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Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series by Anton Chekhov

A >> Anton Chekhov >> Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series

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IRINA. [Displeased] You are queer. ...

OLGA. [Crying] I understand you, Masha.

SOLENI. When a man talks philosophy, well, it is philosophy or at
any rate sophistry; but when a woman, or two women, talk
philosophy--it's all my eye.

MASHA. What do you mean by that, you very awful man?

SOLENI. Oh, nothing. You came down on me before I could say ...
help! [Pause.]

MASHA. [Angrily, to OLGA] Don't cry!

[Enter ANFISA and FERAPONT with a cake.]

ANFISA. This way, my dear. Come in, your feet are clean. [To IRINA]
From the District Council, from Mihail Ivanitch Protopopov ... a
cake.

IRINA. Thank you. Please thank him. [Takes the cake.]

FERAPONT. What?

IRINA. [Louder] Please thank him.

OLGA. Give him a pie, nurse. Ferapont, go, she'll give you a pie.

FERAPONT. What?

ANFISA. Come on, gran'fer, Ferapont Spiridonitch. Come on.
[Exeunt.]

MASHA. I don't like this Mihail Potapitch or Ivanitch, Protopopov.
We oughtn't to invite him here.

IRINA. I never asked him.

MASHA. That's all right.

[Enter CHEBUTIKIN followed by a soldier with a silver samovar;
there is a rumble of dissatisfied surprise.]

OLGA. [Covers her face with her hands] A samovar! That's awful!
[Exit into the dining-room, to the table.]

IRINA. My dear Ivan Romanovitch, what are you doing!

TUZENBACH. [Laughs] I told you so!

MASHA. Ivan Romanovitch, you are simply shameless!

CHEBUTIKIN. My dear good girl, you are the only thing, and the
dearest thing I have in the world. I'll soon be sixty. I'm an old
man, a lonely worthless old man. The only good thing in me is my
love for you, and if it hadn't been for that, I would have been
dead long ago. ... [To IRINA] My dear little girl, I've known you
since the day of your birth, I've carried you in my arms ... I
loved your dead mother. ...

MASHA. But your presents are so expensive!

CHEBUTIKIN. [Angrily, through his tears] Expensive presents. ...
You really, are! ... [To the orderly] Take the samovar in there. ...
[Teasing] Expensive presents!

[The orderly goes into the dining-room with the samovar.]

ANFISA. [Enters and crosses stage] My dear, there's a strange
Colonel come! He's taken off his coat already. Children, he's
coming here. Irina darling, you'll be a nice and polite little
girl, won't you. ... Should have lunched a long time ago. ... Oh,
Lord. ... [Exit.]

TUZENBACH. It must be Vershinin. [Enter VERSHININ] Lieutenant-Colonel
Vershinin!

VERSHININ. [To MASHA and IRINA] I have the honour to introduce
myself, my name is Vershinin. I am very glad indeed to be able to
come at last. How you've grown! Oh! oh!

IRINA. Please sit down. We're very glad you've come.

VERSHININ. [Gaily] I am glad, very glad! But there are three
sisters, surely. I remember--three little girls. I forget your
faces, but your father, Colonel Prosorov, used to have three little
girls, I remember that perfectly, I saw them with my own eyes. How
time does fly! Oh, dear, how it flies!

TUZENBACH. Alexander Ignateyevitch comes from Moscow.

IRINA. From Moscow? Are you from Moscow?

VERSHININ. Yes, that's so. Your father used to be in charge of a
battery there, and I was an officer in the same brigade. [To MASHA]
I seem to remember your face a little.

MASHA. I don't remember you.

IRINA. Olga! Olga! [Shouts into the dining-room] Olga! Come along!
[OLGA enters from the dining-room] Lieutenant Colonel Vershinin
comes from Moscow, as it happens.

VERSHININ. I take it that you are Olga Sergeyevna, the eldest, and
that you are Maria ... and you are Irina, the youngest. ...

OLGA. So you come from Moscow?

