But Dostoyevsky is brilliant, his impenetrable style notwithstanding - in Crime and Punishment he paints such vivid scenes that I can still in my mind’s eye see Raskolnikov’s crappy apartment, the widow slumping to the floor, axe in her head, the markets of St Petersburg, the reeking drunks by the stables... it builds into something glittering, always, even when painted only in dun and ochre.
Joyce is an apt comparison - he’s similarly a painter with words - I feel like I’ve visited 19th century Dublin having read his works, although he does make Dostoyevsky look sedate and restrained.
Joyce is an apt comparison - he’s similarly a painter with words - I feel like I’ve visited 19th century Dublin having read his works, although he does make Dostoyevsky look sedate and restrained.