Fyodor Dostoevsky

'My God! A whole minute of bliss! Is that really so little for the whole of a man's life?' A poignant tale of love and loneliness from Russia's foremost writer. One of 46 new books in the bestselling Little Black Classics series, to celebrate the first ever Penguin Classic in 1946. Each book gives readers a taste of the Classics' huge range and diversity, with works from around the world and across the centuries - including fables, decadence, heartbreak, tall tales, satire, ghosts, battles and elephants.

White Nights

aybüke

Today was a sad, rainy day, without a ray of hope, just like my future old age. I am besieged by such strange thoughts, such dark sensations, such obscure questions, which still crowd my mind – and somehow I have neither the strength nor the desire to resolve them. It is not for me to resolve all this!

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

And so it is that when we are unhappy we more strongly feel the unhappiness of others; feeling is not shattered, but becomes concentrated...

It was a wonderful night, the kind of night, dear reader, which is only possible when we are young.

I don’t know how to be silent when my heart is speaking.

My God, a moment of bliss. Why, isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime?

Your hands are cold, mine burns like fire. How blind you are Nastenka.

nadyra

And so it is that when we are unhappy we more strongly feel the unhappiness of others; feeling is not shattered, but becomes concentrated…

Aina

I do not love him, because I can love only that which is magnanimous, which understands me, which is noble; because I am like that myself, and he is not worthy of me

And if I’d already loved you for twenty years, I still couldn't have loved you more than I do right now

And again you ask yourself: What have you done with your years? Where have you buried your best days? Did you live or not? Look, you say to yourself, look how cold the world is becoming. More years will pass, followed by gloomy solitude, and then doddering old age will come on a walking-stick, to be followed by anguish and despondency. Your fantastic world will grow pale, your dreams will wither, die and scatter like yellow leaves from the trees.

Do you know that I now like to recall and visit at certain times places where I was once happy in my own way, I like to fashion my present so that it's in harmony with the irrevocable past.

What will there be for me to dream about when I have already been so happy in real life beside you!

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.

I don't know how to keep quiet when my heart is speaking inside me.

May your sky be clear, may your sweet smile be bright and serene, may you be blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness that you gave to another lonely, grateful heart!

I would love you so, that even if you still loved him and continued to love this person whom I don't know, you still would not find my love to be a burden to you in any way.

What have you done with your years? Where have you buried your best days? Did you live or not?

You are outgrowing your former ideals: they are being smashed to dust, to bits and pieces; and if there is no other life, then you must build it from these bits and pieces.

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.

Because at those moments it begins to seem that I will never be able to begin living a real life; because it already seems that I have lost all sense, all feeling for the genuine, the real; because, in the end, I curse myself; because after my fantastic nights I am visited by sobering moments that are horrible!

mionne

My God, a whole moment of happiness! Is that too little for the whole of a man's life?

"What are you afraid of? Why did you let go of my hand?" she said, giving it to me again. "Come, what is it? We will meet him together; I want him to see how fond we are of each other."

I am a dreamer; I have so little real life that I look upon such moments as this now, as so rare, that I cannot help going over such moments again in my dreams. I shall be dreaming of you all night, a whole week, a whole year.

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. 

Alisa 

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. 

the_basis_

! 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. 

Aspen Moor

In the stories in this volume Dostoevsky explores both the figure of the dreamer divorced from reality and also his own ambiguous attitude to utopianism, themes central to many of his great novels. In White Nights the apparent idyll of the dreamer's romantic fantasies disguises profound loneliness and estrangement from 'living life'. Despite his sentimental friendship with Nastenka, his final withdrawal into the world of the imagination anticipates the retreat into the 'underground' of many of Dostoevsky's later intellectual heroes. A Gentle Creature and The Dream of a Ridiculous Man show how such withdrawal from reality can end in spiritual desolation and moral indifference and how, in Dostoevsky's view, the tragedy of the alienated individual can be resolved only by the rediscovery of a sense of compassion and responsibility towards fellow human beings.

