Crime and Punishment

Single Quote Review:

Am I a good person? Deep down, do I even really want to be a good person, or do I only want to seem like a good person so that people (including myself) will approve of me? Is there a difference? How do I ever actually know whether I’m bullshitting myself, morally speaking?

~ DFW, imitating FMD

I am spending waaaaay too much time thinking about this darn book!

FOR ME, this was a bizarre, very dark, sometimes tedious and even disturbing book.

It begins as RAS plans and ultimately commits a grotesque double murder (with a borrowed ax) of a wicked old lady pawnbroker. As the story evolves, we get to see RAS' many faces, illnesses, his extreme poverty and experience his emotional roller coaster of feelings as he slowly passes through each stage resulting from his horrid act. What amazed me was his utter arrogance in thinking he was above the law and better than his peers; that is was ok for "him" to commit murder. In the end, however, I was glad to see that RAS finally confesses, pays for his sins, actually feels remorse and passes to final redemption with the help of Sonia.

I cannot say that I enjoyed this classic, and it was far from an easy read as I had a rough time keeping the character's straight bc of not only the similarity of the Russian names, but bc one may be called by three completely different names to boot.

One final note: In Part One, RAS has an absolutely awful dream of descriptive animal abuse so unbearably brutal that I felt the need to mention it.

Whew! After writing down my thoughts, I am still at an impasse at how to rate this book so I suppose 3 stars it is......or not.

Time and timing were key elements in my reading of Crime and Punishment because real life became particularly busy just after I began the book making reading time particularly scarce, and since it is a novel that demands full attention, the timing couldn't have been more unfortunate, especially as I began to realise quite early on that ideally I would like to have been able to read it at the pace of the story, i.e., in the same amount of days as the narrative covers, days which Dostoyevsky fills almost entirely with thoughts and speech, most often as a series of monologues, keeping the story in some kind of real time, the words and thoughts of the characters counting time like the hands of a clock, even throughout the night, since the main character, Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov experiences many nightmares which allow us to accompany him even when his eyes are closed, and in any case, his family, friends and acquaintances have a habit of wandering in and out of his room while he is sleeping so that when we are not experiencing his dreams, we are hearing from people who are watching him sleep until he wakes up, when the verbal monologues begin again, though rarely delivered by Raskolnikov who is a reluctant communicator with scarcely more than a page of words escaping his lips during the entire 650 pages of the novel even while his friends and family rabbit on and on, though when there’s no one else about, and especially when he is wandering through Saint Petersburg alone, our Rodion Romanovich talks to himself, and of course to us the readers, so that we are treated to his opinions on everything, and very much in real time, because he focuses on where he is at every moment so that we are there with him, not only party to his thoughts but seeing what he sees, living his dilemmas minute by minute, and when Dostoyevsky pulls one of the surprise stunts with which he brilliantly paces the story, we are pulled up short along with Rodion, our hearts beat faster, the blood drains from our faces, we come out in a cold sweat until we manage to adjust to the new situation shoulder to shoulder with Rodya, and as this happens again and again, we are eventually so conditioned to his world that we are reluctant to leave it when the narrative comes to its inevitable end…

I read Crime and Punishment severs years ago and immediately rated it 5 stars. Then, I started walking around town telling people it was one of my favorite books ever. People would walk up to me on the street and ask, “Hey, Justin, you look like a guy who reads good books. Hey, could you power rank your top five favorite books of all time for me?”

That’s an example of a real life question that no one ever asked me. But, if they did, I was ready to respond!

“Fahrenheit 451, 1984, Les Miserables, Crime and Punishment, and the fifth one is always changing. Today, I’ll go with The Count of Monte Cristo.” Then, I have to remind myself I’ve never read the unabridged version of that one, and also the list of books isn’t really in order. Also, no one is asking me this question anyway. Finally, I’m never really walking around the town anyway.

So three years ago I loved this book and a month ago I couldn’t tell you a thing about it. I knew the main plot, obviously. You know, there’s a crime and then the next 80 percent of the book is the punishment. I don’t think that’s a spoiler. I hope not. So I knew the main plot, but I really couldn’t remember why I loved the book years ago. It was time to read it again!

