Crime and Punishment

Today, I finished my first book by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment. I have enjoyed Leo Tolstoy since high school, but it was my seventeen-year old son who got me into Dostoevsky. My son knows my love of nineteenth-century psychological novels. Dostoevsky fits that love. 

I have to say, I did enjoy this work. As you may be able to tell from the annotation tabs, I notated plenty of things that stood out to me. I was especially drawn to Raskolnikov's thoughts prior to the murder he committed - how he pieced together random happenings to convince himself he was supposed to commit this crime. I also notated the mindset of characters who were abused. For example, Marmeladov revealed to our protagonist how his daughter, Sonya, was pushed into prostitution by her stepmother, Katerina Ivanovna. Of course, the stepmother was affected by her own tuberculosis and the starvation of her children. However, the guilt Sonya felt was, no doubt, caused by the abuse of Katerina Ivanovna, who beat the girl and insisted she prostitute herself to help her younger siblings. This is why Sonya felt the need to sacrifice herself throughout the novel, even for Raskolnikov after he confessed the murder to her and even when he was cruel to her. 

Speaking of self-sacrifice, I find the relationship between Raskolnikov's mother and sister interesting as well. At the beginning of the novel, Raskolnikov received a letter informing him of his sister's impending marriage. He quickly saw her marriage, which was approved of by their mother, would be mainly for his benefit. He recognized his sister's soon-to-be husband for the scoundrel he was and, later, became responsible for saving his sister from a painful future. Now, we could say that his mother had not put two and two together to see what type of husband her daughter would have. However, was it because she put her son above her daughter - his needs were more important than hers? Did she, too, expect her daughter to sacrifice herself for her brother? In today's terms, this would be rightly considered narcissistic parenting. 

Not only is the psychology in Crime and Punishment important, but so are the sociological revelations and politics. I always enjoy reading the introductions in classic novels (after I read the novels, of course). I enjoyed the information in this introduction in which Joseph Frank addresses Dostoevsky's ideas about the progressive/Nihilistic culture in Russia at the time of his writing Crime and Punishment. He discusses how Dostoevsky included his observations and concerns in the plot and characters. As I read Crime and Punishment, I notated ideas that may be pertinent to another major writing project of mine, a study of nineteenth-century poverty. Studying and understanding classic literature can be important in historical studies. 

Speaking of history studies, one of the reasons I began this blog was because of all the comments I receive from respected members of the community (both in real life and online) when I mention my love of classic literature. The comments have ranged from gagging sounds to the all-too-prevalent, "It's all old, white men." As a social historian, I recognize the importance of hearing everyone's story. I always say we need to hear stories that have never before been heard. However, that does not mean we should throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater. We still have a lot to learn from old, white guys as well. For example, we cannot ignore the genius of authors such as Fyodor Dostoevsky just because of his race or sex or when he was born. They still have a lot to teach us today. 

My 2022 Reading

 My reading completed for 2022.

I divide my reading into classic fiction, current fiction, and nonfiction.

1. The Frozen Deep by Wilkie Collins (Classic)

2. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (re-read) (Classic)

3. Rules for a Knight by Ethan Hawke (Current)

4. The Lake of Dead Languages by Carol Goodman (Current)

5. “The Mystery of Marie Roget” by Edgar Allan Poe (Classic)

6. Oscar’s Ghost: The Battle for Oscar Wilde’s Legacy by Laura Lee (Nonfiction)

7. The OCD Workbook: Your Guide to Breaking Free from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder by Bruce M. Hyman, PhD. and Cherry Pedrick, RN (Nonfiction)

8. “The Picture on the Wall” by H.P. Lovecraft (Classic)

9. Verity by Colleen Hoover (Current)

10. The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy (Current)

11. Moby Dick by Herman Melville (Classic)

12. Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy (Classic)

13. “The Black Phone” by Joe Hill (Current)

