Text|Zuo Jin (8 years in the United States, Master of Commerce).
I first came into contact with Chekhov in elementary school. At that time, when I was young, I was still ignorant and enlightened, and I was full of curiosity about all the things and knowledge around me, but I was also a bear breaking corn - breaking a stick and losing a stick, and I naturally knew nothing and felt nothing about the vast ** literature. Now I think back to being asked by the teacher to recite "The Man in the Suit" and "Chameleon", I still remember that Teacher Zhao asked us to analyze the psychological activities of the characters paragraph by paragraph, and copied Chekhov as she understood it in the textbook word by word. I understand the original intention of selecting articles in primary school, but the children's social experience is limited, and it is not yet known whether they can understand the hardships and hardships of the people around them, not to mention the people and things that are far away and far away in the last century. What kind of enlightenment education should be given to children is worthy of our reflection and deep thought.
I often stubbornly insist that this cannot be regarded as my "first acquaintance" with Chekhov, but since when I have had my own understanding of the writer Chekhov and his works, I can't say. It's like some old things and old times, which can no longer be specifically recalled, but have turned into a feeling of nothingness, like an inconsiderate old friend, who always asks him out every now and then, and meets on the bridge built by words, and listens to his sharp words; It's like a jar of old wine that I treasure in private, strong, spicy throat, but after a while, I still want to take it out and take a few sips.
I recently read Chekhov, which is a collection of Chekhov's short stories published by the People's Literature Publishing House, which brings together Chekhov's forty most prestigious short stories. It took nearly half a month for me to gnaw it down and finish reading it, but it was a completely different experience.
Within our education and cognitive system, there is probably no one who can refuse the aura of great works. When we were young, we were required to read famous books, and when we read, the textbook income was all famous works, even if we worked, or occasionally posted a few reading experiences in the circle of friends, and the style and taste were not ordinary. But why great works are great and why they are immortal, few people give a clear answer. There are a thousand Hamlets in the eyes of a thousand people, and there is probably no one standard answer. But I think the reason why it is great may be inseparable from what the writer wants to express in his work. Compared with the popular **, Chekhov's short stories** are not "pleasing to the eye" to read, and in his pen, they are full of small people and small things. In such a high position as a writer, his gaze is downward, and the artistic word-processing does not damage the objectivity and sociality of the characters' affairs, full of revealing and critical language and calm and restrained expression, depicting the real social outlook at that time, so that we can get a glimpse of the panorama of the text.
In my reading experience, this reading experience is very contradictory, which is why it took me nearly half a month to read it. The article is a fascinating read, but the thoughts it provokes are painful, or at least pleasant, which is another "pleasure" of reading and the emotional drive that prompted me to write this article.
Reading Chekhov's ** is like throwing yourself into a "battle", because of his treatment of the structure and plot of the article: a short story ** with only a few dozen pages in length, but the content plot rises and falls like a wave. But when our emotions follow the development of the plot to reach a climax, he often pauses, leaving a full stop for people to think deeply. This kind of profundity and multi-layered and complex reading experience is probably the reason why many people say that "after Chekhov, all excellent short stories are called Chekhov". His infectious themes and the cold reality of his depictions have put on a world-class laurel crown, and Chekhov has also ranked first among the three major masters of short stories in the modern literary world.
Selected Chekhov's Short Stories
Author: Translated by Ru Long by Russian Chekhov.
People's Literature Publishing House.
The two articles mentioned in this article, "Thirsty Sleep" and "Gooseberry", may be unfamiliar to some friends. None of them have been excerpted into Chinese textbooks, nor have they become "popular" in the circle of friends, and the popular works have long been known, so I don't need to repeat them. And I don't intend to teach or inspire others, but I think that I will provide you with another possibility to look at Chekhov and his works. In chronological order of the writer's writing, let's start with "Thirsty Sleep".
Valka, a 13-year-old babysitter, was rocking a baby's cradle in the middle of the night, and the little doll was crying as if it could never stop. Valka was so sleepy that she wanted to sleep for a while, but if the boss and the proprietress knew, they would have beaten her. The dimly lit room, coupled with the sound of the child crying, was like a lullaby, making it harder and harder for Valka to stay awake. The room was covered with clotheslines full of baby swaddling clothes and trousers, and the green spots on the walls were dangling in the shadows from the light, and Valka was so sleepy that "her eyelids and lips could not move, and she felt as if her face had dried up and turned into wood, as if her head had become as thin as a pin's needle."
