Ahhh.
It's beautiful. Bracing, true, elemental. It is interesting because if I read it in the New Yorker today, no knowledge of the author (which is how I usually read fiction in the New Yorker, as I find I am prejudiced for or against it if I know in advance who wrote it), I would find it beautifully written but stale... the theme has been done to death. (There was a story a year or two ago in the New Yorker by a Japanese author I like very much that was very similar.) But knowing that it's the template, the original, the one that influenced countless others...
Two questions for steissd: 1) What is the significance of "Dmitri" vs. "Dimitri"? 2) Do you think "flunkey" was the right word for Anna's husband?
Other questions (general): Was there anything specific to Anna that called forth those reactions from Gurov, or was it more about where he was in his life and what she represented? Do they have a chance of happiness together? (I think no. Too many illusions, too deeply damaged. They wouldn't survive the day-to-day grind of being together. Gurov would miss his daughter, hate that she hates him for what he did... etc.)
Lines I loved:
Quote:Sitting beside a young woman who in the dawn seemed so lovely, soothed and spellbound in these magical surroundings -- the sea, mountains, clouds, the open sky -- Gurov thought how in reality everything is beautiful in this world when one reflects: everything except what we think or do ourselves when we forget our human dignity and the higher aims of our existence.
Quote:And he judged of others by himself, not believing in what he saw, and always believing that every man had his real, most interesting life under the cover of secrecy and under the cover of night. All personal life rested on secrecy, and possibly it was partly on that account that civilised man was so nervously anxious that personal privacy should be respected.