There are winners and losers in the novel. What factors seem to influence the happiness or satisfaction of the key characters? Are Bazarov and his ideals the real victims?
25 thoughts on “Fathers and Sons”
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When we first meet Bazarov he adheres to the strict philosophy of nihilism. He accepts only that which is scientifically proven, he refuses to take anyone’s word for anything, he displays little emotion, and he forms no alliances or true friendships. It seems that his nihilist views allow him to disdain and dissemble all existing institutions and values. As he ruins traditionalism we expect Bazarov to self-destruct as he allows nothing around him to be held true or even rebuilt. His world therefore disappears in his search of purity. As Bazarov is so attached to his ideals that he cannot see past them, Arakady is more flexible. His character goes though a great deal of development as he learns of nihilism and remembers the value of tradition. For Arkady it s a process, but he keeps himself in check. Unlike Bazarov he is able to find the strength to assert himself intellectually and emotionally. His happiness evolves out of a constant thirst of learning and understanding. He allows hinmslf to understand nihilism and being part of the new generation without loosing belief in art, love and emotion. In the end, he becomes a content married man. Bazarov, on the other hand, is a stagnant character up till the end. His views finally become challenged by Madame Odinstova. She believes in strict order and for their being a way in which we act. Bazarov begins to sway in her presence and even begins to love her. However, he is reticent in his emotion because by declaring his love he looses the security and limits his nihilist philosophy. Therefore he is never able to abandon his nihilist views or even adapt them as Arkady had done. This leads to the self-destructive death anticipated form the beginning. The novel, by neither taking sides politically and by having the character that is so decisive die, shows us that to be content and happy we must look at things both objectively and fairly but also include our hearts.
The outcome of the novel is interesting because it seems that the characters with the weakest convictions turn out to be the happiest, while those who follow their principles more closely end in misery. Arcady recognizes his disapproval of Bazarov more and more as the story progresses (especially when leaving Barazov’s family) and finally comes to the conclusion (with a strong influence from Bazarov) that the two “friends” must part. In doing this, he also separates from the strict convictions to the nihilist movement and after a time of reflection/maturation, he gains the courage to express his love for Katya. Though Arcady falls from Bazarov’s influence, it is interesting to note that, once married, Katya begins to fill the leadership role; Arcady’s weakness in character essentially leads him to happiness in marriage.
Nicholas rejoices when Pavel gives his blessing to marry Fenichika. He said that it had been his wish all along and only hadn’t done so before (presumably because he was afraid for Pavel’s well-being after the whole ordeal with the Princess.)In a way, Nicholas looked up to Pavel as Arcady looked to Barazov, and Pavel’s blessing to marry was almost the equivalent of Barazov leaving Arcady to grow up.
Though both Pavel and Bazarov remain unhappy/dead, they stick by their ideals throughout the story and it is this stubborn conviction to live for something greater than a single person that eventually led to their personal demise.
The comparison to the romantic, capricious father and son pair, to the other duo who respectively embodied the beliefs of their generation, presents the reader with two essential life options: living your life according to what will make you happy, or living your life strictly based on a set of morals. I think that both are valid paths to follow, but that which one values more (joy or moral conviction) determines the winners and the losers in this story.
The last paragraph of the novel makes me think there are no real winners, losers, or victims in this novel. How can there be when there is “eternal reconciliation” and “life everlasting?” Certainly Arkady, his father Nikolai, Katerina, and Fenichka seem to have found happiness and satisfaction faster than the other characters, but if live is everlasting and eternal, does the speed in which happiness and satisfaction are reached matter?
Bazarov’s ideals are certainly the biggest losers. Bazarov rejects all that is intangible, yet falls helplessly in love. He does not believe in god, and values only the “sensible” parts of life yet the story ends with him in “eternal peace” and his parents weeping over his grave.
Turgenev actually attempts to end his story on a similar note (Bazarov transcending death and thus in himself contradicting nihilistic ideals) earlier in the story after Katya whispers in Arkady’s ear: ‘In memory of Bazarov.’ However, he gives into the readers and “satisfies their curiosity” as to what “each of our characters is doing now, at the very time.” By ending the story reminding us of eternal life, however, he is essentially telling us that the current state of the characters is not what matters.