In a trance, Valka seemed to see his parents. Her father was struggling in bed with a hernia, and the thatched hut was filled with terrible breathing sounds. Because he was not treated in time, his father died soon after. His mother begged for a living, and sent the young Valka to the estate to work as a nanny. Looking at this, Valka seemed to return to the desperate day of his father's death. Suddenly, a shrill shout brought Valka back to reality: the proprietress woke up. She jerked Valka's ears and hit her on the head, punishing her. "Valka, light the stove! Valka, samovar! Valka, wash the outside steps! A new day had begun, and Valka was even a little glad that she could be kept awake with all this work. But Valka was still too sleepy, his brain was buzzing, and he would fall asleep if he stood still. She had to work all the time to distract herself.
After a tiring day, the guests visited in the evening. "Valka, run and get three beers! Valka, pack up the herring! "After a full meal, the masters are going to sleep. "Valka, shake the doll! "This is the last order. Back in the dimly lit room, everything began to repeat itself: the mottled green shadows on the walls, the non-stop crying babies, the purrs of the masters, which made her mind foggy. She saw her mother and father again, and she knew everything, and she knew everything, but in her half-sleep she didn't understand what force bound her hands and feet, and pressed her, and didn't allow her to live. Eventually, she searched like crazy, and finally found the enemy who would not allow her to live: the baby. She smiled, squeezed her eyes, shook her finger at the green spot, crept over to the cradle, bent down, and approached the doll. When she had strangled him, she lay down on the floor and laughed with joy, for she could sleep, and in less than a minute she was asleep like a dead man. ”
Sleepy was written in 1888. At that time, the rule of the tsars had long been in shambles, there were many social problems, and people's lives were miserable. Chekhov was born in a serf family, and his insight and understanding of the people at the bottom are linked to his own experience, and the lives of the people at the bottom are easier to enter his perspective and his works. Sympathy for the masses, hatred of the exploiting classes, whipping of social injustice, are hidden behind most of his works. In this **, Valka, a poor child, comes from a poor background, and the departure of her father and mother makes her life even more difficult. In order to make a living, she had to work as a domestic helper in a wealthy family to take care of the children. Chekhov's subtle descriptions of the dimly lit nursery at the beginning and end of the story describe Valka's daily work in a few strokes: "Green spots, shadows, the never-ending crying of the child, the busyness of a 13-year-old babysitter." For Valka, it's the whole picture of her life, and the child's never-ending cry is like a tightened clockwork, ticking and urging Valka to work without stopping.
The word "thirsty sleep" is very vivid, and it suddenly makes people feel as if they are back in a state of desperate and desperate longing. And the story "infanticide" is like a pre-set "trap" set by the author for the reader, and if you don't read it down, it will be the main reason for anyone to make a priori moral judgments. But when we follow Chekhov's description, reading line by line, Valka's pity and misery overwhelm the sin of ** little by little. Eventually, Valka was driven mad by sleep, strangling the crying baby in a state of pain and near collapse. We were also driven "crazy" by Chekhov, and our understanding, sympathy, and pity for the "criminal" Valka prevailed, until we were made to ignore her infanticide.
* It unfolds from Valka's point of view, and the reader follows her time trajectory, experiencing an extremely sleepy night, to her endless busyness during the day, and then to the night again, the short length of the page lengthens the time, and Valka's "thirsty sleep" is also infinitely extended. The pain of not being able to sleep accumulates little by little, as if it can spread out of the paper, and finally, as if the drowning person was pulled to the surface, the moment Valka strangled the baby and fell, we couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, the extreme exhaustion disappeared, the physical pain was gone, Valka could finally rest, even if the next moment was her own death, she couldn't care about it. I held my breath for fear that the slightest noise would disturb the poor little girl.
Valka fell down and fell asleep, but Chekhov didn't give us an answer as to what fate would happen to her when she woke up, but I think everyone could guess it.
In this **, time is like a circle, repeating itself and repeating itself. From night to day to night, from Valka caring for the child to serving the master to caring for the child, from the parents to Valka's servile status, from the baby crying over and over again. On the surface of the text, Valka seems to be struggling with "thirst and sleep", but in fact, through the author's description of her, we can see that there are countless Valka under such a never-ending cycle of class oppression, which is the real reason for driving Valka crazy. Compared with the ** society at that time, it is not like this dim baby room, which is full of decay, despair and indifference, and the cramped space makes a weak child lose control, and it is also shrouded in the hearts of everyone. And throughout this process, no one else helped Valka, to say something or do something, ** this setting made Valka seem desperate, making her final choice "have to". This is not necessarily the author's despair.
