
White Nights
Reviews

“Oh, if only he were you“
but then again, you just met a few nights ago how can you go against a love that’s been fleeting with time.

my heart also quivers the same as the dreamers does :(
This was absolutely beautiful and tugged on my heart and head with such agony

I read this sporadically over the course of the day, and it was quite easy to follow along with since it was so short. I assume if I hadn't been as busy as I was, this could have easily been a single sitting read.
I have to start this off by praising the translation. It was done so fantastically, and absolutely did the original text justice. I felt it flowed so fluently, as if the book itself had been written in English from the beginning. It was just fantastic.
Now, onto the actual text. I found the exploration of loneliness in this book very fascinating. The Narrator's deep want to talk to and share his feelings with someone else is palpable, and so the excitement he felt upon meeting Nastenka and finally being able to do so was honestly quite heartbreaking for me. I was annoyed at first, with how much The Narrator would speak. But I realised it was due to his years of solitude, and that he just had so much to say after so much time being silent. His imaginary connections were, in hindsight, very upsetting, as it was his only way of dealing with the loneliness he was feeling.
For such a short story too, I thought he captured the rawness of The Narrator's love so beautifully, I was completely swept up in them. Not in a deep way, but almost in a dreamlike way. It is difficult for me to articulate it, but it felt much more like a softer impact rather than a deep, gut wrenching one that typically comes with reading about unrequited love. I think it is such a beautiful showcase of the fragility that comes with human connection, and just overall I felt The Narrator's pain of losing this girl he loved.
On a more personal note, this book found me at a relevant time in my life, as I am going through a difficult breakup of a long-term relationship. Not the same premise as White Nights, however The Narrator's feelings mirror my own experiences in such a heart breaking way, I could not help but feel a kinship with him.
My God! A whole minute of bliss! Is that really so little for the whole of a man's life?
This quote specifically just encapsulates the feeling of loss and heartbreak so perfectly, and it was just the perfect ending to the story.

White Nights has had a resurgence in popularity in the past year or so, and being a shorter Dostoevsky work I thought it would be a good introduction to his works, so I was looking forward to enjoying reading it. However, I find myself a little underwhelmed.
I really enjoyed the prose, it is very vivid and heartfelt, especially when discussing emotions. The bitterness of being lonely, the warmth and excitement of love and heartache when your dreams do not come true are all discussed in intricate detail. My disappointment lies however in the progression of the plot. It just feels so basic for how much this book is celebrated. I was just expecting a bit more.
However I do think white nights is still worth the read at least for the use of language, cos that's where it really stands out.

this is why we don’t fall in love with people we barely know— let alone a young girl barely reaching legality.

i love this. it's a great exploration of the recurring use of the word "bliss" through the story. there's a lot to say about white nights, how dostoyevsky wrote the inner turmoil of the unnamed narrator which happened all so swiftly, as if one blink from the beginning led to waking up tragically the next day.
the pacing might not be a preference for most people. i read some reviews and i agree that the pacing is too fast, like compounding situations and reactions to those situations, which may come off as overwhelming and/or confusing. however, i personally find it charming in the sense that this could and this has happened to people in real life, we've become the unnamed narrator or nastenka or even the young man who was lodging with nastenka and grandmother before. maybe not all of us, but there are some, and perhaps they could somewhat relate to white nights.

Beautiful, intense writing that represents true authenticity of the protagonist. A bit depressing at first when I finished if, but after further thought I realised that the ending was a happy one despite. He was a changed man, and knew that he was loved and that is a win regardless of the outcome of their relation——or lack thereof.
To me this book defines the extent at which one is capable of loving.

Dostoevsky has an amazing writing style that truly draws you into his world. White Nights is my introduction to his work; the first piece of writing of his that I have ever read. His way of describing otherwise mundane moments is inspiring, both as a reader and a writer.
I read this short story throughout my long commutes to college, and it became a curious tale that drew me in. I am not a huge fan of love stories, and I will admit that I found something lacking in the actual plot, the love story between the nameless narrator and his love interest, Nastenka. However, Dostoevsky’s writing style makes this entire story what it is. He describes his narrators one-sided, unrequited, almost secretive love in such a way that the reader begins to feel empathy for him despite the absurdness of falling in love with a stranger whom you’ve met crying on the street.
Dostoevsky’s narrator is a man so consumed by his imagination that he (arguably) forgets to live. The narrators imagination is perhaps the reason, or alternatively the cause, of his loneliness. Dostoevsky description of the personified houses, the silent acknowledgement of the consistent people around him during his daily routine, the sense of community this narrator has developed in his head despite never speaking to a single person is a truly beautiful description of loneliness.
His loneliness becomes most evident by the way the narrator craves human connection so desperately that the minute he receives it, he drowns in it.
And yet, it was all for nought. Dostoevsky’s narrator is once again left in his lonesome, with only his imagination as company.

