Friends of Words

Category: Fiction

  • Joy by Anton Chekhov: Summary, Analysis and Review

    Joy by Anton Chekhov: Summary, Analysis and Review

    If I say imagine ‘trading room’, what images come to mind?

    Every time someone says the words, if you ask me, a very consistent set of images appear before my eyes. Phones ringing everywhere, some papers stacked at desks and some flying around, everyone stressed, clocks displaying times from all major time zones, someone going berserk at the dealer on the phone, etc. 

    It’s scary how consistently the same themes appear in those images, regardless of the setting I imagine them in.

    Now, let’s change the words. Let’s just say ‘Joy’; what images come to mind now?

    Depending on your age, it might be your favorite ice cream, your favorite dress, your favorite person, your favorite travel destination, your favorite cake, or maybe even your favorite pillow. 

    I have had all of those images appearing in my mind at some point or the other on my at-work daydreaming sprees. 

    But the fascinating thing about joy was that the images were not as consistent as those that appeared when I imagined a trading room or even a grocery store. 

    Joy is something abstract, and sometimes I go nuts imagining philosophers of ‘yore poring over huge fat books trying to develop an all-encompassing definition of Joy. 

    I know my limits, and I feel that I would never define joy or even agree with someone’s definition of it. It’s too abstract for all that. Or so I thought.

    And came along Chekhov and his short story aptly called Joy. The story is one of his earlier works, published way back in 1883. 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.

    Joy: Summary and Plot Analysis

    The story opens with a boy Mitya Kuldarov running to his parent’s apartment; his schoolboy brothers are asleep while his sister is busy reading a novel. He has a newspaper in his hand, feeling giddy with joy, unable to even calm down and share the news with his family. 

    As the family pokes some more, he eventually calms down to share the reason behind that exhilaration but not before a slight rebuke.

    You live like wild animals, don’t read the newspapers, don’t pay any attention to publicity, yet there are so many amazing things in the newspapers!

    It turns out that the local paper ran a story about Mitya, one wherein a state of complete intoxication, he was trampled on over by a horse, knocked unconscious, and then given first aid at the hospital. Mitya is utterly insane with joy.

    “Oh, lord! Newspapers only write about famous people, and now they have written about me!.. It will spread all over Russia!”

    As soon as Mitya tells his father that his name appeared in the papers, he goes pale, as if nothing good would ever come out of a poor man’s name in the papers- especially one of his son’s caliber.

    After his father is done reading, he takes the newspaper back and takes his leave, very excited to share with the rest of the community. There is a smile on his face and a zing in his steps.

    Joy: Review and My Thoughts

    This Mitya is going crazy with happiness, at least gauging from his behavior throughout the story. At one point, it just stopped making sense to me. Who, in their right mind, would go about broadcasting such a mishap? I know for a fact that if something like that comes in papers about me, I will change my name and my identity and live in some obscure corner of the world. 

    So, maybe he wasn’t in the right mind? Perhaps he was drunk? It makes sense to me that he might be. But then that leaves lots of questions in my head, ones I seem to be desperately seeking answers to. Maybe in a state of sobriety, he won’t feel as happy? Or would he? 

    I couldn’t help trying to dissect the reason behind the sheer joy.

    Now, acknowledging that the story is set in an age almost 150 years ago, I don’t understand much. 

    So, I will do the next best thing – compare with the current times. 

    News spreads much faster today. All Mitya would need to do is share a social media post, and everyone gets to know at once. 

    Not just Russia, the whole world gets to know, and that too, in a matter of seconds. So this pace of communication, does it increase or decrease Mitya’s joy? 

    Say Mitya is drunk, and as soon as he gains sobriety, he sees a viral feed circulating on Youtube about his drunken adventure, a kick by the horse, and emergency room care. Does this increase or decrease his depression?

    Where exactly is this joy?

    Is that in Mitya’s mind? Or is that in sharing experiences with the ones he is close to? 

    Is it in his devil-may-care attitude? Is it a combination of all? 

    Or is it none of these?

    You see, Chekhov’s Mitya is not the only one known for drunken rants. 

    If you are not ‘drunk with joy’ yourself, then you probably know who I am talking about.

  • 1001 Passions, or a Dreadful Night by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    1001 Passions, or a Dreadful Night by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Yesterday my second son was born, I was so happy I hanged myself.

    I read this, and I was completely creeped out. What! Really? Until the dormant little me kicked in, saying it could have been a dream.. and yes, it was. Thankfully! Not mine, but of the protagonist from Chekhov’s short story 1001 Passions or a Dreadful Night. 

