El Convenio Europeo de Derechos Humanos: Los cimientos de la protección de datos personales en Europa

M

uch has been written about Anton Chekhov’s “coldly” objective nar-rative style in his short stories, in which his stories appear to be snapshots of life, with seemingly nothing in between the reader and the story’s charac-ters. Conrad Aiken, who calls Chekhov “possibly the greatest writer of the short story who has ever lived” (21), characterizes Chekhov’s stories in the

“slice of life” tradition. Aiken notes that Chekhov’s stories depict the mood of an “actual” moment: “his picture is to be frameless and immediate, so close to us that we can touch it” (23). With Chekhov there is seldom any meddling, opinionated narrator distracting the reader’s attention. Chekhov believed his “objective” narrative technique made his short stories more effective. He wrote, “When you depict sad or unlucky people, and want to touch the reader’s heart, try to be colder—it gives their grief as it were a background, against which it stands out in greater relief” (qtd. in Friedland 97). He added later: “The more objective the telling, the more powerful the effect produced” (qtd. in Yarmolinsky 210). Chekhov’s stories appear simple and “easy to read,” and students respond well to what they perceive as his

“straightforward” writing style, his interesting characters, and his glimpses into everyday life.

It might seem quixotic, then, to try to use a Chekhov story to discuss narrative point-of-view in stories in which the narrator’s presence appears

muted or even non-existent. Yet in Chekhov’s carefully crafted stories, we see his purposeful use of perspective to deftly direct his readers where he wants us to go. The narrative voice in Chekhov’s stories, although tangible and pal-pable, is often so smoothly inserted that we may not immediately notice it.

Carefully examining Chekhov’s uncluttered narrative style in his short stories can provide students with a clearer understanding of point-of-view and nar-rative perspective.

Much to the chagrin of their instructors, students often cling to their misguided insistence that a story written in the third-person voice must nec-essarily be either completely objective or entirely omniscient. In the abstract, students understand “limited omniscience,” in which the narrator is inside one or two characters’ minds, but somehow students struggle with a story written in third person voice that may exhibit only one perspective (especially if it is an unreliable or selfishly motivated perspective). In addition, a narrator may deliberately disagree with a protagonist, or may try to engage the readers to think differently about a character, further complicating a student’s under-standing of narrative point-of-view. Many of Chekhov’s stories employ this type of narration. Two stories, “The Bet” and “A Trifle from Life,” are espe-cially useful examples for examining how the narrative voice is clearly drawn from one particular moral perspective, which is often not the protagonist’s.

Students can learn, through careful reading and analysis, that Chekhov’s narrators often disagree with their characters or function to highlight a char-acter’s weakness or foible.

“The Bet” (1888) is the story of a wealthy banker who, after a heated discussion about capital punishment, bets a young lawyer two million ru-bles that the lawyer cannot remain in solitary confinement for fifteen years.

The lawyer agrees to live in captivity in a lodge in the banker’s garden under

“strictest supervision,” and the banker agrees to meet all the lawyer’s requests for food, books, musical instruments, wine, and so on, which are to be passed through a small window to prevent any contact with the outside world. The arrangement goes on for fifteen years, until the night before the bet is up. The banker, whose fortunes have taken a downturn and who would be ruined by paying off the bet, slips into the prisoner’s room unnoticed, intending to kill the lawyer. He finds a transformed man, aged beyond his years, hunched over a letter, asleep. The banker reads the letter and learns that the lawyer, through his studies over the years, has renounced all worldly possessions and intends to leave early to deliberately forfeit the bet. The banker leaves the room, and the next morning the guards report seeing the prisoner run away.

Although “The Bet” is written in third-person voice, most students rec-ognize (sometimes after prompting) that the story is told from the banker’s point-of-view. We are inside the banker’s head, hearing his thoughts and intentions and following his actions. In fact, the only places the reader can

peek at the lawyer’s perspective are in his book requests, the short note he writes around year six, and most important, in his final vitriolic letter in which he reveals he will leave his prison early, thus forfeiting the money.

