Friends of Words

Category: Fiction

  • Grisha by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Grisha by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Chekhov’s short story Grisha explores the innocent and colorful world of a toddler. The heartwarming story is one of his earlier works, published in 1886.

    It is also available as part of a short story collection called Fifty Two stories published by Alfred A Knopf, translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.

    Grisha: Summary and Plot Analysis

    The story is a day in the life of a two-years-eight-month old boy named Grisha, living in a family with mama, papa, and nanny. Nanny has taken Grisha into a park on a sunny day. 

    His whole clumsy figure, stepping timidly and uncertainly, expresses the utmost perplexity.

    The park is very different from anything he is used to, living in a small room, every corner of which he is aware. His perception of everything is so primitive and adorable.

    In this new world( the park), where the sun dazzles his eyes, there are so many papas, mammas and aunts that you do not know who to run to.

    The toddler notices all sorts of people in the park and is increasingly perplexed. When not doing that, he is copying what he can. When he sees two dogs running in the park, it is only natural that he does that too. A tall man wearing a coat with shiny buttons soon comes up to greet his nanny. There is so much stimulation in this new surrounding that Grisha starts laughing.

    Soon after, the man with the shiny buttons and the nanny visits someone who has food and drinks ready. Grisha also gets to eat a little pie and drink a tiny sip. They return home, and Grisha tells his mama everything in the indecipherable babble language. 

    He had trouble sleeping as all the experiences of the day were too much for him to bear. He begins crying.

    Grisha: Review and My Thoughts

    The story is fantastic! One of the best portrayals of a toddler’s world I have read in a long, long time. It’s just not possible to go through this story without your heart being warmed, your soul being hugged. The innocent take of a toddler is such a breath of fresh air.

    Grisha’s family only has a pet cat, so look how he describes a dog-

    Two big cats with long muzzles, tongues hanging out and tails sticking up, run across the boulevard.

    Now tell me that it doesn’t melt your heart!

    Look how observant the kid is:

    Mama looks like a doll, and cat-like Papa’s fur coat, only the fur coat has no eyes or tail.

    Not to say, wise beyond his years (wink, wink)

    The nanny and mama are understandable: they dress Grisha, they feed him, and put him to bed, but what Papa exists for – nobody knows.

    In the evening, he simply can not fall asleep. Soldiers with besoms, big cats, horses, a piece of glass, a basin or oranges, the shiny buttons – it all gathers in a heap and presses down on his brain. It tosses from side to side, babbles, and finally, unable to bear his agitation, he starts to cry.

    So, that is the reason, people! You have heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. Less stimulation equates to a peaceful night’s sleep.

    On so many occasions when I have spent time reading in a park, my attention inadvertently goes to the toddlers, some of them visibly confused upon seeing so many adults. Many of them run towards their neighbors, calling them Papa and Mama while their actual parents are standing right next to them; poor things have no clue. 

    Inevitably everyone around the kid breaks into laughter – the kid, his parents, and the neighbors. It’s just an incredible feeling to witness that. Kids’ laughter is infectious and, more often than not, is entirely involuntary. 

    I know that I was that Grisha too, what seems like ages ago now, and sometimes I wish I never stopped being one. He is the happiest teacher in the world.

    But you know that already! Because you were one too 😛

  • Reading by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Reading by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Reading means a lot! A whole lot! Read, and you’ll see at once how sharply your horizons change. And you can get hold of books anywhere.

    This excerpt from Chekhov’s short story Reading is a hilarious take on reading and people’s perception about this habit. The story is one of his earlier works, published in 1884. It is also available as part of a short story collection called Fifty Two stories published by Alfred A. Knopf, translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.

    Reading: Summary and Plot Analysis

    The story opens in a government office where Impresario Galamidov and bureau chief Semipalatov are discussing the art and beauty of Russian actresses. 

    Semipalatov seems to be smitten by one particular young actress and is virtually speechless when he is interrupted by the office clerk, Merdyaev, to sign some official documents. Put off by the sudden interruption, he instead starts ridiculing the ignorance of this man.

