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    The Cherry Orchard
    The Cherry Orchard
    The Cherry Orchard
    Ebook102 pages1 hour

    The Cherry Orchard

    By Anton Chekhov

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    The Cherry Orchard was first produced by the Moscow Art Theatre on Chekhov's last birthday, January 17, 1904. Since that time it has become one of the most critically admired and performed plays in the Western world, a high comedy whose principal theme, the passing of the old semifeudal order, is symbolized in the sale of the cherry orchard owned by Madame Ranevsky.
    The play also functions as a magnificent showcase for Chekhov's acute observations of his characters' foibles and for quizzical ruminations on the approaching dissolution of the world of the Russian aristocracy and life as it was lived on their great country estates. While the subject and the characters of the work are, in a sense, timeless, the dramatic technique of the play was a Chekhovian innovation. In this and other plays he developed the concept of "indirect action," in which the dramatic action takes place off stage and the significance of the play revolves around the reactions of the characters to those unseen events.
    Reprinted from a standard edition, this inexpensive well-made volume invites any lover of theater or great literature to enter the world of Madame Ranevsky, Anya, Gayef, Lopakhin, Firs, and the other memorable characters whose hopes, fears, loves, and general humanity are so brilliantly depicted in this landmark of world drama.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDover Publications
    Release dateApr 3, 2012
    ISBN9780486112749
    Author

    Anton Chekhov

    Anton Chekhov was born in Taganrog, in southern Russia, and in his youth paid for his own education and supported his entire family by writing short, satirical sketches of Russian life. Though he eventually became a physician and once considered medicine his principal career, he continued to gain popularity and praise as a writer for various Russian newspapers, eventually authoring more literary work and ultimately his most well-known plays, including Ivanov, The Seagull, and Uncle Vanya. He died of tuberculosis in 1904, and is regarded as one of the best short story writers in history, influencing such authors as Ernest Hemingway, Vladimir Nabokov, and Raymond Carver.

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    Reviews for The Cherry Orchard

