Six people are crammed into a room the size of a closet. Rodion behaves like an automaton, speaking as if reciting a memorized script. Even his own mother is afraid of him.
I think the void, the distance between Raskolnikov and the others, is a two-way street. I finally pinpointed what has been annoying me about Razumikhin and his "intervention": he never acknowledged Rodion's illness, he just went, nonsense, you're fine, pull yourself together!
You know what I mean? And Zosimov is doing it, and Mamenka is doing it too. This whole chapter felt so awkward and frustrating because there's this giant elephant in the room: Raskolnikov's mental state. They all see it and they're afraid to admit it.
I feel like Rodion's big revelation, that he hates his family after all, was supposed to be shocking, but a lot of people with dysfunctional or toxic families are going to relate: you meet them again after a while and think, dang, I forgot how awful they make me feel. Pulkheria Alexandrovna is an egregious example I think, she says at the end that she hates lies and deception but she's been lying the whole time, pretending that all it's fine when it's not. When she told Rodion how his being ill made HER feel bad, that is such a hurtful thing to say to a child. And she does the same to Dunya too, she acts like her daughter is about to enter a happy marriage when she's clearly not.
Dunya is the one who's treating Rodion like a human being, in this case arguing is better than pretending, you know? It's like she cares about him as a person, while P.A. cares to preserve the perfect mental image she has of his son. At least Dunya is challenging him and calling him out. I don't know, of course Rodion would feel alienated (or in this case, homunculus-ated?) if people around him are treating him like he's not even there. Am I making any sense?
The fact that they ignore all symptoms bothers me too. They don't even ask about his mood or emotions. In poor families, this might be the only option they can afford. There was no real treatment for mental illnesses back then; it was likely an immediate sentence—a loss of the person. Diagnoses were made "by feeling," without any tests. The only option was to send people to mental hospitals, where they were simply kept as if in prison.
Pulkheria—I don't particularly like her. She behaves so differently towards her daughter and son.
And Dunya is still his younger sister. Besides growing up to be a good person, she's not obligated to babysit her brother. Since they've been living separately for a long time, she doesn't feel he's the head of the family (after their father's death). I think her sobering speeches help bring Rodion back to his senses.
Wow. What a chapter! Rodion reminds me so much of Arthur Dimmesdale in Hawthorn’s The Scarlet Letter…both with their secret sins eating them from the inside out. TSL was written in 1850…16 years before Crime and Punishment. I wonder if Dostoevsky read it. There are SO many thematic and symbolic similarities.
Indeed. Despite my search, I couldn't locate any credible sources or reviews of Hawthorne's work by Dostoevsky. However, the novel was translated into Russian in 1856 and published in a journal. Given this accessibility, I believe Fyodor Mikhailovich likely read it.
We just read in the War and Peace the scene where Vereschagin was killed by the crowd. Rastopchin said: here is the man! And the man was punished however he was innocent. Simon Haisell wrote in his weekly letter about Pilatus and his words: Ecce homo! and Jesus was punished. Here, Rodin is not a man, and not punished, when he is guilty.
It's intriguing that this phrase appears in two novels. Specifically, Marmeladov's use of Pilate's words "Ecce homo" ("Behold the man") in the second chapter is noteworthy. He invokes these words in relation to his daughter, Sonya.
This biblical story holds significant importance in literature and appears in numerous works. The coincidence is fascinating, and it's always rewarding to discover such parallels and connections.
However, Rodion's situation presents an interesting contrast. Unlike Vereshchagin or Jesus, Rodion is indeed guilty.
I think this feeling of everything looks very far, it is also a symptom of a diagnosed psychological condition. I don't know the name of this condition.
Perhaps it's this symptom - Depersonalization-derealization disorder, but it's more severe than how it manifested in Raskolnikov. However, in Dostoevsky's time, it might not have been classified.
This might be a bit of a stretch, but I’ve been thinking... Rodion is often surrounded by blood—on his clothes, the floor, or when he's washing it off. But inside, it feels like there’s no blood in him. He doesn’t have what blood symbolizes—love, life, warmth. While he’s dealing with crime and its mess on the outside, inside he feels empty and disconnected. It’s almost like being bloodless shows how he feels inside.
I think the void, the distance between Raskolnikov and the others, is a two-way street. I finally pinpointed what has been annoying me about Razumikhin and his "intervention": he never acknowledged Rodion's illness, he just went, nonsense, you're fine, pull yourself together!
