Newsgroups: bit.listserv.literary
Date:         Wed, 26 Aug 1992 14:59:04 EDT
From:         Tim Johnson <PH408014@BROWNVM.BITNET>
Subject:      Relevance, Buffoons, and Fyodors

Hmmm.  I think Sonia handled the Father Zosima thing
quite well.  I don't have much more to add, except
to note that Fyodor is most notable for getting all
the best lines in the novel.  Sonia is correct about
the mask thing, and expressed it far better than I
was going to, so I'll pass on that.

As to relevance - one of the central themes of this
book is the question of morality in an age which is
seeing the decline of religion.  Fyodor has many
clever remarks which reveal a cynical view of the
church and dogma - a less serious version of Ivan's
struggles.  See, for example, his anecdote about hell
and the hooks; or his discussion of the monastery
which was "a bit spoilt by Russian nationalism" -
not a single French woman.

  I reason like this: 'As soon as I die, the devils are sure
  to crag me down to their place with their hooks.'  But then
  I think: 'What hooks?  What are they made of?  Are they iron
  hooks?  If so, where were they forged?  Do they have some kind
  of ironworks down there, or what?'  Why, I'm sure the monks in
  the monastery take it for granted that hell has, for instance,
  a ceiling.  But it would be easier for me to imagine a hell
  without a ceiling - that would be more refined, more enlightened,
  more Lutheran, that is.  And what difference does it make whether
  hell has a ceiling or not?  Oh no, it damn well makes all the
  difference in the world, because if there's no ceiling, there
  aren't any hooks either, and if there aren't any hooks, then
  the whole idea goes to pieces.  And that too is hard to believe
  because, if they're not going to drag me down to hell, what justice
  is there in the world?

There was a great struggle initiated in those days
which still hasn't been completely resolved.  The
church was suddenly seriously challenged by secular
thought.  Putting hell underground wasn't much good
anymore.  But if there is no religion, why and how
should one act "morally?"  Is it true that "anything
is permitted?"

And how can one read the initial description of Alyosha,
as a typical young man of the time, without seeing the
modern college kid reflected there?

  It must be added that, in a way, he was a indeed a member of our
  younger generation, which means that he was honest, that he believed
  in, demanded, and searched for truth; that, because he believed in
  it, he yearned to serve it and give it his whole strength; he was
  spoiling for immediate action, was prepared to sacrifice everything,
  his life itself, in an act of supreme devotion.  Unfortunately, these
  young men often fail to understand that the sacrifice of their lives
  may be the easiest of all sacrifices, much easier, for instance, than
  giving up five or six years of their seething youth to hard study, to
  the acquisition of knowledge which would increase their strength tenfold
  in the service of that same cause, and in the performance of the great
  works they aspire to.  But to sacrifice those few years to study often
  proves too much for them.

How can one fail to be entertained by the wicked wit
of Fyodor?  Responding to Father Zosima:

  It is a fact that I have lied all my life, every day and every hour.
  In truth, I am a living lie, the father of lies...No, wait a minute,
  not the father of lies - I always get my quotations mixed up - well,
  let's say the son, and that's good enough.

Or to Miusov - during that same encounter.  Miusov being
the real buffoon of the bunch.

  and now I'll remain silten the rest of the time.  I'll sit in my chair
  and I won't say one word.  It's your turn to have the floor now,
  Mr. Miusov.  You will be the most important person here for the next
  ten minutes...

Or:

  It had many closets, snug little corners, unexpected little stairways and
  passages.  It had some rats, too, but Karamzov didn't really mind them:
  "You don't feel quite so lonely in the evenings with them around..."

  "It feels as if my soul had got caught in my throat and was quivering
  there," was the way he sometimes described it.  It was at moments such
  as these that he wanted somewhere close to him - not necessarily in the
  same room, in the servants' quarters was good enough - someone firm and
  faithful....

Perhaps Dmitry, truly his father's son:

  "I led a wild and drunken life," Dmitry went on.  "You heard father say this
  morning that I thought nothing of spending a few thousand rubles on seducing
  some innocent girl.  That's a disgusting lie, absolutely unfounded.  Those
  things never required any money at all, anyway."

And what one line character sketch can sum up a person
the way the following remark does:

  'Imagine, one night - it was four days ago, after your last visit - she
  suddenly had a fit: crying, screaming, hysterics, everything!  Now, why
  is it that I never have hysterics?'

Someone once said of Dostoevsky's work that it was the product of
a profoundly diseased organism.  Quite the contrary.  I'll invoke
Sonia's metaphor of masks again - Dostoevsky tears the masks from
his characters and reveals to us their souls.  It is something we
readers may be both unfamiliar with and uncomfortable with - for
in "real life" it is difficult to catch someone with their mask
down.

One final remark - the translation you choose can make all the
difference.  Do yourself a favor and *don't* read David Magarshak,
a prolific, if completely pedestrian, translator.  I would also
avoid Constance Garnett's translation.  While I haven't read her
translation of _TBK_, I have read her *terrible* translation of
_A Raw Youth_.

                               -Tim
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