This books illustrates the depths of  loneliness and one’s longing for human connection. On the first night, the nameless narrator, identifying himself as a “dreamer,” finds Nastenka on a solitary night. She made her feeling clear from the very first night; she explicitly warns that he mustn’t fall in love with her, the dreamer’s profound loneliness drives him to idealise their fleeting nights together which is what lead to a heartbreak. 

After reading this book, I couldn’t help but stare at my ceiling for 30 minutes straight.

As someone, or those who may relate to the dreamer, I believe that our loneliness is what eats us and even the smallest encounters could stir our emotions. 

This books illustrates the depths of  loneliness and one’s longing for human connection. On the first night, the nameless narrator, identifying himself as a “dreamer,” finds Nastenka on a solitary night. She made her feeling clear from the very first night; she explicitly warns that he mustn’t fall in love with her, the dreamer’s profound loneliness drives him to idealise their fleeting nights together which is what lead to a heartbreak. 

After reading this book, I couldn’t help but stare at my ceiling for 30 minutes straight.

As someone, or those who may relate to the dreamer, I believe that our loneliness is what eats us and even the smallest encounters could stir our emotions. 

Tender and melancholic. Captures the essence of yearning, loneliness, and fleeting happiness of being friend-zoned O_O

Hannah 

i literally stared at my wall for 30 minutes after reading this. 

the most beautiful and lyrical prose i’ve ever read. it could have gone on for pages and i wouldn’t have blinked. just incredible. 

the story itself is one of solitude and depravity, love; found and lost in a second. a beautiful story that cultivated in a heartbreaking final moment. 

satvi

i literally stared at my wall for 30 minutes after reading this. 

the most beautiful and lyrical prose i’ve ever read. it could have gone on for pages and i wouldn’t have blinked. just incredible. 

the story itself is one of solitude and depravity, love; found and lost in a second. a beautiful story that cultivated in a heartbreaking final moment. 

In White Nights, Dostoevsky crafts a tale that is at once a delicate exploration of love and a profound meditation on the human condition—particularly on the experience of solitude, longing, and the ephemeral nature of human connection. The book, set during the sleepless white nights of St. Petersburg, plunges into the emotional world of a dreamer who exists more in the realm of his own imagination than in the reality around him.

At its heart, White Nights is a reflection on the nature of dreams, not just as a retreat from the world, but as a double-edged sword. The protagonist, unnamed and isolated, longs for intimacy but is simultaneously adrift in his fantasies. His life feels like a series of missed opportunities, and when he finally encounters Nastenka, a woman who briefly reciprocates his affection, there is a sense that his world has momentarily gained color. This encounter, however, is bittersweet, for Nastenka too is caught in her own cycle of yearning, waiting for a man she truly loves to return.

The book’s poignancy comes from its awareness of the transient nature of human connection. The protagonist’s encounter with Nastenka is deeply felt, but like the white nights themselves, it cannot last. Dostoevsky invites us to contemplate the fleeting moments of closeness that shape our inner lives, even when those moments are doomed to dissolve into memory. This is the central paradox of the book: it speaks to the human desire to hold onto something permanent in a world where everything, including love, is often impermanent.

What makes White Nights so philosophically resonant is its treatment of loneliness. Dostoevsky does not merely portray solitude as an absence of companionship but as a condition that shapes one’s perception of reality. The protagonist’s longing is not just for Nastenka, but for a connection that might anchor him to the world—something real and lasting. Yet, his dreams act both as refuge and as prison, protecting him from the pain of rejection, but also alienating him from the world outside. In this way, the book explores the tension between illusion and reality, between the comfort of dreams and the risk of genuine engagement with life.

There is also a quiet, existential undercurrent to the story. The white nights of St. Petersburg become a metaphor for the fleeting nature of happiness and the passage of time. These nights, filled with a pale, dreamlike light, mirror the liminal space in which the protagonist exists—caught between the light of hope and the darkness of despair. His brief encounter with Nastenka seems to offer a glimpse of fulfillment, but that fulfillment is always just out of reach, slipping away with the coming dawn.

