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A review by umbrelina
Poor Folk by Fyodor Dostoevsky
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.75
Poor Folk was Dostoevsky’s first published story, and first literary success. Written before his imprisonment in Siberia, this work shows traces of the ideologies which dominate his later work, yet underdeveloped. Nevertheless, it is a generally cohesive work which presents characters raw in their reality, and in painfully real situations.
(Spoilers from here on)
The prevalent theme of Poor Folk is, simply put, suffering. Disease, pain, death, mental anguish, social inequality, humiliation - the list is endless. Our characters seem to be drowning in their miseries. Nature itself is part of this suffering - it is always cold, raining/ snowing, windy, etc., something which creates a truly oppressive atmosphere. Then, the living conditions of our main characters - dirty, disease-riddled, and overcrowded rooms, significantly adds to the claustrophobic feel of this book. In short, there seems to be no way to avoid suffering.
The two main characters feel this abundantly. Makar Alexeyevich is old, tired, underfed, and underpaid for a job in which his coworkers regularly mock him. He holds a very pessimistic view of himself -uneducated, simple, mediocre - which pushes him to allow his humiliation and dismal way of living as being deserving of it. I would argue that he experiences two ‘glimmers of hope’ throughout the whole novel.
Firstly, that of knowing Varvara Alekseyevna. Her regular reliance on him gives him a purpose, something which perhaps he would not be able to find within himself. It is for her he works and spends his money, and he holds a purely wholesome love for her which survives even the darkest times and which is, to the reader, truly admirable. It is also true, however, that this sentiment gives way to a form of selfishness in Makar. He anchors his self-worth on Varvara and often impedes her in moving away/ finding a job (which would better her situation) because he would not he able to live without her. This is symbolic of the support system needed for people undergoing hardship, but also is telling of the fine line between selfless/selfish love.
The second glimmer of hope is Makar’s receiving 100 roubles from his boss. This sum of money cannot be overstated at the point he receives it, and it is immediately obvious that it could change his life. Unfortunately, Makar is poor at managing his money, and spends it almost in its entirety straight away. I found it hard to place any blame on him for this, however - most of the spending was necessary and, as far as human nature goes, is it so damnable to want to have nice things? If anything, this episode shows the difficulty of being in such a position, and how hard it is to get out of it.
Makar also displays a trait which Dostoevsky would later overturn in his writings. He blames his situation almost entirely on external factors -i.e., he is never to blame for his dismal quality of life. This is largely true, and applicable to most (if not all) characters in this book- their poverty, etc, can be largely attributed to misfortune. It is, nevertheless, interesting to see this approach of almost no accountability being assumed, and Makar being taken this way and that by the events of his life, seemingly having no control (he attributes these events to God’s plan or ‘fate’). Like I said, Dostoevsky would later deny this and imply that people have autonomy and the chance to change their lives.
Perhaps a hint of this way of thought is present in Varvara. She too has a dismal life - she is orphaned, poor, and later socially ruined by a man. Most touching, in my opinion, was her relationship with her neighbour, the student. Here is her introduction to a different way of life. In many ways, he seems to be the threshold between her previous, painful childhood, and her potentially better adulthood. He himself lives a dismal life, however, and eventually dies of ill health. His request to see the sunrise one last time, and this being futile due to the gloomy, sun-less morning, is symbolic of Varvara’s potential happiness being abruptly cut off. With his death, her life seems to plunge into a new shade of darkness.
Differently to Makar, Varvara is more realistic. She lives in perpetual melancholy, with episodes of ill health and depression, perhaps due to her realism. Whereas Makar fools himself into believing his situation is not so bad, Varvara is always acutely aware of her poverty and lack of potential. She evidently cares for Makar too, and constantly warns him not to waste his money on her.
Varvara has two chances to take initiative over her life and attempt to change it. The first is an offer to become a governess in the countryside. Here, she asks for Makar’s advice, and eventually is convinced against it, showing the difficulty of breaking habits which lead us to ruin, even if we are aware of their damage. Her second chance is at the end of the book, when the man who ruined her socially asks her to marry him. His reasons are entirely selfish, and he is a crude, violent man. Her life may improve in some aspects due to his wealth, but would worsen in others. Nevertheless, she chooses to marry him, not asking Makar for advice. Here is initiative, here is change. Note, though, that this is not complete change and that, in line with the general theme of the book, Varvara’s ability to change her life is very restricted. She cannot overhaul her whole situation and lead an entirely good life. Still, her action sets her apart from Makar and is promising of a slightly better future.
To end, there is much more to be said about this book. Granted, it is not Dostoevsky’s most complex or even subtle in its aims, but I think that people often oversimplify its cohesion and impact. For any reader of Dostoevsky, anyway, it is mandatory in understanding his ideas and style not only before his exile, but more broadly on the eve of his literary career. And then, even those who are not regular readers of his work stand to gain in reading this novel which so acutely exposes poverty, society, and humanity (especially in suffering), and this in an unpretentious, real way.
