Poor Парфен

To me, the most fascinating part of the first few chapters of Part II was that it felt like a plunge into the mind of an epileptic (at least as Dostoyevsky, an epileptic himself, perceives this disorder). The confusion in Myshkin’s mind, the shifting weather, the ominous meeting with Rogozhin (I'll call him Parfen sometimes), and the spying eyes… The whole setup creates a very powerful atmosphere that is quite palpable.

The opening of Part II re-introduces the by-now-familiar faces in a new light, for example we see Lebedev in his home (which is surprisingly nice and cozy). Together with the time lapse Katia mentioned, this new look at the characters creates the sense that the second half of the novel will be quite different from the first. Indeed, the entire first part took place over the course of one afternoon, it would be hard to keep up this pace. The slow “epileptic” afternoon appears to be the inverse of Part I.

The meeting between Parfen and Myshkin takes center stage in the course of this afternoon. And what a meeting it is: full of suspicious glances, repressed anger and resentment and most of all jealousy, topped with a new closeness between Rogozhin and Myshkin (as Katia mentioned, they became close in Moscow, though we are left only to guess how this happened). Strangely enough, this closeness makes their interaction feel more dangerous, maybe because Myshkin enters Rogozhin’s house and his world, thereby making himself extra vulnerable.

The author gives us plenty of clues to be wary of the meeting: at the very beginning of chapter III he says, “Визит этот был для него, впрочем, в некотором отношении рискованным. Он затруднялся и колебался.” Then, he guesses which is Rogozhin’s house among all the others in the street, but feels apprehensive, “он чувствовал, что ему почему-то будет особенно неприятно, если он угадал.” As readers, we can guess that the house is gloomy and so must its inhabitants be. 

There are numerous details of the tension in Rogozhin throughout their entire meeting, they add up to us readers feeling like Rogozhin is in a desperate state, perhaps as emotionally and psychologically unbalanced as Nastasya Filippovna. It is emphasized that she keeps coming back to him, but we should not overlook that he keeps running back to her, too. He may be her undoing, but what about him? She can be no better for his fate. Why is this happening to him? Is it just her beauty and physical passion for her? It must be something more, because surely there are better ways of dealing with physical passion. The more we learn about their relationship, the stranger it seems. There is anger, maybe even hatred, and humiliation coupled with the more positive feelings of respect and submission, and maybe even hope for the future. And, of course, fear and desperation runs through everything.What a cocktail. 

I would probably go on for too long if I delve into every intriguing detail of the meeting. For now I’ll limit myself to a couple curiosities:

-          Rogozhin says to Myshkin, “Я твоему голосу верю, как с тобой сижу.” It is as if Myshkin’s voice is hypnotizing.

-     When Myshkin is questioning Lebedev about NF, Lebedev describes her as “Искательна [...] Как бы всё ищет чего-то, как бы потеряла что-то.” Later, Myshkin is absentmindedly wandering around St. Petersburg when we come across the following passage: “Несколько времени спустя, на улице, он вдруг как бы что-то припомнил, как бы что-то внезапно сообразил, очень странное, что-то уж долго его беспокоившее. Ему вдруг пришлось сознательно поймать себя на одном занятии, уже давно продолжавшемся, но которого он всё не замечал до самой этой минуты: вот уже несколько часов, еще даже в "Весах", кажется даже и до "Весов", он нет-нет и вдруг начинал как бы искать чего-то кругом себя. И забудет, даже надолго, на полчаса, и вдруг опять оглянется с беспокойством и ищет кругом.” It is like he and NF are connected, and I think Rogozhin mentioned the same thing too—they are in tune. But I wonder why? After all, partially Myshkin’s paranoia is not unfounded—Rogozhin is following him and spying on him. Maybe it is Rogozhin’s behavior towards both of them that unites them and gives them similar disoriented feelings.

When Rogozhin tries to kill Myshkin… I feel sorry for Parfen. The poor guy is really lost, and he seems to have no one to turn to. Myshkin has plenty of admirers and ready-friends, so does NF. But what about Parfen, all alone in the world except for Myshkin—his only friend and his most bitter rival?

The Rogozhin-Myshkin Relationship, Religion, and N. F.

Dostoevsky loves time lapses, I guess because they force you to reconstruct the events that he does not explicitly describe, to really think about the characters and what they are capable of. Or maybe in this case the point is to put us in the shoes of the characters who don't know what the others have been up to (i.e. the Epanchins in Petersburg vs. Myshkin, N. F., Rogozhin in Moscow).

In any case, it's amazing how much Myshkin and Rogozhin have gotten closer after that time lapse. They apparently had a lot of heart-to-hearts in Moscow, which is why Rogozhin calls Myshkin "brother" and "Lev Nikolayevich" (which no one else in the book does!) and Myshkin calls him "brother Parfen." Myshkin even asserts that he is not Rogozhin's enemy, but rather truly loves him. And then there's the emotional scene where, after making fun of faith, Rogozhin asks Myshkin to exchange crosses with him and introduces him to his mother. And then he hugs him and tells him to go after N.F. 

