There is a youthful energy to this text that is really a series of five stories bundled together into a whole that some call a marvelous psychological novel. What do we learn about Pechorin in each section as we see him through three sets of eyes (Maksim’s, the narrator’s, and his own)?
Be sure to watch some of the youtube videos for a sense of the Time and Place. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwy9PPE4Z_I&feature=related
The reader first sees Pechorin in a mysterious light, as Maksim Maksimych describes the strange young soldier who arrives to live with him. Maksim Maksimych sets our expectations for Pechorin when he describes the paradoxical behaviors of the “peculiar,” “eccentric,” and wealthy young man. Pechorin is certainly framed as mysterious and exciting when he is described as a person “‘fated from birth to have all sorts of strange things happening to [him]” (9). Maksim Maksimych’s view of Pechorin certainly begins as admiring, but as he progresses through the tale of Bèla, he becomes increasingly critical of Pechorin’s flaws (which he takes as representative of the flaws of the young generation). When Pechorin grows bored of Bèla, Maksim Maksimych writes of Pechorin’s egoism and how disillusion is in vogue among the younger generation – the example having been set by the drunkard English (not the French!) Maksim Maksimych’s own disillusionment with Pechorin is completed when Pechorin coldly rejects him in Vladikavkaz. The narrator sees this rejection, and his view of Pechorin is similar to the conclusions to which Maksim Maksimych has come; just by observing Pechorin’s physical appearance, the narrator judges him to be secretive and to have a fervid soul. The narrator pronounces that the fact that Pechorin’s eyes don’t smile when he does is a testament to his evil character. (Could the emphasis both Maksim Maksimych and the narrator place on Pechorin’s wealth and aristocratic characteristics say anything about Lermontov, like Pushkin’s references to signs of breeding?) Pechorin may be the least critical of his flaws as he writes about himself, but he also reveals the most about his character and his ideals. He asserts, with his story about Vulich, that he can be nothing other than a fatalist. I think part of what Maksim Maksimych is lamenting about the young generation, and what Lermontov is ridiculing, is Pechorin’s claim that happiness is impossible. The young generation is “no longer capable of great sacrifices, either for the good of mankind or for [their] own happiness” (85).
Maksim tells the story of Bela. Pechorin trades Azamat Kazbich’s horse for his sister Bela. His relation with Bela is filled with deceit, in that he deliberately tries to make Bela fall in love with him with no intention of marrying her. He has no intention of letting her go and makes her think he is a good man, who feels bad for keeping her in captivity. However, after he receives her love, he treats her with disdain and pays no more attention to her, while ordering her to stay inside all the time. When she dies he shows little emotion.
The narrator describes Pechorin as absent minded and cold towards other people. He is so disillusioned with the world that he cannot show any affection for Maksim at their last meeting. Other than that, he is completely self absorbed and can only say that he is bored and is going of somewhere never to return. The narrator also senses something enigmatic and interesting about this man, who is handsome, strong, and wealthy, but distant from everyone.
From Pechorin’s perspective we get a picture of a more multifaceted character. The story with the smugglers shows his curious and passionate nature, which puts him in danger of drowning. Then we learn that he is fatalist. The story about Lieutenant Vulich he presents as proof that his view of the world is thruth. When Pechorin predicts that Vulich will die, Vulich wins at Russian roulette and then is unexpectedly murdered by a drunken Cossack. Pechorin starts to feel that this cruel twist of fate is how the world works; things like this are predestined to happen.
