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Anton Chekhov a Life
Rayfild

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Anton Chekhovs life was short, intense, and dominated by battles - both with his dependents and with the tuberculosis that was to kill him at age forty-four. He was one of the greatest playwrights and short-story writers ever born, but he was torn between medicine and literature, as he was between family and friends, between a longing for solitude and a need for company. When he was a child, his family life was at times made a hell by a monstrous father, a possessive sister, and delinquent elder brothers; his own adult life was tortuously balanced between the affections of a series of mistresses and a marriage to an actress that was not as idyllic as it has traditionally been painted. Donald Rayfield's biography strips the whitewash from the image of Chekhov and shows us what lay behind his restrained, ironic facade. The result does not denigrate him but shows him in the full heroism of his brief, prodigiously creative life. Rayfield has spent more than three years combing the Chekhov archives all over Russia (Chekhov was a restless traveler for the whole of his life, going from Siberia to the Cote d'Azur) and has uncovered thousands of documents and letters from Chekhov's lovers, friends, and family, most of them never published before, which cumulatively tell of a life far more entangled and turbulent than we ever previously suspected. The many cuts made in Soviet and foreign editions of Chekhov's and his wife's letters have been restored; what once was hidden is now revealed.'Without question the definitive biography of Chekhov, and like to remain so for a very long time to come. . . . [Rayfield] captures a likeness of the notoriously elusive Chekhov, which at last begins to seem recognizably human--and even more extraordinary.' --Michael Frayn'Full of fascinating surprises. It is hard to imagine another book about Chekhov after this one. . . . A sculpted likeness of a most human genius shown in the context of his time.' --Arthur Miller'The life Rayfield describes is no less impressive for having a flawed, at times unsympathetic, figure at its center. And his restraint in presenting his controversial new findings--along with the sheer quantity of fresh material he has amassed--is finally what makes his portrait so persuasive. His clear-eyed, critical sympathy for his less-than-perfect subject might have been borrowed from Chekhov's own writing.' --New York Times Book Review