But this section is full of paradoxes. Myshkin assures Rogozhin that he has come to Petersburg after N. F. to convince her to get some psychiatric treatment abroad, but that if they're getting married now for sure, he won't even go to see her. And then of course he does! To top it all off, Rogozhin suspects just as much and so follows him and later tries to kill him! There must be something in their "friendly" conversations that I'm not picking up on, something between the lines. Or perhaps it's just an internal battle that causes both men to express only certain things to each other, perhaps many of the emotions that are later revealed were simply unconscious before. 

Also, a quick note on religion. I think it's very significant that Rogozhin has members of the eunuch sect (skoptsy) among his renters. The violence of their beliefs goes along quite well with his passionate nature and his desire to "cut up" N. F. What I'm not clear on is the significance of his father's old believer tendencies, which Myshkin says that Rogozhin has inherited. Is the connection just a general breaking away from the faith, which Rogozhin experiences in his own way, or is there something particular about old believers that characterizes Rogozhin? If anyone knows more about them, do share.

Lastly, Myshkin mentions in Chapter 3 that he loves N. F. with the love of pity. But, based on Rogozhin's description of the episode in which he knelt and fasted in her room for hours after beating her, perhaps she feels the same pity for Rogozhin. After disdaining this supposed show of humility and repentance, she says that he is not a lackey after all and that she will marry him and be faithful to him. The scene in which she greets his mother also suggests a certain sympathy. At the same time, she is scared of him and constantly runs away from him. But I think that she ultimately always returns because, as Rogozhin tries to make Myshkin see, she no longer values her own life and prefers to die at his hands rather than burdening Myshkin.

None of this behavior is very logical, but I think that's one of Dostoevsky's chief attributes: he shows the true idiosyncrasies of humanity.

Reading Schedule, Part II

Dear All,

I think most of us can benefit from a little time to catch up, so let's extend the end of Part I through next Monday. For Part II, here is the schedule:

Monday, November 7: Read through the end of Section V of Part II.
Monday, November 14: Read through the end of Section X of Part II.
Monday, November 21: Read through the end of Part II (this is just two shorter sections, so we will have a little break).

Cheers all!

Myshkin and Ganya. Ganya and Myshkin. I think I prefer Ganya.

I’m again behind schedule, but better late than never! :)

So many emotions regarding the last sections of Part I. I think I’ll just rant, if you don’t mind.

First of all, what is NF’s problem?! Why does she come to Ganya’s house and disrespect his mother and sister? I don’t care what she wants to do with her own life, how she wants to punish *herself*, but that kind of behavior toward these poor women is completely uncalled for. She may want to give Ganya a taste of what life with her will be like, she may want to push him to the limit and see how much he can take (or how low he can go), she may be curious to see if he will stand up for her in front of his relatives—whatever! Whatever he reasons, her behavior was still despicable. I feel like the tortured, beautiful, thoughtful, self-destructive and emotional woman Dostoyevsky is describing when talking ABOUT her is not who he is portraying when she actually gets to talk and act.

Ganya… is a confusing character too. Everyone is confusing, I guess, and that’s why I liked this book so much to begin with, and wanted to discuss it with you. When NF shows up at his house and starts her bitchiness, the author says that Ganya had: “поклявшийся всеми клятвами больно наверстать ей всё это впоследствии и в то же время ребячески мечтавший иногда про себя свести концы и примирить все противоположности” [he made every promise to painfully pay her back for this in the future, and at the same time he was boyishly hoping to himself to bring all ends together and to reconcile all the opposites]. This is what I would call being truly “childlike”—hoping beyond all hope to make things work out, even when the adult mind would give up the matter for a lost cause. I guess the adult viewpoint predominates in Ganya, but he still has a little of this childlike hope left, which makes him a more appealing person despite all those terrible descriptions of him. Later on, Myshkin also recognizes this childlike quality in him, but I will come back to that conversation in a little bit.

As Katia mentioned, there seems to be some kind familiarity between Rogozhin and Ganya. I don’t think there is any specific mention of them being friends outside of that time when they gambled together, but the way Rogozhin talks about Ganya and his money-grubbing ways, it is as if Rogozhin knows Ganya’s personality closely. Rogozhin immediately says that Ganya will crawl to Vasilievsky (bridge, I assume?) to get three rubles, and soon after confidently says that he can easily buy Ganya out, because Ganya has such a money-loving soul. Why, why does he feel like he can offend a person like that? I suppose Ganya deserved this kind of treatment because he agreed to marry a woman for a financial reward. And yet… in front of Ganya’s mother and sister? What kind of people are these? I’m not sure what the author meant to portray, but Ganya does not by far seem like the lowliest person in the room.

And now, one of the moments which were completely shocking to me—when Myshkin was the one who stopped Ganya from hitting his sister. Initially, it was so dramatic and impressive—the only MAN in the room who was MAN ENOUGH to realize what’s happening and to stop it, was this Myshkin—little mouse. For a second I thought—maybe this is the lion side of him coming out! But no, the author immediately brings him down, put him in the corner (practically crying, I bet), all pathetic after Ganya slaps him. Maybe this is supposed to be Christ-like, to offer the other cheek, to be meek? And why does he say that phrase “Oh, how you will be ashamed of your action!” So melodramatic. Doesn’t quite go together with the manly image projected a minute ago.

In any case, this is a surprising side of Myshkin coming out—he is decisive, not afraid, a protector. Who would have thought? Will it appear again?

