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Fathers and Sons (FS) apparently pleased no one on in Russia on publication, and if not precisely ‘shocked� the muchadumbre, then surely ruffled feathers and rubbed salt in fresh wounds: that, in any event, is the general promise in the blurb on the back cover of the book. Goody. I like a scandal better than the next person, for sure. So I tore into it with gusto.

Alas, though. There is no scandal to be had here. I mean, not even remotely: not even a whiff of it. The big brouhaha seems to evolve around the character of Bazarov, a self proclaimed nihilist, who does naught else but pontificate grandly throughout: rejects everything on principle (or perhaps as a principle) (as being outmoded, unscientific and stupid), but has no new platform to offer. As he puts it, ‘first lets destroy everything, raze it to the ground, and we’ll worry about re-building later�. Having said that, there is no razing to be done here either: FS is really very peaceful: the plot line is singularly simple (in fact, if it were any simpler, there’d be NO plot line). Two rather lazy graduates, Arcady and Bazarov, travel from one paternal home to another, back and forth, stopping off on the way at Nicholshoe, the estate of two sisters (Katya and Anna Odinskaya, who become the love interests respectively) which conveniently lies exactly on the ‘flight path�, thus ensuring a straightline trajectory back and forth, the main point of which is not to bother the reader too much with the intricacies of plot. Just for the sake of completeness, although this is a character driven novel, there isn’t an overabundance of those either. Arcady and Bazarov are conveniently ‘only� children (a rather contrived coincidence at a time when there were just no stoppers on procreation). This of course is a ploy to create an chamber ensemble where philosophical ideas can flow purely and purposefully without dilution from multiple voices. So, having set up this simple mis-en-scene, Turgenev sets on to the nitty gritty then.

Bazarov isn’t going to shock anyone today. In fact, his raison d’etre is practically the building blocks of our modern ‘yoof�: rebels without a cause. Bazarov (who did have a cause) has, in fact, been reincarnated in that iconic trope of our times, the ‘Kevin�. This might very well be a Britishism, but everyone will know what I mean.

But why was Bazarov so shocking back then? Clearly, I can’t let this go. I mean, Bazarov shocked a whole nation in 1861, what kind of apathetic reader can let this slide by without further investigation if they don’t know why? Deep internet trawls reveal a background of a humiliated intelligentsia on the back of the loss of the Crimean War, aware Russia has been left behind in the European technological, ideological and ‘business development� stakes, and deeply split on how to fix this. The Slavophiles, whose Bakunin style popular concept of negation and denouncement of Alexander II reforms (including the emancipation of serfs in 1861) vs. The Westernisers, (Turgenev amongst them), who, although operating without a clear and consistent political doctrine, support all things western in their search for progression. The former view Bazarov as an insulting caricature of their cause, and the latter view him as a dirty rotten nihilistic scoundrel. Meanwhile, the West view him as the first proper literary nihilist and take to Turgenev like a house on fire.

Bazarov of course is only a half baked nihilist. He throws over his ideology at the alter of Madame Odinskaya’s feet, asks his mother for superstitious style old world blessings and engages in a positively Romantic style duel with Arkady’s uncle. Academics are having a field day, as we speak, at tracing the Byronic influences on his character.
The Slovophile vs. Westerniser match off is fascinating. This isn’t merely a semantic stand-off, a few after dinner soundbites being bandied about over brandy and a cigar. Now that I know about it, I can spot the elephant in the room practically in every chapter. At one point, Arkady and Bazarov praise Anna for her excellent use of Russian. This is a passing sentence, and its easy to just gloss over it, but ..really....exactly what language, I wonder, should Anna Odinskaya, a Russian aristocrat, born, raised and living in Russia, be speaking, if not Russian? Well, apparently, French. Knock me over with a feather, but those Russian aristocrats, from Catherine the Great’s time (circa 1799) to late nineteenth century got so big for their britches they started parleying in French from cradle to grave and couldn’t even speak their own language!! Of all, I say, all the high falutin�, sycophantic, preposterous things you could do, if this just doesn’t take the cake. (Well, I know the English did it too, but a full 1000 years earlier. After William of Normandy conquered and unified England in 1066, the court spoke French for the next 300 years. But, thats because the Normans were French to begin with!). My point is, in a situation like this, a Slavophile vs Westerniser disagreement might just take on slightly larger proportions than just a semantic joust.

One thing neither side disagreed on was the need to free the serfs. (Which partially happened in 1861). Russian serfs, from what I can gather, were little better off than slaves. They were, in fact slaves. Tied to the estate, forbidden to marry outside the estate, or move out of the estate, propelled into wars by their ‘masters�, toiling, unpaid, all day long.....yup, definitely slaves. This agreement to free the serfs, though should not be taken as a carte blanche acknowledgement of an intrinsic serf worth: on the contrary, both sides are united in a blanket wave of derision and general despising of the peasants. FS is littered with condescending and derogatory remarks about the serfs, who are invariably being flogged for being fools, drunkards and thieves. Having said that, they are also an integral part of country living, in the way Mamie rules the roost at Tara in Gone with the Wind.

Midway through the novel Turgenev does a very naughty love quadrangle turn and twist worthy of a Shakesperean aficionado. Everybody falls in love with everyone else before they shakily settle into the ultimate equilibrium. The Bazarov/Anna Odinskaya link is easily recognisable although none the less sad for it: two cynics who are too jaded for each other.

So then, thats for background. How does Turgenev do, with all of this? I got to shout it loud and clear from the mountaintop now: he delivers! I bawled like a baby twice in this reading, and thats saying something: I can’t remember the last time I had a teary eye. It was Bazarov ‘wot done it both times: first when he left his parents after only a three day soujourn, and in the end.....(you know what I mean). So this novel was shocking, in the end: I was shocked at how easily it moved me. I even had a moment of self doubt: was I going soft in the head? Well, much to my relief, I gather Turgenev elicits similar responses from many a reader, and in particular his contemporaries. Apparently Flaubert was astounded by him, George Sand looked up to him, James was influenced by him and only, apparently Meredith matches his pathos in terms of the ‘dying scene� in terms of contemporaries. I haven’t read any Meredith whatsoever. Its looking like Egoist and the Ordeal of Richard Feverel might be next.