A summary of Ivan Bunin’s "The Gentleman from San Francisco"

A 1915 novel by Ivan Bunin, this book tells the story of a wealthy American whose life is abruptly cut short during a luxury cruise. The unnamed fifty-eight-year-old man, originally from San Francisco, has worked tirelessly for years, amassing a vast fortune and employing thousands of Chinese workers in his businesses. Having achieved his desired level of wealth, the American decides he now has every right to a long vacation. He takes his wife and adult daughter with him, planning to spend two years traveling abroad.

A family boards the transatlantic liner Atlantis. The ship is impressive in its size and amenities, reminiscent of a gigantic hotel with a night bar and oriental baths. Passenger life follows a strict shipboard routine. Early in the morning, the sound of trumpets awakens the travelers. They drink coffee, take baths, and do exercises. During the day, the crowd strolls briskly along the decks. Then sandwiches and broth are served, and guests read newspapers. After breakfast, it’s time to relax. Longchaises — special elongated chairs for passengers to relax — fill every open deck space.

The ship’s captain is a monstrously large, red-haired man. He rarely appears in public, resembling a colossal pagan idol. Beyond the cabin walls, the terrifying ocean rages, a loud siren wails in the darkness, but the passengers believe in the commander’s power over the elements. In the evening, the luxurious halls of the Atlantis are bathed in festive light. A long dinner begins, the men leisurely smoke cigars and discuss stock market news. Among the crowd is a couple hired by the shipping company — young people who masterfully feign genuine love for good money.

While warmth and gaiety reign on the upper decks, hard work continues in the ship’s underwater belly. Colossal furnaces voraciously consume piles of coal. Dirty, sweat-soaked, and shirtless, stokers desperately wield shovels in the crimson flames. In these gloomy depths, the incessant motion of the gigantic ship simmers. The stark contrast between the glitter of the salons and the hellish toil in the engine room goes completely unnoticed by wealthy tourists.

The ship safely passes the Rock of Gibraltar and enters the Mediterranean Sea. A new passenger appears on board — the crown prince of an Asian state. He is a short man with narrow eyes and a large black mustache, unnaturally visible through his skin. The prince’s daughter instantly falls in love with him, thrilled by his ancient origins. Soon, Naples appears on the horizon. A noisy crowd of porters rushes toward the arriving tourists. The prince calmly waves them away, confidently making his way to his car.

Life in Naples quickly settles into its usual routine: breakfast in a dim dining room, exploring cold churches smelling of wax, lunch on Monte San Martino. However, December proves to be extremely unlucky. It rains constantly, a cold wind blows from the sea, the city appears gray and dirty, and the smell of rotten fish by the waterfront becomes completely unbearable. The morning sun deceives tourists with its brief brightness every day. The American is increasingly arguing with his wife in the mornings. Disappointed by their ruined vacation, the family decides to leave Naples and head to Capri.

The travelers sincerely hope to find true warmth and sunshine on the rocky island. Friends assure the Americans that lemon trees bloom profusely there, the locals are much more honest, and the wine is completely natural. A gentleman from San Francisco instructs his servants to pack numerous heavy trunks. He is looking forward to long walks on the historic stones at the site of the ruined palaces of the Roman Emperor Tiberius. The family also plans to visit the fairytale caves of the famous Azure Grotto and listen to the Abruzzese bagpipers, who wander the picturesque paths before the holidays.

Moving to a rocky island

The day of departure turns into pure agony. The small Italian steamship rocks desperately on the steep waves. The family lies flat on the hard sofas of the cramped wardroom. Mrs. suffers severe seasickness, Miss. turns pale and clutches a lemon wedge tightly between her teeth. The head of the family sits with a darkened face, his head aching. At the stops in Sorrento, the rocky coastline jumps up and down before his eyes. The American feels a deep anger toward Italy and its noisy inhabitants.

