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anniis96's review against another edition
2.0
Definitely my least favorite part of Childhood, boyhood, youth....
zachhois's review against another edition
informative
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
3.0
This was probably my favorite of the three, especially now that we can see him beginning to become the rockstar he one day would be, but it was not as heavy on the emotions in my opinion. However, the trilogy as a whole allowed me to learn a lot about the history of this fantastic author.
Quotes:
The essence of that view lay in the conviction that the destiny of man is to strive for moral improvement, and that such improvement is at once easy, possible, and lasting.
Nevertheless there came a moment when those thoughts swept into my head with a sudden freshness and force of moral revelation which left me aghast at the amount of time which I had been wasting, and made me feel as though I must at once—that very second—apply those thoughts to life, with the firm intention of never again changing them. It is from that moment that I date the beginning of my youth.
Everything spoke to me of beauty, happiness, and virtue—as three things which were both easy and possible for me—and said that no one of them could exist without the other two, since beauty, happiness, and virtue were one.
Suddenly it struck me that dreams of this sort were a form of pride—a sin which I should have to confess to the priest that very evening, so I returned to the original thread of my meditations.
Let no one blame me because the dreams of my youth were as foolish as those of my childhood and boyhood.
I am sure that, even if it be my fate to live to extreme old age and to continue my story with the years, I, an old man of seventy, shall be found dreaming dreams just as impossible and childish as those I am dreaming now.
I am sure that there exists no human being, no human age, to whom or to which that gracious, consolatory power of dreaming is totally a stranger. Yet, save for the one general feature of magic and impossibility, the dreams of each human being, of each age of man, have their own distinguishing characteristics.
Why was it that all the beauty and clarity which my soul then contained came out so misshapenly on paper (as in life itself) just when I was wishing to apply those qualities to what I was thinking at the moment?
I have since remarked that there are three kinds of men whom I cannot face easily, namely those who are much better than myself, those who are much worse, and those between whom and myself there is a mutual determination not to mention some particular thing of which we are both aware.
that experience of life taught me the evil that comes of thinking—still worse, of saying—much that seems very fine; taught me that there are certain thoughts which should always be kept to oneself, since brave words seldom go with brave deeds.
Of love there are three kinds—love of beauty, the love which denies itself, and practical love.
We are so accustomed to confound art with nature that, often enough, phenomena of nature which are never to be met with in pictures seem to us unreal, and give us the impression that nature is unnatural, or vice versa; whereas phenomena of nature which occur with too much frequency in pictures seem to us hackneyed, and views which are to be met with in real life, but which appear to us too penetrated with a single idea or a single sentiment, seem to us arabesques.
The human race may be divided into several categories—rich and poor, good and bad, military and civilian, clever and stupid, and so forth, and so forth. Yet each man has his own favourite, fundamental system of division which he unconsciously uses to class each new person with whom he meets.
Usually, at a given period in youth, and after many errors and excesses, every man recognises the necessity of his taking an active part in social life, and chooses some branch of labour to which to devote himself. Only with the “comme il faut” man does this rarely happen.
for it is only in first youth that we love passionately and therefore love only perfect people. As soon as the mists engendered by love of this kind begin to dissolve, and to be penetrated by the clear beams of reason, we see the object of our adoration in his true shape, and with all his virtues and failings exposed.
Quotes:
The essence of that view lay in the conviction that the destiny of man is to strive for moral improvement, and that such improvement is at once easy, possible, and lasting.
Nevertheless there came a moment when those thoughts swept into my head with a sudden freshness and force of moral revelation which left me aghast at the amount of time which I had been wasting, and made me feel as though I must at once—that very second—apply those thoughts to life, with the firm intention of never again changing them. It is from that moment that I date the beginning of my youth.
Everything spoke to me of beauty, happiness, and virtue—as three things which were both easy and possible for me—and said that no one of them could exist without the other two, since beauty, happiness, and virtue were one.
Suddenly it struck me that dreams of this sort were a form of pride—a sin which I should have to confess to the priest that very evening, so I returned to the original thread of my meditations.
Let no one blame me because the dreams of my youth were as foolish as those of my childhood and boyhood.
I am sure that, even if it be my fate to live to extreme old age and to continue my story with the years, I, an old man of seventy, shall be found dreaming dreams just as impossible and childish as those I am dreaming now.
