After spending the past three months reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, I was ready for a departure from the world of Tolkien.
I ended up choosing Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky to read next, making it my first foray into classic Russian literature. Known for its rich philosophical themes, complex characters, and social commentary, I was excited to dive in.
I went into it somewhat blind, having no prior knowledge of the story’s plot. However, after reading the first few chapters, I was immediately hooked in a way that I had not been in awhile.
Every year around Christmas time, my mother indulges in watching cheesy, feel-good Hallmark movies. I can’t stand them. I always ask her, “How can these movies be interesting if you know for certain that everything is going to work out and be tied up in a nice neat bow?” And her response is, “I just want to watch something happy during the holidays.”
Fair enough—but I still can’t stand them. I love the suspense of not knowing what is going to happen in a plotline. It’s the reason that I’m often unable to watch movies or read books twice. Once I know what happens, I lose interest.
Yet stories like Crime and Punishment remind me that often the best stories (in my opinion) are the ones in which there are characters wrestling with colossal moral dilemmas, oscillating between darker instincts and chances at redemption, and ultimately, exploring the human nature of good and evil. The main character of the novel, Rodion Raskolnikov, reminded me of a few modern day characters like Tony Soprano, Walter White, Anakin Skywalker, or Cersei Lannister.
These figures are violent, powerful, and often ruthless. They are murderers. They will do anything to achieve their goals. And yet, despite all of their villainous behavior, they have redeeming moments as well, driven by legitimate and understandable motives. In most cases, it is because they are trying to protect or provide for their family or loved ones. At times, they might even show moments of vulnerability or mercy.
The reason I love characters like this so much is because it’s a far more genuine reflection of our own human nature. While most of us will never murder someone like Raskolnikov did, we all have sins and transgressions of which we are not proud. We all have said something or acted in a way that was not representative of who we are as a person. As Alexander Pope said: to err is human.
By examining the mistakes of these characters, we have an opportunity to better understand ourselves and to correct our own mistakes. Far too often, we resort to rationalizing the errors of our ways, similar to Raskolnikov’s “extraordinary man” theory, which proposes that some individuals are entitled to transgress societal norms for the greater good.
At first, he uses this to justify his actions, but eventually he succumbs to guilt. His remorse and redemption serve as a reminder of the transformative power of regret and the human capacity for change. As we witness his moral awakening and spiritual rebirth, we are reminded that even the most heinous acts can be catalysts for personal growth and self-awareness.
In this way, these characters remind us that we are all deeply flawed, and for that reason, capable of finding our own path to redemption, self-improvement, and moral growth.
They are mirrors, reflecting the very essence of who we are—both good, and, whether we like it or not, evil.
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After spending the past three months reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, I was ready for a departure from the world of Tolkien.
I ended up choosing Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky to read next, making it my first foray into classic Russian literature. Known for its rich philosophical themes, complex characters, and social commentary, I was excited to dive in.
I went into it somewhat blind, having no prior knowledge of the story’s plot. However, after reading the first few chapters, I was immediately hooked in a way that I had not been in awhile.
Every year around Christmas time, my mother indulges in watching cheesy, feel-good Hallmark movies. I can’t stand them. I always ask her, “How can these movies be interesting if you know for certain that everything is going to work out and be tied up in a nice neat bow?” And her response is, “I just want to watch something happy during the holidays.”
Fair enough—but I still can’t stand them. I love the suspense of not knowing what is going to happen in a plotline. It’s the reason that I’m often unable to watch movies or read books twice. Once I know what happens, I lose interest.
Yet stories like Crime and Punishment remind me that often the best stories (in my opinion) are the ones in which there are characters wrestling with colossal moral dilemmas, oscillating between darker instincts and chances at redemption, and ultimately, exploring the human nature of good and evil. The main character of the novel, Rodion Raskolnikov, reminded me of a few modern day characters like Tony Soprano, Walter White, Anakin Skywalker, or Cersei Lannister.
These figures are violent, powerful, and often ruthless. They are murderers. They will do anything to achieve their goals. And yet, despite all of their villainous behavior, they have redeeming moments as well, driven by legitimate and understandable motives. In most cases, it is because they are trying to protect or provide for their family or loved ones. At times, they might even show moments of vulnerability or mercy.
The reason I love characters like this so much is because it’s a far more genuine reflection of our own human nature. While most of us will never murder someone like Raskolnikov did, we all have sins and transgressions of which we are not proud. We all have said something or acted in a way that was not representative of who we are as a person. As Alexander Pope said: to err is human.
By examining the mistakes of these characters, we have an opportunity to better understand ourselves and to correct our own mistakes. Far too often, we resort to rationalizing the errors of our ways, similar to Raskolnikov’s “extraordinary man” theory, which proposes that some individuals are entitled to transgress societal norms for the greater good.
At first, he uses this to justify his actions, but eventually he succumbs to guilt. His remorse and redemption serve as a reminder of the transformative power of regret and the human capacity for change. As we witness his moral awakening and spiritual rebirth, we are reminded that even the most heinous acts can be catalysts for personal growth and self-awareness.
In this way, these characters remind us that we are all deeply flawed, and for that reason, capable of finding our own path to redemption, self-improvement, and moral growth.
They are mirrors, reflecting the very essence of who we are—both good, and, whether we like it or not, evil.
