Ilyushechka's Resurrection and Alyosha's Speech

I was trying to decipher the meaning of Alyosha's speech following the funeral of little Ilyushechka Snegiryov. Since this speech is located at the end of the book, I assume that it is meant to serve as a resolution of the problems and questions prevalent throughout the book. But it is also a sort of introduction of a new life for Alyosha, for Kolya, and perhaps for the book's other characters who are not present. I was confused that during the Speech, Alyosha said that he had "two brothers, of whom one is about to go into exile, and the other is lying on the point of death." (982) Why would he say that Dmitry is going into exile if he is certain that the escape scheme will be a success? Perhaps Alyosha believes that the journey to America will involve the same sort of spiritual abandonment and struggle which imprisonment in Siberia would have? Or perhaps it is not Dmitry who he expects to go into exile. Perhaps when he says that one brother lies "on the point of death," he expects Dmitry to be killed during the escape attempt and that Ivan shall have to go into exile to resolve the questions which are torturing him about the uncertainty of God and his guilt regarding the death of his father.

Anyway, I think it is significant that Alyosha's speech follows Kolya's comment that he would give anything to have Ilyushechka resurrected. (981) In essence, Alyosha's speech is a call for each of the boys to "resurrect" Ilyushechka through their own lives, to live FOR him. He asks the boys to remember that Ilyushechka was kind and brave for standing up for his father, and for bearing their insults. (982-83) By asking the boys to not forget each other, Alyosha is giving them a second chance to love one another as brothers and friends, to redeem themselves for failing to include Ilyushechka in that brotherhood. It is particularly important that he contrdicts Kolya's remark to Kartashov that no one cares whether or not he exists. Alyosha realizes that if he is to redeem these boys and make them into a band of brothers, as it were, he must remove any sense of superiority in them and teach them to be "magnanimous" and "modest" (984). I think, therefore, that Alyosha is trying to resurrect Ilyushechka in the form of Kolya, to teach Kolya how to become the boy and the man whom Ilyushechka would have grown into had he lived.  

Killing Him with Kindness

One of the most infuriating things about this novel was seeing Katerina Ivanovna try to remain with Mitya despite the latter's constant disrespect to her. The mere fact that he chose Grushenka over her should have given Katerina enough reason to go immediately to the public procurator with Mitya's "mathematically" incriminating letter. But instead she waited until Ivan's reputation was in jeopardy to finally cut ties with "that monster and murderer" (881).

This woman's silly mind games puts her at number 2 on my list of exasperating and obnoxious characters (Mrs. Khokhlakova, of course, occupies the number 1 spot). But I cannot understand just what she was thinking! Obviously, her affections proved more loyal to Ivan, or else she would not have condemned Mitya to save him. But why bother protecting Mitya in the first place? She claims that she "wanted to save him, because he hated me so much and despised me so much" (880). Is Katerina a masochist who enjoys be tormented, or does she feel that being a victim gives her some form of moral superiority, the way Christ was spit on by the crowd? Perhaps she wanted Mitya to feel that he owed her one.

Remember her earlier monologue in the "Crack-up in the Drawing Room" chapter. It was here that Katerina announced her plan to "shadow him relentlessly" until he became disillusioned with Grushenka and crawled back to her. "I shall be his god, to whom he will say his prayers....And may he perceive all his life that I shall be faithful to him and to the promise I gave him, even though he was unfaithful and false to me." (248) In other words, it was Katya's intention to kill Mitya with kindness.

When she took his money and bowed to him, Katerina was humiliated by Dmitry's charity. Like Snape who was saved from werewolf/Lupin by his archenemy James, she hated being in his debt. And after Grushenka reminded her of her debt to Mitya, she resolved to place Mitya in an equally inferior position by turning the other cheek and giving him her cloak in addition to her tunic. Some think that Christ's admonition against revenge is an invitation to be weak, but when it is directed towards a person who truly feels regret, it can be a very painful revenge. Nothing hurts a remorseful criminal worse than being forgiven by someone who has every right to hate him. In Katerina's mind, Mitya would have to live his life out knowing that he owed his salvation to her silence, and that would be enough for her - to have him spend everyday silently praising the goddess who delivered him from his just death.