Pechorin’s character is difficult to determine, since for the first part of the novel we see it through the filters of the narrator’s and Maksim Maksimych’s commentary. Their perceptions of him seem deliberately ambiguous. Maksim declares that he was a dear friend, but Pechorin rebuffs him when they happen to meet again. Pechorin’s own actions in the first section, such as stealing the horse and kidnapping and then losing interest in Bela, seem reprehensible and unworthy of Maksim’s obvious loyalty. But both Maksim and the narrator leave open the possibility that Pechorin is not depraved, but merely troubled. Maksim quotes Pechorin’s self-diagnosis that his soul “has been spoiled by the world,” his life empty, and that he himself therefore is blameless; furthermore, Maksim describes Pechorin’s inability to weep at Bela’s deathbed as more pitiful than anything he has ever seen, even as he admits to being annoyed by Pechorin’s lack of apparent grief at Bela’s funeral. When the narrator describes his first impression of Pechorin, he characterizes his unsmiling eyes as typical of a person who is either evil or possessed of some “deep and constant grief,” without telling us which it is. The narrator’s final declaration that Pechorin is the titular hero is even more baffling, since as of yet we have seen nothing particularly heroic about him. But having read the first of Pechorin’s first-hand stories, I’m inclined to be on his side. The later Russian literature I have read is full of troubled, cynical, mysterious people at odds with the world, and it’s tempting to take Pechorin as their archetype. The story about Taman certainly supports whatever disgust at the world he chooses to feel. The stories Pechorin narrates build up a feeling of disillusionment, that people are bad and unhappy and that if fate exists it is cruel. Possibly the ambivalence expressed by the narrators is a way of saying that Pechorin’s way of reacting to the world is not necessarily right.
Also, I really enjoyed Pechorin’s hat in that YouTube clip.
Through the three different perspectives, the reader in the first three chapters is given an excellent characterization of Pechorin. Maksim seems to have idealized Pechorin. The narrator’s first expectations of Maksim were incredibly insightful. The man is desperate to talk to someone on his own level. For about a year, Pechorin was that someone for Maksim, and he would have made the best of the relationship no matter what kind of person Pechorin was. Maksim seemed to focus on the more fantastic elements of Pechorin’s life. Maksim said himself, “he caused me no end of trouble, thought this, certainly, is not what I remember him by” (23 Nabokov Translation). Pechorin did do some extraordinary things, but Maksim, once he reflected upon him, also began to remember some of the bad as well such as his relationship with Bela and continual boredom due to his spoiled childhood. Maksim himself, who seemed desperate to preserve Pechorin’s good impression on him, almost purposely overshadows the bad with rhetoric. However, once Pechorin humiliates Maksim in front of the narrator, the imagined impressions are impossible to maintain. Maksim seemed to have been questioning Pechorin’s real qualities, and, with these actions, Pechorin refuted them. The narrator’s perspective on Pechorin is critical but also seems to be in line with Maksim’s selective stories of his friend. Finally, although Pechorin wrote the journal himself, the final perspective seemed very impartial. The journal is the list of the events that Pechorin experienced and his reactions to them, no commentary or bias. Pechorin seemed honest of the events, even when reflected upon him badly, like when the girl stole his pistol. I believe that Lermontov seemed to want the reader to make his own impressions in this chapter based on our own impression of Pechorin up to this point. I was given the impression that Pechorin seemed to be a pretty moral person but was also very detached from reality, largely due to his substantial wealth. Pechorin seems to not care about his life. I have a feeling that having your sword stolen would be quite a shame to most Russian officers, but Pechorin, with his money, seems not to care. Also, many Russian men, including Maksim, would love to have a wife like Bela, but Pechorin quickly becomes bored of her. Pechorin is an amazing person but not one to be looked upon with respect.
I’m going preface this one with a statement that I’m a little preoccupied, so this is going to be based on a reading about 9 months ago in Russian not very concise or well thought out – my apologies. I’ll make up for it by Tuesday.
