Classics and the Western Canon discussion
Dostoevsky, Brothers Karamazov
>
Brothers Karamazov, Book 3
RE The Title 'The Sensualists'.I thought I’d comment on the word 'sensualist' here. The question was already raised earlier, though.
In the original text, the word that is translated apparently in all English versions as a ‘sensualist’, implies only erotic meaning. It’s a two-root word that can be translated root for root approximately as ‘passionate for the sweet stuff’. I think the title also could be translated as ‘The Lustful Ones’.
The philosophical meaning of the word ‘sensualist’ is presented in Russian by the word of the same Latin origin as ‘sensualist’, and even pronounced almost identically. And it has no other meaning.
Bigollo wrote: "I think the title also could be translated as ‘The Lustful Ones’."That's the title in the German translation - Wollüstlinge
Everyman wrote: "On another point, I was interested in seeing how differently the people in the town treat to the homeless mentally ill Lizaveta compared with how people today tend to treat the homeless and mentally ill. There is, in Dostoevsky, accepted by the community, given clothes and food (even though she promptly gives the clothes away) and "everyone was kind to her, and gave her something." "She would walk into strange houses, and no one drove her away." Was 19th century Russia a kinder, gentler society than our modern society is?Did we ever get a sense how big this town is or where it is located?
I picture it as a small provincial community where everybody pretty much knows everybody else. Lizaveta would have been known by everyone since childhood and they know she is pretty harmless and vulnerable, though she isn't aware of it. This combination of familiarity and vulnerability compels people to be charitable towards her. This is a very different setting than the vast anonymity of our (mega) cities and endless suburbs where the plight of people gets lost.
They also know that her father is abusive, never having amounted to too much.
Abusiveness is present repeatedly in this novel. Here in book three we see it verbally and physically, almost with abandon. There is a coarseness to the life that the Karamazovs are living, and almost everyone else as well. An exception is Alyosha, who seems to understand the damage done by such unrestrained impulsiveness. To everyone else it doesn't seem to matter much, as long as the impulse is indulged, and the consequences will be dealt with later, if at all.
In contrast to the abusiveness we have this overly exuberant tenderness, with kisses and (saccharine) endearments. Is the Russian character this volatile, or are we simply thrown into a provincial outpost?
I had planned on posting this later, after the anticipated attacks on Grushenka had begun, but since there's quite a bit that takes place in book three that people may still be processing, I'll post this now as a preemptive strike rather than as a rebuttal. Sometimes we should be encouraged to be resistant readers, or to read against the grain.Sympathy for Grushenka
As has been previously noted, Grushenka, who appears to be at the heart of the conflict between Dmitri and Fyodor, is not given a voice through the first two books. She is spoken about, often disparagingly, but the narrator does not provide us with any of her background information the way he does other characters. Fyodor, during the interview with Father Zossima does provide a few details. He calls her an “enchantress” (Garnett translation) and claims she is “of an independent character, an unapproachable fortress for everybody” and “virtuous.” But Fyodor is hardly a reliable character. How much of what he says should we believe? But even if we dismiss Fyodor, Dmitri calls her “an honourable girl.” Can we trust Dmitri’s judgment, since he seems to have been infected by the “enchantress?” We also learn that she may be involved in a scheme with Fyodor against Dmitri. In the same scene Miusova calls Grushenka a “woman of loose morals” and a “creature.” Fyodor is forced to concede that she may have “fallen in her youth” but that she can be forgiven. Finally, in book two, Rakitin presents a less than flattering image of Grushenka. So we have four, maybe five if we count Alyosha, people giving their opinion of Grushenka, but we haven’t met her yet. In fact, we aren’t introduced to Grushenka until nearly the end of the third book. Grushenka is with Katerina when Alyosha arrives with his message from Dmitri. Katerina appears to be nearly as in love with the girl as Fyodor and Dmitri are. But Alyosha is not, for we are told “A violent revulsion passed over [him].” The narrator, however, describes her as attractive, but immediately states that her beauty is fleeting and she’ll be coarse and ugly in several years. We can also gather from the text that Grushenka has a way of speaking, probably affected, that is meant to charm her audience. We learn that as a girl Grushenka was in love with an officer who married another woman but is now a widower and returning for her. Katerina defends Grushenka’s relationship with the merchant as the result of her broken heart. But the happy scene deteriorates quickly. Katerina believed she had an arrangement with Grushenka for her to give up Dmitri. But Grushenka almost immediately reneges on the agreement. And then in a final cruel twist of the knife makes a point of not returning the courtesy of kissing Katerina’s hand. As she flees the house she taunts Alyosha to see her home.
So much for the summary of what we know about Grushenka. I’d like to propose that even though our instinct may be to dislike Grushenka, I suggest she can be read in a different light. We don’t have Grushenka’s backstory yet, but the fact that she’s an attractive 22 year old shacked up with an old merchant suggests she’s of humble origin. The narrator tells us as much when he/she says, speaking of Grushenka’s drawl, “It was, of course, only a bad, underbred habit that showed bad education and a false idea of good manners.” I suggest that while she probably isn’t from the peasant class, as she did at least receive some education, neither does she inhabit the same world as Katerina or the Karamazov’s. Consider the contrast with Katerina – she is the daughter of colonel, has 80,000 rubles at her disposal, and is protected by aunts who act as chaperones and thus safeguard her reputation. Grushenka apparently has none of this. She has to make her own way in the world (I’m reminded of Becky in Vanity Fair). We may wish to impose our morals on her and demand that she be quiet, humble, and pious, but who are we to judge her? If the degenerate aristocrats want to throw money at her and fight over her, why should she refuse? And why should she bow down to the imperious Katerina? Simply because Katerina has money? Dmitri is a man and can make his own decisions. As far as we know he’s been chasing Grushenka – not the other way around. In summary, Grushenka stands outside of the world of power and privilege represented by Katerina and the Karamazov’s. We should be hesitant to judge her for using her assets to make a place for herself in the world.
