Customer Reviews

A Hero Of Our Time (World's classics)

5 star:		(44)
4 star:		(12)
3 star:		(5)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

Mikhail Lermontov was a poet by genius, a romantic at heart, yet by the time of his death at 26, he had already become something of a disillusioned realist. This tension between streaks in his personality is expressed openly in "A Hero of Our Time": the novel starts out as a romantic adventure beautified with most exquisite imagery, but is later transformed into a disquieting tale of manipulation and dark deeds.

The setting for this novel (which is really a loosely connected string of short stories) is the wild Caucasian mountains, to which Lermontov himself had been "exiled" to fight against the fierce Chechens. After the death of Pushkin, Lermontov took it upon himself to keep the great poet's legacy alive. The authorities did not take kindly to Lermontov's endeavour, and transferred the young officer to the war zone.

To 19th centrury Russian writers, the experience of the Caucasus and of 'Asiatics' in general was of tremendous value as a gauge of the value of Russian civilization. Juxtaposing Russian high society with the people of the steppes and the mountains became a familiar device in Russian literature, just like American Indians were used to symbolize the natural/unadulterated or the uncivilized/savage in American literature.

However, in "A Hero of Our Time" the officer Pechorin transcends the boundaries between culture and nature. In the early chapters of the book, Pechorin's adventures are described from outside, and seem extraordinary, bizzare, yet captivating. Later on, other stories are recounted in Pechorin's diary, and they draw a different picture of the modern hero: disillusioned, hateful, and profoundly unhappy. Life is a game which he has long mastered, he knows exactly how to play into people's pride, vanity and passion. Yet, at unlikely moments, a stir of long-forgotten emotion briefly produces a vulnerable, human hero with whom we, despite ourselves, are forced to identify...

While out travelling, the narrator - who we can assume is either Lermontov himself, or a fictionalised version thereof - meets an old soldier, Maxim, who is more than happy to share a tale or three of his life. 'Lermontov' is an appreciative listener, taking notes and jotting down places and names. This is why he is travelling, this is why he talks to people: For their stories, theirs lives, their experiences that you 'cannot find in the romances of Russia'. Maxim tells him the story of Grigory Alexandrovich Pechorin, another soldier who once shared his quarters.

The picture he paints is an interesting one. On the one hand, he declares this Pechorin a great friend, but on the other, comments on his lack of emotion and coldness. He is capable of great generosity, and equally great hostility, the choice of which seems more a whim than for any reason. Maxim admires his education, wit and talent with women, but is offended by his lack of accountability.

In the story Maxim tells, he and Pechorin travel to an Asian warchief's home, where Pechorin is infatuated with the leader's young daughter, Bela. Through a series of manipulative events - all arranged by Pechorin, without remorse or even satisfaction - the daughter is kidnapped and the young soldier falls in love. The story ends tragically, though not unexpectedly, and serves to whet our appetites for who this man really is.

As narrated by Maxim, these stories are colorful, eventful, and written with great, broad strokes. Maxim is not a very educated man, and as such he is unable to properly paint the picture of Pechorin. But he has an admirable flair for description, which in his own, simple ways, are very effective. The narrator is more intelligent and inquisitive, commenting playfully on characters and situations, and viewing the world with an almost child-like glee. Everything is interesting, every road is worth travelling. The road he does happen to stumble upon is Pechorin's, and because the man being described is so different to the airy views of the narrator, it is interesting to watch him struggle with this enigma.

The next section - which forms the meat of the story - are three short pieces written by Pechorin that the narrator managed to acquire from Maxim. Taman, the first piece, is probably as interesting as Maxim's story, although it reveals little of Pechorin's character. The third piece, The Fatalist, serves as a rounding out of who and what Pechorin is, and acts well as a finisher, being only 9 pages long.

But it is the story of Princess Mary that is by far the most interesting. Set over a month, it chronicles the events of Pechorin's holiday at the Elizabeth Spring, a place where hopeful socialites mix with distinguished military men to secure strong marriages, or engage in clandestine affairs. A man Pechorin knows - not a friend, because, 'of two friends, one is always the slave of the other...I can never be a slave, and to command in these circumstances is too exacting', is in love with Mary, the daughter of a wealthy but socially poor Princess. For no reason other than it would amuse him, Pechorin sets out to make young Mary fall in love with, enjoying himself immensely while the spa descends into a chaotic, backstabbing pit of secret looks and pistol duels.

