A Slightly Not-So-Serious Review of Nikolai Gogol's St. John’s Eve (1830)
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As I leafed through the pages, I found myself scratching my head (and occasionally consulting Wikipedia like it was my life coach) while trying to decode the delightful chaos of Russian—well, technically, Ukrainian—traditions and folklore.
Gogol sweeps us into a love story that feels not at all like a romantic Shakespearean tragedy, but more like a German nightmare (think Hoffmann and Tieck). Picture this: a dark backdrop, whispers of the supernatural, a witch, and a devil who's seemingly had one too many shots of vodka. At first, I thought I was reading a horror script, but then love poked its head in, leaving me pondering how these two concepts could coexist. Love can be sweet, sure, but when you throw in a devil, things veer into the diabolical territory!
Here's an important takeaway: poverty and love make for quite the dramatic duo! Our dear protagonist believes he’s got life figured out, but you know what they say—never accept help from strangers, especially if they’re sporting a tail and clutching a pitchfork. The plot thickens, and soon we find ourselves lost in a not-so-cute rabbit hole filled with infanticide, human sacrifice, memory lapses and horror elements that evoke the likes of Hoffmann’s The Sandman and “Ignaz Denner”. I was baffled by the eerie visions Hoffmann conjured, until Gogol came along and said, "Wait until you see what I can do with horror!" Between you and me, Hoffmann is still better ad of course original!
So, fasten your seatbelts, folks! Just when you think you’ve grasped the plot and that oblivion might just solve these star-crossed lovers' woes, you realize you’ve barely scratched the surface of the madness and evil!
Yours humorously,
An Overzealous Reviewer Who Just Can’t Help Herself
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