A few notes before we begin:
I apologize that this is so late (at least a month), life has been pretty busy recently!
This novel is free to read on Project Gutenberg! Follow this link to read it!
This is a long and complex novel, therefore I will not be able to even touch on each of its aspects as much as they deserve. I highly recommend you read it for yourself, it truly is a rich piece of fiction.
Introduction
Which is the true punishment: prison, or unconfessed sin? Fyodor Dostoevsky expounds on this (and many more deep questions) in his famed work, Crime & Punishment.
The novel, originally published in twelve monthly installments, centers on Rodion Raskolnikov, a dropout student living in St. Petersburg, Russia. He’s a complex character all around in that he seems very intelligent and capable of finding work but is almost mentally trapped and unable to operate at all. From the beginning, he's given up trying to provide for himself and relies entirely on money his mother sends. She’s not wealthy, either, however, and this proves to be a problem later on. Rodion is plagued by radical philosophies and a superiority complex. The troubling theory he presents is that “extraordinary” people, of whom he gives the example of Napoleon Bonaparte, are justified in wrongdoings because they are above the “ordinary” man. The law is set for ordinary men, not the extraordinary, therefore they have no need to follow it. I’m not one-hundred percent sure, but it is hinted that Rodion believes he is one of these extraordinary people, or that he will be one day. This theory, combined with his increasingly unstable mood, opens a door that sets the foundation of the whole novel. After brooding about it for several chapters, Rodion plans and carries out the murder of Alyona Ivanovna, a pawn-broker. We get several interactions and descriptions of her beforehand and can conclude that she is a heartless miser, seemingly incapable of caring for anything apart from her wealth. He commits a second (unplanned) murder when Alyona’s sister, Lizaveta, walks in on Rodion with the body. Rodion narrowly escapes the building, hides the few trinkets he stole, and then falls into a feverish sleep in his apartment. The stage is set, now the real story begins.
I’m not going to go through the full story, nor each character’s plotlines, as there are too many to work through in one essay. Instead, I want to focus on Rodion’s confession, as well as his transformation over the novel. This, accompanied by Dostoevsky’s ideas on grace and justice are going to be the central themes of this essay.
What is Rodion's problem?
Throughout the book, I found one question prevailing over any others that popped up: what is wrong with our protagonist? Besides being a murderer, that is.
From the beginning, he seems unstable in so many ways. He’s antisocial in both impressions of the word: not a fan of people, as well as literally against society. But more than that he’s dangerously introspective and incredibly self-centered. Dostoevsky narrates that
“for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria.”
Hypochondria is basically anxiety in regard to one’s health; the fear that they are gravely sick. It’s a unique trait to give Rodion, and I’ll admit that moving forward I never thought that the many fevers and ailments he suffers from are fake. While many might believe his issues would lead to some erratic action, for a while they just inspire lethargy. For large portions of the book, he stays in his apartment, laying either on his bed or his couch. He doesn’t eat or work, he just lays there. Most of the time he isn’t actually sleeping, either. But even so, he’s in a sort of haze that makes him half-cognizant of the world around him. When he’s not laying on his couch, he’s walking aimlessly through St. Petersburg, thinking or talking to himself like a deranged lunatic. But he’s far from lunacy. Inside, Rodion is very meticulous and calculated. Every conversation he has is metered out, particularly in how it plays to his benefit or how to avoid inconveniences. Almost every action is motivated by the self-centered nature he possesses. There are occasional bursts of generosity, however, and these surprise even him.
When it comes to the murder, it’s something he’s been thinking of doing for a while. During one of his strolls, Rodion has an inner conversation with himself:
“I want to attempt a think like that and am frightened by these trifles,” he thought, with an odd smile. “Hm… yes, all is in a man’s hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that’s an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most… But I am talking too much. It’s because I chatter that I do nothing. Or perhaps it is that I chatter because I do nothing.”
Rodion goes round and round with these not-so-subtle hints at what he’s thinking of doing, and, as he stated, it takes him a while to come to action.
Despite what we see of Rodion, everyone else has a very different perception. His friends and family respect him far more than they should, praising his brilliance while he can barely motivate himself to sit up in bed when they visit. This is partially due to optimistic ignorance, but also to Rodion’s cleverness. Or his troubled mind. Whichever.
