The Brothers Karamazov

The Brothers Karamazov Plot Summary

Introduction

In the small provincial towns of late 19th century Russia, a profound spiritual crisis was unfolding that would shape the nation's destiny for generations to come. As traditional Orthodox faith confronted the rising tide of Western rationalism, Russian society found itself torn between competing visions of truth and morality. This tension played out not just in philosophical debates among intellectuals, but in the intimate dramas of family life, where fathers and sons, brothers and lovers navigated the treacherous waters of a changing world. Through the microcosm of one dysfunctional family, we witness the larger struggles of a nation questioning its most fundamental beliefs about God, freedom, and human responsibility. This historical exploration takes us deep into the Russian soul during a pivotal moment of transformation. We discover how the breakdown of traditional family structures mirrored broader social disintegration, how religious doubt functioned not merely as intellectual position but as psychological torment, and how the judicial system became a theater where competing values were dramatically staged. Readers interested in the intersection of religious thought, social change, and psychological insight will find this journey particularly illuminating. By examining how one family's tragedy reflected an entire society's spiritual crisis, we gain valuable perspective on our own modern struggles with faith, doubt, and moral responsibility.

Chapter 1: The Divided House: Family Dysfunction in Late 19th Century Russia

The story unfolds in a provincial Russian town during the 1870s, a period of profound social transformation following the emancipation of the serfs in 1861. The Karamazov household stands as a microcosm of Russian society itself—fractured, unstable, and caught between fading traditions and uncertain new realities. At its head is Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov, a landowner whose moral corruption and self-indulgence represent the decay of the old aristocratic order. Once part of the privileged gentry, Fyodor has abandoned any pretense of noblesse oblige, instead pursuing his own pleasures with complete disregard for social responsibility or family obligation. The three legitimate Karamazov brothers embody different responses to their father's moral bankruptcy and the changing Russian society. Dmitri, the eldest, represents passionate Russia—impulsive, emotional, capable of both noble generosity and violent rage. A former military officer, he finds himself in direct conflict with his father over both money and romantic rivalry. Ivan, the middle son, personifies intellectual Russia—rational, educated in Western ideas, tormented by philosophical questions about God and morality. His famous declaration that "if God does not exist, everything is permitted" captures the moral vertigo experienced by many educated Russians as traditional religious foundations crumbled. Alyosha, the youngest, represents spiritual Russia—gentle, loving, seeking meaning through Orthodox faith under the guidance of the elder Zossima at the local monastery. The family's dysfunction stems not merely from individual character flaws but from deeper social disintegration. The absence of maternal influence—both brothers lost their mothers early—reflects the broader crisis in family structure occurring throughout Russia. Traditional patriarchal authority, once unquestioned, had become increasingly hollow and corrupt, while no new moral framework had yet emerged to replace it. The brothers' different upbringings—Dmitri raised by distant relatives, Ivan educated in Moscow, Alyosha in the monastery—further fragments the family unit, creating parallel worlds that barely intersect until crisis forces confrontation. Financial disputes reveal the material dimension of this family breakdown. Dmitri's demand for his inheritance, which he believes his father has withheld, transforms abstract moral conflicts into concrete legal battles. This mirrors the broader economic transitions in Russian society, where traditional land-based wealth was giving way to more fluid forms of capital, creating new tensions around property and inheritance. The father-son conflict over money becomes inseparable from their rivalry over Grushenka, a young woman whose ambiguous social position as neither respectable wife nor common prostitute reflects the blurring of traditional social categories. The gathering of this divided family at the monastery early in the narrative brings their conflicts into sharp relief while foreshadowing the tragedy to come. Elder Zossima's surprising gesture—bowing down before Dmitri—suggests his recognition of the suffering that awaits the passionate brother. This scene establishes the central tension that will drive events forward: can these brothers, and by extension Russia itself, find unity and moral purpose in a world where traditional bonds of family and faith have been severely weakened? The dysfunction of the Karamazov household thus becomes a lens through which we can examine the larger spiritual and social crisis of late 19th century Russia—a society searching for new forms of connection and meaning amid the ruins of its patriarchal past.

