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March 25, 2003 "The Gambler" by Fyodor Dostoevsky: Aleksey Ivanovich has a problem. He loves to gamble. Roulette is his game of choice. Well, let's make that two problems. He's also in love with Polina Aleksandrovna, the sister of the two children under Aleksey's tutelage. The tutor gig isn't much, but it keeps him close to Polina... and it allows him to earn some scratch until his bankroll is enough to spin the wheel. Polina, while she is fond of Aleksey, has her share of admirers. A certain French dandy named Monsieur de Grieux has caught her eye. Then there's also Mr. Astley, an amiable Englishman that seems to shadow Polina's every move. Aleksey can't match the wealth of either man. He proclaims his love for Polina, offering to fulfill her every whim no matter the consequence. Polina takes pleasure in testing Aleksey's faith only to lead him along, never willing to commit or toss him aside completely. Aleksey waits for his chance. And a chance is what presents itself when Polina's family stops in Roulettenburg, Germany. The General, Polina's stepfather and Aleksey's employer, has fallen upon hard times. He's a bit of a gambler himself. But is it still "gambling" when one always loses? The General is in desperate need of money, not so much to provide for his family but to woo the lovely Mademoiselle Blanche, who just happens to be the third cousin of M. de Grieux. And get this, M. de Grieux was kind enough to lend the General substantial amounts of money as the loveable loser pursued his fortune from casino to casino, a fortune he only needed in order to claim Mlle. Blanche. Funny how that all works out, huh? The whole thing reeks of fraud/bunko. Someone call Jack Webb. The General's spirits are buoyed when he hears that his mother is near death. He's sensitive like that. If she kicks, the General gets a substantial inheritance. So, yet again, death solves all grief. Is there anything it can't do? As the family awaits word on the fate of its matriarch, Aleksey continues to grapple with his feelings for Polina. The General's debt to M. de Grieux gives the Frenchman a unique power over Aleksey's beloved. And exactly how does Mr. Astley fit in? Will Polina's grandmother die? Or will Aleksey have to step to the table and gamble his way into Polina's heart? "The Gambler" is just a solid effort from start to finish. Dostoevsky based the story in some ways upon his own life, writing it when he was deeply in debt and looking for a way out. The relationship between Aleksey and Polina is about as screwed up as it gets, making it painfully realistic. The inner workings of a gambler's mind are also exposed. Everything Dostoevsky does here is effortless. He brings all these characters together, each with a hidden motive uniquely their own, and spins them into the realm of chance as any good croupier would.
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First up is probably Gogol's most famous story, "Diary of a Mad Man." It tells of a middle-aged, low-level government employee that begins a sudden descent into madness. The man believes he can talk to dogs. In fact, he believes dogs can write and that they're even writing letters about him. He confiscates the letters of his boss's dog to try and see what the mutt has to say. He's somewhat devastated to learn that his boss's daughter, a woman of admirable beauty, considers him to be somewhat of an idiot. Hey, don't let love get you down! There's always insanity! Our hero soon decides that he's the King of Spain. They have places for people like that. And, oddly enough, I think I'm there now. "The Lost Letter" and "A Bewitched Place" are taken from Gogol's two-part "Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka," his first published collections of short stories. They both deal with folklore and such, as a wily old grandfather encounters witches and the devil. Don't go out of your way to read them. "The Coach" tells how a braggart gets exposed after a night of hard drinking. Once again, it's no great shakes. Okay, now we get to the good stuff. "The Tale of How Ivan Ivanovich Quarreled with Ivan Nikiforovich" focuses on two old friends who allow a petty argument to spiral out of control and ruin their relationship. If you liked all those episodes of "I Love Lucy" when the Ricardos were feuding with the Mertzs, then you'll enjoy this one. It isn't amazing or anything, but we're starting to build. "The Nose" is a bizarre piece of absurdity in which a man awakens one morning to find that his nose has left his face. Nothing remains. There's just a smooth, flat surface between his eyes and mouth. Things are complicated further when the man discovers that his nose is running all over town dressed in a government uniform. This story is definitely four-shot material. It's clever, inventive, and certainly memorable. Gogol takes a look at the cruel hand of