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"In beginning the life story of my hero, Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov, I find myself somewhat perplexed. That is to say: although I call Alexei Fyodorovich my hero, I myself know that he is by no means a great man; therefore I foresee inevitable questions of this kind: What is remarkable about your Alexei Fyodorovich that you have chosen him for your hero? What has he done that is notable? To whom and in what way is he known? Why should I, the reader, spend time learning the facts of his life? The last question is the most fatal one, for I can only answer: “Perhaps you will see for yourself from the novel.” But suppose they read the novel and fail to see, and do not agree with me about the significance of my Alexei Fyodorovich? I say this because, to my regret, I foresee it. To me he is remarkable, but I greatly doubt whether I shall succeed in proving it to the reader. The fact is, he is perhaps a man of action, but an indeterminate and undefined one. Yet, it would be strange to demand clarity from people in times such as ours. One thing, however, is fairly certain: he is a strange man, even something of an eccentric. But strangeness and eccentricity do more harm than good in attracting attention—especially when everyone strives to bring particulars together and to find at least some general meaning amid universal confusion. An eccentric, after all, is in most cases a particular and an isolation. Is that not so? But if you do not agree with this last proposition and reply, “Not so,” or “Not always so,” then perhaps I shall take heart concerning the significance of my hero, Alexei Fyodorovich. For not only is an eccentric “not always” an isolated particular, but, on the contrary, it sometimes happens that he, indeed, bears within himself the very core of the whole, while the rest of the people of his time—carried away for the moment by some transient wind—have somehow torn themselves away from him."