4/30 Update: I’m extra special behind this week but will post tomorrow. For those saying, “what the what?”, between you and me, the next target is: Book XI, Chapter 6…..
And just like that, it’s Week 10! I’m still reading, having a great time with the book, but I can’t say I’ve caught up. In my world, Dmitri just had a glorious extended freakout involving angry Poles and blood and money and at least one moment of delirium, and then the roof caved in. I can see now what everyone’s been talking about in the comments. It does feel like FD spent the first 300 pages meticulously putting his boat together, kneeling by the river’s side, and now he’s gone and thrown into the rapids. That’s right, it’s a whiterafting gumball rally! Or something like that. Very glad to have it made to this exhilirating patch, and thanks to you all for pulling me along…. Next Wednesday: Let’s meet up at the end of Part IV, Book Ten, Chapter 7 — “make sure you come! Ici….” (which is to say: please use this Week 4 thread for comments on pages 0-562; aim to finish reading that section and shout out here by end o’ day Tuesday)
Smerdyakov gets a passing mention that illustrates what a fine fellow he is, teaching a child how to commit cruelty on a dog.
I’ve been thinking about the fact that Dosty gives this character Smerdy epilepsy. I learned on Wikipedia that Dosty himself had this disease. So he would have a very clear idea as to whether or not seizures could be faked, and thus whether Smerdy’s alibi at the time of the murder is credible.
Meanwhile, just like the human characters, we now have a dog with multiple names (Perezvon & Zhuchka).
FD’s excessive verbiage/emotions reached a new level in the character Kolya. Twelve years old??!!? His actions (keeping the dog two weeks, his rejection of sentiment, among other stuff) sound like a 12-year-old, but his philosophical speeches, the breadth of his literary ‘knowledge’, his ‘take’ on religion are out of reason. But what’s new in this book? And his declaration of love for Alyosha totally belied his rejection of ‘mushy’ stuff.
I’d like to commiserate with the earlier comments on anti-semetic expressions now that FD has written, “…woman is a subordinate creature and must obey.”
Cecil, you are our most creative commenter. Would like to hear about your professional pursuits
All through the interrogation, whenever Mitya would say something like, “It must be me, mustn’t it?”, I kept having deja vu moments and couldn’t figure out what the precedent was. Then finally I found the echo: Bane, in Matrix Reloaded, saying things like “maybe I don’t want to remember–what if I killed all those men? it wouldn’t be safe for me, would it?” Of course, he was a calm psychopath, so the deja is not completely vu with Mitya. But that rumble of “maybe I don’t want to remember” keeps flowing under all of these chapters for me: does Mitya really believe his own shtick, or is he swimming in de Nile?
???? Okay, I’m flummoxed. After Mitya’s story (which I unwittingly commented on last week, having misremembered the assignment), things seemed to be moving forward. However. Now there’s this entire book about these boys. What the heck?
i enjoy all the glimpses of the life in this town, of russia at this time–all the seeming asides, the sketches of flawed humans–it is generously drawn and vivid.
why kolya? he’s a bright, fatherless boy, talking tough to protect himself emotionally but falling instantly for alyosha–a moral father figure. kolya makes me think about the other fatherless boys in this tale–all of the karamazovs (their neglectful father might as well have been dead throughout their childhoods; and now his death is a key part of their story) and smerdyakov–if fyodr is his father, murdering f. becomes retribution for the rape of his mother.
maybe smerdyakov didn’t do it, but i did wonder why he surfaced in the middle of kolya’s story–was that detail added just so we could see what a psychopath smerdy is, torturing an animal (and, incidentally, emotionally torturing sickly, furious ilyusha)? or is the story of the dog a bit of incriminating evidence–the pin in the bread of smerdyakov’s alibi–just what day was that?
Fellow marchers, I wobbled. That’s what the Deathmarch is all about, isn’t it? A band of sisters and brothers to haul you up via magnet when you wobble?
