Today, I finished the first book in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov (I’m reading the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation), and have found it to be wonderful thus far.
The first book, which seems much like an extended background and setup for the more morally meaty events to come, is quite a fun, light read, but not without passages for contemplation. It is impressive how Dostoevsky can intertwine genuine humor and genuine religion or philosophy, often on the same page. A nice example of this is Chapter 2.4: A Lady of Little Faith. An affected girl, Lise, is teasing the novice Alyosha, as the elder Zozima is discussing real, almost grave, religious questions with the girls mother, mere feet (and mere lines) away.
A shining example of Dostoevsky’s work is the series of chapters concerning “The Confession of an Ardent Heart” (Chapters 3.3-3.5). Here we see a performance from brother Dmitri which passes through hysteria, humor, drama, playacting, and despair. Simultaneously jocular and disconcerting, Dmitri’s explanation of his intent to commit parricide (and possibly suicide) is both interesting as plot and as literary device. It seems apparent, at this point, that the impending murder of father Fyodor will be the center of the novel, but the veiled and almost dissembling fashion in which the topic is broached is quite interesting. The reader is left rather unsure as to whether this terrible event is going to happen.
Dostoevsky’s (as well as the translators’) verbiage is not slighted in the least. I recommend that you read along with a dictionary at hand. The reader will not go unrewarded, however, as the wordsmithing here is superb. Equally complex is the growing web of character relationships, but this is Russian literature, so what do you expect!?
My chief criticism thus far (and I expect it to continue), is one I’ve had with much literature (especially that written before 1950). While the characters themselves are quite interesting, and mostly believable, the feelings and emotional despair shown by numerous characters comes off as fantastic. The striking occasion in my mind is the scene between Katerina Ivanovna and Gruschenka in Chapter 3.10. The meticulous detail with which these people must analyze every thought, word, and gesture is boggling. It seems quite unrealistic how sensitive some characters seem, and the grandiose emotions which they purport to experience. For instance, Katerina is nearly brought to tears (p.147) because Dmitri is (paraphrasing) “unable to make her endure his sins as he makes God endure them.” This extraordinarily precise, defensive emotional state, which reeks of a dangerous lack of self-esteem, is present in a number of characters, and seems altogether impossible. This, of course, does not detract much from the interactions and development, and certainly not from the moral and philosophical discussion, but it does make the novel feel less genuine and relatable.
Thus far, I’ve been quite pleased with the book, and look forward to reading the three remaining books.
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