I agree with Ashley; however, though she says that it is the characters with the “weakest convictions” that end the novel happiest, I see these characters—namely Nikolai, Arkady, Fenechka, and Katya—as the ones who remained true to themselves throughout the novel: characters who resisted a rigid ideology or set of principles, who listened to their hearts and avoided falsity in the end. These characters ultimately triumph as a result of their flexible, honest genuineness and willingness to allow others into their lives. They contrast with Pavel and Bazarov, who stiffly cling to unyielding ideologies, consigned to, as Bazarov puts it, the “bitter, harsh, lonely life” of one who denies his true self in favor of a rigid posture. What Nikolai, Arkady, Fenechka, and Katya all realize is the truth of their belonging to another human being; they deny their singleness, their rigid oneness and egotism, for unity with another. This is the recognition of the true self, and the abandonment of all false and unbending principles, principles that ignore life’s ultimate flexibility and constant changing. As Nikolai finally admits, “I no longer look for my ideals where I looked for them before; they are…much closer to me. UP to now, I hadn’t understood myself, I set myself tasks which weren’t within my strength…. My eyes were opened not long ago, thanks to a feeling”—love, as this self-revealing feeling ultimately proves itself to be; the same feeling that sets Katya and Fenechka free, and provides the basis for Nikolai’s marriage to Fenechka and rejection of the false pretenses of “aristocraticism.” They are true to themselves and their own, genuine, irregular inclinations and reject the confining nature of a rigid ideology.
While Bazarov and his ideals do “die” I do not think they are the real victims. His strong convictions brought upon his demise. If he truly believes in his nihilistic ideals, then an overrun grave and a forgotten memory is the legacy he wants to leave behind. As a self-proclaimed nihilist, he acknowledges nothing and therefore should be willing to accept the consequences of these beliefs.
The final scene of the book leaves me with a bit of hope that life really is not as dreary as Bazarov makes it out to be. Turgenev ends with the image of Arina and Vasily, Bazarov’s only family, as the only people who honor his memory. Even though their actions may be futile and every image of Bazarov leads us to believe that he would not have wanted an afterlife, there is still some hope. The last lines: “however passionate, sinful, rebellious the heart buried in this grave, the flowers growing on it look out at us serenely with their innocent eyes: they tell us not only of that eternal peace, that great peace of ‘indifferent’ nature; they tell us also of eternal reconciliation and life everlasting” essentially dispute everything Bazarov has said in life; however they do not have to exist separate from his character. Throughout the novel he has been very hypocritical, falling in love when he abhorred the idea, giving up on science to live a very peaceful, country life, and it is only fitting that his afterlife follow in the same footsteps. It is almost as if he died because he could not reconcile his feelings of joy and serenity accepting life for what it is and his academic nihilistic ideals.
Like Ashley I find that Turgenev does not allow both moral conviction and happiness to coexist. Bazarov sacrifices the little bit of happiness he finds with Anna for his convictions and he ends up miserable. Even when she comes to save him, he is already too far gone and nothing could have helped him, however he finally realizes that she does in fact love him. No matter what his mood at the end of the play, Turgenev certainly gives us, as readers, a lot to think about.
oh and on the subject of happiness and satisfaction: everyone seems to depend upon someone else. Arkady upon Bazarov and then Katya
Nikolai upon Pavlov
Bazorov’s parents upon him
etc etc…
also: I couldnt help but think about Prof. Beyer’s comment about terrorism while finishing the story. And, I couldnt see the connection. I saw Bazarov as a superfluous man, overwhelmed by his emotional inability to follow his own ideas. Like A Hero of Our Time, Bazarov was arrogant, yet full of potential. And, just like in”our hero,” the culmination of Bazarov’s frustration was his indifference to death. They both fought ridiculous duals, and Bazarov even died from carelessness (and perhaps even suicide—exposing himself to known, contaminated blood.)
Neither, however, like a terrorist does, took any ACTION. The duals were acts of little boys with nothing better to do.
Bazarov’s ultimate satisfaction and happiness, we must assume, comes after death.
I think it is important to observe that we don’t see Bazarov “happy” (as happy as he is capable of being, as we see in the beginning) ever again after he proclaims is love for Anna and discovers it is not returned. I think once Bazarov realizes that he is capable of love (despite his best attempts at self-deception) he realizes that nihilism, and therefore his life essentially, is meaningless.
We see the happiest characters who “succeed” in life to be “jackdaws,” or people who respect family ties. Nikolai and Arkady respect traditional values (we see Arkady calling his father “daddy” again once Bazarov has died) and philial ties and we see Katya respect her family ties and traditions as well. Characters whose beliefs rest in principles or others are “winners.” Bazarov’s parents are able to find solace in religion, and therefore are able to survive the loss of their son. Pavel believes in specific gentlemanly morals, and Arkady is brought back from nihilism by his belief in love. Bazarov’s inablilty to place faith in anything beyond himself is what leads to his death; his concepts of corrent and incorrect, fact and fiction exist entirely in his own head- there is nothing beyond him. This isolation must lead to his death for what other end could such a man have?
What most interests me in this entire book is the last page. The theme of the “goodness” of nature is present throughout the book (almost everyone seeks the solace and support of nature and takes both pleasure and comfort in it). It may also be said that what was unnatural was Bazarov who did not, in the end, succeed. It is natural for fathers and sons to love each other, for people to fall in love, and for people to feel moved by emotion.