Later, when Ganya comes to ask for an apology, Myshkin is once again surprising, but in a bad way this time. First of all, he says “I did not think at all that you are this kind of person!” Meaning that he *can make mistakes in judging people,* and we probably should not forget this. It is so tempting to think he is this incredibly perceptive person who is practically from a different world. I think what Ganya says in response to that phrase is very telling: “What, [you are surprised] that I can admit my guilt?.. And why did I think before that you are an idiot! You notice things that other people never would. One could talk to you… but, better not to!”

One little side note from their following conversation. At one point, Myshkin says “I think this happens all the time: a man marries for money, but all the money is in the wife’s hands.” When I read that, I thought: how the hell does he know? Didn’t he grow up an idiot, in some Swiss village? Isn’t he unaware of the ways of the world? Maybe it’s from books. But still, his insight is a little suspicious. Like maybe the author slipped up and made him *too* wise for his background.

Coming back to the heart-to-heart between Myshkin and Ganya. What did you think of the moment when he said “Теперь я вижу, что вас не только за злодея, но и за слишком испорченного человека считать нельзя. Вы, по-моему, просто самый обыкновенный человек, какой только может быть, разве только что слабый очень и нисколько не оригинальный.” [Now I see that you are not only not a villain, you cannot even be considered a particularly corrupt person. I think you are simply the most regular person that can be, except maybe very weak and completely unoriginal.”

If I may express my opinion about this frankly (and pardon my French):

WTF?!!???!!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Either Myshkin с луны свалился (is from a different planet), or he is stupid in human relations (which goes against prior evidence), or he is getting REVENGE on Ganya. What happened to his fine-tuned psychology? He must know that he is hitting Ganya where it really hurts. I mean, who would like to hear that about him/herself? If someone said that to me… I would not be cool about it. Anyway, my conclusion is that Myshkin is clever and getting his revenge on Ganya. He is not some little lamb, by far. Ganya may be right—even though Myshkin gives off an inviting aura for people to talk to him, it may be best not to.

Gosh. I could go on, but for the remaining section of Part I, maybe I will post a separate post. Also for laughter (but that will be short). And a new reading schedule.

My response to Part 1 (Katia)

Again, a few general thoughts.

• How do Rogozhin and Gania know each other? When Rogozhin storms into his house with his crew, he calls him Gan'ka and shows a great deal of familiarity towards him. In the beginning (chapter 10), Ganya pretends not to recognize him, but Rogozhin immediately makes fun of him for it and says that just a few months ago he lost to Ganya in a card game. Is Ganya the one who introduced Rogozhin to Nastasia Filipovna? I recall vaguely seeing evidence for that somewhere else. I get the feeling that their relationship may be important because when Kolya and Myshkin talk after the scene with Rogozhin and N.F., Kolya criticizes Rogozhin, saying "you can't behave like that in the house of your..."--and then he changes the subject. Was he just going to say "enemy" or a closer connection?
• Ganya's main motivation and flaw is his pride. When he describes to the prince how he would make N. F. behave (chapter 10), he says, "I don't want to be funny; above all else, I don't want to be funny." That is essentially why he doesn't rush into the flames to save the thousand rubles that N. F. grants him. His love of himself and his image is greater than his love for money. There's something about him that reminds me of the Underground Man and Raskolnik--poor, with family problems, they dream of being great men, but don't know the right way of going about it. They want it all now and want to "skip," as Ganya says, the process. Although, unlike the other two, Ganya doesn't seem to have a gnawing and contradictory self-criticism.
• Another connection with "Crime and Punishment" is the family of General Ivolgin's mistress Terentieva, which is remarkably similar to the Marmeladovs. There are two daughters and a son, as well as an older sibling, Ippolit (although in Marmeladov's family that sibling, Sonia, is one of the two daughters, I think); the mother is sick; the father is a stepfather, a penitent yet constant drunkard who spends all the family's small income on alcohol and never shows up at home unless he needs cash, although he used to have a good job. And like Raskolnikov, Myshkin is like a guide to him. I suppose that's why the general says so frequently, "General Ivolgin and Prince Myshkin!", as if it were the headline of a performance (and their behavior is often taken and described as a comedy).
• A general theme that I'd like to track in the second part is the role of money. We've heard it mentioned from the very beginning during the train ride, when Rogozhin told the prince about his inheritance. Then when Myshkin visits the Epanchins, everyone thinks that he wants money. Money is also the reason why Ganya is willing to marry N. F. and money is Afanasi Ivanovich's main method of controlling her--either forcing her into sex or getting her out of his life by paying Ganya to marry her. Men like Rogozhin and General Epanchin also try to impress N. F. with fancy gifts, but she learns to manipulate them through money as well--by making light of their gifts, by coming to Petersburg and threatening Afanasi Ivanovich to maintain her or she'll dishonor him, by refusing to be "traded" (a word that's often used in the book) as a commodity between him, Ganya, and Epanchin, and finally by throwing the 1,000 rubles into the fire, thus maddening everyone and shaming Ganya with her challenge. Money will also play a big role in the prince's life now that we know he too is set to receive a large inheritance. And money is very important to General Ivolgin as an alcoholic and provider to the Terentievs. I think the main conclusion we can draw from all of this is that money has no positive value in the book. It facilitates exploitation, addiction, impoverishment, arrogance, and insanity (although Myshkin, the one whom everyone considers insane, doesn't care about money). Even for N. F., it has no real significance. Perhaps it did when she was younger and had no choice but to accept A. I's advances, but that's not why she installs herself in Petersburg. That's not why she tells Rogozhin to bring her 1,000 rubles and then "chooses" him. For her, the ultimate goal seems to be revenge, both against A. I. and, strangely enough, against herself. 