I usually read novels for style: my sense of smell’s blocked here, since it’s a translation. I’m a big fan of story structure, being hopeless at it myself: Dostoevsky’s seems willfully misshapen, some scenes taking way too long, others clumsily foreshadowed, still others (e.g. the Kolya episode) wedged in to stop the plot just when the wheels were finally turning. It’s a “great work,” so you can read all that as being deliberate and pregnant with meaning. As an everyday Deathmarching reader though, it’s often kept me from wanting to pick up the thing once the weekly comment’s posted.
What’s burned into my brain though are the characters. Mitya’s kind of transcended the book to become a real person for me: I think I know what he’d be like if he hammered on my door at 3 AM, why I’d probably let him in, loan him ten rubles, and try to wash the blood off his shirt. Kolya too—totally winning portrait of the surly “broken home” teen with brains galore and a hidden heart of gold. Our village buffoon, “Whiskbroom” Snegiryov, who once looked alternately cringing and overweening, emerges as a desperately loving father. His son’s Mike Tyson on Alyosha’s finger makes perfect sense now, too—all is forgiven. Grushenka, now that she’s given her heart to Dmitri, has become a kind of sensible angel, a far cry from the woman who refused to kiss Katerina Ivanova’s hand. The shape of the plot I guess is determined in part by Dostoevsky’s urge to give us a second and third pass at every character, so that we can go through the same change of heart Alyosha’s here on earth to encourage.
I notice that all my sympathies in the book are moving in the same direction: not a single character I can think of looks worse over time, only more worthy of pity, sympathy, even love. Dmitri’s behavior during his questioning—plot-wise an apparently redundant scene—reminded me of Zosima’s gospel of love, where each of us is guilty for all. Dmitri comes off so great in those chapters I think because he’s not trying to “get off,” or prove his innocence, but to figure out just how responsible he is for this horrifying sequence of events (while at the same time rejecting the authority of the police to truly determine his guilt or innocence.)
Kolya’s untwelve-year-old-like literary talk, btw, is I think supposed to be parroted from the liberal reformers of Dostoevsky’s day. It’s meant as a kind of put-down, according to the notes, but also a warning bell for how these godless modernizers are corrupting the tender Russian youth.
The right side of the bookmark’s looking thin enough now that I’ll probably make it through. Unless someone hides a pin in my bread between now and next Tuesday.
Thanks, Rodney. Your analysis of FD’s goals with the characters, right or wrong, gives some consolidation and reason to what had seemed to me to be BAD writing. Have tried to attribute some of my negative responses to the translation, but that’s probably not reality.
i cannot imagine standing yelling in a field: “Perezvon! Perezvon! You naughty doggie, come home”. Zhuchka is only a little more manageable.
The ‘Gentleman we are all cruel’ portion really did send shivers down my spine and it is only in part due to Edinburgh April drizzle..
and i like the phrase ‘karamazov unrestraint’. only book i’ve read with that noun, i think…
i’m 8 pages from fulfilling our allotment for the week, but i’m about to doze off and i’ve got other work to do, so here are my notes thus far…
Mitya’s dream on page 507-508, and the short bit after he wakes up, being moved by his dream and the fact that someone has put a pillow under his head, was one of the most poignant and moving portions of the book, oddly so. And if I haven’t mentioned it thus far, my favorite name in the book thus far and by far is Mavriky Mavrikievich. Suddenly all these rather touching moments, like Kalganov’s despair (“Oh, he believed almost completely in Mitya’s guilt”) upon Mitya (“a man … more unfortunate than guilty”) being taken away to prison. As I’m reading chapter 1 of Book X (“Kolya Krasotkin”), I’m noticing a marked change in tone, kind of sweet and complex, and interesting he even uses the phrase “sentimental slop”. And I like how the first sentence isn’t a sentence: “The beginning of November.” Runners up for fun names, the two squirts Nastya and Kostya.
This bit about the ‘Boys’ seemed to come from nowhere. I don’t know whether to trust Dostoevsky or to feel that this novel is too serialised.
I almost feel as though Dosteovsky is placing a piece of boiled beef on our snout and forcing us to sit motionless until he is ready to shout, “Fetch!”, and we will all (probably) rush towards the denouement.