I would just like to type up my book’s version of the last paragraph…
“Can it be that their prayers and their tears are fruitless? Can it be that love, sacred, devoted love, is not all-powerful? Oh, no! However passionate, sinning, and rebellious the heart hidden in the tomb, the flowers growing over it peep serenely at us with thier innocent eyes; they tell us not of eternal peace alone, of that great peace of ‘indifferent’ nature; they tell us, too, of eternal reconciliation and of life without end.”
With Bazarov’s death, all of his nihilism is refuted. His parents’ tears are not fruitless as they are comfort in themselves to the old couple. It is love, love for Anna, that gives Bazarov rest upon his deathbed and literally stills his wild heart (or you could say results in his cold heart being consumed by the flames of fever). The flowers are said to have eyes so that Bazarov is able to look to us from the grave, from the “other side.” They have innocent eyes- they don’t only speak to his eternal peace (which alludes to heaven and the funeral rights and sacrament given him before his death) but to eternal reconciliation. Bazarov reconciled his existence right before his death- nihilism was infact impossible as he was susceptible to love.
In the end, every major character loses something, as both the old and the young are unable to reach a common connection. Essentially, they lose each other through the generational divide. The duel between Bazarov and Pavel Petrovitch firmly illustrates this seperation. The generations are so pitted against each other that they have given up any attempt at an understanding and have turned to fighting. Bazarov, the most obvious case, loses himself, his friend Arkady, and eventually his life as he gradually self-destructs. Bazarov’s parents lose their son, as he grows more and more distant from them. He dies before parents and son can fully reconnect. Bazarov’s parents lost Bazarov before they could even comprehend the generational divide that was taking him away. Arkady loses his dear friend, as the two come close to a quarrelling, and Arkady finds it necessary for them to part. Nikolai Petrovitch loses the close relationship with his son he had hoped would blossom. While the two are on good terms, one cannot help noticing that the generational divide has still taken its toll; both father and son have moved on from each other by the end of the novel. Both achieve happiness in the end with their marriages. However, their marriages seem to symbolize their split from each other; each has pursued his own happiness, and each has managed to be happy without the other. Finally Pavel Petrovitch goes away in search of a better life and presumably finds happiness. He, however, has failed in his attempt to understand the younger generation. He symbolizes the message the book leaves us with: a schism will forever remain between the old and the young.
In my mind, Bazarov’s death signifies the failure of his ideas. In the first half of the novel, he appears as a very strong character. Whether or not we like him, we are struck by his convictions. There is something powerful and impressive in his certainty. But after his failed exclamation of love to Mme Odintsova, he rapidly begins to crumble before our very eyes. Bazarov wants to believe that he can follow his philosophy and dismiss his love as foolish and meaningless, but, to his disgust, he finds it impossible to do. Upon returning home for the first time in three years, he is unwilling or unable to show any love to his parents. They care about him more than anything in the world, but he cannot even pretend to be interested. Suddenly he appears more like a stupid teenage rebel than an educated, forward thinking young man. Even Arkady grows disappointed in his friend. He is struck by Bazarov’s overwhelming negativity, and, for the first time, begins to challenge his mentor. While once so enamored by Bazarov’s philosophy, Arkady now begins to feel his friend’s cynicism as stifling and out of touch with reality.
By the end of the novel Bazarov has alienated himself from the people who care for him, and essentially ends up committing suicide. In this sudden ending, Turgenev shows us the ultimate failure of nihilism. To successfully practice what he preaches, he must care about nothing, and that includes himself. By claiming that everything must be destroyed, he is forced to destroy himself. In this way, Bazarov does follow his beliefs – he dies a nihilistic death – but it comes at an overwhelming price. By following his philosophy through to the end, Bazarov ensures that he will never be able to inflict real change. Further, Bazarov’s rejection of everyone around him means that there will be no one to take up his fight once he is gone. His beliefs die with him, unfulfilled.
I think the only big losers in the novel are Bazarov’s parents. Their son is the only thing that they really care about and they completely order their lives around his needs. However, they are never rewarded for their devotion to their son as he at first only stays with them for two days and then dies on his next visit to them. His death takes from them the only meaningful thing in their lives.
One can certainly say that Fenichka, Nikolai, Katya and Arkady are all winners in that they end up in happy relationships in a nice family atmosphere. Yet at the same time I do not really see Bazarov as a loser. He seems to me to have become disillusioned with the way he lives his life near the end of the novel. His problem with loving Anna and his duel with Pavel (which was not rational and thus not in accordance with his nihilist principles) show him that he cannot live like a nihilist. However, when he tries to live a ‘normal’ life, he is incapable of this as well as he becomes very bored at home. I think he becomes completely disillusioned and bored with everything at the end of the novel and simply wishes to die. And since he attaches no importance to anything, he seems to not really have a problem with this.
