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3.68 AVERAGE
3.68 AVERAGE
dark
funny
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
lighthearted
reflective
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This is the second book I have read by Ivan Turgenev and mostly I feel the same way about it as with his previous book, "Fathers and Sons".
The story is rather simple, even though a bit preposterous... At a gentlemen's club our narrator and a few men are sitting around, speaking about first love. Attention is then turned towards our narrator who has a rather particular stipulation: that he be allowed to leave and write down what he wishes to say, and that he may, uninterrupted, read it to the other men. They agree, and he proceeds to leave, write over one hundred pages, and then returns and tells his story. Although we never return to this framing device, I couldn't help but think about these other men who were just making fun conversation only for this other dude to go and write out a novella which they must now listen to quietly as he pontificates on notions of first love. What a buzzkill!
Anywho, the story is about a teenage lovelorn Russian rich boy who falls in love with the daughter of the princess who just moved in next door. He desires her, is overwhelmed by her beauty and wit (a wit that only a beautiful aristocrat of marrying age could get away with), but there are impediments, scandalous ones at that.
The book, much like Turgenev's other novel I read, is also an opportunity for the author to reflect on philosophy and the changes occurring in Russia during the nineteenth century. It's efficiently written, though quite boring and mundane, and it's quite hard to give a damn about people who simply sit around as unseen servants cater to them, playing idiotic games and having the most inane conversations. If this is a love story, it is the most pedantic, immature, and dispassionate one I have read in quite some time.
Turgenev may just not be for me.
The story is rather simple, even though a bit preposterous... At a gentlemen's club our narrator and a few men are sitting around, speaking about first love. Attention is then turned towards our narrator who has a rather particular stipulation: that he be allowed to leave and write down what he wishes to say, and that he may, uninterrupted, read it to the other men. They agree, and he proceeds to leave, write over one hundred pages, and then returns and tells his story. Although we never return to this framing device, I couldn't help but think about these other men who were just making fun conversation only for this other dude to go and write out a novella which they must now listen to quietly as he pontificates on notions of first love. What a buzzkill!
Anywho, the story is about a teenage lovelorn Russian rich boy who falls in love with the daughter of the princess who just moved in next door. He desires her, is overwhelmed by her beauty and wit (a wit that only a beautiful aristocrat of marrying age could get away with), but there are impediments, scandalous ones at that.
The book, much like Turgenev's other novel I read, is also an opportunity for the author to reflect on philosophy and the changes occurring in Russia during the nineteenth century. It's efficiently written, though quite boring and mundane, and it's quite hard to give a damn about people who simply sit around as unseen servants cater to them, playing idiotic games and having the most inane conversations. If this is a love story, it is the most pedantic, immature, and dispassionate one I have read in quite some time.
Turgenev may just not be for me.
Quotes:
Ook binnen in mij verdween de bliksem. Ik voelde een grote vermoeidheid en kalmte… doch het beeld van Zinaïda hield als tevoren, triomfantelijk, mijn ziel bevangen. Maar het beeld zelf scheen tot rust gekomen: zoals een zwaan opvliegt uit de moerasplanten had het zich losgemaakt van de minderwaardige gestalten die het omringden, en inslapend wierp ik mij ten afscheid voor het laatste maal op de knieën in aanhankelijke aanbidding…
O, gevoelens van deemoed, zoete klanken, loutering en verstilling van een diep geroerde ziel, smeltende blijdschap van een eerste liefdesvertedering — waar zijt gij, waar zijt gij?
———————————————
… wat hoopte ik, wat verwachtte ik, wat een rijke toekomst voorzag ik dat ik met amper een enkele zucht, een enkel gevoel van neerslachtigheid dit even oplichtende visioen van mijn eerste liefde aan mij voorbij kon laten gaan?
Wat is er in vervulling gegaan van alles wat ik hoopte? En nu de schaduwen van de avond reeds over mijn leven beginnen te vallen, wat heb ik nu overgehouden dat ongerepter is en dierbaarder dan de herinneringen aan dat snel voorbijgedreven onweer op de ochtend van die lentedag?
Ook binnen in mij verdween de bliksem. Ik voelde een grote vermoeidheid en kalmte… doch het beeld van Zinaïda hield als tevoren, triomfantelijk, mijn ziel bevangen. Maar het beeld zelf scheen tot rust gekomen: zoals een zwaan opvliegt uit de moerasplanten had het zich losgemaakt van de minderwaardige gestalten die het omringden, en inslapend wierp ik mij ten afscheid voor het laatste maal op de knieën in aanhankelijke aanbidding…
O, gevoelens van deemoed, zoete klanken, loutering en verstilling van een diep geroerde ziel, smeltende blijdschap van een eerste liefdesvertedering — waar zijt gij, waar zijt gij?
———————————————
… wat hoopte ik, wat verwachtte ik, wat een rijke toekomst voorzag ik dat ik met amper een enkele zucht, een enkel gevoel van neerslachtigheid dit even oplichtende visioen van mijn eerste liefde aan mij voorbij kon laten gaan?
Wat is er in vervulling gegaan van alles wat ik hoopte? En nu de schaduwen van de avond reeds over mijn leven beginnen te vallen, wat heb ik nu overgehouden dat ongerepter is en dierbaarder dan de herinneringen aan dat snel voorbijgedreven onweer op de ochtend van die lentedag?