    The story was first published in July 1880 in The Dragonfly. It is now available as part of a short story collection called ‘Prank’ published by The New York Review books translated by Maria Bloshteyn.

    1001 Passions or a Dreadful Night: Summary and Plot Analysis

    The story opens in a somewhat surreal setting at midnight. It’s raining heavily, and thunder leveled buildings around. The wind is howling, and a meteor shower is happening at the same time. A bell tolls ominously somewhere distant, and the elements are at battle with each other. 

    The protagonist Antonio is out with Theodore, husband of a woman Antonio loves. He plans to kill Antonio and have his wife all for himself. He kills both Antonio and the coachman by pushing them onto a volcano and falls to the ground weeping.

    Antonio then goes to see the woman at her apartment, kills the maid. The woman gets to see the death of her husband in Antonio’s eyes and falls in love with her. She then asks Antonio to forgive the enemies that he killed. They are blessed with a baby boy who looks like his mother, and then have a second one shortly after. It was later revealed that all of it was a dream.

    See for yourself!

    My little boy reaches out his hands to the readers, exhorting them not to listen to his Papa. His papa had no children, his papa had no wife. His papa fears marriage like the plague. My boy doesn’t lie. He is an infant. Believe him. Infancy is a holy age. None of this ever happened…. Good night.

    1001 Passions or a Dreadful Night: Review and My Thoughts

    The story was absurd to begin with. None of it was making any sense, and that made me more and more restless. It was bizarre (and surreal?)

    There was a bit Kafkaesque glimmer somewhere, and then it went too far to sound real anymore. The story was super absurd and fast-paced, but there were so many poetic expressions, I found myself fan-girling over.

    Rain and snow – those two sodden brothers – battered our faces with terrible force.

    Who doesn’t tremble before nature’s grandeur?

    The elements battled each other. Unseen forces strove to achieve a terrifying harmony of the elements. What are these forces? Will mankind ever know them?

    Death is both fetters and freedom from fetters

    The gaze is the sword of the soul.

    The groaning of the wind – what is it but a conscience groaning under the weight of horrific crimes?

    Dreams are fascinating, but of course! You don’t need someone else telling you that; you already know! However young or old you are, there would have been occasions where you would have recounted your dream in front of a close friend or a family member, beginning with ‘I had the weirdest dream!’. 

    I have done that too, but not lately, not since my brother has become intelligent enough to start policing me on it. ‘ Who doesn’t have weird dreams, come on!’. 

    He’s got a point, but I don’t tell him that.

  • In a Train Car by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    In a Train Car by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Travel is so delightful. You get to know people so quickly and so well. So intimately, when you travel. I just adore travel!

    Being a colossal travel freak, I found myself nodding like crazy when I read this, and it is never a dull ride with Chekhov on the side! ( Sorry, bad rhymes! I couldn’t resist.)

    Prepare for a short but very delightful journey with Chekhov’s short story called In the Train Car. 

    The story, published in March 1880 in The Dragonfly, was considered by his family to have been the first one. It is now available as part of a short story collection called ‘Prank’ published by The New York Review books translated by Maria Bloshteyn.

    In a Train Car: Summary and Plot Analysis

    The story is set on a train journey from fun-crash station to save-yourselves-if-you-can station. See a theme right from the start, don’t you?

    Our protagonist, counting his sins in his mind and peering out of the train, feels someone trying to pickpocket him. He confronts the man, and the situation is resolved quickly, no-fuss. 

    As soon as the train halts at the next station, passengers cram the restaurant at the station.

    The scene inside the train is busy and no less interesting. One man is crying about socks and shoes stolen off of his feet, and the policemen nearby asking him not to create a ruckus instead of finding the thief. 

    There are a bunch of fare-beaters on the train – ones that prefer paying the conductor directly rather than buying the Railways ticket. There are couples separated at the station, the separated spouses running back while fellow passengers throw their belongings out – to help them, of course! Only to have the separated spouse come back again looking for their items. Some people are sitting in the wrong train.

    One word description that would fit the scene: Pandemonium.

    In a Train Car: Review and Quotes

    I loved this story, mainly because it was a nostalgic trip down memory lane. The portrayal is so fresh and vivid and, needless to say, so relatable. I was pleasantly surprised to read that there were these so-called farebeaters in Russia too!

    It’s a fine thing to be a fare-beater, dear reader! They(passengers) don’t have to line up to buy it, they don’t have to show it, and the conductors are more polite to them to boot! Everything you could possibly wish for!

    I have had my fair share of trips through train stations infested with pickpockets, losing my purse on one unfortunate occasion at a busy station. The book brought that memory back to haunt me, albeit much more dramatically than my personal experience.