Movie: When reading the book, I did not envision it snowing; but then again it is Russia.I remember Isham telling us that when he was translating a novel, Dostoevsky had to change the amount of snow being described, because what would seem like much snow in the author's native country would seem like a slight frost to a Russian.
And about the miniseries, did you notice that as Dmitry is being led to the prison, Katerina is standing with Ivan and Grushenka with Alyosha? What does this symbolize? Grushenka and Alyosha both believe in Mitya's innocence, but then again so does Ivan. Do you think that Ivan's close encounter with Mitya is meant to be taken as a subtle apology for having uttered the philosophical theory which (according to Smerdyakov) placed his brother in the situation he is in?

Neurochemistry in Dostoevsky's Writings

During Dostoevsky's time, Russia was undergoing a subtle-kind of enlightenment. Still very much a medieval country, Russia's government was very autocratic and valued religious tradition over modern scientific thought. Yet there was an unofficial class of society, the intelligentsia, who studied the progressive theories and political philosophies of Europe, and tried to revolutionize their country through their public writings. One of the issues which the intelligentsia - who are represented by Rakitan in the book - seek to resolve is the issue of whether human beings can truly be held responsible for their actions, or if their actions are simply the result of external forces which influenced their development.

In Chapter 4, Rakitan attempts to enlist Mitya's help in using the publicity of the latter's trial to advance the cause of nature over nurture. "He wants to write something with a progressive tendency," says Mitya, "that says something like: 'He couldn't help committing murder, he'd fallen prey to his environment." (752) But Rakitan's presence raises the debate to a level much more fundamental than nature vs. nurture: it is a question of whether men are influenced by spiritual forces or by a more natural force.

Mitya associates Rakitan's brand of socialism with chemistry by referring to its adherents as "Bernards", a reference to Claude Bernard, a chemist who appears to have regarded humans as more as animalistic beasts than as spiritual beings. (752, 1008n3) Mitya hints to Alyosha that chemistry, with its new theories regarding the influence of neurotransmitters over human action, threatens religion's monopoly on moral teaching. "Your Reverence, you must move over a little, chemistry is coming!" (753) Mitya seems to have been somewhat persuaded by Rakitan's argument when he comments that there are devils with tails "in the nerves inside my head". (753) But he cannot admit that God and spirituality are completely dispensable in the grand scheme of human survival. When he looks forward to spending his life in penal servitude, Mitya professes that he will need the belief in God to sustain him, to help him believe that his life is not void of meaning. (756-57) Dostoevsky himself would understand the necessity of having a spiritual belief system in order to persevere, seeing as he himself was faced with the type of banal existence which Mitya contemplates.

This reminds me of Ivan's comment that if God did not exist, man would be justified in creating Him. It is true that it does nothing in the way of proving God's existence to say that He is comes in handy when we are in need of a reason to transcend our boring, earthly existence. But it supports the notion that the invention of God was inevitable in the history of the human race, that we are not equipped by nature to keep from going crazy in a nihilistic world - and therefore have no choice but to create a mythology which will serve as a type of analgesic in times of suffering.

Did Kolya Actually Read Anything?

In Book X, we are introduced to precocious little Kolya Krasotkin, who seems to dazzle everyone with his encyclopedic knowledge and professorial vocabulary. Kolya is indeed well-spoken and obviously possesses above average intelligence. But I wonder just how well-read the boy actually is? We read him think to himself "And what if he discovers that that issue of The Bell ... is the only thing in it I have read?" (710) This statement implies that out of every volume or text passed down to him by his father, Kolya has only read this single literary journal. This seems at odds with what the narrator initially led us to believe about him.

Let us examine the first mentioning of Kolya's reading habits on page 660: "His father had left behind him a book-cupboard in which there was a number of books; Kolya was fond of reading and had already read some of them on his own." We learn further on page 663 that Kolya "had read the section dealing with the founders of Troy in Smaragdov's History". So Kolya has indeed read from texts in the cupboard other than The Bell - our narrator has established that beyond doubt. But I still wonder - has Kolya ever actually finished a book?

