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?

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.

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

First reading response, Anya

Cheers to the first reading response!

[It turned out kind of long. Please don’t get scared, it’s only to start things off. I won’t go into as broad a response every time. Also, the whole “Laughter” part is just a list of quotes, no analysis for now. I’m just keeping it for myself].

I underlined way too much as I read, it would take too long to go into all the little themes and subthemes, so I will try to organize my thoughts into several trends: character development, curious details, and my pet subject—laughter.

-          Character development

Rogozhin: What struck me is that Rogozhin is described as short. Having read the novel before (no spoilers coming), I have to say I am surprised by this. I definitely have a hard time envisioning him as short. Why does the author do that to him? My association with short guys is (I hope I do not offend) often insecurity and a desire to prove themselves. He also has small and grey eyes… mousy, perhaps? Though full of fire. I don’t say mousy for no reason… I’m going to try following parallels between these two strangers on the train as the novel develops. For now I’ll keep it down for fear of spoilers.

Prince Myshkin: Curiously, Myshkin is described as the physical opposite of his train neighbor. I wonder what this look in his eye is from which you can immediately guess epilepsy. I’ve never seen it. Tsk tsk. Did you guys know that Dostoyevsky himself suffered from epilepsy? I’m ashamed to say I somehow missed this fact until this summer (and I call myself a Russian lit major!). I’m not sure how clinically accurate his description of epilepsy is, maybe someone would like to write about than when we have more details.

The first utterance Myshkin makes already foils his interlocutor’s [собеседник’s] expectations. Rogozhin asks him sarcastically, but Myshkin responds openly and readily. This seems to be his trump card in many conversations: foiling people’s negative expectations.

People start giving Myshkin characteristics pretty early on. Lebedev says that he is “простодушны и искренны, а сие похвально!” (simple and sincere, which is praiseworthy). This will be a trend—people giving him characteristics. What about his personality makes that happen?

Curious that when Rogozhin tells Myshkin that he loves him (when the train arrives in the station), Myshkin is not totally gushing in response, but speaks to him politely… almost coolly? He “politely” offered his hand and “amiably” said… that he also liked him very much. Definitely missing Rogozhin’s impulsiveness and passion. Right?

When Myshkin meets Gen. Epanchin, he tells him that he thought, “"Это почти родственники, начну с них; может быть, мы друг другу и пригодимся, они мне, я им, -- если они люди хорошие". А я слышал, что вы люди хорошие.” [They are practically relatives and we may find each other useful, if they are good people. And he heard that they are good people.] This sounds like flattery to me!!! What is the fine line between open-heartedness, simplicity, straightforwardness… and flattery? Is the Prince playing dumb, but is actually very clever? Is he really all that pleasant? How come people just can’t help liking him?

A little later he says that he would not stay at the General’s even if he received an invitation, because it is not in his character “а так... по характеру.” Implying that he has… a character. Not just meekness.

Look at his other words soon after: first he readily gets up to leave, saying that he expected that the meeting would come to nothing, and maybe it is for the best. He says all of this with such a gentle expression on his face and such a genuine smile that the General can’t help but ask him to stay. As soon as that happens, Myshkin readily puts down his hat, and says that he figured Lizaveta Prokofyevna would like to meet him. S o w h a t  e x a c t l y  d i d  h e  f i g u r e  o n? Why does he change his tune in a heartbeat? Wily like a snake, that’s my impression right now.

I was in this mood when I read the calligraphy passage for the second time in recent memory. My first “aha! moment” is described below under “curious details,” but my second “aha! moment” has to do with what Myshkin’s description of the various scripts may say about his personality. His ability to perfectly mimic these various scripts, and even assign personalities to them and describe them in the minutes details… is kind of unnerving. Is he a perfect chameleon? Can he read people like he reads their handwriting? Perhaps he is an acute psychologist, that’s all. Certainly not something you would expect from a self-described “idiot.”

Lebedev: Who is this character? He is a buffoon, but is there more to him? Can Dostoyevsky’s work contain a purely flat character, I wonder?