    You said we no longer have any Gogolian types… But here you see! Isn’t he one? Scruffy, out at the elbows, and look how he writes! Illiterate, like a cobbler! Just look!

    Galamidov, taking a quick look at those papers, concludes that Merdyaev does not read much and suggests he picks up the habit to do so. After all, books are easy to get and open horizons. 

    He even offered to bring some to the office, which he did the next day. Merdyaev was handed a book to read; he was anxious from the very beginning.

    His crossed eyes shifted anxiously and seemed to be looking for help from the objects around him.

    The old office accountant Budylda tried to console him and offered some friendly advice regarding this Semipalatov mandated reading business. He advised that the clerk read just about enough to keep the chief off his back but warned against the repercussions of much involvement in the clever stuff.

    Read a little, and then, God grant, he will forget, and you can drop it. Don’t be afraid. And above all, Don’t get involved in it… Read but don’t get involved in this clever stuff.

    Merdyavev tried and tried but couldn’t make anything of it. On an encounter with the chief one day, he froze upon being asked to give a synopsis of what he had read. 

    The chief was not impressed and implored him to re-read other office folks to pick up books and begin reading. Almost everyone went along with the request except for the accountant, Buldylda. He was having none of it.

    No, excuse me, Your Excellency, I’d sooner take my retirement. I know what comes of some of these critiques and writings. On account of them, my older grandson calls his own mother a fool right to her face and gulps milk all through Lent. Excuse me sir!

    After repeated tries of making sense of the book given to Merdyaev, feeling helpless, the accountant asked to put in a request to the chief on his behalf to excuse him from reading.

    I’ll pray to God eternally for you! Ask his excellency to excuse me… I can’t read. I read day and night, don’t sleep, don’t eat… My wife’s worn out from reading aloud to me, but , God, strike me dead, I understand nothing! Do me this great service!

    Budylda tried doing that multiple times, but it just didn’t work. Semipalatov continued reproaching the staff for their ignorance until one fine day, Merdyaev showed up in the office, completely distraught, sobbing and asking for an apology for making counterfeit money and throwing a baby down a well.

    Semipalatov, confused, asked Budylda about such behavior and was told that the reading drove him insane.

    Merdyaev recovered but not completely. And to this day, he trembles and turns away from the sight of books.

    Reading: Review and My Thoughts

    The story is an absolute delight. A story on reading itself, how fascinating!

    I loved every character in the story, Semipalatov for his relentless pursuit of making his staff more art-friendly, and Budylda for his wisdom in doing and advising others to do just the opposite of that. 

    Merdyaev, for being the scared rabbit who went through hell and high water to avoid reading and finally freeing the whole office of the curse of reading. If not for him, their office would still be eventful. It would still have life.

    If I were to pick up my favorite quote from the story, it would have to be Galamidov saying:

    Reading means a lot! A whole lot! Read, and you’ll see at once how sharply your horizons change. And you can get hold of books anywhere.

    I am sure you have read this or heard this in some form or the other from someone in your life. Books are a whole new world and a perfect fit for a creature you seldom see at parties. When you do, in a corner glued to the only person they know from the lot or their cellphones, pretending to monitor social media feeds while actually scrolling through stories. 

    More often than not, this creature, when awake, is found cuddling books when not reading them.

    You might be that creature, and his story seems to be dedicated to you.

    To me, it felt like Chekhov speaking to his readers, donning Galamidov’s form in the story. Still, unlike Semapalatov’s staff, we are not complaining. 

  • Spring by Anton Chekhov: Review and Analysis

    Spring by Anton Chekhov: Review and Analysis

    Gustav Mahler, the famous Austro-Bohemian romantic composer, once said:

    “Spring won’t let me stay in the house any longer. I must get out and breathe the air deeply again.”

    I see myself nodding at this; I bet you do, too, in all likelihood.

