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A review by _marco_
Rudin by Ivan Turgenev
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.75
Turgenev paints a sweet little psychological portrait of a man, Rudin, who visits the country estate of a society woman, wooing her and her company with bright and eloquent speeches inundated with philosophy and idealism. He soon falls out of favour, however, when the passion with which he speaks fails to be translated into action.
There is a lot about this book that speaks to me. Rudin is presented not as a hypocrite, in which he practices deeds that directly oppose the ideals of his speeches; but as a man who finds himself too weak to accomplish anything of purpose, regardless of how forcefully he believes in it. This inertia ultimately leads to his destruction, and I had found it so tragically relatable. The idea of a faint heart (Dostoevsky’s dreamer, Turgenev’s Rudin, Goncharov’s Oblomov) has always fascinated me in Russian literature. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for this man of inaction, despite the (just) vitriol directed towards him by those around him that, almost ceaselessly, he disappoints.
I also loved the character of Natalya. She had such force in her, such intelligence that not only rivals but (as we see in the story) triumphs over Rudin’s weakness. The intimacy of her moments of solitude shine through the rest of book for me.
There is a lot about this book that speaks to me. Rudin is presented not as a hypocrite, in which he practices deeds that directly oppose the ideals of his speeches; but as a man who finds himself too weak to accomplish anything of purpose, regardless of how forcefully he believes in it. This inertia ultimately leads to his destruction, and I had found it so tragically relatable. The idea of a faint heart (Dostoevsky’s dreamer, Turgenev’s Rudin, Goncharov’s Oblomov) has always fascinated me in Russian literature. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for this man of inaction, despite the (just) vitriol directed towards him by those around him that, almost ceaselessly, he disappoints.
I also loved the character of Natalya. She had such force in her, such intelligence that not only rivals but (as we see in the story) triumphs over Rudin’s weakness. The intimacy of her moments of solitude shine through the rest of book for me.
‘Perhaps you’re right, and I don’t know what I’m saying. But until this moment I’ve placed such faith in you, I’ve believed your every word… in the future, please, do weigh your words, don’t scatter them to the wind. When I told you I loved you, I knew the meaning of each word…’
The beginning of the story felt very slow and unnecessarily intellectual for my tastes. I had almost expected it to be too full of philosophy that the characters themselves become symbols or nonentities in their debates and polemics for one abstract ideal against another (perhaps reading the translator’s introduction set it up in this way for me). By the midpoint of the book, however, it became much more exciting.
As always, I am a huge fan of the author’s gift of natural description. Additionally, Turgenev’s emphasis on dialogue throughout the story gives it the feel of a play or some other dramatic work, which (as I found anyway) further animated the characters throughout. I could hear the tone of their voices, the sharpness of their wit, the rage, joy, reflection, praise, scorn and all of the other emotions through the cold objectivity of the book’s typeface. I’d love to see it adapted into a play or a film.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Misogyny
The character of Pigasov is a misogynist, he had nothing but awful things to say about women. His presence in the novel is quite minor, so we don’t hear from him often.