Bringing us to the subject of the murder, we get to the really confusing part. Up to this point, page 62, we aren’t entirely sure why Rodion is going to kill Alyona. He states many times his disdain for her, but that isn’t enough to kill someone. We get to see his superiority complex several times, and that is a bit of a stronger motive, but still not quite enough. What we have left is his poverty, the weight of failing his family, and a twisted thought: “I can do it and get away with it.”
So make what you will of his case, I’m still on the fence about why he killed Alyona or whether he was entirely in his right mind when he did it. The way he carries it out, however, is incredibly practical, rational, and entirely premeditated. He studies every detail he will face and calculates when the building will be least populated. He finds a way to hide his weapon as well as a way to entice the old woman to let him in. That last part is actually kind of ironic because he went to her in the pretense of having an item to pawn. She's a cautious old creature, and he was uncertain his ploy would work, but in the end, her greed triumphed over her better judgement.
The after-effects of his crime are somewhat what you’d expect, but have a twist on them as well. First, Rodion experiences a tinge of remorse, although he doesn’t admit it. His guilt, however, is so deep that he develops fevers, has fainting spells, and is almost never stable through the rest of the novel. If that isn’t a guilty conscience, I don’t know what is. But again, Rodion argues with himself and is pretty well convinced by his intellectual and cynical part that he is not guilty. He develops an almost emotionless detachment from the murder, and convinces himself that Alyona deserved what he gave and that he is justified in what he did (partly due to the superiority complex and his theory I mentioned earlier).
But what’s most fascinating is that by the end of the book, despite his constant refusal to take responsibility, he feels so guilty that a part of himself hopes someone will find out. Of course, he’s unwilling to confess, but he wants to be found out and put away. This brings to mind the saying, "the truth will set you free." But again, this is hindered by his rational and calculated part. Almost subconsciously, he does whatever he can to cover his tracks and layer his conversations. When he doesn’t, or when he slips up, that obliviousness I mentioned earlier seems to fade over whoever he’s talking to. It’s almost like someone is keeping him from being found out so that he has to confess...
Throughout the novel, a total of three people figure out before he makes a public confession: Sonia, who he goes and confesses to of his own free will. Svidrigailov, who was listening at the door when he told Sonia. And Porfiry, who is the only mind capable of competing with Rodion and deduces his crime. They react in three ways, and I’ll go through them each because, in a way, I think they each represent pieces of Rodion.
Sonia's Reaction
Sonia’s reaction is perhaps the most important, as she is closest to Rodion before and after his confession. Further, she has a much kinder and wiser solution than the others (although Porfiry’s shares a lot in common with hers). By the time Rodion tells her, she and him are quite close. But close in a strange way. Rodion understands that she is different than anyone else around him, and not just because he is attracted to her. She’s a prostitute, that much is made certain early on. But she’s a devout God-fearing woman, and the meekest and most generous character in the book. She gives everything she earns to her starving family (despite how quickly her mother swallows the money) and never says a cruel word. She prays constantly, and pleads for forgiveness and a better life for her family. Rodion seems to be attracted by the fact that she is “dirty” as well, and has a sin that she can’t easily shake off, just like him. But he's also cruel to her, or rather, blunt and unsympathetic. Strangely, this doesn't make her dislike him, however. Instead, she sees that he's cruel because he is hurting, there's something damaged inside him as well. Despite all of this, she’s so much more stable than him. He talks with her often, and ends up giving all he has to her family when her father dies (this is one of those spontaneous and random spurts of generosity I mentioned earlier). When he confesses to Sonia, this is the scene that follows:
She jumped up, seeming not to know what she was doing, and, wringing her hands, walked into the middle of the room; but quickly went back and sat down again beside him, her shoulder almost touching his. All of a sudden she started as though she had been stabbed, uttered a cry and fell on her knees before him, she did not know why.
“What have you done—what have you done to yourself?” she said in despair, and, jumping up, she flung herself on his neck, threw her arms round him, and held him tightly.
Raskolnikov drew back and looked at her with a mournful smile.
“You are a strange girl, Sonia—you kiss me and hug me when I tell you about that.... You don’t think what you are doing.”
“There is no one—no one in the whole world now so unhappy as you!” she cried in a frenzy, not hearing what he said, and she suddenly broke into violent hysterical weeping.
