Solitude with Dostoevsky

Beard had signed himself up for a “book reading challenge”. Actually, it was his fifth year in a row. He thought that even though they never managed to fulfil their plan to build “true communism” in five years, he might as well reminisce about his soviet childhood by sticking to something for as long as the original plan had it. So, fifth year in a row he made a “social media promise” to read fifty books. Chthulhu only knows why night hound does what he does.

Beard knew that one of his weaknesses was having a weak knowledge of Russian literature. So he decided to go full mental and picked Dostoevsky’s “Notes from the underground”. Wikipedia article said among other things that it had inspired the writers of the movie “Joker”, that was all it took to have him consider himself sold. He loved that movie. And contrary to the popular belief, not because of violence. He felt for the main character. He himself knew better than most what that kind of constant abuse and humiliation did to ones soul.

Reading Dostoevsky is no walk in the park. But “Notes from the underground” got him hooked from page one. With every sentence he read, he felt like he was inside the protagonists mind. He felt the pain, joy, sadness, betrayal, angst and all the wonderfully scary bedlam of emotions that engulfed the main character throughout the journey portrayed by the writer.

Notwithstanding the joy he got out of reading the epic tale, he couldn’t help but constantly pause and think about what a prick of epic proportions the protagonist was. Yes, he had it hard, but that was no excuse for the colossal grief he gave to those around him. But who knows, maybe that was the whole point of the linguistic exercise undertaken by the famous Russian count – to show the world how easily bullied became bullies. In that sense the allusion to the commonalities between the book and the “Joker” movie where more than apt. Yet, unlike the latter character, protagonist of Dostoevsky’s dark yet sad story was thrown into despair more out of his self-pity than unfortunate streak of mental illness that ran in the family of unsuccessful comedian turned psychotically morbid agent provocateur.

Funny thing about this book was in the fact that during pandemic times reading it seemed like grasping for straws amid barn fire. It gave a pleasantly dramatic way to escape the anguish of reality. Yet another lockdown, yet another challenge. Beard felt like he was the minuscule clerk in the story. Yet he also made a point out of reminding himself that notwithstanding the pressure of times, he himself ought avoid becoming such a miserable wretch at all costs. That was the reason he had taken up the reading challenge in the first place, to keep his mind off depressing thoughts that lurked in the shadows of every nook and cranny of his mind. Maybe Dostoevsky wasn’t the perfect choice, but it fulfilled its purpose – it kept him occupied. And that in itself was better than having nothing at all.