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
lighthearted
reflective
sad
medium-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
The woman is wild, a she-cat tamed by the purr of a Jaguar
Money's the matter
If you're in it for love
You ain't gonna get too far
Watch out boy she'll chew you up
(Oh here she comes)
She's a maneater
~Hall and Oates
What a sly little novella Turgenev has given us here! Ivan took a lot of crap for not writing, in 1860, about important societal changes that began after the end of the Crimean war. I am terrible with Russian history, but this would have been around the time that serfs stated agitating in their own defense. One of the czars (Alexander II maybe?) in response to the agitation finally allowed commoners to purchase land. It might have taken until 1917 for the revolution to finally end the monarchy, but their end was on a giant countdown clock the moment serfs were given self-determination. So at this hinge moment people were scandalized when Turgenev chose to write about adolescent passion! Or was he only writing about adolescents passion? This story is a scream in favor of the end of the aristocracy. To say the people in the book are subtly cruel, absurdly melodramatic, and entirely ridiculous is to grossly understate the case.
The comically manipulative and conceited Princess Zinaida has men dancing around her doing things like drawing lots for the honor of kissing her hand. The amount of time spent in these sorts of activities gave me a new respect for the efficiencies of Tinder. Many men appear superficially besotted with the beautiful princess, but most seem to be engaging in this dance because it is expected. Our narrator (telling the story years later), Vladimir, is Zinaida's next door neighbor, a 16-year old boy (Zinaida is 21) who seems to be "in love" in the sense that his hormones are kicking in, she is beautiful, and she has been identified as desirable by older and more experienced courtiers. This feels so authentic to 16 year old love, so straightforward, that I found Vladimir irresistible and honestly lamented the end of his innocence which was clearly coming. Unsurprisingly, Zinaida falls not for one if her suitors, but for someone who is not in the room, The identity of that man is somewhat surprising. I don't want to spoil this but I will say that Zinaida says early on she needs a man who will "master her" despite knowing that will be bad for her in the end and she finds that man. It seems like Zinaida is the only one other than Vladimir who loves operatically, and like Vladimir she has chosen badly.
The whole novella is beautifully crafted. Spare prose and a structure that takes the reader step-by-step from idealism to disillusionment to dust.
You love her
But she loves him
And he loves somebody else
You just can't win
And so it goes
'Til the day you die
This thing they call love
It's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues
The reds and the pinks
One thing for sure
(Love stinks)
~The J. Geils Band
Money's the matter
If you're in it for love
You ain't gonna get too far
Watch out boy she'll chew you up
(Oh here she comes)
She's a maneater
~Hall and Oates
What a sly little novella Turgenev has given us here! Ivan took a lot of crap for not writing, in 1860, about important societal changes that began after the end of the Crimean war. I am terrible with Russian history, but this would have been around the time that serfs stated agitating in their own defense. One of the czars (Alexander II maybe?) in response to the agitation finally allowed commoners to purchase land. It might have taken until 1917 for the revolution to finally end the monarchy, but their end was on a giant countdown clock the moment serfs were given self-determination. So at this hinge moment people were scandalized when Turgenev chose to write about adolescent passion! Or was he only writing about adolescents passion? This story is a scream in favor of the end of the aristocracy. To say the people in the book are subtly cruel, absurdly melodramatic, and entirely ridiculous is to grossly understate the case.
The comically manipulative and conceited Princess Zinaida has men dancing around her doing things like drawing lots for the honor of kissing her hand. The amount of time spent in these sorts of activities gave me a new respect for the efficiencies of Tinder. Many men appear superficially besotted with the beautiful princess, but most seem to be engaging in this dance because it is expected. Our narrator (telling the story years later), Vladimir, is Zinaida's next door neighbor, a 16-year old boy (Zinaida is 21) who seems to be "in love" in the sense that his hormones are kicking in, she is beautiful, and she has been identified as desirable by older and more experienced courtiers. This feels so authentic to 16 year old love, so straightforward, that I found Vladimir irresistible and honestly lamented the end of his innocence which was clearly coming. Unsurprisingly, Zinaida falls not for one if her suitors, but for someone who is not in the room, The identity of that man is somewhat surprising. I don't want to spoil this but I will say that Zinaida says early on she needs a man who will "master her" despite knowing that will be bad for her in the end and she finds that man. It seems like Zinaida is the only one other than Vladimir who loves operatically, and like Vladimir she has chosen badly.
The whole novella is beautifully crafted. Spare prose and a structure that takes the reader step-by-step from idealism to disillusionment to dust.
You love her
But she loves him
And he loves somebody else
You just can't win
And so it goes
'Til the day you die
This thing they call love
It's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues
The reds and the pinks
One thing for sure
(Love stinks)
~The J. Geils Band
Algumas anotações, só para constar. (Livro lido há meses).
Simples e bela novela. trata com precisão o sentimento confuso e novo que é o primeiro amor. O capítulo final dialoga perfeitamente com o sujeito crescido lembrando dos absurdos sentimentalistas da juventude.
Simples e bela novela. trata com precisão o sentimento confuso e novo que é o primeiro amor. O capítulo final dialoga perfeitamente com o sujeito crescido lembrando dos absurdos sentimentalistas da juventude.