If there was still any doubt, let me confirm that this actually is the greatest book ever written. But be warned that you need to set aside a solid month to get through it. And it's not light reading--this is a dense work of philosophy disguised as a simple murder mystery. But it's well worth the effort. It tackles the fundamental question of human existence--how best to live one's life--in a truly engaging way. Dostoevsky created 3 brothers (Ivan, Alexei, and Dmitri) with opposite answers to this fundamental question, and set them loose in the world to see what would happen. A testament to Dostoevsky's genius is he didn't know how the book would evolve when he started writing. As a consequence, the book really isn't about the plot at all, but about how these brothers evolve and deal with their struggles based on their differing world views.

Dostoevsky articulates, better than anyone, how human beings really are what I would call "walking contradictions". Perhaps all of our struggles in life boil down to the reality that we desire contradictory things, simultaneously. If you like your novels with good character development, this is the masterwork. Dostoevsky's characters are more real, more human, than any other. At different points along the way, you will identify with them, sympathize with them, curse them, agonize over them, celebrate them. You will be moved.

Reading this book was a deeply personal experience for me, because I saw myself in one of the characters, and I didn't like what I saw. My worldview, in fact my entire direction in life, shifted as a result of this experience. I can't guarantee the same results for you, but you owe it to yourself to set aside the time, someday, for the Brothers Karamazov.

Be sure to read the Pevear Volokhonsky translation.

It's not hard to understand Nabokov's objections to Dostoevsky. It's his scruffiness as a novelist Nabokov with his literary sartorial elegance would have objected to. For example, his gun-ho attitude towards unnecessary repetition. And also his occasional lapses at organising his material for maximum dramatic effect, most evident in the construction of the trial. Nabokov was much more of a literary dandy than Dostoevsky, much more self-conscious, much more vigilant in his attention to detail, more subtle and ingenious in his artistry. But Dostoevsky was more courageous and pioneering psychologically. More intimate with the dark and unearthed side of the human condition. Nabokov was always looking for the laugh; Dostoevsky was more drawn to the accelerated heartbeat, the rush of blood to the head.

Dostoevsky's closest ally as a novelist is probably Emily Bronte. I thought while reading this that it's literature's greatest tragedy that Emily never got to write another novel. It's almost a complete mystery what she might have come up with. Like Emily, he dramatizes in the outer world the illicit promptings of the shadow self. Like Emily, he knows only a thin layer of cerebral paint shields us all from violence and horror. Like Emily, he's not the least interested in life's civilised arrangements, the house and garden existence. And they both mirror Shakespeare in this regard. Characters nakedly put the entirety of their being into every dramatic moment. Character is always fate.

The brothers are simplistically split into single imperatives of the human psyche: Alyosha is spirit/innocence, Mitya is sensuality and Ivan is intellect. Each of the brothers allow D to enter a different milieu of society. Aloysha surrounds himself with children and monks; Mitya with loose women and dissolute men; Ivan with progressive thinkers. You might say the three brothers combined are presented as an everyman. As always with D, his women, though relegated to background roles (historically accurate you'd have to say for the most part), are fascinating creations. This was especially evident to me as I was reading Michael Chabon at the same time whose women as a rule tend to be kind of perfunctory and less than vivid or nuanced or compelling as dramatic presences, often having no independent life outside their relationships with their men. D's women on the other hand blaze with frustrated independent aspiration.

I marvelled at the idiosyncrasies of my memory while reading this. Though I've read it twice my memory withheld all the central plot coordinates, yet I could recall various scenes as vividly as if they were a part of my own life. Made me think of Proust whose narrator seems to remember what we consider incidental details of his life rather than the big picture landmarks. There's clearly a lot of truth in this perspective.

I read a professional review of this which put forward the idea that Aloysha didn't interest Dostoevsky. I'd say this is utter baloney. For starters, the novel always benefits from his presence. He provides warmth and empathy. And then his narratives are often the most compelling - his flirtatious relationship with Lize or with the dying boy or with Zosima the elder for example.

Sau, un subtitlu subiectiv: CONSECINŢELE DRASTICE ALE RAŢIONALISMULUI, URMĂRILE DEZASTRUOASE ALE EMPIRISMULUI ŞI FERICITA CALE DE MIJLOC.
...
Încep cu puncte de suspensie, căci nu se poate altfel atunci când ÎNCERCI să spui câteva cuvinte despre "Fraţii Karamazov".
Triunghiul Alexei-Ivan-Dimitri. Societatea rusească din secolul al XIX-lea?! No way. Timpul -secolul al XIX-lea- şi spaţiul -Rusia- nu reprezintă decât un fundal pe care Dostoievski îşi aşterne personajele, căci în cadrul operelor sale nu se poate vorbi de o dimensiune spaţială şi una temporală decât dacă privim opera dintr-un unghi pueril. Personajele lui Dostoievski -şi implicit trăirile lor- rămân veşnice, anacronice, lipsite de spaţiu, căci personalităţile complexe dăinuiesc veşnic, indiferent de spaţiu geografic ori de timp istoric, iar asta nu pentru că le-a teoretizat geniul incontestabil al literaturii universale, ci pentru că ele au existat de când lumea şi vor dăinui tot atât, potenţiala "nebunie" cu care sunt descrise nefiind altceva decât formele pasiunii într-un anumit cadru istoric (pasiunea pentru Dumnezeu, pasiunea pentru ştiinţe -de orice ordin- şi pasiunea pentru femeie, inoculate în Alexei, Ivan şi Dimitri deopotrivă). Desigur, aceste forme ale pasiunii nu ţin de geneza ontologică a personajului, ele fiind cultivate de diverşi factori ce se răsfrâng asupra subiectului înzestrat cu o capacitate raţională (şi, prin urmare, cu o capacitate de a discerne, subiectiv, anumite evenimente de care are cunoştinţă). Fără doar şi poate, din acest motiv Dostoievski alocă o bună parte din filele romanului originii fraţilor Karamazov. Cu discrepanţele de vârstă (faptul că unul a avut o mama diferită nu constituie un argument pentru marea diferenţa ideologică dintre dânşii şi, de asemenea, amprenta lui Feodor asupra fiilor săi nu a fost pusă decât prin propria-i spermă *cah*, dat fiind că el nu voia să aibă într-adevăr ştiinţă de rostul copiilor lui în lume), noile mlădiţe ale Karamazovilor cresc -aparent!- armonios...
Alexei nu este un "tinerel firav" şi nu avea în el "ceva bolvavicios". Aspiraţia sa demiurgică nu survine din nevoia vieţii eterne, motiv pentru care Dostoievski dă amănunţite explicaţii: "... minunile nu vor reuşi niciodată să-l descumpănească pe un realist. Nu datorită minunilor un realist va ajunge credincios. [...] se va îndoi de propriile lui simţuri decât s-o admită ca atare. [...] minunea ia naştere din credinţă".
Despre Ivan -trecând peste considerentele evoluţiei sale- ajunge să spun că, undeva în volumul doi, când acţiunea planează în jurul crimei odioase, spune: "Totul e permis!".
Pentru Dimitri, "iubirea plăteşte totul, răscumpăra totul".

