Bút Ký Mùa Đông Về Những Ấn Tượng Mùa Hạ

by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nguyễn Văn Chiến (Translator)

“Bút ký mùa đông về những ấn tượng mùa hạ” của Fyodor Dostoevsky được xuất bản lần đầu tiên vào năm 1863 trên tạp chí “Vremya”.
Tác phẩm được viết vào giai đoạn khi phong trào đấu tranh xã hội ở Nga đang phát triển mạnh, đặc biệt vào thập niên 1850, khi nước Nga bị lôi kéo vào một loạt các cuộc xung đột quân sự.

Vào tháng 2 năm 1855, Hoàng đế Alexandr đệ Nhị lên ngôi đã khiến các tầng lớp nhân dân Nga phẫn nộ. Đối mặt với tình thế chiến tranh nông dân bùng nổ Aleksandr đệ Nhị buộc phải bãi bỏ chế độ nông nô năm 1861 và cố gắng tiến hành các cuộc cải cách tư pháp, quân sự và nhiều lĩnh vực khác hòng cứu vãn tình thế khó khăn của chế độ chuyên chế.

F. Dostoevsky lần đầu tiên ra nước ngoài từ tháng Sáu đến tháng Chín năm 1862, ông đã đến Đức, Bắc Italia, Thụy Sĩ, Pháp, sau đó ông qua London (Anh) rồi tới thăm nhà văn, nhà tư tưởng, người được mệnh danh “Cha đẻ của chủ nghĩa xã hội Nga” A. Gerzen đang ở đó để thảo luận về nước Nga hiện tại và tương lai. Những gì mắt thấy tai nghe cùng các suy ngẫm của một nhà văn, một nhà tư tưởng đã được hun đúc thành tập “Bút ký mùa đông về những ấn tượng mùa hạ” - được nhà nghiên cứu văn chương Nga G. Fridlender đánh giá là “một trong những đỉnh cao trong sáng tác của Dostoevsky với tư cách nhà văn và nhà chính luận”.

Genres: Russian Literature, Classics, Nonfiction, Russia, Essays, Travel, Literature

179 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1863

About the author

Фёдор Михайлович Достоевский (Russian)

Works, such as the novels Crime and Punishment (1866), The Idiot (1869), and The Brothers Karamazov (1880), of Russian writer Feodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky or Dostoevski combine religious mysticism with profound psychological insight.

Very influential writings of Mikhail Mikhailovich Bakhtin included Problems of Dostoyevsky's Works (1929),

Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky composed short stories, essays, and journals. His literature explores humans in the troubled political, social, and spiritual atmospheres of 19th-century and engages with a variety of philosophies and themes. People most acclaimed his Demons(1872) .

Many literary critics rate him among the greatest authors of world literature and consider multiple books written by him to be highly influential masterpieces. They consider his Notes from Underground of the first existentialist literature. He is also well regarded as a philosopher and theologian.

(Russian: Фёдор Михайлович Достоевский) (see also Fiodor Dostoïevski)

Reviews

[BookHunter M ُH َM َD · Rating 2 out of 5]

القصة بمثابة ريفيو دوستويفسكي على صفحة ترافل سيكريتس كلوب عن رحلته الشهيرة إلى أوروبا و هو بالمناسبة لم يعجبه العجب و لم ينبهر بما رآه رغم الفرق الكبير بين روسيا و أوروبا وقتها إلا أنه كان متوازن جدا في الحث على اقتفاء التجربة الأوروبية في النهضة و الحضارة فطلب أن يؤخذ منها فقط ما لا يتناقض مع قيم المجتمع الروسي الاصيلة. فكانت دعوته محافظة جدا على النقيض من شخصياته الثورية المتناثرة في رواياته.
فهو يقول في إحدى العبارات: إذا كانت الإشتراكية ممكنة. فليس ذلك في فرنسا حتما.
و من العجب أن فرنسا هي الدولة الوحيدة التي أسست مجتمعا اشتراكيا ديموقراطيا في المحيط الأوروبي اقتفى أثره الكثير من الدول الأوروبية الأخرى على عكس توقع فيسكي هنا.
توضح ملاحظاته بقوة أن الرؤية السياسية له أدنى بكثير من النظرة الإنسانية الفلسفية النفسية التي غلفت رواياته رغم بدايته السياسية التي دفع زهرة شبابه مقابلا لها في غياهب معتقل سيبيريا الرهيب.

[Özgür Atmaca · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Nasıl da inanırız uygar olduğumuza, sorunları yukarıdan bakarak nasıl da çözüveririz. Hem ne sorunlardır çözdüklerimiz! Toprak, halk diye bir şey yoktur. Ulus belirli bir vergi sistemidir yalnızca. Ruh da Tabula Rasa. Gerçek insanın, toplum insanının şipşak yapılıvereceği balmumu... Avrupa uygarlığını benimsediniz, üç beş de kitap okudunuz mu tamamdır.”

[Ivana Books Are Magic · Rating 3 out of 5]

Winter Notes on Summer Impressions is a book of essays or an essay book. It was written during Dostoevsky's 1862 trip to Europe. This book is not particularly important or accomplished in the literary or essay sense, but it can a nice read for those who want to know more about Dostoevsky and his views. It can perhaps best be described as a blend of travel and philosophical writing. Winter Notes are witty and for most part easy to follow, but they don't offer much to its reader.

However, despite the fact they are lighter in tone than anything by Dostoyevsky (that I've read so far), there were still times when these 'notes' required some concentration. I got this feeling they were not originally intended for publication, but were written as diary notes- or that they weren't developed past what was put on the paper originally. It could also be that the writer just noted his thoughts down, not attempting to use the stream of consciousness technique in the literary sense but rather to record his though. At any rate, this book is not a serious study of European nations or Russia. Dostoevsky himself admitted that the book had its weaknesses and that he didn't spend enough time in some of the countries to be able to describe them well.