Through his journal, we come to know Pechorin. He is very casual in the way he writes, trailing off with thoughts he finds distasteful, commenting slyly on everyone, including himself, and willing to analyse everything and everybody. He is witty, cultured, and bored with is life. Toying with people amuses him, dispelling the ever-present melancholy of his life. Yet - and this is something that is initially difficult to believe, but thanks to Lermontov's skill as an author, works very well - Pechorin is not malicious, nor does he do what he does out of anger. He tends to work at people's emotions, playing them out more artfully than they would themselves. When events escalate, and he finds himself in a rigged duel, Pechorin is not contrite, but is willing to let it all go and have everyone go back to the spa, with all forgiven. When this request is denied, he doesn't mind very much, and if he is to die, what matter? 'After all, the worst you can do is die, and you've got to die sometime.', he comments.

Pechorin is not a sympathetic character, but he is not trying to be. Through Maxim's story, and the narrator's subsequent efforts to discover more about this interesting man, our curiosity is aroused. How could Pechorin be the way he is? What man would enjoy the suffering of others, but be equally amused by the lack of excitement? Why would anyone risk life and limb for a woman, then spurn her when she offers herself to him? The journals of Pechorin both answer and do not answer these questions. Pechorin is Pechorin. Self-consistent, and absolutely accountable to himself, he is assured, intelligent, and charismatic. To others, he is a mystery, but, as he muses, it may be because everyone is attracted to evil, and for him, it is more interesting than being good.

A note of caution to those considering purchasing the Hard Press edition of "A Hero in Our Time." I bought this edition based on the reviews that mentioned the edition as having been translated by Vlad & Dmitri Nabokov. So I was surprised when I received the Hard Press edition (soft cover, with grayish-green panels on the top and bottom, and grey and white panels in the center; no picture on the cover, only the text of the title/author). NOWHERE in the book does it state that it was translated by Nabokov; indeed, the book contains absolutely no translator info whatsoever, leaving the reader completely at sea in determining who translated it (despite Amazon's description that it contains a "Translator's Foreword"). Instead, the book appears more like a manuscript submitted for review, rather than a publication. There isn't even any Library of Congress or ISBN info anywhere in the book, nor is there a publication date (usually included on one of the opening pages). "Page 1" is completely blank (other than to say it is "Page 1"); "Page 2" consists of a table of contents, and page 3 launches straight into the author's text (despite page 2's table of contents indicating that the book starts with a "Foreward").

This was Lermontov's only novel, published a year before his death in a duel at the age of 27. Although it was written in the late 1830s, it is strikingly modern both in its structure and in its treatment of the hero.

In structure, the book consists of a collection of short stories and novellas rather than a single narrative. These stories, however, are linked in two ways. Firstly, all feature the same protagonist, Grigoriy Pechorin, a young officer serving with the Russian army in the Caucasus. Secondly, they are bound together by a complex framework featuring a single anonymous narrator (not to be identified with Lermontov himself), a traveller in the Caucasus. The first story, Bela, is supposedly told to this narrator by Maksim Maksimych, a brother-officer of Pechorin. The second, Maksim Maksimych, is related by the narrator himself and deals with a meeting between Pechorin and Maksim. The other three, Taman, Princess Mary and The Fatalist, are all told in Pechorin's own words, taken from his journal which has come into the narrator's hands after Pechorin's death.

It is the fourth tale, Princess Mary, which is the longest and the one which lies at the heart of the work. Bela and Taman are adventure stories with an exotic setting (the Caucasus had the same sort of appeal for nineteenth-century Russians as India had for their British contemporaries). Maksim Maksimych is a linking narrative, and the final story, The Fatalist is an unsettling, spooky treatment of the concepts of fate and predestination.