Chekhov’s prose may be clean and uncluttered, but this story is no objective

‘newspaper’ account.

And even though “The Bet” is written from the banker’s point-of-view, clearly the narrative voice does not sympathize with the banker. Notice the narrator’s choice of words in describing the books selected by the lawyer:

“Then after the tenth year, the prisoner sat immovably at the table and read nothing but the Gospel. It seemed strange to the banker that a man who in four years had mastered six hundred learned volumes could waste nearly a year over one thin book easy of comprehension.” [emphasis added]. (All the primary quotes are taken from the eldritchpress.org web site.) The narrator shows not only the banker’s dismissal (or disregard) of Christianity, but also that the banker, looking back after fifteen years, does not, and could not, under- stand the change in the lawyer.

As the banker contemplates murdering the lawyer to prevent his own financial ruin, the narrator comments:

Fifteen years before, his millions had been beyond his reckoning;

now he was afraid to ask himself which were greater, his debts or his assets. Desperate gambling on the Stock Exchange, wild speculation, and the excitability which he could not get over even in advancing years, had by degrees led to the decline of his fortune, and the proud, fearless, self-confident millionaire had become a banker of middling rank, trembling at every rise and fall in his investments.

Through the narrator’s ironic stance here, the reader does not feel sorry for the banker. Rather, we see the narrator’s disparaging description of the banker: greedy and desperate enough to consider murder. In fact, the more closely students examine the narrative voice in “The Bet,” the more it seems to become a blunt object knocking us on the head to show us how the nar-rator perceives the banker.

At the end of the story, after the banker reads the lawyer’s letter and leaves the lodge weeping, the narrator states, “At no other time, even when he had lost heavily on the Stock Exchange, had he felt so great a contempt for himself. When he got home he lay on his bed, but his tears and emotion kept him for hours from sleeping.” Initially students may view the banker’s weeping, self-contempt, and sleeplessness as a change in attitude, as some sort of reform in the banker—he has become a changed man. Students should recognize, however, that the banker never strays far from thinking about the stock market and his own fortunes. Furthermore, it is “tears and

emotion” that keep him from sleeping, not some sense of guilt or remorse for what he had contemplated. One senses the banker feels relief more than anything. In fact, he does get back to sleep, after crying only a few hours.

He is fine in the morning as he gets back down to business: he completely forgets about any potential murder, and he has the foresight to put the letter in a protected place.

So the banker’s remorse, if there ever was any, is short-lived. And the banker’s actions the next morning support the reading that the banker re-turned to his same-old-self. After the watchmen tell the banker of the law-yer’s escape, he goes to the lodge. The story’s last sentence reads, “To avoid arousing unnecessary talk, he took from the table the writing in which the millions were renounced, and when he got home locked it up in the fireproof safe.” Rather than referring to the lawyer’s letter as the writing that changed the banker’s life or enlightened his perspective on the world, the narrator dryly refers to the letter as that document in which the banker’s fortune is spared. Some students argue if the banker was a reformed man, he might have kept the letter to remind himself of how close he came to murder or how much the lawyer influenced his life. The problem with this view is that the banker would not have had to lock the letter up; he may even have wanted to share this letter with everyone, to shout it from the mountaintop.

A more realistic reading, one supported by the narrative voice, suggests that the banker locks the letter safely away to protect himself in case the lawyer returns to dispute the bet. Once students read carefully, it is difficult to find much sympathy for the banker.

Chekhov’s inconclusive ending allows students to speculate on the orig-inal question posed by “The Bet,” regarding capital punishment versus life imprisonment, or even what happens to someone in solitary confinement.

