Fathers and children: a novel

Front Cover
William Heinemann, 1900 - 358 pages
38 Reviews
 

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LibraryThing Review

User Review  - ThothJ - LibraryThing

A great example of Russian literature at its finest. The only great writers coming out of this country weren't only Tolstoy and Doesevski. After reading this novel for a history class, I downloaded a bunch more of his work to my Kindle, for later reading. Enjoy! Read full review

LibraryThing Review

User Review  - Michael.Xolotl - LibraryThing

3.5 stars. I would've liked it much more when I was younger, but, nearing eighty, the first thoughts and loves and rebellions and other conceits of the characters were a bit flat. Reading it felt a ... Read full review

Contents

I
1
II
7
III
11
IV
21
V
29
VI
40
VII
46
VIII
56
XV
130
XVI
138
XVII
155
XVIII
174
XIX
183
XX
196
XXI
214
XXII
242

IX
68
X
74
XI
95
XII
102
XIII
111
XIV
122
XXIII
252
XXIV
264
XXV
293
XXVI
311
XXVII
325
XXVIII
351

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Page 347 - Well, what had I to say to you ... I loved you ! there was no sense in that even before, and less than ever now. Love is a form, and my own form is already breaking up. Better say how lovely you are ! And now here you stand, so beautiful . . .' Anna Sergyevna gave an involuntary shudder. ' Never mind, don't be uneasy. ... Sit down there. . . . Don't come close to me ; you know, my illness is catching.
Page 103 - The same author, in his Fathers and Children (p. 107), writes: "The Governor invited Kirsanov and Bazarov to his ball, and within a few minutes invited them a second time, regarding them as brothers, and calling them Kisarov.
Page 349 - He at once took his hand away, and raised himself. "Good-bye," he said with sudden force, and his eyes gleamed with their last light. "Good-bye. Listen — you know I didn't kiss you then. Breathe on the dying lamp, and let it go out." Anna Sergyevna put her lips to his forehead. "Enough!" he murmured, and dropped back on to the pillow. * Now — darkness — " Anna Sergyevna went softly out. " Well ? " Vassily Ivanovitch asked her in a whisper.
Page 277 - There's no need to recall the past," rejoined Bazarov; "and as regards the future, it's not worth while for you to trouble your head about that either, for I intend being off without delay. Let me bind up your leg now; your wound's not serious, but it's always best to stop bleeding.
Page 176 - Vassilyitch!" she said, and there was the ring of unconscious tenderness in her voice. He turned quickly, flung a searching look on her, and snatching both her hands, he drew her suddenly to his breast. She did not at once free herself from his embrace, but an instant later she was standing far away in a corner, and looking from there at Bazarov. He rushed at her. . . . "You have misunderstood me," she whispered hurriedly, in alarm.
Page 34 - Who regards everything from the critical point of view," observed Arkady. "Isn't that just the same thing?" inquired Pavel Petrovitch "No, it's not the same thing. A nihilist is a man who does not bow down before any authority, who does not take any principle on faith, whatever reverence that principle may be enshrined in.
Page 62 - Surely the woman of the house must be a German, was the idea that occurred to him; but she proved to be a Russian, a woman of about fifty, neatly dressed, of a good-looking, sensible countenance and discreet speech. He entered into conversation with her at tea; he liked her very much. Nikolai Petrovitch had at that time only just moved into his new home, and not wishing to keep serfs in the house, he was on the lookout for wage-servants; the woman of the inn on her side complained of the small number...
Page 124 - The Governor came up to Madame Odintsov, announced that supper was ready, and, with a careworn face, offered her his arm. As she went away, she turned to give a last smile and bow to Arkady. He bowed low, looked after her (how graceful her figure seemed to him, draped in the greyish lustre of the black silk !), and thinking, 'This minute she has forgotten my existence/was conscious of an exquisite humility in his soul.
Page 92 - But to renounce poetry ? ' he thought again ; ' to have no feeling for art, for nature . . .' And he looked round, as though trying to understand how it was possible to have no feeling for nature. It was already evening ; the sun...
Page 58 - ... lyre-shaped backs, bought by the late general as far back as the campaign of 1812; in one corner was a high, small bedstead under a muslin canopy, near an ironbound chest with a rounded lid. In the opposite corner a little image-lamp was burning before a big dark icon of St.

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