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Quite a range in this collection; some were somewhat mediocre, though many were quite good. There were certain commonalities, especially those that link Chekhov to his fellow 19th century Russian authors. The first of these is, without question, misery. The rich are miserable because they are rich, the poor from their poverty, the lonely from their loneliness, while those happily together also find misery against all odds, etc. The only real difference is that with Chekhov, you get a sense of his sniggering that all the wretches got exactly what they deserved. He does employ subtle humor and ironies through most of the works, though some tug on the heart strings in a more straightforward fashion. A reader must really place herself in the situation of late-19th century Russia to get the full impact of some of Chekhov's situations.
The various criticisms implicit throughout these collected works make it surprising that Chekhov got away with publishing them in what was then, under the Czar, something other than a free country. Government officials, religion, culture, the Russian people themselves were not spared, with corruption, hypocrisy, deception and double-dealing running commonly throughout. Some of Chekhov's works make a critique of social values and practices no less stinging than Franz Kafka, if done without the surrealism.
Chekhov typically focuses his attention on dialogue, as one might expect from a sometimes-playwright. However, his physical descriptions of scenes and people could be quite lively and rewarding, to the extent that he employed them. One gets the sense that many of his characters are intended to be of a type, one sort or another. Few of his women characters have any real depth at all; while Chekhov does seem to quietly criticize Russian men's treatment of women and their situation in Russian society, one wonders if he actually held much of a high opinion of women himself. To be fair, few of his male characters are admirable, though they tend to be the focus of most stories and are much better developed.
Perhaps the most novel part of this collection are the points of view Chekhov chose, from the haughty rich and powerful to doormen and the poor and miserable. One gets to see through the eyes of a suicide, a lunatic, and a dog. Yes, Chekhov even dares to take a woman's point of view in a couple of stories, though one is not impressed by the depth of their characters even then.
Overall it was a rewarding read, though fairly substantial, so one might want to spread it out a little. Definitely a worthwhile read, though not at a must-read level. If one is interested in Russia or Russian literature, then certainly one would want to read it.