Retrieve A Hero Of Our Time Developed By Paul Foote Rendered As Print

Vrouwen houden alleen van mannen die ze niet kennen,

Aan de hand van vijf ingenieus verbonden novellen krijgen we een indringend psychologisch portret van de jonge officier Petsjorin, het prototype van de Russische overtollige mens.
Petsjorin is een gedesillusioneerde, amorele dandy, Ambivalentie viert hoogtij, nog versterkt door knipoogjes naar de clichés van het romantische genre,


sitelink

Puntig, lyrisch, sarcastisch, vitaal proza zoals het tegenwoordig niet meer geschreven wordt, Helaas was Ruslands tweede dichter hetzelfde lot beschoren als zijn grote held Poesjkin: hij stierf opjarige leeftijd in een banaal duel, بطل المفارقة والتزييف والحذاقة والتصنع والجرح باحترافية.
"بطل من هذا الزمان" أو ذاك الزمان. . فهو متجدد ولا يموت. يحيا في الجيل الذي يحاول إعادة انبعاثة والترويج له.
ليس رجلا بالمعنى المتعارف عليه.
بل جيش من الرذائل استولت على قلب كان لإنسان.


كيف تخدش ببساطة من تحب
وتطعن في ظهره وتغرب شمسك عنه وكأنها لم تشرق
وتتوارى خلف السخرية النكرة لتفسر ما لم يطلب منك تفسيره, .
فقط لتهرب!!!


حينما تستولي العبثية والأنانية على لب بشر ماذا تنتظر خلف التتويج. .
بطلا ينقذ
أم بطلا يدمي. . ثم لا يتوانى أن يضحك على حماقاته.


أجد أن قلبي امتلأ. . امتلأ بالألم من كل شيء. .
ذلك التلاشي في اللاشيء يمزقني. . ويدفعني خارج ذاتي.
حينما توجتني القوة. . لم أجد من نفسي بدا أن لا أكون حليفا للخسارة بل للمكر ما استطاعت إلى ذلك سبيلا.

لسبب ما. . لا أدري للماضي أم الحاضر وجدت الجسارة طبعي والقدرة الفذة على استمالة القلوب لجانبي. .

ثم ماذا بعد. .
من يجرؤ على المقاومة في سحقها بعد استمالتها إلا قلبي الجسور !!!
اتفق معك أنك لا تحبني. . ولن تحبني. .
ولكن سترى أن في كل جيل من يقدرني ويجعلني رمزا للبطولة.
في كل جيل وزمان سترى من يستهزئ بآلام الناس على طريقته الخاصة.
من يجفف سيل العاطفة البراقة ليزرع الحقد والشر.
من يبني سدود العداء ويهدم المودة ويردم الحب.
ويتنازل عن المسلمات لعبثيته.
والمبادئ لهمجيته.
والخير لصالحة.
سترى البطولة بطولها وعرضها في من هو أسوء مني وأقسى مني. . وأكثر مكرا وجرأة. .
وسترى أن لكل نوع جمهوره حتى أنا لي من يتوافق معي ويعرف قدري. “Zamanımızın Bir Kahramanı" was published in, It is Mikhail Lermontov's only complete prose work, The novel begins relatively simple with a portrayal of Pechorin, The beginning its written in a third personperspective, After this it turns in to a diary perspective of Pechorin, so to speak, so the reader gets to know him, Above all, there is the slightly satirical depiction of the society in Russia in the early nineteenth century, The climax is the highly readable duel of Pechorin and Grushnidzki at the end of the novel, Also Lermontov anticipated with his own fate, he died in a duel with his rival Nikolai Martynov inat the age ofyears, The complex character of the protagonist reveals itself through five interconnected short stories, The novel is exciting and witty and reads in spite of its content always entertaining and enchanted incidentally with beautiful landscapes and nature depictions of the Caucasus', But only the capture of the reader for the evil hero makes Lermontov's novel to a brilliant masterpiece Thoroughly enjoyed this!
Beautiful and gritty writing about life, death, love, friendship, fate, growththe list is endless!
Expect nothing less from a Russian read! بعد قراءة بضعة روايات روسية من القرن التاسع عشر تتولد لديك قناعة أن نبلاء تلك الحقبة كانوا حفنة من الكسالى غريبي الأطوار يقضون نهارهم في التفلسف ولياليهم في الحفلات الراقصة حيث تبحث الأمهات عن شخصيات لامعة لتزويج بناتهن يواتيهم الملل فجأة ويلاقي نصفهم حتفه في مبارزة جراء خلاف كان يمكن أن ينتهي بشد الشعر أو لكمة في الوجه.


