The Idiot (Penguin Classics)

Written immediately after CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, Dostoevsky gives us THE IDIOT, whose hero, Prince Myshkin, is gentle and Christ-like - the polar opposite of Raskolnikov, the nihilist murderer. Taken together, the two novels give us a fascinating critique of Russian (and Western) society from the perspective of a sinner and a saint, and of a society that has produced both. Admittedly, THE IDIOT must be seen a minor novel in comparison to CRIME AND PUNISHMENT. It lacks its psychological power and narrative drive. But I would suggest that the greatness of CRIME AND PUNISHMENT is enhanced by reading THE IDIOT. Further, I would argue that much of what is seen to be the greatness of CRIME AND PUNISHMENT originates in the location of the narrator's point of view inside the teeming and tortured mind of the ultimate outsider, Raskolnikov. The third person narrator inside a single consciousness became the "default" practice in the late 19th and early 20th century. This is perhaps why the story of Prince Myskin, our gentle insurgent in THE IDOT who is nearly always seen inside of a Russian society, and whose story is told in a mix of omniscient narrator and from Myshkin's point of view is seen to be old-fashioned or hard to read. I would argue that given the nature of the story Dostoyevsky is telling here - of a society that cannot cope with an honest and compassionate man that the omniscient narrator's voice is warranted and appropriate (unlike a number of reviewers below for whom this technique comes off as creaky and plodding). To tell the story he wants to tell, Dostoyevsky must move from one drawing room to another, one set of eyewitnesses, gossips, and minor characters to another. These set pieces - such as Natasya's "party" where she chooses whom she will marry, or the nihilist Ipollit's reading of his Confession, also locate THE IDIOT more in the realm of traditional 19th century novel of manners than CRIME AND PUNISHMENT. And its ostensible subject matter - marriage - places it squarely in the genre. I find it sad that the set pieces in THE IDIOT can seem interminable to some modern readers. Yes, characters do hold forth for pages and pages, propounding theories, relating anecdotes in excruciating detail. In the society of the 19th century, even in the chaotic society of post-feudal Russia where the social order was in flux, the conversational customs of a court society still held sway. Even in the considerably more democratic United States, the presence of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. at social functions was highly prized by elites because he was universally recognized for his acumen as a speaker and conversationalist. These days we don't talk anywhere near as intelligently, as passionately or grandly these marvelous characters, and our suburbanized circumstances reduce our chances for unsettling social encounters as well. Which do you more often attend - parties featuring a stew of anarchic social criticism, bizarre personal attacks and grotesque dissembling, or a dull pudding of sitcom japes and bumpersticker politics? Which would you prefer? Dostoyevsky fills his drawing rooms with challenges to the status quo, with intemperate invective, with radical claims on the political and economic system. At the same time he gives voice to conservative views, e.g., that Russia was better before Alexander II freed the serfs (in 1861, only 6 years prior to the publication of THE IDIOT), better before the aristocracy began to rub shoulders with powerful merchants and usurers, better before the atheists, nihilists and anarchists attacked the church and the social structure. Interestingly, many of these contretemps are, as in so much 19th Century fiction, posed in connection with "the woman question." Our heroine, Natasya, raised by her guardian and seduced at a young age. is intent upon exposing Russian society for its hypocritical attitudes and brutal behavior toward women. Brilliant and beautiful, Natasya concoct a series of circumstances that both outrage and shame conventional society. She is the demonic critic of Russian society, her vindictive spirit contrasting sharply with Prince Myshkin's penchant for compassion and forgiveness. Together they form a unique double-edged critique of the bourgeoisie. And both are broken by their society's cruel intolerance and vast hypocrisy. Prince Myshkin's conversation marks him among members of his society an "idiot" because he speaks forthrightly and answers truthfully without regard for the consequences. So disturbing is this behavior that Aglaya, the woman he hopes to marry, tells him not speak at the gathering at which he is being introduced to high society as a suitor. But driven by the onset of an epileptic fit, he disobeys and gives himself up to a remarkable speech in which his praise for the assembled company, his views on politics and religion are interpreted by most as an insult, and by many as the ravings of a madman. His speech is a form of social suicide, self-murder, and as such the flip side of Raskolnikov's homicide. In the largest sense, what's at stake in these conversations and disputes is no less than the soul of Russia. Through the prince's speech Dostoyevsky poses the question as to whether Russia will reawaken to her deep and unique Christian heritage and behave, like the prince, with virtue, compassion and honor, or become like the empires to the West whose money-grubbing ways have begun to infect Russia and her people. THE IDIOT has flaws. There is too much disquisition and exposition even for a 19th century novel. Sometimes, Dostoyevsky will vamp along for a few pages, trying to figure out what to do next. But still, THE IDIOT is well worth reading by itself, or even better, in combination with CRIME AND PUNISHMENT for its psychological acuity and its devastating dissection of a unique social world under stress.