Winter Notes is a book that reflects some of Dostoevsky's slavophile ideas. Dostoevsky criticized both Protestantism and Catholicism in this book. Dostoevsky considered both of these Christian faiths as inferior to Russian orthodoxy. Moreover, Dostoevsky critiques many aspects of French and English society. Some might say that this book is xenophobic, but I don't think it should be taken that seriously. I seriously doubt the writer intended the book to be taken as a serious study of the countries it describes. From what I gather, Dostoyevsky is just making fun of some aspects of the West European society and noting down some of his observations. Moreover, Dostoevsky is also criticizing his own country and people in this book. All in all, I wouldn't call this a xenophobic book.

Anyway, isn't everyone at least a bit xenophobic? The fear of unknown is perhaps the strongest of human fears. One always, at least on the unconscious level, perceives its own society as something natural and "the way it should be". Even the most open minded people on some level have a bit of opposition towards something different. It's just human nature. To most people any foreign language will sound harsh and they would describe its pronunciation as hard, although their interpretation has nothing to do with hardness or harshness in the phonological sense.

To conclude, this is not one of Dostoevsky's best works. There are other and better essays books by him if you want to read some of Dostoevsky's non fiction. I would only recommend Winter Notes only to those readers who want to know more about this writer and don't mind reading his weaker works.

[Carmo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Notas de Inverno sobre impressões de Verão é uma crónica sobre as recordações de Dostoievski acerca das viagens que fez pela Europa.
Não me cativou logo, nas primeiras páginas pensei mesmo em desistir da leitura, nem tudo o que um escritor faz tem que ser bom ainda que já tenha muitas provas dadas. Seria a segunda desistência neste périplo pelas obras do meu russo favorito. Não tive paciência para Um Romance em Nove Cartas, mas sou tão chata comigo mesma que ainda me mordo por ter desistido… é que me fica sempre a dúvida se o melhor não estará por vir…
Foi o que aconteceu com estas Notas, se no inicio andei a patinar na maionese, na reta final Dostoievski encetou tal discurso sarcástico a ridicularizar os franceses e a sua (falsa) moral e mania da eloquência, que foi pura delícia. O juízo que fez das relações amorosas do povo Francês e as historietas que inventou para o demonstrar é digno da melhor comédia.

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fyodor is the crotchetiest travel writer of the 19thC and this diary reads like Jeremy Clarkson Goes to France mixed with Karl Marx’s Further Criticisms of the Bourgeois Superstructure: Paris Edition. Two unpublished titles that sum up Fyodor’s critique of the French bourgeoisie, French attitudes and French gentlemen. He hates those damn frogs! Baguette-chomping cheese-eating surrender monkeys, set in their provincial ways! Curse those swine! And don’t get Fyodor started on those Polish Jews, oh-no-no. Louses and vermin and swine and mountebanks and rascals and all those other words that pop up on every second page of Fyodor’s novels. One day the Russian workers will seize control and form a benign Communist state, like the one in China, only better! Fyodor can be quite funny at times, like Jeremy Clarkson, but then the haze clears and the homespun bigotry and xenophobia stand there, hands-on-hips, shaking their little heads. As another reviewer states, Fyodor’s non-fiction was poor—try reading the perennially out-of-print Diary of a Writer for confirmation of that—but if you’re a completist, it’s short and won’t try your patience too much.

[Dragos C Butuzea · Rating 4 out of 5]

Recenzie video aici: https://youtu.be/1e6OAp2GT3c

[Valéria · Rating 5 out of 5]

some interesting facts about Dostoevsky that I discovered from reading this book:
- When he was a young child, his parents would read Ann Radcliffe to him before going to sleep (weird choice for a bedtime story but who am I to judge) which would lead him to have some sleepless nights due to the effect of the stories upon him

“(…) Mrs Radcliffe’s novels, which put me into a fever and kept me awake at night.” – page 4

- Dostoevsky wasn’t exactly an enjoyer of pocket editions (especially ones with smaller fonts), he expresses his dislike for this book format by mentioning a train ride where he was sat beside an English man that read and I quote “(…) a book of that very small English print which only English people can tolerate and even praise for its convenience (…) ”
- While in England he was shocked by the ever-present prostitution in the streets (especially during nighttime), he even mentioned that he had an encounter with a little girl, probably not even 6, to whom he gave some money out of pity (this moment reminds me of the image of the little girl seeking help in the streets from his story ‘The Dream of a Ridiculous Man’, but I’m not completely sure if the dates match to consider it an influence)
- In this book he describes beautifully the moment he beheld a gorgeous girl in a casino, that was abandoned by what Dostoevsky presumed to be her lover… (the manner with which he wrote their exchanges and the continual change of her facial expressions was really touching)
- He mentions countless times the rather Dionysian tendencies of the populace, their habit of losing themselves completely, by any means of intoxication attainable, as a way to not be confronted with the wretched reality in which they lived.
- Dostoyevsky was surveilled by a group of spies (members of the police) during a train ride in France, he only obtained this information after their departure, by being informed by a man that had been on the same ride with him that they had been following him from the moment he got into the station.

(if there are any grammatical or syntax errors i will not correct them for i am tired and only wish for a good night of sleep)

[Afaf Ammar · Rating 3 out of 5]

ذكريات شتاء عن مشاعر صيف، هي ذكريات دوستويڤسكي التي كتبها ونشرها في مجلته في الشتاء، عن مشاعره تجاه أول رحلة له بالخارج، قام فيها بجولة بين بعض المدن الأوروبية، وكانت في الصيف.

وأثناء جولاته في المدن الأوروبية لم تكن طبيعتها الجديدة عليه، أو معالمها الشهيرة تثير انتباهه، على قدر ما أثار انتباهه تفحص وجوه البشر، والغوص في أعماق نفوسهم، في محاولة لفهم سيكولوجية كل شعب...
وحقيقة لن يكون أبدًا دوستويڤسكي إن لم يغوص في أعماق النفس البشرية، ويلتقط ما تشعر به، وما تفكر فيه، بل تاريخها النفسي بالكامل.
كل هذا غير تهكمه وسخريته على بعض الأوضاع وطريقة الحياة هناك.
حتى أنه في جنيف التقى بصديقه الفيلسوف والناقد الأدبى نيقولا ستراخوف، فلاحظ عليه اهتمامه بتأمل أحوال البشر ومعيشتهم هناك، فقال عنه :

"لا الطبيعة ولا المباني ولا آثار الفن كانت تعنيه، فإنما كان ينصرف انتباهه كله إلى الناس."

