| Author: | Fyodor Dostoevsky | ISBN: | 1230000156254 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing | Publication: | July 30, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Fyodor Dostoevsky |
| ISBN: | 1230000156254 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing |
| Publication: | July 30, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
I cannot resist sitting down to write the history of the first steps
in my career, though I might very well abstain from doing so. . . .
I know one thing for certain: I shall never again sit down to
write my autobiography even if I live to be a hundred. One must
be too disgustingly in love with self to be able without shame to
write about oneself. I can only excuse myself on the ground that I
am not writing with the same object with which other people write,
that is, to win the praise of my readers. It has suddenly occurred
to me to write out word for word all that has happened to me during
this last year, simply from an inward impulse, because I am so
impressed by all that has happened. I shall simply record the
incidents, doing my utmost to exclude everything extraneous,
especially all literary graces. The professional writer writes for
thirty years, and is quite unable to say at the end why he has been
writing for all that time. I am not a professional writer and
don't want to be, and to drag forth into the literary market-place
the inmost secrets of my soul and an artistic description of my
feelings I should regard as indecent and contemptible. I foresee,
however, with vexation, that it will be impossible to avoid
describing feelings altogether and making reflections (even,
perhaps, cheap ones), so corrupting is every sort of literary
pursuit in its effect, even if it be undertaken only for one's own
satisfaction. The reflections may indeed be very cheap, because
what is of value for oneself may very well have no value for
others. But all this is beside the mark. It will do for a
preface, however. There will be nothing more of the sort. Let us
get to work, though there is nothing more difficult than to begin
upon some sorts of work--perhaps any sort of work.
I cannot resist sitting down to write the history of the first steps
in my career, though I might very well abstain from doing so. . . .
I know one thing for certain: I shall never again sit down to
write my autobiography even if I live to be a hundred. One must
be too disgustingly in love with self to be able without shame to
write about oneself. I can only excuse myself on the ground that I
am not writing with the same object with which other people write,
that is, to win the praise of my readers. It has suddenly occurred
to me to write out word for word all that has happened to me during
this last year, simply from an inward impulse, because I am so
impressed by all that has happened. I shall simply record the
incidents, doing my utmost to exclude everything extraneous,
especially all literary graces. The professional writer writes for
thirty years, and is quite unable to say at the end why he has been
writing for all that time. I am not a professional writer and
don't want to be, and to drag forth into the literary market-place
the inmost secrets of my soul and an artistic description of my
feelings I should regard as indecent and contemptible. I foresee,
however, with vexation, that it will be impossible to avoid
describing feelings altogether and making reflections (even,
perhaps, cheap ones), so corrupting is every sort of literary
pursuit in its effect, even if it be undertaken only for one's own
satisfaction. The reflections may indeed be very cheap, because
what is of value for oneself may very well have no value for
others. But all this is beside the mark. It will do for a
preface, however. There will be nothing more of the sort. Let us
get to work, though there is nothing more difficult than to begin
upon some sorts of work--perhaps any sort of work.