هذه صورة للمجتمع الراقي خاو ربما. سطحي لعله كذلك. غير أن الأدب روسي عميق ومؤثر. فقط العباقرة هم من يمكنم خلق روايات خالدة من مجتمع كهذا. يعد ليرمنتوف من أواخر الكتاب الرومانسيين كما أنه أستحدث بعدا واقعيا في خضم الرومانسية وهو أمر اتبعه الكثير من الروائيين الروس بعد ذلك.

تسرد "بطل من هذا الزمان" مذكرات أحد الضباط الأثرياء والذي وفقا للمؤلف نفسه يمثل جيلا كاملا بمزاياه وعيوبه. تنقسم الرواية إلى خمس مغامرات مغلفة بطابع رومانسي. ستجد الكثير من وصف الطبيعة شيئ من المواقف المؤلمة وكالعادة العديد من الشخصيات التي يعريها الكاتب دون مواربة ليترك لك بعدئذ الخيار في التعاطف معها أو الاشمئزاز منها وغالبا ماتكون المحصل مزيجا من هذا وذاك.

أعجيتني الرواية كثيرا لولا أن القصة المركزية فيها طالت في منتصفها أكثر مما تستحق. بشكل عام الرواية ممتازة وكانت أفضل مماتوقعت. هل حقا هذا العمل كتب قبل قرنين إلا عقدين من الزمن
هل البشر هم نفس البشر فعلا!
كلهم من طينة واحدة ولأبطالهم نفس هذة السمات!
لربما هذة حقيقة. .
لكن كاتب هذا العمل حتما متفرد بهذا النوع من الكتابة التي ستصل بك أعلى درجات النشوة الأدبية من وصف وتوصيف فني وطبيعي وتشريح نفسي وفكري لشخصية بتشورين بطل روايتنا وبطل زماننا هذا وكل الأزمنة غابرة كانت أو مقبلة ما دامت اشتركت جميعها في تحطيم أجيالها وتشويه نفسياتهم وحملهم حملا على الحياة بلا غاية ولا أحلام كأنهم شيوخ عجائز قضوا وطرهم من الحياة أي حياة!
أبطال تشربت أرواحها العجز واستبد بها اليأس فأصبحت لا تأمل شيئا ولا تؤمن بشىء وتجسر على فعل كل شىء حتى مجابهة الموت إذ لا يمكن أن يقع لهم ما هو شر من الموت والموت لا بد منه في يوم من الأيام قرب هذا اليوم أو بعدلقد قال بطلنا هذا نصا!
وإني أعترف بأنني كنت أسيرة هذا التشريح النفسي العبقري!
وأسيرة هذا التصوير الدقيق الذي قدم به عمله إذ قال
" أيها القراء الأعزاء: إن "بطل من هذا الزمان" لهو صورة حقا ولكنه ليس صورة رجل واحد, إنه صورة تضم رذائل جيلنا كله وقد بلغت كمال التفتح. . "

أما عن الترجمة فلقد كانت فوق الرائعة ساحرة تنقلك حسا وروحا إلى أرض القوقاز تنعمك بجمال جبالها وذراها الثلجية وانعكاس أشعة شمسها الناعمة عليها فتستحيل ألوانا من قوس قزح تتغنى به عينيك وتتنسم هواها الرطب العليل فتنعم برحلة فريدة شاعرية الأثر لن تنساها حتما ما حييت. .
نعم هذا عمل لا ينسى! Ask a Westerner about great Russian writers, and chances are you will hear the names of Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy or Chekhov,

But my mind instead immediately jumps to the earlier, more Romanticist generation of the earlyth century Pushkin and Lermontov, two young geniuses, neither of whom has lived to see.


