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A review by marc129
Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov
4.0
“Oh my gosh! Life just won't leave me alone.”
I debated for a long time whether to give this a 3 or 4 star rating (yes, I know, my rating scale is low) but the further I got from the end of reading this book, the more I became convinced that only 4 stars could do justice to it. No, this is not a perfect novel, it even contains some fundamental weaknesses, but I can't help it, in the end Ilya Ilich Oblomov's tragicomic character captivated me. Even more than Prince Myshkin, Dostoyevsky's Idiot, he managed to convince me of his sincerity, truthfulness, and pure heart. The latter sounds very pathetic, I know, but apparently I have enough sentimental romanticism in me for people like Ilya Ilich to break my heart.
I am not going to analyze this book too much, that has been done so many times, with and without expertise. What particularly charmed me is that our poor Oblomov realizes all too well that he is an aberration, that his inherent lethargy has no place, especially in a society (Russia in the first half of the 19th century) that is undergoing rapid change. I was constantly struck by the passages in which Oblomov laments his fate and says he does not know who he really is, and why he is the way he is.
At the same time, he knows how to pinpoint the new, modern society that is about to dawn, to expose the emptiness of busy, industrious existence: “The perpetual running to and fro, the perpetual play of petty desires, especially greed , people trying to spoil things for others, the tittle-tattle, the gossip, the slights, the way they look you up and down. You listen to what they're talking about and it makes your head spin. It's stupefying... It's tedium. Tedium! Where is the human being in this? Where is his integrity? Where did it go? How did it get exchanged for all this pettiness?”
And I know it all too well: what Oblomov offers as alternative, his permanent inertia, is so unrealistic and even immoral (his friend Stolz rubs it in hard). But at the same time, Oblomov's representation of the ideal life touches me: “After that, I put on a roomy coat or jacket, put my arm around my wife's waist, and she and I take a stroll down the endless, dark allée, walking quietly, thoughtfully, silent or thinking out loud, daydreaming, counting my minutes of happiness like the beating of a pulse, listening to my heart beat and sink, seeking sympathy in nature, and before we know it we come out on a stream and field . The river is lapping a little, ears of grain are waving in the breeze, and it's hot. We get into the boat and my wife steers us, barely lifting her oar.”
Goncharov, through Oblomov, has perfectly succeeded in exposing the splits of modern man: the nervous drive towards constant change and improvement as opposed to the childish yearning for simplicity, security and bliss. 4 stars, well deserved.
PS. I read Maria Schwartz's English translation (2008), based on the 1862 version edited by Gontsharov himself, which is far preferable to the 1859 original.
I debated for a long time whether to give this a 3 or 4 star rating (yes, I know, my rating scale is low) but the further I got from the end of reading this book, the more I became convinced that only 4 stars could do justice to it. No, this is not a perfect novel, it even contains some fundamental weaknesses, but I can't help it, in the end Ilya Ilich Oblomov's tragicomic character captivated me. Even more than Prince Myshkin, Dostoyevsky's Idiot, he managed to convince me of his sincerity, truthfulness, and pure heart. The latter sounds very pathetic, I know, but apparently I have enough sentimental romanticism in me for people like Ilya Ilich to break my heart.
I am not going to analyze this book too much, that has been done so many times, with and without expertise. What particularly charmed me is that our poor Oblomov realizes all too well that he is an aberration, that his inherent lethargy has no place, especially in a society (Russia in the first half of the 19th century) that is undergoing rapid change. I was constantly struck by the passages in which Oblomov laments his fate and says he does not know who he really is, and why he is the way he is.
At the same time, he knows how to pinpoint the new, modern society that is about to dawn, to expose the emptiness of busy, industrious existence: “The perpetual running to and fro, the perpetual play of petty desires, especially greed , people trying to spoil things for others, the tittle-tattle, the gossip, the slights, the way they look you up and down. You listen to what they're talking about and it makes your head spin. It's stupefying... It's tedium. Tedium! Where is the human being in this? Where is his integrity? Where did it go? How did it get exchanged for all this pettiness?”
And I know it all too well: what Oblomov offers as alternative, his permanent inertia, is so unrealistic and even immoral (his friend Stolz rubs it in hard). But at the same time, Oblomov's representation of the ideal life touches me: “After that, I put on a roomy coat or jacket, put my arm around my wife's waist, and she and I take a stroll down the endless, dark allée, walking quietly, thoughtfully, silent or thinking out loud, daydreaming, counting my minutes of happiness like the beating of a pulse, listening to my heart beat and sink, seeking sympathy in nature, and before we know it we come out on a stream and field . The river is lapping a little, ears of grain are waving in the breeze, and it's hot. We get into the boat and my wife steers us, barely lifting her oar.”
Goncharov, through Oblomov, has perfectly succeeded in exposing the splits of modern man: the nervous drive towards constant change and improvement as opposed to the childish yearning for simplicity, security and bliss. 4 stars, well deserved.
PS. I read Maria Schwartz's English translation (2008), based on the 1862 version edited by Gontsharov himself, which is far preferable to the 1859 original.