VERSHININ. Yes. I went to school in Moscow and began my service
there; I was there for a long time until at last I got my battery
and moved over here, as you see. I don't really remember you, I
only remember that there used to be three sisters. I remember your
father well; I have only to shut my eyes to see him as he was. I
used to come to your house in Moscow. ...

OLGA. I used to think I remembered everybody, but ...

VERSHININ. My name is Alexander Ignateyevitch.

IRINA. Alexander Ignateyevitch, you've come from Moscow. That is
really quite a surprise!

OLGA. We are going to live there, you see.

IRINA. We think we may be there this autumn. It's our native town,
we were born there. In Old Basmanni Road. ... [They both laugh for
joy.]

MASHA. We've unexpectedly met a fellow countryman. [Briskly] I
remember: Do you remember, Olga, they used to speak at home of a
"lovelorn Major." You were only a Lieutenant then, and in love with
somebody, but for some reason they always called you a Major for
fun.

VERSHININ. [Laughs] That's it ... the lovelorn Major, that's got it!

MASHA. You only wore moustaches then. You have grown older!
[Through her tears] You have grown older!

VERSHININ. Yes, when they used to call me the lovelorn Major, I was
young and in love. I've grown out of both now.

OLGA. But you haven't a single white hair yet. You're older, but
you're not yet old.

VERSHININ. I'm forty-two, anyway. Have you been away from Moscow
long?

IRINA. Eleven years. What are you crying for, Masha, you little
fool. ... [Crying] And I'm crying too.

MASHA. It's all right. And where did you live?

VERSHININ. Old Basmanni Road.

OLGA. Same as we.

VERSHININ. Once I used to live in German Street. That was when the
Red Barracks were my headquarters. There's an ugly bridge in
between, where the water rushes underneath. One gets melancholy
when one is alone there. [Pause] Here the river is so wide and
fine! It's a splendid river!

OLGA. Yes, but it's so cold. It's very cold here, and the midges. ...

VERSHININ. What are you saying! Here you've got such a fine healthy
Russian climate. You've a forest, a river ... and birches. Dear,
modest birches, I like them more than any other tree. It's good to
live here. Only it's odd that the railway station should be
thirteen miles away. ... Nobody knows why.

SOLENI. I know why. [All look at him] Because if it was near it
wouldn't be far off, and if it's far off, it can't be near. [An
awkward pause.]

TUZENBACH. Funny man.

OLGA. Now I know who you are. I remember.

VERSHININ. I used to know your mother.

CHEBUTIKIN. She was a good woman, rest her soul.

IRINA. Mother is buried in Moscow.

OLGA. At the Novo-Devichi Cemetery.

MASHA. Do you know, I'm beginning to forget her face. We'll be
forgotten in just the same way.

VERSHININ. Yes, they'll forget us. It's our fate, it can't be
helped. A time will come when everything that seems serious,
significant, or very important to us will be forgotten, or
considered trivial. [Pause] And the curious thing is that we can't
possibly find out what will come to be regarded as great and
important, and what will be feeble, or silly. Didn't the
discoveries of Copernicus, or Columbus, say, seem unnecessary and
ludicrous at first, while wasn't it thought that some rubbish
written by a fool, held all the truth? And it may so happen that
our present existence, with which we are so satisfied, will in time
appear strange, inconvenient, stupid, unclean, perhaps even sinful. ...

TUZENBACH. Who knows? But on the other hand, they may call our life
noble and honour its memory. We've abolished torture and capital
punishment, we live in security, but how much suffering there is
still!

SOLENI. [In a feeble voice] There, there. ... The Baron will go
without his dinner if you only let him talk philosophy.

TUZENBACH. Vassili Vassilevitch, kindly leave me alone. [Changes
his chair] You're very dull, you know.

SOLENI. [Feebly] There, there, there.

TUZENBACH. [To VERSHININ] The sufferings we see to-day--there are
so many of them!--still indicate a certain moral improvement in
society.