Pechorin once was one of my favorite literary characters – skilled, manly, stoic, wealthy, intelligent and above the mundane ordeals of the world, but more and more I lose interest in his almost solipsistic attitude. His journals reveal him to be very thoughtful about many things, but principally as the world relates to him. Maksim’s impressions echo this interpretation and our dear narrator attempts to find this man’s soul through publication of his diaries. I think Maksim’s interactions with Pechorin best highlight the man’s self-centered psychology. Maksim is initially fascinated with the man and for a time they are comrades in exile, but the contrast of Pechorin’s cold reception of Maksim at the inn highlights that upon entering a bigger world the smaller parts cease to exist for Pechorin. The prior “Bela” episode hints at this as well. Maksim describes Pechorin’s Caucasian courtship of Bela in unambiguously wary terms. First, he is uncertain of Pechorin’s intentions, which seem rather barbaric. Then, he describes the machinations by which Pechorin almost bullies Bela into needing him and Pechorin’s restlessness in a semi-stable relationship. Finally, Pechorin’s inability to cry at Bela’s deathbed seems indicative of his attitude towards others in life – components of his story and he is an ideal character with already determined characteristics. Pechorin’s constant narrative in his journals affirms this idea, everything he does he does with the knowledge that he does it. He also feels a sick desire to affirm his life through tempting fate – ignoring the warnings about his choice of lodging and flirting with the girl on the beach in the night. The narrator, well I have a harder time recalling what the narrator reveals about Pechorin’s psychology – in part because he mostly just frames the tales “in order to examine the man’s soul” as he says. His attitudes towards Pechorin mix admiration and reservation…and I just don’t recall enough to figure this part out.
I would argue that Pechorin is presented from 4 different perspectives. Maksim Maksimych’s own perspective changes from the telling of his narrative to his meeting with Pechorin. In Maksim’s narrative, he notes that Pechorin is somewhat eccentric and unpredictable, but this is not necessarily bad in Maksim’s eyes and even after Pechorin’s unsavory dealings with Bela, he does not flat our condemn him. Although he mentions his own disappointment, vexation, and perplexity at Pechorin’s actions, he remembers him fondly and upon hearing of his proximity, eagerly awaits his arrival.
However, when Maksim and Pechorin are finally reunited, Maksim’s opinion changes greatly. He more or less curses his friend for his coldness and his lack of loyalty. He becomes so heated that he ascribes this trait to everyone belonging to Pechorin’s generation. He is greatly hurt by Pechorin’s attitude toward him and renounces him.
The narrator seems to form an opinion somewhere in between Maksim’s two views. In describing his appearance (which he obviously “did” after seeing him in action with Maksim) he is not too harsh and is in fact almost sympathetic. I think the in-between ground that the narrator finds is pity. It is especially apparent that the narrator pities what is in Pechorin’s soul as he describes his eyes. The narrator relates almost every aspect of them with grief or discontent. And again, in his notes before Pechorin’s diary, the narrator puts forth an opinion that is unsure. He says, “Perhaps some readers will want to know my own opinion of Pechorin’s character. My answer is the title of this book. ‘But this is wicked irony!’ they will say. I wonder.” This expresses his doubt so clearly that I don’t feel the need to elaborate on it.
The only insight I have into Pechorin’s opinion of himself is from the Taman section of his journal. What introspection he does include in this section is rather telling. He judges himself harshly for passing judgment on others. Several times he mentions that he is prone to prejudice and insinuates that this is a bad trait. He is fairly hard on himself and quick to find flaws. But I also detect an air of superiority in him. Again it comes at the end of the chapter. He says, “and besides, what do I care about human joys and sorrows- I, a military man on the move, and holder, moreover, of a road-pass issued to those on official business!” So Pechorin sees come of his flaws, but not this. To him, being superior is not a problem- it’s a fact.
If it counts for anything, I’m so far in the same boat as the narrator. I’ve got doubts.
As far as the story has centered around Pechorin, it has centered around his coldness. I would have expected to find the best justification for this coldness in his own journals, expecting his thought processes to be revealed, or perhaps even in the narrator’s own direct interaction with Pechorin. But contrary to my expectations, I found the best justification behind his coldness to come from a story Maksim told.
Of course it must be said that because Maksim tells this story he could contaminate it to a certain extent. He has the power to entirely shape the story, as he does when he tells the narrator the false ending about Bela (the narrator calls him out on it on p. 35). Thus, a bias does exist to a certain extent in his story.
