Saturday, November 14, 2009

Thoughts on "The Idiot"

No, I'm not talking about our former commander-in-chimp, but about Dostoevsky's novel instead. It was my reading for the past few months: August, September, October, and halfway through November. Before that I finished the complete works of Shakespeare, and let me tell you, that was a much easier read. Yes, as you can imagine, The Idiot is a dense book, even for a Russian novel. My version clocked in at 565 pages in a hardcover version put out by Barnes and Noble.

I am a fan of Russian literature, so I knew what to expect. Heady discussions, plenty of characters, occasional smatterings of French, intense religious scenes, and aristocratic foibles. But I found The Idiot to be hindered by these usual tropes, rather than helped. Compared to Crime and Punishment or Notes from Underground, the work lacks the philosophical depth and near-surreal quality that make Dostoevsky worth the read. The story is told in too conventional a manner for point that Dostoevsky is trying to make: to show life of a Christ-like figure living in (his) contemporary times.

It is an interesting idea, of course, and there are several interesting scenes and characters in the novel. The problem is they tend to appear every fifty or so pages. If the Gospels had been written to read like The Idiot, they would have vast stretches of irrelevant conversation, details about the lives of the priestly class, and the bureaucratic work faced by Pontius Pilate. The miracles and parables would show up, eventually, but only as part of dinner conversations where instead of French, Greek phrases might perhaps be dropped in between to dazzle by those other guests incapable of turning water into wine.

The problem is that Prince Myshkin, the hero and protagonist of the novel, is not really like Christ at all. It casts doubts on whether Dostoevsky had any real idea who Jesus was and how he behaved according to the Bible. Myshkin is naive and innocent and this simply sets him up to be a victim of the high society around him. It was probably the author's intent to make him a martyr instead, but this would have required giving Myshkin an actual awareness of his situation and what was going on around him, which he sorely lacks. I did not feel all that sorry for him by the end of the novel. If he were more generous and charismatic, I would have felt his downfall to be a tragedy, the loss of a genuinely interesting and inspiring person.

The novel also has many problems stylistically. The author's voice changes and there are bracketed asides to the reader which are distracting. Dostoevsky seems unable to decide if he is writing a parable, a satire, a romance, a realistic novel, or a philosophical one. He could have pulled off any of these, but he should have made the choice earlier on and stuck with it. Conversely, combining the elements might have worked, but such an ambitious project needed to be thought through more on his part. Another stylistic problem is that by the end of the novel, claims of ignorance on behalf of the writer begin to appear. A scene will be followed by a statement along the lines of "We do not know what happened next." In a standard first-person narrative this is more than permissible. A narrator who has so far been omnipotent, however, cannot do it without looking foolish or sloppy. Why don't we know what happened? And why is it WE and not the I of the narrator?

This could all be the fault of Constance Garnett, the translator, since she had a tendency to make the works of Russian Literature that she worked on sound the same. She was one of the first to translate Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and others into English and did a good service, but since I have not read the Idiot in any other version, my judgment is, I confess, limited. Still, although words choices might be different in different translations, the general plot and characters would remain the same. So I recommend the book only to die hard Dostoevsky fans. There is nothing in The Idiot that could not be gleaned from his other well-known works.


Friday, November 6, 2009

We Were Like Rats in Eclectomatic Ezine

Issue #2 of Eclectomatic Ezine is out and a poem of mine, We Were Like Rats, is in it. The verse was inspired by my days on the New York Subways and as a tutor. Anyways, this literary opus appears in an actual ezine, pretty nifty, eh? Scroll through to page 18 to read my work and enjoy what appears in between and after.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

A Poem in Type AB Positive!

Happy November to all of you, and no, I'm not participating in No-Shave November. Every month for me now is Movember anyways. Today's announcement is that I have a poem up in the journal Type AB Positive. Anybody who comes to me with autobiographical questions will get punched in the nose!

Friday, October 30, 2009

Crossfire!

Okay, well I have a poem up at Pirene's Fountain entitled (you guessed it) Crossfire! However, unlike the game depicted above, hopefully it will not disappoint. Ignore the biographical information. I guess it was accepted a while ago.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Kick Out the Jambs!