Hi Del,
The pillow! I forgot about Mitya’s pillow. One of those seemingly throwaway details D. excels at. When all else is failing me–or I’m failing the book–there’s always a pillow or a pink ribbon or something to shake me back to life. Plus I almost wept when Zhuchka came back. Zhuchka! Like Old Yeller with pins and vodka. And, well, the not dying. Gracias …
(what’s up with the dog’s name change by the way? Is it a Slavic thing and we wouldn’t understand?)
kolya is the first character i have really enjoyed. the chapter with him babysitting and his conversation with the maid was fun and lively. i am looking forward to seeing how all this comes together and am still unconvinced that the book deserves its acclaim.
Hi e.,
I see what you mean. But I mean, does that changed name signify anything? Is it more “Slavic” or something? And don’t they keep calling the dog the new name once it’s revealed as the resurrected Zhuchka? D. seemed to make a bigger deal of it than just a subterfuge for Kolya’s trick (which in itself seemed kind of weird to me.) But maybe it’s just that.
hmm
Жучка (Zhuchka) — house dog, mongrel
and the noun, перезвон (Perezvon), meaning ringing, chime
make of it what you will — from my basic understanding of slavic stuff, one is not more slavic than the other in any sense i can grasp
seems to be a punning dosto
Wikipedia confirms that the BK is in fact the origin of that 80’s doll craze, cabbage patch kids – “I’ll never, ever believe,” Nastya ardently prattled, “that the midwives find little babies in the vegetable garden, between the cabbage rows.” (p. 521).
Funny how cabbage patch kids took off, while pin-in-bread snacks never quite did. Except I think I did see it on the old Saturday Night Live skit where Dan Akryod is selling dangerous kids toys, like “bag of glass.”
Actually, I didnt look it up on wikipedia, “I just said it for the beauty of the style.” (p. 523). I have never looked anything up on wikipedia. I only consult texts and source material from the 19th century.
Sometimes I think we are all getting too caught up in the “Slavic” of the book and not seeing the universal themes. All Cabbage Patch dolls of the 1980s were supposed to be unique characters, with names like Perezvon, Perez Hilton, Sally, and Brandon. But we adults know they were universal prototypes for one of the mysteries of life and that stories about “where do babies come from” did not get any special flavoring from a Slavic sensibility as recorded by FD.
Sarcasm aside, I loved the Kolya intermission. His babysitting of the “squirts” reminded me that latchkey children are not a 20th or 21st century phenomenon, and that many a 12-year old is shouldered with much responsiibility that he or she shouldn’t have yet.
I loved Book X:Boys. So full of humanity and heart, of true observation of what a precocious 13-year old (2 weeks from 14!) is like. Like Rodney, I resisted picking up the book at all once I finished last week’s segment. But what a sweet chunk this week’s was.
Really interesting section. Like everyone else, it seems, I loved the portrayal of this insecure 13-year-old, desperate to prove something that he doesn’t even really believe himself, or even understand, when all he really wants is approval.
However, it is puzzling, I suppose on purpose, that it appears just now in the narrative. I don’t mind a pause in the action, but it’s hard to see how *this* particular chunk of narrative ties into the bigger picture. I can’t quite get whether Kolya’s story is meant to be a commentary or counterpoint to the main story–and if so, what it’s saying–or whether the actual details of what’s going on will be important later.
Either way, it was a good read. It’s a rare adult writer who can capture that teenage angst/insecurity and make the character sympathetic and pitiable and a tad laughable (like real teenagers) all at once.
I see why Alyosha is the hero of the story time and again. If only he had crossed paths with Kolya a little sooner.
I wasn’t going to admit this in print, but seeing how we are all in this together……I had a cabbage patch doll.
It was a little frustrating to be suddenly yanked out of the murder mystery and dropped into this slow-building section. But by the time Kolya pulled his big reveal, I was hooked again. I got a little misty-eyed there in a dark corner of Mario’s La Fiesta with my book and my grilled burrito, but the sniffles were just from the hot salsa, I swear.
