labingi: (ivan)
Small post that is not about the X-Men but rather Dostoevsky's House of the Dead.

I read about 1/3 of The House of the Dead and could easily have enjoyed reading all of it if I had the time to read these days, which I haven't. At about 20 minutes/day of reading time, the time investment involved in an almost non-fiction text with little "story" was not worth it. That said, I do recommend the book.

The House of the Dead is a lightly fictionalized account of Dostoevsky's experiences in prison in Siberia. He frames the narrative as the chronological notes of a former inmate, arrested for killing his wife, who served ten years and died not long after his release. I'm sure various names and details are fictionalized, but the basics of prison life are clearly intended (and were seen at the time) as a realistic exposé.

The basic message is that prisoners are people. Each one is unique: some nasty, some very nice (one is clearly an Alyosha prototype), some intelligent, some dull, some leaders, some followers, some clownish, some quiet. Almost all more or less "behave" in prison. They bicker, swear, steal, smuggle in vodka, and so on, but they don't seriously injure or terrorize each other; they're not a great "danger" to live with. The circumstances don't favor it.

In this particular prison, they were also an enormously diverse bunch: gentlemen and commoners, soldiers, civilians, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Muscovites, tribesmen from the Caucasus, Poles, young, old. Overall, the narrator observes, a greater percentage were literate than in the general Russian population.Read more... )

Nabokov

May. 8th, 2010 03:09 pm
labingi: (ivan)
I have been reading a lot of Nabokov lately, and think I have enough now to fix on why--though he is very, very good--he will never be one of my favorites. What is most compelling for me about narrative is the emotional force of psychologically realistic characters' love for each other, and despite the dazzling variety of his works, Nabokov seems to eschew this mode. His stories repeatedly meditate on emotional distance. People love--but through a glass darkly. Their default state seems to be encasement within their own minds. This places Nabokov squarely in the 20th-century Modern/postmodern tradition: alienation, confusion, isolation, etc. It may be paradigmatic of 20th-century (literary) experience, but for me, it disregards so much of what is human.

Some examples... )

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