But what does it mean to be a great writer? It might be easiest to explain by describing what I think it does not mean. I'm sure it doesn't mean polished, shiny prose; nor sharp dialogue; nor a vivid, believable setting; nor good usage of scene/scene summary; nor an exciting plot; nor the selection of the right point of view; nor poetic metaphor and simile; nor even whatever the fuck my high school English teachers meant by "theme". All these are the province of good writers, and they are very important things for good writers to have.

But, when you take these things away, what's left? Well, writing is essentially a means of conveying something. More specifically, a means of conveying one person's thoughts to another without the problematic limitation of having to actually be physically near each other. The aforementioned techniques are all essentially methods of conveying information, ways to convey this information in as clear and engaging a way as possible. At the risk of stating the obvious, conveying the information well is only half the battle. The other half is for the information itself to be worthwhile. And that half, I think, is what separates good writers from great writers. A good writer communicates a bland and relatively obvious point in a clear and engaging way. A great writer, like Dostoevsky, illuminates the deepest mysteries of human life. In his case, through bad-to-serviceable prose.

Postscript:

Much has probably already been written about the meaning of Crime and Punishment. For my part I will just say that the book seems to deal with the conflict between rationality and irrationality, with Dostoevsky himself coming out clearly on the side of irrationality. Reasoning leads Raskolnikov to kill since the endpoint of reasoning is the conclusion that we should all basically be self-interested, that power is the most important thing. Irrational love gives him redemption. It is no accident that characters constantly refer to themselves as "fools" in Crime and Punishment; this understanding of the fallibility of one's own mind is highly virtuous for Dostoevsky.

It is a very funny book. Dostoevsky's sense of humor is highly underrated. I especially enjoyed the deluded rationalist radical Lebezyatnikov, who seems almost disturbingly similar to modern caricatures of leftists. In one line, referencing how Sonya, the prostitute, has never shown any interest in him, he says:

"Setting aside entirely the question of chastity and womanly modesty as in themselves useless and even prejudicial, I fully, fully allow for her chastity with me, because---it's entirely her will, entirely her right. Naturally, if she herself said to me: 'I want to have you,' I would regard myself as highly fortunate, because I like the girl very much; but for now, for now at least, certainly no one has ever treated her more politely and courteously than I, or with more respect for her dignity...I wait and hope---that's all!"

The male feminist in late 19th century Russia is not so different from the unfortunate character today. Anyway, loved the book. P&V translation is the best. Fuck this shit I'm out.