Although, he presents it as Pechorin’s own words: “I am grateful to her for a few fairly sweet moments; I would give my life for her — only I am bored with her… Whether I am a fool or a villain I know not; but this is certain, I am also most deserving of pity — perhaps more than she” (41). The comment comes off as extremely cold (the fact that he is bored with this beautiful woman he spent so long courting and claims to be in love with), but also extremely self-absorbed. To claim that one is himself worthy of pity, I think, cannot ever be free of some degree of self-absorption. And it is this that I think influences his coldness, or his attitude towards the world. Pechorin himself is in fact a fatalist to some degree despite his objections in Book IV. He sees things (even his own disillusionment) as happening to him. He is, in fact, living in the cold dative case.
Perhaps the most useful way to view Pechorin’s character is that of a metaphor Dostoyevsky supplies via his prosecutor in The Brothers Karamazov and that is the image of Russia as a galloping troika in need of temperance and control before it is too late and the whole enterprise careens out of control. If we continue with this idea it is plausible to view Pechorin as the driver of the carriage, the powder keg that explodes and sends the horses into a frenzied, uncivilized state. The three views the reader receives of Pechorin all share in common a portrayal of his reckless, perverse-psuedo-Zen behavior that manifests itself largely in his disregard for the value of human life. Maksim Maksimych describes the most striking image of Pechorin laughing after Bela finally succumbs to her wound. Pechorin seems to suffer from some incurable detachment, as he confesses to Maskim Maksimych: “My soul has been spoiled by he world, my imagination is unquiet, my heart insatiate.” (Pg. 41) Furthermore Pechorin confesses in “The Fatalist” that his lack of faith in any one explanation for the meaning or true nature of existence has produced in him a malaise so that he moves without direction, charging through windows and past bullets to a fate that bears no importance to him.
The narrator claims very early on that this is not a novel but a transcribed account of a traveler’s journal. Even that statement implies that he has abridged and departed from events exactly as they occur, and at several points in the narrative we are expressly told that parts of this story are being edited or abridged. By the time the Captain starts talking, we are getting his story, as related through the narrator (as told by Lermontov). This allows plenty of room for disparities and inaccuracies in this tale we are being told to take as a factual account. At one point the narrator says, “I spare you a description of the mountains, as well as exclamations which convey no meaning, and word-paintings which convey no image” Yet countless times earlier in the work the “narrator” tries to convey to the reader the beauty of the landscape and details of the setting in which his story takes place. I think this shows more than a little bit of Lermontov peaking through his supposedly independent narrator.
It is through these varying and dubious narrators that we get several distinct impressions of the Pechorin’s character. In the first chapter as we learn of Pechorin’s exploits with the Ossetian Bela, he comes across as bold, cavalier, and powerful. Our narrator, upon listening to the Captain’s description of such a man who sheds no tears upon the death of his wife, expects Pechorin to be staunch and assertive, but in their encounter in the second chapter the narrator paints us quite a different picture. “Indolent” and “strong constitution” are easily assimilated into our original image of Pechorin, but other descriptions of his slumped posture, absolute indifference and “feminine delicacy” are quite surprising. Lastly, from Pechorin’s own diary he comes across as superstitious and actively curious of the what is going on around him. Solely on the fact that Pechorin becomes the new narrator, we see are exposed to more of his inner thoughts and so he appears much more introspective and of an engaging mind than originally appeared in the first two chapters. Instead of just being exposed to what he says, which is that he gets bored easily, we get to see how he thinks and the way this shapes his actions.