The boy is embarrassed to confess to Alyosha that he only read a reference to Eugene Onegin after he had implied that he had read the entire novel. It seems to me that Kolya's thought about only reading The Bell, combined with his fear at appearing less well-read than he appears, is indicative of the fact that he has never read an entire book cover-to-cover. He is one of those sycophants and pretenders who skims books which intellectuals would read, borrows a few phrases to impress people, and polishes his speech to make everyone believe that he is a prodigy. Professor Isham mentioned in class that he remembered speaking more grown up in his adolescent years as a means of feeling more mature. I myself remembering trying to sound like a braniac at the dinner table, but all I was really doing was making a fool out of myself. In the end, that is what Kolya is doing to himself, and when the time comes when his pretended knowledge is called upon, he will be left without a leg to stand on.

The Public Procurator

Friends, I apologize for not posting a blog last week, it was inexcusable. The good news is that I am now reading "Crime and Punishment" and am half-way through the book. I also happened to notice a couple of similarities between the murder by Raskolnikov of a pawnbroker and the murder mystery in which Dmitry Fyodorovich now finds himself. For starters, Dmitry was seriously contemplating suicide shortly before being found by the police; in "C&P" a painter who is wrongly accused of the pawnbroker's murder is found preparing to hang himself before being apprehended by the police. I wonder if this is Dostoevsky's way of hinting to his fans that Dmitry is not the killer?

Returning to my theory that Smerdyakov may be the killer, I would like to point out that Dr. Varvinsky mentioned that Smerdyakov's fit is lasting much longer than most epileptic episodes (587). This increases my suspicion that he is faking to avoid being accused of the murder. Also, in "C&P" Raskalnikov suffered a long series of fainting spells while trying to process the reality that he had actually murdered another human being.I believe that Smerdyakov's "fit" may be a genuine physical response to his having killed Fyodor and that the reason it appears so long to the Doctor is that his previous one was a fake; the doctor of course puts the chronology of the fake fit and that of the real one together!

Now, I turn your attention to the public procurator Ippolit Kirillovich. It is interesting that Dostoevsky puts his age at 35 - the very same age as Porfiry, the magistrate who engages Raskalnikov in a game of wits! This may be a deliberate comparison, or else Dostoevsky simply likes his sleuths to be middle-aged. His mind, we are told, is "very solid," and he possesses "a special knowledge of the human soul, a special gift for the analysis of the criminal and of his crime." (581) It is interesting that Dostoevsky describes this special analytical power as "artistic" because John Douglas, the former head of the FBI's profiling unit - whose job is remarkably similar to Kirillovich's -  in his book "Mindhunter", more than once compared forensic profiling to the ability of an art appreciator to step into the mind of a painter and feel empathy with how he felt applying his brush to canvas. This is a clear example of hoe Dostoevsky was both a competent psychoanalyst and far ahead of his time in the field of studying the human mind.

Why did the Onion break?

I am glad that we got a chance to learn more about Grushenka in this reading. Dostoevsky's characters seem to be too complicated to be labeled as simply heroes or villains; they each have a little good and bad mixed into them, and it would have been a shame to have had Grushenka represented in no way other than her belittling treatment of Katerina Ivanovna. I think that Agrafena Aleksandrovna is depicted in this scene as a woman trying to fight for her survival and not lose her ability to be a good person in the process. And like all of Dostoevsky's characters, she threw a bit of philosophy into her dialogue.

Grushenka's parable of the onion shares certain themes with the lifestyle of the Elders and their novices. Issues such as sin and redemption, as well as the manner in which one may attain the one in place of the other, play a central role in both Zosima's sermons and Grushenka's fairy tale. In her story, a sinful woman is thrown into Hell with nothing to show for living a virtuous life but the charitable act of giving an onion to a beggarwoman. This onion is to be the lifeline with which she pulls herself out of damnation. It at first seems as if she shall climb out; but as the other sinners try to latch onto her, she becomes selfish and tries to kick them away, which is when the onion breaks sending her back into the pit of fire. (page 456) The central question here is, Why did the onion break?

A simple answer would be that the onion's strength could not support the weight of both the woman and her comrades. But since when have Dostoevsky's riddles been that simple? No, the breaking of the onion would have had to been a result of the woman's own behavior since it is her salvation which was at stake. We are told that she did not share the onion because "she was a wicked-wicked woman" (two wickeds for the price of one!). Because wickedness is an ideal cause for damnation, it is logical that he wicked refusal to share the lifeline was the reason for her being denied rescue. Therefore, the onion broke not out of physics but out of divine judgment. But what does this have to do with the theology of the Eldership and Novicehood?

