One of the bigger accomplishments in my recent life has been the completion of the Fyodor Dostoyevsky novel "The Brothers Karamazov" with having a decent idea of what was going on at the end. I got hooked on Dostoyevsky when I lived alone in Des Moines. My friend Molls lent me several classic novels to peruse so as to break the monotony of myself. I saw she had a copy of Crime and Punishment by Fyodor and I knew that if I ever wanted to be taken seriously by the riff raff and the aristocrats of this world, I must read this book. I read it and loved it, nay I chewed every page with the thought of being with its wordage forever. I digress. My thoughts on Crime and Punishment will come at a later date. Now after my immersion into the thoughts of the psychological, mystical, bereaved Russian, I ransacked my Dad's library for any other written words by this true literary treasure. I found several short stories that were delightful, morose, and magnificent tarts of genius. I finally went to B&N and slapped down fifteen dollars on the counter and walked out with a two for one special. I was wealthier by one copy of the Idiot(yet to be read) and one copy of "The Brothers Karamozov" I will remember that day forever. I became a literature adult. I walked to my car gripping the small green plastic sack containing the two books that made me better than the person walking out with a copy of the twilight series in their claw. (authors note: I choose not to capitalize the twilight name because I believe it to be lacking any quality to be labeled fantasy, romance, action, or novel. I think that author whoever they are simply saw that teenage girls are hurting and often put vampires in a category of something they like to rebel with bcause they are dark and evil creatures, and then she put a post-modern love story in them. It makes me mad that people call those books stories about vampires and werewolves. They are about hormonal teenagers with SOME characteristics of said dark beasts. You cannot totally change the essence of mythical beings and claim its fine!! It is like writing a story about Orics from Middle Earth wearing fine clothes and drinking sherry whilst chatting about the "true motives behind Lord Sauron's politics", it just cannot work.) Thanks for putting up with that. I needed to vent and I saw an opening, so I attacked with a full battalion. Now, where was I? Oh yes my literary superiority. So now I had purchased these two books. I went home, set them on the bookshelf and dreamed of the time where I would be mentally prepared to open them. If there was one thing I learned from my previous readings of Dostoyevsky, it was that you needed to be on your sharpest mental edge to try to understand his rhetoric and themes. Months went by without me being able to pick them up. I went through Hemingway, Dumas, Hugo, and Tolkien again before I was ready for them. I finally breached the cover of "The Brothers K". I liked to use "K" as a substitute for "Karamazov" The word is very difficult for the mid-western tongue to grasp. Yet when I learned of the correct pronunciation from one Robert Stouffer, I relished instructing persons on the correct diction of the name. I am sure people would hear me spout this very Russian and mysterious title and instantly their respectometer would rapidly ascent towards the heavens in relation to yours truly. Then I started reading it. I felt like a 12 year old child sitting in a master's level theology, language, sociology, and psychology class all at once. The author is so much more brilliant and insightful than I will ever be. I am just glad he decided to write in such a manner that is vaguely attainable for the mortal reader. I compare the first 6 or 7 chapters to a person lost at sea. They are treading water for an immeasurable amount of time with the only thought is to not drown in the depth or be bitten in half by a shark. I felt that my struggle was in absolute vain. Then finally, one of two things happened. Either the author felt guilty about writing a book that most people would not understand and decided to cheapen his thoughts on paper or I became a bit more enlightened. I would like to think the later but I fear at most, it is a combination of both. Nevertheless I was no longer treading water to not drown or end up as something stuck in between a Great White's teeth. I saw land! And on the land was a fine restaurantee with succulent rack o lamb and robust Merlot. I swam to shore with the vigor of a male lifeguard going to the rescue of a pretty lady struggling in the deep end of the city pool. I could hardly put the novel down. He addressed issues of what every intelligent and meaningful person needs to ask about in their life. Again, I shan't dive to deeply into the content of the flesh of this wonderful body of work, so as to let you enjoy it as I did. I will say though, that every person should at the very least read the chapter titled, "The Grand Inquisitor". It is so profound that itself is published as a separate book. Well I want to ramble forever but alas I have awakened the pale wanderer of the steppes inside of me and must go start "The Idiot" or maybe Tolstoy's "War and Peace"
Nostarovia!