VERSHININ. Yes, yes, of course.

CHEBUTIKIN. You said just now, Baron, that they may call our life
noble; but we are very petty. ... [Stands up] See how little I am.
[Violin played behind.]

MASHA. That's Andrey playing--our brother.

IRINA. He's the learned member of the family. I expect he will be a
professor some day. Father was a soldier, but his son chose an
academic career for himself.

MASHA. That was father's wish.

OLGA. We ragged him to-day. We think he's a little in love.

IRINA. To a local lady. She will probably come here to-day.

MASHA. You should see the way she dresses! Quite prettily, quite
fashionably too, but so badly! Some queer bright yellow skirt with
a wretched little fringe and a red bodice. And such a complexion!
Andrey isn't in love. After all he has taste, he's simply making
fun of us. I heard yesterday that she was going to marry
Protopopov, the chairman of the Local Council. That would do her
nicely. ... [At the side door] Andrey, come here! Just for a
minute, dear! [Enter ANDREY.]

OLGA. My brother, Andrey Sergeyevitch.

VERSHININ. My name is Vershinin.

ANDREY. Mine is Prosorov. [Wipes his perspiring hands] You've come
to take charge of the battery?

OLGA. Just think, Alexander Ignateyevitch comes from Moscow.

ANDREY. That's all right. Now my little sisters won't give you any
rest.

VERSHININ. I've already managed to bore your sisters.

IRINA. Just look what a nice little photograph frame Andrey gave me
to-day. [Shows it] He made it himself.

VERSHININ. [Looks at the frame and does not know what to say] Yes. ...
It's a thing that ...

IRINA. And he made that frame there, on the piano as well. [Andrey
waves his hand and walks away.]

OLGA. He's got a degree, and plays the violin, and cuts all sorts
of things out of wood, and is really a domestic Admirable Crichton.
Don't go away, Andrey! He's got into a habit of always going away.
Come here!

[MASHA and IRINA take his arms and laughingly lead him back.]

MASHA. Come on, come on!

ANDREY. Please leave me alone.

MASHA. You are funny. Alexander Ignateyevitch used to be called the
lovelorn Major, but he never minded.

VERSHININ. Not the least.

MASHA. I'd like to call you the lovelorn fiddler!

IRINA. Or the lovelorn professor!

OLGA. He's in love! little Andrey is in love!

IRINA. [Applauds] Bravo, Bravo! Encore! Little Andrey is in love.

CHEBUTIKIN. [Goes up behind ANDREY and takes him round the waist
with both arms] Nature only brought us into the world that we
should love! [Roars with laughter, then sits down and reads a
newspaper which he takes out of his pocket.]

ANDREY. That's enough, quite enough. ... [Wipes his face] I
couldn't sleep all night and now I can't quite find my feet, so to
speak. I read until four o'clock, then tried to sleep, but nothing
happened. I thought about one thing and another, and then it dawned
and the sun crawled into my bedroom. This summer, while I'm here, I
want to translate a book from the English. ...

VERSHININ. Do you read English?

ANDREY. Yes father, rest his soul, educated us almost violently. It
may seem funny and silly, but it's nevertheless true, that after
his death I began to fill out and get rounder, as if my body had
had some great pressure taken off it. Thanks to father, my sisters
and I know French, German, and English, and Irina knows Italian as
well. But we paid dearly for it all!

MASHA. A knowledge of three languages is an unnecessary luxury in
this town. It isn't even a luxury but a sort of useless extra, like
a sixth finger. We know a lot too much.

