Eugene Onegin: A Novel in Verse

ISBN: 0465020933
ISBN 13: 9780465020935
By: Alexander Pushkin Douglas R. Hofstadter

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About this book

The supreme poet of the Russian language, Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin has had a checkered existence in English. His prose, to be sure, has presented his translators with a less formidable set of hurdles. But Pushkin composed his masterpiece, Eugene Onegin, in a 14-line stanza of his own invention, with a slippery rhyme scheme and treacherously foursquare meter (i.e., iambic tetrameter, which tends to sound slightly singsong to English speakers). This has forced most of his translators--from Walter Arndt to James Falen to Charles Johnston--to shortchange form in favor of content. Vladimir Nabokov probably pushed this tendency as far as it could go, transforming Pushkin's poetry into perversely lumpy paragraphs (and enveloping the slim pickings of his translation in a jumbo-sized commentary). But nobody has managed to produce even a halfway-definitive version of Eugene Onegin. Now Douglas Hofstadter, who's best known for Gödel, Escher, Bach, has taken a shot at it. Certainly he's no stranger to translation theory--his 1997 book, Le Ton Beau de Marot, was a brilliant and unbuttoned meditation on the translator's art, with numerous detours into the hinterlands of cognitive science. Theory and practice are two different matters, however, as Hofstadter is quick to admit: "The thought seemed quite ridiculous: me, with such sparse knowledge of Russian, hoping to clamber up this formidable Everest of translation, a book often said to be next to untranslatable, and square at the center of the inner circle of Russian literature!" Clamber he did, however--and the result is a charming if uneven version of the poem, more beholden to Cole Porter and Ogden Nash than the poet's 19th-century peers. Several of Hofstadter's slangier couplets might have Nabokov spinning in his grave: "Did thus our party boy exhaust / Himself at games, at zero cost?" Still, he manages some of Pushkin's loop-the-loops very nicely: The air grew warm as days went flying, And winter knew to call it quits. Eugene gave up his versifying, But not the ghost, and not his wits. He's lent new life by buds aborning, And first thing on some clear spring morning He leaves his cloistered, small château Where, marmot-like, he'd braved the snow. Clearly Hofstadter's take on the poem goes heavy on the sizzle and fails to capture much of Pushkin's elegant gravity. Still, it's a welcome addition to the ranks, a handsome present to the poet on the occasion of his 200th birthday--and, rather winningly, a linguistic labor of love. --William Davies

Reader's Thoughts

Patrick Gibson

Remember Gale, when we rowed to the middle of Chautauqua Lake and decided to drift back to shore? And I produced a ragged copy of 'Eugene Onegin' and proceeded to read aloud (and act) all of my favorite parts (which is most of it)? Remember how difficult it was in a canoe?My love for this epic has never faltered. I have thrust this upon so many people there have been times when I have been reduced to reading it to the cat (he seems to prefer the opera--go figure).Aren't you glad I didn't bring along a copy of the other book I was so passionate about that summer? (It was Herodotus 'Histories.')I have numerous translations of 'Onegin' but the Penguin is the best."I see the sea before a tempest:How jealous I was of the waves,Running in their ferocious seriesTo lie by her feet with a grace!How wished I with the waters’ splashes,To touch them with my lips in flashes!No, never, midst the ardent daysOf my enraptured yore, else,With such a torture, I desiredTo kiss the lips of young Armids,Or roses of their cheeks, sweet,Or breasts, full of the hidden fire;No, never loving passions, hard,Such tortured, else, my poor heart!"If you are to read only one epic poem in your lifetime--make it this.


Un roman poetique et romantique. Beau et sublime. Des personnages touchants et exaltes. Leur vie leur appartient, jeune Tatiana, reveuse et romantique menant une adolescence retiree dans la campagne russe parmi ses lectures et ses reveries. Le jeune poete de 17 ans amoureux et timide et Oneguine un jeune dandy beau et blase, de salons et qui s'ennuie.Il arrive a la campagne pour tourmenter la vie paisible de Tatiana qui l'aime et attire par lui et est vraie a ses lectures et a ses convictions de l'adolescence. Oneguine l'aime mais la rejette en tant que heros ambivalent, destructeur.Les annees passent. Ils se rencontrent a Petrograd. Les roles changent. Tatiana est la reine. Onegine suppliant. Je vous conseille ce beau roman poetique sur les personnages hors du commun. Je me le rappelle par sa beaute, pr son texture poetique. La neige et sa beaute au cours d'une nuit froide sur le balcon de Tatiana peu avant la rencontre d'Oneguine et la tumulte dans son coeurRead this beautiful novel


