Deliciosa novela cortísima donde el escritor retrata con una prosa poética los sentimientos de un joven adolescente enamorado de una chica mayor que él, el duelo entre la razón, la lealtad, y el corazón, con un final sobrecogedor para todos los protagonistas.

Muy, muy recomendable.

’My son,’ he wrote, ‘beware of the love of women; beware of that ecstasy—that slow poison.’

Second Turgenev. Honestly cannot think of much to write here, as this novella is clearly not in the same ballpark as Fathers and Sons. Nevertheless, it is beautiful, melancholy, infused with a tinge of nostalgia. My edition has a beautiful introduction by V. S. Pritchett, who sums it up perfectly: “Love, for Turgenev, is like some brief summer whirlwind or storm that sweeps through his people and transforms them.” I agree – it’s a quote that made me think about my own reaction to my first love. Does it remain? Do I look at every potential romantic match through that window? Will I be 3, 4, maybe 5 more relationships down the line in 20-30 years, still thinking back to the first? Does the frequency of romantic relationships in the modern age affect it at all? Just some thoughts for myself – I used this space as a notepad this time. To that end, I want to finish with a lyric yet again; this time, it’s Ambrosia, How Much I Feel:

n  How’s your life been goin’ on?
I’ve got a wife now, years we’ve been goin’ strong
Oh no, there’s just something that I’ve got to say
Sometimes when we make love, I still see your face
Just try to recall when we were as onen

I was surprised how much I enjoyed reading this novella of a young man’s infatuation with a slightly older woman next door (he’s 16, she 21). I found the set up interesting. Zenaida is the daughter of a princess who has clearly fallen on hard times and is out to get loans and favours wherever she can by whatever means. But the narrator, young Vladimir is naive and can’t see through this stuff until reality cannot be turned away from. It’s all quite moving in the end.

Первая любовь (Pervaya ljubov) = First Love, Ivan Turgenev

First Love is a novella by Ivan Turgenev, first published in 1860.

It is one of his most popular pieces of short fiction. It tells the love story between a 21-year-old girl and a 16-year-old boy.

Set in the world of nineteenth-century Russia's fading aristocracy, Turgenev's story depicts a boy's growth of knowledge and mastery over his own heart as he awakens to the complex nature of adult love.

عنوانهای چاپ شده در ایران: «نخستین عشق»؛ «عشق اول»؛ نویسنده: ایوان تورگنیف؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش: سال 2002میلادی

عنوان: نخستین عشق؛ ایوان تورگنیف؛ مترجم: محمدهادی شفیعیها؛ تهران، کتابهای جیبی، چاپ دوم سال1343؛ در159ص؛ چاپ دیگر تهران، ماهی، سال1389، در145ص؛ شابک9789642090877؛ موضوع: داستانهای آداب و رسوم از نویسندگان روسیه - سده19م

عنوان: نخستین عشق؛ ایوان تورگنیف؛ مترجم: عبدالحسین نوشین؛ تهران، کتاب درنا، سال1370؛ در208ص؛ چاپ دوم سال1371؛ چهارم سال1377؛چاپ پنجم سال1378؛

عنوان: نخستین عشق؛ ایوان تورگنیف؛ مترجم: ولی الله شادان؛ تهران، فرزان روز، سال1381؛ در97ص؛ چاپ دوم سال1389؛ شابک9789643213251؛ چاپ سوم سال1390؛ چاپ چهارم سال1394؛

عنوان: نخستین عشق؛ ایوان تورگنیف؛ مترجم: بهاره پاریاب؛ تهران، وسعت، زهره، ایران سخن، سال1386؛ در164ص؛ شابک9786009012374؛

عنوان: نخستین عشق؛ ایوان تورگنیف؛ مترجم: بابک شهاب؛ تهران، به نگار، سال1391؛ در126ص؛ شابک9786006835174؛

