A review by mraltan
First Love by Ivan Turgenev

4.0

Initial reaction: Beautifully nostalgic and sweet.

I think this book will haunt me for some time. There's something about its compellingly sweet prose (at least in the translation I read) that draws you in, that lures you with such delights as natural scenery and fair skin, then keeps you hanging for foolish jumps and stinging whips. The tragedy of this story is twisted, like in many of the short novels we read for this class, Middle Fictions, but in its wickedness is great. I think I echo the words of my teacher when I say so, but nevertheless, it is true. Love in this arena is something Zinaida uses as weapon, as a defense against the ills of poverty and her mother's disgruntled state. It is something she can use to set herself apart, a natural aptitude to this manipulation

Spoiler

, one that is so readily mirrored in her true love. Sometimes I wonder if the title refers not to Vladimir's first love, but Zinaida's, her first true love, all encompassing and unrealistic and deadly. She has only thought that she experienced love before this, before the relationship with the nameless father, but only when it happens does she truly know. Only when it happens can she say that she has loved. And how does she die? Childbirth. She cannot, in my eyes, become a mother just as Vladimir's father was unsuited for fatherhood. Their dispositions much prevent them from such, and no child would benefit from any wisdom they may think to impart

. I would read this again and then a hundred times more if ever I need a reminder of a more tragic first love than mine.