    A stranger in a straw hat and a dark grey shirt runs past. He is clutching a suitcase. Oh my God, it’s mine!

    Also I can remember quite vividly how scared I used to feel every time my father would leave to get refreshments at a station, worried that he might be left behind. Through the window, I would peek as far as my vision would let me, scanning for the presence of my father! 

    The separation of Pakhom and Petrovna in the story was spot on! It was hilarious that Petrovna’s friend threw all her belongings out the train in the hope that she is able to find it – only to see her return to the carriage and curse the living storm out of her.

    You are a witch, a regular witch, Lord forgive me! What do I do now? Why didn’t you throw your own bag out? Or your ugly mug? I hope your guts crawl out of you!

    And then you have all sorts of eaters in the train – some that go through the whole journey, without taking anything else much other than air, and there are others, who wont let go of even a moment without chewing something or the other.

    Here’s a Chekhovian variety eater.

    He struggles to reply, He has got a fossilized sandwich stuck in his throat.

    And there is always one completely clueless man or woman who has the wrong ticket for the wrong date and destination. Here is one from the story, who starts bawling the minute the controller tells him that he is going in the wrong direction. The passenger’s response and the controller’s way of consolation add further to the comic element of the setting of this story.

    Don’t cry! Ask for help! Look at the size of you, you big blockhead – bawling like a baby! You’re probably married with children,and just look at you!

    There is so much to love about this story and more so, if you have ever happened to enjoy a train ride, preferably a sketchy one. Chekhov can find humor anywhere.

    I go back to my car, number 224. Everything’s the same : darkness, snoring, stale tobacco and rotgut- this is Russia alright.

    Time to book that train ride, eh? 

    Better with Chekhov than without.

  • A Letter to a Learned Neighbor By Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    A Letter to a Learned Neighbor By Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    For if man, the ruler of the world, the smartest of all breathing creatures, descended from the stupid and ignorant ape, then we would have a tail and a beastly voice.

    It sounds like something an innocent kid might ask before having been introduced to evolution. Or probably a very, very older person, whom you may have had the pleasure of talking to. 

    Well, in this specific case, this is an old and conceited landowner from Chekhov’s short story called A Letter to a Learned Neighbour. 

    The story, published in March 1880 in The Dragonfly, was considered by his family to have been the first one. It is now available as part of a short story collection called Prank published by The New York Review books translated by Maria Bloshteyn.

    A Letter to a Learned Neighbor: Plot Analysis and Review

    The story opens with a certain landowner, Vasily Semi-Bulatov, writing a letter to his neighbor, who seems to have earned a name for himself in the field of science. He begins with introducing himself to his neighbor, and the very outset belittles himself.

    A whole year has passed by since you settled here neighboring me, and insignificant nobody, and you are still not acquainted with me, pathetic flittering insect that I am.

    After offering all sorts of praise to his neighbor in his letter, he begins to express his reservations on the Scientific findings and goes on to say how distressing they are to him outright.

    Every (scientific) discovery torments me like a sharp nail hammered into my back.

    His letter is laden with spelling mistakes, exposing his boorish manner. He goes on, at length, at the so-called scientific findings that don’t make any sense to him. His reasoning for attacking such scientific findings is infantile. 

    Definitely chuckle-worthy. Consider, for example, these gems of wisdom from the old man.

    I can not stomach it in silence when scientists reason incorrectly about the night’s loominary, that is, the moon, which replaces the sun for us during the hours of darkness, when people sleep, while you are conducting electricity from place to place and fantasizing.

    (How) Could people live on the moon if it exists only during the night and disappears during the day?

    How could you see spots on the sun when you can’t even look at it with plain eyes?

    In the winter , day is short because , akin to other objects, visible and invisible, it shrinks from the cold, as the sun sets early, while the night expands from the illumination of fixtures and streetlamps because it warms up thereby. I have made many discoveries like this but have neither any award or certificates to show for it.

    Now, you might brush his ignorance aside; it seems pretty harmless, but wait till you find out that his old man considers himself a man of science when making such scientific observations that he does not have certificates and diplomas to show for.

    The letter ends with an invitation to his neighbor to come to visit their family and to bring along some clever books for her emaniseepated daughter to enjoy. 

    He also has specific instructions for the neighbor around the timing of the delivery of the letter. The learned neighbor had to make sure to slap the steward across the face if the letter was delayed beyond the specified time. 

    The old landowner doesn’t sound like an easy master, definitely quick to exercise his authority over those in a lower rung of society than him. 

