HER LOVER BY MAXIM GORKY PDF

When I was a student at Moscow I happened to live alongside one of those ladies whose repute is questionable. She was a Pole, and they called her Teresa. She was a tallish, powerfully-built brunette, with black, bushy eyebrows and a large coarse face as if carved out by a hatchet--the bestial gleam of her dark eyes, her thick bass voice, her cabman-like gait and her immense muscular vigour, worthy of a fishwife, inspired me with horror. I lived on the top flight and her garret was opposite to mine. I never left my door open when I knew her to be at home.

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To browse Academia. Skip to main content. By using our site, you agree to our collection of information through the use of cookies. To learn more, view our Privacy Policy. Log In Sign Up. Her Lover by Maxim Gorky. Ghulam Mustafa. She is tallish, powerfully built, having dark brown hairs, black bushy eyebrows, thick masculine voice, she walks like a cabman and she has immense muscular figure, which inspired the narrator with horror.

She lives alone at her apartment and to avoid her loneliness she creates an imaginary Lover. He is the narrator of the story and his name is not stated in the story. He is the neighbor of Teresa. He is only an imaginary boyfriend of Teresa. He only exists in the letters which Mr. Student writes for Teresa. She lives alone in her apartment and there is no one in this world to treat her with love.

One day she asks her neighbor, Mr. Student to write a letter for her to her boyfriend Boles. After a week, she again asks Mr. Student to write a letter for her but that time it was from Boles to her. At first he become surprised but later, he agrees. Henceforth, twice a week, he regularly writes letters to Boles and answers from Boles to Teresa as well. Later in the story She is imprisoned and finally dies in the end.

Teresa becomes a victim of loneliness and in order to overcome her misery and solitude she invent an imaginary lover. You wrote me a letter to Boles and I gave it to someone else to read it to me and when they read it to me I listened and fancied that Boles was there: And life grows easier for me in consequence.

Even his name is not mentioned in the story. Gorky artistically goes beyond the individual representation of Teresa and universalizes the point in a way that anyone in the world may have encountered such a life.

In this respect the message is that we may have keep in contact with our friends and family. She was a Pole, and they called her Teresa. She was a tallish, powerfully- built brunette, with black, bushy eyebrows and a large coarse face as if carved out by a hatchet--the bestial gleam of her dark eyes, her thick bass voice, her cabman-like gait and her immense muscular vigor, worthy of a fishwife, inspired me with horror.

I lived on the top flight and her garret was opposite to mine. I never left my door open when I knew her to be at home. But this, after all, was a very rare occurrence. Sometimes I chanced to meet her on the staircase or in the yard, and she would smile upon me with a smile which seemed to me to be sly and cynical. Occasionally, I saw her drunk, with bleary eyes, tousled hair, and a particularly hideous grin.

On such occasions she would speak to me. I should have liked to have changed my quarters in order to have avoided such encounters and greetings; but my little chamber was a nice one, and there was such a wide view from the window, and it was always so quiet in the street below--so I endured. I saw that her face was confused and supplicatory It was a very unusual sort of face for her.

I want to beg a favor of you. Will you grant it me? Courage, my boy! May the Mother of God protect thee! Thou heart of gold, why hast thou not written for such a long time to thy sorrowing little dove, Teresa?

Student," she said, as if offended with me for blundering over the name, "he is Boles--my young man. Cannot I, a girl, have a young man? A girl? And has he been your young man long? It was evening.

I was sitting at my window whistling and thinking of some expedient for enabling me to get away from myself. I was bored; the weather was dirty. I didn't want to go out, and out of sheer ennui I began a course of self-analysis and reflection.

This also was dull enough work, but I didn't care about doing anything else. Then the door opened. Heaven be praised! Some one came in. Student, you have no pressing business, I hope? What is it? To Boles, eh? It is not for me, Mr. Student, I beg your pardon.

It is for a friend of mine, that is to say, not a friend but an acquaintance--a man acquaintance. He has a sweetheart just like me here, Teresa. That's how it is. Will you, sir, write a letter to this Teresa?

I was a bit fogged at first--and then I guessed how it was. Don't you come sneaking about me any longer. I have no wish whatever to cultivate your acquaintance. Do you understand? I waited to see what would come of all this, and I saw and felt that, apparently, I had made a great mistake in suspecting her of wishing to draw me from the path of righteousness.

It was evidently something very different. I remained with a very unpleasant feeling in my mind. I listened. Her door was flung violently to--plainly the poor wench was very angry I thought it over, and resolved to go to her, and, inviting her to come in here, write everything she wanted. I looked round. She was sitting at the table, leaning on her elbows, with her head in her hands. Well, well! It's like this.

There's no Boles at all, and there's no Teresa either. But what's that to you? Is it a hard thing for you to draw your pen over paper? Ah, and you, too! Still such a little fair-haired boy! There's nobody at all, neither Boles, nor Teresa, only me. There you have it, and much good may it do you! There's no Boles, you say? So it is. I'm Teresa. I fixed my eyes upon her, and tried to make out which of us was taking leave of his or her senses.

Others will write for me. In her hand was my letter to Boles. What is the meaning of all this? Why must you get others to write for you when I have already written it, and you haven't sent it? There was nothing for me but to spit and go. Then she explained.

Am I then not a human creature like the rest of them? Yes, yes, I know, I know, of course Yet no harm was done to any one by my writing to him that I can see But what if he doesn't?

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Maxim Gorky’s “Her Lover.”

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An Analysis of Maxim Gorky’s Short Story Her Lover

Jump to navigation. When I was a student at Moscow I happened to live alongside one of those ladies whose repute is questionable. She was a Pole, and they called her Teresa. She was a tallish, powerfully built brunette, with black, bushy eyebrows and a large coarse face as if carved out by a hatchet—the bestial gleam of her dark eyes, her thick bass voice, her cabman-like gait and her immense muscular vigour, worthy of a fishwife, inspired me with horror. I lived on the top flight and her garret was opposite to mine. I never left my door open when I knew her to be at home.

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For a list of resources and organizations that need your support, click here. Created by dehyedration. Soon after, she asks him to write a letter, as a young man, to his girlfriend, Teresa. The student then realizes that Teresa has created the boyfriend, and her relationship with him, out of loneliness and despair. She was a Mexican, named Teresa.

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