First published in 1859, Oblomov is an indisputable classic of Russian literature, comparable in its stature to such masterpieces as Gogol's Dead Souls, Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov. The book centres on the figure of Ilya Ilyich Oblomov, a member of the dying class of the landed gentry, who spends most of his time lying in bed gazing at life in an apathetic daze, encouraged by his equally lazy servant Zakhar and routinely swindled by his acquaintances. But this torpid existence comes to an end when, spurred on by his crumbling finances, the love of a woman and the reproaches of his friend, the hard-working Stoltz, Oblomov finds that he must engage with the real world and face up to his commitments. Rich in situational comedy, psychological complexity and social satire, Oblomov - here presented in Stephen Pearl's award-winning translation, the first major English-language version of the novel in more than fifty years - is a timeless novel and a monument to human idleness.

Written with sympathetic humor and compassion, this masterful portrait of upper-class decline made Ivan Goncharov famous throughout Russia on its publication in 1859. Ilya Ilyich Oblomov is a member of Russia's dying aristocracy--a man so lazy that he has given up his job in the Civil Service, neglected his books, insulted his friends, and found himself in debt. Too apathetic to do anything about his problems, he lives in a grubby, crumbling apartment, waited on by Zakhar, his equally idle servant. Terrified by the activity necessary to participate in the real world, Oblomov manages to avoid work, postpones change, and--finally--risks losing the love of his life. This superb translation by David Magarshack captures all the subtle comedy and near-tragedy of the original.Includes a new introduction and chronology of Goncharov's life and works

It is a winter evening, and Yegor Aduyev, the scion of a wealthy family from the landed gentry, slips into the house of Baron Neilein with the intention of asking his beautiful daughter, the eighteen-year-old Yelena, to be his wife. Will the besotted lover be successful in his pursuit or will the young coquette – who seems at times to reciprocate his feelings, but who lavished lingering looks on two dashing princes during a recent ball – shatter his hopes, his dreams and his entire world? A Serendipitous Error, an early novella of 1839, written when Goncharov was still in his twenties, is accompanied here by Two Incidents at Sea, a story penned almost twenty years later and based on two dangerous scrapes the author survived during his recent voyage on the frigate Pallada. Taken together, these two stories – translated for the first time into English by Stephen Pearl – are further proof of the eclectic narrative skills of the celebrated author of Oblomov.

Goncharov was the leading Russian writer of the 1850s and, as the author of The Same Old Story, was regarded as “the real heir to Nikolai Gogol”. But the publication of Turgenev’s first full-length novel, A Nest of the Gentry, in 1859, at around the same time as Goncharov’s Oblomov, which had been more than ten years in the making, suddenly changed the public’s perception. Turgenev’s success was eyed with suspicion by his rival, who started to believe that his work in progress, Malinovka Heights, had been plagiarized by his former friend. Goncharov had in fact discussed in detail with Turgenev the plot of his new novel, and the latter later admitted that, being very impressionable, he may have been influenced by some of its elements, but his friend’s charges went further: he accused the younger writer of stealing his ideas, his characters and even some of his plotlines. As Turgenev’s success increased over the years, so did Goncharov’s resentment, and the two novelists, although later reconciled, stopped communicating with each other. An Uncommon Story, published posthumously in 1924, contrary to its author’s wishes, is an extraordinary document that lays bare the jealousies felt but rarely expressed by writers, and an eternal monument to literary paranoia.

Filled with dreams of pursuing a career as a poet, the young Alexander Aduev moves from the country to St Petersburg, where he takes up lodgings next to his uncle Pyotr, a shrewd and world-weary businessman. As his ideals are challenged by disappointment in the fields of love, friendship and poetical ambition, Alexander must decide whether to return to the homely values he has left behind or adapt to the ruthless rules and morals of city life. Told in the author's trademark humorous style and presented in a sparkling new translation by Stephen Pearl, The Same Old Story - Goncharov's first novel, preceding his masterpiece Oblomov by twelve years - is a study of lost illusions and rude spiritual awakening in the modern world.

Based on a novel by the Russian writer Ivan Goncharov, this dramatic comedy features his eponymous hero, Oblomov. A young man of considerable decency and kindness (with a "soul as clear as crystal"), Oblomov has fallen into such a state of lethargy that he resists even getting out of bed, finding every excuse possible to do absolutely nothing. All the efforts of his male and female friends to energize him ultimately fail in various hilarious ways. Goncharov's character became so identifiable, so emblematic of a particular subset of the upper classes, that it became a byword (olbomovism) for self-imposed laziness and indolence.

The less Raisky appeared to notice Vera, the more friendly Vera was to him, although, in spite of her aunt's wishes she neither kissed him nor addressed him as "thou." But as soon as he looked at her overmuch or seemed to hang on her words, she became suspicious, careful and reserved. Her coming made a change in the quiet circle, putting everything in a different light. It might happen that she said nothing, and was hardly seen for a couple of days, yet Raisky was conscious every moment of her whereabouts and her doings.

The less Raisky appeared to notice Vera, the more friendly Vera was to him, although, in spite of her aunt's wishes she neither kissed him nor addressed him as "thou." But as soon as he looked at her overmuch or seemed to hang on her words, she became suspicious, careful and reserved. Her coming made a change in the quiet circle, putting everything in a different light. It might happen that she said nothing, and was hardly seen for a couple of days, yet Raisky was conscious every moment of her whereabouts and her doings.

Ivan Alexandrovich Goncharov (1812-1891) was one of the leading members of the great circle of Russian writers who, in the middle of the nineteenth century, gathered around the SOVREMMENIK (Contemporary) under Nekrasov's editorship -- a circle including Turgenev, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Byelinsky, and Herzen. He had not the marked genius of the first three of these; but that he is so much less known to the western reader is perhaps also due to the fact that there was nothing sensational either in his life or his literary method. His strength was in the steady delineation of character, conscious of, but not deeply disturbed by, the problems which were obsessing and distracting smaller and greater minds. Goncharov had passed many years in Governmental service and had, in fact, reached the age of thirty-five when his first work, A Common Story, was published. The Frigate Pallada, which followed, is a lengthy descriptive account of an official expedition to Japan and Siberia in which Goncharov took part. essay, Better Late Than Never, in which he attempted to explain that the purpose of his three novels was to present the eternal struggle between East and West -- the lethargy of the Russian and the ferment of foreign influences. Thus he ranged himself more closely with the great figures among his contemporaries. Two other volumes consist of critical study and reminiscence.

After his university studies and a short stint in the army and the civil service, thirty-something Boris Pavlovich Raisky enjoys the life of an artist, frequenting St Petersburg's elegant circles, dabbing at his paintings, playing a little music and entertaining thoughts of writing a novel. But for a man like him, who has achieved nothing so far and by his own admission is "not born to work", the bustle of the capital proves too much, so he decides to visit his country estate of Malinovka. There he hopes to rediscover the joys of a simpler and more authentic life - but when he becomes emotionally involved with his beautiful cousin Vera and meets the dangerous freethinker Mark Volokhov, the scene is set for a chain of events that will lead to disappointment, confrontation and, ultimately, tragedy. Conceived twenty years before its initial publication in 1869, and regarded by its author as his best work, Malinovka Heights (previously translated in English as The Precipice) is Goncharov's crowning achievement as a novelist and a triumph of psychological insight. Here presented for the first time in unabridged form in a sparkling new translation by Stephen Pearl, Goncharov's final novel deserves to be reassessed as one of the most important classics of nineteenth-century Russian literature.