In the end, White Nights is not a story of love fulfilled, but of love glimpsed—love that is as fragile as a summer night. Through this brief, melancholic romance, Dostoevsky delves into the deep well of human longing and isolation, offering a reflection on the moments of beauty and connection that illuminate our lives, even if they are destined to fade. It is in these moments, however brief, that we find a kind of meaning, even if that meaning is tinged with sorrow.

The protagonist’s final acceptance of his fate, as he watches Nastenka return to her true love, is a quiet surrender to the reality of unfulfilled dreams. In that moment, the book speaks to the universal human experience—the way in which we all, in some sense, are dreamers, caught between the worlds we imagine and the lives we actually live. And in this, White Nights becomes not just a story of one man’s night of love, but a meditation on the fragility of hope, the inevitability of loss, and the fleeting, beautiful moments that make life, however painful, worth living.

In White Nights, Dostoevsky crafts a tale that is at once a delicate exploration of love and a profound meditation on the human condition—particularly on the experience of solitude, longing, and the ephemeral nature of human connection. The book, set during the sleepless white nights of St. Petersburg, plunges into the emotional world of a dreamer who exists more in the realm of his own imagination than in the reality around him.

At its heart, White Nights is a reflection on the nature of dreams, not just as a retreat from the world, but as a double-edged sword. The protagonist, unnamed and isolated, longs for intimacy but is simultaneously adrift in his fantasies. His life feels like a series of missed opportunities, and when he finally encounters Nastenka, a woman who briefly reciprocates his affection, there is a sense that his world has momentarily gained color. This encounter, however, is bittersweet, for Nastenka too is caught in her own cycle of yearning, waiting for a man she truly loves to return.

The book’s poignancy comes from its awareness of the transient nature of human connection. The protagonist’s encounter with Nastenka is deeply felt, but like the white nights themselves, it cannot last. Dostoevsky invites us to contemplate the fleeting moments of closeness that shape our inner lives, even when those moments are doomed to dissolve into memory. This is the central paradox of the book: it speaks to the human desire to hold onto something permanent in a world where everything, including love, is often impermanent.

What makes White Nights so philosophically resonant is its treatment of loneliness. Dostoevsky does not merely portray solitude as an absence of companionship but as a condition that shapes one’s perception of reality. The protagonist’s longing is not just for Nastenka, but for a connection that might anchor him to the world—something real and lasting. Yet, his dreams act both as refuge and as prison, protecting him from the pain of rejection, but also alienating him from the world outside. In this way, the book explores the tension between illusion and reality, between the comfort of dreams and the risk of genuine engagement with life.

There is also a quiet, existential undercurrent to the story. The white nights of St. Petersburg become a metaphor for the fleeting nature of happiness and the passage of time. These nights, filled with a pale, dreamlike light, mirror the liminal space in which the protagonist exists—caught between the light of hope and the darkness of despair. His brief encounter with Nastenka seems to offer a glimpse of fulfillment, but that fulfillment is always just out of reach, slipping away with the coming dawn.

In the end, White Nights is not a story of love fulfilled, but of love glimpsed—love that is as fragile as a summer night. Through this brief, melancholic romance, Dostoevsky delves into the deep well of human longing and isolation, offering a reflection on the moments of beauty and connection that illuminate our lives, even if they are destined to fade. It is in these moments, however brief, that we find a kind of meaning, even if that meaning is tinged with sorrow.

The protagonist’s final acceptance of his fate, as he watches Nastenka return to her true love, is a quiet surrender to the reality of unfulfilled dreams. In that moment, the book speaks to the universal human experience—the way in which we all, in some sense, are dreamers, caught between the worlds we imagine and the lives we actually live. And in this, White Nights becomes not just a story of one man’s night of love, but a meditation on the fragility of hope, the inevitability of loss, and the fleeting, beautiful moments that make life, however painful, worth living.

