This is a novel of will, or rather a novel studying the lack of will. Oblomov has a beautiful soul. He is capable of the most noble emotions. His intentions are always good. The storms aroused in his soul are genuine. They shake him deeply. He is honest, good-hearted, idealistically inclined. But--he is Oblamov. He is lazy. He is inertia incarnated. From the apparatus of his thoughts and emotions, there are no wires to the mechanism of action. (Abridged version translated from the Russian by C. J. Hogarth.)