Thus, I think the main attribute that allows a character to win is his/her lack of attachment to anything. Bazarov’s parents become completely miserable with the loss of the one thing they really love in their lives. While Katya, Fenichka, Nikolai and Arkady are certainly winners at the end of the story, their attachment to each other will certainly make their lives miserable when one of them dies.
Thus, in a way, Bazarov is the true winner in that he calmly faces death and will not have to deal with the misery that others must deal with.
In class we spoke about how Turgenev doesn’t seem to take a side in his story, either for or against the new wave of nihilism, and for that reasons both sides felt like they were being attacked. It is not difficult to see why they may feel this way; the most prominent characters on both sides of the spectrum, Bazarov and Pavel, have the least happy endings. But if Turgenev is not arguing for or against nihilism, slavophilia, aristocracy or any sort of philosophy or belief, what point is he trying to make? To me, it appears that Turgenev is making a point against stubbornness and excessive pride. As Ashley put it, the characters that end up happy do have the weakest convictions, but is it not because they are weak in their convictions that they are happy, it is because they are humble and flexible. Bazarov and Pavel are both too proud to give up on what they believe to be true, even when they would be better off. The only time one of Pavel does give in–when he gives Nikolai his support to marry Fenichka–it brings great happiness to Nikolai. When Pavel is most stubborn and proud, like when he challenges Bazarov to a duel, it ends up poorly for him. Bazarov is just as proud as Pavel, and although he seems to slightly alter his views towards the end with his actions towards Fenichka and his parents, it isn’t until he is on his deathbed that he is ready to admit he actually felt love (he admitted it before too, but made sure to take it back once he came to his senses).
Arkady and his father on the other hand, are humbler characters. They have beliefs and convictions, but they do not hold them as tightly, and they are not afraid to modify their views when they feel the need to. Arkady may not command the same respect or have the same power over people that Bazarov has, but he accepts that and is able to find happiness because he knows that there are more important things than being right, or being the best. Nikolai is much the same. At the beginning of the story, he appears to be a fool. He has little control over his estate and even less charisma. Yet he too finds a happy ending, because he allows happiness to find him. He loves Fenichka; she is ultimately the source of his happiness, but had he been prouder, he may not have allowed himself to marry this woman of a lower class. Arkady and Nikolai and modest, and perhaps more importantly, flexible, which allows them to push aside their beliefs to let happiness (love) in, whereas Bazarov and Pavel lead with their convictions no matter what the cost.
I don’t see any real winners in this book. The last few chapters just seem to dissipate out into a sappy puddle of settling with mediocrity and commonplace. Maybe Nikolai and Arkady (and their wives, but they seem to exist mainly as vehicles for their husbands’ happiness, and I never had any real sense that they were on any sort of quest for fulfillment) attain contentment, but no one triumphs. It may be possible that becoming a settled, happily-married farmer is the best possible life choice for Arkady, and it may be possible to feel a vague sort of satisfaction on his behalf, but it’s hard to be enthusiastic about it.
Pavel and Bazarov, the two characters who demanded the most from themselves and who tried hardest to live with nobleness of purpose (I understand that it is hard to connect nihilism with nobility of any kind, but the sense of super-human expectations is the same), are punished for their efforts. Pavel fades away into a boring old relic, and Bazarov goes down similarly prosaically, as a result of an unromantic accident. Bazarov himself recognizes the cruel, or rather careless, slap down nature has delivered to his assumptions that he was bigger, greater, more important than the common man and not perceptible to the senseless, everyday misfortunes of those not destined for greatness.
After Turgenev has effectively squashed the characters who try too hard, we are left with Anna, who marries not for love and who continues to live a life comfortable both economically and emotionally, the Bazarovs, who just cry away in a graveyard, Nikolai, who wanders the countryside making speeches that no one cares about because they take no firm stance of any kind, and Arkady, whose chief achievement is turning the estate to a profit. And the women, who sit around the house playing the piano/ watching someone else play the piano. Maybe it comes from being young, but I don’t think I want these people to be the winners in life. There has to be something more to life, or at least some other good that is possible, than a contented marriage and life without significant conflict.
The more moderate characters, Arkady and Nikolai, seem to be the biggest winners while the more extreme characters, Bazarov and Pavel are the biggest losers. Tthe moderate pair and radical pair each are moderate and radical on different sides of the spectrum, and, consequently, it is not the beliefs that they have that benefit or hurt them but rather the extent to which they hold these beliefs. In other words, I believe that Turgenev is not choosing a side between the “fathers” or “sons” but rather choosing a side in how people express their beliefs and preaching that radicalism is a bit dangerous.
