Classics and the Western Canon discussion
This topic is about
Anton Chekhov
Chekhov Short Stories
>
The Grasshopper
date
newest »
newest »
I see the parallels with "Excellent People", and I was also reminded of "The Darling", because of the wife's infatuation with the atmosphere of the artists, (although the infatuation was not with her spouse). If she is the grasshopper, I guess her husband is the ant. But I lost a lot of interest in them both when she sent him back to town to get her clothes for the wedding--that seemed to cross a line that hadn't been crossed before.
Susan wrote: " But I lost a lot of interest in them both when she sent him back to town to get her clothes for the wedding--that seemed to cross a line that hadn't been crossed before. "It seems to be such a morally obvious story, as simple as the ant and the grasshopper... but in defense of Olga, isn't Dymov a remarkably boring man? He doesn't deserve to be treated in such a way, but isn't he responsible for tolerating it?
I think that Chekhov was in fact a different kind of artist. The artists he depicts in this story are all emotionally unstable; they are also selfish and think of other people as dull and boring. They can't uderstand why did Olga marry such a different person as Dymov. He, the saintly doctor, is the opposit type of person: he is humble, caring, willing to sacrifice in the name of science, and, above all, he is peaceful. I think that Chekhov, more than seeing himself as this "saintly doctor," knew that people can behave like the artist or the doctor: he, a writer and a doctor, and artist and a scientist, knew these opposit realms of personality, and he depicted them in the story. Influecend by her artist friends, Olga couldn't be fully aware of Dymov's humbleness and peacefulness; she knew that there was something about him, but she couldn't tell what; and only after she is confronted by Ryabovsky's intense and unstable emotions, and after Dymov dies, she is aware of it: "Suddenly she understood that he really was an extraordinary, rare, and, compared with every one else she knew, a great man." She "hunted celebrities, found them, was not satisfied, and went in pursue of fresh ones," not knowing that she was married to a prominent doctor and human being.I'd also like to note that Ryabovsky's sudden hatred for Olga comes, I think, from a particular process of an artist's life. A life of an artist, in my experience, is aimed attaining beauty; an artist wants to create beauty; he wants to sublime, to transform raw feelings of yearning to a painting, symphony or poem. I don't remember the name of a composer who said that a composer works in their next composition because they are not satisfied with the previous one. That's why Olga was never satisfied with the celebrities she hunted, and that's why Ryabovsky, once kissing Olga, his muse, had nothing else to yearn for and sank into depression.
I see Olga as being the opposite of Olenka in The Darling. Olenka had de-selfed to such a degree that she no longer had a viable concept of selfhood. She was a selfless chameleon absorbing the colors of the current man in her life. Olga, on the other hand, is completely self-engrossed and selfish. She is a lady of leisure who has no problem taking advantage of her husband’s devotion to her—or his money. She has a distorted self-image, surrounding herself with artists who shower her with flattery. She doesn’t invite ladies to her “at home” days because "she considered all ladies wearisome and vulgar . . ." I suspect the real reason ladies are not invited is because she doesn’t want them vying with her for the attention of men. She confuses substance with frivolity, sincerity with pretentiousness, reality with fantasy.
In that she creates her own reality and tries to live by it, she reminded me of Don Quixote—minus his charm and irresistible appeal. But I think she bears a much closer resemblance to another literary figure whose path is almost identical to hers and whose fantasy world similarly crumbles before her very eyes: she is an Emma Bovary in Russian garb.
I too thought of Madame Bovary. But Olga seems to be made of a higher grade of material. She realizes her mistake at last, though too late. She seems to sense Dymov's quality form the first, without being able to describe it exactly. Clearly she also loves male attention, but at first I think that is innocent. At some point that changes. I wonder when.
Yes, such an unpleasant story about a selfish woman.. and yes, Dymov should not have stood for this..but that was not his strength or wont....but perhaps had he made a stand.....and slashed all ties with Olga..suddenly he may have become fully desirable to Olga again...as she seems to appreciate what she can't or doesn't have. Her regard for his kindness held no candle to that of the dashing and daring....and his kindness was something she could and did abuse instead of truly appreciate. There is an element of realism in Dymov's use of a friend as a buffer from Olga's ways; the tools one might employ when one is not ready to face the bitter or harsh reality. Chekhov suggested Dymov had his friend over so that Olga need not lie when alone with him, as if a kindness to Olga but seems to me it would in reality be something more of a protective emotional buffer/denial for Dymov instead..perhaps both.
Iván wrote: "I think that Chekhov was in fact a different kind of artist. The artists he depicts in this story are all emotionally unstable; they are also selfish and think of other people as dull and boring. T..."I agree, Chekhov is definitely different. He seems to me an artist with the objective sensibility of a scientist, which makes his morality-oriented stories so interesting. So much of the time he reserves judgement about his characters. He just lays them out for observation and lets his readers judge, if they choose to do so.
I find it difficult not to judge Olga in this story, just as it is difficult not to judge Emma Bovary in Flaubert's novel. Flaubert makes Emma pay for her betrayal though... here it seems to be the other way around.
