#russian literature

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Счастье не пойдёт за тобой, если сама от него бегаешь. - А.Н. Островский | “Without Dowry” by Ostrov

Счастье не пойдёт за тобой, если сама от него бегаешь. - А.Н. Островский | “Without Dowry” by Ostrovskiy


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 То ли я с тобой осталась,То ли ты ушел со мной. - Анна Ахматова

То ли я с тобой осталась,
То ли ты ушел со мной. 
- Анна Ахматова


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 Soigne ta droite (1987) by Jean-Luc Godard Book title: The Idiot (Идиот in Russian) by Fëdor Dostoe

Soigne ta droite (1987) by Jean-Luc Godard

Book title:The Idiot (Идиотin Russian) by Fëdor Dostoevskij


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Teorema (1968) by Pier Paolo Pasolini Book title: Racconti e novelle (1852 - 1886) by Lev Nikolàevič

Teorema (1968) by Pier Paolo Pasolini

Book title:Racconti e novelle (1852 - 1886) by Lev Nikolàevič Tolstòj

This Mursia edition was published in 1964.


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lennuieternel:

Brothers Karamazov:orthodox monasteries, deep woods, starry nights, the sound of paper being torn, dimly lit rooms, withered roses, an unfinished letter, piles of books, the sound of shattering glass, ticking of clocks in a silent house, heavy wooden furniture, the air before a storm, the smell of earth, a crowd of people dressed in black, distant murmurs, emptied streets, the fear of walking alone in dusk

Crime and Punishment:coldness of the skin against a blade, slender pale fingers and slightly shaking hands, a red stain blooming on white fabric, lonely steps in a corridor, the slow dripping of water, looking out of the window into the thickening darkness, a single dying candle on the table, listening to one’s breath and counting heartbeats, too many stairs, the desire to be invisible, a subtle memory of kind word

The Idiot:classical statues, wealth covered with dust, a dark house tainted with inherited madness, an unsettling feeling, long walks in a park, useless chatter, a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench, a melancholic face, an unexpected spring rain, the joy of reading one’s favorite book, the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around, looking at cloudless sky  

Anna Karenina:fields of crops, flowers brought from an early morning walk, the wind caressing a girl’s hair, a bowl of fruit, the smell of ripe pears, the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea, children’s laughter coming from the garden, soft sunlight and white curtains, the sensation of velvet against skin, pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor, a sudden silence in a room full of people

War and Peace:a glass of wine, the brightness of  a crystal chandelier, white lace, a raging snow storm, the sound of a door being gently closed, the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room, indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light, the sound of a saber being drawn, closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing, the sweet smell of strawberries, a pair of gloves left on an armchair, light scent of powder

The Master and Margarita: the chaos of a lively city, ambient jazz in expensive restaurants, jumping on a moving tram, the sight of Moscow from the roof of a house, yellow flowers in a vase, leaning out of the window, shelves stacked with books, a small tin box with old photographs, strange shapes in the night sky, laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony, colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind

Eugene Onegin: a lonely mansion, reading a book in the parlor, faint piano melody lingering in falling silence, long evenings, passing seasons, discussing french novels of the moment, unspoken thoughts, leaning against the door frame, quickly averted glance, eating a peach absent-minded, bright mornings, footprints in snow, a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby   

A Hero of Our Time: byronic boredom, getting up late in the afternoon, the hidden unspeakable sadness of existence, shakespeare’s tragedy opened next to untouched breakfast, cigarette smoke, polished boots, walking with one’s coat wide open letting the night chill break through to the bone, carved wooden chair, fading warmth of the ashes late in the evening, the thought of farewell  

Fathers and Sons: birch groves, morning mist, moss covered stones near a  moor, scientific books, white roses, cheap champagne, shabby pocket-watch, light-hearted irony, a maladroit cello sonata, freshly mowed grass, leaving thoughts come and go, a slow yawn, picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes, drinking tea on the porch, longing for the future   

Doctor Zhivago: a strange feeling of loss, writing poems in a diary, traveling by train, the hesitation before touching someone’s hand, the gaze of one lost in thought, the warmth of cinnamon, a scarf brightly embellished with flowers, a glass of water, two people listening each on the other side of the door, a threadbare jacket, the tempting void, the evanescent serenity of yesterday  

Dead Souls: horses in a merry gallop, delicious smells mingled, grotesque and bizarre tragedy, luxurious attire cheap soul, masks, a perfumed love letter, the triumph of sarcasm, an unattached wheel rolling down a dusty road, the atmosphere of commedia dell’ arte, puzzling speeches, a baffling caricature drawn on a handkerchief   

Cherry Orchard: a lone chair in an empty room, falling blossoms, old samovar, the unsettling need for change, a mirror reflecting full moon, the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance, a piano out of tune      

H.P. Blavatsky, from The Secret Doctrine

Text ID: But the vitalizing power of heaven lay chiefly with the moon…

by Leo Tolstoy

What’s it about?

The story spins around a romantic affair between a married woman and a military man (for whom the word “dashing” may have been invented) which ruins her life and scandalises the upper classes of Moscow and St. Petersburg in the mid-1800s.

Why doesn’t she just [whatever]?

Because she’s a woman. One theme of the novel is the jarringly different experience of society for men and women. There are actions and even behaviours which are simply not available to the female characters without catastrophic consequences but which the male characters take for granted. The mere act of existing inside the traditional roles expected by society can be soul-crushing for women.

