You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.

3.79 AVERAGE


This is a good short story but mostly a plays out like a normal drama with mostly predictable outcomes. The Seagull as a bird does not play any role but as a symbolic element of another gestrue which dictates the story.

The strength of the book is never the story but the realness of characters, their behaviour and how well the writing gives an idea of every characters mentality in such few conversations.

There are few things which i liked, mainly the depictions of the character and absence of anything extraordinary and mostly everyone and their actions, thinking is very relatable in real life.
Although no character did i root for, Masha is someone felt a lot more real to me and a bit more agreeable than others.
The opening play which sets the stage and gives a glimpse of the characters is very good and the only part which surprised me was the play's setting.A desolate planet and a lone spirit around with no one to accompany.

I was however disappointed that the play at the beginning did not conclude but again that was important for conflicts to arise.

Its a great thing i came across and read this, Chekov's stories have alwasys been very realistic for me and this was no disappointment. The characters all have flaws and probably everyone came across all of them.

The emotionally restrained Masha, Arkadina with her superiority complex, troubled Trepliff,
invalidated and ignored Sorin, simple and pretty Nina and her expected tragedy, Toxic and prideful Shamraeff, oppressed Paulina, heartless Trigorin,too gayful Dorn and courageless Medviedenko. I wouldn't mind even if this was complete novel to read a bit more about them.

Perhaps 3.5? I find The Seagull a bit more stilted/remote than Uncle Vanya. But maybe that’s because the idea of Chekhov’s gun comes from this and it’s hard to read it without thinking of the tropes it’s spawned? Or because of its pointed discussions on art/literature/symbolism? Anyways, to me the most interesting parts are the interactions between Nina and Konstantin - two idealists, one compelled to chase her dreams and the other to remove himself from a world that’s so inhospitable
reflective sad medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: Complicated
Loveable characters: Complicated
Diverse cast of characters: Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes
reflective sad medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: Complicated
Loveable characters: No
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

Difficult to read as a comedy, or tragicomedy: it certainly achieves distance, as would be required to suspend sympathy, but I found the effect only oppressive, ominous. A small-scale tragedy, and all the more so for the prosaic predicability of each character's frustrated hopes: unrealised love; domestic dissatisfaction; falling short in artistic ambitions.
(Trigorin reads from the symbol of the seagull Nina's narrative— worth only a 'short story' — i.e. it is a well-worn pattern.)


 The cast by no means endearing, but it's difficult to tell whether the characterisation falls on the side of satire (e.g. poking fun at the neurotic dissatisfaction of both the successful writer, for whom everything is content(!), and the feverish iconoclasm of the young artist that still falls flat), or renders the various depictions of ridiculous desperation merely pathetic. 

Algún día me gustaría leerla con calma y disfrutarla de verdad…!
dark reflective sad medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: No
Loveable characters: No
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

Wonderful discourse on what pursuing a form of art entails.

I guess I just didn't really get it. Poetry and plays have always been texts which I associate with school and I've never really read them for fun. The only reason I decided to test this one out was because I watched the film version at the cinema last night and I got slightly confused in it all and hoped that reading it would help me make more sense of it. Honestly, I still don't really understand and I feel like a complete idiot for it. I watched a couple of summary videos about 'The Seagull' on Youtube, I checked out the Sparknotes page, but all of the analyses just went over my head. While I can appreciate what the play was doing, at least now that I've read all the stuff literary genii have gotten from the play, I didn't really enjoy it and my inability to understand much of it didn't help.

From what I can tell, it was a LOT of unrequited love, unrealised ambitions, the rise of the most unlikable characters, and the decline of the most sympathetic ones. I'm going to attempt to outline the unrequited love bit because that's a struggle in itself. This isn't a complete spoiler exactly because it's pretty clear within the first act or two but I'll put them in a spoiler just in case.

SpoilerSo you've got Med something, this stupid, wimpy and completely pathetic schoolteacher who is in love with Masha, this 22 year old woman who's not in love with M. but actually in love with Konstantin, a guy who aspires to be a famous writer and the son of Irina who was a famous actress and continues to use this status to maintain her complete vanity. But Konstantin isn't in love with Masha, he's in love with Nina, the daughter of the guy next door who really wants to be a famous actress. She's sorta in love with Konstantin but her head gets turned by Irina's toyboy, Boris, who's this really famous writer which makes Konstantin jealous, and lusts after Nina too. You've also got Dr. Dorn who is kinda in love with Irina and is having an affair with Paulina, Masha's mum, who's in love with Dorn but the love is kinda unrequited. And Masha's dad S something is just a bit of a douchebag which is why Paulina really doesn't like him despite being married to him.
I think that's it?

