The Year of Reading—I tried really hard to come up with a better name, but my creativity sputtered on this one—has been coming along just fine . . . if fine means I'm still reading the same book that I was reading a month ago. Let's face it—The Brothers Karamazov is a dense book. I'm halfway through and the murder that's promised in the second sentence in the cover blurb has yet to happen. In other words, NO ONE HAS BEEN MURDERED YET, AND I'M ON PAGE 338!
Oh, the book has talked about everything under the Russian moon, from religion and politics to servants and masters. And *spoilers* the priest is dead but there was a whole section about his life that I thought would never end . . .
Sigh. I feel like I'm close to the actual murder so I keep pushing through. If it weren't for that carrot, I would have quit reading this book weeks ago.
The next book I'm going to read is going to be shorter, written by a non-Russian, and more entertaining.
I hope.
Oh, I really, really hope.
Just keep reading! Just keep reading!
Side note: Whenever I look at the cover, the drawing of the man floating in the background reminds me of an angry David Tennant. What do you think?
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