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Gotta Get Out of My Head Tonight: “Clara Militch” by Ivan Turgenev
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Dissecting The Dark Descent
Gotta Get Out of My Head Tonight: “Clara Militch” by Ivan Turgenev
The story of two people who really need to touch grass.
By Sam Reader
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Published on April 8, 2025
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Welcome back to Dissecting The Dark Descent, where we lovingly delve into the guts of David Hartwell’s seminal 1987 anthology story by story, and in the process, explore the underpinnings of a genre we all love. For an in-depth introduction, here’s the intro post.
Despite his massive personal flaws (the entire section of his Wikipedia labeled “antisemitism,” for example), Turgenev is an influential name in not just Russian literature but literature in general. He was a translator and literary critic whose full-throated opinions on Russian literature were censored by the government, and whose social critiques of Russian society took on all comers (and caused fights with both Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, the latter of whom once challenged him to a duel), and who managed to explore an interesting interplay between cynicism and idealism in his own work. This interplay is clearly present in his novella “Clara Militch,” a work that sets a narrow-minded and repressed cynic against a romantic idealist dangerously out of touch with reality in a dark satire of intellectualism and star-crossed lovers. In bringing all his literary talents to bear, Turgenev skewers young romance and crafts a story of two people who really need to get out of their own heads before someone gets hurt—one that resonates centuries after its publication.
Yakov Aratov is a young man with issues. Having spent most of his childhood at the whims of his “sorcerer” father, who believed he was curing his son’s ills with quack medicine, Aratov has grown into a sickly young man who walls himself off from the world, content to while away countless hours with his books and photography while dependent on his aunt Platusha. His only friend in this barely-a-life, Kupfer, takes it upon himself to start inviting Aratov to salons in an attempt to get his emotionally repressed and retiring friend out of his own head for a night. It is here that Aratov meets Clara Militch, a haunting and arresting beauty who takes an interest in him. Things take a dark turn when, some months after a clandestine meeting where Clara declares her feelings and Aratov responds in a confused and aloof manner, Clara kills herself. Suddenly, Aratov is haunted by a presence that suggests Clara is contacting him from beyond the grave. Is it love transcending death, or merely his own madness and guilt? Either way, his haunting may prove fatal.
Aratov has locked himself away from the world. He depends on his aunt and whatever family money he can access; he dropped out of school because he believed there would be nothing for him to learn that he couldn’t learn on his own, and mostly keeps to his room and his vast, ever-growing library. While he has his friend Kupfer for social companionship, he’s essentially walled himself off, denying himself human experiences and connection because he just can’t be bothered. He’s a textbook masculine introvert—walled off from the world, cut off from most forms of human expression, mostly nonverbal, and focused mainly on his own pursuits. He has no need for the world around him, and the world around him is largely unconcerned with his presence.
While Aratov can repress his emotions, that doesn’t mean those emotions don’t slip out in incredibly strange ways. Upon hearing Clara’s name, he immediately makes leaps to poetry he’s read inspired by a Walter Scott heroine with a similar name, conflating Clara Militch with the fictional Clara Mowbray. He’s obsessed with her based on a single glance they shared, bungling their eventual meeting because he’s so closed-off that he doesn’t understand what she’s trying to say to him and is mostly unresponsive to her. He’s obsessed with the idea of Clara, but the reality, the actual person, is something he doesn’t even begin to reckon with, opting to be enraptured in private and completely ignoring Clara in public despite her interest and advances towards him.
It could be argued that Clara has the same limitations. It’s not clear whether her planned romantic encounter with Aratov was what catalyzed her suicide, but she spends most of the story as a posthumous presence and it’s very difficult to assign motives in that case. Her planned meeting has all the hallmarks of a traditional clandestine romance—the only issue is that her intended target has absolutely no head for glamor or romance whatsoever. Clara lived her life like she was in a novel, one filled with whirlwind romances, grand gestures, and dramatic deaths. She’s the opposite extreme from Aratov—he lives his life as an introverted monk, and she lives her life like she’s the heroine of a romantic epic. Neither of them is living healthily, instead choosing to be wrapped up in their own fantasies to their detriment. While her avowed determination to capture a suitor even after ending her life seems in line with the idea that Aratov’s tormentor is Clara haunting him, it remains deeply unclear what the entity terrorizing Aratov really is.
There’s very little evidence the entity is really a ghostly Clara. Her presence, beyond simply being a fixed idea in Aratov’s head, is only felt after he learns enough to flesh out her image. It’s more likely that either Aratov’s guilt and his obsessive fixation on Clara pushes him to his hallucination and eventual death, or that the strong emotions spawned a kind of tulpa that then tormented him into the beyond. Either way, the root cause lies in the fact that Aratov is forced to reckon with his emotions and being socially cut off from the world, and it causes him to snap. No matter how much Aratov tries to keep himself detached, the light always streams in through the cracks. In Aratov’s case, that means psychedelic dreams of Clara, a deep obsession over a woman he only met twice, and driving himself insane with guilt over someone he never really loved that much (by his own admission) to begin with. It’s the emotions—guilt, obsession, and even love—and his inability to process them that eventually undo him.
These twin points turn “Clara Militch” from a story of obsession to a vicious satire of star-crossed lovers. Turgenev’s repeated references to Romeo and Juliet further drive this point home, as Shakespeare did plenty of his own skewering of the tropes surrounding “young romance” throughout that work. It’s easy enough to see Aratov as the emotionally repressed young man trudging through life and Clara as a free spirit with filled with romance and passion—a classic formula—the difference is that Clara is dramatic to the point of emotional instability and takes her own life because a man she shared a glance with didn’t immediately live up to her expectations, and Aratov is so walled off that experiencing emotions for another human being literally kills him. It’s the “repressed man/manic pixie dream girl” trope played out to its most grotesque conclusion. If the haunting aspect is taken literally, Clara even tries to love Aratov from beyond the grave, only to snap his brain in half so thoroughly that he dies feverish and spouting nonsense. This story is driven by gothic romance tropes played for horror, with two people so wrapped up in their own minds that their inability to grasp anything outside their own narrow understanding causes them to indirectly kill each other.
It’s dark, sure, but there’s an odd humor to that. Most satires of romance take the stance that having one’s head wrapped up in sentimentality is the issue, but in Turgenev’s twisted little gothic romance, not even the detached and unsentimental are safe if they’re not in touch enough with reality and their own emotions to process their own feelings. At the end of things, both Clara and Aratov just needed to get out of their own heads and interact with the world in a more realistic way. It’s a pity that neither of them could.
And now to turn it over to you. Were the two lovers always doomed? Is “Clara Militch” the earliest deconstruction of the manic pixie dream girl character? Is Clara actually a ghost? And what’s your favorite work of romantic deconstructive horror?
Please join us in two weeks when we visit one of the primordial ancestors of psychedelic and cosmic horror with Robert W. Chambers and “The Repairer of Reputations.”[end-mark]
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