But then on top of that, you're basically bombarded with the above characters and their ambitions and how it has impacted them. Irina, the aged starlet, continues her appearances as this amazing actress and continues her vain and selfish ways. There is a pretty funny moment when she gives three of her servants a rouble to split between them and thinks it's this amazingly generous act! She can be pretty cruel, and this is made clear from the offset as she laughs and talks over the play her son, Konstantin, has written.

Konstantin wants to revolutionise plays beyond the three walls, setting it within nature with the backdrop of the lake next to their house. He wants to be an incredible writer and has great ambition, but no goal, leading to a lot of destroyed manuscripts and unhappiness. He feels emotions to the extreme, his love for Nina is probably a shining example of this, and his reaction to her rejection is very strong. I was reading up on the characters and can now see how his character works in contrast with Boris, the famed writer and the man Irina is in a relationship/affair thing with.

Boris is I guess a more naturally gifted writer but it prevents him from experiencing the full extent of life. The part with him and Nina at the lake as he describes their surroundings for future writing reference instead of just living is the best example of this, using the people around him as writing fuel. He's definitely not a likeable character but he is pretty upfront about his intentions and surprisingly subservient to Irina.

Then you've got Masha who has this completely different issue of being in (unrequited) love with one man, being pursued by another whose affections she does not return, and being unable to work out whether to wait for Konstantin or to succumb to marriage and domestics with a man she cannot love or respect. She is such a mood honestly, that first line of hers in Act 1 kills me.
Masha: I dress in black to match my life. I am unhappy. Admittedly seeing this written down makes it seem pretty bland but omd Elisabeth Moss in the film was the best thing and this line was definitely a favourite, I have no idea what that says about me!

You also have the more minor characters such as Sorin, Irina's elder and sickly brother, who has gone through all his life without being able to realise his ambitions of becoming a writer, or getting married, or living in the city. I thought his story was a particularly sad one. It's not like his is a life where it was cut short before he could realise any of his dreams and potential, he has managed to live out all his decades without doing anything he truly wanted. That's a really terrifying thought and I do wish Chekhov had explored that more looking back on it.

I think that's about it in terms of ambition? There were a lot of profound moments and quotable quotes. Here are a select few:


DORN: You should know why you are writing, for if you follow the road of art without a goal before your eyes, you will lose yourself, and your genius will be your ruin.

MASHA: I feel as if I had been in the world a thousand years, and I trail my life behind me like an endless scarf. Often I have no desire to live at all.

SORIN: You have know what life is, but what about me? I have served in the Department of Justice for twenty-eight years, but I have never lived, I have never had any experiences. You are satiated with life, and that is why you have an inclination for philosophy, but I want to live, and that is why I drink my wine for dinner and smoke cigars, and all.

TRIGORIN: A young author, especially if at first he does not make a success, feels clumsy, ill-at-east, and superfluous in the world. His nerves are all on edge and stretched to the point of breaking; he is irresistibly attracted to literary and artistic people, and hovers about them unknown and unnoticed, fearing to look them bravely in the eye, like a man with a passion for gambling, whose money is all gone.

NINA: For the bliss of being a writer or an actress I could endure want, and disillusionment, and the hatred of my friends, and the pangs of my own dissatisfaction with myself; but I should demand in return fame, real, resounding fame!

MASHA: 'To Masha, who, forgetful of her origin, for some unknown reason is living in this world.'
The more I write about it the more I like it.

MASHA: Hopeless love is only found in novels. It is a trifle; all one has to do is to keep a tight rein on oneself, and keep one's head clear. Love must be plucked out the moment it springs up in the heart... when we have once left this place I shall forget it all. I shall tear my passion out by the roots.

NINA: Whether we write or act, it is not the honour and glory of which I have dreamt that is important, it is the strength to endure.

TREPLIEFF: You have found your way, you know where you are going, but I am still groping in a chaos of phantoms and dreams, not knowing whom and what end I am serving by it all. I do not believe in anything, and I do not know what my calling is.