I. IUBIREA în "Fraţii Karamazov".

1. O interesantă remarcă ce surprinde iluzia proiectării omului în absolut prin iubire. Aşadar, iluzia absolutului nu poate dăinui în om decât atunci când acesta este cuprins de o apoteotică "uitare de sine", de o pasiune mistuitoare, fie pentru Dumnezeu, fie pentru cunoaştere, fie pentru femeie: "Pe măsură ce iubirea va triumva, veţi ajunge să va convingeţi de existenţa lui dumnezeu şi să credeţi în nemurirea sufletului".

2. "...cu cât urăsc mai mult indivizii luaţi în parte, cu atât dragostea mea pentru umanitate în general e mai fierbinte."

3. "să ştii că faţă de iubirea contemplativă, dragostea activă pare aprigă şi înfricoşătoare."

4. Definirea romanţată a pasiunii omului de geniu, care -în mod absolut!- trebuie să fie conştient că pasiunea, chiar şi în stadiul embrionar fiind, ştirbeşte judecata: "... a fi amorezat e una şi cu totul altceva e să iubeşti. Poţi să fii mort după o femeie şi în acelaşi timp să o urăşti."

5. "Mi-e milă de el şi milă nu e chiar cea mai bună dovadă de dragoste [...] l-aş urî."

II. EXISTENŢIALISMUL (precoce) în "Fraţii Karamazov".

1. Titlu de capitol: "Degeaba mai face umbră pământului omul acesta!"

2. "Nu putea să suporte incertitudinea!"

3. Înrădăcinata dăinuire a iubirii dincolo de hotarele raţiunii: "Viaţă dumitale va fi preocupată cu contemplarea dureroasă a propriilor tale sentimente, a eroismului şi a suferinţei de care ai avut parte."

4. Incontestabila cale a sentilui vieţii: "Cred că toată lumea trebuie să iubească viaţă mai presus de orice. [...] s-o iubeşti mai presus decât logică, căci numai aşa ai să-i înţelegi rostul".

5. "Taina existenţei umane nu constă în a trăi, ci în a şti pentru ce trăieşti."

6. Nevolnicul om în faţă incognoscibilului adevăr: "Totul pe lume este trecător, singur adevărul este veşnic."

III. DIMENSIUNEA RELIGIOASĂ în "Fraţii Karamazov".

1. "Dacă nu există nemurirea sufletului, nu există nici virtute." Deducţia aparent fără temei, are, în fapt, o însemnătate cosmică. Doar autoiluzionarea nemuririi îl poate împinge pe om să respecte riguroasa dogmă a virtuţii. Cred că un exemplu arhicunoscut este cazul călugărilor catolici, care ori "cad în păcat", ori "se debarasează", cu brişca, de un deget al manii. Chiar autoflagelarea ("să cauţi fericirea în durere") acesta nu reprezintă altceva decât lupta omului cu virtutea. Deşi, în plan obiectiv, nu are decât iluzia vieţii eterne, el lupta cu flăcările pământeşti pentru ipoteitca (în plan obiectiv), dar sigura (în plan subiectiv) dobândire a vieţii eterne.

2. "... Nu-mi place ipocrizia, cuvioşiilor-voastre, iubesc adevărul. Părinţi monahi, de ce postiţi, rogu-vă? De ce aşteptaţi răsplată în ceruri? Pentru o răsplată ca asta aş fi în stare să postesc şi eu! Nu, cuvioase, caută mai bine să fii virtuos în viaţă şi să aduci folos societăţii, nu te fereca în mănăstire ca să stai acolo pe mâncare şi pe băutură şi să ai totul de-a gata, şi nu aştepta o răsplată de acolo, de sus, asta-i ceva mai greu de înfăptuit."

3. Nuanţare a pragmatismului, cu iz de indolenţa: ".. admit existenţa lui dumnezeu, o admir pur şi simplu fără niciun fel de complicaţii."

4. "Dacă diavolul nu există şi este numai o născocite a omului, atunci într-adevăr acesta l-a plăsmuit după chipul şi asemănarea lui. "



Volumul II este o oglindă a celui dintâi. În volumul II se conturează, romanţat, ideile filosofice expuse în primul. Dacă primul aruncă remarci asupra iubirii, în al doilea, procestul (nebunie!!! nebunie totaaaaallllaaa!!) în care Dimtri este acuzat de omucidere, reprezintă o "punere în practică" a iubirii înfiripate în volumul I. De asemenea, Ivan pierde, buimăcit -ca şi mine!- de teroarea aia de proces. Smerdeakov este, de asemenea, o teroare, o întruchipare, în plan metafizic, a Diavolului.
Alexei singur, ţinând cu dintîi de "calea lui Cristos", merge mai departe: "Mereu vom merge aşa, toată viaţă, mâna în mâna! Trăiască Aleoşa Karamazov!!"

