Dostoevsky
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pattycakes_
Can turn naughty
When you're right you're right
john eden
male pale and stale
luka
Well-known member
i was thinking this morning more about 'demons'...
so i don't think it's as simple a thing to say that shatov is the closest character to FD himself, but it does seem his sympathies lie with him. shatov used to be an anarchist rabble rouser, but then went to america, had his damascene moment, and now he's pro-Russia, but crucially, he's not pro-autocratic leader... he's the one who slaps stavrogin down publicly. and it's shatov who gets murdered in cold blood by the people who he innocently thinks are his friends.
you've then got stavrogin himself, who represents everything wrong in a sense, cos he's just a total fuckup, having his mad thoughts, being irresponsible in every sense of the word. so to me, he's someone quite close to the main queen character in 'the favourite' or george 3 in 'the madness of king george' ie someone with immense power, but they're not all there. i'm also reminded of top shagger bozza jozza in this regard.
and then finally, you've got the cummings character, pyotr, who's just so conniving and malevolent, you've almost got to admire the kahunas. But what an absolute cunt.
This triad of characters, the one with power but who doesn't know how to use it responsibly, the 'good' one who is not walking in the halls of power, and the maleficent one who moves in both worlds, seems to be what FD accomplishes so well, cos he clearly knew all these worlds?
so i don't think it's as simple a thing to say that shatov is the closest character to FD himself, but it does seem his sympathies lie with him. shatov used to be an anarchist rabble rouser, but then went to america, had his damascene moment, and now he's pro-Russia, but crucially, he's not pro-autocratic leader... he's the one who slaps stavrogin down publicly. and it's shatov who gets murdered in cold blood by the people who he innocently thinks are his friends.
you've then got stavrogin himself, who represents everything wrong in a sense, cos he's just a total fuckup, having his mad thoughts, being irresponsible in every sense of the word. so to me, he's someone quite close to the main queen character in 'the favourite' or george 3 in 'the madness of king george' ie someone with immense power, but they're not all there. i'm also reminded of top shagger bozza jozza in this regard.
and then finally, you've got the cummings character, pyotr, who's just so conniving and malevolent, you've almost got to admire the kahunas. But what an absolute cunt.
This triad of characters, the one with power but who doesn't know how to use it responsibly, the 'good' one who is not walking in the halls of power, and the maleficent one who moves in both worlds, seems to be what FD accomplishes so well, cos he clearly knew all these worlds?
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luka
Well-known member
what a difference 3 years makes
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
********************************
I am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; I know better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite. My liver is bad, well--let it get worse!
I have been going on like that for a long time--twenty years. Now I am forty.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
********************************
I am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; I know better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite. My liver is bad, well--let it get worse!
I have been going on like that for a long time--twenty years. Now I am forty.
luka
Well-known member
I got to the point of feeling a sort of secret abnormal, despicable enjoyment in returning home to my corner on some disgusting Petersburg night, acutely conscious that that day I had committed a loathsome action again, that what was done could never be undone, and secretly, inwardly gnawing, gnawing at myself for it, tearing and consuming myself till at last the bitterness turned into a sort of shameful accursed sweetness, and at last--into positive real enjoyment! Yes, into enjoyment, into enjoyment! I insist upon that. I have spoken of this because I keep wanting to know for a fact whether other people feel such enjoyment? I will explain; the enjoyment was just from the too intense consciousness of one's own degradation; it was from feeling oneself that one had reached the last barrier, that it was horrible, but that it could not be otherwise; that there was no escape for you; that you never could become a different man; that even if time and faith were still left you to change into something different you would most likely not wish to change; or if you did wish to, even then you would do nothing; because perhaps in reality there was nothing for you to change into.
Amazon product ASIN 1631498193
New Bros K translation coming in July. Not a fan of Pevear/Volokhonsky so I'm interested to see how this one goes.
New Bros K translation coming in July. Not a fan of Pevear/Volokhonsky so I'm interested to see how this one goes.
Interesting spelling of "Dostoyevsky" on this thread title, I struggled to find it again.
Read chapter 3 if c&p yesterday and its his mother's letter, about his sister getting married.
Sort of similar to the point I made in thd other thread... He does this clever thing, a lot, where he gets across a good amount of drama, but dresses it up in this humdrum way as someone simply writing a letter.
All the carping over every last kopeck and rouble is resonating.
Very much a cost of living crisis book.