I am sure that there exists no human being, no human age, to whom or to which that gracious, consolatory power of dreaming is totally a stranger. Yet, save for the one general feature of magic and impossibility, the dreams of each human being, of each age of man, have their own distinguishing characteristics.
Why was it that all the beauty and clarity which my soul then contained came out so misshapenly on paper (as in life itself) just when I was wishing to apply those qualities to what I was thinking at the moment?
I have since remarked that there are three kinds of men whom I cannot face easily, namely those who are much better than myself, those who are much worse, and those between whom and myself there is a mutual determination not to mention some particular thing of which we are both aware.
that experience of life taught me the evil that comes of thinking—still worse, of saying—much that seems very fine; taught me that there are certain thoughts which should always be kept to oneself, since brave words seldom go with brave deeds.
Of love there are three kinds—love of beauty, the love which denies itself, and practical love.
We are so accustomed to confound art with nature that, often enough, phenomena of nature which are never to be met with in pictures seem to us unreal, and give us the impression that nature is unnatural, or vice versa; whereas phenomena of nature which occur with too much frequency in pictures seem to us hackneyed, and views which are to be met with in real life, but which appear to us too penetrated with a single idea or a single sentiment, seem to us arabesques.
The human race may be divided into several categories—rich and poor, good and bad, military and civilian, clever and stupid, and so forth, and so forth. Yet each man has his own favourite, fundamental system of division which he unconsciously uses to class each new person with whom he meets.
Usually, at a given period in youth, and after many errors and excesses, every man recognises the necessity of his taking an active part in social life, and chooses some branch of labour to which to devote himself. Only with the “comme il faut” man does this rarely happen.
for it is only in first youth that we love passionately and therefore love only perfect people. As soon as the mists engendered by love of this kind begin to dissolve, and to be penetrated by the clear beams of reason, we see the object of our adoration in his true shape, and with all his virtues and failings exposed.
mayeeta's review against another edition
3.0
definitely my least favorite in the trilogy but I still enjoyed Tolstoy's writing!
3
3
msand3's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars. A bit of a disappointing conclusion to Tolstoy’s trilogy, if only because the protagonist, Nikolai, is growing into a rather annoying young man. His precocious boyhood traits are now becoming manifest as haughtiness. Like Rousseau, Tolstoy presents his autobiographical character in all his flaws, which almost turned me off by the end of the trilogy.
The novel begins where [b:Boyhood|2359865|Boyhood|Leo Tolstoy|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1348535157s/2359865.jpg|2366633] left off, as Nikolai starts the process of entering the university and becoming a young man. Tolstoy provides a gorgeous description of a spring day, a symbolic setting for his new blossoming manhood. Nikolai’s imagination still causes him to dream in ways that look forward to the composition of fictional tales. We also learn more about his friendship with Dmitri Nekhlyudov, a character who is the protagonist of many pieces by Tolstoy, from A Landlord’s Morning to [b:Resurrection|6578344|Resurrection|Leo Tolstoy|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1311643667s/6578344.jpg|1491227]. Since I am reading Tolstoy’s short work in chronological order, I enjoyed getting a different perspective on Nekhlyudov, as Tolstoy was also developing that character’s voice in several short pieces composed right around the time of Youth.
The novel ends on a low note for Nikolai, with a promise that he will tell us about the brighter moments of his youth in a subsequent work. Tolstoy never got around to writing it. Despite the downer of this final book, the overall trilogy was a rewarding read.
The novel begins where [b:Boyhood|2359865|Boyhood|Leo Tolstoy|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1348535157s/2359865.jpg|2366633] left off, as Nikolai starts the process of entering the university and becoming a young man. Tolstoy provides a gorgeous description of a spring day, a symbolic setting for his new blossoming manhood. Nikolai’s imagination still causes him to dream in ways that look forward to the composition of fictional tales. We also learn more about his friendship with Dmitri Nekhlyudov, a character who is the protagonist of many pieces by Tolstoy, from A Landlord’s Morning to [b:Resurrection|6578344|Resurrection|Leo Tolstoy|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1311643667s/6578344.jpg|1491227]. Since I am reading Tolstoy’s short work in chronological order, I enjoyed getting a different perspective on Nekhlyudov, as Tolstoy was also developing that character’s voice in several short pieces composed right around the time of Youth.
