Dostoiévski: uma vida íntima

O título afastou-me, “Dostoevsky in Love” (2021), mas algumas críticas ao livro levaram-me a perceber que havia aqui algo mais. Alex Christofi não entrega um livro sobre os romances do escritor, apesar de falar deles, o foco é antes aquilo que aparece em subtítulo, “An Intimate Life”, que vai dos amores às obsessões, doenças, humilhações, torturas, e claro, a fé. Mas o que torna esta obra verdadeiramente incontornável é o seu processo de criação. Christofi começa por falar na ausência de uma autobiografia que Dostoiévski quis escrever mas acabou por não o fazer, pelo que Christofi procura exatamente chegar aqui àquilo que poderia ter sido essa autobiografia, ou como lhe chama o autor, "memórias reconstruídas".

Para o efeito, faz algo, academicamente nada aconselhável, como ele própria afirma, mas que acaba resultando num trabalho imensamente poderoso. “Dostoevsky in Love” apresenta-se como um pedaço de tecido da vida de Dostoiévski, costurado de forma uniforme e homogéna a partir dos diários, as cartas e a ficção do autor. Cada parte aparece entre aspas ou em itálico, com as notas a serem remetidas para o final do livro, por forma a construir o necessário fluxo narrativo. As citações contam-se em número de 452, retiradas de quase tudo aquilo que Dostoiévski escreveu em vida. 

Não encontrei nada de muito novo aqui, nomeadamente por ter lido as principais grandes obras do autor, durante as quais fui lendo muitos textos de suporte com contexto histórico dos momentos em que foram escritas, acrescentando ainda o livro de Coetzee, “ O Mestre de Petersburgo”. Contudo, como ainda não tive coragem para ler o gigante “Dostoevsky: A Writer in His Time Book” (2002, 989p) de Joseph Frank, acabei aceitando entrar por mais esta porta, bastante mais acessível. Mas, se não encontrei nada de muito novo, a leitura foi muito boa, o trabalho de Christofi é soberbo, ainda que bastante resumido. Ao longo do livro sentimo-nos em casa, dentro do mundo ficcional de Dostoiévski, mas também dentro da sua mente, e só por isso vale a leitura.

Construção 3D por Vahid Ahmadi

Excerto da introdução, sobre o processo de criação: 

“This book therefore cheerfully commits an academic fallacy, which is to elide Dostoevsky’s autobiographical fiction with his fantastical life in the hope of creating the effect of a reconstructed memoir. (The fact is, this is neither a story nor a memoir.5) Indeed, I am not an academic, and if you are looking for a biography that never crosses such a line, there are already a number in print (…) My aim is to explore whether a synthesis is possible – a tale both novelistic and true to life, representing Dostoevsky in his own words. Because Dostoevsky’s overarching project was to understand how people thought – the sometimes maddening ways we explain and deceive ourselves – and to represent that thought faithfully so that others might know themselves better. (…) 

 When writers conceive fiction, they often shear memories off from their context to use them as the building blocks of their new world. It is a kind of wilful source amnesia. By carefully parsing what is known of Dostoevsky’s life, it is possible to re-attribute many of the memories and sense impressions that litter his fiction, and to give some insight into his habits of thought. (There’s a whole new approach waiting to be discovered. The psychological data alone are enough to point to the real trail. ‘We’ve got facts!’ they say. But facts aren’t everything; knowing how to deal with the facts is at least half the battle.)7" 

5. The Meek One’, from A Writer’s Diary, Volume 1, November 1876, p. 677.

7. Crime and Punishment, trans. Oliver Ready, p. 164.

Construção 3D por Vahid Ahmadi

Deixo um outro excerto do epílogo centrado na simulação de execução pela qual Dostoievsky passou antes de ser enviado para a prisão na Sibéria:

“I had not expected that the execution would take place for at least a week yet – I had counted on all the formalities taking some time – but they got my papers ready quickly.16

At five in the morning I was asleep, and it was cold and dark. The governor came in and touched my shoulder gently, and I started.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘The execution is fixed for ten o’clock,’ he said.

I was only just awake, and couldn’t believe it at first – I began to ask about my papers. But by the time I was really awake and saw the truth of the matter, I fell silent and stopped arguing, as I could see there was no point. The governor watched me. All I could say was, ‘It’s very hard to bear – it’s so sudden.’

Those last three or four hours pass by in the preparations. You see the priest, have your breakfast – coffee, meat, even a little wine. The priest was there the whole time, talking. You get in the cart and the houses recede – but that’s nothing.17

There is still the second turning. There is still a whole street, and however many houses have been passed, there are still many left. And so to the very end, to the very scaffold. At the most terrible moments of a man’s life, he will forget anything but some roof that has flashed past him on the road, or a jackdaw on a cross.1

The most terrible part of the punishment is not the bodily pain, but the certain knowledge that in an hour, then in ten minutes, then in half a minute, your soul must quit your body and you will no longer be a man, and that this is certain – certain!18”

1 The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Garnett, p. 810.

16  The Idiot, p. 57.

17  The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Garnett, p. 806.

18  The Idiot, p. 57.