Pavel and Bazarov each seem to take their philosophies a bit too seriously and Turgenev warns against this inflexibility through the fates he assigns to each of their characters. Bazarov, this supposed intelligent doctor, ends up contracting typhus while trying to perform an autopsy on a typhus patient and dies prematurely, leaving behind a life full of promise. The irony in this is that it had always been Bazarov who worried about fulfilling his life. When Arkady and Bazarov were visiting Bazarov’s parents, he said to Arkady that he did not understand how his parents were happy when they were so insignificant in life. Bazarov dies before he can accomplish anything and becomes even more insignificant than his parents. Pavel suffers because even though he outwardly seems to enjoy his travels, “life seems to weigh heavily on him…more heavily than he himself will admit.”
On the other hand, Arkady and Nikolai both marry and raise families in each other’s company. They both love their wives very much, have the joy of raising children, and can grow closer to each other.
I believe Turgenev’s purpose in this novel was to put forth some liberal ideas to be contrasted with the more traditional Russian ideals without explicitly supporting either set of ideals. Rather, he advocates practicing flexibility in beliefs so that no man becomes so stubborn as to ignore all other ideas out there and, therefore, misses out on enlightenment.
By the end of the novel, everyone more or less gets what they wanted because they allowed themselves to be their true selves. Slowly, Arkady stops hiding in Bazarov’s shadow and begins to reconcile the thoughts of his generation with the lessons and characteristics he has gotten from his father, and thus he is able to understand love and open up to Katya. This is also true for all the others: once they start being true to themselves, their lives turn out for the better.
I don’t think ultimately Bazarov died for his convictions because I think he understood that nihilism was just a facade for his frustrations. This is evident not only because he finally openly admits to loving Odintsova, but also because his actions towards his parents illustrate his constant struggle with how to define himself. That is the plight of the superfluous man- I don’t think Bazarov truly wants to believe in nothing, but that he doesn’t know how to be a different man from his father. This is revealed in very subtle ways- that his lip quivered after he meets his father for the first time in three years, and that his mother made marvelous beet soup. Also, when Arkady tells Katya that he wants to be “strong, [and] full of force,” Katya says “It’s no good wishing for that. Your friend, you see, doesn’t wish for it, but he has it.” (285). I think this is further evidence that there is just something inherent in Bazarov’s character that makes him so passionate, which we can take to mean that perhaps he could have come across any other doctrine and embraced it just as passionately just because that’s the way he approaches everything in life. All he really seems to want is to have something, anything to believe in, because Bazarov knows he is capable of more than his parents but just doesn’t know where to go. His death seemed so eminent because of this, he constantly seemed to be looking for some way out of that feeling of superfluousnes. However, like Zach said, even if nihilism was just a facade for him, it ultimately helped Bazarov in the end in that it allowed him to accept death and die calmly.
I also agree that if anyone is a loser, it’s Bazarov’s parents. Out of all the characters in the book, they were the most traditional in their ideas, which was an interesting parallel to Bazarov, who was the most “modern” of everyone. Thus, while the narrator leaves the reader feeling pretty good at the end with the prospect of “eternal reconciliation,” Bazarov’s parents don’t seem to feel or believe this, and thus in their torture they are the only characters with an unhappy ending.
Bazarov and his nihilism represent the chief antagonism to the question Turgenev seems to pose to us throughout the book—that is, whether or not sons and fathers will be able to sit down to eat at the same table again without killing each other over what seems to be nothing but words. This is a book about generations (thus, “Fathers and Children”), and so inherently implies issues of passing on of tradition, death and new life, and so forth.
The scene near the end of the book, when the characters communally gather around the table at Pavel’s farewell party, however cliché and feel-good, left a strong impression on me. The presence of the oldies who are soon to fade away into old age, complacency, being a “relic” as Susanna put it, alongside the ruddier, not-yet-tired-by-age, not-yet-completely-mature Arkady et al., with the presence of the promise of the baby Mitya’s life to come—all of this coming at the end of the book, portrays a resolution of the story that is not too bad, yet not perfect either.
This resolution, along with the denouement provided on the wistful passing away (figuratively) of Pavel and his brother and with the final, hopeful image of flowers engrossing Bazarov’s grave, points to Turgenev’s modest assertion of his trust in the natural order of society/humanity/etc.
That said, everyone seems to win, for order does triumph over nihilistic chaos—everyone but Bazarov. Yet, I find it difficult to categorically call him a “loser”—his existence to himself ends with his death, so his philosophy is appeased, regardless of his parents’ and Turgenev’s beliefs about eternal life or the memory of the dead.
I believe that the only losers in this novel are Bazarov, his parents, and his ideals. I say this because it appears that the other characters in the story are only winners in relation to these facets of the book.
Bazarov’s greatest loss is that of life. This may seem contradictory to his nihilistic ideas, but I do not believe that Bazarov truly believed in nihilism and so his life was wasted on failed attempts to be unattached to other people and the world around him. His death marks the end of a life unfulfilled and defined by repudiations. In his death so too dies his ideals. Bazarov tells Madame Odintsova that she is beautiful, essentially being a romantic. Although there are many instances when Bazarov fails to act in a nihilistic manner (his profession of love for instance) it is on his death bed, when he lacks any control over himself, that his nihilistic façade unravels entirely. Upon realizing the he will most probably die, Bazarov essentially tells his father that he did not wish to die so soon. A true nihilist would not be so affected by the face of death and so it is in the face of the one thing Bazarov cannot deny that he is revealed in his true colors.
