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.