Zosima has spoken frequently about how Christians must bear the guilt of others, both for their own salvation and for the salvation of the world. He himself appears to have done that when he endured the cruelty of the town in which he lived after he had helped Mikhail find redemption. The reoccurring theme throughout Brothers Karamazov seems to be that a person's salvation does not depend on their looking after only themselves; the true test of whether or not someone goes to Heaven is whether or not they are willing to be their brother's keeper, and thereby seek to save others as ardently as one seeks to save oneself. It is doubtful that a person in Hell could use a past good deed as an escape clause and sign other damned souls on as dependents. But I think that Grushenka's story is metaphorical: it illustrates how one must live in the physical world more than in the afterlife. The message appears to be that one must perform good deeds not out of an expectation of reward, but as a means of influencing the souls of other human beings, and to truly become a messiah as Jesus had been.

I bow to you...

Throughout the book, there has been a recurring motif of bowing. The meaning behind this bizarre act in which on places his/her forehead directly onto the ground before another person has not yet been explained. I had thought that it may have been some provincial Russian custom, but the reactions which certain characters have had to it suggests that it may have a more practical purpose. We first encounter the bow on page 101 when Elder Zosima bows to Dmitry, who runs out of the room, his face covered. It is later revealed that bowing plays an important role in Dmitry's relationship with Katerina: she bows to him after he gives her money and he in turn tells Alyosha to bow to her for him when he seeks to end their betrothal.

Zosima claims on page 369 that his bow to Dmitry was in reference to the latter's "great future suffering". Granted, the old monk may have psychic powers and thus be able to foresee Dmitry's future; in such a case, his bow could be interpreted to mean a gesture of good will or pity, the kind directed towards someone who is about the embark on a dangerous enterprise. But if that was Zosima's motive, what is the meaning of the bows exchanged between Dmitry and Katerina?

I am assuming that Katerina was bowing to Dmitry out of gratitude for the money he gave her, but the circumstances surrounding that event seem to suggest a more spiritual intent. Dmitry describes being awed by Katerina's sense of nobility when she offered herself to him (152). It is likely that when he subsequently refused to make her sleep with him for the money, she too began to view him in this sense of awe and then bowed to him in reverence. It is therefore possible that the act of bowing can be an expression of awe given when one senses an impressive or profound aspect of another person's spirit.
 

Is Smerdyakov the Killer?

After David's infantile complaint that Dostoevsky has failed to get to the 'business' of the book, I asked myself who it will be to perform the deed of murdering Fyodor Pavlovich. After careful consideration, I have concluded that Dmitry is a red herring and that the mastermind of this homicide is in fact going to be the illegitimate son (?) Smerdyakov.

Although I have not yet ascertained Smerdyakov's motive (maybe he is simply a psychopath who delights in doing evil), there are several indications that he may be a sinister force amongst the other characters. First, there is the almost supernatural force of discomfort which he instills in others. After leaving the Khokhlakovas', Alyosha begins experience a clairvoyance that "a terrible and unavoidable catastrophe" will occur (page 291). He has this experience just before encountering Smerdyakov. While it seems a bit of a stretch to blame Smerdyakov for Alyosha's sensation, remember that Ivan is also upset by a vibe which is directly linked to Smerdyakov. Ivan's feeling is described as "an unendurable anguish" (page 345) and, although it is accredited to his annoyance with Smerdyakov's "loathsome familiarity" (347), it may be that there is something palpable emanating from Smerdyakov which signifies an evil trait. If so, this may be why Dostoevsky gave him a name which is a variation of "stinking", as if he is producing an evil odor.