Just rereading this book right after my last breakup—I want to hang myself alive! /ns 

TSANA

A story of loneliness, solitude, yearning and unrequited love. There’s something so beautiful on how Dostoyevsky wrote about yearning. This book left me feeling empty, but in a good way.

I feel left out because I don’t see what everybody else sees

“may your sky be clear, may your sweet smile be bright and untroubled, and may you be blessed for that moment of blissful happiness which you have to another, lonely and grateful heart! 

my god, a whole moment of happiness! is that too little for the whole of a man’s life?” 

annalyse! 

“may your sky be clear, may your sweet smile be bright and untroubled, and may you be blessed for that moment of blissful happiness which you have to another, lonely and grateful heart! 

my god, a whole moment of happiness! is that too little for the whole of a man’s life?” 

♡

oh to be this incredibly eloquent when talking about life and love – what a whirlwind of a story.

dima

Maureen

“Where have you buried your best days? Have you lived or not? Look, one says to oneself, look how cold the world is growing.”

***

My first Dostoevsky. Our narrator is lonely, wistful, and hapless in love. The existential crisis descriptions were so vivid—well, that’s a Russian novelist for you. It is their element. Despite the narrator’s solitude, he does love unconditionally so it’s an interesting paradox at the end.

Katerina

The tweet that Jack was influenced by, “you think you understand love and then you read White Nights by Dostoevsky”, really speaks volumes about this one. 

Such a short story, but so powerful. At first, I thought it was rushed, but then it dawned on me that what Dostoevsky was trying to do was capture nearly every stage of love - the joy of falling, the feeling of nothing else in the world mattering, the moment when it doesn’t feel quite right and the heartbreak of losing it all - in so few pages. Mostly in dialogue. Which, in my opinion, really helps the reader truly connect with the characters. Yes, this one is a classic for a reason. 

--

Some of the quotes that will stay with me for a long, long time: 

“I like revisiting, at certain times, spots where I was once happy; I like to shape the present in the image of the irretrievable past.”

“My God, a moment of bliss. Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime?”

“The dreamer—if you want an exact definition—is not a human being, but a creature of an intermediate sort.”

people said this was a love story, but in my eyes it tells a tale of loneliness. Fyodor somehow has the ability to put into words what many cannot; what i cannot. reading his books always leaves me with a deep sense of unraveling.

justice for our dreamer, he deserved better!! 

nastenka you are the devil☝️

Considering that I ma going through one of the biggest reading slumps of my life, I picked up this short classic with VERY high expectations (blame booktok). Although beautifully written, the passionate yet unrequited love that the nameless narrator has for Nastenka came off as borderline stalker/“pick me” behavior. 

Gave it 3.5 out of 5 because I enjoyed the writing style, but unfortunately it did not leave me wanting for more.

Pilar Abreu Fernandez

Considering that I ma going through one of the biggest reading slumps of my life, I picked up this short classic with VERY high expectations (blame booktok). Although beautifully written, the passionate yet unrequited love that the nameless narrator has for Nastenka came off as borderline stalker/“pick me” behavior. 

Gave it 3.5 out of 5 because I enjoyed the writing style, but unfortunately it did not leave me wanting for more.

This is the first book that I’ve read from Dostoevsky and it did not disappoint.If you are looking for a heartbreaking romance that takes place in just about 100 pages then this book is THE ONE.

I loved it,Dostoevsky’s writing style is really good,and just because he is a classic doesn’t make his book hard to read.

The only reason why I am rating this 4/5 stars is because I just can’t get over how unrealistic this book would be in real life…and I don’t mean the situation itself but more on how quickly everything happens…it was a little confusing at first on how he got so in love at first sight after being strangers 2 seconds ago BUT I understand that may be just because I haven’t experienced something like that 😭

Other than that, an amazing book 🙂

White Nights

Reviews

Highlights