I was on the NR train with a college junior who was a former Bible study student of mine in high school. We were on our way to the Carnegie Deli when I asked how his fellow classmates were doing. It was then that he told me the news. "Didn't you hear?" he said. "--- was recently in a porn video." When I heard this, I said that it was like hearing that a young child I knew had been molested. He responded incredulously, "When I heard about it, I laughed." I might have laughed as well. The way one laughs in disbelief upon hearing about some foolish or crude act, I might have said, "Oh my gosh!" or "Are you serious?" all the while itching to hear more of the titillating details. Afterwards I would have offered some hint of condescending sympathy while condemning her on how she could have been so stupid. In the end I would have felt a certain pleasure as one often does upon hearing salacious gossip. But when I heard the news, my heart immediately sank and I wanted nothing more than to tell her that she was a good person, that God loved her and sent His Son to die for her, and looked at her as His precious adopted daughter. At that moment I wanted to tell her with heartfelt honesty that I always thought of her as being one of the most tender hearted people I knew, a person who wanted to know God so personally and with such childlike sincerity. I wanted her to forget momentarily her reputation - deserved and undeserved - and I wanted to remind her of being the girl who memorized and recited to me the first chapter of James, of being one of a handful in the class who always participated in our community outreaches, of being the girl who would lift up her hands with eyes closed during praise time when no one else would. I wanted her to believe all these things, but even still, I hoped against hope and felt and still feel a deep desperation. If you have not read Fyodor Dostoevsky's The Idiot, you will not understand that desperation or why I was hoping against hope. What follows is a brief attempt to show how The Idiot changed my heart from one that once snickered to one that now sighs in despair. The novel is basically about a beautiful woman who was seduced in her youth by a rich man who promised to marry her, and another man's efforts to save this woman who continually suffers from her betrayal and the social stigma of being tainted. Prince Myshkin, the would-be savior of Nastasya Filippovna, is a young man who has recently inherited a large sum of money and returns to his homeland after recovering from severe epilepsy that continues to recur on and off. The Prince is often viewed as an idiot by others chiefly because he appears to be very naive to the ways of the world. Many characters abusively take advantage of his generous, meek and forgiving nature. Parfyon Rogozin, a rogue in lust for Nastasya, for example, repeatedly strikes and even attempts to kill the Prince who only responds sympathetically with tears, "You will regret what you've done!" In another example, Agalya, a beautiful young aristocrat in love with the Prince and whom the Prince romantically loves in return, often cruelly humiliates him in public to test and measure how forgiving and patient and unconditional his love for others, and for her, really could be. Then there are those who would ask for loans, which the Prince gives to them freely amidst the criticism of Agalya's mother and her friends who deprecate him as incorrigibly gullible. The Prince however is no fool. In one particularly memorable scene at a dinner party in the home of Agalya's mother, the Prince gives the most penetrating and damning fulmination of Roman Catholicism ever written (Chapter 7 of Part 4). Also, his dealings with the young, dying existentialist Ippolit show remarkable insight and restraint. To be sure almost everyone around him comes to admire and grow fond of the Prince. But it is not primarily the Prince's wisdom or kindness that makes him, along with Cervantes' Don Quixote, one of the most endearing and inspiring characters in history. It is the Prince's decision to commit to loving the broken, bitter, and vengeful Nastasya over his sweetheart Agalya that sears him into the conscience. Although Agalya inflicts much suffering on the Prince throughout the novel, she finally comes to reconcile the fact that the Prince's love is real and submits herself to his entreaties. They would have made the ideal couple - she from an upstanding family with a wealthy dowry, he from a noble lineage - they would have enjoyed the envy of everyone around them. But the Prince in the end cannot ignore the pain of Nastasya who suffers constantly from the disdainful glances and whispers of the elite, the lustful grabs by rogues, and most of all from her own perception of herself as tawdry and without hope. The Prince ends up pursuing Nastasya and offers his hand in marriage to her. What happens next explains why I said at the beginning of this review that you would not understand why I had hoped against hope that the former student would come to believe all that I wanted her to know unless you had read this novel. At the wedding ceremony, Nastasya walks down the aisle as everyone gasps at her sheer beauty, but upon seeing the Prince, she runs away to a carriage driven by Rogozin. Some would conclude that Nastasya's problem was that ultimately she had failed to forgive herself, and as a result, could not let the past go to live happily with the Prince. But this is not a complete analysis. Nastasya's problem was at root unbelief. She failed to believe in the love of the Prince and its power to overlook her past. Others may suppose that it was humility driving this unbelief that forced her to flee from the Prince. That Nastasya thought that she was only worthy of a lecherous life with Rogozin. But far from showing humility, this thought demonstrates the greatest pride. She refused to believe that the Prince was a more qualified judge of her than herself. Only pride could support such a view. The parallel to my former student and our Lord is too obvious and need not be expressly stated here. I would only add that when I said that I still feel desperation that the former student would come to believe all that I wanted her to know, what I had in mind was what happened to the Prince after Nastasya left him at the alter for Rogozin. That is, the Prince continued to pursue her, and . . . well, the ending of the novel, I leave for you to discover on your own as an incentive for you to read this book in its entirety. I know most scholars and critics view Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov as the greatest novel ever written, but surely there has never been a character as sublime as Prince Myshkin through whom we can all understand the meaning of grace deeper than we had ever dared to know before.