عنوان: نخستین عشق؛ ایوان تورگنیف؛ مترجم عبدالحسین نوشین؛ ویراستار جمشید نوایی؛ تصحیح آرش قلعه گلاب؛ مشهد، بوتیمار، تهران، نگاه، سال1391؛ در141ص؛ شابک9789649963105؛

عنوان: عشق اول و دو داستان دیگر؛ ایوان تورگنیف؛ داستایوسکی؛ مترجم از روسی: سروش حبیبی؛ تهران، فرهنگ معاصر، سال1391؛ در288ص؛ شابک9786001050602؛

عنوان: سه داستان عاشقانه (نخستین عشق، آسیا، سیلابهای بهاری)؛ ایوان تورگنیف؛ مترجم: عبدالحسین نوشین؛ تویسرکان، نشر تاخ، سال1377؛ در297ص؛ شابک9789649963105؛

عشق بزرگترين موهبت زندگی است، و نخستین عشق چنان مقامی دارد، که یادمان لذتبخش آن هماره با انسان میماند؛ «تورگنیف» در داستان «نخستين عشق»، با گوشه ی چشمی به روانشناسی، ماجرا را بازمیگویند؛ این داستان از جوانی خود «تورگنیف» مایه می‌گیرد؛ نویسنده سرگذشت نخستین دلدادگی خود را، به صورت داستان پرداخته اند؛ دختری که در داستان «زیناییدا» نام دارد، در حقیقت «یکاترینا لوونا شاخوتسکایا» نام داشته است، و پرنسسی بی چیز بوده؛ این پرنسس «یکاترینا لوونا» طبع شعر داشته، سرده‌ های خود را منتشر می‌کرده؛ معشوق او نیز به راستی پدر «تورگنیف»، که به راستی مردی بسیار جذاب بوده، و با همسرش، که مادر «تورگنیف» باشند، و از خودش مسن‌تر اما بسیار ثروتمند بوده، ازدواج کرده ‌بودند

تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 22/12/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 27/08/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی

تورجينيف تجربة أدبية روسية مختلفة تماماً عما عهدناه مع الأدب الروسي، واقعية أكثر مع صبغة شاعرية محببة وبسيطة ونكهة فلسفية طرية تشعر بها تتسلل بين العبارات المختلفة، ما يميز تورجينيف أكثر من غيره ربما هو إيقاعه البسيط والساحر وشخصياته الغير معقدة وبساطة تصرفه مع تلك الشخصيات على الورق وتعامله معها كأصدقاء، ولكن الأمانة فهو صديق قاسٍ يضطر غالباً للتضحية بهم في نهاية اللعبة، لا أدري سبب هذه العادة لديه ، هل هو تأثير بالغ بالأدب الأوروبي مثلاً، (لنسترجع هنا رواية آلام فيرتر ل غوته) يشبه تماماً ما تقرأه في الأدب الأوروبي عموماً، لم أكتب عن تورجينيف سابقاً ولكن برأيي أنه من الكتاب الروس الرائعين الذين تمردوا على التقاليد الكتابة الروسية وشقوا طريقهم بقلم مختلف وبكتابات حية أكثر من البقية العظام، وهنا لا أقلل من شأن الآخرين، بل بالعكس، ما كتبه الروس البقية هو الأصل وهو المعيار الذي نقيس عليه الأدب الروسي..
تورجينيف في هذه المجموعة القصصية يبدو متحدثاً جيداً، مهذب اللغة، سريع الأسلوب، متسرع في التلاعب بالأحداث، يبث في قصصه شخصيات مستفزة وبسيطة في نفس الوقت، في قصة من قصصه كان شديد العمق في وصف إحدى الشخصيات الغربية الأطوار، بدا أنه قد جسد أسلوبه على خير ما يرام في شخصية تيلغيف في قصة (تك تك تك) ، منذ زمن لم أقرأ عن شخصية مثيرة للاهتمام مثل تلك، يشبه شخصية بتشورين الليرمنتوفي، في الحقيقة كانت تلك القصة موفقة لدرجة أنني تركت جميع الكتاب وانكببت على متابعة تلك الشخصية وهي تثير الفضول العميق في داخلي، من الجيد أن تكتب عن شخصيات غير تقليدية بالمرة، الشخصيات المتطرفة التي لا توجد إلا قليلا في إيقاع العالم..
قصة الحب الأول كانت ثرية أيضاً وربما منفرة أحياناً ولكنها عاطفية بامتياز، تخلط ما بين المشاعر الجياشة والترقب، قصة جيدة في عمومها غنية بمنعطفاتها الحادة وكما المعتاد بنهايتها المأساوية المحببة جداً لدى أخينا تورجينيف، الذي لا يكف أبداً، أبداً عن ممارسة التعذيب العاطفي للقارئ حتى آخر حرف ..

