- Author: Fyodor Dostoevsky
- Original Publication Date: 1846
- Genre: Epistolary novel
- Length: 136 pages
Book Description
Discover Poor Folk, Fyodor Dostoevsky’s deeply empathetic debut novel, told through poignant letters exchanged by two impoverished distant cousins in 19th-century Saint Petersburg. Makar Devushkin, a lonely, impoverished clerk, and Varvara Dobroselova, a struggling seamstress, share heartfelt correspondence that reveals their relentless poverty, fragile hopes, and emotional intimacy. Despite the bleakness of their circumstances, their bond blossoms through small acts of kindness and tender compassion, reflecting an unwavering belief in human connection.
Richly rooted in literary realism and epistolary tradition, the novel masterfully explores the psychological cost of poverty and social inequality, while illustrating the struggle for dignity amid hardship. Dostoevsky delivers this with a rare blend of sincerity and melancholy: Makar’s earnest adoration and Varvara’s graceful resilience shine through even as they make painful sacrifices. Critics of the time recognized its social significance—Belinsky hailed it as Russia’s first “social novel,” and Herzen regarded it as a major socialist work . Timeless in its emotional resonance, Poor Folk remains a delicate tribute to empathy, quiet endurance, and the human heart’s capacity to find connection in the most challenging of times.
Book Excerpt from Poor Folk by Fyodor Dostoevsky
My dearest Barbara Alexievna,
How happy I was last night—how immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because, for once in your life, you had relented so far as to obey my wishes.
At about eight o’clock I awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that I always like to sleep for a short hour after my work is done). I awoke, I say, and, lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write and trimmed my pen.
Then suddenly, for some reason or another, I raised my eyes—and felt my very heart leap within me!
For you had understood what I wanted. You had understood what my heart was craving for. Yes, I saw that a corner of the curtain in your window had been looped up and fastened to the cornice, just as I had suggested. And it seemed to me that your dear face was glimmering at the window—that you were looking at me from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were thinking of me.
Yet how vexed I felt that I could not see your sweet face clearly! For there was a time when you and I could see one another without any difficulty at all.
Ah me… but old age is not always a blessing, my beloved one!
