The Devils Book

"At the inquest our doctors absolutely and emphatically rejected all idea of insanity."

I open with the closing lines, on the brink of exhaustion, not sure of my own state of sanity.



Reading Dostoyevsky is a bit like spending time with close family members with a diametrically opposed worldview: I love them dearly, unconditionally, but I don't LIKE them at all.

As I am slowly working my way through Dostoyevsky's works, starting with the whisperings of a man taking notes from the underground, moving to the murderer Raskolnikov who manages to get my sympathy even though I loathe his actions and motives, and and then over to a holy fool like Myshkin, who enrages me completely with his ignorant arrogance and destructive power, I have now made the acquaintance of the Devils.

If Raskolnikov hypnotised me, and Myshkin made me curse, the Devils have a slower, yet even more powerful impact on my mental equilibrium. While I was reading the previous novels in a frenzy, without any interruptions, I had to take a prolonged break in the middle of this one. I just could not stomach the account of the rape of a child, and the subsequent "confession" of the crime by Stavrogin to a monk. The position of the monk regarding the situation was of such evil that I felt I couldn't read on. I thought I could deal with the Russian nationalist and orthodox mindset by now, but that was too much. The girl committed suicide out of a religious panic, believing she had "killed God" by being raped.

And the representative for the church, thrilled by the confession and completely without pity for the child, tells the murderer that he will be forgiven, if only he suffers enough to please god. First of all, what kind of a god is that, who encourages suffering, even finds delight and pleasure in it, but completely ignores the victim? What if I told my child that it is acceptable to brutally assault somebody as long as I see that he suffers afterwards - that the crime is actually laudable because it gives me a welcome opportunity to watch my child suffer duly? Where is the educational police to arrest me for such parenting?

Second, the priest feels that the crime is "ridiculous" and "inelegant", and not bloody enough to be interesting. He worries the murderer will turn into a laughing-stock if he publishes his confession. And also, the crime is far too common to raise any eyebrows.

That scene made me close the book and not re-open it for weeks. This may be Dostoyevsky, and he may be a genius, but I have a limit to what I can take in. And I am not willing to suffer to please any sadistic, patriarchal, sexually biased and oppressive god. Self-sacrifice is not a virtue in my worldview, it is a vice which generates violence - often resulting in horrible crimes committed against innocent people without connection to the fanatics who believe they are being religious heroes by promoting suffering. The characters in Dostoyevsky's world act like immature young boys feeling neglected and drawing negative attention to themselves to be seen by the god-father figure. "Look at me, god!" they yell. "Look what I am doing! And I am doing it all for you! I want to be seen! It is all about ME! My confession is to be read publicly, so people talk about ME! And it is ME suffering, not that inelegant little girl, who was driven mad. We are not talking about her, it is MY suffering we are looking at. MY right to be seen as a hero in pain for the sake of penitence! The crime is just the necessary prerequisite to earn the right to the GREATEST penitence ever. Never mind a girl had to die…"

While taking a break, I continue to think about the novel, though, for such is his genius. And I come to the conclusion that I am trying to square a circle when I want to reconcile the evil characters and the theological idea. Isn't religious commitment supposed to be a force for good? That was my question, and it is wrong.

Finally I realise that my premise is wrong, and that Dostoyevsky's sincere belief works so well mainly because he believes in an evil, unfair god wanting suffering and complete submission, - a theology that isn't intrinsically good at all (according to my worldview, which of course is personal, not universal!).

It is not good. It just is. Period. Once I have dumped my connection between ethics and religion, and accepted the reality of the characters, I can read on.

And I am happy I did. One of the most dramatic episodes in novelistic history must be the fête organised to benefit governesses in Russia - and what a spectacle it is. The Romantic poet, dramatically bidding a farcically narcissistic farewell to his audience, vowing never to write again, stumbles over people's sense that romantic feelings and allegorical language are a thing of the past. The fête, which is planned more with the aim to celebrate the organisers than to support a good cause (much like any celebrity fundraising event for charity nowadays!) is a complete fiasco. The Devils at work!

Who are the devils?

They are a group of radical socialists, trying to impose another kind of absolute truth on a confused and explosive nation, foreshadowing the Russian Revolution and its inhumane aspects perfectly. As a document of historical processes, I found Devils to be incredibly enlightening, as it shows why Russia was incapable of transforming a patriarchal tyranny into a liberal democracy. The new ideas are propagated in the same religiously exclusive way as the old doctrine. There is one absolute truth, which all have to live by, and it will be forced upon the people by using violence. Socialist or tsarist power - the question is only which party is militarily stronger. Both have their blind followers and their holy dogma to keep people on track. In both cases, (self-)sacrifice is the motor which drives the destructive action. In both cases, the tirade in the Revelation about being spewed out by god (your chosen infallible idea!) if you are lukewarm (read: moderate and reasonable!) guides the action of fanatics who decide to be either hot (saints!) or cold (devils!) for the sake of reaching "Greatness of the Soul".

For women, who can never be committed fanatically to anything according to Dostoyevsky's characters, that means slavery, abuse, and oppression - either way.

For the male characters, it means a competition in a lethal show-down in the manner of Macbeth's last scenes. Who has the greatest soul, who dies in the most visibly dramatic way? Curtain falls on the suffering women, who unfortunately have nothing to gain from that "virtue". For "a woman is always a woman, even if she is a nun". And that means she commits the crime of being lukewarm. Let's spit her out!

Devils is harrowing, darkly funny, brilliantly told. It is a masterpiece. I wouldn't have felt such brutal pain otherwise. It is recommended to all who want to understand the strange patterns of sexual, political and ritual power that charismatic men exert over dependent people - even to this day!

A tale so deeply unethical, it is a challenge to read. A worthwhile challenge though!