"Crime and Punishment" left me with more questions than answers: my theory on its sudden, slow ending
👇(I added the emojis myself, it's not AI) In this post, I’ll tell you about:
1. Why reading one chapter of Crime and Punishment a day left me feeling distressed
2. The role of women in 1886 Russia (and two harrowing examples: Dunya and Sonya).
3. The political critique, the clash of ideologies, and the psychology that was ahead of its time.
4. Why the ending feels so abrupt (and my theory regarding guilt and peace of mind).
5. Love as a tool for redemption (and the contrast with religious faith).
Hello,
This month, I finally finished Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. Honestly, I read it out of pure ego and vanity, given that it is a literary masterpiece. Plus, people around me have frequently mentioned how good and interesting it is...
A quick disclaimer: I’m writing this while feeling really low... I started feeling quite unwell a few hours ago... but this is part of my commitment to follow through on things, even if only for a short while... I’m feeling a lot of anxiety. This post will simply be whatever I manage to produce in the time I have. It might be due to some very important health tests I recently underwent, or—even more likely—the fact that my period is due soon.
Getting back to the topic at hand: I finished reading Crime and Punishment about two days ago. I had high expectations because I’d always heard such great things about the book and the author (who is one of the literary greats). I started reading without looking up any spoilers, as I didn’t want to form preconceived notions about the plot or what to expect from the characters.
📖📖1. The experience of reading about Raskolnikov (and living inside his head)
The first thing I must mention is that I loved the way the author immerses you in the mind of Raskolnikov (the protagonist)—his thought patterns, fears, anguish, and anxiety. I often finished a chapter (since I followed a system of reading one chapter a day) feeling weighed down, distressed, and stressed. Living inside his head was quite harrowing; there was so much confusion and unpleasantness.
👩👩2. The role of women in the work (two examples I cannot ignore)
Beyond dwelling inside his tormented mind, there are two social themes that struck me powerfully and that I simply must share.
Several situations in the book also caught my attention—things I couldn't overlook:
The role of women in the work: this book was written in 1886, and we can clearly see women's dependence on male figures. One's future prospects hinged on the earning power of the man one was married to, given that women had no access to good jobs. In fact, from what I read online (not via AI—I’m cutting back on that tool because we all deserve to have water), Russia was going through a pivotal moment in the fight for women's rights.
There are two situations where you can observe the dynamic just described:
1. Raskolnikov’s sister is engaged to a man who can guarantee her a secure future but is fully aware of the power he can wield over his wife. In fact, at one point in the book, he mentions preferring poor, deeply devout women because he knows they will make submissive, obedient wives. The Raskolnikov family is in a dire financial state—bordering on wretchedness; the father has died, leaving the burden of responsibility to Raskolnikov, a young man trying to finish his studies while living in extreme poverty.
2. Sonia comes from a family that has fallen into extreme poverty; her alcoholic father spends the little money they have on drink, leaving her with no choice but to turn to prostitution to feed her step-siblings and stepmother (who is gravely ill with tuberculosis). Because she is under her father's authority, he is solely responsible for her well-being; consequently, if he sinks into the mire, everyone else is dragged down with him.
⚔️⚔️ 3. Politics, psychology, and Fyodor’s genius
And while the portrait of the woman is powerful in its own right, Dostoevsky’s political critique and psychological characterization are equally impressive.
There is the critique of Russian society, its various currents of thought, and the clash of ideologies. Then there are the extensive debates regarding the political landscape and the characters' differing stances on the atmosphere brewing in the Russia of that era. I found it fascinating to read about the early ideas Russian society held regarding C0mmunism (I spell it that way because search engines loathe the word; it has been the devil incarnate for at least 70 years).
"The only psychologist from whom I had something to learn" — Nietzsche on Fyodor Dostoevsky.
Fyodor’s depiction of the human mind—his narrative ability to address neurosis, somatization, depression, anxiety, and many other conditions—is remarkable, especially considering these concepts were only just beginning to be studied at the time and often lacked formal names, as the field of psychology did not yet exist. Indeed, Nietzsche famously said of Fyodor, "the only psychologist from whom I had something to learn"; thus, immersing myself in that tormented mind was utterly gripping—suffering alongside him and listening to his internal dialogue, which allowed one to sympathize with some of his arguments.
💖💖4. The ending, guilt, and love as redemption
Yet, this entire psychological and social journey has a clear destination: the moment when guilt meets love. And that is where the book took a turn that really made me think.
Regarding how the ending unfolded, a few things stood out to me:
Throughout the book, you are frantically plunging into an abyss; however, in the final chapters, the speed of that descent drops abruptly—to the point where it feels somewhat uncomfortable or unnatural. I would explain this shift in the pace of Raskolnikov’s mind by noting that, once freed from the guilt tormenting him, his thoughts stopped racing at a mile a minute, allowing him to finally find a measure of peace. He gained a degree of mental clarity that let him explore his ideas in a less rushed, chaotic manner.
There is the power of love as a healing force and a potent inspiration for transforming a human being's life purpose. I’ve read a bit about this, and the concept of love as a transformative element appears in many of literature’s greatest works—such as Romeo and Juliet, The Divine Comedy, and Les Misérables. I also appreciate the significance of the character Sonia: a deeply devout Orthodox Christian woman who professes absolute faith in the teachings of Jesus Christ. Raskolnikov needed a woman of such piety and faith—someone who could offer the forgiveness and understanding he so desperately craved, and who would stand by him regardless of the crime he had committed, for the love of Christ could offer him the hope of a fresh start.
It is worth noting, however, that for Raskolnikov, the love he feels from Sonia seems more significant—and offers far more hope—than the religious beliefs she professes. From what I have read, Fyodor was a man of faith (an Orthodox Christian), and his beliefs are reflected in how many of his characters speak about God and faith—most often citing them as the strongest argument for withstanding life’s ups and downs, always with the hope that things might eventually improve. Another concept mentioned several times in the text is suffering as a means of atoning for human sins, leading to a connection with the divine.
If you skipped everything above, just take this away:
- Raskolnikov is a journey into human anxiety (reading it is exhausting, yet fascinating).
- Dostoevsky portrayed the structural sexism of 1886 through characters like Dunya and Sonia, who were trapped by the men in their families.
- The author was ahead of his time regarding psychology (Nietzsche confirmed this).
- The ending feels strangely slow because, once guilt vanishes, the mind finally settles into stillness.
- Love—more than religion—is what ultimately saves the protagonist.
👉To wrap things up
In short, Crime and Punishment isn't just a book; it’s a visceral experience that leaves you with the same heaviness in your chest that Raskolnikov drags around for 600 pages. I’m left with the memory of that frenetic descent that suddenly screeches to a halt, that need to be forgiven by someone who looks at you without judgment, and that certainty that guilt can weigh heavier than any crime.
If you decide to read it (for whatever reason—they’re all valid), you won’t just find a psychological thriller or a brilliant social critique; you’ll find yourself asking: How much does guilt really weigh in your life? And what would you be willing to do to have someone look at you and say there’s still hope? I can promise you this book won’t leave you unchanged.
What about you—have you read it yet? What did you think of that abrupt ending? Do you think love can truly conquer guilt, or was it just the moment of peace he needed? Let me know in the comments.
See you next week!
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