6 Answers2025-08-31
I must acknowledge that the P&V marketing machine is very good at what it does. So, you’ll find them on the cover of most classic sections in bookstores, and they are often good. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that they are the best translation of a given work, and therefore, other very good translations are dismissed solely on the basis of-store front hype.
And it creates a fascinating (and totally unfair) situation in which to laud Garnett or another translator one instantly appears to be a snarky, overhyping hipster contrarian challenging the givens of mass marketing. P&V is, for many, often the only good option, for specific books, however, another translator might be offering a far more suitable translation than P&V’s. Ultimately, one serves Dostoevsky, not the translator or publishing brand.
3 Answers2025-07-13
Let’s just give some credit to poor Sonya. Rather than telling us about Raskolnikov’s experiences, Sonya gives up her entire life and goes to Siberia. Her quiet strength in the epilogue is far more powerful than Raskolnikov’s collapse. She is the anchor of the entire ending to the novel.
11 Answers2025-08-18
I have a sort of contrarian perspective here. The best translations of literature are typically the oldest published versions, from the early part of the 20th century. This is because there is so much of value in the cultural filter of a translator. The translation becomes a sort of historical document of how the literature was perceived and assimilated by the English-speaking world of that era. I have a number of these very old published versions of Dostoevsky, some of which even I wouldn’t recommend to the general reader, for reasons already mentioned, yet they are of enormous value to the literary historian. For the enthusiast of literature with an interest in reception history, the old published versions are the ‘best’ in a totally different, meta sense.
9 Answers2025-06-03
The translation by Michael R. Katz of the novel by Dostoevsky is called The Devils and I think this title is very significant. Demons connotes some sort of internal, perhaps even spiritual force, whereas The Devils implies a number of external, almost person-like forces of evil roaming around in society and corrupting it. In other words, The Devils is a far more politically charged novel than Demons and certainly less of a psychological study of the illness of Russia than the latter novel. My emphasis here is on the historical and polemical aspects of the novel and so by choosing a translation, one is also choosing to view the novel through a somewhat subtle but distinctive interpretive lens even as one reads the title of the novel. Does one see the evil in the novel as some sort of disease of the soul of Russia (Demons) or as a group of rather malicious individuals (The Devils)? Both readings are certainly possible in the novel and are supported by it.
10 Answers2025-07-13
A book that benefits from marginalia. I felt like I had the most wonderful time reading this book. I underlined so much, put in so many question marks and exclamation marks, and felt that I was almost arguing with Raskolnikov on the margins of the pages. Noting down all the symbolic moments and tracking the weather and how it affected the mood of the characters was all so very worthwhile. And I felt that the length of the book was made so very meaningful by my having been an active reader, as opposed to having simply read the book. All in all, therefore, my having read this book was not simply a matter of my having logged so many hours, for in fact the time spent reading, and then thinking about and annotating what I had just read, was more than worth while. In short, I felt that I had been able to establish a most wonderful relationship with a very complex book. And if one approaches a classic such as this with the same mindset, then soon one will realize that the number of pages does not even begin to matter. For what matters is not the mere counting down of the number of pages left to read, but rather the wonderful and most superb process of understanding the book that one is reading.
7 Answers2025-07-13
My edition of the novel was 671 pages long, and I read it in 14 days, averaging 48 pages per day. I didn’t force myself to read a certain amount each day, but instead tried to read at about the same time every day. By doing so, I was able to sustain the mood of the novel, and maintain the necessary tension. Reading a long classic such as this can be daunting, but by setting a daily goal of, say, 30-50 pages, it becomes a pleasant daily ritual, rather than a chore. I read for about 30 minutes before bed each night, completing a chapter or two before drifting off to sleep. During the night, I would have strange and philosophical dreams. The novel would seep into my subconscious if I gave it consistent attention, and I found that the daily commitment to reading was enjoyable, rather than arduous.
9 Answers2025-07-16
Just as there are different interpretations of a Beethoven symphony – period-instruments performance, lush orchestral recording from mid-20th century, piano transcription, etc. – all playing the same notes but with a different timbre, tempo and overall ‘feel’ to them, Garnett being the grand, romantic orchestral recording of Beethoven’s work from the mid-20th century, P&V a period-instruments version of Beethoven’s work often jarring but attempting to be historically accurate, McDuff a crisp and clear digital recording of Beethoven’s work, Avsey being a passionate live performance of Beethoven’s work, etc. – none of them are objectively better than the others; they’re all just different interpretations of the work, and which one to go for will depend on what you’re looking for in music and/or prose.
10 Answers2025-06-07
I don’t get the translation debates for this book. The copy of Dr. Zhivago I read was a used book from my local used bookstore. It was the original 1958 translation by Max Hayward and Manya Harari. I had no problems with the translation. The book is a powerful story with hard characters and it’s a classic. I don’t think that there is overcompensation with translation of this book. Just find a decently reviewed copy and read it. The core of the book is so strong that it shines through.
7 Answers2026-05-02
I can find humor in the novel too (it’s really dark and subtle though). First of all, there’s Marmeladov. His drunken and semi-self-pitying monologues are, of course, tragic, but also somehow funny. Then there are the petty and scatterbrained officials, Mme Liputin and the Landlady, and, most of all, the bombastic and comically-failed attempts by Luzhin to better himself socially or financially. It’s clear that the author is savaging the social climbers, the cynical and hypocritical members of the Russian bourgeoisie, and their functionaries. Raskolnikov’s delusions of grandeur also have elements of the pathetic and the absurd. This humor is not funny in the sense that the novel is not a comedy (it is not), but rather the recognition of the ridiculous in a tragic situation makes the novel more human and therefore less a stern lecture.
6 Answers2026-07-27
Looking at a few translations again, since that is important. Garnett’s translation of Raskolnikov’s plan for his theory of the matter refers to it as a project; P&V translates this as an idea. One of these makes Raskolnikov out to be a rather abstract-minded sociologist; the other is of a piece with the rest of the novel and paints him as a man quite obsessive with his fixed idea. Do some research on translations; read some reviews. Choosing a translation is choosing a lens through which to read a story; and that choice will affect almost every character and theme in the novel.