    But not Chekhov’s protagonist from his short story called the Spring.

    This excerpt from Chekhov’s short story Spring explores the world of a writer, tormented by his demons and his struggles in carrying on with his ‘mediocre life.’ The story is one of his earlier works, published way back in 1886. It is also available as part of a short story collection called Fifty Two stories published by Alfred A. Knopf, translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.

    Spring: Summary, Plot Analysis and Review 

    The story captures the portrayal of spring in terms of its impact on writers vis-a-vis ordinary folk. Every ordinary person is happy – the gardener Pantelei Petrovich, the huntsman Ivan Zakharov, even the random lady sitting at the greenhouse. But not Makar Denisych. 

    It is not that poverty is the reason. In fact, Makar, who happens to be a writer and a poet, is tormented by the season. He is pretty well off.

    His salary is twice that of the gardener; he wears a white shirt, smokes expensive tobacco, is always well fed and well dressed.

    To Makar, the world is gloomy as much as it can get and springs even more so. Everyone he meets, everything he sees, reminds him of his ‘mediocrity’. He envies the gardener, the huntsman, and literally everyone because of how at peace he thinks they are.

    Sitting in his greenhouse or pottering in his garden, he has learned about the vegetable kingdom, something that no one else knows.

    His soul is filled with timidity. Instead of ecstasy, joy, and hopes, spring evokes in him only some sort of vague desires, which trouble him. So he walks along, unable to figure out what he needs. In fact, what does he need?

    A casual encounter with almost anyone brings him pain, of one sort or the other. No matter who he has it with, every conversation is a constant reminder of what he considers his giftlessness. 

    People, knowing that the writer he is, inadvertently assume that he is looking for inspiration and are eager to supply him with anecdotes he would find interesting to write on.

    What a pity you weren’t at the marketplace today! If you’d seen how comically those two peasants fought, you’d certainly have written about it!

    Splendid weather! Spring is here! Going for a stroll, getting inspired?

    But in his eyes is written: “Giftlessness! Mediocrity!”

    When the general he meets on a random stroll recounts a story written by a Frenchman that he had read earlier that day, he is quick to compare the quality of content to that of his own.

    I don’t know what he found good in it. The content is banal, hackneyed… My stories are much more substantial.

    He feels the world is out to get him, looking for every opportunity to insult him for being a mediocre writer. He feels offended by the slightest of comments and sometimes even references. 

    When people call him Mister Writer, he feels offended. He feels like everyone around is making special efforts not to ignore him, and that’s a sign of insult.

    But not to notice giftless Makar, who writes mediocre poetry and stories, to pass him over in silence without saying something offensive – is impossible.

    Every rejection he receives from the publishers to him is a mark of mediocrity. All the manuscripts lying in his trunk are constant reminders of lack of talent. He also feels that every single rejection he receives is the talk of the town.

    If there is something wrong with his writing, they don’t try to explain why it is wrong; they simply say, “Again, that son of a bitch wrote something rubbish!“

    He does seem to get a respite from the torment, maybe once every few years, coming across another misfit like himself, sharing a few laughs, and feeling light-hearted, but that doesn’t last long either. They, writers as they are, soon deny each other’s talents, do not accept each other, envy, hate, become vexed, and part as enemies. 

    The story is beautifully written, including portrayals of spring and emotions that go with it.

    If you have ever convalesced from a grave illness, you know the blissful state when you swoon from vague presentiments and smile without any reason. Evidently, that is the state nature is experiencing now.

    In that season, it feels good to drive dirty water along the gutters with a broom or a shovel, to send toy boats down the streams, or crack stubborn ice with your heels. It also feels good to drive pigeons high up into the heavens, or to climb trees and tie birdhouses in them. Everything feels good in that happy time of the year.

    Description of the writer, the characteristic misfit, is so on-point. Could anyone have done more justice?

    The whole district considers him a writer,a poet ; they all see something peculiar in him, say he talks differently, he walks differently, smokes differently, and once, at a general court session to which he had been summoned as a witness, he let slip inappropriately that he was occupied with literature, and blushed as deeply as if he had stolen a chicken.

