A young man, Yevgény Onégin (twenty-four years old when the novel starts in 1820), inherits his uncle’s estate, but when he goes to live there he finds the place no less boring than the city (Chapter One). He befriends a bright seventeen-year-old neighbour, Vladímir Lénsky, who is in love with a local girl, Ólga Lárina (Chapter Two). Her elder sister, Tatyána, falls in love with Onegin, and naively offers herself to him in a long letter (Chapter Three). Uninterested, Onegin rejects her approach and lives on in the country like a recluse. Months later he is invited to Tatyana’s name-day celebrations. By this time Olga and Vladimir are planning their wedding (Chapter Four). Tatyana endures a lurid nightmare, in which she is rescued by Onegin, who then stabs Lensky. The evening dance is too provincial and rustic to merit being called a ball; nevertheless, Onegin is furious with Lensky for drawing him into a grander occasion than he had anticipated, and he monopolizes Olga to an insulting degree. Lensky has no option but to challenge his “friend” to a duel (Chapter Five). He is shot dead (Chapter Six). Onegin departs. Tatyana visits his manor, browses through his books and discovers what a shallow character he is. Her family moves to Moscow (Chapter Seven). Three years later Onegin arrives in Moscow to find her married to a rich, prominent figure. In a letter echoing hers, he declares his love for her. She rejects him, saying she will not betray her husband. The story concludes in the spring of 1825 (Chapter Eight).

Many people who do not yet know the original work will recognize this as substantially the same story that is told in Tchaikovsky’s famous opera of the same name. This work has enjoyed a massive rise in popularity over the years (as has the overall public estimation of the composer’s genius) and it has now become a special favourite among opera-lovers. Tchaikovsky not only wrote the music but also penned nearly all of the libretto, which is a work of the highest literary-musical achievement—anything but the desecration of a sacred text, as it has so often been described by the Russians themselves. But that is another story…

Critics have been rather too kind to Onegin. The cold facts could scarcely be clearer: an experienced man about town with several duels behind him ruthlessly dispatches an ingénu poet for no obvious reason, though one suspects he is motivated by envy of the young man’s happiness. We have no space to develop this argument in detail, but readers should be warned against the diversity of false excuses paraded to exculpate the eponymous “hero”. He has been seen as a helpless child of his age, someone constrained by the stifling political atmosphere of the day in Russia, a victim of Fate, a sufferer from the mysterious (non-existent) European malaise called mal du siècle, a slave to contemporary convention and codes of behaviour, and a prey to all sorts of other unseen forces conditioning his conduct—all of this in a (largely unsuccessful) attempt to mitigate his guilt as the murderer of young Lensky. The most famous of Onegin critics and translators, Vladimir Nabokov, tried to persuade himself (and us) that Yevgeny is much younger than he really is, so that the two men might seem more evenly matched and the killer less culpable. Some critics acknowledge his unprincipled behaviour but claim that in his worst moments he is “acting out of character”. But the truth remains clear: Onegin had many opportunities and methods for avoiding first the duel and then the death of his opponent—and he spurned them all. Moreover, everything he does, sad to say, is consistently in character. Mind you, this is only one opinion; its very opposite was asserted by an American critic who believes that “Onegin is actually determined [by Russian society] in all his actions.” A great deal of alternative critical material is available to those interested in looking further into the characterization of Yevgeny Onegin.

Much the same applies to other characters in the novel, who are also open to a wide range of interpretation. The heroine, Tatyana, for instance—lovely young girl that she is—may have been glorified somewhat beyond her deserts. For one thing, her rapid development over a couple of years from bumpkin status to the top echelons of St Petersburg society is a challenge to probability, as indeed is the conversion (over a similar period) of the amoral, hard-hearted Onegin into a lovelorn worshipper near to madness.