Ajunge! Sunt incapabil...


Andrei Tamaş,
28 februarie 2016

On Romancing The Devil

n  Warning: This review might contain spoilers even outside the hidden 'spoiler alert' regions. I honestly am not capable of discriminating.n

The book is not about the murder or about who did it, those things were very apparent before half the book was completed - the narrator taking special pains to spoil all suspense for his readers at the very beginning (harkening back to the days of greek drama and Euripides - according to whom, the effect of a story, even a whodunnit, was not in epic suspense about what was going to happen next, but in those great scenes of lyrical rhetorics in which the passion and dialectic of the protagonists reached heights of eloquence. Everything was to portend pathos, not action, which was always there only as a container for the pathos, to give it form).

This was probably done so that the typical clue-seeking aspects of a mystery does not detract his reader from addressing the real, the painful questions littered all across his treatise, almost with indecent abandon. After all, we were shown by Dostoevsky varying degrees of foreshadowings of every event that eventually became turning points in the plot - starting with the numerous leading comments of the narrator including the one in the opening paragraph, Zosima's prediction of suffering for and apology to Dimitri and Smerdyakov's not so subtle clues to Ivan among many others. And do not forget that Dostoyevsky even gave us the alternate route that Mitya could have taken in the Zosima narrative - the parallels in that story are too numerous to list out here.

No, this story is not about the murder, or about the murderer, or about his motivations, or around the suspense surrounding his final fate. The story is about the reaction - it was all about the jury.

Many theories abound about how the Karamazov family represents Russia/humanity/all characters but the reality is that they represent individualities; while it is that terrible faceless jury, always addressed to and never addressed by, that represents humanity. The job of the country, the society, of the whole human race is to judge, to determine the fate of individuals based on the stories that they construct, literally out of thin air, out of the small pieces of a life that they can only ever observe. The best character sketches, fictional or otherwise can only ever be the minutest portion of a real character - but from that tiniest of slivers we build this ambiguous thing called ‘character’, as if such a thing can possibly exist for a creature as fickle-minded and forgetful of himself as man.

Character of a man is the greatest myth, propagated best by novelists, as no story can proceed without a ‘constant’ man who behave with some level of predictability or with predictable unpredictability, but real life is the result of adding a minimum of three more ‘unpredictable’ as adjectives to that earlier description, to come close to describing even the simplest and most boring idiot alive. But yet we construct stories, to understand, to predict, to know how to behave, we even make up stories about ourselves so that we may have an illusion of control over who we are - so that we do not melt into the amorphous protean mass that is the rest of humanity - my story separates me from all of them.

I construct, therefore I am.

These are the romances that Dostoevsky wields his best work against and the trial is a trial of reason, of reality pitted against the overwhelming circumstantial evidence in favor of romance, of the myth of character, of individuality, of cause and effect, of there being anything predictable when such a wild variable as a human mind is part of the equation, how can such an equation be anything but ‘indeterminate’ (to borrow Dostoevsky’s own expression)?

That was the grand trial, the inquisition of reason.

But how can the defense stand up in favor of reality without explaining to the jury (to humanity) why they see things not as they are, that they have made up a story that is perfect but is never real as no story can ever be - as no cause can really cause a definite effect when human beings are involved? You have to tell a story to convince the jury. You have to tell a story to defend the fact that stories do not exist. A story now, about stories. Or multiple stories to show how all stories are false if only one can be allowed to be true. The only other option is that all are true, simultaneously. By proving which you include your own story in that ‘self-consuming’ super-set and doom your own argument. There is the irresolvable conflict of the trial, of the story, of the novel, of life.

You cannot discredit the myth of the story without the help of a story as the jury that judges cannot understand, cannot comprehend any reality outside of a story, human beings cannot think outside their romances. They will continue to exist as prisoners to their own stories. That is why it is a comedy and not a tragedy, as no one died and no one killed and it remains akin to a sphinx setting us a riddle which he cannot solve himself. But, judgment had to be passed as the story was told.

One story among many.




--------

An expanded review might follow and will try to address some of the big themes of the book, enumerated below:

1) On Fatherhood - The second big theme of the book. Possibly the real theme, the above only being my own story...

2) On Crime & the Efficacy of Punishment - On how men will always rise to be worthy of their punishment/mercy; On suffering and salvation and on how no judgement can be stronger, more effective or more damning/redemptive than moral self-judgement; On how Ivan’s ecclesiastical courts eventually would have behaved - would they have behaved as predicted by him in his prose poem and let christ go, unlike the real court? So, in the end his alternate vision of Satan’s court is what was really shown by the current judicial apparitions? But in the fable who was it that really forgave the inquisitor or the inquisitee? And in the overall story too, who forgives whom in the end? Christ or Humanity, Satan or Church, Dimitri or Russia?

3) On Collateral Damage - inflicted by the main story on side stories, on how the small side stories are over shadowed, no murdered by the main one and without any risk of conviction.

4) On the Institution of Religion- On morality and the question of the necessity of religion; On the basis for faith; On the implications of faith/lack of faith to the story one tells about oneself; On how Philip Pullman took the easy way out by expanding Dostoevsky’s story for his widely acclaimed novel; On the enormous burden of free will; On the dependence of men on the security of miracles that is the source of all hell and of all action.

5) On the Characters - On how Dostoevsky took the cream of his best-conceived characters from the universe of his creation, from across all his best works to populate his magnum opus, his story about stories, to trace out their path with the ultimate illusion of realism, with the ultimate ambition and to show/realize how it should always, always fall apart; On how he reflected the whole universe in a small lake and created a novel about all novels, disproving and affirming them simultaneously, murdering its own parents in its own fulfillment; On how they might have their Hamlets, but we have our Karamazov's.

