Public reader discussion about Oblomov in the WeRead Catalog by Ivan Aleksandrovich Goncharov.
By prose-pages
I bought this one: http://www.amazon.com/dp/067941729X/ref=pe_175190_21431760_M2T1_SC_3p_dp_1 But after reading the other comments I’m honestly kinda worried I got the wrong edition. Is the one I linked actually fine, or should I return it and get a different version/edition?
By writesharbor
I’ve run into this with War and Peace and Crime and Punishment. I usually start out really into it—like the first chunk feels great—but somewhere around halfway I just start getting bored. Not sure if it’s because the whole tone is so slow and reflective, or if I’ve just ended up with translations that aren’t that great, but it can make it a slog. Anyone else notice something like this? I feel like I’m hooked at the beginning and then my interest keeps dropping the further I go.
By fern_hat
I’d pick *Alone on a Wide, Wide Sea* by Michael Morpurgo. It’s about a kid from England who ends up on a ship to Australia in the early 1900s with his sister, and then once they arrive they get split up. After that, he basically spends his whole life trying to find her again. What I like is that it feels really real and kind of raw, like you’re getting a first-hand look at what life was like back then, and it’s honestly just really interesting. I don’t think it’s more popular mainly because people might assume it’s only for younger teens, but it seems like it’d work for older readers too.
By UnslainSage
Oblomov kind of throws you into this big, weird question about whether leisure is actually “legit” when everyone else seems obsessed with having a purpose. And I get that not everyone even gets the option to just… not work. But if you do have that kind of safety net, it still feels like a brutal choice, because not many people end up living the super passive, idle way he does. I also don’t think the book just shrugs it off. It really lays out why that lifestyle can go badly, like how it turns into misfortune and misery. And by the end, it feels like the story is basically cheering for the “anti-Oblomov” side: if you’re not trying, learning, engaging with people, managing money, caring about things you actually enjoy, even traveling or art or music… then it’s basically a wasted life. And yeah, it’s presented as something that can end really badly, eventually even literally. But then… what about his argument? I keep getting stuck on this part: for people who don’t have to stress about food or money or survival, the question turns into this existential/nihilist-ish thing—why spend hours doing something you don’t even like, like you’re actively hating it? Isn’t that just wasting away on a couch? Someone might say, “Then just do what you love.” But the problem is the Oblomovs don’t even know what they love. They just like doing nothing, letting life happen around them, like they’re watching instead of participating. And it’s hard to judge when you’re not living in their exact situation. Still, it makes you wonder what “purpose” really means and whether an Oblomov-type existence is ever worth anything on its own. If I had to picture an “Oblomovian,” it’s basically: 1) rich enough/inherited safety so they can coast 2) not really trained for real life 3) social anxiety, awkward with friendships/relationships 4) major procrastinators (aka lazy) 5) genuinely kind-hearted So is it “noble” to expect them to just jump into work and chase a purpose when they’d probably get hit with humiliation and their confidence would just collapse? Or is it more noble to fight those traits and deal with what’s going on so they can actually have a better life—healthier, more social, help others, better relationships, all that? My bottom line is: in a world where everyone can’t stop asking what your purpose is, Oblomov asks a darker question that people don’t really explore—why should there even be a purpose in the first place? Calling him lazy feels too easy, honestly. He doesn’t “need” purpose the way most people do. So I’m left wondering whether the positives of that lifestyle can ever outweigh the downsides. And yeah, I think we already know the answer.
By Bright-Teacup
My top three are probably: All the Bright Places — Jennifer Niven I seriously don’t even know how to talk about this without getting personal. It wrecked me because I felt so connected to Theodore Finch. And yeah, spoiler-ish, but one of the big things I took from it is that sometimes nothing—like even love—can just “fix” someone who’s dealing with depression. That idea has stuck with me ever since I read it, and I think it really shaped how I’ve come to think about depression and suicide. The Miseducation of Cameron Post — Emily Danforth This one didn’t mess with me in the same intense way as the first one, but it still got me hard. It was like everything lined up at once for me. I was figuring myself out with my sexuality, and I was dating a guy while feeling desperate to be with a woman instead. It’s a coming-of-age lesbian story, and it just made me want something I couldn’t have at the time, and it left me feeling kind of unhappy with my life. And more recently, The Nightingale — Kristin Hannah I read this while I was on vacation and I thought it’d be some easy beach book… nope. It’s basically all about the really brutal stuff of WWII in France, and it had so many heartbreaking moments that just kept hitting. Even though it’s fiction, it covered experiences I know happened to real people, and it genuinely broke me.