Holy crap that's a lot of quotes I marked but I can't quite get myself to get rid of any for this review so I'll keep them all there for now. I think I've somehow managed to convince myself to rate this 4 stars instead of 2? I don't think I've ever felt like doing that before! The more I look at this text, the more the dialogue and the set-up seems to mean, and the amount of foreshadowing and symbolism that was completely lost on me is a lot clearer going through the bits I've highlighted. From what I've read about this text, it's meant to be an innovative text, badly received by audiences for its shirking of conventions. There isn't a singular protagonist, the plot is pretty messy and mixed-up, not every moment is profound. Basically Chekhov is Konstantin at this point. But reading all these quotations and moments again, I like that everything is messed up, the first three Acts are all within a few days, then that last Act 4 that suddenly propels you forward 2 years. You've got those smaller moments of one character getting another to grab them a drink of water, a meaningless argument between Irina and S something about managing the farm, all of those smaller things that make up life.

You know what, this is a 4 star read for me. I'm not sure I liked every single aspect. I wanted more Sorin who seemed like such a sweetheart. I wanted to see more of Nina's background but that would have required the play to go beyond its 'slice-of-life' purpose. I'm not sure I've gathered as much from the play as Chekhov intended and I feel like I need to go full-on A-Level literary analysis on it to be able to do so. I'm probably going to have to check in again in a few days and see if I still feel so good about this play but looking back on it and uncovering the things Chekhov has put in here, I enjoyed this more than I thought I did.

TREPLEV: (Enters without a hat, with a gun and a seagull he has killed.) Are you alone here?
NINA: Yes.
TREPLEV places the seagull at her feet. What does this mean?
TREPLEV: Today I have done something despicable — I have killed chis seagull.
I lay it at your feet.
NINA: What's the matter with you? (Picks up the seagull and looks at it.) TREPLEV: (After a pause.) Soon, in the
same way, I shall kill myself.
NINA: I don't know you any more.
TREPLEV: Yes, right, ever since I Stopped knowing you. You've changed toward me, your eyes are cold, you're embarrassed by my presence.
NINA: You've become so irritable lately, and I can't understand what you're say-ing, you talk in symbols. And"now this seagull, it must be some kind of symbol too, only, forgive me, I'don't understand it. (Places seagull on the bench.) I'm too simple to understand you.
TREPLEV: It all started that night, when my play failed so miserably. Women don't forgive failure. I burned it all, all of it, down to the last page. If only you knew, how unhappy I am. You're cold to me, and it's so terrible, so incredible, it's as if I woke up and saw that the lake had suddenly dried up, or drained into the earth. You just said you were too simple to understand me. Oh, what is there to understand?! They hated my play, you despise my inspiration, you already think of me as mediocre, insignificant, like so many others...(Stamps his foot.) How well I understand it all, how well! It's like a nail boring into my brain, and curse it — and curse.my pride too, it's sucking my life away, sucking it away like a viper... (Sees TRIGORIN, walking and reading a book.) Here comes the true literary genius, walking like Hamlet, and with a book, too. (Mocks him.) "Words, words, words... This sun has scarcely shone upon you yet, and already you're smiling, your eyes are melting in his rays. I won't stand in your way. (Exits quickly.)

