Short Stories & Anthologies
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Stories of Anton Chekhov
Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, the highly acclaimed translators of War and Peace, Doctor Zhivago, and Anna Karenina, which was an Oprah Book Club pick and million-copy bestseller, bring their unmatched talents to The Selected Stories of Anton Chekhov, a collection of thirty of Chekhov's best tales from the major periods of his creative life.
Considered the greatest short story writer, Anton Chekhov changed the genre itself with his spare, impressionistic depictions of Russian life and the human condition. From characteristically brief, evocative early pieces such as "The Huntsman" and the tour de force "A Boring Story," to his best-known stories such as "The Lady with the Little Dog" and his own personal favorite, "The Student," Chekhov's short fiction possesses the transcendent power of art to awe and change the reader. This monumental edition, expertly translated, is especially faithful to the meaning of Chekhov's prose and the unique rhythms of his writing, giving readers an authentic sense of his style and a true understanding of his greatness.
Considered the greatest short story writer, Anton Chekhov changed the genre itself with his spare, impressionistic depictions of Russian life and the human condition. From characteristically brief, evocative early pieces such as "The Huntsman" and the tour de force "A Boring Story," to his best-known stories such as "The Lady with the Little Dog" and his own personal favorite, "The Student," Chekhov's short fiction possesses the transcendent power of art to awe and change the reader. This monumental edition, expertly translated, is especially faithful to the meaning of Chekhov's prose and the unique rhythms of his writing, giving readers an authentic sense of his style and a true understanding of his greatness.
Editorial Reviews
"Theirs is an adagio reading, distinctive and fresh, that returns to us a work we thought we knew, subtly altered and so made new again."-The Washington Post Book World, on Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky's translation of The Brothers Karamazov
Readers Top Reviews
Mr. Ms. TaitTony Hyl
I have known Chekhov's plays for many years, he reimagined dramatic theatre for the 20th century and is one of the greatest playwrights of all time. Playwright Bernard Shaw once said the experience of reading Chekhov's plays made him want to rip up his own plays because they were so good. Chekhov's plays are so popular with theatre goers your lucky if you can get a theatre ticket to see one because they have usually sold out within minutes. So what's the alternative if you can't get a theatre ticket to see a Chekhov play? You could read his plays of course or you could watch a film or television adaptation of his plays on Dvd. I became aware this year from purchasing this book that Chekhov is also regarded as the greatest short story writer of all time. Reading this book has confirmed my suspicions that Anton Chekhov was a genius. His sentences are careful, elegant, beautiful and artistic with deep perceptions about the human condition. No one was writing literature like this in the 19th century. His short stories and his plays changed and influenced the course of literature in the 20th century and he did it in a way that seemed almost effortless. Chekhov I think dabbled in drugs and alcohol, there's an air of Wilkie Collins in his writing style. Take for example the character of Masha in Chekhovs second play The Seagull, who in her boring life takes drugs and alcohol to pass the time and Chekhov was also a doctor, so he would have had access to morphine and other such drugs. The short story I found most interesting in this collection was The Black Monk were a character called Kovrin, who is also a genius, has a vision were a whirlwind appears and materialises into a black monk and starts up a conversation with Kovrin. It's interesting to me that Chekhov uses the word whirlwind before this apparition appears, I on occasion, half asleep, half awake, have had the irritating sensation of a whirlwind round my head which never formed into a apparition thank goodness. I think these are probably the greatest short stories ever written, the only other writer I think that could rival with him in the short story department would be Franz Kafka. The translaters have done a exemplary job with this book, you don't get a sense that you are reading the work of the translater but the writer himself Chekhov. A perfect book to read with a cup of coffee and some chocolate cup cakes, I would recommend it to anyone.
John Morn
I saw 2 of Chekhov's plays in college and I honestly don't remember them. Glenn Close appeared in one I remember, but beyond that I was obviously distracted. Nothing could have prepared me for the perfection of these stories. I have never read a collection that had such an impact. Chekhov's clear-eyed world view peers at tiny physical details in the lives of the characters to see into their souls. They are tragic heroes in common clothes. Chekhov looks on without judgment. His attitude is humane and liberal. No matter how foolish his subjects, his attitude is never condescending. I hadn't realized it until I finished Pevear's forward, but Chekhov begins to slip subtly into stream of consciousness in several stories. This and many other innovations make Chekhov a pivotal figure in fiction writing. He is certainly under appreciated at present. (I can't compare it, of course, but the P&V translation is another gift.)