By the way, what's the reading schedule for Part II? Is it as before, read through ch. V by next Monday?

Children, elaborated

I wanted to add a little to my previous entry.

The subject of being "childlike" comes up a fair amount in this work. I think what we should pay attention to is the difference between being “childlike” and “childish.” Google says:

Childlike:  (of an adult) Having good qualities associated with a child.

Childish: 1) Of, like, or appropriate to a child. 2) Silly and immature.

What are the good qualities associated with children in my mind? Being innocent (i.e. not knowing how to maliciously lie or deceive (because kids do lie, just not like adults), not putting up protective walls), having an open mind, a vivid imagination, a robust curiosity. Not having complexes. Thinking outside the box because you don’t know about the box yet.

What I personally do not associate with children is some kind of greater wisdom, or particular fairness. Maybe I haven’t spent enough time with children? I do admit to a certain lack of experience. But children are… children!

I have some trouble with Myshkin’s portrayal of the village children. Or rather, of the implications of who HE is because of those children. The kids themselves are fine—they got carried away by an idea of having Marie as a little pet to pity and take care of. What is Myshkin’s greater message in this story though? That Children spreading true Christian values (thanks to Myshkin’s guidance)? To me it looks more like the children are enamored by their grown-up “leader” and will do whatever he says.

Schneider calls Myshkin a child, but Myshkin objects. What does this mean? If he were just a child, he would have the qualities I described above, and I guess he doesn’t (or doesn’t think he does). I wonder what he was like as a child. He probably didn’t have a normal childhood because of his illness. If he merely likes children, but doesn’t feel like one… If as an adult he prefers the company of children, I suppose that means he is not fit for the adult world. Or is he saying that adults are just no good? Either he’s socially awkward and can get along only with children, who don’t ask much of him, or he’s saying grownups are not worth his time. Perhaps this shows a lack of faith in people. What happens when children grow up though? I feel like Dostoyevsky did a much better job of this theme with Alyosha and the boys in the Brothers Karamazov. At least there it's clear who is the adult, what it means to be an adult, and how an adult can relate to children, but yet still see them as future grown ups.

Moving on from Switzerland, Myshkin goes on to say that Lizaveta Prokof’evna is childlike. I don’t have the text in front of me right now (shame, shame), but I believe she says that she knows it, and that she is childlike both in her good qualities and bad ones. Again, this begs the questions—which qualities is she talking about? So far, she has not really exhibited all that much unrestrained imagination or carefree spirit. I guess that leaves innocence? I suppose we’ll see as the book goes on how that holds up. For bad qualities, we have capriciousness, impatience… oh, maybe being too trusting can go both under good and bad. Perhaps this is a quality she has—being too trusting. Which on the flip side is—not being a shrewd judge of people and situations. Maybe? It’s a good thing to trust people. What if the person suffers about being too trusting and gullible, is that still positive?

Lastly, I’ll just say that Aglaia strikes me as being childish more than childlike. She is, of course, the baby of the family, and we were told from the start that she has been babied, too, by her sisters, and her whole family thinks she is very special. Although her mother says that she and Aglaia are alike, I think the following quote is telling:

Не усмехайся, Аглая, я себе не противоречу: дура с сердцем и без ума такая же несчастная дура, как и дура с умом без сердца. Старая истина. Я вот дура с сердцем без ума, а ты дура с умом без сердца; обе мы и несчастны, обе и страдаем.

Don’t laugh, Aglaia, I am not contradicting myself: a foolish woman with a heart but without a brain is just as unhappy a foold as one with a brain but without a heart. It is an old truth. I, for example, am a fool with a heart but no brain, and you are a fool with no a brain but no heart. We are both unhappy, we both suffer.

 Her own mother says Aglaia has no heart! It just slips out… and it makes me cautious.

Children, credibility, and people besides Myshkin

Dear All,

I am finally back on track with my reading :) The entries have been great food for thought. Trying to figure out what Myshkin is all about is no easy feat, especially when we are presented with the idea (as Allie mentioned) that Dostoyevsky said he was trying to portray a “truly beautiful soul.” Did he mean it? Did somebody just quote a passing thought Dostoyevsky once had, or was this truly the goal of the work? And if it was, did he succeed?