In Princess Mary, the mood changes abruptly from the romantic exoticism of the earlier stories. Pechorin is stationed in a fashionable spa town in the northern Caucasus. Here he has little to occupy his time, and becomes embroiled in liaisons with two women, the Mary of the title (the daughter of an aristocratic family), and Vera, a former mistress of his, now unhappily married to an older husband. As a result of these intrigues, Pechorin quarrels with Grushnitsky, a rival for Mary's affections, and the story culminates in a duel between the two men.

The loose, episodic structure of the novel must have seemed very radical to readers in the first half of the nineteenth century. Lermontov also seems to prefigure later developments in the novel in his treatment of the character of Pechorin, a cynical, amoral figure who does not conform to the normal nineteenth idea of a literary "hero". This may make the title of the book seem ironic. Lermontov himself recognises this when he invents a dialogue between his narrator and his imaginary readers. The narrator says that the title of the book would be his reply should anyone ask him for his opinion of Pechorin's character. "But that is wicked irony!" Lermontov imagines his readers replying, to which the narrator's only comment is "I don't know.....". The suggestion is thereby given that the title can be taken both in an ironic sense and also at face value.

In a limited sense, Pechorin can indeed be seen as a heroic figure. A common usage of the word "hero" (possibly its original usage) is a person of great bravery, and there is no doubt that, in his duel with Grushnitsky, Pechorin shows both physical courage and indifference to death. What he lacks is the moral stature of the true hero in the unqualified sense of the word. We may admire someone who shows courage in order to help others, or in the service of his country, or in defence of a moral principle. Although this is difficult for us to understand today, people in the nineteenth century (or at least the upper classes from which Lermontov came) may also have admired someone who was prepared to risk death in defence of his honour or the honour of a loved one. What does not seem admirable, either from the perspective of the nineteenth century or from that of the twenty-first, is a contempt for death arising out of boredom with life, and it is this boredom which is the motivation for many of Pechorin's actions. His pursuit of Mary and Vera (like his earlier relationship with the Caucasian girl Bela) is born not of love or affection for the women involved, or even of sexual desire, but rather of a lack of anything better with which to occupy himself. He fights the duel with Grushnitsky not out of a belief that some things are worth dying for, but rather out of a belief that nothing is worth living for.

If Pechorin is not a conventional hero, neither is he a conventional literary villain in the sense of a brutal or Machiavellian evildoer, whose evil serves as a contrast to the virtue of the hero or heroine. Although there is something demonic about him in the way he brings misery to others, he is not wholly evil. A surprising side of his character brought out in his journals is his sensitivity to the beauty of nature; vivid descriptions of Caucasian scenery alternate with details of squalid intrigues. This is more than the stock Romantic cliché about wild characters being drawn to wild scenery; Lermontov uses these passages to suggest that even Pechorin sometimes aspires to a better way of life. After the literally breathtaking description of his duel with Grushnitsky, Pechorin concludes the story of Princess Mary with an unexpectedly poetic image, comparing himself to a mariner who has become so used to storm and strife that he cannot abide a peaceful life ashore and who paces the beach, watching for the sail that will take him back to sea.

Although there are similar characters in Romantic fiction, such as Pushkin's Onegin, the restless, cynical Pechorin can also be seen as prefiguring the "outsider" anti-heroes of the literature of the mid-twentieth century. (Camus's Meursault and Osborne's Jimmy Porter are examples that come to mind). More than a century and a half after his creation, Pechorin still seems a very modern figure; an anti-hero for our times as much as his own. I finished the book with only two regrets; firstly, that Lermontov's untimely death prevented him from writing any more novels, and secondly that there do not currently seem to be any English versions of his poetry in print.