    This letter should be delivered to you by my steward Trofim exactly at eight in the evening. If he brings it later than that, give him a couple of good slaps across his face, professional style.

    And as if hell-bent on exposing his true nature, and his characteristic boorish stupidity, he signs the letter with:

    I remain respectfully yours, the retired non commissioned officer of the Don Cossack Host, member of nobility, your neighbor – Vasily Semi-Bulatov

    The element of irony that Chekhov loves so much is readily apparent in the story. 

    Vasily is a pompous buffoon, making scientific observations based on nothing but his own whims and fancies with significant blunders in spelling, syntax, and diction. 

    All of that, to sound knowledgeable, boast of his credentials to get in the good books of his learned neighbor.

    It was fun to find out that this story used to be a skit that Chekhov performed for his guests. One where a third-rate professor goes on about his scientific discoveries in public. This character became Vasily Bulatov. 

    Another fun fact that I got to know was about the correspondence from the publisher.

    After submitting the story to The Dragonfly, he received feedback from the publisher “not bad at all” followed by invitation to contribute more stories. 

    Say what you will about publishers, but this one seemed to have a head over his shoulders.

  • Temperaments by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Temperaments by Anton Chekhov: Summary and Review

    Scamps, Ramp Scallions and ne’er-do-wells are all of sanguine temperament. It is not recommended to sleep in the same room with anyone who is a sanguine: He’ll tell you jokes all night, and if he does not know any jokes, he will criticize his relatives or else tell lies. He will die of a disease of the digestive system and premature burnout.

    It sounds like a section from your newspaper’s Astrology section, which has a zodiac feel to it, doesn’t it?. Prepare to be surprised by Chekhov’s humorous take on human temperaments in his short story The Temperaments. First published in September 1881 in the Journal The Spectator, it is now available as part of a short story collection called ‘Prank’ published by The New York Review books translated by Maria Bloshteyn.

    Temperaments: Quotes from the story

    Chekhov has divided human temperaments into four major categories – Sanguine, Choleric, Phlegmatic, and Melancholic – further bifurcated into male and female varieties. The result is a hilarious account of all sorts of personalities.

    Here are a few excerpts from his classifications-

    Sanguine male, for example, is constant in his inconstancy. He is rude to teachers, doesn’t get haircuts, doesn’t shave, wears glasses, and scribbles on walls. He gets married by accident.

    Sanguine females are the most bearable of the women, at least when not stupid.

    Choleric Male is bilious with a yellow-gray face. The nose is crooked, and the eyes go around in the sockets like hungry wolves in their narrow cage. He is easily annoyed. If the howling of a cat disturbs him, he orders a servant to climb on the roof and strangle the creature, come hell or high water. He will die of consumption or of liver disease.

    A Choleric female is a devil in a skirt.

    Phlegmatic males think that it’s a pity that children aren’t beaten at school and don’t mind administering a good beating themselves. Only when selected for jury duty, does he fall sick.

    Phlegmatic female looks like a sack of flour and is born to become a mother-in-law. That’s her life’s ambition.

    A Male melancholic is ever ready to shed a tear. He is prone to hypochondria. Long ago, he decided that the doctors didn’t understand him. He suspects every dog of having rabies. He groans and moans day and night; that’s why sharing a room with him is not recommended.

    A Melancholic female is an impossible restless creature.

    Temperaments: Review and My Thoughts

    Now you might have a go at the story (and I highly recommend that you do), and think it is a load of baloney. 

    You would be right, most of it is, but you would probably be surprised to know that there is a proto-psychological theory of Four Temperaments, which is what seems to be an inspiration for this little nugget. 

    Funnily enough, to cast a funny shadow on it, Chekhov even called his story The Temperaments (based on the latest scientific findings). A clever writer that he is, he used plenty of other elements to keep the account interesting. 

    For example, his account of male personalities is considerably longer than the female ones. Now, why would that be?

    Female humans are an enigma; why even pretend to understand, eh? 

    Full confession: in my teen years (it seems like it was centuries ago now!), I had my fair share of obsessing over the Horoscope section. 

    After all, how could I face the brave new world without knowing what my lucky numbers or lucky colors were? Won’t it be a great skill to know that Leos are to be feared for their anger and Cancerians are to be confided in? 

    Thankfully, I grew out of my fixation with it, but I do catch myself casting sideways glances on the horoscope section now and then. This story just drilled it further in my being- the ridiculousness of it all. 

    Humans tend to generalize things to aid speedy learning, but generalizing to ridiculous proportions does just the opposite.

    Our very unique temperaments are a testimony to that.