Great to see you here, BV
We may have had this conversation somewhere else, but....
...granted the de gustibus aspect, one objective reason to read Tolstoy is for the unflinching honesty.
Thus in W&P, it is obvious from e.g. his depiction of the Battle of Borodino that Tolstoy hates warfare, sees it as a stupid and pointless waste of lives. But he is also perceptive enough to see that it also has its positive aspects, e.g. in character formation, and he is too honest to omit this. So Pierre is finally able to achieve discipline and self-respect largely, it is suggested, through his soul-searing experiences after Borodino.
That, the epic sweep, and the fully-formed characters, who are never less than three-dimensional, and always, always believable, are powerful reasons to read him IMO....
Had not heard of this, I will give it a look, thanksThe Sot Weed Factor for one.....and it is a f...ing riot....not to mention, a great primer on pre-revolutionary American history....
Concur with what you say about Lermontov as well
I looked for that, found nothing. Did you mean "Lectures on Russian Literature"?
That's it, yes. Mea culpa.
Again, if you like Dostoyevsky, your fondness for him may take a hit.
However, you in particular will I'm sure be very interested in what he has to say about the art of translation. Many of his examples are English-French, IIRC, and where he discusses translation into and from Russian, he provides clear explanations that require no knowledge of the language.
No problem.
I am rather ambiguous about Dostoyevsky, and am hoping to find an explanation why that is.
Oh, and... I discovered I find it very, very hard to translate English into another language. Funny how that goes, once two realms governed by different languages are established, with next to no interaction between the two. So, I'll have to see whether the Lectures are pertinent.
Did not know about his Rich Lowry years. Evidently, Tolstoy went a bit off the rails in his latter years, apparently considering himself some kind of Christian spiritualist.
It was 150 years ago, and there is so much cultural and historical filter between us, and Russia of the late 19th century, I tend to not think about it too much, unless circumstances in their personal lives informed their writing. As was the case with Dostoyevsky's years in the Siberian penal colonies. The published letters he wrote while in Siberia are riveting.
The limited amount I have read about Anton Chekov leads me to presume he was generally a very decent human being, charitable, egalitarian, and a fiercely honest. But he knew he was going to be dead before he reached 50, so perhaps that influenced his almost manic commitment to accomplishing great things.
Cypress (07-06-2017)
It is something of a truism among translators that a high degree of facility in two different languages does not by any means automatically mean that one is capable of a high level of translation. Translation skills have to be acquired separately, and the particular skills involved will typically depend heavily on the language pair.
"So there's a choice: transform into a sustainable society, or collapse until there's a sustainable society. We're going to get to sustainable one way or another." --Frank Landis, Hot Earth Dreams
He was also quite modest. When asked how long he expected he would continue to be read after his death, IIRC, he replied "seven years. Isn't that about the shelf life for a writer like me?" --paraphrasing of course.
He also had a nice sense of humor, honed during his first few years of writing, when journals would demand humorous very short tales that could be fit onto a single page.
In one letter of his, sent from his new estate in the country to his brother, a fire marshall: "When you come to visit, we will hold a fire drill in your honor"
"So there's a choice: transform into a sustainable society, or collapse until there's a sustainable society. We're going to get to sustainable one way or another." --Frank Landis, Hot Earth Dreams
Great stuff, and you have some good insights.
Modesty indeed. Descended from serfs, he apparently never had the aristocratic bearing of a noble-born Tolstoy. I think he even kind of annoyed Tolstoy with his modesty. Chekov was always more the observer, the scientist - in stark contrast to Tolstoy the philosopher and spiritualist. I think that is part of what I like about Chekov.
More than any other Russian writer I have read, Chekov really seemed to capture the soul of Russia, from the lowliest peasant, to the intelligentsia and nobility. There is an authenticity and frankness that is remarkable.
The other thing that is admirable about Chekhov is that he was outraged by injustice. I have only read in a cursory way about the trip he took to the Sakhalin penal camps, but apparently he helped publicize the inhumanity of the penal camps in a series of letters that were published. I am going to study that a little more.
