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Year: 2007

The Lost Book Club: The Brothers Karamazov

Back in May, my wife and I decided to read all the books referenced on Lost. I finally finished The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

I started reading this at Chuy’s during the Green Chile Festival, which is in September. It’s a long book. I also read a number of other books while reading Brothers Karamazov, which naturally slowed me down, but I think it’s good that I spent so much time with it because I really got to know the characters. Anyway, it was originally serialized in the 1870s so its original readers spent even more time with it than me.

When season 3 of Lost began back in October, I was on page 186. I summarized it then as follows:

Dostoevsky’s book is dense, rich and beautiful, full of the kind of compelling characters that keep me engaged in a story that at this point is only now beginning. The book tells the story of the relationship between an old man and his three sons, each of whom represents a different psychological/spiritual type.

The father, Fyodor Pavlovich, is a drunken self-proclaimed buffoon. He delights in making a public ass of himself. He is a lecher, scoundrel and liar who is thoroughly unlikeable, despite the fact that some of the scandalous things he says are truly funny.

Oldest brother, Dmitri is passionate and ruled by emotion. He behavior is much like that of his father, except that Dmitri has a working conscience buried deep inside. He despises his father and seems to love his brothers. Ivan, the middle brother, is a rationalist and intellectual. He is an atheist who wrestles with issues of faith. The youngest brother, Aloysha is the central character in the book. Aloysha is sweet and gentle, a deeply religious and good-hearted soul whose faith guides him in all things. There is also an illegitimate brother – Smerdyakov – who is dark and brooding, but I haven’t learned much about him yet.

Each brother has varying degrees of conflict with each other and with their father, Fyodor. I think – based on the back of the book – that one of them will kill Fyodor. I don’t know for sure, but my money is on Dmitri.

Well, it turns out I was right about Fyodor, and wrong about Dmitri even though he was convicted, it seems clear (though with enough uncertainty to make it interesting) that Semerdyakov was actually the killer.

The greatest connection between Lost and The Brothers Karamazov, however, is that both are stories of people who are lost (in the figurative sense) and both explore the line that divides faith and reason. Brothers Karamazov is at heart a philosophical novel that wrestles with the idea of faith and the consequences if living without it.

Alyosha is at all times kind, decent, humble and driven by compassion and love. Ivan rails against the church and ultimately it is his pronouncements against God that lead Smerdykov to believe that “everything is permitted,” a belief that ultimately destroys his family. Through it all, though, we see Alyosha living a life ruled by love and compassion, and it is his example that we should take away from the novel, the admonition to be our best selves, to strive for perfect human kindness.

It’s a beautiful and moving book, with characters drawn so real that it’s hard to believe I don’t actually know them.

Regarding Lost, this is all a bit dated. The book was given to Henry Gale (now Ben) while he was being held in the hatch (way back in season 2). It served the purpose of bringing up the conversation about Hemingway feeling like he could never be as great as Dostoevsky, which made Locke wonder if would always play second fiddle to Jack. Tension ensued, which as we know from watching season 3 is probably exactly what Henry/Ben wanted.

When I related it to Lost in my last post on the subject, I said this about how the characters in Brothers Karamazov resemble certain characters on Lost:

  • Dmitri and Sawyer are both passionate and ruled by their emotions especially lust and greed; both use women, and each possesses a deeply buried conscience.
  • Ivan and Jack are both rationalists, both men of science.
  • Alyosha and Locke are both men of faith, both good-hearted.

I admit, not having read the book in its entirety (yet), that there may be deeper parallels. I particularly wonder if Alyosha has a crisis of faith as Locke did when he stopped pushing the button in the hatch. I also see that Kate could as easily be the Dmitri character as Sawyer; likewise Mr. Eko resembles Alyosha in many ways, though not as closely as Locke.

I don’t see a Fyodor character yet except in that Jack, Locke (and Kate if we go that way) have major conflicts with their fathers. Sawyer’s father hasn’t really come into play except his “spiritual father” – the con man who destroyed his family – from whom he took his name and trade. Interestingly this “father” is the man that Sawyer went to Australia to kill. Kate also killed her father.

Now that I’ve finished the book and seen the first six episodes of season 3, some comparisons seem a bit clearer. I stand by the Alyosha/Lock, Ivan/Jack, and Sawyer/Dmitri comparisons, especially the last now that we’ve seen Sawyer’s deeply buried moral side. Like Dimitri, he’s a bastard who wants to be good, though his darker instincts often get the better of him.

Once again, above all else, we find a book on the island that explores the issues and themes central to the show. Quite frankly, as Lost got farther away, I stopped reading Brothers Karamazov for insight into the show and just enjoyed it for its penetrating insight into the human character.

Click here for more of my Lost book reviews.

Check out this interview with Lost’s creators transcribed on Lost…And Gone Forever.

Twigs by the Pond

Walking along the trail by the pond, everything is jumbled – a wonderful confusion of line and color – until I focus on just one thing and try to see just that.

Twigs seem such a nothing, so easily and often overlooked. Just twigs.

But they’re there. Happening.

Monday Movie Roundup

Two tales of terror…

Saw III (Darren Lynn Bousman, 2006)

Crap. Pure crap. I didn’t see the “twist” coming and I didn’t care. This was a real shame since Saw was such a fine example of the no-budget psych thriller.

Saw II was good, but Saw III was a waste of time. Its point is to make the audience cringe in disgust, but the fear never gets inside you. We went to bed laughing, but not in the same way that the brilliant Scream films make a person laugh while gettin’ skeert.

Saw should have been cut off (ouch!) after the second one. Oh, well. Ch-Ching.

An Inconvenient Truth (Davis Guggenheim, 2006)

Al Gore should have been our president. The sad thing is that had he been the man who narrates An Inconvenient Truth, – passionate and funny – he might have.