I recently finished White Nights by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and, overall, it wasn’t an enjoyable experience for me. While I understand its themes of isolation, longing, and unrequited love, I found the story to be a tedious ramble that failed to engage me.
The novella follows an unnamed narrator, a lonely and isolated dreamer, as he meets Nastenka, a young woman who becomes his connection to the world outside his fantasies. Over the course of several nights, he shares his thoughts and listens to her story, all while harbouring a growing love for her that remains unreciprocated.
One thing I did enjoy, however, was the writing style. Dostoevsky's ability to capture the narrator’s emotional turmoil and his vivid descriptions of St. Petersburg made me want to visit more of his works. The prose has a poetic quality that I found captivating, even if the narrator’s constant rambling overshadowed it.
He spends so much time in his head, talking about his connection to cities and his longing for something more, yet it felt like he wasn’t saying anything meaningful. While I understand this reflects his desperation and detachment from reality, it made the story feel like it was dragging, and I struggled to stay interested. It’s possible that part of my disappointment roots from my own failure to connect with Dostoevsky’s intentions. Perhaps I missed the deeper meaning or emotional resonance that others find in the story. Even so, I couldn’t help but feel frustrated by the narrator’s reflections.
While White Nights might appeal to readers who enjoy introspective, philosophical narratives and the exploration of human loneliness, it wasn’t for me. I found it difficult to connect with the characters or the plot, and the pacing made it a frustrating read.

This little short story has exploded. On Booktok and Booktwt mostly. And it has exploded to the extent of it gaining mass media attention too. A picture of me holding it up is my second most liked tweet ever. As a finance bro myself I have even seen it in the Financial Times. Everywhere everyone is discovering or rediscovering Fyodor Dostoevsky, and that is a good thing for the world, especially if it leads to people getting into his work, or fiction and literary fiction in general.
It makes sense that it would be this story that went viral. Around 80 pages; concerning two principal characters, the eccentric loner narrator and equally alone love interest Nastenka; and filled with conversational dialogue, the story can be read in one afternoon and doesn't require the kind of attention that Notes from Underground or other Dostoevsky stories require. Indeed, once the initial hump of getting into the flow of the narrator’s voice is overcome, the plot flows smoothly and predictably. Despite this, the emotional impact is no less punchy, though I did feel that the story burned a little too quickly for the pain to really linger.
Dostoevsky keeps true to his form with his high-realist psychological style, and it is always a pleasure to read his protagonists mumble and stutter through long winding soliloquies and blush and cry and shake through long sentences, often just starting to speak nonsense, but it is clear that in these early stories Dostoevsky is still trying to strike the correct balance between realism and storytelling.
White Nights is principally a story centred around delusion, and the first half of the novel presents the theme as an almost philosophical question: is it possible to keep yourself happy and content through your own imagination, by living a fantasy? And if so, how long can the facade last? It is a great theme to explore in a love story because love and delusion go hand-in-hand; everyone remembers their first crush and the mental gymnastics one would put themselves through when interpreting their actions. And who hasn’t imagined saving their crush from a burning building, their being eternally indebted—marriage, a house, a few children, eternal bliss?
What happens when your imagined fantasy faces cold reality? And perhaps the more morally imperative question: should you throw away your delusions to live in the real world, no matter how painful?
If you do so, Dostoevsky seems to say, you open yourself up to a more true, more fulfilling authentic happiness. But if that happiness isn't received, is there any going back?

white nights:
- oh ,, so situationships were a thing even then huh
- supposedly “devastatingly tragic” (ala blurb) but if i found it incredibly relatable?? so,, now what ??
- just dreamers synonymous to silly yearners as a symptom of boredom and isolation,,, i get it i get it
- man, this guy can GO ON,, nateska infinitely more digestible and enjoyable to hear from,, no offence to men.
- some really great lines
bobok:
- interesting in theory
- a lil convoluted
overall:
- an interesting entry into doestoversky
- at times too drawn out and wordy, at the expense of my attention and full understanding.
- undecided on where i stand

i have no words actually

It was a Russian 500 Days Of Summer, if I must say. This was the first Penguin Little Black Classics I've ever picked up, and now I’m eager to explore more of their collections. Really, I don't usually lean toward romantic genre, but I think classic romance novels might just become my next favorite reads.

something about loneliness is enchanting, just how this book is. re-read it for another round.

Being the first Dostoevsky book I read, I found it a bit hard at first to understand the writing style.
The novella is very melancholic, and explores themes of loneliness and yearning through the eyes of a “dreamer.”
I’d say, an amazing introduction to Dostoevsky.

jack edwards voce me prometeu um dos melhores romances da historia e em vez disso eu recebi um dos maiores friendzones da historia voce me paga jack edwards

rip dostoevsky you would’ve loved 500 days of summer

The first short story ("White Nights") was extremely irritating to me. Absolutely overhyped by tiktok and Co. This story is not at all revolutionary for love. It's rather vain and shallow in my opinion. The characters are so full of selfpity and delusional, I ended up annoyed. And to top it off, the monologues of the male character were just a waterfall of words that bored me to death. It did not at all seem of any value for my life. If this guy existed nowadays, he'd be marked as problematic and red-flag-ish. I do however understand the aspects of "dreaming" and the hope to get saved from a mundane or even imprisoning life.
The second story ("Bobok"), on the other hand, was much more enjoyable to me. It was a great concept and maybe it would even make for an interesting short film.
The translation was alright. I would be interested to know, if the original made more sense in some places or if it was as patchy and ambiguous as the English translation.

así fue mi situationship más tranqui

narrator and nastenka both insufferable

! fuck every character in this book actually

this is so realistic, i, too, would do the same.

