Reviews of the book “Hero of Our Time” by Mikhail Lermontov
“I was created stupidly: I don’t forget anything, nothing!”
" Well?
die like that die! the loss to the world is small; and I’m pretty bored myself. I am like a man yawning at a ball who does not go to bed only because his carriage is not yet there. But the carriage is ready... goodbye!..” I have several favorite books from the school curriculum that I like to re-read regularly, and “A Hero of Our Time” is one of them, perhaps even the most favorite...
A lot of excellent reviews have been written about this book by both critics and literary scholars, and here on LiveLib there are plenty of reviews for this wonderful book - why repeat it? Therefore, my review is purely personal impressions (without a detailed analysis of the work), so to speak, a few thoughts on the topic...
«And many other similar thoughts passed through my mind; I didn’t hold them back because I don’t like to dwell on some abstract thought. And what does this lead to?.. In my first youth I was a dreamer, I loved to caress alternately gloomy and rosy images that my restless and greedy imagination painted for me. But what does this leave me with? just tired
, like after a night battle with a ghost, and a vague memory filled with regrets.
In this vain struggle I exhausted both the heat of my soul and the constancy of will necessary for real life; I entered this life having already experienced it mentally, and I felt bored and disgusted, like someone who reads a bad imitation of a book he has long known .
A novel (or story? travel notes? memoirs of Pechorin?), the attitude towards which practically does not change over time. It’s an amazing thing: you change, you grow up, but you still read with trepidation the pages dedicated to the life of Grigory Alexandrovich Pechorin.
- Why give hope? - Why did you hope? I understand wanting and achieving something, but who hopes?
The image as a collection of vices (from the preface to the book) turned for me, on the contrary, into a collection of virtues. Strength and nobility, determination and courage (I repeat that I am writing exclusively about personal impressions after reading), foresight and intelligence, the desire for independence from everything and everyone (especially from women who never had power over him), fatalism...
«Why do they all hate me? - I thought. - For what? Have I offended anyone
? No. Am I really one of those people whose mere sight generates ill will?”
I could go on and on - Pechorin is also one of my favorite literary heroes (it happens that I like a book, but not the hero, for example, like Doctor Zhivago, I like everything in A Hero of Our Time). He will never stoop to take revenge on a woman, he is not petty and not vindictive, he even seems to have no ambitions (at least in the book the author does not emphasize this).
“I like to doubt everything: this disposition of mind does not interfere with the decisiveness of my character - on the contrary, as for me, I always move forward more boldly when I do not know what awaits me. After all, nothing worse can happen than death—and you can’t escape death!”
He's not touchy. He can be a serious opponent to another man, but never to a woman. This is probably why all the beautiful people in the book like him so much and everyone remembers him almost with reverence. He does not promise anything to any of them, his indifference somehow becomes unusually attractive. For all. Perhaps the most beautiful book in Russian literature about love...
«I run through my entire past in my memory and involuntarily ask myself: why did I live? for what purpose was I born?.. And, it’s true, it existed, and, it’s true, I had a high purpose, because I feel immense strength in my soul... But I did n’t guess this purpose, I was carried away by the lures of empty and ungrateful passions
;
I came out of their crucible hard and cold as iron, but I lost forever the ardor of noble aspirations - the best light of life. And since then, how many times have I played the role of an ax in the hands of fate! Like an instrument of execution, I fell on the heads of the doomed victims, often without malice, always without regret... My love did not bring happiness to anyone, because I did not sacrifice anything for those I loved: I loved for myself, for my own pleasure
: I only satisfied a strange need of the heart, greedily absorbing their feelings, their joys and sufferings - and could never get enough
.
It is interesting to see how preferences for parts of a work change over the years. In my youth, I remember when I read it for the first time, I really liked “Bela” (that’s understandable - the chapter seemed to me the height of romanticism), then, a couple of years later, while reading the novel, I was crazy about “Fatalist” (I also believe in predestination). But now, oddly enough, I liked “Taman” most of all (for some reason I didn’t like this chapter at all at school). Such an amazing book for all ages of life...
If we talk about personal impressions, how can we ignore the film adaptations?
I watched about 8 years ago (I don’t remember the exact time) a Russian mini-series based on Lermontov with Igor Petrenko in the title role:
Well, what can I say... I wasn’t impressed somehow. The actor is, of course, handsome, who can argue? But in drawing us the image of Pechorin, Lermontov never focused on beauty. Pechorin is daring, charisma, charm. some kind of detachment...
But somehow I also watched another film adaptation (or rather, even a theatrical production) with Oleg Dal in the title role.
I liked this director’s vision of my favorite literary hero much more: in my opinion, it is closer to the truth.
«Whether I am a fool or a villain, I don’t know; but it is true that I am also very worthy of pity, perhaps more than she: my soul is spoiled by light, my imagination is restless, my heart is insatiable; I can't get enough:
I get used to sadness just as easily as to pleasure, and my life becomes emptier day by day...
Everyone read on my face signs of bad feelings that were not there;
but they were anticipated - and they were born .
