Crime and Punishment is one of the most remarkable pieces of fiction ever written, perhaps due to the sheer weight of the topics Dostoyevsky deals with in the novel, contrasted with the subtlety and thoughtfulness with which he writes. The fabric of the book is woven from the very essence of the author’s thoughts and philosophical meanderings, and when that very author is described as a man who “resided in the Ultima Thule of the human soul,” one can only expect great things out of the story (Squires). Two prominent, recurring themes in the story are moral ambiguity and isolation. Like all of the different themes in the book, these two themes are intricately connected to one another and reinforce each other throughout the story.

In order to underscore Raskolnikov’s moral struggle, Dostoyevsky traps his reader into his main character’s mind. Amazingly enough, he accomplishes this without even utilizing first-person narration. The book is narrated in the third person with a unique focus on rich, vivid descriptions of Raskolnikov’s feelings and thoughts. This point of view allows the reader to become well acquainted with the massively important internal struggle that Raskolnikov faces over the course of the entire book. Simultaneously, it creates opportunities to reveal information to the reader that is yet unknown to Raskolnikov, thus building suspense and tension.

However, increasing suspense is not the only reason why Dostoyevsky uses this point of view. More importantly, he focuses intensely on Raskolnikov’s emotions and interactions with the environment to create a constant introspective and internalistic dialogue between Raskolnikov and the reader, which enforces Raskolnikov’s feeling of alienation from the world. After his return home from the police station following an intense conversation with local police official Porfiry Petrovich that culminated in Nikolay confessing to the murder of pawnbroker Aliona Ivanovna, Raskolnikov is described as being so confused that “he threw himself on his couch as soon as he got home,” sitting there “[f]or a quarter of an hour… just resting, trying to collect his thoughts as best as he could” (Dostoyevsky 339). Similar descriptions that use a detailed focus on Raskolnikov’s actions to reflect his internal state occur throughout the book: notably, during his first visit to Sonia’s house.

He paced silently up and down without looking at her. Then he went up to her. His eyes flashed. He took her by the shoulders with both his hands and looked straight into her grieving face. His glance was dry, inflamed, piercing; his lips trembled violently. Suddenly and swiftly he stooped all the way down, fell to the floor, and kissed her foot. Sonia drew back from him in horror, as from a madman. Actually, he looked quite mad. (Dostoyevsky 307)

Descriptions like this one allow us to gain a sense of Raskolnikov’s frenzied external state, which subsequently reflects his tortured and desperate internal struggle. Meanwhile, Sonia’s horror and the disconnect between the two of them shows how impossible it is for the outside world or other characters in the book to participate in such feelings, therefore showing the distance between Raskolnikov and the rest of humanity.

Raskolnikov is the prime representative of what facing a moral dilemma looks like. Dostoyevsky does not try to be subtle about this fact—Raskolnikov’s name itself derives from the Russian word raskolnik, which means dissenter or schismatic (“Rodion Raskolnikov”). Indeed, if ever there was a character so thoroughly divided against himself and so torn between one idea and the next, it is Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov. One moment, his friend Razumikhin claims that Raskolnikov “doesn’t love anybody” and may never be capable of doing so (Dostoyevsky 208). The next moment, he is paying for the funeral and medical expenses of a dying man whom he barely knows. Another instance, he tries to justify his murder of Aliona Ivanovna to Sonia by carelessly saying that he “only killed a louse—useless, vile, pernicious” (Dostoyevsky 396). Almost immediately after that, he says that he knows he is speaking nonsense and that “[Aliona Ivanovna is] not a louse” (Dostoyevsky 396). It comes as no surprise that this was the character who inspired Robert Louis Stevenson’s Jekyll and Hyde (Campbell).

Where does this confusing, self-contradictory manner of thinking come from? Raskolnikov’s actions and thinking are alike formed by a theory that was planted in his mind months ago, long before he committed the murder. He expounds said theory in his article “On Crime,” proposing that there are two kinds of people in the world: the “extraordinary man,” and the ordinary kind of people, what he calls the “stuff” of the world. Raskolnikov suggests that the “extraordinary man” has the “inner right to permit his conscience to transgress… certain obstacles, but only if the execution of his idea… demands it” (Dostoyevsky 249). Essentially, Dostoyevsky is describing what Friedrich Nietzsche later calls the Übermensch theory. Übermensch, translated as “Superman” or “Overman,” is someone who has reached the pinnacle of self-reliance and is no longer held accountable to any deity or authority for his actions (Cybulska). The Übermensch theory explicitly provides the rationale behind Raskolnikov’s crime. When he confesses his crime to Sonia, he explains, “I wanted to make myself a Napoleon; that’s why I murdered” (Dostoyevsky 395). Later on he elaborates further: “I had to know, and I had to know right away: was I a louse like all the rest, or was I a man?” (Dostoyevsky 399). By making the Übermensch theory so central to the story, Dostoyevksy exposes Raskolnikov’s motivations and highlights Raskolnikov’s struggle between following his conscience and pursuing the Übermensch ideal. 

