Dramas, such as The Seagull (1896, revised 1898), and including "A Dreary Story" (1889) of Russian writer Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, also Chekov, concern the inability of humans to communicate.
Born (袗薪褌芯薪 袩邪胁谢芯胁懈褔 效械褏芯胁) 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 M贸r J贸kai. People also mocked ideological optimism of J贸kai 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
I wanted to read this after seeing the review of a GR Friend. It鈥檚 a novella of 100 pages, originally published in the late 19th century. It鈥檚 available on Kindle Unlimited.
I was a little wary at first because I saw this was the 1919 translation from Constance Garnett, and I know her translations were sometimes criticised, most notably by Joseph Brodsky. Of course I have no means of making a judgement, except insofar as I can enjoy the text, and, as it turned out, I did enjoy it.
There鈥檚 not really a story to the novel, except that it consists of a journey across the steppe, seen though the eyes of a 9-year-old boy being sent away to school. We are somewhere in present-day Ukraine, and this highly descriptive novel is a love letter to the sights and sounds of the steppe - the wildlife, the sounds of the insects, the flowers, the rivers, even the changes in the weather. The people are also varied, Ukrainians, Russians, Poles, Jews, and Armenians all feature. In this translation Ukraine is 鈥淟ittle Russia鈥� and Russia proper 鈥淕reat Russia鈥�. I daresay these were the terms used by Chekhov. The portrayal of Jewish people is somewhat stereotypical of the era.
During his journey the young boy meets a succession of different individuals. At one point during an argument one character refers to another as a 鈥渕azepa鈥�. I had to look this term up, but it sems to derive from the surname of a Ukrainian hero. At the time Chekhov wrote, the term was apparently used in a derogatory way, to describe someone anti-Russian.
A beautiful portrait of the 19th century steppe. I鈥檓 glad I travelled along for a while.
This novella is Checkhov鈥檚 description of a journey through 鈥淟ittle Russia鈥� (the Ukraine, particularly the Steppes) in the late 19th century. There is a journey, a beginning and an ending, but not a lot of plot. In spite of lack of plot it鈥檚 very readable, fascinating and beautiful.
We see mostly through the eyes of a nine year old boy who is being taken to a school somewhere quite a ways away. He travels across the steppe with his business obsessed uncle and an old priest from his village. At some point he is dumped off on one of the slower wagons full of bales of wool that the uncle and priest are taking to sell. I get the impression the uncle is burdened by watching after the boy and he and the priest are chasing after a near mythic wealthy landowner who they want to do business with.
The child meets a large cross section of people from poor farmers, to a beautiful noblewoman, to Jewish innkeepers, to rough wagon drivers and the occasional 鈥渂ig Russian.鈥� The vastness and beauty of the steppe as described by Chekhov is breathtaking. Mostly it is yellow crop and blue sky just like the Ukrainian flag. A wild storm has to be endured. This story is not much more than 100 pages and well worth the time spent reading it.
Ogni tanto a intervalli regolari, anche molto dilatati nel tempo, sento il bisogno di tornare alla Grande Madre Russia, quella narrata degli scrittori tra la seconda met脿 dell鈥�800 e i primi del 鈥�900.
La steppa 猫 il luogo che nell鈥檌mmaginario collettivo pi霉 identifica la Grande Russia. Ed 猫 anche il titolo di un lungo racconto di Cechov su un luogo o di un luogo, dove l鈥檃mbiente 猫 contenitore di una storia che peraltro in s茅 猫 molto esile e che fa solo da sfondo, perch茅 a dominare incontrastato 猫 il paesaggio. Racconta di un viaggio compiuto da Iegoursca un bambino di circa tredici anni che deve raggiungere il villaggio dove lo attende il ginnasio, Iegorusca 猫 accompagnato da uno zio che commercia in lana, uomo egoista e ripiegato solo sui propri affari personali, e un anziano prete. Un bambino, un commerciante e un prete che caracollano noiosamente per lunghi giorni su un calesse guidato da due morelli, ma c鈥櫭� un altro personaggio che giganteggia c鈥櫭� IL personaggio. La parola personaggio viene ovviamente dalla parola persona e Cechov, nella sua vastissima capacit脿 narrativa, riesce quasi a trasformare la steppa russa, qui raccontata nella sua veste estiva, in un grande, immenso corpo di gigante vivente.
