Customer Reviews

Fathers and Sons (Oxford World's Classics)

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There are multiple Fathers and Sons translations, and Richard Freeborn's is particularly controversial. It is certainly readable and does a remarkable job of conveying Turgenev's poetic prose. However, Freeborn tries to convey the character Bazarov's slangy speech by using Southern American dialect - a risky tactic that many will appreciate but some will loathe. Anyone looking for a worthy translation who is not bothered by this would do well to pick up Freeborn's version, but others are warned.

Now to the book itself. Though not Russian fiction's father in Nikolai Gogol's sense of adapting the language and producing its first notable fictional works, Ivan Turgenev is the direct antecedent of the psychological characterization and philosophical dramatization that is most closely associated with it and thus arguably its true father. Fathers and Sons, his most famous work and masterpiece, was the first Russian novel to attract Western praise, particularly winning over Henry James, who hailed it as a masterwork and championed Turgenev over the Russian writers who soon overshadowed him. One can debate Turgenev's merits relative to giants like Fyodor Dostoevsky and Leo Tolstoy, but he certainly provides an interesting contrast, and Fathers and Sons has long had an indisputable place alongside their great works in the world canon.

The book is of course most famous for Evgeny Vasilevich Bazarov, its protagonist, who is both painstakingly realistic and thoroughly symbolic. He typifies the young, European-influenced, middle-class liberal that Turgenev rightly thought was a rising Russian power. A self-proclaimed nihilist, he rejects religion, conventional morality, and nearly every other traditional Russian virtue. He claims to believe in nothing but has a great passion for science and seems to believe in a sort of self-reliance. Though influenced by archetypes like Alexander Pushkin's Eugene Onegin, he was an essentially original creation - Turgenev's most memorable and famous character. Anyone at all familiar with Russian literature can immediately see that he became a prototype, his most famous manifestation being Raskolnikov in Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment a few years later. However, he is interesting enough in his own right, and his ambivalent depiction is fascinating. Though he is ostensibly a cautionary figure, a negative example, Turgenev was open-minded enough not to condemn him outright. His dark end is indeed a warning that pure nihilism is a dead end, but Turgenev at times seems as enthralled by Bazarov as anyone. This ambiguity was the main reason that the novel got very mixed reviews; it satisfied neither those who sympathized with Bazarov nor those who condemned him. Turgenev was stung and wrote less prolifically and enthusiastically from then on, but time has shown that the uncertain portrayal is exactly the book's greatest strength. Bazarov represents a path that Russia could have taken - or, if you will, one pole of human nature -, though admittedly an extreme one, and cannot be lauded or condemned outright. Turgenev was brave enough to give an honest portrayal, and the profoundly believable and insightful psychological portrait retains its power. Bazarov is one of the most interesting characters in a century full of great ones. He is hard to fully love or hate; he certainly has many despicable qualities, but only Pollyannas can deny some of his points, and the force with which he argues, in combination with his cynical apathy, has a certain perverse charm. We can debate him and what he stands for ad nauseum, but it is unlikely that anyone who reads the book will soon forget him.

There is of course far more to the novel, not least its vivid dramatization of the title's implied generation gap. Turgenev saw an ever-widening chasm between the liberals of his generation and the Bazarovs, dramatizing it with striking verisimilitude and stunning philosophical and psychological depth. His generation is represented by the brothers Nikolai and Pavel Petrovich Kirsanov. They have also embraced Europeanization but in ways that Bazarov finds contemptibly superficial: speaking French, wearing foreign clothes, etc. More fundamental is their continued clinging to traditional morality and institutions. Their interactions with Bazarov make clear that, religion and morality aside, the generation gap was to a great extent a class issue. The Kirsanovs are aristocrats, and Pavel Petrovich in particular resents the upstart Bazarov. Their clash soon culminates in a highly symbolic duel suggesting, especially in its aftermath, that while the Bazarovs may initially gain the upper hand, there is much to be said for the older generation, which should not be written off so quickly. Nikolai Petrovich is more moderate, abandoning tradition to the extent of taking a lower-class woman as a mistress and even having a child with her, yet aware enough to constantly worry about offending his brother. He can sympathize with Bazarov and is even willing to listen to his ideas but above all simply wants harmony. His son Arkady is at yet another place on the spectrum, respecting the elders but so naïve and joyous in his youthfulness that he becomes a Bazarov disciple almost without knowing.

