Title: A Hero of Our Time
Genre: Novel
Year: 1841
Pages: 190
Origin: read on the Kindle
Nod Rating: 5 nods out of 5
A second reading carries with it many heavy dangers. With the best of books a gratifying and lasting impression is left on the reader; the return of a read can explode earlier held beliefs. Second time round the plot-line is considered pedestrian, the characters two-dimensional, and the cynic within you takes control, finger-pointing all the flaws within the pages of the book. A Hero of Our Time was a second-read, and having consumed the first twenty or so pages the Worm had the sinking feeling that he had made a BIG mistake.
But alas, have no fear: A Hero of Our Time was and remains a 5 nodder read. A truly exceptional book written by a rather exceptional man following the exploits of a - yes, you guessed it - a perplexing and exceptional character. The novel follows the life of Pechorin, a man with more than an ample sprinkling of star-dust; all who come into contact are either dazzled or ignited with fury. The book’s structure is divided into shorter segments, with the chronology jumbled. The stories are told from different perspectives, thereby keeping this short read fresh and engaging. Each segment brings about a greater understanding of Pechorin, the anti-hero who can never commit, the man who strives his best to make sure he doesn't do any good and to avoid becoming bored by the life around him. His earlier confidante, Maksim Maksimych, says of him:
‘He was a splendid fellow, I can assure you, but a little peculiar. Why, to give you an instance, one time he would stay out hunting the whole day, in the rain and cold; the others would all be frozen through and tired out, but he wouldn’t mind either cold or fatigue. Then, another time, he would be sitting in his own room, and, if there was a breath of wind, he would declare that he had caught cold…Often enough you couldn’t drag a word out of him for hours together; but then, on the other hand, sometimes when he started telling stories, you would split your sides with laughing. Yes, sir, a very eccentric man…’However, he also admits that ‘there are some people with whom you absolutely have to agree’, with Pechorin being one of them. Pechorin can be seen as one particular character in a long list of anti-heroes in fiction. It was part of the “genre” of the superfluous man story; a theme picked up by other writers, notably the works by Turgenev. These Russian writers of the “golden generation” were influenced by earlier English poets, including the notion of the Byronic hero. As Pechorin tells Maksim Maksimych: ‘Mine is an unfortunate disposition; whether it is the result of my upbringing or whether it is innate – I know not. I only know this, that if I am the cause of unhappiness in others I myself am no less unhappy’, further noting that he does not know whether he is ‘a fool or a villain’. Such uncertainty reflects the shifting attitudes of a new generation within this time period. Yet he has a longing to find a home where he truly belongs; believing that this cannot be found in his current era amongst a generation that is going to waste:
‘I returned home by the deserted byways o the village. The moon, full and red like the glow of a conflagration, was beginning to make its appearance from behind the jagged horizon of the house-tops; the stars were shining tranquilly in the deep, blue vault of the sky; and I was struck by the absurdity of the idea when I recalled to mind that once upon a time there were some exceedingly wise people who thought that the stars of heaven participated in our insignificant squabbles for a slice of ground, or some other imaginary rights. And what then? These lamps, lighted, so they fancied, only to illuminate their battles and triumphs, are burning with all their former brilliance, whilst the wiseacres themselves, together with their hopes and passions, have long been extinguished, like a little fire kindled at the edge of a forest by a careless wayfarer! But, on the other hand, what strength of will was lent them by the conviction that the entire heavens, with their innumerable habitants, were looking at them with a sympathy, unalterable, though mute! And we, their miserable descendents, roaming over the earth, without faith, without pride, without enjoyment, and without terror – except that involuntary awe which makes the heart shrink at the thought of the inevitable end – we are no longer capable of great sacrifices, either for the good of mankind or even for our own happiness, because we know the impossibility of such happiness; and, just as our ancestors used to fling themselves from one delusion to another, we pass indifferently from doubt to doubt, without possessing, as they did, either hope or even that vague though, at the same time, keen enjoyment which the soul encounters at every struggle with mankind or with destiny.’Struggling to find his meaning in life, Pechorin is compelling throughout; but his actions add an ironic tone to the book’s title and fuels debate as to what it means to be a hero in such an era. As the preface notes:
‘A Hero of Our Time, my dear readers, is indeed a portrait, but not of one man. It is a portrait built up of all our generation's vices in full bloom. You will again tell me that a human being cannot be so wicked, and I will reply that if you can believe in the existence of all the villains of tragedy and romance, why wouldn't believe that there was a Pechorin? If you could admire far more terrifying and repulsive types, why aren't you more merciful to this character, even if it is fictitious? Isn't it because there's more truth in it than you might wish?’The likes of Grushnitski – one of Pechorin’s chief rivals – still cling to the old, failing romantic ideas. As Pechorin himself notes, Grushnitski has an aim ‘to make himself the hero of a novel’, adding an additional tongue-in-cheek remark relating to the book’s title. His hostility to those around him, people whom he believes are fakes and phonies (a theme later picked up by another anti-hero, Holden Caulfield, in The Catcher in the Rye), noting: ‘I sometimes despise myself. Is not that the reason why I despise others also?’
Pechorin could be considered a closely veiled version of the author, Lermontov. The writer is an intriguing person, having lived a short life, dying at the age of twenty-six in a duel; much like his hero Pushkin, and a fate avoided by the scheming of Pechorin in the novel. Such a death-wish hints at a nihilistic streak favoured by so many of these writers and their characters, including – again – Turgenev’s interesting young generation in Fathers and Sons (another book the Worm fears returning to for a second-read).
His eventual fate is left unsaid and unknown. The compelling heart of this novel is that each reader will take home a different idea of Pechorin, thereby defeating any hopes to truly understanding him. As he states towards one of the stories climaxes: ‘And tomorrow, it may be, I shall die! And there will not be left on earth one being who has understood me completely’. The Worm beseeches all who read this blog to pick up a copy as soon as possible and to attempt the great-game of understanding Pechorin.
Buy it here
