Sigh. Another day, another story flawed by Chekhov’s antisemitism.
“A Gentleman Friend” concerns a woman – I suppose she would have been called a “fallen woman” back in the day – who approaches a former lover for money.
The man, Finkel, is a grotesque. I was going to type up the description of him but what’s the point? I’ve quoted Chekhov’s descriptions of Jewish characters enough by now.
In this particular case, I could imagine someone defending Chekhov’s words; it could be argued that the repulsive description of Finkel is coming through the young woman’s eyes – it is she who is the anti-semite. And so she may be; but so is Chekhov the writer. (I’m not going to litigate the question of Chekhov the antisemite IRL. See entries on “Mire” or “The Steppe” or “Uprooted.”)
In any case, we meet Vanda shortly after she has been released from a hospital. She is broke and homeless, and after pawning her last piece of jewelry for a single ruble, she goes to Finkel, a dentist, thinking he will lend her some cash. In the waiting room, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror: “She saw a ragged figure without a fashionable jacket, without a big hat, and without bronze shoes. And it seemed strange to Vanda that, now that she was humbly dressed and looked like a laundress or sewing girl, she felt ashamed, and no trace of her usual boldness and sauciness remained…”
Unadorned, she is unrecognizable to Finkel, who asks what she wants. Flustered, she says she has a toothache. And, horribly enough, he removes her tooth–and charges her a ruble for her trouble.
This story has an unlikely (and, I would say, un-Chekhovian) ending. After leaving Finkel’s office, having lost her last dime and her tooth, we watch Vanda trudge down the street, spitting blood and brooding on her life. And yet, the very next day she has somehow wangled a new boyfriend to buy her nice clothes and take her out on the town. Everything is fine, apparently, at least for now.
It feels like a bit of a copout, but ok…
READ THIS? READ THAT!
“The Chorus Girl” is a very different sort of portrait of a woman living by her wits and her sexual wiles, but it makes for a nice companion piece to “The Gentleman Friend.” Neither Vanda nor Pasha are powerless, exactly, but their subordination is unquestionable.
A Chekhov Circus 