I read the book a few months ago (here’s the link to that post), and most of my thoughts about the subject haven’t changed and since the movie hews pretty close to the book, there’s not much point in reiterating except to say that this is something we should all be concerned about.

The film version is gripping and disturbing, at times both heartbreaking and wickedly funny. Everything a good horror flick should be. Watching it, I couldn’t help but think about the Saw films in which “Jigsaw” places his victims in traps designed to make them face their own sins and crimes, each victim forced to face his or her own inconvenient truth. Escape is meant to be excruciatingly painful, but always possible. His victims, however, are rarely able to muster the strength of will to inflict the necessary pain on themselves to escape before it’s too late.

An Inconvenient Truth explains the workings of the trap we’re in and offers a way to escape, though Gore is much for comforting than “Jigsaw’s” mechanical puppet head. The question is, do we want to save ourselves badly enough?

Jigsaw’s infamous question, “Do you want to play a game?” has already been asked.

Weekend Hound Blogging: Tripping the Mouth Daphtastic

We’ve been having work done on our floors this week, so we’ve had to send the pups to doggy daycare. Joey and Phoebe go twice a week, but Daphne has never gone. In the past we’ve tried to board her, and she spent the whole time cowering in a corner panting.

Not anymore. The new Daphne runs and plays with the other dogs. The new Daphne likes to go to daycare. I suspect it’s partially the influence of Joey, who also likes to run and play with other dogs. Still, it’s amazing that after four and a half years, our little spook is still learning to be a dog, taking mostly baby steps, but sometimes full greyhound strides.

Go, Daphne.

And cheers to The Family Guy for this little exchange (paraphrasing):

Stewie (the baby): You’ll wind up in a dumpster with a bunch of unwanted greyhounds.

Brian (the alcoholic dog): Hey, that’s not funny! That’s our holocaust!

[saveagrey]

So Long, Molly

When I think of Molly Ivins, I think of the importance of laughing in the face of tragedy. That’s not what she was necessarily about, but two things come to mind when I think of her…

I listened to her critique the language of George W one September morning on my way to work. It was sunny and beautiful and I sat in the parking lot at school while she finished up. I went in laughing at her jokes and disgusted with our president. Later, that Tuesday had turned into 9-11 and I drove home wondering if I’d ever laugh like that again. But then, I remembered what she said – since forgotten – and laughed. It was probably the last time I laughed at Bush with real humor and not as a defense mechanism.

Jump to November 2006. We were fortunate to go hear Molly Ivins lecture about the death of journalism. You could tell it wasn’t easy for her, but she had the audience at Hogg Auditorium laughing as she shared some her best stories: the gang pluck incident, her first murder (covered, not committed, she pointed out). She talked about the need for locality in newspapers and how a good newspaper had to be of its community.

She made us laugh; she made us think, and it was easy to see she was fighting hard, that she was losing, that she damn sure wasn’t going to give up. Being a Texas progressive taught her to fight hard and do it with a smile, and it sounds like that’s how she fought cancer.

It was a weird night, and a week later a friend of ours lost his own battle against cancer. These things are all mixed up for me now, blended together into the swirl of memory, but one thing stands out when I think of Molly Ivins: Laugh. No matter what.

Links to other blogs remembering Ivins: In the Pink Texas, Off the Kuff, PinkDome, Bad Astronomy Blog, Brains and Eggs, Capitol Annex, Eye on Williamson County, Burnt Orange Report

Update: In the comments, Jessica suggested that this post wasn’t complete without some links to Ivins’ writing. Jessica is right, so here are some links:

WordPress 2.1?

Blogging about blogging is close to the lowest form of blogging, but blogging about the behind the scenes aspects of a blog is like watching someone else’s cat spit up hairballs on the carpet, so as of this post, that kind of blogging will occur on my other blog, aptly named Coyote Mercury Test Blog, mainly because I’m using it to see if I can actually execute the upgrade to 2.1 and to find out if my theme and plugins will work.

If you’re using WordPress and considering the upgrade, you may find it useful or interesting. If not, you won’t.

In the future, I’ll probably use it for testing plugins, theme modifications, and any future upgrades. I doubt I’ll post there regularly.

Diver Down

He could not so much see the fish as he knew they were there, surrounding him by the millions. He could not touch them, yet he knew they were as real as the sun behind them. As he fell deeper, the fish began to disappear and he saw stranger and more unsettling things that he could recall no more once they faded from his sight.

He knew he was an intruder in a place he did not belong. So long as no one found out and he was careful, he knew he would make it back to the other side, but for now he was gone. Missing in action and high in love with the nuances of every strange new sensation that gripped him.

Sticking to the dive plan was impossible. He couldn’t remember it anyway. Who knows where a moment will take one in a time of free-fall, when the body and mind wonder at a separate pace, abstractions real and reality a distraction. The only thing that mattered was resurfacing correctly when the time came. Come up slow, he remembered the dive master saying.

His mind raced sluggishly along the bottom. He watched as the blurry tornado of tropical fish was replaced by one of raw motion swimming to and fro in distinct packets for which he could find no name.

When he looked up through the clear water he saw every star ever recorded shimmering above the watery ceiling, and he alone beneath them. He released more air, negating his bouancy, and dropped again ever farther into the unfathomable deep, searching for the bottom.

It amazed him how much there was to see, how much he had not known.

Old Photo Friday

One of my favorite central Texas hikes is the Good Water Trail that follows Lake Georgetown west as it turns into the North Fork of the San Gabriel River. My dad and I hiked the whole thing in the summer of 2002. It’s not too long, but it made for a good, hot and exhausting day.

This is a picture of the springs, the good water, I suppose.