I’m 500 pages in. What’s all this agricultural stuff with the peasant? Do I need to know how to run a Russian estate? Do I have to read it? 

You don’t have to do anything, but if you’ve read Game of Thrones and you can’t handle long explorations of how most people live most of their lives wandering around a seemingly endless series of ritual chores, you should present yourself to the relevant authorities at first light.

What should I say to make people think I’ve read it?

“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

What should I avoid saying when trying to convince people I’ve read it?

“She deserves everything she gets.”

Should I actually read it?

Yes. If you’ve ever had a problem with someone you loved, there is something in here for you. 

When Leo Tolstoy said “Is anything - not even happiness but just not torment - possible?” And Charles Bukowski said “We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.”

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Will I be able to finish this this weekend?

Also arriving in October are these two books, hailing from Russia and China. Nikolai Leskov—“Russia’s best-kept secret,” according to translator Donald Rayfield—wrote his strange folktales in the nineteenth century, while Ge Fei’s newly translated novel follows a woman fighting for equality in the chaotic Chinese climate of 1898.

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Nikolai Leskov, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk: Selected Stories 

Nineteenth-century Russian literature abounds with gems, but none stranger than the stories of Nikolai Leskov. An inspiration for Walter Benjamin’s famous essay “The Storyteller,” Leskov’s work hews close to the old world of oral tradition. Its title story is a tale of illicit love and multiple murder that could easily find its way into a Scottish ballad.

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Ge Fei, Peach Blossom Paradise

Ge Fei’s The Invisibility Cloak was a comic novel of contemporary China, but here, he turns a steely gaze to the year 1898, the country ablaze with hopes of revolution. Xiumi, a young daughter of wealthy parents who becomes a pawn in the reform efforts of several men, begins to fight the Confucian social mores that view women as property. Her campaign for change is a battle to win control of her own body—whatever the cost.

Next up is our new season of NYRB Classics, starting from August 2020 and spanning all the way to January 2021. In August, you can get the best of both worlds with these two collections: one of the political essay through the ages and the other of dark, whimsical Soviet-era short stories.

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Writing Politics: An Anthology, edited by David Bromwich

David Bromwich, one of the greatest political writers on the left today, presents twenty-seven essays that grapple with issues that continue to shape history—revolution, racism, women’s rights, citizenship, and the status of the worker among them—and are prime examples of the power of the essay to reshape our thoughts and the world. Selections include Jonathan Swift, Edmund Burke, George Eliot, Harriet Taylor, W.E.B Du Bois, Mohandas Gandhi, George Orwell, Martin Luther King, and Hannah Arendt.

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Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky, Unwitting Street: Stories

Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky is one of NYRB Classics’s greatest discoveries—a gifted storyteller censored for decades by the Soviet regime. The stories of Unwitting Street are brief and playful, making it a perfect introduction. But it’s not all fun and games: even the zaniest of his stories are alive with an undercurrent of darkness. (Take the one where a cursed gray fedora drives its wearers to suicide.)

Book aesthetic: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (1878)“I think… if it is true that there are as many miBook aesthetic: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (1878)“I think… if it is true that there are as many mi

Book aesthetic: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (1878)

“I think… if it is true that there are as many minds as there are heads, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts.”


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Moscow Conceptualism - poet Lev Rubinstein, poet, writer and artist Dmitri Prigov and writer Vladimi

Moscow Conceptualism - poet Lev Rubinstein, poet, writer and artist Dmitri Prigov and writer Vladimir Sorokin, 1991.


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This edition of Eugene Onegin is simply breathtaking. This edition of Eugene Onegin is simply breathtaking. This edition of Eugene Onegin is simply breathtaking. This edition of Eugene Onegin is simply breathtaking. This edition of Eugene Onegin is simply breathtaking. 

This edition of Eugene Onegin is simply breathtaking


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And all of them. Brothers Karamazov. I love them and I love this book so much, you know.

I want to draw some more russian literature fanarts but I’m not sure about the book. May be you want to see some characters or writers, I’d be glad to hear.

And guys, I also remind about commissions (Commissions prices: https://koramora.tumblr.com/post/187195925053/so-commissions)

Happy New year to you and read good books this year. :)

And yes, I decided to draw all brothers (except Smerdyakov, I don’t like him).

This is my favourite son of Fyodor Karamazov. This is my favourite character in this novel after may be only Fyodor Pavlovich. Ivan seems to me as a very interesting character and his dialogues like story about the Great Inquisitor is just incredible. It’s a pity that it payed not enough attention to him in the novel. Guess, in second/third book author was going to tell as more about him.

About the hell in his head.


All as before: against the dining-room windows
Beats the scattered windswept snow,
And I have not changed either,
But a man came to me.

I asked: “What do you want?”
He replied: “To be with you in Hell.”
I laughed: “Oh, you’ll foredoom
Us both to disaster.”

But lifting his dry hand
He lightly touched the flowers:
“Tell me how men kiss you,
Tell me how you kiss men.”

And his lustreless eyes
Did not move from my ring.
Not a single muscle quivered
On his radiantly evil face.

Oh, I know: his delight
Is the tense and passionate knowledge
That he needs nothing,
That I can refuse him nothing.

January 1, 1914

  • Translated by Carl R. Proffer.
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