From BBC Radio 4 - 15 Minute Drama:Adapted by Duncan Macmillan.Drama based on one of Russia's best loved poems, and the life of the man who wrote it. As Alexander Pushkin prepares to fight a duel, his wife begs him to tell her his most famous story, Eugene Onegin. Onegin is the darling of St. Petersburg. He is young, handsome and bored. But a trip to the countryside is about to change his life forever.Directed by Abigail le FlemingFree download at Gutenberg Project


Having read some Chekov a while ago, I noticed so many different references to Pushkin and Eugene Onegin that I finally purchased a copy of the novel-in-verse so I could have some sense of this Russian classic.Eugene. At the beginning of our story, he's a party-going night owl, living a life of ease in the city. He finds nothing to excite him, so with disinterest and cynicism, he retreats to the country. Shortly after his arrival he finds himself the love-interest of the intriguing Tatyana. Will Eugene reciprocate Tatyana's affections or will there be a typically Russian spurning? You guess :)What I liked about this translation is that1. The verse is rhyming, as it is in the original Russian. I cannot imagine how much work it takes to create a rhyming and yet contextually accurate translation of another language, but it's beautifully done. 2. The translator did a great job of portraying the humor of our narrator - he's telling us Eugene and Tatyana's story from the perspective of an active bystander and he sees through what everyone is thinking and feeling. There are some pretty significant themes in this book - miscommunication is an interesting piece because all of our main characters either purposefully act stupid to cause trouble or knowingly misunderstand without ever trying to fix it. Of course, disaster results. Tatyana's a pillar, though, of speaking how she feels and being true to herself and everyone else. Onegin is a selfish little pill, if I just lay it on the line. But, Pushkin doesn't reward callousness and egotism with happiness and fulfilled dreams. I always appreciate that.I loved, also, how much reading, books, and writing are a critical part of the novel. Everyone either reads or writes when they are discontent or when they are happy. The idea that the written word is a place of peace and comfort, a restorative, is certainly something I can relate to.I was glad that I read most of this on a Kindle because there are lots of foreign phrases and outdated words that I didn't know. Despite that, it really is a lovely piece of work. When a rhyme seems trite, the narrator actually calls himself out on it. There are some very heartfelt moments that are artfully described and our narrator's metaphors only add to the emotion.Yes, it's Russian, with all the drama and strange names that entails. No, it's not a beachy-type read, but I think that it's certainly a work that will provide a solid foundation when reading more modern Russian classics.


Прекрасное, поэтичное творение Александра Пушкина и оно действительно заслуживает тех высоких оценок и похвал, которое оно имеет в пантеоне мировой литературы.