I have to say, Myshkin still has not convinced me. So far, Yelena noticed that his actions make him seem like a manipulator, Oxana pointed out the contradiction of his name (and we discussed the connotations of mice and rodents), I think several people referenced the fact that Myshkin mentions that he thinks he may be smarter than other people (and definitely smarter than people believe him to be) and that he has a special purpose (although he does have one very clear purpose he tries to talk about with the General—his inheritance, but I think when he mentions a special “idea” during the conversation with the girls [“У него начинала мелькать одна странная идея, впрочем еще не совсем ясная” and others], he is talking about something different), and Katia did a great job considering the significance of Myshkin’s artistic abilities and how they reflect on his personality and how people (including us) perceive him. Overall, I would say I am still at a loss. What struck me unpleasantly in last week’s reading was how he “stood up for himself” to Ganya, when they were on their way to Ganya’s apartments. Myshkin’s defense of himself and statement that they should part ways seemed like a bluff. How quickly he accepted Ganya’s apology was… unsettling. On the other hand, I also realize that this may be a good gesture—he did not want to torture Ganya or embarrass him, he merely stood up for himself and quickly retreated to make things right again. Not a bad thing to do. Still…

Other impressions from the reading: we’ve met quite a few interesting characters by now. What do you guys think of Lizaveta Prokof’evna? What about her daughters? I wonder about the characteristics Myshkin gave them.

Oh! Before I forget. Did anybody find it interesting that almost nobody ever calls Myshkin by his name? It’s always Prince. Князь. Reminds me of that Наутилиус song, князь тишины...

Back to Lizaveta. What do you think about Myshkin calling her childlike? Children are quite prominent in these sections of Chapter I. Do you find them believable, in Myshkin’s telling? What impression did that whole story of Mary leave you with? Was it pleasant, sweet, honorable? Or was it… strained, idealistic in an unnatural sense?

I guess this is not a very literary question, but do you guys believe that the children would behave like that?

And what about when Schneider calls Myshkin a child, and Myshkin does not agree?

I can’t stop with my questions :) What do you guys think of the girls’ interaction among themselves regarding Myshkin? Are they sold on him, or do they still have doubts? It is pretty clear that their mother is enamored, but what about the rest of them?

And what about Aglaya? Does she get things more deeply (or intuitively) than the others, or is she just spoiled?

Looking over my underlinings… the narrator himself says (when Ganya is having an argument with Myshkin) “Но именно чрез это бешенство он и ослеп; иначе он давно бы обратил внимание на то, что этот "идиот", которого он так третирует, что-то уж слишком скоро и тонко умеет иногда всё понять и чрезвычайно удовлетворительно передать.” [But it was by his rage that he was blinded; otherwise he would have noticed long ago that this “idiot,” whom he treats as such, can altogether too quickly and subtly understand everything and can quite satisfactorily convey it.] So Myshkin is TOO keen, TOO perceptive… Granted, the narrator may be speaking from Ganya’s POV. Why would he do that?

And finally, about NF’s arrival. She immediately identifies him as the idiot :P

A couple of things that struck me in the second reading

These ideas are all more or less disconnected, so I will just use bullet points this time.

• Myshkin says in chapter VI that he lived in Lucerne, Switzerland. This reminds me of a book that I read for my thesis, San Manuel Bueno, Mártir, by Miguel de Unamuno. It's really too bad that I compared it only to The Underground Man and The Brothers Karamazov because the similarities here are incredible. Myshkin says about the lake in Lucerne, "Я чувствовал, как оно хорошо, но мне ужасно было тяжело при этом" ("I felt how good it was, but also terribly weighed down because of that") and he later explains, "Мне всегда тяжело и беспокойно смотреть на такую природу в первый раз; и хорошо, и беспокойно" ("I'm always weighed down and anxious when I see such nature for the first time; both good and anxious"). In Unamuno's book, the setting is Valverde de Lucerna, a fictitious village in Spain. The main character, a Catholic priest who believes that he does not truly believe in God, but rather is priest for the sake of the people, is also anxiously enchanted by the local lake, which, according to legend, has certain magical properties. He walks around the lake and the nearby monastery ruins quite often and says that he sometimes just wants to dive in (with the intention of never again resurfacing). But it is also believed that the real village is at the bottom of the lake, so his desire is not only suicidal, but also reflects a search for real substance and truth. Of course, Unamuno wrote this long after Dostoevski's death and I didn't find any evidence during my thesis investigations that Unamuno had actually read any of his works, but maybe this is just a common idea in literature: the magic lake that has the power to both give and take away, that both reflects reality and somehow purifies it.
• Myshkin's artistic abilities (also ch. VI): now it's clear that they go beyond calligraphy. When Adelaida asks him for advice on what to paint, she says says that he knows how to "глядеть" ("look, gaze") because he has seen such marvellous landscapes in Switzerland (the lake, etc.). And when he answers that he was simply happy there, whether he learned something or not, Aglaia says "Вы умеете быть счастливым? Так как же вы говорите, что не научились глядеть? Еще нас поучите" ("You know how to be happy? Then how can you say that you didn't learn to look? You'll be teaching us now"). Here the girls imply that the prince is master of two arts: the art of gazing upon something (seeing it for what it truly is or simply noticing all the details as well as the big picture?) and the art of being happy, which seem to go hand in hand. And, as Oxana and others wrote, he has mastered the art of understanding and describing people's souls. Also when Myshkin tells Adelaida how she should paint the guillotine scene, it is clear that he has the eye and the imagination of an artist. He also mentions several paintings throughout the book. He seems to have a very impressionable and imaginative mind in general, because he says that he dreamt of the guillotine killing (which he saw) and of how his friend was pardoned right before being killed (which was only described to him) many times. I think that this must be related to the suspicions about Myshkin (both on the part of us readers and on the part of other characters): if he is so good at art, no wonder you get the feeling at times that he's just playing, or acting a certain way with a certain purpose. Someone mentioned here on the blog how he got Epanchin to invite him to stay and in this section we saw how he got Ganya to apologize to him on the way to the Ivolgins' house. Even the Epanchin girls suspect that he is a "большой плут, а вовсе не идиот" ("big swindler, and not at all an idiot"). I suspect we'll see more such sneaky behavior in the coming sections.