VERSHININ. Well, I say! [Laughs] You know a lot too much! I don't
think there can really be a town so dull and stupid as to have no
place for a clever, cultured person. Let us suppose even that among
the hundred thousand inhabitants of this backward and uneducated
town, there are only three persons like yourself. It stands to
reason that you won't be able to conquer that dark mob around you;
little by little as you grow older you will be bound to give way
and lose yourselves in this crowd of a hundred thousand human
beings; their life will suck you up in itself, but still, you won't
disappear having influenced nobody; later on, others like you will
come, perhaps six of them, then twelve, and so on, until at last
your sort will be in the majority. In two or three hundred years'
time life on this earth will be unimaginably beautiful and
wonderful. Mankind needs such a life, and if it is not ours to-day
then we must look ahead for it, wait, think, prepare for it. We
must see and know more than our fathers and grandfathers saw and
knew. [Laughs] And you complain that you know too much.

MASHA. [Takes off her hat] I'll stay to lunch.

IRINA. [Sighs] Yes, all that ought to be written down.

[ANDREY has gone out quietly.]

TUZENBACH. You say that many years later on, life on this earth
will be beautiful and wonderful. That's true. But to share in it
now, even though at a distance, we must prepare by work. ...

VERSHININ. [Gets up] Yes. What a lot of flowers you have. [Looks
round] It's a beautiful flat. I envy you! I've spent my whole life
in rooms with two chairs, one sofa, and fires which always smoke.
I've never had flowers like these in my life. ... [Rubs his hands]
Well, well!

TUZENBACH. Yes, we must work. You are probably thinking to
yourself: the German lets himself go. But I assure you I'm a
Russian, I can't even speak German. My father belonged to the
Orthodox Church. ... [Pause.]

VERSHININ. [Walks about the stage] I often wonder: suppose we could
begin life over again, knowing what we were doing? Suppose we could
use one life, already ended, as a sort of rough draft for another?
I think that every one of us would try, more than anything else,
not to repeat himself, at the very least he would rearrange his
manner of life, he would make sure of rooms like these, with
flowers and light ... I have a wife and two daughters, my wife's
health is delicate and so on and so on, and if I had to begin life
all over again I would not marry. ... No, no!

[Enter KULIGIN in a regulation jacket.]

KULIGIN. [Going up to IRINA] Dear sister, allow me to congratulate
you on the day sacred to your good angel and to wish you, sincerely
and from the bottom of my heart, good health and all that one can
wish for a girl of your years. And then let me offer you this book
as a present. [Gives it to her] It is the history of our High
School during the last fifty years, written by myself. The book is
worthless, and written because I had nothing to do, but read it all
the same. Good day, gentlemen! [To VERSHININ] My name is Kuligin, I
am a master of the local High School. [Note: He adds that he is a
_Nadvorny Sovetnik_ (almost the same as a German _Hofrat_), an
undistinguished civilian title with no English equivalent.] [To
IRINA] In this book you will find a list of all those who have
taken the full course at our High School during these fifty years.
_Feci quod potui, faciant meliora potentes_. [Kisses MASHA.]

IRINA. But you gave me one of these at Easter.

KULIGIN. [Laughs] I couldn't have, surely! You'd better give it
back to me in that case, or else give it to the Colonel. Take it,
Colonel. You'll read it some day when you're bored.

VERSHININ. Thank you. [Prepares to go] I am extremely happy to have
made the acquaintance of ...

OLGA. Must you go? No, not yet?

IRINA. You'll stop and have lunch with us. Please do.

OLGA. Yes, please!

VERSHININ. [Bows] I seem to have dropped in on your name-day. Forgive
me, I didn't know, and I didn't offer you my congratulations. [Goes
with OLGA into the dining-room.]

KULIGIN. To-day is Sunday, the day of rest, so let us rest and
rejoice, each in a manner compatible with his age and disposition.
The carpets will have to be taken up for the summer and put away
till the winter ... Persian powder or naphthaline. ... The Romans
were healthy because they knew both how to work and how to rest,
they had _mens sana in corpore sano_. Their life ran along certain
recognized patterns. Our director says: "The chief thing about each
life is its pattern. Whoever loses his pattern is lost himself"--
and it's just the same in our daily life. [Takes MASHA by the
waist, laughing] Masha loves me. My wife loves me. And you ought to
put the window curtains away with the carpets. ... I'm feeling
awfully pleased with life to-day. Masha, we've got to be at the
director's at four. They're getting up a walk for the pedagogues
and their families.