Turgenyev'in ilk aşkını ve gerçek olayları anlattığı kısa romanı...

Okuduğum Kitaplar: İvan Turgenyev - İlk Aşk
Kitapla ilgili incelemem: https://kitapokurum.blogspot.com/2019...

Continuo a não acertar as agulhas com os Russos...

NOTA - 06/10

“She had no great faith in him, and after listening to his outpourings, she would make him read Pushkin, as she said, to clear the air.”

Having read this book right after finishing Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin, this quote couldn’t be more perfect!

I can’t seem to stop thinking about this story! It has been a few days, and I keep wondering about the things that went unsaid, the subtle hints Turgenev gives throughout the story, and that ending!!! For such a short piece of writing, it didn’t feel like it lacked development or plot. He captured a whole world in such a short amount of space and time!

First Love was my first Turgenev, and I truly can’t wait to read more from him!!!

O sweet feelings, soft sounds, goodness and peace of a moved spirit, the melting joy of the first tender emotions of love - - where are you, where are you?

Nostalgia.

Reading First love made me wonder on the nature of nostalgia. Is the nostalgic feeling negative or positive? Is First love, the 1860 novella of which Turgenev by the end of his life thought of fondly as ‘the only thing that still gives me pleasure, because it is life itself, it was not made up….First Love is part of my experience’ - a tale of nostalgia? If nostalgia means ‘the pain from an old wound’, a feeling in which bitter-sweetness is preponderant, the novella certainly is a nostalgic one. If nostalgia is rather ‘a wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one’s life, to one’s home or homeland, or to one’s family and friends; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time’ – I would think of this story as of a profound melancholy, rather than a nostalgic one. Even taking into account a slight tinge of sadness is an intrinsic part of nostalgia, the tale of the narrator can hardly be seen as the wish to turn back time reminiscing on feelings of pleasure in the past.

Unlike my experiences with other Russian 19th century writers in my teens, my first acquaintance with Ivan Turgenev’s writing wasn’t exactly a coup de foudre. Reading Fathers and Sons at sixteen, having high expectations of that classic novel (curious I was about the ‘nihilism’) Turgenev’s tale didn’t enthral me like Anton Chekhov’s stories (The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904), Tolstoy’s War and Peace, or Dostoyevsky’s The Idiot and Crime and Punishment did. Subsequently, I disregarded him for about the next thirty years. Nonetheless, by various ways Turgenev reminded me of his existence more than any other Russian writer did: I encountered him when reading Flaubert’s letters, when reading on Eugène Delacroix, on Franz Liszt, Frédéric Chopin and George Sand – or on Dostoyevsky’s peregrinations (on their feud and quarrel/near fight in Baden-Baden). A few years ago I read his Home of the Gentry, which mesmerised me and for the first time it dawned on me that reading Turgenev for me might equate the relish of drinking wine, which I also only later in life got to appreciate. A friend writes about Turgenev’s style that it is softer, more subtle than the style of some of his fellow 19th century Russian writers and he, I feel, is spot on – Turgenev’s prose is of a sensitivity, beauty and subtlety which I think was wasted on my hapless teen self.