Corpo che possiede un respiro quello del vento che spazza le sue distese sconfinate e a perdita d鈥檕cchio, sempre uguali fin noiose nella loro monotonia, non si capisce dove incomincino non si capisce dove finiscano. Corpo bruciante che ha un suo calore prodotto dai raggi del sole che di giorno infuocano e ardono le sue praterie erbose. Corpo sorretto da uno scheletro magro ed essenziale fatto di pochi pioppi, qualche salice , vegetazione rada , alberi isolati che non riescono mai a fare gruppo fino a diventare bosco. Corpo con un apparato muscolare fiacco e composto da rilievi pressoch猫 inesistenti. Corpo asciutto disidratato da una essenziale povert脿 e scarsit脿 di fiumi e laghi.
Steppa organismo che vive e si anima: si risveglia al mattino umida e bagnata di vapori, sussurra sibilando tra le alte erbe, gioisce nel movimento furtivo della fauna che la percorre o la sorvola: insetti cavallette, grilli, lepri, volpi, uccelli; a volte piange pioggia e ruggisce e strepita in temporali potenti ma poi si addormenta nella sera cullata da un cielo che si stende si stende, si stende, privo di ostacoli, cielo come una coperta punteggiata di stelle, quel cielo rovesciato che sovrasta la steppa russa, due entit脿 infinite e ugualmente incommensurabili che sembrano toccarsi all鈥檕rizzonte.
La steppa non 猫 le Maldive, non 猫 un paesaggio dolomitico mozzafiato, n茅 il dolce saliscendi delle colline del Chianti 猫 una terra brulla, aspra e tanto poco accogliente, monotona e prevedibile, pur tuttavia la seduzione di Cechov e delle sue parole 猫 riuscita nella magia di far nascere in me qualcosa che potrei, anche, perch茅 no, definire come il richiamo della steppa.
A paisagem 茅 o elemento fulcral da narrativa, nunca nos abandona ao longo da hist贸ria e 茅, sem d煤vida, a personagem principal. Conhecemos, tamb茅m, um menino que viaja, deixando o seu passado e desconhecendo o seu futuro. Ao longo da viagem confronta-se com v谩rias situa莽玫es e pessoas que lhe despertam v谩rias emo莽玫es e reflex玫es. Um livro simples, doce e introspetivo. N茫o 茅 o livro da vida, nem um livro que considere magnifico, mas gostei da experi锚ncia de o ler.
Bozk谋r, Yegoru艧ka'n谋n annesinin "y眉ksek idealleri" u臒runa okumak i莽in evden ayr谋l谋p day谋s谋yla Rus bozk谋r谋nda yapt谋臒谋 yolculu臒u oda臒谋na al谋yor. Sizi de Rus bozk谋r谋nda, do臒ada bir gezintiye 莽谋kar谋yor.
Bozk谋r, klasik bir 脟ehov 枚yk眉s眉 olsa da ben bir kere daha anlad谋m ki 脟ehov'un oyunlar谋 benim i莽in her zaman 莽ok daha ba艧ka olacak.
A short novel about a young boys trip across the steppe (I believe present day Ukraine?) in a chaise/britzka to start a new life getting an "education". Also starring the young boys uncle and a 70 year old priest on a journey to sell wool. They are trying to find a rich landowner who is often found roaming the steppe.
The book is very poetic and you get a great picture of the geography of the steppe including the flora and fauna. The second half the boy is left with another group of people and feels scared being away from his Uncle.
I perspective of the 9 year old boy is so well told, it feels so true to life and reminds one of when they were young.
It鈥檚 Chekhov. What can I say? A splendid story, complete with the most spectacular description of an electrical storm that I have ever read! I have experienced a lot of electrical storms in my lifetime - prairie storms, maritime storms, hurricanes, even a tornado. It is worth reading if only for that passage!
I am grateful that Chekhov was such a prolific writer. I doubt that I will live long enough to run out of something by Chekhov to read 鈥� at least, I hope not.
鈥淏ir ak谋l iyidir, ama iki ak谋l daha iyidir. Tanr谋 bir insana bir ak谋l veriyor, bir ba艧kas谋na iki, di臒erine ise 眉莽... Di臒erine 眉莽, do臒ru... Biri, annenin do臒urdu臒undaki ak谋l, di臒eri okumaktan gelen ak谋l, 眉莽眉nc眉s眉 de iyi ya艧amaktan...鈥�
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Eine kurze, unaufgeregt erz盲hlte Geschichte, in der Landschaft und Menschen der Steppe mit wenigen Worten wie mit gut gesetzten Pinselstrichen charakterisiert werden und eine Vorstellung des Lebens in diesem Landstrich in der zweiten H盲lfte des 19. Jahrhunderts erzeugen.