MASHA. I shan't go.

KULIGIN. [Hurt] My dear Masha, why not?

MASHA. I'll tell you later. ... [Angrily] All right, I'll go, only
please stand back. ... [Steps away.]

KULIGIN. And then we're to spend the evening at the director's. In
spite of his ill-health that man tries, above everything else, to
be sociable. A splendid, illuminating personality. A wonderful man.
After yesterday's committee he said to me: "I'm tired, Feodor
Ilitch, I'm tired!" [Looks at the clock, then at his watch] Your
clock is seven minutes fast. "Yes," he said, "I'm tired." [Violin
played off.]

OLGA. Let's go and have lunch! There's to be a masterpiece of
baking!

KULIGIN. Oh my dear Olga, my dear. Yesterday I was working till
eleven o'clock at night, and got awfully tired. To-day I'm quite
happy. [Goes into dining-room] My dear ...

CHEBUTIKIN. [Puts his paper into his pocket, and combs his beard] A
pie? Splendid!

MASHA. [Severely to CHEBUTIKIN] Only mind; you're not to drink
anything to-day. Do you hear? It's bad for you.

CHEBUTIKIN. Oh, that's all right. I haven't been drunk for two
years. And it's all the same, anyway!

MASHA. You're not to dare to drink, all the same. [Angrily, but so
that her husband should not hear] Another dull evening at the
Director's, confound it!

TUZENBACH. I shouldn't go if I were you. ... It's quite simple.

CHEBUTIKIN. Don't go.

MASHA. Yes, "don't go. ..." It's a cursed, unbearable life. ...
[Goes into dining-room.]

CHEBUTIKIN. [Follows her] It's not so bad.

SOLENI. [Going into the dining-room] There, there, there. ...

TUZENBACH. Vassili Vassilevitch, that's enough. Be quiet!

SOLENI. There, there, there. ...

KULIGIN. [Gaily] Your health, Colonel! I'm a pedagogue and not
quite at home here. I'm Masha's husband. ... She's a good sort, a
very good sort.

VERSHININ. I'll have some of this black vodka. ... [Drinks] Your
health! [To OLGA] I'm very comfortable here!

[Only IRINA and TUZENBACH are now left in the sitting-room.]

IRINA. Masha's out of sorts to-day. She married when she was
eighteen, when he seemed to her the wisest of men. And now it's
different. He's the kindest man, but not the wisest.

OLGA. [Impatiently] Andrey, when are you coming?

ANDREY. [Off] One minute. [Enters and goes to the table.]

TUZENBACH. What are you thinking about?

IRINA. I don't like this Soleni of yours and I'm afraid of him. He
only says silly things.

TUZENBACH. He's a queer man. I'm sorry for him, though he vexes me.
I think he's shy. When there are just the two of us he's quite all
right and very good company; when other people are about he's rough
and hectoring. Don't let's go in, let them have their meal without
us. Let me stay with you. What are you thinking of? [Pause] You're
twenty. I'm not yet thirty. How many years are there left to us,
with their long, long lines of days, filled with my love for you. ...

IRINA. Nicolai Lvovitch, don't speak to me of love.

TUZENBACH. [Does not hear] I've a great thirst for life, struggle,
and work, and this thirst has united with my love for you, Irina,
and you're so beautiful, and life seems so beautiful to me! What
are you thinking about?

IRINA. You say that life is beautiful. Yes, if only it seems so!
The life of us three hasn't been beautiful yet; it has been
stifling us as if it was weeds ... I'm crying. I oughtn't. ...
[Dries her tears, smiles] We must work, work. That is why we are
unhappy and look at the world so sadly; we don't know what work is.
Our parents despised work. ...

[Enter NATALIA IVANOVA; she wears a pink dress and a green sash.]

