Last year, Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s slim novella White Nights became an online sensation on Bookstagram, with thousands of posts, fan art, and gushing reviews flooding every timeline. The Penguin Classics edition of the book comprises the titular long story and a short story, “Bobok”. “White Nights” was first published in 1848 as “Belye Nochi” and “Bobok” in 1873 (“Bobok” means “a little bean”). Both novellas have been translated from Russian by Ronald Meyers.
White Nights (1848)
My god! A whole minute of bliss! Is that really so little for the whole of a man’s life?
At first glance, it’s an unlikely book to go “viral”. For one, Dostoyevsky needs serious commitment from readers; the book is nearly 200 years old, and the author’s work has always been regarded as intimidating. BookTok or Bookstagram is good at popularising certain books, but they aren’t very good at cultivating meaningful conversations around them. Then, what is it about White Nights that appealed to a new generation of readers? Why was everyone desperate to get hold of it, considering it’s not one of Dostoyevsky’s iconic works?
One possible answer might be that “White Nights” is only 80 pages long, and “Bobok” is 30. Neither is a “quick read”, but they are, of course, far easier to handle than Dostoyevsky’s massive tomes (and most popular novels) Crime and Punishment (700+ pages) and The Brothers Karamazov (1000+ pages). For those who are nervous about embarking on a serious Dostoyevsky pilgrimage, White Nights is a perfect taster of what to expect from one of the greatest writers to have ever lived.
Another possible answer might be that new (young) readers adore White Nights because it speaks very convincingly of the loneliness that each of us feels while living in a big city. When Dostoyevsky was around, there was no social media and perhaps electricity was a luxury resource, too. Nevertheless, St Petersburg (where he lived and worked) was a big city with many people – it was easy to feel lonely, and the harsh winters did little to uplift one’s mood. Then there’s also the anxiety among young people of not having a lover, of being so unhappy by yourself that you find it impossible to foster kinship with those around you.
While much has changed since Dostoyevsky’s time, it is also true that the world has become lonelier. We have been trained to be hyperindividual, so much so that talking to strangers or wanting to strike up a friendship can be perceived as an intrusion of a person’s privacy. This painful state of being – where one craves companionship but doesn’t want to be a bother – is intensely relatable for many who feel lost in big, crowded urban spaces.
The nameless narrator of “White Nights” thinks of himself as a “dreamer” and admits to being “timid, nervous” around women. He has tried to make friends in the city but hasn’t had much success; if anything, his solitariness has compelled him to think of strangers, streets, and houses as friends. There have been times when he almost made a friend but restrained himself in time by holding back a wave or a smile. The narrator is desperate for a friend but he knows no one is obligated to relieve him of his loneliness.
It is on an evening walk that he spots a girl sobbing on the streets. He approaches her to comfort her and she immediately takes to him. Perhaps it is his timid or nervous nature that appeals to her, either way, she tells him of her situation. She is waiting to hear from her lover, who hasn’t written to her in a year. He refused to marry her on account of having no money but has promised her his love. Only 17 years old and starting to become world-weary, the girl fears she has been abandoned. In the meantime, the narrator believes he has fallen in love with her. It is of no consequence to him that she has been betrayed – if anything, it frees her up to be with him. The girl insists they are just friends and in fact, she loves him as one would a brother.
Not discouraged by her protests, the narrator starts to imagine the life the two might have. He has just about enough money to marry her and he wouldn’t mind moving into her home and taking on the responsibility of her grandmother. Three nights go by expressing dramatic dreams and lamentations, but the following day, her lover returns and she promptly abandons the narrator.
His friendship and daydreaming might have been in vain, but he doesn’t think so. For him, “a whole minute of bliss” is good enough for a lifetime. The brief severance from reality becomes a welcome change in his life. He might have tried his best to “manifest” the girl’s love but isn’t given the happy ending that so many of us feel entitled to. Moreover, there’s also a certain romance in meeting someone in person and falling in love with them, of sparks flying the “old school” way which is fast becoming aspirational in the age of virtual (and instant) romance.
The story’s mass appeal makes complete sense.
Bobok (1873)
“In my opinion, the one who’s smarter than all the rest is the one who calls himself a fool at least once a month – an unheard of talent nowadays!”
On the other hand, the frenzy seems to have fully escaped “Bobok”. An even shorter story, “Bobok”, is more complicated in its themes and ideas than “White Nights”. Here, Dostoyevsky’s protagonist is Ivan Ivanych, a struggling writer who fears he is going mad. He writes tripe and advertisements and hasn’t been able to get any serious work published. He laments the disappearance of good writing and the popularity of crasness. In addition to everything, he constantly hears a voice going “Bobok, bobok, bobok” in his ears which makes writing all the more difficult.
To take his mind off his sorry state, Ivan goes for a walk and somehow ends up at a funeral. It turns out that he’s related to the dead man but he is treated poorly by the dead man’s immediate relatives. As the party gets busy with post-funeral activities, Ivan lingers by the grave and becomes lost in thought. Soon, he starts to hear voices – which he believes are emerging from the graves. At first, it appears as though he has stumbled into an important meeting and when he listens more carefully, he hears a woman expressing her desire to strip off her clothes. What he hears doesn’t always make sense.
They are dead – literally in the grave – but preoccupied with the same things as the living. Death is not successful in snuffing out ego-fuelled feuds or petty misunderstandings. Status and class are still important. The flesh and bones might have become one with the soil, but the consciousness refuses to be tamed.
One must not forget that Ivan is quite mad and is desperately trying to write a worthy story. It explains why he hears voices or invents them – he is mad but not to the point of not desiring success or recognition, but such is the state of literature that even Ivan (who prides himself to be better than his peers) can think of nothing better than uninspired conversations.
Like the nameless narrator in “White Nights”, Ivan of “Bobok” is lonely too. He eavesdrops by the graves, and when he sneezes unexpectedly, the voices immediately cease, and he is by himself again. Like Nastenka who returns to her lover, so too the voices return to the death’s eternal silence and Dostoyevsky’s two men are as alone as they always had been. It is rather ironic how, like Ivan’s writings, the story about him has also struggled to entice more readers – the more superior of the two in this book!
White Nights, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, translated from the Russian by Ronald Meyer, Penguin Classics.
