What do you think?
Rate this book


240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1929
Of course, some assistant or full professor on the state’s gravy train would reply, with unpleasant ease, that man exists in order to further culture and the happiness of the universe. But that’s vague and unclear, and, for the common man, even disgusting. An answer like that gives rise to all sorts of surprising things: why, for example, do beetles or cuckoos exist? They do no good to anyone, least of all to the future of culture. And to what extent is man’s life more important than that of a cuckoo – a bird that could live or not live, without changing the world one bit?
He would declare – getting a bit worked up – that cynicism was an absolutely necessary and normal quality, that no beast could get along without cynicism and cruelty, and that, in fact, cynicism and cruelty may be the most proper qualities of all, since they secure the right to live. Ivan Ivanovich would also proclaim that he had once been a foolish, sentimental puppy, but that he had now grown up and understood what it cost to live. He had even realized that his former ideals – compassion, generosity, morality – weren’t worth a rusty kopeck and a rotten egg. They were all pathetic trifles belonging to a false, sentimental era.
Turning over in his mind the women who had passed through his life – including the deacon’s wife, with whom he had most definitely cavorted (the author is sure of it) – Bylinkin grew convinced that he had found true love and the genuine thrill of emotion only now, in his thirty-second year.
Was Bylinkin merely bloated with vital juices? Or is a person born with a predisposition and penchant for abstract romantic feelings? This remains a mystery of nature.