These conflicts play out in various ways but primarily through Arkady, the only character who really changes. It can be assumed that he was squarely in familial tradition before college, where he nearly became a Bazarov clone, and he finally takes solace in love's redemptive power. There is no doubt that Turgenev thinks this last the right path - that we are supposed to think, as Arkady finally does, that Bazarovism leads only to wasteful self-destructiveness, making true happiness impossible and keeping us from doing the world any good. Some will of course disagree, but Arkady's progression is very plausibly written; it is hard not to sympathize and be glad for his eventual peace and bliss. The novel is thus among other things an excellent bildungsroman.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the book is how Turgenev dramatizes all this - and even makes his point clear - without heavy-handedness. Novels tackling such weighty issues often let didacticism overwhelm story, but Fathers and Sons is never guilty of this nearly always fatal sin. He is also a master stylist; his often lyrical prose encompasses not only dense philosophical speculation but also much sublime beauty. The last paragraph in particular is unforgettable in its precise beauty and profoundly moving sentiment - so well-written that even those who cynically disagree with the conclusion, and thus the book's overall message, cannot deny its immense power. Most notable of all is that Turgenev manages to do all this in under 250 pages. This is the greatest difference between him and the more famous Russian masters known for their thick tomes. Turgenev eschews their great attention to detail, lengthy dialogue, and long philosophical asides. Those who, like James, detested such "loose, baggy monsters" may join him in preferring Turgenev, and the differences are substantial enough that even those who dislike Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and their ilk should not pass over Turgenev automatically on account of it. That said, he shares enough of their great elements - indeed, inspired many of them - that their fans should check him out. His remarkable conciseness is certainly less intimidating, and there are many benefits to reading the Russian greats chronologically. In short, the appeal of Fathers and Sons is so great and diverse that the book is a must for practically anyone who appreciates great literature.

For many people in the West, especially in the US, nineteenth-century Russian literature means Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, and many reviewers note that this novel by Turgenev ain't like either of them. In fact, it feels a lot like what could be called `the rural English novel' --- that is, it poetically describes rural life, deals with the rise of new ideas and ways of life brought on by modernization, focuses on romantic desires, resolves characters into either death or marriage, etc.

This story here follows two younger men, Barazov, who is a self-proclaimed nihilist (much to the irritation of older men) and Arkady, who is his prodigy (who has a less committed, more exploratory approach to modern ideas). They are returning to their familial rural estates after time elsewhere. They move back and forth between these estates and one that has several women of interest. Much of the novel is a series of conversations, often about political change or high ideals. A lot happens in the novel, though it doesn't feel like it: the characters lead relatively privileged lives and we rarely even hear about them working, so it feels the novel is mostly about relaxing.

One of the main strengths of the novel is the depiction of the male characters. While the female characters seem to act the way they do to advance the plot without conveying a sense that the author understood their motivations, the two men, their fathers and the one uncle are vividly depicted. They evolve over the course of the novel (or are adamant in their refusal to do so). What I particularly like about the interactions of these men is that the generational conflict in tension with the blatant affection of the fathers for their sons. In so many novels, characters don't seem to really like each other (or we're told that they do but the novelist can't convey it). This seems especially true of serious novels about families. I'm hard pressed to think of any other novel in which fathers are so interested in the lives of their grown sons and so pained by the gulf between them.

There are also some unexpectedly powerful chapters. The chapter on the duel, for instance, comes out of nowhere, seems totally unmotivated --- to the point of being comic even though the situation could quickly become tragic --- and then only in its resolution becomes clear what motivated one man to issue the seemingly preposterous duel challenge. This way of telling the story could have been easy to botch but it comes off quite well and proves to be a rewarding way to have presented the situation.

In taken in its entirety, however, I was left with the feeling that the whole of the novel was somehow less than the sum of the parts. It's possible to point to specific faults, like the irritations of the translation that others have pointed out (e.g., the attempt to replicate Barazov's `hip' speaking by the use of modern slang), but it seems like the positive characteristics of the novel ought to outweigh them. For a reason I cannot explain, they somehow don't. If you're into nineteenth-century Russian literature, you're going to read this book regardless of any review --- and you'll find pleasures in it, just not consistently. This work might also appeal to people who like George Eliot or Thomas Hardy. They won't be bowled over, but they might enjoy a slightly exotic tinge to a kind of novel that they already know that they like. If you're just looking to try imperial Russian literature, however, you'll probably find that Dostoevsky or Tolstoy or Chekhov `speak to' you more.

