The Brothers Karamazov: Amazon Classics Edition
By: Fyodor Dostoevsky / Translated By: Constance Garnett / Narrated By: James Anderson Foster
Length: 34 hrs and 18 mins
Soooo worth the time! Might I shout a mighty Huzzah?! but NOT for this translation…?
Here’s the deal: I’d been messaging with a friend but then said I had to scoot for The Brothers Karamazov, and this led to his query of, “You’re reading that?!”. And that’s where I had to clarify that noooo, m’ husband was reading it, and I was sprawled on the living room cot and scarfing TexMex trail mix whilst Listening. What a joy it’s been for My MOST Significant of Others and I to tackle a grand work of grand Literature together.
The Brothers Karamazov was thus our Summer of 2022 Reading.
So why, I hear you asking, would I hit the audiobook after already hearing it? Well, I must respond that it’s cuz o’ that dratted trail mix. Talk about empty carbs, it had me TOTALLY dozing off a multitude of times during the second chapter read for the evening. So, dude! I’ve listened to it because, yup, I’ve been thaaaaat close to missing out on what Freud dubbed the greatest novel ever.
And so now I must tackle the PLETHORA of versions of audiobooks of this gem available. I’d initially snubbed this one seeing as how James Anderson Foster is the narrator. I’d earlier dinged him in A Handful of Happiness in addition to him NOT being European. Plus, I’ve been in a chintzy mood and didn’t wanna spend a credit. Why, of COURSE this means (And he’s a BRIT!!!) Frederick Davidson is THE guy to get, despite the fact that I LOATHE Frederick Davidson. I gave his version a try, but it only served to remind me of just WHY I find his sneering performances so verrrrry grating on my nerves.
Next up with Kindle Unlimited’s Read and Listen for Free: Yup, James Anderson Foster…
He was magNIFicent! Yeh yeh yeh: TOTal American accent, but boy! did he bring the mmmph! to this incredibly wonderful novel. Here’s how he shines…
Cuz the whole thing opens with a study of Fyodor Karamazov, the NOT so dear Papa of three very different sons. The man is crude at best, vulgar, cunning, a licentious creep for the norm. The sons? Well, other people had to raise them, but now the three are back: the eldest, Dmitri, wants money as Fyodor bilked him of his inheritance; Ivan is a cold intellectual so who knows whyyyy HE’S around. And our main heroic figure is the youngest, Alyosha, who’s been living in a monastery and wishes to stay there with Zosima (The most revered of Elders at the monastery). This COULD’VE been boring, esPECially coming from a humdrum un-accented narrator, but Foster manages to imbue each word with the biting humor that author Dostoevsky packs into the opening of the story.
Then Foster kept me vaaastly entertained and engaged even as Dostoevsky went down rabbit holes galore, adding side stories that seem to go nowhere, to the point where I’d messaged m’ friend with words along the lines of: dude! is there going to be a point to the part about the schoolboys + deathbed soliloquies?! I was assured it would come together in the end but, truly, the writing coulda left me sorely peeved.
Foster rocked it! Women having hysterics? Check. Dmitri spouting poetry and angst? Check. Ivan questioning everything and coming up with: But of COURSE there’s no God, and here’s why (In a leeeengthy treatise!)? Check. ANY of Fyodor Karamazov perverse discourses or actions? Check. A boy with high ideals who’s extreeeemely impressionable but who spouts dogmatic ideals like crazy? Check. Alyosha as a character who danged near trundles along with a halo around his head, but we never wanna throttle him? Oh Foster checks that box easily as well. We very much care for each character (Tho’ I do wonder if the casting of women as hysterics and/or duplicitous was misogyny on Dostoevsky’s part or just a case of: Those Were The Way Things Were).
Narration? Impeccable! Writing and Story Crafting? Stellar! Translation? ACK!!!! This version is done by the ubiquitous Constance Garnett, when truly? Jiminy H. Cricket, I was expecting the superlative characterizations and word choices of David McDuff’s translation. There’s a part in the McDuff version entitled, “Crack-Ups” which is TOTALLY what’s going on in that section, and it’s a brilliant and down-to-earth choice. The eminent Richard Pevear chose, “Strains” which is sooo off-putting, so nooo to his version. But Garnett? Oh criminy! Her choice for the section and for Dostoevsky’s many Many MANY mentions of it throughout is, “Lacerations”! Oh UGH! How inCREdibly awkward when she says that Katerina “self-lacerated”… I mean, whazza?!?
I could go on and on for this review, discussing themes, and just how much appears to be consistent with our own views here and now in the 21st century. I could wax poetic (No, seriously! Sometimes I’m capable of it!) about the sublime characterizations and concepts tackled. But this is already a long review, so let’s just have, “It was a GRAND book, and Foster was so good!”
That said? Who knows, maybe I shoulda chucked the credit for the McDuff translation with Luke Thompson doing the narration honors?
Truth be told, however? I’m back to having hankerings for TexMex trail mix, so after a wonderful time? Yup, this faithful Accomplice’ll be snackin’ and snoozin’… something I did NOT do through ANY of this. Huzzah for delayed gratification.
Onward, y’all!!!
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