Chekhov could be extraordinarily cold-blooded, choosing to write about unpleasant matters in an utterly straightforward manner–but also without purpose.
“Why write about some awful person doing awful things?” you might ask. “Because it’s there,” he would reply.
Unlike Tolstoy or Dickens or Zola or other 19th Century giants, Chekhov did not write fiction with an aim to promote political or social change. That’s probably because he started out as a sort of literary mercenary, dashing off short pieces for money that his family desperately needed. Editors loved his funny items, but they also went for the harsh sketches, too–perhaps on the bet that readers of the day would take a certain pleasure in sitting in judgment of the bad behaviors described by Chekhov. So Chekhov delivered those ugly characters on a regular basis.
I call the writer of these harsh stories Cruel Chekhov. There’s no leavening of the proceedings, no tinge of kindness to engage your sympathy. Just cold, brutal tales delivered efficiently, like assassin’s bullets.
“A Trifle from Life” is the work of Cruel Chekhov. It’s a repellent portrait of a man who is living with another man’s wife. Worse, he betrays the woman’s son after the boy confides a secret.
It’s disturbingly grotesque and sad but there’s not much point to it–other than to paint a portrait of a lousy person that I, for one, would never wish to know.
It’s memorable for its businesslike heartlessness, though.
READ THIS? READ THAT!
“The Petchenyeg,” a fairly late Chekhov work, is a great example of Cruel Chekhov. Unlike “A Trifle from Life,” it’s not about an profoundly unpleasant person, but rather a bore, who bores an unwilling guest almost to tears.
A Chekhov Circus 