هكذا هو دائمًا دوستويڤسكي، ينصرف انتباهه كله إلى الناس...

02.04.2020

[Sidharth Vardhan · Rating 2 out of 5]

For most part, I am formed out of impressions the books I have read have left on me, and Dostoevsky's books are the strongest impressions. So, believe me, when I tell you it is most redundant of his works. It is him at his worst - all the prejudices and problems and social behaviour generalised and sourced to nationality of people (whether people are French, English or Russian); and none of his awesomeness. The observations aren't interesting themselves - they are just used for sub-standard comedy.

[Fernando · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Amigos míos, yo les advertí ya en el primer capítulo de mis apuntes que, tal vez, mentiría horriblemente. Así que no me molesten. También saben con seguridad que, si bien miento, lo hago convencido de no mentir. Y, en mi opinión, eso ya es más que suficiente. Así que déjenme en paz."

Fiódor Mijáilovich Dostoievski no fue solo uno de los dos escritores más grandes en la historia de la literatura de Rusia junto a Lev Nikoláievich Tolstói.
Fue además un agudo observador de las costumbres de su gente como del resto de Europa y además un férreo defensor de la idiosincrasia del pueblo ruso.
Sus ideales “eslavófilos” sobre los que intentaba sostener el alma del ruso por sobre todas las demás culturas, contrastaba contra la de los “occidentalistas”, más proclives a que Europa tiñera con sus costumbres a su amado país. Esta dicotomía alcanzó su punto más álgido en las peleas que por esas cuestiones llevó adelante con Iván Turguéniev, acérrimo defensor de que lo europeo fuera lo que dominara Rusia.
Escrito en 1864, un año después de su viaje a Europa por las ciudades de Berlín, Dresde, Wiesbaden, Colonia, Baden Baden, París, Londres, Lucerna, Ginebra, Génova, Florencia, Milán, Venecia y Viena, se tomó su tiempo para escribir estos “Apuntes de invierno sobre impresiones de verano”, sobre los que varios teóricos e historiadores definen como el ensayo que gestó lo que un año más tarde se llamó “Memorias del subsuelo”.
En este ensayo Dostoievski arrecia con fina ironía y mordacidad su intención de dejar al descubierto, en primer lugar al inglés y posteriormente se tomará dos de los capítulos para ejecutar con precisión quirúrgica una acabada radiografía de la burguesía francesa.
Aunque, a mi entender, aquí Dostoievski no es tan ácido, cruel y despiadado como su narrador de “Memorias del subsuelo”, deja bien por sentado que su visión de Francia y los franceses es por momentos cruda y en otras oportunidades más que lapidaria.
Es un texto del que probablemente los lectores que no lo conocen en profundidad nunca hayan oído hablar y puede no sea del agrado de los lectores del otro Dostoievski, el novelista, el que más nos gusta, pero es muy útil para entender porqué muchos de los personajes de sus libros posteriores como “El idiota” de 1869, “Los demonios” de 1872 o “Los hermanos Karamázov” de 1880 pensaban como pensaban…

[Irina Constantin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dostoievski scrie așa cum te-ar învia din cea mai acută boală, scrie ca și cum ai fi ultima persoană căreia i-ar povesti totul, nimic nu m-a făcut mai vie, nu m-a ținut în viață în toate aceste zile de gripă, tuse și declin fizic....
  Aveam nevoie de cartea asta, deși paginile se consuma prea repede, ca o cina de taină la care au venit prea mulți musafiri și tu aveai doar pâine....
  În 1862 Dostoievski face prima sa călătorie în Europa, Paris, Berlin, Viena sunt printre orașele vizitate de Dostoievski după ocna,  după casa morților, totul e expus ca o "reînviere", ca o primăvară în care soarele a revenit mult-asteptat....
  Pe Dostoievski nu-l mai încearcă nicio durere specifica operei lui, niște eseuri politice-descriptive îl însoțesc mereu, în trenul aglomerat care îl duce spre Paris, Dostoievski descrie Parisul aproape ca Hugo, dar,ce păcat cartea se termină prea repede,  scriitorul nu mai are timp, e nerăbdător,  trece de la o secvență la alta fără impasurile lui filosofice obișnuite,  ce eliberare...impresiile lui de călătorie sunt volatile, usoare ca o briza de primăvară de care îmi era dor după atâta iarnă și febră...
Totuși, în chip ascuns, prin cartea asta ,Dostoievski anunță următoarea nuvelă a sa și anume Însemnări din subterană, adică o reîntoarcere la origini și nu dă greș, ultimele pagini din carte înspre acolo bat...Nopți albe și Însemnări din subterană sunt două nuvele ale lui Dostoievski în care tragedia omului din subterană are prestanța, revine eroul visător, singuratic, ascet, mizantrop,  izgonit dintr-o societea adversa, într-un declin metafizic căruia numai moartea poate să-i acopere urmele...
O curiozitate despre Dostoievski pe care am descoperit-o în carte e ca părinții lui îi citeau cărți de groază de Ann Radcliffe făcând-ul să  tremure de frică în vis, dar totodată dorind să viziteze Europa când va crește...

[erigibbi · Rating 3 out of 5]

Il Fëdor Dostoevskij che ha scritto Note invernali su impressioni estive è un uomo che, dopo gli anni della deportazione e del confino, sta cercando di ritrovare il suo posto nel mondo della letteratura.
⠀
Ed ecco quindi che colui che traspare, in questo resoconto del suo primo viaggio in Europa, è un uomo piuttosto polemico; un uomo che non è interessato alla scoperta, che non è mosso dalla curiosità, ma piuttosto dalla voglia di confermare i suoi preconcetti.
⠀
E insomma, un uomo così non può risultare particolarmente simpatico o affabile. In realtà non pretendo che lo sia, ma diciamo che sto ancora aspettando di trovare il Dostoevskij giusto per me.
⠀
Note invernali su impressioni estive potrebbe comunque essere un libro di non fiction interessante per chi vuole approfondire la figura di Dostoevskij e il suo modo di vedere.