It is difficult to cobble together a unified idea of who Pechorin is while staying true to his many characterizations, however Pat’s mentioning of solipsist tendencies started me thinking. After considering this point, I would agree, not only in that it’s true, but also that Pechorin’s inability to relate with others at the bottom of it all is the thread that ties together the three different perspectives. First, a look at that of Maksim Maksimich, who narrates the framed story within “Bela.” In the beginning, Maksim Maksimich obscures his opinion of Pechorin with nostalgia, as he describes him in vague terms that seem altogether positive (“charming,” “a little odd,” “rich”; 10-1 Nabokov translation). Even after relating how Pechorin stole Bela, Maksim Maksimich’s high point of criticism against his friend is his feeling “nonplussed” (24) by his decisions. Once Pechorin’s waning love for Bela becomes apparent, however, Maksim Maksimich is suddenly able to show his disapproval. This comes through in his connecting Pechorin’s fickleness to the fashionable feelings of English “drunkards” (42) while in discussion with the narrator, and also through the Pechorin’s quotations, which of course are Maksim Maksimich’s adaptation. Pechorin’s claim that others’ unhappiness makes him “no less unhappy” (40) seems as disparaging as the parallel to foreign alcoholics (as Maksim Maksimich himself does not drink). The emotion shown here is shallow, and Pechorin can only see others’ unhappiness in relation to himself — a far cry from Maksim Maksimich, who claims multiple times that he “lover her like a father” (47). Lermontov highlights this contrast again with Pechorin’s laughter after Bela’s death, which irritates Maksim Maksimich.
Pechorin, then, appears only to know his own self, and this comes through in the narrator’s brief perspective on the man. Upon seeing him for himself, the narrator makes a poignant note of Pechorin’s eyes, which he claims could not “laugh” (perhaps a result of Bela’s death?). Immediately after this, the narrator segues briefly into his “deep and constant melancholy” (57), but this is not what moves him most. Rather, it is the man’s penetrating stare, which comes off as “disagreeable” not in arrogance or lack of respect, but their appearing “indifferently serene” (57). Such indifference echoes the solipsism seen in Maksim Maksimich’s story. Lastly comes Pechorin’s own perspective, which, because it is not necessarily the product of self-observation the narrator claims it to be. This truth begins as he questions the blind lad after seeing him at the shore the previous evening. When the boy denies being there, the old woman berates Pechorin for picking on the “poor cripple” (71); we expect that, since this quote is his own paraphrasing, Pechorin would indeed attempt to disprove the old woman’s castigation. However, we see at the end of “Taman” that this is not the case. After witnessing the blind lad lose what must have been his source of income, as well as being told that the old woman (his mother? grandmother?) ought to die, his opinion is as dismissive of the boy’s emotions as that of Yanko. Instead of using Yanko’s last words (“What use are you to me?”) as a foil to his own character, Pechorin seconds them in asking, “What do I care about human joys?” (79-80). We see then, that regardless of perspective, Pechorin is, in the end, unfeeling and unable to relate with other beings. Whether this is indeed full-blown solipsism or a deeper defect in character is debatable, but his emotional sterility cannot be overlooked, and I imagine that this will define his character for the rest of the novel.
Pechorin is a troubled and deeply real character. He is not a perfect romantic hero, nor is he a stylized antagonist. He comes across as a real person. In the Bèla story, Pechorin is clearly a young officer in an army unit. He enjoys a nice camaraderie with his fellow soldiers, and becomes entranced by a girl he meets one day. Unfortunately, this becomes an obsession that leads to bad decisions. He essentially kidnaps the girl and forces her to live with him until she grows to like him as he likes her. They live happily for a time, but Pechorin becomes disenchanted with Bèla, and upon her untimely death leaves that part of his life behind. He has traits that we can admire, but he is also flawed. He cares for Bèla, but got her in a rather unseemly way. Maksim’s story further shows Pechorin’s combination of virtue and flawed humanity. Pechorin obviously made a good impression on Maksim while they served together, or Maksim would not have been as happy to see him. However, Pechorin more or less passes Maksim over when they meet. He is stiff and formal, and hurts Maksim’s feelings. In the diary we learn that Pechorin had a fight in which he tried to drown a woman, but also endangered his own life in order to save the lives of cavalry officers sent to arrest a murderer. Pechorin does things that we would generally define as good, moral actions. However, Lermontov continually reminds us of the real humanity of Pechorin.
While all accounts of Pechorin differ, they consider one notion about his character the remains unchanged through all of them.
