Pritchett notes his debt to … other scholars at the outset [of The Gentle Barbarian: The Life and Work of Turgenev]. But he also brings two crucial gifts of his own to the work. First, he shows an unusual ability to draw the reader back into a world distant both in time and in space without allowing that world to deaden into a literary museum: The Gentle Barbarian is not only the kind of portrait with eyes that follow the viewer around the room, but a portrait so effective that its subject becomes a living part of the viewer's consciousness. Secondly, Pritchett, a writer by profession, shows himself to be a master of English prose style. This combination of fine portraiture and verbal mastery makes the book a great pleasure to read.

Much of the power of the portrait stems from Pritchett's skill at filling in the outlines of Turgenev's life with conjecture while avoiding lapses into the hazardous realm of fictionalized biography….

Judicious conjecture also marks the narration of Turgenev's relation to Pauline Viardot. While he works his way to the inevitable conclusion that one cannot know the physical bounds of the relationship (Viardot seemed to be happily married and Turgenev was generally on good terms with her husband), Pritchett offers a lively portrayal of its waxing and waning and demonstrates its pervasive influence (often negative) on Turgenev's creative life.

The book's generalizations about Russian literature occasionally spill into the realm of overstatement. For example, the assertion that Turgenev was a "founder and innovator" because "there was no established tradition of story telling or novel writing in Russian literature," or that "Pushkin sought to replace French influence by the influence of German and English—by Goethe and Shakespeare," can be bombarded with counter arguments. But at the same time, the book's generalizations about Turgenev's work without reference to Russian literary history are often full of insight…. (p. 295)

On one hand, it seems unfortunate that The Gentle Barbarian lacks the scholarly apparatus of footnotes, or at least an index. Statements about important figures like George Sand, Tolstoy, Bakunin, Belinsky, and an interesting story about a relationship Turgenev is said to have had with the wife of the poet Tyutchev all remain in an area of limited use because one can neither verify the original source of the information nor locate the relevant passage again without thumbing through the whole book. But on the other hand, Pritchett's refusal to admit the added weight of such scholarly baggage may well be one of the factors that has allowed him to create such a thoroughly life-like and, in its own way, informative portrait. (p. 296)