I quickly remembered why I loved it. Dostoevsky has his crazy ability to write about the human condition that still feels fresh and riveting over 200 years later. It’s tedious at times, not always a blast to read, not always fast-paced, but sticking with this book until the end is worth it. The characters are given so much life that even the ones that seem to be minor give you a reason to care when they show up. There aren’t too many of them and they are all beautifully written, whether you like them or not. And you probably won’t.

The translation I read made the book feel like it was written in the 21st century. Sometimes older books like this can be exhausting or written in a way that makes them a chore to attempt to read, but this one is one of the most accessible 19th century books I’ve found. I don’t read many books that date that far back, but when I do... that’s stupid. I’m just trying to say if you want to dabble in classic literature and looking for a place to start, I highly recommend this one.

Also, if you love nihilism this might be just what you’re looking for. Great characters. A extremely well written story that dives deep into consequences of our actions and what it’s like to deal with (or not really deal with) guilt and consequences and remorse. It reaches its climax early, but the rest of the book plows on with much more plot to soak in before it’s all over.

And when it’s over you can walk around town and tell random people who don’t care how much you love this book. Or come tell me about it. I’m still trying to find someone to tell about it.

I do not know how to begin, I am utterly troubled. What to do? What to say? In my opinion, to write a review of Dostoyevsky's great masterpiece is a very hard undertaking. To write a decent one, even harder. A week ago, if you asked me what my favorite novel was, I'd greatly struggle with it. I might consider Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Nabokov's Lolita, or probably even Heller's Catch 22. I might give varying answers. It would probably depend on my mood, or the current focus of my stream of thoughts. But, alas! Now, now I have found it! A book, unquestionable enough to be the greatest novel and work of fiction that I have read. As I say this, please bear in mind that I have humbly read very few of the novels I intend to read. Let us say that I'm still a novice of the classical greats. Call me a classical dunce, if you must. I have scarcely pierced through the surface of the greatest literary works. Scarcely. So forgive me, if you think that I overpraise this. Bear with me. Deal with me as a wise and knowing adult would deal with an inquisitive child. What I ask for, is your indulgence, if you can give it to me.

Crime & Punishment. Two words. Cause & effect. Low & High. Evil & Justice. Two words that are intertwined, knitted cheek by jowl, and always associated with the other. Two words that are close yet far as possible. The title's two words is reflective of Dostoyevsky's great masterpiece itself. Of course, it certainly is about the psychology of a crime and the punishment it measures. But more than that, the novel features exceedingly contrasting views. These views, contrasting and even paradoxical, can sincerely confuse a man. But, these seemingly contrasting views when scrutinized is really just the product of a struggle inside a man's very being. A man's final struggle of whether to finally detach himself from society, from life, from his humanity, or to finally succumb to it. These struggles, or contradictory ideas can be noted several times in the book. We have Raskolnikov's Napoleonic belief that he is of the elite, and should step over obstacles without being affected even if blood is involved, as was hinted in his article. Then, later on he would admit to Sonya that he was not of the elite since he was terribly affected. But again, when he was in prison he would declare that he was not there because he was guilty of anything but rather because he was weak and confessed. Also, we have his being generous and charitable. He would give Marmaladov's widow, Katarina Ivanovna, all the remaining 25 rubles his mother sent him. Then there was his helping of his schoolmate and the crippled father, and the saving of two children in the fire. Here was a man acting as a savior to strangers yet could not even bear to look and much less talk with his mother and sister. Here was a man who believed that anything could be sacrificed for the success of his career, who killed two women yet refused that her sister be wed to a rich man for his sake. Here was a man who regarded religion as nonsense yet read the gospel and asked people to pray for him. Here was a man who didn't care if he died, didn't eat, didn't care about his illness, yet refused to commit suicide. Here was a man suffering. A man, who because of his crime, suffered his punishment of madness, of guilt, of never ending anxiety and anxiousness. I fancy that Dostoyevsky reiterates that this punishment that goes on through a criminal's mind is far more potent than the punishment of being contained in four walls. As he pointed out in the epilogue, that in prison, the convicts valued life much more. While in this state of madness, of insane ecstasy. A man would undergo extreme suffering and lose his mind and matter. In the words of Sonya, "Oh, what suffering! What suffering!"