14. The Trials of Oscar Wilde by H. Montgomery Hyde (Nonfiction)

15. Nightmare Abbey and Crotchet Castle by Thomas Love Peacock (Classic)

16. Ash Wednesday by Ethan Hawke (re-read) (Current)

17. You Can Begin Again by Joyce Meyer (re-read) (Nonfiction)

18. Oscar Wilde: The Great Drama of His Life, How His Tragedy Reflected His Personality by Ashley H. Robins (Nonfiction)

19. Shutter Island by Dennis Lahane (Current)

20. On Writing by Stephen King (Nonfiction)

21. The Well-Beloved and The Pursuit of the Well-Beloved by Thomas Hardy (Classic)

22. The Hollow Ones by Guillermo Del Toro and Chuck Hogan (Current)

23. The Rabbit Back Literature Society by Pasi Ilmari Jääskeläinen (Current)

24. Making Oscar Wilde by Michèle Mendelssohn (Nonfiction)

25. The Strain by Guillermo Del Toro and Chuck Hogan (Current)

26. Never Give Up by Joyce Meyer (Nonfiction)

27. Emma by Jane Austen (Classic)

28. The Importance of Being Ernest by Oscar Wilde (re-read) (Classic)

29. The Queen of Hearts by Wilkie Collins (Classic)

30. Wilde in America: Oscar Wilde and the Invention of Modern Celebrity by David M. Friedman (Nonfiction)

31. The Motion of Puppets by Keith Donohue (Current)

32. How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster (Nonfiction)

33. Oscar Wilde: An Exquisite Life by Stephen Calloway and David Colvine (Nonfiction)

34. The Midnight Library by Matt Haig (Current)

35. White Elephant by Julia Langsdorf (Current)

36. Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy (Classic)

37. The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne (Classic)

38. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Barendt (Nonfiction)

39. The Case for Faith by Lee Strobel (re-read) and Troublemaker by Leah Remini (re-read). (Nonfiction) - both studies my sons and I finished (started prior to 2022)

40. Emotional Inheritance: a Therapist, Her Patients, and the Legacy of Trauma by Galit Atlas, PhD (Nonfiction)

41. The Black Robe by Wilkie Collins (Classic)

42. God is Real (so Is the Devil) by Karis Ens (Nonfiction)

43. Bird Box by Josh Malerman (Current)

44. The Fall by Guillermo Del Toro and Chuck Hagan (Current)

45. The Little Friend by Donna Tartt (Current)

46. Why Argument Matters by Lee Siegel (Nonfiction)

47. Desperate Remedies by Thomas Hardy (Classic)

48. Built of Books: How Reading Defined the Life of Oscar Wilde by Thomas Wright (Nonfiction)

49. Captured by Grace: No One is Beyond the Reach of a Loving God by Dr. David Jeremiah (Nonfiction)

50. Overdue: Reckoning with the Public Library by Amanda Oliver (Nonfiction)

51. Truly Wilde: The Unsettling Story of Dolly Wilde, Oscar’s Unusual Niece by Joan Schenkar (Nonfiction)

52. Brave New World (re-read) and Brave New World Revisited by Aldous Huxley (Classic)

53. Poor Miss Finch by Wilkie Collins (Classic)

54. The Secret History by Donna Tartt (Current)

55. “A Simple Heart” by Gustave Flaubert (Classic)

56. Rediscovering Catholicism by Matthew Kelly (Nonfiction)

57. The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt (Current)

58. Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (Current)

59. The Mammoth Book of True Hauntings (Nonfiction)

60. Babel by R.F. Kuang (Current)

61. Mary’s Christmas by Brian E. Hoover (Current)

62. Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin (Classic)

63. The Maidens by Alex Michaelides (Current)

64. A Slow Fire Burning by Paula Hawkins (Current)

65. House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin A. Craig (Current)

"Speak of the Devil" - Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin

I had promised my next post would be about the classic novel Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin. And so it is. Granted, Melmoth was not the only book I read between my last post (The Secret History) and now. I often read several books (both fiction and nonfiction) at the same time. While reading Melmoth, I also read Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch, Leigh Bardugo's Ninth House, R.F. Kuang's Babel, and finished a nonfiction book about true hauntings. You may have noticed a theme of dark academia, which is a genre that has gained my fascination (but that is another post). 

Back to Matruin's Melmoth the Wanderer. Let me begin by saying Charles Maturin was the great uncle of Oscar Wilde. My Oscar Wilde research is how I discovered this particular work, why I purchased it, and why I began the journey of reading it. I say the journey of reading it because a journey is a good way to describe the reading of this work. 

