This is the earliest story included in the 13 volumes of tales that Constance Garnett translated. It’s the only story out of the hundreds in the collection that was published in 1882, when Chekhov was grinding away at medical school and just beginning to publish his work in a few journals, most of them newish and not terribly prestigious.
I’m not sure it’s a masterpiece but it’s pretty damn great.
It’s also an exceptionally long work for this period of Chekhov’s career, somewhere in the range of 15,000 words – this at a time when many of his efforts were just a few pages, or even just a few paragraphs.
“A Living Chattel” is the story of a fractured marriage and the long rivalry of two men for the attention of one woman. Groholsky, a wealthy, idle fop, has fallen in love with Liza, a young married woman of questionable attractions. (Chekhov describes her having hair as black as soot.) She’s a gamine, with a figure “as mobile as an electric eel.” Groholsky can’t get enough of her. In fact, he must have her to himself, and to that end he offers a large sum of money to her husband, Bugrov, if the man will relinquish his wife.
Bugrov is an interesting character, not terribly likable (no one in this story is terribly likable), and a bit of a simpleton. The money is tempting: how wonderful it would be to give up his military post! After considering it for a bit, he takes the money – but, crucially, he will only do so if he gets custody of the couple’s son.
That’s the setup; it’s a good one. And Chekhov plays it out really well. This is among the “plottiest” stories he ever wrote, and the storyline concludes in a sufficiently devilish way that I don’t want to spoil it by offering any more details.
One negative note: Sadly, like many another Chekhov tale, this one includes an utterly irrelevant scrap of anti-semitism. I’ve been harping on this throughout these commentaries so I might as well keep it up. This particular line is so mystifying (and at least not entirely offensive) that I’ll include it here: “Both were pining away like fleas in the classic anecdote of the Jew who sold insect powder.”
What???
More than once, I’ve come across some strange, thrown-away line like that. I mean, not once but twice–twice!!–Chekhov uses the phrase “shaking like a Jew in a frying pan.” What the hell???
I can’t understand it. Chekhov as a general rule did not seem to behave in an anti-semitic way in his life (though he does drop the word “Yid” in his letters.) He was briefly engaged to a Jewish woman, he had friends in Taganrog while growing up who were Jewish and with whom he kept in touch in later life, and he feuded with an editor over anti-semitic content in his publication. I’m not the first reader to be confused by this; I suppose one could argue that Chekhov’s contradictory impulses are inherently human – highlighting human inconsistencies is what makes Chekhov’s best work so good.
And speaking of his best work, I’m rather amazed that “A Living Chattel” is rarely or never considered among Chekhov’s finest. The characterizations are harsh but not cartoonish; the plot is eventful but not heavy-handed; the conclusion is almost jaw dropping, and yet believable.
I think this one may be overlooked in part because it appeared so early in his career. The common wisdom is that Chekhov’s early works were immature and mainly fodder for the masterworks that came later. And the story may also be disregarded because it is not entirely Chekhovian, so plot-driven it is.
But I think it probably ranks among his best: Certainly among the top 50!
READ THIS? READ THAT!
Chekhov wrote one other long, multi-chapter story, “Late Blooming Flowers,” in 1882. It’s not included in the Garnett translations but it has been translated into English, and although “Late Blooming Flowers and Other Stories” is out of print, the book is available used. “Late Blooming Flowers” is not nearly as good a story as “A Living Chattel,” but it’s a decent-enough piece to read as a comparison.
A Chekhov Circus 