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Richard Ford on the Perfect Truths of the Russian Master
July 15, 2015 By Richard Ford
Until I began the long and happy passage of reading all of Anton Chekhov’s short stories for the purpose of selecting the twenty for inclusion in The Essential Tales of Chekhov, I had read very little of Chekhov. It seems a terrible thing for a story writer to admit, and doubly worse for one whose own stories have been so thoroughly influenced by Chekhov through my relations with other writers who had been influenced by him directly: Sherwood Anderson. Isaac Babel. Hemingway. Cheever. Welty. Carver.
As is true of many American readers who encountered Chekhov first in college, my experience with his stories was both abrupt and brief, and came too early. When I read him at age twenty, I had no idea of his prestige and importance or why I should be reading him—one of those gaps of ignorance for which a liberal education tries to be a bridge. But typical of my attentiveness then, I remember no one telling me anything more than that Chekhov was great, and that he was Russian.
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As is true of many American readers who encountered Chekhov first in college, my experience with his stories was both abrupt and brief, and came too early. When I read him at age twenty, I had no idea of his prestige and importance or why I should be reading him—one of those gaps of ignorance for which a liberal education tries to be a bridge. But typical of my attentiveness then, I remember no one telling me anything more than that Chekhov was great, and that he was Russian.
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AND
Every Country Has a Chekhov
An International Who's Who of Storytelling Masters
July 15, 2015 By Literary Hub
Anton Chekhov died 111 years ago today. When he died he was, indisputably, the Chekhov of Russia. In the decades following his untimely death at age 44, Chekhov’s unique prowess as a writer of short stories, along with his ability to capture and convey a particular essence of Russian-ness, led to his name becoming the literary standard by which short story writers of all nations are measured. To be the “Chekhov of your nation” is to be a very great writer indeed.
We took it upon ourselves to search the world for authors who have been called “the Chekhov” of their country or, more endearingly in Cynthia Ozick’s characterization of Alice Munro, “our Chekhov.” Chekhovs from Ireland, Canada, India, China, Mexico, The United States, Greece, Israel, South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Japan have made the list so far, but we, as readers, are in perpetual search of the next Chekhov of X…
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We took it upon ourselves to search the world for authors who have been called “the Chekhov” of their country or, more endearingly in Cynthia Ozick’s characterization of Alice Munro, “our Chekhov.” Chekhovs from Ireland, Canada, India, China, Mexico, The United States, Greece, Israel, South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Japan have made the list so far, but we, as readers, are in perpetual search of the next Chekhov of X…
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