conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled A Curse on Dostoevsky about Raskolnikov, Rassoul, Sophia with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: *Starred Review* A subtle English translation delivers a French novel written by an Afghan novelist inspired by a Russian masterpiece. In a rare imaginative feat, the author re-creates the superman-murderer Raskolnikov in the passionate Rassoul, a tortured soul living out his own tale of crime and punishment on the streets of Kabul. As he lifts an axe against the madam who has prostituted his beloved Sophia, this introspective protagonist recognizes that he has plunged into the same turbid depths he previously contemplated as a student of Dostoevsky. Rahim indeed deftly plays off Dostoevskys themes as he probes not only the killers individual conscience but also the collective moral and spiritual dilemmas of his native land. These dilemmas reflect the tragic consequences of protracted war pitting Soviet invaders galvanized by Communist ideology against native mujahideen steeped in ancient tradition and fired by Islamic zeal. In his quest for expiation and forgiveness, Rassoul finds hope in Sophia, just as Raskolnikov does in Sonja. In his heros searing self-examination, the author renews many of Dostoevskys original psychological insights and opens piercing new ones. Unforgettable. --Bryce Christensen
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A Curse on Dostoevsky
  Or perhaps... what? Is this really the time to ruminate? Now that he's killed the old woman, he must take her money and jewels, and run.
  He doesn't move. Just stands there. Rooted to the spot, like a tree. A dead tree, planted in the flagstones of the house. Still staring at the trickle of blood that has almost reached the woman's hand. Forget the money! Leave this house, right now, before the woman's sister arrives!
  Who cares? What difference if it's a sister or a daughter? Right now Rassoul will be forced to kill anyone who enters the house.
  The blood veers off just before it reaches the woman's hand. It flows toward a worn, darned part of the rug and pools not far from a small wooden box overflowing with chains, necklaces, gold bracelets, watches...
  He crouches. His fingers move hesitantly toward the woman's hand, to grab the cash. Her grip is hard and firm, as if she were still alive and keeping a tight hold on the wad of notes. He pulls. In vain. He looks anxiously at the woman's lifeless eyes and sees his face reflected in them. The bulging eyes remind him that a victim's last sight of her assassin remains fixed in her pupils. He is flooded with fear. He steps back. His reflection in the old woman's eyes slowly disappears behind her eyelids.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: No, your mother could never write a letter like that. It is you who has taken it badly. Read it again another day, and you'll see that it contains nothing but wisdom and kindness.
  Razmodin springs to his feet, on fire: "We'll go and get them..." But Rassoul's despairing gaze crushes his enthusiasm and brings him back to his senses: "No, things are becoming very dangerous, here. We'll all go to Tajikistan." Rassoul shakes his head. "You're right, that's under their control, too"—he is weary now—"so where? Find a solution, damn it!" Do what you want, but leave Rassoul in peace. In peace!
  Torn between his rage at Rassoul's incomprehensible silence and his anxiety at the threat posed by Rostam, Razmodin stands dejected for a moment. Then suddenly he leaves, slamming the door. His furious steps can be heard charging down the stairs, hammering through the courtyard, and at last disappearing into the dust of nightfall.
  And when the chorus of calls to prayer seizes the city from its sleep, Rassoul painfully opens his eyes. His head is spinning. He sits up and leans against the wall, his legs bent to his chest.
  Suddenly, he is jolted awake by the terrifying sound of an explosion. Soaked in sweat, he scrambles to a sitting position and looks wildly out of the window. It is still night, still dark. The black smoke forbids the moon from slipping inside, into peoples' dreams.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'He kisses her, shyly, on the cheeks'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He kisses her, shyly, on the cheeks. She hides her face, reaching out to take Rassoul's hand. "Will you come away with me?" he asks her.
  Rassoul remains standing, lost in thought. "You have another visit," the guard tells him. And the old clerk comes in, carrying a thick file. "How is our young man?" Rassoul nods his head, feeling calm.
  The clerk is about to sit down, but Rassoul won't let him. "Don't sit there, please. There is a fly, a poor fly..." The clerk is intrigued. He puts on his glasses and peers at the floor. Then he moves to one side, and sits down very carefully. "This fly... it is imprisoned with me," says Rassoul as he points to the creature, which has settled languidly next to the clerk.
  Rassoul looks into the clerk's eyes for a long time. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't ask you a riddle," says the clerk as he spreads out his papers on the floor. "In any case, they gave me my job back, and they want a file on you... By the way, do you know what they found in Commandant Parwaiz's pocket?"
  Rahnaward Zariab, Kambouzia Partovi, Hafiz Assefi, Rahima Katil and Sajad Zafar for their "Persian perspective" and support;