6) On Hope & Redemption - On how ultimately Zosima's world view trumps the cynical aspects that dominated the book; On how Zosima predicted it all at the very beginning and apologized to Dimitri on behalf of all mankind - ‘taking everyone’s sin upon himself”, thus creating an inverted reflection of the christ figure, its image playing on both Dimitri and on Zosima for that split second and then passing on to Alyosha until finally projected back to Dimitri, in the ultimate paradox, where he becomes at last a christ figure and a buddha figure, exemplifying self-knowledge and enlightenment through true suffering; On how even the Karamazov name can be inspiring and be cause for cheers even though it represents the worst (best?) of humanity; On The Sermon at the Stone.

7) On Nihilism - On the absurdity of life and trying to explain it. But oh wait, this is what I talked of in paragraph length already.

 

 

PS. By the way, when you read this, keep your ears tuned towards the end - for somewhere in the distance you might hear the laugh of the Grand Inquisitor echoing faintly.

Russian novels always get better of me, I am left battered both body and mind. But the exhaustion is like the exhaustion of sex (can’t find more fitting analogy) breathless and full of life at the same. Like the traveler who was long gone on a journey and on his return, bathes for a long good hour, taking good care of every little pore of body, soaping himself as he sinks in tub very slowly, and as water pours over him he shuts his eyes and with numbing senses recalls everything in an episodic manner, the tiniest details of his journey, and that’s the magic of Dostoyevsky, his reader is exasperated by the far off tours but at the end, is exalted nonetheless!
The hell we create through our thoughts for ourselves, is never been better visited by any other but D.the endless war we are in with ourselves, the fluctuations of our mind, the contradictions of our ideas and creation of ideals, the conflict of God or no God, the choice of being sinner or saint, is all in us, within us, and Dostoyevsky leaves nothing unsaid in telling the tale of who we are, and what we choose to hide, the characteristic quality of his prose is directness, he sometimes, undoubtedly descends to the elegant, but his element is great. He occasionally invests himself to an extent, but his natural port is human psychology.
“Je pense, donc je suis, I know that for a fact, all the rest, all these worlds, God and even Satan—all that is not proved, to my mind. Does all that exist of itself, or is it only an emanation of myself, a logical development of my ego which alone has existed forever?” (p. 781)
Brother Karamazov is not the tale to be taken as a chronicle of one family and parricide only, the murder is not a mystery here, neither is the murderer, it’s all known at the instant murder takes place, or even before, the plethora of themes and thoughts runs deep in the waters of this gigantic ocean that the volume is! We have in detail, the characters donned into garbs of confused expressions about other characters and on the brink of self-assessment and self-denial. And as the novel proceeds, there are peculiar ideas, echoing into the minds of characters, ideas get doubled or split into multiple strings as the tale follows, Dostoyevsky makes his characters suffer by their own doomed states, their own beings are their torture cells, no one escapes this suffering, no one!
The question of individual identity mounts many a time in the story, as the devil visits Ivan or so he fancies; the boundaries of one soul and the influence of wishes thought to be unvoiced are questioned throughout the novel, the suppressed/unidentified wishes of one character are accomplished by the other, For instance, the relationship between Ivan and Smerdyakov, with Ivan apparently the stronger and more intelligent, and Smerdyakov the instrument of his will. Ivan’s unconscious wishes for his father’s death direct Smerdyakov, who communicates with the unconscious directly; Smerdyakov is, then, the master, the controller of fate simply because he is able to penetrate the barrier of consciousness that must conventionally deny evil impulses.
We are quite restrained to admit the bastard smerdykov shrewder than Iven, he is cleverer and is more strategic with his nihilistic views, and the self-centered epileptic is astonishingly strongest of the characters, he proves through actions that “all the things are lawful”
Ah! How cold he is to lay us stark naked before us, we’ve long known his brother Karamazov, we are them, if not wholly, but in parts, the impulsive, goodhearted Dimitri is recognizable to us like a closed kin,we know Ivan, the skeptic genius and we’ve been him too in our hearts, haunted by uncertainty, tormented by conscience....
“Do you understand why this infamy must be and is permitted? Without it, I am told, man could not have existed on earth, for he could not have known good and evil. Why should he know that diabolical good and evil when it costs so much? Why, the whole world of knowledge is not worth that child’s prayer to ‘dear, kind God’!” (p. 287)

Rosewater said an interesting thing to Billy one time about a book that wasn’t science fiction. He said that everything there was to know about life was in The Brothers Karamazov, by Feodor Dostoevsky. ‘But that isn’t enough anymore,’ said Rosewater.

—Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

I’m not sure I’m aware of any quote about a book that sums it up more perfectly than that one.
tt
This book is vast. Not in terms of plot (the actions takes place over a few days), but in terms of ambition. When I put it down, and give it thought, I am hard pressed to think of a single aspect of human life that Dostoyevsky does not incorporate into this grand work. Religion, sensuality, money, politics, love, education, crime, morality, history, science—all are touched on and woven into one whole fabric. And behind all of this is one fundamental question of the novel: what gives life meaning?
tt
To explore this question, Dostoyevsky creates personifications of certain philosophies, and pits them against one another. We have Rakitin’s socialism, Ivan’s rationalism, Fyodor’s sensualism, Dmitri’s romanticism, Katerina’s pride, Smerdyakov’s nihilism, and Alyosha’s piety. Each derive meaning from something fundamentally incompatible, but each are forced into each other’s lives by one single momentous, mysterious event. This event puts each of these characters through a singular ordeal, and the outcome is the moral of the story.
tt
I must say at this point that, if there was one aspect of the human soul that was completely alien to Dostoyevsky’s mind, it was apathy. For him, the question “what gives life meaning?” was so fundamental and so urgent that he required an answer at all costs, even if that answer was suicide. But the answer most people give to that question, I suspect, is simply to stop asking it. This gives his novels that characteristic Dostoyevskian insistence. Every character is animated by some idea, and the voyage of their lives is the development, examination, or possible refutation of that idea.
tt
This is why I agree so strongly with that quote by Vonnegut, because our current intellectual climate is characterized by the disappearance of the question, rather than any definite answer. We did not respond the mystery of the meaning of life by substituting a social utopia or heaven-on-earth for God—now the very question “what is the meaning of life?” seems almost silly. Perhaps this is why we need people like Vonnegut.
tt
Let me get back to the novel. If we are to regard Nietzsche (and justly so) as an intellectual prophet, who foresaw the great, defining struggle of Western thought, and inspired some of the 20th century’s greatest works—if we, I repeat, are to give Nietzsche his due, then how should we regard Dostoyevsky? However great Freud’s debt may have been to Nietzsche, Nietzsche’s debt to Dostoyevsky is surely greater. Here, in this book, are the exact same conflicts portrayed by the German thinker, with the same predictions of an imminent crisis of faith.
tt
Both responded to and rejected Marx (at least indirectly). Marx attempted to replace the second coming with the proletariat revolution, and to offer a future communist paradise as a substitute for heaven. But both Dostoyevsky and Nietzsche believed that this is merely to sidestep the issue, that transforming humanity’s external surroundings would leave the most pressing question entirely untouched—why live in the first place? The great difference between the two men was that Dostoyevsky believed that the only salvation laid in a return to Christ, whereas Nietzsche saw that morals were to change, and new values had to be posited.
tt
I’m afraid that I’m rambling now. Anyone that attempts to encompass Dostoyevsky’s vast mind is sure to fail. It is like throwing pebbles down the Grand Canyon. The Brothers Karamazov, whatever philosophical themes it contains, is a story, and a damned good story. And perhaps that’s the most impressive thing about it: that all of human life is turned into a page-turner.

أَفَرَأَيْتَ مَنِ اتَّخَذَ إِلَٰهَهُ هَوَاهُ وَأَضَلَّهُ اللَّهُ عَلَىٰ عِلْمٍ وَخَتَمَ عَلَىٰ سَمْعِهِ وَقَلْبِهِ وَجَعَلَ عَلَىٰ بَصَرِهِ غِشَاوَةً فَمَن يَهْدِيهِ مِن بَعْدِ اللَّهِ ۚ أَفَلَا تَذَكَّرُونَ (23) وَقَالُوا مَا هِيَ إِلَّا حَيَاتُنَا الدُّنْيَا نَمُوتُ وَنَحْيَا وَمَا يُهْلِكُنَا إِلَّا الدَّهْرُ ۚ وَمَا لَهُم بِذَٰلِكَ مِنْ عِلْمٍ ۖ إِنْ هُمْ إِلَّا يَظُنُّونَ (24)

سورة الجاثية

الأب المؤمن بالمادية الذي ليس له حظا من الأبوة إلا أن الله رزقه بالولد و ليس له حظ من الإنسانية إلا شهوات دنسته و دنست من يخالطهم أما الأبناء فقد انقسموا إلى ثلاثة نماذج مختلفة من الخارج متطابقة من الداخل و لا عجب في ذلك فقد كان ديستيوفسكي يصور لنا الإنسان بكل تناقضاته

“الانسان متى جحد المعجزة أسرع يجحد الرب. لأن ظمأه هو إلى العجائب لا إلى الرب. وإنه لكونه لا يستطيع أن يحيا بغير معجزات سيخلق هو بنفسه معجزات أقوى . فهوى . ولو كان متمردا كافرا ملحدا . إلى خرافات سخيفة . تنطلي عليه أباطيل السحرة وخزعبلاتهم.
انك لم تنزل عن الصليب حين دعاك الجمهورإلى ذلك صائحا "انزل عن الصليب فنصدق أنك أنت" . انك لم تنزل لأنك لم تشأ أن تستعبد البشر بالمعجزة. وانما أردت أن يجيؤوا إليك بدافع الايمان . لا بدافع العجائب. كنت تريد أن يهبوا إليك محبتهم أحرارا لا أن ينصاعوا إليك عبيدا أذهلتهم قوتك.”

هل آفة البشر الغباء أم أنه الفضيلة بعينها؟

“ما أكثر الشرفاء عن غباوة..”

لقد طال شرح هذا الموضوع في عدة مجلدات تجاوزت الآلاف منذ بدء الخليقة و لا زالت الكلمة تجري و ستجري أبد الدهر و هذا هو الغباء بعينه أن نسمع و لا نعي و أن نعيا بما نسمع.

“لأن المرء يكون أقرب إلى الحقيقة حين يكون غبيَّاً. إن الغباء يمضي نحو الهدف رأساً. الغباء بساطة وإيجاز. أما الذكاء فمكر ومخاتلة. إن الفكر الذكي فاجرٌ فاسد. أما الغباء فمستقيم شريف. لقد شرحت لك يأسي. وعلى قدر ما يكون الشرح غبياً يكون الأمر أفضل في نظري.”

و منذ أن يصطدم وعينا بالخلق الأول فلا نجد إجابة يقتنع بها عقلنا الصغير لا نجد حينئذ إلا حلا من اثنين لا ثالث لهما .. إما التسليم التام و وضع غلالة على العقل تمنعه من طرق هذا الباب مرة أخرى و إما بذرة التمرد و الشك التي ستنموا إلى أن تبتلعك أو تذبل حتى تذروها الرياح

إن الرب قد خلق الضياء في اليوم الأول. وفي اليوم الرابع خلق الشمس والقمر والنجوم. فمن أين جاء الضياء إذن في اليوم الأول .”

