A Slightly Not-So-Serious Review of Alexander Pushkin’s "The Shot" (1830)

On the day (February 10, exactly today) Pushkin was fatally injured in a duel (apparently, his preferred method for resolving conflicts—just look where that got him), it feels fitting to review his short story, "The Shot" (1831), which centres around the theme of duelling.

First things first: I am not a fan of Russian literature. Once, a student asked me why, and I answered simply that it often feels too dark. However, I find myself increasingly captivated by Pushkin’s unique blend of darkness and storytelling. As always, he did not disappoint me, even though I’m not a fan of men proving their masculinity by brandishing larger pistols or longer swords. You get what I mean!

As you might expect, the story features a military character named Silvio, whom our narrator initially praises but ultimately views as somewhat cowardly for refusing to duel another soldier over a gambling dispute and to defend his honour. In Russia, it seems, conflicts are settled by duelling, and soldiers are quick to scorn a man who doesn’t defend his honour through violence. I nearly gag as I write this! The obsession with honour and masculinity among men is quite exhausting.

Nonetheless, the story isn’t just about that incident. It is more about the past duelling event that explains Silvio’s reluctance to engage in combat. The original event is even more absurd, as Silvio’s opponent brings cherries to the duel and nonchalantly eats them while spitting the pits as he dodges the bullet! Fun fact, this cherry-spitting man is based on Pushkin himself. Can you imagine the rage and humiliation? Because this opponent takes the sacred act of duelling so lightly, Silvio ultimately abandons the duel entirely but never forgets to take his revenge.

However, years later, as our narrator describes his rich neighbours, we get a twist: it’s the same cherry-spitting man! I won’t spoil the ending, but let’s just say Silvio attempts to finish their long-unsolved duel.

What appears to be a lighthearted tale becomes a delightful exploration of pride, revenge, and the absurdity of masculinity, all crafted with Pushkin’s brilliant touch. Of course, the absurdity is my idea, not Pushkin’s. The characters are vivid, and the narrative is absolutely captivating without a single wasted word. So here’s to Pushkin—a master of weaving humour into darkness, effortlessly crafting a tale that makes you chuckle while contemplating the ludicrousness of it all.

Yours humorously,

An Overzealous Reviewer Who Just Can’t Help Herself