Yes, I realize this edition has one of the stupidest looking covers I've ever seen, particularly for a Russian novel. However, this is one of my favorite. The story starts out with a man being told a variety of stories about a man named Pechorin, which is enjoyable enough, yet Pechorin is one of the most amazing, entertaining, and brilliant characters in literature. When the story moves into his tale is when the story really picks up. He does a series of things that are entertaining as any in literature. A combination of stealing a native princess, getting the family killed, and ultimately getting bored with her is only one element. Getting a Russian princess to fall in love with him just to spite a companion is another element. If you don't like darkly humored anti-heroes, this is not the book for you. Pechorin does numerous things just to entertain himself that cost others, and it may not be for everyone. But certain quotes such as "Suffering is the first experience that allows me to take joy in tormenting others" and "I choose to despise women over loving them because life would be too much of a melodrama otherwise." Plain and simple, Pechorin is fun. He brings up some interesting intellectual issues, but overall, the main attraction to this book is the character of Pechorin. Anyone who's in the mood for a fun, darkly humored read needs to read this book. If that is not your taste, leave it on the bookshelf. Either way, I grew to love Pechorin and see him as the sly, mean-spirited side of me that rarely seems to surface.

This is one of the best Russian novels. It tells the story of a 19h century aristocrat who is bored with his life. The arrangement of the chapters itself is very interesting. In the first chapter we listen about the hero from his ex-boss. We actually meet him in the second chapter. The next three chapters are the extracts from his diary. The striking feature of the hero is that he only gives pain and problems to others. He does it with out any evil intention, in fact, it some how turns out that way. It is his fate, he knows about it and it pains him also (though it is no way going to help his victims).

The author was also a very good painter. The hard cover edition I have contains 4 paintings by him (one of them was the cover). The death of Lermontov at such a young age was a great loss to the world literature.

A Hero of Our Time introduces a most memorable character, Pechorin, who, had the novella been named after him, would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Eugen Onegin in fame. He derives from the same tradition as Onegin, that of the 'superfluous' man, though he moves beyond his predecessor (and prefigures others) in the degree to which he reeks havoc on a personal level. The novella consists of stories only nominally connected, and it is fair to say that the second half is better than the first. The centrepiece is the diary of Pechorin which contains a full narrative of his 'adventures' at a small holiday town. It just has to be read to be believed: it is 'lady-killing' and 'white-anting' at its clinically destructive best. Readers of Eugen Onegin will notice similarities, though the prose form allows much deeper characterisation, for which one is certainly not sorry. Lovers of later 19th-century Russian literature will appreciate this book in its prefiguring of characters and of settings in, among others, Turgenev, Dostoyevsky, and Chekhov. Lermontov died young and in a very Romantic fashion (a duel); one can only be sorry that he did not live to write more.

As I read the beginning of A Hero of Our Time, I became bored with his descriptions of modern settings, and a man on a journey. However, I was fortunate enough to have the good sense of reading further. The characters bacame more scandulous, and the plots thickened to an eventual overtaking of themselves. This book brought insight into my life, and hope that I was not the only person that has dreaded the society and some people in it. Lermontov's genius is displayed perfectly as each character unfolds. His depictions of these people were more realistic than any other novel that I have ever read. Please read this novel and seek further into the plot. Instead, look into the characters, and the truth behind their actions, as they display human behavior.

Before posting this review, I typed "Beethoven Diabelli Variations" into the Amazon search engine and the first three pages of listings contained 22 CDs by different pianists. Moreover, the reviews of the recording by Maurizio Pollini are listed separately from the reviews of the recording by Stephen Kovacevich, which are listed separately from the reviews of the recording by Rudolf Serkin, and so on for all 22 of the different performances.

Translating a work of literature is not, to my mind, significantly different than performing a classic of the piano repertoire. Yet Amazon often does shamefully little to distinguish different translations of works of literature.

Take A HERO OF OUR TIME, for example. When I went to post my review of "the first major prose novel in Russian literature," as translated by Vladimir Nabokov and his son, I typed "Lermontov A Hero of Our Time" into Amazon's search engine and the first book listed was an edition published by ReadaClassic.com (whatever that is). Amazon's "page" for that offering gives no information whatsoever on who the translator is. (Imagine a listing of a CD of Beethoven's Diabelli Variations, with no information as to the pianist, from a recording company named "HearaClassic.com". How many CDs do you think Amazon would be able to sell?)

