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Originally Posted by NajdorfDefense
The Gambler is a GOAT book. Especially if you know the backstory of how fast/why he wrote it - he was going to lose the rights to all his works because he had borrowed against them and lost the money gambling obvs, and he had 30 days to come up with a new novel or else poof!
I was expecting more about roulette and not all the interpersonal byplay among the idle rich at “Roulettenberg.” Still, these relationships and characters turn out to have interest. I was struck by a passage early on about how the nobility disdain to show any passion when gambling and go out of their way to show that winning is not in itself an object:
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I saw a Frenchman first win, and then lose, 30,000 francs cheerfully, and without a murmur. Yes; even if a gentleman should lose his whole substance, he must never give way to annoyance. Money must be so subservient to gentility as never to be worth a thought. Of course, the supremely aristocratic thing is to be entirely oblivious of the mire of rabble, with its setting; but sometimes a reverse course may be aristocratic to remark, to scan, and even to gape at, the mob (for preference, through a lorgnette), even as though one were taking the crowd and its squalor for a sort of raree show which had been organised specially for a gentleman's diversion. Though one may be squeezed by the crowd, one must look as though one were fully assured of being the observer—of having neither part nor lot with the observed. At the same time, to stare fixedly about one is unbecoming; for that, again, is ungentlemanly, seeing that no spectacle is worth an open stare—are no spectacles in the world which merit from a gentleman too pronounced an inspection.
And I especially liked the portrait of the General who, eager for his inheritance, keeps telegramming home to see if his mother has died yet—and the shock when she shows up, apparently hale, to gamble at the tables. Its in this aspect of the novel that its real themes are developed.
And even if gambling isn't as central as I'd anticipated there are insights. In the closing sections, there is an incisive portrayal of the narrator having become overwhelmed by his compulsion for wagering. (There has been some debate as to whether or not he will be reformed after the narrative closes, but I don’t think that that's implied—even though Dostoevsky himself was able to put roulette behind him.) Elsewhere, there are some acute observations of what it’s like to be gripped by gambling mania: “as though I were delirious with fever … my whole body tingled with fire,” and “Every gambler knows how a person may sit a day and a night at cards without ever casting a glance to right or left.”