“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”

This struggle inside Raskolnikov, is enhanced by his intellect. He cannot help but disdain what is going on inside him. His reason rejects his will. If anything, the more intellectual you are, the more you are prone to detach from your surroundings. You reason that feelings and relations are merely nonsensical. You think of dialectics instead of breathing fresh air. “Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

As I give my conclusion, let me also give some remarks about my feelings towards the end of the book. It is hard not to root for a happy ending. I was glad that Rasumikhin and Dunya had gotten theirs. And after such pain and suffering, I have forgiven Raskolnikov and want for him peace of mind too. His final realization that he indeed had love for Sonya brought me intense joy. I do not know why. Maybe it was empathy, if anyone deserved happiness it was Sonya. Sonya whose happiness was only through Raskolnikov. Here was a Murderer and a Harlot. Two shameful transgressors who believed that their transgressions were justified. One out of vanity, the other out of charity. One who is vile and contemptuous, the other loving and loyal. Bound together by some irreversible force of nature. Intertwined. Like the words Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov and Sonya are two people who are far different but are bound together. They are allegories of the words themselves. Raskolnikov stands for Crime. He is a murderer who is unrepentant, he is contemptuous, menacing, vain, and indifferent. A man who believes he is above the law. All for self-gain. Sonya stands for Punishment. She is true, loving, loyal, charitable, a woman who deserved richly but lived poorly. A call for justice. Raskolinkov and Sonya, two utterly different people that are connected by suffering. Raskolnikov is crime, he cannot atone himself no matter what he does. Sonya is the atoning punishment. Only through Punishment, can Crime be atoned. Only through Sonya, can Raskolnikov atone himself.

This enduring masterpiece is a beauty to behold. A complex, broad, and psychological mastery of not only crime and punishment but also of life, death, sacrifice, society, intellect, love, and ultimately renewal and hope. As I end this review, let me leave you with these excerpts.

"Go now, this minute, stand in the crossroads, bow down, first kiss the earth you've defiled, then bow down to the whole world, on all four sides, then say aloud to everyone: 'I have killed!' "

"Accept suffering and redeem yourself by it, that's what you must do."

"He went on down the stairs and came out in the courtyard. There in the courtyard, not far from the entrance, stood Sonya, pale, numb all over, and she gave him a wild, wild look. He stopped before her. Something painted and tormented, something desperate, showed in her face. She clasped her hands. A hideous, lost smile forced itself in his lips. He stood a while, grinned, and turned back upstairs to the office."

"But all at once, in the same moment, she understood everything. Infinite happiness lit up in her eyes; she understood, and for her there was no longer any doubt that he loved her, lover her infinitely, and at last the moment had come... "

And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. --Nietzsche

I first read Crime and Punishment in my late teens. In those years I read several of the great Dostoevsky novels—The Idiot, Underground Man, and especially The Brothers Karamazov and C & P. In various “the BEST _____ ever” bar and coffee shop conversations over the years (such as, for instance, who is the hottest actress in the history of cinema, Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca or Lauren Bacall in To Have or Have Not?) (Ingrid, of course!), The Brothers K and C & P would always top my Greatest Novels of All Time list, usually BK first, C & P second. I actually once named one of my brooding gray cats Raskolnikov (Rascal, for short), so there: Proof that it wasn’t a trivial thing for me, this book. ☺

I come back to C & P more than four decades later, as part of the process of my revisiting some of my greatest reads ever, and also reading some other Great Books that had been on my bucket list for decades, such as Anna Karenina and In Search of Lost Time. (Livin' the [Reading] Dream, man!)

Spoiler Alert: I want to really talk about this book, so if you have never read it and still might, you might want to skip this review or at least parts of it. Some reviews I write in part for others; some of them I write mainly for myself, as a kind of autobiography of my reading. This I put in the latter category, though if you have read it, please tell me what you think of what I think.

