This book is very long and very slow. 720 pages, and it's the first of a 4-part work about the life of one Clim Sanghin, a member of the Russian gentry living in pre-Revolution Russia. The time period of "Bystander" is 1880 through about 1905 and we are shown, through a somewhat absurdist perspective, the rot and dissassociation from reality at the core of the this class of Russian society.

The problem with the book, certainly from the standpoint of a modern reader, is that it is slow. Very slow. We are treated to many, many drawing room gatherings, each complete with a the seemingly idiotic ramblings of people who love to argue philosophy and politics--the character and historic role of the Russian peasantry is a popular theme--but who seem to have no desire whatsoever to take any actions on their beliefs. Although, as time moves along, we learn that some few of these revolving characters are, indeed, involved in revolutionary activities. The realities of the political oppression of the Czarist regime also seep in, as this character of that is announced to have been arrested. All of this "action" takes place off-stage, however, and none of it makes an impression on the protagonist's overwhelming and life-long ennui.

Making the book additionally difficult is the fact that our hero, Clim, is everlastingly a blockhead. He frets that he has no original thoughts and is jealous of those of his compatriots who can turn a clever phrase (this self-knowledge is just about his only redeeming quality, it seems). He understands essentially nothing of what's going on around him, in the political climate of the day and even in his own love affairs, and his self-absorption is complete.

And yet, as one reads, if one pushes through, an increasingly detailed picture of the ideas and behaviors of the time and place is painted for us. Think of a a very, very long minimalist symphony and you will get the idea. And there are certain recurring themes, a chance comment made after the drowning of one of Clim's friends during adolescence, for example, that resonate throughout the narrative, adding a slight but sturdy framework for all of the character's observations and a subtle depth to the procedings in general.

Nevertheless, it's hard to recommend this book unless one is a fan of exposition and of spending lots of time inside the head of a less than sympathetic and basically dull fellow. This is the first work of Gorky that I've read. Reading up on him a bit, it seems that his non-fiction work, and particularly his autobiography, are considered his real accomplishments. He's a fascinating and important figure in Russian literature and Russian history, but I wouldn't suggest starting with this novel as a way into his body of work. ( )

This was one of My grandmother's books and why she kept it I'll never know. I labored through half of the 721 pages and the thing never went anywhere. Just blathering in a self-pitying way about the uselessness of life. Finally I started skimming, no better, so I skipped to the end and it was still more of the same. Enough! ( )