General Epanchin: Upon first meeting him, he is described as clever, maybe even cunning. A lot of his “sincere” actions are calculated, he likes to appear “even Russian and warm-hearted.” But as the chapter progresses… he doesn’t look so bad. He loves his wife and his daughters. He seems to have sincere and fair reactions in his conversation with Ganya. He likes the Prince (even though he wants to use him as a distraction for his family, but still). So far, despite the narrator’s jabs at him, I like him.

Lizaveta Prokofyevna: For now, she is described as having had neither education nor beauty when she was young, and as getting capricious and impatient with age, and even becoming something of a чудачка… except something tells me that in Dostoyevsky’s book, being a чудачка is not a bad thing. Curious for later. The narrator is prickly in his descriptions of both her and her husband, and their daughters (see below). But he is not prickly in his description of Totsky (also see below). But the Epanchin family seems to be a good, wholesome one, with plenty of love among the family members. Perhaps a certain kind of prickliness from this narrator is a sign of affection, then?

Epanchin girls: “Но были и недоброжелатели. С ужасом говорилось о том, сколько книг они прочитали.” Hah! Also “Все три девицы Епанчины были барышни здоровые, цветущие, рослые, с удивительными плечами, с мощною грудью, с сильными, почти как у мужчин, руками, и, конечно вследствие своей силы и здоровья, любили иногда хорошо покушать, чего вовсе и не желали скрывать.” [First line of Chapter IV, Part I] Is this really a description of beauty?  The powerful breasts and hands almost like men’s… not really what we consider the standard of feminine beauty. And the appetites! Not typical for Russian literature ideals of the feminine (unless they Tolstoy’s peasant girls, I’d say). Why is the narrator making fun of them? It’s funny, they are models of socialist realism beauty :o) Also, they wake up at 10am. Tolstoy would so disapprove :P

The Narrator’s comical (mocking?) description of them really contrasts to the almost passionate description of the fragile and stunning NF. I wonder who the author is more in love with.

Gavrila Ardalionych Ivolgin, Ganya: Clearly unpleasant in my book. Beautiful, but with a cruel smile. I wonder what light Ganya’s beauty sheds on Dostoyevsky’s general feelings about physical beauty (ok, I gotta admit, I heard this in Meerson’s class ;-). Also, when he talks about how he treats his father and how he likes to keep his household in check: bleh. I think he is a negative character forever now. In my eyes, at least. Can you recover from an introduction like that one? But again, can a character be flat in a Dostoyevsky work…

Totsky: When we hear the story of Totsky and NF, the narrator gives us one clue that he is about to launch into this story from the POV of Totsky. At the very start he says “As Totsky himself would say.” And then the whole sad story of NF’s life is told from Totsky’s point of view. I guess to give the reader a glimpse of Totsky’s worldview. Which, I would say, is repulsive. I could go into the little details, but it looks like my response is already 5 pages long. But just one example: “Себя, свой покой и комфорт он любил и ценил более всего на свете, как и следовало в высшей степени порядочному человеку.” [He loved himself and his comfort above all things in the world, as befits an extremely decent man.] *Shudder*

Nastasiya Filippovna: Sounds like an unpredictable, proud, passionate, impulsive, tormented, confused girl. What Totsky did to her, and the way it’s described in his приятный и изящный [pleasant and elegant] style, is awful.

One of her main things is her beauty, of course. Myshkin characterizes her pretty well when he looks at her portrait and tells his impression to Ganya.

-          Curious details

o   The novel opens with the words “end of November.” I recently had a gtalk chat with a friend from Russia about the symbolism of autumn. Pretty much, it is not a positive thing. It is the season of withering, the preparation for the death of winter. The opening of the novel is clearly dreary. How come? What is it setting the stage for? It was so damp and foggy that the sunrise barely happened…

o   The narrator is shifty, he sometimes switches and speaks from various people’s perspectives. Or he might throw in something like “как сказал бы современный мыслитель” (as a modern thinker might say). What modern thinker? Why are we given the opinion of this modern thinker, why do we care? Are we going to keep getting things from the point of view [POV] of a modern thinker in the future? My guess is the narrator is toying with us, having fun, poking fun at modern thinkers… whoever they may be.

