Crime and Punishment - Fydor Dostoevsky (1866) This version translated by Richard Pavear and Larissa Volokhonsky (1992)

 

Rating: Admirable

"Why do people who read Dostoevsky look like Dostoevsky?": Here Comes a City - The Go-Betweens (1996)

For the record, I don't look like Dostoevsky, but by the time I finished Crime and Punishment I certainly felt like I could relate to how Dostoevsky might have felt (bleak, to put it bluntly). I thought it was time to try and read some of the Russian literary greats and chose to begin in the most obvious place with Dostoevsky. Firstly, reading a novel that was written in the middle part of the nineteenth century is a very different proposition to reading novels written a century later. It takes a while to adjust to the archaic writing style, let alone the very Russian archaic writing style. Crime and Punishment is written in the third person, but it is a very closed third person. The famous main protagonist, Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov, very much dominates the oppressive narrative with his nihilistic world view. It is extremely claustrophobic and bleak, with scenes dominated by Raskolnikov cowering in his hovel of a bedsit or wandering the dark streets of St Petersburg; or scenes involving the many other characters talking to him, or talking about him to each other as if he isn't in the room. I wouldn't be giving anything away by mentioning the double murder he commits in the first part, as it is one of the most famous murders in literary history. The murder scene is quite gruesome, but what Crime and Punishment is really all about is what happens in the aftermath of the murders, enabling Dostoevsky to explore the moral quandaries of human nature and the intellectual and spiritual scaffolding humanity places around itself to cope with what lies beneath. As a precursor to the existential writers of the twentieth century, like Sartre, Celine and Camus, Crime and Punishment is a fascinating read. Raskolnikov rejects pretty much everything, God, religion, the State, education, work, money and close relations with other humans. He is completely alienated and is a totally unsympathetic character, to the extent that you couldn't even refer to him as an antihero. It's hard going and I needed to read the novel in three seperate periods of time. Frankly it was a triumph of will just to finish it, maybe I should have read Nietzsche in-between to give me strength (apparently Nietzsche loved Dostoevsky's work).

Dostoevsky, looking like Dostoevsky after reading Dostoevsky

I've read that Dostoevsky is not necessarily known as a great literary stylist, or even as a storyteller, but that he is all about exploring ideas. Crime and Punishment is best read with this in mind and it will help, just. It's a hard slog through a dialogue heavy narrative, in particular during the scenes involving multiple characters, where it is hard to keep track of who is saying what and just who is in fact there, as each character is know by at least three different names. It is extremely long-winded, with whole chapters going by with not much happening in terms of action or plot, just long extrapolations of conjecture, philosophy, or just downright misery. With this in mind it is useful to remember that authors in the nineteenth century were often paid by the word and their works were serialised, giving them an income for as long as they could spin them out. The novel does not arrive at its main thematic thrust until 260 pages in, when suddenly Raskolnikov's murderous actions makes sense in terms of his world view. The novel then became a bit easier to read, for a while! One of the main problems, from a modern readers' point of view, is that there is not much in the way of extrapolation from the author, Dostoevsky's authorial voice is mostly absent, instead the characters explore the novel's themes via dialogue, or via their actions, which are often confusing or confounding. Looking on Goodreads I noted that some readers proclaim Crime and Punishment as one of the greatest novels ever written, while others condemn it as a bloated wreck of a novel, with few redeeming features. I sit somewhere in-between, whilst I appreciate the novel's historical importance, in particular in terms of its ideas and themes, I did not enjoy reading it much at all. However I'm pleased I've read it and it hasn't put me off reading other novels by the Russian literary greats. If you read Crime and Punishment, do some prior research and keep in mind that it was written for an audience very different to us and that will help you through the challenge of actually finishing it. Good luck!

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde (1890)

 

Rating: Excellent

This is the second time I've read The Picture of Dorian Gray. The first was at university for a unit called 'Ideas of Modernity', and the novel greatly impressed the twenty-three-year-old me. Reading it again after twenty years, this time for the library book club, is a different experience. Wilde's only novel is brilliant. Most people interested in culture and literature know the story, but to read it is a different thing altogether. Wilde's descriptive abilities were exceptional, one only needs to read the opening chapters, which sets the scene in the house and garden of artist Basil Hallward, with the summer garden through the open French doors redolent of flower scents and opulent foliage. It's here where Dorian meets Lord Henry Wotton and wishes that he could stay as young as his portrait Hallward is applying some finishing touches to. Lord Henry holds forth with endless epigrams of the kind that Wilde made famous during his short and tragic life. The Picture of Dorian Gray is structured beautifully, with its plot flowing along with a modern sense of economy and vim. It is still a wonder to read, to admire Wilde's beautiful writing and skilful execution of a story that dovetails towards its memorable gothic conclusion.

