The Obscure Reading Group discussion

Welcome to Week 2 of our discussion, which covers Part Two--Books 4, 5 and 6 of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov.

Some say this is the heart of the story. I know for me, this second part has been less info-dump and more page-turner, but I should say I do enjoy a good philosophical conversation.

There are some really interesting ideas bandied about in this section.

Want to discuss any of Ivan’s points? Like,
He accepts God, but not this world of God’s.
Or,
Is the inability of many to love their neighbor due to their bad qualities, or inherent to their nature?

How much of this discussion can be applied beyond the human level, to Russia on a national level?

You all can pose better questions than I can, and I’m eager to hear what everyone thinks.

I'm also interested in the infamously famous Inquisitor's chapter. My take is that freedom is a bad thing, and that it's bad for mankind because mankind cannot handle it.

You can see how this might appeal to Ivan in particular. You know what they say: There's something about Ivan.

How are we doing here?

The book seems meatier than a deli but the halls seem vegan quiet.

Is this because the book is too difficult?

Is it because some intended readers opted out at the last minute?

Is it because we're intimidated by Fyodor (Dostoevsky, not Karamazov) and worry whatever we say might be wanting?

Feels a bit like the Flying Dutchman, what with the skeleton crew and all.

I found I didn't have an awful lot to actually say about it, which is strange as it seems like such a dense and philosophically deep novel. Through reading it I was wondering to myself, what shall I say in the book-club? I found the first 2/3 of the novel fairly hard work. I don't mind hard work in books, in fact sometimes I quite like it, but I wasn't reaping as much as I wanted, after so much sowing.

Biblically put, Matt! A lot of reaping and sowing going down in the Bible. I wonder if others are having the same experience.

In my own case, I thought the issue was failing to mark passages to comment on and just trying to read on for enjoyment. After doing that, looking back from the stern I saw more fog than ocean.

Ken wrote: "Biblically put, Matt! A lot of reaping and sowing going down in the Bible. I wonder if others are having the same experience.

In my own case, I thought the issue was failing to mark passages to co..."

I also didn't underline much when I usually decimate my books in underlinings, unless they are from the library, of course. Nothing jumped out at me. Or maybe all the good bits were so bogged down in the page-long speeches that the point of my pencil couldn't find them.

There is more socialism-bashing, this time by Father Paissy. After Father Zossima tells Alyosha he'll speak his last words to him, Father Paissy leaves the cell with Alyosha and tells him "...even those who have renounced Christianity and attacked it, in their inmost being still follow the Christian ideal, for hitherto neither their subtlety nor the ardour of their hearts has been able to create a higher ideal of man and of virtue than the ideal given by Christ of old. When it has been attempted, the result has only been grotesque." This was well before the Bolsheviks and Stalin, kangaroo courts and gulags....

Dostoyevsky does a lot of signaling about what's coming later, and he's not subtle about it. Two examples are the "one child" and Alyosha taking on the sins of his brothers. "A Meeting with the Schoolboys" has Alyosha see a group of six boys ganging up on a solo boy (one child-signal of Ivan's), throwing rocks at each other. The boy attacks Alyosha once that fight is over (signal of taking on Dmitri's sin against the boy's father), and our Christ-like figure merely asks serenely "How have I wronged you?' Later at Madame Hohlakov's, in the face of all the ladies' drama and hysteria, he's supposedly the only authentic one present, stating baldly "I really don't know how I dare say this, but somebody must tell the truth... for nobody here will tell the truth" (when he tells Katerina Ivanovna that she loves Ivan even though she says she loves Dmitri). Alyosha even accuses Ivan of lying (speaking unjustly, wrongly) when he announces he's leaving Katerina and won't be her "laceration." The mixing up of sins and guilt and who gets punished is so Russian.

Rebellion and The Grand Inquisitor deserve their own posts.

Ken,

To answer your questions....

How are we doing here? I am doing fine, how about you?

The book seems meatier than a deli but the halls seem vegan quiet.
Is this because the book is too difficult? Not too difficult but I do find it a lot to chew through in 1 week. It is not a page-turner and not always pleasant reading. It doesn't help that I am trying to split my time between several other books including a 900 page Murakami tome. So, I am a bit behind and have still not finished the week 2 reading but will still participate in this thread regardless as I don't feel it will spoil the experience for me.

Is it because some intended readers opted out at the last minute? Nope, not me.

Is it because we're intimidated by Fyodor (Dostoevsky, not Karamazov) and worry whatever we say might be wanting? No, I don't feel that way about this book...though you might have heard me utter these words about other genres...take poetry for example...lol.