The two themes of isolation and moral dilemma are closely connected in more ways than one. Raskolnikov’s theory of the extraordinary and ordinary man, for instance, heavily influences his state of isolation. He has no friends during his time at university because “some of his fellow students felt that he looked down on them, and on everyone, as though… he were ahead of them… in development and knowledge… [and] convictions” (Dostoyevsky 49). His belief that he is a superior and extraordinary man not only results in his testing of that belief by way of murdering the pawnbroker and his becoming estranged from his fellow students, and later, fellow prisoners, but also the deterioration of his most intimate relationships. He feels an inexplicable, almost bitter hatred towards Sonia, treats his sole friend Razumikhin abominably, and deeply resents his mother and sister.

Nevertheless, his “hatred” of Sonia, treatment of Razumikhin, and resentment towards his family only occur at intervals. There are times when we catch a brief glimpse of his humanity—he kneels before Sonia, saying that he is kneeling before “all of suffering humanity” (Dostoyevsky 307). Later, he embraces his mother and tells her that he “will never stop loving [her]” (Dostoyevsky 490). Unbeknownst to Raskolnikov, he has more humanity in himself than Mohammed, Napoleon, and the other “extraordinary” men he admires, and that is what makes it impossible for him to become the Übermensch by avoiding his conscience and the psychological consequences of committing murder. His humanity manifests itself in Sonia, who by representing the only hope he has left and also symbolically embodying the little good he has left in him—his faith in God and the biblical account of Lazarus being raised from the dead, for instance—acts as the agent who redeems that quality in him. One epiphanous day in Siberia, Raskolnikov allows himself to realize his love for Sonia and his need for her, resulting in his “resurrection to a new life”—a new life that is without isolation and without the moral turmoil of former days (Dostoyevsky 521). The motif of resurrection that began with Sonia reading the story of Lazarus to Raskolnikov is also what completes the end of the story, which Dostoyevsky calls “the beginning of a new story… the story of a man’s gradual renewal and rebirth” (Dostoyevsky 521).

Critics have praised Crime and Punishment, writing that the themes and ideas expounded in it “speak to each generation and have a timeless universality to them” and even going so far as to claim it “illuminates the eternal conflicts of the human heart” (Davies). It would not be an exaggeration to agree that the book does in fact attempt to explore the complex and weightiest themes available in literature. Raskolnikov represents humankind at its worst and best, and his story, particularly his loneliness and the moral dilemmas he faces, allows us to come to the final conclusion that redemption exists for even murderers, that it is better to embrace one’s humanity in favor of prideful imaginings of superiority, and that life is better than death.

Works Cited

Squires, Paul Chatham. “Dostoevsky’s “Raskolnikov”: The Criminalistic Protest.” Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology (1931-1951), vol. 28, no. 4, Nov. 1937, p. 478, https://doi.org/10.2307/1136780.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, et al. Crime and Punishment. New York, Signet Classic, 2006.

“Rodion Raskolnikov.” Wikipedia, 10 Mar. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodion_Raskolnikov#:~:text=The%20name%20Raskolnikov%20derives%20from. Accessed 8 Apr. 2024.

Campbell, Adrian. “Crime and Punishment Is 150 – and Its Politics Are More Relevant than Ever.” The Conversation, theconversation.com/crime-and-punishment-is-150-and-its-politics-are-more-relevant-than-ever-69259.‌

Cybulska, Eva. “Nietzsche’s Übermensch: A Hero of Our Time?.” Philosophy Now, 2012,
philosophynow.org/issues/93/Nietzsches_Ubermensch_A_Hero_of_Our_Time.

Davies, David Stuart. “David Stuart Davies Looks at Crime and Punishment.” Wordsworth Editions, 27 Sept. 2019, wordsworth-editions.com/crime-and-punishment/. Accessed 8 Apr. 2024.