“The hero, or rather anti-hero as Dostoyevsky calls him, of the text is a man turned in upon himself, a man of heightened awareness and self-consciousness, who sensitivity to slights drives him alternately to retreat into his corner, his underground, and to revenge himself for his humiliations by humiliating others.” How is our nameless narrator humiliating others and how is this a ‘heroic’ act? Can a man chastised by his generation and country be a hero? Is our narrator an example of Thoreau’s thought, “to be great is to be misunderstood?”
The narrator deconstructs his society by breaking its inhabitants into two types of people—men of action vs. men of thought. From his isolation, musings about his liver, and introspective thoughts, it is clear that he is a thinking man; thus, why would he say, “I swear to you that to think too much is a disease, a real, actual disease.” How is thinking a disease? And is our narrator suffering from this illness? Do all artists, rebels, misfits suffer this disease and is this the reason why they take “up the pen?”
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“I swear to you that to think too much is a disease, a real, actual disease.” How is thinking a disease? And is our narrator suffering from this illness? Do all artists, rebels, misfits suffer this disease and is this the reason why they take “up the pen?”
The definition of a disease for humans is defined as “Any condition that causes extreme pain, dysfunction, distress, social problems, or death to the person afflicted, or similar problems for those in contact with the person.”
I think that this definition parallels Dostoyevsky’s idea of thinking as a disease very well. We talked in class today about how one’s mind is an internal prison, and this internal ‘wall’ that is our mind boxes us in with our thoughts. These thoughts definitely cause us distress; we tend to dwell on our thoughts and issues, overthink things, and become more distressed or even physically ill or in pain from the unease that our mind can cause. This thinking that boxes us in could most definitely caue social issues, as a person who is so consumed by his own thoughts would have trouble interacting with others, since he is not even aware completely of himself. It is questionable that thinking could cause death, though if one was completely involved in his thoughts and so blocked that it prevented him from solving any problems, death could be a possibility, simply from exhausting oneself with the never-ending circles of thought. Or maybe death is not literall, but the said ‘disease’ that is thinking causes a slow deterioration of the mind.
Dostoyevsky also mentions how our pain can affect other people, when he talks about a man with a toothache groaning for his own pleasure, and also to get attention and force other people to suffer as he is. This is exactly what a disease can do. Not only can a disease be literally contagious, but if the carrier is morose, depressed, and desolate, the people around him will be too. That is a situation that most people can relate to, whether they’ve had a family member die of a serious illness that caused them visible pain. Because diseases frequently don’t kill instantly, observers can see the suffering of the carrier. The death is usually a slow deterioration, and this wears on people close to the one dying.
Perhaps artists, rebels, and misfits, do suffer a type of “disease” of thinking that causes them pain. Maybe its noble that they share their experiences and feelings or maybe it’s meant to assuage their pain by causing us to suffer with the writer. Their writing attracts attention to them and causes others to relate and feel what they feel. That could be the only solution to the disease, to have others experience the same pain. To know that you’re not alone in your emotions and thoughts.
By speaking about what people fear to, and what others are afraid to come to terms with, the unnamed character embarks on a challenge to expose all. His task to reveal the true colors of society will allow for the people to see their own true nature. The unnamed character spends time telling the many truths of mankind, when other people shy away from it. He explains the concept of the “stone wall” and how for many men the wall is “something calming.” The wall for them “is not a challenge” because at that moment they see not a chance to break down the wall but to build it even higher by viewing the barrier as something “decisive and final.” By letting the wall have power over their own mind, they are giving into society’s standards and not showing their truthful nature. The unnamed character also confronts the idea of true pain. He believes pain is “spiteful” and its true reason is to hide real problems that lie within the person.
These ideas humiliate others and society because the truth and legitimacy of certain conditions are reveled. The unnamed character had the strength and mind power to release these ideas knowing very well that people would disagree and be irate as a result. People don’t like to discover the truth behind their own nature and even though they may appear to disagree, perhaps in their own “underground” they might agree.
The narrator informs the reader of his belief that “thinking is a disease.” He tries to explain to the reader that once someone get started and continue to think about that one subject for long periods of time, they will continue to fixate on that one issue for long periods of time. Doing this creates a wall in our own mind, which could only impair our own ideas and thoughts later on.