(Spoilers from here on)
The prevalent theme of Poor Folk is, simply put, suffering. Disease, pain, death, mental anguish, social inequality, humiliation - the list is endless. Our characters seem to be drowning in their miseries. Nature itself is part of this suffering - it is always cold, raining/ snowing, windy, etc., something which creates a truly oppressive atmosphere. Then, the living conditions of our main characters - dirty, disease-riddled, and overcrowded rooms, significantly adds to the claustrophobic feel of this book. In short, there seems to be no way to avoid suffering.
The two main characters feel this abundantly. Makar Alexeyevich is old, tired, underfed, and underpaid for a job in which his coworkers regularly mock him. He holds a very pessimistic view of himself -uneducated, simple, mediocre - which pushes him to allow his humiliation and dismal way of living as being deserving of it. I would argue that he experiences two ‘glimmers of hope’ throughout the whole novel.
Firstly, that of knowing Varvara Alekseyevna. Her regular reliance on him gives him a purpose, something which perhaps he would not be able to find within himself. It is for her he works and spends his money, and he holds a purely wholesome love for her which survives even the darkest times and which is, to the reader, truly admirable. It is also true, however, that this sentiment gives way to a form of selfishness in Makar. He anchors his self-worth on Varvara and often impedes her in moving away/ finding a job (which would better her situation) because he would not he able to live without her. This is symbolic of the support system needed for people undergoing hardship, but also is telling of the fine line between selfless/selfish love.
The second glimmer of hope is Makar’s receiving 100 roubles from his boss. This sum of money cannot be overstated at the point he receives it, and it is immediately obvious that it could change his life. Unfortunately, Makar is poor at managing his money, and spends it almost in its entirety straight away. I found it hard to place any blame on him for this, however - most of the spending was necessary and, as far as human nature goes, is it so damnable to want to have nice things? If anything, this episode shows the difficulty of being in such a position, and how hard it is to get out of it.
Makar also displays a trait which Dostoevsky would later overturn in his writings. He blames his situation almost entirely on external factors -i.e., he is never to blame for his dismal quality of life. This is largely true, and applicable to most (if not all) characters in this book- their poverty, etc, can be largely attributed to misfortune. It is, nevertheless, interesting to see this approach of almost no accountability being assumed, and Makar being taken this way and that by the events of his life, seemingly having no control (he attributes these events to God’s plan or ‘fate’). Like I said, Dostoevsky would later deny this and imply that people have autonomy and the chance to change their lives.
Perhaps a hint of this way of thought is present in Varvara. She too has a dismal life - she is orphaned, poor, and later socially ruined by a man. Most touching, in my opinion, was her relationship with her neighbour, the student. Here is her introduction to a different way of life. In many ways, he seems to be the threshold between her previous, painful childhood, and her potentially better adulthood. He himself lives a dismal life, however, and eventually dies of ill health. His request to see the sunrise one last time, and this being futile due to the gloomy, sun-less morning, is symbolic of Varvara’s potential happiness being abruptly cut off. With his death, her life seems to plunge into a new shade of darkness.
Differently to Makar, Varvara is more realistic. She lives in perpetual melancholy, with episodes of ill health and depression, perhaps due to her realism. Whereas Makar fools himself into believing his situation is not so bad, Varvara is always acutely aware of her poverty and lack of potential. She evidently cares for Makar too, and constantly warns him not to waste his money on her.
Varvara has two chances to take initiative over her life and attempt to change it. The first is an offer to become a governess in the countryside. Here, she asks for Makar’s advice, and eventually is convinced against it, showing the difficulty of breaking habits which lead us to ruin, even if we are aware of their damage. Her second chance is at the end of the book, when the man who ruined her socially asks her to marry him. His reasons are entirely selfish, and he is a crude, violent man. Her life may improve in some aspects due to his wealth, but would worsen in others. Nevertheless, she chooses to marry him, not asking Makar for advice. Here is initiative, here is change. Note, though, that this is not complete change and that, in line with the general theme of the book, Varvara’s ability to change her life is very restricted. She cannot overhaul her whole situation and lead an entirely good life. Still, her action sets her apart from Makar and is promising of a slightly better future.
To end, there is much more to be said about this book. Granted, it is not Dostoevsky’s most complex or even subtle in its aims, but I think that people often oversimplify its cohesion and impact. For any reader of Dostoevsky, anyway, it is mandatory in understanding his ideas and style not only before his exile, but more broadly on the eve of his literary career. And then, even those who are not regular readers of his work stand to gain in reading this novel which so acutely exposes poverty, society, and humanity (especially in suffering), and this in an unpretentious, real way.