The treatment of Lizaveta reminds me of what Ivan said about Alyosha - words to the effect that he was the rare sort of individual that could be abandoned in a strange city and would never have to worry because somebody would immediately feed, cloth, and shelter him. I doubt all helpless people are treated this way, I'd guess that these are rare exceptions. There are other disability issues discussed in book 3: there is a mention of the epilepsy of the 4th brother and, as well, the book shows an episode of mental breakdown in Alyosha. Alyosha's momentary breakdown happens while listening to his father talk about Alyosha's mother. When Ivan mentions that it was his mother too, I was almost as startled as the Fyodor. I had forgotten, and had to think about it a moment.
D is such a good writer that even as he shows us how how his fictional father forgets that the two boys have the same mother, he also reminds us that he has us readers in the palm of his hand.
It is also becoming increasingly obvious that both Dmitri and Fyodor are misogynists. Nor does Katerina have much respect for her fellow females: they are either saintly angels or conniving sluts. Grushenka seems the sort of person who is mostly willing to let people project whatever they want onto her - to appear to be whatever they want her to be. It seems to be easy for certain people to project onto her qualities (and even words) that are not her own. At this point, and some reason, she decides to disabuse Katerina of her illusions (by refusing to play the angel).
Jeremy wrote: "So much for the summary of what we know about Grushenka. I’d like to propose that even though our instinct may be to dislike Grushenka, I suggest she can be read in a different light. We don’t have Grushenka’s backstory yet, but the fact that she’s an attractive 22 year old shacked up with an old merchant suggests she’s of humble origin"Nice summary and analysis, Jeremy. It is interesting that Dostoevsky begins by withholding disinterested information about Grushenka. He shows her exclusively through the eyes of others through the first two books, and when we finally see her she appears from behind a curtain in the last place we'd expect. Surprise! It's a very gossipy and sensational way to introduce a character with a questionable reputation. But it works.
Perhaps we shouldn't judge Grushenka too hastily, but I think the author (or perhaps the narrator) invites us to. A "22 year old shacked up with an old merchant" does not, to me, suggest humble origins. It suggest shrewdness and opportunism, which might be justified given her circumstances. But what those circumstances are I'm not sure just yet.
Theresa wrote: "The treatment of Lizaveta reminds me of what Ivan said about Alyosha - words to the effect that he was the rare sort of individual that could be abandoned in a strange city and would never have to ..."Everyman wrote: "We are introduced to a fourth Karamazov brother -- or are we? And if he is, he's an illegitimate half-brother (but then, Dmitry is half-brother to Ivan and Alyosha.) And it appears he's the same ag..."
Kerstin wrote: "Everyman wrote: "On another point, I was interested in seeing how differently the people in the town treat to the homeless mentally ill Lizaveta compared with how people today tend to treat the hom..."
There is a coarseness to the life that the Karamazovs are living, and almost everyone else as well. An exception is Alyosha, who seems to understand the damage done by such unrestrained impulsiveness.
Great observation. If I may take it one step further and perhaps attribute this "coarseness" you speak of to either having faith in God, or lacking it. Is it possible this is what D is trying to convey in this section through characters such as Fyodor, Dmitri and Ivan, who do not embrace God, compared to Aloysha who does?
@ Everyman We are introduced to a fourth Karamazov brother -- or are we? And if he is, he's an illegitimate half-brother (but then, Dmitry is half-brother to Ivan and Alyosha.) And it appears he's the same age as Ivan and older than Alyosha. So is he or isn't he?
Everyman, it's quite an ambiguous story, Smerdyakov's birth; unfortunately, I believe he is Fyodor's son. If he is not, I would think it odd Lizaveta giving birth in Fyodor's garden of all the garden's she could have possibly given birth in. I do not think she is as dimwitted as she has been labeled...Giving birth to her son on Fyodor's property is a message, a loud one. Fyodor is a morally corrupt character living a reprehensible lifestyle and Smerdyakov is a product of his father's perversion, both literally and figuratively.
@ Theresa When Ivan mentions that it was his mother too, I was almost as startled as the Fyodor. I had forgotten, and had to think about it a moment.
I noticed this as well and had the same experience while reading it, only to realize he forgot his children even existed for most of their lives.
It is also becoming increasingly obvious that both Dmitri and Fyodor are misogynists. Nor does Katerina have much respect for her fellow females: they are either saintly angels or conniving sluts.
Yes, but Dmitri has a redeeming factor...He has a conscience, feeling guilt and remorse for his misdeeds and treatment of Katerina. Dmitri is drawn to a life of debauchery like his father, and then consumed by guilt because of it.
Kerstin wrote: "Abusiveness is present repeatedly in this novel. Here in book three we see it verbally and physically, almost with abandon."I had noticed this too, particularly if we consider complete neglect of a child as abusive behavior, though hadn't specifically focused on it as you have.
But I also like your making the contrast with the "overly exuberant tenderness, with kisses and (saccharine) endearments."
Though I think much of the tenderness (but not, I think, Zosima's) is merely a matter of social form, not of genuine feeling. Which in a way makes the contrast even greater; that the society incorporates these expressions of tenderness at the same time as it tolerates quite severe levels of abuse.