Oxana's Second Post and Animal Obsession

I am definitely continuing to trace the role of animals in the novel:

(1) the donkey. I am a bit puzzled as to why a mere presence of a donkey changed Myshkin’s mood and outlook on life so suddenly and significantly. It is a scream of a donkey that woke Myshkin from his somber mood. Maybe there is a connection of Jesus riding a donkey into town? It does not have to be beautiful horse or a powerful mule but a very simple creature… Myshkin is a Jesus-like character? He does speak the language out of the bible.

The phrase from that scene that struck me the most is when Myshkin said that “a donkey is a kind and useful human.” Go figure.

(2) Back to birds! I am convinced now that the bird names were not coincidental. In the beginning of chapter 6 Myshkin describes children as birds. According to Myshkin, “there is nothing better in the world than a bird” and “when a pretty bird looks at you trustingly and happily, it would be shameful to lie to it.” His attitude to children is very Jesus-like (children will inherit the world).

Later in the same chapter, when Mary was on her deathbed, Myshkin describes children knocking on her windows from the outside like birds. In Russia, there is a superstition that a bird beating its wings against someone’s windows symbolizes imminent death. Pretty accurate in this case.. Myshkin also describes children/birds screaming outside Mary’s window as they were flopping their wings. I start seeing a pattern of the importance of sound (at least being produced by animals from what I have been following). The scream of a donkey woke Myshkin out of his depression and the screams of bird-like children were trying to help Mary at her deathbed.

What is Doskoevsky trying to show by attributing human-like qualities to a donkey and comparing children to birds? Going to read on. J

(3) When Rogozhin enters Ganya’s house, Ganya tells Rogozhin and his band to be more respectful by saying that “he is not entering a stable.” I thought the setup of the scene was pretty funny from when you look at it through the animal aspect. There was the Lion Mousey, Swan, Bird and Little Ram in the stable. Sounds like the entire animal farm getting together. :P

(4) When Ganya slaps Myshkin, Rogozhin shames him by saying that he’ll be feeling very guilty for insulting such a lamb (or sheep, “ovtsa).” Again, this is a clear reference to sacrificial lamb from the Bible. Myshkin is the sacrificial lamb but also NF’s name serves as a foreshadowing of a possibly a similar destiny.

(5) Knyaginya Belokonskaya (White Male Horse) – another addition to the domesticated animal kind. We have not met her, although her name is mentioned a few times.

On a different topic, to get back to the question about significance of calligraphy in the novel, Myshkin’s description of the face of a doomed man about to be executed that made me realize this. Myshkin described the man’s face as “as white as paper, absolutely white as a paper one writes on.” A calligrapher takes a blank piece of paper and writes on it in a very beautiful way. I found it to be surprising that Myshkin does not have a font of his own and has to use Pafnutiy’s instead. And it is significant that Pafnutiy is a religious person. I get a feeling that Myshkin is compared with a calligrapher of people’s souls. Wherever he goes, he makes an impression on other people’s souls as a calligrapher would on a piece of paper.

I get a feeling that Myshkin is not as simple as he appears to others. He openly admits that he thinks that he is smarter than anyone when prompted by Aglaya. Moreover, at the end of his story about Mary he says that he was describing the story with such honesty not because of simplemindedness but because perhaps he had his own mysl’ (thought, or plan as in “zamysel”).

Going to stop here for now. I am really open for thoughts, reactions and/or criticism.

Can't reply to the comment , so I am posting a new entry :) -- For Yelena

Yelena, your analysis took my suggestions a step further and now it all makes more sense. In addition to Myshkin's last name, his first name is Lev. I completely overlooked this at first. What an oxymoron being called a Lion Little-Mouse. Isn't there a famous fable about a lion and a mouse? Maybe Dostoevsky was making us aware of the depth of the contradiction within Myshkin? His personality strikes me as bi-polar: he is either too happy or too sad. At least in his dialogues with others. Thoughts on that?

I am going to discuss the name theme and patterns that I saw throughout the first 4 chapters:

What's up with people's last names? Dostoevsky created an entire zoo: so far there is one domesticated animal -- Nastasya Filippovna Barashkova (little baby ram), Pritsyn (just means a bird), and a full range of kinds of birds -- Lebedev (Swan), Ivolgin (Oriole). And, of course, Myshkin (a little mouse). Also, Rogozhin (a cloth for a rough bag), Epanchin (a wide armless trench coat). I will be looking for more as I continue reading.