    This one hit hard. Makar’s internal world of torment was too real. It must be a nightmare being him. I couldn’t help but think if Chekhov ever had those emotions being the writer he was. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, being the extraordinary talent he was. 

    I have been told that more talented writers hold themselves to the highest standards, constantly indulging in self-ridicule when they don’t meet them. In contrast, the not-so-good ones are usually much happier. Attribute this to the Dunning Kruger effect if you want. 

    Ernest Hemingway once said, “Writing, at its best, is a lonely life”

    I bet Makar agrees.

  • Anguish by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Anguish by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    My son’s dead, but I’m alive…It’s a wonder, death mixed up the doors, instead of coming to me, she went to my son…

    This excerpt from Chekhov’s short story Anguish explores the themes of grief, loneliness, and poverty in an indifferent society. The story is one of his earlier works published in 1886. It is also available as part of a short story collection called Fifty Two stories published by Alfred A Knopf, translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.

    Anguish: Plot Summary and Analysis

    The story revolves around a poor cabby named Iona Potapov, who has just lost his young son. It opens with Iona and his horse waiting for passengers. Since they have set out that afternoon, they haven’t even had any passengers. Both seem to be deep in thought when they hear someone call for a cabby. 

    Iona takes the passenger on and seems to be wanting to speak with him; nothing comes out except for a wheeze. He tries again and tells the passenger that his son recently died. 

    The conversation soon dies, as the officer is more interested in getting to his destination than speaking to the cabby.

    He drops the passenger at the destination and resumes the same morose posture as before, sunk deep in thought. This time, he receives three passengers who haggle over the fare, but Iona doesn’t care for the money. All he cares about right now is to share the grief and talk to someone about what he was going through. 

    Seeing that the men this time are more vocal – even the insults that they hurl at him for being so slow – don’t dampen his spirits much. 

    Pah, devil take you! Will you get moving or not, you old Cholera? Is this any way to drive? Beat her with the whip!

    He hears the abuse aimed at him, sees people, and the feeling of solitude slowly begins to lift from his chest. The hunchback keeps pouring out abuse until he chokes on a whimsical six-story curse.

    Sweet relief, he has a glimmer of hope now that he will be listened to. He launches the same conversation about his son’s recent death with the passengers.

    My son’s dead, but I’m alive…It’s a wonder; death mixed up the doors, instead of coming to me, she went to my son…

    Although the passengers are a bit more responsive this time than the last one, the journey ends soon enough, and Iona doesn’t get a chance to continue the conversation. 

    He is left alone again with the horse. From the sea of people around, he doesn’t have anyone to share his grief with. He feels utterly alone.

    Iona’s martyred eyes roam anxiously over the crowds flitting by on both sides of the street: Might he find amongst these thousands of people just one who would hear him out?

    He is back at the boarding house, and the fellow mates there are all asleep; there is no one to share the news with. He craves company. 

    At this point, he would love a female company, someone he can share with and get a reaction from. He hasn’t had success doing so thus far.

    The listener should gasp, sigh, murmur something.. It is still better to talk with women. They may be fools, but they howl after a couple of words.

    In the absence of human company to share the grief with, he opens up in front of the only living creature’s company he has—his horse.

    So it is , my little mare.. Kuzma Ionych is no more.. Gave up the ghost.. Just died for nothing…. It is sad isn’t it?

    The nag chews, listens and breathes on her master’s hands.

    Iona gets carried away and tells her everything.

    Anguish: Review and My Thoughts

    The story was heartbreaking to say the least. The guy has just lost his son, hasn’t been able to process his grief yet, can’t make ends meet being a cabby, and can’t properly feed the only living creature that is his livelihood and his company. 

    There is almost nothing going right in this guy’s life. All he needs is someone to talk to. I just couldn’t help but remember this line from Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem called The Rime of the Ancient Mariner:

    Water, water everywhere, not any drop to drink.

