The similarity that I see between The Road, and many of Dostoevsky's works, is the characters’ confrontation with death, as something thrust upon them inevitably.  Take Prince Myshkin, who relates his empathetic description of the last five minutes of experience for a man condemned to death, knowing full well that in five minutes he won't be.  Take Alyosha, who lives through the death of Zosima, and subsequently leaves the monastery to take a principled stand in the world.  Take Kirilov, and his obsession with philosophical suicide.  To Kirilov, suicide is the ultimate act of freedom, the ultimate way to take hold of one's existence and prove it as one's own.  What we find in common with all of these characters is the fact that each one felt the tentacles of death drifting back from their future, confronting them in the present, and forcing them to face the world in a new way, their own way; this confrontation with death, with nothingness, with the potentiality of not-being, shakes them to a new awareness and causes them to take a stand on their own existence, to live authentically.  The trouble is, one can live authentically in many ways, for instance one could be an authentic murderer (Raskolnikov), an authentic idiot (Myshkin), an authentic asshole (Kirilov), or an authentic cannibal (to bring The Road into the picture).   Characters like Alyosha and Razumikhin, I feel, help point the way towards living authentically, but doing so in a way which has clear ethical principles, and practical/worldly principles, guiding and directing the unfolding of their authenticity.

   Look at the Road, we see the same sorts of archetypes unfolding.  We have the wife, who kills herself out of a rational principle.  Perhaps she’d read about Kirilov, or read Camus’ thoughts on suicide and disagreed with his conclusion on the matter.  In any case, with the wife we have that person who rebels against an absurd and inscrutable world, taking a stand on her existence by extinguishing it.  The state of mind of the father can easily be compared to that of Raskolnikov.  Both feel closed in upon by the world, and both are desperate to achieve some great goal for the better of someone besides themselves.  For Raskolnikov, that someone else is both his family, and society as a whole, the “greater good,” etc.  For “the man” from The Road, that someone else is quite clearly his son.  In both cases, a desperate state of mind leads them into error: for Raskolnikov this error is the calculative murder upon which he was trying to take the leap beyond moral categories, to take the leap into the shoes of a Napoleon, to become a force for good in the unfolding of history; for the man this error is his utter distrust of, and contempt for, every other soul that he encounters on his journey.  And this rotten mindset of the man’s was to be utilized for the noblest of goals, namely preserving the life of another whom one loves.  Raskolnikov and “the man,” took a stand on their existence, but both used distorted means in attempting to achieve their goal, and thus didn’t even achieve the goal at all.  This all suggests that we should give just as much attention to means as we should to ends, that we can’t be simple utilitarians, but neither can we be simple idiots.
   

Dostoevsky struggled with his faith throughout his life... he allowed his faith to be exposed to doubt, and that made his faith all the stronger.... as Martin Heidegger said:

"if faith does not continually expose itself to the possibility of unfaith, it is not faith but a convenience.  It becomes an agreement with oneself to adhere to a doctrine as something that has been handed down.  This is neither having faith nor questioning, but indifference"

To me, I see The Brothers Karamozov as the internal struggle that Dostoevsky endured throughout his life with his faith, with the final conclusion being the conclusion reached by Alyosha in the end of the story... I'll quote:

     "Karamozov," cried Koya, "can it be true what;s taught us in religion, that we shall all rise again from the dead and shall live and see each other again, all, Ilusha too?"
     "Certainly we shall all rise again, certanly we shall see each other and shall tell each other with joy and gladness all that has happened!"  Alyosha answered, half laughing, half enthusiastic.

(I'm sure that there is a more revealing quote in the epilogue but I don't have time right now to read through the whole thing)

I see the three brothers as the three different dimensions of Dostoevsky's character.  Ivan is his skeptical, progressive side, which questions everything, and was most prevalent in his youth, when he was a revolutionary activist, but which still lingers in his psyche even into his old age.  Alyosha is his saint-like craving.. his desire to sacrifice himself for some other unfortunate person, to be holy, and to fully embrace the teaching of Christ and the doctrine of Eastern Orthodoxy.  Dmitri is his passionate, impulsive side.. i.e. his tendency to gamble away all his money until he had to write books under threat from the publishing company.

Each brother is the personification of a specific tract of Dostoevsky's personality, and when a single portion of a personality is taken to represent an entire human, we get extremes, as is the case with the saint of Alyosha, the pure sensualist of Dmitri, and the intellectual who drives himself mad with concentrated thought of Ivan.  Throughout the novel, these personality traits conflict, but the saint-like Alyosha is the prevailing personality... and I see this as the fully matured Dostoevsky's idealized human... The message of TBK is that reason/social theory/philosophy cannot be accepted as the all-great solution to mankind's problems, that sensualism must be overcome, and that we can find peace in Christ, and derive meaning in our lives from Christ.

I don't agree with the conclusion that I take Dostoevsky to have reached, but I love the conversations that he paints between these amazing characters, and I love the doubt that he casts on philosophy and progress.... Nietzsche picks up this same doubt and we can trace it right up to the post-modern theorists of today.

Dostoevsky's definitely got an outlook similar to Kierkegaard.  From what I understand though, the two men never read each other's works.

They were both disgusted with the hypocritical Christians they saw around them.  An idea like Christianity is something that, by it's very nature, should pervade every moment of one's existence.  For most of the Christians around these two figures (Kierkegaard and Dostoevsky), Christianity had been reduced to a weekly ritual for one hour per week.  Unlike Myshkin, they didn't necessarily behave much in Christ's example at all.  Perhaps I'm taking Kierkegaards philosophy and applying it too much to Dostoevsky though.

Just to clarify that quote a bit... by 'materialist,' Ippolit doesn't mean somebody obsessed with accumulating material, like we think in our modern materialistic, consumer-driven world.

