The genius of Dostoevsky to see people so deeply and describe the soul of a man with such precision and detail is absolutely astounding. Reading Dostoevsky’s characters brought me again and again to say, “How absolutely true.” Of course, a character for Dostoevsky becomes a lens through which an entire worldview comes to life. The sensuous, flesh-driven Mitya paints the portrait of broken man – “capable of the greatest heights and of the greatest depths,” bound by noble heart and drawn by irresistible flesh. He is a prisoner to both nature and nurture, and he knows it. The intellectual Ivan embodies the secular thinkers of our age, either denying God entirely or just practically, and driving themselves to dehumanized insanity in the process. The loving man of childlike faith, Alyosha, embodies the best of what the Church has to offer – a living, breathing Christ in the world. With these, along with many others, Dostoevsky makes a thrilling case for faith. In essence, he says, “Here you are, laid bare and raw with all your best and worst tendencies. Now, what kind of world do you want to live in? Do you want to live in the world of the scoffer? Of the sensualist? Or, of Christ?” Refusing to take any shortcuts, Dostoevsky actually writes some of the best arguments against God in all of literature. Yet, in the end, the reader is more convinced than ever, “I want to live in Christ’s world.”

Personally, there are a number of things that strike me deeply about this book that wouldn't fit in a public book review. For one, I knew from the moment Krassotkin was introduced as a skeptic that the book was going to end on his conversion. Surely, Graham Greene had read Karamazov when he created his Luis for The Power and the Glory. The idea is the Christ-man, Alyosha, is the only hope for the salvation of our future generations – it is the image of Christ living in Christians that carries the pure faith into the future. Along those same lines, I was struck afterward at what a Christ-figure Alyosha really was. The children loved him as he knelt down to genuinely love them on their level. Is it too much even to remember how Ilusha tasted his flesh and blood? Are we to see a garden moment as he wept bitterly following Zossima's death, there experiencing his only crisis of faith, akin to "let this cup pass from Me"?

Of course, the realization that truly hits home is this: I am Mitya. What am I to make of his repeated breast pounding if not to hear, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner"? I bear the pain of my broken origin, and though I strive from my heart to be honorable, I am broken. I gravitate towards other broken people (Grushenka). I am judged by the prejudices of the people around me, though they are no better than I am (these same people even judge the holy when they get the chance – remember Zossima). I am wrongfully accused at times, though my rightful charges loom just as large. I am the broken Mitya, and my salvation is living in my Brother's world.

There's so much else to think about, but this one last thing I hope not to forget – Grushenka's onion. All our good deeds are onions. ( )

I didn't really vibe with the translation I read, which was done in like 1912. Next time I read a russian novel, I'll try to find a more recent translator.

The story and themes still came through, though: this was a real one. ( )

Probably the best I have read by Dostoevsky. The way he created such ruined characters that you could not help but sympathize with. The three brothers, Kolya, Grushenka: all of them were such amazing characters. The monologues were brilliantly written plus the way things had been structured were masterful. Mention one key plot detail only to further elaborate later on (sometimes hundreds of pages later), brilliantly. The stark differences between this book, and the Idiot as well as the Notes from Underground illustrates how talented Dostoevsky was. I am thrilled to read further of his bibliography. ( )

The Brothers Karamazov is an amazing book, although it took me an awfully long time to listen through, the story was well worth it. I’m starting to become more and more adjusted to Dostoyevsky’s writing style and classical writing in general, so I’m hoping to read more and understand more so I can act even more intellectually superior to everyone, a la our main character from Dostoyevsky’s “Notes from Underground”…
Not really, but heck I can’t say it doesn’t give me a bit of a boost to the ego to be able to say I’ve made my way through such a complex story as The Brothers Karamazov.
That said, this story was beautiful, in so many ways, even though it was full of debauchery and stupidity, and stupid debauchery. This family is a mess- heck it seems their whole town is a bit of a mess. But overall I found it extremely interesting to see little bits of myself in the characters, and often in the places that I least expected to. I was also surprised by a number of characters who initially seemed to be unlikable, but when pressed, showed themselves to be individuals with noble hearts. Dostoyevsky doesn’t write one dimensional antagonists- we get a sense of every character, who they are, what they’re like, and can find humanity in all of them.
So I think the prosecutor was very apt in his speech when he said we are all Karamazovs; because we are all able to hold seemingly contradictory ideas together in our minds on a daily basis. That’s basically what it is to be human. You may say “other people do that but I don’t- I follow logic and reason - none of my ideas contradict each other”, but I suspect that there will be some point of contradiction between one idea and another that coexist in the mind of any individual you speak to. Hence why I think this book is such a masterpiece, because it fully captures the paradoxical nature of humanity, of reason, of philosophy.

Hurrah for Karamazov! ( )

Well, to me, it seems a bit ridiculous to even attempt a review of this novel. When review has come to represent observations and criticisms or plot re-hashings, there really seems to be little I, or anyone for that matter, could say about The Brothers Karamazov that isn't already known or hasn't already been said by someone wiser and abler. If I were brilliant, I could share a spur-of-the-moment haiku that appropriately captures my feelings for this story. But I'm not. Brilliant, that is. So how about this: it's Russian, it's rich and it's revered. Read it. ( )