I Actually Agree ...

 ... Dostoevsky is not for everyone and he is definitely not my favorite Russian writer. So one British dude contemplates ...

On the back of my copy of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s 1869 novel The Idiot, there’s a quote from the English philosopher A.C. Grayling that tells you what to think of it. “One of the most excoriating, compelling and remarkable books ever written,” it reads, “and without question one of the greatest.” That “without question” bothered me. Why assume that every classic deserves its reputation? We should make up our own minds after having read one, as we do with any other book.  

That wasn’t the only reason why I treated Grayling’s claims with skepticism as I edged my way into this gargantuan novel (I can’t remember exactly when that was, but I know I was a much younger man at the time). Having kicked and dragged myself through the same author’s late “masterpiece” The Brothers Karamazov (1880) last year, I knew what I was in for. And now, having almost finished The Idiot, I can say with confidence that Dostoevsky is a dreadful writer. Dreadful.   

Obviously he didn't read Solzhenitsyn in original, Russian language, version--this is the rape of taste and mind 101, while there is a lot to be said about Nabokov. I would suggest Mark Nayler read Sholokhov's Quiet Flows the Don (that will blow his mind). But, I want to remind you about Sir Michael Caine (as the last vestige of an English culture, euphemism for England, we all used to love and admire--not anymore). 

And his story telling which is exemplary. 

I Write About It...

 ... in the Conclusion to my book which is almost done. I use Roger Scruton's quote. 

Truth and goodness, simple as that.
 

Hence Dostoevsky with "Beauty will save the world."

Once You Have Been There....

It is going to haunt you for the rest of your life, as it did Dostoevsky, and I know this city for 37 years...

 

On Some Silver Linings

Dostoevsky wrote in his Diary about Cervantes' immortal work this: "In the whole world there is no deeper, no mightier literary work. This is, so far, the last and the greatest expression of human thought; this is the bitterest irony which man was capable of conceiving. And if the world were to come to an end, and people were asked there, somewhere: “Did you understand your life on earth, and what conclusion have you drawn from it?” – man could silently hand over Don Quixote: “Such is my inference from life. – Can you condemn me for it?” 

When viewing today a wasteland that modern American art has become, I recall the interpretation of Dostoevsky's thought on Don Quixote: When the humanity will be called for a final judgement, a lot will be forgiven because Don Quixote was written. I watched recently Arrival. Amy Adams is as always stunning and apart from being a superb actress is one one of the last vestiges of true femininity and beauty in art. And then it occurred to me to steal Dostoevsky's lines in regards to Hollywood: When the United States will be called for a final judgement a lot will be forgiven because Forrest Gump, Walle-E, Interstellar and Arrival were made. This is my Silver Lining thought of a day.