Striving for a question/Mining Sources for more Sources

The main goals over the course of this last week were as follows:
- To hunt down additional sources, primarily by hunting through footnotes of the sources which I already have on The Black Monk or incompleteness in Chekhov.
- To go back to Boothe and try to develop questions that can be used as an anchor point, as a good bit of this research can lead one fairly far off into the wilderness.

First of all, I did have some success in hunting down some more sources upon The Black Monk. The fact of the matter remains that little has been written regarding the story specifically in English. However, I learned, thanks to Claire Whitehead's piece on it, that a great deal has been written in Russian on the subject of this play. Oftentimes sharing sentiments with the bewilderment expressed, as quoted in the previous entry, by Mikhailovskii. However, while I now know that this literature is available (If I search for Чёрный монах a great number of results appear as opposed to the quite few number in English) that does not make it accessible to me as a non-fluent Russian speaker. I am then forced to rely on summaries of typical arguments surrounding the story, provided by authors who can read the original Russian, such as Whitehead. "Debate surrounding Chekhov's sympathies [for either Korvin or the Pesotskii family] and the interpretation of the figure of the monk [have] dominated soviet critical reaction to the story for many years. Outside this debate contributions were made by ... N. Fortunatov, who carefully details the work's 'musicality,' M. Semanova, who investigates its poetics, and I. Sukhikh, who focuses upon the characters' pursuit of the illusory."(602).

While in my own research I have found little in regards to The Black Monk written in English, mining Whitehead's article provides me with some possible English sources, or at least descriptions of Western thought regarding this Chekhovian anomaly. "Critics have interpreted it in terms of its spatial construction(O'Toole), its testimony to Chekhov's interest in gardens (Conrad, Rayfield), its use of symbolism (Debreczeny), its ironic treatment of late nineteenth-century preoccupations (Cornwell), its exploitations of the sonata form (Bartlett), its revelation of Gothic imagery (Komaromi) and its engagement with the legacy of Darwin (Finke)." (603). Sources are of course provided for all of the above mentioned, though it will be interesting to see with what ease I am able to acquire them. However, once again (both a positive and a negative) I find that none of these types of analysis of The Black Monk gets to the heart of what I am interested in. I think Conrad and Rayfield may prove interesting, as well as possible Finke and Cornwell, but I don't trust that I will find a great deal in this that will prove it self useful.

-So,

Utilizing Boothe's narrowing of topics, in order to get to the true research question/problem. Basically take the broader topic that you've been looking into and attempt to focus it into a sentence. I have a few of these, which will combine into a question.

Incompleteness in Chekhov ----> The incomplete nature of Chekhov's short stories, as a literary reflection of society in pre-revolutionary Russia.

Relative completeness of Chekhov's The Black Monk ----> What does the stark, complete nature of The Black Monk tell us about society at this time?

(Just recording a thought here. A tangent in a way)

Completeness = futility of intelligentsia? They meet their end, much like Korvin's obsession with academic knowledge. This isn't a complete thought either though. It is not the completeness of this story that would point to that, but rather the complete nature of The Black Monk could point to concern over finality. Korvin, unable to continue in the manner which he had been previously adopts a new type of life. However, he is unable to sustain it, and he dies shamefully.

Further tangentially related thought. Just today I re-read (again) The Black Monk. One of the things that impresses me so greatly with this story is that each time I read it, I notice a different facet  to it. While this is true for many types of literature and often before conducting true analytical work one aught to read the source text, at least, twice, The Black Monk still stands out to me in this way. I keep coming back to it, and it keeps giving me something new. I legitimately somewhat fear that I may start dreaming of the Black Monk (though that process could prove insightful as well.) In any event, this last time I was caught up with the notion of music and its relationship towards the character of the Black Monk, several times serving as a very specific introduction to him . The first time in which Korvin hears this music, he believes it to be the work of Tanya and the visitors to the estate, though it would seem to be unclear whether or not they were even truly playing music at that time, or whether it is just something that Korvin heard within his head. This also points towards the genesis of the Black Monk myth, the origin of which Korvin is left unable to explain. I'll have to make a not to look into Braga's Serenade The passage reads:

