اما با خود فکر میکند وقتی زنش را به درمانگاه رساند، و حال زنش خوب شد و برگشتند، برای دکتر به عنوان هدیه یک جا سیگاری بسازد و برایش بفرستد. Chekhov's grandfather was a serf a peasant who lives and works on land owned by another who bought his family's freedom in 1841. In the story, Iona's mare is the only thing under his control, willingly and even anticipating at times, which is why it is so fitting if not a bit tragic Such a sad short story. This failure results in an overwhelming sense of despair and loneliness. More often, the poor travelled great distances to be seen and treated by him.
Soon, the streets come to life and Iona is given his first fare of the night. The story has a rather gloomy mood with the description of streets that are covered by snow-flakes and this man seems to be the only creature whose life is miserable in these frigid streets. I noticed wherever the convict moved the little girl scrambled after him, holding on to his fetters. Guilt, blame, and denial are all part of the experiences we go through in mourning the passing death. He straightens up and tries to drive his sledge but he simply cannot maneuver it at the time.
Matlaw He displays a likeness to one that is insane. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there. A mom of three girls and one boy, therefor she didn 't have much free time to frequently travel or go see her mother. What Chekhov experienced and learned through his past was revealed through his writing. The point of view is that of the husband though it is clear, throughout, that his thoughts find their echo in his wife 's.
He was the third of six children of Pavel Egorovich Chekhov, a grocery store owner. This story looks at a man's attempt to communicate to others and share the feelings that have built up inside him. Sakate adapted several of Chekhov's plays and transformed them in the general style of. People tend to be caught up with their lives that they forget to become compassionate for other people. In a slightly revised version Chekhov included it into Volume 3 of his Collected Works published by in 189—1901. Chekhov emerged into the scene during the 19th century, the same time as Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky.
It seems as though Iona can not think properly and focus on the road because he wants to share his loss with the officer. They deny to him any recognition of his humanity by refusing to acknowledge his pain. His son will soon have been dead a week, and he has not really talked to anybody yet. Chekhov's perspective was through the male character's point of view, while Oates's perspective was through the female character's point of view. Iona fidgets on the box as though he were sitting on thorns, jerks his elbows, and turns his eyes about like one possessed as though he did not know where he was or why he was there.
Chekhov's mother, Yevgeniya Morozova , was an excellent storyteller who entertained the children with tales of her travels with her cloth-merchant father all over Russia. The falling snow blankets him and he consciously decides not to brush it off. The selection was not arbitrary, as Anton Checkov is one of my favorite Russian writers and among the greatest in literature. A more generous society would allow the man with a medical condition to sit and one of the healthy young men to stand, but the trapping of privilege are vain and petty. Iona attempts to turn around and talk to the officer, but is met with downcast eyes, or disinterest.
Grief has the power to make the strongest person helpless. Initially, he is at his station being covered in snow and appearing ghostlike. Iona found a real friend - his old mare, which always stays around. This week in the hospital. Anyone who has been torn away from the plough, from the familiar gray landscapes, and cast into this slough, full of monstrous lights, of unceasing uproar and hurrying people, is bound to think.
No one has the time, patience, or inclination to listen to Iona. He waits in silence for someone to talk to. Iona does not have a wife, he just lost his son, and he is left with his horse and his soul is dancing with pain. Twenty kopecks is not a fair price, but he has no thoughts for that. In 1876 his father's business failed, and the family moved to Moscow, Russia, for a fresh start. Whenever I read Chekhov's stories, I feel maudlin.