    3.5/5

    440 ratings11 reviews

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    • 2/5
      saw Anette Benning and Alfred Molin star in this play. not Chekhov's best but good times.
    • 4/5
      Chekhov is always someone I grapple with from time to time before deciding what I really think of the play. This was good, but mildly pointless. I didn't feel changed or moved by reading it, and I wonder about what seeing it would have changed. It certainly would have a different feel to it in production than it did in reading.
    • 2/5
      I found it difficult to sympathize with any of the characters, even Lubov who had the most tragic background. As a tale of the decline of Russian nobility and rising of the former serfs into middle class, it was fairly effective but not entertaining. Perhaps I would like a stage production more...
    • 5/5
      This is a great edition; it has a short but thorough bio of Chekhov, an intro with some basic interpretation, and great notes throughout based on letter the author wrote to some of the original productions' principals.
    • 4/5
      Having already read Chekhov's Ivanov, I founded myself comparing the two as a bit and enjoying this play more. It's about a family who is losing their wealth and needs to sell their cherry orchard, and I thought that was much more relatable than the story of Ivanov.The one thing that I really enjoyed about this play was the sense of memory that I got while I was reading it. I think Chekhov did a good job of showing why this place was important to the family. I got a sense that there was a lot of sorrow about losing the orchard, but in some ways he very much incorporated the hope for the future which I enjoyed. Overall I'd say it's a really good story about family and we hold certain places dear to us. My only complaint is that at times the names got a bit confusing.
    • 2/5
      De Kersentuin draait in wezen om de komst van het moderne, om verandering. Kracht van Tsjechov is montage, van gevoel naar gevoel, voor alles uitgesproken is, vb gebruik pauzes. Omstreden: drama of komedie, naturalistische of symbolische lectuur
    • 3/5
      Nope.No likeable characters whatsoever, with a plot that I couldn't bring myself to care about at all. Gah.
    • 3/5
      I fell asleep twice while reading this play (and it's not that long). It felt so choppy, like there were 10 different conversations going on at the same time, none of them related. My interest picked up in the second half though, and I liked the ending. I'd love to experience this on stage and see if I came away with a better opinion of it.
    • 1/5
      Another example of how I'm usually disappointed when I listen to something that other people consider great, but which does not a priori sound appealing.This probably reveals me as a philistine, but I just couldn't found much of value in this. We have a bunch of upper-class Russian twits who think the world owes them a living, who do absolutely nothing of value to anyone, not even things of abstract value like art or science, and who are bitterly disappointed when the tragedy that everyone has been warning them about for years finally arrives and no deus ex machina saves them. The only character in the play I had the remotest sympathy for was the student who tells them to their faces that they are parasites and that their day is over, not that his warnings are heeded.Maybe this play is viewed in the same way as Gone with the Wind nostalgia --- everyone who pines for this better simpler way of life assumes that for some reason they're going to be part of the aristrocracy in this alternate world, not one of the lower classes.
    • 3/5
      Poor money management forces a family to sell its property including a large cherry orchard. Before closing the property, however, everyone returns to bid each other farewell. Comedic moments include a man who is totally obsessed with billiards and a bittersweet moment when they leave and lock in the old, faithful retainer. Job-lot!
    • 5/5
      This play is different every time I read it. When I was younger and still believed that my family's land would continue to be passed down the generations, it was tragic; when I had learned about the Japanese word "aware" it was beautiful; when I had learned something about how easily even clever women fall into traps and call them love, I wanted to believe somehow that Lyuba's generosity meant something anyway; as a young person of business I feared becoming Lopakhin with his, as it seemed to me, idealistic excuses for exploitation no different from those of the old aristocracy; after a few years of good fortune I looked less pityingly on old Pishtchik, whose attitude really isn't so absurd, though he may not be a gifted accountant.Through this reading, though, all I could think about was Firs saying "They knew some way in those days.... They've forgotten. Nobody remembers how to do it." And I look out the window at people who don't remember when shoes were supposed to last more than one season, lenders weren't allowed to charge 25%, growing food wasn't just a health craze but a normal way of life, books didn't cost $10 plus a special $180 decoder gizmo that would be outmoded in a year - and I think about all the people my age who have no idea how to run a business or why it would be desirable to own land - and I think it may not be the cherry orchard, but the Firs of this world, the ones who remember good sense and precaution, the ones who knew their ancestors' knowledge, we must fear most to lose.

    Book preview

    The Cherry Orchard - Anton Chekhov

    role)

    Act I

    A room which is still called the nursery. One door leads to ANYA’S room. Dawn, the sun will soon rise. It is already May, the cherry trees are in blossom, but it is cold in the garden and there is a morning frost. The windows are closed.

    Enter DUNYASHA with a candle, and LOPAKHIN with a book in his hand.

    LOPAKHIN. Here’s the train, thank heaven. What is the time?

    DUNYASHA. Near two. [Putting the candle out.] It is light already.

    LOPAKHIN. How late is the train? Two hours at least. [Yawning and stretching.] A fine mess I have made of it. I came to meet them at the station and then I went and fell asleep, as I sat in my chair. What trouble! Why did you not rouse me?

    DUNYASHA. I thought that you had gone. [She listens.] I think they are coming.

    LOPAKHIN [listening]. No; they have got to get the baggage and the rest. [A pause.] Madame Ranévsky has been five years abroad. I wonder what she is like now. What a fine character she is! So easy and simple. I remember when I was only fifteen my old father (he used to keep a shop here in the village then) struck me in the face with his fist and my nose bled. We were out in the courtyard, and he had been drinking. Madame Ranévsky, I remember it like yesterday, still a slender young girl, brought me to the wash-hand stand, here, in this very room, in the nursery. ‘Don’t cry, little peasant,’ she said, ‘it’ll be all right for your wedding.’ [A pause.] ‘Little peasant!’ ... My father, it is true, was a peasant, and here am I in a white waistcoat and brown boots; a silk purse out of a sow’s ear; just turned rich, with plenty of money, but still a peasant of the peasants. [Turning over the pages of the book.] Here’s this book that I was reading without any attention and fell asleep.