Teigorin: Let's talk aboüt obsession, when, for example, a man will think night and day about nothing else except the moon. Well, I have had my own moon. Day and night, one persistent thought will overpower me; and I have to write, I have to write, I have to...And no sooner do I finish one story, then for some reason I have to write another, and then a third, and after that a fourth... I'll write constantly, as if I'm in a relay race, I can't stop. What's so wonderful and brilliant about that, I ask you? Oh, what a cruel life! Here I am with you, all excited and yet the whole time, I am thinking about the unfinished story that's waiting for me. I'll see that cloud up there, the one that looks like a piano. And I'll think: I've got to put that in a story somewhere, how a cloud was sailing by, a cloud that looked like a grand piano. The smell of heliotrope. Right away I'll make a note of it: sweetish scent, pinkish purple, use it when describing a summer's evening. Every phrase, every word you and I are saying right now, I'll snatch them up as fast as I can and lock them away in my literary closet: Perhaps I'll use them one day! And when I'm through working, I'll run off to the theatre, or go fishing, to rest, to lose myself, — but no, there it is, already casting around in my head like an iron cannonball, a new plot, and already it's pulling me back to my desk, and again I'm racing to write it down, to write, and write. And, that's the way it always is, always, I have no peace from myself, and I feel that I'm devouring my own life, that in order to get that sweet honey I give to. my nameless, faceless public, I'm gathering the pollen from my own best flowers, then rearing these flowers up, and trampling their roots. Now, really, am I not crazy? Do my nearest and dearest treat me as if I were a sane-man, really? "What; are you writing now? What new gift will you bestow upon us next?" And so on, and so on, always the same thing over and over again, and I begin to think that all this artention my friends give to me, the praise, the admiration — that it's all a lie, that they're deceiving me, like they would a sick man, and sometimes I'm terrified that what they're really going to do is creep up behind me, grab me, and carry me off to the madhouse, like that poor fellow in Gogol's story. And even in the early years, the best years, when I was starting out, my writing was one continuous torture. A young writer, especially when he hasn't had any luck yet, feels clumsy, awkward, out of 'place, he's tense, on edge; he's constantly hanging around other writers and artists, unrecognized, unnoticed, afraid to look anyone straight in the eye, like a compulsive gambler who has no moncy. I could not see my reader, but somehow I imagined him as unfriendly, mistrustful. And I was afraid of my audience, they terrified me, — every time my newest play would open, there they were before me, and I would imagine that everyone with dark hair was hostile, and everyone with fair hair was cold and indifferent. Oh, how terrible! What torture!

NINA: Why dong the bes in to goul many ought e, juilet. (Lifts her head.) I'm a seagull!...No, thát's not it. I'm an actress. Yes, that's right! (She hears ARKADINA and TRIGORIN's laughter, listens, then runs to the left door and looks through the 'keyhole.) So, he is here, too... (Turns to TREPLEV.) Ah well:..what does it matter... Yes...He never believed in the theatie, you know, he always laughed at/my dreams, and little by little I stopped believing and lost faith, too...And then there were the pressures of love, the jealousy, the constant worry over my little one...I became — I don't know - mediocre, pitiful, my acting made no sense any more...I didn't know what to do with my hands, how to stand on stage, how to control my own voice. You have no idea how it feels, to know you're acting badly. I'm a seagull. No that's not it...Do you remember, when you shot that seagull? "One day, by chance, there came a man who saw her and, for lack of anything better to do, destroyed her"...An idea for a short story...No, that's not it... (Rubs her forehead.) What was I saying?... Oh yes, I was talking about the stage. No, I'm not like that any more...I'm a true actress now, and I perform with joy, with ecstasy, I'm intoxicated on the stage, and I feel beautiful. And now, while I've been staying here, I've been,walking, walking and thinking, thinking and feeling,, how my spirit is growing stronger every day...And now I know, I understand, Kostya, that in our work — it's allethe same, whether we perform or we write the main thing is not the glory, not the glitter, no, not any of those things I dreamed of, it's having the strength to endure. The strength to bear your cross, to have faith. I have faith, and it's not so painful for me any more, and when I think about my calling, I'm not so afraid of life. I'm not.
...So, she brought him with her. Well, what does it matter. When you see Trigorin, tell him nothing...I love him. I love him even more than ever...An idea for a short story...I love him, I love him passionately, I love him to distraction. How glorious it was then, wasn't it, Kostya! Do you remember? What a life! A clear, warm, joyful, pure life, and what feelings — feelings like delicate, lovely flowers...Do you remember?... (Recites:) "Men, lions, eagles and partridges, horned stags, geese, spiders, the silent fish dwelling deep in.the waters, starfish, and creatures invisible to the naked eye — all life, all life, all life, its sad cycle ended, has died away. Thousands of centuries have passed since the earth has borne any living creature, and the poor moon in vain lights up her lantern. No longer do the waking cranes cry out in the meadow; and maybugs are silent in the lime groves."
Embraces TREPLEV impetuously and runs out through the glass door.
To the right, offstage, a shot; all are startled.
Dorn: Get Irina Nikolaevna out of here. The fact is, Konstantin Gavrilovich has just shot himself...
CURTAIN
emotional reflective sad medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: Yes
Loveable characters: Yes
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes