so happy I have met Bunin as The Gentleman from San Francisco was an interesting read. The main character is never named. He is extremely wealthy, deriving his money from dubious means – exploiting Chinese people, and believes he is entitled to a long vacation in Europe. So, he and his family board a steamer and head across the Atlantic for the treats of the Mediterranean.

If your are bit a fan of too much descriptive writing this might not be for you. However, in this story it really worked. The author painted a vivid picture of the opulence available to first class passengers on the ship, I felt as if I was watching a movie. This luxury was made more blatant by the contrast of conditions suffered by the crew – waiters, deckhands and people working in the engine room. All slaving away to fatten up the rich.

There is a mood of impending dread in this story. The author drops dark hints along the way, as our bloated protagonist is depicted as an unsavoury sort. Apart from the way he gained his wealth, he possessed a latent lecherous bent. He thought he may have had a chance with attractive young women on the trip, keep in mind this bloated oaf is nearing sixty.

Once they arrive in Naples, it all seems a bit of a let-down – it is miserable, he and his family are not happy. He argues with his wife and his daughter is unwell. When they go to Capri, same thing – all a bit miserable, he also has derogatory thoughts about the rusticity of the women there.

Anyway, that is enough from me – as things get interesting and I do not want to spoil it.

I did find it interesting the author mentioned Emperor Tiberius, it is also interesting Capri is where Tiberius committed his deviant acts, with little children, all beyond the prying eyes of those in Rome. I do not think Tiberius’ dishonourable mention is an accident, it only adds to the grim mood.

Fascinating stuff, it is only fourteen pages – and well worth it. Now to hunt down a novel by Bunin.

4 Stars

[Ian · Rating 3 out of 5]

A short story from the Russian writer Ivan Bunin, published in 1915. The version I read had around 25 pages.

I knew that Bunin was strongly anti-Bolshevik, and from that I had formed the possibly false impression that he was a social and political conservative. There’s no sign of that in this story though, which seems to be about how wealth and status are only a gloss over life.

The title character is a self-made man in his late 50s, who has finally made his fortune after a life of toil. He decides to reward himself with a trip around the world, accompanied by his wife and daughter. The setting is in the years prior to WW1.

One theme of the story is how the protagonist’s trip is enabled by a legion of others. Everywhere he goes he is attended to by cooks, waiters, maidservants, porters, carriage drivers, etc, who see to his every whim and ensure that he never faces the slightest inconvenience. The character himself (he is never named) gives no thought to this whatsoever. He simply assumes this is the normal way of things. I suppose in modern parlance we would say he has an “entitled” attitude, though of course that terminology did not exist at the time.

I think that the themes in the story are fairly well-worked nowadays, but would have been less so in 1915.

A major spoiler follows below:

I thought there was a whiff of schadenfreude about the ending, which I didn’t like, but I might have misinterpreted that.

Apparently Bunin’s high reputation rests partly on his use of the Russian language. It is of course impossible to judge that in a translation.

[Misha Chinkov · Rating 3 out of 5]

Очень похоже на "Смерть Ивана Ильича" Толстого с разницей в сеттинге: у одного это системный бюрократ, у другого – алчный капиталист.

Посыл книги понятен – не откладывай жизнь на потом, не гонись за наживой, деньги не положишь в могилу. Прекрасно описано презрение прислуг и ужас логистики смерти, т.е. перевоза тела.

Но мне просто не нравится стиль Бунина, он вызывает отторжение перегибами в сторону описания. Даже сто лет спустя, находясь в другом мире, мне абсолютно не важны те микроскопические детали, вкрапленные автором при любом удобном случае. Это выглядит апофеозом русского классицизма, когда ты пытаешься писать как "Чехов на стероидах". При этом рассуждение устами героев рассказа просто отсутствовало. Создалось впечатление, что столь короткий рассказ можно было сжать в три раза без потери сюжета и смысла.

Поэтому "Смерть Ивана Ильича" мне нравится гораздо больше – у Толстого повествование, описание и рассуждение находятся в гармонии друг с другом.

