Psycho Killer, The Russian Edition

my constance garnett:

1:

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on an exceptionally hot evening early in july a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in s.place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards k.bridge.

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2:

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Raskolnikov was not used to crowds, and, as we said before, he avoided society of every sort, more especially of late. but now all at once he felt a desire to be with other people. something new seemed to be taking place within him, and with it he felt a sort of thirst for company. he was so weary after a whole month of concentrated wretchedness and gloomy excitement that he longed to rest, if only for a moment, in some other world, whatever it might be, and, in spite of the filthiness of the surroundings, he was glad now to stay in the tavern.

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3:

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he waked up late next day after a broken sleep, wondering why he did not ask for a photograph of Sonia, but no use crying over spilt milk. but his sleep had not refreshed him; he waked up bilious, irritable, ill-tempered, and looked with hatred at his room. it was a tiny cupboard of a room, a lesser version of which would later appear in harry potter, but of course my author would have no way of knowing that, about six paces in length. it had a poverty-stricken appearance with its dusty yellow paper peeling off the walls, and it was so low-pitched that a man of more than average height was ill at ease in it and felt every moment that he would knock his head against the ceiling.

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4:

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his mother's letter had been a torture to him, but as regards the chief fact in it, he had felt not one moment's hesitation, even whilst he was reading the letter. the essential question was settled, and irrevocably settled, in his mind: "never such a marriage while im a alive and mr luzhin be damned!"

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Arhgg! New page. Here's a repost for ease of comparison.

Pevear and Volokhonsky:

Chapter 1

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At the beginning of July, during an extremely hot spell, towards evening, a young man left the closet he rented from tenants in S------y Lane, walked out to the street, and slowly, as if indecisively, headed for the K------n Bridge.

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Chapter 2

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Raskolnikov was not used to crowds and, as has already been mentioned, fled all company, especially of late. But now something suddenly drew him to people. Something new was happening in him, as it were, and with that a certain thirst for people made itself felt. After a whole month of this concentrated anguish, this gloomy excitement of his, he was so tired out that he wished, if only for a moment, to draw a breath in another world, whatever it might be, and, despite all the filthiness of the situation, it was with pleasure that he now went on sitting in the tavern.

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Chapter 3

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He woke up late the next day, after a troubled sleep, but sleep had not fortified him. He woke up bilious, irritable, and angry, and looked with hatred at his little room. It was a tiny closet, about six paces long, of a most pathetic appearance, with yellow, dusty wallpaper coming off the walls everywhere, and with such a low ceiling that a man of any height at all felt creepy in it and kept thinking he might bump his head every moment.

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Chapter 4

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His mother's letter had tormented him. But concerning the main, capital point he had not a moment's doubt, not even while he was reading the letter. The main essence of the matter was decided in his mind and decided finally: “This marriage will not take place as long as I live, and to the devil with Mr. Luzhin!

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Bah-hahaha

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Originally Posted by bounty

...wondering why he did not ask for a photograph of Sonia, but no use crying over spilt milk...

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I'm sure that's what she'd'a translated if she'd'a had our insight.

You know the translations really are quite different.

words and meanings and how they move across languages are interesting things. i belong to a web-based international penpal site. not long after i first joined i had a Russian penpal who wanted to be a translator (or was it an interpreter?) and we used to have fun with translations. right now i have a penpal in china who is learning to do something similar.

i finished chapter 6 last night. i could have read more but the ending was so creepy and ominous that i didn't want to go to sleep with any more of that playing out. i think we are in a drum roll position for raskol's murdering.

I was also going over the murder scene last night and could not help but admire the wording which was done with almost surgical precision in the narrative by Dostoyevsky. Rascal goes to the scene, there are doors open (mere coincidence? fate?), and it seems that everything is ripe precisely so that such a horrendous act can take place. But just when he lowers the boom, the sister appears. Then he croaks her as well. Then when he tries to escape, an intruder stumbles upon the scene. Then a neighbor. Now it seems like he's cooked. But as Fate would have it, both the intruder and neighbor walk away and he stumbles upon an apartment whose door, just coincidentally, is open. He hides briefly as everyone walks past him and then makes his escape. Free at last, Thank God Almighty, Free at Last!

But this is only the beginning of his self created nightmare as we are soon to learn.

Again, I go back to the almost surgical precision in the narrative ~ as a reader you can just see the perspiration in Rascal's forehead in your imagination. You can see him fumbling the hatchet in his hand, the way he tries to wipe the blood from his garments and hands, the heavy breathing, the look of fear, the frightful anticipation, him hurrying and trying to look inconspicuous, etc. Scary but fascinating sequence made all the more real by the superbly written narrative.

There's so much more that I can add to all the above.

I was struck by the continued stream of conscience in the narrative. This was something you did not see in those days and this is why commentators called it the first existential novel in history (dunno if they do anymore). Rascal listens in on a student and soldier commenting about the wicked old lady whom he calls "an old witch". Not that they say croaking her was a good thing. But that if someone croaked her it would be well deserved and constituted 'justice' as she was such a b_____h. Because of all that he determines that killing her "was not a crime".

"When reason fails, the Devil helps". Indeed, when he makes his escape, a city bus goes by and obscures him so that witnesses cannot see him fleeing.

I'm now up to the part where he receives a summons from the fuzz. Don't recall what precisely happened at that point but will return to the online book later tonight. Again, what is so striking is the suspense ...

