The Overcoat

Many times, the outcome of the story is governed by a sense of fatalism. When Akaky Akakievich is born, the narrator says, “the baby was christened and cried and made sour faces during [his baptism], as though he foresaw that he would be a titular councilor” (306). Likewise, he does not decide of his own free will to commission a new overcoat. Instead, “Akaky Akakievich saw that there was no escape from a new overcoat and he was thoroughly depressed” (315). Finally, even his death is fated, with the doctor pronouncing what the narrator calls “these fateful words” (328) about what kind of coffin to purchase.

This lack of free will mirrors the structure of bureaucratic life. Outcomes are determined by unseen and impersonal forces that seem indifferent to the well-being of individuals. And those individuals are powerful to shape their lives or the organizations of which they are a part. Fatalism is also a traditional theme in Russian literature. Many classic Russian folk tales involve fatalism and a need to accept one’s fate. Russian fatalism began to be subtly critiqued by 19th-century authors such as Gogol, Anton Chekhov, and Leo Tolstoy, who wrote about characters who were either undone by their extreme acceptance of fate (such as Akaky Akakievich) or who rebelled against destiny in futile ways.

Akaky Akakievich becomes absorbed with the possibility of a new overcoat. While getting the new coat means missing out on fundamental needs like food and laundry, the narrator says, “he even became quite accustomed to being hungry in the evening; on the other hand, he had spiritual nourishment, for he carried ever in his thoughts the idea of his future overcoat” (317). Similarly, the idea of the overcoat feels like a “marriage” (317) to the otherwise sexless Akakievich. He feels “as though he were no longer alone but an agreeable companion had consented to walk through the path of life hand in hand with him” (317) whenever he contemplates his new purchase. When he receives the coat, “every second he was conscious that he had a new overcoat on his shoulders, and several times he actually laughed from inward satisfaction” (319).

Gogol pokes fun at Akaky Akakievich’s absorption, but his feelings are not difficult to understand. After all, the poor pay allotted to copyists and other cogs in the Russian bureaucracy is the main challenge faced by the protagonist. Akaky Akakievich is forced onto the streets in the mornings in the bitter chill like the other titular councilors “running as fast as they can through five or six streets in a wretched, thin little overcoat, and then warming their feet in the porters’ room” (310). The narrator says that the St. Petersburg cold is the “mighty foe of all who receive a salary of about four hundred rubles” (310), and it eventually costs Akaky Akakievich his life. This poor pay for hours of labor is part of what makes the bureaucracy so ridiculous and unfair.

Akaky Akakievich’s obsession with his coat is not a typical form of materialism in which someone desires a material possession to flaunt in front of others. His absorption stems in part simply from the warmth of the coat against the Russian winter. But he could, it seems, have purchased an equally warm coat for less money, avoiding the sacrifice and discomfort of saving for this one. Akaky Akakievich enjoys the creativity of designing the coat and choosing its features, and the finished garment offers a glimpse of beauty and quality in an otherwise drab and impoverished environment. His materialism is not a matter of vanity as much as of creativity and a desire for beauty in his life.