Chapter 2: Spiritual Crisis: Elder Zossima's Teachings vs. Ivan's Rebellion

The 1870s marked a period of unprecedented spiritual questioning in Russian society. The Orthodox Church, long the moral and cultural foundation of Russian life, faced challenges from multiple directions: Western scientific materialism, revolutionary ideologies, and internal criticisms of religious formalism. This spiritual crisis manifested most powerfully in the intellectual confrontation between Elder Zossima's compassionate Orthodox spirituality and Ivan Karamazov's rational rebellion against divine justice—two opposing responses to modernity that captured Russia's soul-searching during this turbulent era. Elder Zossima represents a revitalization of Orthodox spirituality through the institution of "elders" (startsy), spiritual guides whose authority derived not from ecclesiastical position but from personal holiness and wisdom. Historical figures like Tikhon of Zadonsk and Amvrosy of Optina Pustyn provided models for this character. Zossima's teachings emphasize active love rather than doctrinal rigidity: "Love all God's creation," he counsels, "love every leaf, every ray of light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things." This approach offered a path to renew Orthodox spirituality from within, making it responsive to modern concerns while maintaining its essential character. Ivan Karamazov articulates the most powerful intellectual challenge to religious faith in his famous "rebellion" against divine justice. His argument centers not on abstract theological questions but on the concrete suffering of innocent children: "It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket." This moral rejection of God's world based on the problem of evil resonated deeply with educated Russians who could no longer accept simplistic religious explanations for suffering. Ivan's "Legend of the Grand Inquisitor"—a poem within the narrative where Christ returns to earth during the Spanish Inquisition—further develops his critique, suggesting that religious authorities have betrayed Christ's message of freedom by offering security and certainty instead. The confrontation between these worldviews takes place against the backdrop of broader social changes. The growth of universities, journalism, and urban culture created new spaces for intellectual debate outside traditional religious institutions. Young Russians increasingly encountered Western philosophical ideas—Hegel, Feuerbach, Mill, Schopenhauer—that challenged Orthodox assumptions. Meanwhile, revolutionary movements offered secular alternatives to religious frameworks for understanding justice and human purpose. These developments created what one contemporary called a "spiritual vacuum" in which traditional beliefs were undermined before new values were firmly established. The monastery itself becomes a battlefield for competing visions of spirituality. While Zossima represents a compassionate, engaged Orthodoxy, other monks like Father Ferapont embody a more rigid, ascetic tradition suspicious of modern influences. When Zossima's body begins to decompose after death—contrary to popular expectations of a saint's incorruptibility—the resulting scandal reveals how traditional religious symbols were losing their power. This episode historically reflects actual controversies surrounding the elder tradition, which was viewed with suspicion by more conventional church authorities throughout the 19th century. The spiritual crisis embodied in the confrontation between Zossima and Ivan transcended individual belief to shape Russia's cultural and political future. The questions they raised—about suffering, freedom, and moral responsibility—would soon play out in revolutionary politics, with catastrophic consequences. Ivan's intellectual position that "everything is permitted" without God foreshadowed the moral nihilism that would enable political violence in the coming decades. Meanwhile, Zossima's vision of active love and universal responsibility offered an alternative path that was largely overlooked in the revolutionary fervor. This spiritual fork in the road represented perhaps the most crucial choice facing Russian society as it moved toward the 20th century—a choice between secular rationalism with its promise of justice through revolution, and a renewed spiritual tradition emphasizing transformation through love.