I just finished the first section, chapters 1-7, and to your point, Poppin, it is masterfully written and very readable. Anyone who has avoided Dostoevsky thinking his books are dense, egg-headed fiction can rest easy and shouldn’t hesitate to give him a read. On one level this book is a page-turner crime novel. I can’t take credit for this, but somebody on-line said it’s not so much a who-done-it as it is a why-he-done-it.

After Moby Dick I couldn’t help but to notice how many women characters were in the first section. Sonya and Dunya. Alyona and Lizaveta Ivanovna. The moms Katerina and Pulcheria. The drunken girl being pursued by the creepy chubby guy. Even the old draft horse in Raskol’s dream was a mare. I also couldn’t help but to notice most of these women lacked agency. They are largely are victims of circumstance. So far anyway.

I just finished chapter 7 also.

a good question about the "why he done it"----ive been finding myself wondering about raskol's motivation---covetousness, envy, and desperation seem to be factors, but I don't recall Dostoevsky touching on those things. we've got ~400 pages in the aftermath of the murder and I wonder if we'll ever know, or if the emphasis is going to be on the turmoil he's bound to face.

he's a despicable character and I also wonder if as we get to know what goes on inside his heart and head, if my view of him will soften and include forgiveness.

poppin, I had to smile, your use of the word "fuzz" gives your time period away!

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bounty,


poppin, I had to smile, your use of the word "fuzz" gives your time period away!

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Over the years I've had numerous online pals to whom I have confessed that I feel I was born in the wrong century. That the real me sat in on old meetings of the Transcendentalist lyceum meetings or in late 1700s reading societies mentioned by Prof Jon Robison in his Proofs of a Conspiracy [1797] or possibly in Russian intellectual circles at the time of Dostoyevsky.


https://www.library.illinois.edu/spx...d/bookstor.gif



Am now in my 70s but still cannot get over this belief. So yes, I did grow up in the 1960s and have used the term fuzz often preceded by a four letter term that begins with a capital F. This despite being related to several cops.

Haha, Fuzzy Wuzzy was a Bear. Smokey Bear that is.

Yeah I think that was the Crime part. The rest of the book concerns the Punishment. The cover art on your book, bounty, seems to suggest a tell-tale heart sort of thing going on.

I think it’s a combination of motivations for Rascol. There are those you mentioned as well as a few others and a few events he had no control over. So it’s a pile-on effect, and this on top of an already angsty young guy. And he’s an angsty young guy who’s bad need of a girl friend. And that’s a volatile mix.

I read somewhere the greatest predictor of a community having a higher than average murder rate is if that community has a higher than average percentage of young men in it.

i wonder what the 19th century Russian slang for the police was.

I don't necessarily see myself as being born in the wrong century so to speak, but somewhat consistent with what you wrote, I often wonder what I might have been if I found myself in some other century. I do appreciate the nerdy intellectual parts, but I can also imagine being a lewis & clark explorer type.

it is fun to consider what the drawing on the cover means in terms of how the story unfolds.

yes, young men in general, and unemployed, fatherless ones all the more so.

I don't think I've ever wished I lived in another time and place. I have however fantasized about getting a redo. You know, going back in time and fixing all the stupid stuff I've done over the years... and maybe buying a few different stocks than the ones I bought.

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Originally Posted by bounty

i wonder what the 19th century Russian slang for the police was.

I don't necessarily see myself as being born in the wrong century so to speak, but somewhat consistent with what you wrote, I often wonder what I might have been if I found myself in some other century. I do appreciate the nerdy intellectual parts, but I can also imagine being a lewis & clark explorer type.

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Sancho,

Sancho
I don't think I've ever wished I lived in another time and place. I have however fantasized about getting a redo. You know, going back in time and fixing all the stupid stuff I've done over the years... and maybe buying a few different stocks than the ones I bought.

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If you haven't done so already, please read

https://www.boweryboyshistory.com/wp...in-195x300.jpg



https://www.boweryboyshistory.com/20...and-again.html



A true modern CLASSIC.



Also please watch,


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjCp3wFQrKI



Going back in time and doing good along the way. Both great stories.

Back to Rascal's misadventures:


Turns out that the summons was re his default on financial pledges. Am surprised that this was brought to the attention of the police rather than to a court of equity. In response to the cop's inquiry he replies, "I am a student, poor, and sick". He is forced to sign yet another pledge and faints at the compound. Upon returning to his flat he despairs as to ridding himself of any evidence. He succeeds in hiding the stuff away under a large rock not having checked for cash and not knowing the full contents of what he disposed.

He ventures onto Razumihin's flat and wonders if he got there by fate or by chance. They discuss a certain party named Heruvimov and discuss the "woman question". Rascal is so disoriented that he refused to give German lesson and rejects a small honorarium for the lessons. He briefly causes a disruption on the street and is whipped by a teamster for it. People laugh but a gentlelady gives him 20 cps out of kindness. Then he stupidly dumps the cash.

Thereafter he stops at a place where he often ventured as a student and wonder if fate again drew him there.

Upon returning to his flat he goes almost completely delusional and faints again. He imagined that police were beating the landlady even though it was he who dispatched the old wicked wench. Nastasya the housekeeper does all she can to feed and nurse him but he raves on and does not eat.

It is only too clear that Rascal is a few cards short of a full deck and lacks full mental capacity. Very self defeating and suicidal. He may well hate injustices but he has more hate for himself.

I still have to read all posts about C&P but this part is terrible. Looking back I don´t remember if R. was already ill, when he commited the crimes or if he fell ill because he commited them.