Brief Book Review: Notes From Underground

Notes From Underground

Author: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Translated and annotated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky

Publisher: New York: Vintage Classics, Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc.

130 pages, plus Forward and Notes

Reviewed by Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson

First of all, I shall preface my review by stating that I have read other Dostoevsky novels and appreciated them immensely—especially The Brothers Karamazov. However, Notes From Underground, I regret to say, is not in that category.

   I do not doubt Dostoevsky’s genius as a writer, and his knowledge of the works of other Russian and European novelists, poets, and philosophers—several of whom he makes reference to in Notes From Underground.  

   Dostoevsky begins by informing his readers that there are two parts to his work, an introduction to the main (unnamed) character, and the character’s notes. Dostoevsky claims the work is fiction, yet this reviewer thinks at least some of it is biographical.

   So who is this character, hero, or more likely anti-hero? He begins by describing himself as ‘sick,’ ‘wicked,’ and ‘unattractive.’ He goes on to say: “I’m forty now. I used to be in the civil service, I no longer am. I was a wicked official. I was rude, and took pleasure in it.” (p. 4) Then he suggests he is the opposite of all that, and ends up being what sounds to this reviewer like a nihilist: “…no, I never even managed to become anything: neither wicked nor good, neither a scoundrel nor an honest man, neither a hero nor an insect.” (p. 5)

   Most of the novel dwells on his existential self-centredness. He comes across as being so self-absorbed that he is unable to understand, show empathy and compassion for other human beings. He is up and down and all around: one moment totally obsessed with his own thoughts, emotions and motives, the next moment filled with suspicions and criticisms of everyone. In the depths of his being, he is so conflicted, confused, and disturbed that nearly everything he actually does turns out sour and alienates himself from everyone else.  

   Having said that, there are some paradoxes in the novel, which ring true for readers. This is my favourite, since I think Dostoevsky may be alluding to the suffering of Jesus and his call to all would-be disciples to bear their cross if they are to follow him: “And in fact I’m now asking an idle question of my own: which is better—cheap happiness, or lofty suffering? Well, which is better?” (p. 128) Be that as it may, six out of ten stars.