Summary
Fyodor Dostoevsky’s 1848 short story “White Nights” tells the tragic tale of a lonesome, unnamed narrator as he winds his way through his dreary, isolated life in St. Petersburg. Subtitled “A Sentimental Story from the Diary of a Dreamer,” the story unfolds in five well-delineated sections—four nights and a morning—to explain the nature of the narrator’s life and describe an emotionally turbulent encounter with a young woman named Nastenka.
The story begins as the narrator addresses the reader and reflects on a series of winter nights. On the first, he explains the dawning feeling of isolation that has taken hold of his senses; usually, he feels at ease with St. Petersburg. He knows the city’s streets, homes, and occupants well: he has formed a litany of unwitting half-correspondences with people he has never met. For example, he describes his daily encounter with an old man to whom the narrator feels compelled to bow or tip his hat but never does. Of late, it feels as though the city is packing up for the winter, each familiar inhabitant arranging their things to abscond to summer villas, and the realization that they plan to leave him behind saddens him.
As he wanders, singing, he encounters a weeping woman. He turns to comfort her, but the words falter on his tongue; as he stands uncertainly, she notices his presence and flees. However, her frantic flight leads her into the arms of an elderly drunkard. Before the situation escalates, the narrator swoops in and saves her. Offering his arm to escort her home, the narrator begins to speak of his anxieties toward women and his lack of human connection. He speaks of the fantasies conjured by his hyperactive, lonely mind and tells her of the romantic notions that mar his every experience. She listens attentively and assures him that most people would respond to his sorrows with interest; as they part, she agrees to meet with him the following night, although she eludes to a secret she cannot yet reveal.
On the second night, the narrator’s newfound companion introduces herself as Nastenka and chides herself for her mysteriousness and overly trusting nature; she requests that the narrator tell her about himself and his history. He balks, having no such history to tell. She argues that he must, as even she, who is bound to her blind grandmother’s side, has a history. The narrator relents, telling a story of awkward encounters and failed social interactions, leaving him forever crestfallen and embittered by a world which, try though he might, he cannot quite access or integrate. Given an audience, words spill forth in a relentless, unstoppable torrent, telling all that he wished to say but never could. He describes how loneliness sparks the imagination, allowing him to shed the real world and slip into the solace of fantasy; Nastenka expresses her sorrow at his suffering and suggests that they agree to help each learn to live happy lives.
Then, Nastenka begins to tell him about her life. Orphaned at a young age, she was raised and educated by her grandmother, a strict woman whose blindness has not deterred her from controlling her granddaughter’s life. Indeed, she forces Nastenka to pin their dresses together to ensure she does not leave the house and cause trouble. However, after an attractive young man moved into their upstairs lodgings, Nastenka quickly fell in love; when he left to seek his fortune in Moscow, she begged him to remember her. He promised to return a year later and seek her hand. The year has passed, yet he remains absent. The narrator...
(This entire section contains 938 words.)
Unlock this Study Guide Now
Start your 48-hour free trial and get ahead in class. Boost your grades with access to expert answers and top-tier study guides. Thousands of students are already mastering their assignments—don't miss out. Cancel anytime.
Already a member? Log in here.
feels for her and helps her draft a letter to her lost love.
They meet for the third night, but the narrator slips into melancholy, mourning that the one he loves has promised herself to another. Moreover, he worries that her kindness is merely an expression of her own desire to be listened to and cared for. During their meeting, she is happy and hopeful, and in her joy, unintentionally wounds the narrator by complimenting his lack of love for her. They linger in their respective emotional turbulence, drawn closer by the strength of feeling for each other and for the promised lover who has yet to arrive.
The narrator arrives the following night and shatters Nastenka’s hopes; she has had no word from her lover, and neither has he. As she weeps, the narrator can contain himself no longer and confesses his love. To his surprise, Nastenka does not spurn him; instead, she considers his words carefully before breaking out into cheers of joy. They begin to plan a life together, and he accepts the offer of her hand. As they turn to walk home, the long-lost lover—to whom she had hardened her heart only moments ago—appears; Nastenka tears herself from the narrator, and the pair vanish into the darkness, leaving him once more alone.
The next morning, a letter arrives from Nastenka, telling the narrator of her upcoming marriage and begging for his forgiveness. As he reads, the narrator flashes forward fifteen years; he imagines himself, his home, and his maid much the same, changed only by time. The bleak image sends him reeling, unmoored from the fleeting happiness life had so cruelly afforded him. Yet he cannot be bitter; he wishes only joy upon Nastenka, mentally thanking her for the small moment of happiness she wrought in him. However, he mourns its brevity and wonders if these sharp, painful instances of bliss are all a man might expect from life.