و لأن المؤلف العبقري لم يبخس أي شخصية حقها في هذا العمل الفلسفي الدرامي المبهر فقد كان لكل نصيب من الكفر و الإيمان في كل مرحلة من مراحل الرواية

" إنني لا أقبلُ العالم َعلى نحوِ ما خلقهُ الله. ولا أستطيع الموافقة على قبولهِ رغمَ علمي بوجوده. لستُ أرفض الله. . . افهمني جيدًا. . . وإنما أنا أرفضُ العالمَ الذي خلقهُ ولا أستطيعُ الموافقةَ على قَبوله".
ألا فاعلم أن السخافات لازمة لوجود هذا العالم. ان الكون يقوم على سخافات بدونها قد لا يوجد شيء و قد لا يحدث شيء.
نحن نعلم ما نعلم.
لست أفهم شيئا و لقد أصبحت الأن لا أريد أن أفهم شيئا. أريد أن أكتفي بالوقائع و أن أقتصر عليها. لقد قررت منذ زمن طويل ألا أحاول تأويلها. فلو حاولت أن أفهم إذا لشوهت الوقائع فورا. و أنا أحرص على أن أبقى في الواقع لا أخرج منه.

الإبن الأصغر بطل القصة و محورها يتردد مليا بين الشك و الإيمان و لكنه لا يعرف إلا الحب الذي يقوده في النهاية لمعرفة الرب

إننى لا أعرف الحل لمشكلة الشر. و لكننى أعرف الحب

أما الأوسط فقد استهوته الشياطين في الأرض حتى هوت به من السماء السابعة و ليس بعد السقوط من صلاح

“ان ما من شئ في هذا العالم يمكن ان يجبر البشر على ان يحبوا أقرانهم. و انه ما من قانون طبيعي يفرض على الانسان ان يحب الانسانية. فاذا كان قد وجد و ما يزال يوجد على هذة الارض شئ من الحب فليس مرد ذلك الى قانون طبيعي بل الى سبب واحد هو اعتقاد البشر انهم خالدون. ان هذا الاعتقاد هو في الاساس الوحيد لكل قانون اخلاقي طبيعي. فاذا فقدت الانسانية هذا الاعتقاد بالخلود فسرعان ما ستغيض كل ينابيع الحب بل و سرعان ما سيفقد البشر كل قدرة على مواصلة حياتهم في هذا العالم. اكثر من ذلك انه لن يبقى هنالك شئ يعد منافيا للاخلاق و سيكون كل شئ مباحا. حتى اكل لحوم البشر.”

الإبن الأكبر كان مثالا للشهوة المجسدة كأبيه و لكنه مع ذلك صقلته الألام و اكتوى بنار الحب

“يا رب! اقبلني رغم حطتي. ولكن لا تحكم عليّ. اللهم اسمح لي أن أجيء إليك دون أن أمثل أمام محكمتك... لا تحكم عليّ. ما دمت قد حكمت على نفسي بنفسي.... لا تحكم عليّ. لأنني أحبك يا رب! اللهم إنني خبيث دنيء. ولكني أحبك. وحتى في الجحيم. إذا أنت أرسلتني إلى الجحيم. سأظل أحبك. وسأظل أهتف لك بحبي إلى الأبد. ولكن دع لي أن أحب حبي الأرضي حتى النهاية.. إسمح لي أن اظل أحب. في هذه الحياة الدنيا. خمس ساعات أخرى. إلى أن تطلع شمسك الدافئة.. إنني أحب ملكة قلبي. ولا أملك أن أمتنع عن حبها. اللهم إنك تراني كلي في هذه اللحظة. سوف أهرع إليها. فأرتمي عند قدميها. وأقول لها: لقد كنت على حق حين نبذتيني. وداعا.. إنسي ضحيتك. ولا تدعي لذكراي أن تعذبك يوما”

أما الأب فهو الشيطان نفسه و لا شك

أعتقد أنه اذا لم يكن الشيطان موجوداً . و اذا كان الانسان قد خلقه. فلا شك في ان الانسان قد خلقه على صورته هو.
“يجب أن نعلن بغير تردد أنه ليس يكفي المرء أن ينسل نسلا حتى يكون أبا ‘ وإنما ينبغي له أن يستحق شرف هذا الاسم . أنا أعلم أن هناك رأيا مختلفا عن هذا الرأي . أن هناك فهما آخر لمعنى كلمة الأب . هو أن أبي يظل أبي ولو كان شيطانا رجيما ومجرما عاتيا في حق أولاده وذلك يا سادتي لمجرد أنه أوجدني
!!”

يصهر ديستيوفسكي كل تلك الشخصيات التي تمثل المجتمع الروسي في قمة تناقضاته في منتصف و نهاية القرن التاسع عشر محاولا البحث عن طوق النجاة في الآلام التي ستتولد عنها اللذة و الغفران يوما ما
الإيمان هنا في الرواية يولد من الآلام و ليس من العقل و هو يتأرجح دائما كبندول الساعة و ان لم يكن بنفس الانتظام

“الآلام أنواع : فهناك آلام تخفض قيمتنا أو تنقص قدرنا . كالجوع مثلا . فالناس تحب أن تصدقنا في ما يتعلق بهذا النوع من الآلام . ليجعلوا من أنفسهم محسنين إلينا بعد ذلك. أما إذا كان الألم أرفع من هذا درجة أو درجتين . إذا كان ألما نحتمله في النضال من اجل فكرة مثلا . فإن الناس يرفضون أن يصدقوه. باستثناء قلة قليلة. وهم لا يصدقونه لأنهم حين نظروا إلى صاحبه رأوا أن رأسه ليس ذلك الرأس الذي لابد أن يكون في نظرهم رأس من يتألم في سبيل قضية رفيعة تلك الرفعة كلها. وهم عندئذ يأبون أن يتعاطفوا معه أي تعاطف. دون أن يكون في موقفهم هذا شيء من روح الشر على كل حال”

البشر يحبون الجريمة. جميع البشر يحبون الجريمة. يحبونها دائما لا في بعض الساعات فحسب. و كأن هناك اتفاقا عاما بين الناس على الكذب في هذا الأمر. ما من أحد يحب أن يكون صادقا مخلصا في هذا الأمر. هم جميعا يؤكدون أنهم يكرهون الشر. مع أنهم يحبونه في قرارة أنفسهم.