Cameron MartinDaniel
This star rating reflects frustration with Amazon's layout, not the Chekhov text. For some reason, Amazon has misleadingly grouped a different digital edition of this text with the Modern Library (Pevear/Volokhonsky) edition. The Modern Library edition's front page has a Kindle link to an entirely different digital edition (the one costing $2.99), bearing no imprint or listed translators. If you want to buy the actual Modern Library text as an ebook, you have to click the link to view all formats and editions near the top, and then expand the Kindle listings to find the Modern Library ebook, with a price of $9.99. I don't know whether the $2.99 edition is any good or not, but Pevear and Volokhonsky are reputed to be the standard-setters for all modern translations of Russian literature. Don't let the organization of the product page trick you into buying something inferior. Linking to this other obscure edition from the Modern Library edition's product page is dishonest and, especially with the much lower presented price, appears to be a trap for unwary or unsavvy customers.
BJT
An excellent and diverse book of short stories. The weakest ones are still very good, while the strongest are some of the best fiction I've ever read. Even the translation (compared to Constance Garrett) is great.
B. Stephan
This is a nice compilation of Chekhov's work, taking the reader from early days to his later works. If you like Chekhov, or want to sample his writings, this is a good book to get.
Short Excerpt Teaser
The Death of a Clerk
One fine evening the no less fine office manager Ivan Dmitrich Cherviakov1 was sitting in the second row of the stalls, watching The Bells of Corneville2 through opera glasses. He watched and felt himself at the height of bliss. But suddenly . . . This "but suddenly" occurs often in stories. The authors are right: life is so full of the unexpected! But suddenly his face wrinkled, his eyes rolled, his breath stopped . . . he put down the opera glasses, bent forward, and . . . ah-choo!!! As you see, he sneezed. Sneezing is not prohibited to anyone anywhere. Peasants sneeze, police chiefs sneeze, sometimes even privy councillors sneeze. Everybody sneezes. Cherviakov, not embarrassed in the least, wiped his nose with his handkerchief and, being a polite man, looked around to see whether his sneezing had disturbed anyone. And now he did become embarrassed. He saw that the little old man sitting in front of him in the first row of the stalls was carefully wiping his bald head and neck with his glove and muttering something. Cherviakov recognized the little old man as General Brizzhalov,3 who served in the Department of Transportation.
"I sprayed him!" thought Cherviakov. "He's not my superior, he serves elsewhere, but still it's awkward. I must apologize."
Cherviakov coughed, leaned forward, and whispered in the general's ear:
"Excuse me, Yr'xcellency, I sprayed you . . . I accidentally . . ."
"Never mind, never mind . . ."
"For God's sake, excuse me. I . . . I didn't mean it!"
"Ah, do sit down, please! Let me listen!"
Cherviakov became embarrassed, smiled stupidly, and began looking at the stage. He looked, but felt no more bliss. Anxiety began to torment him. In the intermission he went up to Brizzhalov, walked around him, and, overcoming his timidity, murmured:
"I sprayed you, Yr'xcellency . . . Forgive me . . . I . . . it's not that I . . ."
"Ah, come now . . . I've already forgotten, and you keep at it!" said the general, impatiently twitching his lower lip.
"Forgotten, but there's malice in his eyes," thought Cherviakov, glancing suspiciously at the general. "He doesn't even want to talk. I must explain to him that I really didn't mean it . . . that it's a law of nature, otherwise he'll think I wanted to spit. If he doesn't think so now, he will later! . . ."
On returning home, Cherviakov told his wife about his rudeness. His wife, it seemed to him, treated the incident much too lightly. She merely got frightened, but then, on learning that Brizzhalov served "elsewhere," she calmed down.
"But all the same you should go and apologize," she said. "He might think you don't know how to behave in public!"
"That's just it! I apologized, but he was somehow strange . . . Didn't say a single sensible word. And then there was no time to talk."
The next day Cherviakov put on a new uniform, had his hair cut, and went to Brizzhalov to explain . . . Going into the general's reception room, he saw many petitioners there, and among them was the general himself, who had already begun to receive petitions. Having questioned several petitioners, the general raised his eyes to Cherviakov.
"Yesterday, in the Arcadia, if you recall, Yr'xcellency," the office manager began, "I sneezed, sir, and . . . accidentally sprayed you . . . Forg . . ."
"Such trifles . . . God knows! Can I be of help to you?" the general addressed the next petitioner.
"He doesn't want to talk!" thought Cherviakov, turning pale. "That means he's angry . . . No, it can't be left like this . . . I'll explain to him . . ."
When the general finished his discussion with the last petitioner and headed for the inner rooms, Cherviakov followed him and murmured:
"Yr'xcellency! If I venture to trouble Yr'xcellency, it's precisely, I might say, from a feeling of repentance! . . . It wasn't on purpose, you know that yourself, sir!"
The general made a tearful face and waved his hand.
"You must be joking, my dear sir!" he said, disappearing behind the door.
