Tuesday Book Club: Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov
A Satire That Hits Closer to Home With Time
This week’s Tuesday Book Club choice is Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov—a book that has grown in meaning for me the older I get. On the surface, it’s a gently comic portrait of a man who would rather do almost anything than get out of bed. But beneath the humour is something sad, sharp and enduringly relevant.
When I first read it, decades ago, I couldn’t help but see in it a portrait of the declining British ruling classes—a group so cushioned by privilege that they had drifted into a sort of passive, self-satisfied stupor. Oblomov’s refusal to engage with the world felt like a metaphor for a certain kind of fading empire mindset, where things are expected to run themselves while the people at the top snooze on the sidelines.
Now, rereading it, I see something bigger. Not just a man, or a class, but a whole society that has stopped engaging with the world around it. That prefers the comfort of routine, nostalgia and shrinking circles of certainty to the mess and effort of real life.
Sound familiar? In the age of endless scrolls, curated timelines and digital cocoons, Oblomov feels surprisingly modern. It’s a cautionary tale about what happens when we stop moving forward—not in the sense of ambition or career, but in terms of living fully, connecting honestly and making ourselves present in the world.
And yet, for all that, the novel remains funny. There’s warmth in its satire and real sympathy for its characters. Goncharov isn’t mocking for the sake of it; he’s holding up a mirror to something universal: the tug of comfort, the temptation to retreat, the dream of life without friction.
Let’s Talk About It
Have you read Oblomov? Did you find it funny, frustrating, familiar—or all three? And do you think Oblomov’s condition is something many of us are drifting into, one tap and scroll at a time?
Join us with #TuesdayBookClub and #Oblomov on X (formerly Twitter) and Bluesky to talk about this strange, haunting and oddly prophetic novel.