n  n


Sometimes a title seduces, sometimes it keeps me from reading a book. Such was the case with First love which I could have read far earlier, when I got a marvellous bibliophile edition of First love as a Christmas present from the typographer of the law publishing house I was working for more than twenty years ago. I presume I passed it to my father, as no longer finding it in the bookcase at home. It had a beautiful, purple cover and delicate paper, the kind of book one glances through with awe. I assumed the subject of First Love – which to my ears sounded like puppy love – wouldn’t particularly speak to me, nor when I would have read it at the age of the protagonist when the events unfold, nor later when I considered that phase in life too remote to be of interest anymore. And maybe I am still that sentimental I simply dislike the fact that the word ‘first’ ineludibly implies the sense of an ending? Maybe my nostalgia for that first love isn’t strong enough (we were both five years old, and according to our parents, very much in love with each other)? But I was wrong. First love is far richer than a mawkish tale on unrequited adolescent love (why is all in Dolors’s fabulous review). To me it is the narrative frame, the middle-aged Vladimir Petrovich recounting his recollection of his emotional experiences as a sixteen year old, infatuated with an impoverished, aristocratic young woman, larding his account with his comments and musings on time, love, youth and aging which makes this story (of which the denouement is a little predictable) so effective, intense and affecting. The plot and the denouement might be a little predictable, I loved the melancholic glow the tale wallows in.

n  n

In The Road to Middlemarch: My Life with George Eliot , the author, Rebecca Mead, writes about Eliot as ‘the great artist of disappointment. Her characters, even the good ones, stumble, fall, and fail—not into inexorable tragedy, for the most part, but into limited, mortal resignation’. Concurrently, when reading First Love is it rather obvious why Turgenev has been called ‘a poet of disappointment’. The human condition worded in an achingly beautiful prose.

Take this magnificent phrase:

The air blew in a gust for an instant; a streak of fire flashed across the sky; it was a star falling. ‘Zinaïda?’ I wanted to call, but the word died away on my lips. And all at once everything became profoundly still around, as is often the case in the middle of the night. . . . Even the grasshoppers ceased their churr in the trees — only a window rattled somewhere. I stood and stood, and then went back to my room, to my chilled bed. I felt a strange sensation; as though I had gone to a tryst, and had been left lonely, and had passed close by another’s happiness.

And it is this, this masterly evocation of happiness that seemed so near, which is just out of reach but cannot be grasped, which affected me most both in First Love as well as in Home of the Gentry. Yes, this is life.

If only for this sentence, First love was worth reading to me. It was another reminder how books, in just one sentence, paragraph or stanza can capture the essence of life – its sadness, its futility, the moment when we realise happiness might be for others, but not for us – the dawning and wilting of promise, the wisdom of resignation. Older, sadder, wiser, I think I am finally able to appreciate the kind of treasures Turgenev has to offer, and I could concur with Vladimir Petrovich looking back (on love): ‘I wouldn’t want it ever to be repeated, but I would have considered myself unfortunate if I’d never experienced it.’

As Turgenev wrote to Countess Lambert in 1861: ‘All my life belongs to the past. All that is dear in the present is a reflection of the past. And what, after all, was the best about the past? Hope…the possibility of hoping…in other words, the future…’.

Nostalgia.

(Illustrations Anna and Elena Balbusso)

n  ‘My son,’ he wrote, ‘beware of the love of women; beware of that ecstasy – that slow poison.’ n

POV: When your dad steals your girl.

When you're young you think you're the Romeo of every story, but sometimes it turns out you're barely Paris. Turgenev's novella captures not only the ecstatic shamelessness of first love, but the fogginess of being young in general - that feeling of not understanding the action you're taking part in. 16-year-old Vladimir believes he's competing with other suitors for the affection of his beautiful 21-year-old neighbor Zinaida. Turgenev slowly unveils the real affair.

This was my first Turgenev; I thought it was great. And this Melville House series, "The Art of the Novella," is very nicely done.