Crime and Punishment, Part Four

The opening chapter conversation with Svidrigailov was interesting. (Now I know who he is!) I have to say, I liked his manner–literarily speaking–in a way similar to my liking of Lillian Rearden, though he was certainly not nearly as subtle. He ignored questions he didn’t like or didn’t want to answer, and he had an easygoing manner of speech. I am suspicious of his offer of ten thousand roubles. It sounds nice on the surface, but Raskolnikov was immediately wary – as he should have been – and his judgment seems to have been sound up until now, so I trust his opinion in this, too. If it sounds too good to be true, …

Chapter Two ranks as one of my favorites so far. Luzhin was so cocky, so arrogant, so self-assured that when even Pulcheria started ranking on him, I laughed out loud! She held her own against Luzhin and came across as much smarter and more confident than I had originally thought her to be. Dounia deserves credit for the way she framed the discussion, allowing each man to present his side. Particularly telling was the fact that Raskolnikov said nothing in response to her. I kept expecting him to object or to yell, but he didn’t. He clearly knows his sister and took her tone as the warning in which it was obviously intended. She’s got some cojones on her.

Raskolnikov was great throughout the conversation: he didn’t need to say a word. He just sat and enjoyed the show. Razumihin nearly beat the snot out of Luzhin at the end, and I almost hoped he would. Luzhin deserved to get whaled on after some of the things he said. I guess we can see Luzhin’s true colors, now, especially since the narrator has chosen to make a more pronounced appearance in these chapters. His comment at the end of chapter two surprised me with its authoritativeness. I was used to the limited narrator, so when the omniscient voice showed up, I was a bit disconcerted. At least we didn’t have those “foreshadowings” which are really heavy-handed authorial intrusions on the narrative (e.g., “Gage, who now had less than two months to live, …”). Particularly interesting was the narrator’s choice of the word “victims” to describe Dounia and Pulcheria in regards to Luzhin. The narrator seems to have dropped any pretense of objectivity. Speaking of which, if I recall properly, the final paragraph of chapter three is the first appearance of the first person pronoun in reference to the narrator. Odd.

I thought Raskolnikov was going to get into trouble with his family when he admitted to seating a prostitute in the presence of his mother and sister. It’ll be even more of a scandal if the two of them "get together." I was stunned when Raskolnikov left his family at the end of chapter four. It was insensitive and selfish of him to insist that Razumihin take his place as son and brother, though I think that Raz is the type of person who would not mind it so much. His plan for becoming a publisher is timely, and Raskolnikov’s support of his idea makes sense in a literary way. I wonder if this is Dostoevsky’s way of getting rid of them as characters and telling the reader that they’ll be fine.

I was not surprised by Raskolnikov’s visit to Sonia, or of his asking her to go away with him. You could see his interest in her at first glance when they met. His probing of her religious beliefs incorporated a long-missed element of the Dostoevsky novel: religion. Although we’ve had sporadic mentions of God throughout, Raskolnikov himself seems to be an atheist, although Sonia did her best to convert him. Perhaps she even succeeded. At any rate, it was a powerfully moving chapter (four). What role eaves-dropping Svidrigailov will play remains to be seen. Once again, Raskolnikov proves himself astute in his conclusions about others.

Porfiry’s interview with Raskolnikov was intense. The descriptions we got of the way Porfiry asked questions – his looks, his mannerisms, his facial expressions – were agonizingly ambiguous, and the reader was right alongside Raskolnikov’s uncertainty as we tried to pierce his veil and discover his motives. I confess I believed Porfiry was being genuine with Raskolnikov throughout much of the discussion, especially considering Raskolnikov’s frame of mind and his interpretations of Porfiry and despite his ramblings about the guilty person who, if given enough rope, will hang themselves. However, his remembrance of the person who admitted to the crime although they were innocent was delicious foreshadowing. I had a feeling that the fat, womanish man was the “surprise” behind Door #3, but his appearance to Raskolnikov in Chapter Six robbed the novel of some tension and uncertainty. Dostoevsky might be trying to tie up some loose ends and simplifying his complex plot: He’s all but removed (or at least made it possible to remove) Raskolnikov’s mother and sister from the book, not to mention Razumihin, he’s clarified Raskolnikov’s relationship with Sonia, and he’s let us (and Raskolnikov) see Porfiry’s hand. I am pleased that Raskolnikov no longer seems bothered by the guilt of the murder, though he does feel regret for having killed Lizaveta, and is now bent on avoiding his own capture and conviction by police. The only question is, how will Sonia react when he tells her? I think, given her religiosity, she will reject him utterly. Svidrigailov will overhear Raskolnikov's confession and use it to try to blackmail him, possibly trying to get Raskolnikov to give him the hand of his sister Dounia in marriage. So many possibilties! I guess Dostoevsky didn't really need all those loose ends, after all.

Speaking of Sonia, Raskolnikov compares the two of them as “fellow sinners,” but I think this in an unfair comparison. Sonia was driven to prostitution through desperation and attempted to sacrifice herself for her family. It was love that drove her actions. What drove Raskolnikov? Rob and I were discussing his motive, and neither of us felt that money was the motive, since Raskolnikov got next to nothing from the woman (and hid what little he did receive, gaining no benefit), and he does not seem particularly distressed by his lack of financial success. Was he trying to demonstrate that he could get away with murder, thus proving himself (by his own definition) to be an “extraordinary” man? Upon reflection, that doesn’t make sense to me – though I like that idea better than the money idea – because it would not prove that Raskolnikov was above the law, only that he could flout it. Perhaps he was, or is, mad after all.