Loved so-called Reuben’s image of we the readers as dogs with bits of beef of our noses–just perfect.
And how come no one has brought up this passage (p. 527), so very timely:
“I am a socialist, Smurov.”
“And what is a socialist?” asked Smurov.
“It’s when everyone is equal, everyone has property in common, there are no marriages, and each one has whatever religion and laws , and all the rest.”
Oy. I’m late with my comment but am happily chugging along and excited to be beyond the 500 page mark.
I’ve also come to the conclusion, at least for now, that Dmitri is less an a&%hole than a tragically flawed character.
That’s all.
I found that the Boys section affected me pretty deeply. Really heart-breaking. It could be that I don’t have any experience with 13 year old boys in groups, but I found it emotionally challenging to bear the foibles and insecurities and vulnerabilities of Koyla and of course Ilyusha, not to mention Ilyusha’s parents, and I kept thinking about that Sartre quote “Hell is other people.” In this case, perhaps, “Hell is Russian boys”?
Up at 5 AM this morning, unable to sleep, thinking “Well, they probably still call the dog Ringing Chime b/c he’s been trained to answer to that now. What’s the point of going back to Mongrel?” when another obvious thought decided to finally arrive: that Ilyusha feels the same relief in learning he didn’t kill Zhuchka that Mitya feels in learning he didn’t kill Grigory Vasilievich. They both lived for a time under the sickening burden of guilt, and learned the joy of being free. So the two stories kind of snap together.
And Mitya’s so child-like in his mood swings, and Alyosha so good with kids, and kid Kolya comes because he wants to meet Alyosha, whom he knows by reputation for treating kids like equals not kids, and so the good spreads, and innocence …
I dont know if this counts but I am caught up. Just returned from trip to Boulder, Co. I thought I would log in the room or something but well you probably know how it goes.
I too find it interesting that Kolya being introduced at this late date. I suspect that these boys especially Koyla will have something important to say about the murder case. Maybe they witnessed something or found something that will be important? But if not it is an interesting side story, one of many that I fear may not be so important to the plot.
Travelling and Dostoevsky do not go hand in hand, especially because of the size of the book. I am in London and am neither wireless nor unwireless.
There is no time.
Smerdyakov gets a passing mention that illustrates what a fine fellow he is, teaching a child how to commit cruelty on a dog.
I’ve been thinking about the fact that Dosty gives this character Smerdy epilepsy. I learned on Wikipedia that Dosty himself had this disease. So he would have a very clear idea as to whether or not seizures could be faked, and thus whether Smerdy’s alibi at the time of the murder is credible.
Meanwhile, just like the human characters, we now have a dog with multiple names (Perezvon & Zhuchka).
FD’s excessive verbiage/emotions reached a new level in the character Kolya. Twelve years old??!!? His actions (keeping the dog two weeks, his rejection of sentiment, among other stuff) sound like a 12-year-old, but his philosophical speeches, the breadth of his literary ‘knowledge’, his ‘take’ on religion are out of reason. But what’s new in this book? And his declaration of love for Alyosha totally belied his rejection of ‘mushy’ stuff.
I’d like to commiserate with the earlier comments on anti-semetic expressions now that FD has written, “…woman is a subordinate creature and must obey.”
Cecil, you are our most creative commenter. Would like to hear about your professional pursuits
All through the interrogation, whenever Mitya would say something like, “It must be me, mustn’t it?”, I kept having deja vu moments and couldn’t figure out what the precedent was. Then finally I found the echo: Bane, in Matrix Reloaded, saying things like “maybe I don’t want to remember–what if I killed all those men? it wouldn’t be safe for me, would it?” Of course, he was a calm psychopath, so the deja is not completely vu with Mitya. But that rumble of “maybe I don’t want to remember” keeps flowing under all of these chapters for me: does Mitya really believe his own shtick, or is he swimming in de Nile?
