Forty StoriesIf any writer can be said to have invented the modern short story, it is Anton Chekhov. It is not just that Chekhov democratized this art form; more than that, he changed the thrust of short fiction from relating to revealing. And what marvelous and unbearable things are revealed in these Forty Stories. The abashed happiness of a woman in the presence of the husband who abandoned her years before. The obsequious terror of the official who accidentally sneezes on a general. The poignant astonishment of an aging Don Juan overtaken by love. Spanning the entirety of Chekhov's career and including such masterpieces as "Surgery," "The Huntsman," "Anyuta," "Sleepyhead," "The Lady With the Pet Dog," and "The Bishop," this collection manages to be amusing, dazzling, and supremely moving—often within a single page. |
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... won't be any counsel for the defense and there won't be any accused. The examining magistrate is so decrepit that he would hardly notice a sick bedbug, let alone a murderer.... Such is Chekhov's account in a letter which is evidently ...
... won't be any counsel for the defense and there won't be any accused. The examining magistrate is so decrepit that he would hardly notice a sick bedbug, let alone a murderer.... Such is Chekhov's account in a letter which is evidently ...
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... won't!” the girl whispered. “Oh, just beat him a little bit! He's a fool, and has to be taught a lesson! Give him a beating, my dear. You don't want to? Then I'll have to order Karpushka and Matvey to give you a taste of the nettles ...
... won't!” the girl whispered. “Oh, just beat him a little bit! He's a fool, and has to be taught a lesson! Give him a beating, my dear. You don't want to? Then I'll have to order Karpushka and Matvey to give you a taste of the nettles ...
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... won't help you! Karpushka, call for Matvey!” The boy spat on the ground, hawked, grabbed his sweetheart's hair in his fist, and began to give wickedness its due. As he was punishing her, without realizing it he was carried away, and in ...
... won't help you! Karpushka, call for Matvey!” The boy spat on the ground, hawked, grabbed his sweetheart's hair in his fist, and began to give wickedness its due. As he was punishing her, without realizing it he was carried away, and in ...
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... won't get anywhere by cursing, Mikhey!” Yegor Yegorich said. “I didn't wake you because there's no reason why you should come with us!... You don't know how to shoot! So what's the point of coming? You'll only get in the way! You just ...
... won't get anywhere by cursing, Mikhey!” Yegor Yegorich said. “I didn't wake you because there's no reason why you should come with us!... You don't know how to shoot! So what's the point of coming? You'll only get in the way! You just ...
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... won't shoot anything! And don't you come, doctor. Let him crack wide open with his jealousy!” Yegor Yegorich got up and shook his fists. His eyes were bloodshot. “You good-for-nothing!” he said, turning to his brother. “You're no ...
... won't shoot anything! And don't you come, doctor. Let him crack wide open with his jealousy!” Yegor Yegorich got up and shook his fists. His eyes were bloodshot. “You good-for-nothing!” he said, turning to his brother. “You're no ...
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already asked beautiful began Bishop body brother called carriage Chekhov church cold coming dark dead dear doctor don’t drink everything expression eyes face fall father feeling fell felt followed garden gave gazed give green hands happened happy head heard horses husband It’s keep knew later laughed leave letter light listen live longer looked married morning mother Nadya never night officer Olya once passed peasants playing Princess remembered round seemed shoulders shouted side silence sitting sleep smile someone soon sound standing stay stood story suddenly talking tears tell there’s things thought told took town turned understand village voice waiting walked wandered whole wife window woman women write Yegor Yegorich young