The life imprisonment issue is clouded by two features of this bet: 1) the confinement was not for life, rather a set period of time—fifteen years and 2) his confinement was voluntary—he could leave at any time, which may have changed the dynamics of imprisonment. These issues present good discussion material. In, addition, students love to write on the question, “Who won the bet?” Many argue persuasively that even though the banker kept his money, the lawyer really won since he gained knowledge, wisdom, and so on. They like the idea of having time to lie around, be waited on, read and just think about life as the lawyer did. (Anyone who pursues this train of thought for too long is directed to the passage describing the lawyer’s wretched physical deterioration at age 40.) Furthermore, after a bit of discussion, someone in-evitably points out that the lawyer did not sound happy, peaceful, or fulfilled in his letter, and close inspection of the bitter tone of the letter (in which he uses the word “despise” at least five times) raises additional questions. The students speculate, and even write on, what will happen to the lawyer once he

leaves confinement. Many suggest he will become a hermit or throw himself off a cliff in despair. So, we ask again, who really won the bet. In answer, we plunge into further discussion, critical thinking, and textual analysis.

At some point in an advanced discussion, I mention that Chekhov orig-inally published an additional section at the end of “The Bet,” in which the lawyer returns after a year to demand some money, and the banker has mean-while made yet another foolish bet. This addition reveals even more woes of the banker, especially his gambling trouble, and ends on a more conclu-sive and definitive note. Chekhov chose to cut the ending and stop the story where we see it now, but students can read the original ending in Koteliansky (236–239), which can be a valuable assignment for students to gain insight into Chekhov’s writing process and, perhaps, his motives.

Another useful story to demonstrate Chekhov’s narrative technique is

“A Trifle from Life” (1886). In this story, Nikolay Ilyitch Belyaev comes to visit his romantic interest, Olga Ivanovna, a married woman who is separated from her husband and has two children. Since Olga is not home, Nikolay sits down to wait and encounters her eight-year old son Alyosha, whom he had never really noticed before. As they visit, Nikolay learns that Olga’s servant Pelagea secretly takes the children to meet their father twice a week. Nikolay is surprised at the news, but indignant that the father seems to blame Nikolay for the break-up of their marriage. Alyosha begs Nikolay not to say anything to his mother, and Nikolay promises, only to immediately break his pledge and proceed to tell Olga when she enters. Of course, Alyosha is crushed at Nikolay’s betrayal.

In “Trifle” Chekhov demonstrates his interest in the dramatic narrative, in that this story is almost completely dialogue. Critic Ronald L. Johnson, referring to “Trifle,” notes that “this story shows [Chekhov] at his strongest in the sparser, more objective, dramatically focused narrative” (29). The narrator appears almost non-existent, so readers just watch the action unfold before us, “objectively.” Yet the story is not completely dialogue, and the narrator has ample opportunity, particularly in the first and final paragraphs of the story, to shape and direct the readers’ responses. Although “Trifle” is narrated primarily in third-person voice, early in the story the narrator refers to Nikolay as “my hero.” The narrative perspective seems to be from Nikolay’s point-of-view, and initially readers may feel sorry for Nikolay and his rather boring romance:

“And, indeed, the first interesting and enthusiastic pages of this romance had long been perused; now the pages dragged on, and still dragged on, without presenting anything new or of interest.” We observe the sitting room incident through Nikolay’s eyes, but if readers ever felt sorry for Nikolay, by the middle of the story it becomes clear that Nikolay is not a sympathetic character since he betrays the boy’s trust and shows himself to be completely self-centered. In fact, Nikolay becomes downright repulsive, and the narrator’s early reference

to Nikolay as “my hero” now seems sarcastic. Moreover, the narrator contin-ues to underline how indignant and hurt Nikolay felt, even to the point of absurdity. When Nikolay drops the bomb on Olga Ivanovna, he still can only worry about himself: “Your Pelagea, like a regular fool, takes them about to restaurants and arranges meetings with their papa. But that’s not the point:

the point is that their dear papa is a victim, while I’m a wretch who has bro-ken up both your lives . . . ” His whiney tone is outweighed only by the shock he gives to the various characters, as well as to the reader. The description of his final interaction with Alyosha drips with irony:

“Nikolay Ilyitch,” moaned Alyosha. “Why, you promised on your word of honour!”

“Oh, get away!” said Belyaev, waving him off. “This is more important than any word of honour. It’s the hypocrisy revolts me, the lying! . . .”

