Fathers and Sons

The Russian title of this novel would be more accurately translated Fathers and Children, but the name by which it is usually called in English is good enough, since at the heart of the story are two sons. Arkady is the first introduced, but in the course of the plot plays the second lead, the friend and would-be disciple of Bazanov, a self-styled Nihilist. Turgenev is famously credited with inventing the term and is often regarded as a prophet of future developments in Russian history. That would reduce Bazanov to a type and do Turgenev the novelist a disservice. It’s also important to be clear that “nihilist” is not “anarchist,” nor is it “Bolshevist.” It is simply the refusal to believe in anything, whether expert or show more institution. Bazanov is suitably impatient with all abstract concepts, seemingly unaware of the contradiction of an allegiance to Nihilism, which, after all, is simply another “-ism.”

Turgenev creates in Bazanov a strong, complex character, while at the same time gently deflating his pretensions. Bazanov’s naive assumption that the Russian serf, on the cusp of emancipation as the book opens, embodies the true soul of Russia is lampooned. Arkady, his companion, is effete, and a further disciple, Sitnikov, is depicted as ridiculous, although one suspects he is just the kind of personality who will end up on top when the upheaval finally comes.

The final undoing of their nihilist stance is, unsurprisingly, the experience of love, something the two friends had dismissed as illusory until they met two remarkable women, the young widow Madame Odintsova, and her sister Katya.

In a final irony, Bazanov meets his untimely demise in a manner that reflects his contradictions. He had studied chemistry and medicine. Although he rejects the illusion of scientific progress, he is insatiably curious, spending much of his time dissecting frogs. When a person he is tending dies, Bazanov obtains permission to dissect the cadaver, but accidentally cuts himself and contracts typhus.

Until now, I’ve spoken only of the sons, and the final difficulty with the title of this book is that the fathers are set first, although the plot follows the sons more closely. In their case, too, it’s essential to be clear about what they are not. They are not reactionary Slavophiles, the kind of figures one would expect nihilists to despise. They are minor, mildly impoverished but well-connected landowners. They accept the imminent emancipation of the serfs and have already apportioned their land to theirs and placed them on a wage system, something that has failed to improve the lot of either landlord or tenant. They love their sons, even to the point of idolizing them, and the sons love the fathers yet scoff at their well-intentioned but ineffectual liberalism (if there is anything politically prophetic about this book, it is this).

Compared to the elephantine masterpieces of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, this book more closely accords with Western European ideals of a novel. Yet it is at heart a Russian novel, one that reflects the author’s lover’s quarrel with his native land and its people, yet, as with any good book, you don’t have to be Russian to read and enjoy. show less

La mejor novela de Iván Turguéniev (o al menos, la mejor que he leído hasta el momento). Una historia sobre las dificultades para salvar las diferencias morales e ideológicas que representa la brecha generacional entre padres e hijos, pero también una metáfora del choque entre la aristocracia y las ideas que eventualmente llevarían a la Revolución y, por consiguiente, al pensamiento actual. Magistralmente escrita, es una obra que merece un lugar destacado en el panteón ruso, ahí justo al lado de Tolstoi y Dostoievski.

I'm always excited when I begin to read a title from Russian literature to read, because despite initially looking daunting and portentous, all of them (but particularly Tolstoy and Dostoevsky) prove to be deep and layered, cultured and weighty and yet surprisingly easy to read. Ivan Turgenev's Fathers and Sons was much the same way, particularly in being easy to read, and yet having finished it I find myself with less to say about it than I expected I would.

Whereas Tolstoy and Dostoevsky would root powerful themes deep within their stories, and their characters and structure would successfully embody these themes, Turgenev's attempts to do so here are more mixed. My English translation by Rosemary Edmonds, first published (perhaps not show more coincidentally) in the mid-1960s, emphasises the generational gap between Bazarov and Arkady and their fathers, the obvious 'fathers and sons' of the book's title. The youthful dissidence of Bazarov and Arkady latches on to the trendy ideology of nihilism, which stands at odds with the less exciting conservatism of their fathers' generation.

