
When Fyodor Karamazov, the angry and petty father of Dimitri, Ivan, and Alexey, and the likely sire of the illegitimate Smerdyakov, is found murdered in his home, the lives and philosophies of his sons intertwine as an investigation into his fate is undertaken.
Oh hell, what truly great novel. It’s a long collection of people’s inner monologues, and it’s confusing as hell at first that every Russian has at least three names. But so good.
Before this: The Subtle Art Of Folding Space… biggest pile of shit I’ve read in years. Fuck. So stupid. If you made me pick between reading it again and a Kristin Hannah… I’d just go get my wine glass and basic bitch sweatpants now. It was supposed to be “modern sci fi” it was actually a food snob that seems like they’re in a cult and trying subtly to tell you how everyone else is so fucking stupid except the smart people that choose to be mentally superior to everyone else. Bad bad bad.
This year I also read "The Brothers Karamazov" after having read "Crime and Punishment", "The Idiot" and "Demons" in previous years. It was not an easy read but it stays with you for a long time (or maybe even forever).
Also did some re-reading this year:
"A Gentleman in Moscow" by Amor Towles
"Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius
The thing I love most about Dostoievski is how real everything feels.
A lot of fiction nowadays is based on: how the character portrays himself/how he thinks about himself/who he really is.
And a lot of resolution is about finding out who he really is, or about other characters finding that out and accepting that (usually immediately). Followed by emotional chatharsis and resolution.
In Dostoievski it feels like a lot of the character are chasing that idea and simply finding out it's not true. They will give long speeches about who they really are, expectijg emotional chatharsis, only for none to come. And they react by feeling resentful towards their confidants, or towards themselves. Or shameful. And then they also react to their reaction.
There is no gold character core waiting to be resolved, and a reveleation is usually just a very awkward monologue.
With one exception (Musset's Lorenzaccio), every single book my teachers gave me to read felt like a boring chore.
But when I try Crime and Punishment at 17 by myself, I loved it so much that I immediately purchased The Brothers Karamazov (and loved it even more).
I can guarantee that if it had been a school assignment, I wouldn't have made it past page 50.
