*note; these are obviously the greek editions
September has ended and he (because September is definitely a “he”) took with him a great deal of literature, Russian literature to be exact! Like it was expected I have no complaints, Dostoevsky and Pushkin did keep me great company in those rainy and dark nights in my bed.
Having some Tchaikovsky in the background (**here she hints to you that you have to listen his “Eugene Onegin” opera**) and the unexpected sun keeping me this time company, I’m struggling to write this very review. Like every other book, I get too emotional and academically driven. You may excuse my endless ramblings and parenthesizes. Now, actually meaning it, let’s get into the deep void of Russian books!
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s Crime and Punishment! It’s unforgivably disturbing and beautiful.
Dostoevsky is one of those authors that you know very well that you can’t do him justice whatever you write and however you write it. Try to add some poetic touch suddenly it becomes too “Pushkin”. Then you try a much stricter structure but of course you end up with a “Freud” rant! Now, that’s Fyodor right in the middle!
“In a morbid condition, dreams are often distinguished by their remarkably graphic, vivid, and extremely lifelike quality. The resulting picture is sometimes monstrous, but the setting and the whole process of the presentation sometimes happen to be so probable, and with details so subtle, unexpected, yet artistically consistent with the whole fullness of the picture, that even the dreamer himself would be unable to invent them in reality, though he were as much an artist as Pushkin or Turgenev. Such dreams, morbid dreams, are always long remembered and produce a strong impression on the disturbed and already excited organism of the person. Raskolnikov had a terrible dream.”
This is Dostoevsky at his purest and most beautiful prose! His words literally have another flow, an entire different sense of poetic-ness and realism. What leaves me even more in love with him is that in Russian I know that he’s even more exquisite. Maybe I am consumed with all the criticism but I am convinced that Russian fully captures Fyodor’s uniqueness! I surely don’t know the language but only by hearing it I am in the great position to see this writer writing in it, telling his stories through such a romantic but yet also harsh language to foreign ears like mine.
Dostoevsky knows how to get under your skin, he brings to the paper all these wonders, all these dreams and all the sins we have either committed or desire to commit!