I finished up Notes From Underground last night and honestly I just found the whole thing to be an exercise in complaining. It seems that despite the main characters ability to self analyze he just never seemed to solve any problems. The entire novel went from one complaint to the next with little substance in between.
One aspect I found particularly interesting was the references to bugs, insects, beetles etc. Each reference likened a bug to a person whom the narrator found repugnant or a situation that he found unbearable. What I found most interesting is that, to my recollection, he never referred to himself as a bug.
The final scenes of the story, with the narrator unburdening himself to his prostitute where telling. I enjoyed the full circle element of the exploration in self pity. He finally recognized his inability to cope with his day to day existence, however just as soon as he could, he explained away his actions as those of deception and once again began to live in a sort of alter existence, one where all the world had it's issues except for the narrator himself.
Interesting journey through the mind of an individual living in poverty and trying to keep up with the Jones' so to speak. I'm not sure that my next choice of novels will bring me any relief from depression but I am hopeful. I certainly cannot, after Steinbeck and Dostoevsky get much deeper into the mire, that's for sure.
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