Chekhov was such a productive and rapid writer, it’s probably not surprising that, from time to time, he echoed himself. In the case of “Uprooted,” the source material was barely a year old: “Easter Eve.”
Both stories involve visits to a monastery. The monastery in “Easter Eve” is never named, but the geographical descriptions suggested it might be the Sviatohirsk Cave Monastery. In “Uprooted,” the monastery is actually named: “Sviatogorsky Monastery.” Set on the Donets River, Sviatohirsk is about 175 miles north of Chekhov’s childhood hometown, Taganrog, and likely on the route from Taganrog to Moscow–a trip Chekhov took many times in his life. So I’m pretty sure that both stories are based in this same setting, a dramatic and beautiful church with whitewashed walls and blue and gold onion domes, like a fairy tale movie set in an Eastern Orthrodox kingdom.
Alas, where “Easter Eve” soared, “Uprooted” is earthbound. Written in the first person, the story tells of the narrator’s meeting with an unusual man, Alexandr, while boarding at the church. Alexandr is a convert from the Judaism of his birth, and that’s where the troubles begin, because, whatever Chekhov’s attitude about Jews was IRL (he was engaged to a Jewish woman for two years and took a stand against antisemitism several times), as a writer he just couldn’t seem to write about Jews without sliding into ugliness. Here’s a sentence about Alexandr’s appearance: “… that peculiar oily brilliance of his eyes which is found only in Jews.”
What is doubly absurd is that, just a page or two earlier, before learning that Alexandr was Jewish, the narrator had described him as having “a round and pleasing face” and “dark childlike eyes.” Somehow, a page later, those eyes have become oily and brilliant. Huh!?!?
Much of the story relates Alexandr’s abandonment of his filthy, ignorant, Jewish childhood, and his struggles to secure a place in the world.
I don’t write off this tale wholesale despite the taint of antisemitism. It’s a sad story. Alexandr, having harbored doubts about his religion and wanting something different for himself, sets off as a very young man, seeking not fame and fortune but, realistically, a place to call his own and a career of some sort to support himself.
His true desire is to get an education, but even a modest education is difficult to achieve if you have no money. He plies various trades–relining pots, trading used clothing–and manages to attend different college programs–veterinary medicine and mining–without attaining a degree. Now, at last, he has gotten a certificate to work as a village schoolmaster.
His stay at the monastery (where he is essentially being hosted as a charity case) marks the end of his struggles, he hopes. Within a few weeks, he will begin his job, and have enough money to eat, a roof over his head, and a purpose in life.
But this modest new life that he has struggled to win has come at a great cost: He has given up his faith, his family, his roots, his home.
Presumably Chekhov sees Alexandr’s struggles as a metaphor for the fate of the Jews in 19th century Russia. Derided, segregated, hated, Jews in Russia were always at the precipice–murderous riots targeting Jews swept through Russia during Chekhov’s lifetime. Like the Jews themselves, Alexandr is struggling simply to have a place in the world.
The irony, then, is that Chekhov could not quite manage to portray Alexandr without falling back on stereotypes. The portrait of Alexandr ends up largely sympathetic, but it’s hard to cleanse the stench of the antisemitism of his introduction.
READ THIS? READ THAT!
I suppose you could use “Uprooted” as part of a study of Chekhov’s top antisemitic tales: “Mire!” “A Gentleman Friend!”
But no.
And let’s not go back to “Easter Eve,” either. That’s too obvious! (That said, you should read “Easter Eve!!!” It’s just so good!)
Instead, the interesting thing might be to look at another category of Chekhov tales: Two travelers meet and end up having to sleep in the same room. During the night, they tell the stories of their lives. “On the Road” (the story by Chekhov, not the novel by Kerouac!) makes an interesting companion piece to “Uprooted.” Both of the stories could have been called “On the Road” or “Uprooted” – the themes are interchangeable.
A Chekhov Circus 