I also find something suspicious about the fact that Smerdyakov told Dmitry the "signals" used to alert Fyodor Pavlovich to Grushenka's presence (page 351-52). However afraid Smerdyakov may be of Dmitry, it is doubtful that he would have allowed his fear to betray the confidence of a man whom he has shown such loyalty to before, as in when he returned Fyodor's lost money (page 168-69). Also, I am unsure whether or not his epilepsy is genuine. Smerdyakov claims to know that he will have a fit the next day, but Ivan points out that "it was supposed to be impossible to anticipate a fit of the falling sickness" (page 350). And Smerdyakov himself hints that he may be pretending when he says that pretending "is very easy for a person with experience" (page 351). I believe Smerdyakov has planned this falling fit to be his alibi, so that he can claim to have been invalid when the murder occurred. Ivan even says that the murder is going to occur "as if according to some design" of Smerdyakov's (page 354).

But why would Smerdyakov want to murder Fyodor Pavlovich? The motive cannot be monetary since his paternity cannot be established. My working theory is that Smerdyakov is trying to commit the perfect murder, as Raskolnikov in Dostoevsky's other novel Crime and Punishment sought to do. The only evidence I have is his affinity for Napoleon, which he expressed when he mentioned that the clever nation of France should have conquered the stupid nation of Russia (page 294). I have not read Crime and punishment but if you will pick up your copy of Karamazov and go the very back pages, you will find an advertisement for the book which tells us that Raskolnikov considers himself to be "a Napoleon: acting for a higher purpose beyond conventional moral law."

What do you think? Is Smerdyakov above conventional morality?

Are the Rich Truly the Strongest?

I do not think I feel sorry for anyone in this book as much as I do for the family of Second Grade Captain Snegiryov. Not only do these people live in a tiny one-room shack and lack the money to pay for proper medical treatment (258-59, 275), but the father and son are publicly humiliated by Dmitry Fyodorovich and are thus forced to relive the torment at the hands of local schoolchildren (267, 269). Having suffered at the hands of a man who enjoys the patronage of a rich father (Ilyusha has no way of knowing about Dmitry and Fyodor's inheritance dispute) it should come as no surprise that Ilyusha should say that "rich people are the strongest people in the world" (271).

Is Ilyusha correct? He has seen firsthand how having money can give someone the luxury of harming people with impunity; but can that be called strength? Personally I would say that the family of this second grade captain has shown more strength in one week than Dmitry Fyodorovich Karamazov has shown in his entire life. If Snegiryov is to be believed, his son was willing to risk making a fool of himself in front of his friends by coming to his father's defense: "On his father's account, and on the account of truth, sir, of justice, sir." His father, likewise, has demonstrated incredible strength by standing by his family to take care of them when it would have been easy from the perspective of a desperate man to challenge his oppressor to a duel and die honorably. This family endures what it has out of love for one another, and from that love, they obtain a strength that Dmitry with his going-from-one-woman-to-the-next does not possess.

Money may make a man powerful. But actual STRENGTH comes from something more.

Is Smerdyakov's point valid?

You remember Stinky, the kid from "Hey Arnold!"? I used to think what person - even a cartoon character - would name their child Stinky? But what was great about the HA episodes centered around Stinky was that even the odd-man-out can do something extraordinary, like when Stinky turned down a $1 million TV deal on principle or when he won that prized pumpkin competition. The thing about guys with unusual names is that they tend to be underestimated.

Dostoevsky has his own Stinky, a cook named Smerdyakov who owes his surname to his mother's sobriquet, "the reeking one". Although Smerdyakov comes from humble (and mysterious) origins and showed no aptitude for long, drawn-out books like Smaragdov's General History, he seems to possess a natural wit and attention to detail. This was evidenced in his childhood when he learned the story of Creation and asked the logical question, Where did the light on the first day come from if God created the sun, moon and stars on the fourth day? (page 166) The violent reaction he received for this question should make it unsurprising that Smerdyakov does not venture into the theological realm until his twenties. But the cleverness with which he responds to his second theological disputation would make one believe that he were a professional seminarian.

Smerdyakov makes the argument on pages 171-76 that a Christian who renounced his faith on pain of torture would have committed no sin. His justification for believing so:
1. The Christian would have had the intention of denying his religion before answering, and therefore been excommunicated before verbally denying. Hence, when he subsequently announced "I am no Christian", he would have told the truth for which God can issue no punishment.
2. If the Christian had faith "the size of a mustard seed" (Matthew 17:20) he would have been able to command a mountain to crush his tormentors, and when he proved unable to perform such a miracle he would know that he had no faith at all to renounce, and thus be guilty of no sin.