The novel ends on a low note for Nikolai, with a promise that he will tell us about the brighter moments of his youth in a subsequent work. Tolstoy never got around to writing it. Despite the downer of this final book, the overall trilogy was a rewarding read.
hayley_loves_books's review against another edition
2.0
This was the last in the trilogy of childhood, boyhood and youth and probably my least favourite. It wasn’t particularly interesting unlike the childhood which I enjoyed the most.
strawberryfairy's review against another edition
3.0
Tolstoy manages to express the follies of daily life in such a way that when you identify so deeply with the main character, you can’t help but feel pity and some sort of disdain towards him.
nadyne's review
4.0
First sentence: "I have said that my friendship with Dimitri opened up for me a new view of my life and of its aim and relations."
P. 99: "Yet so inexhaustible is that store of old maid's love that, despite the numbers of individuals so selected, there still remains an abundant surplus of affection which they lavish upon all by whom they are surrounded - upon alll, good or bad, whom they may chance to meet in their daily life."
Last sentence: "Kow long that moral impulse lasted, what it consisted of, and what new principles I devised for my moral growth I will relate shen speaking of the ensuing and happier portion of my early manhood."
Short Biography:
When his Aunt Aline died in 1841, Leo Tolstoy, now aged thirteen travelled with his brothers to Kazan where their next guardians lived, Aunt and Uncle Yushkof. Despite the pall of death, loss of innocence and upheavals in living arrangements, Leo started preparations for the entrance examinations to Kazan University, wanting to enter the faculty of Oriental languages. He studied Arabic, Turkish, Latin, German, English, and French, and geography, history, and religion. He also began in earnest studying the literary works of English, Russian and French authors including Charles Dickens, Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol, Mikhail Lermontov, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Laurence Sterne, Friedrich Schiller, and Francois-Marie Arouet Voltaire.
In 1844, at the age of sixteen and the end of what Tolstoy says was his childhood, and the beginning of his youth, he entered the University of Kazan to study Turco-Arabic literature. While he did not graduate beyond the second year (he would later attempt to study law) this period of his life also corresponded with his coming out into society. He and his brothers moved out of their uncle’s home and secured their own rooms. No longer the provincial, there were balls and galas to attend and other such manly pursuits as drinking, gambling and visiting brothels. Tolstoy did not have much success as a student, but he would become a polyglot with at least some working knowledge of a dozen languages. He did not respond to the universities’ conventional system of learning and left in 1847 without obtaining his degree.
I liked this autobiographical fiction more than I did the first book, Childhood, because it is told with much sarcasm and irony. Tolstoy admits to all the foolish things he did when a teenager and tells everything with much humour.
P. 99: "Yet so inexhaustible is that store of old maid's love that, despite the numbers of individuals so selected, there still remains an abundant surplus of affection which they lavish upon all by whom they are surrounded - upon alll, good or bad, whom they may chance to meet in their daily life."
Last sentence: "Kow long that moral impulse lasted, what it consisted of, and what new principles I devised for my moral growth I will relate shen speaking of the ensuing and happier portion of my early manhood."
Short Biography:
When his Aunt Aline died in 1841, Leo Tolstoy, now aged thirteen travelled with his brothers to Kazan where their next guardians lived, Aunt and Uncle Yushkof. Despite the pall of death, loss of innocence and upheavals in living arrangements, Leo started preparations for the entrance examinations to Kazan University, wanting to enter the faculty of Oriental languages. He studied Arabic, Turkish, Latin, German, English, and French, and geography, history, and religion. He also began in earnest studying the literary works of English, Russian and French authors including Charles Dickens, Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol, Mikhail Lermontov, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Laurence Sterne, Friedrich Schiller, and Francois-Marie Arouet Voltaire.
In 1844, at the age of sixteen and the end of what Tolstoy says was his childhood, and the beginning of his youth, he entered the University of Kazan to study Turco-Arabic literature. While he did not graduate beyond the second year (he would later attempt to study law) this period of his life also corresponded with his coming out into society. He and his brothers moved out of their uncle’s home and secured their own rooms. No longer the provincial, there were balls and galas to attend and other such manly pursuits as drinking, gambling and visiting brothels. Tolstoy did not have much success as a student, but he would become a polyglot with at least some working knowledge of a dozen languages. He did not respond to the universities’ conventional system of learning and left in 1847 without obtaining his degree.
I liked this autobiographical fiction more than I did the first book, Childhood, because it is told with much sarcasm and irony. Tolstoy admits to all the foolish things he did when a teenager and tells everything with much humour.
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