From Publishers Weekly
Callow, a novelist and author of biographies on D.H. Lawrence, Cezanne, Walt Whitman and Van Gogh, has not been as thorough as Donald Rayfield in his recent biography of the great Russian playwright and short story writer. And this is rather a blessing. Callow draws equally on Chekhov's (1860-1904) own writing and smartly culls from secondary sources?taking valuable critical insights from V.S. Pritchett's Chekhov: A Spirit Set Free, or using Rayfield's important discovery of previously censored passages in Chekhov's letters, while casting doubt on the same author's characterization of Chekhov's relationship with early editor Nikolai Leykin. Chekhov's life was filled with romantic, professional, familial, political and philosophical complications, and most biographies leave Chekhov either elusively unfinished or unsatisfactorily psychologized. Callow allows his subject these complexities, presenting Chekhov as neither saint nor misogynist (two proffered views) and never tries to apprehend the unknowable. "When we attempt to clarify his feelings about love we are soon faced with ambiguity," he writes. But what is knowable he clearly connects to Chekhov's writing, making for a cohesive whole. While Callow does a good job of contextualizing Chekhov as a private figure, he is not so successful in giving him a social context: more, for example, on the Russian stage, on its penal system and on the roiling political atmosphere that spawned Chekhov, Tolstoy and Gorky would have shed great light without imputing more to Chekhov's life than the facts will bear. (May) FYI: Everyone knows Chekhov's four great plays, but few are familiar with the humorous one-act plays he wrote in his 20s. To correct this, Smith and Kraus will release Chekhov: The Vaudevilles and Other Short Works, trans. by Carol Rocamora. ($19.95 224p ISBN 1-57525-127-2; May)
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Callow's biographies are a joy to read. Deeply involved with his subjects, whether he's writing about Cezanne, as he did in his last biography,
Lost Earth (1995), or about Walt Whitman, as in the book before that, he is as comfortable with the inner progression of an artist's life as with its outer trappings and expressions. As Callow traces Chekhov's swerving path from medicine to literature, from pragmatic concerns to creative revelations, he presents a man split between duty and pleasure, the need for solitude and a taste for society, and a great love of women and the sharp fear of intimacy. Callow describes Chekhov as "astonishingly modern," and, indeed, this elusive artist has emerged from behind his brilliant creations as a figure more attuned with our time than with his own, an alignment that also inspired a major biography by Donald Rayfield earlier this year. Both books are excellent; each reaches different conclusions, and Callow's is the more concise and expeditious.
Donna Seaman