The last chapter of the book is a happy one, but for some reason it was not satisfying. The mere contentment of those left appears as a thin alternative for the nihilistic life because there is little volition behind it. The characters remember Bazarov because he was impressionable even though this impression was a negative one. That cannot be said for the others. Arkady and Katya, Nikolai and Fenichka get their happily ever after and the others go on pleasurably. Their “win” is relative.
I am all set to pronounce Arkady the “winner” in this novel. I was so proud of his conversation with Bazarov in the garden in which he dismissed the latter with perhaps my favorite line in this novel, “Allow me to point out that what you say applies generally to everyone.” I do believe that Akady went through the most growth out of all the characters. He was from the start I thought the most malleable character, attached both to the youthful appeal of Bazarov’s philosophy, and to the traditions and sensibilities of his parents. He would even attempt to show a smile to Bazarov’s father, while his son merely stretched out and yelled for the servant to fill his pipe. And let’s not forget how Arkady landed Katya. No one else had really been paying attention to the younger sister, but Arkady saw the potential, and in the end, he executed. I was glad Arkady got over that fixation he initially had with Anna Sergyevna – and in the end it was she who started to see the merit in his character; although we do not know the extent of those developing feelings, it’s still a score for Arkady in my mind.
I have to agree with Brett though, that the novel is and has always been focused on the generational differences between the characters. By the end of the novel, one can say with certainty that every character has felt this generational gap, and in that sense you could say everybody wins – or loses. One feels very strongly (at least I did) for the poor parents of Bazarov, especially his mother, who never really experiences her son as his father did during those heartwarming days of their impromptu father and son medical practice. Only during that brief scene of tenderness when Bazarov allowed his mother to see him, did we see the distance between the two of them bridged. Why was there such a distance in the first place? Why did the mother feel that she needed to walk on eggs around her son, and furthermore why did the father hold his wife back in hopes that less contact with her son would mean he would remain at the house longer? But Bazarov by the end feels the sentimentality. He asks, “Whom will she feed now with her wonderful cabbage soup?” That to me was the absolute clincher. I could die peacefully after hearing Bazarov utter those words.
Arkady, Katerina, Nickolai, and Fenetchka all “win” because they are happy at the end, while Pavel, and Anna don’t come in last, and Bazarov “loses.” But these are overstatements. A big message this second half of the novel is finding contentment and happiness in another person who can share your joys and sorrows. Bazarov mocks Arkady when he calls him a jackdaw, but he doesn’t get the last laugh – no, his father incidentally does, a man who fully appreciates companionship and giving in to a mediocre life in exchange for a humility and serenity. In fact, it’s Irina and Vasily’s love for their son that allows Bazarov to go to heaven, alluded to in the last paragraph.
This message actually tells me that Bazarov’s ideals are victims, but Bazarov is not. See, the nihilist philosophy to not give a damn for life forces one to be sloppy and careless, because there is so little motivation (which explains all the laziness). Bazarov didn’t care about the world around him emotionally, and allows himself to be “cut” open by the very small bit of life he is willing to explore (science and medicine). Not caring, being careless, leads to death.
But Bazarov, as a human and not as a nihilist, falls in love, and constantly pursues this love up until his death, even though he makes many denials. Anna is his tonic, but she won’t let him drink. Bazarov is a victim of Anna more than of nihilism.
Anna becomes even more interesting in this last section. We learned early when she speaks to Bazarov that she fills her life up with luxuries in her desire for novelty, but nothing can hold her affection so she feels no need to live. Because her emptiness disgusts her, anyone who falls in love with her disgusts her as well, since they must not value proper life. (We see this first with Arkady, but when Bazarov pronounces his love, she despises him as well). From the eyes of her sister she appears very materialistic and naïve in her haughtiness. What she is really attracted to is some sort of direction, because that’s what she wants in her own life. Bazarov seems to have some answers. When this doesn’t work out, and Arkady comes back into her life with purpose (towards her sister) and a backbone, she desires him. (ha!) Poor Anna.
I really think that the question of winners and losers in the novel is akin to the question as to whether Turgenev was advocating Slavophiles or Westernizers with his work, there is just not enough conclusive evidence to rock the boat either way, but depending on the vantage point, one could make a variety of different but valid conclusions. While finishing up the novel tonight, I very much agreed with what Zach expressed in his post that Bazarov’s parents were the real losers. Their entire and rather pitiful lives revolve almost entirely around their insolent son, who doesn’t seem to ever give them the time of day.
