Take a photo of a barcode or cover
4.15 AVERAGE
4.15 AVERAGE
funny
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
mysterious
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Having finished part 1: I think this is to some extent like a past-age 'Dexter' a look inside the mind of a murderer. Unlike this Dexter this guy seems like a bit of an idiot, as much as he thinks of himself as a bit of a criminal-mastermind, he comes off a bit more like one of 'regular criminals' that he despises. The writing is great describing very interesting characters and setting up lots of interesting and contrasting ideas that you can sense will be leveraged to illustrate the nature of the main character. I'm loving it and am very keen to read on.
challenging
dark
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I don't think I read this book with the right intention. I should probably revisit the book in the future without outside interference (in 1, 2 years).
It's certainly not a bad book, this is why I gave it 3 not 2 stars ("liked it"). I share the criticism of the "Übermensch"(superman in English as I got told) but I think the idea of the Übermensch as presented in Dostoevsky is not complete (I will not say wrong, though I did think of this a few times while reading).
It is not the absence of a god (more precisely, a belief in god) that enables one to be a Übermensch, but rather a superior thinking (german: "überlegenheit"). This is more likely to be instigated by a belief in God. Religion is based on the superiority of the followers of the "right" religion, i.e. every religion. Morality is handed over to an imaginary figure and even more dangerous to its representatives, for example the churches, which has led to incredible suffering in history (e.g. the Crusades).
A believer is forced per se to act amorally (which I would describe as acting against human nature, but there is more to that which I have no space to depict here), for example to kill one's own child if one's own God commands it.
This is of course an exaggerated example, but it is humanity, in the sense of our nature as social beings, that normally prevents you from doing so, unless you are ill like Raskolnikov. As a believer, however, you must (theoretically) be prepared to cross this line for your God. Fortunately, I don't believe hardly anyone in this world would do so.
(This is not to say believers are in some way amoral or would kill or sth. like that. These are just my philosophical ideas regarding the moral implications I interpreted in this book, influenced by what I also read about this book beforehand, which probably has influenced the way I read it - also the reason I want to revisit it in the future)
It's certainly not a bad book, this is why I gave it 3 not 2 stars ("liked it"). I share the criticism of the "Übermensch"(superman in English as I got told) but I think the idea of the Übermensch as presented in Dostoevsky is not complete (I will not say wrong, though I did think of this a few times while reading).
It is not the absence of a god (more precisely, a belief in god) that enables one to be a Übermensch, but rather a superior thinking (german: "überlegenheit"). This is more likely to be instigated by a belief in God. Religion is based on the superiority of the followers of the "right" religion, i.e. every religion. Morality is handed over to an imaginary figure and even more dangerous to its representatives, for example the churches, which has led to incredible suffering in history (e.g. the Crusades).
A believer is forced per se to act amorally (which I would describe as acting against human nature, but there is more to that which I have no space to depict here), for example to kill one's own child if one's own God commands it.
This is of course an exaggerated example, but it is humanity, in the sense of our nature as social beings, that normally prevents you from doing so, unless you are ill like Raskolnikov. As a believer, however, you must (theoretically) be prepared to cross this line for your God. Fortunately, I don't believe hardly anyone in this world would do so.
(This is not to say believers are in some way amoral or would kill or sth. like that. These are just my philosophical ideas regarding the moral implications I interpreted in this book, influenced by what I also read about this book beforehand, which probably has influenced the way I read it - also the reason I want to revisit it in the future)
challenging
dark
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
ok this was long. this wasn't really meant for a thing to be shared but I made an obsidian note on some thoughts/summary about the book for myself, and I thought to share them on here. (I honestly intended this to be longer and it will probably grow in the future, for example I wanted to write a bit more about Dunja, and Marfa Petrovna, and more on the ramifications of Raskol'nikov's principles). I hope this is enjoyable if you come across it.
### Conflict of Morals - Bringing the theory into action
Raskol'nikov sets out to murder the pawnbroker lady; it is out of a belief- a theory, as the characters in the book call it. He had written an article in a newspaper before about it, arguing that the world is divided in two sets of people; one which follow the rules and is subjected to morals, and the other which needn't, and had the rights to act outside the confines of common morals, following their own, in order to create a juster world.
