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Goncharov’s novel is equal parts satire, social critique, and psychological character study, using humor and sincere pathos to diagnose a Russian social phenomenon that would come to be known in literature as the superfluous man. The title character even lends his name to this state of social paralysis, which Goncharov coins in the novel: Oblomovitis.
Oblomov is an aristocrat who finds himself unable to function in the larger world. Exhausted by social obligations, spoon-fed from birth, unable to do labor, having no acumen for business, and without the brains to read or study, Oblomov spends his time lounging in bed, commenting on the futility of other people’s lives as a projection of his own paralysis. His one servant, Zakhar, is equally inept at his job and lives only to “serve” his master, which often means acting as his enabler and filching whatever loose change he can while avoiding real work himself. The novel is obviously a comment on the inept and floundering Russian aristocracy, but stands as a symbol of a greater social problem that would become manifest in the 20th century as future generations faced the alienation of modernity. In that sense, Oblomov reminded me quite a bit of the protagonists of Beckett’s work.
While the premise is great and the opening of the novel is very funny, Goncharov’s novel loses steam about halfway through. His straight-forward narrative style, combined with Oblomov’s paralyzed personal nature, creates a static reading experience. For a couple hundred pages we cringe as Oblomov and Olga go through their doomed courtship. By the time events finally unravel, Oblomov’s unchanging nature becomes insufferable. Goncharov tries to generate genuine sympathy for his sad protagonist, and he is partly successful. But the novel drags on so long that the humor just can’t sustain. The same moments that were amusing on page 50 fall flat on page 450. I grew weary of Oblomov’s stunted psychological state long before the end of the novel, so my sympathy was limited, and the humor just couldn’t hold up.
It’s a worthwhile read, but not my favorite work of Russian literature.
Oblomov is an aristocrat who finds himself unable to function in the larger world. Exhausted by social obligations, spoon-fed from birth, unable to do labor, having no acumen for business, and without the brains to read or study, Oblomov spends his time lounging in bed, commenting on the futility of other people’s lives as a projection of his own paralysis. His one servant, Zakhar, is equally inept at his job and lives only to “serve” his master, which often means acting as his enabler and filching whatever loose change he can while avoiding real work himself. The novel is obviously a comment on the inept and floundering Russian aristocracy, but stands as a symbol of a greater social problem that would become manifest in the 20th century as future generations faced the alienation of modernity. In that sense, Oblomov reminded me quite a bit of the protagonists of Beckett’s work.
While the premise is great and the opening of the novel is very funny, Goncharov’s novel loses steam about halfway through. His straight-forward narrative style, combined with Oblomov’s paralyzed personal nature, creates a static reading experience. For a couple hundred pages we cringe as Oblomov and Olga go through their doomed courtship. By the time events finally unravel, Oblomov’s unchanging nature becomes insufferable. Goncharov tries to generate genuine sympathy for his sad protagonist, and he is partly successful. But the novel drags on so long that the humor just can’t sustain. The same moments that were amusing on page 50 fall flat on page 450. I grew weary of Oblomov’s stunted psychological state long before the end of the novel, so my sympathy was limited, and the humor just couldn’t hold up.
It’s a worthwhile read, but not my favorite work of Russian literature.