[Konstantin Aleksandrov · Rating 4 out of 5]

На мой взгляд, книга поднимает актуальную для современного мира тематику ценности. Что больше ценно: богатство или наполненность жизни смыслом? На примере одного корабля показывается все неравенство, которое выражается в том числе в бесчувственное отношение в случае потери атрибута текущей ценности, например, богатства. Понятно, что данную проблематику поднимают множество книг. Но, в целом, для общего развития стоит прочитать, тем более там всего 20 страниц. That’s quite interesting that author had guessed the city that will be now homeland for a lot of richest corporations in the world like Apple, Google, Linkedin etc.

[Frank McAdam · Rating 4 out of 5]

A collection of four short stories told with an ironic detachment very reminiscent of Chekhov. Set in various international locations - Capri, Switzerland, Moscow and Algeria - the stories are masterfully written (Bunin was the first Russian to win the Nobel Prize) and thoroughly compelling. The best is the last, "Son," that ends with an unexpected twist.

The translation I read was that by S.S. Koteliansky, D.H. Lawrence and Leonard Woolf published by Hogarth Press in 1922. It was something of a masterpiece in its own right.

[David · Rating 2 out of 5]

I can’t say I enjoyed this one. It seemed a critique of capitalism and the falseness with people treat you if you have money, and how fast they are to (literally) discard you when it is gone, with the addition of promoting the illusion of idyllic settings and luxury for those with the money to buy such pretense. I’m not critiquing the political bent, but rather than I simply found this story to not be very engaging.

[Damira Davletyarova · Rating 4 out of 5]

Мое первое знакомство с творчеством Бунина. Своеобразный стиль, напоминает картину импрессиониста. Господин из Сан-Франциско, нечётко выражен автором, сливается на фоне происходящего на корабле, затем на остове. Но на фоне мелких описании и подробностей, ощущается дух времени, чётко выделяется общая энергия происходящего и остаётся ненавязчивая мораль автора.

[Ştefania Butnaru · Rating 5 out of 5]

A story structured on two mirroring images: before and after an unexpected event- the death of the gentleman from SF. The "rich brevity" of this text makes the concept of death even more striking: "it's normal", "that could be me", "the world doesn't really care" are statements that assault our minds (even more so due to the exclusion of any unnecessary narrative devices).

[muhameed Shehata · Rating 4 out of 5]

فكرة اكتشاف كاتب جديد و كتاباته مميزة ، شئ جميل جداً ، ما بالك بقي لو الكاتب ده روسي .
مكنتش اعرف اي حاجه عن المجموعة ، وحتي ان الكاتب روسي ، و بدأت القراءة و استشعرت الجمال والعذوبة والكتابة القوية ، وبقيت مُستمتع بالقصص و بتنوعها .
قصص من قلب المُعاناة في الحب و العلاقات العاطفية والموت ، قصص مُبهرة و قليل اوي لما بنقرأ زيها .

[Timothy Coplin · Rating 5 out of 5]

This story moves along with a beat akin to that of a marching soldier. Poor mister rich-man, even resplendent Mediterranean Europe refused to reveal her glory for the Gentleman's two-year family vacation. And Bunin! boy did he apparently think little of Americanism.

[Vera Novitsky · Rating 5 out of 5]

Замечательно написанный рассказ. Но для меня он больше про Италию и путешествия, чем про смерть. Смерть, которая вроде бы должна быть его центром и смыслом теряется среди гор, гостиниц, пароходов. Рассказ на самом деле про красоту и радость жизни.

[Катерина Майковська]

Корабль был так же огромен, как и дьявол. Вот.
Опять такая книжка, которой оценки нет смысла ставить. 1915 год и Бунин уже в коротком рассказе подвел итог общества потребления, которое только расправляло крылья.

[Dori · Rating 2 out of 5]

Immensely boring but the idea is understandable.
Can't tell much wether I liked the way he uses his descriptive language to convey the idea, but the fact that I got annoyed indicates that he did a good job.