I'd also recommend saving _Fathers and Sons_ for a time when you're going to have a long stretch to read it: the novel has a lot of characters for its length and taking breaks makes it harder to keep them straight. Likewise, this translation is faithful to the Russian etiquette of names, which can get confusing when the name used to describe a character's actions isn't the same as how other characters address them in dialogue. If this is a problem, there are some webpages that can be found by searching for `Russian naming conventions'.

It's gratuitous to the reading experience, but I have to say that this, like the other new Oxford World Classics, is a beautiful book. It has a very agreeable crispness to it. The cover, the binding, etc. all feel right. Even the font seems particularly sharp. I often read library or used copies of books, but in holding this for the first time I felt a sense of impeding loss: there are art forms that are going to be killed off by the now easy to predict replacement of paper books with electronic ones, just as downloadable music is the end of the album cover. (But also like the other new Oxford World Classics, the font size could be a point or two bigger. It would hurt their profit margin calculations, I'm sure, but my feeling is that easy to read fonts and the sensation of turning the page more frequently increase the enjoyment of reading.)

Turgenev is seldom recognized as one of Russia's literary heavy weights, but in "Fathers and Sons", he captures the ongoing struggle between the older, more conservative generation (the serf owners still clinging to class divisions and specific gender roles) and the nihilistic youth that would eventually issue in a new era in Russian history (a classless society in which traditional values would be abandoned for philosophical ideals).
The story centers around a serf-owning Father and his educated Son. The son returns home after years away and brings with him a young nihilist, a brash young man who dismisses and essentially laughs at the values of his friend's father. Much to his credit, the father does his best to understand the radical views of the nihilist, but through his honest attempt at understanding, he begins to see the flaws and contradictions in this unfamiliar philosophy. Much to his credit, Turgenev remains remarkably objective in his portrayal of the competing generations and their views, and it is only through the character's actions does the author show glimpses of what he may believe.
As the story progresses, the two young friends visit comrades and relatives, and in each encounter, their beliefs are pitted against the realities of every day life. When the nihilist begins to fall in love with a radical young woman, he is torn between rebelling against romance or denying the core of his beliefs. The father attempts to embrace some of the nihilist's views in his treatment of both his serfs and the much younger woman that he has made his bride, only to be confronted by his flamboyant brother who finds the hypocrisy in his every action; and when an unexpected duel pops up between the nihilist and another, Turgenev deals with it as if it were a nuisance, essentially painting it as the bygone of the past that it would soon become.
Without making any grand statements or arriving at any conclusions about what is right or wrong, Turgenev has created an engaging snapshot of one family and its internal turmoil over the decade long transition that Russia was undergoing. Understated, philosophical without being preachy or overbearing, "Fathers and Sons" captures the nineteenth century struggles of the Russian everyman and serves as an excellent complement to the more recognized works of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy.

I am slowly working my way through the great works of Russian literature - in translation and in chronological order. FATHERS AND SONS was written in 1862. Thus, it is after the classic Russian novels of Pushkin, Lermontov, and Gogol. But - at least in my self-directed reading program - it is the first "Western" Russian novel. Its predecessors were distinctively Russian. FATHERS AND SONS, although very much concerned with Russian subjects, strikes me as a novel that, in tone and style and with its philosophical dimension, might well have come from the pen of a Frenchman, Englishwoman, or German; it is, in a word, "Western". It also is excellent.

As the title suggests (a more literal translation of the Russian would be "Fathers and Children"), the novel explores generational differences, if not quite outright conflict (though at one point the friction does spark a duel). It is set in 1859, on the eve of the emancipation of the serfs in Russia. There are two representatives of the younger generation (Eugene Bazarov and Arcady Kirsanov) and three representatives of an older generation (their fathers plus Arcady's uncle Peter). The central character is Eugene Bazarov, who "admits no established authorities [and] takes no principles for granted"; for him, the only truths are those of science. Eugene Bazarov is an archetype of the new generation of thought that began sweeping Russia in the 1850's and came to be called nihilism; in fact, the word "nihilist" was invented by Turgenev and introduced in FATHERS AND SONS.

Turgenev does not take sides as between the romantic idealists of the elder generation and the materialists (or nihilists) of the younger one. As for Eugene, life o'ertakes him and he, reluctantly but ineluctably, compromises his tough, unsentimental principles of nihilism. Likewise with Arcady's uncle Peter, who is chief standard-bearer of the old order, and his principles.