o   When I was reading this time, Myshkin’s description of his love for calligraphy made me think of Gogol’s Akakiy Akakievich from The Overcoat. There are parallels, I think, maybe even very telling ones. Allow me to post this long quote from The Overcoat:

"Оставьте меня, зачем вы меня обижаете?" И что-то странное заключалось в словах и в голосе, с каким они были произнесены.  В нем слышалось что-то такое преклоняющее на жалость, что один молодой человек, недавно определившийся, который, по примеру других, позволил было себе  посмеяться над ним, вдруг остановился, как будто пронзенный, и с тех пор как будто все переменилось перед ним и показалось в другом  виде. Какая-то неестественная сила оттолкнула его от товарищей, с которыми он познакомился, приняв их за приличных, светских людей. И долго потом, среди самых веселых минут, представлялся ему низенький чиновник с лысинкою на лбу, с своими проникающими словами: "Оставьте меня, зачем вы меня обижаете?" -  и  в этих проникающих словах эвенели другие слова: "Я брат твой".  И закрывал себя рукою бедный молодой человек, и много раз содрогался он потом на веку своем, видя, как много в человеке бесчеловечья, как много скрыто свирепой грубости в утонченной, образованной светскости, и, боже! даже в том человеке, которого свет признает благородным и честным…

For English speakers, this is the quote when A.A. says “Leave me, why do you insult/make fun of me?” It’s one of the most famous passages in the work.

My God. I LOVE GOGOL!!! There will be quite a range of polemics with Gogol in this work, I think it’s a major thing for Dostoyevsky.

-          Laughter (for now I will just keep an ongoing list of its occurrences, maybe I’ll do something with it later if it remains interesting) [For the sake of quickness, I’m going to skip translating quotes unless they are essential to my point, despite my own instructions. If you’d like to know where it’s from, ask me or google translate. Sorry :-/]

o   Rogozhin and Lebedev laugh at Myshkin on the train. At one point Myshkin joins their laughter while they are laughing at him: “Узелок ваш все-таки имеет некоторое значение, -- продолжал чиновник, когда нахохотались досыта (замечательно, что и сам обладатель узелка начал наконец смеяться, глядя на них, что увеличило их веселость)”

o   Rogozhin on the train is “Он был как-то рассеян, что-то очень рассеян, чуть ли не встревожен, даже становился как-то странен: иной раз слушал и не слушал, глядел и не глядел, смеялся и подчас сам не знал и не понимал, чему смеялся.” 

o   Myshkin’s first impression of Ganya: "Он, должно быть, когда один, совсем не так смотрит и, может быть, никогда не смеется", -- почувствовалось как-то князю.

o   -- То, стало быть, вставать и уходить? -- приподнялся князь, как-то даже весело рассмеявшись, несмотря на всю видимую затруднительность своих обстоятельств.

o   Взгляд князя был до того ласков в эту минуту, а улыбка его до того без всякого оттенка хотя бы какого-нибудь затаенного неприязненного ощущения, что генерал вдруг остановился и как-то вдруг другим образом посмотрел на своего гостя; вся перемена взгляда совершилась в одно мгновение.

o   -- Удивительно, -- сказал Ганя, -- и даже с сознанием своего назначения, -- прибавил он, смеясь насмешливо .   -- Смейся, смейся, а ведь тут карьера, -- сказал генерал

o   NF: “Не только не было заметно в ней хотя бы малейшего появления прежней насмешки, прежней вражды и ненависти, прежнего хохоту, от которого, при одном воспоминании, до сих пор проходил холод по спине Тоцкого, но, напротив, она как будто обрадовалась тому, что может наконец поговорить с кем-нибудь откровенно и по-дружески. Она призналась, что сама давно желала спросить дружеского совета, что мешала только гордость, но что теперь, когда лед разбит, ничего и не могло быть лучше. Сначала с грустною улыбкой, а потом весело и резво рассмеявшись, она призналась, что прежней бури во всяком случае и быть не могло […]”