So, most people who have never even read this book already know from the simple title that a Crime has been committed, and most probably know a guy kills a woman or two. Then we know there is a punishment that follows the crime. Simple. You need 500 plus pages to tell that?! The short answer is yes.

But the crime is basically what happens in the first hundred or so pages, and we never know exactly why, really, which is also part of the overall point Raskolnikov seems to be making to himself. So Rask kills his pawnbroker Alyona and robs her, though he never does anything with what he steals. In the process, her sister Lizaveta walks in so Rask kills her, too. So that’s the crime. The last 4/5 of the book is in part about the “punishment” which unless you omit the short epilogue, does not involve institutional punishment. The police have to solve this "mystery," and they do, with some suspense, I guess, but whodunnit is obviously not the point. The last 4/5 focuses on psychological and spiritual self-punishment or what Dostoevsky always refers to as “suffering.” And various considerations of what Dostoevsky never quite calls sin in the context of a parade of wild and wonderful characters.

At the outset of the novel, we learn that former college student Raskolnikov lives in St. Petersburg, in relative poverty, spinning his wheels, drinking and hanging with women (or, spending some of what little money he has on prostitutes) (things that we know Dostoevsky also did much of his life, in addition to gambling). As things proceed we see Rask has published an essay about how there are some people, usually great ones, who are “above the law,” people who can do whatever they want and get away with it.

Nietzsche, a nineteenth century philosopher, called such folks “supermen,” those who attempt to rise above the moral precepts of the time to achieve greatness or just to prove that moral systems do not apply to them. This might begin to summarize simply the moral position of Nietzsche: You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist. There’s no God, and no religious or ethical system that must apply to all people.

Rask commits the murders in part as a way of working out this stupid theory, though he is poor and at the very least could also use the cash he steals in the process, but never does. He seems to be making a point, this bright and anguished young scholar. So why care about this idiot, you ask? Well, read on.

Rask needs the money, but when he has it, he tends to give it away to others. Not that he is a really a good guy; he IS a murderer, but he has some charitable aspects to his character revealed from time time. There's some goodness that shines through the grime. Sometimes he despicably tries to dismiss his murders as trivial, sometimes we see that the woman he murders is not likable in any sense, but he never gets off the hook for it, ever, especially with himself. This is not an isolated thing, this murder for philosophical principle, by the way. In the twentieth century, the two teenagers Leopold and Loeb read Nietzsche and just to test the theory killed a kid randomly in Chicago, and they fried (yes, were electrocuted) for it. They had the same thing in mind: Great men can do Whatever They Want and not experience Guilt. They will rise above ethics, they think or, as most novelists and moralists think, sink below it. The theory is an empty one, of course, as most humans with any common sense would see, but intellectuals, eh, sometimes they are kinda blowin' in the winds of theoretical fashion, as Dostoevsky sees it. Arrogant, they all think they wanna be Napoleon, D thinks. D thinks there are a lot of young nihilists around in the latter part of the nineteenth century when he writes this.

Anyway, Rask is painfully aware his mother and sister will do anything to help him financially. And he’s maybe in love with prostitute Sonya, who is doing this terrible work to make money for her family. He fears his own sister (Dunya) will do similar sorts of prostituting (she has already, for instance, agreed to marry rich jerk Luzhin, just to help out the family that has gone poor in part through supporting profliigate student Rask; this is one sub-theme, how women are reduced in the [Russian] patriarchal economic system). But he never does anything with money except give some that he has to Sonya's family, left destitute at the death of their drunken father, Marmeledov. So he's strange and at times quite unlikable, our anti-hero Rask, though he is fascinating always and even a little likable sometimes to me, as I am also [pretty] [okay, a lot] fallible myself, so I have empathy for him sometimes.

Later, we might see a kind of “moral” in this story about a man like Rask who doesn’t believe in God, from Dostoevsky through Nietzsche: He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. [Nietzsche]

That happens to Rask, and others in this book. They suffer, facing their demons or monsters.