This is the obvious interpretation, but the society Turgenev paints – he does some fine character work – swirls so that one could also see it as the difficulty for anyone to understand another person: their emotions, feelings, ambitions and fears, particularly when they come into conflict with other people. "Possibly every human being is an enigma," Bazarov says on page 174, while in discussion with Madame Odintsov, and the frustrating romantic relationship the two share could be seen as another complement to the 'fathers and sons' generational narrative; that is, two people failing to understand another. "I did not understand you – you did not understand me," Madame Odintsov says a few pages later, before continuing: "I did not understand myself either" (pg. 183). This seems to recognise what drives Turgenev's novel: a cast of well-drawn characters who both clash and complement one another, all under the lens of the writer's microscope.

It leads to a lot of perfectly able writing, much of which is also narratively satisfying, but it denies the book a sharpness found in, for example, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky. Tolstoy would bring out the characters as a reflection of their time and his themes with more vivacity, whereas in Turgenev's novel the fact that events play out against the backdrop of the emancipation of the serfs (the peasant 'sons' becoming free of their patriarchal 'fathers') often seems incidental. And whereas Dostoevsky would strengthen the conflicting viewpoints of the characters so that their resulting clash was more profound, Turgenev, in contrast, doesn't seem to hold much respect for the nihilist viewpoint held by some of his younger characters, and waters it down. Some of his writing decisions seem almost satirical, such as Bazarov falling in love (an irony for a nihilist) or Arkady saying he accepts no authority in the same breath he names Bazarov as his mentor (pg. 138), though the book shies away from anything as pointed as satire.

The frustration Turgenev's characters feel in one another, then, is a frustration I also found myself in reading about them. Bazarov in particular is a wretched being, though Turgenev does bring a liveliness to both him and the other characters which justifies the book's continued status as a classic. This novel was the first major piece of Russian literature which found success in the West, and paved the way not only for his storied countrymen but also proved an influence in how later authors, such as Hemingway, explored their characters' emotions and reserve as an end in itself, rather than as subservient to a plot or adventure. But for all that I enjoyed its readability and its drawing of character, I couldn't help feeling that the novel hit limiters that greater literature would have burst through. Whereas Tolstoy and Dostoevsky still seem fresh and dynamic, even timeless, Fathers and Sons feels very much like 19th-century literature. show less

At social, historical and other inflection points, where older, received ways of doing and valuing things appear to have outlived their relevance, some kind of change is needed. The challenge is in instigating change and choosing a new direction. It seems that the nihilism Turgenev is attempting to understand in this novel is one way of instigating change through destructive negation, but it does so without choosing a new direction. The end point of nihilistic negation, as portrayed, appears to be the revelation our own insignificance as individuals, made insignificant by the vastness of time that has preceded us and that will extend after us, by the insignificant space that we occupy compared to vastness of space around us, or the show more insignificance of any action that we take or decision that we make amid all the actions and decisions made by others around us. The heart of complete nihilism appears to be paralyzing inaction because of its apparent fruitlessness even if nihilism itself appears to be the solution to paralyzing inaction due to the centripetal and conservative force of convention and custom.

I see this socio-historical tension expressed metaphorically as a generational difference between fathers and sons. The fathers represent received conventions and tendencies toward change or conservatism, but neither in the extreme. Both Arkady and Bazarov have elements of their fathers in them. That is, they are products of prevailing conventions and customs, passed on through their families. Eventually, Arkady adapts to the conventions and modern moral principles, finding direction in a modernist world. Despite Arkady's respect for Bazarov, he is nicely portrayed as being ultimately unable to fully internalize or appreciate Bazarov's tendency toward rejection and negation. Bazarov also has elements of his father in him, but his wholesale rejection of values and institutions, even those that could connect him to his own family, ultimately results in his death, which seems as much literal as figurative.

