What led to errors of evaluation were his serene diction and his belief that a good work of art must never lose its equilibrium or poise, even when dealing with anxiety and madness. He praised highly the “tranquillity in passion” of the French tragedian Rachel and spoke of her acting as a model of high esthetic fulfillment. Actually, the subject matter of Turgenev’s novels and tales is far from idyllic: his love stories inevitably terminate in doom and frustration, and none of his novels has a happy ending, death striking most of his heroes. Throughout his works Turgenev displays an acute sense of the tragic in life and a constant preoccupation with man’s condition on earth. Yet this pessimism is far from strident, and the writer’s most poignant emotions and reflections are always expressed in an even voice, without outbursts of despair. Turgenev loves order, symmetry, balance, and radiance, and he presents a harmonized picture of life which makes his work appear self-contained. There is a world which can rightly be called “Turgenevian,” and it stands in its own right as a complete and rounded achievement.
It could be argued that such an esthetic phenomenon is of sufficient importance to justify Turgenev’s appeal in 1961. But other factors should be noted to understand the recent revival of interest in his work. Today we find Turgenev much more “authentically Russian” than did readers of half a century ago. _Fathers and Sons_ should be required reading for anyone who wishes to understand the psychology of the Russian post-revolutionary generation. Bazarov is the forerunner of all the men of action in Soviet literature, in much the same way that Elena, Marianna, and Natalia are typical representatives of Russia’s modern women. It is not difficult to discover that Turgenev’s characters, despite their old fashioned garb, are more fundamentally national than many exotic figures of post-Turgenev fiction who were branded by sensation-craving readers as “true Russians.”
For another thing, Turgenev, with his method of understatement (which Chekhov followed), is closer to modern literary trends than other realists of his own age. One can easily foresee that his tales—and they are probably the best and most enduring part of his work—will attract the attention and admiration of readers and writers for a long time, because they form a counterpart to the era of exaggerated psychologism which is rapidly approaching its decline. Nobody today will accuse Turgenev of “lack of psychological depth” or of over-simplicity. In his own unobtrusive manner, Turgenev hinted at all the complexities of the human soul and alluded to the hidden roots of human actions. In the dreams in Turgenev’s works is an unsuspected wealth of psychological insight.