White Nights

This was a perfect introduction to Dostoyevsky. I was touched by how bittersweet and tender White Nights is. This beautiful but heartbreaking story will hold a special place in my heart.
It's extraordinary the way Dostoyevsky could make me feel so much identification with his characters even when they are a century and a half away.
So many people in the world can totally relate to the Dreamer character... And the way Nastenka treats him, well, it mirrors what happens in real life too... Fairy tale endings don't exist.
Also, Dostoevsky's solitary, unattached dreamer willfully retreated from engagement with others and the world, while Nastenka is literally “pinned” to her grandmother's skirt and strict guardianship. Her narrative is one of development and action.
Even the narrator's final words were
“As if I would recall my resentment, Nastenka! Or would cast a dark cloud across your bright untroubled happiness, or would inflict misery on your heart with my bitter reproaches, stinging it with hidden pangs, making it beat anxiously in your moment of bliss? That I would crush even one of those tender blossoms which you wove into your dark curls as you approached the altar with him . . . oh, never, never! May your sky always be bright, and your sweet smile always be radiant and serene, yes, and may you be blessed for the moment of bliss and happiness you gave to another lonely, grateful heart! My God! One whole moment of bliss! Is that not sufficient for a man's entire life?”
 
 

Por trás de alguns obstáculos, um mergulho no amor e na solidão que me conecta com o século XIX em níveis surpreendentes.

Em geral, não sou exagerado (jogado aos seus pés), então a velocidade e a intensidade dos romances clássicos não dialoga muito comigo. Mas escapando desse desconforto superficial, me vejo um pouco no Sonhador, vagando no ermo, analisando passantes, criando relações com ambientes; e buscando conexões pra dividir esse mundo com alguém.

Os sentimentos aqui são universais: o sentir-se preso em casa, o querer aproveitar a vida, não perceber que já a está aproveitando. E a neblina luminosa das noites brancas deixa tudo meio etéreo.

Uma característica estrutural que me agradou bastante foi que a história se limita às noites, usando a última manhã como epílogo. Os acontecimentos do dia são secundários, contados por alto, o que torna os encontros e desencontros das noites mais importantes e isolados.

Os textos, ilustrações e o projeto da Antofágica, como sempre, deixam a apreciação da obra muito mais potente e agradável.

Начало было интересным, описание города, живых домов, случайного знакомого, с которым каждый день пересекаешься на улице - эти маленькие детали я помню до сих пор, хотя с прочтения книги прошло больше 10 лет. Прочитала первую половину от лица мужского персонажа и дропнула на второй от лица девушки - книга скатилась, как и все книги Достоевского.

a very ordinary romance story, made interesting by sudden and brutal images of loneliness.

“the whole vista of my future had flashed before me so bleakly and so sadly, and i saw myself just as i am now exactly fifteen years later, only older, in the same room, just as lonely, with the same Matryona, who hasn't grown any wiser in all those years.”

nastenka spent a lot of her life envisioning her future the exact same way.

at first glance it's 19th century 500 days of summer, but after your first read it unfolds more like a charlie kaufman film

Well, it's Dostoevsky's take on a love story. This was published before his four years of hard labor in Siberia, so it's much less anguishing than his later stories.

I sincerely respect the protagonist of White Nights. I see a lot of other reviews empathizing with him, which I definitely feel as well. Still, I feel a sort of distant respect for him, knowing that I couldn't do as he did. This “dreamer,” as he describes himself, has his dreams crushed and manages not to crumble under the rubble of those dreams. And it isn't out of cynicism or disdain that he carries on so admirably; rather, it's from valuing the joy he gained from those dreams, even if they might now be crushed. Sure, he feels dejected at the end, but he can cherish the temporary joy he had. As someone who has trouble valuing all things temporary and ephemeral, Dostoevsky's dreamer is the most remarkable protagonist I've read in a while.

Just finished “White Nights” by Dostoevsky, and man, what a ride! First off, word of advice: don't read the synopsis if you can help it. My copy had spoilers in it, which kinda sucked.

This book hit me right in the feels. I totally connected with the main character – his emotions were so relatable, maybe not as intense as his, but close enough that I almost teared up a few times. It's a quick read, only about 60-70 pages, so you can knock it out in one sitting if you're feeling it.

Dostoevsky's writing is something else. The way he captures emotions is just... wow. You literally feel what the characters are going through. The psychological stuff in this book is insane, in a good way.

That said, I gave it 3 out of 5 stars. Don't get me wrong, it's good, but I wanted more. The relationship between the characters felt a bit rushed, and I wish it was longer so we could see things develop more. I know it's a novella, so I can't complain too much, but still – I was left wanting more from the characters and their connections.

Overall, it's a solid, heart-wrenching read that'll make you feel things. Just be prepared for it to end before you're ready to let go.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

This short novella perfectly captures the feeling of loneliness, and particularly unrequited love. It's a beautiful narrative from a dreamer's diary that's easier to read than Dostoevsky's other works. The characters are so vivid and human that I wondered, “How was this written in 1848?” They felt like people from today, and the dialogue was spot on.

The main character in this story, a dreamer, as he refers to himself, is so engrossed in his fantasies that he's lost contact with reality, and therefore even the tiniest incidents in real life create a big impression on him. He daydreams to the point of conversing with non-living objects such as windows, streets, and his entire city. Although despite all this, he is very intelligent in many aspects and aware of how self-destructive all of this is, yet he cannot stop it. Until he does so, at least temporarily, for a girl he met recently.

“And now I know more than ever that I have squandered all my best years! I realize that now ... Now, as I sit next to you and talk with you, I feel positively terrified of the future, because in that future loneliness lurks once more, again that musty, pointless existence.”

“God in heaven! A whole moment of bliss! Is that not sufficient even for a man's entire life?”