Raskol'nikov again and again justifies his murder, of the old pawnbroker and the girl who accidentally witnessed the murder; till almost the very end of the book, he backs up this theory; he believes that the pawnbroker was making more people miserable- then why should he not have done what he did?
On one hand he says that, but on the other, since the crime, he is annihilated by feelings of anxiety about his actions, and paranoia of being found out. He falls in a sort of psychotic and neurotic illness, and has many hallucinations. He is surrounded by people, even (and mostly) when he does not want: his family moves to be near him; and the place he sleeps in, a rented room, is so little and dingy and trashed, it enhances the perception of the state of squallor almost all the characters of the book live in.
Raskol'nikov is sure in his convictions but he is also utterly frozen as he is to apply his theory to the real world; he has figured it all out, but he is paralyzed during and after the act, managing to escape by pure luck, and burying the stolen items without even checking what was inside the bags he took.
### Characters and Dialogues
The book is also very long and fluvial: the characters talk at length, and I find Nabokov's comment that "Dostoyevsky was to be the greatest Russian playwrighter of all times, then he took a wrong turn and ended up writing novels" very funny, because it's true that the dialogues of the characters are a big, and extremely important part of the whole novel - including Raskol'nikov's talks with himself.
His talks with other characters too are a very important part of the story- those are ideas colliding, each character representing their own morals; thus a dialogue is a perfect way to watch them interact, and see what happens when they meet.
The kind of respect Porfiry shows Raskol'nikov, the kind of understanding which runs between Raskol'nikov and his sister Dunechka, the naive kind of self-sacrificing blind grace which Sonja offers to the world, and the obscene version of the facts and acts of Svidrigajlov, and the kindness of Razumichin; there are so many characters which surround Raskol'nikov, as he believes to be alone. He is not. He thought up his morals and the justification behind the killing as if he was an isolated man in a totally divided society, while he is deeply embedded in the texture of his own, and subject to the same morals as the people around him. In the very very end of the novel, he is 'converted' and 'enlightened' by Sonja, and a sort of rebirth occurs to him, and the metaphor of Lazarus, cited in the book, is not casual.
This might mirror an episode which deeply traumatized Dostoyevsky's own life; when he was imprisoned and was to be executed by trial of fire, then at the last moment was sent to Siberia. This profoundly scarred him and in turn had a very deep spiritual impact on him; the sort of death-rebirth which occurs to Raskol'nikov is an example of the very-last-minute entire change of heart that he has, and his embrace of Christianity as the redemption to his life. He feels all he had done before as external to him, and feels himself forgiven, through religious love which Sonja manifests in her perseverance of being near him, and helping not only him, but all the other prisoners as well.
> Water wears away stone.
Is what Raskol'nikov says about the prospect of being in Siberian jail for so long, and the tremendous fear that it would break him- and that, ironically, is exactly what happens to him; but by the hands of Sonja. [[#Sonja and Raskol'nikov|More on that later]].
### Funny
A small aside comment: it is very... *funny*, in a way, to me, that Raskol'nikov's first instinct at waking up after a fever is terror at having accidentally spilled the secret out, because this perfectly incapsulates the feeling of coming off total anaesthesia while being surrounded by your parents/family members, and accidentally saying something which will make them rethink their whole perception of you.
### Raskol'nikov and Svidrigajlov
It's interesting how, in the dialogue between Raskol'nikov and Svidrigajlov, they both admit they were looking for something in the other, but none of them found it. They both were looking for another human to understand and mirror their values, but didn't find it- Raskol'nikov was repulsed by Svidrigajlov's life, and Svidrigajlov himself was... well, the only thing I can describe it as is *boredom*, at the conversation with Raskol'nikov. One commentor described the motive behind Svidrigajlov's suicide as boredom. No "regret" or "redemption", he was just so bored by life that he walked into a park, told the first man he saw that he was going to America, then he killed himself on the spot.