A feeling long unfamiliar to him flooded his heart and softened it at once. He did not struggle against it. Two tears started into his eyes and hung on his eyelashes.
“Then you won’t leave me, Sonia?” he said, looking at her almost with hope.
“No, no, never, nowhere!” cried Sonia. “I will follow you, I will follow you everywhere. Oh, my God! Oh, how miserable I am!... Why, why didn’t I know you before! Why didn’t you come before? Oh, dear!”
“Here I have come.”
“Yes, now! What’s to be done now?... Together, together!” she repeated as it were unconsciously, and she hugged him again. “I’ll follow you to Siberia!”
Where one might expect horror and disgust, her response is one of grace and forgiveness, as well as unshakable loyalty. Something he really doesn’t deserve at the moment, because even in his confession he’s not truly repentant, just sick with himself. Nonetheless, she stays true to what she says in this scene; she never leaves him and never gives up on him. But even better, she encourages him to pray for forgiveness to God and turn himself in.
Svidrigailov's Reaction
The second response is Svidrigailov’s, which is most confusing and the least helpful. Before sharing his response, it’s important to know a little bit about his character. In short, he’s a disgusting, unrepentant pig. He shares nonchalantly his self-centered life with Rodion, almost as if he was proud of it (we learn later on that there is a deep haunting guilt buried inside of him). When he was young, he was pulled from prison by Marfa Petrovna, a wealthy woman who fell in love with him. How nice, right? But he quickly made known to her that he would not change his indulgent lustful habits. Over time, she acknowledges his inability to control himself:
“After many tears an unwritten contract was drawn up between us: first, that I would never leave Marfa Petrovna and would always be her husband; secondly, that I would never absent myself without her permission; thirdly, that I would never set up a permanent mistress; fourthly, in return for this, Marfa Petrovna gave me a free hand with the maidservants, but only with her secret knowledge; fifthly, God forbid my falling in love with a woman of our class; sixthly, in case I—which God forbid—should be visited by a great serious passion I was bound to reveal it to Marfa Petrovna.”
The connection he has to Rodion stems from his sick selfishness. He tried to seduce Rodion’s sister, Dounia, while she was serving as a governess in their house. She resisted (Dounia is a pretty sensible and steadfast character for the most part) knowing that there would be consequences. He feels no remorse at this, only anger that he was unsuccessful. Marfa, however, is infuriated by this action, as Svidrigailov lied to her and tried to blame it on Dounia. For a while, Dounia was hammered by Marfa and the entire town with accusations and slander. Finally, Marfa found out, however, and furiously rebuked her husband, if you can really call him that, for breaking their contract. She then publicly apologized to Dounia, spreading word of her husband’s action so diligently and for so long that not a single person in the town didn’t know of Dounia’s innocence. Nonetheless, Dounia was somewhat ruined by the scandal. So she and her mother went to St. Petersburg to appeal to Rodion for help.
After she left, Svidrigailov remained obsessed with Dounia, “the one who got away.” So much so that he murders Marfa and pursues her to St. Petersburg where Dounia and her mother have gone to fling their hopes on Rodion. It’s utterly sickening how twisted and unrepentant Svidrigailov is, but his mind regarding his actions plays a very unique look at Rodion’s own character. After all, although he isn’t guilty of seducing or abusing God knows how many women, Rodion is guilty of murder as well. Like with Sonia, this gives Rodion a similarity between the two that Rodion himself cannot deny despite how sickened he is with the older man. Svidrigailov points this out as well whenever Rodion criticizes him, making Rodion somewhat hesitant regarding how to act toward the monster of a man. Svidrigailov's nonchalant nature toward murder is disturbing, even to Rodion, but what's more so is that he too commits random acts of kindness. He supports Sonia's siblings after their mother dies, and even gives Sonia money so she can run away with Rodion. Strange.
Coming to the confession, it doesn’t happen like the others. He doesn’t tell Rodion outright but is always mysterious and subtle about it. Svidrigailov does bluntly tell Dounia that he was listening at the door, however, in a sickening last attempt to seduce her. This scene is a little more than seduction, however. As he makes an attempt on her, she shoots him (grazes, really) with a gun Razumihin (one of the true heroes in the novel) gives her for protection. This sparks a strange guilty spark in Svidrigailov, after which he starts to contemplate a lot of things about his life and eventually shoots himself in front of the police station.
