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The Black Monk
This book contains two of Chekhov's stories about Russian life.
90 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1894
About the author
Anton Chekhov
5,779 books10k followers
Antón Chéjov
(Spanish)
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 ( Антон Павлович Чехов ) in the small southern seaport of Taganrog, the son of a grocer. His grandfather, a serf, bought his own freedom and that of his three sons in 1841. He also taught to read. A cloth merchant fathered Yevgenia Morozova, his mother.
"When I think back on my childhood," Chekhov recalled, "it all seems quite gloomy to me." Tyranny of his father, religious fanaticism, and long nights in the store, open from five in the morning till midnight, shadowed his early years. He attended a school for Greek boys in Taganrog from 1867 to 1868 and then Taganrog grammar school. Bankruptcy of his father compelled the family to move to Moscow. At the age of 16 years in 1876, independent Chekhov for some time alone in his native town supported through private tutoring.
In 1879, Chekhov left grammar school and entered the university medical school at Moscow. In the school, he began to publish hundreds of short comics to support his mother, sisters and brothers. Nicholas Leikin published him at this period and owned Oskolki (splinters), the journal of Saint Petersburg. His subjected silly social situations, marital problems, and farcical encounters among husbands, wives, mistresses, and lust; even after his marriage, Chekhov, the shy author, knew not much of whims of young women.
Nenunzhaya pobeda , first novel of Chekhov, set in 1882 in Hungary, parodied the novels of the popular Mór Jókai. People also mocked ideological optimism of Jókai as a politician.
Chekhov graduated in 1884 and practiced medicine. He worked from 1885 in Peterburskaia gazeta.
In 1886, Chekhov met H.S. Suvorin, who invited him, a regular contributor, to work for Novoe vremya, the daily paper of Saint Petersburg. He gained a wide fame before 1886. He authored The Shooting Party , his second full-length novel, later translated into English. Agatha Christie used its characters and atmosphere in later her mystery novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd . First book of Chekhov in 1886 succeeded, and he gradually committed full time. The refusal of the author to join the ranks of social critics arose the wrath of liberal and radical intelligentsia, who criticized him for dealing with serious social and moral questions but avoiding giving answers. Such leaders as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov, however, defended him. "I'm not a liberal, or a conservative, or a gradualist, or a monk, or an indifferentist. I should like to be a free artist and that's all..." Chekhov said in 1888.
The failure of The Wood Demon , play in 1889, and problems with novel made Chekhov to withdraw from literature for a period. In 1890, he traveled across Siberia to Sakhalin, remote prison island. He conducted a detailed census of ten thousand convicts and settlers, condemned to live on that harsh island. Chekhov expected to use the results of his research for his doctoral dissertation. Hard conditions on the island probably also weakened his own physical condition. From this journey came his famous travel book.
Chekhov practiced medicine until 1892. During these years, Chechov developed his concept of the dispassionate, non-judgmental author. He outlined his program in a letter to his brother Aleksandr: "1. Absence of lengthy verbiage of political-social-economic nature; 2. total objectivity; 3. truthful descriptions of persons and objects; 4. extreme brevity; 5. audacity and originality; flee the stereotype; 6. compassion." Because he objected that the paper conducted against [a:Alfred Dreyfu
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 ( Антон Павлович Чехов ) in the small southern seaport of Taganrog, the son of a grocer. His grandfather, a serf, bought his own freedom and that of his three sons in 1841. He also taught to read. A cloth merchant fathered Yevgenia Morozova, his mother.
"When I think back on my childhood," Chekhov recalled, "it all seems quite gloomy to me." Tyranny of his father, religious fanaticism, and long nights in the store, open from five in the morning till midnight, shadowed his early years. He attended a school for Greek boys in Taganrog from 1867 to 1868 and then Taganrog grammar school. Bankruptcy of his father compelled the family to move to Moscow. At the age of 16 years in 1876, independent Chekhov for some time alone in his native town supported through private tutoring.
In 1879, Chekhov left grammar school and entered the university medical school at Moscow. In the school, he began to publish hundreds of short comics to support his mother, sisters and brothers. Nicholas Leikin published him at this period and owned Oskolki (splinters), the journal of Saint Petersburg. His subjected silly social situations, marital problems, and farcical encounters among husbands, wives, mistresses, and lust; even after his marriage, Chekhov, the shy author, knew not much of whims of young women.
Nenunzhaya pobeda , first novel of Chekhov, set in 1882 in Hungary, parodied the novels of the popular Mór Jókai. People also mocked ideological optimism of Jókai as a politician.
Chekhov graduated in 1884 and practiced medicine. He worked from 1885 in Peterburskaia gazeta.
In 1886, Chekhov met H.S. Suvorin, who invited him, a regular contributor, to work for Novoe vremya, the daily paper of Saint Petersburg. He gained a wide fame before 1886. He authored The Shooting Party , his second full-length novel, later translated into English. Agatha Christie used its characters and atmosphere in later her mystery novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd . First book of Chekhov in 1886 succeeded, and he gradually committed full time. The refusal of the author to join the ranks of social critics arose the wrath of liberal and radical intelligentsia, who criticized him for dealing with serious social and moral questions but avoiding giving answers. Such leaders as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov, however, defended him. "I'm not a liberal, or a conservative, or a gradualist, or a monk, or an indifferentist. I should like to be a free artist and that's all..." Chekhov said in 1888.
The failure of The Wood Demon , play in 1889, and problems with novel made Chekhov to withdraw from literature for a period. In 1890, he traveled across Siberia to Sakhalin, remote prison island. He conducted a detailed census of ten thousand convicts and settlers, condemned to live on that harsh island. Chekhov expected to use the results of his research for his doctoral dissertation. Hard conditions on the island probably also weakened his own physical condition. From this journey came his famous travel book.
Chekhov practiced medicine until 1892. During these years, Chechov developed his concept of the dispassionate, non-judgmental author. He outlined his program in a letter to his brother Aleksandr: "1. Absence of lengthy verbiage of political-social-economic nature; 2. total objectivity; 3. truthful descriptions of persons and objects; 4. extreme brevity; 5. audacity and originality; flee the stereotype; 6. compassion." Because he objected that the paper conducted against [a:Alfred Dreyfu
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March 6, 2024
The Black Monk and The Peasants are tenebrous and symbolic stories possessing the power of parables.
To soothe his shattered nerves Master of Arts goes to the country for the spring and summer and there he seems to remember an old legend…
And suddenly this apparitional messiah appears to him and as a result of talking to the Monk the main character is overwhelmed with ideas and inspiration to realize his high ideals… However, the spectre warns him…
His relatives become aware that he is mentally ill and start curing him but after recuperation, he turns apathetic and completely uninspired.
Deprived of ideals, stripped of illusions, man loses a reason to exist and is destined to die.
The Peasants is based on contrasts – the grandeur of nature is opposed to the wretchedness of living…
An ailing waiter, taking along his wife and daughter, returns to his native village – the best place for invalids – where, he supposes, life is cheaper and easier. But there is no bucolic idyll and he finds himself surrounded with ultimate poverty, ignorance, rudeness and hopelessness…
And with every new day life becomes even grimmer and worse…
Ignorant man is his own enemy… Brief joyful youth is soon left behind like a forgotten dream and nothing but misery and death lie ahead.
To soothe his shattered nerves Master of Arts goes to the country for the spring and summer and there he seems to remember an old legend…
“A thousand years ago a certain monk, clad in black, was walking in the desert somewhere in Syria or Arabia… A few miles from the place where he was walking some fishermen saw another black monk moving slowly across the surface of a lake. This other monk was a mirage… But the main point, the very essence of the whole legend, consists in this, that exactly a thousand years from the time the monk was walking in the desert the mirage will again be present in the atmosphere of the world, and it will show itself to men. It appears that those thousand years are nearly accomplished… Accordingly to the legend we can expect the Black Monk either to-day or to-morrow.”
And suddenly this apparitional messiah appears to him and as a result of talking to the Monk the main character is overwhelmed with ideas and inspiration to realize his high ideals… However, the spectre warns him…
“How do you know that the men of genius, who are believed in by the whole world, have not also seen visions? Scholars say now that genius is allied to insanity. My friend, only the ordinary people – the herd – are quite well and normal.”
His relatives become aware that he is mentally ill and start curing him but after recuperation, he turns apathetic and completely uninspired.
Deprived of ideals, stripped of illusions, man loses a reason to exist and is destined to die.