You know what I mean? And Zosimov is doing it, and Mamenka is doing it too. This whole chapter felt so awkward and frustrating because there's this giant elephant in the room: Raskolnikov's mental state. They all see it and they're afraid to admit it.
I feel like Rodion's big revelation, that he hates his family after all, was supposed to be shocking, but a lot of people with dysfunctional or toxic families are going to relate: you meet them again after a while and think, dang, I forgot how awful they make me feel. Pulkheria Alexandrovna is an egregious example I think, she says at the end that she hates lies and deception but she's been lying the whole time, pretending that all it's fine when it's not. When she told Rodion how his being ill made HER feel bad, that is such a hurtful thing to say to a child. And she does the same to Dunya too, she acts like her daughter is about to enter a happy marriage when she's clearly not.
Dunya is the one who's treating Rodion like a human being, in this case arguing is better than pretending, you know? It's like she cares about him as a person, while P.A. cares to preserve the perfect mental image she has of his son. At least Dunya is challenging him and calling him out. I don't know, of course Rodion would feel alienated (or in this case, homunculus-ated?) if people around him are treating him like he's not even there. Am I making any sense?
The fact that they ignore all symptoms bothers me too. They don't even ask about his mood or emotions. In poor families, this might be the only option they can afford. There was no real treatment for mental illnesses back then; it was likely an immediate sentence—a loss of the person. Diagnoses were made "by feeling," without any tests. The only option was to send people to mental hospitals, where they were simply kept as if in prison.
Pulkheria—I don't particularly like her. She behaves so differently towards her daughter and son.
And Dunya is still his younger sister. Besides growing up to be a good person, she's not obligated to babysit her brother. Since they've been living separately for a long time, she doesn't feel he's the head of the family (after their father's death). I think her sobering speeches help bring Rodion back to his senses.
Wow. What a chapter! Rodion reminds me so much of Arthur Dimmesdale in Hawthorn’s The Scarlet Letter…both with their secret sins eating them from the inside out. TSL was written in 1850…16 years before Crime and Punishment. I wonder if Dostoevsky read it. There are SO many thematic and symbolic similarities.
Indeed. Despite my search, I couldn't locate any credible sources or reviews of Hawthorne's work by Dostoevsky. However, the novel was translated into Russian in 1856 and published in a journal. Given this accessibility, I believe Fyodor Mikhailovich likely read it.
Strange opposite and synchronicity:
We just read in the War and Peace the scene where Vereschagin was killed by the crowd. Rastopchin said: here is the man! And the man was punished however he was innocent. Simon Haisell wrote in his weekly letter about Pilatus and his words: Ecce homo! and Jesus was punished. Here, Rodin is not a man, and not punished, when he is guilty.
It's intriguing that this phrase appears in two novels. Specifically, Marmeladov's use of Pilate's words "Ecce homo" ("Behold the man") in the second chapter is noteworthy. He invokes these words in relation to his daughter, Sonya.
This biblical story holds significant importance in literature and appears in numerous works. The coincidence is fascinating, and it's always rewarding to discover such parallels and connections.
However, Rodion's situation presents an interesting contrast. Unlike Vereshchagin or Jesus, Rodion is indeed guilty.
I think this feeling of everything looks very far, it is also a symptom of a diagnosed psychological condition. I don't know the name of this condition.
Perhaps it's this symptom - Depersonalization-derealization disorder, but it's more severe than how it manifested in Raskolnikov. However, in Dostoevsky's time, it might not have been classified.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Depersonalization-derealization_disorder
This might be a bit of a stretch, but I’ve been thinking... Rodion is often surrounded by blood—on his clothes, the floor, or when he's washing it off. But inside, it feels like there’s no blood in him. He doesn’t have what blood symbolizes—love, life, warmth. While he’s dealing with crime and its mess on the outside, inside he feels empty and disconnected. It’s almost like being bloodless shows how he feels inside.
This is an interesting thought, love it 😍, as blood indeed means a lot. And in Raskolnikov now there is "dead" blood.
Sending you get well wishes! I dearly missed your chapter posting, glad to hear it is not due to something serious.
Thank you very much. ❣️ I'm already feeling better and ready for an interesting autumn, as autumn is truly the perfect time for reading!