Its easy to forget how ridiculously young Lermontov was, Pushkin, Russias greatest poet, was killed in a duel at only, Lermontov, the secondgreatest, died in the same ridiculous way but at the age of only, And by that young age he already reached fame and recognition, having barely spread his literary wings,

Funnily enough in the saddest way possible Lermontov himself wrote a passionate and angry poem sitelinkDeath of the Poet about Pushkins death, condemning the societal scorn that pushed Pushkin to such an end only to repeat the same fate himself.
And both Pushkin and Lermontov have written and condemned pointless duel scenes in both of their greatest works Pushkin in sitelinkEugene Onegin, Lermontov in this one, sitelinkA Hero of Our Time.
Writing the scathing sitelinkDeath of the Poet about Pushkins death was what earned the young previously littleknown writer both skyrocketing fame in the literary circles and displeasure of the Tsar, culminating in basically what amounted to the exile to serve in the army in the Caucasus mountains the place where his masterpiece sitelinkA Hero of Our Time is set and where Lermontov himself eventually was killed.

The Romanticism gave us the much loved and much hated Byronic hero a noble solitary scoundrel, misunderstood, lonely and suffering, brooding and disillusioned, dark and alluring, haughty and cynical, yet charismatic and irresistible to women, painfully selfaware and blinding in his superiority to the otherwise banal and mediocre society.
Countless characters were inspired by this just think of Eugene Onegin in Pushkins novel, for instance, The painful echoes of the allure of such heroes still are heard in so much of romance and young adult literature to this day,

In sitelinkA Hero of Our Time Lermontov portrays his stark disillusionment with such a Byronic hero, shocking and scandalizing society, Youd expect him to paint Pechorin in a more dramatic or sympathetic light given the inherent allure in such a character, especially to a very young writer who idolized Byron actually lived a life similar to that of a Byronic hero.

Supposedly, Lermontov himself was not the nicest person, A very wealthy and spoiled young man, he was famous for seducing women and breaking their hearts, writing rambunctious and lurid poetry after joining a cadet school, a sharp and caustic wit that could border on casual cruelty, impressive intelligence bordering on cynical arrogance, and boundless bravery in war battles leaning towards careless recklessness.
But again, the man was onlywhen he died, with no chance to ever reach maturity and wisdom of age, to outgrow the swagger stage of a young rich guy with all the life ahead of him.

But there is no alluring glow to Pechorins character, Pechorin is an appalling egotistical arrogant cynical fellow, an antihero surely, who still embodies the Byronic ideal perfectly, but in this case so appalling to the society still full of admiration for Byronic tragic antiheroes, that Lermontov in the foreword to the novel had to point out translation is mine:

“ This is a portrait, indeed, but not of one man: it is a portrait comprised of the vices of our entire generation, in all of their form.
You will tell me again that a man cannot be this bad, and I will tell you that if you could believe in the possibility of the existence of all the tragic and romantic scoundrels, why wouldnt you believe in the reality of Pechorin If you enjoyed creations much more terrible and uglier, why would this character, even as an invention, not find mercy with you Is it because that he carries more truth than you would have wished for”

Pechorin certainly has a remarkable insight into his appalling character, and is quite contradictory in his complexity.
He tends to be spoton in astute recognition of human fallacies, which fuels his cynicism, He is very wellaware and almost alarmed by his purposelessness and a tendency towards selfdestruction, His pride in his detachment and cynicism even briefly falters when his genuine feelings for Vera lead him on a mad gallop to reach her but that flame is extinguished quickly, and we know that from here on he goes on to carelessly destroy young Bela and her family.