Chapter 3: The Murder and Its Aftermath: Crime in a Changing Society

The murder of Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov occurs in the autumn of 1879, sending shockwaves through the provincial town and becoming a catalyst that exposes deeper social fractures. The patriarch is found bludgeoned to death in his own home, with three thousand roubles stolen from his bedroom. This crime, shocking in itself, takes on additional significance in the context of late 19th century Russia, where traditional social bonds were weakening and new forms of criminality were emerging. Patricide—the killing of a father—carried particular symbolic weight in a society still organized around patriarchal authority, suggesting not just individual moral failure but a fundamental breakdown in the social order. The immediate aftermath reveals how different social classes respond to crime. The local officials—the police captain, investigating magistrate, and prosecutor—approach the murder through the lens of the recently reformed legal system, with its emphasis on evidence, procedure, and psychological motivation. These reforms, introduced in 1864 under Alexander II, represented Russia's attempt to modernize its judicial practices along Western European lines. Meanwhile, the townspeople respond with a mixture of religious horror at the sin of patricide and salacious interest in the scandal, gathering in taverns to discuss the latest rumors. Servants and peasants interpret events through traditional moral frameworks, seeing divine judgment at work. These varied responses highlight the cultural divides in Russian society, where Western-influenced legal rationalism existed alongside traditional religious understandings of crime as sin. The investigation quickly focuses on Dmitri Karamazov, whose public quarrels with his father over money and romantic rivalry with Grushenka provide clear motives. His arrest and interrogation reveal the new psychological approach to criminal investigation gaining ground in Russia. The prosecutor, Ippolit Kirillovitch, constructs a narrative of Dmitri's crime based not just on physical evidence but on his understanding of the suspect's character and psychological state. "It was a crime of impulse, a crime of passion," he theorizes, drawing on contemporary criminological ideas that emphasized psychological determinism over traditional concepts of moral choice. This approach reflects the influence of positivist criminology that was transforming legal practice throughout Europe in this period. Meanwhile, the actual murderer—Smerdyakov, the illegitimate son who served as Fyodor's cook—represents a new social phenomenon emerging in post-emancipation Russia. Neither fully servant nor family member, Smerdyakov occupies an ambiguous position that breeds resentment and moral confusion. His crime combines elements of traditional peasant violence with a disturbing modern nihilism influenced by Ivan's philosophical ideas. When he later confesses to Ivan, "I did it because you taught me that everything is permitted," he reveals how abstract intellectual theories could have deadly consequences when filtered through social resentment. Historically, this character reflects anxieties about the "superfluous man" in Russian society—educated enough to reject traditional values but lacking positive alternatives. The murder's aftermath extends beyond the immediate family to affect the entire community. The town divides into factions supporting or condemning Dmitri, often along lines that reflect broader social and ideological divisions. The case becomes a sensation in the regional newspapers, demonstrating the growing influence of mass media in shaping public opinion about crime. This publicity transforms a private family tragedy into a public spectacle, where competing narratives about what happened reveal deeper conflicts about Russian identity and values. Some see the crime as evidence of Western corruption infecting traditional Russian life, while others view it as the inevitable result of outdated patriarchal structures. The ripple effects of Fyodor's murder ultimately extend to all three brothers, forcing each to confront his own moral complicity. Ivan, though physically absent during the crime, faces the terrible realization that his philosophical ideas may have inspired the actual killer. Alyosha, the youngest and most innocent, must reconcile his spiritual ideals with the brutal reality of family violence. And Dmitri, though innocent of the actual murder, recognizes that his violent impulses toward his father make him morally culpable despite his technical innocence. This shared sense of responsibility reflects Elder Zossima's teaching that "each is responsible for all"—a spiritual insight that transcends the legal system's need to identify a single guilty party. The murder thus becomes not merely a crime to be solved but a moral crisis that implicates the entire social fabric, revealing the interconnection between individual actions and collective responsibility in a society undergoing profound transformation.

