Oh, I love this book. It’s totally caught me by surprise (I tried to tackle it when I was 18, and tossed it aside after the first few pages), but the language, the scope, the ideas– I’m a huge fan. And I’ll be sad to leave St. Petersburg and Moscow when I’m finished. I rarely do books that are this long (my translation is 736 pages). I’ve read “It” and “The Stand,” both by Stephen King (and each of those suckers are over 1000 pages), but those were about blood and creepy crawlies and clowns with teeth and severed limbs and bloated corpses, so you know, the pages kinda fly. But those books are also about love and the pain of being alive and trying to find yourself and your purpose, and so is “Anna Karenina,” and I just can’t put it down.
It’s full of all the throbbing questions that I am constantly rolling over– who am I? What’s my purpose? What is the real power of love? Is there any point to living? Should I just drink more vodka? Does the pain go away? And the language. I know I’m reading a translation, but there are some passages that are too beautiful. I’m just over halfway through and I want it last and last.
“All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”