The Peasants is based on contrasts – the grandeur of nature is opposed to the wretchedness of living…
An ailing waiter, taking along his wife and daughter, returns to his native village – the best place for invalids – where, he supposes, life is cheaper and easier. But there is no bucolic idyll and he finds himself surrounded with ultimate poverty, ignorance, rudeness and hopelessness…
“He’s no profit,” said the old woman in a lachrymose voice. “Our men are not much use, they bring nothing home with them, and only take things. Our Kiriak drinks; and the old man, there’s no use hiding it, himself knows the way to the drink-shop. They’ve angered our Mother in Heaven!”
In honor of the guests the samovar was brought out. The tea smelt of fish, the sugar was damp and looked as if it had been gnawed, the bread and vessels were covered with cockroaches; it was painful to drink, and painful to hear the talk – of nothing but poverty and sickness.
And with every new day life becomes even grimmer and worse…
Ignorant man is his own enemy… Brief joyful youth is soon left behind like a forgotten dream and nothing but misery and death lie ahead.
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March 4, 2026
Chekhov's tale revolves around three individuals: Kovrin, a scholar and philosopher, Pesotsky, owner of a large estate where he keeps orchards and gardens, and Tánya, Pesotsky's beautiful young daughter.
A bit worn out from all his studies, his doctor friend advises Kovrin to spend the spring and summer in the country. Just then, Kovrin receives a letter from Tánya asking him to visit her father (Kovrin's parents died when he was young and he became Pesotsky's ward). After some time in solitude, Kovrin does visit Pesotsky and shortly thereafter, falls in love with Tánya.
Chekhov frames his tale thusly. However, there's an added element: Kovrin receives visits from the Black Monk who convinces him that he's a genius, an elected one far above the mediocre herd (we hear echoes of Nietzsche in the monk's words). On some level Kovrin understands the monk is a projection of his imagination, a powerful hallucination...but still.
A more detailed synopsis along with critical analysis of the story is available online. Thus I'll shift to my own more personal take on Chekhov's tale linked with several author quotes.
“So he alone had seen the Black Monk. He felt a strong desire to tell what he had seen to Tánya and Yegor Semiónovitch, but feared that they would regard it as a hallucination, and decided to keep his counsel. He laughed loudly, sang, danced a mazurka, and felt in the best of spirits; and the guests and Tánya noticed upon his face a peculiar expression of ecstasy and inspiration, and found him very interesting.”
Good thinking, Kovrin! If you've had a vision propelling you into ecstasy, better not blab about it to other people. Sidebar: In more traditional societies, an individual who received such a vision could be chosen to be the tribe's Shaman, thus becoming a messenger from the spirit world. But in 19th century Russia, having a vivid vision of a black monk can only mean one thing: you're nuts and need a doctor.
"I love you too sincerely not to talk to you frankly," he said, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "In all delicate questions I say what I think, and dislike mystification. I tell you plainly, therefore, that you are the only man whom I should not be afraid of Tánya marrying. You are a clever man, you have a heart, and you would not see my life's work ruined.”
So speaks Pesotsky to Kovrin. Ideally, what Pesotsky wants is for Kovrin and Tánya to marry so they can become, when he dies, caretakers of his true love – his gardens. I read this and think – horseshit, old man! The garden is YOUR love but don't try to impose your love on others. Heads up, Kovrin – you don't want to be trapped in the dream of the old man. For as Gilles Deleuze knew very well, “If you're trapped in the dream of the Other, you're fucked.”
Deep into the story, the Black Monk speaks to Kovrin: “The higher a man has climbed in mental and moral development the freer he is, the greater satisfaction he draws from life. Socrates, Diogenes, Marcus Aurelius knew joy and not sorrow. And the apostle said, 'rejoice exceedingly.' Rejoice and be happy!"
And what is Tánya's reaction when Kovrin tells her the Black Monk has spoken to him? Predictably, as a staunch representative of the status quo: he's sick and must seek out medical treatment to be cured.
Sidebar: Nowadays the Tányas of the world, both male and female, spend most of their lives eating crap food, drinking soda and booze, all the while sitting on their fat ass in from of the idiot box aka boob tube aka TV. “Come on, Kovrin, be normal like us!”
And further on in the tale, when Kovrin does become 'normal' he says to his little lovely, “Now I have become rational and solid, just like the rest of the world. I am a mediocrity, and it is tiresome for me to live.... Oh, how cruelly... how cruelly you have treated me! I had hallucinations ... but what harm did that cause to anyone? I ask you what harm?"
Ha! Kovrin, my boy, your visions of the Black Monk don't harm anybody. But, and here's the kicker, your visions of the Black Monk THREATEN other people's worldview, their secure little version of life.
I'm so reminded of Schopenhauer's words, “"Whoever expects to see devils go through the world with horns and fools with jingling bells will always be their prey or plaything." However, there's another force acting in society, in many ways more insidious – all those holders of the status quo, groupthink with a vengeance.
Anybody who seeks to follow their visions, their creative fires, their call to be something more than humdrum and mediocre – beware! The Tányas of the world are many, as are the likes of her old man.
A special call out to my Goodreads friend Gary from Virginia who recommended this classic Chekhov tale.
May 29, 2026
-ربما كانت هذه الرواية القصيرة هي قصة حياة تشيخوف نفسه!
-قبل قرن ونصف من الزمان تحدث تشيخوف عن مرض نفسي اُكتشف بعد ذلك بفترات كبيرة،الإنفصام!
-من منا لا يمتلك هذا الراهب الأسود ولكن بنسب متفاوته!
-روعة تشيخوف في الروايات والقصص القصيرة لا يضاهيها شئ أبداً.
❞ وما هى غاية الحياة الخالدة؟
- كغاية كل حياة: المتعة. إن المتعة الحقيقية هى فى المعرفة، والحياة الخالدة ستقدم منابع عديدة لا تنفد للمعرفة، وفى هذا المعنى بالذات قيل:
إن فى بيت أبى منازل كثيرة ❝
❞ نعم، لقد جننت، كنت مريضًا بجنون العظمة، ولكنى كنت مرحاً، نشيطاً، بل سعيداً. كنت طريفًا وأصيلاً. والأن أصبحت أعقل وأرصن، ولكنى صرت مثل الجميع، أنا عادى، سئمت الحياة.. أوه، كم قسوتم علىَّ! كنت أرى تهيؤات، ولكن مَنّ ذا الذى كان يزعجه ذلك؟ إننى أسأل: من ذا الذى كان يزعجه ذلك؟ ❝
❞ ذات مرة، وقد أراد أن يؤلمها، قال لها إن أباها لعب فى قصة غرامهما دورًا مشينًا، لأنه رجاه أن يتزوج منها.
وسمع يجور سيميونيتش ذلك عرضًا فاندفع إلى الغرفة، ولم يستطع من شدة الإساءة أن يقول كلمة واحدة، بل ظل فقط يراوح فى مكانه، ويخور بصورة غريبة، كما لو كان لسانة قد شل، أما تانيا فنظرت إلى أبيها وصرخت صرخة تمزق القلب وسقطت مغشيًا عليها. كان ذلك شيئًا فظيعًا. ❝
الإقتباس الأخير قاسي جداً في سياق الرواية … محطم!
~تمت القراءة في يناير 2026~
April 10, 2023
“
Yes, you are one of those few who are justly called the chosen of God. You do the service of eternal truth… A grand, brilliant future is in store for you men. And the more there are like you on earth, the sooner will this future be realised.
”
I re-read this story after quite a few years, just intending to ensure it is not as overrated as my previous venture. To my great pleasure, and somehow a bit of discomfort, I liked it even more now, harrowingly appertaining as it is.
Do you want real relevance to the tale? I have got a few. I once had a classmate who used to stoop, because “Steve Jobs used to walk the same way”. I have known guys who go weeks without bathing just because in their biographies, genius people don’t give a shit about grooming. Not that they were okay with that, though; and what they forgot was that they did all those deliberately, Jobs, or for that matter, anyone of his likes did not.
With the raising awareness for mental illnesses, we could’ve hoped to have people around who will treat hallucinations, or even the symptoms of schizophrenia as something worrying and seek treatment, not people who think that they’re special to have those sorts of “ imaginative powers ”, just because, say, “John Nash had the same”. Guys. Nash wasn’t proud of his hallucinations. He did try to cure himself. Stop being an extremist to perceive mental illness as something either offensive or something to be proud of.
Genius people aren’t made genius by their imperfections, or rather blunders. Or ill habits. They learn to overcome them, and that’s why they outshine them. Not you, who thinks just adapting their downs and procrastinating the rest of the time will make you like them.
Andrey Kovrin was very much the same. His tale will tell you why you shouldn’t flatter anyone more than their worth. The same thing did happen with Kovrin, when Tanya and her benevolent father, spoke outwardly well of him. But, to speak the truth, he wasn’t that “extraordinary”. And he did learn the hard way. And too late for anyone’s good.
