From the very first chapter we’re treated to this crazy character in the father of the Karamazov brothers. After his wife left him for another man, he took it upon himself to tell everyone in painful details all the humiliations he’s suffered from his wife.
You gotta imagine this scene. You’re out drinking in a pub and here comes this guy, someone you know to be a bit of a loudmouth, and he starts talking about how his wife left him. Of course you feel a bit of sympathy first, but then he keeps talking. And he goes on. He says things that should be kept in the bedroom between husband and wife. Of course, as a man in a pub that kind of talk doesn’t normally bother you, but then the details make him look so bad, so pathetic. You feel bad for him, and then very uncomfortable. And he’s enjoying it. He’s loving the fact that he’s making himself look bad, and the worse he comes off the more he’s enjoying the show. What do you do with a guy like this?
And then the main plot starts in the monastery, where they’re waiting for Dmitry to settle the issue of the money Fyodor owes him. As soon as he walks in he starts giving a completely fabricated story about the French philosopher Diderot converting to the Orthodox church on his visit to Russia. Of course it doesn’t take long for Miusov, the guy that Fyodor is intent on driving crazy, to call him out on the false story. But that doesn’t stop him. He just keeps going, all the time his son feeling mortified by what’s happening. Reading those scenes made me laugh out loud on the bus. His inane ramblings and the way people react to it are hilarious. Dostoevsky is put on this pedestal for being a “serious” writer that must be read seriously, but his sense of humor is underestimated. This is the rant that always makes me laugh:
“Blessed man, allow me to kiss your hand! […]You’re right, so very right! It is very pleasant to feel wronged! I’ve never heard it put so well before. I have, indeed, been taking offense all my life because I enjoyed it and felt it was beautiful. It is not only pleasurable, it is ecstatically satisfying to feel wrong. Yes, that is something you left out, great elder- the beauty of it. I must make a note of it! It is a fact that I have lied all my life, every day and every hour. In truth, I am a living lie, the father of lies…No, wait a minute, not the father of lies- I always get my quotations mixed up- well, let’s say the son, and that’s good enough. But don’t you think, angelic man, that one can tell lies like the one about Diderot now and then? Diderot can do no harm, but sometimes a word can cause a lot of trouble…Ah, I almost forgot, great elder- for two years I’ve been determined to come here to consult you about something special…But first, perhaps you’d better warn Mr. Miusov not to interrupt me. Here’s what I wanted to ask you: is it true, Holy Father, as it says somewhere in the Lives of the Saints, that one holy miracle worker that suffered martyrdom for his faith stood up, after they had beheaded him, picked up his head,’ kissed it affectionately,’ and walked for a long time, carrying it in his hands and ‘kissing it affectionately.’ Is this story true? I’m addressing this to all of you, reverend fathers!”
Again the scene paints itself. A solemn church full of people praying and seeking spiritual guidance. This man is seemingly admitting to his faults, and then he starts rambling on about decapitated saints making out with their own severed heads, but not before “accidentally” calling himself the devil! (in fact, he’d been making innuendos all through his stay at the monastery) And when he’s told that the story isn’t true, he goes on to accuse Miurov of making the story up and making him lose faith!
But like most buffoons, it’s easy to underestimate the power of his bullshit. Because father Karamazov is not a poor fool. We’re told he was a successful businessman, and he’s somehow quite popular despite nobody seeming to have a good word to say about him. The translation I have frequently talks about him having “orgies.” Well, I’m not sure if we should take that as a Roman style orgy, or a whole lot of drunken debaucheries, but you don’t get to have a lot of either of those without being able to draw people to yourself. These days, he’d be the kind of guy who’s strange acts get caught on video, or his ramblings on social media get shared by all those who are shocked at the buffoonery.
How do we even imagine him talking? It would be a mistake to think he’s speaking in a mocking tone. His acting is probably straight faced, and could be mistaken for a sincere person. He himself probably doesn’t even know when he’s lying and when he doesn’t. There’s a definition of bullshit that states bullshitting is a way of speech that doesn’t care about what’s true or not. Is Fyodor simply a great bullshit artist? Zosima- and this is an admonishment he tells to others as well- handles Fyodor’s act quite well: he calls him out on his dramatics, and then tells him that if he were really concerned with his soul he needs to stop lying. Lying to himself. Zosima’s regimen is a constant vigilance of words and deed to check for their honesty, their authenticity. But does Fyodor even know the difference well enough to be able to notice? He barely seems to have a coherent self, which explains his ability to distort stories and scripture, not to mention constantly ‘forgetting’ that he has children!
The most interesting thing is how well he’s aware of the affect his words and actions have on others. Everyone knows he’s putting on an act. And yet everyone (except, tellingly enough, the elder Zosima) react to his buffoonery. Quite telling, isn’t it? It’s not what you say that’s important, it’s how people react to your words. And he turns the tables when Dmitry finally arrives and he manages to manipulate that situation to his advantage. In the end the buffoon gets his way.
Dostoevsky December 