The reason why it was a different experience after twenty years is partly due to the fact that I do not remember being so aware of the novel's racist and misogynistic content. The description of the Jewish theatre owner that Dorian encounters when he attends a shabby theatre to witness Sybil Vane for the first time, with whom he falls in love, is outrageously racist. Lord Henry talks about his wife and women in general with disdain, in a witty manner, of course, that makes his upper-class chums chortle. A member of the library book club voiced the opinion that the novel should be, to paraphrase, left in the dustbin of history as an example of past damaging attitudes. Such thoughts are indicative of the current reactionary practice of altering or banning narratives from the past that do not fit into our culture of moralistic self awareness. Firstly, it is a mistake to ascribe words and attitude of characters to that of the author, unless the author has displayed such attitudes in interviews or autobiographical writings. As far as I can ascertain Wilde was not a racist, nor a misogynist. Wilde, however, would have been well aware of the attitudes of the upper classes and the novel reflects those attitudes. Novels like The Picture of Dorian Gray are immensely valuable in showing us what the past was like and telling us how far we've come, or, indeed, how far we've slipped back. They shouldn't be censored or wilfully misunderstood. Wilde's novel is also prescient of the extreme narcissistic culture of our times and, in Dorian, presents a forerunner of celebrity culture that has dominated for decades. Perhaps some of the multitudes of Dorian Grays who exist online in their all narcissistic glory, forever young and forever influencing, should read the novel, it may well be a mirror that reveals their tormented souls.

Far from the Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy (1874)

 

Rating: Excellent

What does a Victorian era classic novel have in common with the fantasy genre? Not much really you'd think, however it occurred to me half way through Far from the Madding Crowd that trying to adapt to Hardy's Victorian era prose style, with its particular turn of phrase and anachronistic words; is like trying to adapt to all the esoteric character and place names used in fantasy novels. Hardy even sets the novel in a semi-fictional literary landscape called Wessex (which once did exist during medieval times), with lush rolling hills, sun dappled forests and dramatic coastal cliffs, which all sounds very Tolkienesque. It is an exotic novel when viewed from this point in history, as Hardy's beautiful and complex prose style was already out of fashion before his death in 1929, thanks the the generation of Modernist writers that emerged during the immediate post Victorian era. Yet once you get used to Hardy's style the novel becomes a total pleasure to read. Although some (Goodreads) reader descriptions of the novel focus on sheep, sheep, some more sheep, and some romance, there is much more on offer for the dedicated reader; the plot itself is absorbing and although the novel can be heavy-going at times, there's always something that comes along that piques your interest and keeps you reading.

Essentially, Far from the Madding Crowd is a romance involving the independent and feisty Bathsheba Everdene, the young and irrepressible (and irresponsible) Sergeant Troy, the middle-aged stick-in-the mud William Boldwood and finally the stoic and quite shepherd, Gabriel Oak. The interplay between these four characters plays out across the novel, which was originally serialised, as a slow-burn of romantic desire both actualised and repressed, but mostly the latter, this being Victorian literature. Things do get rather intense towards the end, involving a macabre scene with a coffin, some Gothic overtones, farce at a travelling circus, manslaughter and more romance, once again, both repressed and actualised. In the Victorian era this was seen as sensationalist literature, designed to both outrage and to spur the reader on; whilst there's no outrage to be had for the modern reader, there is certainly a great deal of spurring on. My library book club really loved this novel, winning the approval of about thirty people, so despite the best efforts of the Modernists, the varying literary experiments and trends of the twentieth century and beyond, Hardy can still pack a literary punch. Recommended as a gateway to classic nineteenth century literature, easier than the Russians, less prosaic than George Eliot and less gothically florid than the Brontes.

A Moveable Feast - Ernest Hemingway (1964)

 

Rating: Excellent

I haven't read Hemingway for thirty years! I'm pleased that the book club has forced my hand in this case, as it has proved to be a most enjoyable read (most of the book club members concurred). Hemingway visited Paris in 1956 and recovered some storage trunks from the Hotel Ritz. Inside the trunks he found his journals written while living in Paris in the Twenties. He then pieced together A Moveable Feast as a memoir of that period before he died in 1961. It's fascinating reading, giving an evocative impression of life in Paris during a time when many artists from England, America and Europe lived in France due to the favourable exchange rate and its reputation as an artistic hub. Yet to pen a novel, Hemingway is making a transition from journalism to short-story writing. He rubs shoulders with an amazing array of important historical figures, such as James Joyce (who does not feature greatly in the memoir), Ezra Pound (who does), Ford Madox Ford, Gertrude Stein, Wyndham Lewis and most significantly, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. The three chapters that feature the Fitzgeralds make for intriguing reading. Hemingway paints a picture of Fitzgerald that is both critical and flattering. Hemingway, on the other hand, makes it known that he despises Zelda, labelling her as mad and jealous of Scott Fitzgerald's writing.

Hemingway's life in Paris, and latterly for a brief period, Austria, is beautifully portrayed. The characters he interacts with are all rendered fully alive throughout. Interwar Paris was undoubtably a colourful time, but what really makes this book special is the quality and style of Hemingway's prose, something that he is still famous for (other than his apparent 'outdoors man ' machismo). His short, declarative sentences, pared back to the bone, are a pleasure to read. The fact that he talks about writing and trying to become a writer of fiction, rather than to continue as a journalist, makes reading A Moveable Feast all the more compelling. During the time that I haven't read any Hemingway, I've read some of his imitators, or at least those who were inspired by his style, such as Charles Bukowski. Finally reading him again makes me want to go right back to the Hemingway source and read some of his novels. A Movable Feast would make a fine introduction to his writing for those who have never read him, after all, it goes right back to a time when he was a struggling writer, swaying through the streets of Paris after a few too many wines, and associating with writers who had been published already. Now I truly know why Bukowski said that when he was on fire, Hemingway was simply untouchable.