Truth be told, I don’t know how this story was featured under supernatural horror stories. Horrific, undoubtedly it is. If anything else, it can be told a farcical tale, but not something abominable at all.
Also, the storytelling is quite easily Chekhov at his best, doing what he’s most loved for, derision in serious situations. I laughed a lot during Kovrin’s megalomaniac conversations, and at how much he was convinced of his virtuoso despite a deep realization that actually, nothing’s quite what he perceived and proclaimed to be. And it’s amazing how much ahead of its time the story does seem.
And then you will realise: it’s stunningly immutable.
“ But will the gods be suddenly wrathful?... If they take from me comfort and make me go cold and hungry, it won’t be very much to my taste. ”
I re-read this story after quite a few years, just intending to ensure it is not as overrated as my previous venture. To my great pleasure, and somehow a bit of discomfort, I liked it even more now, harrowingly appertaining as it is.
Do you want real relevance to the tale? I have got a few. I once had a classmate who used to stoop, because “Steve Jobs used to walk the same way”. I have known guys who go weeks without bathing just because in their biographies, genius people don’t give a shit about grooming. Not that they were okay with that, though; and what they forgot was that they did all those deliberately, Jobs, or for that matter, anyone of his likes did not.
With the raising awareness for mental illnesses, we could’ve hoped to have people around who will treat hallucinations, or even the symptoms of schizophrenia as something worrying and seek treatment, not people who think that they’re special to have those sorts of “ imaginative powers ”, just because, say, “John Nash had the same”. Guys. Nash wasn’t proud of his hallucinations. He did try to cure himself. Stop being an extremist to perceive mental illness as something either offensive or something to be proud of.
Genius people aren’t made genius by their imperfections, or rather blunders. Or ill habits. They learn to overcome them, and that’s why they outshine them. Not you, who thinks just adapting their downs and procrastinating the rest of the time will make you like them.
Andrey Kovrin was very much the same. His tale will tell you why you shouldn’t flatter anyone more than their worth. The same thing did happen with Kovrin, when Tanya and her benevolent father, spoke outwardly well of him. But, to speak the truth, he wasn’t that “extraordinary”. And he did learn the hard way. And too late for anyone’s good.
Truth be told, I don’t know how this story was featured under supernatural horror stories. Horrific, undoubtedly it is. If anything else, it can be told a farcical tale, but not something abominable at all.
Also, the storytelling is quite easily Chekhov at his best, doing what he’s most loved for, derision in serious situations. I laughed a lot during Kovrin’s megalomaniac conversations, and at how much he was convinced of his virtuoso despite a deep realization that actually, nothing’s quite what he perceived and proclaimed to be. And it’s amazing how much ahead of its time the story does seem.
And then you will realise: it’s stunningly immutable.
“ But will the gods be suddenly wrathful?... If they take from me comfort and make me go cold and hungry, it won’t be very much to my taste. ”
December 28, 2019
David Forster Wallace said about a short story that its effect “often feels sudden and percussive, like the venting of a long-stuck valve.” I do not like the mechanical aspect of this metaphor, but i hardly can come up with the better one. I can try a physiological or a spiritual one: a good short story is unexpected punch, which makes you forget how to breath; a good short story gives you a sudden moment of seeing something which was not there just a second ago… Whatever the metaphor, this novella is certainly an example of this effect. And it is very different from the other Chekhov’s stories I know.
First of all, it is as a perfect form of art: the economy of the language, the structure, how he starts in the usual Chekhovian mood with a beautiful garden and little people dealing with their little lives and then, suddenly and effortlessly, he moves to the darker, metaphysical depth. The imagery he creates - the smoke in the garden at the early morning; the owners of the estate, keen gardeners, are killing the harmful warms between their bare fingers.
Then, the content. It is about madness, the mania of grandeur. Or so it seems.
The questions this story raises and leaves without answer, the ending, terrible and beautiful at the same time, has created a lasting impression on me. This along with The Dead by Joyce and El perseguidor by Cortazar are the best three novellas I've ever read.
Russian
Какой прекрасный рассказ! Мания величия - это плохо? Помешательство разрушает или создает? Кого оно разрушает больше - человека или его близких? Возможно так же мистическое прочтение, когда герой отвергает истину и все идёт наперекосяк. Я не ожидала от Чехова такого уровня философии. Восхищена глубиной и неожиданностью.
Цитаты:
“Я сходил с ума, у меня была мания величия, но зато я был весел, бодр и даже счастлив, я был интересен и оригинален. Теперь я стал рассудительнее и солиднее, но зато я такой, как все: я посредственность, мне скучно жить.”
“Если я знаю, что я психически болен, то могу ли я верить себе? А почему ты знаешь, что гениальные люди, которым верит весь свет, тоже не видели призраков? Говорят же теперь ученые, что гений сродни умопомешательству. Друг мой, здоровы и нормальны только заурядные, стадные люди. Соображения насчет нервного века, переутомления, вырождения и т. п. могут серьезно волновать только тех, кто цель жизни видит в настоящем, то есть стадных людей.
Повторяю: если хочешь быть здоров и нормален, иди в стадо.”
“Я приняла тебя за необыкновенного человека, за гения, я полюбила тебя, но ты оказался сумасшедшим..”
“Дело красивое, милое, здоровое, но и тут страсти и война, подумал Коврин. Должно быть, везде и на всех поприщах идейные люди нервны и отличаются повышенной чувствительностью.”
«Как здесь просторно, свободно, тихо! думал Коврин, идя по тропинке. И кажется, весь мир смотрит на меня, притаился и ждет, чтобы я понял его...»
“Ему было жаль ее тем сильнее, что горе у нее было не серьезное, а страдала она глубоко.”
First of all, it is as a perfect form of art: the economy of the language, the structure, how he starts in the usual Chekhovian mood with a beautiful garden and little people dealing with their little lives and then, suddenly and effortlessly, he moves to the darker, metaphysical depth. The imagery he creates - the smoke in the garden at the early morning; the owners of the estate, keen gardeners, are killing the harmful warms between their bare fingers.
Then, the content. It is about madness, the mania of grandeur. Or so it seems.
The questions this story raises and leaves without answer, the ending, terrible and beautiful at the same time, has created a lasting impression on me. This along with The Dead by Joyce and El perseguidor by Cortazar are the best three novellas I've ever read.
Russian
Какой прекрасный рассказ! Мания величия - это плохо? Помешательство разрушает или создает? Кого оно разрушает больше - человека или его близких? Возможно так же мистическое прочтение, когда герой отвергает истину и все идёт наперекосяк. Я не ожидала от Чехова такого уровня философии. Восхищена глубиной и неожиданностью.
Цитаты:
“Я сходил с ума, у меня была мания величия, но зато я был весел, бодр и даже счастлив, я был интересен и оригинален. Теперь я стал рассудительнее и солиднее, но зато я такой, как все: я посредственность, мне скучно жить.”
“Если я знаю, что я психически болен, то могу ли я верить себе? А почему ты знаешь, что гениальные люди, которым верит весь свет, тоже не видели призраков? Говорят же теперь ученые, что гений сродни умопомешательству. Друг мой, здоровы и нормальны только заурядные, стадные люди. Соображения насчет нервного века, переутомления, вырождения и т. п. могут серьезно волновать только тех, кто цель жизни видит в настоящем, то есть стадных людей.
Повторяю: если хочешь быть здоров и нормален, иди в стадо.”
“Я приняла тебя за необыкновенного человека, за гения, я полюбила тебя, но ты оказался сумасшедшим..”
“Дело красивое, милое, здоровое, но и тут страсти и война, подумал Коврин. Должно быть, везде и на всех поприщах идейные люди нервны и отличаются повышенной чувствительностью.”
«Как здесь просторно, свободно, тихо! думал Коврин, идя по тропинке. И кажется, весь мир смотрит на меня, притаился и ждет, чтобы я понял его...»
“Ему было жаль ее тем сильнее, что горе у нее было не серьезное, а страдала она глубоко.”
November 11, 2015
I don't need to read anymore about well-off, upper-middle class Russian intellectuals sitting about gardens going insane. This has filled my quota, thank you!
November 14, 2019
"A thousand years ago a monk, dressed in black, wandered about the desert, somewhere in Syria or Arabia…. Some miles from where he was, some fisherman saw another black monk, who was moving over the surface of a lake, this second monk was a mirage.”
