Slogging Through Dostoevsky
... a reflective essay on being halfway through the Brothers Karamazov
I am currently about halfway through The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Everything about this book is beautiful. My copy is hardcover, a deep burgundy with golden letters and a ribbon to hold your place. The prose is breathtaking, with lines like, “The righteous man departs, but his light remains. People are always saved after the death of him who saved them.” The story, a tale of three brothers, appetites, loves, hatred, and all the emotions between, is beautiful. It is also a slog to read.
So often when I go to read a classic novel, I find myself distracted, turned aside by other things. Whole chapters in this book are devoted to exposition, to a character’s inner thoughts as they walk along an icy Russian backroad. Another chapter is simply sermons from a dying man. Even the very first section of the book is Dostoevsky making an excuse for writing the book. There are times when, in my modern mind, I wish that the characters would walk a little faster down the road. That Zosima would die just a bit quicker. That Dostoevsky would realize that he’s Dostoevsky and that people would be edified just reading his grocery lists. No excuses necessary.
In my experience, novels, Russian novels in particular, unfold slowly. It is like watching a flower open in real time, or watching a sunset without ever turning your gaze away. The real question is, why take the time? I have spent over twenty hours reading this book, have read 393 pages out of 776, and have dwindling weeks left in my summer. Why should I spend my time on such a massive novel? What does it give me, if anything at all?
Dive into Reality
I think I’ll start this little reflection with what I have learned (so far) from the brother’s themselves.
The oldest is Dimitri, a passionate lover. He’s bad with money, irresponsible with his relationships, and always on to the next stirring moment.
The middle child is Ivan, a hyper intelligent, cynical man. He is calm, cold, calculating. He seems to be playing 4-D chess and winning. The moments he may have passion he denies it, preferring to be collected.
Finally, Alyosha, the baby of the family. He feels things very deeply, has been living at a monastery, and believes in God with a simple faith. All those who see him love him, but he fears the depravity that lies in his blood.
Sound familiar? I think I know these people…or maybe that’s me?
The more I read about these characters, the conversations they have and the choices they make, the more I am reminded of people I have known and of myself. Paradoxically, when reading Dostoevsky I learn more about my own reality. Sometimes in order to wake up to reality I need to dive into the fictional. The characters of the brothers have shown me ways that I can grow, ways my own passions, cynicism, or doubt has impacted the way I live my life.
My Time is My Own
Earlier this week my father asked, “what are you reading?”
“The Brothers Karamazov.”
“Again?”
“No, still.”
So. That should show you how long it has taken me to read this book. Yet, I think it is important every now and again, to read a long book. Life is short, with a finite amount of time. We have to choose carefully how we spend that time, long books are worth it.
Dostoyevsky takes his time with stories, with characters, with beauty, and his work deserves the time you spend on it. Page after page, line after line, truth is revealed slowly. Things that are worth doing take time, just so reading The Brothers Karamozov. It is important, in our age of social media, reels, and five-second attention spans, to force ourselves to slow down and take our time with something beautiful and useless (at least from a practical point of view).
Not only that, but the way Dostoyevsky writes his novel is reflexive of the way God writes our stories. Life for me does not pass with the speed of an instagram reel. I cannot put my hand over the camera and “skip to the good part.” I cannot jump and get dressed, nor make croissants in thirty seconds. Life, virtue, goodness, takes time and work. Reading Dostoyevsky reveals a truth of our own life, that it will take time and unfold slowly. Tragedy, comedy, joy, and sorrow will pass through our lives gradually, flowing up and down and intertwining as the pages of life turn.
I will continue to slog through The Brothers Karamozov. I’ll let you know in a year if I have finished yet, but here, halfway through, I can tell you that it is worth it to begin, and it is worth it to read on.