“ولكن كيف يكون هذا الإنسان فاضلاً بدون الله ؟. إلى من سيندفع..”

في النهاية تأتي وصية إليوشا للأطفال في وداعهم الأخير و كأنها كانت وصية المسيح للحواريين في موعظة الجبل و كأن ديستيوفسكي يقول أن كل منا بداخله مسيح و شيطان يتصارعان. نعم مسيح و شيطان و ليس ملاك و شيطان فالمسيح هنا تجسيد لكل ما في الملاك و الإله و الإنسان من معان و ايحاءات. كما تأتي توبة ميتيا في النهاية و كأنها الأمل في الخروج من النفق التي علقت فيه روسيا آمادا طويلة

كيف يمكنني أن أعيش تحت الأرض بدون الله؟ و حين سيطرد البشر الله من على سطح الأرض سنهتدي نحن إليه في جوف الأرض و نرتد إليه. ان السجين المحكوم بالأشغال الشاقة لا يستطيع أن يحيا بدون الله. و هو أعجز عن ذلك من الإنسان الحر الطليق. فمن غياهب الليل سنغني نحن اللذين نعيش تحت الأرض. سنغني نشيدا حزينا يمجد الخالق ينبوع السعادة و الضياء. تبارك الرب. و تبارك فرحه. إنني أحب الله.

Anche dopo questa seconda rilettura mi scopro sempre esterrefatto dalla capacità di Dostoevskij d'innestare una tale mole di temi su di una trama di per sé assai esigua. Riflessioni filosofiche, politiche, sociali, istanze di rinnovamento, continui dilemmi, domande, dubbi, estasi religiose, intense meditazioni sul senso della vita non fanno che intrecciarsi tra loro a comporre un unicum l'incredibile fascino. Si tratta forse di un libro in grado di fornir risposte ai grandi temi che caratterizzano l'esistenza? Tutt'altro. Dostoevskij non concede risposte, ma solo spunti di riflessione che spera, forse, aiutino il lettore a trovar le PROPRIE risposte. Ecco perché, innanzi agli eventi narrati e alle loro implicazioni, è così difficile pronunciarsi. Ogni facile giudizio viene subito a vedersi sconfessato e, contesa tra mille opposti diversi, la verità, come sempre accade anche nella vita, stenta a lasciarsi contemplare.

A book majestic & long, wonderful & deep, full of sorrow yet lovely, philosophical, mystical, terrifying, beautiful, and not without its comic moments. I have come to the end of this book and realize I have only begun to comprehend it. I look forward to re-reading it again next year; Dostoevsky has so much to teach.

The depth of the literary artistry of this magnum opus is tremendous. This is not merely beautiful writing on the surface level; the content is rich, philosophical, important. Dostoevsky is frightfully perceptive of human emotions, and he carefully describes the hidden reasons for his characters’ emotions, so that the reader understands (or soon discovers) what they feel and why they act the way they do.

There are amazing passages of an intellectual nature: Ivan’s poems ‘The Grand Inquisitor’, and the 'Geological Cataclysm’, which is quoted back to him by the devil in a delirious nightmare, are amazing for their depth and insight. These passages are the works of a tremendous intellect. The interview with the devil is even written in such a way that neither the reader nor Ivan can tell whether it is real or purely delusional.

I also love the potentially vertiginous implications that emerge when the prosecutor accuses the defense attorney of ‘writing novels’, not realizing that they are themselves the characters in a novel. The ending should hit the reader like an iron fist to the gut, a reminder of the things that are most important in life.

Contrary to widespread rumor, this is a far from bleak book. While every character has his or her own misery, and it all takes place in a place called something like "cattle-roundup-ville", the moments of religious ecstasy and moral clarity are heartbreaking in their frequency - it's hard not to wish that one had such bizarre events going on around one in order to prompt such lofty oratory.

The story involves Ivan, Dmitri, Alyosha, and Smerdyakov, four brothers with a rich but notoriously lecherous father, Fyodor. All four brothers were raised by others, Fyodor having essentially ignored them until others removed them from his care. In the beginning of the book, Alyosha is in the monastery, studying under a famous elder name Father Zosima; Dmitri has just left the army and stolen a large sum of money from a government official's daughter, who he has also apparently seduced, all while pursuing a lawsuit against Fyodor for his inheritance and canoodling with his own father's intended, the local seductress Grushenka; Ivan, the intellectual in the family, has just returned from (I think) Petersburg. Dmitri is violent and impulsive, referring to himself as an "insect," and gets into fistfights with Fyodor several times. Smerdyakov works for Fyodor as a lackey, having gone to France to learn to cook at some point in the past. It's unimaginably more complicated and digressive than all this, and just trying to follow this crucial sum of three thousand rubles through the story is almost impossible. But anyway, Fyodor is killed and much of the book hinges on which brother killed him and why.

When I first read this book in high school, my teacher (who was a devout Catholic, a red-faced drunk who wore sunglasses to class, and the most enthusiastic reader of Russian literature imaginable) asked everyone who their favorite brother was. Was it Ivan, the tortured skeptic? Dmitri, the "scoundrel" who tortures himself for every wrong he commits but can't help committing more? Or Alyosha, the saintly one who always knows the right thing to say? (Certainly Smerdyakov is no one's favorite.) At the time I went with Ivan - I was in high school, after all, and his atheism and pessimism were revolutionary to me.