Imagine, you think you are a genius. You think you are a luminary in all respect. The people around you do not have such an opinion, or they may have this thought that you have a talent but not a very prominent one. One day you are sitting alone in your courtyard, near your garden, sipping your cup of tea, very much like a protagonist of a Russian middle-class novel. There is a row of pines ahead. Then you notice one thing. From the horizon, there rises up to the sky a waterspout, a long black column, not standing still, moving with a gruesome rapidity, coming straight towards you… when this turbulence reaches near you, it becomes distinct and you see a monk, dressed in black, his hands crossed over his breast, his bare feet not touching the earth, and he smiles in front of you. His face is fearfully pale, and a moment later he rustles through the pines and vanishes noiselessly, like smoke.
Would you have an intense desire to tell the people what you had just seen?
Or would a thought frighten you that they will take your words as the ravings of delirium?
Was this the same legend that you had heard about? Was this a mirage? Was this the product of your excited imagination, a phantom? What if this black monk keeps coming to you and reminds you that you are one of those few who are justly called as the chosen of God. He keeps telling you that you are a genius and thus eligible for eternal life. How will you react?
The hero of this story Kovrin faces this. He enjoys seeing the black monk. After talking to him, he dances in delight and feels satisfied. What the monk says to him flatters not his vanity, but his whole soul, his whole being. But the people around him when identifying it, see the behavior of Kovrin with amazement and horror. His wife Tanya says to him, “You are ill… you are mentally ill.” Kovrin takes the advice of the doctor and slowly leaves off seeing the black monk. This story now takes the route of typical Chekhov’s realistic line. There is no happy ending. Things go from bad to worse and their remains a sense of atonement and a lesson. I had read this story 3 years back and since then I always wanted to share my thoughts on it. It had created an impact on me. A long-lasting one!
I also feel that through this story Anton Chekhov has validated insanity to a great extent. It gives you another dimension of thinking about ravings and mental excitements. Do you feel seeing phantom is an illness? Do you believe in the saying mens sana in corpore sano (a healthy mind in a healthy body)? Chekhov will contradict you here. This normalcy is for the common herd. Your being normal will question your genius.
“ And are you sure that the men of genius, whom all men trust, did not see phantoms, too? the learned say now that genius allied to madness. My friend, health and normal people are the only herd. Reflections upon the neurasthenia of the age, nervous exhaustion and degeneracy, etcetera can only seriously agitate those who place the object of life in the present- that is the common herd.”
The protagonist of this story feels gloomy after recovering from illness. He was happy with his delirium. He says miserably to his wife; “Why have you cured me? I went out of my mind, I had megalomania; but then I was cheerful, confident and even happy. I was interesting and original. Now I have become more sensible and stolid, but I am just like everyone else: I am – mediocrity; I am weary of life…oh, how cruelly you have treated me!
This is a story with morals. If you think you are hallucinated. If you think, you frequently fall into a delirium. Read this story swiftly. There are high chances that you are a genius. The black monk validates it.
Imagine, you think you are a genius. You think you are a luminary in all respect. The people around you do not have such an opinion, or they may have this thought that you have a talent but not a very prominent one. One day you are sitting alone in your courtyard, near your garden, sipping your cup of tea, very much like a protagonist of a Russian middle-class novel. There is a row of pines ahead. Then you notice one thing. From the horizon, there rises up to the sky a waterspout, a long black column, not standing still, moving with a gruesome rapidity, coming straight towards you… when this turbulence reaches near you, it becomes distinct and you see a monk, dressed in black, his hands crossed over his breast, his bare feet not touching the earth, and he smiles in front of you. His face is fearfully pale, and a moment later he rustles through the pines and vanishes noiselessly, like smoke.
Would you have an intense desire to tell the people what you had just seen?
Or would a thought frighten you that they will take your words as the ravings of delirium?
Was this the same legend that you had heard about? Was this a mirage? Was this the product of your excited imagination, a phantom? What if this black monk keeps coming to you and reminds you that you are one of those few who are justly called as the chosen of God. He keeps telling you that you are a genius and thus eligible for eternal life. How will you react?
The hero of this story Kovrin faces this. He enjoys seeing the black monk. After talking to him, he dances in delight and feels satisfied. What the monk says to him flatters not his vanity, but his whole soul, his whole being. But the people around him when identifying it, see the behavior of Kovrin with amazement and horror. His wife Tanya says to him, “You are ill… you are mentally ill.” Kovrin takes the advice of the doctor and slowly leaves off seeing the black monk. This story now takes the route of typical Chekhov’s realistic line. There is no happy ending. Things go from bad to worse and their remains a sense of atonement and a lesson. I had read this story 3 years back and since then I always wanted to share my thoughts on it. It had created an impact on me. A long-lasting one!
I also feel that through this story Anton Chekhov has validated insanity to a great extent. It gives you another dimension of thinking about ravings and mental excitements. Do you feel seeing phantom is an illness? Do you believe in the saying mens sana in corpore sano (a healthy mind in a healthy body)? Chekhov will contradict you here. This normalcy is for the common herd. Your being normal will question your genius.
“ And are you sure that the men of genius, whom all men trust, did not see phantoms, too? the learned say now that genius allied to madness. My friend, health and normal people are the only herd. Reflections upon the neurasthenia of the age, nervous exhaustion and degeneracy, etcetera can only seriously agitate those who place the object of life in the present- that is the common herd.”
The protagonist of this story feels gloomy after recovering from illness. He was happy with his delirium. He says miserably to his wife; “Why have you cured me? I went out of my mind, I had megalomania; but then I was cheerful, confident and even happy. I was interesting and original. Now I have become more sensible and stolid, but I am just like everyone else: I am – mediocrity; I am weary of life…oh, how cruelly you have treated me!
This is a story with morals. If you think you are hallucinated. If you think, you frequently fall into a delirium. Read this story swiftly. There are high chances that you are a genius. The black monk validates it.
January 17, 2023
Çehov'un insan ruhunun derinliklerine ışık tuttuğu nice çarpıcı öykülerinden biri🤙
Read
December 31, 2019At the climactic end of this story, the main character finds himself in the Crimean town of Yalta on the edge of the Black Sea. The book I finished yesterday, Solovyov and Larionov, also ended in Yalta with the main character staring out at the Black Sea. The Crimea has featured in at least eight of the books I've read in the past few months and though I've never visited it, it has become part of my mental landscape.
July 4, 2022
Another literary gem from Chekhov, a wizard of the short story form (and of course plays!). It's filled with ambivalence and questions about the line between madness and genius, mortality and immortality... then there are more ambiguities like the presence of beautiful and terrible in just about everything, starting with the Chekhovian beautiful walk through the garden with flowers and flowering fruit trees but also filled with the smoke generated to prevent frost ("wandering through the smoke like shades"), to the very ending This superb story/novella deserves much more than a terse review but I'd rather point anyone reading this to the brilliant review by Katia that should inspire many further thoughts.
April 26, 2009
One of the things I like best about the great nineteenth-century Russian authors is how they can have their characters say outrageously grandiose things without making them sound ridiculous. Such are their characters' passions and romantic ideals that they get away with statements which in Western European or American literature would draw a guffaw from the reader. Take, for instance, this violent outburst by Andrei Kovrin, the schizophrenic hero of Chekhov's story 'The Black Monk':
'I was going out of my mind, I had megalomania, but I was bright and cheerful, even happy. I was interesting and original. Now I've grown more rational and stable, but I'm just like everyone else, a nobody. Life bores me... Oh, how cruelly you've treated me! I did have hallucinations, but did they harm anyone? Who did they harm, that's what I'd like to know!'
Personally, I love that kind of stuff when it fits into the story, but I can see how a less romantically inclined reader might roll his eyes and go, 'Yeah, you tell 'em, buddy. Right on.' Russian characters have that effect on some people.
Of course, Kovrin is not just any character. He's an academic on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Advised by a doctor to take a break, he travels to the Crimea to visit an old friend, but doesn't actually stop working. Soon he gets so overworked that he begins to see and have ardent discussions with a black monk others can't see. A gothic and somewhat haunting tale exploring the relationship between genius and insanity ensues. Both Kovrin and his friend Pesotsky are manic, but Pesotsky's mania takes a more socially acceptable form than Kovrin's. Chekhov (who had hallucinations about a black monk himself and, like his hero, died at a young age because he kept working while suffering from TB) leaves it up to his reader to decide which of the various kinds of madness depicted in the story is worse. With its expert characterisation and oppressive mood, 'The Black Monk' is a good story, intense and compelling and quintessentially Russian. It's Chekhov at his best, and Chekhov at his best will never get old.
