| “Everything seemed strangely to come together of its own accord.” |
DEPTH OF SOUL
Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment didn't speak to me in high school. I think it was partly because of the rather terse, stiff translation that I had initially picked up. However, I am so glad that I finally gave the Russian classic another try (nearly twenty years later)! Reading the David McDuff translation made Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikoff's dark journey through mid-19th century St. Petersburg and into the depths of his own soul a truly unforgettable experience.
Our disaffected Russian student's sweating, trembling, hallucinatory state before and after his horrible crime is some of the greatest characterization and psychological writing that I have ever encountered in literature: the endless pacing in his claustrophobic, attic room as he broods and argues with himself, his elitist taunting of the police officers and wealthy patrons of the Crystal Palace, his confession to Sonya of his disgust for conventional 'louse' morality and his proto-Nietzschean views that the few extraordinary men stand above the louses' superstitious morality—all this is masterfully painted.
As is Dostoyevsky's portrait of St. Petersburg: the city's central sewer-like canal which witnesses murder, prostitution, and corruption; the labyrinth of backstreets that trap the crowds like a pressure chamber of heat and noise and distrust; coffin-like apartments with walls too thin to keep secrets; the rich and detached Crystal Palace with its glassy, vaulted veneers high class; the spiritual decay creeping over a modernizing and increasingly envious society.
Our disaffected Russian student's sweating, trembling, hallucinatory state before and after his horrible crime is some of the greatest characterization and psychological writing that I have ever encountered in literature: the endless pacing in his claustrophobic, attic room as he broods and argues with himself, his elitist taunting of the police officers and wealthy patrons of the Crystal Palace, his confession to Sonya of his disgust for conventional 'louse' morality and his proto-Nietzschean views that the few extraordinary men stand above the louses' superstitious morality—all this is masterfully painted.
As is Dostoyevsky's portrait of St. Petersburg: the city's central sewer-like canal which witnesses murder, prostitution, and corruption; the labyrinth of backstreets that trap the crowds like a pressure chamber of heat and noise and distrust; coffin-like apartments with walls too thin to keep secrets; the rich and detached Crystal Palace with its glassy, vaulted veneers high class; the spiritual decay creeping over a modernizing and increasingly envious society.
| “He abandoned the bench and set off, almost at a run: his original intention had been to turn back and go home, but the thought of going home suddenly seemed a horribly repulsive one: there, in the corner, in that horrible cupboard of his, all this had been fermenting within him for more than a month now, and he moved where his eyes led him. His nerves trembling had become slightly feverish; he thought he might be catching a chill, for even in this heat he felt cold. Almost unconscious, promoted by a kind of inner necessity, he began with a kind of effort to scrutinize every object he encountered, as though in desperate quests of some diversion, but this failed to work, and he kept sinking back into his state of brooding…” |
RASKOLNIKOFF'S FOILS
Part of this novel's power is also found in the contrasting philosophies and psychologies of the novel's additional characters. Dostoyevsky draws three foils for his protagonist:
- Dmitri Prokofyevich Razumihin: Raskolnikov’s loyal friend from university; described as broad-shouldered, “overflowing with good spirits” and possesses an “honest face” (Pt. II). Like Raskolnikoff, is too is often poor, hungry, and disheveled, but emotionally he is stable, industrious, and a fundamentally decent human. I think that through Dmitri, Dostoyevsky shows us how Raskolnikoff could have lived, had he embraced work, friendships, family, and a Christian ethos, rather than fallen into envy masked as grand theories.
- Porfiry Petrovich: The police commissioner in charge of the murders investigation. Porfiry is one of literature’s earliest psychological detectives—he dissects motives, not evidence. And his interrogation style is a mixture of gentle sympathy, teasing, sudden pressure, and strategic delays. His “mock-jovial tone” and ability to unsettle Raskolnikoff without open accusation (Pt. VI, Ch. 2) shows his intellectual precision and perceptive powers. In fact, he is the most perceptive character of the novel. He forces the murderer to confront the psychological reality of his actions, stripping away the veneer of ideology.
- Arkady Ivanovich Svidrigailov: A wealthy, morally ambiguous, former employer of Sonya. Although quite charismatic, he has a long history of sexual misconduct, whispered crimes, and mysterious deaths. Svidrigailov is Raskolnikoff's dark double; manipulative, and frighteningly self-aware that he is living out the 'extraordinary man' theory; he seems to be entirely without a sense of guilt, and experiences only boredom until he finds a new victim to torment and gain power over; usually a poor woman.
“We’re on the same side, you know.”
RASKOLNIKOFF'S HOPE
And then, most importantly, there is Sonya. She is the eldest daughter of the drunken civil servant Marmeladov, whom Raskolnikoff meets and assists early on in the novel. Sonya and her family are perpetually poor, due to the father's alcoholism. Dostoyevsky paints her circumstances as utterly bleak, and yet her soul shines on brighter and further than anyone.
In order to feed her starving siblings and stepmother, Sonya ultimately “takes the yellow ticket,” (i.e., becomes registered as a prostitute), thus sacrificing herself totally. Amidst societal scorn and even a blackmail attempt, she holds steadfast to her family's security. Moreover, she shows true compassion for Raskolnikoff more than any other character—even after his dark confession. Sonya embodies the Christian counterpoint to Raskolnikoff’s and Svidgailov's nihilistic theory. She is the only hope of redemption for both characters.