Svidrigajlov is a character which embodies nihilism at its most based: nothing really matters, but he can derive no joy nor pleasure from it. He abuses children and has poisoned his wife and passes his life from day to day to week without any sort of plan, and in the end, he ends up utterly bored. There is no purpose, no meaning. Just when he finds out the one person for whom he has felt anything, Dunja, she does not want him, and for *good fucking reasons*! His idea of convincing her was to lock her inside his room with him. And she pulls a gun on him. That's where the full force of the blow that he never did anything meaningful and found meaning in anything hits him, and he lets her go, has troubled and disturbing dreams, and then kills himself with that very gun the morning after.
### Dunja and Raskol'nikov
I read a comment by another person who read this book and noted how Dunja and Raskol'nikov are very alike, and that is interesting! It could be read that the scene between Svidrigajlov and Dunja can be interpreted through the lens of Dunja *premeditating* the murder of Svidrigajlov. He is very alike his brother, and understands him, and almost became him. Moreover, the scene with her and him in his room follows a rapidly increasing pace, which was terrifying to read, and very much works.
Dunja's last conversation with Raskol'nikov is heartwrenching too- Dunja's last hope is that her brother can give himself over to the law, to 'save his soul', in a way- but she loves him nonetheless.
>"Brother, brother, what are you saying! You spilled blood!"
This reminds me of [[Violence and the Sacred - René Girard]]. Raskol'nikov made the extra step to ritual sacrifice, the one society won't accept, and Dunja sees it, and wants Raskol'nikov to undergo society's means of cleansing that stain, to have her brother back clean.
This exchange is made more interesting by the fact that, well. Dunja herself spilled blood that very day, by shooting Svidrigajlov! Towards a person whom she thought deserved it, with a gun which she brought there herself, she *did* spill blood.
### Dunja and Sonja
Dunja and Sonja... they have an interesting thing going on which is fueled partially by the respect and reverence which Dunja gives to Sonja, and the fact that the figure of the "man=person, woman=satellite" in the society all these characters live in is so ingrained that the mere fact of two women interacting raises eyebrows- the excuse for them to interact is, of course, Raskol'nikov, but the faith and hope they grow within each other makes for an interesting read. Dunja sees in Sonja salvation for his brother, while Sonja sees in Dunja an unattainable life, which she herself feels she will never reach, but which offers her reverence nonetheless!
### Raskol'nikov torn between punishment and recognition
As [this guy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aGIhcaOJe0)'s critique stresses how Raskol'nikov *wants* to be seen and recognized so bad, he yearns to share the deed he has done, deed which is in his mind is the coronation of his philosophy brought into the real world, but that he struggles because he *cannot* by definition talk about the murder to anyone lest he be shunned by others as a murderer on one hand, and because he is ashamed of having made a sloppy work of what was supposed to be the first opus of bringing his theory into the real world on the other. But he *wants* to be seen nonetheless.
He is torn between telling no one and getting away with it (thus never being known and understood, and admitting the theory he went so far as to commit murder for was wrong), or telling everyone and letting himself be known (thus being either thrown in jail or sentenced to death). Either alternative throw him into a state of constant terror.
### Sonja and Raskol'nikov
Raskol'nikov is surrounded by people, and in the end he does crack: he tells the one which in his eyes is the most "saint-like" of all: Sonja. (Well, incidentally, Svidrigajlov hears too.)
And she offers blind grace! Her first reaction is to think "oh how unhappy Raskol'nikov must be"; and cries for him. This for him is recognition, and, as Dunja will recognize later on, *"recognition from another human being"*. Initially she does not understand him, and thinks he killed for food, or to feed his mother; which is not true. But he cannot explain his motivation, his theory, to another human being- even if Sonja asks, he cannot bring himself to do it- then he does, he tries to explain but sounds like a mad man taken by a fever; he cannot explain to her why he wanted to understand "whether he was weak or he was an exceptional man".
>"How, how could you live without other people?"
Says Sonja, and I think this is one of the core concepts of the book. Raskol'nikov's actions can either be seen as the deplorable acts of a mad murderer. Or they can be seen as acts of a man trying to escape society (whilst doing so in a very foolish way). He ends up almost completely alone, except for Sonja and Dunja and Razumichin, and by being recognized by another human being he is taken back into society (via means of love and Christian redemption (which is essentially how Dostoyevsky coped, while in Siberia, with having been one second away from execution, too). It can be read as a tale in which the philosophy of the lone rational student failed to hold up to the overwhelming majority of the morals of the society around him, in a way. Or on the other hand, a tale of being forgiven by other humans after even the most drastic of deeds.