I was modest - I was accused of guile: I became secretive. I felt good and evil deeply; no one caressed me, everyone insulted me: I became vindictive; I was gloomy, - other children were cheerful and talkative; I felt superior to them; they put me below. I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world, but no one understood me: and I learned to hate
.
My colorless youth passed in a struggle with myself and the world; Fearing ridicule, I buried my best feelings in the depths of my heart: they died there. I told the truth - they didn’t believe me: I began to deceive; Having learned well the light and springs of society, I became skilled in the science of life and saw how others were happy without art, freely enjoying the benefits that I so tirelessly sought. And then despair was born in my chest
- not the despair that is treated with the barrel of a pistol, but
cold, powerless despair, covered with courtesy and a good-natured smile
.”
A book for all times. Closing the last page, I’m already looking forward to a new meeting))
Re-read as part of the game “Back to the Past”
Hero of our time. Work by M. Lermontov (review 1840)
Essay by M. Lermontov. Saint Petersburg. In the printing house of Ilya Glazunov. 1840. On the 12th day. In two parts. In I - 173, in II - 250 pages.
Finally, among the pale and ephemeral works of Russian literature of this year, works of which only perhaps some have relative merit and only a few are notable in a negative sense, a poetic creation finally appeared, breathing the fresh, youthful, luxurious life of a strong and original creative talent. “A Hero of Our Time” belongs to those phenomena of true art that, occupying and delighting the attention of the public, like literary news, turn into lasting literary capital, which over time increases more and more with the right interest. Yes, this is not a novel, not a story, which, when they appear, will arouse general attention, even make a noise, and then will soon be forgotten and join the dead archive of resolved events. Readers of "Notes of the Fatherland" already know three excerpts from "A Hero of Our Time": "Bela", "Fatalist" and "Taman", from which they can guess the merits of the whole work. We say - guess, because “A Hero of Our Time” is by no means a collection of several stories published in two books and connected only by one common title: no, this is not a collection of stories and short stories - this is a novel in which there is one hero and one main idea, artistically developed. Anyone who has not read the greatest story of this novel, “Princess Mary,” cannot judge either the idea or the dignity of the whole creation. The main idea of the novel is developed in the main character - Pechorin, and you see Pechorin as the hero of the novel only in the second part, which begins with “Princess Mary”; “Bela”, “Maksim Maksimych” and “Preface” (not published anywhere before) only greatly arouse your curiosity with the mysterious character of the hero, with whom you become fully acquainted only through “Princess Mary”; After reading this story, “Bela” herself appears before you in a new light.
Mr. Lermontov's novel is imbued with unity of thought, and therefore, despite its occasional fragmentation, it cannot be read in a manner other than the order in which the author himself arranged it: otherwise you will read two excellent stories and several excellent short stories, but you will not know the novel. There is not a page, not a word, not a line that was thrown by chance; here everything comes out of one main idea and everything returns to it. So the line of the circle returns to the point from which it left, and no one will find this starting point. The main idea of Mr. Lermontov's novel lies an important modern question about the inner man, a question to which everyone will respond, and therefore the novel should arouse everyone's attention, all the interest of our public. A deep sense of reality, a true instinct for truth, simplicity, artistic depiction of characters, richness of content, irresistible charm of presentation, poetic language, deep knowledge of the human heart and modern society, broadness and boldness of the brush, strength and power of spirit, luxurious fantasy, inexhaustible abundance of aesthetic life, originality and originality are the qualities of this work, which represents a completely new world of art. All this forced us to pay full attention to it and thoroughly introduce our readers to it, revealing to them the richness of the aesthetic life contained in it: in the “Critique” section of one of the following books of “Domestic Notes” readers will find a detailed analysis of Mr. Lermontov’s poetic creation.
Reader's diary based on the novel “Hero of Our Time” by Lermontov
Plot. The officer meets the brave staff captain Maxim Maksimych in the Caucasus. He tells him the story of his friend and subordinate Grigory Aleksandrovich Pechorin and the Circassian Bela. Pechorin kidnapped her from home in exchange for the dashing horse of the robber Kazbich. Pechorin quickly became bored with the love of a savage, but that same Kazbich put an end to the story. He kidnaps a girl and injures her while escaping from his pursuers. She dies in Pechorin's arms. He leaves the fortress.
Now, after a while, Maxim Maksimych finds out that Pechorin is in the city. They meet, but as if they were barely acquaintances. Pechorin leaves for Persia and forgets to pick up his notes from the good staff captain. He gives them to that same random officer. When news arrives that their author is dead, the officer publishes his journal.
It describes Pechorin's clash with smugglers in Taman. He was nearly drowned by a smuggler's girlfriend, with whom he had fallen in love. He stirs up a nest of robbers - they run and abandon the blind boy, their faithful assistant.
After a while, already in the Cossack village, he is present when the officers are talking about predestination, fate, which no one can deceive. One of them, Vulich, shoots himself on a dare - and remains alive thanks to the misfire. Pechorin sees that this man is still not a tenant. And that same night Vulich will be killed by a drunken Cossack. Pechorin will even risk his life by participating in the capture of his killer. He shares this strange incident with Maxim Maksimych, but he does not see much mysticism in it. This is where the journal entries end.