The second story in the volume, 'Peasants', is equally grim but more realistic. It centres on a man who, suffering from bad health and no longer able to support his family, travels from Moscow to the countryside village where he grew up, only to find that his parents have too much on their minds to look after him and his family -- a hard-drinking son, a slutty daughter-in-law, taxes to pay, and so on. And of course the local council is to blame for everything, because it wouldn't do to blame the vodka, would it? 'Peasants' paints a bleak picture of a society torn asunder by poverty and alcoholism. It rings true, and probably was -- Chekhov was a dcctor, and as such met many poor people. I don't think it's Chekhov's best story, but it's very readable, albeit depressing. Then again, I don't think anyone reads Russian literature for the cheer it brings to people's lives.
'I was going out of my mind, I had megalomania, but I was bright and cheerful, even happy. I was interesting and original. Now I've grown more rational and stable, but I'm just like everyone else, a nobody. Life bores me... Oh, how cruelly you've treated me! I did have hallucinations, but did they harm anyone? Who did they harm, that's what I'd like to know!'
Personally, I love that kind of stuff when it fits into the story, but I can see how a less romantically inclined reader might roll his eyes and go, 'Yeah, you tell 'em, buddy. Right on.' Russian characters have that effect on some people.
Of course, Kovrin is not just any character. He's an academic on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Advised by a doctor to take a break, he travels to the Crimea to visit an old friend, but doesn't actually stop working. Soon he gets so overworked that he begins to see and have ardent discussions with a black monk others can't see. A gothic and somewhat haunting tale exploring the relationship between genius and insanity ensues. Both Kovrin and his friend Pesotsky are manic, but Pesotsky's mania takes a more socially acceptable form than Kovrin's. Chekhov (who had hallucinations about a black monk himself and, like his hero, died at a young age because he kept working while suffering from TB) leaves it up to his reader to decide which of the various kinds of madness depicted in the story is worse. With its expert characterisation and oppressive mood, 'The Black Monk' is a good story, intense and compelling and quintessentially Russian. It's Chekhov at his best, and Chekhov at his best will never get old.
The second story in the volume, 'Peasants', is equally grim but more realistic. It centres on a man who, suffering from bad health and no longer able to support his family, travels from Moscow to the countryside village where he grew up, only to find that his parents have too much on their minds to look after him and his family -- a hard-drinking son, a slutty daughter-in-law, taxes to pay, and so on. And of course the local council is to blame for everything, because it wouldn't do to blame the vodka, would it? 'Peasants' paints a bleak picture of a society torn asunder by poverty and alcoholism. It rings true, and probably was -- Chekhov was a dcctor, and as such met many poor people. I don't think it's Chekhov's best story, but it's very readable, albeit depressing. Then again, I don't think anyone reads Russian literature for the cheer it brings to people's lives.
May 1, 2019
"In ancient times a happy man grew at last frightened of his happiness --it was so great!--and to propitiate the gods he brought as a sacrifice his favourite ring. Do you know, I, too, like Polykrates, begin to be uneasy of my happiness. It seems strange to me that from morning to night I feel nothing but joy; it fills my whole being and smothers all other feelings. I don't know what sadness, grief, or boredom is. Here I am not asleep; I suffer from sleeplessness, but I am not dull. I say it in earnest; I begin to feel perplexed."
"But why?" the monk asked in wonder. "Is joy a supernatural feeling? Ought it not to be the normal state of man? The more highly a man is developed on the intellectual and moral side, the more independent he is, the more pleasure life gives him. Socrates, Diogenes, and Marcus Aurelius, were joyful, not sorrowful. And the Apostle tells us: 'Rejoice continually'; 'Rejoice and be glad.'"
Jan 18, 19
* The second time I read this short story. The idea that sorrow puts a person on a higher intellectual level must be forgotten at some point.
April 6, 2021
Acabo de ler “ O monge negro “ de Anton Tchekhov . Com uma narrativa poderosa , esse livro foi uma delícia de ler.
Muitas vezes são nossas ilusões, nossas alucinações que dão sentido à nossa vida. Quando isso nos é tirado , parece que tudo se desmorona, parece que a realidade é mais difícil de se enfrentar do que as alucinações. É justamente isso que acontece com Andrey Vasilievich Kovrin, um jovem inteligente, culto que por estar estressado vai passar um tempo na casa de campo de seu primo Pesotzky, que tem uma bela filha , Tânia, com quem acaba se casando. Um fato ocorre em sua vida, ele começa a ver um monge negro , que vem lhe falar da sua capacidade, de seu valor. Sua esposa vendo que Ele fala sozinho se preocupa e começa a dar a ele remédios fortes que ,com o tempo , faz com que suas alucinações desapareçam… mas é aí que tudo se complica…
Uma delícia de leitura...amei demais.
Muitas vezes são nossas ilusões, nossas alucinações que dão sentido à nossa vida. Quando isso nos é tirado , parece que tudo se desmorona, parece que a realidade é mais difícil de se enfrentar do que as alucinações. É justamente isso que acontece com Andrey Vasilievich Kovrin, um jovem inteligente, culto que por estar estressado vai passar um tempo na casa de campo de seu primo Pesotzky, que tem uma bela filha , Tânia, com quem acaba se casando. Um fato ocorre em sua vida, ele começa a ver um monge negro , que vem lhe falar da sua capacidade, de seu valor. Sua esposa vendo que Ele fala sozinho se preocupa e começa a dar a ele remédios fortes que ,com o tempo , faz com que suas alucinações desapareçam… mas é aí que tudo se complica…
Uma delícia de leitura...amei demais.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 5, 2011
Among the short stories I read by Chekhov, this stood out so far, mainly because, its strikingly close to one of Dostoevsky's favorite subject, the disturbed mind and its repercussions. The story reminds me of Dostoevsky's The Double, where his hero, Goldyakin suffers a form of schizophrenia and sees a vision of his own self and at the same time, Kovrin parallels the character of Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment. Both became delusional of their own genius, the other was pushed to murder and the other succumbs to his own death.
In the story, the eternal truth or the question of it was often addressed yet not define. Perhaps, it was intended by Chekhov to leave the interpretation to his readers. The symbolic figure of the black monk represents a part of that eternal truth as an awaken consciousness, somehow Kovrin, in the midst of his madness was able to tap the divine consciousness and it appeared to him as a hallucination in the form of the black monk but the apparition of the black monk suddenly halted as he acknowledged that its presence was unreal. Its like being slightly awakened and then suddenly fall back into a deep slumber again....as Kovrin lost the connection with the black monk, he succumbed to his own ego that led to his eventual suffering. The blissful smile that was set on his face upon his death symbolizes his non-judgment acceptance of his fate. Nonresistance, non-judgment acceptance of life's suffering is the eternal truth because it triggers the awakening of the spirit as the heart learns to understand, forgive and love.
In the story, the eternal truth or the question of it was often addressed yet not define. Perhaps, it was intended by Chekhov to leave the interpretation to his readers. The symbolic figure of the black monk represents a part of that eternal truth as an awaken consciousness, somehow Kovrin, in the midst of his madness was able to tap the divine consciousness and it appeared to him as a hallucination in the form of the black monk but the apparition of the black monk suddenly halted as he acknowledged that its presence was unreal. Its like being slightly awakened and then suddenly fall back into a deep slumber again....as Kovrin lost the connection with the black monk, he succumbed to his own ego that led to his eventual suffering. The blissful smile that was set on his face upon his death symbolizes his non-judgment acceptance of his fate. Nonresistance, non-judgment acceptance of life's suffering is the eternal truth because it triggers the awakening of the spirit as the heart learns to understand, forgive and love.
October 23, 2021
I think this is only the second work I've read by Anton Chekhov and sadly I wasn't amazed by this either. He's was a good writer, I can see that but I haven't yet found one that worked for me
October 18, 2018
«الراهب الأسود» ليس خيالًا بل هو بداخل كل منّا، قلّةٌ فقط هم من لديهم القدرة والشجاعة على تجسيده.
تشيخوف هنا يعرّي بواطن النفس البشرية، يكشف عمّا فيها من جنون، أو ما نظن أنه جنون ثم نكتشف أنه الحياة الحقيقية! لقد كان الرجل سعيدًا، سواءً كان عبقريًا أم لا، المهم أنه كان سعيدًا، لكن الباقي غضبوا عليه وجعلوه عاديًّا، ثم مات ولم يفهمه أحد، قسوا عليه، كان يرى تهيؤات لكن من الذي أزعجه ذلك؟! لا أحد. لكن نحن -كالعادة- نكره الاختلاف.
«سيتمكن الأطباء والأقارب الطيبون في نهاية الأمر من جعل البشرية تتبلّد، وسوف تعتبر العادية عبقرية وستهلك الحضارة -وقال كوڤرين بأسى- آه لو تعلمون كم أنا ممتن لكم!».