fate in "Nevsky Prospekt," named for one of the main streets in St. Petersburg. Two men walking along the street one night are passed by two attractive young women. One of the men, Piskarin, a thoughtful young artist, is compelled to follow the lovely brunette. The other man, Lieutenant Pirogov, a brash lady's man, gives chase to the blonde. This chance encounter, and the instincts of attraction, lead both men to decidedly different fates. Piskarin's portion of the story is remarkable. The artist discovers the woman he instantly fell in love with is hardly his ideal woman. Actually, she's kind of what we like to call a "professional." Or, you know, a dirty, dirty whore. Yet the truth can do little to tarnish her angelic image in Piskarin's eyes. He becomes obsessed with her. Tragedy, and a brilliant work of literature, is the eventual outcome. That brings us to the best story of the lot: "The Overcoat." Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin is an unassuming man. He lives a quiet life of isolation, never asking for more than what his role as a meager office clerk gives him. He is often ridiculed by his younger co-workers, but he doesn't care. He loves his job. It's his life. He just wants to be left alone. Akaky's numb existence is given a shock one day in the form of a chill down his back. Literally. Akaky's overcoat has been worn thin. It's beyond repair. New overcoats aren't cheap. Akaky doesn't like the idea of spending the money, but he has no choice. Russian winters are no joke. After months of scrimping and saving, Akaky manages to acquire a gorgeous new overcoat that makes him the envy of all who see him. He's emboldened with confidence. His co-workers begin to treat him differently. He's no longer the outsider. Akaky is respected. Life is nothing if not unfair. One night while returning from a party, exactly the type of gathering he never would have been asked to attend prior to his upgrade in wardrobe, Akaky is assaulted in the street and has his overcoat stolen. He appeals to a police officer but is ignored. He pleads with a government official to help him recover his coat and is greeted with cruelty. Without his coat for protection, Akaky falls victim to the harsh winter. Soon after, rumors swirl of a ghostly corpse roaming the streets stealing coats from passersby. Gogol uses "The Overcoat" to focus attention on the plight of the working class in Russia. While he offers them up for ridicule in the way in which they happily accept their circumstances, visible in Akaky's love for his miserable job, the real venom is reserved for the bureaucrats that turn a deaf ear to their cries. It should also be noted how Akaky only became important when he donned a new outer shell. The man himself didn't change, only the way others viewed him. This same lack of substance and character is as prevalent in today's society as it was in Gogol's. All things considered, the eight stories discussed should probably only get three shots. However, "The Overcoat," "The Nose," and "Nevsky Prospekt" are all exceptional. It's on the strength of those three stories that Gogol' receives a fourth belt.
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Anton Antonovish, the mayor, is scared silly by the prospect. See, good ol' Anton doesn't exactly run the tightest ship in the sea. He's never met a bribe he didn't take. He and the other city officials would have to really hustle just to be incompetent. To make matters worse, the inspector general is arriving incognito. I arrived incognito once. Couldn't walk for a week. Anyway, Anton and the boys have no idea who the inspector is, what he looks like, or exactly when it is that he'll arrive. That is until they receive word that there's a stranger staying at the inn. He appears to be a handsome young man of some refinement. Naturally, they think he's the inspector. Who wouldn't? And besides, if they didn't there really wouldn't be much of a play. Of course, the young man at the inn, Ivan Aleksandrovich, isn't the inspector. He's just a poor, penniless clerk who happens to be passing through on his way back to his hometown. But he recognizes a good thing when he sees it. Ivan is quick to assume the role of inspector, taking full advantage of the kindness offered by strangers. There's comedy-o-plenty in "The Inspector General." The premise has been used time and again throughout history, even becoming a staple of sitcom writing over the years. I think about half of all "Three's Company" episodes followed a similar vein. Mistaken identity, and the chaos it creates, is as sure a recipe for laughs as a chimp in human clothes. The ending is somewhat disappointing. I mean, it's fine and all, but there really isn't that final devastating punch line to bring down the curtain. Still, "The Inspector General" remains as funny as any play encountered by 70 Proof.
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