By tenderharbor
I just finished reading Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov, and I honestly loved it. I was surprised by how much I felt like I was seeing a version of myself in the main character—like, especially if you’re the type who procrastinates or can totally waste an entire day in bed without anything forcing you to get up. It also feels weirdly current to me. Apathy and laziness have always been around, sure, but it seems like tech (and maybe how people are raised these days, plus less actual hanging out/socializing) has made way more people turn into shut-ins and professional time-wasters than older generations did. So I’m curious—what are some older/classic books that still feel super relevant now, not just “timeless” in general?
By HawkBirch2001
Oblomov really feels like the personification of inertia. It’s by Goncharov, set in 19th century Russia, and the guy’s a nobleman who basically can’t commit to anything—or even get up in the morning. You pick up right away on that super fatalistic, lazy way of looking at life. But… it’s not just that. He also comes off as genuinely sincere, and as you keep reading you end up getting more and more pulled in. I swear some of the best chapters are in here, with really nice thoughts on love and what life’s about, through both the people who actually do things and the ones who just sit back.
By Lake_Frog
I just realized I’ve barely read any of the famous pre-WWII American stuff, at least compared to what I’ve read from other places. I’ve only really done Hemingway and Steinbeck before, so I figured I’d start with *The Great Gatsby*. I read it… and I honestly didn’t like it. It felt really different from the books I usually end up connecting with. Also, my English isn’t great for long book discussions, so I’ll keep it simple. A few things just didn’t work for me: - The main characters don’t feel relatable to me. I’m used to that more inward, unsure, “thinking about life and fate” type of protagonist. Like Oblomov, Bezuhov/Rostova, Bazarov, even stuff like Ilya/Ivan—whatever. With Gatsby and Nick, they just seemed kind of plain or shallow to me. I know they’re supposed to be “ordinary,” but I kept wanting more inner questioning, if that makes sense. - It doesn’t feel tragic enough. I kind of expect a “real” book to crush you a bit—like, proper catharsis, no matter if you want it or not. In my head tragedy usually means someone gets seriously ruined: killed, completely mad, dying of something, etc. Gatsby just didn’t feel miserable in a way that made the ending hit. Reading it felt more suffocating than meaningful, and part of that is probably intentional (summer heat, awkward hangouts), but still… I didn’t feel like it paid off. - And the American Dream theme is just totally not my thing. It feels alien, and I can’t really care about it. For one thing, in the Russian lit I’m used to, status/wealth aren’t really the “goal” the characters chase as much, and in the 20th century with communism, the idea of success is different. Plus, I’m just a leftie, so yeah… all the golf, fancy cars, gardens, boats, jewelry, cocktails—it honestly made me feel gross. Maybe that’s what the author wanted, but it didn’t land for me. So now I’m wondering if it’s actually my background clashing with the book, or if I’m just making excuses and overthinking why I “didn’t get it.” Do you think there’s a real connection there?
By cosmiccat4595
This summer I’m trying to stick to the most Russian novels I can, and I’m hoping for some advice from people who’ve read a lot of them. I’ve got a list of what I’ve already read and what I plan to get to, with the ones I’ve read in italics and the rest in bold. EDIT: obviously there’s no way I’m getting through all of these. Which ones would you say are the best, or your favorites?
By restless_garden68
If you find out, let us know.
By heatherkey1989
So over the last few months I’ve read both *Lolita* and *The Brothers Karamazov*, and they ended up becoming some of my favorite books. I guess Nabokov and Dostoevsky were my first Russian authors, and I honestly feel like the way they write (and what they get into) is better than basically anything else I’ve read. I just grabbed *War and Peace* today and I’m gonna start it as soon as I finish the book I’m on. Since I’m kind of getting obsessed with Russian lit now, I’m curious—what should I know about Russian authors in general? What do you all think of Russian lit? Who are the best ones to check out next? And are there any poets I should read, or some lesser-known books/authors people don’t really talk about much?
By TGrand8
I guess it’s worth trying to read at least once. :) I know the best-read person I’ve ever met really loves this book—she’s read basically everything. I don’t really get her taste on this one, but it’s still kind of interesting. I keep wondering if she just liked it because it has that whole cultured-idle vibe, like some kind of patron saint thing for people who do nothing.