Libello meraviglioso e reso in una bellissima, agile rima sciolta da Pia Pera, che premette anche una bella introduzione con un ampio spoileraggio.... Ma tanto le trame dei classici, si sanno, chepofà spoilerare un po'? Ci dice tutto! Evitare di leggere la prefazione prima, leggerla dopo, a mo ' di postfazione. Trama agilissima (SPOLIER): un giovane dandy russo, Onegin, ricco bello e dannato (insomma, un latin lover mordi e fuggi, si direbbe, se fosse latin, invece che slavo, ma non sottilizziamo) che l'amore non tocca più al cuore, il suo amico per la pelle Lenskij – giovane poeta – due sorelle, Tatiana e Olga, quest'ultima è promessa a Lenskij, di lei si invaghisce anche Onegin. Lenskij lo viene a sapere: Tragedia! Duello subito! E sia, anche se a malincuore, Onegin si reca all'alba all'appuntamento dove trafigge con un colpo all petto l'amico – rivale. Olga si consola presto con un altro che poi sposa dopo poco, Onegin si chiude mesi invernali in casa sua a leggere per dimenticare il dolore dell'amico ucciso, e Tatiana, che nel frattempo, innamorata di Onegin e ignorata, passa le pene dell'Inferno per l'amore non corrisposto e per la morte dell'amico, langue in silenzio, leggendo pure lei tantissimo (all'epoca era l'unica consolazione mancando la Tv!) ma spesso senza nemmeno capire ciò che legge, tanto è la trafittura al cuore. Passa l'inverno, lei vaga raminga per i campi, rifiuta dozzine di pretendenti, la madre sul punto di diventar calva dai capelli strappatisi a mazzi per la disperazione, finché la sventurata cede alle pressioni materne, va a Mosca, e qui nella capitale inizia il valzer dei ricevimenti da parenti, amici, amici degli amici, al fine di piazzare la sventurata dal cuore spezzato. Si piazza socialmente benissimo, impalmata da un principe moscovita (tanto uno o l'altro per lei era lo stesso, confesserà a Onegin) e vive una quieta, ovattata vita coniugale, senza slanci e senza drammi. Finché a un ricevimento Onegin la rivede, non la riconosce quasi, poi ne è certo, le parla, si scopre innamorato perso, lei freddissima e distante, compresa perfettamente nel suo ruolo sociale, ma col tumulto nel cuore per il mai dimenticato amore (ah l'amore, siamo russi perbacco, e in pieno Romanticismo!). Lui le scrive lettere su lettere, (come lei, che una volta gli aveva scritto un'unica lettera col cuore in mano, cui Onegin replicò con tutte le scuse dell'egoismo e della volontà di disimpegno), lei non risponde, la va a trovare a palazzo, impudentemente, ma lei, mentre sta leggendo la sua ultima lettera e sciolta in lacrime, gli confessa di essere ancora innamorata di lui, ma moglie di un altro, non c'è storia possibile, Onegin aveva avuto il suo momento che non còlse. Fine. Onegin viene lasciato lì, in quel palazzo moscovita, di fronte alle sue possibilità non colte. (FINE SPOILER) Insomma, la trama non è una perla di originalità, molto classicamente romantica, ma la lingua in cui è narrata è bellissima, Puskin creò apposta per quest'opera – costatagli sette anni di fatica – la strofa di quattordici tetrameti giambici (resi in traduzione con rima libera); e creò la lingua russa che fino alla fine del XVIII secolo non era nemmeno codificata grammaticalmente, essendo prevalentemente la lingua del popolo, non usata dalla classe dirigente né dalle classi colte. Puskin crea la lingua russa, la forgia per mezzo di un'esile storia di amore, abbandono e morte, ma non dimenticando di esser stato amico e simpatizzante dei decabristi (ebbe la vita salva per una coincidenza e un soffio), affatto intimorito dalla censura e dal confino, colui che proclamava fiero di “non esser nato per far divertire gli zar”, non manca di fare accenni al desiderio di una Russia più moderna e liberale, di una terra che auspica possa entrare presto a far parte delle nazioni lambite dalle luci dell'Illuminismo. Non mancano le riflessioni sull'amicizia, sulle cattiverie del mondo, le descrizioni della natura russa coperta da coltri di neve o appena svegliatasi dall'inverno, non mancano modernissimi ammiccamenti al lettore e un'ironia finissima. Insomma, la pianto qui di botto “come io il mio Onegin”, ma per chi ama la letteratura russa, è un libello imprescindibile, secondo me.


This is one of the finest books I've ever read! I have jokingly said, "I recommend this book to anyone who likes anything." While that's a bit of an exaggeration, this book really has it all:The story manages to be both compelling and a parody at the same time. The main characters-Onegin, Lensky, Tatiana and Olga- are all believable and likeable, but that doesn't stop the narrator from poking fun at them occasionally. But Pushkin's parody is sympathetic; You laugh at the characters the way you laugh at the foibles of your favorite aunts and uncles, still caring for them even while you acknowledge the fact that people can be ridiculous. But my favorite character is Pushkin himself. He intrudes into the novel (sometimes as a character, sometimes as the novel's creator) with numerous digressions ranging from poignant personal asides to witty commentaries and playful parody. Along with the story of Onegin and Tatiana, the novel tells us the story of an artist's quest to create a thing of beauty.Since the book is a "novel in verse," the story is told in beautiful poetry. I personally rank the original, Russian text with the finest long poems I have ever read, including Paradise Lost, The Divine Comedy and King Lear because of the beauty and elegance of its use of language and structure. (That being said, I don't have the skills to read Dante in Italian.) And of all the translations I have observed, James Falen's translation does the best job of capturing Pushkin's lyrical grace. Nabokov's translation is more literal, but painfully so. He manages to translate Pushkin's words without translating Pushkin himself. Granted, I do recommend the Nabokov translation to Anglo-American students of Russian language and literature who want to come closer to the language of Pushkin, because I have found Nabokov's translation to be a great literary mediator. But in terms of a translation that works as a piece of literature on its own, I recommend Falen's translation. It might not be the same as the original, but you do comprehend Pushkin's prowess and poise, and many of Falen's rhymes sparkle just as well as Pushkin's.


