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.