First Love by Ivan Turgenev

This is a beautiful novella. I read it years ago but wanted to come back to it because it is translated, in this Penguin edition, by Isaiah Berlin, whom I greatly admire. It is allusive and poetic and perfectly modulated. I take it as a finely drawn illustration of the singularity and complexity of the individual human heart and how imperfectly the world can be understood.

Lovely.

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