Oysters by Anton Chekhov

Well shucks, that was a downer.

Chekhov really knows how to pack an emotional punch to the gut, doesn’t he? He captures sorrow and suffering so raw it practically seeps off the page. I’ll admit, I’m not fully on the “Chekhov is the short-story GOAT” bandwagon just yet, but after reading Oysters, I’m starting to understand the appeal.

There’s a simplicity to his writing that’s deceptive—like, you’re reading along, thinking, “Oh, this is interesting, straightforward,” and then BAM! The emotional weight of it hits you, revealing complex layers of social commentary. In Oysters, Chekhov strips everything down to its bare essentials, no fluff or filler, just the gut-wrenching reality of a young boy and his father begging on the streets of Russia. The boy’s innocent perspective makes it all the more heartbreaking, as he experiences the cruel side of humanity. 

The boy doesn’t even know what oysters are (spoiler: he thinks they’re some kind of creepy frog), but that detail somehow makes the story even sadder. When a restaurant proprietor takes pity—or, more accurately, takes advantage—of the boy and his father, things take a dark turn. The boy becomes the butt of a cruel joke, eating oysters the wrong way (shells and all) while the restaurant's patrons laugh at his expense. It’s a sad and humiliating scene.

Then, just when things couldn’t possibly get worse, the boy falls seriously ill—whether it’s food poisoning from the oysters, pneumonia from his exposure to the elements, or something else entirely, it’s unclear. What is clear, though, is the grim reality of his fate as he ends up in a hospital bed. Chekhov offers no comforting resolutions here, making this is far from your typical feel-good story. Instead, it leaves you sitting with the weight of it all, a haunting reminder of the fragility of life and the indifference of the world. He doesn’t sugarcoat the harshness of poverty, making us confront the complex morality of these moments—how people with means can be so callous toward those less fortunate.