Jeremy wrote: "Katerina appears to be nearly as in love with the girl as Fyodor and Dmitri are. But Alyosha is not, for we are told “A violent revulsion passed over [him].”."Which seems unusual for Alyosha, since he seems kindly disposed to almost everybody (even at times to his father, even as he fears his behavior in the monastery). Is it possible that Alyosha is more attuned to the inner Grushenka than to the outward attractiveness that may be more noticeable to the other men in the situation?
Kerstin wrote: " Is the Russian character this volatile, or are we simply thrown into a provincial outpost? "I don’t think Dostoyevsky is the best author to seek what the Russian character of the 19th century looked like.
IMHO, Leo Tolstoy would be the most appropriate for that task.
In War and Peace, for instance, one can find perfect representatives of almost all the clusters of the Russian character. (And not exclusively Russians (except for some parts), but human beings in general, I believe.)
D is quite different in this sense. I guess it’s a topic for after finishing the novel. But judging from what we have already covered and some other books by D that I’d read before, D’s reality is not quite real. Many details that are not so important are abandoned completely. Almost all the characters are of some extreme cases. Not that such people don’t exist, it’s that there are always much more ‘normal’ people around in real life. It seems like D uses the extreme cases of human types in order to explore the human condition in general, it’s just more salient that way.
And I don’t imply it’s all that D is. It’s just one small piece of him. I personally enjoy first of all the music of the language and the dialogues in the book. The problems are really old as Earth. I doubt we’ll see solutions in the book.
Bigollo wrote: "D’s reality is not quite real..."It's not only the characters that are extreme but so are their behaviors and words. "Frenzy" is a word D has used often; almost everyone is in continual frenzy. And they speak for 10 minutes at a time. The dialogue is absurdly unrealistic. Add that to the almost featureless setting and lack of physical description of his characters - this will probably not be the favorite novel of strong proponents of realism. D is daring to write like this. The fact that he successfully pulls off such an audacious style is impressive; I don't notice the lack of realism while I'm reading, I'm wholly engaged.
I think what he's doing is similar to what later authors would do with stream-of-consciousness writing. Except he externalizes all of it. So not only do we often see the transparent thought of the characters but we also see the reactions of other characters. It helps demonstrate through extreme representations that there's no way to truly separate our inner and external lives.
Anyone else stuck by his singular style? And gripped by it? I'm rarely so spellbound by a novel.
Jeremy wrote: "I had planned on posting this later, after the anticipated attacks on Grushenka had begun, but since there's quite a bit that takes place in book three that people may still be processing, I'll pos..."Don't worry, I won't rush to judge Grushenka. On the contrary, I'm intrigued by her character. She was characterized in such a conflicted way in the last book and now she's merited the first, or at least the most, extensive physical description from the narrator.
In the scene with Katerina Ivanovna and Grushenka - the difference in how they're called is enough to highlight the difference in their social status - KI acts with unexpected affection toward Grushenka. Her behavior causes Alyosha to blush. Grushenka is pleased at being kissed and KI does it in rapture, "perhaps too much rapture," thinks Alyosha. It seems quite sexual to me. The questions running through my head on this page went: "Are they genuinely affectionate? Is one acting and the other genuine? Are they both affecting friendship? Depending on which, is one or both trying to manipulate the other? If so, are they aware of the other's manipulation?" The sexual charge to the scene, if I'm right in reading it that way, suggests manipulation. It's a complex set of possibilities all set up by the previous book's gossip and ambivalence toward each, especially Grushenka whose appearance at KI's home is entirely unexpected. Masterfully done.
Jacob wrote: " Grushenka is pleased at being kissed and KI does it in rapture, "perhaps too much rapture," thinks Alyosha. It seems quite sexual to me" ... The sexual charge to the scene, if I'm right in reading it that way, suggests manipulation. My first impulse was to read Katerina's affection for Grushenka as homoerotic. It's not only the kissing, but also the fact that the narrator tells us Katerina seemed to be in love with Grushenka. But that's probably a misreading, and I think that you're correct that this is two coy women trying to outmaneuver each other, though I still hold the possibility that Katernia is sincere.
But the sexual tension raises a question I can't answer. If Dostoevsky was trying to code a character or scene as homoerotic, what would be our clue? I don't want to project our world of gender and sexual fluidity onto a 19th century text. But I also want to go where the text takes me. Perhaps Grushenka's seductive power is such that she draws both men and women to her.
Has anyone else noticed how the mood/atmosphere of the novel shifted/heightened in book three? Early on we have the mystery Fyodor-Lizaveta-Smerdyakov, though I have a strong suspicion we know the truth of the matter. Then toward the end of the section Grushenka tells Alyosha that she has a story to tell him. Even before that, as Thomas noted, there's an air of intrigue in having Grushenka mysteriously appear from behind a curtain. And in the middle of the section Alyosha has an encounter with Ivan that makes him uncomfortable, though he can't say why. Building on the theme of duplicity and misdirection in book two, mysteries and cryptic statements abound in book three.And I think that brings us back to the mysterious bow that Father Zossima gave Dmitri. I was surprised by the interpretations people gave it in the book two discussion thread; at least in light of the fact that we did have a character (Rakitin) interpret the bow for us - that it signified an impending crime. But most of the comments resisted Rakitin's explanation. Has anyone changed their mind now that Dmitri has thrashed his father? However we interpret the bow it seems that some characters like Father Zossima and Alyosha (as Everyman pointed out in Alyosha's reaction to Grushenka) have some sort of spiritual discernment that enables them to perceive what others cannot.