"What kind of joke is it?" thought Cherviakov. "This is no kind of joke at all! A general, yet he can't understand! If that's the way it is, I won't apologize to the swaggerer any more! Devil take him! I'll write him a letter, but I won't come myself! By God, I won't!"
So Cherviakov thought, walking home. He wrote no letter to the general. He thought and thought, and simply could not think up that letter. So the next day he had to go himself and explain.
"I came yesterday to trouble Yr'xcellency," he began to murmur, when the general raised his questioning eyes to him, "not for a joke, as you were pleased to say. I was apologizing for having sneezed and sprayed you, s...
One fine evening the no less fine office manager Ivan Dmitrich Cherviakov1 was sitting in the second row of the stalls, watching The Bells of Corneville2 through opera glasses. He watched and felt himself at the height of bliss. But suddenly . . . This "but suddenly" occurs often in stories. The authors are right: life is so full of the unexpected! But suddenly his face wrinkled, his eyes rolled, his breath stopped . . . he put down the opera glasses, bent forward, and . . . ah-choo!!! As you see, he sneezed. Sneezing is not prohibited to anyone anywhere. Peasants sneeze, police chiefs sneeze, sometimes even privy councillors sneeze. Everybody sneezes. Cherviakov, not embarrassed in the least, wiped his nose with his handkerchief and, being a polite man, looked around to see whether his sneezing had disturbed anyone. And now he did become embarrassed. He saw that the little old man sitting in front of him in the first row of the stalls was carefully wiping his bald head and neck with his glove and muttering something. Cherviakov recognized the little old man as General Brizzhalov,3 who served in the Department of Transportation.
"I sprayed him!" thought Cherviakov. "He's not my superior, he serves elsewhere, but still it's awkward. I must apologize."
Cherviakov coughed, leaned forward, and whispered in the general's ear:
"Excuse me, Yr'xcellency, I sprayed you . . . I accidentally . . ."
"Never mind, never mind . . ."
"For God's sake, excuse me. I . . . I didn't mean it!"
"Ah, do sit down, please! Let me listen!"
Cherviakov became embarrassed, smiled stupidly, and began looking at the stage. He looked, but felt no more bliss. Anxiety began to torment him. In the intermission he went up to Brizzhalov, walked around him, and, overcoming his timidity, murmured:
"I sprayed you, Yr'xcellency . . . Forgive me . . . I . . . it's not that I . . ."
"Ah, come now . . . I've already forgotten, and you keep at it!" said the general, impatiently twitching his lower lip.
"Forgotten, but there's malice in his eyes," thought Cherviakov, glancing suspiciously at the general. "He doesn't even want to talk. I must explain to him that I really didn't mean it . . . that it's a law of nature, otherwise he'll think I wanted to spit. If he doesn't think so now, he will later! . . ."
On returning home, Cherviakov told his wife about his rudeness. His wife, it seemed to him, treated the incident much too lightly. She merely got frightened, but then, on learning that Brizzhalov served "elsewhere," she calmed down.
"But all the same you should go and apologize," she said. "He might think you don't know how to behave in public!"
"That's just it! I apologized, but he was somehow strange . . . Didn't say a single sensible word. And then there was no time to talk."
The next day Cherviakov put on a new uniform, had his hair cut, and went to Brizzhalov to explain . . . Going into the general's reception room, he saw many petitioners there, and among them was the general himself, who had already begun to receive petitions. Having questioned several petitioners, the general raised his eyes to Cherviakov.
"Yesterday, in the Arcadia, if you recall, Yr'xcellency," the office manager began, "I sneezed, sir, and . . . accidentally sprayed you . . . Forg . . ."
"Such trifles . . . God knows! Can I be of help to you?" the general addressed the next petitioner.
"He doesn't want to talk!" thought Cherviakov, turning pale. "That means he's angry . . . No, it can't be left like this . . . I'll explain to him . . ."
When the general finished his discussion with the last petitioner and headed for the inner rooms, Cherviakov followed him and murmured:
"Yr'xcellency! If I venture to trouble Yr'xcellency, it's precisely, I might say, from a feeling of repentance! . . . It wasn't on purpose, you know that yourself, sir!"
The general made a tearful face and waved his hand.
"You must be joking, my dear sir!" he said, disappearing behind the door.
"What kind of joke is it?" thought Cherviakov. "This is no kind of joke at all! A general, yet he can't understand! If that's the way it is, I won't apologize to the swaggerer any more! Devil take him! I'll write him a letter, but I won't come myself! By God, I won't!"
So Cherviakov thought, walking home. He wrote no letter to the general. He thought and thought, and simply could not think up that letter. So the next day he had to go himself and explain.
"I came yesterday to trouble Yr'xcellency," he began to murmur, when the general raised his questioning eyes to him, "not for a joke, as you were pleased to say. I was apologizing for having sneezed and sprayed you, s...