By evening, the ship arrives in Capri. A funicular — a cable car — slowly carries the weary tourists up the steep mountain. The gentleman immediately attracts the attention of the hotel owner, who graciously greets the wealthy guests. The American is surprised to realize that this is the elegant man he saw in his dream the night before. The family is given luxurious apartments, previously occupied by a member of the royal family — Flight Seventeen. Along with the apartments, they receive a responsive staff, among whom the bellhop, Luigi, stands out. The maitre d’ — the chief administrator of the restaurant — takes dinner orders with respectful nods and announces the upcoming tarantella dance.

The American begins preparing for an evening out. He spends a long time meticulously washing himself, shaving, and putting on silk tights, black stockings, and dancing shoes. The process of dressing is incredibly difficult. The floor still wobbles, and an unruly cufflink painfully bites the skin under his Adam’s apple. Having mastered the tight collar, the gentleman, blue from the effort, sits down in front of the dressing table. He carefully examines his fingers, covered in gouty calluses, lowers his bald head, and mutters under his breath, "This is terrible."

Tragedy in the reading room

Having dressed, the gentleman descends the carpeted stairs into the reading room. The room is completely silent, and a gray-haired German sits at the desk. The American sits down in a leather chair, puts on his pince-nez, and scans the latest newspaper articles about the Balkan War. Suddenly, the printed lines flash with a bright, glassy glint. The man’s eyes bulge horribly, his lower jaw drops, revealing gold fillings. He tries in vain to gulp air, wheezing wildly, and slides heavily to the floor, desperately fighting death.

The frightened German rushes out of the reading room, immediately raising the alarm. The hotel owner rushes through the halls, trying to calm his agitated guests with talk of fainting. The dying American is rushed to room forty-three — the damp, coldest room on the ground floor. Footmen hastily tear off his rumpled tuxedo. His shocked wife and daughter arrive. The loud wheezing gradually subsides. A pallor slowly spreads across the deceased’s face, and his features noticeably lighten.

The hotel owner’s demeanor changes dramatically. Not a trace of his former courtesy remains. When the devastated widow asks to have her husband’s body moved back to their apartment, he flatly refuses. The owner claims that tourists will avoid his hotel if they learn of the dead man’s presence. He insistently demands the body be removed immediately, before morning. Coffins are not made on the island, so the servants suggest using a long wooden crate of English soda water as a temporary container.

At night, the hotel is plunged into a profound silence. Luigi, the bellhop, passing the locked door of room forty-three, playfully parodies the creaky voice of a dead man: "Yes, come in." At dawn, a heavy wooden crate is hastily carried out of the building. The junior porter takes it in a cab along the winding white road to the sea. The cabbie lazily urges on his horse, which sports colorful pom-poms and a long, almost meter-long bird feather on its forelock. Soon, a steamer — a small coastal vessel — bears the shocked family away from the rocky shores forever.

In the morning, Capri awakens carefree. The market in the small square begins its usual trade. The old boatman, Lorenzo, a local handsome man, successfully sells lobsters caught during the night. Two Abruzzese mountaineers leisurely descend the ancient Phoenician road. They stop respectfully before an illuminated statue of the Virgin Mary and play hymns to the light on their bagpipes. The island breathes a deep sense of peace. Foreign tourists continue to sleep peacefully, preparing for more tiring excursions through the historic ruins.

Returning home

The body of a dead American is returning home. After a long journey through filthy port warehouses, the tarred coffin is once again aboard the Atlantis. Now it is safely hidden from the eyes of living passengers in the ship’s dark hold, next to the blazing bowels of its engines. The ship confidently heads out into the night ocean, battering through the high waves. From the cliffs of Gibraltar, the enormous Devil watches the giant as it disappears into the snowstorm. In the engine room, sixteen-ton steel boilers hiss loudly with steam.

A gigantic shaft slowly rotates in the engine tunnel, transmitting powerful energy to the ship’s keel. The shaft rotates heavily. The shaft rotates relentlessly. And on the ship’s upper floors, brightly lit, a luxurious, crowded ball is taking place. The orchestra plays carefree music, and expensive diamonds sparkle everywhere. A slender pair of hired lovers once again writhe in dance, displaying blissful torment to the onlookers. None of the vacationers know about the wooden coffin lying at the bottom of the hold, while the enormous vessel tensely navigates the ocean and the snowstorm.