Like many other readers, I felt disappointed in the end - though I enjoyed as always Dostoyevsky's madcap style, the action seesawed back-and-forth for 718 pages with an unsatisfying resolution. It felt like a very long episode of Seinfeld in which nothing happens. My view changed after reading the introduction by William Mills Tood, which got me to appreciate that the main elements of the book for Dostoyevsky were aesthetic and philosophical rather than plot. The book was written under difficult conditions. Dostoyevsky was in debt and had a daunting deadline. Also, the book was written for serialization without a completed version in hand, which meant that he was making it up on the fly and could not go back and make changes to earlier chapters. Another interesting thing I learned from the introduction is that the sputtering and fuming style is in part attributable to Dostoyevsky's method, which involved dictating to his wife while pacing frenetically around a small room; she would then transcribe the words neatly for his corrections. Even without the introduction, I was able to appreciate some "post-modern" elements: Dostoyesvky seemed to pretend he didn't know what was going on in the minds of his characters, and at one point had a long monologue with the reader about how he didn't know what to do with some of his characters because they were too "ordinary". The intro confirmed this, suggesting that the narrator is himself kind of idiot or buffoon who is limited in his comprehension and knowledge of the events. Another question: Was it worth paying for a modern edition rather than reading the free edition from Project Gutenberg? In addition to the introduction, I found the end notes very helpful to explain contemporary references, and for those reasons alone my answer is "yes". It was harder to judge the differences in translation, but others who have looked at the versions more carefully have said that they matter. Wikipedia gives a nice overview of the various translations over the years. In summary, though flawed, the book is an important cultural icon and a worthy glimpse into the mind of a troubled genius.