Then again, Sonja sees pain and suffering as inherently positive things, even when the suffering itself has no point: she subjects herself to suffering and sees it as the path of redemption for her activity as a prostitute *(whilst being in the profession to aid her family, which! Should have been responsability of her father!)*, and it is ultimately this view of ethics which convinces and converts Raskol'nikov at the end of the novel. This continuous self-flogging is one she has undertaken as life philosophy, and which perfectly intersects by her life conditions, and that of her family; she suffers, and lets herself find redemption in the very act of suffering (This does not make it a universally sound theory, in my opinion, but it goes without saying).
So consequentially, the *"How, how could you live without other people?"* makes perfect sense to her: other people and the morals they uphold, and the structure of society as a whole are all there is, in this perspective. If salvation is acquired through suffering, then it makes to her no sense that suffering should be avoided; and it makes no sense to shun society either. "Her theory" is completely antithetic to Raskol'nikov's own theory.
Raskol'nikov:
>But why do they love me so, when I’m unworthy of it! Oh, if only I were alone and no one loved me, and I myself had never loved anyone! *None of this would be!*
vs Sonja's:
>*"How, how could you live without other people?"*
> “*I said it of you not for your dishonor and sin, but for your great suffering. But that you are a great sinner is true*,” he added, almost ecstatically, “*and most of all you are a sinner because you destroyed yourself and betrayed yourself in vain*. Isn’t that a horror! Isn’t it a horror that you live in this filth which you hate so much, and at the same time know yourself (you need only open your eyes) that you’re not helping anyone by it, and not saving anyone from anything! But tell me, finally,” he spoke almost in a frenzy, “how such shame and baseness can be combined in you beside other opposite and holy feelings? It would be more just, a thousand times more just and reasonable, to jump headfirst into the water and end it at once!”
> “And what would become of them?” Sonya asked weakly, glancing at him with suffering, but at the same time as if she were not at all surprised at his question.
Raskol'nikov himself tells her that, and then wonders how has Sonja not gone insane. *"What sustained her?"* He asks himself, as he recognizes the suffering Sonja has gone through. *What has made her not go mad?*, then wonders if she *hasn't* gone mad: is this the reasoning of a sound person? Then he realizes that it's probably religion, keeping her up
>He began studying her with greater attention.
>“So you pray very much to God, Sonya?” he asked her.
>Sonya was silent; he stood beside her, waiting for an answer.
>“And what would I be without God?” she whispered quickly, energetically, glancing at him fleetingly with suddenly flashing eyes, and she pressed his hand firmly with her own.
>“So that’s it!” he thought.
This reads as an "A-ha!" moment for Raskol'nikov, and an intrusive questioning from Sonja. Which makes quite interesting the way that in the end of the novel, Raskol'nikov totally and wholeheartedly subscribes to and embraces this very philosophy himself. What has changed? It's interesting because this very exchange at the center of the book is the very one which is echoed in the epilogue, as this is the moment where they talk about Lazarus and his raising, which is a sort of... *foreshadowing*, if we can call it that, of what, in Raskol'nikov and Sonja's minds, will happen to Raskol'nikov at the end of the novel.
### Coda
Ultimately, Raskol'nikov resolves his torment by wholly abandoning his theory to bow his head to the moral of society. This is in the end, I think, a novel whose message is one of reinforcing the pre-existing laws of society and of the status quo; but it also warns against the dangers of creating a rationalized theory of humankind, while being in isolation from *humans* themselves, and one's own community.
It does embrace the concept of forgiveness and love as a means to re-institute a man into society, and on the value of second chances; but it also acts as a glorification of the [[Pathei Mathos]] (learning through suffering) doctrine, saw through a Christian (Ortodox) lens. I think it would be reductive to, uh, reduce, the experience of reading this book to *one message*. So! There were my thoughts on it.
### Conflict of Morals - Bringing the theory into action
Raskol'nikov sets out to murder the pawnbroker lady; it is out of a belief- a theory, as the characters in the book call it. He had written an article in a newspaper before about it, arguing that the world is divided in two sets of people; one which follow the rules and is subjected to morals, and the other which needn't, and had the rights to act outside the confines of common morals, following their own, in order to create a juster world.