The wikipedia entry for the novel states the following: "The writing of The Brothers Karamazov was altered by a personal tragedy: in May 1878, Dostoevsky's 3-year-old son Alyosha died of epilepsy, a condition inherited from his father. The novelist's grief is apparent throughout the book. Dostoevsky named the hero Alyosha, as well as imbuing him with qualities that he sought and most admired. His loss is also reflected in the story of Captain Snegiryov and his young son Ilyusha." I finished the chapter just before the Grand Inquisitor called Rebellion in the Pevear translation and I could not help thinking that Ivan's statements about how supposedly god-fearing christians treated children were Dostoevsky expressing his own feelings via the character.

Cherisa wrote: "There is more socialism-bashing, this time by Father Paissy. After Father Zossima tells Alyosha he'll speak his last words to him, Father Paissy leaves the cell with Alyosha and tells him "...even ..."
I just started The Grand Inquisitor but agree that Rebellion needs discussion. It was an interesting chapter given Ivan's stories of past horrific abuse of children.

Ken wrote: "I'm also interested in the infamously famous Inquisitor's chapter. My take is that freedom is a bad thing, and that it's bad for mankind because mankind cannot handle it.

You can see how this might appeal to Ivan in particular. You know what they say: There's something about Ivan."

The Grand Inquisitor chapter is fascinating but also dense and hard to fathom. I did get the same gist Ken shared. The idea is that freedom is a burden. Freedom is a terrible gift. The reason according to Ivan: Even though freedom of conscience is seductive, man is unable to decide for himself what is good and evil. On account of this, there is suffering. Ivan seems to suggest that a loving God would never give man this freedom. Ivan comes across as a rebellious and bitter man who is angry with God. He said, "Didst Thou forget that man prefers peace, and even death, to freedom of choice in the knowledge of good and evil?"

Ivan also said, “Man was created a rebel; and how can rebels be happy?” I thought he is the perfect example of a rebel. Wonder no more why he is unhappy.

I would love to hear some thoughts on these words by Ivan:

“Feed men, and then ask of them virtue!”

“Thou didst promise them the bread of Heaven, but, I repeat again, can it compare with earthly bread in the eyes of the weak, ever sinful and ignoble rave of man?”

What is Ivan saying? That religion is cold comfort for the poor and hungry? That true religion must feed the poor? That we cannot cater to the spirit unless we first meet physical needs? Is this where Socialism comes in?

Darrin wrote: "The wikipedia entry for the novel states the following: "The writing of The Brothers Karamazov was altered by a personal tragedy: in May 1878, Dostoevsky's 3-year-old son Alyosha died of epilepsy, a condition inherited from his father. The novelist's grief is apparent throughout the book. Dostoevsky named the hero Alyosha, as well as imbuing him with qualities that he sought and most admired. His loss is also reflected in the story of Captain Snegiryov and his young son Ilyusha."

Thank you, Darrin, for providing this piece of information about Dostoevsky's life. I like knowing how it shaped the story he wrote. That story is so tenderly told and touching. Now I know why.

Good quotes to fathom, Laysee.

I may be a bit off in this notion, but I kept thinking that Ivan's Inquisitor was stating one obvious: mankind would respond to and follow with slavish devotion a God of miracles who can fulfill their physical needs and, when necessary, take retribution (Old Testament-like) by smiting His enemies through the use of divine powers.

For God to expect mankind instead to have FAITH in an ultimate reward and to thus CHOOSE to believe in such a god's promise is another thing entirely. It's as if the Inquisitor is saying, "You don't know your customer."

Right or wrong, I surely liked the kiss (Christ to Inquisitor) that ended this chapter and how it echoes staretsy bowing before Dmitri and how it anticipates Alyosha kissing Ivan.

Only thing that threw me is the Biblical story of Judas. Didn't he identify Christ for the Roman soldiers by kissing him, too? Or maybe my catechism is so far off I'm forgetting stuff in the Ways and Means category.

I’m with Darrin, in that it’s a lot to chew on in one week.

But I appreciate the parallels you pointed out, Cherisa, and love this: The mixing up of sins and guilt and who gets punished is so Russian.

To Laysee's question, what I found interesting in the GI chapter was the role of the church. I don’t know much about this, but according to stereotypes I’ve picked up over the years, the Catholic church, while it is really good at feeding the poor, does not encourage Catholics to discover spiritual truths on their own, but rather to come to rely on going to Confession and doing the penance you are given. In other words, not thinking much for yourself.

My very little exposure to Eastern Orthodoxy, on the other hand, is that there is no Pope, no confession, more fallibility in their leaders, more mystery. Sounds like more free thinking. Do these aspects of Eastern Orthodoxy come because this is a particularly Russian feeling? And does this complicate the religion versus socialism discussion?

I agree with Ken’s assessment, and, back to Cherisa's parallels, am also intrigued by this kiss business.

As I read through this chapter, I often think that what I am reading is an atheist's critique of religion and a belief in God in general. It has made me wonder if Ivan is just that, an atheist.

