Crime and Punishment by Feodor Dostoevsky

I avoided this book for a long time because I have mixed feelings about Russian literature, and didn't want to commit myself to a long book I might not enjoy. Chekhov's profundity was entirely lost on me, and I only got two-thirds of the way through War and Peace before the people at the Jeopardy! tryouts told me to just stop and watch the movie instead. But I liked Turgenev's Fathers and Sons, and Tolstoy redeemed himself for me with The Death of Ivan Ilych. I'd heard Crime and Punishment had a redemptive ending, and so, after chastising myself for balking at a novel because of its length - "Since when am I one to pass on a book because it's too long?" - I checked it out.

It turns out I didn't want it to end. I felt nothing lost in translation here; the writing was forceful and immediate. Dostoevsky is a superb storyteller: he infuses the plot with action right from the beginning, honing in on the key players of his drama and sticking with them. Rodion Romanov Raskolnikov is an impoverished young man who, amidst the turmoil of mid-19th century Russia, puts his pet theory of moral relativism into practice by murdering and robbing an old moneylender and her sister. The novel follows Raskolnikov as he tries to make sense of what he has done, detailing his subsequent states of mind - hallucination, recklessness, rationalization, indifference, and finally remorse and repentance.

It is primarily a novel of the mind, and Raskolnikov's inner dialogue is fascinating. He, even at his most irrational, is eminently believable as he discovers just what a "miserable wretch" he truly is. The personalities of his friends, enemies, and family are just as engaging. Russia seems so remote, but the story is so universal. Raskolnikov realizes his depravity, and like Ivan Ilych, asks himself the essential questions: "What should he strive for? To live in order to exist?"

Raskolnikov's salvation is borne by Sofya Marmeladov, whose steadfast devotion to him brings about his final restoration. "There was a New Testament under his pillow...It was hers, the very one from which she had read to him the raising of Lazarus." Like Lazarus, Raskolnikov returns to light and life after being submerged in death and darkness.

Dostoevsky effectively denounces the atheism of 19th-century Russian intellectuals with his masterful, deft pen. His novel is a spellbinding account of a criminal's psychological plight, the striking image of a destitute man ensnared by his own misguided ideals. Raskolnikov mocks religion and the devout, ensconcing himself in jaded, indifferent disbelief. It is not until the very last page that Dostoevsky gives him his answer to the eternal question; the answer to the eternal question.