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My main issue with this book: too short. An odd thing to think of when the too short object in question is a Russian novel concerning cultural upheaval and aristocracy and all sorts of young ones running around screeching newfangled ideas at the top of their lungs, but 'tis true.

A while back, someone somewhere on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ coined the term 'soap opera with brains', a literature type that hasn't popped up in my reading since The Age of Reason but can be (much more enjoyably, I dare say) applied here with the highest accuracy. Amidst all the generation gaps and work force revolutions and 1860's Russia, there's quite a bit of drama that wears its intellectual trappings well enough to guarantee my enjoyment. And let me tell you, it is a rare thing indeed that guarantees my enjoyment when it comes to lighthearted webs of relationships both familial and romantic, so major kudos to the novel for that (sorry Turgenev, you're probably rolling in your grave at that last part, but it's true! and i'm grateful! you should be happy about that!).

Besides the unexpectedly delightful people with their unexpectedly delightful issues in dealing with each other, there are, of course, the ideas and their tectonic shifts, fully embodied in the young contorting themselves in every shape imaginable in their effort to get their old off their collective back. The word 'nihilism' gets thrown around quite a bit, but is rather a red herring if there ever was one that evokes more of the 'threat' Russia thought it was facing in the 1860's than the true stance lauded by Bazarov and Arkady, sons to their respective fanciful, 'romantic' fathers. Simply put, I understood both sides in both their positive and negative lights, and found their interactions and stances fascinating if not especially conducive to my choosing a side. Call it a preference for a mix and match rather than supposed neutrality, it both sounds better and makes more sense.

Finally, Bazarov. Like him, hate him, tie him to a tree and run far away, he won't leave you alone until you engage with him on some level, and then you'll never escape. There's nothing to more to say on that note.

However, as mentioned, the book was much too short. No sooner had I gotten a grasp on all the characters and their respective personal doctrines and settled in for the long run of social machinations both entertaining and insightful (Middlemarch, anyone?) boom! Climax, descent, conclusion, authorial note discussing the scandalized reception of the novel (if you can believe it) seven years after publication. Not cool, Turgenev. It's not fair of you to build up so well in such an intriguing manner, and then lop off all that hard won story potential and call it a day. But, you seemed pretty cool, so I will forgive you for it, and award four stars for what you did give us.

The reader is ready to take offense: he has to clear his own path rather than follow an established one. "Why should I trouble myself?" the reader involuntarily begins to think�"books exist for distraction not for breaking on'es head; and what would it cost the author to say how I should think about a particular figure—what he himself thinks of him!"

-Apropos of Fathers and Sons

Also, I can't fault a guy who writes stuff like the above too much. I just can't.