In order to feed her starving siblings and stepmother, Sonya ultimately “takes the yellow ticket,” (i.e., becomes registered as a prostitute), thus sacrificing herself totally. Amidst societal scorn and even a blackmail attempt, she holds steadfast to her family's security. Moreover, she shows true compassion for Raskolnikoff more than any other character—even after his dark confession. Sonya embodies the Christian counterpoint to Raskolnikoff’s and Svidgailov's nihilistic theory. She is the only hope of redemption for both characters.
| “[Sonya] brought the revolver up and deathly pale, her lower lip ashen and trembling, her large, black eyes glittering like ire, looking at him, her resolve now steady, taking aim and waiting for the first movement on his part. Never had he seen her so beautiful. The fire that glittered from her eyes as she raised the revolver had almost physically scorched him, and his heart contracted with pain. He took a step forward, and the shot rang out.” |
TIMELESS THEME(S)
Despite its 19th-century setting, the book wrestles with ideas that are everywhere and in every generation, namely two: the temptation to justify violence with high-minded ideology and how to achieve not just legal, but moral redemption for one's evil actions.
The energy of the story is more about the fallout after the murder(s) than the murder(s) themselves. The psychological corruption and philosophical justifications leading up to the heinous deed, the self-deception involved in those justifications, the impact of the deed on society at large, and the potential redemption of the criminal both communally and individually.
Apparently, many readers and critics of the time took Dostoyevsky's novel to be an attack on Russia's young generation. But famously, Dostoyevsky wrote to the literary critic Strakev that, “You alone have understood me,” when Strakev claimed that Crime and Punishment is “not a mockery of the younger generation, neither a reproach nor an accusation—it is a lament over it.” Dostoyevsky feared the rising trends of what he saw as a kind of nihilistic materialism in young people, yes, but also the culture at large. No doubt, the older pawnbroker and landlords of this novel are not exactly heroic or even good characters. Dostoyevsky's antidote, at least in part, seems to be the human will—to hold fast to the Christian faith and values that give life meaning. One of the greatest values is sympathy and even love for others.
The energy of the story is more about the fallout after the murder(s) than the murder(s) themselves. The psychological corruption and philosophical justifications leading up to the heinous deed, the self-deception involved in those justifications, the impact of the deed on society at large, and the potential redemption of the criminal both communally and individually.
Apparently, many readers and critics of the time took Dostoyevsky's novel to be an attack on Russia's young generation. But famously, Dostoyevsky wrote to the literary critic Strakev that, “You alone have understood me,” when Strakev claimed that Crime and Punishment is “not a mockery of the younger generation, neither a reproach nor an accusation—it is a lament over it.” Dostoyevsky feared the rising trends of what he saw as a kind of nihilistic materialism in young people, yes, but also the culture at large. No doubt, the older pawnbroker and landlords of this novel are not exactly heroic or even good characters. Dostoyevsky's antidote, at least in part, seems to be the human will—to hold fast to the Christian faith and values that give life meaning. One of the greatest values is sympathy and even love for others.
| “Even now [Raskolnikoff] did not open [Sonya's gifted New Testament] but a certain thought flickered through his mind: what if her convictions can now be mine too? Her feelings, her strivings, at least…” |
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, photographed 1861 in St. Petersburg
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Born in Moscow in 1821; the second of seven children
- Educated at a military engineering academy
- First novel Poor Folk (1846) made him instantly famous
- Arrested in 1849 for participating in a political discussion group about banned books
- Sentenced to death by firing squad, intentionally reprieved at the last moment
- Spent four years in a Siberian labor camp, then military conscription
- Debilitating gambling addiction, periodic poverty, and two marriages
- Massive creative flowering after 1864, culminating in The Gambler (1866) and Crime and Punishment (1866)
- Died in 1881, one year after The Brothers Karamazov appeared in full
“A new life seemed to open before him.”
DOSTOYEVSKY AND HUGO
While in Siberian exile, Dostoyevsky was deeply affected by Victor Hugo's romantic novels, specifically The Last Day of a Condemned Man (1829) and Les Miserables (1862). In fact, I've been told that there is a terrific non-fiction work exploring just how Dostoyevsky was inspired by Hugo. I plan to investigate immediately.
The Romantic school of literature emphasizes 'what might be and ought to be,' or, in Dostoyevsky's case 'what ought not be'. This is contrasted with the naturalist school(s) of literature which depict 'what is'. Both Dostoyevsky's and Hugo's romantic works stagger the imagination with their moral weight, psychological nuance, and the power that humans have to choose their own destiny. Their characters hold individual values that are knowable to themselves and others. The characters can be mistaken or correct. They can come to understand the universe and their place in it. They hold the ability to beautify or uglify the world with their choices. Sonya and Raskolnikoff in Crime and Punishment and Javert and Valjean in Les Miserables are masterful, romantic characters.
There is something incredibly, refreshingly human about both writer's respective novels, though one is certainly darker than the other. These are also the two greatest novels that I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. If you love one, please try the other. If you haven't yet read either, seriously consider it! [JG]
The Romantic school of literature emphasizes 'what might be and ought to be,' or, in Dostoyevsky's case 'what ought not be'. This is contrasted with the naturalist school(s) of literature which depict 'what is'. Both Dostoyevsky's and Hugo's romantic works stagger the imagination with their moral weight, psychological nuance, and the power that humans have to choose their own destiny. Their characters hold individual values that are knowable to themselves and others. The characters can be mistaken or correct. They can come to understand the universe and their place in it. They hold the ability to beautify or uglify the world with their choices. Sonya and Raskolnikoff in Crime and Punishment and Javert and Valjean in Les Miserables are masterful, romantic characters.
There is something incredibly, refreshingly human about both writer's respective novels, though one is certainly darker than the other. These are also the two greatest novels that I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. If you love one, please try the other. If you haven't yet read either, seriously consider it! [JG]
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