And no one depicts suffering like Dostoevsky. His predecessor and mentor in Russian literature, Gogol, also knew suffering, though while he is similarly recognized for creating poor folk grotesques, Gogol's are often comic. D references and creates tributes to his Master in this work, but most people don’t see D’s grotesque, suffering folks as all that funny. D does sad better than funny. In this reading, I saw some characters as (darkly) funny sometimes, however. There’s satire throughout, especially of the upper classes. D and literature in general don't usually make fun of the poor with any success. The drunken Marmeledov, for instance, is pathetic, but he's also hilarious and insightful and finally tragic. He’s a full and rich and complex character. We see poverty and its attendant horrors in many ways in this book, and we come to care about them and their needs. They suffer and we can see this is central to humanity. In some ways they become close to saints in their suffering. This is certainly true for Sonya, one of the several notable "madonna-whore" women characters in literary history.

There’s some action in this book, of course; in fact it is sometimes quite the page turner as we wonder what is going to happen, whether Rask going to get caught, and so on, and in this sense it has the feel of a murder mystery where the suspense is whether he gets caught, but the centerpiece in this book (besides the moral wrangling) is dialogue in the service of character, and it works breath-takingly well here. Most twentieth century dark gutter noir (Thompson, Cain) owes much to Dostoevsky, for sure.

And the talk from the gutter is stunning. Most of the male characters are tortured drunken philosophizers who go on page after page speaking their madness and grief. And most of these crazy flawed folks are indeed men doing most of the talking. The women are less crazy, and less flawed, on balance, and mostly crazy BECAUSE of the men, surprise, surprise. But the talk is amazing, it is the heart of the book as narrative creation. When men drink and talk, they are passionate, he has that down, (actually, this book came out of a failed attempt at a draft he called The Drunks!), but the ideas that flow from their mouths, the thinking about the meaning of life, the struggles with love and morality, all this is incredible. I mean it, no irony here. Some of the best writing ever, and about poor folks, sometimes even despicable folks, that he makes you care for! Is it their fault they are in such destitution? Well, sometimes, yes. See above.

Does it go on a bit long, like this [undrunken] review? Some say yes, but not for me. We need to know what is going to happen and why for Rask, but we also need to broaden the lens and see others who are also suffering in their own ways. We need foils for understanding Rask in a sociological sense. Luzhin, the self-centered lawyer who is for a time engaged to Dunya, he’s a world class jerk, but an interesting one. While Rask is never excused for his murders, these other men and their iniquities help us see what can be some goodness at times in Rask, and appreciate the remarkable end of the book.

The (also drunken) philanderer Svidrigailov is also a jerk, but he also takes care of Marmeledov’s consumptive widow, and after her horrific death, her children, including her step-daughter Sonya (she’s the one who has become a prostitute to help her family, whom Rask sort of over the course of the novel falls in love with, though simultaneously torments from time to time) (of course, because this is what relationships sometimes are) in part because he is trying to bribe her into marriage. He also tries to bribe Rask’s sister Dunya into marriage, though he is already engaged, and fails. He becomes a central character in the book because he (spoiler alert!) makes the decision to commit suicide, which makes him a foil to Rask, who also contemplates this, but instead, Rask chooses (spoiler alert) confession, hard labor in Siberia with Sonya able to come north with him and visit regularly.

Another great character is the Columbo-like (look it up! You have google! Peter Falk!) bumbling and rumpled old genius detective Porfiry, who finally convinces Rask to confess and give himself up. Unforgettable character! Rask’s great friend Razumikhin is also wonderful in defense of Rask against all evidence to the contrary, who also agrees to take care of his sister and mother. He’s a strange man, also a drunk (D knows drunkenness, it’s clear) but good where most men are not in this book.

The story is one of final and not easily achieved redemption, but we only see this in the very final pages of this long novel, as he finally fully accepts the love of Sonya, and understands it as a model for living. Sonya is the moral center of the book, with her unwaivering and not easily achieved faith in God. She’s convincingly Good, the closest thing to God's Unconditional Love we got in this tome.