[Samir Rawas Sarayji · Rating 4 out of 5]

A brief but interesting essay by Dostoevsky on his impression traveling through Europe for the first time at the latter stage of his life. It was mainly interesting to muse on his musings of his experiences and to observe his observations of those around him. In a nutshell, one short chapter is about London, which he really liked, one longer chapter is about, well... his musings—Russian literature, politics of the day etc— and the rest of the book is about Paris and his 3 weeks stay there, which he greatly disliked (especially when compared to London). At times funny, at times superfluous, but always psychologically interesting.

[Nathan Gewant · Rating 3 out of 5]

A little dense but his hater mentality is undeniable, and I have to respect that.

[Chiara Pagliochini · Rating 2 out of 5]

« È possibile che esista davvero una qualche combinazione chimica dello spirito umano col suolo natio, per la quale da questo suolo non ci si può staccare in alcun modo, e anche se ci si riuscisse, comunque vi si fa ritorno? »

A questa domanda, dopo il viaggio intrapreso in Europa nel 1862, Dostoevskij deve aver risposto di sì. Sì, c’è effettivamente una combinazione chimica dello spirito umano col suolo natio che impedisce, in certi casi, di godersi i viaggi.
Dostoevskij viaggia attraverso la Francia e l’Inghilterra con lo sguardo più russo, più innamorato della russità che si possa avere. Quel che vede è una maschera nel primo caso, un deserto nel secondo. Nessuna bellezza, nessuna dolcezza è registrata in queste pagine. Solo vi trovano spazio lo svelamento della finzione, il cinismo, la ripugnanza nei confronti dell’Occidente borghese e individualista. Appaiono anche motivi che saranno propri della produzione matura di Dostoevskij, come il sacrificio del singolo per gli altri e il peccato vicario. Idee che saranno cristallizzate, vent’anni dopo, nei Fratelli Karamazov.
Tuttavia queste impressioni svelano un cuore ammalato, innamorato e dunque parziale. Dostoevskij non è molto diverso da quel viaggiatore che, invece che la bellezza dei luoghi, registra soltanto la scomodità del sedile.

[J.M. Hushour · Rating 4 out of 5]

Best for the Dosty completist.
Never one known for the cheeriness of his themes, it shouldn't surprise anyone that crusty, crabby, the-color-yellow-hating Dosty find much to delightfully loathe during his first trip abroad in 1862.
Even the Dosty novice will recognize that he was very much enamored with his own culture and people, so the fact that his impressions of Germany, France, and England are laughingly negative can't be considering shocking. Of course, by his own admission, D-bag says that he spent hardly any time anywhere, especially in Germany, so his criticisms are perhaps unfair.
As is typical of this early Dosty, who up to this point had published only a handful of short works, been sent into exile, and had a shitty love life, he is much more free-wheeling, acerbic and slapdash than he would later become in his writings. This despite his largely bleak views of western Europe, but, hey, if there is one thing Dosty was consistent at, it was being inconsistent.

[Ivana · Rating 3 out of 5]

I actually read Winter notes on the Summer Impressions(what would this work be called btw - a collection of essays, a non fiction book?) in the middle of reading Записки из Мертвого дома( I think it is called Notes from the Dead House in English but I'm not sure. Anyway, they are both in edition I have as are Notes from the Underworld.) I reckoned this will be something light, a pleasant change from the somewhat depressive Записки из Мертвого дома. More or less, that is what it was.

Winter notes are witty and for most part easy to follow. However, despite the fact they are lighter than anything I've read by Dostoyevsky so far, there were times when they required concentration. I got this feeling they were not originally intended for publication, but were written as diary notes. Maybe that is the idea. It could also be that the writer just followed his stream of consciousness.

Some may say that this book is xenophobic, but I don't think it should be taken that seriously. I seriously doubt the writer intended the book to be taken as a serious study of the countries it describes. From what I gather, Dostoyevsky is just making fun of some aspect of the west European society. Moreover, he is also criticizing his own country and people. All in all, I wouldn't call this a xenophobic book.

Anyway, isn't everyone at least a bit xenophobic? The fear of unknown is perhaps the strongest of human fears. One always, at least on the unconscious level, perceives its own society as something natural and "the way it should be". Even the most open minded people on some level have a bit of opposition towards something different. It's just human nature. To most people any foreign language will sound harsh or hard, although their feeling has nothing to do with hardness or harshness in the phonological sense.

All in all, I enjoyed reading it. I don't plan to reread it (I'm big on rereading) and that is why it gets 3 stars.

[Andreea Toader · Rating 4 out of 5]

3,5⭐️

[Nick · Rating 4 out of 5]

You know that show on PBS, Rick Steves' Europe? Imagine that it was hosted not by the affable, slightly boring Steves, but by the grumpiest, most beetle-browed Russian you can fathom, and that rather than seeking out the famous citadels, cathedrals, and monuments of Europe, our host instead scurries straight for the most destitute neighborhoods of London and Paris and spends his time listening to the area's gambling addicts and child prostitutes. Also, having decided to judge Europe by its lowest common denominators (i.e. said gamblers and prostitutes), our host finds Europe to be a loathsome place, not at all what it's cracked up to be. Got that in your head? That's basically Winter Notes on Summer Impressions. Make no Parisian-catacomb-entombed bones about it: this is a Russian nationalist screed serving as a direct response to what Dostoevsky saw as European infiltration into his beloved homeland by means of German rationalism and other philosophies popular in the 1860s. It's a book very much of its time and place, which is why it's not widely read today, but I think it should be, because it's turned out to be highly relevant to the good ol' USA circa 2016.

