Andreyev, in writing it, has come very near to solving the question of the meaning of life, and its justification.
The poignant irony of this story is not unusual with Andreyev.
If we carefully study a few of Andreyev's characters we can more easily understand his feelings and his style.
Andreyev, on the other hand, but rarely breaks the bounds which unite him to reality.
Andreyev gives us remarkably graphic details of this misery.
Andreyev, for example, regards the Jewish problem as primarily a Russian problem.
Andreyev has no simplicity, and his talent reminds me of an artificial nightingale.
Andreyev's father, who was a geometrician, died while he was still at school, and the family was without resources.
The abyss which separates Andreyev's heroes from other men makes them weak, numb, and miserable.
It is true that "most of the critics have understood Andreyev only in a superficial manner," as Tolstoy rightfully asserted.