Nothing describes a man's loneliness more remarkable than White Nights. Truly amazed and oh dear that was truly a FELT moment.

she did him dirty omg
Highlights

My God! A whole minute of bliss! Is that really so little for the whole of a man's life?
😟😟😟😟 she’s his happiness





if you wish to love me always as you now love me, then I swear that gratitude... that my love will in the end be worthy of your love … Will you take my hand now?
nastenka.



I was comparing the two of you. Why isn't he - you? Why isn't he like you? He's not as good as you, even though I love him more than you?
😟😟😟😟

as if time had stopped for me, as if a certain sensation, a certain feeling were going to remain with me forever from this time forward, as if a single minute would continue for a whole eternity and all life would come to a halt for me...
it’s like he’s alive only to be loved by her

Such a love, Nastenka, at certain moments can make the heart grow cold and make one miserable. Your hand is cold, mine is as hot as fire. How blind you are, Nastenka! ... Oh, how unbearable is the happy person at certain moments!
☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

I will love you almost as much as I love him ...
sigh :(

My Nastenka was so timid, so afraid, that it seems she understood at last that I loved her, and she took pity on my poor love. And so it is that when we are unhappy we more strongly feel the unhappiness of others; feeling is not shattered, but becomes concentrated ...
oh my


'Oh, Nastenka! You know, we thank some people for merely living at the same time as we do. I thank you for the fact that I met you, that I will remember you for all my life!'
:(

'"Listen, my dear, my sweet Nastenka!" he began, also through tears. "Listen, I swear to you that if ever I am in the position to marry, then you will certainly be the one to make me happy; I assure you that now only you alone can make me happy. Listen: I am going to Moscow and will stay there for exactly one year. I hope to put my affairs in order. When I return, and if you have not stopped loving me, then I swear to you that we will be happy.
oh my goodness

"and if I'd already loved you for twenty years, I still couldn't have loved you more than I do right now!'
my heart☹️

Meanwhile, you hear all around you how the throng of humanity thunders and spins in the whirlwind of life; you hear, you see how people live - they live in reality; you see that life for them is not forbidden, that their life doesn't vanish like a dream, like a vision, that their life is eternally renewing, eternally young, and not a single hour of it resembles any other; whereas how cheerless and monotonously banal is the timorous fantasy, the slave of a shadow, of an idea, the slave of the first cloud that suddenly obscures the sun and fills with anguish the heart of every true Petersburger, which holds its sun so dear - but what sort of fantasy is there to be found in anguish!

God himself has sent you, my good angel, to me, in order to tell me this and prove it to me. A I sit beside you and talk to you now, I'm terrified even to think about the future, because the future is once again loneliness, once again this stagnant, useless life; and what will there be for me to dream about when I have already been so happy in real life beside you! Oh, bless you, dear girl, for not turning me away from the very first, for making it possible that I can now say that I have lived at least two evenings in my life!'
oh my god????

because I have known you for a long time, Nastenka, because I have long been searching for someone, and that is a sign that I was looking precisely for you and that we were fated to meet now - now in my head thousands of valves have opened and I must set loose this river of words, or I will choke to death.
Dreamers excitement after meeting someone after years of loneliness

Two minutes and you have made me happy forever. Yes! happy; who knows, perhaps you have reconciled me with myself, resolved my doubts ... Perhaps such moments overwhelm me ...
-Dreamer

But here it is: I can't help coming here tomorrow. I'm a dreamer; I have so little real life that I regard such moments as this one, now, to be so rare that I can't help repeating these moments in my dreams. I will dream of you all night, for an entire week, all year long. I will come here tomorrow without fail, exactly here, to this very spot, exactly at this time, and I'll be happy as I recall what happened yesterday. This place is already dear to me.
wow he’s very sentimental

Somehow I can't help but be reminded of that weak and sickly girl, at whom you sometimes look with pity, sometimes with a compassionate love, and sometimes you simply do not notice her, but then suddenly, for a moment, she some-how, unexpectedly, becomes inexplicably, wonderfully beautiful, and you, startled and intoxicated, unwittingly ask yourself: What power caused those sad, thoughtful eyes to shine with such fire?
Reminds me of when you begin to deeply see the beauty within the people around you or more specifically, when you realise that someone that you thought little of romantically, suddenly becomes no longer platonic

“In my opinion, it’s much sillier to be astonished at nothing than to be astonished at everything. And what’s more: to be astonished at nothing is almost the same thing as to respect nothing. And a silly man is not capable of showing respect.”