The Idiot on the Bus
Dear Friends,
I was intending to go adventuring, but instead I’m going to watch Contagion or something. As I write this, I am now in quarantine for having flown through Frankfurt on my return to Israel. Germany was just put on the people-who-were-here-must-be-quarantined list. Thus, despite the fact I’ve been out and about, I am now in quarantine. Happily for me, this also means my quarantine will be short. Nevertheless, it feels a little ridiculous to have to stay in my room when I feel fit as a fiddle.
Since I’m sure you’re all sick of hearing about the coronavirus and probably don’t want to see pictures of my room, here is a book review I wrote a few months ago. Rereading it, I realized that it is basically an extended question about what the book means. Any input would be appreciated.
Dear Friends,
I just finished listening to The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky (narrated by Robert Whitfield) while riding the bus to and from campus. That means 22 hours on the bus made easier by this most excellent book. Though, I must admit the Russian names do get confusing; there are at least three generals in the book whose names sound the same, and I didn’t realize this until the end when one of the generals died and there were still two left.
I don’t understand this book. Prince Myshkin is an admirable person. He strives to live in right relation to all other people and tell the truth. He assumes the best in people and gives them ample opportunity to be better than they are. Instead, they take advantage of him, but he still engages with them. Sometimes, it seems like he is hopelessly naïve, but other times he has unexpected insight into human nature.
I think Prince Myshkin is a fascinating example of the pierrot motif in literature. According to my English professor, the pierrot is a variation on the “holy fool.” I believe that the difference is: holy fools are expressly focused on Christ, whereas pierrots are fools who draw people to be better without direct reference to religion. In Deep River by Shusaku Endo, every main character meets a different pierrot. The pierrot helps that character heal or opens them up to that possibility. The main character in The Island (the 2006 Russian film) is an example of a holy fool. He really seems insane at times and all his fellow monks are like, “Dear God, he’s crazy!” But he points out their hypocrisy through his foolishness. Despite this (or because of it), they love him through their frustration.
Myshkin isn’t deliberately a fool and isn’t specifically oriented towards Christ. So, he is probably a pierrot. He is always unconsciously saying the unexpected or unacceptable. This scandalizes the people who are used to the lies, masks and manners of society. Myshkin constantly discovers the wounds and rot in people’s hearts. He wants everyone to be good and whole; and, he seeks to help them achieve this. But many don’t want to become better. Sometimes it seems like Myshkin makes people worse by his attempts to help them…though, perhaps he just shines a light on how bad they truly are.
All the people he interacts with react to him. Wherever he goes, Myshkin is a catalyst. People love him or hate him and act on it. No one is neutral. Yet, even the people who hate him are continually drawn to him. They taunt him when they see him but continue to visit him. Everyone calls him an idiot to his face, but they all want to talk to him. Most of what they believe to be idiocy is his genuine concern for other people and constant speaking of the truth. But this isn’t done in society; most people speak in a constant mazes of small, polite lies to conceal vulnerability. Myshkin cuts through these. He is vulnerable and provokes people into revealing their own vulnerabilities.
Should we aspire to be pierrots/holy fools? Aspire is the wrong word since to be a holy fool necessitates an enormous amount of humility. Can you aspire to humility? Should we want to be like Prince Myshkin? He is as innocent as a dove, but is not as wise as a serpent. We should be both (Matthew 10:16). The world destroyed Christ, and, in the book, it destroys Myshkin. Christ knew He was going to save the world, so His apparent foolishness was true wisdom. Myshkin doesn’t save the world; I’m not certain he saves anyone. He is just destroyed. This does not seem to be wisdom. Nevertheless, we should try to speak the truth and care for people as genuinely as Myshkin does. What else could he or can we do? If we don’t do this, we are lost in the mazes of lies. In this book goodness is destroyed by the society it sought to make better. Is this a result of Myshkin’s naivety and lack of serpent wisdom? Is it because society cannot abide goodness and seeks to kill it? What does that mean?
It would be a terrifying to be a catalyst the way Prince Myshkin is.
Pax.
DS
