Chapter 69: Epilepsy

To be honest, on the way to meet Dostoevsky, Mikhail had been constantly restraining his excitement and trying hard to prepare himself mentally, yet despite this, he still worried he might act too excitedly, causing the young Dostoevsky to feel utterly bewildered.

After all, it must be said, Dostoevsky was indeed one of Mikhail's favorite authors; now that he had the chance to meet his idol in person, even facing the younger, pretentious version of Old Dostoevsky, Mikhail still found it hard to control his feelings.

But at this moment, seeing Old Dostoevsky even more excited than himself, Mikhail truly dared not move a muscle.

For Dostoevsky, whose nerves were exceptionally sensitive, excessive excitement was truly no good thing.

If historical research is correct, Dostoevsky, due to genetic and brain function abnormalities, had contracted epilepsy early on, a condition that plagued him for his entire life.

His first seizure seemed to occur when his father died at eighteen; by the time he was thirty-nine, Old Dostoevsky began meticulously recording the time and circumstances of each epileptic episode until his death at fifty-nine, during which he recorded a total of one hundred and two seizures, each typically accompanied by loss of consciousness, limb convulsions, and other classic symptoms.

Such a high frequency of seizures made epilepsy almost a part of his life, yet precisely in these ecstatic states, Old Dostoevsky often experienced brief but intense states of "religious ecstasy," which he described as "the ultimate bliss of harmonious fusion with the universe," even willing to trade ten years of his life for a few seconds of such an experience.

And this experience frequently manifested in his works, such as Prince Myshkin in The Idiot, Kirillov in Demons, and so on and so forth.

Frankly, Old Dostoevsky faced one extreme of cold, harsh reality and another of extreme spiritual experience; stacked together, it is not hard to understand why his ideological and political tendencies were the way they were.

However, regarding literature, whether it is "correct" might be one of its evaluation criteria, but it will never be its sole criterion.

After all, judging solely by ideological and political tendencies, Old Dostoevsky was an old conservative; Old Tolstoy first lived absurdly as a nobleman for half his life, and even in old age remained half an old conservative, yet this did not prevent them from becoming two peaks in human literary history that are difficult to surpass.

One can only say that since humans are complex, literature must inevitably be complex; any attempt to "simplify" humans or literature will ultimately result in moving further away from humanity and further away from literature.

So returning to the present, Mikhail smiled and shook hands with the slender, blond-haired youth before him for a long time; only after the youth finally calmed down slowly did Mikhail withdraw his hand, then speak quite seriously: "This is a remarkable work, to the extent that we are disturbing you at this hour."

"I truly did not expect you to say such a thing."

Looking at the youth before him who was almost exactly as he had imagined, the young Dostoevsky finally regained his ability to speak: "No one's praise could make me happier than your praise! I almost suspect I am dreaming right now."

Observing the series of reactions from this blond-haired youth after his arrival, Mikhail finally realized that he was indeed somewhat famous now; otherwise, Old Dostoevsky would not have reacted so strongly.

And Nekrasov and Grigoryevich, standing aside, did not find such a scene strange, seeming to regard it as a very normal occurrence.

Only when they finally had the chance to speak did they pour out their views on the work Poor Folk.

As they spoke, they involuntarily raised their voices; the young Dostoevsky, infected by their passion, began to exchange his own ideas and viewpoints with them.

They discussed poetry, debated truth, and deliberated on the current situation; yes, the situation must be deliberated upon.

At the same time, they mentioned Gogol, citing The Government Inspector and Dead Souls, but the main topics were still Mikhail and Belinsky, with Mikhail primarily citing his works and his rather legendary rise to fame.

When discussing Belinsky, Nekrasov involuntarily revealed his admiration and emotions for Belinsky during the conversation, and he spoke with great certainty: "I will take your novel to him today; you will see, he is a character, and what a character! And I dare guarantee to you that his attitude toward your work will absolutely not be inferior to his attitude toward Mikhail's work!"

And throughout the entire conversation, Mikhail naturally joined the discussion; although he spoke few times, in Dostoevsky's eyes, every time the other party spoke, it went straight to the heart of the matter; his viewpoints immediately distinguished him from others.

The conciseness and sharpness of his speech were in no way inferior to his novels!

And although this slender, blond-haired youth kept speaking with Nekrasov and the others, his eyes still glanced at Mikhail from time to time; for this, Mikhail could only smile slightly at the young Old Dostoevsky with a rather peculiar feeling.

By the way, although it was so late and they were still shouting, as the saying goes, a dead camel is still bigger than a horse; moreover, Old Dostoevsky had his older brother to rely on; therefore, even without a job, Old Dostoevsky indeed lived better than Mikhail, so no one came to interrupt their conversation.

Mikhail: ".."

Last time, making you, Nekrasov, and Dmitri restrain yourselves like that, it turns out it was my fault.

Although the few of them still had many things to discuss, time was ultimately a factor; after the few of them poured out all their excitement, they slowly stopped talking, having slightly realized something.

And in the end, it was Nekrasov, still somewhat excited, who spoke: "Alright, now you sleep, sleep; we will leave now; come find us in a few days. I think we still have many things to discuss."

Since the conversation had reached this point, although the blond-haired youth indeed felt reluctant, even wishing this moment could last forever, he finally nodded heavily and said: "I understand; I look forward to tomorrow's arrival."

And before leaving, Mikhail walked over to Old Dostoevsky once more and, smiling, said: "This meeting was indeed somewhat hasty; I look forward to meeting again at a gathering."

Yes, it should be at someone else's gathering, ahem.

This was what Mikhail thought, but after the young Old Dostoevsky heard these words, he involuntarily began to fantasize.

And upon seeing Old Dostoevsky's expression, Mikhail immediately understood what was happening.

Well, should I suggest that Belinsky rename our Starving Writers Club to the Fantasy Writers Club?

(End of Chapter)