Classics Core - What’s Up with Our Obsession with Russian Classic Literature?
Words: Valerie Estrina
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Anna Karenina, War and Peace, The Brothers Karamazov – one doesn’t have to be a literary expert to know and hold these titles in high regard. You don’t even have to be into books at all – all you need to do is look up the #booktok hashtag on your doomscrolling social platform of choice and see the canon faves. Classic Russian literature is notoriously heavy: depressing, at times grotesque, with a deep sense of ennui inflicted by instability, the loss of one’s naivëté, and basic human suffering. It’s fascinating that in its obsolete hopelessness and dystopian, soul-crushing storytelling young people, women in particular, are feeling heard and seen. What is it about the hardships of a Russian man that draws us in like nothing else has? And why do we feel the urge to tweet ‘He’s literally me’ over a picture of Dostoevsky?
To understand the Russian literary landscape of the times, we must not only understand the context but also be willing to delve into the psyche of a Russian writer. The greats like Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Chekhov, just to name a few, explored what it means to be a person of free will yet simultaneously powerlessness through the historical tapestry of the country itself — a long and persistent history of suffering. Censorship has long plagued Russia, limiting authors' access to free speech and forcing them to get ultra-creative with storytelling and the complexity of not just the protagonist, but every single character in a novel. Classic Russian literature encapsulates immorality and personal failures through the lens of the economic, social, and cultural pressures the country imposed on its citizens — the ultimate "we live in a society" moment.
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As I ponder about my fondness for Russian literature, I realise that the main reason I love it is that I can relate to most characters through the writer’s intent. Russian literary works transcend gender, class, and any other demographic-based confines; we’re not subject to a limited masculine perspective. The authors navigate intricate themes of humanity, evading the male gaze: they don’t make you go ‘well, this was clearly written by a dude, for other dudes’. A good example is Anna Karenina: Tolstoy’s women are never objectified or reduced to mere womanhood, and the men around them don’t get the boys will be boys treatment. Russian writers of the time mastered their depiction of women not necessarily with the intention to do so, but simply because the overarching themes of the novels exist outside of any perceived gender differences. Philosophy knows no discrimination, class, or bias, so when a plot is developed within the context of one’s psyche, it’s devoid of gendered dichotomy. Russian classics knew how to inadvertently spotlight the universality of human experience: from loss to tragic love happenstances and despair, ultimately we’re all the same – so we unexpectedly find ourselves relating to all sorts of characters.
“Classic Russian literature encapsulates immorality and personal failures through the lens of the economic, social, and cultural pressures the country imposed on its citizens — the ultimate ‘we live in a society’ moment.”
The classics are also notorious for their exploration of loneliness and the never ending search for self-identity. As the Western world is spiralling deeper into a loneliness epidemic and we’re feeling more unhinged than ever, numbing ourselves with media that makes us feel good no longer hits the spot. This relentless quest, a synergy of isolation and the painful pursuit of answers to ‘what am I?’, mirrors the same enduring themes skilfully woven by Russian writers. The isolation experienced by a teenage girl and that of Raskolnikov is strikingly similar at its core. The void left by a diminishing sense of community, a lack of third spaces, as well as our hunger for validation mirrors the very topics of the classics of Russian literature, albeit the cultural context is vastly different.
Finally, we’re all collectively concerned:. troubled by the rapidly changing technology, world leaders not doing anything, the housing crisis, and our warming planet — to make things worse, we have access to more information than our brain can process at the touch of our fingertips. Existential anxiety has become the daily norm, and there are only so many little treats we can buy to make the feeling go away. Russian writers skillfully explored existential dread, delving into the complexities of human existence: their narratives tackled not just moral dilemmas, but also individual responsibility, and the search for meaning in the face of an ever-evolving society. The characters of Chekhov and Bulgakov, for example, confront questions about morality, the existence of God, and the purpose of life itself, offering us a reflective mirror to current struggles. As we grapple with the impact of globalisation, Russian literature offers a philosophical anchor, bridging the past and present in a way needed by the modern nihilistic woman.
I do believe that Russian classics are going to continue as mandatory reading for teen girls.Pain and endurance are evergreen: the suffering, whether rooted in religion, philosophy, social power dynamics, or the self, has never gone anywhere. It’s not a trend or a passing core, it’s a reflection on where we are as a society today, hand in hand with pop culture: Oblomov is about bed rotting, Dead Souls reads like an HBO original, and The Brothers Karamazov could very well be an Ethel Cain song. Despite centuries of time passing and a completely different cultural and social landscape, the underlying emotion persists.