Read chapter 3 if c&p yesterday and its his mother's letter, about his sister getting married.
Sort of similar to the point I made in thd other thread... He does this clever thing, a lot, where he gets across a good amount of drama, but dresses it up in this humdrum way as someone simply writing a letter.
All the carping over every last kopeck and rouble is resonating.
Very much a cost of living crisis book.
Corpsey
bandz ahoy
Trump?
Corpsey
bandz ahoy
“Folks, this is a tremendous, absolutely tremendous book. One of the best. Some say the best Russian novel, and you know what? They might be right. It’s written by Dostoevsky—fantastic guy, very smart, some say a little too smart, but believe me, he knew what he was doing.”
“So, you’ve got this guy, Fyodor Karamazov—total disaster of a father. Just the worst. He’s rich, but he’s a mess. Drinks too much, chases women, very low energy. And he’s got three sons—maybe four, but we’ll get to that.”
“First, there’s Dmitri—he’s passionate, a real fighter, but also, let’s be honest, makes a lot of bad deals. Big emotions. He’s in love with this woman, Grushenka—very beautiful, very dangerous. But guess what? His own father wants her too. Disgusting. Just terrible parenting.”
“Then there’s Ivan—smart guy, big thinker, loves ideas, but also, folks, a little too negative. He comes up with this whole ‘God is dead’ thing—sad! Writes about how if God doesn’t exist, anything goes. Very bad philosophy, okay? Leads to a lot of trouble.”
“Then we have Alyosha—now, this guy, folks, he’s a winner. Very nice, very kind, loves people, loves God. He’s studying to be a monk—great choice, great faith. Probably the best Karamazov. But even he gets caught up in all the family drama.”
“And then there’s Smerdyakov—oh, folks, this guy, total loser. Creepy, weird, works for the family, but guess what? He might be the secret son of Fyodor. That’s right, a scandal! And he’s plotting something very nasty.”
“Then, boom! The big moment! Fyodor gets murdered. Who did it? Everyone thinks it’s Dmitri—bad optics, terrible optics. He’s got motive, he’s got anger issues, and let’s be honest, he doesn’t play it smart. But was it really him? Maybe it was someone else? Maybe someone sneakier? Maybe someone with very low energy?”
“Big trial—huge, folks, huge. The Russian justice system? Not great, okay? Very corrupt. Dmitri gets convicted—even though maybe he didn’t do it. Fake news! And Ivan? He starts losing his mind, seeing the devil—totally unhinged. Alyosha? He tries to keep the family together, because honestly, he’s the only one with any class.”
“In the end, it’s about faith, it’s about doubt, it’s about crime, punishment—Dostoevsky, folks, he was way ahead of his time. And let me tell you, people are still talking about this book today. Incredible. Absolutely incredible.”
How’s that?
“So, you’ve got this guy, Fyodor Karamazov—total disaster of a father. Just the worst. He’s rich, but he’s a mess. Drinks too much, chases women, very low energy. And he’s got three sons—maybe four, but we’ll get to that.”
“First, there’s Dmitri—he’s passionate, a real fighter, but also, let’s be honest, makes a lot of bad deals. Big emotions. He’s in love with this woman, Grushenka—very beautiful, very dangerous. But guess what? His own father wants her too. Disgusting. Just terrible parenting.”
“Then there’s Ivan—smart guy, big thinker, loves ideas, but also, folks, a little too negative. He comes up with this whole ‘God is dead’ thing—sad! Writes about how if God doesn’t exist, anything goes. Very bad philosophy, okay? Leads to a lot of trouble.”
“Then we have Alyosha—now, this guy, folks, he’s a winner. Very nice, very kind, loves people, loves God. He’s studying to be a monk—great choice, great faith. Probably the best Karamazov. But even he gets caught up in all the family drama.”
“And then there’s Smerdyakov—oh, folks, this guy, total loser. Creepy, weird, works for the family, but guess what? He might be the secret son of Fyodor. That’s right, a scandal! And he’s plotting something very nasty.”
“Then, boom! The big moment! Fyodor gets murdered. Who did it? Everyone thinks it’s Dmitri—bad optics, terrible optics. He’s got motive, he’s got anger issues, and let’s be honest, he doesn’t play it smart. But was it really him? Maybe it was someone else? Maybe someone sneakier? Maybe someone with very low energy?”
