![]() ![]() I am put in mind of the deferential, faintly tremulous attitude taken to an esteemed vintner’s vaults by anyone but the most experienced oenophile or cognoscenti of bacchanalian delights. Sadly, our Russian maestro’s delights are often considered the preserve of press-ganged students, the erudite denizens of unassailable academic ivory towers and those with a predilection for worthy intellection of only the most demanding stripe. His work an unflinching, but dextrously modulated exploration of dank humanistic truths only leavened by perspicacious satire and affirmative notes of fatalistic compassion.įor many, Chekhov is synonymous with ‘heavy literature’, work to be gravely venerated rather than playfully engaged with. ![]() His gloomy, gritty realism seen as an intellectually intimidating, semi-permeable reflective prism between the observed and the observer. Chekhov’s (1860-1904) works mirror Russian life authentically, warts and all. ![]() Conversely, we might recall The Cherry Orchard, The Seagull, Uncle Vanya, Three Sisters or Lady with the Dog. Chekhov by Osip BrazPerhaps when we consider Chekhov, our first thoughts may not gaily run to whimsy, frolicsome mirth or indeed lighthearted, playful satire. ![]()
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