Another "Gooseberry" may be a little brighter in its storytelling: on a cloudy thunderstorm, veterinarian Ivan Ivanich and middle school teacher Bulkin are walking down a country road. In order to escape the rain, they decided to visit the house of the landlord Amuxin. Here, the two were warmly entertained: the maid prepared a change of clothes for them, and the two not only took a comfortable bath, but were also invited to a dinner party. In the main hall, the generals and their wives and their master, Amukhin, gathered to talk, and at this time, Ivanech began to tell a story about him.
He also had a younger brother named Nikolai. During their childhood, their father was an officer, and after his death, they were left with a piece of land, and the two brothers spent a carefree childhood in the countryside. Climbing trees, catching fish, and watching flocks of birds fly south deeply influenced his younger brother Nikolai, who wished he could live like this forever. When they grew up, the brothers went to work in the city. As a small civil official, his younger brother could not identify with the city, and missed the happy life in the countryside even more, he felt that he was imprisoned in a small office, and dreamed of returning to the countryside all day longing, buying a manor, being his own master, and planting gooseberries in the garden was one of his most longing for life. "He used to say that when he sat on the balcony and drank tea, his ducklings were swimming in the pond, and everywhere there was a fragrance, and...The gooseberries are ripe. Such fantasies also changed Nikolai's life. He saved all the money he could and lived like a beggar. Pick and search, every little bit of money he makes, he keeps it in the bank. This constant saving of money made Nikolai more and more greedy for money and more and more stingy. Decades later, at the age of 40, he still dreamed of buying a manor and married an old and ugly widow just to get her property. Nikolai was extremely stingy with his wife, often making her unable to eat, and his own illness and weakness caused his wife to die within a few years. Nikolai, who had the estate of his deceased wife, finally saved enough money and began to buy the estate. But time has passed, and the manor he had previously admired was not at all what he imagined. Although there is a river, it is pitch black because of the nearby factories, not to mention the ducks. Nikolai was not discouraged, he ordered a gooseberry tree and planted it according to his original design.
Ivanech continued, having come to the newly built farm last year at the invitation of his brother. Ivanech found his brother old, dark, fat, and loose like a pig on the estate. The two brothers hugged each other for a long time, feeling the ruthlessness of time, and the two were no longer young. The younger brother immediately took Ivanech on a tour of the estate, and Ivanech found that the younger brother was no longer the cowering little civil servant, but now a real landlord. "As long as I move my fingers, the people will do everything I want to do. "He repeated 'us aristocrats' and 'I am a nobleman' twenty times, and he clearly did not remember that our grandfather was a peasant and my father was a soldier." Nikolai asked his brother to taste the gooseberries he grew home, what a taste it was, sour and hard, but Nikolai kept saying, "Ah, it's delicious!" You have a taste! At this point in the story, Ivanech paused. The brother's story is over, but what Ivanech really wants to say is just the beginning. Allow me to excerpt this wonderful passage in its entirety: "Nikolai's beloved dream has clearly been fulfilled, his goal in life has been achieved, and he is satisfied with his destiny and with himself. For some reason, when I saw happy people with my own eyes, I had a heavy feeling that bordered on despair. How many satisfied and happy people there are! Look at this kind of life: the strong are arrogant and lazy, and the weak are ignorant and live like animals. Poverty, overcrowding, degradation, alcoholism, hypocrisy, lying...But in all the houses and on the streets, they are calm and quiet. None of the 50,000 inhabitants of a city shouted to vent his indignation. Everywhere is quiet and peaceful. This is general insensitivity. Behind the door of every happy and contented man should be a man who knocks on the door with a small hammer and reminds him that there are unfortunate people in the world, no matter how happy he may be, but sooner or later life will show its claws to him, sickness, poverty, loss, and no one will see him, and no one will hear him, just as he cannot see or hear others now. But the person with the little hammer does not, the happy person lives carefree, and the little troubles of daily life slightly excite him, like a breeze blowing an aspen, it is really peaceful in the world. ”
The story is over. Both the guests and the hosts fell silent. Ivanic's story clearly did not satisfy their interest. The landlord, in particular, Amushin, found the story of this jealous civil official to be very boring, and wanted to hear "the story of a noble man and a woman", and he was glad that Ivanich had finished speaking, and after saying goodnight, he arranged for Ivanage and Bulkin to rest. Disappointed, Ivanech returned to his room, looked at the cross at the head of the bed, and prayed to the Lord for forgiveness for these sinners.