???? Okay, I’m flummoxed. After Mitya’s story (which I unwittingly commented on last week, having misremembered the assignment), things seemed to be moving forward. However. Now there’s this entire book about these boys. What the heck?
i enjoy all the glimpses of the life in this town, of russia at this time–all the seeming asides, the sketches of flawed humans–it is generously drawn and vivid.
why kolya? he’s a bright, fatherless boy, talking tough to protect himself emotionally but falling instantly for alyosha–a moral father figure. kolya makes me think about the other fatherless boys in this tale–all of the karamazovs (their neglectful father might as well have been dead throughout their childhoods; and now his death is a key part of their story) and smerdyakov–if fyodr is his father, murdering f. becomes retribution for the rape of his mother.
maybe smerdyakov didn’t do it, but i did wonder why he surfaced in the middle of kolya’s story–was that detail added just so we could see what a psychopath smerdy is, torturing an animal (and, incidentally, emotionally torturing sickly, furious ilyusha)? or is the story of the dog a bit of incriminating evidence–the pin in the bread of smerdyakov’s alibi–just what day was that?
Fellow marchers, I wobbled. That’s what the Deathmarch is all about, isn’t it? A band of sisters and brothers to haul you up via magnet when you wobble?
I usually read novels for style: my sense of smell’s blocked here, since it’s a translation. I’m a big fan of story structure, being hopeless at it myself: Dostoevsky’s seems willfully misshapen, some scenes taking way too long, others clumsily foreshadowed, still others (e.g. the Kolya episode) wedged in to stop the plot just when the wheels were finally turning. It’s a “great work,” so you can read all that as being deliberate and pregnant with meaning. As an everyday Deathmarching reader though, it’s often kept me from wanting to pick up the thing once the weekly comment’s posted.
What’s burned into my brain though are the characters. Mitya’s kind of transcended the book to become a real person for me: I think I know what he’d be like if he hammered on my door at 3 AM, why I’d probably let him in, loan him ten rubles, and try to wash the blood off his shirt. Kolya too—totally winning portrait of the surly “broken home” teen with brains galore and a hidden heart of gold. Our village buffoon, “Whiskbroom” Snegiryov, who once looked alternately cringing and overweening, emerges as a desperately loving father. His son’s Mike Tyson on Alyosha’s finger makes perfect sense now, too—all is forgiven. Grushenka, now that she’s given her heart to Dmitri, has become a kind of sensible angel, a far cry from the woman who refused to kiss Katerina Ivanova’s hand. The shape of the plot I guess is determined in part by Dostoevsky’s urge to give us a second and third pass at every character, so that we can go through the same change of heart Alyosha’s here on earth to encourage.
I notice that all my sympathies in the book are moving in the same direction: not a single character I can think of looks worse over time, only more worthy of pity, sympathy, even love. Dmitri’s behavior during his questioning—plot-wise an apparently redundant scene—reminded me of Zosima’s gospel of love, where each of us is guilty for all. Dmitri comes off so great in those chapters I think because he’s not trying to “get off,” or prove his innocence, but to figure out just how responsible he is for this horrifying sequence of events (while at the same time rejecting the authority of the police to truly determine his guilt or innocence.)
Kolya’s untwelve-year-old-like literary talk, btw, is I think supposed to be parroted from the liberal reformers of Dostoevsky’s day. It’s meant as a kind of put-down, according to the notes, but also a warning bell for how these godless modernizers are corrupting the tender Russian youth.
The right side of the bookmark’s looking thin enough now that I’ll probably make it through. Unless someone hides a pin in my bread between now and next Tuesday.
Thanks, Rodney. Your analysis of FD’s goals with the characters, right or wrong, gives some consolidation and reason to what had seemed to me to be BAD writing. Have tried to attribute some of my negative responses to the translation, but that’s probably not reality.
i cannot imagine standing yelling in a field: “Perezvon! Perezvon! You naughty doggie, come home”. Zhuchka is only a little more manageable.