Is Dymov a kind of Christ figure, meek and submissive and a servant of all, dying to save another?
Roger wrote: "Is Dymov a kind of Christ figure, meek and submissive and a servant of all, dying to save another?"I can see him as meek, submissive, and a servant to all, but I don't see that his death saved anyone. One might even argue that he deliberately tempted death when his wife's infidelity became too much for him to handle:
People who wantonly risk infection ought to be hauled up and punished for it," muttered Korostelev, not answering Olga Ivanovna's question. "Do you know why he caught it? On Tuesday he was sucking up the mucus through a pipette from a boy with diphtheria. And what for? It was stupid. . . . Just from folly. . . ."
Actually based on reading probably too many nineteenth century novels, I read this as Dymov was trying to save the child's life by removing the mucus so he/she could breath. Perhaps the other doctor's remark indicates that Dymov didn't succeed or that he didn't think the risk was worth taking.
Yes, obviously I wish to blame Olga in this story too....and I agree, Thomas, it is the fact that Chekhov is trained in the sciences perhaps that makes his writings so observational/objective .... as if presenting the reader a microscope and stating: "Look at this life incident on the microscope slide stained just so ...what do you make of it?"
Susan wrote: "Actually based on reading probably too many nineteenth century novels, I read this as Dymov was trying to save the child's life by removing the mucus so he/she could breathe."That is obviously true. But, I believe, those who read it as if “he deliberately tempted death when his wife's infidelity became too much for him to handle” are also right.
This multiplism seems a permanent theme in Chekhov, especially later Chekhov. And, I think, it’s not just his way of writing. He seems to have observed and then reflected in his stories a very interesting phenomenon of real life: The real reasons of our actions are usually very hard to determine, and normally there are multiple overtones over a seemingly single cause.
I, as many, read the end of the story as “Oh, I have to do this, I have a chance [believing the other doctor, it was apparently a very very slim chance] to save the child, and as for my life – who cares! It’s been unbearable for so long anyway, and there’s no light in the tunnel. In worst case, I’ll end up my suffering“. Irrational? True. But irrationality is undeletable part of us humans.
Also true, it could have been only Dymov’s momentary thought at the point of weakness (exactly when he was thinking about his miserable marriage), but it could have been strong enough to make a fatal decision.
Yes, I agree with Bigolo...I suspect it was something akin to a risk/benefit analysis. If one sucked up the phlegm just so, and stopped in time before any cross contamination to one self, all may be well. A low chance of success for the young boy, but at high risk to self in doing so: the boy wins in light of Dymov's valuation of his life (with his domestic woes weighing heavily in said valuation).
I didn't know which thread to post this in, but since this is the last of the Chekhov stories we'll be discussing, I figure this is as good a place as any.I just want to say how much I've enjoyed the stories and the discussions. I've learned a lot about Chekhov and his writing style. But even more so, I've learned a great deal from the different perspectives and interpretations that have been shared. It's been stimulating and illuminating to see how people can read the same story and arrive at a different understanding. It's been great.
A special thank you to Thomas for selecting the stories and for guiding our discussion.
So, thanks to all. And a Happy New Year to everyone.
I hadn't considered that Dymov was "tempting death." He seems strangely unaware of how he is being used -- as a "useful idiot," to borrow a Russian political term -- but by the end he does seem to understand a thing or two and is disturbed by it. Looking back at the story it certainly seems possible that he was flirting with suicide. But there it is again, that possibility and ambiguity. After spending this time with you all, I am convinced that what distinguishes Chekhov is not darkness or melancholy, but ambiguity, which may be either mistaken for melancholy or which enhances some darkness that is already in the story. (And sometimes it's not dark at all. He also uses ambiguity as a comic device.)
I overlooked how powerful Chekhov's ambiguity is until I could see others' thoughts and comments here, revise my own reading, and see what Chekhov was doing. I'm not sure if Chekhov uses ambiguity deliberately, or if it is just engrained in his world view, but it's a focal point of almost all the stories we read. Even the really short ones.
I look forward to reading more of Chekhov's stories, but after this discussion I think I will read them differently, with an eye to subtleties I would have otherwise missed. Thanks to all for participating. This has been a truly enlightening and enriching experience.
Thomas wrote: " I'm not sure if Chekhov uses ambiguity deliberately, or if it is just engrained in his world view, but it's a focal point of almost all the stories we read. Even the really short ones. "As I read, I couldn't help thinking that ambiguity was the natural result of his realism in short story form. Or in other words, would they have been as ambiguous if each of these stories were a fully developed novel? It seems they definitely would have maintained some ambiguity, but in short story form his work is even more mysterious.
According to Donald Rayfield's biography of Chekhov, " 'The Grasshopper' set all Moscow tittering or seething." This was in part due to the fact that the characters were based on people Chekhov knew, and "the 'saintly doctor' faintly recalls Dr. Chekhov."
"The Grasshopper" is story #162 at the Eldritch Press site: http://www.eldritchpress.org/ac/jr/16...