"One afternoon he was sitting reading on the balcony after tea. Meanwhile Tanya, a soprano, with one of the young ladies, a contralto, and the young violinist were practicing Braga's famous Serenade in the drawing room,. Korvin hung on the words - it was in Russian- but just couldn't understand them. At last, putting his book aside and concentrating, he did understand. In a garden at night a morbidly imaginative girl hears mysterious sounds so weird and wondrous that she is compelled to acknowledge them as divine harmony which soars back aloft to the heavens, being incomprehensible to us mortals" (32).
The imagery here is quite similar to imagery of the Black Monk, who after visiting our world rises up through our atmosphere and into the universe, to return in 1000 years. I think this may be a key, I want to revisit the idea of music and its ties into this piece.
(end of that)

To form these thoughts into the realm of a research question, or perhaps questions, we again turn to Boothe. One of the early suggestions is to look into the historical context of your topic. Well, that seems fairly straightforward, as one of the most prominent facets of this project is the effect or reflection of Chekhov's work on the history of revolutionary Russia. However, one of the other suggestions is worth noting. Boothe discusses utilizing other sources to form questions. Taking a similar question to the one already posed by another author and either affirming their answer, using their answer to affirm yours, or refuting their answer. This does not seem to be a possibility for me with this project, which is part of what makes it so exciting, and also so terrifying at times. As discussed previously, there is almost nothing written on the incomplete nature of Chekhov's short stories, little written about The Black Monk and nothing written about its almost startlingly straightforward beginning, middle and end structure.

But though that does leave us with a research question that needs to be filled through direct literary and historical sources, rather than other analyses of the source text, that does not mean that we do not have a research question (or questions)

What can of pre-revolutionary Russian society can we see reflected in The Black Monk, specifically its complete and stark nature, compared to the more slice of life Chekhovian short story?


[I will expand upon this]

Researching The Black Monk and Incompleteness

I have spent the last week attempting to dive into The Black Monk and also see what has been writing about my, at least current, theme of the incomplete nature of the short stories of Anton Chekhov. I must admit, from the outset, I had better luck in one regard than in the other, though both proved to have their problems.


Finding writing about "incompleteness" or the "unfinished nature" of Chekhov's work has thus far proven to be next to impossible. While I'm not giving up by any stretch of the imagination, it has proven difficult to find anyone who as focused upon this, though I'm sure there must be some who have. This also, does reiterate for me however, that this topic may prove worth exploring if for no other reason than the decided lack of academic writing on the subject. So, in hopes of discovering something that connected with my interest in the topic I began to hunt for more general criticism of Chekhov, especially The Black Monk, because as I mentioned last week, it stands out as an anomaly with its very clear, Beginning, Middle, End, structure.

Here I found, yet another, road block, or at least, a bumpy road. Very little has been written about The Black Monk, at least in English, and it is in fact, one of the less discussed Chekhovian works. However, there has been some written about it, and I hope to discover more. Particularly interesting is one source within a source. In "The Black Monk: an Example of the Fantastic?" Claire Whitehead quotes Chekhov's contemporary, Mikhailovskii's confusion over the work as something that stands out from what one might consider typical Chekhovian style:

"But what does the story itself mean? What is its sense? Is it an illustration of the saying: 'anything for a quiet life', and which advocates that we should not prevent people from going out of their minds, as doctor Ragin says in Ward No.6? Let those suffering from megalomania continue to consider themselves great, -- in this there is happiness because they are content in themselves and do not know the grief and sorrow of life ... Or is it an indication of the fatal shallowness, dullness and poverty of reality which we should simply accept and adapt to, because any attempt to rise above it is threatened by madness? Is the 'black monk' a benevolent genius who calms exhausted people by means of dreams and ideas about the role of 'God's chosen ones'. the benefactors of mankind, or, rather, is he an evil genius who, with treacherous flattery, drags people into a world of illness, unhappiness and woe for those closest to them and, finally, into death? I do not know."