As the election season has progressed (or devolved), one of the most common refrains heard from the Democrats goes something like this: “Every major European country has a universal health care system that works; why don’t we? Finland has by far the most successful educational program in the world, and yet we persistently fail to emulate it. If a policy is proven to work, then that’s that, and a refusal to adopt the policy out of nationalism is really mere stubbornness disguised as patriotism, pettiness as pride. And so I would politely inquire of my friends on the other side of the aisle…” and so on. The equally adamant rejoinder from the right is: “I don’t want to live in Europe [or Canada, or Mexico]. I want to live in America! Let us make our own mistakes, if mistakes they be. If I may quote the Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky…” The fundamental question here—the necessity (or un-necessity) of a nation’s politics arising naturally from a pre-existing national sentiment—has been argued since time immemorial, nowhere more passionately than in the pages of Dostoevsky. During the turbulent 1860’s, the man watched with horror and revulsion as his country committed what he considered cultural prostitution, with Western Europe in the role of pimp. Although he had longed to go to Europe from childhood, having very Dostoevskian “delirious ravings” about the continent in his sleep as a boy, when he finally arrives at the age of forty, he discovers he has already seen much of what is offered. He needn’t have left his homeland; by 1862, French literature, German philosophy, and English customs had long since become those of the Russian intelligentsia. The fashion of the time, consisting of “silk stockings and wigs,” and “little swords” (perhaps of the same variety as the sabre the Underground Man’s offending officer rattled so impudently), was a hodgepodge of European tastes. The up-and-coming political views of the day were no less so, and taken about as seriously by their adoptees as their fashion. At one point in Winter Notes our intrepid traveller grumbles, “Our entire ultraprogressive party fervently stands up for foreign suspenders.” The problem with donning these ideological ‘suspenders’, Dostoevsky believes, is that they are not held in any esteem, granted any real value, that only those beliefs (and literature and fashion and customs) which come from the native soil of those who believe in and practice them can be said to hold genuine value to the soul. In short, “[A culture] is cultivated over the centuries and developed over the centuries. A nationality is not easily altered; it is not easy to abandon the habits of centuries, ingrained in the flesh and blood.” So what does this mean for the United States? What ideas have been ingrained in our flesh and blood, how do they compare to those of the Europe Dostoevsky visited, and what do they say about us?

In modern political terms, Dostoevsky’s cultural determinism is a very conservative idea, considered almost backwards. It seems to fly in the face of the “melting pot” mentality that has been “ingrained in our flesh and blood” since the immigration waves of the early 20th century, and it is the diametric opposite of multiculturalism—if nationalities are, in fact, almost genetic, then throwing a bunch of them onto the same plot of land and telling them to work things out amongst themselves is a recipe not for democracy, but violent sectarianism. It also offers a bleak prognosis for our nation’s ability to reverse this inevitable division, as the multicultural ideal itself, being “developed over centuries”, is “not easily altered.” Dostoevsky renders just such a judgment on France in Winter Notes. That nation, in perpetual recoil from what Dostoevsky terms “all those little pranks”—that is, the French Revolution—was at the time attempting to instate a socialist brotherhood of men, a secular Kingdom of Heaven. The rub, for Dostoevsky, is that this attempt is by definition a self-conscious one, and so doomed to failure by its very nature. As soon as one sees the benefits of brotherhood—which Dostoevsky never doubts are very real—one desires brotherhood not for the good of mankind but for one’s self-interest; such is man’s nature. As soon as this self-interest is understood by the individual, it becomes impossible to devote oneself for any other reason, including the good of others. Just ask the narrator of Notes From Underground (1864): “[Rationally speaking], one drop of your own fat must be dearer to you than a hundred thousand of your fellow-creatures, and […] this conclusion is the final solution of all so-called virtues and duties and all […] prejudices and fancies.” Meaning, then, that all conscious strivings toward brotherhood, toward “the cessation of world history”, are doomed in their very design, but not necessarily all unconscious ones:

"After all, it is like trying not to think of a polar bear. Try to pose for yourself this task: not to think of a polar bear, and you will see that the cursed thing will come to mind every minute. So how is [the realization of Utopia] to be done? There is no way it can be done, but rather it must happen of itself; it must be present in one’s nature, unconsciously a part of the nature of the whole race, in a word: in order for there to be a principle of brother love there must be love. It is necessary to be drawn by one’s very instincts into brotherhood, community, and harmony, to be drawn in spite of all the nation’s age-old sufferings, in spite of age-old slavery, in spite of foreigners—in a word, the need for a brotherly community must be in the nature of man; he must be born with it, or he must have been in the habit from time immemorial."

The French people, in trying not to think of the self-interested benefits of socialism, end up thinking about them continuously. “In other words,” Dostoevsky quips, “socialism is quite possible, but only in places other than France.”

It isn’t too difficult to imagine how this logic can be applied to America today. To posit a pipe bomb: the American ideal has always been, more or less, the brotherhood Dostoevsky describes in Winter Notes, that is, a community of men who find “the highest happiness” in making sacrifices for their fellow men, but only of their own volition. The reason this ideal has been so obviously unrealized in our history is because the further back one moves in history, the narrower the definition of just who is fully human becomes, and so the narrower the circle of “brothers” eligible for membership in the brotherhood of men. Furthermore, when even one person is rendered ineligible for membership on the basis of his race, or her sex, it becomes impossible for the “accepted” members to genuinely sacrifice themselves for the good of man, even if they want to, because the benefits they receive from their social superiority over the given sub-humans of the time renders their “sacrifice” moot; it becomes an easy, risk-free thing to do, and in consequence an affectation, a symbolic act done to keep up appearances. Look no further than the case of slavery and its abolitionist opposition, an example contemporary to Dostoevsky, briefly referenced in Winter Notes. In 1850’s America, to proclaim oneself an abolitionist was to commit social suicide among the respectable North; abolitionism was a fringe movement, the domain of fanatic obsessives like William Lloyd Garrison and the Transcendentalists, and terrorists like John Brown. By the end of the Civil War it was, of course, the Union’s universal view. In siding with Lincoln’s after his Proclamation, the landed gentry of the North pretended they were “martyring” their reputation and, so they thought (or claimed to think), were “risking their lives” for the just cause of abolition. They did nothing of the sort, of course, instead sending the common soldier to his death with a hearty salute, and following the status quo to a tee the whole way through—but when the status quo changes, as it did during the war, it is profitable to pretend that it has not and that the adopters of the new status quo are in fact rebels against it; it flatters the ego. But we shouldn’t waste too much breath proving the existence of sanctimony in American discourse. The point is that it is impossible for the privileged—or, if you prefer, un-persecuted—segment of society, be they the fashionable abolitionist or you and me, to make the sort of sacrifice Dostoevsky’s notion of brotherhood demands in a society marred by inequality. Fortunately, the general trend of American history is toward inclusivity makes the possibility of such a brotherhood grow brighter.

