There is a tendency to regard Goncharov--like Swift, or Gri-
boyedov--as a homo unius libri, which is a mistake. It is true that
Oblomov represents the height of his creative power. This does
not imply, however, that his two other novels are unimportant.
They not only have merits of their own, but (as the author
himself had pointed out) they form, together with Oblomov,
a kind of trilogy showing the social, mental and moral climate
of Russia during one of the most interesting transition periods
in her history. Yet however superb his portraits and their setting,
we cannot help feeling in him a certain incongruity between his
strong sense of reality (or realities) on the one hand, and his
sense of values on the other. Had the latter been adequate to the
deeper social needs of the time in which he lived, he might have
avoided at least some of the misunderstandings he suffered from
in his old age.

Fortunately, it is not this aspect of his work that matters to us
at present, however interesting it may be if seen in its historical
perspective. What is important to us here and now is Goncharov's
art, i.e. his interpretation of life in terms of fiction. It was in his
fine description of human characters and of human relations
that he transcended his own epoch. The things he said about
them, as well as the manner in which he said them, have not
lost their significance, however remote their setting may be
from us both in space and time. In short, Goncharov the creative
novelist is still alive. While remaining one of the leading figures
in Russian literature, he also occupies a niche of his own in the
literature of the world. What is best in his work is strong and
vital enough to justify such a claim.

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