A Story Without A Title by Anton Chekhov, 1888
The magic trick:
What seems to be a fairly serious story building to a punchline ending
Chekhov isn’t best remembered as being silly. But make no mistake, this story is silly. The story begins as something very serious. Monks, a 15th-century monastery, one man bearing the weight of the world as he seeks to combat society’s ills. It really catches you going one way as the reader. Which makes the silliness at the end all the better.
And that’s quite a trick on Chekhov’s part.
The selection:
His music, his voice, his poetry in which he glorified God, the heavens and the earth, were a continual source of joy to the monks. It sometimes happened that through the monotony of their lives they grew weary of the trees, the flowers, the spring, the autumn, their ears were tired of the sound of the sea, and the song of the birds seemed tedious to them, but the talents of their Father Superior were as necessary to them as their daily bread.
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