Rask's sister Dunya and their mother are also really good, giving up everything for her love of her son. Nastasya cares for Rask, too, She's also wholly good. The late goodbye scene between Rask and his mother is affecting and powerful. The scenes between Rask and (totally good) sister Dunya are powerful, too. Do you see a pattern here? Sure, Sonya is a prostitute, but only in necessity for her destitute family, of course. Women are often saints here, they make the right choices, or most of them do. Maybe that is a kind of literary flaw, that D deifies women; this is a kind of cliché. But there are a couple weak and wicked women in this book, too. The women don't always seem quite as real as the men sometimes because they are a little one-dimensionally good, but they are still great, they do still seem real to me.

But it is LOVE that redeems Raskolnikov, the love of a woman, Sonya, and his mother and sister, too, but mainly Sonya, and while it seems like a stretch that she would care for him, she really does, and both he and we come to believe in her goodness and love.

Some favorite scenes? Sonya’s reading of the Biblical Lazurus story to Rask is ELECTRIC, unforgettable. The best scene in the whole book, for my money. I was once religious and I know that passage from the Bible; I say now that I am agnostic, but that scene, that felt like an indictment, a promise to me, in my own lost-soul-ness. The scenes with Porfiry are great and the scene in particular where Porfiry finally accuses Rask is also ELECTRIC, I promise, as is the final scene of the book. The lyrical final scenes with Svidrigailov are wonderful, powerful and surprising; I had NO idea he was going to do that. Anytime Mom and Rask or Dunya and Rask are talking with each other, these scenes are deeply poignant, trust me. Marmeledov's drunken talk with Rask is wonderfully comic early on.

When I first read this book I was “churched” in a Calvinism that seemed darkly consistent with Dostoevsky’s dark, angsty world view. Later, I came to like the work of D-influenced South African writer J. M. Coetzee, who actually wrote his novel The Master of St. Petersburg about Dostoevsky (yes, very much worth reading!). I still love these writers, though my views on matters of faith have shifted considerably. But as a veteran doubter, I liked D’s anguished struggles with faith and the meaning of life more than anyone else’s writing and thinking. And they once led me, in my existentialist period, into Kafka, Sartre, Camus, and others. Camus’s The Stranger and Kafka’s “Metamorphosis” owe things to C & P.

Hamlet and Macbeth are anguished precursors, as is D’s own “Underground Man." Anyway, doubt and anguish have always seemed more interesting to me than joyful faith and happiness, and still do. I think the world is more complicated than mere celebration, though I have much to celebrate, too. But the world is a dark place just now, as I see it, with a lot of ugliness in it. Dostoevsky resonates with the present for me as much as it ever did.

C & P is as much a psychological and sociological novel (about various forms of “madness” in nineteenth century Russia) as it is a philosophical renunciation of nihilism, though it is richly both, and much worth reading for these aspects. It’s a real thriller, too, a cat and mouse story with the focus on Rask and his interior experience of suffering, but it is also a novel the literary theorist Mikhail Bakhtin would identify as a “cultural forum” on issues in D's times in Russia. Raskolnikov is a jerk, a wonderfully reprehensible character that D refuses to sentimentalize, but as much as we despise him for some of his ridiculous youthful views—his ideas about the superman display the worst of the intellectualism of his times—we also come to appreciate him in various ways. Dostoevsky is a thinker, but he is first and foremost a poet of the heart and what might still be called “soul” unapologetically.

The translation by Pevear and Volokhonsky is supposedly the best ever, much lauded, and I can’t say, not speaking the language, but it was fabulous to read. I read the Constance Garnett version 40 years ago. This is the one to read now, everyone says, so choose this one if you are going to read or reread. I also have read in the past couple years their translations of Anna Karenina and Underground Man and Brothers Karamazov, so I can attest they are wonderful writers/interpreters.

Finally, yes, it is (again) one of the best things I have ever read, and I highly recommend it. You may find it a tad long for contemporary tastes, but hey, you also have David Foster Wallace, who is very long. Pynchon is long. Ulysses is long. Sometimes great things are long! And maybe he is too nineteenth century modernist for you, finally. But for me he is great, deserving of his high status in the canon of world literature. It is just one hell of a read. Sorry this is so long, if you read this far!