As well as featuring the relations between generations, FATHERS AND SONS also features relationships between the sexes. In the course of the novel, both of the younger heroes develop intense romantic attachments with women (in both cases, somewhat to the surprise of all concerned). Several flirtatious conversations in which the participants discover and then reveal their feelings are among the highpoints of the novel. In addition, there are the touching marriages of Eugene's elderly parents and Arcady's widowed father and a much younger woman (younger than Arcady).

Turgenev seems to be skeptical of the political and social changes that are afoot in Russia. I believe he would be skeptical of all ideologies. But he is a humanist, and when it comes to men and women, somewhat of a romantic. As I read the last third of the novel, the words and music of "As Time Goes By" played in my mind.

The volume I read is an old Signet Classics paperback, with a 50 cent price, translated by George Reavey. I bought and first read it sometime in the early 1970s. I remembered little about the novel, other than having had a generally favorable impression. Now I am very taken with it. Perhaps it is one of those novels that are more appreciated towards the later stages of one's life. In any event, I now view FATHERS AND SONS as a classic novel, one that could be read both for sheer pleasure and for its humanism every ten years or so.

If one visits George Sand's home at Nohant, in the Berry region of France, one will find a dining room table set, with place names of the famous people who visited her house, including Flaubert and Chopin. Another place name reads: Ivan Turgenev. "Father and Sons" is Turgenev's most famous novel, an authentic and realistic account of upper class 19th Century Russian provincial life. Although he considered himself a progressive, his works were praised by the "old Believers," and criticized by his fellow liberals. He eventually abandoned the land he knew so well, and sought solace in Germany and France.

This novel is set in the early 1860's. The Napoleonic invasion is a receding collective memory; the serfs are about to be formally freed, at about the same time as the slaves would be freed in the United States. The dominant theme is reflected in the title: it is a transition from one generation to the next. Barzarov and Arcady are friends who have recently graduated from university, and are returning to their parent's estates in the countryside. Barzarov is the dominant one, assured in his world view as a "Nihilist," a fancy word for the inarticulate grunts of many a high school senior: the world is a rotten place, everything must be torn down, and then we can start over, but I don't have a clue as to what I would replace it with. Both sets of parents deeply love their children, and are accommodating to their views. It is Arcady's uncle, Peter, that objects, on a personal as well as on a philosophical basis, to the young "upstart," Barzarov.

An equally important theme is love. Turgenev provides a realistic portrait of what would be, to a modern reader, the rather amazing courtship rituals of upper-class Russian provincials. This would often involve visiting respective homes for extended periods of time, with concerns about dinner and entertainment, and long strolls in the garden. Madame Anna Odintzov, a young widow at 29, has her own estate. Barzarov, like many a man, wonders if she is "hot," a term that might reverberate even today. Anna also has a younger sister Katya, who plays the piano, and plays also into the free-floating testosterones. Love is both requited and unrequited.

Missing from the novel, certainly in terms of characterization, are the serfs. They serve only as background, with their most notable feature seeming to be the question of if they doff their hats when their "betters," the landed gentry pass. Thus, although Turgenev's world view appears to be tolerant and liberal, even to the advocacy of marrying outside the gentry's class (!), his principal progressive concerns appear to be better estate management, importing German scientific ideas and interspersing French phrases in the dialogue.

Like most good novelists whose work reflects their personal experiences, it is interesting to note that the duel scene must have been inspired by the fact that Tolstoy once challenged him to a one. Yes, Tolstoy the pacifist. And although Turgenev never married, he did have a daughter by a woman "outside his class," a serf, Pauline Verdot. Turgenev also has some observations that still have much validity: "Just look at what I am doing: just because there's room in the valise here am I stuffing it with hay: it's the same with our life's valise: we pack it full of anything that comes to hand, just to avoid leaving an empty space."

In a one word association game, if you'd response "ponderous" to the phrase "Russian novel," then try "Father and Sons." Lively, direct, and it covers a lot of ground in some 200 pages. 5-stars.

In true Russian author fashion, Turgenev tells a tale of family, friendship and politics twisted between the old and the new. A wonderful story if you love words and explanations of feelings and situations. If you want something that moves all the time non stop, do not bother. This is a book for people who love to read words and the magic they put together. Heartfelt and touching, it is in turns happy and sad.

Excellent read.

Examination of nihilism vs. romanticism -- not hard to see where Turgenev falls on it. Good story, great prose by a writer that I believe is among the giants of Russian literature

I think every thing was good except the time it took to arrive. I received the shipment notice and had to wait for a solid 3 weeks before the book arrived. I am not sure what means of shipping is being used but it seems even lousier that the UPS.