Ken, do you feel that the Avsey translation better communicates this chapter than the Pevear? I remember you commenting that you were going to try Avsey this time and I have read your review from the first time you read the book.

Darrin wrote: "Ken, do you feel that the Avsey translation better communicates this chapter than the Pevear? I remember you commenting that you were going to try Avsey this time and I have read your review from t..."

I think the Avsey is superior, yes.

Thank you, Ken and Kathleen, for your insight into the two quotes. Your thoughts, Ken, made sense to me. As you put it, Ivan opined that people wanted a "God of miracles who can fulfill their physical needs and, when necessary, take retribution (Old Testament-like) by smiting His enemies through the use of divine powers.". I recall that Ivan offered the following in place of freedom: Mystery, Miracle, and Authority. This is aligned to Ken's explanation of this quote.

I have to confess I know very little about the Catholic Church. It is interesting to note what Kathleen said about rituals being a key observance rather than a quest for truth (Form rather than substance).

Darrin is right that Ivan's poem is an atheist's critique of religion and faith.

Ken wrote: "Right or wrong, I surely liked the kiss (Christ to Inquisitor) that ended this chapter and how it echoes staretsy bowing before Dmitri and how it anticipates Alyosha kissing Ivan."

I liked that, too, Ken. This bit focused on the Mystery aspect of faith, I think. Christ's kiss for the Inquisitor, Alyosha's kissing of Ivan, and Father Zossima bowing to Dimtri contain a mystical element - a hint perhaps that the godly person is gentle and forgiving, that he has foresight and grieves over the pain that is to come. This kiss is different from Judas' kiss of betrayal.

Rebellion
Our catechism teaches us that man is created in God's image. But there is a thread in European intellectual history against the dominance of religion and about God not existing. The "three imposters" treatise (The Spirit of Spinoza) for instance called the Abrahamic religions of Moses, Jesus and Muhammed hoaxes. Voltaire wrote that if God did not exist, man would have needed to invent him. Bakunin wrote that if God did really exist, it would be necessary for man to abolish him. (Everyone had agendas.) Discussion of God's reality and what it means to man's goodness and society is wide and deep.

And then Dostoyevsky comes along and flips all that over, saying if Satan doesn't exist and man has created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness. Don't look at our goodness to know who we are as people, look at the evil we do, the pain we inflict on each other. And it is this nature that Ivan can't square with in the Rebellion chapter. Our invention of Satan, not God, reflects our own nature. The long litany of examples in the chapter of the "national past time of inflicting pain" (the horse beaten to death by a peasant, the daughter locked in a shed covered in excrement, the boy mauled by dogs for throwing a stone) leads Ivan to tell Alyosha that without such cruelty, man could neither exist on earth nor known good and evil. None of those who perpetrate the pain suffer from their acts. Ivan wants a world where he can see the promises that religion makes - that the lion will lie down with the lamb, that the victim will rise up and embrace his murderer. He wants justice now, not in some afterlife where it won't matter. But what he knows he wants the most is a world where children don't suffer. For that he'll forego eternal harmony. The price is too high.

Back to evil and the invention of religions, Ivan then asks "What good can hell do, since those children have already been tortured?" Even if offered a ticket to heaven, he says he would return it. This is his "rebellion," that creation of a world requiring the torture to death of only one child, one baby, would not be worth it.

This is a crucial part of TBK, and of course carries into the next chapter, one of the most famous in all literature.

P.S. I'm not an expert, but merely opining on what I think is central to the chapter. Argue with me! :)

I have no catechism, history or literature background, so couldn’t argue if I wanted to, but I can appreciate you sharing this very informative opinion, Cherisa! And I can understand why Ivan “wants justice now, not in some afterlife.”

I wonder about something though. How does rebelling in this case save the children? Ivan did present his Grand Inquisitor, who promises his followers bread etc, but under what framework would Ivan ever get what he wants, “a world where children don’t suffer”? I think I missed that.

If free will really is the worst thing to happen to humankind, and if we can't send Christ back to accept the devil's bargain and take away that free will, does Ivan propose a way to achieve the justice he's looking for?--Or is he a rebel without a cause? :-)--Thanks to our free will, isn't evil going to be there, whether there's a hell or not?

I get a little lost in all the layers of this, but everyone's comments are so helpful.

Of all the books I've read, I could probably only name two chapters out of all of them by name, Riddles in the Dark, when Bilbo acquires the One Ring, and The Grand Inquisitor, when the Church's main enforcer arrests Jesus who has inconveniently for said Church returned to walk the earth again.

We know that Ivan wants a worldview he can believe in, but this chapter makes it clear that religion won't answer his need, and Dostoevsky indicts the power structure of the Church. The irony and hypocrisy of the Church, the arrest of the man who is its raison d'etre for his challenge to its power, the cynicism of not helping people live to the ideals of Christ but of securing their docility and submission for security in the now, prevents this outlet to Ivan's search.

