The Brothers Karamazov

The narrator, not actually Dostoevsky himself, has a style that is his own. The voice is distinctive, personal, and involved. Imperial and postrevolutionary Russian novels are known for their formal and narrative innovations—and, against typical narrative conventions, the narrator reveals his intimate investment in the story’s events, as well as his partiality toward the hero. The narrator calls Alexei Karamazov “Alyosha,” expressing his affection for him; while other characters are generally referred to by their formal or first names, Alexei is called by the familiar, endearing nickname (also called a diminutive) “Alyosha.” The remark about “two novels” is ambiguous, though most critics believe it suggests Dostoevsky’s unfulfilled intention to write a sequel.

Though it presents a coherent and highly particular personality, the narrative consciousness is at times discontinuous. Most of the novel unfolds through what seems a third-person omniscient perspective, but the Prologue also announces the narrator’s limited awareness. As he prefaces the chronicle, he admits he cannot answer certain questions, and, as the narrative unfolds, he will confess that he doesn’t know all of what happened. He readily interjects thoughts, biases, and self-doubt. This adds an additional literary texture, with these narrative flourishes contributing to the story’s intrigue. The narrator frequently foreshadows future events and admits doubt about how the story is being told and whether certain information is essential or true. For example, his frequent references to miraculous events are tempered by his skepticism of the veracity of these legends, such as the story of a disciple who disobeyed his elder, which caused his coffin to fly out of the church until the elder forgave him (28). The novel includes many allusions to Christianity—specifically Orthodox Christianity, which was the dominant religion in Russia—as well as referencing Roman Catholicism, Jesuits, and other sects. Arguments about Christianity and the meaning of religion and spirituality are a key feature of this book, framing the narrative events within a larger dialogue about the purpose of Christianity in a modern world in which science has emerged seemingly triumphant over faith.

Book 1 describes the Karamazov family history and their recent reunion. While the father and his sons have distinctive personalities, they all share the Karamazov “sensuality,” or lust for life. Still, even this lustiness varies widely in expression depending on the character; for example, both Alyosha’s and Ivan’s personal intensities find more spiritual and intellectual outlet, respectively. Both Alyosha and Ivan therefore become profoundly concerned with the concept of the love of humanity, yet each young man understands this concept differently. Ivan especially will agonize over finding pure theoretical clarity on the matter, and this drive for cognitive closure will be the source of immense inner conflict; such turmoil, particularly concerning love’s relationship to the mystery of evil, is a common thread in the author’s more epic narratives featuring idealist characters.

Dostoevsky is unsurpassed, at least in reputation, in crafting psychological nuance and idiosyncrasy (this quality is an earmark of much 19th-century Russian literature). Though Fyodor Karamazov’s impulsiveness and carnal proclivities may superficially suggest a one-dimensional hedonism, he, too, is a complex character: He is overwhelmingly negligent and self-involved yet has redeeming qualities. After hearing of his first wife Adelaide’s death, Fyodor felt both sorrowful and relieved. The narrator states that “even wicked people are far more naïve and simple-hearted” than one would expect—“and,” he adds, “so are we” (9). The complexity of human nature is shown in every character, even the Karamazov father, who, despite his many vices, cannot be easily categorized. Dmitri’s personality is just as complex. The sensualist of the three brothers, Dmitri is passionate and reckless but shows a sensitivity and sense of honor that Alyosha admires. Dmitri is the only family member who Alyosha does not worry will disrespect Father Zosima during the family’s meeting with him. Dmitri’s wild behavior and his anger toward his father are balanced by the sensitive and loving side that he shows Alyosha.

Even after only Book 1, the three brothers present something like three essential modes of being: body, mind, and spirit. While Dmitri lives primarily within sense experience, Ivan is the most intellectual and lives primarily in his own mind. Dmitri and Ivan are therefore complete opposites: It is difficult to imagine two men “more unlike each other” (31). Though Ivan and Alyosha are the only two brothers who share a mother, Ivan’s intellectualism and guardedness make it difficult for Alyosha to understand him. Alyosha may be as lofty as Ivan but in a different sense: He is the spiritualist of the three brothers. He is innocent and modest. However, Alyosha is no “pale dreamer” (25), and though he did not complete school, he is not “slow or stupid” (26). Far from a symptom of a weakness, Alyosha’s spiritual leanings are connected to his idealistic wish for truth and his conviction that God exists. The narrator emphasizes that Alyosha is neither zealous nor mystical; he only has an “unquenchable heart” and is filled with a deep love for humanity.

The theme of indebtedness and inheritance is key throughout the novel, and the question of what generations owe each other first arises in Dmitri’s argument with his father over the inheritance. In an instance of comic hypocrisy and utter lack of self-awareness, the spendthrift libertine Fyodor sees Dmitri as a “wastrel.” The hostile dynamic between Fyodor and Dmitri is established from their bad history: Fyodor neglected his son and took advantage of his mother by taking her wealth from her.