Crime and Punishment (again) - this time translated by Michael R. Katz (published 2018). I found this version refreshing - improved in both form and narrative - from the previous Constance Garnett or Richard Pevear /Larissa Volokhonsky ones (both a bit outdated for me – less “Russian”, resembling more “Dickens” than “Dostoyevsky”).

What do you do?
-I work.
What kind of work?
-I think…

A treatise on ethics and human psyche. What is the very meaning of the words good, evil, obligation? Raskolnikov, a wounded man suffering of moral chaos: a split personality with a painfully hidden agony - an unavoidable torment goaded to the point of madness. Two murders - two facets of Raskolnikov's psyche. A life between consciousness and delirium, a perpetual claustrophobic nightmare, where accepting “suffering” is the only way out. The Übermensch must stand alone and apart from all other people! Through suffering man's sins are cleansed, through suffering comes redemption: “Accept suffering and achieve atonement through it”. This is a perpetual battle of reason vs emotion: but is emotion too flawed to win? In the end catharsis through love; for only love can restore Raskolnikov to life…“in fact, now he was not deciding anything consciously; he was only feeling…instead of dialectic, life itself had arrived…”

“What if man is not really a scoundrel. . .then all the rest is prejudice”.

If You Could Only Read One Book In Your Entire Life This Is It.


PS1. On the obligation “to the service of humanity and the good of all”: Can you justify the suffering of few for the benefit of the many? Per William James (The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life): “if the hypothesis were offered of a world in which Messrs Fourier's and Bellamy's and Morris' utopias should all be outdone, and millions kept permanently happy on the one simple condition that a certain lost soul on the far-off edge of things should lead a life of lonely torture, most people would feel that the enjoyment of such a utopia would be a "hideous thing" at such a cost.” (supp.: The Morality of Creation: Dostoevsky and William James in Le Guin's "Omelas" by Shoshana Knapp, The Journal of Narrative Technique).

PS2. The Brothers Karamazov: A New Translation by Michael R. Katz will be available mid 2023…looking forward!

Crime and Punishment is a book I've been intending to read for years. What better time than a pandemic, stuck at home for days on end, to tackle this lengthy novel? 

I'm not sure how I feel about it. On one hand, it's a brilliant character study. On the other --- did we really need 671 pages, Dostoyevsky???  The murder happens about 15% of the way in, and then the remaining 85% of the book is this dude going crazy, worrying he'll be caught. In addition, there's the unrelenting policeman who keeps hounding him, a doctor and friend who are both trying to help him, his mother and sister who don't know what the fuck is wrong with him, and the young lady who is forced to prostitute herself with whom he falls in love. 

There are several other characters as well. Thankfully the entire book isn't just Raskolnikov obsessing over being caught. However, these characters engage in such long-winded conversations that I frequently forgot how they even started by the time they ended. 

When I was younger, I loved this sort of writing. The older I get, the less patience I have for it. I think if I'd read this in my 20s, it would be a favourite book of mine. Reading it in my 40s... nowhere near it.

Making it harder to enjoy is the fact that I could not stand the main character. He is odious! He kills two women and feels not one ounce of remorse. Instead we are to feel sorry for him that he's so worried about getting caught! He thinks it's OK that he killed them because extraordinary people such as himself are allowed to break the rules, are even expected to. If that includes killing people, so be it. He compares himself to Napoleon with his "extraordinariness", though I failed to see anything remotely exceptional about him. He dropped out of university, he's living in squalor in some rented room, drinking and sleeping away the days. 

Raskolnikov's only accomplishment, aside from wielding an axe to bludgeon in two women's heads, appears to have been an article he wrote. I just don't get what Dostoyevsky was trying to do with this. What is the moral of the story? Is there one?

I'm glad I read it and there were times when I was completely absorbed in the story. Unfortunately, there were more times when it was all so tedious that I had to force myself to keep with it.  The ending was satisfactory, making it worth persevering.  I think!

(May 2020 Classic-of-the-month)