How Chekhov Remembered the Forgotten: Sakhalin Island
In 1890 it was not a geographical location Chekhov was trying to flee, so much as a social and literary ennui that had overtaken him. Despite success in his medical training and his writing career (he had been unanimously voted the Pushkin Prize winner two years prior), Chekhov felt the sort of listlessness that only travel or all-consuming work can cure. Chekhov chose both, undertaking a formidable journey from his comfortable home and highly active social sphere in Moscow across the Siberian wilderness to the Russian penal colony on Sakhalin Island. Intending to write a book that would make up for his partial abandonment of his medical practice (he always made himself available to treat peasants’ ailments, accepting little or no compensation), Chekhov aimed to survey every settlement and prison on Sakhalin Island. In crafting his own escape, he chose to pursue the stories of those for whom there was no escape. Chekhov was 30 years old.“Gazing at the opposite shore, I feel that if I were a convict, I would escape immediately, whatever the consequences.”
-Anton Chekhov, The Island of Sakhalin, 1895
The voyage would not be without difficulties. Chekhov was of delicate health since his youth; Payne reports that Chekhov spit blood both just prior to and during the three-month journey to Sakhalin. Family and friends urged Chekhov to delay or cancel his journey altogether, but the writer would not be deterred. While Chekhov was steadfast in what he felt was an obligation to uncover the truth about the convicts on Sakhalin Island, he recognized the dangers that lay ahead. Writing to his friend and publisher A. S. Suvorin, Chekhov advised him that “‘in case I’m drowned or anything of that sort, you might keep in mind that all I have or may have in the future belongs to my sister; she will pay my debts.”
In a last-ditch effort to persuade his friend not to travel to the penal colony, Suvorin wrote to Chekhov that his work would be in vain, that Chekhov’s readership did not care for information on a bunch of murderers running about their island prison. Chekhov response was as follows:
Considering the lawlessness of the place, one might think that there were no authority figures, but this was not so. Throughout his life Chekhov abhorred the widespread malfeasance amongst minor Russian bureaucrats, and this is a central theme in many of his short stories prior to and after his journey to Sakhalin Island. Prison guards and administrators made up a significant portion of the Sakhalin Island population, but most were either corrupt, disorganized, dimwitted, or all of the above. Chekhov noted widespread abuses of authority, including slave labour. One prison warden had eight servants, all unpaid. Despite the illegality of the use of convicts as servants in Siberia, this restriction was ignored “in the most flagrant manner”. On an even larger scale of servitude, convicts in the Dué prison were put to work for*a St. Petersburg-owned company. Prisoners choked in poorly ventilated coal mines while the private Russian company made absolutely no attempt to recompense the penal colony for their efforts. Many free settlers were hired with pay to work in the coal mines, but even they had to work in worse conditions than the prisoners (Chekhov 104-107). On a daily basis prisoners bribed guards to get out of their work, and when they could not or would not pay their keepers they were beaten instead.“‘Though the trip may be nonsense – stubbornness, a whim – consider the matter and tell me what I have to lose by going? […] For example, you write that Sakhalin is of no use or interest to anybody. Is that really so? Sakhalin is useless and uninteresting only to a society that does not exile thousands of people to it and spend millions to maintain it […] From the books I’ve read and am reading, it is clear that we have sent millions of people to rot in prison, we have let them rot casually, barbarously, without giving it a thought; we have driven people in chains, through the cold thousands of miles, have infected them with syphilis, made them depraved, multiplied criminals, and we have thrust the blame on red-nosed prison officials. Now, all educated Europe knows that the officials are not to blame, but rather all of us; yet this has nothing to do with us, it is not interesting? […]
No, I assure you, Sakhalin is of use, and it is interesting; and I regret only that it is I who am going there and not someone else who knows more about the business and would be more capable of arousing public interest'”
Full article at
https://gatewayinstrument.wordpress....khalin-island/
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