Raskol'nikov again and again justifies his murder, of the old pawnbroker and the girl who accidentally witnessed the murder; till almost the very end of the book, he backs up this theory; he believes that the pawnbroker was making more people miserable- then why should he not have done what he did?
On one hand he says that, but on the other, since the crime, he is annihilated by feelings of anxiety about his actions, and paranoia of being found out. He falls in a sort of psychotic and neurotic illness, and has many hallucinations. He is surrounded by people, even (and mostly) when he does not want: his family moves to be near him; and the place he sleeps in, a rented room, is so little and dingy and trashed, it enhances the perception of the state of squallor almost all the characters of the book live in.
Raskol'nikov is sure in his convictions but he is also utterly frozen as he is to apply his theory to the real world; he has figured it all out, but he is paralyzed during and after the act, managing to escape by pure luck, and burying the stolen items without even checking what was inside the bags he took.
### Characters and Dialogues
The book is also very long and fluvial: the characters talk at length, and I find Nabokov's comment that "Dostoyevsky was to be the greatest Russian playwrighter of all times, then he took a wrong turn and ended up writing novels" very funny, because it's true that the dialogues of the characters are a big, and extremely important part of the whole novel - including Raskol'nikov's talks with himself.
His talks with other characters too are a very important part of the story- those are ideas colliding, each character representing their own morals; thus a dialogue is a perfect way to watch them interact, and see what happens when they meet.
The kind of respect Porfiry shows Raskol'nikov, the kind of understanding which runs between Raskol'nikov and his sister Dunechka, the naive kind of self-sacrificing blind grace which Sonja offers to the world, and the obscene version of the facts and acts of Svidrigajlov, and the kindness of Razumichin; there are so many characters which surround Raskol'nikov, as he believes to be alone. He is not. He thought up his morals and the justification behind the killing as if he was an isolated man in a totally divided society, while he is deeply embedded in the texture of his own, and subject to the same morals as the people around him. In the very very end of the novel, he is 'converted' and 'enlightened' by Sonja, and a sort of rebirth occurs to him, and the metaphor of Lazarus, cited in the book, is not casual.
This might mirror an episode which deeply traumatized Dostoyevsky's own life; when he was imprisoned and was to be executed by trial of fire, then at the last moment was sent to Siberia. This profoundly scarred him and in turn had a very deep spiritual impact on him; the sort of death-rebirth which occurs to Raskol'nikov is an example of the very-last-minute entire change of heart that he has, and his embrace of Christianity as the redemption to his life. He feels all he had done before as external to him, and feels himself forgiven, through religious love which Sonja manifests in her perseverance of being near him, and helping not only him, but all the other prisoners as well.
> Water wears away stone.
Is what Raskol'nikov says about the prospect of being in Siberian jail for so long, and the tremendous fear that it would break him- and that, ironically, is exactly what happens to him; but by the hands of Sonja. [[#Sonja and Raskol'nikov|More on that later]].
### Funny
A small aside comment: it is very... *funny*, in a way, to me, that Raskol'nikov's first instinct at waking up after a fever is terror at having accidentally spilled the secret out, because this perfectly incapsulates the feeling of coming off total anaesthesia while being surrounded by your parents/family members, and accidentally saying something which will make them rethink their whole perception of you.
### Raskol'nikov and Svidrigajlov
It's interesting how, in the dialogue between Raskol'nikov and Svidrigajlov, they both admit they were looking for something in the other, but none of them found it. They both were looking for another human to understand and mirror their values, but didn't find it- Raskol'nikov was repulsed by Svidrigajlov's life, and Svidrigajlov himself was... well, the only thing I can describe it as is *boredom*, at the conversation with Raskol'nikov. One commentor described the motive behind Svidrigajlov's suicide as boredom. No "regret" or "redemption", he was just so bored by life that he walked into a park, told the first man he saw that he was going to America, then he killed himself on the spot.