But now Ivan seems rather selfish and callow, and I can't help siding with Dmitri, the one Dostoevsky uses almost as a case history of conscience. Like Shakespeare, Dostoevsky gives his characters all the space to talk like gods, clearing pages upon pages for their reasoning and dialog. Dmitri fumbles with Voltaire and is clearly not overly literate, but in some ways that's apropos, because his main problem is the constant internal conflict between his desires and his ethics which is only partly resolved when he chooses to become responsible for not only what he does, but also what he wants.

The most famous passage in the book, Ivan's tale of the Grand Inquisitor, is, to me, far less interesting than Zosima's meditations on the conflict between justice and the collective good. The elder Zosima is a kind of Christian socialist who grapples with the typical mid-19th century Russian issues of how to build a equitable society without the extremes of coercion that the Tsar used to turn to, while also ensuring public morality and avoiding the kind of massacres that characterized the French Revolution (an event that seems to have been even more traumatizing for Russians than it was to the French due to the enormous cultural influence France had there at the time.) Zosima's answer is unworkable and in some ways naiive, but the discussion is well worth it, moreso than Ivan's somewhat simplistic dualism of Christ vs. the Inquisitor. Dostoevsky was a cultural conservative in the sense that he was constantly renewing his commitment to the obligations imposed on Russians by the Orthodox Church. At the same time, he was committed to the pursuit of joy through kindness and community and a kind of interpersonal fair dealing in a way that transcends his political concerns and is inspiring to see articulated in the lives of people who are as confused as the rest of us.

It's a huge, messy book, but so worth the effort. It took me about three months to read carefully, though my reading has been flagging lately, as well. I read this while listening to Hubert Dreyfus's accompanying lectures at Stanford on existentialism and this book which are available on iTunes U, and even when I felt his readings overreached, it was a good way to reread a tough and subtle work like this.

No one:
Mitya and me: SAVE ME IVAN KARAMAZOV! IVAN KARAMAZOV SAVE ME!

Many of you have read this book way before me, or if not read, at least know a lot about it, so I won't ramble too much in this review and will rather use it to share some of my thoughts.

I've been wanting to read this book for the longest time but, even though I'm a huge fan of Russian literature, I must admit I was scared of it. After finishing it, I'll say I HAD NO REASON TO BE. Surprisingly, I pretty much flew through it. I quickly became addicted to the story and wanted to use all my free time (and I didn't have a lot of it since I was in the middle of preparing my Surgery exam (fun times)) to read this. It's a very addicting story with so many possible outcomes. Maybe I would suggest taking things slightly slower than I did, it could be that I missed some great details. After finishing it, this book leaves you with that very specific empty feeling of wanting more (even though it has a million pages) while at the same time wanting to reread the material. So, it could be that my reading pace was totally okay and this is just that kind of book that you want to come back to over and over again.

I loved this book so much but it's not my favorite Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment (no matter how cheesy that sounds) will always hold a special place in my heart. I remember reading that book for the very first time in 7th (you read that right) grade and it changed my life forever. After that, I've done a reread many times and it always surprises me in a new way. Truly a masterpiece.

I loved the central theme of this book. I call this the "family sin" trope, not sure about the official name lol. It amazed me just how much this book stepped outside of the main plot. It had paragraphs and paragraphs on religion, love, philosophy (even more than Crime and Punishment). I don't care if you're a fan of classical literature or not, I would always recommend reading some Dostoevsky. Just absorbing these thoughts makes you feel more educated and smarter?!

For those who care, Ivan was my favorite brother. Even though this book gave him the least attention out of all the brothers (which is a shame), I LOVED THE CRUMBS. I loved all female characters without exception, truly some inspiring women.

I still ended up rambling. Hope you enjoyed this mediocre review.

Fyodor Dostoevsky’s final novel, first published in serialization between 1879 and 1880 – Dostoevsky would die four months later) is a hot mess of deeply complex characterizations that made me think of Gabriel García Márquez’ brilliant One Hundred Years of Solitude. But whereas the Columbian book was vibrant and colorful and absurdist in an approachable way, the Russian novel is as many Russian novels: dark, psychologically unsettling, but with an understanding of human emotion and interconnectedness in group dynamics that is uncanny. The author also includes some, dry, subtle gallows humor.

Like his contemporary English writer Charles Dickens, Dostoeyevsky fills his lengthy narrative with a host of attention-grabbing characters. There is, of course, the eponymous brothers, sons of a licentious hedonist, the patriarch of a modest fortune in rural Russia in the 1800s. We also get to know a pair of beautiful temptresses and a nefarious valet straight out of a Shakespearean tragedy.

Fyodor Pavlovich, the father, is drawn to be a sensual and superficial man, hanging on to his fortune, and vying with his eldest son for the affections of sultry but shrewd Grushenka.

Dmitri Fyodorovich is the eldest son of Fyodor Pavlovich, from his first marriage and is the most like his ill-fated father. Interestingly, Dostoyevsky reveals in Dimitri a spiritual dynamic as he struggles with his own contemptible behavior while also being innocent of a heinous crime to which he is charged.

Ivan Fyodorovich is the middle son, from Fyodor Pavlovich’s second marriage, and is an aloof intellectual. Yet he also turns out to be the most emotionally unstable. His exchanges with Smerdyakov (his supposed illegitimate half-brother, son of Fyodor Pavlovich) are some of the most compelling in the novel, illuminating Dostoevsky’s complicated religious beliefs.

Many readers see Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov ( Alyosha) as the protagonist because of his theological purity and goodness, but I saw Dmitri as the central character.

Agrafena Alexandrovna Svetlova (Grushenka) is my hands down favorite. Beautiful and alluring, she is also a savvy player who knows how to get what she wants.

Father Zosima, Alyosha's mentor plays an understated but crucial role in the narrative to reveal the spiritual duality of Russia, showing his disavowal of materialism and social respect for the minimalist esthetic and austerity of life as a monk.

Richly artistic and a literary monument, not just as a Russian novel, but high atop the world stage, this is a book that should be read at least once in a lifetime.