It felt like a relief when the book closed with Lise's letter and Alyosha's prayer. It will be interesting to see if the tension continues to wax and wane.
Jeremy wrote: " Perhaps Grushenka's seductive power is such that she draws both men and women to her." Yes, I think that is it. Young girls "in love" with other young girls isn't necessarily always sexual. Sometimes it is just an exaggerated (and condescending) fondness (as for a beautiful doll), other times there is an aesthetic fascination with the looks and manners of the other girl.
As I said in the book 2 thread, I thought the bow gesture was that of a wise man bowing to a fool (or one who likes to play the fool). It is, I think, a kind of charm to prevent the friends of the wise man becoming too indignant over the lack of respect shown to the elder. Essentially, it prevents the wise man falling victim to hubris. Anyway, sometimes "the fool" really is the wiser one (as in a shakespearean fool) so it is best to pay homage to him/her rather than get too proud and indignant. I mentioned the myth of Hubris and Narcissus (edit: & Nemesis) in another thread. I think it applies here (whether D intentionally used the myth or even knows of it is another matter, not necessarily important to the interpretation of the gesture).
Everyman wrote: "..Is it possible that Alyosha is more attuned to the inner Grushenka than to the outward attractiveness that may be more noticeable to the other men in the situation? ."Maybe. I am comfortable just thinking of Alyosha as being a young, naive, very impressionable, and sensitive man. some folks are almost pathologically sensitive and they seem more so in their youth than later in life.
If I wanted to second guess D's intentions with the way he draws the character of Alyosha, I'd speculate that as Alyosha was the name of his deceased son, and as D introduced all his characters to us from the inside out (describing their inner worlds before describing their appearances or environments), it is plausible that he projects onto Alyosha a talent for connecting to people (including Grushenka) on an inner level. Alternatively, some of D's characters in this novel seem unable to connect to people on an inner level. Ivan, for example, comes off as being a bit clueless and detached at times...
Isn't it curious how two individuals, born of the same two parents, can be so different as Alyosha and Ivan seem to be? Curious also, how sometimes they seem have to nothing in common with either parent.
Ami wrote: "Theresa wrote: ".It is also becoming increasingly obvious that both Dmitri and Fyodor are misogynists. Nor does Katerina have much respect for her fellow females: they are either saintly angels or conniving sluts. .."Ami wrote: "Yes, but Dmitri has a redeeming factor...He has a conscience, feeling guilt and remorse for his misdeeds and treatment of Katerina. ."
But is guilt really a redeeming factor where hate is concerned (the definition of a misogynist is one who hates women, a bit different from a mere sexist)? As discussed in the previous thread, sometimes our very conscience drives us to hate people we have wronged...
Everyman wrote: "But I'm beginning to think that for me, at least, this is one of those books that you can't read for the first time until you have read it. ..."Smiling out loud!
Theresa wrote: "As I said in the book 2 thread, I thought the bow gesture was that of a wise man bowing to a fool (or one who likes to play the fool). It is, I think, a kind of charm to prevent the friends of the ..."I made some noise about Zosima's bow in the last book, but it's hard to ignore it after hearing about Katerina Ivanovna's bow to Dmitri, his insistence - his far too persistent insistence - that Alyosha bow to KI to indicate Dmitri's shame, and KI's reaction when she finds out that Dmitri really did insist on the bow. We have good reason to believe that Dmitri's reaction to Zosima's bow was because of the guilt he felt toward KI - especially hearing Zosima's baseless but prophetic "Forgive me!"
Theresa wrote: "Maybe. I am comfortable just thinking of Alyosha as being a young, naive, very impressionable, and sensitive man. some folks are almost pathologically sensitive and they seem more so in their youth than later in life. "On the one hand, yes, he's portrayed very innocently; on the other hand, he doubts his own innocence and is extraordinarily generous toward the "sinners" in his life for someone who is genuinely naive. A naive person would be, I think, more shocked and more reactive. I don't want to overstate this though.
I do wondered what Alyosha meant when he told Dmitri that he was one rung up the same ladder of sensuality. Is he admitting that he has a side to his character that we haven't yet seen? That he's a full blooded Karamazov? Or is this guilt at some feelings he has for Lize? The last paragraph of Book III suggests the latter, when he thinks that his warm smile toward Lize's confession is sinful. In that case, Alyosha's admitted sensuality - I dismiss any guilt as being too puritanical - only make me more sympathetic toward his innocence, purity, and goodness.
Did we ever get a sense how big this town is or where it is located? I picture it as a small provincial community where everybody pretty much knows everybody else. Lizaveta would have been known by everyone since childhood and they know she is pretty harmless and vulnerable, though she isn't aware of it. This combination of familiarity and vulnerability compels people to be charitable towards her. This is a very different setting than the vast anonymity of our (mega) cities and endless suburbs where the plight of people gets lost.
