He's a Nietzsche-inspired proto-Nazi who believes that the world can be divided into two classes: an elite, Napoleonic class, free to do what they wish and a second class comprised of everyone else. Raskolnikov has some interesting theories. I imagine if this book was written in the next century, Raskolnikov would have shaggy sideburns, wear a t-shirt emblazoned with Che's image, and have a well-hidden addiction to prescription pain pills. In a way, he is just like every grad student you've ever met: shiftless over-educated and under-employed haughty, yet prone to bouts of self-loathing. Dostoevsky, though, presents Raskolnikov's malady as spiritual, rather than mental. Today, we would recognize this person as having a serious mental illness (and the book would be called Inability To Form Criminal Intent and Involuntary Commitment instead of Crime and Punishment). He is utterly unlikable: smug, arrogant, temperamental, condescending and self-delusional. He is a former student living in a wretched little closet apartment. However, I don't think any number of years will allow me to appreciate or enjoy or even suffer Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.įirst published in 1866, Crime and Punishment is the excruciatingly-detailed psycho-epic about the murder of a pawn shop owner (and her sister). This has allowed me to enjoy certain works to a higher degree. On the plus side, coming to the classics on my own volition has given me a better appreciation than having to read them with a figurative gun to the head. For these sins, I am now fated to read the classics long after I was supposed to read them. I'd sit back, take good notes, and bluff my way through various tests (this was back in the day before Google, when my family only had an AOL dial-up connection and all the answers, right and wrong, were on the internet). It is an invitation to cut corners and utilize only one half your ass.
The problem with being a high school student with average intelligence is that you can get fairly good grades with fairly minimal effort. (My raging, Raskolnikov-like conscious could not rest without warning you of potential spoilers ahead!) He was afraid he would let go and drop the axe…suddenly his head seemed to spin…” His hands were terribly weak he felt them growing more and more numb and stiff every moment. He unbuttoned his coat and freed the axe from the loop but did not quite take it out yet he just held it in his right hand under the coat.
“Trying to untie the string and going to the window, to the light (all her windows were closed, despite the stuffiness), she left him completely for a few seconds and turned her back to him.
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