Egoru拧ka, ein neunj盲hriger Junge, reist mit seinem Onkel, einem Wollh盲ndler, durch die s眉drussische Steppe in eine gr枚脽ere Stadt, in der er das Gymnasium besuchen soll. Es ist eine mehrt盲gige Reise, in der die Landschaft, ihre Bewohner, die H盲ndler und Fuhrleute eine Hauptrolle spielen. Die Steppenlandschaft ist karg, trocken und eben, doch ab und zu kreuzt ein Fluss den Weg, der frisches Wasser und K眉hle verhei脽 sowie zum Baden einl盲dt. Die Menschen passen in diese Landschaft, sind einfach und ein wenig schrullig, gezeichnet von harter Arbeit, manchmal mit b枚sem 脺bermut und doch wieder sanftm眉tig und hilfsbereit. Nach etwa 160 Seiten hatte ich das Gef眉hl, die Gegend zu kennen, die Leiden eines Fuhrmanns oder das schwere Leben eines Herbergwirts nachvollziehen zu k枚nnen, die Schw眉le des Tages und die Gewalt eines Gewitters auf der Haut zu sp眉ren. Und mir wurde klar, wie einschneidend der Besuch eines Gymnasiums zu dieser Zeit war, denn der Junge war erst neun, musste seine Mutter bzw. seinen Heimatort verlassen ohne zu wissen wann er zur眉ckkommen wird und musste bei einer Frau wohnen, die er nicht kannte und die zuvor nicht wusste, dass sie einen Jungen beherbergen soll. Wie schnell musste man damals erwachsen werden. Es w盲re ebenso interessant gewesen, das weitere Leben des Jungen zu verfolgen, doch dieses Buch endet mit der Ankunft am Zielort.
Es war mein erstes Buch von Tschechow aber sicher nicht mein letztes. Sein Erz盲hlstil hat in mir so intensive Bilder erzeugt 鈥� das schaffen nur wenige Autoren. Und wenn auch nicht Handlung oder Dramatik im Vordergrund stehen, so bleibt doch eine Liebeserkl盲rung an eine ganz besondere Landschaft und deren Bewohner im Ged盲chtnis.
3,5 O Jovem Tch茅khov j谩 demonstrava talento com apenas vinte oito anos! Uma novela contemplativa, tanto da natureza quanto da gente humilde. Um menino que passa por uma jornada antes de iniciar seus estudos. Jornada sem grandes reviravoltas, mas que o faz vivenciar o que h谩 de mais aut锚ntico em seu universo: tem a oportunidade de conhecer a R煤ssia profunda, longe dos grandes centros; o povo simples que batalha e sustenta esse mundo; exerc铆cio de alteridade in loco. N茫o sabe o que esperar do futuro e o que vir谩. 脡 normal sentir medo do desconhecido. Mas quem sabe o desconhecido n茫o seja a real ess锚ncia para se trilhar um caminho? Assim como acontece em uma viagem n茫o planejada.
I have wanted to read Anton Chekhov鈥檚 鈥楾he Steppe鈥� for quite sometime. Chekhov has written many short stories and is an acknowledged master of that literary form. Generations of writers have been inspired by him. Chekhov also sneaked in a few long stories among his shorter ones. These were not technically short stories, because they were closer in length to a novella. 鈥楾he Steppe鈥� is the longest of these long stories. It is around a hundred pages. I read it slowly in a few days time. Here is what I think.
Yegorushka is a young boy. His mother decides one day that he should be sent to a good school in a bigger town. She asks Yegorushka鈥檚 uncle to take him and put him up in a friend鈥檚 place and get him into a good school. This place is far away. Yegorushka鈥檚 uncle is a businessman who makes frequent business trips and decides to take Yegorushka with him during one of these trips. An old priest accompanies them alongwith the coachman. They travel through the Russian steppe, stay in an inn, meet interesting people there, then the uncle has to take a detour and leaves Yegorushka with a group of peasants who are travelling in a group of coaches with bales of wool. During this trip Yegorushka meets an old man called Panteley whom he treats like his grandfather and who tells tales in the night by the campfire while everyone is having dinner, he sees all kinds of strange things in the steppe, meets a stranger who joins the group in the middle of the night and tells his own story over a campfire dinner, encounters a storm, gets unwell and then gets back well and finally ends up in his mother鈥檚 friend鈥檚 place where his uncle and the priest bade him goodbye and Yegorushka cries and wonders poignantly how his future will pan out.