I also think it´s a small town where everybody know each other. The narrator probably described so
Jacob wrote: Anyone else stuck by his singular style? And gripped by it? I'm rarely so spellbound by a novel. reply | flag *
"
Yes, I am loving the styles
Jacob wrote: In the scene with Katerina Ivanovna and Grushenka - the difference in how they're called is enough to highlight the difference in their social status - KI acts with unexpected affection toward Grushenka. Her behavior causes Alyosha to blush. Grushenka is pleased at being kissed and KI does it in rapture, "perhaps too much rapture," thinks Alyosha. It seems quite sexual to me. The questions running through my head on this page went: "Are they genuinely affectionate? Is one acting and the other genuine? Are they both affecting friendship? Depending on which, is one or both trying to manipulate the other? If so, are they aware of the other's manipulation?" The sexual charge to the scene, if I'm right in reading it that way, suggests manipulation. It's a complex set of possibilities all set up by the previous book's gossip and ambivalence toward each, especially Grushenka whose appearance at KI's home is entirely unexpected. Masterfully done. Catierina kissed Grushenka in the mouth a few times, quite sexually to me.But if she was trying to seduce her, she wouldn`t do it in front of Aliócha, would she? It got me wondering if this was normal in Russia at that time haha
I do wondered what Alyosha meant when he told Dmitri that he was one rung up the same ladder of sensuality. Is he admitting that he has a side to his character that we haven't yet seen? That he's a full blooded Karamazov? Or is this guilt at some feelings he has for Lize? The last paragraph of Book III suggests the latter, when he thinks that his warm smile toward Lize's confession is sinful. In that case, Alyosha's admitted sensuality - I dismiss any guilt as being too puritanical - only make me more sympathetic toward his innocence, purity, and goodness.Yes, I think he has feelings for her, andd that makes him nervous and guilty. But even if it wasn`t that I think he would still believe he is not better than his family and is a sinner, after all, he is very humble. And I think it was his friend Rakitin, who said he was a virgin.
Theresa wrote: " Young girls "in love" with other young girls isn't necessarily always sexual. Sometimes it is just an exaggerated (and condescending) fondness (as for a beautiful doll), other times there is an aesthetic fascination with the looks and manners of the other girl"I like this interpretation (one has to be a woman to know for sure though!). I honestly don't find anything sexual in that episode. When we kiss our children or nephews and nieces, is it sexual?
If you think it is, then reconsider and think it as just an old Russian thing:). I don't insist, I may be wrong. It just never crossed my mind as something sexual when i read the episode. I am afraid we forget how differently we read expressions of sexuality in each other today from how it was done in 19th century. And yes, the Russian habits of expressing friendship and fondness add to misunderstanding, too, I guess.
Jacob wrote: "Anyone else stuck by his singular style? And gripped by it? I'm rarely so spellbound by a novel. "I am gripped too. So far it has exceeded my expectations.
I am trying to slow down, not to be to much ahead of the group.
The thing that I am quite busy these days helps.
Jacob wrote: "Jeremy wrote: "I had planned on posting this later, after the anticipated attacks on Grushenka had begun, but since there's quite a bit that takes place in book three that people may still be proce..."On the surface, I think Katerina was bring sincere, but both woman are manipulative. I think women of that time period ( and others) had no power base and they learned to use tactics that are manipulative to get what they want. Those that are the best at it, you don't even notice that is what they are doing. And if successful in getting their desires whether a man, material things, social status etc, they pass on those ways to their daughters, nieces, confidantes.... The more affluent the more prevalent & discreet the behavior. In Grushenka's case, more obvious but also I wouldn't be surprised if it all started in the need to survive. Her taunting and threat more base.
as Jacob @14 mentioned of finding Grushenka at Katarina's house was quite the surprise! And the ensuing scene fascinating.
I am leery of Grushenka. We may not know a whole lot about her yet, but she does come across as a cunning, manipulative opportunist. The havoc and destruction such people can cause is not to be underestimated. Dostoevsky's physical description of her, the indication that her youthful beauty is but fleeting is the physical manifestation of the opportunist. In the short term she may be quite successful, like a flash in a pan - bright, noticeable, primal. Men are drawn to her like moths to the flame. In the long-term the toll, the charred remains of the infatuation that cost so much become visible. Beauty is nowhere to be found.
Rivals, like Katerina, are burned by the opportunist to be neutralized. I wonder how Katerina will react to this unprovoked attack. Will she retreat and lick her wounds, or will she run a counter offensive? My hunch is to the latter.
Kerstin wrote: "I am leery of Grushenka. We may not know a whole lot about her yet, but she does come across as a cunning, manipulative opportunist. The havoc and destruction such people can cause is not to be und..."Thanks, I hadn't made the connection between the physical description of Grushenka and her capricious character. Physical description never seems to be an end in itself for Dostoevsky. It's either the bare minimum for the plot or, in this case, to provide an opportunity to reflect obliquely on the internal qualities of his character. It's a helpful point and I'll have to keep it in mind when I encounter other descriptions.
Kerstin wrote: "Dostoevsky's physical description of her, the indication that her youthful beauty is but fleeting is the physical manifestation of the opportunist. ..."I read that more as having to do with a certain kind of specifically Russian "beauty" (as opposed to, for example, Scandinavian). The suggestion was that it was a sort of physical beauty that fades by the age of 30. That perhaps the woman becomes a bit thick, and fat, or stout. I recall Tolstoy describing one of his main characters in W&P as having become less beautiful (but more hearty and happy) as a married woman with children, aprox in her late 20s or early 30s.
I could be wrong, I will read the passage again, but I thought D did describe Grushenka's youthful beauty as being a Russian characteristic.
Jeremy wrote: "Has anyone else noticed how the mood/atmosphere of the novel shifted/heightened in book three? Early on we have the mystery Fyodor-Lizaveta-Smerdyakov, though I have a strong suspicion we know the ..."Jacob wrote: "Theresa wrote: "As I said in the book 2 thread, I thought the bow gesture was that of a wise man bowing to a fool (or one who likes to play the fool). It is, I think, a kind of charm to prevent the..."
Theresa wrote: "Everyman wrote: "..Is it possible that Alyosha is more attuned to the inner Grushenka than to the outward attractiveness that may be more noticeable to the other men in the situation? ."
