What they seem particularly good at is capturing the many styles that Dostoevsky wrote in, both in the dialogue and even the authorial voice, so there will be a serious section, perhaps with some manic overtones where one of the nihilists argues with a visitor about whether Russian peasants could or should live without God followed by a more fully comic scene. (Garnett tends to be a lot flatter with more of a monotone approach.) It is worth wondering if Tolstoy could have succeeded as well in his abandoned novel about the revolutionaries, given that Dostoevsky had far more connections with progressives and even nihilists in his younger years. If I am not mistaken, some politically motivated characters appear in Resurrection, but it isn't really a novel about revolution per se. I could be wrong of course.
Perhaps for me the most absurdly comic scene of Demons was when we see Pyotr Stephanovich addressing a meeting of these leftist thinkers within which he has already a group of 5 (in other words the proper number for a revolutionary cell). They argue amongst themselves with a young women insisting on women's liberation at all costs. (However, even she is not as strident as the unfortunate Shatov's wife who turns up unexpectedly and somewhat inopportunely.) This meeting is found in the section "With Our People": Part Two, Section Seven. While it was all outrageous at first, it was also interesting to see how Pyotr could ultimately bend the crowd to his will.
A couple of general points, for those who can tolerate absolutely no Spoilers, then read the Introduction after the book, as there are a few key plot points revealed in the Introduction. Second, at least in the Pevear and Volokhonsky version, there is a long chapter called "At Tikhon's" which doesn't form part of the canonical book, primarily because the censors of Dostoevsky's day found it too troubling or problematic or what have you. It should probably be read right before Book 2, Chapter 9, although reading it at the tail end of Book 2 is also acceptable. It gives some important insights into why Stavrogin (Nikolai Vsevolodovich) acts the way he does throughout the book, but particularly in Book 3. I'll discuss this a bit more after the spoiler break.
SPOILER
The start of the novel focuses on the long quasi-courtship of Varvara Petrovna by the tutor and failed intellectual Stepan Trofimovich. It really does seem as if the whole thing will be a replay of Turgenev's A Month in the Country, but the cast of characters widens significantly when Varvara Petrovna's son Nikolai Vsevolodovich turns up with Pyotr Stephanovich (Stepan Trofimovich's son) trailing in his wake. The whole cast of characters is practically in the room when Stavrogin turns up, and you can just sense them come to life in a different way when he appears, and the novel really does make a major turn at that point.
In general, the narrative gets more edgy as the younger generation takes centre stage. In particular, Stepan Trofimovich is pushed aside by his son and quickly becomes an even more ridiculous character, though in his last exile, he somehow summons up just a bit of dignity and seems just a bit like Don Quixote after his last quest when he starts to regain his senses.
The bit about the firebugs setting fire to part of the town and Fedka using this to cover up his crimes is quite dark. I think it was around this time that I started reading a bit more each night, and somehow I managed to overlook Lizaveta's almost random death at the hands of the mob. (The "people" think she will benefit from Marya Timofeevna's death and that she has come around to gloat and that sets them off.)
I found it telling that one of the conspirators had a passport and money but didn't take the opportunity to slip out of Pyotr Stephanovich's clutches. It might have been more interesting had this happened and thus Pyotr found that he did have limits to his Svengali-like powers, although I suppose Dostoevsky only needs Stavrogin as a foil and all the other revolutionaries turn out to be very weak-willed.
I found the conclusion to be a bit disappointing in the sense that I would certainly not act that way, throwing away a perfectly good opportunity to leave town and probably leave Russia for abroad, but Stavrogin feels he has a goodly number of sins on his head (including statutory rape!), even if he did not carry out any of the murders himself. He doesn't seem to think that the authorities can sufficiently punish him, so he takes matters into his own hands, which is to say quite a bit further than Raskolnikov ever did. But then again, I don't welcome or seek out punishment, even if it is deserved, so I can admire Dostoevsky's novels as works of art, but artworks with which I am slightly out of sympathy.
At any rate, I thought there was a great deal of interesting material in this novel, and I suspect I will try to return to it some day, perhaps in my 60s. I would definitely recommend it to anyone who enjoyed Crime and Punishment.
* This Nov. 5, 2005 piece on dueling Russian translations in the New Yorker is quite good, though I believe it will be going behind a paywall shortly.)
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