Devils, by Fyodor Dust-You-Offski, the noted Russian Washroom Attendant
Devils, by Fyodor Dostoevsky
"I am good."
"With that I agree", Stavgorin muttered frowningly.
"He who teaches that all are good, will end the world."
"He who taught it was crucified."
"He will come, and his name is the man-god."
"The God-Man?"
"The man-god--that's the whole difference."
"Can it be you who lights the icon lamp?"
"Yes, I lit it."
"You've become a believer?"
"The old woman likes the icon lamp...she's busy today," Krillov muttered.
"But you don't pray yet?"
"I pray to everything. See, there's a spider crawling on the wall. I look,and am thankful to it for crawling."
Dostoevsky is devastating in his descriptions of criminal psychology, portraying the enemies of civilization in what seems to be the best possible light, and leaving the reader appalled at the criminals nonetheless. The antiheroes of Devils (also translated as Demons or The Possessed; those titles are all the same book) are a sorry lot indeed, comparable to middle class Occupy protesters as seen by the Tea Party, except given to violence--or perhaps young Teahadists, if they were riled up over a leftist cause. Either way. They talk a lot about principles without actually having any, and feel justified in hurting the innocent because their own psyches are in so much turmoil that they can't process as fast as they act.
The book didn't click for me until I made the connection with modern young crusaders. While not as bad as the Constance Garnet translations of Russian literature, the Pevear/Volokhonsky version I read is still somewhat stilted. It's confusing that the characters all have three names, such that the same person is alternately called Skandalovoska and Gritorin Nastikhuch...and it's the same with every character in the book!. Finally, in all books of this kind, I continually have to fight the subconscious urge to stereotype all pre-20th Century Russians as if they were all fur-hatted, burlap-clad peasants with enormous black beards, all living in thatched huts surrounded by endless snow. Replace that with the "Hey man, is that Freedom Rock?" guy, and it all begins to make more sense.
In typical Dostoevsky fashion, the main characters have several heated philosophical dialogues purporting to expose great ideas, but which in reality are used to justify acts of uncontrolled viciousness. Trigger warnings are appropriate--in the course of bumbling through their lives, one main character molests a young girl; another murders a brand new father. Because politics, that's why. And why not? One character manages to hire a hitman to kill his wife, without realizing that he is actually doing this. Other characters form a revolutionary society dedicated to killing the elites of Russia; instead, they kill some of their own members while allowing other members to be arrested. Fail all around. Apparently based on an incident that really happened in 19th Century Russia, this book is noteworthy in that it accurately (in part) predicts some of the events leading to the Russian Revolution many years later.
"I am good."
"With that I agree", Stavgorin muttered frowningly.
"He who teaches that all are good, will end the world."
"He who taught it was crucified."
"He will come, and his name is the man-god."
"The God-Man?"
"The man-god--that's the whole difference."
"Can it be you who lights the icon lamp?"
"Yes, I lit it."
"You've become a believer?"
"The old woman likes the icon lamp...she's busy today," Krillov muttered.
"But you don't pray yet?"
"I pray to everything. See, there's a spider crawling on the wall. I look,and am thankful to it for crawling."
Dostoevsky is devastating in his descriptions of criminal psychology, portraying the enemies of civilization in what seems to be the best possible light, and leaving the reader appalled at the criminals nonetheless. The antiheroes of Devils (also translated as Demons or The Possessed; those titles are all the same book) are a sorry lot indeed, comparable to middle class Occupy protesters as seen by the Tea Party, except given to violence--or perhaps young Teahadists, if they were riled up over a leftist cause. Either way. They talk a lot about principles without actually having any, and feel justified in hurting the innocent because their own psyches are in so much turmoil that they can't process as fast as they act.
The book didn't click for me until I made the connection with modern young crusaders. While not as bad as the Constance Garnet translations of Russian literature, the Pevear/Volokhonsky version I read is still somewhat stilted. It's confusing that the characters all have three names, such that the same person is alternately called Skandalovoska and Gritorin Nastikhuch...and it's the same with every character in the book!. Finally, in all books of this kind, I continually have to fight the subconscious urge to stereotype all pre-20th Century Russians as if they were all fur-hatted, burlap-clad peasants with enormous black beards, all living in thatched huts surrounded by endless snow. Replace that with the "Hey man, is that Freedom Rock?" guy, and it all begins to make more sense.
In typical Dostoevsky fashion, the main characters have several heated philosophical dialogues purporting to expose great ideas, but which in reality are used to justify acts of uncontrolled viciousness. Trigger warnings are appropriate--in the course of bumbling through their lives, one main character molests a young girl; another murders a brand new father. Because politics, that's why. And why not? One character manages to hire a hitman to kill his wife, without realizing that he is actually doing this. Other characters form a revolutionary society dedicated to killing the elites of Russia; instead, they kill some of their own members while allowing other members to be arrested. Fail all around. Apparently based on an incident that really happened in 19th Century Russia, this book is noteworthy in that it accurately (in part) predicts some of the events leading to the Russian Revolution many years later.