Though Yegorushka is the main character in the story and we see events through his eyes, the story is really about the Russian Steppe and Yegorushka鈥檚 journey through it. The Russian Steppe is one of the main characters in the story and we can feel it breathing, feeling happy and sad and angry and indifferent to the humans who travel through it. Chekhov鈥檚 prose glows in those parts in which he writes about the steppe and makes it come alive for us. Those were some of my favourite parts of the story. I also loved the way the different characters were sculpted so beautifully in the story and the way they were distinctive from each other, starting with the uncle and the priest, an inn-worker called Solomon who doesn鈥檛 care about money and who is not afraid of anyone and Panteley, the old grandfather-ish man from the coach caravan. Those storytelling nights around the campfire were also some of my favourite moments from the story. Though Chekhov is regarded as a master of the short story form, he equally excels in the longer format. The beautiful descriptions of the steppe and its features, of the characters and their quirks, the graceful pace at which the story runs, the poignant scenes and the beautiful ending 鈥� they were all a pleasure to read.
鈥楾he Steppe鈥� is regarded as marking a turning point in Chekhov鈥檚 career. It has been described as a 鈥榮uperb and sustained prose poem鈥�. It has also been described as evoking the soul of Russia itself. I loved that last description. I think it is perfect. I think 鈥楾he Steppe鈥� is a love letter to Mother Russia, to the Russian soul and the soul of Russia, to the Russian way of life of a bygone era which is almost mythical now. It is beautiful to read, it gives goosebumps and one longs to be in the middle of the steppe and listen to Panteley鈥檚 tales while sitting next to the campfire while having some hot stew.
I wish Chekhov wrote more novellas. There is only one more story of comparable length to this one 鈥� 鈥楾he Duel鈥� 鈥� and there are a few more which can be regarded as short novellas (between 40 and 60 pages), and if I keep at it, I know that I will finish reading them in a week. I wish there were more. Chekhov died in the prime of his life 鈥� when he was forty four years old. I wish he had lived for more years. I wish he had written more novellas. I wish he had written a sequel to 鈥楾he Steppe鈥�. I would have loved to read that.
I am glad that I finally read 鈥楾he Steppe鈥�. I want to read Chekhov鈥檚 other long stories now. 鈥楾he Steppe鈥� is one of my favourites of the year and it is a story that I will be definitely reading again.
Here are some of my favourite passages to give you a flavor of the book鈥檚 beauty. The song was subdued, dreary and melancholy, like a dirge, and hardly audible, and seemed to come first from the right, then from the left, then from above, and then from underground, as though an unseen spirit were hovering over the steppe and singing. Yegorushka looked about him, and could not make out where the strange song came from. Then as he listened he began to fancy that the grass was singing; in its song, withered and half-dead, it was without words, but plaintively and passionately, urging that it was not to blame, that the sun was burning it for no fault of its own; it urged that it ardently longed to live, that it was young and might have been beautiful but for the heat and the drought; it was guiltless, but yet it prayed forgiveness and protested that it was in anguish, sad and sorry for itself.
And then in the churring of insects, in the sinister figures, in the ancient barrows, in the blue sky, in the moonlight, in the flight of the nightbird, in everything you see and hear, triumphant beauty, youth, the fullness of power, and the passionate thirst for life begin to be apparent; the soul responds to the call of her lovely austere fatherland, and longs to fly over the steppes with the nightbird. And in the triumph of beauty, in the exuberance of happiness you are conscious of yearning and grief, as though the steppe knew she was solitary, knew that her wealth and her inspiration were wasted for the world, not glorified in song, not wanted by anyone; and through the joyful clamour one hears her mournful, hopeless call for singers, singers!
When you gaze a long while fixedly at the deep sky thoughts and feelings for some reason merge in a sense of loneliness. One begins to feel hopelessly solitary, and everything one used to look upon as near and akin becomes infinitely remote and valueless; the stars that have looked down from the sky thousands of years already, the mists and the incomprehensible sky itself, indifferent to the brief life of man, oppress the soul with their silence when one is left face to face with them and tries to grasp their significance. One is reminded of the solitude awaiting each one of us in the grave, and the reality of life seems awful鈥ull of despair.