NATASHA. They're already at lunch ... I'm late ... [Carefully
examines herself in a mirror, and puts herself straight] I think my
hair's done all right. ... [Sees IRINA] Dear Irina Sergeyevna, I
congratulate you! [Kisses her firmly and at length] You've so many
visitors, I'm really ashamed. ... How do you do, Baron!

OLGA. [Enters from dining-room] Here's Natalia Ivanovna. How are
you, dear! [They kiss.]

NATASHA. Happy returns. I'm awfully shy, you've so many people
here.

OLGA. All our friends. [Frightened, in an undertone] You're wearing
a green sash! My dear, you shouldn't!

NATASHA. Is it a sign of anything?

OLGA. No, it simply doesn't go well ... and it looks so queer.

NATASHA. [In a tearful voice] Yes? But it isn't really green, it's
too dull for that. [Goes into dining-room with OLGA.]

[They have all sat down to lunch in the dining-room, the
sitting-room is empty.]

KULIGIN. I wish you a nice fiancee, Irina. It's quite time you
married.

CHEBUTIKIN. Natalia Ivanovna, I wish you the same.

KULIGIN. Natalia Ivanovna has a fiance already.

MASHA. [Raps with her fork on a plate] Let's all get drunk and make
life purple for once!

KULIGIN. You've lost three good conduct marks.

VERSHININ. This is a nice drink. What's it made of?

SOLENI. Blackbeetles.

IRINA. [Tearfully] Phoo! How disgusting!

OLGA. There is to be a roast turkey and a sweet apple pie for
dinner. Thank goodness I can spend all day and the evening at home.
You'll come in the evening, ladies and gentlemen. ...

VERSHININ. And please may I come in the evening!

IRINA. Please do.

NATASHA. They don't stand on ceremony here.

CHEBUTIKIN. Nature only brought us into the world that we should
love! [Laughs.]

ANDREY. [Angrily] Please don't! Aren't you tired of it?

[Enter FEDOTIK and RODE with a large basket of flowers.]

FEDOTIK. They're lunching already.

RODE. [Loudly and thickly] Lunching? Yes, so they are. ...

FEDOTIK. Wait a minute! [Takes a photograph] That's one. No, just a
moment. ... [Takes another] That's two. Now we're ready!

[They take the basket and go into the dining-room, where they have
a noisy reception.]

RODE. [Loudly] Congratulations and best wishes! Lovely weather
to-day, simply perfect. Was out walking with the High School
students all the morning. I take their drills.

FEDOTIK. You may move, Irina Sergeyevna! [Takes a photograph] You
look well to-day. [Takes a humming-top out of his pocket] Here's a
humming-top, by the way. It's got a lovely note!

IRINA. How awfully nice!

MASHA. "There stands a green oak by the sea,
And a chain of bright gold is around it ...
And a chain of bright gold is around it ..."
[Tearfully] What am I saying that for? I've had those words running
in my head all day. ...

KULIGIN. There are thirteen at table!

RODE. [Aloud] Surely you don't believe in that superstition?
[Laughter.]

KULIGIN. If there are thirteen at table then it means there are
lovers present. It isn't you, Ivan Romanovitch, hang it all. ...
[Laughter.]

CHEBUTIKIN. I'm a hardened sinner, but I really don't see why
Natalia Ivanovna should blush. ...

[Loud laughter; NATASHA runs out into the sitting-room, followed by
ANDREY.]

ANDREY. Don't pay any attention to them! Wait ... do stop, please. ...

NATASHA. I'm shy ... I don't know what's the matter with me and
they're all laughing at me. It wasn't nice of me to leave the table
like that, but I can't ... I can't. [Covers her face with her
hands.]

ANDREY. My dear, I beg you. I implore you not to excite yourself. I
assure you they're only joking, they're kind people. My dear, good
girl, they're all kind and sincere people, and they like both you
and me. Come here to the window, they can't see us here. ... [Looks
round.]

NATASHA. I'm so unaccustomed to meeting people!

