You gotta love a book where it takes the main character almost 100 pages just to get out of bed.
Tolstaya's On the Golden Porch is incredible as well; I gotta get a copy of this new translation of Oblomov!
I think many Bolsheviks pointed to Oblomov as the epitome of lazy, imperial Russia.
Looks like you need a "Literature" orange thingy by the heading.
The first time I tried to read Oblomov I was five years old, and I was seduced by the gray pencil sketch on the cover. I didn't finish it.
The second time was when I was twelve, and I was excited about it being Russian. I didn't finish it.
The third time I tried to read Oblomov I was graduating from college and I was depressed and listless and identified a lot with the guy. I didn't finish it.
Now it's this enormous symbol of every book I've never finished, and I kind of like it that way. What better than a novel about a man who can't do anything for that role?
The warmest places in your heart must be getting crowded.
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