Consider The Cockroach

A look at the three prominent characters in Anton Chekhov’s “Small Fry”. The full text can be found here .

In this tale, we meet three characters. First, there is the main character, Nevyrazimov, a petty clerk disgruntled at his lot in life, particularly, his inability to escape poverty. Then, there’s Paramon, a porter who is content to just be shining his shoes. Lastly, we have the cockroach, a frantic bug who runs around Nevyrazimov’s working table, looking for a place to rest. Why are they in the story?

Nevyrazimov and Paramon represent two opposing approaches to life. They’re both in the same place: stuck working while the world around them enjoys a lively festival. Yet where they differ is in how they react to these identical circumstances. Their reaction tells us all we need to know about them, at least in the narrow lens that a story provides. Paramon is spending the night happily cleaning his shoes. When he hears the bells, he is surprised that they started so early and the tone that one gets is that of excitement. Then there’s Nevyrazimov. He is toiling away, penning a letter addressed to a person who he doesn’t really care about but whom he wants to get a raise from. When he hears the same bells, he goes into a self-pitiful speech about how his life is unfortunate and how he is the only unlucky one “forced” to stay in while the rest of the city enjoys the holiday. But of course, he is not really stuck in there. He chose to be there. He decided that he wanted to make more money and is suffering the consequences of that choice. Even this he can’t admit though. His hands were forced. His poverty leaves him no choice but to take as many shifts as possible. It would be impossible to do otherwise. Same circumstances, different reactions.

So two characters are weighed against each other. One is accepting of his lot in life, the other complains endlessly and believes that there is no possible escape. What does this mean? Is Chekhov saying that we should appreciate what he have, and just be happy to be alive? Well, not exactly. The story just presents them. Neither one falls to a tragic end. If there were some moral stance, then surely something of consequence would have happened to one of the characters. This is a slice of life story. It’s not trying to transform characters through plot and narrative; but rather, it wants to demonstrate them to the reader, like a show and tell of the sorts of folks who occupied 19th century Russia. Of the sorts of folks who occupy the world around us today. Well, fine. There’s no great moral argument being put forth here. But what makes this story great? What elevates this from a mere slice of life to something deeper?

Enter the cockroach. It is in a similar position to Nevyrazimov. It is trapped on this table. It doesn’t know where to go or where to settle down and rest. The lights from the kerosene lamp are as bright to it as the festival bells are loud to Nevyrazimov. The two are facing the same dilemma: how to find peace if everywhere one turns, there’s something not right? Nevyrazimov sees no escape from his poverty and his misery in general. He can’t get a new job; he can’t run away to America; he can’t steal his way to greater fortune. He’s stuck. Likewise, for the cockroach. It can’t escape this table, this “prison” if you will. Both are shackled by themselves. The cockroach can surely go anywhere it wants. Why does it need to settle at this table? Why not find another room? Another table? How did it get there in the first place? Can’t it just do whatever it did to get there but in reverse? Similarly, is Nevyrazimov really stuck? Couldn’t he declined to take the extra shift? No one forced him. He just thinks that circumstances demand it. The two, Nevyrazimov and the cockroach, seemed to suffer from a forfeiture of agency, of control in one’s destiny.

What would solve their conundrum? For the cockroach and perhaps for Nevyrazimov, the question is answered at the same time. The latter smacks the former before dropping it into the kerosene lamp, putting it and all of its worries permanently to rest. Can’t be anxious if you’re dead. For Nevyrazimov, he enjoys a temporary respite from his angst. He feels relief. Maybe there lies the secret. Maybe for someone like Nevyrazimov, for all of us really, joy comes in taking action whenever and wherever you can. It is through action that we can try to grapple any sort of happiness in our life, no matter how insignificant an act may seem.