First impressions: NF's last name means a pretty stubborn animal, domesticated, usually a male (baran), but totally taken the edge away. Barashek is a very awwwwwww-kind of way of referring to a baran (ram). NF is stubborn, forcefully domesticated and powerless? Maybe that's why she is acting up the way she does? I wonder what it is exactly that happened when NF was around 20 (other than Totsky announcing that he wanted to get married). Why was her fate decided? Why did she start being perceived as so dangerous by Totsky since she stopped caring about herself and was ready to destroy (pogubit') herself? Again, why barashek? Maybe Dostoevsky was making a connection with the scape goat? I know it's a stretch, just something that came to mind. Since she was ready to sacrifice her very life in order to prove something to the world (but what?).

As to the aviary (bird zoo), I don't have to say much as of yet. Lebedev (swan) sounds like a honorable name to me.

Before I forget, Rogozhin's last name is very peculiar as well. Rogozha means rough fabric from which huge bags (for sugar or potatoes) was made back in the day (and even now sometimes...) Significance of Rogozhin's name? He IS rough. He is strong. He is a bag? Hmmm. With respect to NF maybe? Will think about this more as I go along. Any thoughts on this, anyone?

Epanchin's name makes me draw a parallel with Rogozhin. Cloth theme. Why is the General arm-less? We'll see.

And finally Myshkin. Knyas' Myshkin just sounds like an absolute cacophony. A royal title followed by such an unfortunate name: a little mouse. Parallel with NF! Her last name is a diminutive of another animal, though a bigger one. First impressions about his name: really appropriate in a way. Myshkin is a like a little mouse. I even picture him looking like one: thin features, mousy hair, etc. Like a mouse, he has no home and lives off of others. More on this later. :)

Please share your thoughts on this. I am really curious to see if anyone thought the names are significant too. On to commenting on your replies.

Oh, and biblical references and themes. Jeeeesus (pun intended). Prof. Meerson has to be in Heaven when she discusses the Idiot (another pun intended). :P

Myshkin's Language

After reading Anya and Yelena's entries, I recalled a passage where the prince's language struck me as rather odd and perhaps suggesting a not so innocent or pleasant character. In Chapter II, when he begins his discussion of the death penalty with the valet, he says, "во Франции всё головы рубят" ("in France they're constantly chopping heads off."). In Russian ("рубить") as in English ("chop"), this verb is usually used in reference to wood and other objects, not people, so it sounds rather strong in this context, even rude and morbid. When the valet asks if the criminals scream while being guillotined, the prince says "Куды!...Голова отскочит так, что и глазом не успеешь мигнуть" ("How can they?...The head jumps off before you can blink."). It's been a while since I studied Russian lit, but to me, "куды" sounds pretty colloquial (because it's Ukrainian) and, again, inappropriate in this context. "Отскочит" ("jumps off/breaks off/comes off") also sounds strange here. The verb "скакать" usually means "jump, skip," so it seems as if the head acquires a life of its own upon being cut off, which is pretty morbose. Of course, here it is probably used colloquially ("breaks off/comes off"), but that still sounds disrespectful. This contrasts with the lofty language that follows about the merits of this particular criminal and the injustice of capital punishment in general. Why does Myshkin speak like this? Judging by his ability to mimic and interpret writing styles, he is very conscious of his word choice. His language also takes a morbid twist when he says that Rogozhin "зарезал бы ее (Н.Ф.)" ("would cut her [N.F.] with a knife/cut her throat").

Perhaps he does this simply to emphasize the horror of both capital punishment and murder, to underline death's terrifying normality (colloquial language) and abnormal meaninglessness (chopping is for wood, not heads, and jumping is for living creatures). Might this be a sign of his personal fear of death? In any case, I think that his preoccupation with this subject must have to do with his illness. As an epileptic he is, in a way, sentenced to death. He knows for sure that he will never be able to have a normal life, at least in economic, academic, social, professional, and interpersonal terms. He even says, "Что же с душой в эту минуту делается, до каких судорог ее доводят?" ("What happens to the soul in that moment, what compulsions do they provoke in it?"). The word "судорога" ("cramp/convulsion") immediately brings to mind seizures, which are common to epilepsy. It appears then that Myshkin identifies with those convicted to death on both a physical and emotional level.

In fact, he indirectly explains through this discussion that this is why he is an "idiot." He says that someone convicted to death "с ума сойдет или заплачет. Кто сказал, что человеческая природа в состоянии вынести это без сумасшествия?" ("will go crazy or start crying. Who said that human nature is in the condition to undergo this without madness?"). In this sense, Myshkin's "idiocy" is not as funny or quaint or pleasant or strange as others may think--it's a coping mechanism, or at least a natural reaction to a doomed life. This is a bit reminiscent of the Underground Man, another of Dostoievski's great and complex characters.
In this fatalism, Myshkin also resembles Nastasia Filipovna, who, according to the narrator, stopped valuing her life long ago and is also, despite her new, bold character, trapped in a life she did not choose.

Also, like Misha said, here the connection between character and author is crystal clear. Aside from the fact that Dostoievski too had epilepsy, Myshkin says, "Может быть, и есть такой человек, которому прочли приговор, дали помучиться, а потом сказали: "Ступай, тебя прощают". Вот такой человек, может быть, мог бы рассказать." ("Maybe there does exist someone who heard the sentence, was allowed to suffer, and then was told, 'Go, you've been forgiven.' Now that kind of person, perhaps, could tell us about it"). Myshkin, therefore, is Dostoievski himself, but before the lifesaving news of the czar's forgiveness. The author has, in that case, a comparative advantage over his character: he can see the whole picture, perhaps even understand it, and most importantly, he has hope, although he may imply here that having epilepsy is almost as fatal as being sentenced to death.