But say we arrive at total political equality—a scenario hard to imagine without the totalitarian social controls of Kurt Vonnegut’s “Harrison Bergeron”, or of Ingsoc, but let us suppose. In such a case brotherhood will still be impossible for America; the culprit this time is capitalism.

Dostoevsky’s scathing critique of capitalism, framed in Winter Notes by his visit to London, is remarkable in part because it does not seek to promote any other economic system, is instead predicated on the assumption that all economic systems are futile by nature of their artificiality. Our Russian Virgil, guiding us through the gas-lit streets of Hell, where at night “everyone rushes as fast as he can to drink until he loses consciousness”, is struck during the day by the calm and obscene assuredness in the rightness of their activities with which Londoners bustle about. Never do they question the profit motive, even when the inevitable failure of the majority of the population to produce a profit drives them to misery; never would it occur to them to question it:

"In the presence of such enormity, in the presence of such gigantic pride in the sovereign spirit, in the presence of the triumphant finality of that spirit’s creations, even the hungry soul often comes to a standstill, grows humble, bows down, seeks salvation in gin and depravity, and begins to believe that everything is as it should be. Fact weighs heavy; the masses grow numb and wander about like zombies; or if skepticism arises, dismally and with a curse they seek salvation in something like Mormonism."

This will not be the last time Dostoevsky expresses concern over the self-proclaimed reliability of all rationalist forms of thought, including free market economics. Because the objective righteousness of what Dostoevsky labels, in his chapter title, "Baal" (an umbrella name for numerous Pagan gods) can, even if questioned, never be found wanting, the most an Englishman can hope for is the false hope delivered by false religions (as Dostoevsky considered Mormonism to be) which simply do not comment on the driving force behind English society, which overlook the matter and drown the congregation’s intuitive doubts about this force in a deluge of myth and superstition. Such, anyway, is his highest hope by day. By night it is the aforementioned blackout drinking. For the women of London, however, Baal must be served most especially by night: “At night prostitutes crowd several streets in this quarter by the thousands. […] In Haymarket I noticed mothers who were bringing their young daughters into the business. Little girls around twelve years of age take you by the hand and ask you to go with them.”

This sort of depravity, into which London was driven by its poverty, is utterly alien to modern America. In solely physical terms, we have come closer to the fulfillment of the Crystal Palace Dostoevsky patrons in London than any other nation: we are a prosperous, consumer culture, and we like to flaunt it. However, for Dostoevsky physical prosperity can be as morally disastrous as physical poverty—if not more so. Crimes that are unforgivable in Dostoevsky are usually the result of decadence: the dandyish Verkhovensky and the dashing rogue Stavrogin in Demons, Raskolnikov’s murders in Crime and Punishment. Crimes committed out of a biological drive, such as hunger or lust, are comprehensible, forgivable, and only human. Criminals who act in the name of an ideal—including that of the capitalist Baal, which is alive and well in America today—act inhumanly, and little sympathy from Dostoevsky. Better for your soul, in short, to be starving on the streets of London, and even selling your child’s body to make ends meet, than to live idly in a world where such things happen, doing nothing to prevent them, when it is within your means to do so. This is why Pyotr Stepanovich in Demons and Ivan Karamazov in the Brothers are guilty in the eyes of God, even though they kill by proxy; active, passionate injustices are preferable to emotionally detached ones of the sort which are encouraged by the capitalist systems of England and America, which incentivize the exploitation of others whom we bear no personal vendettas against.

As a nation, we remain both politically and economically unprepared to embrace Dostoevsky’s brotherhood by means of our own consciousness, and to make matters more difficult, the importation of foreign consciousness is futile at best, disastrous at worst. So what now? How do we manage to sway the instincts of our society in a more brotherly direction? In a phrase, What Is to Be Done? We know that culture is “ingrained in the flesh and blood”, and this is so because, according to Dostoevsky, “the soul is not a tabula rasa, a piece of wax from which the universal man may be molded.” If the soul is not a tabula rasa, then exactly what part of it is predetermined? There may be the biological component, to be sure, the urge for self-preservation that we now universally agree is present in man’s mind at birth, but that can hardly be all, in Dostoevsky’s view. It cannot be all because Dostoevsky has already declared the socialist brotherhood is a possibility (“in places other than France”—by which Dostoevsky really means, ‘in Russia’). There is no Darwinian urge to sacrifice oneself for the sake of one’s fellow man; at no point has there been a widespread belief in such an urge, never less so than in Dostoevsky’s day, when, as the Underground Man puts it, “one must smile and take it” when scientists say “you are descended from an ape” and that “one drop of your own fat must be dearer to you,” etc., etc. In order for brotherhood to be possible, there must be something innate in the soul which counteracts “the selfish gene”, and that thing has its origins in the actions, good or evil, of one’s cultural ancestors. The good news is that means we ourselves have influence over the “cultural DNA” of our descendants, and that our individual actions will have a ripple effect beyond their solitary circumstance. Dostoevsky conceives of a sort of moral collective unconscious, a racial memory, decades before Jung. All ideology being useless, it is the only tool we have to improve our society, and our only hope for brotherhood, in America as everywhere.

[Sotiris Karaiskos · Rating 4 out of 5]

Russia's relationship with the West was a subject very common in the author's novels. In this book, we read his impressions of a trip to Western Europe, so we can understand quite a bit about the way he viewed its inhabitants and his views on how these countries influenced Russian culture. Very interesting and enlightening.

Η σχέση της Ρωσίας με την δύση ήταν ένα θέμα πολύ συνηθισμένο στα μυθιστορήματα του συγγραφέα. Σε αυτό το βιβλίο διαβάζουμε τις εντυπώσεις του από ένα ταξίδι στη δυτική Ευρώπη και έτσι μπορούμε να καταλάβουμε αρκετά πράγματα για τον τρόπο που έβλεπε τους κατοίκους της αλλά και για τις απόψεις του για τον τρόπο που επηρέαζαν αυτές οι χώρες τον ρωσικό πολιτισμό. Πολύ ενδιαφέρον και διαφωτιστικό.

[Julia · Rating 3 out of 5]

Wzięłam ją ze względu na wyzwanie czytelnicze w mojej bibliotece. Była taka chaotyczna, niepoukładana i nie do końca taka jaka myślałam, że będzie.

