Oblomov - Ivan Gonchorov
I mean, it’s all right. The book reads a lot like other Russian novels I’ve read; it’s a straightforward telling of a person’s life with a hint of pedantism.
I mean, if I were Oblomov I would probably do the same thing too. What do I mean, “if”? I mean I do more than Oblomov but the language we use was frighteningly similar. I look at other people who do a lot more than I do, and tell myself wow what a miserable life, to put so much energy into something so superfluous.
But then I was thinking about the book some more, and one thing I noticed was that Oblomov could not have done what he did, without the help of others. For most of the story, he is dependent on his servant(?) Zakhar, who was often expressedly begrudging to comply with his every command, but we find out at the end of the book that he himself had felt a strong affection towards Oblomov because of this relationship. Oblomov then moves on from his estate in Oblomovka, and ends up not only becoming financially dependent on his caretaker (who charges him for her services despite most likely knowing that he wasn’t in any position to pay it back anytime soon), but also marries her and has children. (This being the big reveal when Scholtz tries to take him away to live together in his manor)
So then the question becomes, maybe not that we should focus so much on Oblomov himself as the problem, as much as the support he had around him that enabled his behavior, and most probably because they benefitted from it. Whether it be the case of Zakhar and Oblomov’s wife, who are almost naturally wired to need people dependent on them, or the case of Oblomov’s grandmother, who dissuaded him from anything that remotely resembles danger for fear of permanent injury, Oblomov was always surrounded by people who had personal stake on him remaining exactly the way he was.
And yet in a similar vein, it’s also not so easy to say that Olga and Scholtz are the good guys. Members of aristocracy, if they’re not bed-bound like Oblomov was, are put under very high expectations of great knowledge in the arts and sciences. They’re meeting multiple people every day in their private lives, and when they’re not, they’re exchanging opinions on the books they’ve read, the art they’ve comsumed. It’s not a very friendly environment for someone like Oblomov at all; it’s a system that requires you to always be running, but constant warns you that that’s also dangerous.
I don’t really have a clear conclusion in mind, only just to say that you can feel some pity for Oblomov. Pushed around by so many expectations and the obligations that soon turn into debt if you don’t satisfy them quickly enough. It obviously wasn’t much of a life, and his remarks of the lives of others being too tiring and meaningless make you want to scoff, but you start to think maybe he’s right?