However, I believe that the final paragraph of the novel holds much significance, especially in their case, and presents an amusing sort of irony to Bazarov’s nihilism. The author asks, “Can it really be that their prayers and tears are futile?” Although it may seem that the death of their son has all but destroyed their lives, the couple still seems to live on by mourning their son even after his death. This act, which Bazarov himself would deem to have no purpose whatsoever, as his atheism would suggest that his soul would not live on and their tears and prayers would only fall upon deaf ears, in fact is probably the sole purpose driving the couple to go on with their lives.
Either way, though, the final two sentences that conclude the novel seem to set the differences and any irony aside and mesh all ideals together in this sense of renewal and peace that is found in death or “eternal peace.” In this regard, I think that Bazarov may certainly be a winner, despite his early demise. While his parents find meaning in mourning their son and the other characters, the two couples, Pavel, Odintsova, etc. seem to have found happiness, my personal view of the matter is that theirs is only temporary in comparison with the eternal “peace” already achieved by Bazarov.
To call Bazarov a loser in the novel requires a certain interpretation of the term that does not at once seem entirely accurate to me. His death is a result of his becoming involved in medicine, which he despises. The irony is readily apparent, and the character’s demise, combined with his reluctant acquiescence, however tempered and hesitant, to his father’s request that he accept God on his death bed ultimately indicates that the nihilistic ideals of Bazarov have failed. Bazarov dies accepting the love of his parents. I believe that he can’t help but disdain his own emotion, but he accepts it nevertheless and recognizes the truth of it. To call this end losing is open to interpretation, but Turgenev seems to indicate in his final paragraph that one should not read negativity into the death. Even as the author invalidates Bazarov’s nihilism both through the character’s development and through narration, he suggests that the failure of his philosophy is in effect a victory: love is all-powerful, the author tells us. Emotion and connection endure from beyond life, as Bazarov’s parents feel a connection with him at his grave.
It is interesting to me that in a book so grounded in generational conflict, neither generation seems to emerge “victorious” over the other. While Bazarov’s nihilism fails next to the passion and devotion of his parents, the character ultimately benefits from this failure, whether he recognizes it or not. There is less ambiguity present in the conclusion for Arkady and Katya, who find for themselves the all-powerful love Turgenev must elucidate for the reader with regard to Bazarov. Nikolai’s marriage to Fenichka reinforces the same from the other side of the generation gap: the couple renounce the traditionalist view that prohibits cross-class marriage and find love and companionship in which they can raise their child.
If someone in the novel does in fact lose, I would be most readily inclined to suggest that Anna Sergeyevna is the character. Her marriage, as described by the narrator in the final chapter, is not the marriage of love that she so desired. Turgenev leaves open the possibility of her finding love, however, even in a marriage of “reasonable conviction.” Regardless, harmony, and the potential for happiness or love, seems lackluster compared to the ultimate situation of each of the other characters.
In general, blurring the lines in their strict ideals allows the character in Fathers and Sons to become happy.
Arkady easily finds more happiness when he shakes off nihlism. Although he wasn’t much of a nihlist to begin with, Arkady fully breaks with his school learned principles and resorts back to the old. He acknowledges his appreciation for art and romantic things and of course falls in love with Katya. Arkady’s happiness began when he threw off the fake mask of nihlism and stepped out from under the shadow of Bazarov, who he had so greatly admired.
Bazarov might say he always kept his ideals and pathetically acted rash twice, telling a woman he loved her and kissing another. Whether he found happiness in “old” morals is up for debate. However the change in his character and the ability to control himself and not vehemently attack anyone who disagreed with him contributed greatly to his acceptance by Arkady’s family. One can quite possible remain a nilhist but not act blatantly rudely. Bazarov found a balance in which he could communicate with other people and this began his path towards happiness. This allows Bazarov to begin relationships with people at Arkady’s house and even allows him to connect with his parents better.
As for the characters, much of their happiness is indebted to Bazarov and Arkady or to other characters other than themselves. Nikalai becomes overjoyed when Pavel tells him to marry Fenichka. Pavel, like Arkady and Bazarov, has put aside his strict ideals and understands that his ideals where keeping himself and others from being happy.
By the end of “Fathers and Sons,” Bazarov has been destroyed by the ideals he once held so dear. I know I am only concurring, but it is difficult to say that Bazarov and his ideals were the victims of the story, since it was Bazarov’s nihilism which led to his demise. On the other hand, Arkady, who confronted nihilism, looked it in the face, and rejected it (in part) who ended up being a happy, married man.
Lest we think that this was simply a statement against nihilism, Turgenev here is pointing out the empty promises of any strict philosophy. Rigidity in such a diverse, fluid, and sharp world will not permit someone to live their life with too many convictions. Best keep one or two, “love” and “God,” for instance, and believe in them on your spare time. It’s rude to think too much about it in public, you know.