Chapter 4: The Trial as Social Theater: Justice and Class in Provincial Russia

The trial of Dmitri Karamazov, which takes place in November 1879, transforms the provincial courthouse into a stage where the drama of Russian society plays out in microcosm. The courtroom becomes a temporary theater where different social classes, normally separated by rigid boundaries, gather to witness justice being administered. The front rows are occupied by local nobility and officials, the middle section by merchants and professionals, while peasants and servants stand at the back. This physical arrangement mirrors the social hierarchy of late imperial Russia, where modernizing legal institutions operated within a still deeply stratified society. The trial thus offers a rare moment when Russian society can observe itself across class lines, with all its contradictions and tensions on public display. The judicial reforms of 1864 had introduced significant changes to Russia's legal system, including public trials, jury service, and the adversarial process between prosecution and defense. These Western-inspired reforms aimed to create a more rational and transparent system of justice, replacing the secretive, bureaucratic procedures of the pre-reform era. However, as the Karamazov trial reveals, these modern legal forms often fit awkwardly with Russian social realities. The jury, composed of four minor officials, two merchants, and six peasants, represents this awkward democratization of justice. Contemporary observers frequently questioned whether peasant jurors, many barely literate, could comprehend complex legal arguments or psychological evidence. This tension between Western legal forms and Russian social conditions reflected broader questions about Russia's modernization path. The prosecutor, Ippolit Kirillovitch, embodies the new professional class emerging in post-reform Russia. Educated in the latest criminological theories from Western Europe, he approaches the case as an opportunity to demonstrate his psychological insight and rhetorical skill. His closing argument frames Dmitri's alleged patricide as symptomatic of Russia's moral decay: "This is a typical family of the present day," he declares, "showing what a father and what children we have in this beautiful society of ours." This sociological approach to crime, viewing individual acts as reflections of broader social conditions, represented the latest thinking in European criminology. Yet the prosecutor's Western-influenced analysis fails to grasp the spiritual and emotional realities that actually motivated the crime, revealing the limitations of imported intellectual frameworks when applied to Russian conditions. The defense attorney, Fetyukovitch, brought at great expense from St. Petersburg, represents another aspect of Russia's legal modernization. As a professional advocate unconnected to the local community, he approaches the case with cosmopolitan detachment, employing sophisticated rhetorical techniques to create reasonable doubt. His strategy of undermining witness credibility and constructing alternative narratives demonstrates the growing emphasis on procedural justice over traditional concepts of moral certainty. Yet his brilliant defense, while technically impressive, misses the deeper truth of what actually occurred, suggesting that legal virtuosity could obscure rather than reveal justice. The public spectacle of the trial reveals how class and gender shaped perceptions of crime and punishment. The large number of women in attendance, particularly from the upper classes, reflects the contemporary phenomenon of "trial tourism," where sensational cases became social events. Their sympathy for the charismatic Dmitri, despite the serious charges against him, reveals how personal attraction could override moral judgment. Meanwhile, the peasant witnesses, when cross-examined by sophisticated attorneys, often became confused or defensive, highlighting the cultural gap between educated legal professionals and ordinary Russians. These interactions exposed the fragility of Russia's judicial reforms, which had created modern legal institutions without fully transforming the social conditions in which they operated. The verdict—Dmitri's conviction despite his actual innocence—reveals the tragic irony at the heart of Russia's judicial modernization. The jury system, intended to bring democratic participation into the justice process, produces a miscarriage of justice due to circumstantial evidence and class prejudice. This outcome historically reflects contemporary debates about jury trials in Russia, where acquittal rates were actually higher than in Western Europe, leading conservatives to criticize juries as too lenient. The Karamazov case inverts this pattern, suggesting that when class resentment and moral panic combined, juries could be excessively harsh. The trial thus becomes not just a legal proceeding but a mirror reflecting Russia's complicated relationship with Western institutions and values—adopting their forms while struggling with their implementation in a society still defined by traditional hierarchies and cultural divisions.