Maksim Maksymich describes Pechorin as eccentric and peculiar in his ways. He appears to have taken a sort of patronage over this young officer that wants to find adventure and fulfilment in life, by creating challenges for himself. He is portrayed as energetic, but no good ideas of where to put his energy. He is however very honest about how he got bored with Beal. In Maksim’s memory they were friends, not necessarily in Pechorins.
Once the narrator starts his account of the ‘hero of our time’ he is full of anticipation, because of the stories he had heard. The image he then gives the reader a negative prejudice against Pechorin, because of how condescendingly he treats Maksim. That to me is a result of his ambitions and witness to his impatience. This is further developed in his physical description of being rather feminine and having eyes that never laugh and are an indication of an evil inclination.
Finally we hear Pechorin’s perspective from his travel accounts in which he seems quite ambitious and appears to put his fingers on issues that are none of his business. In the last chapter, we read, we saw him challenging fate. That to this point is the strongest portrayal of indifference on anything on his part.
In his indifference and arrogance towards life and anything that could possibly be steady in life (friendship, a wife) is to me the underlying theme until here and in that he reminds me very much of the young count in Pushkin’s “The Shot”.
Throughout the various sections of the story, readers are exposed to several different Pechorins: Maksim Maksimych’s semi-glorifying recounting of their friendship, the narrator’s brief encounter with a brusque, seemingly more mature man, and an adventurous and troubled soul from his own perspective. Each perspective provides a different and incomplete rendering of his character. The first deals with his chauvinist and (what I’ve observed as) typically Russian attitude towards women in the Bèla affair, as well as a glimmer of an inner evil or depressed quality. Additionally, this section references Pechorin’s Byronic tendencies of brash heroism and courageousness, as Emma pointed out, something simultaneously archetypal of certain English Romantic and Russian heroes. In the latter two sections, Lermontov reveals more of Pechorin’s self-interested facets when he snubs Maksim Maksimych at the station and, through his journals, reveals that his primary concerns are him and his own affairs. Through these various directed descriptions, we are able to discern a more objectively real Pechorin. Of course, no character can interestingly exist without juxtaposition with other personalities, and the many viewpoints we receive help build the title character into an ostensible hero of [Lermontov’s] time.
I agree with Dave that Pechorin is a very real character, and like Pat Ford, I think he is one of my favorite characters so far, because I understand his insatiable desire for excitement, and his growing tired of what he has.
We can describe Pechorin with three adjectives: narrow-minded, self-centered, stubborn. In Maksim’s description, we see him as one of the young generation who has been spoilt by all the experiences that money can bring. He’s looking for something that he can’t achieve, some puzzle that he can never solve. Once he figures out a puzzle, person, or a location, he loses interest. He thinks he’s got the Kabardians, the war in the Caucasus, and Bela all figured out, but from his talking about the Kabardians, we see that he makes numerous assumptions based on face value, and cannot entertain thoughts that are different from his own. He does not understand that there are cultural differences, and that the Kabardians’ seemingly inferior behavior may not be inferior.
The narrator’s description shows us that Pechorin cannot possibly have real friends. He seems to regard everyone only as they relate to him. Once he’s done with them and needs no more favor, he leaves them behind. Pechorin’s accounts in the diary further suggests his egotism and narrow-mindedness – everything must be perfect for him, and he sees no fault in his doings.
All in all, Pechorin is pretty despicable character, but then again, he is real. We all share some part of him. I think he is the Hero of Our Time because he understands his flawsI heard this from somewhere: “The only thing worse than not getting what you want is getting what you want”. There’s something tragic in all of this that makes me like him, or at least feel sympathy and understanding.
The character of Pechorin slowly unfolds as we read through the stories of “A Hero of Our Time”. There is the Pechorin of Maksim, who is a daring young man and also one completely in control of oneself. He is bored, however (the result of an indulgent mother it is speculated) but not of a bad type. His treatment of Bela is fair until he begins to become bored or uneasy with her and goes off on his own hunting quests.
