Childhood
While one might expect that in a novel titled Childhood written by one of those notoriously long-winded Russians of the 19th century there would be ample examples of metaphors or similes that actually use the word “childhood.” That is, surprisingly, not the case. Which is not to say that it doesn’t appear at all. Of course, when it does, the metaphorical comparison is actually made to memories of childhood rather than childhood itself:
“Happy, happy, never–returning time of childhood! How can we help loving and dwelling upon its recollections? They cheer and elevate the soul, and become to one a source of higher joys.”
The Sort of Man His Father was
The chapter titled “The Sort of Man My Father Was” opens with a quick delineation of character that immediately situates the man as being from another time who is out of sync with the modern world. An admittedly not uncommon metaphorical figure of a father as written by a son:
“Papa was a gentleman of the last century, with all the chivalrous character, self–reliance, and gallantry of the youth of that time.”
There was a Little Girl with Curls
The narrator is almost thunderstruck by the hair of a pretty young girl arriving for a party in grand style. So taken is he that he expends an entire paragraph describing and commenting upon the singularly distinctive aspect of the girl’s mane:
“her head was covered with flaxen curls which so perfectly suited her beautiful face…that I would have believed nobody, not even Karl Ivanitch, if he, or she had told me that they only hung so nicely because, ever since the morning, they had been screwed up in fragments of a Moscow newspaper and then warmed with a hot iron. To me it seemed as though she must have been born with those curls.”
Death of a Mother
As the subject of the novel is childhood, it is natural that a significant relationship in the story is between the narrator and his mother. Like any boy, his view of his mother is predictably skewed to the positive, but this perspective is certainly helped along by others:
“Yes, my dearest, it must never be POSSIBLE for you to forget your Mamma. She was not a being of earth—she was an angel from Heaven.”
Drowsy Memories
The narrator confesses to giving into deep, reflective memories of childhood that are so powerful as to actually wield power over the state of his consciousness. A state that is adulthood quite different from when one was a child. The past and present mingle and create a strange reaction that brings the past into the future:
“The sound sleep of childhood is weighing my eyelids down, and for a few moments I sink into slumber and oblivion until awakened by some one.”