A poem of mine is out in the Blue Fifth Review. Interesting to see myself identified as a poet from Arlington, Virginia. Of course I always put that in my contributor information, but it is a sight I am not used to, to have myself identified with one place. The last time I had Arlington next to my name, I was in the Virginia State Geography Bee. Anyways, here is the direct link to the poem they posted. It is titled, "Sill, Lintel, and Jambs."

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

RIP Jack Kerouac

Today' blog post is in honor of the King of the Beats, Jack Kerouac. Forty years ago, yesterday, he drank some whiskey for breakfast and then ate a can of tuna fish. A few minutes later he was rushed to hospital for coughing up blood. He died shortly thereafter. It was an inglorious end to a life filled with wandering and writing in search of an ever elusive beatific vision.

Here is Kerouac at his height, riding the sensation that was On the Road:



And shortly before he died, on Firing Line with William F. Buckley, jr.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Pulling a Caper with My Poems

If you've been around Craigslist recently looking for writing gigs (I swear that's all I use Craigslit for) then you've probably seen an ad or two from Caper Journal. In case if you were wondering if they are for real, I can assure you, they most definitely are. The evidence? Two poems featured in their first issue. Read them here, and here.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

A Poem in Scalped Magazine


Well the folks at Scalped Magazine have published a poem of mine. I can't say why there is artwork of police brutality above it, but if that's the feeling the editors got when reading it, then it works for them. The poem is titled "Know the Fear." It is actually part of a longer poem that I wrote nearly two years ago called "The Lowest Dust." It was part of my more experimental days when I had access to an online cut-up engine and I used it to slice and splice anything I could get my hands on. Eventually I mixed several works with apocalyptic themes such as The Waste Land, with lyrics from The Kinks and David Bowie, among others. I then took the fragments I had composed and put them together, diving no particular order until I had perhaps a third of the pieces slid in. I laid the piece down in a hallway and assembled in there. Recently I had been to the Jack Kerouac exhibit, and that probably inspired me to achieve a grand construction out of words and paper. Anyone who wants to read the whole thing, let me know!

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

New Poem Up at Ugly Cousin

A poem of mine, "Past Harvest Time" is up at Ugly Cousin. Check it out and read the rest of the online mag here.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

The Divine Mark, A Dan Brown Novel

Thanks to the The Dan Brown Sequel Generator from the folks at Slate, I can, much like the proverbial monkey working at a typewriter, help him along by putting together the outline of his next book, this time set in New York City, and involving (CENSORED):

A mysterious puzzle at the heart of New York City. A murderous cult determined to protect it. A frantic race to uncover (CENSORED)'s darkest secret.


The Divine Mark

When world-famous Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is summoned to the Apollo Theater to analyze a mysterious geometric form—etched into the floor next to the mangled body of the head docent—he discovers evidence of the unthinkable: the resurgence of the ancient cult of the Baalinistas, a secret branch of (CENSORED) that has surfaced from the shadows to carry out its legendary vendetta against its mortal enemy, the Vatican.

Langdon's worst fears are confirmed when a messenger from the Baalinistas appears at the Empire State Building to deliver a macabre ultimatum: Deposit $1 billion in (CENSORED)'s off-shore bank accounts or the exclusive clothier of the Swiss Guards will be bankrupted. Racing against the clock, Langdon joins forces with the Amazonian and quick-witted daughter of the murdered docent in a desperate bid to crack the code that will reveal the cult's secret plan.


Embarking on a frantic hunt, Langdon and his companion follow a 1100-year-old trail through New York City's most venerable buildings and historic monuments, pursued by a Norwegian assassin the cult has sent to thwart them. What they discover threatens to expose a conspiracy that goes all the way back to Allen Ginsberg and the very founding of (CENSORED).




Monday, September 14, 2009

Saturday, September 5, 2009

New Poem At Grey Sparrow


It's short. Should take less than a minute to read. Read it here

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Big Brother Meets Grumpy Old Men

Hello there everybody! September is here and that means fall is slowly creeping up the corner to rattle the green out of every leaf. it also means that the Foghorn has put up my short story Remorseless With Victory.