Notes from the Underground:

The protagonist (and sometimes antagonist) has been underground for forty years, and by underground I mean stuffed away inside the jacket of books rather than experiencing the joys of his world. Though more of a recluse than a mole, this man becomes the epitome of a diseased ego, heightened intelligence, self-loathing, and draconian animadversion towards himself. The character introduces himself as a sick man, a man who is diseased with intelligence, with pity for the proletariat, but having general disgust for all men and women in Russia. He writes to the reader in journal format, calling them "gentlemen", as if there were multiple persons listening to his story, as if he had something to say worth stating to a crowd. These notes become his soapbox. Going back and forth between his imagined supremacy to his self-pity and disgust, his actions contradict his thoughts as if they were two children fighting to tell the most amazing story ever told, a story filled with obscene odious lies, desires, hyperbolizations, and half-truths. Once certainly convinced that he will act upon his threats, they soon become idol and lethargic whims from his lack of confidence and weak personality traits. A sadist to say the least, this man feels glory in other's suffering. To make a woman cry is music to his ears. His fatuous ego inflates with every cynical criticism proclaimed to Liza, a whore who finds his bookish tone of voice comforting. Though, on the other hand, he is overly critical of himself, and his ego self-destructs like a masochistic suicide bomber, taking out anyone near and dear to him. At first, I tried to empathize with his elitism, with his love for hate, but soon realized that this was not the mental state of a man whom I understood, even if I did connect with his critical wit and cunningness. No, indeed this was the mentality of a fucking psycho. I never thought anyone could love to hate as much as the main character in Dostoyevsky's "Notes from the Underground", but now I do. The novel is written with intense detail and articulation regarding a mad man's mind. A man whom I do not hesitate to consider clinically insane caused by depression, loneliness, and intelligence.