In a lazy summer of 2015, I picked up on a book in a yard sale in front of a house where I lived. It was not my house, but it was one that I loved. Feeling somewhat directionless, I picked up the book, The Double, written by Dostoevsky.
In the book, I found an old piece of paper, hand-written by two writers, strangers to each other, addressing to the other. A writer asked, should their lives be consumed by love so important, yet so ephemeral.
A note shared by two strangers wrought with passionate attraction to each other. This, all the more, made the book more interesting subject to read. Has this book by Dostoevsky been the catalyst between these individuals? Intrigued, instead of procrastinating reading this one along with the rest of the books, I made a resolution to read at least one of the novels in the book to see what drew these two strangers together.
Dostoevsky’s The Double is a book that invites a reader to implore a world view of “the other side”- the odd ones, the outsiders, the awkward ones in those social circles. Narrator follows thoughts of the main character, Yakov Petrovich Golyadkin, as a close friend would. Narrator’s way of describing the main character in third perpsective has double-layer effect: it gives the reader a clear view of Golyadkin’s thoughts, while allowing the narrator to put a distance between the reader and himself so that his own bias towards Golyadkin is veiled.
Bias is actually one of the major themes of this novel. As a social outsider, Golyadkin views everything from his subjective perspective, which allows for justifications for his irrational behaviors. Every socially abberant behavior becomes justified when viewed from perpetrator’s perspective.
Reader actually need to do the detective work — narrator won’t do it for you. The reader will have to piece together the sequence of events and interpret what they mean to him. For example, there is an incidence where Golyadkin is seen by a doctor. In the middle of conversation between the Golyadkin and the doctor, the reader has to remember that the narrator never mentioned that Golyadkin had been to a pharmacy to get his medications. Ah then, Golyadkin must be in a mental state without medications that help him keep his mind straight. It then follows that Golyadkin must have finally realized that all the imageries are due to his mental breakdown.
Dostoevsky invites the reader to challenge their own sanity as well. How do you know your judgements aren’t compromised? Will you trust your own judgement, that our dear main character is actually delusional? Or will you trust the narrator, who firmly proclaims what Golyadkin did were justified?
I ask you the question then, if you have made the decision, why did you do so? On what basis do you claim that the character is crazy? Aren’t you also the “outsider”?
Yes, it’s not an easy question to answer. But my point is, at some point, we do cross that grey line, where we question what “the justice” is.
“if thou wilt forget me,
I shall not forget thee;
though all things may be
do not though forget me.”
Dostoevsky described the mind of a crazy person just as a person putting on a drunkard’s goggles. Things surrounding yourself are blurred and you are only with your thoughts. Whether others like it or not.
So I closed the book with one thought in mind. Am I, too, like Golyadkin? Drunken in love, blinded by self-knowledge, and too justified to hear others?
During 2020 pandemic, I threw away the book into a drive-by donation box in front of a Stop and Shop near Coolidge Corner MBTA station in Boston. It’s not too far from where I had originally picked it up. Many things had happened since I had picked up the book. I had my heart broken twice, once in 2016 and another in 2019. After I woke up in anxiety from the foolish love like those strangers in the paper letter, I worked like a person without a heart, waking to work, going to sleep to work, trying to save another person’s life, and trying to not remind myself how precious my own life is. Because when you are poor, when you don’t have labels, you are left with a few tools to work with. Time runs faster, and there are many things to prepare for, in order to get those little gems.
I tried to forget that there are fools in the world too. I tried to forget that there are magics. I told myself that those are the trickery to lure fools for simple money. Yes, bitterness drives away others like a mush of diarrhea gushed into a pair of jeans. But I am trying to remember. I am trying to remember that tender love. The morning fresh air breezing under the nose, glistening golden morning sunlight laying calmly on white bed linen, birds chirp crisply through a clear blue sky. I am tracing my fingers back to where the magic was. Where I had picked up the book and where passionate letters were inscribed in an old letter.
Why? Perhaps I am looking for my double.
What about you? Are you in love?
Ralph with Coffee 