Its interesting how the bestregarded work of the man usually thought of as a poet is a slim novel written in prose, But really, the prose is ridiculously unbelievably poetic, so perhaps its not strange at all,

“The dancing choirs of the were interwoven in wondrous patterns on the distant horizon, and, one after another, they flickered out as the wan resplendence of the east suffused the dark, lilac vault of heaven, gradually illuminating the steep mountain slopes, covered with the virgin snows.
To right and left loomed grim and mysterious chasms, and masses of mist, eddying and coiling like snakes, were creeping thither along the furrows of the neighbouring cliffs, as though sentient and fearful of the approach of day.
”

This book is told in five parts, told out of chronologic order:

It opens with “Bela”, where our narrator, while traveling through the Caucasus in the middle of the Russian multidecade expansion to that territory, known collectively as sitelinkthe Caucasian Wars, meets an old army man Maxim Maximych, who tells him a story of his younger officer friend Grigory Pechorin, a worldweary rich man of twentyfive or so, and his kidnapping and seduction of a young local girl Bela five years prior, followed by the tragic end of this romance shortly before Pechorin would have been tired of this conquest.


Then we move on to “Maxim Maximych”, a short piece where the narrator meets Pechorin himself and what an unpleasant figure Pechorin turns out to be! and comes into possession of Pechorins travel journals.


Three excerpts from these journals conclude the novel, after a brief interlude informing the reader that by now Pechorin is dead:
“Taman”, where preCaucasus Pechorin poetically runs afoul of a small band of smugglers
“Princess Mary”, a long section chronologically preceding the events of “Bela”, where Pechorin tells us of his cruel courtship of a young noble woman done at the request of a married woman whom he actually loves, ending tragically for a former friend, the girl and Pechorin himself, who may or may not have actually fallen in some sort of love
and finally, “The Fatalist”, a short piece on the inevitability and predetermination of destiny and death.

“On reading over these notes, I have become convinced of the sincerity of the man who has so unsparingly exposed to view his own weaknesses and vices.
The history of a mans soul, even the pettiest soul, is hardly less interesting and useful than the history of a whole people especially when the former is the result of the observations of a mature mind upon itself, and has been written without any egoistical desire of arousing sympathy or astonishment.
Rousseaus Confessions has precisely this defecthe read it to his friends, ”

Putting Pechorin aside which would undoubtedly injure his vanity and pride, another protagonist of the novel is the setting the majestic Caucasus Mountains, where he spent a large part of his life, a lot of it in military service punctuated by leisurely pursuits, the place where he ultimately lost his own life in ridiculous unnecessary duel.

“What a glorious place that valley is! On every hand are inaccessible mountains, steep, yellow slopes scored by waterchannels, and reddish rocks draped with green ivy and crowned with clusters of planetrees.
Yonder, at an immense height, is the golden fringe of the snow, Down below rolls the River Aragva, which, after bursting noisily forth from the dark and misty depths of the gorge, with an unnamed stream clasped in its embrace, stretches out like a thread of silver, its waters glistening like a snake with flashing scales.
”

“A childish feeling, I admit, but, when we retire from the conventions of society and draw close to nature, we involuntarily become as children: each attribute acquired by experience falls away from the soul, which becomes anew such as it was once and will surely be again.
He whose lot it has been, as mine has been, to wander over the desolate mountains, long, long to observe their fantastic shapes, greedily to gulp down the lifegiving air diffused through their ravineshe, of course, will understand my desire to communicate, to narrate, to sketch those magic pictures.
”

The ridiculous duel that cost Mikhail Lermontov his life at age twentysix robbed literature of a budding genius, I can only imagine how interesting his voice would have been as a mature writer, a man with more life to experience, more illusions to be shattered, more mountains to climb.


I first read it while in elementary school, not understanding anything about it but persevering with weird childish stubbornness, Since then Ive read it a few more times, each time appreciating Lermontovs astute understanding of human nature more and more, And now I am a decade older than Lermontov ever had a chance to be, and I still find it utterly brilliant, .