About the book: year / "Ivan Aleksandrovich, tearing off the warm duvet, jumped with his bare feet onto a hard rug thrown near the sofa. It was necessary to pull off the crumpled nightgown, but his hands hung like whips, not obeying him. It was cold, his feet warm under the blanket were uncomfortable, and he thought with disgust about what abyss of inarticulate papers, devoid of interest for him, he would have to read with the greatest possible care, instead of plunging headlong into Oblomov»…»