The ‘Gentleman we are all cruel’ portion really did send shivers down my spine and it is only in part due to Edinburgh April drizzle..
and i like the phrase ‘karamazov unrestraint’. only book i’ve read with that noun, i think…
i’m 8 pages from fulfilling our allotment for the week, but i’m about to doze off and i’ve got other work to do, so here are my notes thus far…
Mitya’s dream on page 507-508, and the short bit after he wakes up, being moved by his dream and the fact that someone has put a pillow under his head, was one of the most poignant and moving portions of the book, oddly so. And if I haven’t mentioned it thus far, my favorite name in the book thus far and by far is Mavriky Mavrikievich. Suddenly all these rather touching moments, like Kalganov’s despair (“Oh, he believed almost completely in Mitya’s guilt”) upon Mitya (“a man … more unfortunate than guilty”) being taken away to prison. As I’m reading chapter 1 of Book X (“Kolya Krasotkin”), I’m noticing a marked change in tone, kind of sweet and complex, and interesting he even uses the phrase “sentimental slop”. And I like how the first sentence isn’t a sentence: “The beginning of November.” Runners up for fun names, the two squirts Nastya and Kostya.
This bit about the ‘Boys’ seemed to come from nowhere. I don’t know whether to trust Dostoevsky or to feel that this novel is too serialised.
I almost feel as though Dosteovsky is placing a piece of boiled beef on our snout and forcing us to sit motionless until he is ready to shout, “Fetch!”, and we will all (probably) rush towards the denouement.
Hi Del,
The pillow! I forgot about Mitya’s pillow. One of those seemingly throwaway details D. excels at. When all else is failing me–or I’m failing the book–there’s always a pillow or a pink ribbon or something to shake me back to life. Plus I almost wept when Zhuchka came back. Zhuchka! Like Old Yeller with pins and vodka. And, well, the not dying. Gracias …
(what’s up with the dog’s name change by the way? Is it a Slavic thing and we wouldn’t understand?)
rk–kolya changed the dog’s name so that no one would know it was zhuchka; he was saving the surprise so he could play it just like he imagined it.
kolya is the first character i have really enjoyed. the chapter with him babysitting and his conversation with the maid was fun and lively. i am looking forward to seeing how all this comes together and am still unconvinced that the book deserves its acclaim.
Hi e.,
I see what you mean. But I mean, does that changed name signify anything? Is it more “Slavic” or something? And don’t they keep calling the dog the new name once it’s revealed as the resurrected Zhuchka? D. seemed to make a bigger deal of it than just a subterfuge for Kolya’s trick (which in itself seemed kind of weird to me.) But maybe it’s just that.
hmm
Жучка (Zhuchka) — house dog, mongrel
and the noun, перезвон (Perezvon), meaning ringing, chime
make of it what you will — from my basic understanding of slavic stuff, one is not more slavic than the other in any sense i can grasp
seems to be a punning dosto
Wikipedia confirms that the BK is in fact the origin of that 80’s doll craze, cabbage patch kids – “I’ll never, ever believe,” Nastya ardently prattled, “that the midwives find little babies in the vegetable garden, between the cabbage rows.” (p. 521).
Funny how cabbage patch kids took off, while pin-in-bread snacks never quite did. Except I think I did see it on the old Saturday Night Live skit where Dan Akryod is selling dangerous kids toys, like “bag of glass.”
Actually, I didnt look it up on wikipedia, “I just said it for the beauty of the style.” (p. 523). I have never looked anything up on wikipedia. I only consult texts and source material from the 19th century.
Sometimes I think we are all getting too caught up in the “Slavic” of the book and not seeing the universal themes. All Cabbage Patch dolls of the 1980s were supposed to be unique characters, with names like Perezvon, Perez Hilton, Sally, and Brandon. But we adults know they were universal prototypes for one of the mysteries of life and that stories about “where do babies come from” did not get any special flavoring from a Slavic sensibility as recorded by FD.
Sarcasm aside, I loved the Kolya intermission. His babysitting of the “squirts” reminded me that latchkey children are not a 20th or 21st century phenomenon, and that many a 12-year old is shouldered with much responsiibility that he or she shouldn’t have yet.
