Aleksandr Ostrovsky: The Storm

In the preface to this edition (Bibliobazaar, for those interested), the editor makes two comments, either of which would have sufficed to lower my expectations for this play. Firstly, she or he (identified only as E.G. for some reason) identifies Ostrovsky as " . . . the greatest of the Russian dramatists." On what authority is this ludicrous statement made? What makes Ostrovsky (largely unknown outside of Russia) better than Chekov or Gorki? Ridiculous. Secondly, "All the reproach that lives for us in the word theatrical is worlds removed from 'The Storm'. . . people who like 'farcical comedy' and social melodrama, and 'musical sketches' will find 'The Storm' deep, forbidding and gloomy." Of course, I am one of those people, so I didn't expect much to like this play.

I was not wrong, but my distaste for it did not arise from the editor's expected causes. For one thing, it was indeed gloomy, but not particularly deep. In fact, in a play where the heroine hurls herself to her death after her affair is discovered, the above assertion that the play is not theatrical seems patently absurd. Rather than overly dramatic, I found the play too simple for my taste. The plot is uninventive, and the characters uninteresting. This first item from the sixth year of Ward's Lifetime of Reading has been a disappointment, but he fails me so rarely, and plays take so little time to read, that I forgive him.