Oblomov (Penguin Classics)

A difficult book to review, this, due to the fact that everything hinges upon how the reader feels about...Oblomov! I, for one, agree that he is a sympathetic, tragic figure, a fellow one couldn't help but liking if you met in person. But, then, what of this traditional political take on Oblomov, which Lenin begin in his speeches, of accusing the Tsarist state and its lackeys of Oblomovism (an English word now, as well as Russian), thereby somehow appropriating the book as an attack on that society, and Oblomov himself as its most decadent symbol? For my part, I don't think we should make too much of it, like all political appropriations of the literary, it oversimplifies and makes a stick figure out of a complex character. But, some will ask, oversimplifying again, that if Oblomov is not a symbol of decadence, is he then a heroic symbol of times swept into oblivion, an indictment, as Wordsworth puts it, of "getting and spending" by which "we lay waste our powers"? I would say, again, that both are oversimplifications. But I would posit, after finishing the book, and spending a certain amount of time, very much a la Oblomov, contemplating this figure, that the latter view is nearer the mark. Oblomov is the dreamy, poet in all of us who would rather lie under Shakespeare's Greenwood Tree, who "doth ambition shun", who would not be bothered with, to switch plays, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. In all the above I am, for the most part, in agreement with the other reviewers. What I am in (very strong) disagreement with them about is the love between Olga and Oblomov, which one reviewer describes as "long-winded" and another as "adolescent". I suppose both reviewers would say the same thing of Henry James, whose writing this part of the novel most resembles. It is only here that the Goncharov's writing approaches high art. If one is going to dismiss this section as "adolescent" or "long-winded", one might as well toss Henry James, Pushkin, Shelley, Keats, and every other Romantic poet or writer into the rubbish bin with it. And I ask these reviewers, where would the novel be without it? --- It would be a comedy rather than a tragedy (or tragicomedy). It would lack all depth. We would know nothing of Oblomov's splendid soul. It wouldn't be regarded as literature, and we wouldn't be reading it today. Well, I've said enough. You will enjoy this book and take to Oblomov if you have a bit of the poet in you, if you have a soft spot for what Canadian poet/songwriter Leonard Cohen calls the "Beautiful Loser", or if you simply admire someone who would rather nap than deal with the world. I'll let Oblomov have the last word about what he is: "Yes, a poet in life, because life is poetry. People are free to distort it if they like!"