Maybe. I ..."
Jacob wrote: "Bigollo wrote: "D’s reality is not quite real..."
It's not only the characters that are extreme but so are their behaviors and words. "Frenzy" is a word D has used often; almost everyone is in con..."
Everyman wrote: "Jeremy wrote: "Katerina appears to be nearly as in love with the girl as Fyodor and Dmitri are. But Alyosha is not, for we are told “A violent revulsion passed over [him].”."
Which seems unusual f..."
@ EverymanIs it possible that Alyosha is more attuned to the inner Grushenka than to the outward attractiveness that may be more noticeable to the other men in the situation?
Aloysha appears to be very intuitive, in general; so he very well may notice more than meets the eye compared to others who fail to look deeper than what's on the surface. I thought this (Aloysha being intuitive) was also the reasoning behind being asked to leave the monastery by Zossima...Having the ability to do more good outside it, especially for his family.
@JacobAnyone else stuck by his singular style? And gripped by it? I'm rarely so spellbound by a novel.
I "am" struck by the "sensational" flare of the narrative. I really thought I was reading something by my tried and true Wilkie Collins, as the approach is consistently being embraced...It is a pleasant surprise. However, sensational writing can be "over the top" as it magnifies high drama; this in conjunction to the extreme and antipodal characteristics seen in each of the characters, the novel at times is rather overwhelming to read and digest. I did have to read Book III more than once.
@TheresaAlternatively, some of D's characters in this novel seem unable to connect to people on an inner level. Ivan, for example, comes off as being a bit clueless and detached at times...Isn't it curious how two individuals, born of the same two parents, can be so different as Alyosha and Ivan seem to be? Curious also, how sometimes they seem have to nothing in common with either parent.
I agree there are characters who seem unable to connect on a deeper level, but they connect on their own levels, and perhaps even on levels that we as readers do not see as of yet. Each brother represents a specific embodiment within all of us... Aloysha would relate to the inner being within us, or our soul; Ivan our mental prowess, or intelligence; and Dmitri speaks to our fervor and compulsion. These are the characteristics that are magnified in the narrative, but isn't there more to them than what is obvious? At one point or another, our narrator mentions how he nor others (I think?) seem to understand the connection between Fyodor and Ivan and Aloysha because they outwardly are quite different; surely, it's not a bond forged by a shared interest in drinking and foolishness, worldly conversations and matters of intelligence, or the belief in God and soulfulness...But they "do" get along. I cant help but attribute their cohesiveness to having a deeper connection, on some level...No?
I don't think it's curious at all for Aloysha and Ivan to be born of the same parents, or to have nothing in common with their parents...It's unfortunate, maybe; but sometimes what binds siblings, or family in general, is the DNA we share...That's it.
But is guilt really a redeeming factor where hate is concerned (the definition of a misogynist is one who hates women, a bit different from a mere sexist)? As discussed in the previous thread, sometimes our very conscience drives us to hate people we have wronged...
No, but having a conscience is, it shows there is a vulnerability present; and yes it may drive us to hate people we have wronged but it gives me a glimmer of hope for that person, there is the potential for good. To be tortured by one's misdeeds, as I see Dmitri is (do you? you may have said and I missed it. give me the message # and I'll take a look :), shows evidence of an internal fight between good and evil. Unlike Smerdyakov who shows no remorse...Killing cats as a child, isn't that the beginnings of a sociopath-I just thought J. Dahmer the whole time. Fyodor, I'm still on the fence about a conscience present in him...His self deprecation and Zossima's observation (for Fyodor to not lie to himself), could Fyodor's loud and boisterous harangues be a cry for help. Fyodor is never held accountable for any of his actions by "anybody" in the novel thus far, he is sadly a poor form of entertainment it feels...Isn't society enabling his supposed ignorance and morally corrupt behavior?
As I said in the book 2 thread, I thought the bow gesture was that of a wise man bowing to a fool (or one who likes to play the fool). It is, I think, a kind of charm to prevent the friends of the wise man becoming too indignant over the lack of respect shown to the elder. Essentially, it prevents the wise man falling victim to hubris.
Through Book III, this novel has been full of those grand gestures. I thought when Zossima bowed to Dmitri it was because he saw an eminent failing and an unfortunate event on the horizon for Dmitri, thus his family. Him bowing is showing humility for the circumstance, but also a means to stop chaos in the room. If I remember correctly, Zossima genuflected in front of Dmitri in the midst of a fierce argument between father and son? This action of his, although deliberate, I didn't think it had anything to do with "him" or as you say "to prevent Zossima falling victim to hubris." It was a selfless action, a distraction. When he bowed, it took the attention away from the argument and enabled all involved to reflect upon and conclude how asinine they were behaving. I am of the belief, Zossima was genuinely trying to put out a fire, he was acting in a selfless manner. In Book II, before this embarrassing display, the meeting between Fyodor and Zossima couldn't be a better example of two characters who are the antithesis of one another; as one approaches life dedicating it to the betterment of himself, while the other lives for the betterment of others.
@JeremyAnd I think that brings us back to the mysterious bow that Father Zossima gave Dmitri. I was surprised by the interpretations people gave it in the book two discussion thread; at least in light of the fact that we did have a character (Rakitin) interpret the bow for us - that it signified an impending crime.
Rakitin's account of the incident to Aloysa read to me as if Rakitin has some ulterior motive thus painting a very flawed picture of the reasoning behind Zossima's bow. Although, I do agree with what he says Zossima foresees, I still disagree behind the motivation for bowing. I think what Rakitin says is Zossima did it for show to prevent anybody from saying Zossima didn't foresee a tragic event on the horizon for the Karamazov family...Is this right? I also think there's something worse in store for us and the Karamazov family, the altercation at Fyodor's house is only an amuse bouche.