Wow, okay, so I’m not really sure where to start with this one. I guess right here. First, it is a very powerful novel packed with the ability to elicit an entire spectrum of emotions ranging from love to hate, joy to sorrow, laughter to tears, bliss to horror, gratitude to greed, the list of these ostensibly contradictory extremes of emotions could go on and on; however, wherever and whenever one meets this book, suffice it to say, one is guaranteed to experience all sorts of feelings and emotions that are ever so skillfully and precisely evoked as if by the work of a gifted surgeon. How Dostoevsky accomplishes this feat is stunning. It’s as if he ever so gradually yet specifically chips away at all that appears to stand in the way of each isolated emotion until he reaches its raw essence… and then, it’s on to the next one until he leaves your heart totally exposed, in its virgin state of purity, with absolutely no misconceptions or delusions remaining to continue to hide behind. There’s simply nothing left but to succumb to the power of the moment. Next, Dostoevsky somehow makes one love each and every one of his characters. All of them are completely believable to me (albeit a bit over the top at times - aren't people like that too?) and it feels like my heart opens for each and every one of them (even the ones that are far less warm, fuzzy, likeable and honorable than I would like them to be) regardless of their sometimes seeming/sometimes blatant deficiencies. I feel a huge heart connection with this book that seems to allow me to better understand and feel compassion for these characters, thereby allowing me to extend this connection to my life and the people in it. It has auspiciously, perhaps even providentially, but most definitely gratefully, aroused a level and depth of compassion that I never knew existed in me. Subsequently, as an extension of this compassionate heart connection, I am also feeling a tremendous connection with the concepts of honesty and integrity - what that means and how one might incorporate them into one's life. It has been a big awakening for me as I look at my own relationships and notice how even the slightest exaggeration, embellishment or untruth has a tendency to enter before I even realize it. It is definitely something I will continue to watch and it makes me wonder if anyone ever completely comes from a place of total honesty and truth. This place, this space consisting solely of purity and love, of unadulterated potentiality, of complete equanimity, is this what it means to live completely in the moment, to not be affected by beliefs, concepts or pre-programmed responses to incoming stimuli? Is this what it means to experience self-realization, as a totally honest response to all of what life presents one with, regardless of the illusory polarity of each incident? Can one feel and experience life’s full range of emotions without being attached to or influenced by one’s ideas of the “proper” and “appropriate” way to respond? Basically, can a person meet life in each moment with total honesty and truthfulness? I say yes, and I think that these qualities are what Dostoevsky is ultimately attempting to provoke in the reader. These are Christ-like qualities, Buddha-like qualities, and are the qualities that Prince Myshkin possesses throughout this book. Prince Myshkin is a representation of the ideal, of the beauty and innocence that is possible for each and every person in each and every moment. Is he an idiot for being this way, or is it people’s mistaken inability to understand the vast magnitude of his purity and love? If he does represent pure love then what ultimately makes them persecute him so? Fear? Jealousy? Pride? People seem to have a very strong tendency to resist what they do not understand… and this continues only until they do understand…and then… what’s left but to forgive them for they know not what they do. Ultimately, I could go on and on with my praise for this masterpiece but my words would only pale in comparison to the actual experience of reading it. It is a book that could very well be read and reread yearly throughout one’s life with huge benefit. To conclude, I absolutely love this book, highly recommend it and encourage all who have a desire to probe and explore its unbounded depths, to read it. It would be an effort more than worthy of the time and energy required to do so.

The Vintage Classics versions of these books are superb. I started with Crime and Punishment when I was a teenager and have, at this point, read all of the novels besides 'The Adolescent'. Partly there's the plain but evocative translation offered by the husband-and-wife team of Pevear and Volokhonsky - I was reading an interview with the couple in the 90's and they recounted a story in which they were visiting with an old Russian lady and they proudly mentioned that they were working on translating Dostoevsky. Her response was something to the effect of "Do you think you'll be able to fix his awful prose?". She meant it seriously. I've read other translations of minor works and novellas, and I generally get lost in them. When there are multiple characters the conversation can be hard to follow- they can say very unexpected things. The internal dialogue might confuse the issue. Minor, almost unnoticeable incidents can sometimes have sudden serious repercussions. There are long, deep conversations sometimes punctuated by quick actions or abrupt endings. Even the character names themselves can sometimes get seriously confused. In all of this one can find themselves hopelessly lost. A good translation helps clear out some of the muddiness and direct the action and though I've had to reread passages occasionally, in these texts, it's because I want to understand more the intent of the characters, or subtext through their speech, not the basic plot points or what they are literally saying. There are some other helps for the reader: There is a list of characters at the beginning of each book which helps more than you might think. Finally, there are clarifying endnotes meticulously added. This should be a major selling point. They add context for a time and place so removed from english speaking modernity. Every little fact is appreciated. Also, the prefaces are always a fantastic place to start. Just really well put together. And, of course, the 'vintage classics' line is well constructed for its cost. They last quite a while as paperbacks go, though I did like the heaviness of the paper in the 90s editions even more. The newer versions with the black and white abstract covers seem to have much thinner pages (quite like newspaper) in contrast to the older editions. I'm sure this is to help manage size and weight, and though the cover and binding are strong enough to keep everything protected, I just like the feel of the older novels a bit better.

The print is very small. If you don't have perfect eyesight, beware!