What he means is philosophical materialism.  As opposed to a dualistic metaphysical outlook, in which one would believe that there is a body and a soul, or a body and a mind, a materialist believes that there is only a body... there is only material... no spiritual dimension.

So, if Prince Myshkin is a materialist, he certainly can't be a Christian, in the traditional sense anyway.

Here's an excerpt from Ippolit's "Necessary Explanation" towards the end of the book... the scene where he botches his suicide... it seems to support the thesis that Myshkin wasn't a Christian.... Ippolit is referring to Myshkin here:

"I remarked to him, with a smile, that he spoke like a materialist, and he answered that he had always been one. As he never tells a lie, there must be something in his words"

johniker ,

What do you think of this question?  Can you provide some quotes from the book to illustrate?

This sounds like an interesting topic.... I'll need to re-read the book to give a substantial answer.

I think that the most important thing about Prince Myshkin, is that he behaves the way a true Christian ought to.  He follows that ethic instinctively.

Like Kierkegaard, I think that Dostoevsky was trying to show the hypocrisy of most modern Christians.  They purport to be Christians, but fail to live up to the demands of such a notion.  An activity such as devotion to Christ, is, by it's very nature, something which should engage every moment of one's life, but it's been reduced to a ritual display of 1 hour per week.

Myself, I'm not a Christian, but I do use Myshkin as a role model for right action, so I guess if he's a Christian, in a convoluted way, I am too.  I guess it's a sort of virtue ethic.  Perhaps it would be accurate to call it Myshkinism. 

It does sound familiar... here's the quote from C & P... Raskolnikov overhears some students discussing this while sitting at an inn.... so we can see that it wasn't a unique idea to Raskolnikov, but a "progressive" idea frequently discussed by the young generation.....

"Look here; on one side we have a stupid, senseless, worthless, spiteful, ailing, horrid old woman, not simply useless, but doing actual mischief, who has not an idea what she is living for herself, and who will die in a day or two in any case…  On the other side, fresh young lives thrown away for want of help, and by thousands, on every side!  A hundred thousand good deeds could be done and helped, on that old woman’s money which will be buried in a monastery!  Hundreds, thousands perhaps, might be set on the right path; dozens of families saved from destitution, from ruin, from vice, from the hospitals – and all with her money.  Kill her, take the money, and with the help of it devote oneself to the service of humanity and the good of all.  What do you think, would not one tiny crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds?  For one life, thousands would be saved from corruption and decay.  One death, and a hundred lives in exchange – it’s simple arithmetic!"

hmmm... is anybody out there?

I think that The Machinist felt very Dostoevskian indeed...... it seemed to take elements of Crime and Punishment, as well as The Double......

what it took from the Double was the somewhat schizophrenic delusions of the protagonist at his job which seemed to bring his co-workers against him.....

what it took from Crime & punishment was: it seems like the protagonist was suffering from extreme guilt, and his mental disorder wasn't resolved until he turned himself in, facing his crime

At the bottom of the main forum page, we used to see the 5 most recent posts..... that feature is no longer present.... I think that if that feature were brought back, people would be more aware of the recent posts, thus reply to the recent post with a higher frequency

Dostoevsky, I think, most certainly suffered from bouts of depression... one only needs to read one of his books to see that he contemplated the seemingly meaningless suffering of human existence very deeply.... to write about such topics, I feel that one would have to have experienced much anguish in their life.

Dostoevsky struggled with his belief in God throughout his life... his literature is a testament of that struggle... I view the Brothers Karamozov as a documentation of that internal struggle in his mind... Ivan represents Dostoevsky's atheistic doubt--Alyosha represents his saintly aspiration--Dmitri represents his human inclinations....... It's a philosophical dialogue of grand proportions, that novel

Of course, this is just my speculation, take it at face value

What do you think about this topic?

I'm currently reading The Adolescent, and I came across a passage on gambling.  Keep in mind that this is from the point of view of Arkady Dolgoroky, the novel's protagonist, not from Dostoevsky's point of view.  However, it perhaps provides us a hint of his feelings towards gambling...

 

At all these roulettes and gatherings I decidedly failed to aquire any kind of bearing: first I sit and reproach myself for my unnecessary softness and politeness, then suddenly I get up and commit some rudeness.  And meanwhile such blackguards, compared with me, managed to behave themselves there with astonishing bearing--and that was what infuriated me most of all, so that I lost my coolheadedness more and more.  I'll say straight out that, not only now, but then as well, this whole society--and even winning itself, if all be told--finally became repugnant and tormenting to me.  Decidedly tormenting.  Of course, I experienced an extreme pleasure, but that pleasure came by way of torment; all of it, that is, these people, the gambling, and above all, I myself there with them, semed terribly dirty to me.  "The moment I win, I'll spit on it all at once!" I said to myself each time, falling asleep at dawn in my lodgings after the nights gambling.  And then again this winning: take just the fact that I had no love of money at all.  That is, I'm not going to repeat the vile pronouncments usual in such explanations, that I gambled, say, for the sake of gambling, for the sensation, for the pleasure of risk, passion, and so on, and not at all for gain.  I needed money terribly, and though it was not my way, not my idea, somehow or other I still decided then, as an experiement, to try this way too.

Out of those, for you, I would recommend 'The Double'...... it's a very entertaining book about a perhaps schizophrenic protagonist.... it's a psychological thriller really... The recent movie 'The Machinist' seems to have been directly influenced by this story... also, The Double is only about 150 pages

When you're through with that, check out 'The Idiot'... it's an excellent book

Well, I guess you'll want to re-assess your judgement of gambling and the causes which drive one to gamble .... I think it's clear, as you've pointed out, that gambling is not an indicator of intelligence