Coming back to Rodion’s crime, Svidrigailov didn’t seem to care enough to tell the police. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want anyone else to find out about his own murder or many other scandalous deeds. Or maybe Svidrigailov felt a similar sickness toward his actions that Rodion was developing. If he did, he certainly didn’t show it until a few hours before his suicide.
Porfiry's Reaction
He is perhaps the first character to learn of Rodion’s murder, but only through suspicions and psychological mind games with Rodion. He plays with Rodion throughout the novel, testing his theories and trying to get him to slip up. This infuriates Rodion, because he can see clearly how close Porfiry is to proving his connection to the crime. What makes him more frustrated, however, is that Porfiry doesn’t flat out say that he knows. Instead, he’s sly and as crafty as Rodion, carefully tailoring his words to his foe’s troubled psyche.
But by the time he comes to find proof, he is far from cruel toward Rodion. He speaks to him privately concerning what he knows and gives him a day or two to confess before he turns him in. This will increase his chances at a shorter sentence (something Rodion doesn’t deserve, considering how long he’s circled around the blame) and even tries to give him personal advice:
“Ach, hang it!” Raskolnikov whispered with loathing and contempt, as though he did not want to speak aloud.
He got up again as though he meant to go away, but sat down again in evident despair.
“Hang it, if you like! You’ve lost faith and you think that I am grossly flattering you; but how long has your life been? How much do you understand? You made up a theory and then were ashamed that it broke down and turned out to be not at all original! It turned out something base, that’s true, but you are not hopelessly base. By no means so base! At least you didn’t deceive yourself for long, you went straight to the furthest point at one bound. How do I regard you? I regard you as one of those men who would stand and smile at their torturer while he cuts their entrails out, if only they have found faith or God. Find it and you will live. You have long needed a change of air. Suffering, too, is a good thing. Suffer! Maybe Nikolay is right in wanting to suffer. I know you don’t believe in it—but don’t be over-wise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid—the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again. What bank? How can I tell? I only believe that you have long life before you. I know that you take all my words now for a set speech prepared beforehand, but maybe you will remember them after. They may be of use some time. That’s why I speak. It’s as well that you only killed the old woman. If you’d invented another theory you might perhaps have done something a thousand times more hideous. You ought to thank God, perhaps. How do you know? Perhaps God is saving you for something. But keep a good heart and have less fear! Are you afraid of the great expiation before you? No, it would be shameful to be afraid of it. Since you have taken such a step, you must harden your heart. There is justice in it. You must fulfil the demands of justice. I know that you don’t believe it, but indeed, life will bring you through. You will live it down in time. What you need now is fresh air, fresh air, fresh air!”
After mentally battling it out, Porfiry sees how tormented Rodion is, and encourages him to rid himself of his guilt. He also tries to inspire him by telling him that prison is not the end of his life, only part of it. He still has a lot of life to live, and a lot of good can still be done. It’s strange that the one responsible with turning him in, who doesn’t have any sort of close attachment personally, should be so graceful and lenient. Yet he is, and gives Rodion the ultimatum that brings us to Dostoevsky’s climax.
Rodion’s Confession
The most important confession, Rodion’s comes at the very last chapter of the book. For almost four hundred pages he’s carried the lie and viciously tried to hide it. But, at the encouragement of Sonia and Porfiry, he goes to the police station. But even this segment is not so simple as it should be. Porfiry isn’t there when he arrives at the station, and no one else seems to know what the detective knows. Furthermore, nobody suspects him anymore and the station’s moved on from Alyona’s murder. This is the perfect opportunity to escape, and Rodion almost takes it. He actually leaves the police station, but gets a few paces off when this scene occurs:
He went out; he reeled, he was overtaken with giddiness and did not know what he was doing. He began going down the stairs, supporting himself with his right hand against the wall. He fancied that a porter pushed past him on his way upstairs to the police office, that a dog in the lower storey kept up a shrill barking and that a woman flung a rolling-pin at it and shouted. He went down and out into the yard. There, not far from the entrance, stood Sonia, pale and horror-stricken. She looked wildly at him. He stood still before her. There was a look of poignant agony, of despair, in her face. She clasped her hands. His lips worked in an ugly, meaningless smile. He stood still a minute, grinned and went back to the police office.