في رواية قصيرة يعطينا تشيخوف مثالًا مهمًا عن فصام الشخصية، قبل أن يعرف أحدٌ ما هو فصام الشخصية أصلًا، دائمًا ما أحبه في وصف بواطن النفس، الروس عمومًا لديهم قدرة فذة على النظر بداخل البشر أكثر من أي أحد.
تشيخوف هنا يعرّي بواطن النفس البشرية، يكشف عمّا فيها من جنون، أو ما نظن أنه جنون ثم نكتشف أنه الحياة الحقيقية! لقد كان الرجل سعيدًا، سواءً كان عبقريًا أم لا، المهم أنه كان سعيدًا، لكن الباقي غضبوا عليه وجعلوه عاديًّا، ثم مات ولم يفهمه أحد، قسوا عليه، كان يرى تهيؤات لكن من الذي أزعجه ذلك؟! لا أحد. لكن نحن -كالعادة- نكره الاختلاف.
«سيتمكن الأطباء والأقارب الطيبون في نهاية الأمر من جعل البشرية تتبلّد، وسوف تعتبر العادية عبقرية وستهلك الحضارة -وقال كوڤرين بأسى- آه لو تعلمون كم أنا ممتن لكم!».
في رواية قصيرة يعطينا تشيخوف مثالًا مهمًا عن فصام الشخصية، قبل أن يعرف أحدٌ ما هو فصام الشخصية أصلًا، دائمًا ما أحبه في وصف بواطن النفس، الروس عمومًا لديهم قدرة فذة على النظر بداخل البشر أكثر من أي أحد.
March 14, 2022
bu uzun oykuyu can’dan basilmis “doktor cehov’dan oykuler”in icinde okudum. kitabin genelindeki oykuleri cok begenmis olsam da kara kesis kendini hemen ayirdi digerlerinden. adi gibi kara, karanlik ve buna ragmen cok gercekci de bir yani var bu oykunun. severek okudum.
July 17, 2025
Chejov decía: “si cada hombre hiciera lo que puede sobre su pequeño palmo de tierra, ¡que maravilloso sería este mundo!” El tiempo y el lugar que le tocó vivir estaba lejos de esa frase con buenas intenciones. El régimen zarista de tono absolutista proporcionaba las condiciones mínimas y necesarias para el establecimiento de las granjas y la industria, haciendo que tanto el campesinado como el obrero, vivieran al límite de la miseria.
Antón describió esas realidades con tramas sencillas, poca elaboración, léxico escaso y trivial. Sin embargo supo ahondar en la psicología de los personajes, sin dejar de lado lo cotidiano, sin olvidarse de los comportamientos sociales y éticos. Reveló como nadie la realidad de la Rusia hambrienta, servil, campesina y con grandes diferencias jerárquicas.
Los seres que describe en estos cuentos están resignados. El rencor y la rebeldía quedan de lado a sabiendas que por más que ocurran eventos en sus vidas, están destinados al fracaso, a la monotonía. De ahí, la vigencia de este autor.
Antón describió esas realidades con tramas sencillas, poca elaboración, léxico escaso y trivial. Sin embargo supo ahondar en la psicología de los personajes, sin dejar de lado lo cotidiano, sin olvidarse de los comportamientos sociales y éticos. Reveló como nadie la realidad de la Rusia hambrienta, servil, campesina y con grandes diferencias jerárquicas.
Los seres que describe en estos cuentos están resignados. El rencor y la rebeldía quedan de lado a sabiendas que por más que ocurran eventos en sus vidas, están destinados al fracaso, a la monotonía. De ahí, la vigencia de este autor.
May 29, 2020
The marvelous stories were well-read - but simply make me want to read them in print so as to be able to truly savor them. The Black Monk did make an impression of the protagonist inexorably descending into a fantasy world. The stories examine the issues (guilt, boredom, neurosis etc) of late 19th C upper class in Russia and are a critique of society which is portrayed as crumbling. They are endlessly inventive and I would rather read them than listen to them (although the audio production was actually excellent).
I listened to the tapes again - without distractions - and even though my above review is OK, it doesn't really do these stories justice. All three are wonderful and I will certainly seek out more to read (or listen to in audio-books). I thought the reader was excellent.
The Black Monk is about Alexi Kovrin - a college professor Kovrin who was brought up by some neighboring landed gentry when his parents died of TB. He stays in touch with his foster family, and the reader is told that he has received an invitation to visit the family at their estate, which also contains a large horticultural nursery operation, for the spring/summer. He hasn't been there in 5 years and in the interval, the landowner (Yegor Semyonovich) daughter Tanya has grown up - and he muses if he might fall in love with her. Meanwhile, the reader also learns that Kovrin has been wearing himself out with study/reading/sleeplessness - perhaps heading to a breakdown. He does end up cracking up - but doesn't consider the departure from reality (which takes the form of heightened excitement "brilliance" etc - sounds like a type of mania) so bad, since people seem to respond to it, think he's exciting/brilliant etc. He has a recurring hallucination - a monk who conveys thoughts generated by Kovrin (obviously) about the nature of creativity "brilliance" etc. (Spoiler alert:) He does marry Tanya but she catches him one night talking to his imaginary friend the monk, and tearfully immediately takes him to a doctor for his obvious break from reality. Kovrin is cured but in the process becomes much less exciting and evidently creative "brilliant" although he does retain his position as a college professor. Kovrin begins to resent Tanya and her father for making him less exciting - and eventually the marriage falls apart. Unfortunately it's a bitter breakup - Yegor Semyonovich dies and Tanya blames Kovrin for his death. Kovrin in shock feels the old "brilliance" returning - tries to regain his composure and work - but the monk reappears and asks him why he doubted his assurance that he was brilliant? Kovrin then dies of the same disease that killed his mother (TB). A very powerful story - exploring the link between creativity and mental illness.
An Artist's Story describes a visit by a rather indolent landscape painter to the estate of the Bayalakurovs - where the sisters Gena (Missus) and Lida live. Lida is busy with zemstvo (local council) work - consisting of social service type activities, and more or less views the artist with disdain. He falls in love with Missus and she reciprocates but the potential love affair is cut short at Lida's insistence. He never sees Gena again - loses track of her - and the story ends on the haunting "Where are you now Missus?" This is an exploration of the conflict between social activism of the elites vs. the elite "laziness" or pre-occupation with endless self-examination etc. This is a recurring theme in the writer's work - and reflected a trend at that time in Russia, with liberalism, social activism being an ongoing trend among the intelligentsia/artists/writers etc - who obviously saw that the country needed to change if it was going to catch up with the West etc. The trend eventually culminated in the Russian Revolution but it is doubtful if many of these liberals realized that the Revolution would mean the definitive end of their leisurely lifestyles which enabled them to think about change in the first place and also the time to actually help others (as Lida devoted herself to helping others).
In Mire, Lieutenant Sokolsky pays a visit to the daughter of a brewery owner - the enigmatic, seductive and rebellious Susanna Moiseva Rothstein - to collect on a debt. Instead, she throws out the note and in response he loses his head and becomes a lover. When he shares the story with the landowner he is staying with, they both share a laugh since the landowner has also slept with the woman and he tells Sokolsky to leave town so as not to endanger his prospective marriage (since Sokolsky is engaged). Unable to help himself, the landowner visits Susan's house one day and there finds mobs of male visitors - including Sokolsky, although Sokolsky had told him he would leave town. Both men, like the others, could not stay away from Susanna. Disgusted, the landowner turns around and leaves Susanna's home. Like the other stories, this was carefully constructed and filled with wonderful descriptions and excellent characterizations and insight into the characters' thinking etc. However, I did find the one or two negative references to Jewish people smacking of antisemitism quite annoying to say the least. I looked up antisemitism in Chekhov on the internet and found that this was an issue - and reflected an unfortunate trend in Russia at the time. I doubt if this story, which is otherwise excellent, is included in current collections of Chekhov stories. I disliked the blanket prejudiced statements about Jewish people in this story.
All in all though despite my disappointment with Mire instances of antisemitism, I thought the stories and narration excellent. It's too bad Chekhov "pandered" to what was evidently a widespread prejudice at the time in Mire, though; he could have omitted the remarks which he must have anyway known were not true, and the story would have remained powerful and interesting enough without them.
I listened to the tapes again - without distractions - and even though my above review is OK, it doesn't really do these stories justice. All three are wonderful and I will certainly seek out more to read (or listen to in audio-books). I thought the reader was excellent.
