I have been defeated. My parents raised me to finish what I
started, no matter what it was. And I have done so, no matter the size of the
commitment. But in this one situation, I have failed.
Never have I ever failed to finish a book that I started…
until now. I generally like the writings of Fyodor Dostoevsky, but I could not
bring myself to finish his “short” story, the Idiot. Yes, Russian lit tends to
be a bit long winded, with a variety of rabbit trails that seem to have no
direct or indirect relation to the plot. But in this story, I couldn’t seem to
find any particular direction in which the plot was going. And so, with
approximately 60% of the book finished, I gave up. Which then got me thinking;
was I an idiot to continue reading a book I didn’t like (or even understand
what possible climax could happen) for so long?
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