The Queen of Spades by Alexander Pushkin (1834): A Review

I thought I remembered enjoying this story more during my first read—perhaps it was the charm of Pushkin in full swing. However, returning to it felt akin to Gatsby gazing longingly at the green light across the bay—a nostalgia-tinged with the realization that the dream was not as vibrant as I remembered. While I appreciated the narrative, it lacked the enchanting spark that once made it shine, ultimately falling short of a five-star experience.

We have our ethnic-German protagonist serving in the Imperial Russian Army, whose heritage casts a shadow over his character. Let's say that being German here means "watch out for the not-so-nice guy." Seriously, please don't come at me with cancel culture! If you want someone to cancel, take it up with Pushkin, the mastermind himself! Tomsky's description of Hermann as possessing "the profile of a Napoleon and the soul of a Mephistopheles" brilliantly captures his complex nature. However, I'm left questioning whether the Napoleon comparison was meant to be flattering.

Our guy, who's never taken a risk in his life, suddenly becomes obsessed with an elderly countess who holds the keys to winning at gambling—a sort of geriatric gambling guru, perhaps with ties to Mephistopheles himself. He pressures her into sharing her secrets but ultimately fails; trust me, the ghost of this lady has a more dramatic comeback, including gambling! Oh, poor naive Lizavyeta, who thought all the ruse was real love. Who knew the gambling world could be so bizarre and entertaining for readers, although not so enjoyable for our greedy Hermann?

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