I read fiction in the evenings before bed. It is something I started doing during my Biglaw days in an attempt to help myself mentally unplug from the day and go to sleep. It hasn’t always been effective. Long books with chapters of around 10-12 pages are ideal. The Count of Monte Cristo was an early success and now sits on the bookshelf to my right as I sit typing this, but not everything has been a hit and I’ve become much more willing to give up on a book in the time since I began this habit. There’s something about slogging through War and Peace that will do that to a person.

I just completed my third of Dostoyevsky’s longer works, The Idiot. I read Crime and Punishment in high school and The Brothers Karamazov a couple of years ago, both of which found me at the right times in my life to be impactful. This one didn’t. Perhaps it was bound not to do so since the main character’s most salient features are his complete innocence and naivety. It left him a little flat on my reading, especially in comparison to Alyosha, a similarly angelic figure in Brothers K. Dostoyevsky wrote The Idiot earlier, though, so perhaps it isn’t a fair comparison. Regardless, the ending didn’t hit very hard when I read it. I actually suspect it will mean more once some time has passed as the deeper undercurrents of meaning which I enjoy so much in Dostoyevsky are very much present.

I’ve not always limited myself to the classic tomes of fiction (I read and enjoyed Trust a few months back), but there is something to be said for allowing the Lindy Effect to take its course. I’ve now started The Lord of the Rings. I expect to enjoy it more; at a minimum, the characters’ names will be consistent throughout. That is one quirk of Russian literature that can be difficult to follow.