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oldbee 's review for:
Bratia Karamazovovci
by Fyodor Dostoevsky
It takes forever (read: 300 pages) to get started and set the scene, but doesn't slow down from that point onwards. The Grand Inquisitor makes an appearance, and with that it's as if Dostoevsky decided to not hold back anymore: in the words of one of the characters, "everything is allowed".
Among all the drama and a fair dose of tragedy, however, the book shines with its humanity and hope that there is some good left even in people who have done bad things; it is this that makes the ginormous novel not break under its own weight.
Highlights: Zosima's life story, Ivan's dialogue with the devil, the side story around the poor boy Ilyusha, anytime Alyosha makes an appearance, and of course The Grand Inquisitor passage.
There is a lot that (to a modern reader outside of Russia, at least) verges on ridiculous. The lengthy excited monologues that some characters go on could be stretching the reality, but of course therein lies the charm: in saying things that actual people do feel but would never say or could never express, they become larger than life. It is easy to see why "to be a Karamazov" by itself has become a trope, one that encodes polar opposites, strong feelings, an inner struggle.
In some ways, the book could be immortal, but in other ways, it is very clearly a product of its times. It's a shame that Dostoevsky appears to have come to the conclusion that religious belief is necessary to do good. Today, Ivan's struggle seems avoidable.
Further, on the inevitable topic of female characters: down to one, they are all described as hysterical, going into fits of tears or laughter on the slightest provocation, and utterly random in their decisions or affections. While the men are also afforded a share of strong, sometimes unrealistic-seeming emotion, it is usually not gender-coded as it is in the women's case (never failing to explicitly use the word "hysterical"); this makes the female characters seem like marionettes controlled by some demonic force rather than real people with real motivations, which is a shame.
Among all the drama and a fair dose of tragedy, however, the book shines with its humanity and hope that there is some good left even in people who have done bad things; it is this that makes the ginormous novel not break under its own weight.
Highlights: Zosima's life story, Ivan's dialogue with the devil, the side story around the poor boy Ilyusha, anytime Alyosha makes an appearance, and of course The Grand Inquisitor passage.
There is a lot that (to a modern reader outside of Russia, at least) verges on ridiculous. The lengthy excited monologues that some characters go on could be stretching the reality, but of course therein lies the charm: in saying things that actual people do feel but would never say or could never express, they become larger than life. It is easy to see why "to be a Karamazov" by itself has become a trope, one that encodes polar opposites, strong feelings, an inner struggle.
In some ways, the book could be immortal, but in other ways, it is very clearly a product of its times. It's a shame that Dostoevsky appears to have come to the conclusion that religious belief is necessary to do good. Today, Ivan's struggle seems avoidable.
Further, on the inevitable topic of female characters: down to one, they are all described as hysterical, going into fits of tears or laughter on the slightest provocation, and utterly random in their decisions or affections. While the men are also afforded a share of strong, sometimes unrealistic-seeming emotion, it is usually not gender-coded as it is in the women's case (never failing to explicitly use the word "hysterical"); this makes the female characters seem like marionettes controlled by some demonic force rather than real people with real motivations, which is a shame.