I just love how Dostoevsky flips the Judas kiss metaphor here in similar fashion to making Satan in our image in the prior chapter Rebellion. Here instead of Judas kissing Christ to seal his betrayal, Jesus kisses the Grand Inquisitor to forgive him of his betrayal of Christian teaching.

Cherisa, I think you have explained, very well, the two chapters, Rebellion and The Grand Inquisitor and in a way that makes sense to me. You have no argument here.

I still can't help thinking that Ivan's critique is the author speaking and that Ivan's desire for a world where children no longer suffer reflects Dostoevsky's loss of his son Alyosha to epilepsy.

Also, I like it when there is crossover in the books I am reading. The Brother's Karamazov is talked about in 1Q84, the novel by Haruki Murakami I am reading concurrently. It is a scene from the Grand Inquisitor, I believe, where Satan challenges Christ to perform a miracle - to change stone into bread. Christ ignores him because miracles are the devil's temptation.

Darrin wrote: "I still can't help thinking that Ivan's critique is the author speaking and that Ivan's desire for a world where children no longer suffer reflects Dostoevsky's loss of his son Alyosha to epilepsy...."

Darrin, I agree, of all the brothers, Ivan speaks for the author, and his personal fingerprints about pain and hurt are all over the book. Miracles won't make up for them, and so religion is no solace.

Scapegoats are an ancient idea, that one sacrificial lamb can redeem a whole group. But why isn't it ever the most powerful, not the most vulnerable, who gets put up on the block? Would Ivan say okay if eternal harmony came at the expense of misery for the Grand Inquisitor?

P.S. Darrin, I love Murakami.

Cherisa, this piece showed up in my Facebook feed from Literary Hub and now we know why Murakami quotes a scene from The Brothers Karamazov in 1Q84...https://lithub.com/here-are-haruki-mu...

Interesting mix of books. I went through a Raymond Chandler / Dashiell Hammett phase and must revisit some day. That's how much I enjoyed their work. Chandler with his similes, especially.

Gatsby is one of those books I read because it was assigned in high school but haven't returned to since. It didn't thrill me.

Absolutely loved The Catcher in the Rye and am cheering Murakami on selecting this now out of favor book.

Kafka is the one that makes sense, if you want to match writer to his favorite reading. He even put Kafka in one of his titles.

I just finished this second section and it is a lot to take in! I have enjoyed reading the comments and don't know how much I have to offer over the excellent points that have already been made. This section was such a juxtaposition of religious philosophies. First the Inquisitor's avowal of loyalty to Satan and repudiation of Christ, and the reasoning behind it. I agree with Ken that it boiled down to the overwhelming effects of freedom and man's inability to handle it. Satan's removal of free will from the table allows the church to take better control of the populace and supposedly makes man more comfortable with clear parameters fencing him in. This section is clearly critical of the Church and an argument against organized religion.

Then comes Father Zossima's chapters, and they are the opposite. He has devoted every fiber of his being to God and literally nothing else in life matters but worshiping and serving Him. His subjugation of self is extreme, and he forswears all creature comforts and pleasures. I was wondering as I read--which view does the author identify with, if either?

Although Dostoevsky critiques the Catholic church in the Inquisitor section, he also presents the religious order of Father Zossima as less than admirable. He introduces Father Ferapont, a respected monk know for his formidable powers of fasting, who is looked upon "as a great saint and ascetic, although they had no doubt that he was crazy" (158). His obsession with food and deprivation, not to mention his visions of devils and birds that speak to him and trees that turn into other shapes clearly undermine his "holiness."

Personally, I found both appalling. The cynical hypocrisy of the Inquisitor is deplorable, but the complete immersion of self into what is basically an unproven doctrine is also incomprehensible, to me. Having been raised in an extremely religious fundamentalist environment, my thinking is all skewed on the subject anyway, so this part really resonated with me.

To balance it out, we have Alyosha's family, led by the patriarch Karamazov, a self-described sensualist who, despite being able to spout Bible verses at will, spends his time satisfying his most base desires and intent only on carnal pleasure. His brothers, although a little more restrained, are not a lot better.

Such interesting comments, Cindy. I loved this section and agree about finding both sides appalling. Hard to pin down Dostoevsky's personal thoughts, but since he's named Alyosha in the beginning as the hero, it seems he's trying to forge a middle way with him?

Kathleen wrote: "Hard to pin down Dostoevsky's personal thoughts, but since he's named Alyosha in the beginning as the hero, it seems he's trying to forge a middle way with him?..."

True, especially after learning the information about the loss of his son. I'm looking forward to catching up and seeing Alyosha's role expand. Up until now he has mostly been running around patching up and placating the others.