I cannot sleep; for thinking is a disease. A disease that takes over your mind, and withholds the control. Your mind cannot stop, for thinking is a disease. One thought leads to the next, to the next, to the next, until exhaustion over takes the body. The disease of thought is a whirlwind that encases your body. Thought does not stop; it only multiplies like bacteria exponentially in a Petri dish. Thoughts intensify with time, over thinking kicks in, and all of a sudden your disease is now a cancer that is incurable, some rare strain. Or is that just the disease over taking your mind? And you are fine.
Does your disease keep you awake at night, or are you not aware that you have a disease? Is there not enough time in your day to realize you too have a disease. Everyone has a disease; only perspective makes this disease good or bad. My disease causes great confusion and pleasure just the same.
I lay here in bed, and think of all the things I have said. Were they correct, and did I cause any disrespect? My day went fine but how about my mind. I lay here in bed and think of what I said.
Then I think of the morning, my mind is soaring. What will I do with my hair; will it go with what I wear? My mind is racing, my disease is acing.
Thinking is a disease, which can talk you into those dark places. It is a disease, which can lead you to those happy spaces. But proceed with care unless you’re ready for a scare.
This novel is a direct result of our narrator’s disease. The disease of thought forces one to pick up his or her pen. The narrator is doing just that. His disease has compelled him to reveal his stream of concise, his direct thought. Artists, rebels, misfits suffer from this disease more than others because they take the time to realize and understand their own disease. These people are centered within themselves and are not overtaken by society. They are all forced to pick up the pen, and share their thoughts to the world. If parts of one’s disease are not released to the world and are only kept inside, the disease will slowly eat away one’s inside. Parts of the disease must be released to show the world it is normal to have this disease. Their own diseases forces them to pick up the pen, paintbrush or other art form in order to release one sliver of their thoughts.
There is absolutely no doubt that Dostoevsky is a hero to his generation, he has picked up the pen and risen against his inner fears. All great artists possess that heightened sense of awareness, it allows them to be able to process and see the world for what it truly is. Dostoevsky pushed himself into the “Underground”, allowing him to examine not only his inner being but the inner being of those around him. The cause for this book is due to Dostoevsky wanting to explain and awaken people of his generation to the true issues in society and the true issues in a human being. Issues like being trapped by a wall which gradually boxes the person in over time; Dostoevsky is the wrecking ball which will allow the reader to smash that wall which was blocking a goal. Allowing an individual the opportunity to achieve their dreams.
Humiliating others is a heroic task; he is allowing a person and society to see where their true colors really are. By that I mean he is disintegrating the loads of bull shit which an institution places upon a person. The slap to the face, the reality check, is by no means a stretch or vicious act, it is an awakening every individual needs in order to see that they are truly not as great as they believe.
The great thinkers and doers of the past were always chastised by others who believed that by going against the norm and creating problems. The people who were really creating problems were the idle citizens fearful of change; change is that new horizon described in the “Adulterous Woman”. Change is an unknown, raising fear and through this fear people are lead to great discoveries. Thoreau was ridiculed by many for moving into the woods, where he pondered what it truly was to be human and to lose all the materialistic goods that weigh morality down. He proved by shedding these chains of society we are in our true form. Martin Luther King went against the south because he saw the racial problems, he and thousands of other African Americans wanted change. MLK was chastised by lots, hated by many but loved by thousands and through his sacrifice he was able to awaken a generation to the horrific problems with Jim Crow. Just like both these men Dostoevsky is showing his readers the door to change, he can’t push the readers through it, that is their job, but as many great men he is enabling us the opportunity for change.
Thinking is a disease, it starts out small, like the chicken pox but gradually it spreads. It spreads into over thinking, worry and torment. It causes the person to ponder every action that happened which they believe should of had a different outcome. Gradually this pondering of every action leads to the fabrication of what the individual should have done, and how they could have done it. Over time this constant backwash of thought begins to erode the mind, like when a steady wind gradually reduces stone to sand. The individual is tormented by the backwash and as the mind grows weak and corroded the person can’t proceed further in life and begins to live in the past not the future.
Dostoevsky's mind is deteriorating from the constant over thinking of his life, the constant dissection of his own being and his inner fears which he is having trouble overcoming. This illness is starting to engulf the writer, he is seeing the signs for this foreign take over of his mind and he takes up the pen, because the pen is the only cure for releasing the inner fires of anguish. “For some reason I believe that if I write it down I shall get rid of it”.