“Big trial—huge, folks, huge. The Russian justice system? Not great, okay? Very corrupt. Dmitri gets convicted—even though maybe he didn’t do it. Fake news! And Ivan? He starts losing his mind, seeing the devil—totally unhinged. Alyosha? He tries to keep the family together, because honestly, he’s the only one with any class.”
“In the end, it’s about faith, it’s about doubt, it’s about crime, punishment—Dostoevsky, folks, he was way ahead of his time. And let me tell you, people are still talking about this book today. Incredible. Absolutely incredible.”
How’s that?
Corpsey
bandz ahoy
You've got to hand it to CHAT GPT it's mental
Alright, here we go—Ulysses by James Joyce, as reviewed by Donald Trump:
“Folks, let me tell you, this book—some say it’s a masterpiece, some say it’s unreadable. Me? I like books that make sense, okay? But this one? Very complicated, very long—too long, frankly. We like winners, we like success, and you’ve got this guy, Leopold Bloom, just wandering around Dublin all day, doing nothing. Not a winner. Low energy.”
“Now, Joyce—big brain, huge brain, maybe too big. He writes this book, and people say, ‘Sir, it’s genius!’ And I say, ‘Really? Have you read it?’ Because believe me, most people haven’t. It’s got weird words, sentences that don’t even finish, and entire chapters that make no sense. Stream of consciousness? Folks, it’s like someone left the faucet running and forgot to pay the water bill.”
“But let’s talk about the story, if you can call it that. You’ve got Bloom—he’s kind of a sad guy. His wife, Molly? Not exactly loyal, folks. Very bad relationship. His day is just him walking around, thinking about food, bathrooms, and, let’s be honest, very inappropriate things. Not classy. But people say he’s a great character—personally, I think he’s a bit of a mess.”
“Then there’s Stephen Dedalus—he’s supposed to be the intellectual, but let’s be real, he’s all talk. Wanders around spouting big words, no real job, no real plan—very overrated. Some say he represents Joyce himself. Not a great look!”
“And then, folks, we get to the final chapter—Molly Bloom, just talking and talking, no punctuation, no commas, nothing. Just ‘yes I said yes I will Yes.’ What is that? Not how you write a book, okay? Very sloppy. Some people say it’s beautiful, but I like sentences that have actual structure.”
“At the end of the day, look—some people love this book. They say it’s the greatest novel of the 20th century. Maybe it is! Maybe! But for me? Too complicated, too long, and honestly, folks, kind of boring. Needs more action, needs more winners. But hey, some people like it. Me? I prefer books that don’t require a decoder ring.”
How’s that?
Alright, here we go—Ulysses by James Joyce, as reviewed by Donald Trump:
“Folks, let me tell you, this book—some say it’s a masterpiece, some say it’s unreadable. Me? I like books that make sense, okay? But this one? Very complicated, very long—too long, frankly. We like winners, we like success, and you’ve got this guy, Leopold Bloom, just wandering around Dublin all day, doing nothing. Not a winner. Low energy.”
“Now, Joyce—big brain, huge brain, maybe too big. He writes this book, and people say, ‘Sir, it’s genius!’ And I say, ‘Really? Have you read it?’ Because believe me, most people haven’t. It’s got weird words, sentences that don’t even finish, and entire chapters that make no sense. Stream of consciousness? Folks, it’s like someone left the faucet running and forgot to pay the water bill.”
“But let’s talk about the story, if you can call it that. You’ve got Bloom—he’s kind of a sad guy. His wife, Molly? Not exactly loyal, folks. Very bad relationship. His day is just him walking around, thinking about food, bathrooms, and, let’s be honest, very inappropriate things. Not classy. But people say he’s a great character—personally, I think he’s a bit of a mess.”
“Then there’s Stephen Dedalus—he’s supposed to be the intellectual, but let’s be real, he’s all talk. Wanders around spouting big words, no real job, no real plan—very overrated. Some say he represents Joyce himself. Not a great look!”
“And then, folks, we get to the final chapter—Molly Bloom, just talking and talking, no punctuation, no commas, nothing. Just ‘yes I said yes I will Yes.’ What is that? Not how you write a book, okay? Very sloppy. Some people say it’s beautiful, but I like sentences that have actual structure.”
“At the end of the day, look—some people love this book. They say it’s the greatest novel of the 20th century. Maybe it is! Maybe! But for me? Too complicated, too long, and honestly, folks, kind of boring. Needs more action, needs more winners. But hey, some people like it. Me? I prefer books that don’t require a decoder ring.”
How’s that?