Dear God

Dear God,

There are twenty-six presents hidden in Connecticut homes today that were intended for those who died in Newtown to celebrate your upcoming birthday. These presents are unlikely to be returned for refund; they’ll more likely be hidden deeper, brought out on certain anniversaries to grieve, blame or regret until one day in the distant future somebody’s executor might donate them to a charity, unknowing of their provenience. It will most likely be a church charity you’ll be pleased to know, so maybe you could consider something in return.

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translation by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky

Finishing the last page of Dostoyevsky’s last book can be regarded as a personal milestone. You are entitled to congratulate yourself for having had the courage to tackle it in the first place (no such kudos for finishing though – that’s a given). In attempting to write a review however, the milestone becomes a millstone. Many have shared their opinions before you – Kafka liked it and Hemingway did not; atheists and Popes have applauded it antithetically; historians and ethicists have polarised and galvanised opinions while many persons of universally accepted wisdom have referred to it has the greatest book ever written.

Descriptions of the story abound so I will not retell it – it is merely the pinhead on which Dostoyevsky’s angels dance. The plot is only the portent of the themes and these are exposed by the players. To convey what he seeks to deliver, Dostoyevsky uses his exceptional gift for characterisation to portray the contradictions of the human condition.