SECOND READING: 49

Oblomov, By Ivan Goncharov (1859)

IT IS EASY to dream of a glorious and romantic future, if far more difficult to achieve anything like one. Ilya Ilyich Oblomov spends a great deal of his time day dreaming when not actually engaged in his preferred occupation, sleeping. Yes he is idle, lazy beyond belief, finds the mere business of existence too taxing to contemplate and is undeniably human. As he lies on his sofa, issuing half-hearted orders to Zakhar, his slovenly servant, Oblomov attempts to keep his mind clear, mainly because thinking is exhausting.

The son of a long-dead landowner, Oblomov, gentleman and failed civil servant, suspects that the estate is being badly managed yet he can do nothing about it as taking action on anything has never being his strength. He must also vacate his apartment, small wonder he would rather go back to bed.

Even by the daunting standards of the 19th century Russian novel, Oblomov is unforgettable, as funny as it is heartbreaking. It is also a daring, intriguingly philosophical book; its central theme is apathy and the collapse of one man’s life. Goncharov, stylistically poles apart from his elegant rival Turgenev, sidestepped the violence and the radical politics of Dostoyevsky. Nor was he drawn to the social panoramic of Tolstoy, although the narrative does evoke a colourful sense of Russian life. After all, miles away from Oblomov’s flat in Petersburg are the serfs working on what is left of the family estate.

Goncharov, a career civil servant with a familiarity with censorship, concentrated on the ordinary, making effective use of domestic ritual and daily life as lived by a small group of characters, including two very different women in love. The vivid comic exchanges between Oblomov, a likeable, if detached anti-hero with no ambition beyond his next nap, and the feisty, old family retainer Zakhar are brilliant, as are the descriptions of the visits made by various friends. But it soon becomes obvious that Oblomov’s lifestyle is not only chaotic, it is dangerous. Although little past 30 he is slowly killing himself as he slides deeper into a deadly inertia.

Even if he is too lazy to fulfil social engagements Oblomov is possessed of “an honest and faithful heart” and friends call, attempting to lure him out. He is also prey to a cynical scrounger called Tarantyev whose role in the book becomes increasingly sinister.

Acting as a foil to all of the crumpled paper, dust and crumbs is Stolz, a brisk man of action and Oblomov’s boyhood friend. They love each other with an intensity of which only exact opposites are capable. Through Stolz, Oblomov meets Olga, an idealistic romantic who is as impressive as she is terrifying in her passion. Their relationship pivots on confused emotions and the most interesting dialogue ever exchanged between aspiring lovers. As Oblomov forcefully encounters his emotions he also becomes aware of social pressures. Further complications develop when he is tricked into agreeing to take new lodgings.

In 1849, a decade before the novel appeared, Goncharov published a long section from it, Oblomov’s Dream, an idealised celebration of the protected childhood world our Everyman knew growing up on the family estate.

The ease of a life where clothes and food were supplied by willing hands dominates his memory. Here was a time when he had no responsibility. It becomes possible to understand Oblomov’s dilemma and grasp the sense of honour which prevents him from finding a romantic happiness which is offered to him. Through chance and his inherent laziness, he drifts towards another form of comfort which reminds him of his past. Organised, directed, superhero Stolz learns affection can become love. Goncharov succeeds in steering the narrative through some lengthy philosophical dissections of love and metaphysics which could have been written by Goethe. Oblomov remains sympathetic and his final meeting with the bewildered Stolz is subtly underplayed.

This poignant, richly layered tragic-comic study of one man’s acknowledgement of his inability to battle his nature, also explores love in its many guises against the colourful background provided by a Russia caught between tradition and change.

• This is a weekly series in which Eileen Battersby revisits titles from the literary canon