I loved Book X:Boys. So full of humanity and heart, of true observation of what a precocious 13-year old (2 weeks from 14!) is like. Like Rodney, I resisted picking up the book at all once I finished last week’s segment. But what a sweet chunk this week’s was.
Really interesting section. Like everyone else, it seems, I loved the portrayal of this insecure 13-year-old, desperate to prove something that he doesn’t even really believe himself, or even understand, when all he really wants is approval.
However, it is puzzling, I suppose on purpose, that it appears just now in the narrative. I don’t mind a pause in the action, but it’s hard to see how *this* particular chunk of narrative ties into the bigger picture. I can’t quite get whether Kolya’s story is meant to be a commentary or counterpoint to the main story–and if so, what it’s saying–or whether the actual details of what’s going on will be important later.
Either way, it was a good read. It’s a rare adult writer who can capture that teenage angst/insecurity and make the character sympathetic and pitiable and a tad laughable (like real teenagers) all at once.
Originally distracted by the sudden change in venue, time and subject material of part 4, I’m good now. I think it was a different dog, though.
I’m still behind the pack, hoping to catch up this coming week. All this for 3,000 rubles.
I see why Alyosha is the hero of the story time and again. If only he had crossed paths with Kolya a little sooner.
I wasn’t going to admit this in print, but seeing how we are all in this together……I had a cabbage patch doll.
It was a little frustrating to be suddenly yanked out of the murder mystery and dropped into this slow-building section. But by the time Kolya pulled his big reveal, I was hooked again. I got a little misty-eyed there in a dark corner of Mario’s La Fiesta with my book and my grilled burrito, but the sniffles were just from the hot salsa, I swear.
Loved so-called Reuben’s image of we the readers as dogs with bits of beef of our noses–just perfect.
And how come no one has brought up this passage (p. 527), so very timely:
“I am a socialist, Smurov.”
“And what is a socialist?” asked Smurov.
“It’s when everyone is equal, everyone has property in common, there are no marriages, and each one has whatever religion and laws , and all the rest.”
What that should say of course is:
“…whatever religion and laws he likes, and all the rest.”
Oy. I’m late with my comment but am happily chugging along and excited to be beyond the 500 page mark.
I’ve also come to the conclusion, at least for now, that Dmitri is less an a&%hole than a tragically flawed character.
That’s all.
I found that the Boys section affected me pretty deeply. Really heart-breaking. It could be that I don’t have any experience with 13 year old boys in groups, but I found it emotionally challenging to bear the foibles and insecurities and vulnerabilities of Koyla and of course Ilyusha, not to mention Ilyusha’s parents, and I kept thinking about that Sartre quote “Hell is other people.” In this case, perhaps, “Hell is Russian boys”?
Up at 5 AM this morning, unable to sleep, thinking “Well, they probably still call the dog Ringing Chime b/c he’s been trained to answer to that now. What’s the point of going back to Mongrel?” when another obvious thought decided to finally arrive: that Ilyusha feels the same relief in learning he didn’t kill Zhuchka that Mitya feels in learning he didn’t kill Grigory Vasilievich. They both lived for a time under the sickening burden of guilt, and learned the joy of being free. So the two stories kind of snap together.
And Mitya’s so child-like in his mood swings, and Alyosha so good with kids, and kid Kolya comes because he wants to meet Alyosha, whom he knows by reputation for treating kids like equals not kids, and so the good spreads, and innocence …
Something here about a Deathmarcher named Reuben analyzing boiled beef…
I can now hear you all ahead of me on the trail. Maybe in a few days I will see the a straggler.
I dont know if this counts but I am caught up. Just returned from trip to Boulder, Co. I thought I would log in the room or something but well you probably know how it goes.
I too find it interesting that Kolya being introduced at this late date. I suspect that these boys especially Koyla will have something important to say about the murder case. Maybe they witnessed something or found something that will be important? But if not it is an interesting side story, one of many that I fear may not be so important to the plot.
Travelling and Dostoevsky do not go hand in hand, especially because of the size of the book. I am in London and am neither wireless nor unwireless.
There is no time.