Ami wrote: " it gives me a glimmer of hope for that person, there is the potential for good..."Yes, I agree. Having a conscience is a better starting place than ignorance. Having just met Smerdyakov in this book, I'm not yet willing to say whether he has a conscience or not. The cat killing is not a good thing, yet it is worth remembering that cat killing was a sport prior to the 1800s, practiced by all sorts of God fearing people. No doubt Smerdyakov will indeed turn out to be a sociopath, maybe even a psychopath. He does also seem to have many of the characteristics of natural born chefs (nothing to do with sociopaths, just another observation).
The bow: sorry, I was confused, I seem to have misread the passage and thought that Zossima had bowed to Fyodor. Dmitri had not being "playing the fool' so my assessment of the bow was based on the wrong assumption.
Theresa wrote: "Ami wrote: " it gives me a glimmer of hope for that person, there is the potential for good..."Yes, I agree. Having a conscience is a better starting place than ignorance. Having just met Smerdya..."
Dmitri had not being "playing the fool' so my assessment of the bow was based on the wrong assumption.
No need to apologize, maybe Dmitri is being a fool as well...I don't know. His lover's triangle is foolish enough...Wouldn't you say? :)
Having just met Smerdyakov in this book, I'm not yet willing to say whether he has a conscience or not.
I'm glad to know of the cat killing (I think :S, I know I'll never forget it, that's for sure. LOL!) as it pertains to the sport and perhaps as an alternative to my original thoughts on Smerdyakov. His conversation with Grigory and Fyodor, I guess out of left field, since neither of them realized Smerdyakov has the potential to be so insightful, cut like a sharp knife. Besides attempting to appeal to Ivan's intellect, didn't it seem as if Smerdyakov has some sort of grand scheme in play with all of the warnings for Grigory?
Smerdyakov seems to have figured out a loophole for the commission of sins that doesn't involve confession.
Reading how Smerdyakov defines the various justifications of God's forgiveness of the sin of renouncing God reminded me of this quote:“It is finally only the fiend who doth truly worship God, as the felon adores the hangman, for the one is defined by the other.
Berger, Thomas. Arthur Rex: A Legendary Novel (Kindle Locations 1281-1282). Open Road Media. Kindle Edition.
I was impressed in book 3 by the theatrical atmosphere - complete with actors behind curtains! Those were the heydays of European theatre, and the fashion may well have influenced D.’s early post-realistic writing. The theatricality is also reflected in some of the characters, especially in Katarina Ivanovna. She seems to have chosen the role of her father’s and then Dmitry’s saving angel. Quite irrespective of Dmitry’s (and I guess also her father’s) sentiments and needs.
The counterpart of Katerina’s masochism is Grushenka’s sadism. I think Kersten (@32) is right that her physiognomy indicates the rot at the core. The female as a destructive force was also fashionable in the late 19th century, an expression of male insecurity enhanced by 'Victorian' sexual repression.
A writer may want to balance and explain such female aggression with a subplot of abuse and rejection. In fact Dmitry does exactly that with his story of the girl he casually seduced (knowing that she expected a marriage proposal): it could be Grushenka’s story.
The return of the bow! Dmity’s verbal but emphatic bow before Katerina must have something to do with Zosima’s bow before Dmitry.The word here may be 'guilt'. In Dmitry’s case this guilt is quite concrete, while for Christ-like Zosima it may be a sharing in a universal condition. We will have to wait to find out what precisely triggered Zosima’s act.
"The painter Kramskoy has a remarkable painting entitled The Contemplator: it depicts a forest in winter, and in the forest, standing all by himself on the road, in deepest solitude, a stray little peasant in a ragged caftan and bast shoes; he stands as if he were lost in thought, but he is not thinking, he is “contemplating” something."
Theresa wrote: "It is also becoming increasingly obvious that both Dmitri and Fyodor are misogynists. ...."I believe that you are being too hard on both of them in this case, (although it is perhaps difficult to be too hard on someone as morally bankrupt as Fyodor Pavlovich,) but their problem isn't with hating women. In a sense, this does hint at one of their great common weaknesses, but much discussed in this section with regard to Dmitri.
Dmitri, although certainly a model of a man of the flesh, is not without his limits by any means. When Alyosha meets him, he has been repeating Glory to God in the world, glory to God in me.... ,
He is described as overstimulated and has been drinking a half bottle of brandy, yet says he isn't drunk. Whatever he is, he is certainly excited.
Nevertheless, here is a man who is living his very idea of passion in his life as if it were the one thing that made him feel alive. I was reminded of a Hemingway quote:
It is a rare feeling to be in love. But to believe that one has no greater purpose than to be in love, that is perhaps the rarest feeling of all.
I suppose most of us understand how Dmitri must feel...and how much he enjoys feeling this way. For Dmitri, it isn't that he doesn't understand right and wrong. In fact he had a very strong sense of right and wrong. It is simply that he enjoys having his strong natural passion for life, (and, yes, the flesh, earthly things,) overcome his sense of right and wrong. Unlike his father, he comes to the conclusion of what right and wrong actions are, but he hates to come off his cloud to do it.
He even wants his saintly brother to go to Katerina and tell her that their marriage is not to be. He doesn't want to marry a good woman with a good family with money: he wants only someone for whom he has passion at the moment.
Dmitri is a very principled man but one who would rather live in passion.