I try to avoid giving five stars as a small gesture towards reducing Amazon's version of grade inflation, but can't help it here. The edition: These Everyman cloth editions are just excellent. P&V's translation flows beautifully. The paper is high quality and the font is easy on the eyes. The book simply feels good in your hands. I'm tired of cheaply printed versions of classics--this edition does justice to its content. The task of reading it: A reading group provides incentive to keep up the pace. I read this in a few weeks, 250 pp in the last three days. This is exhausting but if you can find the stamina to get through it in a short time it's better I think--the novel really inhabits your head so the impact is greater. The only place where I struggled was getting through Ippolit's interminable letter. At this pace you feel a bit of D's "brain fever" yourself. The novel itself: It's a great choice for a book club because it opens up so many topics for discussion. For example: --The distinctions among innocence, idiocy, and mere stupidity. How the prince's innocence waxes and wanes according to the needs of the plot. --The expedience of "fever"--does fever absolve the characters of responsibility for their actions? (See also Crime and Punishment). If it doesn't, what is its point? --Similarly, epilepsy. What difference does it make that he is epileptic? Plotwise, not much? --Love as plot device. "Love" happens as if turned on by a switch. Both female leads are beautiful leading to wondering if the love is infatuation. Falling in "love" with a beautiful women is a mistake not specific to idiots indeed has been the downfall of many a wise man. What if one or both of the love interests were simply ordinary looking? --Once caught in prince's (lady trouble) dilemma, how might a non-innocent have been able to recover? No obvious solution, even for a wise man. --D's seeming disdain for work--anybody with a job is a beast of burden. Originality is more important than responsibility. His artistic characters lose money, lend money to nogoodniks, give it away, gamble it away, even burn it in a fire. None of this is judged to be "idiotic". Prince conveniently loses enough of his fortune to shysters to demonstrate his innocence, but manages to wise up (not described--see variability of innocence above) and hang on to enough of it to maintain status in his aristocratic circle. Money is only something you ought to have enough of to be able to make dramatic gestures that demonstrate your disinterest in the practical aspects of life. To actually go and earn it doing something of value to society reveals you to be not very bright at best, and, worst of all sins to D, "unoriginal". But the plot is just something to hang the characters on. The psychological insights to be found on nearly every page are astonishing. When I finished I gasped--my head was full of another man's genius. This is why we read.

Wow. I had approached The Idiot with a little trepidation, mainly because I'd tried to read the novel when I was much younger. This time around, as a sort of "advanced reader", for me the novel's fast pace and continual ambushes of scenes thrilled me. I think I read the book in a week or less. Of course, as a philosophical novel, one that deals with many social, political, cultural, and legal changes within 19th Century Russia, Dostoyevsky's frame of reference here is both iconoclastic and on-target. For long, particularly literate Russians, all steeped in Russian Christian Orthodoxy, suspected the West, and the incursion of all kinds of unexpected value and moral systems, most of them stemming from the Enlightenment and the Age of Reason. Hence, ideas like utilitarianism, pragmatism, and materialism were seen by some as almost offensive to the Russian spirit. Dostoyevsky, who saw his Christianity, to put it into today's vernacular, as "on a whole 'nother level", and it definitely clashed with materialism, egoism, vanity, and the like. In fact, in some ways, Dostoyevsky was an early observer of the spiritual crisis for Christianity to come. Here in America, well, we're there now. Prosperity gospel, as one example, never could have been possible in a society not so besotten by materialism and gain. Then there are the distortions that occur to, in the Dostoyevskian sense, a truly and almost saintly man, Prince Myshkin. He's a little like today's American intellectual: seen as an eccentric, as useless, as "not with the program, Myshkin cannot help to be bruised and sometimes even brutalized by the corrupt, vain, and prideful clan of people who have surrounded him. I am particularly impressed by the translator's success in capturing Dostoyevsky's legendary rapid-fire style. I'd highly recommend this translation to anyone who wants to peruse a world of both doubles and of duplicity.

good

I loved the book. But for anyone who buys this edition, I hope you have good reading glasses. I believe the font must be size 2. So tiny!

Den bäst författare

Exactly as expected.

After checking on internet, the Viking translation is said to be the best, hands down. As someone interested in literature but not necessarily Dostoevsky, my personal reaction is as follows: The book is easy to read but extremely long (over 600 pages). The narrative structure is quite interesting in that at the beginning of the 4 books, the narrator stops and comments on the characters and their actions between chapters, addressing the narratee directly, and using the pronoun "we". Otherwise he lets the characters interact and speak with each other. It should be easy to make this book into a play (if shortened) given the considerable amount of dialogue. Personally I find the characters, more caricature than character, all a bit extreme in their (re)actions and Myushkin unbearable by the end. But this is said to be Dostoevsky's view of the Russian people and Russian society, and Myushkin is a Christ-figure. What I find most interesting is various characters' comments on Russian society and its people at a time leading up to great change as Dostoevsky sees it. Also it is interesting to note how often the characters are said to "laugh" or "guffaw" or "smile" or "(almost) burst into laughter" ... It would seem that there is an interesting lit-crit article to be written (if it hasn't already been done) on "Laughter in 'The Idiot'"