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3.68 AVERAGE
3.68 AVERAGE
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
quotes
The image of the young girl floated before me, my heart was no longer leaping, but was full of a sort of sweet oppression.
It seemed to me I had known her a long while and had never known anything nor lived at all till I met her
she is a storm, I thought; and a storm it really was, but it was raging so very far away that the thunder could not be heard; only blurred, long, as it were branching, gleams of lightning flashed continually over the sky; it was not flashing, though, so much as quivering and twitching like the wing of a dying bird
As the sun came nearer, the lightning grew gradually paler, and ceased; the quivering gleams were fewer and fewer, and vanished at last, drowned in the sobering positive light of the coming day…
Oh, sweet emotions, gentle harmony, goodness and peace of the softened heart, melting bliss of the first raptures of love, where are they, where are they?
I had ceased now to be simply a young boy; I was in love. I have said that my passion dated from that day; I might have added that my sufferings too dated from the same day.
I could not help a shudder of delight whenever I stepped through the doorway of her room.
while I sat, gazed, listened, and was filled full of a nameless sensation in which all was contained: sadness and joy and the foretaste of the future, and the desire and dread of life. But at that time I understood nothing of it, and could have given a name to nothing of all that was passing at random within me, or should have called it all by one name—the name of Zinaïda.
Zinaïda continued to play cat and mouse with me. She flirted with me, and I was all agitation and rapture; then she would suddenly thrust me away, and I dared not go near her—dared not look at her.
It was a strange feverish time, a sort of chaos, in which the most violently opposed feelings, thoughts, suspicions, hopes, joys, and sufferings, whirled together in a kind of hurricane. I was afraid to look into myself, if a boy of sixteen ever can look into himself; I was afraid to take stock of anything; I simply hastened to live through every day till evening; and at night I slept … the light-heartedness of childhood came to my aid. I did not want to know whether I was loved, and I did not want to acknowledge to myself that I was not loved
All the fair blossoms of my heart were roughly plucked at once, and lay about me, flung on the ground, and trampled underfoot.
I cannot describe the emotion with which I went away. I should not wish it ever to come again; but I should think myself unfortunate had I never experienced such an emotion.
I had grown much older during the last month; and my love, with all its transports and sufferings, struck me myself as something small and childish and pitiful beside this other unimagined something, which I could hardly fully grasp, and which frightened me like an unknown, beautiful, but menacing face, which one strives in vain to make out clearly in the half-darkness …
O youth, youth! little dost thou care for anything; thou art master, as it were, of all the treasures of the universe—even sorrow gives thee pleasure, even grief thou canst turn to thy profit; thou art self-confident and insolent; thou sayest, ‘I alone am living—look you!’—but thy days fly by all the while, and vanish without trace or reckoning; and everything in thee vanishes, like wax in the sun, like snow … And, perhaps, the whole secret of thy charm lies, not in being able to do anything, but in being able to think thou wilt do anything; lies just in thy throwing to the winds, forces which thou couldst not make other use of; in each of us gravely regarding himself as a prodigal, gravely supposing that he is justified in saying, ‘Oh, what might I not have done if I had not wasted my time!’
The image of the young girl floated before me, my heart was no longer leaping, but was full of a sort of sweet oppression.
It seemed to me I had known her a long while and had never known anything nor lived at all till I met her
she is a storm, I thought; and a storm it really was, but it was raging so very far away that the thunder could not be heard; only blurred, long, as it were branching, gleams of lightning flashed continually over the sky; it was not flashing, though, so much as quivering and twitching like the wing of a dying bird
As the sun came nearer, the lightning grew gradually paler, and ceased; the quivering gleams were fewer and fewer, and vanished at last, drowned in the sobering positive light of the coming day…
Oh, sweet emotions, gentle harmony, goodness and peace of the softened heart, melting bliss of the first raptures of love, where are they, where are they?
I had ceased now to be simply a young boy; I was in love. I have said that my passion dated from that day; I might have added that my sufferings too dated from the same day.
I could not help a shudder of delight whenever I stepped through the doorway of her room.
while I sat, gazed, listened, and was filled full of a nameless sensation in which all was contained: sadness and joy and the foretaste of the future, and the desire and dread of life. But at that time I understood nothing of it, and could have given a name to nothing of all that was passing at random within me, or should have called it all by one name—the name of Zinaïda.