Turgenev's writing was truly artful. On one level the novel is a narrative presentation of ordinary events, but so many of the images and actions are rich with symbolic meaning, authorial points and counter-points in this philosophical investigation. This is a book that would reward multiple readings both because of the depth of meaning and because of the quality of the writing. show less

Every intellectually curious young man tends toward either Arkady or Bazarov. Whichever you are, following upon the key idea of Turgenev’s book, it would be best to seek out your counterpart. Turgenev knows that what makes Bazarov a charismatic and compelling character is that he actually is a lot more coherent than the people and the ideologies he sets himself against. There is a simple satisfaction easily acquired by the just-intelligent-enough, in negating any of the imperfect and absurd reasons that “normal “ people give themselves for existing. Nietzsche said that these negators were like lions set apart from the sheep, and like lions they can inspire awe, fear, and admiration. Nietzsche, like Turgenev before him, saw the show more dead end that one inevitably reached if one lived as a lion for too long. The true genius is one who can become like a child again, playfully engaging with the complexity of life, without animus or judgement.
Ironically, it is easier to become like a child as one grows older, when the passions of youth cool and experience reveals each and every dogma as the shadow that it is. Bazarov, in his extreme lion-ness, could never have grown old, and indeed he didn’t. show less

Every intellectually curious young man tends toward either Arkady or Bazarov. Whichever you are, following upon the key idea of Turgenev’s book, it would be best to seek out your counterpart. Turgenev knows that what makes Bazarov a charismatic and compelling character is that he actually is a lot more coherent than the people and the ideologies he sets himself against. There is a simple satisfaction easily acquired by the just-intelligent-enough, in negating any of the imperfect and absurd reasons that “normal “ people give themselves for existing. Nietzsche said that these negators were like lions set apart from the sheep, and like lions they can inspire awe, fear, and admiration. Nietzsche, like Turgenev before him, saw the show more dead end that one inevitably reached if one lived as a lion for too long. The true genius is one who can become like a child again, playfully engaging with the complexity of life, without animus or judgement.
Ironically, it is easier to become like a child as one grows older, when the passions of youth cool and experience reveals each and every dogma as the shadow that it is. Bazarov, in his extreme lion-ness, could never have grown old, and indeed he didn’t. show less

Toergenjev is een van de grootste Russische schrijvers, maar een die snel over het hoofd wordt gezien. In tegenstelling tot Dostojevski, die graag zijn genie aan de wereld liet zien, keert de kracht van Toergenjev zich meer naar binnen. De pracht van dit werk is er niet een die zich laat vangen in prachtige zinnen of poëtisch taalgebruik. Het is haast zoals Basarov, een van de hoofdpersonen in dit werk, zegt: romantiek is onzin.

De romantiek zit hem dan ook niet in lange, goed geformuleerde zinnen, maar eerder in de intrinsieke kracht van de hoofdpersonages.

Vaders en Zonen onderzoekt de kloof tussen ouders en hun zonen. Het speelt zich in de eindtijd van de romantiek, de tijd waarin de nihilisten steeds meer grond veroverden. De vaders show more representeren de romantici, de zonen de nihilisten. Dit is echter van tweede belang, centraal staat het onbegrip dat vaders voor het handelen van hun nageslacht hebben. Het gevoel, dat niemand zal ontlopen, de wereld niet meer te kunnen begrijpen. Dit is werkelijk het centrale thema van het boek: de illusie van eindeloze kracht van de jeugd tegenover het onbegrip en de rust van de ouderen.

Naast deze thematiek speelt ook de liefde een grote rol, zoals in alles wat menselijk is. Zelfs de grootste nihilist kan niet aan zijn menselijkheid ontsnappen en moet zich uiteindelijk betrappen op romantische gedachten. Toergenjev legt zijn personages zonder oordeel bloot: zowel de beperktheid van de ouderen als de naïviteit van de jeugd. De uiteindelijk gedachte van Toergenjev is dat ouders en zonen altijd op een vanzelfsprekende manier verbonden blijven, hoe ver zogenaamde principes hen ook zouden scheiden. In een zekere zin is dit ironisch genoeg een ietwat nihilistische conclusie: principes, overtuigingen, geloof en zelfs kennis doen er niet toe in het leven. Het is de liefde die telt. show less