Let me begin the discussion of this journey by saying I can see how Melmoth influenced Wilde. Oscar Wilde scholars know when the playwright and author went into exile after his imprisonment, he took the alias Sebastian Melmoth (Sebastian after his favorite Catholic saint and Melmoth after his great uncle's famous novel). As I read Melmoth, I saw so many ideas that were reflected in Oscar's own life and writing. Perhaps the most striking is how similar the theme of The Picture of Dorian Gray is to Melmoth the Wanderer. As I read the words of the Wanderer, I was reminded of the dialogue of Lord Henry Wotton in The Picture of Dorian Gray. Like any good devil (or one influenced by such a devil) both Melmoth and Lord Henry knew how to twist truths to influence their victims (I suppose one could consider Dorian a victim of Henry, after all). At the same time, it seems both Maturin and Wilde made interesting points through these devilish characters. 

I must admit I also see some striking comparisons between Maturin's ideas in Melmoth and in the life of Oscar Wilde. I find it interesting that Oscar took the alias of Melmoth. In the novel, there is more than one Melmoth. There is Melmoth, an old and curmudgeonly miser. There is Melmoth, a curious and determined nephew. Of course, there is also Melmoth the Wanderer, the being who wanders the world looking for souls to gather for his demonic master. Why did Oscar take this name? Was it that he felt he was doomed to wander after his imprisonment? Was it that he believed worse about himself - that he had harmed others beyond their ability to heal? We know he never saw his sons again, and he did express remorse over how his circumstances affected his wife, Constance. I couldn't help but think of Oscar when I read the following quote from the Wanderer, "...I alone must sustain the penalty. If I have put forth my hand, and eaten of the fruit of the interdicted tree, am I not driven from the presence of God and the region of paradise and even sent to wander amid worlds of barrenness and curse for ever and ever?" (Maturin). I find it amazing that this book written thirty-four years before Oscar's birth, could so well describe his possible emotions. 

But Maturin seems to be an expert at understanding human emotions - human psychology. Much of what is written in Melmoth the Wanderer is Maturin's criticism of Catholicism. However, what he writes struck a chord with me. The thoughts and feelings of those affected by Maturin's ideas of cruel religion are reflective of the thoughts and feelings of those who have been affected by legalistic religion and spiritual abuse. I took so many notes over the accuracy of Maturin's analysis of the human mind - the human mind that has been abused and tortured by painful doctrine that induces guilt and frustration. 

I am often amazed at how well nineteenth-century authors understood the human mind. I think this is one of the reasons nineteenth-century literature is probably my favorite fiction. Charles Maturin's Melmoth the Wanderer is worth reading for this very understanding. At times, the novel can be somewhat drawn out or dense. However, it is a powerful work that I will be using in my own future writing. 

Oscar Wilde and Contemporary Literature - the Power of Influence

 I am been studying the life and works of Oscar Wilde for a few years now. I am writing what I call a "dissertation" (in quotation marks because I have not yet begun my PhD. However, I hope to possibly use this work for my actual dissertation when the time comes). As a part of this study, I have also researched and read various books that influenced Wilde himself. (Keep an eye out, in future posts, for my discussion of Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin). Imagine my thrill with reading a more contemporary book (published in 1992) that reminds me of Oscar Wilde, his ideology, and his works. Oscar Wilde is still an influence on today's writers. 

A few months ago, I ran across a book called The Little Friend by Donna Tartt in a little library/book drop. What caught my attention was the vintage doll pictured on the cover of the book. (I collect dolls, as well as other vintage and antique oddities). Once I began reading this book, I could not put it down. I was so impressed with the author's literary writing style. Once I read this Southern Gothic novel, I just had to read more of her works. I was especially intrigued by the dark academia in and of The Secret History. (Please note: the remainder of the post contains spoilers). 

I have always enjoyed books (and movies) with academic settings. I also love it when characters hover on the border between good and evil. A dark cloud hanging over those questionable characters draws me in even more. The Secret History has all the above. It includes an interesting psychological study. 

Something else that stood out to me about this novel is the idea that academic studies are too often not often valued by society. I could relate to that. I could empathize with these questionable characters in this respect. 