    Every opportunity that he gets for human company lifts his spirits in the hope that he might be able to unburden himself of the grief. 

    The man finds comfort in any human conversation, even when the passengers are hurling insults at him – just because he doesn’t feel alone anymore in that duration. 

    But with every dark cloud, there is a silver lining. His mind is still with him. His disposition is still somewhat sunny. He still likes to be in the company of people, years of solitude, and this sudden unfortunate event hasn’t taken humanity away from him. 

    Coping with grief is difficult even in the presence of loved ones; without it is virtually impossible. 

    John Donne wasn’t wrong when he said ‘No man is an island’. 

    Iona was able to find a solution to his problem when there was none to be found. Humanity can too.

  • A Slip-Up by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Analysis

    A Slip-Up by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Analysis

    Be happy, my dears! Oh! You are taking from me my only treasure! Love my daughter, be good to her!

    Something you would expect to be said in a marriage ceremony. And it almost was. Welcome to another Chekhov short story with a twist.

    This excerpt from Chekhov’s short story A Slip Up is a hilarious take on a young man’s lack of commitment to the wedding and the parents who are ready to bless the union before it even shows signs of qualifying.

    The story is one of his earlier works, published way back in 1886. It is also available as part of a short story collection called Fifty Two stories published by Alfred A Knopf, translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.

    A Slip Up: Summary and Plot Analysis

    Ilya Peplov and Kleopatra Petrovna are parents to a young woman Natashenka, who is being ‘courted’ by a local school teacher Gropekin. The parents seem to be eavesdropping on what they feel is a confession of love to each other. 

    They plan to seal the deal by blessing them with an icon at the very opportune moment to make the union binding for both.

    Unaware of any such plans, the young couple seems to be having a leisurely conversation.

    You teach penmanship and your handwriting is like chicken scratches!

    In penmanship the main thing isn’t handwriting, the main thing is that the pupils shouldn’t doze off. One gets it on the head with a ruler, another’s made to stand in a corner.. What’s handwriting! A waste of time!

    Things start to get a bit emotional for Natashenka, and she offers that he kiss her little hand in confession of his love to her. Gropekin, of course, is onboard with that. 

    Hearing this part of the conversation, the parents feel that time has finally come. Peplov asks Kleopatra to fetch the icon so they can go ahead, bless the union and seal the deal. Cleopatra grabs an icon and they barge in.

    The Lord will bless you, my children. Live, be fruitful, multiply.

    Be happy, my dears! Oh! You are taking from me my only treasure! Love my daughter, be good to her!

    Gropekin completely froze at the scene – the assault was so sudden. He had been caught, after all, there was no way he was going to be able to get out of it. He was almost on the verge of giving up when he realized that what was supposed to be an icon to bless was actually a writer’s portrait. 

    The mother, in her excitement and rush, picked up the wrong icon by mistake. He was saved. 

    In the ensuing confusion and embarrassment, Gropekin found the perfect opportunity to escape this time for good.

    The teacher of penmanship took advantage of the situation and fled.

    A Slip Up: Review and My Thoughts

    Minus the icon thing, this situation is all too familiar—the young couple as well as the parents.

    Natashenka seems to be in love, while Gropekin appears to be looking for a quick win. 

    Natashenka’s parents are eager to have the union formalized. Surprise, surprise! So much so that they are willing to lay down a trap the guy can’t escape out of.

    As for Gropekin, Wedding doesn’t seem like the price he is willing to pay, at least not now. As the parents stand in confusion and embarrassment about picking up the wrong icon, Gropekin doesn’t lose a minute before escaping. 

    Gropekin reminded me just a little bit of Chekhov. Chekhov is known to have had a fair share of affairs, and his lack of commitment was never a secret. 

    On the topic of marriage, He is known to have said: 

    A man and a woman marry because both of them do not know what to do with themselves.

    I don’t know if I can commit to an agreement or a disagreement with it.