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, Leave it to the Russians. From Dostoyevsky to Bulgakov there is no literature of the unhappy as consistent and as down in the depths as Russian. Argue how you will over the origins of Naturalism or Post Modernism, speak of a literary style under the label Miserablism and the writers leading the list will be Russian. Having read at least some of the Russian greats, I began a quest for Russian Humor. It is, if you can find it, special. Their flagship funny story is Crocodile. A minor government bureaucrat is swallowed by a crocodile, and while living inside suddenly becomes something of a hero. Umm yeah that is not bad for a comedic set up, but truly the best a nation can offer? Enter Oblomov, the protagonist of the second novel by Ivan Goncharov. Exactly who or what he is, is given in a wonderful description the author has for his introduction: "He was a man of about thirty-two or three, of medium height and pleasant appearance, with dark grey eyes, but with a total absence of any definite idea, any concentration, in his features. Thoughts promenaded freely all over his face, fluttered about in his eyes, reposed on his half-parted lips, concealed themselves in the furrows of his brow, and then vanished completely – and it was at such moments that an expression of serene unconcern spread all over his face. This unconcern passed from his face into the contours of his body and even into the folds of his dressing-gown." Universally identified as “ultimate incarnation of the superfluous man”, Oblomov is unmotivated, disinterested and this might be an exact clinical description of how he will be portrayed for most of the novel: Feelings of sadness, tearfulness, emptiness or hopelessness Angry outbursts, irritability or frustration, even over small matters Loss of interest or pleasure in most or all normal activities, such as sex, hobbies or sports Sleep disturbances, including insomnia or sleeping too much Tiredness and lack of energy, so even small tasks take extra effort Reduced appetite and weight loss or increased cravings for food and weight gain Anxiety, agitation or restlessness Slowed thinking, speaking or body movements Feelings of worthlessness or guilt, fixating on past failures or self-blame Trouble thinking, concentrating, making decisions and remembering things Unexplained physical problems, such as back pain or headaches Symptoms are usually severe enough to cause noticeable problems in relationships with others or in day-to-day activities, such as work, school or social activities. Close Quote. I am sorry, symptoms of what? The above is word for word from The Mayo Clinic, defining Clinical Depression. Are we laughing yet? For the first chapter or so we meet Oblomov’s friends. Far from rejecting him for not fitting in, He rejects them because they do. This opening part includes a number of character sketches of what were likely very well know Russian types of 19th Century middle and upper classes: Mid-level, striving government bureaucrats, literary /artistic want to be’s, social butterfly’s and at least one sincere friend and one scheming, what my folks would have called a schnorer, a conniving freeloader. Each of these people are very busy with their everyday filled and o so many obligations. Oblomov, and the reader will readily see that doing little or nothing arguably achieves as much as they do, but with so much energy and wasted effort. We learn that our protagonist is totally dependent on his servant of many years. Zakhar, who has become surly and increasingly ineffective; but who is loyal and closely tied to the once mighty Oblomov family . Making yet another satiric slice this time deriding the relations between the classes, and further detailing a picture of a society in decline. Russia is a place whirling about in circles large and small to no more purpose than can be achieved by sleeping in. A structure sustained by a peasant class loyal, kept at a distance and allowed to perform or not based on passing whims. This introduces us to a pre-Freudian examination of Oblomov’s upbringing. His was an indolent, bucolic fading remnant of a once important manor. His family, well meaning, superstitious, vaguely un-motivated indifferent but sufficiently moneyed. The surfs, such as they were did the work in the same desultory manner that the Oblomov family ran their home. Halfhearted, absent any real sense of purpose or real self interest. Their son, was carefully raised to have no ambition or purpose. All of his potential as symbolized by childhood curiously and sense of adventure was quietly and with the best of intentions muffled into early somnolence. A nod was made towards education but not for the goal of building an educated person just because, education was a done thing. More satire, and a background explaining as other than psychological imbalance for the placid rudderless child, now a man if form, but to no adult function. Having mostly exhausted the concept of a purposeless life, Goncharov introduces a romance. In it lies all the hope that attaches itself to love and I think nearly abandons the novel as satire. From the ending of the romance to the ending of the book we do see that within Oblomov is a certain nobility of spirit and a case that the life he chose not to live may not have been to any more purpose or honor than the one he does achieve. In the end the world with and without the man of “serene unconcern” may have done what little any one of us may hope to achieve with a lot more effort. Like him we leave behind the world as it was or was going to be absent any of us. Now are we laughing? At who exactly?

To a modern reader, Oblomov may seem like nothing more than a case study in depression. A man, Oblomov himself, is unable to arise out of his lethargic melancholy to seize upon the possibilities of life. For the original Russian audience, Oblomov was read as a depiction of the decay of the aristocracy in the era immediately preceding the liberation of the serfs. But the astute reader will see in Oblomov a tragic hero. Oblomov is repeatedly referred to as a man with a pure heart, who preserves his virtue despite being beaten down by the vicissitudes of life. He belongs in the same cast as Don Quixote and Jay Gatsby: he has a noble character that, as Nick Carraway said, is worth more than all the cheats and swindlers who surround him. It’s unfortunate that Oblomov is not better known in the West. It’s the rare story that combines humor with pathos, narrative with acute psychology and characters both unique and believable. It’s truly one of the world’s greatest classics. Highly recommended.

So excellent i could buy this edition for someone else as a gift. A great book!

Oblomov kendi eksikliğini gidermek için aksiyon alamayan ve bu yüzden de makus talihini yenemeyen bir kahraman. Tembelliği onun işinin yanında aşkını ve sosyal hayatını almıştır. Kahramana kitabın bu yönleriyle acımamak ve üzülmemek elde değil. Mutlaka okunması gereken bir kitap.

Un libro che già conoscevo avendolo letto molti anni fa: rimane bello, spiritoso e senza dubbio vale la pena leggerlo. Sicuramente esiste anche la versione in lingua italiana

Muy buena edición.

Worthwhile purchase. My current phase of Russian literature is only embellished by titles such as "Oblomov", The history, the scenery, the characters, the way of life - it's all relatable and widened my perspective of my own life. While perhaps not a genius read like Chekhov's short stories, it is still much in the same vein, and one can see where the likes of Chekhov (cherry-)picked up certain excellent literary habits from. Essential (for my purposes).