This is the first work that I’ve read by Dostoevsky. In many ways, it is eye-opening. Professor Jordan Peterson said on Youtube that Tolstoy was about sociology, whilst Dostoevsky was about psychology. Back then, I had just finished reading Anna Karenina, so I initially disagreed. I didn’t understand why Professor Peterson ignored Tolstoy’s knowledge of psychology (take Anna’s pre-suicide thoughts for example). But now I understand why. It is not that Tolstoy’s works lack psychological analysis. It is because Dostoevsky spent far more ink on the inner monologues of his characters, to the extent that you feel as if you are prying into someone else’s mind. Dostoevsky weaved an intricate web of thoughts, and invited a reader to enter the web if not get lost in it.
That was exactly how I felt why I read the Notes from the Underground. The opening sentence is “I am a sick man…I’m a spiteful man. I’m an unattractive man.” These words, simple and powerful, set the tone for the novel. Although the leading nameless character, the ’underground man‘, immediately complains about his physical illness, the word “illness” itself can imply something else as well – his mental illness.
I found part one difficult and unpleasant to read. I felt as if I was sitting opposite to a mentally ill patient. He stared at me and mumbled something incoherent, yet I strongly sensed his mocking tone and his spiteful smile. I wanted to move on (hoping that the next sentence or the next chapter will be something different!) but I couldn’t. He grabbed my wrist and forced me to sit down so that he could continue to vent his anger and bitterness about the outside world.
His mind was chaotic, as he jumped from one topic to another with a grimace. His narrative was unreliable because he kept lying. This was a hint. He was an egoist who cared more about his external image than his internal thoughts.
He was buried in the ‘underground world’ – a castle that he had purposely built to isolate himself from others. Maybe he thought it would bring “tranquillity” to him. But often, it dampened his conscience and darkened his mind. When he reached forty, he and the underground world were like inseparable twins. The light of “the sublime and beautiful” and “goodness” can’t penetrate the thick wall of his dark cellar.
Whilst reading part one, I wanted to feel sorry for him, but I couldn’t. I only felt uncomfortable and confused. I could see that he was suffering from a conflicted mind. For example, he wanted to win over others’ recognition but he despised them at the same time. But his bitterness, his hatred, his lame excuses, his willingness to be buried in his underground world and forsake anything that was “alive” took away my empathy. I simply couldn’t relate to him.
It was only in part two that he became more like a person (rather than a “fly” and a “mouse” in his own words). I saw myself in him and couldn’t help reminding myself that if I was as unfortunate as him (unloved and uncared for whilst young), I might choose the same path of escapism and self-destruction – shutting down my heart and cutting myself off from the outside world which meant that I would neither taste the bitterness of the world nor its loveliness. Like him, I would live in an abyss of darkness where it snows all the time (dreariness), where there was nothing but my imagination, my thoughts, and my feelings. I would exist as an individual. But that’s all. Nothing else.
He did have a choice. After all, he met Liza, a lost woman who had a pure heart, and was willing to love him. But he refused to be awakened by noble instincts that she aroused, and deceived himself by gloriously justifying all his cowardly behaviours. Even at the age of twenty-four, he was already trapped in his underground world, meaning that he lost the capacity to love and trust another person. Liza exposed his scar and wakened his conscience. He was moved, but then immediately, he feared that he would have to abandon his old familiar world and to pursue light – something, despite its beauty and worthiness, symbolised a drastic change. Therefore, he gave up and once again opted for his comfort zone - “inertia”.
I don’t know what message Dostoevsky wanted to send in this dark, gloomy, and miserable story about the underground man. But for me, the take-home message is to never give up on love, on humanity, on anything that is beautiful and sublime, and on anything that is greater than my ego. The underground man is an extreme example, but seeing myself in him is a wake-up call that should serve as a constant reminder. No matter how comfortable and secure the underground world seems, a step away from it is a step closer towards my true self, a more meaningful life, and more adventurous world.