Dec 23, 2009
Maxim Gorky begins this first-person narrative with a description of a wretched working environment: a basement-level bakery where twenty-six men, “living machines,” as the narrator calls them, work long hours making pretzels. The room is cramped, airless, and stuffy. The huge oven that dominates the room stares pitilessly at the workers like a horrible monster. The workers themselves move and act like automatons, for their vital feelings have been crushed by their ceaseless toil. Only when they begin to sing do they feel a sense of lightness and gain a glimpse of...
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