The Black Monk is about Alexi Kovrin - a college professor Kovrin who was brought up by some neighboring landed gentry when his parents died of TB. He stays in touch with his foster family, and the reader is told that he has received an invitation to visit the family at their estate, which also contains a large horticultural nursery operation, for the spring/summer. He hasn't been there in 5 years and in the interval, the landowner (Yegor Semyonovich) daughter Tanya has grown up - and he muses if he might fall in love with her. Meanwhile, the reader also learns that Kovrin has been wearing himself out with study/reading/sleeplessness - perhaps heading to a breakdown. He does end up cracking up - but doesn't consider the departure from reality (which takes the form of heightened excitement "brilliance" etc - sounds like a type of mania) so bad, since people seem to respond to it, think he's exciting/brilliant etc. He has a recurring hallucination - a monk who conveys thoughts generated by Kovrin (obviously) about the nature of creativity "brilliance" etc. (Spoiler alert:) He does marry Tanya but she catches him one night talking to his imaginary friend the monk, and tearfully immediately takes him to a doctor for his obvious break from reality. Kovrin is cured but in the process becomes much less exciting and evidently creative "brilliant" although he does retain his position as a college professor. Kovrin begins to resent Tanya and her father for making him less exciting - and eventually the marriage falls apart. Unfortunately it's a bitter breakup - Yegor Semyonovich dies and Tanya blames Kovrin for his death. Kovrin in shock feels the old "brilliance" returning - tries to regain his composure and work - but the monk reappears and asks him why he doubted his assurance that he was brilliant? Kovrin then dies of the same disease that killed his mother (TB). A very powerful story - exploring the link between creativity and mental illness.
An Artist's Story describes a visit by a rather indolent landscape painter to the estate of the Bayalakurovs - where the sisters Gena (Missus) and Lida live. Lida is busy with zemstvo (local council) work - consisting of social service type activities, and more or less views the artist with disdain. He falls in love with Missus and she reciprocates but the potential love affair is cut short at Lida's insistence. He never sees Gena again - loses track of her - and the story ends on the haunting "Where are you now Missus?" This is an exploration of the conflict between social activism of the elites vs. the elite "laziness" or pre-occupation with endless self-examination etc. This is a recurring theme in the writer's work - and reflected a trend at that time in Russia, with liberalism, social activism being an ongoing trend among the intelligentsia/artists/writers etc - who obviously saw that the country needed to change if it was going to catch up with the West etc. The trend eventually culminated in the Russian Revolution but it is doubtful if many of these liberals realized that the Revolution would mean the definitive end of their leisurely lifestyles which enabled them to think about change in the first place and also the time to actually help others (as Lida devoted herself to helping others).
In Mire, Lieutenant Sokolsky pays a visit to the daughter of a brewery owner - the enigmatic, seductive and rebellious Susanna Moiseva Rothstein - to collect on a debt. Instead, she throws out the note and in response he loses his head and becomes a lover. When he shares the story with the landowner he is staying with, they both share a laugh since the landowner has also slept with the woman and he tells Sokolsky to leave town so as not to endanger his prospective marriage (since Sokolsky is engaged). Unable to help himself, the landowner visits Susan's house one day and there finds mobs of male visitors - including Sokolsky, although Sokolsky had told him he would leave town. Both men, like the others, could not stay away from Susanna. Disgusted, the landowner turns around and leaves Susanna's home. Like the other stories, this was carefully constructed and filled with wonderful descriptions and excellent characterizations and insight into the characters' thinking etc. However, I did find the one or two negative references to Jewish people smacking of antisemitism quite annoying to say the least. I looked up antisemitism in Chekhov on the internet and found that this was an issue - and reflected an unfortunate trend in Russia at the time. I doubt if this story, which is otherwise excellent, is included in current collections of Chekhov stories. I disliked the blanket prejudiced statements about Jewish people in this story.
All in all though despite my disappointment with Mire instances of antisemitism, I thought the stories and narration excellent. It's too bad Chekhov "pandered" to what was evidently a widespread prejudice at the time in Mire, though; he could have omitted the remarks which he must have anyway known were not true, and the story would have remained powerful and interesting enough without them.
May 12, 2025
Kovrin enters the story as an aspiring intellectual working his way up the ladder of Academia. He is over-worked, exhausted and seems to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He gladly accepts an invitation to spend the summer at the country estate of Pesotsky where he will also reunite with, and eventually marry, his childhood friend Tanya.
In the country he continues to be plagued with restlessness and insomnia and is unable to find peace of mind until his encounter with the Black Monk. Obviously a figment of Kovrin’s troubled psyche as he himself realizes, the Black Monk steers him towards his newly found destiny. He will bear the stamp of the divine, he will be one of the chosen of god, he will achieve greatness. Questioning his own sanity at these thoughts, Kovrin has an immediate response: “genius is allied to madness…healthy and normal people are only the common herd”. He will not be one of the herd.
Embracing his new destiny, Kovrin is a changed man. Gone are the restlessness, the disquiet and the insomnia. Finally he is happy. Nonetheless, he knows that he cannot share his epiphany with society and he keeps his continued conversations with the Black Monk a secret.
When he is found enthusiastically talking to himself he is considered mad and in urgent need of a cure. Once his Black Monk comes into the stark judgmental light of society, Kovrin’s vision disintegrates, and although he is cured of his hallucination, he is also irreparably bereft. He is now at one with the herd; he is the epitome of mediocrity, and he has lost the joy and genius of his Black Monk days.
Chekov leaves us to ponder if madness and ostracization are a worthwhile trade-off for genius, for originality, for carving out one’s existence apart from the herd. The Black Monk is certain that it is pointing out “how fortunate Buddha, Muhammed and Shakespeare were that their kind relations and doctors did not cure them of their ecstasy.”
In the country he continues to be plagued with restlessness and insomnia and is unable to find peace of mind until his encounter with the Black Monk. Obviously a figment of Kovrin’s troubled psyche as he himself realizes, the Black Monk steers him towards his newly found destiny. He will bear the stamp of the divine, he will be one of the chosen of god, he will achieve greatness. Questioning his own sanity at these thoughts, Kovrin has an immediate response: “genius is allied to madness…healthy and normal people are only the common herd”. He will not be one of the herd.
Embracing his new destiny, Kovrin is a changed man. Gone are the restlessness, the disquiet and the insomnia. Finally he is happy. Nonetheless, he knows that he cannot share his epiphany with society and he keeps his continued conversations with the Black Monk a secret.
When he is found enthusiastically talking to himself he is considered mad and in urgent need of a cure. Once his Black Monk comes into the stark judgmental light of society, Kovrin’s vision disintegrates, and although he is cured of his hallucination, he is also irreparably bereft. He is now at one with the herd; he is the epitome of mediocrity, and he has lost the joy and genius of his Black Monk days.
Chekov leaves us to ponder if madness and ostracization are a worthwhile trade-off for genius, for originality, for carving out one’s existence apart from the herd. The Black Monk is certain that it is pointing out “how fortunate Buddha, Muhammed and Shakespeare were that their kind relations and doctors did not cure them of their ecstasy.”
February 21, 2015
A man goes mad after seeing (and then regularly conversing with) a black monk who may or may not be a figment of his imagination. Chekhov's short story is about the thin line separating madness from genius. His poetry ("the sea looked at him with its multitude of light blue, dark blue, turquoise and fiery eyes") plays as contrast against the dark, oppressive mood of the book in which a marriage, a beautiful garden and ultimately the hero's life meet ruinous end. Featuring a frenzied prose style akin to the pacing and development of a sonata (Russian composer Shostakovich was a fan), Chekhov's main point, besides the built-in ambiguity, is that in order to be great, you cannot be normal—even if that means becoming a hideous, arrogant man who longs for "something vast, infinite, astonishing."
June 27, 2013
An ailing Magistar and philosopher spends the summer at the house of his childhood mentor and friend, a wealthy horticulturalist. His friends daughter Tanya, just a child last time he saw her some years ago, has grown into an attractive woman, and his host has designs on them as a couple.
Whilst there he is momentarily touched by a fleeting combination of music, voice and story and sees the vision of a floating monk from a legend, is enervated by it and longs for "something vast, infinite, astonishing".
A sad little vignette on genius, madness, ecstatic love and abject misery, The Black Monk is something of a consummate Russian tale where the beautiful and the bleak alternate like the seasons, told with empathy by a master of the form.
Whilst there he is momentarily touched by a fleeting combination of music, voice and story and sees the vision of a floating monk from a legend, is enervated by it and longs for "something vast, infinite, astonishing".
A sad little vignette on genius, madness, ecstatic love and abject misery, The Black Monk is something of a consummate Russian tale where the beautiful and the bleak alternate like the seasons, told with empathy by a master of the form.
