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A review by wolfdan9
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
5.0
“Some fathers are like a calamity”
The Brothers Karamazov is a beast of a novel. It’s my third of Dostoyevsky’s reputed classics (Demons is the only one of the quartet that I haven’t read; the others I’m referring to are Crime and Punishment and The Idiot). It was my least favorite of the three, but also one of the most incredible books I’ve ever read, which should speak to the quality of the other two. (Side note: I’ve also read Notes from Underground). The Brothers Karamazov is written in Dostoyevsky’s usual dramatic style. I’ve always felt like Dostoyevsky was able to transcribe drama in the form of a novel. The characters’ personalities are exaggerated and their interactions are often frantic, exciting, and melodramatic. His style betrays the idea of realism by seeming to borrow from works of drama or the adventure novel, yet the situations he creates and the dialogue he uses taps so deeply into the recesses of the human spirit that I find myself feeling that nothing can be realer than Dostoyevsky’s worlds. He’s the perfect counterpart to Tolstoy (whom I slightly prefer), who has mastered the realistic novel without the same frantic overtones.
Essentially, Brothers Karamazov is a meditation on spiritual belief. The story begins by introducing (which is like its first 500-600 pages, actually) the brothers and their friends, neighbors, etc. by presenting them in morally ambiguous situations or running errands with the cloud of religion constantly overhead, as it’s being scoffed at by some characters, like Ivan the pretentious middle child, devoutly followed by others (Alyosha, Father Zosima, etc.), and basically ignored by the rest (Mitya and his father, etc.). Throughout the narrative, Dostoyevsky introduces characters’ religious perspectives in a compelling, persuasive way. I appreciate how he, as a solid Christian, seemingly tears down the legitimacy of religion with chapters like The Grand Inquisitor. He of course also acknowledges its merits, such as through Zosima’s deathbed reflections.
The story culminates in Mitya’s trial for parricide, in which Mitya is found guilty. For me, the trial represented the tug-of-war found within a society of religious and non-religious people, struggling to cooperate and make a decision when one of those groups is swayed by feelings and the other group facts. Dostoyevsky paints the events of the murder so that, to the reader, the guilt seems to fall obviously on Mitya. However, Dostoyevsky raises doubts, such as when Smerdyakov, a sketchy guy/third party who ostensibly only witnessed the murder, confesses his guilt to Ivan. Ivan, who is hallucinating (during one section he converses with the Devil) and clearly sick to all, becomes convinced that Smerdyakov is guilty. It’s unclear to the reader whether the confession actually occurred, and afterward Smerdyakov offs himself.
The lawyers during the trial represent the sides of faith vs. facts perfectly, with Mitya’s lawyer being an extremely eloquent and charismatic speaker who is able to convince the public of his innocence despite scant evidence. The jury does not buy it however, to the surprise of the public (and the reader). Alyosha, the deeply religious brother and pseudo-main character, supports his brother’s defense by claiming that the evidence of his brother’s truthfulness was the look on his face. Ultimately, with Mitya’s conviction, Dostoyevsky appears to suggest that facts win out, or at least this might seem the case to non-religious readers. I can also see how most would interpret the result as a reliance on facts that ultimately lead to a wrongful conviction (it’s heavily suggested that Mitya may not be guilty). The brilliance of the court setting shows that even when facts are present, it’s impossible to truly know what’s real or not. My takeaway from The Brothers Karamazov is that this is an eye-opening book for understanding spirituality and the reasons why it is so widely accepted. It is also a very fair counterweight to religious belief. There are so many stories inside of this story that it would be impossible to go over them all, but it’s all brilliantly woven together.
The Brothers Karamazov is a beast of a novel. It’s my third of Dostoyevsky’s reputed classics (Demons is the only one of the quartet that I haven’t read; the others I’m referring to are Crime and Punishment and The Idiot). It was my least favorite of the three, but also one of the most incredible books I’ve ever read, which should speak to the quality of the other two. (Side note: I’ve also read Notes from Underground). The Brothers Karamazov is written in Dostoyevsky’s usual dramatic style. I’ve always felt like Dostoyevsky was able to transcribe drama in the form of a novel. The characters’ personalities are exaggerated and their interactions are often frantic, exciting, and melodramatic. His style betrays the idea of realism by seeming to borrow from works of drama or the adventure novel, yet the situations he creates and the dialogue he uses taps so deeply into the recesses of the human spirit that I find myself feeling that nothing can be realer than Dostoyevsky’s worlds. He’s the perfect counterpart to Tolstoy (whom I slightly prefer), who has mastered the realistic novel without the same frantic overtones.
Essentially, Brothers Karamazov is a meditation on spiritual belief. The story begins by introducing (which is like its first 500-600 pages, actually) the brothers and their friends, neighbors, etc. by presenting them in morally ambiguous situations or running errands with the cloud of religion constantly overhead, as it’s being scoffed at by some characters, like Ivan the pretentious middle child, devoutly followed by others (Alyosha, Father Zosima, etc.), and basically ignored by the rest (Mitya and his father, etc.). Throughout the narrative, Dostoyevsky introduces characters’ religious perspectives in a compelling, persuasive way. I appreciate how he, as a solid Christian, seemingly tears down the legitimacy of religion with chapters like The Grand Inquisitor. He of course also acknowledges its merits, such as through Zosima’s deathbed reflections.
The story culminates in Mitya’s trial for parricide, in which Mitya is found guilty. For me, the trial represented the tug-of-war found within a society of religious and non-religious people, struggling to cooperate and make a decision when one of those groups is swayed by feelings and the other group facts. Dostoyevsky paints the events of the murder so that, to the reader, the guilt seems to fall obviously on Mitya. However, Dostoyevsky raises doubts, such as when Smerdyakov, a sketchy guy/third party who ostensibly only witnessed the murder, confesses his guilt to Ivan. Ivan, who is hallucinating (during one section he converses with the Devil) and clearly sick to all, becomes convinced that Smerdyakov is guilty. It’s unclear to the reader whether the confession actually occurred, and afterward Smerdyakov offs himself.
The lawyers during the trial represent the sides of faith vs. facts perfectly, with Mitya’s lawyer being an extremely eloquent and charismatic speaker who is able to convince the public of his innocence despite scant evidence. The jury does not buy it however, to the surprise of the public (and the reader). Alyosha, the deeply religious brother and pseudo-main character, supports his brother’s defense by claiming that the evidence of his brother’s truthfulness was the look on his face. Ultimately, with Mitya’s conviction, Dostoyevsky appears to suggest that facts win out, or at least this might seem the case to non-religious readers. I can also see how most would interpret the result as a reliance on facts that ultimately lead to a wrongful conviction (it’s heavily suggested that Mitya may not be guilty). The brilliance of the court setting shows that even when facts are present, it’s impossible to truly know what’s real or not. My takeaway from The Brothers Karamazov is that this is an eye-opening book for understanding spirituality and the reasons why it is so widely accepted. It is also a very fair counterweight to religious belief. There are so many stories inside of this story that it would be impossible to go over them all, but it’s all brilliantly woven together.