Which is tragic. As insufferable as I found Bazarov, he was the only character in that story with any honest convictions. That he was too weak to hold on to them in the face of love, so be it, he’s human! It wasn’t until his demise that I realized what an empty story this is without Bazarov, and indeed, what an empty life this would be without people like Bazarov. In this book, he is so wonderfully flawed, every word of his drips nonchalance and disinterest, he’s infuriating! Yet, he thinks something. And while it may be immature, and while he’s obviously not strong enough for the philosophy he espouses, he has convictions. And sadly, that’s not acceptable.
I don’t think Bazarov and his ideals are the victims, per se. You could almost say that Bazarov is a victim of his ideals but he’s the one that chose them, so that doesn’t really fit either. Bazarov loses in this story because his life is empty. His ideals force him to become detached from the world, and he lies there dying without fear because nothing in life matters to him (well, except for Anna, kind of, but he talked to her before he died). And by declaring that he was a nihilist, he couldn’t let himself really value anything in life, making him just an empty shell of a being wandering the earth. He was basically biding his time until death. It came early, but even if he died sixty years later, if he had still held on to nihilism life would have just basically been one giant purgatory, except he’s not going anywhere afterwards.
Meanwhile, the other characters in the story are happy because they opened themselves up to life. They value things like love and family. They don’t necessarily do anything extraordinary with their lives, but they don’t need to in order to feel fulfilled, so why should they? I don’t feel as if the happiness of these characters is empty or lacking in some way.
In response to Gabe: you don’t have to have people at opposite ends of the spectrum. You can have people that think something that aren’t as closed-minded to the world as Bazarov is. Most people fall somewhere in the middle, and life is just as full with those people instead of the Bazarovs of the world.
There are the two poles of “morals” established here: aforementioned “rigidity” and “flexibility”, and what seems to be especially the Russian context, you are or are not something on the superficial level. Your actions clearly create an indefatigable identity, though (proven by Bazarov) your true human nature shows through whatever mask of idealism you adopt during your life. I am convinced that people will be the people they are, in some ways like Bazarov’s assertion that all birches are alike. Fundamentally, we are all alike – we just seek our own particular, organically driven method of expressing it, which I liken to a form of “spiritual” survival, just as the body has to survive. Digression aside – what I mean to do is defend both modes of life. It depends on what perspective you adopt. To each, the other is a loser. I think Turgenev is on the side of Arkady and Nikolai. Actually, now that I say that, I have doubts. There is a certain realistic twinge on his part towards his characters. I think at some level, Turgenev is a defeated Bazarov – continuing with life despite your questioning and rejection of it, which seems impossible, but people persist with all kinds of ideas circumnavigating their minds.
I think I just see what each character loses, as someone mentioned above. Bazarov loses love but gains ultimate meaninglessness in death (for him, probably), Arkady loses convictions but gains a substitute lifestyle – people, for some reason, are permitted to shift. And with regards to terrorism, it seems as though people blow themselves up because they serve one purpose to its conclusion. Not many people reach that kind of transcendence.
Sophie writes, “The last paragraph of the novel makes me think there are no real winners, losers, or victims in this novel. How can there be when there is ‘eternal reconciliation’ and ‘life everlasting?’…By ending the story reminding us of eternal life, however, [Turgenev] is essentially telling us that the current state of the characters is not what matters.”
I believe that Sophie does not account for the doubt that engulfs the ending of “Fathers and Sons.” Michael R. Katz’s translation of the text finishes: “they tell us also of eternal reconciliation and life everlasting…” (157). The ellipsis at the end of this sentence creates the feeling that there is something left unsaid, something underneath. It is certainly not conclusive, and this lack of finality makes the content of the final paragraph uncertain.
The narrator passionately cries, “Can it really be that their prayers and tears are futile? Can it really be that love, sacred, devoted love is not all-powerful? Oh, no!” (157) While one can interpret this as a factual statement coming from an omniscient narrator, I see doubt wiggling in between the words. By questioning the span and existence of “life everlasting” within the narrative, the narrator does not appear to have made up his mind completely, even if he thinks by the end that he has. I am not necessarily saying that the last line drips with irony, but it seems to me that the narrator is still unsure about the finality or infinity of life.
I agree with Ben Tabb’s comment about Arkady and Nikolai being willing to “modify their views when they feel the need to.” I feel that this is the reason I like them so much (thanks, Matthew Lazarus, for giving him a shoutout). Receptiveness is a crucial attribute, and it seems to me that Turgenev supports malleable opinions. Lastly, I would like to question Matthew Rothman’s post about Bazarov. He says, “[Bazarov’s] death is a result of his becoming involved in medicine, which he despises. The irony is readily apparent…” Bazarov studied natural science at the university in Petersburg, and Arkady tells his father in the third chapter that “[n]ext year he hopes to qualify as a doctor” (8). Does Bazarov “despise” medicine?