March 28, 2021
Enfes bir öykü ve Çehov inanılmaz bir yazar. Çehov ile mutlaka tanışmalısınız.
Einstein, Dostoyevski, Steve Jobs gibi dahi insanların neredeyse hepsinin sorunlu aile hayatları var. Neredeyse dahi insanların hepsi yakınlarındaki bazı insanların hayatını mahvetmiş.
Dahilik ve delilik ne kadarda yakın birbirine. Aşk ve nefret gibi.
Çehov dahiliğin yıkıcı yanlarını çok iyi fark etmiş. Dahiler en çokta kendilerini en çok seven kişilere zarar veriyor.
Okuduğum her öyküsünde Çehov'a tekrar hayran oluyorum.
Einstein, Dostoyevski, Steve Jobs gibi dahi insanların neredeyse hepsinin sorunlu aile hayatları var. Neredeyse dahi insanların hepsi yakınlarındaki bazı insanların hayatını mahvetmiş.
Dahilik ve delilik ne kadarda yakın birbirine. Aşk ve nefret gibi.
Çehov dahiliğin yıkıcı yanlarını çok iyi fark etmiş. Dahiler en çokta kendilerini en çok seven kişilere zarar veriyor.
Okuduğum her öyküsünde Çehov'a tekrar hayran oluyorum.
August 13, 2015
Perhaps my favorite Chekhov short story. The psychological depth of the story mixes with a kind of mysticism which is indistinguishable from madness. That ambiguity is precisely what makes the story compelling. It is written at a time when Chekhov's style was truly ripe. One of his best.
July 11, 2021
Again, I understand why Chekhov is called one of the masters of short stories.
June 21, 2023
Çehov bu kitabı bir rüyasında kara bir keşiş görmesinden yola çıkarak yazmış. Kendisine göre bu bir tıbbi öykü. Evet, pek tabii bu şekilde adlandırılabilir. Neden mi? Çünkü Çehov bu öyküsünde objektif bir biçimde bir bilim insanının üretme konusundaki buhranlarını farklı yönleriyle eleştiriyor ve anlatıyor. Deha ve delilik arasındaki ince çizgiyi bir hekim titizliği ile irdeliyor oluşu da bu öyküye tıbbi bir nitelik katıyor. Buna bir de mistik ögeler eklenince de kısa bir anlatı içerisinde çoklu katmanlar ortaya çıkıveriyor.
Öte yandan, bu aynı zamanda da felsefik bir öykü. Zira Çehov vasat bir bilim insanı olan Kovrin'in kendisini her geçen gün daha fazla yüceltmesiyle ve seçilmiş bir kul olduğuna olan inancını geliştirmesiyle deha ve delilik arasındaki o ince çizginin sınırlarını bir de bu bakış ile değerlendirmeye alıyor.
Bu çokyönlülük eseri zenginleştirme konusunda bir zemin oluşturmaya yetmiş. Mustafa Kemal Yılmaz'ın akıcı çevirisiyle de okuma süreci keyifli ve kolay seyrediyor.
Birkaç da alıntı bırakmak isterim sizler için.
"Ben senin hayal gücünde varım, hayal gücünse doğanın bir parçası, demek ki, doğada da varım" (s. 21).
"Dostum, sadece sürüden ayrılmayan sıradan insanlar sağlıklı ve normaldir" (s. 22).
"Aşağıda balkonun altında serenat çalıyor, kara keşişse kulağına bir dâhi olduğunu ve sadece zayıf insan bedeninin artık dengesini yitirdiğini ve deha için kabuk görevini daha fazla yerine getiremediği için ölmekte olduğunu fısıldıyordu" (s. 42).
Keyifli okumalar!
Kitaplarla kalın!
Öte yandan, bu aynı zamanda da felsefik bir öykü. Zira Çehov vasat bir bilim insanı olan Kovrin'in kendisini her geçen gün daha fazla yüceltmesiyle ve seçilmiş bir kul olduğuna olan inancını geliştirmesiyle deha ve delilik arasındaki o ince çizginin sınırlarını bir de bu bakış ile değerlendirmeye alıyor.
Bu çokyönlülük eseri zenginleştirme konusunda bir zemin oluşturmaya yetmiş. Mustafa Kemal Yılmaz'ın akıcı çevirisiyle de okuma süreci keyifli ve kolay seyrediyor.
Birkaç da alıntı bırakmak isterim sizler için.
"Ben senin hayal gücünde varım, hayal gücünse doğanın bir parçası, demek ki, doğada da varım" (s. 21).
"Dostum, sadece sürüden ayrılmayan sıradan insanlar sağlıklı ve normaldir" (s. 22).
"Aşağıda balkonun altında serenat çalıyor, kara keşişse kulağına bir dâhi olduğunu ve sadece zayıf insan bedeninin artık dengesini yitirdiğini ve deha için kabuk görevini daha fazla yerine getiremediği için ölmekte olduğunu fısıldıyordu" (s. 42).
Keyifli okumalar!
Kitaplarla kalın!
October 21, 2018
Cito la frase che trovai sul retro di un libro: ”La vita non riserva molti piaceri ai sani di mente”. Così riassumerei questo scritto. Anzitutto, non essendo io abituato ai nomi russi, devo dire che facevo estremamente fatica a tenerli a mente, benché pochi e per un racconto così corto. Per gran parte della lettura non ho capito dove si andasse a parare, tutte quelle chiacchiere sul giardino ed il futuro dello stesso… solo quando arriva il fantomatico ‘monaco nero’ del titolo, di cui il protagonista - conscio che si tratti di un’illusione - apprezza la compagnia la storia ingrana, ma siamo già quasi alla sua conclusione. L'irrequieto studioso si sente realizzato finché non cercano di farlo rinsavire, è allora che inizia il vero delirio e conseguente tracollo, trascinandosi dietro tutto.
April 6, 2019
Found online. For anyone interested the link is below.
December 23, 2019
Beautiful. Odd. Thought provoking.
Is it madness? Or genius? Does he need help or should he be left alone?
Reading Russian classics always wear me out.
Is it madness? Or genius? Does he need help or should he be left alone?
Reading Russian classics always wear me out.
May 22, 2022
sonlara doğru vanya dayı'yı hatırlattı. belki de o yüzden sevdim. insan olduğu kadarıyla yetinmeyi becerdiği ölçüde mutlu olabiliyor. o tarifi imkânsız boşluk dolmadığı sürece öylesine yaşayıp gideceğiz. otuzlu yaşlardan kırklara geçişte, düşünen ve sorgulayan insanın varoluşsal krizlerini çehov kadar apaçık vurgulayan yok. işte böyle böyle çehov en iyi arkadaşı oluveriyor insanın tam bu yaşlarda.
"Mutluluk saydığımız şeylerin, sıradan isteklerin peşinde koşarken yaşam bize neler kaybettirmiyordu ki! Örneğin, kırkına merdiven dayadığı bir yaşta, sıradan bir profesör olmuş, ölgün, can sıkıcı, zor anlaşılır bir dille başkalarının düşüncelerini öğrencilerine aktarmak, kısacası orta karar bir bilimadamı sıfatını kazanmak için tam on beş yıl dirsek çürütmüş, gecesini gündüzüne katıp çalışmış, ağır bir ruhsal hastalığa göğüs germiş, başarısız bir evlilik yaşamış, bir sürü haksızlık, saçmalık yaparak yıllarını harcamıştı. Şimdi bunları aklına getirdikçe tüm neşesi kaçıyordu. Yeteneklerinin vasat olduğunu anladığı için yazgısına razıydı artık. Çünkü bundan başka çıkış yolu yoktu; her insan neyse olduğu kadarıyla yetinmek zorundaydı."
"Mutluluk saydığımız şeylerin, sıradan isteklerin peşinde koşarken yaşam bize neler kaybettirmiyordu ki! Örneğin, kırkına merdiven dayadığı bir yaşta, sıradan bir profesör olmuş, ölgün, can sıkıcı, zor anlaşılır bir dille başkalarının düşüncelerini öğrencilerine aktarmak, kısacası orta karar bir bilimadamı sıfatını kazanmak için tam on beş yıl dirsek çürütmüş, gecesini gündüzüne katıp çalışmış, ağır bir ruhsal hastalığa göğüs germiş, başarısız bir evlilik yaşamış, bir sürü haksızlık, saçmalık yaparak yıllarını harcamıştı. Şimdi bunları aklına getirdikçe tüm neşesi kaçıyordu. Yeteneklerinin vasat olduğunu anladığı için yazgısına razıydı artık. Çünkü bundan başka çıkış yolu yoktu; her insan neyse olduğu kadarıyla yetinmek zorundaydı."
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