However, what really caught my eye (and my heart, because of these years of Oscar Wilde research) is the influence I just have to think Oscar Wilde had on Donna Tartt and her writing of this novel. Let me discuss some of the similarities. I think you may see some of my points. 

First allow me to point out some of the similarities between The Secret History and Oscar Wilde's only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. 

1. Both novels include a character who influences another with Greek ideals - Lord Henry Wotton in Dorian Gray and Julian Morrow in The Secret History. 

2. All influencers need an influencee. Both novels contain a character that is the influencee, or one who becomes quite close to the influencer - Dorian Gray in The Picture of Dorian Gray and Henry Winter (and to a lesser extent, Bunny, Richard, Francis, Camilla, and Charles) in The Secret History. Both Julian and Lord Henry mold their disciples into the image they create. 

3. Is there not even a similarity in the names - Dorian and Julian and Henry and, well, Henry? 

4. The influencers in both novels encourage their disciple(s) to lose control of themselves, to let it all go. 

5. Both novels have disastrous results - a suicide, an accidental death, a murder, and an accidental suicide in The Picture of Dorian Gray and two murders (one premediated) and, later, a suicide in The Secret History. 

6. Descriptions of seedy bars and drug use in The Secret History are reminiscent of the opium den visited by Dorian Gray. 

7. Both novels have a moral gray area.  

8. In both novels, there is no guilt for atrocities committed by protagonists. 

9. Both novels reflect both the good and bad of Greek ideology. 

Now to the similarities between The Secret History and the life of Oscar Wilde himself. 

1. Oscar Wilde, who majored in classics at Oxford and was a scholar of all things Greek, was a proponent of aestheticism or art for art's sake and beauty for beauty's sake. This is an idea that is prevalent in The Secret History. 

2. Francis, a character in The Secret History, is said to have reminded the narrator, Richard, of Alfred Douglas. Lord Alfred Douglas was Oscar Wilde's secret lover. 

3. Honesty is called a dangerous virtue in The Secret History. How can this not remind one of an Oscar Wilde epigram? 

4. Julian Morrow is not only similar to Lord Henry Wotton; he is similar in many ways to Lord Henry's creator. He is charming, well-spoken, and has an heir of innocence with just a touch of questionable ideas. He is, in a word, delightful. 

5. The young students of Julian Morrow become convinced that experience is everything. There's another Oscar epigram in there. 

6. Carnal and spiritual are woven together in The Secret History, as they were for Oscar Wilde. It must be those ancient Greek ideas. 

7. Henry Winter, our wealthy young murderer in The Secret History, was said to relate to the poor. He even attracted our outcast narrator. Oscar Wilde was similar. He recognized differences in nineteenth-century class, but he was attracted to those who were not considered respectable. He detested all things middle class.

8. The character Bunny Corcoran, even though he was, so I have read, inspired by Tartt's college friend, author Bret Easton Ellis, also bears some resemblance to Lord Alfred Douglas - particularly in Tartt's descriptions of Bunny's outbursts. 

9. Oscar Wilde always had a fascination with Catholicism and, in fact, converted to this religion on his deathbed. Catholicism figures into the storyline of The Secret History. Even the pagan Julian Morrow shows a respect for the Catholic faith. 

10. Superstition plays a role in the ideas of the characters in The Secret History. Oscar Wilde was, himself, quite a superstitious individual. There is even a psychic who plays a minor role in the novel. Likewise, a fortune-teller, played a minor role in Osar Wilde's life. 

11. Oscar often referred to those with whom he disagreed as Philistines, a term used in The Secret History. 

 12. Perhaps the greatest possible reference to Oscar Wilde arises in the the contrast between Julian and Oscar Wilde. Julian ran when he was confronted with possible legal repercussions for his influence. Oscar Wilde did not. He, in fact, blatantly refused to run from his legal problems, even when his friends attempted to convince him running was the best plan. Henry Winter considered Julian a coward for running. Oscar refused to be called a coward, whatever it may cost him. Henry Winter became like Oscar, perhaps, when he chose suicide over cowardice. 

