The Brothers Karamzov

I first read TBK in my late twenties (1980's) and must confess that I found it a bewildering jumble of stuff. I re-read it in my early thirties when Pevear and Volkhonsky published their translation (around 1990). I got more out of it the second time through but still found it a puzzle. I watched the old film adaptation of the novel from 1958 with Yul Brenner and Lee J. Cobb only to conclude that, as is most often the case, literary genius does not translate well to film.

At present, I am reading the novel for the third time and, this time, the pieces seem to fit better. In fact, they fit together only too well. Page after page, I cannot escape the feeling that (1) I am fifty years old, (2) this is only the third time I have read this novel and, consequently, (3) I have squandered much of my life.

Faulkner claimed to have re-read Don Quixote once a year. If Cervantes's masterpiece merits devotional reading (which, undoubtedly, it does), TBK merits it even more. The unfathomable depths of Dostoevsky's characterizations...All of us, every one, we are all mysteries to ourselves, and Dostoevsky's characters are mysteries dwelling in mysteries. There are books as true to the human condition as TBK, but there are none truer...