Gooseberry was written in 1898, exactly 10 years after the creation of Thirsty Sleep. In the past 10 years, ** society has undergone drastic changes, and Chekhov's life and fame have also undergone considerable changes. From the beginning, through anonymous writing, to go deeper into society, he has a deeper insight into social issues. At this time, Chekhov had a certain status in the literary world, and he was more aware of the responsibilities that writers had to assume in social changes. In the article "Gooseberry", Chekhov did not hesitate to express his views and opinions, and under the pretense of Ivanich's mouth, through his narration of his younger brother, he depicted a life full of irony for us.
In the story of "Gooseberry Collection", his younger brother Nikolai pursues the life of growing gooseberries in the manor, which is simple, simple, and fresh and refined. But through Chekhov's description, we see a do-it-all, stingy, and fat manor owner. In this **, time becomes the main thread that changes the characters in the text, in "Thirsty Sleep", Valka is crushed by the repeated work, and in "Gooseberry", Nikolai is distorted and deformed by the daily banality of life. This work naturally had the intention of exposing reality and criticizing society at the time, and now when it is read, it also has a real view of most people's lives, and it may not be a wake-up call: do people who are tired of their lives still remember their original ideals in the pursuit of fame, fame, and fortune in their daily work, in the pursuit of fame, fame, and fortune? Returning, are we still the teenagers who want to grow gooseberries on our own estate and live a free and carefree life?
I don't know Ivanich's intention in telling the story of his brother to everyone in the main hall, and Chekhov didn't say it explicitly in **, but apparently his enthusiastic narration didn't move anyone except himself. The landlords, the generals, and the wives still wanted to hear the interesting stories of the "elegant" and "women". Ivanech's weak narration reminded me of the ** society at that time, as well as modern China, which had a similar situation to it. Mr. Lu Xun at the beginning of the last century was also shouting. They all have the desire and responsibility to write to enlighten the people's wisdom, like fighters, and the sharpness of their writing is only to awaken the numb world and people's wisdom.
Coincidentally, these two literary fighters, where words save the country, have an indissoluble bond with doctors. Mr. Lu Xun was indignant at the society at that time, and resolutely gave up medicine to pursue literature, and the writer Chekhov also had a dream of saving the country with medical skills. After graduating with honors from Moscow University, he began practicing medicine in the suburbs of Moscow. Writing is his hobby, and doctors are his job. But with the advancement of the ** liberation movement, Chekhov realized more and more that enlightening the ignorant and calling for liberation was more urgent than healing the human body. Just like Nikolai, he spent half his life and finally got what he wanted, but under the coercion of such a society full of oppression and exploitation, he did not escape the mud and sand torrent of society after all, and became a commanding manor who took pleasure in exploiting people.
I think that the reason why great works are great is that they still have vivid vitality and readability even though they have a long history. Chekhov's words from Ivanich in "Gooseberry" are still deafening to us today: "Don't be calm, don't let yourself sleep!" While you are still young and strong, you must never tire of doing good things! Happiness is not and should not be. If life has meaning and purpose, then meaning and purpose are never our own happiness, but something greater and more reasonable than that. Do good! Another example is the famous work "Necklace" by another short story master, Maupassant, which has a different interpretability and meaning when read today. These writers and works have different meanings in different societies because of the different interpretations of readers in different eras. The layers are layered to make it even thicker.
Reading Chekhov again, it is not as obscure and boring as when he was a teenager. At that time, I felt bored, because I was asked, and I felt heavy when I read it again, because the writer's words often let us break away from the numb, mechanical daily life. However, it takes courage to face yourself, think seriously and introspect. In my opinion, most of the writers who can bring such an understanding to readers have long been free from the confines of the identity of "writers". Compared with writers, they are more thinkers and philosophers, and writing is only a tool and means for their expression. If we can see through these appearances and cut through the clouds, maybe we can all have a communication with them through time and space.
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