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A review by bookish_arcadia
City Folk and Country Folk by Sofia Khvoshchinskaya
4.0
This satire of nineteenth-century Russian manners and social hierarchies centres around the rural estate of widow Natasya Ivanova Chulkova and her daughter Olenka who work hard to maintain their home and their lives in relative comfort. But as rural figures with modest property they are subjected to the metropolitan snobbery and disdain of two unwelcome guests. The first is Anna, a demanding cousin with her self-righteous religious preoccupation who goes out of her way to undermine and harry Natasya with demands and accusations. There is also Erast Sergeyevich Ovcharov the self-absorbed former neighbour who rents their bathhouse for the sake of his health.
Natasya Ivanova is troubled by her sense of duty to her neighbours and perceived social betters, even against her better judgement. She struggles to meet the needs of her “guests” and the superior attitude of the urban nobility towards those they see as simple and rustic. Ocharov is keen to give advice and spends much of his time writing pseudo-intellectual pamphlets about Russia’s backwardness but he has allowed his own large estate languish into disrepair and in the aftermath of the emancipation he grapples ineffectually with the changed relationships with his former serfs. His paternalistic and patronising attitude sees the nobility remaining central to the organisation of the land with few real concessions to the needs of peasants and workers while Natasya and Olenka have managed to adapt to the sweeping changes with relative success.
Olenka objects to her mother’s servility, recognising the weaknesses of their guests. She’s an independent girl who trusts her own judgements more than society’s dictates. She’s often amused by the peccadilloes of Anna and Ocharov but increasingly resents their fussy demands on her mother. As the situation reaches a head with interference from all sides, Natasya and Olenka begin to fight back, recognising their own strength, their independence and hard work as more valuable than titles and prospects. In this they clearly represent the experience of their creators, who lived in similar circumstances.
There’s match-making, affairs, betrayal and social conflicts and Khvoshchinskaya brilliantly sends up the pomposity of her characters, clinging to the social conventions propping up the crumbling hierarchy. The incisive wit and humour are reminiscent of Jane Austen’s works, particularly in the clever dialogue, but the wider considerations of the political and social landscape give it a different intensity and the lack of a neat resolution is immensely satisfying.
Natasya Ivanova is troubled by her sense of duty to her neighbours and perceived social betters, even against her better judgement. She struggles to meet the needs of her “guests” and the superior attitude of the urban nobility towards those they see as simple and rustic. Ocharov is keen to give advice and spends much of his time writing pseudo-intellectual pamphlets about Russia’s backwardness but he has allowed his own large estate languish into disrepair and in the aftermath of the emancipation he grapples ineffectually with the changed relationships with his former serfs. His paternalistic and patronising attitude sees the nobility remaining central to the organisation of the land with few real concessions to the needs of peasants and workers while Natasya and Olenka have managed to adapt to the sweeping changes with relative success.
Olenka objects to her mother’s servility, recognising the weaknesses of their guests. She’s an independent girl who trusts her own judgements more than society’s dictates. She’s often amused by the peccadilloes of Anna and Ocharov but increasingly resents their fussy demands on her mother. As the situation reaches a head with interference from all sides, Natasya and Olenka begin to fight back, recognising their own strength, their independence and hard work as more valuable than titles and prospects. In this they clearly represent the experience of their creators, who lived in similar circumstances.
There’s match-making, affairs, betrayal and social conflicts and Khvoshchinskaya brilliantly sends up the pomposity of her characters, clinging to the social conventions propping up the crumbling hierarchy. The incisive wit and humour are reminiscent of Jane Austen’s works, particularly in the clever dialogue, but the wider considerations of the political and social landscape give it a different intensity and the lack of a neat resolution is immensely satisfying.