Life is terrible and marvellous, and so, however terrible a story you tell in Russia, however you embroider it with nests of robbers, long knives and such marvels, it always finds an echo of reality in the soul of the listener, and only a man who has been a good deal affected by education looks askance distrustfully, and even he will be silent. The cross by the roadside, the dark bales of wool, the wide expanse of the plain, and the lot of the men gathered together by the camp fire 鈥� all this was of itself so marvellous and terrible that the fantastic colours of legend and fairy-tale were pale and blended with life.
Have you read Chekhov鈥檚 鈥楾he Steppe鈥�? What do you think about it?
"Stepa", 膷iji je podnaslov "Povest jednog putovanja", jeste 膶ehovljeva novela koja, u potpunosti pisana u realisti膷kom klju膷u, opisuje svu 拧irinu i prostranstvo ruske zemlje. U dobu kada se razdaljina merila vrstama, a vreme od izlaska do zalaska sunca, jedan za 拧kolu stasali de膷ak (Jegoru拧ka) bi膰e poveden od strane svog ujaka Ivana Ivani膷a Kuzmi膷ova na 拧kolovanje. Dok bri膷kom ne stignu do de膷akovog budu膰eg boravi拧ta, 膶ehov 膰e suptilno ukazati na dve ve膷ite ljudske potrebe - za putovanjem i za pri膷anjem pri膷a. Filmskim re膷nikom re膷eno, ovo je delo koje obiluje dugim i sporim kadrovima u kojima 膰e u啪ivati ljubitelji "ne啪anrovske" umetnosti.
A jornada de um menino, saindo de sua cidade para estudar em outra, maior. Amei as descri莽玫es do campo, as hist贸rias dos trabalhadores, do pobre Ieg贸ruchka!
鈥淨uando contemplamos o c茅u profundo por muito tempo sem desviar os olhos, n茫o se sabe por que, os pensamentos e a alma se fundem na consci锚ncia da solid茫o.鈥�
"Seslerine ve g眉l眉艧lerine bakarak zek芒lar谋 hakk谋nda do臒ru h眉k眉m verilebilen insanlar vard谋r."
Biraz kendime geleyim diye bir hevesle ba艧lad谋臒谋m Bozk谋r, benim i莽in ciddi bir hayal k谋r谋kl谋臒谋 oldu. Daha 枚nce 脟ehov'un birka莽 kitab谋n谋 okumu艧, 枚zellikle Alt谋nc谋 Ko臒u艧'u 莽ok sevmi艧tim. Bozk谋r'谋n da onun kadar g眉zel olmas谋n谋 umuyordum ama heyhat.
Durgun ilerleyen, daha 莽ok do臒a tasvirleriyle bezeli bir kitapt谋. Okurken resmen yoruldum. Normalde uykum a莽谋ls谋n diye kitap okudu臒um bile olur ama ilk defa kitap okurken uykum geliyor diyen insanlar谋 anlama 艧ans谋 buldum. Bozk谋r'dan iki sayfa okumak uyku ilac谋 alm谋艧谋m gibi bir tesir b谋rakt谋 眉zerimde, kitab谋 g眉莽l眉kle bitirebildim.
Tabii bu benim okur g枚r眉艧眉m, a莽谋k莽as谋 edebi y枚n眉n眉 yahut edebiyattaki de臒erini ele艧tirecek kadar Rus Edebiyat谋'na hakim de de臒ilim. Ben be臒enmedim ama belki siz seversiniz, bilemiyorum. Yine de birine 脟ehov tavsiye edecek olsam Bozk谋r'谋 listeye almazd谋m.
Mestre das narrativas curtas, Tchekhov dizia que quando tentava ultrapassar o limite do conto para ir de encontro ao romance, parecia que as palavras lhe fugiam e acabava por tortura-lo, tornando a escrita tudo, menos original. Em A Estepe, Tchekhov n茫o precisou preencher muitas p谩ginas para criar uma obra-prima do conto russo.
Com um aspecto voltado para a interioriza莽茫o da R煤ssia czarista, assim como Turgu锚niev, o escritor brinca com a paisagem, com a terra e com aqueles por ela passa, faz da estepe, na maioria das vezes mon贸tona e sem grande gra莽a, a principal protagonista do conto, descrevendo desde o som dos animais ali viventes, at茅 as grandes tempestades que acabou por varrer a obra e levar o leitor junto em uma aventura improv谩vel. Como sempre, a mim, 茅 um prazer ler Tchekhov, assim como foi aqui.