All brilliantly creative artist, rebels, misfits suffer from this disease of self degradation of the mind, body and spirit. The only way these geniuses find a way to silence, calm and possibly control their thoughts is through their art, which is their own type of hose where all their inner torments can flow out onto their creation. Hemingway is a perfect example of the gradual corrosion of the mind. Over time he couldn’t control his thought, turning to alcohol. Which was his way too momentarily silence his own inner illness. Dostoevsky is the hero of the past; through his humiliation of others he is able to show the reader the true problems within an individual.
The narrator deconstructs his society by breaking its inhabitants into two types of people—men of action vs. men of thought. From his isolation, musings about his liver, and introspective thoughts, it is clear that he is a thinking man; thus, why would he say, “I swear to you that to think too much is a disease, a real, actual disease.” How is thinking a disease? And is our narrator suffering from this illness? Do all artists, rebels, misfits suffer this disease and is this the reason why they take “up the pen?”
Dostoyevsky’s separation of men of action and men of thought is too restrictive. He considers himself to be the latter, and he is correct, but I do not agree that he fits only that stereotype. Admittedly, he does make good points about the separation between these two types of people, stating, for example, that for a man of thought, a wall is merely a hurdle, yet points out that for men of action, “a wall is something calming, morally decisive and final, perhaps even something mystical” (20). The division between thinking and acting, though, is not that finite. He claims that he is merely pensive man, but is thinking not an action? He quite possibly suffers from this disease with which, he insists, all thinking men are infected, but what he does not realize is that by “taking up the pen” he is personifying the very man of action that he so adamantly insists he is not.
As a person, I tend to dwell. Every possible question from a given scenario or problem will run through my overactive brain for hours. These thoughts ranging from the trivial (Who saw me trip up the stairs? Did they laugh? Did they think I was a fool?) to the typical (Will parametric equations be on the calculus test tomorrow? Will I finish this blog post before midnight?) to the monumental (What am I going to do with my life? For that matter, what is the point of me existing at all?). For a long time, I let the stress of these questions take a toll on my person. I’d lie awake in bed at night, mentally thumbing through stressful scenarios from the past, present, and future and wondering about their impact on my well-being, my social life, my academic path, et cetera.
The first art class that I ever took seriously was ceramics, and I found that after spending time at the wheel, the feel of the clay and the thrill of creating something real sorted my thoughts, regardless of whether or not I produced something that even remotely resembled pottery. I began keeping sketchbooks and journals, writing poetry regularly, and taking as many art classes as I could cram into my schedule. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that anxious self-doubt only creeps back into my system on days when I don’t have time to channel my mental ramblings into creative production. Like Dostoyevsky, I have the thinking disease. My thoughts have the ability to overtake my body, brainwashing me and making me ill as they richocet off the walls of my mind and collide. Like Dostoyevsky, I can only quell such angst by allowing it to flow out of my system by way of an artistic medium. Neither of us exhibit rash behavior, a quality he attributes to men of action, but that does not mean that men of thought are sedentary. Likewise, even the hastiest people I know would admit that they reflect on their actions every now and then, though they definitely do not require the same laborious thought before the fact that Dostoyevsky does.
When I draw, I first conjure in my mind the image that my hand will produce on the paper. My thoughts certainly precede my actions, but that does not mean they are inherently more significant. In order to create, in order to rebel, in order, even, to differ from the rest of society, a person needs to take action. These actions might stem from great meditation and might not be as forceful as, perhaps, “a mad bull charging with his horns down”, but they can certainly be as powerful (20). A more accurate division of mankind might be “man whose thoughts necessitate his actions” versus “man who can separate thought from action”.
The disease Dostoyevsky describes is, in essence, an infection that can either destroy the thinker from the inside out or can act as a catalyst for action. Whether in the form of a painting, a poem, or a protest, the product of the disease is often both its symptom and its cure.
Walls are constantly being put up around us. We are trapped within the little space and limits that out generation, the country and society place upon us. These walls are put there to mold us into carbon copies of one another. Showing us how we should be, how we should at, what we should wear, what grades we should get and so on.