Supongo que, si os recomiendan así por las buenas una novela en verso de principios del siglo XIX y que encima es considerada como una de las obras fundacionales de la literatura rusa, saldréis por piernas. Pero no os dejéis dejar engañar, porque el 'Eugene Oneguin' es una obra tan moderna y actual que parece que fue escrita ayer. La historia no es mucha y se puede resumir en que Oneguin se va a vivir al campo y allí conoce la joven y melancólica Tatiana, y el joven e idealista poeta Lenski. Poco pasa; es difícil decir qué hace tan grande esta obra.En mi opinión, uno de sus principales aciertos del es que se trata de una obra romántica y a la vez cínica. La historia de amor no se aleja mucho de los cánones románticos, pero el protagonista es un cínico redomado, y también lo es el narrador. El narrador contempla los personajes desde tan lejos y con tal ironía que a veces incluso da la sensación que quizás la novela no es nada más que una parodia del romanticismo (de obras como el 'Werther'), porque lleva hasta los extremos sus tópicos. El narrador es también alguien asqueado de la vida y que muchas veces se pierde en digresiones que no tienen nada que ver con el argumento de la obra, algo que refuerza más el sentimiento distanciador respecto a lo que se está contando y por lo tanto algo que dificulta que nos creamos que la obra realmente va en serio. Y es que encima es tan endiabladamente divertida... Y ahora volvemos a lo de antes, ¿cómo es que con una forma tan anacrónica (la de la novela en verso que ya estaba pasada de moda incluso cuando Pushkin la escribió) el 'Eugene Oneguin' consigue ser tan moderno? Pues porque da una visión de la vida desencantada. Es esto lo que diferencia el hombre moderno. Es muy significativa la evolución de Tatiana; cuando empieza la obra es una chica de provincias, ingénua, solitaria, que lee obras sentimentalistas que ya han pasado de moda en la capital, pero también fuerte, con caráter y capaz de tomar la iniciativa cuando se trata de conseguir lo que quiere. Vaya, la perfecta heroina romántica. Pero cuando ha terminado la obra se ha convertido en una persona amargada y que ha perdido todas las ilusiones, se ha convertido en una perfecta mujer moderna insatisfecha. Es por esto que yo entiendo el 'Eugene Oneguin' como una metáfora del abandono de la sensibilidad romántica y la creación de una nueva sensibilidad más moderna, la del siglo XX, por más que aún quedara casi un siglo porque llegara el siglo XX. El final no deja de ratificarlo, con ese final abierto, sin final feliz de comer perdices ni tampoco final trágico con muchas muertes, sino un final lleno de resignación, otro rasgo característico de la modernidad.Algo que también me encanta del libro es que es un libro que está preñado de literatura. El narrador constantemente deja caer referencias a otros escritores reales y compara los hechos que suceden en la novela con otros que suceden en otras obras. Pero, además, los tres personajes principales son como son por culpa de los libros que han leído. Oneguin ha leído demasiado Byron y demasiado romanticismo inglés, Tatiana ha leído demasiadas novelas sentimentales francesas, y el poeta Lenski ha leído demasiado idealismo alemán. Otro detalle delicioso (de los muchos que hay) es que si bien cierto personaje se enamora de otro personaje a primera vista, sin prácticamente conocerlo y de una forma idealizada, luego descubre cómo es realmente la persona de la que se ha enamorado a través de los libros suyos, de las notas que ha dejado en los márgenes, y es después de conocerla de verdad que puede quererla de verdad, es decir, gracias a los libros, la literatura.Aún ahora me cuesta de creer que pueda existir una obra tan buena. ¿Hace falta que diga que es de mis favoritas entre las favoritas?

Colin Small

One of my favorite books. The founding book of Russia's golden age, yet it blows all the stereotypes out of the water: it's short, its light, its poetry, its not at all philosophical, and yet its so so deep and intricate. You could read this a thousand times and still get something new out every time (Nabokov certainly did). Please read this.