Ah Alyosha, what a pity you cannot understand ecstasy
Perhaps one doesn't really understand ecstasy at all, but only senses it. This, after all, makes Dmitri blind as to know what to do and is one of the reasons it makes him such a tragic character.
I suspect that Father Zossima saw that he would have to endure tremendous suffering before he was able to understand this himself.
David wrote: "Smerdyakov seems to have figured out a loophole for the commission of sins that doesn't involve confession."I think this is an important section. And the discussion of the "faith of the Russian peasant" is probably important too.
Smerdyakov develops a complex argument to show that if you deny Christ in order to avoid death then you haven't done anything wrong. (I have to paraphrase since I don't the book available). Because by the time you speak the words to deny Christ you've already, in your mind at least, shown that you don't have faith. Therefore you must be judged as one who does not have faith since you're not subject to the same judgment as the believer. I'll leave it to others to debate if this is good theology or not.
What I found interesting was that as the conversation on faith unfolded Smerdyakov showed that he had an extremely literal understanding of Jesus' words about having faith to move mountains. Smerdyakov didn't understand the words as hyperbole or metaphor - he means real, literal mountains. Of course if you insist on a literal interpretation of the passage then it follows that no one has that kind of faith. People aren't moving pebbles into the sea by faith, let alone mountains. But on the verge of his triumph of reason over faith Smerdyakov falters - he concedes that maybe one or two monks in Egypt have that kind of faith - and he effectively undermines his whole argument. And this seems to be what Fyodor is referring to when he talks about Russian faith. Even a skeptic like Smerdyakov has to leave a little crack open for faith.
Rhonda wrote: "I believe that you are being too hard on both of them in this case...Dmitri, although certainly a model of a man of the flesh, is not without his limits by any means. "Too hard on Dmitri? And what are his limits? The man who seduced a woman and then didn't offer the expected proposal of marriage? The man who has dragged Katerina's name through the mud and humiliated her? Who stole three thousand rubles from her and spent it on Grushenka? Who hit the servant who was like to a father to him and then proceeded to attack his own father and threaten to kill him? I don't care what pious phrases he was repeating. I don't even care that he seems to feel guilty about what he did. He's 28? Certainly old enough to take responsibility for his actions. Did Fyodor cheat him? Probably. But it was Dmitri's fault. This is like the story of Jacob and Esau. Esau comes into the tents and tells Jacob that he wants something to eat. Jacob cons him and says sell me your birthright. Esau does so because he was "starving." The truth is he was impetuous. And Dmitri is the same way - he spent all his inheritance on riotous living. Will he prove to be the Prodigal Son and return to his senses? Possibly. But at this moment what we know is that he ruins women and nearly murdered his father. I don't think calling him a misogynist goes far enough.
Dmitri is a bit in a philosophical mood and keeps quoting verses in chapter 3. I wonder if they are all of Schiller. Though I couldn't make positive identifications with most. The two easier ones, since there are hints in the text and he recites entire stanzas are "Complaint of Ceres" (Klage der Ceres) and "Ode to Joy" (An die Freude)https://poemsunited.org/poem/the-comp...
https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Transl...
Friedrich Schiller keeps coming up. We've already had mention of "The Robbers" and comparisons to the characters of Karl and Franz Moor.
Fyodor's behavior towards women, as well as his choices in literature and poetry seems to be more calculated to use on others, predatory, opportunistic, and egotistical. Dmitri's behavior seems to be more romantically driven and he may be more motivated by the ideal and the chase than any more sobering long term commitments to them.I find it puzzling that both are infatuated enough at times to want to marry. Is this a sign of the times or is the desire to marry just a symptom of their particular illnesses. :)
Jeremy wrote: "I don't think calling him a misogynist goes far enough."Misogyny is hatred of women, a very accentuating term. And as you rightly summed up above, Dmitriy hates men no less than women; therefore, to call him a misogynist would be misleading. To call him a misanthrope to include all people? That also sounds off the point. An egoist? Too broad, isn't it? Labeling seems doomed business here. 'Dmitriy Karamazov' is becoming quite a sturdy label itself. Can we break it down further? Should we? Is it really the essence of understanding a character?
I'm not sure if Dmitri is a misogynist exactly, or a misanthrope, but he does seem to me the most unbalanced of the four Karamazovs, the one with the least amount of self-control. Fyodor is able to balance his lechery against his greed, because self-interest requires self-control. Ivan is cold and calculating, but he is more than that because he is also capable of affection. Alyosha is the most endearing of the brothers, but he is also, at times, impossibly naive. None of them seems to be a whole man in and of himself, and Dmitri seems the most one-sided of them all. Maybe all three together could be a complete man?
On another point, I was interested in seeing how differently the people in the town treat to the homeless mentally ill Lizaveta compared with how people today tend to treat the homeless and mentally ill. There is, in Dostoevsky, accepted by the community, given clothes and food (even though she promptly gives the clothes away) and "everyone was kind to her, and gave her something." "She would walk into strange houses, and no one drove her away." Was 19th century Russia a kinder, gentler society than our modern society is?
I have been dealing with sort of minutia because I am still trying to process much of this book -- the long discussions between Dmitri (and his bizarre behavior) and Alyosha, the new aspects of Fyodor and then the attack on him, Alyosha's meeting with Katerina and Grushenka. I have barely begun to process it. Maybe others have gotten further than I have.
But I'm beginning to think that for me, at least, this is one of those books that you can't read for the first time until you have read it.
Well, I'll open this Book 3 thread, then go back and start re-reading it while I'm waiting for others here to enlighten me.