[Asha Cox · Rating 3 out of 5]

I despised 7/8 of this book. Dostoevsky's attempt at journalism reeks of sensationalism and his insights are paltry at best.

All with the exception of chapter 6. With almost no warning the great novelist emerges from his sensational stupor and in rapid succession poses a solution to the post-enlightenment problem of individual vs. community, and refutes utopianism at large (a theme he would develop in Notes from Underground), all with a fair degree of originality and inventiveness.

If you can manage to obtain a censored version of this book containing only chapter 6 (I'm sure some Canadian Press would oblige), I would highly recommend reading it.

[cranbelries · Rating 3 out of 5]

I, too, despise the french

[Bogdan R · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ovo delo je jedna sociološko-politička rasprava, maskirana kao letopis naratorovog proputovanja Evropom. Dosta zanimljivo koncipirano, voleo bih da je Dostojevski posvetio više pažnje održavanju te letopisne ,,maske" u koju uvija svoju raspravu.

Dostojevski esej posvećuje razlikama između ruskog i zapadnoevropskog društva (prvenstveno francuskog i engleskog). ,,Buržoasko" društvo pisac slika napola šalom i napola zbiljom, kroz anegdote i istorijske analize. U biti kritično, ovo delo cilja da pokaže kako zapadno društvo slobode, demokratije, jednakosti i drugih skupih reči nije mnogo više od uglačane spoljašnjosti koja sakriva iste probleme sa kojima se i druge nacije (tj. ruska) suočavaju. Sa najvećim uživanjem, čini se, autor se trudi da pokaže da je kovanje zapadnih vrednosti u zvezde neosnovano i na kraju, kontraproduktivno.

Čitajući ovo delo nekih 150 godina nakon što je objavljeno, teško mi je da shvatim kako je bilo čitano i razumeno od strane ruskog srednjeg i višeg sloja kojem je adresirano. I pored toga, delo ima vrednost kao tužno proročanstvo izgleda onih društava u kojima je lična korist pojedinca najviša vrednost.

Lako možemo ovaj esej prepevati u druge reči i umesto ,,buržoasko" reći ,,kapitalističko", umesto ,,vodvilj" reći ,,tv sapunica" i tako dalje. Delo tako gubi svoju masku i postepeno postaje jedan običan letopis sveta u kojem živimo, sa svim njegovim licima i naličijima koje dobro poznajemo.

Nadam se da Dostojevski ima barem neku posthumnu satisfakciju što je bio u pravu predviđajući svet u kakvom ćemo živeti, pošto ja nemam satisfakciju što živim u njemu.

[Eylül Görmüş · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dostoyevski’nin Yeraltı Notları’nın öncülü sayılan eseri. Avrupalılarla ilgili gözlemlerinin kimileri oldukça ilginç olsa da özellikle etkilendiğimi söyleyemeyeceğim. Fyodor amcamız Rus gözüyle bir nevi “batının ahlaksızlığını” anlatıyor. Sosyalizm ve burjuvazi kısımları kafa açıcı ve provoke ediciydi ama biraz fazla serbest akış, kendisinin düşüncelerini takip etmekte zaman zaman zorlandığımı belirterek bunu da bitiriyorum.

[Aslı · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gerçekten çok hoş bir kitap, dönemin Avrupa’sını bir Rus’un gözünden güzel yansıtıyor. Yalnız Dostoyevski notlarınd özellikle 1-2 bölümde dönemin Rus Edebiyatı camiasından bol bol söz ettiği için ön bilgi sahibi olmak kitabı daha iyi anlamak açısından yararlı olabilir.

[Б. Ачболд · Rating 5 out of 5]

Д-ийн Европ явсан тухай тэмдэглэл, 63 онд Время сэтгүүлд гарсан, Записки из подполья (Notes from Underground)-ийн яг өмнө нь бичсэн юм уу даа.

(1) Нөгөө Оросын алдартай ном шиг сэтгүүлүүд байдаг шдээ--байдаг л юм байна л даа, би ямар өрөө барьж аваад уншиж байсан биш, одоо ч гэсэн байдаг юм байна, нөгөө мундаг романууд бүгд ийм сэтгүүлд анх гарч байсан--тийм сэтгүүлд юу байдаг вэ гэхээр, роман байна, шүүмж "review" байна (шүүмж нь нийгэм улс төрийн шинжтэй, далд утгатай гэх үү дээ), тэгээд бас "фельетон". New Yorker-ийн Talk of the Town гэдэг шиг ч юм уу, гэхдээ шал ондоо. Д өөрөө фельетон их сайн бичдэг, энэ Өвлийн Тэмдэглэл бол тиймэрхүү хэлбэрээр бичигдсэн юм байна.
(2) Фельетон одоогийн яриагаар fiction ч биш, nonfiction талдаа, гэхдээ бас яг тийм биш.
(3) Anglo-American "эссэ" бичдэг хүмүүс их мундаг "insight"-тай, ерөнхийдөө нэг сэдвийг ухаж ойлгох гэж үздэг, илүү эрдэмтэн судлаач шиг бичдэг бол тэр үеийн Оросын "эссэ" шал өөр юм байна. Автор/өгүүлэгчийнх нь дүр, сэтгэл санааны байдал, уурласан, инээсэн, гайхсан, гомдсон нь илүү мэдрэгддэг.
(4) Тэгэхээр Д тухайн үеийн Европын тухай мундаг бичиж үү гэхээсээ илүү өгүүлэгчийнх нь дуу хоолой яаж гарч ирж байгаа нь илүү сонирхолтой санагдсан. Аягүй инээдтэй нөхөр л байна, гэхдээ Д өөрөө яг тийм байсан гэсэн үг биш л дээ. Записки из Мёртвого дома (Үхсэн байшингаас бичсэн тэмдэглэл?)-д гардаг өгүүлэгч жишээ нь нилээд өөр байсан. Яахав тэр үеийн Д, Европ явсан Д хоёр ялгаатай ч байж болох юм.