Svidrigajlov is a character which embodies nihilism at its most based: nothing really matters, but he can derive no joy nor pleasure from it. He abuses children and has poisoned his wife and passes his life from day to day to week without any sort of plan, and in the end, he ends up utterly bored. There is no purpose, no meaning. Just when he finds out the one person for whom he has felt anything, Dunja, she does not want him, and for *good fucking reasons*! His idea of convincing her was to lock her inside his room with him. And she pulls a gun on him. That's where the full force of the blow that he never did anything meaningful and found meaning in anything hits him, and he lets her go, has troubled and disturbing dreams, and then kills himself with that very gun the morning after.
### Dunja and Raskol'nikov
I read a comment by another person who read this book and noted how Dunja and Raskol'nikov are very alike, and that is interesting! It could be read that the scene between Svidrigajlov and Dunja can be interpreted through the lens of Dunja *premeditating* the murder of Svidrigajlov. He is very alike his brother, and understands him, and almost became him. Moreover, the scene with her and him in his room follows a rapidly increasing pace, which was terrifying to read, and very much works.
Dunja's last conversation with Raskol'nikov is heartwrenching too- Dunja's last hope is that her brother can give himself over to the law, to 'save his soul', in a way- but she loves him nonetheless.
>"Brother, brother, what are you saying! You spilled blood!"
This reminds me of [[Violence and the Sacred - René Girard]]. Raskol'nikov made the extra step to ritual sacrifice, the one society won't accept, and Dunja sees it, and wants Raskol'nikov to undergo society's means of cleansing that stain, to have her brother back clean.
This exchange is made more interesting by the fact that, well. Dunja herself spilled blood that very day, by shooting Svidrigajlov! Towards a person whom she thought deserved it, with a gun which she brought there herself, she *did* spill blood.
### Dunja and Sonja
Dunja and Sonja... they have an interesting thing going on which is fueled partially by the respect and reverence which Dunja gives to Sonja, and the fact that the figure of the "man=person, woman=satellite" in the society all these characters live in is so ingrained that the mere fact of two women interacting raises eyebrows- the excuse for them to interact is, of course, Raskol'nikov, but the faith and hope they grow within each other makes for an interesting read. Dunja sees in Sonja salvation for his brother, while Sonja sees in Dunja an unattainable life, which she herself feels she will never reach, but which offers her reverence nonetheless!
### Raskol'nikov torn between punishment and recognition
As [this guy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aGIhcaOJe0)'s critique stresses how Raskol'nikov *wants* to be seen and recognized so bad, he yearns to share the deed he has done, deed which is in his mind is the coronation of his philosophy brought into the real world, but that he struggles because he *cannot* by definition talk about the murder to anyone lest he be shunned by others as a murderer on one hand, and because he is ashamed of having made a sloppy work of what was supposed to be the first opus of bringing his theory into the real world on the other. But he *wants* to be seen nonetheless.
He is torn between telling no one and getting away with it (thus never being known and understood, and admitting the theory he went so far as to commit murder for was wrong), or telling everyone and letting himself be known (thus being either thrown in jail or sentenced to death). Either alternative throw him into a state of constant terror.
### Sonja and Raskol'nikov
Raskol'nikov is surrounded by people, and in the end he does crack: he tells the one which in his eyes is the most "saint-like" of all: Sonja. (Well, incidentally, Svidrigajlov hears too.)
And she offers blind grace! Her first reaction is to think "oh how unhappy Raskol'nikov must be"; and cries for him. This for him is recognition, and, as Dunja will recognize later on, *"recognition from another human being"*. Initially she does not understand him, and thinks he killed for food, or to feed his mother; which is not true. But he cannot explain his motivation, his theory, to another human being- even if Sonja asks, he cannot bring himself to do it- then he does, he tries to explain but sounds like a mad man taken by a fever; he cannot explain to her why he wanted to understand "whether he was weak or he was an exceptional man".
>"How, how could you live without other people?"
Says Sonja, and I think this is one of the core concepts of the book. Raskol'nikov's actions can either be seen as the deplorable acts of a mad murderer. Or they can be seen as acts of a man trying to escape society (whilst doing so in a very foolish way). He ends up almost completely alone, except for Sonja and Dunja and Razumichin, and by being recognized by another human being he is taken back into society (via means of love and Christian redemption (which is essentially how Dostoyevsky coped, while in Siberia, with having been one second away from execution, too). It can be read as a tale in which the philosophy of the lone rational student failed to hold up to the overwhelming majority of the morals of the society around him, in a way. Or on the other hand, a tale of being forgiven by other humans after even the most drastic of deeds.