“Ilya Petrovitch had sat down and was rummaging among some papers. Before him stood the same peasant who had pushed by on the stairs.
“Hulloa! Back again! have you left something behind? What’s the matter?”
Raskolnikov, with white lips and staring eyes, came slowly nearer. He walked right to the table, leaned his hand on it, tried to say something, but could not; only incoherent sounds were audible.
“You are feeling ill, a chair! Here, sit down! Some water!”
Raskolnikov dropped on to a chair, but he kept his eyes fixed on the face of Ilya Petrovitch, which expressed unpleasant surprise. Both looked at one another for a minute and waited. Water was brought.
“It was I...” began Raskolnikov.
“Drink some water.”
Raskolnikov refused the water with his hand, and softly and brokenly, but distinctly said:
“It was I killed the old pawnbroker woman and her sister Lizaveta with an axe and robbed them.”
Ilya Petrovitch opened his mouth. People ran up on all sides.
Raskolnikov repeated his statement.”
Sonia had followed him to ensure that he would do what he had earlier promised her he would. And it was her continual grace and persistent encouragement that led him to confess. Rodion’s confession is complete and full, but his journey is not quite over, as Dostoevsky wrote an epilogue to wrap things up.
Repentance
Although he confessed, Rodion did not change once he got to prison. He tried, and started acting differently, but felt no real conversion. Strangely, he still persists in the vein of thought that he was justified. He is, of course, far from justification, and desperately in need of change. Yet his guilt is still there, and his refusal to admit it is apparent to the other prisoners:
What surprised him most of all was the terrible impossible gulf that lay between him and all the rest. They seemed to be a different species, and he looked at them and they at him with distrust and hostility. He felt and knew the reasons of his isolation, but he would never have admitted till then that those reasons were so deep and strong. There were some Polish exiles, political prisoners, among them. They simply looked down upon all the rest as ignorant churls; but Raskolnikov could not look upon them like that. He saw that these ignorant men were in many respects far wiser than the Poles. There were some Russians who were just as contemptuous, a former officer and two seminarists. Raskolnikov saw their mistake as clearly. He was disliked and avoided by everyone; they even began to hate him at last—why, he could not tell. Men who had been far more guilty despised and laughed at his crime.
“You’re a gentleman,” they used to say. “You shouldn’t hack about with an axe; that’s not a gentleman’s work.”
The second week in Lent, his turn came to take the sacrament with his gang. He went to church and prayed with the others. A quarrel broke out one day, he did not know how. All fell on him at once in a fury.
“You’re an infidel! You don’t believe in God,” they shouted. “You ought to be killed.”
He had never talked to them about God nor his belief, but they wanted to kill him as an infidel. He said nothing. One of the prisoners rushed at him in a perfect frenzy. Raskolnikov awaited him calmly and silently; his eyebrows did not quiver, his face did not flinch. The guard succeeded in intervening between him and his assailant, or there would have been bloodshed.
He grows unhealthy, despite Sonia’s continual visits and gentle caring for him. He grows cynical toward her and everyone else, refusing kindness and again behaving cruelly toward her.
This is such a stark contrast to Sonia’s transformation over this period of time. She takes up work as a seamstress in the town where Rodion’s prison is and is able to leave her life of prostitution behind. Sonia flourishes in this new life, becoming loved by all those around her. Rodion puzzles over this actually, because even his prison mates adore her:
There was another question he could not decide: why were they all so fond of Sonia? She did not try to win their favour; she rarely met them, sometimes only she came to see him at work for a moment. And yet everybody knew her, they knew that she had come out to follow him, knew how and where she lived. She never gave them money, did them no particular services. Only once at Christmas she sent them all presents of pies and rolls. But by degrees closer relations sprang up between them and Sonia. She would write and post letters for them to their relations. Relations of the prisoners who visited the town, at their instructions, left with Sonia presents and money for them. Their wives and sweethearts knew her and used to visit her. And when she visited Raskolnikov at work, or met a party of the prisoners on the road, they all took off their hats to her. “Little mother Sofya Semyonovna, you are our dear, good little mother,” coarse branded criminals said to that frail little creature. She would smile and bow to them and everyone was delighted when she smiled. They even admired her gait and turned round to watch her walking; they admired her too for being so little, and, in fact, did not know what to admire her most for. They even came to her for help in their illnesses.
