9 / 52: A Lear of the Steppes, Turgenev.
This translation by Coulsen is the most delightful and lyrical I’ve ever found – but maybe ‘Lear’ is outstanding for Turgenev. Either way, I’ve found a new favorite from this author. As usual, the characters are the big draw here, and they’re deftly drawn without too being too specific. I won’t forget Evlampia any time soon. The giant Martyn Petrovich Karlov, a sort of prototype for JK Rowling’s Hagrid, is delightful. But beyond it characters, the climactic scene in which Karlov destroys a building like a force of nature is burned into my memory. A thrilling moment, and a delightful little story.
Your representative quotes:
“..everywhere he was driven away, but he only cowered and screwed up his squinting little eyes, and laughed in a nasty, gurgling way, like somebody rinsing out a bottle.”
“It was not the first time I had seen the house and it always moved my curiosity: there was something mysterious about it, something secretive, uncommunicative, something reminiscent of a prison or a hospital.”