I've been trying to read Crime and Punishment in an effort to broaden my literary horizons and though it is an occasionally rewarding read, more often than not it's a total challenge. In that spirit, here is my parody of the text itself.
"The problem, Alexis Novonstronksy, is that these days the masses convene at the local eatery, Portei, and discuss the nature of metaphysical reality. In the days before railway timetables, such a thing might be plausible. But let us dwell upon the plausibility of plause. A poor joke, friends."
The man smoked a cigar and gesticulated with the kind of self-importance common to the landed gentry.
Grabbing his ankles in a sort of pain, dripping with sweat, Novonstronsky encountered a local eccentric named Narikolivian who stood at the doorway, a doorway littered with plaster. Six families lived inside the building, a building that housed seven families until a matter of weeks before, when they had been taken by cholera and moved to prevent infecting the rest of the boarding house. Left behind was the smell of boiled cabbage.
"Could this be a dream? What could dreams provide? They'll know I've done it. I should confess now. But alas, I cannot. There is nothing left to say. Unless I tell them, but should I tell? Oh, such woe! I am damned. I know this now. Perhaps they know already! Oh, misery! I shall never tell! Never never never!"
He swore an oath but continued sweating, dabbing his forehead with a filthy cloth. Standing upright was a difficulty unsurpassed by any other action.
"What impudence is this!" This was spoken by Rodlai Ronovinich, who had returned from a scene observed in the town square, a square full of ash. A mule had been brutalized by the lashes of its master, observed by recently emancipated serfs, who jeered and jostled the poor creature as it recoiled and jerked from the abuse.
"This is madness! Madness, I tell you! But back to the subject at hand."
Ronvoinich wished to marry Tishka, the daughter of Perioskina, the second cousin, three times removed of Yourginska. This was a union undertaken out of pity and financial gain, clearly observed by all who passed by in the streets and particularly the interest of civil servants and lower-level government officials.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
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I loved Crime and Punishment. Dostoevsky has a wonderful way of capturing a frenzied mind. I especially love the philosophical question the book poses. In some ways, it's similar to that of Tolstoy's book Resurrection--though with a much different style.
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