Perhaps it’s less like applying a series of lessons and more like the training of an intuition that flashes between hand, eye, mind. Can one live a good life by trying to be good, to do good, like the servant girl, who clearly makes those around her happy? It's surprisingly engaging, especially on audio, with narrators like Nick Offerman, Rainn Wilson, Glenn Close, and Renee Elise Goldberry to read you the old stories.

Ivan’s point is just that—we must strive to do as much good as we can, because we will inevitable unintentionally do bad, and happiness and pleasure is so brief in the end. I’ve sometimes wondered if this effect was intentional: a sort of apologia from Turgenev for his own lack of craft. even if they converge finally on the same points of appreciation, and the same questions of meaning.

Fun to read something that encourages a revisiting of the Russkies (or maybe a visiting for the first time of Saunders' short story collections). We can reduce all of writing to this: we read a line, have a reaction to it, trust (accept) that reaction, and do something in response, instantaneously, by intuition. The Saunders analytic style, so quippy and likable, somehow works perfectly out loud, and slightly less so on the page - but here comes a second confession: I think people who have taken an MFA, or a college writing class, may find less here, just because many of the reveals will be familiar to them. These stories we've just read were written during an incredible seventy-year artistic renaissance in Russia.

My personal writing approach, which I've suspected might be a little low-rent, is to say, "You know what would be cool?Gogol’s contribution was to perform this throwing of himself against the fence in the part of town where the little men live, the sputtering, inarticulate men whose language can’t rise to the occasions but who still feel everything the big men (articulate, educated, at ease) feel. Right now I am cleaning off the mantel above my fireplace to display the slightly ostentatious Booker Prize statue I will soon be winning now I know Ole George’s writing secrets. In helping me to understand the stories, I did not feel I was reading a review of a story written by a critic. I read all seven short stories, reviewing them separately and then enjoying Saunders teaching me about the way he sees each story works, each one of them a masterpiece to Saunders. Tienen muchas cosas en común: son historias sencillas, claras, domésticas, con un propósito —que no es otro que plantear las grandes preguntas: ¿Cómo se supone que debemos vivir la vida?

But this attracted me in a friend’s feed because of it being short stories; the stories are from the greats in Russian fiction; Russia being what it is, I thought her literature might give me more insight into her people; and while I seem to do a lot of reviewing, sometimes I feel like I lack the tools to be as specific as I would like.I, for example, very much disagreed that Turgenev’s “The Singers” was about the contrast between the manipulative pragmatism of technical proficiency and raw emotional expressions. El lector puede que tenga la paciencia de esperar hasta la última línea si el relato consigue mantener el interés, pero al terminar va a tomar cada uno de los elementos del relato y les va a preguntar, inconscientemente, ¿y tú, para que estabas aquí? Even as implores his friends to be good, he indulges in a transcendent swim in a pond, admires the beautiful servant girl (Saunders rightfully notes that every mention of her involves some reference to her beauty with words like “beautiful,” “soft,” “delicate,” and “pretty”), enjoys the delicious food, and delights in the warm shelter his friend provides. A medida que empiezan a crecer se revelan… un poquito menos perfectos, pero no importa, los quieres igual, así, con sus defectillos que a fin de cuenta han heredado de ti. Gooseberries” is brilliant because it offers us so many potential versions of a good life, in so short a space.