By this time the reader is dumbfound at the sheer gall of Nikolay to mention hypocrisy when he had just promised on his honor to keep Alyosha’s secret. The narrative voice, which initially appeared to sympathize with Niko-lay, closes the story with a completely ironic tone: “Belyaev dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and went on walking up and down. He was absorbed in his grievance and was oblivious of the boy’s presence, as he always had been. He, a grownup, serious person, had no thought to spare for boys.” As readers we recognize (and applaud) the biting tone the narrator uses toward Nikolay’s indefensible actions, and we are brought into consort with the nar-rator against Nikolay.

In “Trifle” students quickly pick up on the idea of innocence lost; that is, Alyosha’s trust is shattered through Nikolay’s betrayal. The narrator notes that Alyosha “was trembling, stammering, and crying. It was the first time in his life that he had been brought into such coarse contact with lying.” The recognition carries even more weight because the reader participates in mak-ing meanmak-ing, that is, the narrator allows the readers to observe the casualness with which Nikolay betrays the boy—immediately, and with absolutely no re-gard for the boy’s feelings. In addition, the effects of the mother’s relationship with Nikolay (when her husband is still alive and around) are never addressed directly, but certainly and deliberately left for the reader to piece together.

Johnson suggests that Chekhov “illustrates the painful, forced involvement of the other family members in the situation” (29). Early in the story the narra-tor notes that Nikolay “had completely ignored [Alyosha’s] existence; the boy had been before his eyes, but he had not cared to think why he was there and what part he was playing.” Close readers will realize that the narrator points out that Nikolay never really thought about (or didn’t want to admit to) the

effects of his adulterous relationship on the children. Students also will want to discuss the ironic title as well, since the incident was not trifling for either Nikolay or Alyosha, but for vastly different reasons.

A close reading of “The Bet” and “A Trifle from Life,” with attention to narrative voice, gives students a good idea not only of Chekhov’s mastery of storytelling, but also a sense of the possibilities of narration. Chekhov’s narrators may seem to be “coldly objective,” yet they help readers construct meaning of the stories. Students can vividly see how a third-person narra-tor may disagree morally with a protagonist, or point the reader in a specific direction, without meddling or sermonizing. In this way, Chekhov allows readers to become part of the conversation, which continues into class dis-cussion and student writing. Students will become more attuned to the value of paying attention to how a story is told, especially the narrative perspective and motivation.

Note

Two hundred and one of Chekhov’s short stories are available online, in Constance Garnett’s translations, at the following web address: www.eldritchpress.

org/ac/jr/ allowing instructors to make selections and decide how they wish to cover this influential short story author.

Works Cited

Aiken, Conrad. “Anton Chekhov.” Critical Essays on Anton Chekhov. Ed. Thomas A. Eckman.

Boston: G.K. Hall, 1989. 21–25.

Chekhov, Anton. “The Bet.” (1888). Trans. Constance Garnett. Online. www.eldritchprcss.

org/ac/jr/154.htm

——— . “A Trifle from Life.” (1886). Trans. Constance Garnett. Online. www.eldritchpress.

org/ac/jr/083.htm

Friedland, Louis S., Ed. Letters on the Short Story, the Drama, and Other Literary Topics by Anton Chekhov. New York: Benjamin Blom, 1964.

Johnson, Ronald L. Anton Chekhov: A Study of the Short Fiction. New York: Twayne, 1993.

Koteliansky, S. S., Ed. Anton Tchekhov. Literary and Theatrical Reminiscences. New York:

Benjamin Blom, 1965.

Yarmolinsky, Avrahm. Letters of Anton Chekhov. New York: Viking Press, 1973.

37

Translation & Literature, Volume 12, Number 1 (Spring 2003): pp. 69–87. Copyright © 2003 Adrian Hunter.

Constance Garnett’s Chekhov

In document LA FIGURA DEL RESPONSABLE EN EL DERECHO A LA PROTECCIÓN DE DATOS (página 52-57)