They steal our minds before we are able to use our own thoughts and learn from them. This causes us to believe that we never have to think for ourselves, that we can simply listen to someone else’s idea, without question, memorize their thought to only be regurgitated later. The ability to memorize somewhat useless information seems to be what our society calls education. Sure we are all very educated people in this institution but few of us are intelligent freethinking people. Myself included.
Dostoyevsky states, “to think too much is a disease”. Perhaps we think we think too much, but we think very little. None of us think enough to have this sort of disease, not in a narrow-minded society such as ours. We have been taught to think only within the walls put up around us; this allows us to think of the known rather than the unknown. It’s only when we start thinking about the unknown that we begin to think too much.
What exactly is a hero? And can someone trapped in a box like this become a hero? Everyone has potential to be a hero, whether or not they want to be a hero is up to them. To be a hero is to be different, to be different than the mold, to be different than what everyone wants and expects them to be. Perhaps one of the scariest things of all is to stand out. No one wants to be pointed out as being different because why be different when you could just blend in with everyone else. To be different than your peers, the people that came before you, and the people that will come after you, is to be a hero.
Day after day you are faced with the same walls, dull and blank. But we can never really see how dull they are because we don’t take the time to look and think about what their purpose is. Instead we find ourselves constantly running like mice on wheels with no destination or purpose, trying to please no one. The hero is someone who does what they want to please not their walls but rather please himself.
A man can be a hero that is chastised by his generation and country by seeing those walls as blank canvases. A place where you can add color; letting your thoughts flow through your hands. By adding your own thoughts and ideas to the walls you are no longer letting the walls shape you, but you are the hero that is shaping society. Leaving your mark on your generation with your words or art will help to break down the stereotypes and hatred. You will never know unless you pick up the pen and scratch the surface.
The obnoxious norms of society are what create imperfections and abnormalities. How could one suffer an imperfection if there was no basis to judge upon? Imagine the basis for judgment was reversed and skirts were normal on men. It is mind muddling to consider all the possibilities in our society. At one time it was enough to perform an act of kindness, to hold a door, to volunteer one’s time. Now, people are questioned about their motives behind their gracious acts. Every person has a motive behind each and every action, conscious or not, expecting to be recognized or not. For example, imagine a man in a state park who sees some trash on the ground. He picks it up and disposes of it properly. What are his motives? Does he have any? Although he knows he will not be recognized for his minor yet important did, and although he may not have actively thought about his action, the man may be in desire of personal satisfaction. Picture a boy who turns in lost money at school expecting he may be nominated for senior of the week. Do his motives change the nature of his action? Do they lessen the good deed? People of society would say yes for he turned in the money for the wrong reasons. What are the right reasons, simply so that the owner of the money may obtain his possession once again? Perhaps, yet the money, irrelevant of the motives for the action, is turned in. Is that not enough? The narrator of no name struggles with society for reasons such as this. For this reason, he is a hero. He is great and misunderstood as the Thoreau suggests. Society has misperceived a man worthy of people’s attention and time to be understood.
It is by rebuking the norms of society and “humiliating others” that the narrator reveals numerous truths. Straying from the trodden paths in mainstream society, the narrator separates himself mentally from the average man. Doing so, he becomes a hero, and, necessarily, an outcast. Heroes must be unique; otherwise, why would they be special? If many or all people were heroes, what would people call those who were unique in their ways like our narrator? Not everyone is a hero yet all people innately possess the ability to become one if only they would think.
Like the theme of Arcade Fire’s Funeral album, sleep has both physical and mental attributes. One may sleep in both ways as most do, physically part time and mentally always. Others may volunteer to remain mentally awake even while they physically sleep. These people are society’s heroes. Those who are not “plugged in” like in the Matrix and not caught up in life are miracles; they are true thinkers. Thoreau similarly spoke of sleep easily summarized in the line "To be awake is to be alive." Most people of society remain not-yet-birthed to realities that “strip the white paint off everything” (paraphrasing Mr. K) and reveal the “universal truths” of life. It is only by thinking that people may leave “pure” fresh water and enter into the far more abundant “imperfect” salt water. Action requires thought so answer this: Is there such thing as simply a “man of action”. It is impossible. Some, like the narrator, are simply men of thought who are only able to bear the weight of a pen. Others are both; others have the ability to withstand the ponderous weight of society’s wall crushing upon and further. These people have no wall(s) for they have already broken through it(them) and moved on to more difficult tasks while men of thought remain in awe at the presence of the barrier.
