Reading and Raskolnikov

Almost finished Crime and Punishment, which has been mesmerising, serving dual purpose of exposure to some outstanding writing, as well as drawing me back into reading in a way that I haven’t been for far too long. Raskolnikov’s cyclic deterioration into near madness, coupled with his assertion that his crime barely warrants to be called as such, is both baffling and familiar. We all do the same, do we not? Beat our breasts with one hand, and point at the speck in our neighbour’s eye with the other. I’m shocked that such long tracts of introspective articulation work so well.

Furthermore, amazed at the unexpected decisions, twist and turns that reveal something utterly unexpected, yet congruent, in characters that have a depth and richness to them that is beautiful to behold, as much as some can be detested. The depictions of poverty, deprivation and depravity are striking, without being gratuitous, and the characters emotional plights are so affective, without cliche or cheap shots. And the love for Sonya seems so tender, so redemptive, for both of them, that it’s so otherworldly, so utterly Christian in a way that is hard to articulate. 

Don’t want it to end, really. But it will, and will soon.