In the stories it is like Vanka that invitations and short stories begin to resemble each other. The movement of the plot is mainly in the fact that Vanka begins his letter, works on the letter, and finishes the letter. Not the narrator himself, but through the mind of the child reader is led to the story. Vanka seems to be the leader, but the only opposing forces seem to be a slight apprehension that he will be captured and his own fear/hatred of his masters, and perhaps Moscow itself. The climax, if it is certain, is more thinly spread; not so much the waves driven by the wind, which rise from the smooth but deep foams of the imperceptible wave of the sea. except for a perceptive look. The resolution is typical of the Chekhovian style, unresolved but leaving the leader with strong depressions. In that light, the main theme appears to be primarily a cry from Chekhov’s childhood, exposing the evils against and within the lower class.
Sadly, the system is not offensive to most people. Certainly the Russians of their time knew very well what they practiced in their own houses or in their masters. In fact, the practices within Vanka were so common that some readers probably disliked the book because it seemed to lift up a lower-class boy. In America, circumstances are not common, but we are a sensationalist people who have long heard of our saturation of the depressed lower classes. We can still rise up in arms to the event, but our hearts don’t beat in the same way they once did. Perhaps the greatest value of the story then is that it forces us to see the world from the lowest perspectives as if it were our own, not always someone else’s conflict.
For those who have read Chekhov’s other plays, the problem with this analysis will be obvious. As a rule, Chekhov writes powerfully to depict real events, absolutely objectively. Themes also tend to revolve around dark times, dissolute men, adultery and the like. Adultery, however, is not an argument in Vanka. If anything, there is a more fictional dichotomy between Vanka’s current situation and her grandfather’s. We know from history that, in comparison, the boy was not so different as he thought, and he could have returned home far worse. So perhaps Chekhov means to write about a child’s lack of hope. That argument would certainly be better suited to his tenor, and would meet with a term where the discerning reader understood that the child was confused. However, an element that has not yet been considered is Chekhov’s own experience.
Chekhov was once very close in Vanka’s shoes. Not only does it have a familiar story, but it also has a plausible story to tell. Thus, Vanka is a more direct emanation from Chekhov’s soul than some of his other, more elaborate or researched plays. Considering Gardner’s view that every writer’s source of composition is some great wound that drives them in, Chekhov’s childhood may well be the first and most intimate part of his wound. If this is the case, it is not unlikely that the situation is slightly different from other examples. Perhaps this is also the reason for the investigation of Vanka‘s attributes. If Chekhov’s writer is expressing an autobiographical character through the mind of Vanka, his focus is probably on the details of the plot. Granted, Chekhov is a great and skilled writer who we can assume is moved by his work. However, no amount of experience or training can completely change the basic nature of people. If the wound that inspires all his writings, at first, or at least initially, is based on the trials of childhood, this one controls him, as much as he wants to control.
All in all, Vanka could have been a well-crafted sketch of Chekhov’s early traumas, a commentary on the culture that brought them on. Language may be objective, but the object has apparent subjective value. This work is not only a thematic project, but it should at least be considered. Another theme should contend here with ideas, lest a strong element be missing in order to understand the literature; the author always writes part of the story.
History of life from:
Chekhov, Anton. Short story collections.” Ed. York: Penguin Books, 1977. Print.