Thinking is truly a disease as the nameless narrator expresses. But what is wrong with a disease? Is it not society who has lead people to believe that all diseases are horrifying? Let thinking be a disease and let people like the narrator enjoy their “flaw” rather than suffer. These people must think for the rest for they are among the few who can understand true realities. Artists, rebels, and misfits attempt to reach the mixing point and venture into the vast realities filled with “imperfections”. Through use of the pen, people like the narrator offer others small glimpses into reality. They volunteer their thoughts and ideas in hopes often not of being recognized; but also of revealing truths, “universal truths”. It is unfortunate, however, that people of society simply unplug momentarily, realize realities unfavorable to their interests or even frightening and actively chose to reconnect.
To be a hero is to be recognized for something great, Dostoyevsky’s unnamed man is a hero for that reason. What he has done is not something that falls into the celebrated category of community service or charity, he instead does something that society “chastises” him for; he speaks the ugly truth. This unnamed man humiliates others by digging into their inevitable imperfections and recording them on paper. He does this not only for sport but merely to deposit the contents of his mind, allowing them to breach the walls that would otherwise keep them trapped inside his head forever, and let them be seen with all their truth by the rest of the world.
He recognizes that “thinking is a disease,” know that at the same moment of his recognition of its existence, it is taking over him. This disease is not unlike vertigo; it causes confusion and loss of focus, a common symptom of too much thinking. He does however, find a successful outlet within this struggle to “take up the pen” and organize his thoughts, even if they remain scattered, on paper. I, however, would disagree with the notion that this narrator follows Thoreau’s idea that “to be great is to be misunderstood,” I think the unnamed man is perfectly understood but that the most natural response to his menacing truths is to criticize it and then ignore it. He is however a misfit in society but in a way that puts him ahead of the rest. This unnamed man follows the will inside his head to speak his mind and he completely complies with the constant encouragement within society to speak your mind and stand up for what you believe in. He does just that and he does it ahead of most, this action is truly heroic.
Our narrator, Dostoyevsky, is suffering from a disease of which he is the creator. Because of his own cynical and overly analytical nature, he has thought up for himself a disease that he now must endure. The optimist would graciously accept this ability to dive deeply into one's own thoughts and would be appreciative of this skill that the people of action tend to lack. Dostoyevsky is no such optimist and thus is forced to suffer a disease of his mind's own creation. The fact that he has allowed himself to suffer this disease by "picking up the pen" is a sign that he is comfortable with his own disease, and historically speaking, diseases are not something one might allow to complete control. If it is actually a disease, he seems not to be trying that hard to cure it. Disease, then, is not the correct term for this condition. It is just in his own nature to have deep and sometimes overbearing thoughts; it was something with which he was born and has overtime, in dealing with his underground condition, developed. Instead of explaining to the reader that he is a sick and unhealthy man because of his disease, he should rather use that ability to help improve the society from which he is escaping by being underground. Those who are truly heroic are the artists and creators who use their “disease” to try to make a change or bring attention to those parts of society that drive them. Unlike the narrator, a coward uselessly wallowing in his own depression, those artists, the “people of thought”, become more than just people of thought. They turn their thoughts into action and thus become the people of active thoughts and thoughtful actions. The narrator may be a hero, but he is only a hero for himself. He is finally allowing himself to express his feelings and thoughts, but merely writing words down is more selfish than it is for anyone else. The truly heroic people are those underground people who are willing to use their thoughts and turn them into actions in order to fix and change the society that made them hide in the first place.
"I dont understand the least thing about my illness, and I dont know for certain what part of me is affected" Dostoyevsky's disease is indeed thinking to much, he leads himself off to overthink, and complicate things. He feels the only way he can get his true feelings, and emotions out is to write abotu them. Because when you write about your feelings, emotions, and thoughts you are picking up the pen, and putting your thoughts into words, by forcing yourself to act and think at the same time. I believe Dostoyevsky is a man of thought, but also a man of action.
On page 23 Dostoyevsky talks about a stone wall that is allways there to stop your progress, and slow you down. It is a mental wall that stops your thoughts and must be broken down. This is exactly what Dostoyevsky is doign. He is breaking down the mental wall of thought in his mind, and putting his words into actions, by lettign go the past, and revealing the truths that once lie in his past.
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