His treatment of Maksim Maksymivich when they meet at the traveling camp is deplorable and yet part of you sympathizes with this young man who is eagerly and honestly searching for experience and meaning. One can identify with his almost resignation that he must ramble for a long time, either if only to get it out of his system or because there is something he is searching for.
Helena is right to point out that his conceit goes to such a length that he challenges fate in the final story the fatalist.
I don’t think Pechorin is a bad guy. Tragic, maybe, but all in all he is a character one sympathizes with.
Through Maxim Maximych’s account on Pechorin, we learn that Pechorin sees women as little more than objects able to be manipulated into doing whatever you want them to do. He sees Bela as an thing waiting to be conquered, and shows her little respect; his way of “winning her over” consisted in abducting her form her family, claiming her as his own, and expecting her to end up loving him as he thinks he loves her. He is extremely persistent in trying to convince her to give her love and her body up to him, and through manipulation this false love is eventually reciprocated. Pechorin almost has too many flaws to be a romantic hero.
After Maximych’s story, the narrator has a set bad impression of Pechorin, which is reinforced when he meets him. His unfriendly treatment of Maxim shows his conceit and his disregard for others (exemplified in the way he treats Bela after becoming bored of her). Unlike Zhenya, I felt no sympathy for this troubled hero, who is so concerned only with himself and sees no one else.
His curious nature and need for knowing everything is very well demonstrated in Taman, and almost has him drowned, which, come to think of it, he probably would not have minded. Personally, if I met Pechorin, I think I would find him boring. And mean. Only boring people get bored.
The most fascinating depiction of Pechorin came during the section of the novel when the narrator was present to watch him and Maksim reunite. The narrator remarks that Pechorin had “a sure sign of secretiveness of character,” (56) and he is described over all as ‘soiled’, though we are not clear from what beyond just the story of Bela. The most interesting aspect of his description, though, is of Pechorin’s eyes, “They never laughed when he laughed. Have you not happened, yourself, to notice the same peculiarity in certain people?… It is a sign either or an evil disposition or of deep and constant grief,” (57). Here, we see Pechorin as not only strange, but as deeply disturbed in some way. Regardless of which one of the two options we think that Pechorin is, he becomes enticing to us in a profound way at that immediate moment. And then, at the end of this section, it is actually Maksim who is portrayed as the tragic character. There seems to be something about Pechorin that is mysterious, and the following narrative evokes responses in the reader in light of the fact that, in Pechorin’s journal, we are peering into the eyes of a person whom even the narrator cannot otherwise understand. But again, even the journal seems to be mostly detached and objective. All of this works to entice the reader even more to choose for his or her self what Pechorin might mean to them.
There is a great deal we learn about Pechorin by way of the three perspectives offered in the ‘novel.’ From the narrator we are given the perspective of someone young, untried and still wide-eyed before the Caucasian landscape and the exploits of Pechorin. As a somewhat ‘typical’ Russian claiming to have little to say about himself, the narrator is taken aback with the stories of the peculiar, Byronic Pechorin. At the very least, the narrator gives the impression of being impressed and youthfully surprised (almost rendered less pure) by the stories Maksim tells about the title character.
From Maksim we receive the generational perspective of an older man out of his milieu and time when he relates to Pechorin. Clearly he is affectionate for him, but through Maksim’s stories we see Pechorin as a youthful, confused young man still trying to find his way through a strange world. Maksim almost puts himself forth as a model for the young Pechorin, trying to lead him into a simple soldier’s life on the outskirts of Russian military power.
Pechorin himself is the most revealing, because we learn from his own narrative that he is given to brooding, is restless, and is always willing to try something new: it is as if he has the weight of the world on his soldiers, but he still possesses the youth and energy necessary to shake it off once in a while by traveling to distant shores. Mostly, we learn that he does have a conscience but that he is inclined to sideline it in his musings and exchanges with others; almost that he senses how distant he is, is sad for it, but is unwilling to abandon it – for this reason he writes of Maksim (and earlier, Bela).