It is important to note both the prisoners’ rejection of him and Sonia’s transformation, because they are each pivotal to what Rodion needs. The prisoners reject him not because of his crime (he acknowledged this) but because he was unrepentant. Furthermore, his superiority complex was still strongly intact. The majority of them had learned from their sentences and even found God in prison. They had come to a true transformation that Rodion seemed unwilling to partake of.
Sonia also made a change in order to grow. Her servant heart was able to flourish after she cast off her lifestyle and started anew. And because of it, unmistakable effects were noticed. These effects were envied by Rodion, and made him cynical toward her because he didn’t believe he could have them. But, neither Sonia, Dounia, nor Razumihin (Rodion’s close friend) gives up on him. And eventually, their efforts (largely Sonia’s) pay off in a wonderful final scene:
Under his pillow lay the New Testament. He took it up mechanically. The book belonged to Sonia; it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. At first he was afraid that she would worry him about religion, would talk about the gospel and pester him with books. But to his great surprise she had not once approached the subject and had not even offered him the Testament. He had asked her for it himself not long before his illness and she brought him the book without a word. Till now he had not opened it.
He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind: “Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least....”
She too had been greatly agitated that day, and at night she was taken ill again. But she was so happy—and so unexpectedly happy—that she was almost frightened of her happiness. Seven years, only seven years! At the beginning of their happiness at some moments they were both ready to look on those seven years as though they were seven days. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great suffering.
But that is the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.
Can anyone find forgiveness? I believe Dostoevsky’s answer is yes, yes they can. Even someone as proud and unrepentant of murder as Rodion can find peace and a new life. Who knows, maybe even Svidrigailov could have as well.
This novel is more than just a story. It is inspired by Dostoevsky’s life, as he spent four years in exile (prison) for reading banned political works. In his defense, Dostoevsky stated that the essays related more to “personality and human egoism” rather than political criticism. These topics are similar to a lot of Rodion’s inner thoughts and theories. No doubt many of Rodion’s intellectual thoughts and wonderments are inspired by the ideas that the Russian government tried to suppress during that time.
The crime itself is inspired by Pierre François Lacenaire, a French criminal and poet. He, like Rodion, murdered two people (one with an axe and one by suffocation) and then defended his actions. Pierre, however, was executed for his crimes.
Of course, Rodion’s crime is far different than Dostoevsky’s, and I highly doubt he struggled with the same guilt as Rodion. But Rodion’s mind is so well-developed and real that one can’t help but wonder whether a bit of Dostoevsky lives within him. After all, every writer slips into their work from time to time. Study enough of any writer and you’ll find their personality, ideology, and thoughts within their works. From Crime & Punishment, we learn that Dostoevsky was a Christian and a very human man. He struggled immensely in life, and was aware of the struggles of others. Yet he knew and wrote several concepts that pertain to individuals who err on account of their struggles. First, no one was born wicked, or too good for sinful deeds. Sonia is an example of this, her goodness allowed her to justify prostitution. Second, no one who errs has no goodness left in them. Again, Sonia is a bright light despite the dirtiness she is so ashamed of. Third, no one is barred from redemption or grace. Rodion is the ultimate example of this. He receives far too many second chances and far too much grace than is logical. In an atheistic worldview, it's silly and unrealistic. But in a God-fearing worldview, the kind Dostoevsky believed in, this is the truth. Just as Rodion was spared and given countless opportunities to confess, we each are given grace and redemption when we don’t deserve it. I think that is Dostoevsky’s final message to us through this novel, and one worth holding onto.
Conclusion
Crime & Punishment, while not for the faint of heart, is an outstanding literary work that must be appreciated and observed. Not only does it reach deep into Russia's lowest classes and its struggling individuals, but it also gives an optimistic answer to the darkest question mankind asks itself. Fyodor Dostoevsky has earned his place amongst great literary minds, but not because of elegant prose or profound philosophies; rather, he has earned it by speaking Biblical truth in a morbidly fascinating world rife with believable characters and real struggles.
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