Notes From Underground (1864) By Fyodor Dostoevsky

"An intelligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it is only the fool who becomes anything."

With Fyodor Dostoevsky being one of the most revered classic authors of his time, it felt only write that I should venture into his bibliography, and what better place to begin than with the literature that is often referred to as a forerunner of some of later works?

"To love is to suffer and there can be no love otherwise."

The long, muddled sentences in the first part, titled 'Underground', gave the effect of a man talking or thinking; it certainly worked in that sense, but it did not make for entirely pleasant reading. On the contrary, some chapters were a struggle to traverse, purely because the sentences would never end. Moreover, they would cut off or change abruptly - again, I realise this was an intended and deliberate method of writing, but it was so mentally exhausting to read.

"The pleasure of despair. But then, it is in despair that we find the most acute pleasure, especially when we are aware of the hopelessness of the situation..."

I had a far more pleasant experience reading the second part, titled 'Apropos Of The Wet Snow', which was both more driven narratively, and read both smoother and more succinctly. I was drawn in by the character's flawed, contradictory and intriguing personality, and by the choices he made. It was a fascinating character study.

"To care only for well-being seems to me positively ill-bred. Whether it’s good or bad, it is sometimes very pleasant, too, to smash things."

I thought that Dostoevsky curated a very intriguing mind for his character, and the situations he found, or rather put, himself in, felt believable for that persona. I found the second part so interesting, and I was swept up in the deranged emotions of the protagonist - it was intoxicating, in that sense.

"I tell you solemnly, that I have many times tried to become an insect. But I was not equal even to that. I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious is an illness- a real thorough-going illness."

In many respects, this work is a tragedy; one certainly pities the character that the author portrays. You hope that they will evolve, become better, and that is half the pain of the story. I wasn't expecting to feel the way I did by the time I finished reading the book, but that was thanks to some stellar writing by Dostoevsky.

"It is clear to me now that, owing to my unbounded vanity and to the high standard I set for myself, I often looked at myself with furious discontent, which verged on loathing, and so I inwardly attributed the same feeling to everyone."

Despite not enjoying the first part of the book, I still enjoyed reading it quite a lot, all things considered. The second part greatly restored my perception of the story, and indeed, of the author. I still wish to further explore his works, which must be a good sign. This isn't the best classic I have endeavoured to read, but I am still glad that I read it.

"How can a man of consciousness have the slightest respect for himself?"