With Great Books, comment is an impertinence. But I like to hear of people’s encounters with them, and thought I’d attempt mine with the novel that has always been my number one.
For those new to him I’d like to say, Dostoyevsky isn’t difficult. I think there’s a rumour he is - as with other Greats who turn out to be more like ordinary novelists than we’d feared, except with the wisdom of the gods. The last hundred pages of Karamazov is a courtroom drama, and he has sensational plots, since he got them from the crime pages in the paper and/or from criminals he met while incarcerated. The books tend to hinge on a murder, and a murder is the central event of Karamazov. I think of him as like Shakespeare, with a popular plot for his vehicle. But then that’s just as true of Karamazov’s only rival for my top spot, Moby Dick.
I’ve just read Karamazov after a space of ten years. I lived with the novel in my youth, and from my perspective now, I can see that Dostoyevsky just about built my brain. It’s uncanny to read him again – weirdly familiar, and humbling, since I start to wonder whether I've ever had a thought of my own(I got that from him? – and that?). I know how struck I was, back then, but I couldn’t have foreseen the depth of the theft. He taught me my ethics. I obviously took him for my gospel. A person can do worse.
On gospels, this is the novel of his most squarely about religion. He never gave us monks as main characters before, or introduced us to the Devil. It’s the one I happened to start with, and why not? It was his last and to him, his ultimate. Crime and Punishment was his first big splash, but if you’re going to try one, he’d have thrust upon you Karamazov. Me, I was sent by Lawrence of Arabia, who had three ‘titanic works, distinguished by greatness of spirit’: Karamazov, Moby Dick, Thus Spake Zarathustra(he thought he’d written a fourth).
Questions of atheism and faith he wrestled with his whole life. If you’ve heard he settled on the faith side, and you haven’t, don’t be put off. Dostoyevsky(and this is so typical of him) has left us the most effective arguments on both sides. Karamazov’s famous chapter 'The Grand Inquisitor' has been an Atheist’s Creed ever since, and was cut and pasted into readers on existentialism. More damaging to faith, if you ask me, is what else brother Ivan says to brother Alyosha: the cruelty of the world has been such, that even if there were a God, and universal Heaven at the end, and even a justification from God that makes sense of the suffering, makes sense to every creature – even then, he’d politely tell God to shove it up his arse.
The cruelty of the world no doubt is the oldest sticking-factor; it’s the simplest of the arguments against God, but the one that counts to Dostoyevsky. Brother Alyosha sits at the feet of the monk Zosima and means to take the frock himself; Ivan gives him a list of cruel incidents he’s collected from the newspapers, and he hits low, he uses the ones about children. Cruelty was the argument that did in Darwin’s belief too.
Ivan’s anti-God tirade is without adequate answer(like Job’s). It isn’t answered, but it is offset. Offset by Alyosha’s Zosima, an ex-soldier monk, and nothing has convinced me like the story of his last day as a soldier – his conversion. It is Zosima’s shaft-of-light perception that his servant is as human as himself, and Ivan’s incorrigible love of the ‘sticky little leaves’ in spring, that are the experiences at the bottom of Dostoyevsky’s argument for faith. You don’t need a church for those.
Possibly I got my own dogged atheist conviction and simultaneous love of faith from Dostoyevsky. Possibly, hell.
Love can work miracles: Dostoyevsky has seen them and believes. His books are about them. When I was young I almost ignored the third brother, caught up in Ivan, the intellectual who goes intriguingly mad and philosophizes with the Devil, and in Alyosha, who tries to be holy and is as far I can see. Now, however, Mitya matters most to me, and I am far more alive to his love story with Grushenka.
It’s a Dostoyevsky love story. Grushenka is the town harlot and Mitya at first is merely driven crazy by her curves; she has a laugh driving people crazy, and by Christ she’s nasty when she’s in the mood. Yet they both have childlike hearts. That’s my crude summation. They find salvation in each other. Mitya was always a saint in the make, and given he’s the other rough wild soldier in the book, violent and debauched, no wonder he follows on from Zosima. My Honours essay was called ‘Saintliness and Perversity in The Brothers Karamazov’ – dear me, 20 years ago. Dostoyevsky’s saints were sinners in the past and his criminals make heroic strides to sainthood. This got into my head.
Back to church. His is a very lenient church; he worships one or two old holy Russian figures who taught a universal love, a universal forgiveness, and who weren’t quite condoned by the capital-letter Church. Dostoyevsky’s saints upset people – religious people the most. Like Jesus, of course, they are an embarrassment.
People’s ugly obsessions with each other, how they can give their lives over to an infliction of anger on a person close to them… I daresay this vastly simplifies Katya, whom I never did understand and don’t now. But then she doesn’t understand herself, and that’s Dostoyevsky: you won’t always get to the bottom of people’s behaviour. It’s part of the fascination of his people, that their behaviour is crazy and you can only follow half of it. He’s an endless study. The fact I still can’t fathom Katya has cheered me up, because I used to worry. Don’t panic if you don’t understand. You shouldn’t understand everything in a novel. Not the first time – nor the seventh, in my case. But that’s different than being difficult.
People talk in his books, talk and talk and talk for twenty pages. With as much muddle as you hear in daily speech. You might reel – but it’s accurate, he wants to put people on the page as they are. You get a gamut of them with Dostoyevsky. The father Karamazov is repulsive, slobbers over girls a quarter his age and has his brand of blasphemous sexuality, like a spiritual sadism. The sex content in this novel - though not out there in the way a novel can be today – quite made me blink, not when I was young but this time. The father is genuinely evil. Nevertheless Alyosha loves him, and more strangely, he loves Alyosha. From the devils to the saints – and which is which? – that’s The Brothers Karamazov.
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