Zinaïda continued to play cat and mouse with me. She flirted with me, and I was all agitation and rapture; then she would suddenly thrust me away, and I dared not go near her—dared not look at her.
It was a strange feverish time, a sort of chaos, in which the most violently opposed feelings, thoughts, suspicions, hopes, joys, and sufferings, whirled together in a kind of hurricane. I was afraid to look into myself, if a boy of sixteen ever can look into himself; I was afraid to take stock of anything; I simply hastened to live through every day till evening; and at night I slept … the light-heartedness of childhood came to my aid. I did not want to know whether I was loved, and I did not want to acknowledge to myself that I was not loved
All the fair blossoms of my heart were roughly plucked at once, and lay about me, flung on the ground, and trampled underfoot.
I cannot describe the emotion with which I went away. I should not wish it ever to come again; but I should think myself unfortunate had I never experienced such an emotion.
I had grown much older during the last month; and my love, with all its transports and sufferings, struck me myself as something small and childish and pitiful beside this other unimagined something, which I could hardly fully grasp, and which frightened me like an unknown, beautiful, but menacing face, which one strives in vain to make out clearly in the half-darkness …
O youth, youth! little dost thou care for anything; thou art master, as it were, of all the treasures of the universe—even sorrow gives thee pleasure, even grief thou canst turn to thy profit; thou art self-confident and insolent; thou sayest, ‘I alone am living—look you!’—but thy days fly by all the while, and vanish without trace or reckoning; and everything in thee vanishes, like wax in the sun, like snow … And, perhaps, the whole secret of thy charm lies, not in being able to do anything, but in being able to think thou wilt do anything; lies just in thy throwing to the winds, forces which thou couldst not make other use of; in each of us gravely regarding himself as a prodigal, gravely supposing that he is justified in saying, ‘Oh, what might I not have done if I had not wasted my time!’
emotional
lighthearted
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
A 16-year-old falls for the neighbor girl and deals with all the contradictory feelings of unrequited love. The intensity of his inner life contrasts with the heedlessness of his object of affection. Shows how isolating love can be and how like teenagers the emotion makes us. Short, sweet and simply told.
Werthermäistä nuoren miehen tunnekuohuilua. Helposti arvattavissa oleva loppuratkaisu sai ärsyyntymään tajuamattomalle päähenkilölle. Koska tämä on vasta toinen Turgenevini, on käsite "turgenevilainen nainen" minulle vielä lopullista määritelmäänsä vailla, mutta Zinaida oli ehdottomasti tarinan kiinnostavin hahmo. Vähän laimeasti kuvaisin tätä "kelpo tarinaksi", kiva lukea joskus klassista venäläistä joka ei ole tahattoman vaikeaa.
lighthearted
reflective
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Loveable characters:
Yes
enjoyed this so much more than i expected to! it was fun to read in the premise of an older man reminiscing his adolescence and retelling his story to his friends; a snappy and reflective coming of age novella about experiencing first love, where i adored reading about vladimir’s ever-evolving introspection and observations of the kooky cast he is surrounded by. ending was bittersweet, yet satisfying.
Read if: you loved Call Me By Your Name and thought, “Wouldn’t it be fun if this story was about straight Russians set in a period drama instead?”
But honestly, this is a great little novella. I picked it up because I know how much Yiyun Li loves Turgenev and trusted her to know what’s up. And as expected, she does! A delicately crafted story of youth, yearning, and the tough grit of growing up one golden summer. First published in 1860, this puppy love dacha drama completely hold up almost two centuries later. Just damn good.
But honestly, this is a great little novella. I picked it up because I know how much Yiyun Li loves Turgenev and trusted her to know what’s up. And as expected, she does! A delicately crafted story of youth, yearning, and the tough grit of growing up one golden summer. First published in 1860, this puppy love dacha drama completely hold up almost two centuries later. Just damn good.
A cute story. Both adorable and tragic but still a good read. Short so not a huge time commitment. Russian author also so it's nice to check out books that aren't necessarily from a North American point of view.
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes