Irving Howe
MASS SOCIETY
AND POST·MODERN FICTlON *
R askolnikov is lying on
his
bed: feverish, hungry, des–
pondent. The servant Nastasya has told him that the landlady plans
to have him evicted. He has received a letter from his mother in which
she writes that for the sake of money his sister Dounia is to marry
an elderly man she does not love. And he has already visited the old
pawnbroker and measured the possibility of murdering her.
There seems no way out, no way but the liquidation of the
miserly hunchback whose disappearance from the earth would cause
no one any grief. Tempted by the notion that the strong, simply be–
cause they are strong, may impose their will upon the weak, Raskol–
nikov lies there, staring moodily at the ceiling.
It
must be done : so
he tells himself and so he resolves.
Suddenly-but here I diverge a little from the text- the door–
bell rings. A letter. R askolnikov tears it open:
Dear Sir,
It is my pleasure to inform you, on behalf of the Guggenheim Founda–
tion, that you have been awarded a fellowship for the study of color
imagery in Pushkin's poetry and its relation to the myths of the ancient
Muscovites.
If
you will be kind enough to visit our offices, at Nevsky
Prospect and
Q
Street, arrangements can be made for commencing your
stipend immediately.
(signed) Moevsky
Trembling with joy, R askolnikov sinks to
his
knees and bows
his head in gratitude. The terrible deed he had contemplated can
*
In an earlier form, this essay was first read as a lecture at several mid-Western
universities. A few sentences are taken from a review of current fiction which
I have written for the
New Republic.