[oscar wilde to nawet nie jest on · Rating 2 out of 5]

bardzo chaotyczny zbiór esejów, w których ukazuje się nam silly goofy Dostojewski hejter (najsłabsze z jego dzieł, które miałam okazję przeczytać tbh)

[Piero Marmanillo · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Ya hace varios meses que ustedes, amigos míos, me apremian a describirles mis impresiones en el extranjero, sin sospechar que, con su pedido, me colocan en un callejón sin salida. ¿Qué he de escribirles? ¿Qué contaré de nuevo, aún no conocido o no contado?"



Hola, amable lector, gracias por visitar el blog:

Como lo habrán notado, en los últimos tiempos vengo publicando impresiones de las novelas y cuentos que voy leyendo de Dostoievski. Tengo pendiente por hacer varios más, pero por el entusiasmo de continuar con nuevas lecturas no he podido detenerme a escribir otras notas.

No obstante, ahora es el momento de hacer una pausa y escribir unas breves notas.

Apuntes de invierno sobre impresiones de verano es un libro que no conocía que formaba parte del canon del autor. Al enterarme de la existencia de este libro, me sobrevino una incontenible compulsión de adquirirlo en cuanto sea posible.

El ejemplar corresponde a la primera edición de 2017 publicada por la editorial Hermida Editores y con la traducción de Alejandro Ariel Gonzáles.

Habiendo leído el libro, que, pese a su corta extensión, menos de doscientas páginas, el libro contiene muchas reflexiones, ideas e impresiones del narrador sobre el hombre de Europa, básicamente desde varios enfoques: el cultural, moral, económico, social, entre otros.

En 1862, Dostoievski se embarcó en un viaje por Europa (Debe entenderse que, según el narrador, Rusia no forma parte de Europa. Siempre hace una diferenciación y constantemente compara el uno con el otro, resaltando las virtudes del hombre ruso de campo en contraposición de los defectos del hombre europeo (alemán, inglés, francés. ¡Sí!, sobre todo del francés).

Decía que, en 1862, Fiódor hizo un viaje a Europa. Es sorprendente la cantidad de lugares que visitó. Transcribo a continuación un pedacito de sus apuntes con referencia a sus destinos:

“Estuve en Berlín, en Dresde, en Wiesbaden, en Baden-Baden, en Colonia, en París, en Londres, en Lucerna, en Ginebra, en Génova, en Florencia, en Milán, en Venecia, en Viena, y en algunas de ellas dos veces, ¡y todo eso, todo eso lo recorrí en dos meses y medio exactos!” (Dostoievski)

Cuando leí esas líneas por primera vez me quedé sorprendido de la cantidad de lugares que Dostoievski pudo visitar. Me imaginaba que a continuación describiría los atractivos turísticos de cada lugar, pero me equivoqué. Es Dostoievski, señores, no un guía turístico. Él mismo dice lo siguiente en el Capítulo I, En lugar de prólogo: “…no tengo nada especial que contar, y menos aún que apuntar ordenadamente, ya que no vi nada en orden, y si algo vi, no tuve tiempo de apreciarlo.” Leído esto, uno no sabe entonces de qué irá el libro entonces. Dostoievski, es decir el narrador, en este libro utiliza un tono más relajado frente al lector, incluso nos gasta unas bromas, por ejemplo, en el Capítulo II, En el vagón, dice lo siguiente: “¿Y saben qué?: me han entrado ganas, hasta que lleguemos a París, de contarles mis reflexiones de vagón, así sin más, en nombre del humanismo; si tanto me aburrí en el vagón, ahora abúrranse ustedes”.

Y es así como el narrador, estando en el vagón, viajando, en vez de contarnos los atractivos del lugar, empieza a contarnos sus impresiones sobre la influencia de Europa sobre Rusia, y cita a muchos escritores rusos como por ejemplo Fonvizin, Jomiakov, Pushkin, Nekrásov, Derzhavin, entre otros, lo cual revela su gran conocimiento de la literatura rusa y el legado de cada escritor. Es sorprendente el dominio que tiene el narrador de diferentes temas y constantemente cita a varios autores como apoyo bien sea para iniciar una imaginaria charla con el lector o con algún personaje inventado mientras permanece en el vagón o bien para iniciar una crítica contra alguna frase dicha antaño por algún escritor ruso, como la que realizó Fonvizin: “Los franceses carecen de juicio y tenerla lo consideraría la mayor de las desgracias”, y qué, justamente por esta frase, Dostoievski da rienda suelta a su inconmensurable comentario sobre Europa y Rusia. En cada momento aprovechará la ocasión para ahondar en ello.

El libro es muy entretenido, es como un ensayo sobre Europa y su influencia en Rusia, sobre cómo el hombre ruso ha ido cambiando por esta influencia, cómo es el hombre de Europa en diferentes aspectos, como en el arte, política, costumbres o la moral.

Apuntes de invierno sobre impresiones de verano, es un viaje a los pensamientos de Dostoievski, que ya revela aquí el germen de lo que aparecerá un año después con esa potencia y contundencia de su Memorias del subsuelo.

El ejemplar cuenta además con un epílogo de Nadhiezhda Guennádievna Mijnoviets, súper interesante en la que, a manera de resumen, reúne varias citas de estudios de autores occidentales que se han realizado sobre el libro desde su publicación y que incluso en el siglo presente hay varias publicaciones al respecto. Algunos de los autores de citados por Nadhiezhda son: Joseph Frank, McReynolds, Patterson, Arndt, Leatherbarrow, entre otros, lo cual hace muy enriquecedora la experiencia de la lectura porque revelan las diferentes interpretaciones y objetos de estudios realizados a partir de esta novela.

Muy recomendable.

¡Es todo por ahora, Au revoir!

¡Ah! Olvidaba mencionar algunos autores que Dostoievski cita: Ann Radcliffe, Jomiakov, Krestovsky, Karamzín, Pushkin, Reichard, Derzhavin, Fonvizin, Shedrín, Alekséi Tolstói, Lérmontov, Gógol, Griboiédov, entre otros.

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[Terry Taft · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel obligated to give this book 2 starts simply because it’s my least favorite Dostoyevsky. Not sure this was ever written to be published. It was very nice to read an autobiographical piece of work by Dostoyevsky but this was largely ramblings that I really struggled to connect to. Interesting but not a very enjoyable read. Didn’t dislike.