Obviously even Chekhov's contemporaries were confused at the notion of this story, the wife of one of his contemporaries even wrote to him after reading the manuscript, in order to inquire after his health. Chekhov considered that the piece was fairly straightforward, or at the least that is what he told those who asked about it, but I think at least part of the stunning nature of the piece lies in its true and final ending, (Spoiler alert) the death of Korvin. I truly believe if this story ends in a more prototypical Chekhovian manner, ie: partway through the story that we read, leaving it open ended, we do not feel the stunning nature of the piece.

Thus, I think the Black Monk is a major piece to the puzzle I am investigating here.


Notes on Danil Kharms:
There is a poem that I wish to include here as it connects to part of what I want to discuss in regards to Danil Kharms, however, I will need to gain access to a scanner, as there are crucial symbols embedded in the text of the poem. This section will wait a bit then

Generating Research Questions

[Forgot to post this one last week, I seem to keep pushing "save" in this blog format, thinking that posts it and will still allow me to edit it later, when in reality it saves it as a draft, so here is the expanded/revised version of that post]

One of the early challenges of rather open ended project such as this is developing a clear and specific research question. Too broad, there is too much information available and perhaps more importantly you are covering territory that has been discussed frequently, in some cases ad-nausea. If you really feel you have something to add to that established dialogue, that is one thing, but when you're exploring a topic that you're interested, but not yet focused, you risk just adding your name to the stack of same opinions.

Sort of to that affect, when exploring pre- revolutionary Russian literature, specifically (in all likelihood but without guarantee) the work of Anton Chekhov it is worth being cautious and not simply jumping upon the first question that comes to mind in regards to the work. To provide an example, the recurring theme of stasis is quite common throughout Chekhov's plays and short stories, a reminder which was given to me when I recently re-watched Vanya on 42nd St. While addressing the issue of stasis and utilizing it as lens through which to view Chekhov's work, as well as the world in which he wrote is a worthwhile endeavor and one I'm sure countless new pages of material could be dedicated to, I find myself trying to strike out upon different ideas. While it is tempting to say that there is nothing new to be said, the reality of the situation is quite the opposite. The difficulty will come about in find the right framework question and focusing it and I will use this space here to try out a few, though I feel there is still more to be done in this regard and that something still needs to click.

In that vein I have found myself less interested in stasis and more interested, having now read a number of Chekhov's short stories, in the incomplete nature of much of his work. His stories only rarely have a beginning, middle and end, and I believe there is something to this. His stories often end very abruptly, and the one exception I can think of to this rule (that I have read thus-far) being The Black Monk. For this, and my interest in the strange, terrifying nature of the story, The Black Monk has, for at least the time being become the focal point of my research. I go forward researching The Black Monk, as well as the incomplete nature of Chekhov's writing.



A quick thought on Translations:
While I've been warned now to steer clear of this topic to a degree, as it is a veritable black hole the likes of which I might never escape if I get too caught up over issues of translation. However, I do feel that it warrants being addressed, at least in passing. Russian is not my first language. As a matter of fact, Russian is not my 2nd language, and I'm still very much a early stage learner. The issue then comes into focus when one considers just how prolific Chekhov's work is. Though from what I can tell, he did not imagine that he would have much in the way of staying power, history has proved otherwise and then number of translations of his various works finds itself numbered in the realm of almost endless. I have already found differences in translations of the short stories that I have read thus far, some of which could prove problematic. And while I do not wish to fall into this trap, it is not an issue which I feel I can fully ignore. At this point, perhaps the issue is best resolved by utilizing some of the resources put before me, my Russian professor Maria Georgevna, and my Soviet era history professor, Dr. Stavrou - and seeing what their opinion might be in regards to the closest to ideal translator for a complete works.

[Update]
I went to Maria and discussed with her my project and the issues of translation and in some regards she just affirmed my concerns over issues of translation. She discussed Pushkin as an example of how poetry and poetic language can be lost through translation even by some of the best translators. However, disregarding that (as since I am not fluent in Russian I have no other option), she confirmed for me that the Oxford translations would be a good place to start at least, given that they are revised on occasion, and that through my reading of criticism (which will necessarily quote from texts), if I find a translation that more suits what I am thinking about a text, I can dig it up.

до свидания,
- Эрик (Erik)