While Smerdyakov's argument is clever, it would not convince the most devout Christian - or for that matter the most skilled logician. Smerdyakov would make a great debater, but his style is more akin to the Sophists who made "the weaker argument the stronger" than a serious Socratic. His first point is invalid because, although he would not be punished for lying with his mouth, he would have rejected God in his heart, a sin surely worthy of Hell. And as for the second point, does any Christian seriously believe that Jesus' remark about moving mountains can be interpreted literally? Even the most literal translation of scripture would allow that this phrase was a metaphor for overcoming seemingly impossible challenges, not the physical transference of geological formations.

Smerdyakov would be a first rate stand-up comic, but in our class he's just a stinker!

Up to his old tricks...

Who could forget Fyodor Pavlovich's "final fling" beginning on page 116? I was amazed that any adult, even one so irresponsible and libertine as the Karamazov patriarch, could behave so immaturely for the sole reason of being immature. But despite its flippant implications, Fyodor Pavlovich's behavior raises interesting philosophical questions about the cynical dimension of human nature. I was intrigued by the his comment about the manner in which those who hurt others view their victims: "...while it's true he has done me no harm, I once played a most unscrupulous trick on him, and no sooner had I played it than at once I began to hate him." (116)

What is most surprising is that the hatred which a man like Fyodor Pavlovich feels for those he harms does not precede the harmful act; rather the hatred is a result of the act itself. This raises 2 important questions: 1) why does playing a trick on a person cause him to feel hatred for that person? and 2) what compelled him to play the trick in the first place if not hatred?

It may be that playing a trick on someone would make Fyodor Pavlovich feel superior to that person. Having fooled him, he would be convinced that his mental powers (or more appropriately, his wit) provides him with an advantage over that person, thus allowing him to believe that he has an ability or moral right which separates him from his victim. If Fyodor Pavlovich is able to say or do something which humiliates another man, then he has power - at least in his own eyes - to prevent someone else from feeling completely safe. When comparing himself to someone he has tricked, he would view them as an inferior being, an insect, and he would hate him for being his inferior. But a man may also hate his inferior out of fear that the inferior will rise against him out of envy.

This leads me to the second question, Why did he trick the person in the first place? The simplest answer may be that he felt himself to be the other man's inferior prior to performing the trick. We cannot assume that he tricked the person out of hatred, because he has already stipulated that hatred follows, rather than precedes, the action. An emotion which is related to but not coequal with hatred is fear. Yes, that's it, Fyodor Pavlovich FEARS those he seeks to trick. The trick itself can be viewed as a type of usurpation, of overthrowing the person he fears from  his pedestal and then inserting himself in the empty space.

After having insulted the dinner party, Fyodor Pavolovich is determined to follow Pyotr Aleksandrovich Miusov wherever the latter goes (118). This demonstrates that he now feels that he has power over Miusov, that he is able deny him privacy and the freedom to go anywhere unmolested. But did he fear Miusov prior to this incident? What do you think his feelings toward Miusov were before he burst into the Father Superior's dining hall?  

Chapter 5, The Elders

In Ch5 of "Brothers", readers receive an education pertaining to the elders of the Russian Orthodox Church. The elders are mystical figures who seem to wield extraordinary authority over the lives of devout believers. I am wondering what role Elder Zosima fulfills in relation to Alexsey/Alyosha's journey throughout this book, as well as the boy's life. It may be that this cleric is both a parental substitute both for the absence of Fyodor Pavlovich and the fulfillment of the religious effluence which Alexsey associates with memories of his mother. The latter possibility is hinted at by Dostoevsky: "Or again, it may have been the effect of the oblique rays of the setting sun before the icon towards which his 'wailer' mother had stretched him forth." The potential juxtaposition of Alexsey's mother with Elder Zosima is further evidenced by the spiritual connection which a novice is expected to forge with an elder, a connection which is almost maternal. "An Elder is someone who takes your soul and your will into his soul and his will." This taking in by the elder of one's entire identity and being can be called embryonic, thus heightening the maternal analogy. By bonding with his elder, a novice becomes reborn after being incubated under the care of a formative guide.