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I didn't enjoy this. There's a bunch of rather hackneyed characters I've met often elsewhere in Russian literature, such as the pig of a paterfamilias who rages impotently at everybody around him while his cherished world order crumbles. Read about one, and it seems like you've read about them all. Getting bored with them now. Perhaps the worst of it is the undeveloped, disjointed feel of the novel. We only learn in brief passing about Insarov and Elena's wedding, a fortnight after it occurs! Next, we've skipped to Venice, where Insarov dies of consumption just as the story looks like it might get going, and an indecently quick denouement closes the novel. Why make Insarov die? There was a fabulous story that might have been told about these two in Bulgaria as the Crimean War took hold. Well, too bad, Turgenev didn't care to take us on that trip. On The Eve is a very half-hearted effort.