Chapter 5: Confronting the Devil: Intellectual Doubt and Psychological Torment

The winter of 1879-1880 marks a period of intense psychological crisis for Ivan Karamazov, culminating in his famous confrontation with the devil. This episode occurs against the backdrop of growing intellectual ferment in Russia, where traditional religious beliefs were increasingly challenged by Western philosophical ideas. The 1870s had seen the rise of nihilism, positivism, and various forms of socialism among the Russian intelligentsia, creating a climate where fundamental questions about God, morality, and human nature were openly debated. Ivan's mental breakdown represents the psychological cost of this intellectual upheaval, revealing how abstract philosophical positions could lead to profound personal torment when pursued to their logical conclusions. Ivan's hallucination takes the form not of a traditional horned devil but of a shabby gentleman in outdated clothes—a banal, almost bureaucratic figure who speaks with ironic detachment about cosmic matters. This modernized devil reflects the secularization of evil in late 19th century thought, where supernatural explanations were giving way to psychological and sociological understandings of human behavior. The devil articulates Ivan's own secret thoughts, giving voice to his most disturbing ideas about the absence of moral order in the universe. "If God does not exist, everything is permitted," the devil suggests, echoing Ivan's earlier philosophical position. This confrontation represents not external temptation but Ivan's own intellectual pride turned against him—his rational skepticism taken to its logical conclusion. The psychological realism of this episode reflects contemporary developments in understanding mental illness. The 1870s saw significant advances in psychiatric theory, with Russian medical journals publishing the latest European research on hallucinations, delirium, and what would later be called schizophrenia. Ivan's condition is described in terms consistent with what doctors of the period would have diagnosed as "brain fever" or "nervous exhaustion"—physical symptoms including headaches and fever accompanying psychological disintegration. This medical framing places Ivan's spiritual crisis within the context of emerging scientific understandings of mental health, suggesting that extreme intellectual positions could have physiological consequences. Ivan's torment centers on his moral complicity in his father's murder. Though physically absent during the crime, he faces the terrible realization that his philosophical ideas—particularly his assertion that without God, everything is permitted—may have inspired Smerdyakov to commit the murder. This recognition forces Ivan to confront the real-world consequences of abstract theories, a crisis facing many Russian intellectuals whose revolutionary ideas were beginning to inspire actual violence. Historically, this period saw the emergence of terrorist groups like Narodnaya Volya (People's Will), whose members justified political assassination through philosophical arguments about justice and necessity. Ivan's crisis thus reflects broader questions about intellectual responsibility in a society where ideas could have deadly consequences. The devil's arguments represent a sophisticated attack on the foundations of both religious faith and secular idealism. He suggests that even if God exists, the universe may be fundamentally absurd—a "Euclidean mind" trying to comprehend "non-Euclidean" realities. This mathematical metaphor draws on contemporary discussions of non-Euclidean geometry, which had challenged basic assumptions about the nature of space and reality. By invoking these cutting-edge scientific concepts, the devil embodies the intellectual vertigo experienced by educated Russians as traditional certainties dissolved under the pressure of modern thought. His nihilistic vision offers no positive alternative to the religious worldview he undermines, leaving Ivan trapped between a faith he cannot intellectually accept and a rationalism that leads to moral chaos. Ivan's attempt to testify at his brother's trial represents his desperate effort to overcome this paralysis and take moral responsibility. Despite his deteriorating mental state, he publicly confesses his role in inspiring the murder, even claiming "I killed him!" though he was not physically present. This moment reveals the limitations of the legal system in addressing questions of moral complicity that transcend conventional definitions of guilt. The court dismisses Ivan's testimony as the ravings of a madman, unable to incorporate his deeper understanding of shared responsibility into its procedural framework. This gap between legal and moral truth reflects broader tensions in modernizing Russia, where new institutional forms often failed to address deeper spiritual and ethical questions. Ivan's confrontation with the devil thus becomes not merely a personal psychological crisis but a symbolic representation of Russia's struggle to find moral orientation in an increasingly complex and uncertain world.

Chapter 6: Paths to Redemption: Suffering and Moral Transformation

The final months of 1879 and early 1880 witness remarkable transformations in the Karamazov brothers as each confronts his own path toward potential redemption. This period coincides historically with growing interest in questions of moral regeneration throughout Russian society. The 1870s had seen the emergence of various spiritual and ethical movements—from religious revival within Orthodoxy to secular humanitarian efforts—all seeking paths toward individual and collective renewal. Against this backdrop, the brothers' journeys represent different possible responses to moral crisis in a society searching for new foundations after the erosion of traditional certainties. Dmitri's path toward redemption begins with his acceptance of suffering despite his innocence of patricide. Sentenced to twenty years in Siberia for a crime he didn't commit, he nevertheless recognizes his moral culpability for other sins: "I accept my punishment not because I killed him, but because I meant to kill him, and perhaps I really might have killed him." This willingness to embrace suffering as purification reflects a distinctly Russian Orthodox understanding of redemption, where suffering is not merely punitive but potentially transformative. Historically, this perspective was deeply embedded in Russian culture, from folk traditions about holy fools to literary precedents like Raskolnikov's Siberian rebirth in "Crime and Punishment." Dmitri's journey suggests that moral regeneration comes not through escaping consequences but through accepting them with a new spirit. Ivan's potential redemption takes a more tortuous path through mental breakdown and the confrontation with his own divided consciousness. His hallucination of the devil forces him to recognize the destructive implications of his intellectual positions. When he finally attempts to take responsibility by testifying at Dmitri's trial, declaring "I am the murderer, not my brother!" he begins the painful process of integrating his intellectual and moral selves. Though the court dismisses his testimony as madness, this moment represents Ivan's first step toward authentic moral agency. His subsequent brain fever, while physically debilitating, creates the possibility for psychological rebirth—what contemporary religious thinkers called metanoia, a fundamental change of mind and heart. Ivan's journey reflects the experience of many Russian intellectuals who moved from radical skepticism toward renewed spiritual commitment during this period. Alyosha's redemptive path differs from his brothers', moving from initial innocence through disillusionment to a more mature faith expressed through active engagement with the world. After Elder Zossima's death and the scandal of his body's decomposition, Alyosha experiences a crisis of faith that leads him temporarily away from the monastery. His vision at Cana of Galilee—where he dreams of his elder at the biblical wedding feast—marks his transition to a new understanding where joy and suffering, heaven and earth are mysteriously connected. This mystical experience propels him not back to monastic isolation but into deeper community involvement, particularly with the group of schoolboys gathered around the dying Ilyusha. Alyosha's journey reflects contemporary movements within Russian Orthodoxy that emphasized active service in the world rather than withdrawal from it. The schoolboys' story provides a parallel narrative of moral transformation on a smaller scale. Their evolution from tormenting Ilyusha to forming a loving brotherhood around his deathbed demonstrates the possibility of community renewal through shared compassion. When Alyosha gathers them at the stone after Ilyusha's funeral, his speech emphasizes the redemptive power of memory: "You must know that there is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome and good for life in the future than some good memory, especially a memory of childhood." This vision of moral continuity through cherished memories offered an alternative to revolutionary calls for radical breaks with the past that were gaining strength in Russia during this period. Women's paths to redemption receive significant attention through the transformations of Grushenka and Katerina Ivanovna. Grushenka moves from vengeful manipulation toward genuine love, particularly in her decision to follow Dmitri to Siberia. Katerina's journey is more complex, oscillating between prideful self-sacrifice and authentic compassion before finally achieving a measure of reconciliation with both Dmitri and Ivan. These female journeys challenge contemporary stereotypes about women's moral capacity, suggesting that redemption is available across gender lines through similar processes of suffering, recognition, and love. The various paths toward redemption portrayed in these final chapters suggest that moral transformation, both personal and social, requires not just good intentions but concrete acts of sacrifice and reconciliation. This vision offered a distinctive alternative to the revolutionary currents gaining strength in Russia, which often emphasized structural change over personal moral development. As Russia moved toward the tumultuous events of the early 20th century, these competing understandings of how to achieve a more just society—through political revolution or moral regeneration—would shape the nation's destiny for generations to come.

Summary

Throughout this exploration of faith and doubt in late 19th century Russia, we have witnessed how the spiritual crisis of one family mirrored the profound transformations occurring in Russian society as a whole. The central tension running through this narrative is not simply between religious belief and atheism, but between different ways of responding to suffering and moral responsibility in a world where traditional certainties were crumbling. Each Karamazov brother represents a distinct path: Ivan's intellectual rebellion against divine justice, Dmitri's passionate embrace of both sin and redemption, and Alyosha's active love expressed through engagement with community. Their struggles reveal that neither abstract philosophical positions nor rigid religious dogma could adequately address the complex moral challenges facing individuals and society during this pivotal historical moment. Instead, the narrative suggests that authentic moral growth emerges through the integration of intellectual understanding, emotional honesty, and practical compassion—often achieved through suffering and the recognition of one's connection to others. This historical moment continues to resonate powerfully with our contemporary experience. In our own age of polarized ideologies, scientific advancement, and spiritual searching, we face many of the same questions that tormented the Karamazovs. Their story offers three essential insights for navigating these challenges: First, that intellectual certainty—whether religious or secular—often comes at the cost of our humanity; second, that suffering, while not good in itself, can become transformative when met with love rather than bitterness; and third, that our connections to others—what Elder Zossima calls "active love"—may be the only reliable anchor in a world where absolute truth remains elusive. By embracing these insights, we might find, like Alyosha and the boys walking from Ilyusha's stone, that meaning emerges not from resolving life's contradictions but from living them with courage, compassion, and community.

About Author

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Fyodor Dostoevsky

Фёдор Михайлович Достоевский (Russian)Works, such as the novels Crime and Punishment (1866), The Idiot (1869), and The Brothers Karamazov (1880), of Russian writer Feodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky or Dostoevski combine religious mysticism with profound psychological insight. Very influential writings of Mikhail Mikhailovich Bakhtin included Problems of Dostoyevsky's Works (1929), Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky composed short stories, essays, and journals. His literature explores humans in the troubled political, social, and spiritual atmospheres of 19th-century and engages with a variety of philosophies and themes. People most acclaimed his Demons(1872) . Many literary critics rate him of the greatest of world literature and consider multiple highly influential masterpieces. They consider his Notes from Underground of the first existentialist literature. He also well acts as a philosopher and theologian. (Russian: Фёдор Михайлович Достоевский) (see also Fiodor Dostoïevski)

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