Classic. I go back to this story at least once a year. First Russian work that I picked up - back when I was 15, and my love for Russian lit has been unstoppable since then :) I have watched the opera, ballet and countless film adaptations, but nothing comes close to the text, no matter how many times you've read it. I am working on my Russian so I can finally read it in the original!Note: ALWAYS ALWAYS get the FALEN translation. I had the unfortunate time of reading several other translations before I came across this version when I had to read it for class in my first year at university. I highly recommend this translation over anyone else's. While I have heard rave reviews about Nabokov's translation, I just could not enjoy it. Nabster favours content over style, and while you get loads of extra information on the notes, which are really helpful if you are not very well acquainted with Russian history and culture, the beauty of Pushkin's rhythm is lost. Part of what sets this work apart from other Russian writings is the unique Onegin stanza - which is like a relative to the sonnet. It works in tetrameters, not the more common pentameters (so it is four beats per line instead of five). Falen does a fantastic job of preserving the rhyme scheme, without sacrificing the content and essence of the work. The rhyme comes off beautifully in English, and I personally think Falen's version is most faithful in spirit to what Pushkin was trying to convey when he penned them. Read them aloud and you'll see what I mean :)Time to read it once more!


This foundation stone of Russian literature is a smashing, lilting read - and it's only 200 pages to boot, so it's less of a commitment than all those later Russians who thought editing was for assholes. It's a "novel in verse," which means epic poem, wtf, in iambic tetrameter. It's organized in stanzas that are almost sonnets, but far enough off to kindof fuck with your head, or mine anyway. The scheme is abab, ccdd, effe, gg, so he's switching it up in each quatrain, which leaves me constantly off-balance. But in a good way! Tetrameter has a dangerous tendency to sound sing-songy to me, and this helps counterbalance that somehow.It also makes a tough challenge for a translator, and for a long time Onegin was considered untranslatable. Stanley Mitchell has done what feels like an admirable job; I'm sure if I knew Russian I'd say he brutalized it, but one takes what one can get and this version felt readable and elegant. He's no Mos Def, but he's pretty good with the rhymes.The story ends abruptly at Chapter VIII; Pushkin had to do some last-minute rearranging, by which I mean burning most of a chapter that was critical of the government, which really throws the pace off there. The version I have includes some fragments after VIII - stuff that survived the flames for whatever reason - but it's really not enough to be more than a curiosity.Tolstoy called this the major influence for Anna Karenina, and you can see it. He kinda took this story and said what if, at a crucial moment, things had gone differently? (The point I'm thinking of, if you're interested, is the duel. (view spoiler)[Karenin considers dueling Vronsky - which choice would surely have ended the same way Onegin's with Lensky does - but chickens out. (hide spoiler)]) So if you read these two together it's basically like a really long Choose Your Own Adventure with only one choice. Rad!And as an added bonus, Pushkin includes what I'm cheerfully going to assume is the most beautiful ode to foot fetishes ever written. It's five stanzas long, so that's 70 lines of foot fetishing, including hits like this:Once by the sea, a storm impending,I recollect my envy ofThe waves, successively descending,,Collapsing at her feet with love.Oh how I wished to join their racesAnd catch her feet in my embraces!1.32 Almost makes you wish had a foot fetish so you could really get into that bit. I used to know a dude like that. His nickname was seriously "Sniffer." Anyway, but in case you're not Sniffer, here's a stanza that's not about feet, so you can get a feel for how good this shit is:Let me glance back. Farewell, you arboursWhere, in the backwoods, I recallDays filled with indolence and ardoursAnd dreaming of a pensive soul.And you, my youthful inspiration,Keep stirring my imagination,My heart's inertia vivify,More often to my corner fly.Let not a poet's soul be frozen,Made rough and hard, reduced to boneAnd finally be turned to stoneIn that benumbing world he goes in,In that intoxicating sloughWhere, friends, we bathe together now.VI.46 Right? And if that doesn't kick your ass, you're no friend of mine.Frankly, even if it does we're probably not friends. But we could be, if you want.["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>

Paul Williams

Having a Pushkinafile for a best friend means that I was fated to read this book. It was inevitable, and not a bad thing in the slightest. While it doesn't appeal to the universals that I feel make something great in the highest sense of the word, I can't deny that this was a beautifully crafted piece of literature. The great frustration with Pushkin is that, unlike English poets, the real depth is completely visible, but well beyond your ability to see without much effort. Nearly any stanza is loaded with tons of insight, style, and other content, but while Shakespeare or Milton give you much more on your first reading (you know, when you're just trying to get the narrative, but some really awesome insights leap out at you), you can't help being aware that those elements are in Pushkin. The difference is that, in order to get them, you MUST spend some quality time with the piece, which I will do in a few months, after my skill with reading poetry has increased (though I will always be a prosiest at heart). All that being said, I really, really enjoyed this piece. The characters were very relatable, for different reasons. I'm a writer much on Lensky's level - I create without actually creatiing. I'm drawn to literature in a manner that we see Tatyana drawn. I struggle with my own superfluous nature, like the title character. And I enjoy the company of the poet himself, Alexander Pushkin. If nothing else, it's a delightful read, and well worth the few hours (it's a short piece, really) that it costs to get through.