Then again, Sonja sees pain and suffering as inherently positive things, even when the suffering itself has no point: she subjects herself to suffering and sees it as the path of redemption for her activity as a prostitute *(whilst being in the profession to aid her family, which! Should have been responsability of her father!)*, and it is ultimately this view of ethics which convinces and converts Raskol'nikov at the end of the novel. This continuous self-flogging is one she has undertaken as life philosophy, and which perfectly intersects by her life conditions, and that of her family; she suffers, and lets herself find redemption in the very act of suffering (This does not make it a universally sound theory, in my opinion, but it goes without saying).
So consequentially, the *"How, how could you live without other people?"* makes perfect sense to her: other people and the morals they uphold, and the structure of society as a whole are all there is, in this perspective. If salvation is acquired through suffering, then it makes to her no sense that suffering should be avoided; and it makes no sense to shun society either. "Her theory" is completely antithetic to Raskol'nikov's own theory.
Raskol'nikov:
>But why do they love me so, when I’m unworthy of it! Oh, if only I were alone and no one loved me, and I myself had never loved anyone! *None of this would be!*
vs Sonja's:
>*"How, how could you live without other people?"*
> “*I said it of you not for your dishonor and sin, but for your great suffering. But that you are a great sinner is true*,” he added, almost ecstatically, “*and most of all you are a sinner because you destroyed yourself and betrayed yourself in vain*. Isn’t that a horror! Isn’t it a horror that you live in this filth which you hate so much, and at the same time know yourself (you need only open your eyes) that you’re not helping anyone by it, and not saving anyone from anything! But tell me, finally,” he spoke almost in a frenzy, “how such shame and baseness can be combined in you beside other opposite and holy feelings? It would be more just, a thousand times more just and reasonable, to jump headfirst into the water and end it at once!”
> “And what would become of them?” Sonya asked weakly, glancing at him with suffering, but at the same time as if she were not at all surprised at his question.
Raskol'nikov himself tells her that, and then wonders how has Sonja not gone insane. *"What sustained her?"* He asks himself, as he recognizes the suffering Sonja has gone through. *What has made her not go mad?*, then wonders if she *hasn't* gone mad: is this the reasoning of a sound person? Then he realizes that it's probably religion, keeping her up
>He began studying her with greater attention.
>“So you pray very much to God, Sonya?” he asked her.
>Sonya was silent; he stood beside her, waiting for an answer.
>“And what would I be without God?” she whispered quickly, energetically, glancing at him fleetingly with suddenly flashing eyes, and she pressed his hand firmly with her own.
>“So that’s it!” he thought.
This reads as an "A-ha!" moment for Raskol'nikov, and an intrusive questioning from Sonja. Which makes quite interesting the way that in the end of the novel, Raskol'nikov totally and wholeheartedly subscribes to and embraces this very philosophy himself. What has changed? It's interesting because this very exchange at the center of the book is the very one which is echoed in the epilogue, as this is the moment where they talk about Lazarus and his raising, which is a sort of... *foreshadowing*, if we can call it that, of what, in Raskol'nikov and Sonja's minds, will happen to Raskol'nikov at the end of the novel.
### Coda
Ultimately, Raskol'nikov resolves his torment by wholly abandoning his theory to bow his head to the moral of society. This is in the end, I think, a novel whose message is one of reinforcing the pre-existing laws of society and of the status quo; but it also warns against the dangers of creating a rationalized theory of humankind, while being in isolation from *humans* themselves, and one's own community.
It does embrace the concept of forgiveness and love as a means to re-institute a man into society, and on the value of second chances; but it also acts as a glorification of the [[Pathei Mathos]] (learning through suffering) doctrine, saw through a Christian (Ortodox) lens. I think it would be reductive to, uh, reduce, the experience of reading this book to *one message*. So! There were my thoughts on it.
challenging
dark
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
رائعععة دويستفوسكي مبدع مبدع في انو يعيش القارئ في جو الرواية