On the page for the ReadaClassic.com offering, there are 57 reviews. Wow! But careful inspection reveals that only a few of those 57 reviews pertain to the ReadaClassic edition. Some pertain to an edition published by Everyman's Library; others to one published by Modern Library Classics; and still others to one published by Penguin Classics. If you know how to navigate through the back corridors of Amazon's web site, you can find out that each of those three editions has different translators (respectively, Vladimir and Dmitri Nabokov, Marian Schwartz, and Paul Foote) and, eventually, you can isolate and purchase the translation you prefer. But you have to work at it and have sufficient knowledge of Byzantine Amazon. Otherwise, you will end up with A HERO OF OUR TIME published by ReadaClassic and translated by (who knows?). If Amazon cared about books and readers as much as it should, it could and would distinguish separate translations of works of literature with as much specificity and refinement as it does separate performances of musical works such as Beethoven's Diabelli Variations.

Now for a review of A HERO OF OUR TIME. (Note: What follows repeats the review I separately posted of the Doubleday Anchor paperback edition of the novel.)

In many ways, A HERO OF OUR TIME stands in the shadows of Pushkin's "Eugene Onegin", which was the first major novel in Russian literature. Actually, I suspect that A HERO OF OUR TIME owes its stature as a minor landmark of Russian literature to factors other than its intrinsic literary merit - especially to the popular conception that Lermontov was the heir to Pushkin, the fact that Lermontov very publicly denounced the social and political circumstances that led to the duel in which Pushkin was mortally wounded, and to the fact that Lermontov himself, just four years later, also died in a duel. And, no doubt, the popularity of the novel owes much to the character and personality of the "hero" himself, Grigory Aleksandrovich Pechorin.

Eugene Onegin is a fairly pathetic protagonist. He is sybaritic and even, perhaps, a little effete. Pechorin is forceful, dynamic, masculine through and through. He is bored with life ("I have a restless fancy, an insatiable heart"), but he lives it to the fullest rather than moping around or trying to lose himself in books. He is far from noble - he shamelessly toys with others, both male and female - but he has charisma. He is, as Victor Terras aptly puts it, "a rebel without a cause." And just as James Dean assumed iconic status in American culture, so too did Pechorin (and Lermontov) in Russian.

The novel is actually a loose assemblage of five stories. The first two are told by an anonymous first person narrator, presumably Lermontov himself. In them we learn about several of the legendary exploits of Pechorin and at the end of the second one the narrator comes into possession of Pechorin's journals. The last three stories are taken from those journals and thus are narrated by Pechorin in the first person. The time period is the 1830's; the setting is the Caucasus. There is an exoticism to these stories somewhat akin to "The Arabian Nights".

The writing displays remarkable energy. But it is untidy and often awkward. The novel is strewn with loose ends, false leads, and inconsistencies. Again and again, emotion is displayed by a character "stamping his feet on the ground" or similar demonstrative conduct. In the first story, the narrative often proceeds via embarrassingly stilted conversations. Throughout, Pechorin and others are forewarned of important matters by being at the conveniently right place at the fortuitously right time and overhearing the plotting of their enemies. Some of Lermontov's similes or other literary formulations made me wince. According to Vladimir Nabokov, even in Russian the writing is "inelegant"; it is the product of "an energetic, incredibly gifted, bitterly honest, but definitely inexperienced young man." One cannot help but wonder what literary landmarks Lermontov might have produced had he not died at the age of 26.

I mention Vladimir Nabokov because he was the translator (in collaboration with his son, Dmitri) of the Everyman's Library edition of A HERO OF OUR TIME. If you are interested in the novel, despite its flaws, I recommend the Everyman's Library edition, in particular for Nabokov's inimitably authoritative footnotes.

Lermontov's propensity to duel probably gave him the insight to create perhaps the most exciting duel scene in any book I've read. However, it got him killed, leaving behind this lone work of prose. One can only speculate as to what Lermontov would have written if he was not much like his hero Pechorin.

As for the book, it was an exhilerating read. I read it for a Russian history class and I've never had a better discussion in any class than for "A Hero of Our Time". The book touches on so many feelings of disatisfaction combined with apathy that so many feel today. Along with the romantic tone of the story, one would hardly need to be a snobby reader to enjoy it.

Highly recommended is not strong enough language for, in my opinion, the best story Russian literature has to offer.