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Whoah! Lermontov! Give me a warning before going off like that. I had no preparation for what I could expect out of this novel, but boy am I glad I picked it up. The structure of the book is slightly odd �� split into two parts, each part with multiple sections that go back and forth between narrators and style of story. Ultimately, the stories all gravitate toward the so-called “hero��, Grigory Alexandrovich Pechorin.

It’s hard not to become enamored by Pechorin’s charm. He carries himself with undeniable bravado and he refuses to show emotion beyond a certain threshold. If we look deep into ourselves, we may see that, despite protestations, we admire stability and command over character as desirable qualities. How cool is it that he walks in, not caring whether a hundred set of eyes are on him? He walks to the centre of the room, never taking his eyes off his beloved-to-be, says a few words, and leaves her there. She looks after him, pining, hardly believing her rotten luck. Why didn’t he ask her to dance? He, on the other hand, knows that he has planted a seed.

All good and fair. Here is the thing: the characteristics that Pechorin display are almost the dictionary definition of antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). And really, this isn’t so surprising. We have all seen one or two Netflix shows or heard one or two true crime podcasts to know that those displaying these characteristics are, indeed, irresistible personalities. Pechorin is no exception. Sure, he qualifies his deeds with rationalizations that make sense to him, but I am not here to judge, merely to report. He doesn’t conform to social norms, he is deceitful, he is impulsive, he shows disregard for others and himself, he consistently fails to take on responsibility, and he lacks remorse.

The foreword of my edition (which is a superb translation, by the way, done by Natasha Randall) has the following quote: “One of the most vivid and persuasive portraits of the male ego ever put down on paper.�� I am not sure if I agree with its author, Neil LaBute, on this particular matter. Like I said, the charm and temptation are there. Male or female, we will see something in Lermontov’s hero. But the crucial difference is between attraction and identification. I may be attracted to Pechorin’s demeanor, but I would never identify with it or aim to grow it in myself. The male ego does yearn for the command and subtlety, but not for the side effects of living life as this character. After all, who wants the volatility? Does anyone want the inability to trust others? Would anyone want that gnawing sense of dissatisfaction �� constantly trying new things, going to new places, taking up new hobbies, all for naught?