Listed high among the masters of short story is Russian writer Anton Chekhov. Even if you haven’t read his work, there’s a good chance that you’ve heard of his technique in Chekhov’s gun. Instead of living in mystery, I have decided to finally dig into the author’s work and understand just what makes him an essential voice in the written word. Is he more than a simple gimmick and, if so, what does he have to say about the larger world around him? Like everything I’ve covered in the Short Stop column, his is a series defined by searching bookstores to find whatever speaks to me. At long last, I hope to better understand a name I’ve known seemingly since before I was a writing major but never had context for. Is Chekhov as great as they say? Follow along as I try to see if the payoff is worth the set-up.
The more Chekhov has downsized his plots, the more familiar they become. While this differs significantly from the previous entry, “A Doctor’s Visit,” there’s still enough that is recognizable. After making these elaborate tales of symbolism that require the reader to seek them out, he seems intent on creating stories that are closer to tales that people share in private quarters, in the off hours when activity for the day has ceased. He has based stories around campfires and in cabins, but here he expands on the ideas of “A Doctor’s Visit” by suggesting a different form of irony. Whereas that story centered around the unexamined life and the way it impacts others, “Gooseberries” attempts to show the compassionate side, with haphazard results.
As with most Chekhov stories, this opens with a detailed study of the weather. The sky is overcast, and the rain has soaked the protagonists, Ivan Ivanovitch and Burkin. The former is a doctor who is used to traveling, while Burkin is a high school teacher. As a result, he is the one who seems most aware of the peasants that will be central to the story, for education is often used to determine levels of social class. The duo is also one of many symbolic hierarchies present throughout the story, suggesting that one is always superior to the other, creating irony around the elite’s study of freedom.
Ivan and Burkin arrive at Alehin’s home seeking shelter. He is a gracious host who brings something peculiar to Chekhov’s world, especially after “A Doctor’s Visit.” Whereas that story centered around a sense of disconnect, Alehin suggests that he lives among the servants wandering his two-story home. He sleeps downstairs despite the better sleeping quarters being upstairs. It creates a sense of humbleness that allows him to seem selfless and create a vision of a more unified world. He even offers his guests a chance to bathe, which leads to an odd scene of Ivan swimming in a pond where he touches the bottom and causes tadpoles to ripple, as if he’s unable to not alter his environment. At the same time, it is strange given that this venue is more than likely outdoors where it is still raining.
Even in Alehin’s philanthropy, he’s still living among servants. There is a recognized difference between him and the people who provide refreshments while they relax. It’s unclear how different Alehin’s relationship to his environment is on other days, but for now, it’s only a surface-level altruism.
Given the wandering nature of his guests, it can even be argued that Ivan is beneath Alehin in this invisible line-up. He is a doctor and thus has some power over the sick, providing cures that could save lives. Is he better than the educational system with Burkin? It’s hard to say, given that one can’t be a doctor without a degree, but for this circumstance, Burkin almost doesn’t matter. Nothing about his plot necessarily progresses. What happens going forward is mostly a conversation between Ivan and Alehin, who once again are at odds with who is controlling the word count of the remaining pages.
Ivan wants to share a story about his brother Nikolay, whom he sees as an ironic figure. Their father encouraged him to take up a government job that he was not satisfied with. Despite serving as the voice of order, he felt disconnected from those he was assigned to serve. In contrast, he would spend his free time looking at ads for cottages where he could one day move and find happiness. Despite a diversity in landscape details, he kept coming back to one thing. He wanted to grow gooseberries. Ivan wasn’t sure what drew his brother to romanticize this plant, but it became the one thing that he adored.
Given how soul-crushing Ivan’s portrayal is, one would be forgiven for assuming that he wallowed away his entire life in a government job, growing more miserable by the month. While this is true for part of the narrative, he eventually has a breakthrough following the long-term plan of saving up money and having someone help him find a 330-acre place to move. It doesn’t have gooseberries, nor a lake of any kind, but Nikolay knows how to work around this. He has a gooseberry bush that grows near a river. It should also be noted that this body of water is “the color of coffee” because it shares a pathway with an industry plant.
Again, readers would be forgiven for thinking that this meant that Nikolay’s dreams would fall apart. On the contrary, his life turned out fairly well. When Ivan visits, he is encouraged to try the recently ripe gooseberries. Ivan is quick to suggest a bitterness, but Nikolay loves the taste. This can be suggested not that he loves the flavor, but more recognizing the reward of hard work. After years of delayed gratification, he finally has what he wants, which is something that is one with nature, though, ironically, polluted by a tainted water source.