Yasiru (reviews will soon be removed and linked to blog)

[FULL REVIEW TO COME]Pushkin is oft portrayed as the quintessential figure of Russian literature, and having read a few of his short stories and poems I can see why. There is a quality to his verse that evokes Byron, but seems also to look ambitiously beyond; a haunting precursor of later ideals aspired to by a surprisingly diverse set of writers.Reading from translation as I must, it has been particularly difficult to decide which of the many available to go for in the case of Eugene Onegin, with its unique stanza and novelistic length and cohesion.I have decided to first read Falen's translation, since many seem to agree that this preserves the feel of the work best, and move on from there to Mitchell's, Nabokov's (along with his exposition) and the recent one by Thomas (in that order).It was Johnston's which I first came across on and thought to begin with, and while it seems one of the better translations, I find Falen's similar but more lyrical based on my sampling. The free availability of the former is however something to consider.Of those resources which helped me arrive at this programme, I submit these to you (with their own links to still other valuable accounts on the relative merits of the translations): was pleased to almost providentially discover the Falen translation available for download as a free audiobook read by Stephen Fry at-'s an overview of translations there also.)Falen's had been harder to find than Mitchell's newer one for Penguin, but I'll be able to decide on what to purchase after having a listen.

Raül De Tena

Cualquier reticencia a enfrentarse a Eugenio Oneguin es (más o menos) comprensible. ¿Una obra clásica rusa escrita en verso? Se entiende que no sea la lectura preferida del común de los mortales... Pero ellos se lo pierden. Porque la obra de Aleksandr Pushkin es un exhuberante manuscrito en el que se recoge de forma excepcional el paso de la tradición a la modernidad, del romanticismo al desencanto.La historia se puede destripar en tres líneas: durante su estancia en el campo, Oneguin conoce a Lenski (con el que se bate en duelo) y a Tatiana (la que se enamora de él sin demasiada suerte). Tiempo después, en la ciudad, Oneguin vuelve a encontrarse con Tatiana y las tornas se giran... sin demasiada suerte para el protagonista. ¿Típico argumento romántico? Ahí está precisamente la gracia. Todo es tan arquetípico que resulta irónico, cínico. Sobre todo por la omnipresencia de un narrador post-moderno que no sólo narra (y describe con una pericia sobrehumana), sino que opina e incluso acaba trenzando la realida del personaje con su propia realidad. La voz del poeta-narrador es, simple y llanamente, fascinante. Por todo lo que dice y por todo lo que insinúa. Por todo lo que explica y por todo lo que oculta (pero que la edición de Cátedra te explica sin tapujos).Otro rasgo de modernidad que fascina encontrar en un manuscrito tan poco moderno (a priori) es la abundancia de dicotomías paradojales: la relación de amor/odio tanto con la ciudad como con el campo, el amor vivido como cota máxima del romanticismo (ya sea desde la pasión literaria de Tatiana como desde la pulcritud byroniana de Oneguin o desde la fidelidad teutona de Lenski) y el desencanto (cínico de Oneguin, formal en Tatiana), la literatura como alimento del alma y como creador de vicios de personalidad... Éste es otro punto delicioso en Eugenio Oneguin: la literatura empapa del primero al último verso. Todos los personajes se definen en base a lo que leen, e incluso la acción se puntualiza en base a cómo otros autores destacados la han plasmado en sus propias obras.Dicho todo esto... ¿por qué le doy cuatro estrellas y no cinco? Por culpa mía. Para obligarme, en el futuro, a releerlo con el background suficiente que ahora no tengo y que en esta ocasión sólo me ha dejado intuir muchas de las excelencias de la obra de Pushkin.


Very Byron-esque, which is understandable considering Pushkin's influences. I thought it was a lot of fun. More lightheartedness than I'm used to from the Russians. (Note: That doesn't mean it's exactly a happy book; it just means it won't send you into paroxysms of grief. At least, I don't think it will. If it does, then you're probably a little strange.)

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