A first impression

On the back cover of my book, there's a quote from Dostoyevsky:

"My intention is to portray a truly beautiful soul."

I'll admit this has raised some early questions and perhaps even colored my reading of this novel. I hope to further flesh out what a "truly beautiful soul" means and where it can be found in the book (guessing it's Myshkin), and also how it compares with the other characters in the book.

My first thought is that, in my own opinion, part of being "truly beautiful", in the sense I think Dostoyevsky intends, is giving (yourself, aide, etc.) to others. Myshkin doesn't fit with this. Although he claims it's not his intention to take anything from anyone, he is on the receiving end of others' charity and, at least so far, is not giving them anything meaningful in return.

P.1, Chapter 3: Prince Myshkin is interrupted, by Gen. Epanchin, for the first time...

First, I think it's interesting to point out that Prince Myshkin is actually the first of the pair to make an interruption:

The general was on the point of smiling, but on second thought he checked himself...

"I have little time for making acquaintances as a rule," observed the general, "but as you have no doubt some object..."

"That's just what I expected," Myshkin interrupted, "that you would look for some special object in my visit."

I think the feeling we are supposed to get from all the following interruptions is that General Epanchin is trying to figure out as quickly as possible what Myshkin is all about, or, as I mentioned in another comment elsewhere, he is trying to get to the punchline. And though Myshkin may not *directly* ask for anything, he succeeds in getting quite a lot out of the general, who seems not to like to give charity (from the way the servant worries about being tricked into showing Myshkin in to G. Epanchin if he is only "some sort of impostor who had come to beg" and also M. Epanchin's incredulous response when her husband announces their visitor).

It is in response to one of General Epanchin's numerous interruptions that Myshkin recounts his story and here is when we first hear mention of Myshkin being an "idiot". This description comes from Myshkin himself, in no uncertain terms (in my book, separated by parenthesis, it says, "Myshkin used that word 'idiot'"). From this point it is repeated of him, perhaps with different implications/connotations, but he first identified with it. This also brings up the question of whether people listen to him... I think they do, although certainly not completely, but this seems to work in his favor. People he interacts with seem to have a very favorable impression of him, despite the fact that he appears to give them very little to go on.

Some thoughts on the first three chapters

Boy. Reading idiot was a lot more fun than I anticipated – and I
anticipated it to be fun. To my knowledge of literary works (which
consists of very few), I got the impression that the introduction is
supposed to be a boring loading of essential information, that may
lead up to something worthwhile in the future chapters of the book.
This is not the case with the idiot. Dostoevsky manages to pack a lot
of essential pieces about characters, establish rich settings (for
example, description of the atmosphere in the house of general
Epanchin), and general perspective on events. *

*- For now it looks like all the action is seen from the eyes of
Myshkin. To me, Myshkin is a mix between Jesus and the narrator dog
from “Sobachje Serdce” (before the surgery; before it became Prolitar
Prolitar'evich). He is kind, honest, and has no complexes. He is also
modest, observant, and he is seen childlike in the eyes of characters,
quality which helps him to infiltrate the plot line with little
intrusion.

I also feel like Dostoevsky is the Idiot. This is purely my gut
feeling based on 50 some pages that I have read so far. The reason why
I think Myshkin is Dostoevsky is below:

Myshkin is introverted – this is evidenced by the little dialogue between
him and the clerk at the General's house regarding death sentencing. What
is worse -- to die with hope to survive (perhaps even through torture),
or to die while awaiting doom? It is clear hat he puts himself in the
shoes of the convicted and counts off seconds before the inevitable
death. In order to do that, one must be introverted, I think. In order
to answer this question, one must answer the question of "how would I
feel? What would run through my head in these last seconds?" This
requires a lot of inner mental work. From this psychology, I can (not
safely, but...) deduce that he would also perceive others in this
matter. Putting himself in their shoes and becoming them, enveloping them
in his inner world. Even though he is unable to conduct himself
properly in public, he is well aware of the person that is currently
in contact with him and can anticipate what he or she will say. Which
is evidenced by his readiness to answer all the questions (as if he
already knew what they will ask). Effectively, that is what Dostoevsky
might do, while exploring the world he creates as he writes the other
characters.

I also see how some readers may find Myshkin to be a skillful
manipulator, but I don't think it's really a skill or manipulation.
That goes back to say that Myshkin has some Jesus quality in him. Was
Jesus also a skillful manipulator? By this logic, yes. Sincerity is a
viable communication model, just like aggressiveness, assertiveness,
or suckupness (model that works, but not very rewarding, as noted by
Dostoevsky, or Myshkin, or both, while analyzing Lebedev). Both,
Lebedev and Myshkin got what they wanted in they end of the train
ride: Myshkin got it through empathy, Lebedev got it through
aggressive persistence. We always use reason when communicating with
others to put ourselves in the estimate ball park of where we want to
be after a certain segment of interaction. I feel ike Myshkin's
approach is fair: he doesn't lie (at least yet), does not confront,
just passively puts himself in the position where he can collect the
most benefit.

I am looking toward to reading more chapters.