13. There is also an interesting critique of aestheticism in the pages of The Secret History. I will quote from this critique here: "There is nothing wrong with the love of Beauty. But Beauty - unless she is wed to something more meaningful - is always superficial. It is not that your Julian chooses solely to concentrate on certain, exalted things; it is that he chooses to ignore others equally as important" (511). The reader is left to wonder which ideology Donna Tartt prefers. 

These comparisons are all the more fascinating to me because I recently read an interview with Donna Tartt. In this interview, Tartt responded to a question about which author from the past she would most like to meet with the answer "Oscar Wilde." Perhaps there is a clue in there. 

I probably have no need to say I thoroughly enjoyed reading The Secret History as much as I enjoyed The Little Friend. I, no doubt, will be using some of my ideas in my Oscar Wilde project. This is especially exciting to me since, as I indicated above, I am currently reading Melmoth the Wanderer, which was an influence on Oscar Wilde. I look forward to continuing an interesting study about influences, influencers, and influencees. 

Welcome to the Blog and a Discussion of Poor Miss Finch

 I want to share a bit about what you can expect from this blog. 

I am a historian and a lover of classic literature. My historical foci are social and literary history of the nineteenth century. These areas of history will be themes of this blog. Because classic literature was a part of history, I will also write about literary works - especially, but not limited to, works of the nineteenth century. I believe we need more historical and literary studies in our world today. I want this blog to show why history and classic literature are important. Please note: the posts I share may contain spoilers of the works.

I am going to begin this blog with today's post about the novel Poor Miss Finch by Wilkie Collins. I, just today, finished my reading of this classic work. Wilkie Collins was a nineteenth-century, British sensationalist author. Edgar Allan Poe was the inventor of detective fiction, with his short story "The Murders in the Rue Morgue." Around twenty years later, Wilkie Collins wrote The Moonstone, the first full-length detective novel. His use of page breaks and pauses kept his readers wanting to read what came next in his novels. I consider him one of the first thriller writers. 

I began reading Wilkie Collins novels around three years ago, thanks to his monumental work The Woman in White being mentioned by the author of a book I had read. (The Woman in White was so monumental, in fact, that the title is written on his tombstone). Being interested in the history of asylums (a theme of The Woman in White), I had to read this classic novel. I became hooked on Collins' writing. I am still regularly reading Wilkie Collins' novels. Like his friend Charles Dickens, Collins wrote several. My latest reading was, of course, Poor Miss Finch. 

There are a few areas for interesting historical research in Poor Miss Finch. The first, a study undertaken by Collins himself, is a study of the understanding of physical blindness throughout history. The protagonist of the novel is blind. Collins' purpose was to show what studies had stated - sometimes people who have been without their vision for most or all of their life are more content with not being able to see than they are with being able to see. At least, that was the conclusion he drew in the nineteenth century. My Oxford World's Classics edition provides an interesting essay by Catherine Peters that discusses such studies. 

Another area of historical research which I, as a collector of antique medicine bottles, found fascinating is the use of Nitrate of Silver to treat epileptic seizures. I did a bit of research on this medication. It was not used for long. It was replaced by a better treatment - one that did not have a side effect unique to silver. Nitrate of Silver, as happens to a character in Poor Miss Finch, could turn the skin of the patient blue. 

The narrator of Poor Miss Finch is a historical study in and of herself. Readers of the novel may find themselves researching nineteenth-century, Italian conflicts after reading Madame Pratolungo's history. I, myself, love her independent attitude. Her history is an important part of this. 

Something I, as a scholar of Oscar Wilde history, found particularly interesting was a note in Peters' introductory essay about John Ruskin's dislike of Poor Miss Finch. Ruskin, according to Peters, considered the novel too extravagant and morbid. This interests me because Ruskin was a professor of and influence on Wilde, who, himself, could be quite extravagant and even morbid at times. I love it when my various studies merge. 

Aside from the historical studies within the pages of Poor Miss Finch, the novel is also a fascinating study of different types and levels of fear and anxiety. This also attracted me. I recognized an important theme of human nature (perhaps with bits of narcissism thrown in for good measure). The idea that brought tears to my eyes was that of grace, mercy, and forgiveness. 

I encourage anyone who is interested in nineteenth-century history and wonderful works of literature to delve into the world of Poor Miss Finch. I welcome your comments and ideas as well. Happy Reading!