Maksim admires and is fascinated by Pechorin as someone without limitations, I imagine. The curiosity of Pechorin’s actions take on a positive light under Maksim’s narration, since the latter is himself drawn in by the unfolding events: stealing Bèla, for instance, is at first a potentially volatile complication, though Maksim comes to love her more lastingly than Pechorin does. In this sense, I feel that Maksim lives somewhat vicariously through the uninhibited, unpredictable life of Pechorin. For example, Maksim probably wouldn’t have willingly recounted his cold reunion with Pechorin, whom Maksim had considered a close friend because he’d been able to stand in this man’s shadow. I was going to say that the narrator comes at the whole issue with a bias in favor of Pechorin, since he hears these intriguing tales from Maksim first, but he so summarily speaks of and benefits from Pechorin’s death that I’m not so sure of that position. Until Pechorin’s diary entries, I feel almost as if the narrator is most concerned with promoting himself by recounting this story; the narrator’s journal is relatively linear but contain digressions proving that, if these diaries are indeed unabridged entries, he is cognizant of and condescending toward his reader who wants access to the tale. Pechorin’s own diaries are made, in this manner, to seem either more honest or entirely faked; if the narrator is using this story somewhat for himself, then Pechorin’s is likelier to be either attention-grabbingly true or patently invented. At least, the narrator highly polarizes my perspective of Pechorin. Perhaps I’ve come to some silly conclusions, but these are my impressions so far.
The complexity of Pechorin’s character is highlighted by the differences in Maksim’s, the narrator’s and his own portrayal of him as a character.
The narrator seems to be captivated by the magnificence and sensationalism in Pechorin’s story. He refers to Maksim as a “man worthy of all respect” (50). Therefore, he clearly accepts Maksim’s view of Pechorin. He doesn’t seem to have a moral stance of Pechorin’s character aside from a naive sense of wonder.
When telling Pechorin’s tale to the narrator, Maksim at once admires Pechorin’s power and disapproves of his immoral behavior. However, once he sees Pechorin again, Maksim is crushed by Pechorin’s indifference. Specifically, Maksim is crushed when Pechorin “extended his hand to him when Maksim Maksimych was going to thrown himself around his neck!” (62). The contrast between Maksim’s devotion to Pechorin while telling his story to the narrator and Pechorin’s cold reception of Maksim reveal a lot about Pechorin’s character.
Pechorin seems cold, unfeeling and restless in his own diaries. He thirsts for excitement and change and is unfailingly unsatisfied with his adventures. His materialism permeates throughout his entire account.
The different accounts of this powerful character that is Pechorin leaves me with a slightly sour taste in my mouth. He seems to me to be a testosterone-driven, reckless, greedy and somewhat heartless man. His clear charm and social power give him a certain attractiveness, however. It will be interesting to see what happens with Pechorin’s character and my impression of his person as “A Hero of Our Time” continues. Right now, he is no hero of mine.
It was interesting when the narrator encountered Pechorin while they waited for Maxim and what he said about his eyes: “First of all, they didn’t laugh when he laughed! Have you never noticed such an oddity in certain people?… This is a sign either of an evil disposition, or of deep and perpetual sorrow.” (51) These lines helped me to develop a better understanding of Pechorin, a character which for me isn’t really a hero. Pechorin trades a horse to receive Bela, the girl in which he later stops caring about while he goes out to hunt for wild boars. We are only told about Pechorin in the first part. In the second part, we actually get to meet Pechorin, who denies the company of Maxim. Maxim is distraught that Pechorin does not want to chat with him but rather wants to head out to Persia. Caring more about heading out to travel then chatting with an old ‘friend’ didn’t come across as a nice thing on Pechorin’s part. And finally in the last part we encounter his own diary in which shows the weird and strange experiences he’s encountered in Taman. For me, Pechorin isn’t really a ‘hero’ or so far for what I know the chapters aren’t giving him too much credit. Pechorin is driven more about his own cares rather than others such as Bela and Maxim.