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Subtitle | An Intimate Life |
First Written | 2021 |
Genre | Biography |
Origin | US |
Publisher | Bloomsbury Continuum |
ISBN-10 | 1472964691 |
ISBN-13 | 978-1472964694 |
My Copy | library copy |
First Read | July 10, 2021 |
Dostoevsky in Love
Also, WOW I have rarely wanted to go to St Petersburg more than I do today.
Noted on July 10, 2021
A really fun biography of Dosto, mixing in straight narrative with excerpts from his writings. It's a weird format but fluid, and really feels like you're reading the man himself. Which is I guess true as every tenth sentence is his. It's really deft, that's the word that came up a lot as I read. Impressive and a fun read.
Noted on July 10, 2021
[regarding the town Dosto settled in after he was released from the Siberian prison] Perhaps the most representative thing you can say about modern-day Omsk is that it has a metro system with only one station.
Quoted on July 10, 2021
In the middle of the square stood a column bearing the statue of Tsar Alexander I, a single 600-ton monolith that had been raised to celebrate victory over Napoleon. Nearby was a bronze equestrian statue of the city's namesake, Peter the Great, nicknamed 'The Bronze Horseman' after a famous narrative poem by Pushkin. If there were any lingering doubt that this statue stood in for the might of the Russian Empire, it had been raised on a granite pedestal known as the Thunder Stone: the largest single block of stone ever moved by humans, it weighed well over a thousand tons, and had been dragged six versts by 400 men over the course of nine months. If the Palace Square was the heart of the city, the artery that supplied its lifeblood was Nevsky Prospect, running south-east towards the Alexander Nevsky Monastery. It was here that members of society would take their afternoon stroll, officers jostling with literati, shopkeepers and the endless green uniforms of civil servants. Towards the top of Nevsky Prospect were the accumulated delights of Europe, parfumeries, Buchhandlerin and Barbieri jostling with signs in Cyrillic. In the morning, the street was filled with the smell of freshly baked bread as the old women came out in their rags to beg alms; but it remained quiet until midday, when the tutors and governesses would come out with their wards, correcting their posture. From two o'clock, the avenue blossomed into colour, as clerks finished up their business and couples walked arm in arm, the women in their finest gowns and the men sporting distinguished whiskers, some stopping for tea or to read a newspaper. The further you ventured away from the palace, the more the veneer of civilisation broke down until, eventually, you would find yourself among little huts and workshops, warehouses and sheds. In the dead of night, passers-by might be treated to the uncommon sight of prostitutes, in their silk dresses and jewellery, with feathers in their hats, being made to sweep the pavements by a detachment of police constables.
Quoted on July 10, 2021
They soon arrived in St Petersburg. At its centre was the Palace Square, home of Tsar Nicholas I, from which power and influence rippled outwards concentrically. There, at the heart of the city, were the three seats of Russian Imperial power: the Admiralty; the Winter Palace; and a huge cathedral that was still under construction.
Quoted on July 10, 2021
At breakfast the next day, Fyodor was seated next to a young woman. By way of small talk, he asked her whether she had ever read Dickens, and she admitted that she hadn't. Fyodor raised his voice, addressing the whole table: 'Ladies and gentlemen, we have the happiest person in the world among us!' The young woman looked quite flustered and the greybeards around the table confused, so Fyodor explained: 'She hasn't read Dickens and has it all to look forward to! How I would like to be in her place.'
Quoted on July 10, 2021