Nikolay’s journey from here could be seen as a triumph on the surface. He has a family who provides company. He even purports to be a homeowner on par with Alehin, who acts friendly with the peasants around him. Upon feeling guilt for their quiet suffering, he has decided to share his wealth. He even gives them wine. Compared to the factory next door, he is the hero, even if there are constant doubts that he’s connecting with them on more than a material level, suggesting that their emotional bond is done by more of a barter system.
Ivan eventually shifts into a conversation about the peasants that he often walks among. He speaks passionately about how they must suffer in silence and not receive the same level of success that people like Nikolay would. They will reach the end of their lives, hypothetically in misery, and find nothing of value waiting. And yet, he is surprised to learn that they have found ways to overcome their struggles by finding meaning in different things. What they lack in monetary value, they more than compensate for with family values and a community that is more likely to understand their struggles on a more intimate level. It’s doubtful that Alehin is capable of knowing his servants, if for no other reason than he’s never seen having to offer them refreshment and rest, let alone offer them the good beds upstairs.
Chekhov contrasts this with a description of the wealthy, which also ties the theme of the story together. He observes that the wealthy only ever talk about their luxury, suggesting a disconnect from their environment. They are happy, but not in the same way that the peasants are. What they have is fleeting, lacking any ability to grow and evolve. For Nikolay, it becomes ironic that his view of affluence is gooseberries, which are technically natural, but are transplanted to a toxic water source and lack the, ahem, rich flavor that comes from something more pure. It’s true that Nikolay is likely more humane than the other characters Chekhov has discussed, but there’s still the reality that he’s got more capital to his name, which in itself creates barriers.
The story ends with a detail that seems initially odd on the surface. Alehin allows Ivan to sleep upstairs in the comfortable beds. The room is massive, and the bed is designed to be all-encompassing, as if swallowing him whole. There’s nothing wrong with the furniture at all, but it’s clear that there’s a mental disconnect at this point, after having thought of the disparity between social classes, that causes Ivan to feel out of place. Compared to what he knows, this is gauche. He attempts to have a smoke but finds it difficult. In a humorous moment, he tries to put his pipe away, only to find that there’s a burning smell that won’t go away.
As is the case with most of Chekhov’s prose, this is another expertly crafted narrative about hierarchy, where even the people who use their power for perceived good can be at risk of not being helpful. There’s also a discussion of freedom and how it’s interpreted. Are the peasants more free because they see a world outside of possessions, or are the elites freer because of their ability to hire workers and spend free time appreciating other pursuits? Like all of the author’s story, the answer falls closer to the idea of how humanity has constructed the world and, by doing so, has created their own limitations. There is nothing separating any character listed here, and yet the reader perceives Ivan as superior to Burkin and Alehin superior to his servants. The idea that Nikolay feels freer once he’s outside of the government position is equally amusing, though also points to how he’s still in the shadow of industry, of how it ruins nature, and the impossibility of creating a perfect ecosystem. His dream of gooseberries is simple but admirable. Too bad he’ll have to settle for the contaminated tale.
This also works as a companion piece to “A Doctor’s Visit,” albeit in a more conventionally structured style. In this case, the doctor is addressing his epiphany instead of experiencing it firsthand. For as much as Chekhov’s style of simple conversations can be tedious, he still has a talent for quietly constructing themes into something more universal and accessible to his audience. “Gooseberries” ranks among his more successful, even if it’s also more concrete than earlier entries that challenge society with abstract iconography. Still, the compassion shines through, and he’s left the reader laughing at the contradictions that keep the perfect world from taking shape.
At the end of the day, everyone is needed to make the world spin around. It is ideal that it doesn’t involve destruction, but at that point, there is a quest to heal. There is a need to look beyond the periphery given to us and begin empathizing with the greater world. A lot may distract, but there is still a need to try and make a difference. Nobody is perfect, and it can be argued that Alehin is a contradictory character. However, there is still a sign that he wants something better than people suffering for meaningless causes. Given that Ivan is still on his journey, it’s a good metaphor for how nobody has gotten where they needed to go. It’s best to try and take a break before trying again in the morning,
Coming Up Next: “The Lady With the Dog”
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