ANDREY. Oh your youth, your splendid, beautiful youth! My darling,
don't be so excited! Believe me, believe me ... I'm so happy, my
soul is full of love, of ecstasy. ... They don't see us! They
can't! Why, why or when did I fall in love with you--Oh, I can't
understand anything. My dear, my pure darling, be my wife! I love
you, love you ... as never before. ... [They kiss.]

[Two officers come in and, seeing the lovers kiss, stop in
astonishment.]

Curtain.


ACT II

[Scene as before. It is 8 p.m. Somebody is heard playing a
concertina outside in' the street. There is no fire. NATALIA
IVANOVNA enters in indoor dress carrying a candle; she stops by the
door which leads into ANDREY'S room.]

NATASHA. What are you doing, Andrey? Are you reading? It's nothing,
only I. ... [She opens another door, and looks in, then closes it]
Isn't there any fire. ...

ANDREY. [Enters with book in hand] What are you doing, Natasha?

NATASHA. I was looking to see if there wasn't a fire. It's
Shrovetide, and the servant is simply beside herself; I must look
out that something doesn't happen. When I came through the
dining-room yesterday midnight, there was a candle burning. I
couldn't get her to tell me who had lighted it. [Puts down her
candle] What's the time?

ANDREY. [Looks at his watch] A quarter past eight.

NATASHA. And Olga and Irina aren't in yet. The poor things are
still at work. Olga at the teacher's council, Irina at the
telegraph office. ... [Sighs] I said to your sister this morning,
"Irina, darling, you must take care of yourself." But she pays no
attention. Did you say it was a quarter past eight? I am afraid
little Bobby is quite ill. Why is he so cold? He was feverish
yesterday, but to-day he is quite cold ... I am so frightened!

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A Stephen King fan has published an 80-page version of the book which novelist Jack Torrance obsessively writes during King's The Shining, where his descent into madness is revealed when his wife discovers that his work consists of just one phrase, endlessly repeated.

Torrance, played by Jack Nicholson in terrifying form in Stanley Kubrick's 1980 film, is a frustrated writer who goes with his wife and son to spend the winter in the isolated Overlook Hotel in an attempt to get the novel he has always wanted to write started. But the hotel's grisly past and unquiet ghosts have their way with him, and his wife Wendy eventually finds that the manuscript he has been working on actually only contains the phrase "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy", typed over and over again.

Now New York artist Phil Buehler, who describes himself as "a big fan of Stanley Kubrick and Stephen King", has self-published a book credited to Torrance, repeating the phrase throughout but formatting each page differently, using the words to create different shapes from zigzags to spirals.

"The idea has probably been marinating for years, because I loved the movie and the Stephen King book," said Buehler. "I'd just finished my own obsessive art project [and] it was an idea I had over the Christmas holidays."

He said he decided to stick to type and formatting that could have been created on a typewriter, with the first ten pages duplicating shots of Torrance's work from the film. "I thought 'if he continues to get crazier, what would those pages look like?'" he said. "I hit writer's block about 60 pages in, and I had to get to 80 - that went on for about a week." His fiancée, who had neither read the book nor seen the film, became a little concerned about his actions. "I finally showed her the movie, and she realised I wasn't really losing it," said Buehler.

He's included a spoof review from the blog OverThinkingIt.com on the book's back jacket, which compares it to "the best of Beckett" in its "lack of forward momentum", and considers the struggles of the author, "heroically pitting himself against the Sisyphusean sentence". "It's that metatextual struggle of Man vs. Typewriter that gives this book its spellbinding power," the review says. "Some will dismiss it as simplistic; that's like dismissing a Pollack canvas as mere splatters of paint."

So far, Buehler says that around 1,000 people have viewed the book, for sale on Blurb.com for $8.95 in paperback, or $22.95 in hardback, and he's sold "a few" copies, with sales now starting to pick up steam. "A few people have asked me to sign it - they're looking it as a piece of art rather than a funny thing to give to a Kubrick fan," he said. "If you're not a Kubrick or King fan, you might not even get it."

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