    DUNYASHA. The dogs never slept all night, they knew that their master and mistress were coming.

    LOPAKHIN. What’s the matter with you, Dunyásha? You’re all ... DUNYASHA. My hands are trembling, I feel quite faint.

    LOPAKHIN. You are too refined, Dunyásha, that’s what it is. You dress yourself like a young lady, and look at your hair! You ought not to do it; you ought to remember your place.

    [Enter EPHIKHODOF with a nosegay. He is dressed in a short jacket and brightly polished boots which squeak noisily. As he comes in he drops the nosegay.]

    EPHIKHODOF [picking it up]. The gardener has sent this; he says it is to go in the dining-room. [Handing it to DUNYASHA.]

    LOPAKHIN. And bring me some quass.

    DUNYASHA. Yes, sir.

    [Exit DUNYASHA.]

    EPHIKHODOF There’s a frost this morning, three degrees, and the cherry trees all in blossom. I can’t say I think much of our climate; [sighing] that is impossible. Our climate is not adapted to contribute; and I should like to add, with your permission, that only two days ago I bought myself a new pair of boots, and I venture to assure you they do squeak beyond all bearing. What am I to grease them with?

    LOPAKHIN. Get out; I’m tired of you.

    EPHIKHODOF. Every day some misfortune happens to me; but do I grumble? No; I am used to it; I can afford to smile. [Enter DUNYASHA, and hands a glass of quass to LOPAKHIN.] I must be going. [He knocks against a chair, which falls to the ground.] There you are! [In a voice of triumph.] You see, if I may venture on the expression, the sort of incidents inter alia. It really is astonishing!

    [Exit EPHIKHODOF.]

    DUNYASHA. To tell you the truth, Yermolái Alexéyitch, Ephikhódof has made me a proposal.

    LOPAKHIN. Hmph!

    DUNYASHA. I hardly know what to do. He is such a well-behaved young man, only so often when he talks one doesn’t know what he means. It is all so nice and full of good feeling, but you can’t make out what it means. I fancy I am rather fond of him. He adores me passionately. He is a most unfortunate man; every day something seems to happen to him. They call him ‘Twenty-two misfortunes,’ that’s his nickname.

    LOPAKHIN [listening]. There, surely that is them coming!

    DUNYASHA. They’re coming! Oh, what is the matter with me? I am all turning cold.

    LOPAKHIN. Yes, there they are, and no mistake. Let’s go and meet them.

    Will she know me again, I wonder? It is five years since we met. DUNYASHA. I am going to faint! ... I am going to faint!

    [Two carriages are heard driving up to the house. LOPAKHIN and DUNYASHA exeunt quickly. The stage remains empty. A hubbub begins in the neighbouring rooms. FIRS walks hastily across the stage, leaning on a walking-stick. He has been to meet them at the station. He is wearing an old-fashioned livery and a tall hat; he mumbles something to himself but not a word is audible. The noise behind the scenes grows louder and louder. A voice says: ‘Let’s go this way.’

    [Enter MADAME RANEVSKY, ANYA, CHARLOTTE, leading a little dog on a chain, all dressed in travelling dresses; BARBARA in greatcoat with a kerchief over her head, GAYEF, SIMEONOF-PISHTCHIK, LOPAKHIN, DUNYASHA, carrying parcel and umbrella, servants with luggage, all cross the stage.]

    ANYA. Come through this way. Do you remember what room this is, mamma?

    MADAME RANEVSKY [joyfully through her tears]. The nursery.

    BARBARA. How cold it is. My hands are simply frozen. [To MADAME RANEVSKY. ] Your two rooms, the white room and the violet room, are just the same as they were, mamma.

    MADAME RANEVSKY. My nursery, my dear, beautiful nursery! This is where I used to sleep when I was a little girl. [Crying.] I am like a little

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